#technically second if you count the failed attempt at this where i used a green yarn for the background that just ended up looking nasty | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

out-of-jams · 4 years ago

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War & Peace || jhs

↠ War & Peace ↞ “Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that was what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok had growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

But you know what they say; all’s fair in love and war.”

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader

Word Count: 9.9k

Warnings/Genre: Alpha!Hoseok. Omega!Reader. Enemies to lovers. ABO dynamics. Explicit language. Fluff.Slight angst. Cliché spin-the-bottle scene. Pining. They’re both annoying idiots. Competition au(?). Bad puns. Cliche Jackson throwing a party (a party ain’t a party if it ain’t a Jackson Wang party).

All works here are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission. That is illegal and you are stealing no matter if you give credit or not.

The room was abuzz.

You paused where you stood at the entrance to the Four Seasons’ Hotel ballroom. Fingers tightening around the small, black clutch bag in your hand, you let your eyes rove over expensive dresses and suits and quaffed hair and curls. At least the spaghetti strap, two piece off-white dress your mother had bought (and forced you to wear) fit the occasion quite well, so your inherent fear of accidentally standing out wouldn’t come to fruition.

Whoever had decorated the ballroom had pulled out all the stops. There were miniature chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings, lights turned to a dim setting. Small-yet-cosy circular tables were spread out evenly, chairs for two either occupied or emptied. A man in a catering ensemble approached you, extending his tray of bubbly champagne. Normally you wouldn’t put alcohol of any kind into your body, but you’d make an exception just that once. You took one with a smile of thanks and swallowed a mouthful in an attempt to chase away your nerves.

When your parents had first approached you about attending the matchmaking event, you’d been wary. The events themselves weren’t rare; young adults who had yet to find a mate would go to them. They had a ninety-nine percent success rate when it came to matching you. However, you found the whole thing to be quite archaic.

It wasn’t that you were against love or finding a mate or anything like that, you just didn’t think that attaching yourself to another person for life should be so significant. You’d been too busy during college getting your degree to date anyone seriously. And you’d never felt the desire to, hadn’t needed to.

As an Omega, you were the lowest tier in the societal hierarchy. And as an unmated Omega, you were a rare commodity. It was expected for an Omega to be mated before they even reached their twenties. Something about needing to be taken care of or some other bullshit that you disagreed with. You could take perfectly good care of yourself.

But when you’d come home mateless after graduation to visit your parents before trying to find a job with your degree, they’d been concerned. Your mother, a fellow Omega, had sat you down and forced you to fill out the overly long, three hundred questionnaire for the matchmaking service. Of course, you’d rolled your eyes, but ended up relenting. You’d decided that you’d just go to the damn event, let the mysterious matchmakers do their thing, give some excuse to leave sometime in the middle of the thing, and then go home and tell your parents that you’d tried.

You should’ve known that it wouldn’t be that easy.

Glancing down at the dark red card the size of your palm that the woman manning the check-in desk had given you, you memorized the two numbers printed on it. As if you hadn’t looked at it a few dozen times already. Just in case. You didn’t want to be there, but you weren’t about to somehow accidentally embarrass yourself either.

The flared, lace skirt of your dress brushed against your legs while you made your way through the room, eyes scanning the number placards on the table in search of your own. Some of them already had couples sitting at them, engaged in conversation and hiding shy smiles behind dainty hands. Your heels click-clacked against the shiny marble flooring as you weaved between others who were still finding their seats.

Eight, nine, ten, you mentally counted in your head, passing by the white-clothed tables. Eleven.

Your feet halted and you glanced down at your card one last time before looking up. Table twelve was already occupied, leaving a single seat left.

“Wow,” you murmured through red painted lips. He looked up at the sound of your voice, soulfully deep brown irises alighting on your form. Dark hair parted perfectly to reveal the smooth, tan skin of his forehead curled above a single one of those eyes. Heart-shaped lips that appeared soft to the touch parted in surprise. “I know you almost failed fifth grade math, but I didn’t think you were still this bad at counting.”

"I—what are you doing here?” Jung Hoseok looked so utterly bewildered that it would’ve been endearing if it had been anyone but him. He subconsciously smoothed a ringed hand down the front of his midnight black satin tux and stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

“What are you doing here?” You avoided answering his question with a raised eyebrow.

“What does it look like I’m doing here?”

“It looks like you’re sitting at my table,” you gestured at the aforementioned seat with your flute of champagne.

“No, I’m sitting at my table.” Hoseok tilted his head, sharp jawline standing out and tiny dimples revealing themselves as he pursed his mouth. “It’s not my fault that you can’t read.”

“Excuse me?” A sound of indignation sprang from the back of your throat and you dropped your clutch on the table in order to flip around the tiny card in your hand. The number twelve was embedded on it in swirling, looping gold font. “Now move.”

He did not, in fact, move. He just sat there like an impressive impersonation of a statue. The only part of him that moved was when those espresso hued eyes of his widened in either surprise or shock, you didn’t know. Nor did you care. Or at least you hadn’t until he slowly lifted a hand to show you his own card with the number twelve printed on it.

And then you too, did the best performance you could muster at being frozen solid. As if the universe was attempting to prove that the two of you had, in fact, been matched together, your voices harmonized as you spoke at the same exact time:

“Oh, you’ve gotta be shitting me.”

(Seventeen years ago)

Your rivalry with Jung Hoseok first began at the tender age of five, right after you’d beamed a cardboard box of crayons straight at his forehead. He’d bled, and it’d later left behind a thin scar that sliced clean through his right eyebrow. You should’ve felt guilty, but you hadn’t. Still didn’t.

He’d had it coming for trying to Compel you to hand them over anyway. And technically, you did hand them over. Just not in the way he’d probably wanted. At least, that’s what you’d told the teacher after Hoseok growled wildly at you from across the playroom table.

The kindergarten classroom had been packed with screaming, rambunctious toddlers. It was an important time in every child’s life — not because that was the age where friendships first began; it was when nature started to reveal itself. When the part of the brain in charge of scent glands that separated the Alphas from the Betas from the Omegas developed.

You’d been relegated to one of the tables in the corner with all the rest of the soft, floral smelling, shy Omegas. Until the green colored crayon you’d been using to smear across your paper in an attempt at drawing the vast forest outside ran out. The closest resupply of your writing instrument had been lying all the way across the room on one of the empty tables.

Of course, because fate was nothing but a bitch, your quick hands snatched the crayon box up point-two seconds before a pouting Jung Hoseok could. He’d looked at you with those gentle, chocolate brown eyes of his, and then the first words he’d ever spoken to you passed his heart shaped lips.

“Hey, give it!”

And yours to him. “No way! I got them first, loser!”

The rounded apples of his cheeks puffed up with a scowl, jaw clenched. If he’d been taller than you, maybe he would’ve been intimidating. But to you, he’d just looked like a fluffed up chicken.

“Well, you’re an Omega and I’m an Alpha, so you gotta do what I say,” his tongue fumbled over the larger words and he crossed his arms over his chest with a look that told you he thought he’d just won the battle.

“Make me,” scoffing, you leveled him with a glare and waved the box of crayons under his perfectly straight nose.

“Fine.” His eyes narrowed and he took a deep breath. “Give them.” His dark irises flashed gold as he laced his words with the power of an Alpha Command.

If he were older and had more of a grip over his powers, perhaps you would’ve felt compelled. But the only thing that overcame you was annoyance. Your fingers tightened around the box; your arm cocked back. “Fine.”

And it went careening straight into his forehead with a crack! that had all heads in the room turning to look back. Sticking your nose in the air, you slipped your stolen green crayon into your dress pocket and skipped back to your table.

That was when your rivalry first started.

And the war began.

Eleven years later and the whole town knew of your blatant dislike for one another. It was difficult not to when the moment the two of you entered the same room, you were immediately at each other’s throats. Some of the older, more set-in-their-ways Alphas frowned upon your rivalry with Jung Hoseok. Though they were more annoyed at the fact that he never used his Alpha Compulsion to “put his mouthy Omega in her place” than anything else.

His. Hearing them call you his never failed to absolutely infuriate you. Like you were nothing other than a piece of property. Like you belonged to the one person in the world who you despised the most. Like you could belong to anyone at all.

Omegas were supposed to cow to Betas, and above all, Alphas. The hierarchy had been around since the beginning of time. Since Alphrina, the goddess of all mankind, had created the first Alpha in her image. They were the strongest of the Three, Betas coming in second and Omegas last.

If Hoseok had been like any other Alpha, then he probably would’ve long since made you submit to him. But he never had. Lisa, your childhood best friend and the town’s most popular female Alpha, had theorized that maybe he just didn’t know how to use his Alpha powers. But you knew better. His pride would never recover if he’d been forced to Compel you into listening to him.

Not even after you’d paid Jeon Jungkook a hefty sum to switch Hoseok’s shampoo bottle during the football team’s after practice shower with a similar one you’d filled with green hair dye back in high school. He’d stormed up to your locker the next day, cheeks aflame with rage and jaw clenched while he spat out (true) accusations.

But he’d had no proof that you’d been the one to make him look like a very festive Christmas tree, what with the already bright red strands of his hair stained with streaks of green. You’d thoroughly made sure that Jungkook would do it while the team was actually showering, so the soap and hot water would wash away any lingering scent of the culprit.

Hoseok had gotten you back, of course, by sticking a huge glob of chewing gum in your hair after you’d fallen asleep on your desk during history class. You’d cried for two days straight after your mom had to chop off your long locks into a shoulder length bob. And the cycle repeated itself with you taking revenge by stealing the janitor’s keys after school, and hiding a dead fish in Hoseok’s locker to decompose over the two week long Christmas break.

At least your rivalry had stopped anyone else from trying to mess with you due to your Omega status. Either they’d been too afraid of stepping on Hoseok’s toes, or had just been way too entertained by your antics, you weren’t sure. But you weren’t complaining, not when you saw how the other Omega’s in your school had been treated.

It hadn’t been good.

At all.

Suffice to say, maybe you would be somewhat grateful for Hoseok if you didn’t despise his existence so much.

You blamed your last weekend of your high school career for implanting the seed into your mind. For flip-turning your opinion of Jung Hoseok right upside down. Not that you’d exactly noticed it at first; it’d just kickstarted the slow sliver of doubt that began to fester.

Partying wasn’t usually your thing. You didn’t have anything against it, nor the people that chose to do so, you just refused to partake in anything that could alter your state of mind. Because being an Omega not in full control of yourself was a dangerous thing to be. But it was the end of mandated schooling and a very important milestone that deserved celebrating.

Which was the exact argument that Lisa had used in order to convince you to go with her and Jennie (a Beta and the most recent addition to your friend group) to the after graduation party. Jackson Wang’s house was unnecessarily massive, most likely due to both of his Alpha parents being on the city council. He’d somehow been able to convince them to take a weekend vacation and leave the estate in his (ir)responsible hands.

By the time you pulled up with both of your friends, the party was in full swing. Cars littered the curved driveway all the way down to the street below. (And seeing as how the Wang Estate was fifty acres, that was a long way down.) Music poured out from the opened front doors, heavy bass rattling the windows of Lisa’s Nissan.

You pressed your nose against the passenger side glass with a grimace. Fiddling with the overly tight dress that Jennie had forced you into, you sighed deeply.

“Oh, come on, Y/n, it’ll be fun,” Jennie leaned forward from the backseat to cheer encouragingly.

“I didn’t even say anything,” you argued and finally turned away from the steadily approaching mansion.

“You didn’t have to. You have that I-Don’t-Want-To-Be-Here face,” Lisa spoke up from the driver’s seat, eyes intently focused on finding a parking spot.

You snorted. “That’s because I don’t. Being surrounded by loud, drunk Alphas and Betas isn’t the most appealing way to spend my Friday night, thank you very much.”

“We already told you that we’re going to watch out for you tonight.” Lisa made a noise in the back of her throat when she finally found somewhere to leave her vehicle.

“Exactly. Remember what happened last time some asshole Beta harassed you?”

“You mean the time Lisa almost got arrested when she fought that guy in the McDonald’s line?”

“Yup, that’s the one.”

“I’m still mad I never got my McDouble,” Lisa sighed forlornly and cut the engine to her car.

“All you think about is food,” Jennie laughed, quickly scrambling out of the car before Lisa could turn around and swat at her leg.

“Well, she’s not wrong.” The only thing that saved you from your best friend’s wrath was the fact that you were faster than she was.

Inside the house was just as you’d expected: crowded, loud, so many smells and sounds that had your heightened senses almost crying from overstimulation. You followed Jennie and Lisa to the kitchen for them to make themselves drinks (and to snatch up a can of soda for yourself).

Somehow, somehow, your night ended up with Lisa shoving her tongue down some poor Beta’s throat, and you stuck sitting in a circle in the basement of Jackson Wang’s overly large house. Playing a game of spin-the-bottle with a group of people that you barely knew. Well, most of them anyway.

And you hadn’t intended to play at all, hadn’t had any interest in it, but one look at your mortal enemy’s shit-eating grin sitting across from you had made you stop yourself right before you bowed out. Because you knew for a damn fact that if you’d tried, he would’ve ended up saying something to try and embarrass you.

So instead, you reached out and watched intently as the beer bottle spun around and around and around and around. The green hue of the glass gleamed beneath the dim, blue lights in the basement tauntingly. Everything slowed down, your heartbeat thundered in your eardrums, the music faded into the background. You thought it’d never stop.

Until it did.

A hush fell around the group as you sluggishly trailed your eyes upwards and locked them onto your apparent make-out partner. Fate was a bitch and your life was nothing but a cosmic joke. Because of course, of course, clichés wouldn’t be clichés if they weren’t clichés.

And god you hated clichés.

“Ew no,” slipped out of your mouth unhindered before you could even think to form the syllables.

Directly across the circle, Hoseok raised a perfectly shaped dark eyebrow. (You hated he looked so good even when his hair was such an obnoxious and unflattering shade of red.) That annoying, self-assured smirk tugged at the corner of his coral hued, heart-shaped mouth. “Afraid?”

Everyone around the circle had fallen silent, choosing to sit back and watch the drama unfold instead of talking over it. Like you were some kind of live entertainment, their heads bouncing back and forth between the two of you. So when you scoffed, it was loud enough that every ear could hear it.

“I’m not afraid, I just don’t want you touching me because you’ve slept with so many people. I don’t know where you’ve been.”

“Careful, you sound a little jealous there, L/n.” A second eyebrow jumped up to join the first and Hoseok leaned his weight forward. That insufferable smirk grew.

“Jealous?” Now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “As if I’d ever be jealous of anything involving you, Jung.”

“It’s okay to admit it,” he shrugged casually. “If you ask me, I think it’s kind of flattering. Sad and a little pathetic, but flattering.”

“What would I possibly be jealous of? Didn’t you have an STD last month?” You shot back with an unamused snort.

He did that thing again where the apples of his cheeks puffed up and his mouth pursed. While that expression had made him appear very non-intimidating in the past, with puberty had come the sharpening of his jawline and the development of high cheekbones. Maybe if it were any other Alpha looking at you like that, your inner Omega would’ve been cowering. But witnessing someone pee their pants and then cry about it in the first grade tended to make it impossible to see them as menacing.

“That was just a rumor!” Hoseok glared, face beginning to pink beneath the stares of everyone in the room.

“That’s not what Sulgi said,” you hummed. “Yikes.”

“You—”

“As entertaining as this foreplay is to watch,” Jackson’s deep voice piped up, leaning back on his hands from where he sat between two girls you didn’t recognize. “I’d like to take my turn sometime tonight. So either kiss or go fight out in the parking lot, I don’t care.”

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed for a fraction of a second, more than likely contemplating arguing with the party host (you knew he didn’t like being ordered around, especially by another Alpha), before a spark of mischievous amusement lit up his mocha colored irises and he turned back to you, head tilted. “I would love to move on, but L/n over here is too afraid to.”

Your lip curled. “I already told you that I—”

“Nervous then? I bet that you haven’t even been kissed before, have you?”

Even though he was correct, you refused to allow him to know it. So you’d never kissed someone before, who cared? People graduated high school all the time without locking lips with someone else. And it wasn’t like you’d never had the chance to—you’d had plenty of dating offers—you’d just never found any of them worthy enough to kiss. That was it.

Not that Jung Hoseok needed to know that.

So you lied.

“Of course I have.”

“Oh really.” It wasn’t a question. “Who?”

“That’s none of your business,” you sniffed.

Hoseok looked like a wolf right before it pounced on its prey: smug. “Then what’s the problem then? Afraid you’d like it?”

“Wow, I don’t know how you fit through the door with your ego as inflated as it is. Like I’d ever enjoy kissing you. It took Sulgi months to shut up about how bad you are at it.”

His haughty expression dropped from his face and his stare darkened at the blatant insult. You realized your mistake the very moment that the challenge sparked within his eyes. He stood slowly, gaze locked on your own as he stepped over the bottle in the middle of the floor. When he reached you, his hand shot down and grasped onto your upper arm, lifting you from your cross-legged seat and onto the soles of your shoes.

“Wha—” He cut off your indignant protest with his mouth before it could fully form.

The last thing you ever would have expected was for Jung Hoseok to kiss you, let alone softly. For his mouth to press against yours with just enough pressure to be labeled as delicate—like the tickling of butterfly wings. He trapped your bottom lip between both of his, slender fingers threading through the hair at the nape of your neck. You shouldn’t have let him touch the most sensitive part of your body. Shouldn’t have instinctively liked it.

Shouldn’t have let your eyes flutter closed and kissed him back. But you were too wrapped up in his strong scent, the warmth of his skin, the gentle exhaling of air as he breathed, the lingering taste of the alcohol from his emptied cup. One kiss turned into two, into three, into four. Until your hands came up to grasp the material of his shirt between your fingers.

Jung Hoseok kissed you like you’d always wanted to be kissed. Slowly and softly and warmly. When his tongue slipped between your lips and touched yours, it wasn’t with the roughness of someone trying to take control. It was a dance; one where he took the lead subtly and you willingly let him do it.

His hand on your arm found your waist and pulled you close, pressed your fronts together until there was no longer any space separating you. A sigh escaped when his tongue brushed against yours more firmly, more determined to have you melting and pliant beneath his touch. Until you had to swallow a whimper when he finally pulled away.

He didn’t go far, just enough to look at you down the slope of his straight nose, pupils blown wide and eyelids heavy and mouth kiss-swollen. You hated him then, in that moment, more than you ever had before. Hated him for stealing your first kiss. Hated him for making you want to lean forward and pull him back until you could no longer breathe. Hated him for dropping his hands from your heated skin with a wink and that knowing smirk of his.

Hated him.

The rest of the game had been a blur after that. You’d sat back down between Jennie (ignoring her imploring expression) and a Beta whom you couldn’t even process the face of. You didn’t spin again, had been content to just sit next to your friend and sip at your almost empty can of soda.

And you hated, hated, hated yourself for noticing that Hoseok never took another turn either.

(Present Time)

You’d been content with the fact that you’d never have to see your rival again after that night. With high school finally over, you would be going off to college on the other side of the country and would finally be free. To say that you’d been ecstatic would’ve been an understatement. There would be no more biting comments aimed at you in the hallway, no more having to be paranoid about being the victim of another of Hoseok and his friend’s pranks.

No more Hoseok.

It had been a glorious, stress-free (to an extent) four years of your life. Both Lisa and Jennie had applied to and been accepted to the same university as you, so you’d split the rent three ways and moved in together. City life had been a difficult adjustment, a culture shock, but now you were used to it and absolutely loved it.

Which meant that fate had to come around and fuck things up.

Silence had fallen between both you and Hoseok. All around you, couples sitting at the other tables in the expansive ballroom were jabbering away, getting to know one another to see how compatible they were. Laughter and glasses clinking harmonized together with the gentle music playing from the hotel speakers hidden somewhere you couldn’t see.

You’d collapsed bonelessly into your seat after the shock of being matchmade with your mortal enemy wore off. Now you were just annoyed. At your parents for making you go to the stupid thing, at yourself for not lying on your questionnaire, at the universe for existing. At Hoseok for existing. There was a lot to process.

Obviously, the matchmaking service was flawed, false, fake, inaccurate. And you were glad that you hadn’t been excited for the event in the first place, because you would’ve been dead by now. Reason of death? Disappointment. How in the world someone could think you and Hoseok were compatible at all was a complete mystery to you.

Glancing up from where you’d been glaring at your still half full flute of champagne, you eyed your unwelcome companion. Hoseok was looking out into the crowded room, stare blank as his mind went somewhere you had no interest in trying to follow even if you could. Four years had passed since you’d last laid eyes on him and in that time he’d changed physically, but also still looked the same.

No longer was he the teenager who’d yet to grow into his cheekbones, though he still had those broad shoulders and large hands and muscular-yet-slim athletic build. He’d always been handsome—not that you’d ever tell him that, even if your life was at stake—and his looks had only matured. Hoseok was all angles and sharp lines and deep set eyes framed by long lashes that always made you secretly jealous.

Which only fueled your puzzlement.

“Why are you here?”

He blinked, snapping out of whatever thoughts were running through his mind and turned back to you. “What?”

“Why are you here,” you asked slowly, tongue spelling out each of the syllables like he couldn’t understand you otherwise.

Hoseok’s eyes narrowed. “I thought we already had this conversation.”

Scoffing, you crossed your arms. “I meant here as in this stupid event looking for a mate, not this stupid table.”

“Why are you? Already scared off everyone on the other side of the country with your annoying personality?” Four years later and he still had that infuriating smirk, that quirk of his lips that had your blood pressure instantly spiking.

“Are you here because you’ve slept with the whole town already?”

Humming, Hoseok tilted his head to the side in fake contemplation. “Your jealousy is showing again, L/n.”

“Your inflated ego is showing again, Jung.”

“Oh? If I’m recalling correctly, that’s exactly what you said years ago, right before you slobbered all over my chin.”

“Me? Me? Says the one who—”

“Could I have everyone’s attention please?” A woman’s voice cut through your heated response. Somewhere between the time the conversation had first begun and now, both you and Hoseok had gone from putting as much distance between the two of you as possible, to practically falling on top of the table to spew insults at one another.

With one last glare, you turned to look over your shoulder at the well-dressed blonde woman standing on the stage near the front. The material of her designer jumpsuit shimmered beneath the lights as her manicured hand held a microphone to her glossy, smiling lips. “Hello everyone! I’d like to welcome you to this year’s MateMaking—”

Hoseok’s quiet scoff echoed your own at the sound of the horribly unwitty play on words. His annoyed scowl also mirrored yours when you turned back to throw him one.

“—event! I can see that everyone has already found their mate-tastic partners for the evening.” She winked, earning a few light, nervous giggles from the crowd. “There are a few house rules that we must go over before we can officially begin. For starters, there will be no exchanging of partners. Secondly, a limit of two alcoholic beverages per person has and will be implemented. And last but not least, please make sure to enjoy yourselves! Now, onto the mate—” another wink “—event.”

“The grand prize for the lucky couple who wins tonight’s competition has been graciously donated by the Four Seasons Hotel.” She held up her fingers as she listed them, but you were too busy hanging onto her previous statement. “A free, one night stay in the penthouse suite tonight, an unlimited tab at the bar down the hall, and,” she paused in an attempt to build up the anticipation. “Eight hundred dollars cash.”

“Competition,” you questioned under your breath. What the hell did she mean by that? Wasn’t the whole event supposed to just be a glorified blind date? You threw a glance over your shoulder at Hoseok, who was too busy mouthing the words “eight hundred dollars” to pay you any attention.

“Now if you could all please leave your seats and gather onto the dance floor with your partner, we can begin.” The sound of chairs pushing back from tables echoed around the room and you watched as the people closest to the large opening in the middle of the floor started congregating.

Confused, you blindly rose to your feet and looked to see Hoseok doing the same. “What the hell is going on? I thought this was supposed to be about matchmaking?”

He blinked once, twice, before a laugh bubbled up his throat. “Did you not read the details of the event?”

“What details?” Your cheeks were slowly turning pink in embarrassment, you could feel it, and also couldn’t help it.

“You’re really telling me that you missed the giant, bold letters on the website?”

“What bold letters?” Weaving through the emptying tables, you tried your best to keep up with him on your shorter legs.

Hoseok tutted. “And you always tried to say that I was the stupid one.” He looked down at you once he finally found a spot on the floor that he liked, humor dancing across his face. You were just far away enough from the two coupled next to you that you couldn’t hear their conversations without trying to eavesdrop.

Annoyed, you smacked a hand against his arm and hissed, “Just tell me, asshole!”

“Owch.” He rubbed where you’d hit him, faking a grimace like you’d ever be able to actually hurt him. “Is that how you talk to someone you’re trying to get to help you?”

Your mouth opened to let out another string of character attacking profanities, but he halted them by holding up a hand. “This is a matchmaking event, but it’s also a competition. One that I’m not going to lose, not with that prize money on the line.”

“Oh,” you responded. Well, that explained some of it, but. “We.”

“What?”

“One that we’re not gonna lose,” you corrected him, mind already reeling with what you could use all of that cash for. “We win and split the money.”

“What makes you think that I’d want to split it with you?” A raise of his eyebrow.

A roll of your eyes. “Like you have any other choice. Do you see any other person you can impose your irritating presence on?”

A pause in the air. Pursed lips. Then: “Fine.”

“Fine.”

An agreement.

A temporary ceasefire just in time for one of the workers of the event to reach your side and gift the two of you with a bright green, inflated balloon. He walked off with the parting instructions not to pop it before making his way down the line and giving one to each couple he passed.

“The first stage of tonight’s competition,” the woman MCing (you were pretty sure she’d introduced herself, you’d just hadn’t been paying attention) addressed the crowd. “Is a slow dance to test you and your partner’s ability to be gentle with one another, both with the body and the heart. You must take the balloons that you have and put it in between your bodies.

“Whenever you hear the music change, you and your partner must step closer to each other. The last seven out of our ten couples that succeed in not popping the balloon or letting it fall to the ground will move on to the next round. Those of you who do not pass, will be shown to the bar across the hall to better get acquainted. Let us begin! Don’t be shy, everyone get into position.”

A few chuckles filtered throughout the room, balloons squeaking and strangers lightly conversing as they tried to follow the instructions. You looked up at Hoseok who looked back down at you with the medium sized balloon clutched in his hand.

He tilted his head to the side and wiggled the piece of rubber and hot air. “Are you going to come closer or not? Don’t pretend like you don’t want to touch me.”

“Trust me when I say that I don’t have to pretend,” you huffed, but stepped closer. One of his hands shot out to wrap around your waist, long slender fingers spreading across the whole expanse of the small of your back. You did your best to ignore the heat that bled from his body like a leech, and placed your left hand on his right shoulder.

With the balloon now firmly in place between the two of you, Hoseok took up your free hand with his just in time for the music to start pouring over the speakers. It wasn’t anything that you recognized—some indie song where the singer crooned lyrics about love or beauty or whatever. You didn’t care enough to pay attention.

“You better not step on my feet,” you spoke as the two of you swayed side to side, just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for the slow dancing couples around you.

“Me? Step on your feet?” Hoseok gave you a look of disbelief. “Aren’t you the one who broke Felix Lee’s foot at prom?”

“No.” At the raising of his brows, you rolled your eyes and looked at some point over his shoulder so you wouldn’t have to meet his skeptical stare. “Okay, so maybe.” — he snorted — “But that had nothing to do with dancing!”

“You’ve always been a horrible liar, L/n.”

“And you’ve always been horrible at telling the truth, Jung.” The song changed into something a little more upbeat, one you thought you might have heard a time or two. Unfortunately, you had to step an inch closer to the man steadily guiding you around the dance floor.

A pop! resounded from the other side of the room as the first couple was eliminated. Squeaking from the balloon cushioned between both of your chests had your conversation pausing for a moment before it picked back up.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, you know what it means.”

“Believe it or not, L/n,” Hoseok began, “But I would never claim to know what goes on in that cluttered mind of yours.”

“I—wait,” you narrowed your eyes. “How do you know who I went to prom with?”

His mouth opened and closed, obviously ready to swing at you with another comeback before your question caught him off guard. “What?”

“How did you know that I went to prom with Felix?” Another change of the song had you automatically taking another step forward. “I thought you didn’t go to prom.”

“How did you know that I didn’t go to prom?” Hoseok fired back, avoiding the question.

“Oh, please,” you took a breath through your mouth and immediately regretted it when his strong, husky scent invaded your senses and lingered on your tongue. “If you were there, you would’ve been up my ass all night.”

“Now who’s the one with the inflated ego? Everyone was talking about how you’d stomped on him with your ogre feet the next day of school.” He didn’t make eye contact when you looked back at him, his gaze trailing over your head.

You raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s the horrible liar?”

“I’m not lying.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“And I don’t care.”

“Liar.”

“Truther.”

“Truth— what — what even is that?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.”

“Which is?”

Hoseok’s lips pulled back into a grin, tiny dimples popping into place and white teeth kissing the air. “A truther.”

“You’re so annoying,” the words were supposed to sound annoyed, but you couldn’t help the amused upwards twitch of your mouth.

“I don’t think you have any room to talk, sweetheart.”

You blinked at the pet name. That was new. “Sweetheart?”

Hoseok didn’t respond right away. He just stared down at you past his perfectly shaped nose, dark eyelashes framing brushing the apples of his cheeks. And for the first time in as long as you could remember, you realized that you couldn’t read the thoughts lingering behind his softly bright eyes. Silence lingered for one moment, two, and then his heart shaped lips parted and—

Pop!

You started, jerking back in surprise and Hoseok’s grip on you was the only thing that prevented your balloon from falling to the floor. Pop! Next to you, a couple let out noises of disappointment as they watched the remnants of their popped balloon scatter beneath their feet. They must have frightened another pair of people in the center of the dance floor because theirs popped as well.

“And that concludes our first round!” The MC spoke out over the crowd. “Congratulations to those who have made it though. Now let’s see if your luck persists during round two!”

You looked at Hoseok and he looked back, previously open expression dropped. No words were exchanged, but you already knew that the conversation would be dropped.

Hoseok’s back was warm from where it pressed up against yours, the chairs you sat in doing nothing to stop it from seeping into your skin. In your hands was a tablet, screen displaying the game that the two of you were about to play. The goal was to “defuse a bomb” by following the manual filled with instructions. Which sounded easy in retrospect, but seeing as how the only way you could get said instructions was by Hoseok reading them off the packet in his grasp.

You weren’t allowed to look at the manual, and he wasn’t allowed to look at the tablet screen. And somehow, some way, you were supposed to “defuse the bomb” in five minutes. The MC had said something about testing your ability to communicate with one another, blah, blah, blah. All you knew was that there was no way you were going to lose the stupid competition.

Even if you had to deal with Hoseok’s frustrated grumbling.

“Just tell me which wire I need to cut, Jung!” Or perhaps it was you who was doing the frustrated grumbling. But eh, semantics. The tablet screen was displaying a section of the “bomb” that had four wires criss-crossing one another and you were only allowed to “cut” one of them.

“I already told you,” Hoseok grunted. “The blue one.”

“There’s two blue ones!”

“Then cut the one that’s more blue!”

“They’re the same color you idiot!”

“Stop yelling, I’m trying to read!” He huffed, the sound of paper turning accompanying it. Around the room, the noise level was a cacophony of people talking over one another. The closer the five minutes got to being over, the higher the voices rose. “It says, ‘if there is a red wire—’”

“I only have two blue’s and two white’s!”

“Cut the first blue wire then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, L/n.”

“Fine.” A pause as you tapped on the screen and waited for it to do something. “Nothing’s happening.”

“Are you sure?”

“Why would I lie—oh wait, no, there’s a little x on the screen. Okay I think we’re good with that one.” You didn’t even have to look back to see Hoseok’s face to know that he was rolling his eyes in exasperation. “Now it’s showing a square with four different symbols inside it. What am I supposed to do now?”

“Hold on.” He shuffled his papers in search of the next set of instructions. “Okay, it says ‘always press symbols higher in the column than lower in the column.’”

“What does that even mean?”

“How am I supposed to know? Do I look like the game designer?”

“You’re an Alpha, aren’t you supposed to have great leadership skills or something?”

“What does that even have to do with this?”

“Just give me the damn instructions, Jung!”

“You’re so pushy. No wonder you’re still single.” Hoseok didn’t give you a chance to respond to his jibe before he continued. “Push the symbol of the pitchfork first, then,” he halted for a second, more than likely trying to find his next words before continuing. “Press the one that looks like a pregnant letter T.”

“A what?”

“I know you know what I’m talking about!”

You scrutinized the symbols before going with the one he described, not that you’d ever tell him it was pretty accurate. “Now what?”

“Next is the one that looks like a football goal.” (“God, you’re such a jock.”) “And then push the last one.”

Your finger tapped the screen and a noise escaped your throat when all of the panels on the “bomb” turned green and the timer stopped counting down. “Oh, hell yes!”

“What? Did we beat it?” Hoseok’s head tilted in your direction without him actually having to look back at you.

“Fuck yeah!” Okay, so maybe you were shouting a little too loudly and maybe all of the other couples who had yet to finish the game were giving you looks, but it wasn’t your fault that you were the first team to win.

“Yeah?” Hoseok finally turned to face you, torso twisting in his chair in order to do so. His face was lit up in excitement, the adrenaline of trying to complete the game sparking to life in his beautifully expressive brown eyes.

“Yeah!” It was unusual for an Omega to be competitive, but you couldn’t help your inherent desire to win. If you were to analyse it, a therapist would probably say that it was more than likely due to growing up competing with the man who sat at your back. (But you weren’t a therapist.)

You weren’t sure who went for it first, who moved, who decided to cross that boundary. But one moment you were looking up at his face, and the next your nose was pressed into the junction between his neck and shoulder. Hoseok’s arm was wrapped around your upper back and both of yours were loops around his neck.

The celebratory hug didn’t last long, just enough for his scent — gentle and earthy like petrichor right before it rained — before the both of you pulled away like you’d been electrocuted. An awkward silence followed the accidental physical contact and you weren’t sure where you were supposed to look. But it wasn’t at him.

And you definitely did not miss the feeling of being pressed to his chest.

(Or maybe Hoseok was right and you were a terrible liar. Even to yourself.)

The second round had eliminated a majority of the remaining contestants. Now all that was left were you and Hoseok, a petite woman with a contrastingly tall man, and two average height men. Since your team had come in first place during the last round, you were relegated to nonsensically going last in the final one. With the previous eliminated couples allowed back into the ballroom, you had quite the audience.

Sitting in another chair in the middle of the dance floor, you fiddled with the whiteboard and marker in your hands. You were facing Hoseok so the two of you couldn’t cheat by looking at what the other person was writing. The MC stood between and a little behind both of you, lips pulled up into a smile as she held a stack of cards in her hand.

You’d only ever seen this game played at the weddings of family members you’d gone to over the years, so why they’d chosen to have to (what they thought) complete strangers play it was a mystery to you. Something about “getting to know one another” and “testing compatibility” bullshit and the couple who got the highest answers correct was the winner.

Whatever.

When the MC asked her first question, you were ready.

“Okay, let’s begin! First question, write down which one of the two of you that you believe owns more clothes than the other.” Holding back an eye roll, you quickly scribbled down your answer with the dry-erase marker at the same time that Hoseok did. “Now show us your boards!”

You turned yours with a flick of your wrist, Hoseok’s name written across the surface in ink. It came as no surprise at all that he’d also penned himself down; he’d always been on top of all of the trends in the fashion world so you knew for a fact that his closet greatly exceeded yours.

“Would you look at that!” The MC crowed. “Already so in sync!”

(Unbeknownst to you both, your faces mirrored the same grimace as you erased your boards.)

“Second question: who do you believe is the most stubborn?”

That one took a bit more thought, your eyes flickering up to watch as Hoseok easily scrawled on his board. You already knew what he was going to write and you wanted to win, and you’d do whatever it took to do so. Even if it meant admitting something that wasn’t true.

At the MC’s cue, your boards flipped around to display your name written down on both of them. You glared. The crowd aw’d. The MC squealed at how “you were on the same wavelength.”

“Who’s most likely to cry during a movie?” Hoseok.

“Who do you think is the smartest.” You (much to your surprise that he wrote that down).

“Who has to have the final word during an argument?” You. That one took a little longer to decide with the two of you eyeing each other over the tops of your boards.

“Who got better grades in school?” A snort and the sound of your marker dragging across the board to scribble your own name down.

“Who’s the better dancer?” Hoseok, of course. Who could forget him dancing in the school hallways early in the morning before people even deigned to enter the place?

“If you were to become a couple, who would wear the pants in the relationship.” That question had you glaring and fingers cramping as you dug the tip of the marker into the board. Both was scribbled down on each.

“How about this one: who do you think is the better kisser?” The time in Jackson Wang’s basement popped to the forefront of your mind. It’d been years, but you could still remember the feel of Hoseok’s lips moving against yours and the taste of him on your tongue. You paused, marker hovering over the board before you took a deep, silent breath and wrote your answer down.

That was the first question that the two of you got wrong. With his board displaying your name and yours displaying his, all you could do was stare. Hoseok’s mouth was pressed into a line, not one of his angry ones, but the one he would unconsciously do whenever he was thinking hard on something. You weren’t sure what it was, nor did you have the time to try and figure it out.

“Aw, the first question they’ve gotten wrong. Or did they get it right?” Cue a wink from the MC and a few chuckles from the crowd. “How about we get a little more serious with the final question, hm? Who do you believe would be the first to fall in love with the other?”

You were positive that that would be the second question the two of you would get wrong, but you wrote your answer down anyway. When the cue came to flip them over, you felt your heart stutter. Lips part in surprise. Breath catch in your throat.

Hoseok looked at you with his lips pressed in that thin line, espresso hued, deep set eyes displaying an emotion that you’d never seen before. Never thought would be aimed at you. The whiteboard clutched between your hands shook as you read his over and over and wondered at what it meant (and if you were going to lie to yourself again).

Hoseok was written down on both of your boards, much to the delight of the onlookers.

The MC announcing that the game was complete and that you and Hoseok were the winners was a blur. The cheers from the crowd were a blur. The way the MC held both of your hands as she congratulated you and gifted you with your prizes was a blur.

Hoseok’s refusal to look at you was the only thing that was crystal clear. His back, his broad shoulders cloaked in his black satin tuxedo jacket, the nape of his neck, were the only things you could see. You didn’t get the chance to even speak to him until the elevator doors leading up to the penthouse slid shut.

The MC had sent you off with the key and a wink and a promise that the aforementioned eight hundred dollars was awaiting the two of you in the penthouse suite. Silence engulfed the steel box as it ascended that was neither awkward, nor tense—just heavy. You couldn’t stand it. So you wouldn’t.

“Hoseok.”

He looked at you out of the corner of his eye, back braced against the elevator wall.

“Why did you write your name down for that question?”

“Which one? There were dozens.”

“You still suck at telling the truth.”

A pause hovered in the air, the red digital numbers above the elevator continuing to count upwards. And then he spoke. “I was telling the truth.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”

“Yes.”

Hoseok laughed breathily. Not of amusement, not of someone who’d found something particularly funny. “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”

You didn’t trust your voice, so all you could do was nod.

“I’d been wanting to kiss you since you threw that box of crayons at my head.” He turned to look at you, eyes deep and open and luminescent. “And I’ve been thinking about doing it again ever since that game of spin-the-bottle.”

Your mouth opened and closed, words stuck in your throat until you forced yourself to cough them out. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?”

He scoffed. “Why would I? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, Hoseok.” The syllables of his first name were unfamiliar on your tongue, but you loved the taste of them anyway. “I’ve never hated you.”

Hoseok raised his eyebrows disbelievingly. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

“Okay, no, that was a lie,” you mumbled. “I didn’t hate you until after that kiss. But it was only because I’d never wanted it to end.”

“What are you saying?”

“Do you really need me to spell it out for you?” You shot back without any heat.

“Maybe,” he hummed, lifting a hand to brush against your cheek.

Your eyes fluttered closed when his nose brushed yours. That was the only warning you got before he captured your mouth with his. Hoseok’s lips were just as soft as you remembered, his kiss just as slow, taste just as intoxicating. You involuntarily sighed into his mouth when his teeth caught your bottom lip and tugged.

“I love you,” he breathed into the crevice of your neck.

You sighed. A soft, gentle thing that had the corners of his mouth ticking upwards. “I love you too.”

A pause and then:

“Even though you’re annoying.”

Hoseok’s laugh shook both his frame and yours and you couldn’t help the giggle that harmonized.

tagged: @kotaevln @ladyartemesia @alana-ba @lifegoesondotcom @ardoren @awsome-small-k @chimchimsauce @jjamsbangtan @ohheyitssj @bewitch-me @lovetic @veronawrites @lilacdreams-00 @clarissalance @daydreambrliever @unicornbabylover @taestannie @forever-once-gone @outrofenty @hoseokslefteyebrow @1am9root6 @btsmylife21 @fireheart2003 @iv-bts

#bts #hoseok #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #ficswithluv #btsbookclub #magicshopnet #hoseok fic #hoseok smut #bts fic

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kokiseiko · 3 years ago

Text

Honeysuckles, Red Carnation, and Red Tulips

Severus Snape x Female Reader: College AU

Song Recommendation: Always – Marco Sison

(Y/N) – Your Name

(L/N) – Last Name

Word Count: 5.2k+

Summary: Yellow flowers started appearing on top of your desk on the first day of your freshman year. Now you see it daily, even in your locker.

Fandom: Harry Potter

Pairing: Student!Severus Snape x Student!Female!Reader

Rating: SFW | 13+

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, Making-out? Play-boy Sirius Black, Mild Cursing?

Note: This is my piece for the @konoblog-simps server collab, this is also the first fic that I’ll be posting in my blog. Still not open for requests, but as soon as I finish some WIPs I will. I’m open to criticisms, just please be gentle, reblogging is too.

If you all have time please do check out these amazing pieces from my lovely fellows here.

I would like to thank with all my heart @saudade-mayari for beta-reading this for me. If not for you I’ll just leave this as it is and tag “not beta’d we die like men”. I love you 😘. Check out her blog too! Her work is *chef’s kiss*

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

The searing of the alarms upon his ears in the early morning was quite irritating. He was already awake before it had even stroke its designated time of alarm.

His head throbs from the consecutive days of lack of sleep. The feeling of his limbs aching all over was nothing compared to the tender numb of ache in his chest.

He felt empty, as always, while he opens the door to the bathroom to drown himself in a stimulus of ice-cold water, yet his head is in too much pain to register the freezing liquid that was now hitting his body.

He lathers himself in soap, his body acting on its own accord, cleansing himself, without his brain needing to register it.

He feels light-headed and in pain at the same time, but no one knows; he’s just that good at willing his features to look like he doesn’t care at all.

Everything happens for a reason. But why does it have to be you?

You promised. It wasn’t broken… it was just…

-----

You woke up, your foggy brain suddenly registering the fact that you’ll have your first meeting with the other students who joined the campus’ organization for writers.

You feel energized and excited from being eager to meet people who also love to write. You sang along to the tune of “Marry You” to ease your buzzing nerves drenched with anticipation for the meeting, creating your own spin-off from the original song, adding a bit of vibrato, and using your head voice on some parts, even doing some sort of second voice to add to the mix, laughing when most attempts incredibly failed.

You continued to loop the song until you were done with your morning shower, only pressing the green pause button on the screen while reaching for your soft towel on the rack, the fluffy cloth sticking to your skin as you engulf its soft warmth, a comforting contrast from the icy shower you just had.

You continued to play your favorite songs, having a playlist dedicated for your mornings.

While you finish combing your hair you looked at the time on your screen to see that you’ve got half an hour left to leave the dorms and sit on your chair on today’s first class which was General Mathematics on eight.

---

And like every wonderful morning, his mind swims on his thoughts. Thoughts that were always about that moment, a time where his happiness was at its peak. A moment where his face was warm, his head fuzzy, his heart hammering, his eyes always landing on…

Honeysuckles. He picked a couple from a shrub that was wrapping around a fence, and with gentle caressing fingers, he held it like he always did when picking them, walking quickly to finally give it to…

Though technically leaving it atop their desk isn’t giving is it?

No. This will have to do.

---

Walking with a beat on your feet and a rhythm blasting through your earphones as you stroll through the halls of the first building on campus, taking the shortest route by climbing up the stairs and surging through the hallways which were packed with freshmen to enter your General Mathematics classroom.

You smile as you see the usual flowers laid across your desk. You’ve asked your classmates who left it, but no one knew.

You gently picked up the flowers, placing them atop your stacks of books. It has been more than a couple of weeks before the daily floral bunch appeared on your wooden desk.

You’ve been curious who this secret admirer of yours is, you’ve had your guesses but…

The door opens and you quickly grabbed your notebook and pen, wanting to take good notes on today’s lesson which if you remembered correctly was an Introduction to Matrices.

***

As your morning classes went and go like a warm morning breeze, you now clutch your notes near your chest to easily open your locker’s door to fetch your designated notebook for your organization meetings.

But as you place your other notebooks from your earlier classes you notice the freshly-picked red and yellow bunches of flowers, wrapped in a sophisticated and elegant white ribbon. Picking it up, you quickly realized that it was a mixture of Honeysuckles and Red Carnations. You are completely intoxicated by the sweet tones that the combination of both the yellow and red flowers give. It’s completely contradicting colors but nevertheless, the way it intertwined with each other is filled with uniqueness and a string of boldness that you oddly love. This was the first time that your secret admirer added another type of flower to their daily floral gifts.

You placed it neatly at the side of your bag, reminding yourself constantly to put it in some sort of vase in your dorm room later whilst you walk towards a hall in the floor above your last class, trying to locate the door to the room of the meeting place of the organization.

*****

Your first semester went in much more smoothly than you expected. You were nervous for the first couple of weeks- who doesn’t? -but the excitement you get in every meeting you had on the third floor of the freshman building was overpowering your freshman nerves.

You were taking note of every phrase your professors noted. Quizzes and assignments were flowing at your desks within the second week of the semester, but you managed. Willing yourself to study hard, reminding yourself that little by little you’d be able to walk up the stairs of the stage and hold that parchment containing your diploma.

It was a Wednesday when you heard of the gossips, something about this freshman who was appointed as the head of the Soccer Club. The whispered conversations were something about him having a mansion and throwing this big ass party where everyone is invited, freshman, senior, heck even students from other universities were welcome!

It was only when one of your seniors announced and clarified the general info about this upcoming party that was co-organized by the four heads of organizations of the Sports Club, the Marauders, who were also freshmans.

The upcoming party would be held in the mansion of one of the Marauders, James Potter. The atmosphere turned more lively than it was before in the meeting room.

“It’s my first huge party, it’s so exciting!”

“I heard that the Soccer Club’s Potter is hot!”

“He isss! But Basketball’s Black is so fineee!”

“We should all shop for clothes on the weekend!”

“Hey (y/n), wanna come n’ shop with us?”

You smiled at the sudden buzz of conversation, giggling on the girl’s squealing and the muttering of most guys in the room. You were glad to take the offer of one of your co-member turned friend on their shopping trip.

***

Enamored by the prospect of shopping for more stylish and suitable college party clothes on the weekend you almost lose focus on your usual solo studying session for tomorrow’s quizzes on English 101 and Gen Math.

Opening the door to the humongous campus library you were relieved that your usual spot wasn’t taken. You quickly strolled to sit on the chair, placing your bag under the table and quickly opening it to gather your English Grammar: For College Freshmen and Basic College Mathematics.

Deciding to start with your English textbook you opened it to Chapter 3: Old and Middle English Literature to continue reading on The Miller's Tale: Chaucer's Fabulous Fabliau.

---

Unlike the whole campus, Severus wasn’t really enthusiastic about this whole-ass party that would be held this upcoming weekend. More so the fact that it was made by the Marauders just added to his annoyance, but he was encouraged by his seniors, Malfoy and Riddle to come as well for the sake of it.

He remembers Malfoys advice: “Just blend in with the crowd, sit in the corner, drink a couple of beers.” Everyone in his group, hates the Marauders, the small group of freshmen hogging all the attention, doing indecent activities that no one seems to suspect, being all rowdy, and causing tons of ruckus yet, in the end, getting praises and remarks from everyone on campus.

They all wanted to do something about it, Severus being one of the most enthusiastic to blow dirt all over their image, and this party seems to be a perfect opportunity even though he can’t stand the loud noises, blasting music, blinding lights, and tipsy crowd.

Frowning his brows while dreading this upcoming party he finally managed to find the book he was looking for. Browsing through the contents of Advanced Practical Chemistry, he blindly let his feet guide him to a nearby desk on one of the corners of the library.

---

You saw a figure across you, slowly looking at the book he’s reading your eyes widen, your head nodding, you were simply impressed- Advanced Practical Chemistry?!?! The man in front of you was a freshman too, you knew because he sits near you during Gen Math.

You both caught each other’s gaze, both cheeks emanating a rose-pink tint, though both of you remained silent, both caught up in your own thoughts and texts.

***

As you reached the last piece of literature on the third chapter of your English material, The Prioress's Tale and the Pardoner's Tale: Chaucer's Two Religious Fables, you quickly felt the thick silence surrounding the both of you.

It wasn’t awkward like earlier, no. In fact, it was… somehow comforting.

Smiling, you continued to thread through your English material, adding annotations and sticky notes here and there with your black G-tech pen for the benefit of your future studies, which would be much easier on the memorization aspect due to the info and notes you’re writing that’ll help you understand the topic easier, especially if you need a quick refreshment of the lessons.

***

Looking at the huge windows placed opposite the entrance of the library, you were greeted by the midnight deep skies of the night, just realizing the length of your stay in the library. Now annotating your second chapter for your Gen Math quiz, you risked a glance towards the man in front of you.

He looks cute as he writes with vigor on a bullet journal notebook. You saw the look of concentration in his eyes, and the faint swirls of glimmer while he slowly begins to understand the topic, quickly taking note of the important parts of the chapter he’s in.

His neck-length coal tresses were turning into a mess as he brings his left hand to massage his scalp to ease the ache from the frustration you guessed.

And as your eyes reached the scrunched-up brow that softened when you met his gaze once more after several hours, you smile at him, giving a polite bow before packing your things up, strands of your hair falling beautifully down your face to subtly try and hide your rose cheeks.

---

He grips his chest with his hand, willing his hammering heart to go back to 100 bpm.

Engulfed by the darkness in his closed eyes, he sees the field again, and like an old movie record, every memory of that field plays behind his eyes, him being the only audience in a cinema he calls his head.

He sees you, smiling at him, dragging him across the fields of viridescent grass. He sees your head tilting on the side as he pulls his hand away to reach for a couple of golden-colored flowers.

“Honeysuckles!”

He smiled at your familiarity and eager explanation of the flower.

Curious as he sees you pick a bunch of them too, grinning widely while you untangle the white ribbon that was holding your hair up, only to see your soft hands gently wrapping it around the stems. His cheeks redden as you gave it to him.

“Why?”, he asked.

“It means devoted affection, Sevvy! And I, (L/N) (Y/N) promise to devote all of my affections to you!”

And as his mind wanders on the distant memories of your familiar smile, his heart aches to another clip that was playing vividly on his head. He clutches the black shirt he’s wearing as he whispers softly.

“It’s my fault…”

---

Laying on the bed in your dormitory, ticking off your imaginary list of ‘Subjects to Study for Assessments Tomorrow’ your mind suddenly wandered on the man back in the library.

Somehow, somewhere in the back of your mind, you’re sure you know him, though you don’t know how.

***

Settling on your chair and preparing: laying your pen and correction tape on top of your desk which are occupied by a bunch of golden Honeysuckles and beautiful Red Carnations with a beautiful white ribbon wrapped around their long stems laid, you smiled and smelled the cute clumps of flora putting it atop your bag that you know will soon join in with the other floras your secret admirer had given you daily for the past few weeks.

Sitting on your chair at 8:15 am answering the questions that Professor Albus had given you and your classmates to answer for Gen Math, you were quickly scribbling on your scratch paper for your solutions.

As you finish the final question, you abruptly put your pen down, rechecking all of your calculations, looking thoroughly if you’ve boxed your final answers per question. You smiled, confident and sure that you did not just pass the test, you practically aced it!

You walked towards your professor’s desk in front giving your paper to him kindly. Noticing the hand next to your own, your eyes trailed on the person’s long-sleeved clad arms, landing on his face.

Your head suddenly throbs, and you grip your head in pain, groaning from the squeezing-like motion that your brain is currently experiencing.

“Ugh.”

“Ms. (L/N), are you alright?”

You didn’t even register your Professor’s concerned tone as your knees buckle from the quick flashes of memories you don’t remember you had until now came flooding through: the hands of a boy reaching towards you, a blurry face, the adrenaline of a race, and a loud crash.

---

He stares at your pained expression, no he can’t let it happen again.

“Sna-”

Immediately rushing to your side on instinct, he picks you up, nodding at his Professor.

“Professor.”

“Go. I’ll write an excuse letter for your next class.”

With the adrenaline he’s feeling he wasn’t bothered by your weight, the gravity weighing him down, no, what was worrying him was the idea of losing you again, of history replaying itself once more, of you being repeatedly taken away from him.

Huffing from all the thoughts in his mind he focuses on turning around the left corner of the hall to finally reach the campus’ clinic.

“Madam Pomfrey.”

The nurse agitatedly opens the curtain where three men were being escorted from the presence of a black-haired man who looks stiff laying on one of the clinic’s cots.

“Take care Prongs!”

“Don’t hog all the girls on Saturday Padfoot.”

Snickering then a series of pained ‘ows’ were heard throughout the room as the matron pushed the three freshmen out of the clinic.

Now looking in the direction of you both, the nurse quickly signaled Severus to one of the cots, laying you gently atop the mattress.

“What happened, dear?”

“Fainted.”

“Any history-”

“Coma for almost a year due to a crash.”

Humming the nurse began checking your vitals, while she hands Severus a piece of paper to fill up for school documentation.

“She’s fine, her heart rate is on 95 bpm. Just minor bruises on the legs from the fall I assume, though nothing major. I’ll just let her rest.”

Handing the now filled piece of paper to the nurse, the matron exchanges the slip with another.

“Here’s a slip dear, would you be so kind to give it to her next class?”

Severus nods, setting a slow pace towards the clinic’s double-swing doors, looking back to your face that was now gradually regaining color, feeling much calmer than before.

“She’s safe.”

***

After entering his English 101 classroom, he’s immediately given a quizlet by Professor Burbage, exchanging it with two sheets of white and green excuse slips from both Professor Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey.

He answers the quiz with finesse, his pen scratching the paper at a fast pace, knowing the answer immediately to every question inked on the long slip of paper.

“I’m winning Sev~!”

No. Please don’t. Not now!

Laughter and the audible friction of wheels rolling throughout the wide concrete pavement- then the horror of a resounding crash.

His grip on his pen was strengthening, his hands shaking, as he slides the pen across the paper, leaving it ripped on the corner.

***

Feeling the soft material enveloping your back, your head aches, opening an eye to examine your surroundings, then seeing the crimson-tinted skies of a beautiful painted sunset outside a large window.

The strong sterile scent, the cots surrounding the huge room, made you realize you were in the campus clinic.

Slowly easing your body to sit, letting your feet fall gently to the ground one by one, you walked towards what you deduced is the nurse’s desk.

“Madam Pomfrey?” You read on the tag that was clipped on the matron’s uniform.

“Oh! You’re awake, how are you feeling dear?”

“M’ okay, just a headache… What happened?”

The nurse hands you an ibuprofen pill and a glass of water while simultaneously explaining what happened earlier this day.

“You fainted dear, one of your classmates brought you here.”

Seeing your frowning expression, she gently added, “Don’t worry he gave your other professors the clinic’s excuse slip.”

“He?”

“Severus Snape.”

Nodding slowly, you looked at the clinic’s exit, “Is it okay for me to go now?”

“Do you feel any more pain sweetie?”

You shook your head no, and you received a nod with a sweet smile from the middle-aged matron.

“You can go dear.”

***

After managing to gather info on the requirements, assignments, and quizzes you missed in today’s classes from your professors during office hours, you trotted along the halls of the building, walking through the large field, and finally reaching the dormitory buildings.

Laying in your bed whilst chatting to your friends: Lily, Mary, and Fiona, on that shopping day on the weekend.

You smiled, seeing their concern lacing the text messages that were sent on your group chat earlier.

“How are you (N/N), what happened?”

“Were you hurt (N/N)?”

“I heard you were brought in by that quiet boy to the clinic?”

After replying to all of them and chatting for a few more minutes to discuss other things, you finally turned your device off and put it atop your bedside table, placing an arm atop your forehead, whilst your other’s above your blanket-covered stomach.

You thought about this Severus Snape, intrigued, confused, curious: you wonder why. Why was he so familiar? Why was that hand reaching towards the professor’s desk a scene you’ve seen before?

You grunted, quickly reaching for the pillow beside you and putting it firmly atop your face, slowly placing it to your side for the comfort that it brings when you cuddle it.

And as the silks of the pillows’ covers engulfed you in its warmth, you felt your eyes shut and see midnight dark. You fall into an easy slumber, dreaming of what you’ve seen earlier. Earlier when you fainted from your mind’s struggles to bring something back, to remember something that you knew you haven’t seen before, you swear you don’t.

The boy’s words were ringing in and out of your ear, the only words you could decipher were ‘bicycle’, ‘faster’, and ‘you’.

His face was a blur, but the familiar black curtaining his face beautifully was gracefully flowing with the direction of the tall grasses surrounding you both; it was a sight you know you’ve seen somewhere.

His hand that was reaching yours was rough, yet gentle. A comforting contrast of texture and feelings.

A whoosh of the wind, and suddenly you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, a shock of electricity continuing to reverberate to your very nerve-endings.

A fleeting feeling of victory surging throughout your chest until you heard the distant echoing whispers of the shout of your name being chanted somewhere near you.

A look to the side, you felt your mouth yell words of victory and praise, seeing the brief face of a shocked expression you look straight before feeling a sudden impact, then the piercing of foreign shrapnel poking you all throughout your now limp body that was seeping with warm wetness of scarlet. Your nerves feel like they’re being constantly electrocuted, it hurts to move. You felt dizzy, your head aches gravely. Your vision is replaced with vignette as midnight welcomes you.

---

Like the many nights that he had lived, he can’t sleep. He can’t, not when his worry outweighs the tiredness that his body feels. His mind seeming to constantly loop on what has occurred earlier and in the past.

Seeming to fall to the bottom of the endless pit he calls his mind. A swirl of confusing feelings, contrasting thoughts are his only company.

He can’t lose you like before.

It was his fault. If he didn’t just initiate that.

He wants to protect you, from harm.

But that nagging thought of him being the reason, of him being the harm that would always put you in a grave state.

He’s torn. The dilemma from wanting to shield you from detriment, yet troubled that he might be the thorns that’ll bring crimson, that will soon be coating your beautiful skin is breaking him ever since.

---

Like yesterday morning, you once again feel your skin coated with sheen sweat as you open your eyes, your head hurts from the same dream you’ve been having for these past couple of days. It’s been making this foreign feeling in your chest swell. Something akin to pained grief and… longing? Why?

You clutched at your chest, your heartbeat slowly steadying, turning your head steadily to the side, you look towards the brightening windows. The rising star’s rays creating a dance of ombre of yellows, oranges, and reds. A flash of familiar white coming from your bedside table brightens the slightly dim room.

‘Meet you all at 11 outside the gates!’

Right. It’s shopping day today!

---

Staring at the ceiling, mind constantly dipping and rising from the series of events. His head aching from the all too sudden and many replays, and the immediate nothingness that follows.

His limbs aching just as much as the pounding in his head.

Letting out a breath he reaches for his phone under his pillow.

The blaring white text of ‘Saturday’ reminds him of the party that this Potter decided to host on his oh-so-glorious mansion.

He runs a hand through his face, sighing heavily- but, she’ll be there.

And though he’s once again conflicted…

Maybe, maybe he can give you the Honeysuckles and Red Carnations in person.

---

After a long shopping session, and a few trips to some fast-food chains with Lily, Mary, and Fiona, you decided on keeping it comfy and casual in which the three of your friends agreed, and such is the reason why you’re wearing high-waisted ripped jeans, a charcoal black spaghetti strap, ending your gorgeous ensemble with a pair of gorgeous midnight stilettos.

You decided to highlight your looks with simple makeup, a purse, and a few pieces of jewelry here and there: a pair of earrings as well as a bracelet.

***

Exiting the taxi and seeing the huge gates and glass doors of the modern mansion, you gaze with your friends in awe while you take all of the building in. You noticed the smooth modern pillars stretching to support the many vast extents of the main building as you walk through the smooth grey pavement, its white walls littered with humongous windows.

The giggling of Lily beside you managed to capture your attention, and you saw her gaze going to and fro from the entrance to the sides. You chuckled at the blush coating her cream cheeks. Seeing the Soccer Club’s Potter making a move at your friend made you grin, but you didn’t expect that one of the Marauders, a certain handsome raven-haired man and the Head of the Basketball Club this year, Black, in particular, will be making a move on you.

---

The loud blaring music, the few blinking yellow strobe lights, and the distant splashes of what he came to realize was the huge group of people swimming and playing around the pool in the backyard of the mansion, all of it was beginning to give him headaches.

He walked slowly, head angled towards the floor, spots of bright yellow invading his vision every now and then. Uninterested from the commotion going on all over the place, he walked towards one of the stools in the corner, grabbing a red solo cup filled with the strong amber liquid.

The pungent smell of the alcohol he held was grounding him, weirdly helping him to tune out all the loud music.

His face contorts in disgust as he sees pairs and groups making out in random places. His curiosity getting the better of him, he lets his charcoal black orbs wander around the place. Eyebrows lifting with curiosity from the scene playing out in one of the couches in the living room of this gigantic mansion, the ‘famous’ James Potter with his class representative, the auburn-haired girl giggling beside the man who has his arm around her shoulders. He saw their eyes locking together and were leaning towards each other’s lips- he looked away, and there he saw.

You swaying to the beat of the music with that bastard Black. He hates it.

He despises the way you laugh at the cheesy jokes and innuendos he’s whispering to your ear. He feels his hands ball into fists, his eyes continuing to stare with disinterest for Black as if willing him to suddenly catch fire, while jealousy was misting over his features. His brows furrowing as another girl with a much skimpier attire through her hands all over Black shocking you in the process. He felt victorious as he sees the other girl grab the Soccer Head’s face and started smothering him with sloppy kisses.

---

Even with the alcohol swirling in your system you still felt revolted as you saw Sirius kissed back. You didn’t like the scene before you, letting your feet drag you to somewhere else, far away from the two now-drunk college students, that is until you felt that familiar contrast of textures and feelings: those very same rough and gentle hands.

You let the person guide you outside. This has happened before; you know it did. You looked up to see Severus from your class in Gen Math. The man that sat across you in the library in the late afternoon. You felt your cheeks warm as you realized that he had carried you to the clinic that day. Weirdly enough, trusting him was quite easy.

You were thankful for his carefulness to not let you bump into anyone on the way to the huge translucent doors.

The whip of the cool evening air to your cheeks was oddly adding familiarity to the hands that were holding yours.

Now striding towards the mansion’s metal-black gates he let go of your hands, though you felt the single slip of hesitation through his grip tightening.

You felt him heave out a breath, a sigh of sadness.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For everything.”

---

He’ll do this. Tonight he’ll finally tell you- though what exactly? He can’t tell, but maybe he just wants you to know, wants to apologize, and hear your forgiveness.

“Do you trust me?”

You nod, smiling, and that’s enough for his lips to twitch into a small genuine smile.

Leading you throughout the streets and into a familiar field of green he kept you close with his hand holding yours.

Finally, on the blurring lines of the grey pavement and the evergreen of the grasses, the yellows, reds, oranges, blues, and violets of the many floras, he looked at you.

He softly chuckles when you removed your heels, prompting him to do the same.

---

The soft grass and the damp dirt swallowing the soles of your feet were all too familiar. Realizing the pattern of all of this, of that comforting and gentle touch that guided you here, of that familiar shoulder-length charcoal black hair, all of it- it’s like déjà vu.

You looked at him, top to bottom, seeing him with his feet both in the grass-filled land. Curious from where all of this sudden feeling of longing and love came from.

You held his face with both hands. Stared at his eyes, and there you saw the hint of sadness and affection. You felt that feeling again, atop your own hands now. His rough palms ever-so-gently settling on yours.

Feeling one of his hands leave yours, your eyes traced their way towards his back. He took a deep breath and held your cheek lovingly with his other hand.

He pulls out that familiar bunch of yellows and reds.

“Honeysuckles. Red Carnation.”

‘Honeysuckles!’ and that’s where it all came coming back to you. The sudden impact of all of these forgotten memories, of the honeysuckles you gave to each other. Now you understand, why the yellows were partnered with the red floras on your lockers.

Your cheeks dampened with fresh tears as you held his cheek too, while the other held the bunch together with his hand.

“I’m sorry… for forgetting, for making you ache for me, for not keeping my promise-”

A soft kiss then a content sigh. “I’m the one who should be sorry- if I just stopped- if I didn’t even bother with that stupid race.”

You smiled, “You shouldn’t Sev.”

---

He follows your movement as you remove both your touches from him. The smile grazing your face makes his heart pump just a tad faster.

“Honeysuckles. I’ve always, and will always devote my affection to you. Red Carnation. I apologize for making your heart ache for me, but now I want to give you…” You came back to him from picking up the reds from the greens. He nuzzled into your hands returning to its earlier place, his rose-tinted cheeks “my Red Tulips.”

You brought your face closer wanting to tell him everything, he felt the genuine emotion lacing your words, “I, (L/N) (Y/N), declare my love to you, Severus Snape.

The stars’ shining above would never compare to how much light you’ve given him tonight. The vast oceans of midnight skies that were his heart were now filled with your Honeysuckles and Red Tulips. Red Carnations that resided in his heart now wilting away.

The soft press of your gentle lips were like White Lilies on a summer in a field of lush dew-covered greens.

Breaking the kiss, both of you panting quietly for air, he mumbled near your lips “I’ll continue to give you honeysuckles.”

You smiled, “There’s no need to my dear Hyacinth. I’m the one who needs to make-up with all the years.”

“With Red Tulips?”, he teases.

“And Daisies, and White Lilies. Always.”

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

Note: When I started this fic I thought of incorporating a reunion of two childhood friends lovers in the form of a College AU. I’ve also been inspired by “The Language of Flowers” such is the reason for the many metaphors. Here are the meanings for each flower:

Honeysuckles – Devoted Affection

Red Carnation – “My heart aches for you.”

Red Tulips – “I declare my love”

Daisies – “I love you truly.”

White Lilies – “My love is pure.”

And for those who are curious here is my general plot/synopsis for this very long one-shot:

Synopsis: Severus and Reader are childhood friends. Reader got into a comma after crashing into a speeding car when she was racing with Severus. Reader doesn’t remember parts of her childhood. Severus blames himself (on the accident) to this day. Reader and Severus are each other’s, first love.

#Severus Snape #Snape #Severus Snape x Reader #Severus Snape x You #Female Reader #College AU #Harry Potter Fanfiction #Severus Snape Fanfiction #Konoha Simps Server Collab

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 27: Intrulogical (TW)

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 27 - Your eyes match your soulmate’s hair color. If they dye their hair, your eyes change colors.

TRIGGER WARNINGS!!!!! Attempted rape (by unnamed OC), drugging, implied underage drinking (though none is actually seen), emetophobia/vomiting, Halloween, alcohol, characters being tipsy/drunk, parties. Happy/satisfying ending.

Word count: 4.7k

Logan lived his life based on routine. In a world of constant change, it felt comforting to always know what his next step was. His mornings always started the same; wake up at seven o’clock sharp, sneak to the dorm bathroom in an attempt to not wake his essentially nocturnal roommate, and brush his teeth. Wet the toothbrush, pea sized amount of toothpaste, wet the brush again, and start on the left side of his mouth. Brush for exactly two minutes, wash face, and then attempt to calm down the bedhead. He’d sneak back into the room, change silently, and then make his way to the shared kitchen to make cereal for breakfast. The only variable in his routine was which fruit he’d eat along with his Cheerios. Then he’d triple check that all of his homework was packed properly, and head off to his morning class.

Except today.

For someone who rarely got distracted from his normal routine, he was surprisingly still as he glared, shocked, into his reflection. Water still dripped off his face and all over the counter, but he couldn’t tear his attention from it. Because his normally dark brown eyes were now neon green.

“Are you kidding me?!” He yelled before he could stop himself, storming back into their room and dropping back onto his bed.

“What’s’it?” Virgil mumbled, lifting his exhausted face from where they’d been smooshed into the pillows. Logan spun his face up towards the top bunk, jaw clenched, and gestured towards his eyes.

“I have a presentation today!” Logan continued, looking away from Virgil’s failed attempt to cover a smile, “And I look ridiculous! No one will take me seriously!”

“Just in time for Halloween, I guess. They just look like contacts.”

“Hallow-” Logan sprung to his desk to look at his calendar accusingly, groaning when he realized it was in fact the thirty first. “Ugh, I have a paper due tomorrow!”

“Don’t tell me you’re backing out of the party now, Lo. I already promised people I’d go, and I’m not going alone.”

“I won’t back out of the party,” Logan grumbled, crossing his arms. Virgil gave a satisfied hum, flopping back into his comforter. When he spoke again, his voice was muffled.

“Out of all people, I’m surprised you forgot.”

“So sue me, if a frivolous game of promiscuous dress up comes after passing my classes in the list of importance.”

The emo snorted. “What’s your costume gonna be?”

“I am not wearing a costume!” Logan’s voice was almost offended.

“You already look like a traffic light. Might as well complete the look.”

Logan grumbled angrily, marching back toward the bathroom to finish getting ready. “I’m not wearing a costume. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“Aw, c’mon, Lo. For me?”

That stopped Logan in his tracks. He spun around and took a careful breath, glaring down his overly pleased roommate. “Fine. Just for you.”

Virgil gave another satisfied hum, before squinting his eyes at Logan scrutinizingly. “I wonder if your eyes glow in the dark. Can you imagine if the prof turns the lights off for a presentation and-”

“UUUGGHHH!” Logan yowled as he slammed the bathroom door shut, shaking his head at Virgil’s snickers.

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

They were meeting up at the party at the end of classes (right about when Virgil tended to wake up), so Logan headed there directly after his final class, just as the evening sun was fading behind the horizon. It was already packed with people already picking the snack and drinks table bare, a lopsided sign that said ‘21+ only’ forgotten near an empty beer box. If Logan were to assume correctly, the sign was only there to assuage the conscience of whoever was hosting tonight, and not actually to stop the underage drinking. Even if he was above legal drinking age, he still didn’t experience many of the positives of drinking, so he grabbed a can of iced tea and stood next to a wall to wait for Virgil.

It hadn’t been a full five minutes before a man sidled up to him, sipping from a half empty beer bottle and watching Logan with a careful eye. He didn’t spare so much as a glance in return, barely acknowledging the newcomer’s presence.

“What’s a wallflower like you doing at a rager like this?” He drawled with an almost audible impish smile.

“If this is considered a rager, I’d hate to see what a calm party looks like.”

“Aw, we just haven’t gotten started yet! We’re fueling up for when the moon comes out. And you haven’t answered my question, flower.”

“I’m simply waiting for a friend.”

“Oh, and does this friend have a name?” He purred.

Frustrated, Logan turned to the man, and promptly froze. Looking down at him with pitch black eyes was a person in a costume he couldn’t recognize; a black and white striped suit that looked like he’d raked it through dust, and a mold green tie. The stubble on his face could have been his own five o’clock shadow or makeup, but it only functioned to make him look far hotter than what was fair. What was most shocking though, and Logan was baffled that he’d missed it in the initial approach, was the mop of electric-shock-straight neon green hair on his head.

“He- I don’t-”

“Didn’t take you for the type to get flustered,” The man snorted, taking another sip. “What do you have? Aw, iced tea? And not even spiked? A crime.”

How did he not see Logan’s eyes? The hair was the exact same color; Logan would know. He’d spend the whole day watching his reflection, hoping that his soulmate would have some mercy and dye their hair back to its original color. Neon green was not exactly the most subtle color, and he had not missed the snickers or silent glances from his classmates and professors all day. So the question remained, why wasn’t this guy saying anything?

“I don’t drink. I tend to just become lethargic when I do.” He answered instead, gripping his can a little tighter. It took far too much effort to keep his voice from straining.

“Fair enough. I’m not pressuring you to drink, no worries. At least we’ll have one sober mind at this party tonight.” The taller man winked at him, flashing him that stupidly stunning smile again.

But then it occurred to Logan as he kept searching the man’s dark eyes desperately. His eyes were too dark, almost pitch black, while Logan’s hair was several shades lighter. So... there was no way they were soulmates. Just as quickly as the hope had exploded in his stomach, it dissipated, leaving him feeling more exhausted than usual. Stupid feelings.

“Logan, there you are!” An unusually loud voice called through his stupor and he spun around to see Virgil’s fanged smile. In the back of his mind, he remembered watching Virgil putting together his elaborate vampire costume over the last few weeks, but he’d never seen the full thing put together until now. “Ah, and Remus found you. Scram, Beetlejuice.”

Remus, apparently, didn’t seem at all offended by the jab. Instead, he seemed to smile wider. “Nice to see you too, emo. Is that any way to treat the host of the party?”

To Logan’s surprise, Virgil smiled too. “Oh, shut up. You’re going to give Logan a heart attack.”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Dracula. Why don’t you go get a drink, and I’ll keep him company?”

“Nuh uh. No way. Not leaving him with you any longer than I have already.” With that, Virgil hooked his arm through Logan’s and led him back to the drink table.

“Remember, Virgil, drinks are only for the big kids!”

“I’m older than you are!” He flipped the bird over Logan’s shoulder to the host, earning a barked laugh in response. “He never lets me forget I’m a whole three inches shorter than him.”

“You know the host of the party?”

Virgil hummed in response, pouring himself a cup of punch that reeked of alcohol. “How else would I get invited? We were in English together in third year, and I haven’t been able to shake him since. He’s like a leech.”

“You seem friendly with him.”

The elder froze, solo cup barely touching his lips as he looked over Logan slowly. “Everything okay? You’re not usually this… quiet.” They could both tell it wasn’t the word he’d wanted to use.

For a brief moment, Logan considered telling Virgil about his brief flair of hope, about how for a single second he’d felt nothing but relief and desire and elation, and how it had been ripped away from him just as quickly. But then he realized that, no, Virgil didn’t need that to bring down the mood of the first party he’d attended in a year, since his anxiety had flared. If it still bothered him after the party, he’d bring it up. That was unlikely, though. Logan was especially gifted in the art of repression.

“I’m just a tad out of my element. Nothing to worry about,” he responded with a smile. Virgil didn’t fall for it, if the way he watched Logan as he sipped his drink was anything to go off of, but he did them both the favor of not pushing it. For now.

“I thought I told you to wear a costume,” Virgil gasped as he drained the cup, immediately refilling it from the same bowl.

“I did.” Logan gestured towards the single piece of paper taped to his white shirt. It took Virgil a moment to squint through the darkening light to make-out the black sharpie, reading allowed.

“‘Error 404, Costume Not Found.’ That does not count, Logan!” He laughed nonetheless, just as a deep bass filled the house. Apparently, the party had begun. He didn’t have a good argument for Virgil’s accusation, since he technically thought it very much did count, but arguing with the other was a waste of time. The two men were equally matched in the stubbornness department.

The lights disappeared for a good few seconds before the house was illuminated in strobe lights, and the music’s volume exploded. Virgil laughed giddily; apparently his plan to get buzzed before the party could give him anxiety was intentional.

“They do, ya know.”

Logan looked at him in confusion, and shouted over the roaring music. “What?”

“Your eyes! They do glow in the dark!”

“Shut up!”

“You look like a glowstick!” He began to giggle wildly, leaning on Logan for support.

“No more drinks for a good half hour, Virge,” Logan chided gently, replacing his solo cup with a water bottle from the table. Virgil whined but plucked out his vampire fangs so he could drink from the small spout easier.

“Let’s dance,” Virgil said, grabbing Logan’s arm and leading him into the crowd.

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

Logan guessed it was well past midnight when Virgil tugged on his arm for the third time, leaning close to his ear and shouting that he had to go to the bathroom.

“Again?!” Logan called back at the vampire’s back. There was no malice in his words, not when he knew Virgil had been anxious to go to this party and he tended to drink more water when he was anxious. It was just all coming back for revenge now.

To Logan’s delight, the excitement of the party had started to push out the event from earlier. His mood was no longer dampened by the let down of what he thought was meeting his soulmate, and he could finally enjoy the one event he allowed himself to go to this semester. School was important, but he allowed this for Virgil. He hadn’t expected himself to have a good time as well.

It wasn’t even a minute after Virgil had left that there was a loud shout and Logan was jostled harshly to the side, the front of his shirt immediately soaking red from the cup of punch spilled on him. His own drink clattered to the floor.

“Shit, babe, I’m so sorry!” A man Logan didn’t recognize started to pat at his chest with a handful of tissues, an action that for some reason caused the smaller man to cringe.

“No worries. It was bound to happen eventually. Perhaps a white shirt wasn’t my smartest idea,” He responded sharply, taking the tissues from the other and dabbing himself off to the best of his abilities. Slightly relieved that he now had a valid reason, he ripped off his poor attempt at a costume and crumpled up the soaking wet paper in the hand not trying in vain to dry himself. Despite Logan obviously being uninterested, the taller man stayed where he was, watching Logan’s actions with fierce intensity. His lip curled as his eyes trailed down the now nearly see-through shirt.

“If you wanted, I could get that shirt off of you. Fool around, give it some time to dry?”

“I’m so flattered,” Logan deadpanned, “But no thanks.”

“Aw, too bad,” The man cooed, shrugging. His demeanor did a full one-eighty, his predatory gaze replaced with innocence, “Was worth a try. Let me at least get you a new drink, since I ruined your other one.”

“That’s not necessary-”

“I insist.” He laid a hand on Logan’s shoulder, causing a tingling cold to spread through his whole body. The smaller man barely contained a shudder as the man gave him another wolf like grin before disappearing into the crowd towards the drinks table.

Logan was hoping he’d forgotten, and just wouldn’t come back, but the man reappeared in moments, popping open a pink lemonade and handing it to him.

“Saw your other drink was non-alcoholic, so I got the only other one left.”

“Uhm…” Logan looked critically at the can, his alarm bells flaring. But… he’d seen the man open it, right? So it’s not as if he could have done something to it. Perhaps this guy really did have the right intentions, just an iffy way of showing them. “Thank you.”

He took a sip as the man smiled with too much teeth. “So, are you here alone?”

“No,” Logan responded a little less coolly, “I’m here with a friend. He just went to the bathroom.” Another sip.

“Oh, that’s fun! Are you guys in the same year?”

“Yes. We are both fourth years.” The man was acting kinder, and Logan was starting to consider that perhaps their initial meeting had been a misunderstanding on his part. Maybe he had just wanted to help out, but Logan, being cynical as always, had assumed the worst. Wasn’t that just like him, though? Always so quick to conclusions, ruining good things before they have a chance to happen. Trying to chase away his annoyance with himself and the bitter taste it had left on his tongue, he took a longer swig of the can.

“Hey, me too! I’m an English major, what about you?”

“Business with an astronomy minor.”

“That sounds difficult. How many semester hours are you clocking at right now?”

“I… uhm…” And for the life of him, he couldn’t remember. It was a high number, he knew for sure. He shook his head. “Fifteen, sixteen? Maybe seventeen?”

The man whistled. “Damn, impressive. Remind me of your name, again?”

Had he told him in the first place? “Logan.”

“And what brings a studious man such as yourself to a party like this?”

“My- My friend.” Logan couldn’t help shake his head again, hoping the fog in his mind would scatter. That’s what he got, staying out this late when his sleep schedule was usually so precise. “He doesn’t like… parties. So he asked…” He blinked hard a couple times, finding himself swaying on his feet. “He asked me…”

“Hey, are you okay?” The man placed his hand on his arm in an ironclad grip, holding him steady, “Logan, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I… Dizzy,” He murmured, reaching up blearily and grabbing onto him.

“Are you dehydrated? Maybe you should drink some more.”

What were the symptoms of dehydration again? Dizziness, check. Fatigue, check. Confusion, check. Thirst? Yeah, he could drink something, but he’d been drinking all night, so why…

The can dropped from his hand, the second one tonight, and he tried weakly to pull away. Instead of letting him go, the man pulled him closer, wrapping an arm bruisingly tight around his waist.

“You… you drugged-”

“You don’t look so good, Logan. Let’s get you upstairs so you can lie down, yeah?”

“No, I don’t…” He was unable to escape, barely able to keep his feet under him, as the man started dragging him to the stairs. Where the hell is Virgil? Logan could feel tears pricking his eyes as his breathing hitched, and for the first time in years, he felt real panic. This couldn’t be happening. This isn’t-

“Let him the fuck go!”

A voice distinctly not Virgil’s shouted over the music, and Logan didn’t even dare hope it’s directed at the man still clutching him. His luck would never be that good. But through his blurry vision, a pin striped blob with a mess of green hair breaks through the crowd, marching distinctly up to them.

“He came here with me.” Logan could just make out the stronger man’s words through his dizzied state. “He just had a bit too much to drink. I’m going to let him lay down.”

“Like hell you are. Give him to me.”

“How dare you-”

“Logan. Doesn’t. Drink. And I know who he came here with.” Remus snarled, edging towards the duo threateningly, “Now let go of him before I break your fucking jaw.”

With almost as much physical relief as emotional, the man finally released his painful hold on Logan and shoved his way through the crowd, the distant shouts of inconvenienced partygoers near the door the only signal that he’d completely left.

For all his effort, Logan couldn’t hold himself up and collapsed. At first the feeling of strong arms picking him up bridal style caused him to panic and he lashed out, feebly hitting the chest of whoever was holding him. Realizing they were now walking up the stairs, the same place the other man had been pulling him, caused his breath to hitch in his throat.

“Woah there, Lo. You’re okay. It’s just me, it’s Remus, okay? Take a deep breath, just relax. I won’t hurt you.”

For some reason that Logan couldn’t fathom, the words calmed him down. Somewhere, Logan acknowledged that even though Virgil had known Remus for a while, Logan had only talked to him for a total of five minutes, and he probably shouldn’t trust an essential stranger when he’s like this. He’s just too tired to fight though, no matter how his adrenaline is pumping.

“V’rg’l,” Logan whimpered, clutching Remus' shirt with all the strength of a wet leaf, “W’nt h’m.”

“I’ll get Virgil as soon as you’re safe, okay? Don’t worry,” Remus’ soothing voice rumbled through Logan from where he was pressed to the taller’s chest, making his eyelids flutter. His arms felt like over boiled pasta and his stomach was doing flips, but Remus’ voice broke through the fog he was in and settled him in a way he hadn’t felt before. Maybe it was the drugs.

“We’re at the top of the stairs now, okay? I’ll take you to my room, since it’s the only one with a lock. So we know there won’t be any horny college kids in there, making a mess of my sheets. Gotta unlock it without dropping you, hold on, and… A HAH! Got it. You want the light on or off?”

Logan couldn’t compute the question, much less make a choice. He made a sound that was slightly reminiscent of a stalled car engine, letting his head loll towards the lump that he assumed was a bed.

“Let’s compromise.” With all the care in the world, Logan was placed onto the sheets and gently rolled onto his side, a heavy comforter pulled up to his shoulders. Remus shifted away and a dim light flashed through his eyelids, enough to notice but definitely not enough to hurt his throbbing head. A table lamp, probably.

“No falling asleep on me, okay? You need to stay awake. I don’t know what that fucker gave you. I’m texting Virgil now, he’ll be here soon. Just keep your eyes open.”

Logan opened his eyes despite his overwhelming urge to sleep, and was immediately assaulted by a swirl of colors as the world tilted. An explosion of nausea tilted him forward and he pushed himself up on his elbows.

“‘m g’nna-” He didn’t have to finish his sentence before there was a plastic garbage can under his cheek and he heaved, throwing up the remnants of dinner and all he drank that evening. He didn’t even have the energy to be embarrassed as he flopped back down onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut again.

“Oh, Logan,” Remus whispered.

There was a pounding on the door and Logan didn’t even have the energy to flinch from the violent sound. Remus stood quickly and unlocked it, barely opening it before someone barreled into the room, the newcomer gasping for breath.

“What the fuck happened?!” Virgil screamed, dropping on his knees next to the bed, hand reaching up to lay on Logan’s cheek.

“He got roofied by some motherfucker I haven’t seen before. I caught him in the stairwell before anything happened.” Remus was still standing by the open door. The music was flowing in louder now, and Virgil’s raged shouting wasn’t helping his headache at all.

“I’m going to fucking kill whoever did this. I’ll fucking kill him!”

“Virgil, you’re real hot when you’re pissed, but calm the hell down. Yelling won’t help Logan.”

“You’re… shit, you’re right. Okay. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“Watch him. Keep him on his side, bin’s to your left if he has to hurl again. I’m cutting this shit show.”

Logan finally cracked his eyes open as the door shut, Virgil leaning backwards to lock it. When he turned back and saw his friend’s eyes open, he almost wept.

“I’m so sorry Lo, I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”

“‘s okay.”

“No, no it’s not. I got distracted talking to someone, but I should have come back sooner. You could’ve… You could’ve been…”

“Not y’r fa’lt,” Logan mumbled, reaching over blindly to try and find Virgil’s hand. The other must have sensed his intentions and gripped onto the flailing limb, interlocking their fingers.

“You better not be blaming yourself.”

Technically, he was. He should have been more careful, shouldn’t have taken a drink from a stranger, should have noticed something was off the moment his mind started to fade. Never in his life would he say that this kind of situation was the victim’s fault but… he couldn’t help it when it came to himself. He’d always been self critical that way. Bringing this up to Virgil would be a death wish, though, and an argument he certainly did not have the energy for right now.

The music cut off downstairs and Logan sighed in relief, nearly smiling at Remus’ shout for everyone to get out of his house. For someone he’d met once, he was protective, that was for sure.

Virgil didn’t force him to talk. They both just enjoyed the silence for a while, the only sound being the occasional shout from downstairs and Virgil’s sniffles. Logan couldn’t exactly blame him; he’d cry too if he had the brainpower. He didn’t though, which was the problem, so he allowed his hand to be held and allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of a thumb brushing over his knuckles.

There was a quiet knock on the door and Virgil reached over to unlock it, allowing Remus to walk back in. “Sorry that took so long. Wanted to double check that anyone using someone else as a crutch was black out drunk, not drugged. Here, sit him up.”

Virgil shifted so he was behind Logan and pulled him up against him, holding him steady as Remus lifted a glass of water to his lips. “You have to be thirsty. Do your best to keep this down, Lo.” Suddenly realizing how thirsty he actually was, Logan downed half the glass before Remus pulled it away. “Not so much, you’ll get sick.” There was a clink as the glass was placed on the bed side table. “We need to take him to the hospital. I don’t know how much whatever the fucker gave him.”

“I’m too drunk to drive,” Virgil said, gently lowering Logan back onto his side.

“I didn’t drink that much, but I’m not safe either. You got a friend who can take us?”

“Yeah,” The shorter mumbled as he shakily typed in his phone password, “I’m going to call Patton, just a second.” He moved to the furthest corner of the small room and the conversation faded into the background. At least Virgil was talking… that meant Patton picked up, right?

“Shitty way to end a pretty spectacular holiday,” Remus stated as he sat back on his spot, letting a hand rest on Logan’s leg.

“‘m s’rry.”

“Ah, shit, that’s not what I meant. I’m mad for you, not at you. Ya know,” As he spoke, he reached up and did something to his eyes, almost picking at them, “Halloween’s the only valid holiday in my book. Christmas is too overrated, Easter is senseless, Thanksgiving? No thanks, I don’t glorify genocide. But Halloween? I get to dress slutty or spooky or fucking ridiculous, and no one can give me two shits about it. I get to throw ragers and stab gourds into faces and buy discount candy until I’m fifty percent chocolate. I mean, I dyed my hair green for it, paid extra for the glow in the dark shit, and all I got were compliments.”

His hands had returned to his lap and he was fiddling with something. Logan tried to make out what it was, but it just looked like black plastic. Tiny, flexible pieces of black plastic. That Remus had pulled from his eyes.

They were colored contacts.

“I guess I do kind of blame Roman for getting me into Beetlejuice, but it is one of his least favorite musicals, so it’s also a bit of a ‘fuck you’ to him-”

“R’mus,” He breathed, and even that faint call was enough to snap Remus back to him. The taller man turned to him immediately, and Logan forgot how to breathe.

Because his eyes were brown, and in the dim light of the single lamp, they absolutely shone.

His eyes were the same brown as Logan’s hair, and Logan’s eyes became that offensive green around the same time as Remus dyed his for the costume, and that’s all the confirmation Logan needed to push himself up onto the hands and lunge forward to kiss him. The effort is strenuous and the lurch almost makes him heave again, but oh Lord, he just found his soulmate and it’s actually him and-

“Woah, woah woah woah. Hold on there, cowboy.” Remus gently pushes him back down before their lips can meet, “You are very drugged right now. I am not kissing you drugged. Sober, hell yes. But not like this.”

“Y’re my-”

“Soulmate. I know. I kind of figured when I saw your eyes. But I figured… I might as well get you to like me before I dropped that kind of bombshell. Although… I was hoping that would be accomplished by basic flirting, but then the party started getting out of hand, so I was always busy with-”

“Patton’s on his way,” Virgil spoke up, joining the two on the bed. “You okay, Lo?”

“He figured it out,” Remus said softly, letting a hand card through Logan’s hair.

“I was wondering how long that would take.”

Logan gave a weak smile, his own fear and adrenaline starting wear off slightly. He was safe here, and he felt like he wasn’t going to be let out of sight for a while.

“Drink some more water, wallflower,” Remus whispered, helping him sit up, “We’ll take care of you.”

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #i kind of visualized that the man dropped the roofie in from his palm when he opened the drink #but i couldnt find a place to add that #not really that important tho #virgil sanders #patton sanders #rape tw #drugging tw #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides au #ts soulmate au #sanderssides #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanderssidesau

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plainlo-inthemorning · 3 years ago

Text

A Loki TVA / Lokane fic that snatched a tempad. Rating T.

Previously: Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 (of 6)

Shine a Light, part 4

This time around, he feels but the faintest glimmer of surprise as he steps out of the doorway and onto a busy sidewalk in Midtown Manhattan.

A few people stop dead in their tracks when the door materializes out of thin air, but the throng of commuters headed to and from Central Station is so dense, Loki’s appearance goes mainly unnoticed.

Dull resignation washes over him.

The tempad is officially broken. Its coordinates locked onto this little planet where, in his own timeline, he has known nothing but defeat.

Without bothering to look for a newsstand, he reasons there’s a strong probability it’s the year 2014. It would seem the damn gadget is slowly counting backwards, while refusing to take him anywhere else in the universe.

Above his head, a billboard flashing on the side of a high-rise building confirms his suspicions.

Incredibly though, the tempad still not out of “juice”. The battery life seems to be making a mockery of his failed attempts to direct the itinerary.

Taking a step out of the moving sea of people, Loki sees little in way of construction sites along the street.

On his timeline, this would have been two years after his attack on the city with Thanos’ army, but if that ‘highlight’ of Loki’s less than acclaimed villainous career took place in this reality as well, the mortals have effectively tidied up after him.

He tries not think of the countless faces frozen in terror that had looked up at him.

Of the lives lost because of his crazed ambition to prove himself - and to destroy something of Thor’s.

Almost if Loki had been transformed back into the chronically jealous five-year-old child who once stole his golden, annoyingly joyful, perfect brother’s favorite model toy - a grey wolf made of clay - and deliberately let it roll down the steps of the throne when their father (his NON-father) had been away.

The toy had broken into pieces and Thor had been inconsolable. Gripped by immediate remorse despite his initial intent, Loki had tried to fix it with his budging magic powers. Only for the wolf to melt to a sticky puddle on the stone floor.

Thor had wailed so loudly, a passing servant had thought him seriously injured and called for their mother, and Loki had been made to apologize, his usually pale cheeks burning scarlet. Then he had been grounded for the remains of the day.

The humiliation had stung, and so had the regret that his magic had failed him.

Not for the first time, the anger had turned, unwarranted (Loki knew then too), towards his brother.

From then on, it had just gotten slowly worse and worse and more malicious right up until that horrible moment of rage no more than a few days ago (a week?), when Loki had driven one of his daggers into Thor’s side on top of the Stark tower.

And twisted it.

The mix of bottomless sadness and shock in his brother’s blue eyes had cut through Loki’s heart with such force he might as well have sunk the blade of his other weapon into his own chest.

But instead of abandoning his pathetic scramble for power and hold Thor, instead of attempting to heal the wound with his magic that has become so formidable in adulthood, Loki had let the poison drown the remains of his sanity.

Of course, shortly afterward, the green monstrosity had effortlessly and repeatedly smashed him into the concrete floor of Stark’s living-quarters until Loki had thought he heard every bone in his supposedly immortal (right!) body break and his skull crack open.

To the outside, it had surely been a suitably entertaining show of retribution, but as he had lain there in the crater of rubble, unable to utter a moan, it was as if all the anger had been knocked out of him.

The link to Thanos’ ungodly servant had been severed and Loki had felt more like himself than he had in a long, long time.

When Thor, looking grimmer than ever, had dragged him to his feet in front of the ragtag band of ‘heroes’ and cuffed him, Loki had found himself strangely elated, on the verge of giddy.

His legs had been so shaky from the beating that Thor had had to hold him by the arm so he wouldn’t fall, and Loki had felt the heat of his brother’s huge hand penetrate the many layers of his own armour.

For a few delirious seconds, Loki had wanted nothing more than to lean against his brother’s strong frame and just close his eyes.

Instead, he had started cracking jokes until Thor had slapped the muzzle on him, as if he were some dog (that gesture had embarrassed him more than anything that had gone before). Unable to keep up his sarcastic commentary as they rode the elevator down, Loki had fleetingly wondered if he was suffering from a psychosis or actual brain damage.

Now, standing on the street so close to where it happened, the memory oozes fresh guilt.

But he redeemed himself.

In his mind, Loki goes through the TVA reel once more to remind himself of the images of his brother later in life, smiling at him.

Right before the end came.

If he is to spend the rest of eternity on Midgard - or at least until the multiverse crumbles - he will try to find solace in the good his future self managed to accomplish.

For Thor and, in another, brighter reality, for her.

The riddle of her part in his life now remains unsolved, but as hard as Loki tries to release the ghost wrapped in his arms, it merely squeezes itself closer to his chest.

He could try to find her here, on this timeline.

She will be with Thor, that much is certain, but since the reel of Loki’s fate had shown him only his own path, he knows not whether Thor and Jane shared a life on Midgard, or somewhere else, up until the brothers reunited (for lack of a better word) on Asgard.

What would Loki even say to her?

That, while at the bureau that controls all space and time, he saw her face on a roll of film of his supposed life, and now he aches for her more than anything? That on an alternate timeline a few hours ago, she kissed him?

Thor would not approve of that exchange.

Also, with Loki’s luck, Thor might be a frog in this reality.

He could still try to use the tempad to transport him to Svartalfheim and his own life’s story, seeing as he is now only year from where he feels so strongly he must go.

But finding the proper timeline is like shooting an arrow into the endless vastness of space and hoping it’ll hit the right comet.

He realizes that now.

An arrow.

Somehow, somewhere, on two timelines no less, variants of him had …

Loki’s head jerks up.

The tower.

It’s a desperate idea at best, but from the (very) little Loki knows of his character, Stark’s superior technical skills go hand in hand with an endlessly hungry, inquisitive mind. And pride.

Much like Loki, Stark is a man who needs to be the smartest man in the room. And like Loki, he probably is, most of time (in fact… no. Don’t go there).

Maybe Stark will listen.

Perhaps he can even help make sense of the tempad if Loki can somehow win his trust and appeal to his curiosity and (he winces a little) heroism.

Was it not Loki’s actions who had helped Stark “realize his best potential”, as his TVA file put it?

He spots the imposing structure further up the street, noticing the huge “A” at the top (is that new?), and sets off towards it at a brisk pace, darting in and out of the crowds on the packed sidewalk.

Here goes nothing.

As he reaches the large glass doors he briefly experiences a dizzying deja-vu, when suddenly a man’s voice calls out to him.

A frighteningly familiar, agitated voice.

… With a particular brand of anger bubbling underneath, that Loki had hoped he’d never have to witness up close ever again.

“What the hell are you doing here??”

His dark, curly hair has a few more streaks of silver. The checkered shirt is slightly crumbled, the glasses a bit askew. He clutches an armful of papers to his chest.

And he’s wearing a furious expression although, thank the Norns, a mortal complexion.

For now.

“Didn’t Tony explicitly tell you not to come here?! Are you that intent on causing everyone to lose their shit again?!”

Worry is all over Doctor Banner’s screwed up face.

“Seriously, Loki, is this funny to you? Clint is actually in the building right now and, in case Tony didn’t already inform you, he’s made it very clear that he’s quitting the team if you were to stroll through the front door!”

The Avenger has started shaking, his eyes wild (too wild).

This is heading in the wrong direction fast.

Mustering all the calm in the world despite his racing pulse and the nauseating sounds of bones breaking echoing in his head, Loki puts on his most courteous and, he dearly hopes, un-cocky charming smile.

“Bruce, please relax. I assure you, I’m not here to cause trouble. Not for you or anyone else.”

“Right, you just happened to be in town and wanted to stop by for coffee? Loki, this …”

Loki gently interrupts him.

“I merely came here to have a conversation with S- … Tony. Perhaps you could let him know I’m here? I promise you, I will not set foot inside. In fact - “

Loki adopts the form of one of the security guards he can see pacing inside the foyer.

“… I’m not even here.”

Bruce jumps a little and clutches his papers even tighter.

“Oh god, I hate when you do that, man. If you think showing off that trick makes anyone any less nervous around you…”

“Doctor Banner - Bruce. I have something …”

Loki searches for the words, quickly trying to decide on how much to reveal to the man-beast who’s now looking at him with urgent expectancy.

He sighs and bets it all.

“Okay. Bruce, what I’m going to say will sound mad.”

The man scoffs.

“Coming from you, I’d expect nothing less.”

Bruce shakes his head and looks to the sky in exasperation.

“Please - please - don’t tell me you’ve gone and changed your mind about the whole not conquering Earth business. Really, Loki, none of us understand how transforming you into ‘an asset’ became Tony’s pet project over this past year, or why Fury went along with it. But I’m sure both are going to be pretty damn disappointed if their new alien BFF decides to embrace his inner psycho again.”

Loki almost chuckles. It’s all too ridiculous.

“I won’t … embrace my inner ‘psycho’, I swear.”

“Then what?”

The God of Mischief draws in a deep breath, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. Or rather, the security guard’s nose.

Then he surrenders to the absurdity of the situation.

“Bruce, I kindly beg of you, is Tony here? Or … (is there hope?) Thor?”

Bruce still looks at him with deep disdain, but his immediate anger seems to have subsided.

“No, Tony’s out of town. Took Pepper somewhere on holiday. They’re not to be disturbed for at least a week. Her words. And Thor … I should think you of all people know perfectly well why he’s not likely to hang around at the time being. Jeez, you guys and your endless family soap opera … I can’t even.”

Naturally, the universe again blankly refuses to extend any hands to Loki and his doomed quest. Sadly, once again, he is not surprised.

Wait - what?

“What do you mean, ‘soap opera’?”

Bruce looks like he’s about to throw his hands over his head and all the papers with them.

“Oh, come on! What is this?! You want approval? Confirmation of your little victory? Doesn’t the very lovely embodiment of that currently walk around in your apartment or wherever it is you live now? Loki, I’m done here. You have to leave. Bye.”

To hell with Stark – Loki wants to grab Bruce by his shirt collar and shake the little man till he explains what in all of Yggdrasil he’s talking about.

But he cannot afford to tempt the beast. Quite literally.

“Then … can you and I go somewhere to talk? Bruce, you’re a man of science. This is science … related.”

Loki feigns a smile.

Bruce sizes him up. No doubt considering whether to let the other guy continue the conversation.

Then his shoulders drop.

“Okay. Okay. For a creepy megalomaniac, you somehow tend to end up with some very cool people defending your case. Just know that those people are absolutely the only reason, you and I are still talking. Ugh, I’m too nice … “

Bruce casts a glance over his shoulder into the foyer, appearing to consider their options, when a man exits the glass doors – and shuffles up to them.

“Bruce! How nice to see you. You look well.”

The old man (those eyes …) grins warmly and pats Bruce on the back, then looks from him to Loki and back again.

“Everything alright out here? Is there a security issue?”

Bruce composes himself and smiles back.

“Hi, Lee, good to see you too. All fine. Earl here was just updating me on, eh, the new security procedures.”

He shoots Loki a stern look.

“Ah, yes”, Loki nods seriously. “Doctor Banner had some trouble operating the intricate open and close mechanism of the doors. The elevator doors, especially.”

He can’t help himself. It’s somehow both immensely tragic and life-affirming.

“Oh?” The old man raises an eyebrow (he looks … but he’s not quite …something is off).

“Will I have to get a new security card? I rarely come in these days, but in case …”

“No, no, that won’t be necessary, Lee. Because, because … like you say, you’re hardly ever here, so …”

Still smiling awkwardly, Bruce waves a dismissive hand, almost dropping the stack of papers (the man’s a terrible liar, Loki thinks).

“Speaking of”, Banner continues, “you must be enjoying retirement up there, huh, Lee? Must be nice to live by the sea. Good … air quality?”

Loki sighs inwardly.

The dog sniffing at his ankles looks up at him.

He stares down at the round, fluffy thing as if seeing it for the first time.

Which he is and he isn’t.

The old man is saying something to Bruce about the countryside, when he notices the dog wagging its tail at Loki’s feet.

“Oh, he likes you. You’re lucky, he normally doesn’t care for strangers. No, you don’t, do you Fenris”, the man coos.

Under coats of thick white fur, the animal looks eagerly from owner to Loki.

“Okay, well, I’ll be off,” the old man says, finally. “Come see me sometime, Bruce. My neighbor actually just put his house on the market, in case you’re looking for a weekend retreat…”

He nods at Bruce, then at Loki who barely notices. The dog whines unhappily at being dragged away.

It’s the same timeline.

Of course, it is. The tempad has locked itself on a sequence.

But why the different locations …?

“Yes, thank you, Lee. Take care now. Earl, shall we?” Bruce signals to Loki to follow him round the side of the building.

“We can continue our discussion about the security issue in the garage”.

“So, let’s hear it. Tell me what you came to say, so I can tell you why it’s a catastrophically bad idea.”

Bruce sits himself across the small table from Loki and dumps the stack of papers in front of him. The top sheet is covered in coffee mug rings.

They are in an anonymous, windowless office somewhere below the vast tower parking lot and numerous in-house repair shops.

The place is a gigantic maze and Loki has just shut himself in a tiny room with the very monster that turned him into ragdoll. The deep slash on his forehead has only just healed.

He does not fear many beings in the universe, but the mild-mannered doctor’s alter ego makes the hit list with the worst of them.

Ignoring the way the hairs on the back of his neck stand up (why did this seem like a good idea?), Loki drops his disguise and takes a seat on the cheap plastic chair. Not much of that flashy Stark glamour down here.

“Okay.” Loki takes out the tempad and puts it in the middle of the table.

He is not quite sure where to start, so he decides to begin with the purely technical aspect.

Bruce might appreciate being given a few ‘scientific’ details before any mentions of giant smoke monsters and alligators.

In fact, the fewer magical creatures and castles in the sky, the better.

“This is called a tempad. It’s a device that makes it possible to travel anywhere in time. You type in your destination, and a doorway opens. I did not make it myself. It was, er, given to me by a large and very powerful organization … in space.”

Bruce is leaning forward to get a better look at the tempad but makes no attempt to reach for it.

As he’s says nothing, Loki continues.

“This is where it gets, uh, weird, but try to believe me when I tell you, I’m not the Loki you know. I’m from another, similar timeline and -“

“Stop.”

“Excuse me?”

“Just stop, Loki.”

Bruce is leaning back on his chair again. He looks tired.

“I don’t know if you’re supremely bored of domestic bliss already, or just being your supremely annoying self, but I won’t engage. You’re not Loki but a time-traveler from space? Yeah, it’s -“

“No, Bruce, I am Loki. Trust me, I know this seems -“

“Trust? You wanna talk about trust again?” Bruce takes out his phone.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He taps a few buttons, then holds the phone to his ear.

“What are you doing?” Loki’s voice has a sharper edge to it than he intended.

The Avenger stares him down.

“Oh, I’m just calling someone. This guy I have in my contacts under God of Lies”.

Please, no …

Briefly, Loki considers whether another variant of him – the one he encountered at the house by the ocean, most likely – would actually be of more help.

Or if he, the variant, would try to kill him.

It was one thing reasoning with and trying not to get killed by Loki variants who at least understood the concept of variants, but how would he have reacted upon being confronted with a twin before the TVA?

No, not a twin … Because this variant has her.

None of the variants in the Void – the grown-up, human ones – had mentioned versions of her.

Either this variant has successfully taken out every Minute Man ever sent by the TVA to arrest him (in which case, Loki concedes, he may be the superior Loki), or this whole timeline has only just blossomed at the opening of the multiverse.

Why else would he, who apparently also gave his phone number to Bruce Banner, get to live a life so vastly different from the typical arc of a misguided Jotun prince?

Loki feels light-headed.

On one hand, he wants to know everything there is to know about his double, on the other, he fears what and who he might find.

You don’t belong here. Find your own timeline. No more Lokis.

Focus. Explain.

He raises his one hand in a placating gesture.

“Give me a little time to try and explain this, Bruce, and then, then … You can call whoever. Call everyone! But please just -“

“Oh, what do you know,” Bruce puts his phone down, “there’s no answer. What a surprise.”

He crosses his arms.

Loki inhales and tries again, speaking as evenly and as calmly as he can while his frustration mounts:

“There is no way of telling you all or any of this without it sounding utterly ludicrous, so you’ll have to hear me out. Five minutes uninterrupted from now, okay? Yes, we’re talking time travel, but compared to what’s really at stake, even time travel is a pretty basic technicality. Also, I promise you, in a few years’ time from now, the concept of time travel won’t seem all that laughable to you and Stark in particular. Provided this reality exists in a few years’ time seeing as -“

Bruce sighs dramatically.

“Yes, okay, so”, Loki continues, “Two years ago, I attacked New York, right?”

“If you’re about to roll out some outlandish excuse – another one! – I don’t care to hear it.”

The other man is narrowing his eyes as a fresh look of undistilled loathing creeps into his features.

So it did happen on this timeline as well.

“No, it’s not that. Or, I mean, let’s save that. When you captured me, in my timeline, I escaped from the lobby with the Infinity stone. I know it seems impossible from your end of events but - “

“Impossible?”

Bruce gives him a strange look Loki can’t quite interpret.

“Yes, S… Tony dropped the briefcase with the Infinity stone, and I picked it up and -“

Bruce pushes his chair back. The plastic scrapes loudly against the stone tiles of the floor.

“Loki, I can’t. I thought I had the patience to at least indulge you but turns out I don’t. I can’t tell if you’re losing your mind, but either way, you’ll have to take it – this, whatever it is – up with Tony instead when he gets back. Maybe bring that sweet lab partner of yours along if you’re going to talk time travel. With her field of expertise, I’m sure - “

“WILL YOU SHUT UP AND LISTEN TO ME!”

Without thinking, Loki slams both his hands into the table. Papers go flying and Bruce staggers backwards.

Horror dawns as Loki realizes his error, but it’s already too late.

Bruce doubles over in spasms and a deep, much too deep, growling sound escapes his lips. He grips his head with his shaking hands as if trying to contain the explosion within, and Loki feels his own brain go numb with panic as one of those hands triples in size and a sickly green hue rapidly spreads.

There is no way out.

Bruce is blocking the door and soon his bulk will be taking up the entire room. He falls to his knees, arms thrashing wildly and his shirt ripping across his back. The table sails over Loki’s head, one of the chairs lodges itself in the soundproofed ceiling, causing the panels of fluorescent light to flicker madly.

Are there no security cameras?!

There are screams, but they no longer sound human.

Loki has nowhere to hide.

He has to gather his magic around him, but terror is completely scattering his focus, cold sweat breaking out all over his body.

It is a matter of seconds before the transformation will be complete and the monster attempts to tear him limb from limb. With no heroes to stop it.

Cold.

He has only consciously reached for it once before, but now the thought barely registers before ice rushes through him as if by instinct. Bruce is not the only one with an abomination lurking under the surface.

He doesn’t have the casket of his birth father, but he has strength.

There is no time to consider if it’s enough or nothing at all. No time for crippling self-loathing or shame.

In front of him, the Hulk lifts its crazed, bloodshot eyes to meet his.

The green creature cannot stand upright in the office, and the first fist goes through the ceiling with the force of a wrecking ball. The next lashes out at Loki, who dodges it just as his own skin turns a deep, brilliant blue.

Little black ridges and markings rise on his arms and face and though his sight doesn’t falter, he feels the instant his eyes go from green to bright red. The fabric of his clothes chafes his new skin and waves of adrenaline surge through his body. Multiple foreign senses come alive and drown his fear.

But he has not a breath to spare to get used to his true form before the Hulk shoves him against the wall so hard, the bricks shift against his side as if they were made of a child’s building blocks.

The impact makes him gasp for air, yet the pain … the pain he can manage.

He just has to last long enough get out of here. And the cold is crystalizing his focus to let the magic flow easily, powerfully through his hands.

His blue hands.

If he had used this when …

Loki pushes himself off the wall (out of it) and almost collides with the Hulk (there’s no space left to maneuver in) who, instead of smashing its way out, seems hell-bent on squashing the only living thing in its line of sight first.

Loki swiftly crouches down on one knee, puts his palms together and, faster than the blink of a brilliant crimson eye, conjures a rotating orb of ice and chaos energy that explodes in a blinding flash of white light as he hurls it square into the monster’s chest.

The Hulk falls back, breaking through the wall to the parking lot on the other side and crashing into a row of cars, while a sheath of ice spreads from its chest and up its neck. The being that is not Bruce howls and claws at its skin, but the smooth ice thickens and as it reaches the head of the beast, it slides right into its eye sockets – and momentarily blinds it.

It will probably only last seconds but it’s all Loki needs while the Hulk shakes its head furiously.

He makes to flee when he spots the tempad on the cracked floor.

He can’t leave it.

As Loki dives for the gadget, the Hulk simultaneously knocks itself in the face with both fists, splintering the ice into a rain of tiny spikes. With a roar to match the sound of a spaceship engine taking off, the creature lunges.

Loki’s fingers close around the tempad.

He feels a buzz.

The door appears in front of him.

He doesn’t stop to think before throwing himself through it.

The Hulk punches into empty air.

Part 5

#loki #loki series #tva loki #lokane fanfic #lokane ff #lokane #loki x jane #marvel #loki ff #loki fanfic #shine a light #plainlo inthemorning #loki laufeyson

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gabriel-agreste-has-no-rights · 4 years ago

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Rating: G

Summary: According to Marinette, all's fair in love and Mario Kart. Chat Noir is determined to test that theory. Multimouse/Chat Noir for @kittylovezine volume 2

Word Count: 1,519

XXX

"HA! You snooze, you lose, Chat!"

“Now you’re just showing off,” Adrien grumbled from Marinette’s desk chair as her—well, Multimouse’s—kart passed him. One of her karts, anyway. The Princess Peach she was controlling bounced across the giant mushrooms as her Rosalina and Daisy tag-teamed his Yoshi with two green shells.

“You’re the one who wanted to test my powers,” the one of her sitting on his left shoulder teased.

“Haven’t you ever watched Tom and Jerry?” another Multimouse chimed in while crossing the finish line. Her victory noise mingled with the sounds of late night traffic outside. “Mice always outsmart a kitty.”

He pouted while crossing seconds behind her. A new record—this time he’d only been beaten by two of her three avatars. The Multimice driving Rosalina had fumbled their too-large Wii remote while drifting around the last turn.

“Dang it,” they muttered.

“I guess you can’t be perfect all the time,” he teased. “I’m not sure it counts though. You only lost because the controller is too big.”

Yet that wasn’t stopping the rest of her from kicking his butt, even playing as three separate characters. She’d been right—she didn’t need practice with her powers. Was there anything Marinette wasn’t good at?

“All’s fair in love and Mario Kart.” She shrugged. “Besides, you need all the victories you can get.”

The Multimouse on his other shoulder grinned and poked his cheek. She hadn’t been so willing to roast him while playing Ultimate Mecha Strike with “Adrien” before. He wasn’t sure if it was confidence from her new superpowers, or just that she felt more comfortable with Chat after their few weeks of training together.

“Love and Mario Kart, huh?” He grinned back as the game automatically began counting down to the last race of the Mushroom Cup—Toad’s Factory. “Which one of those are we talking about here?”

To his surprise, two of her three karts stalled at the starting line as his blasted off.

“Dumb cat,” she muttered from his shoulder.

At risk of getting smashed by the course, he snuck a glance at her. A pink blush dusted her tiny cheeks.

Was his joking actually having an effect on her? No, it couldn’t. She (unfortunately) didn’t have a crush on Chat Noir anymore.

But if his attempts at flirting were distracting… all was fair in love and Mario Kart.

“What? Did you fall for me again?” He teased, and one of the Multimice controlling Daisy lifted the remote too high, sending her careening into the water.

“The only one who’s going to fall here is you,” she threatened, making Rosalina launch a red shell at him.

Yoshi yelped as he too skidded off the track, but Adrien couldn’t bring himself to mind. He grinned at the duplicate sitting on his shoulder.

“More and more every day, Princess.”

That was less of a joke and more of an accidental confession, but hopefully she would be too focused on beating him to notice.

Or not. Rosalina and Daisy crashed into boxes. Princess Peach mired herself in a mudpit. For the first time since they’d started the grand prix, Adrien blew past all three of her characters.

“I swear, Chat,” one Multimouse from the table began ominously as her duplicates scrambled to right their remotes, “if you just said that to distract me, I’m going to make you regret it.”

“So you’d rather I said it for real?”

He bit his tongue. Stupid, stupid. Maybe he could wear his heart on his sleeve for Ladybug—she was used to it, and he was used to being rejected in turn—but Marinette? Marinette, who didn’t have to spend her precious time with him, let him into her home, joke like they’d been friends forever?

He couldn’t bear to lose her. But his stupid mouth had never learned to stay shut.

Six Multimice stood on the desk, and not one looked at him. Even the two on his shoulders were silent as a… no, no puns now.

Her karts stayed on the road this time.

“I retract my earlier statement,” she huffed. “All is not fair in love or Mario Kart.”

His heart sunk to his feet. He didn’t care when the NPCs blew past him, when he got smashed by the course, when one of Marinette’s karts completely lapped him. Her miraculous’ warning beep sounded, but it hardly mattered; she’d win before her Multitude wore off.

“Chat.”

...Unless she paused the game.

“I just red shelled you.”

He shrugged before remembering she could lose her balance. She didn’t, but only because the two on his shoulders grabbed his collar. Heat spread across the sliver of skin she brushed.

“You’re… what’s wrong?” She asked from his left, staring up at him in confusion.

She… didn’t realize he’d meant it? A wave of embarrassment washed over him. If he’d played it cool, like he did with Ladybug, he might’ve been able to recover from his failed flirting attempt.

But this was Marinette. What she thought of him mattered. Even if “him” in this case was his superhero persona and wouldn’t affect their civilian friendship, he couldn’t have her think he’d flirt with her and not mean it.

“Sorry.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “I wasn’t trying to distract you. Well, I was, but—I wasn’t just trying to distract you.”

“What?” Her breath hitched.

“If I did say it for real… that I was falling for you…” He swallowed before meeting her eyes. “What would you say?”

She clung tighter to his collar.

“I—I would—why?”

He blinked.

(“No, Chat, I’ve already given up on you.”)

(“I’m in love with Luka. You’re just a friend.”)

(“Yes! I’ve already got our kids’ and hamster’s names picked out.”)

Any of those responses he might have expected—okay, not that last one—but asking “why?”

“Because—why would I not? You’re incredible, Marinette.”

Her necklace beeped again as her tiny head tilted sideways. “You, hero of Paris with a face that every girl in the city drools over, thinks I’m incredible?”

A choked noise came out of his mouth. Sure, he was used to unreasonable amounts of attention in his civilian life, but hearing Marinette in particular say it so matter-of-factly about Chat set his face burning.

“You can dish it out but can’t take it, huh?” She grinned.

“Y-you’re a hero of Paris too, you know.” He flicked the speck of a pendant at her neck.

“Not really. You know Ladybug’s never going to put me in the field again, and—you’re dodging the question!”

“About how incredible I think you are? I could talk about that for hours, Princess.” He winked. She hadn’t turned him down yet. That had to count for something, right?

“I can’t believe you,” she muttered through her hands.

“Then let me tell you until you do,” he said, though he knew that wasn’t what she meant. “And you still haven’t answered my question. Do you… I know I turned you down when you confessed to me the first time, but if you’ll forgive how stupid I was… would you…?”

“What about Ladybug?” She interrupted. “Won’t she be jealous?”

Adrien laughed. “She doesn’t like me like that, no matter what your ladyblogger friend thinks. She’s made it clear enough times, and even if I’ll always love her, I know it’s time I let go.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” she mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Nothing! Sorry, I’m just—I didn’t expect you to ever—yes!”

He wasn’t entirely sure what she was saying yes to, considering he hadn’t strung enough coherent words together to technically ask her out. And he didn’t know how dating her as Chat would work, anyway. Wow, he did not think this through, even if he regretted absolutely nothing because she said yes she said YES!

The two Multimice on his shoulders leaned in and simultaneously kissed his cheeks, and he effectively melted into a puddle of goo. He barely heard the beep from her miraculous—

Then a full-sized Marinette was sitting in his lap, blinking up at him with a mortified expression.

He couldn’t help it. He burst out cackling, only quieting when he remembered that her sleeping parents might hear.

“Shut up!” She smacked his chest lightly. “It’s not funny!”

“Admit it, Marinette, it’s hiss-terical.”

She bit her lip, but her cheeks puffed with suppressed laughter. Mullo took one look between them before deciding it was best to leave them alone.

“Don’t make me take it back, kitty.”

“Too late. No returns, no refunds.” He hugged her as giddy energy coursed through him. She liked him!

“Hm. I guess it would be rude to dump a stray out on the street.”

“Definitely.” He nuzzled her shoulder.

Marinette giggled. “So… I guess we’re not finishing that Mario Kart tournament. Unless you want to share some of Plagg’s cheese with Mullo?”

“Nah. Besides, I already won anyway.”

“Excuse you, you were going to lose anyway.”

“Doesn’t look that way from where I’m sitting.” He grinned and hugged her tighter. “After all, all’s fair in love and Mario Kart.”

#marichat #multichat #multimouse #chat noir #fic tag #tali writes #kitty love zine #ml #miraculous ladybug

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birdiefw · 4 years ago

Text

TONY STARK | HOME

Summary: Losing your husband was the worst thing that had ever happened to you, but you weren’t about to let him go without trying to get him back.

Warnings: Mentions of depression, implied Stucky (though, you don’t have to see it as that), fluff, Endgame changes.

Word Count: 1,751

A/N: I wrote this a long time ago to try and cope with what happened in Endgame because it literally broke me + there were many things I didn’t like about it. And in this imagine, the compound didn’t get destroyed nor was Morgan born as it works best that way for this imagine.

Sadness.

That was all you felt.

It was like all of the air had been sucked straight out of your lungs while you watched your husband take his last breaths after sacrificing himself for the sake of the universe.

You didn’t know if it was real at first, but when he failed to move despite your loud pleas and sobs that wrecked through your body, your heart tore into millions of pieces and fell into the deepest pit of your stomach where you could no longer feel a single thing. It took everything in your body to not completely crumble right then and there, but with strong arms pulling you up to your feet and into their tight embrace, you crumbled, letting out every emotion you felt through your flow of tears.

Tears of anger, grief, sadness, and every other emotion you felt tumbled down your face and soaked into the fabric of Steve Rogers suit as he held you tightly. You could hear his own sniffles, saddened with the loss of Tony, as was everyone else.

The world would never be the same without Tony Stark—everyone knew that—but none of them would feel the pain of it as much as you.

No matter what anyone said or tried in an attempt to comfort you over the loss of your husband, it meant nothing.

Tony’s funeral had felt like a complete blur for you, dozens of faces mixing together and words never really registering in your mind even if you nodded along or mumbled out a short response. You know you heard them, but your mind was completely blank as was your heart without your husband by your side, whispering in your ear that everything would be alright.

Everyone walked on eggshells around you, not wanting to make you even more sad or be at the wrath of your anger.

You felt terrible for not talking to anyone, but each time you tried, memories of Tony trying to speak his final words to you popped up into your mind and made tears brew in your eyes. You didn’t know what was to come next for you, but alone at the compound where you were meant to be picking up some things, you found yourself aimlessly wandering around the enormous building.

It was something that you and Tony would do in your spare time and when no one else was around, sometimes using that to your advantage to have some fun in the many open spaces with the full risk of being seen or caught. However, you found yourself standing in Scott’s guest room, eyes suddenly locked on some Pym Particles that were placed on his messy dresser.

You hadn’t spoken to Scott much, but he did offer you his condolences and said if you ever needed anything to let him know. The same had been said by the Pym family, having caught you off guard with the known fact Hank Pym had never been the biggest fan of any Stark, but you smiled as a thank you nonetheless. You didn’t even mean to go in Scott’s room—you thought it was Bruce’s—but a small spark inside told you it was meant to be.

Thankfully, the time machine was still around and perfectly intact, Bruce having wanted to keep it to study it for a while. No one besides him paid much attention to it anymore, everyone else having begun to move on with their lives and try to live the life Tony would’ve wanted them to. You, on the other hand, got an idea and found yourself standing in front of the time machine, two vials of Pym particles held in each of your hands, lips tight pursed together and an idea swirling around in your mind.

After Steve returned the stones and came back to live his life with Bucky after he passed the mantle of Captain America to none other than Sam Wilson, they’d all left the time machine alone. Bruce was taking some time to research the particles and how it reacted with the machine, which made you believe that’s why Scott had more of it.

You knew you shouldn’t, but every fiber in your body ached to be with Tony, to see his warm smile, to hear his intoxicating laugh, to feel his gentle touch run along your skin and make your heart flutter. His smile was your favorite thing in the world, and you craved to see it again.

Standing in front of the daunting machine, you sucked in a breath and swiftly turned it on.

You were there when they all went off the first time, taking the infinity stones from the past and returning with them a minute later. You’d watched every move Bruce made, taking note of what he pressed and turned, happy that you’d paid so much attention to it at the time.

You softly smiled to yourself, glancing to the suits that were thrown off to the side; no one planned on using them anytime soon. You quickly snatched two up and rushed up the platform, feeling the suit begin to form over Tony’s AC/DC shirt you were and jeans after you pressed the button, a quiet gasp leaving your lips when it was finished and you had the other stuffed in a case that was clutched in your hand.

You sucked in a sharp breath, glancing down to the particles; you had four with you. One to go, and one to come back. The other two were in case you actually managed to convince Tony to come back with you, but you knew there was a chance he wouldn’t believe you, but still, you wanted them.

You shook out your arms and legs, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to attempt. There were many things that could’ve gone wrong, but the hope of seeing Tony again was enough to push you to do it.

“Y/N? You in here?” A voice called out. Your eyes widened and your head snapped to the side, shock appearing on your features when you saw Tony entering the room. The helmet of your suit slid down, revealing your face to him as he walked closer. He instantly froze, your eyes flicking behind when you saw Bruce Banner following Tony.

Bruce offered you a sheepish smile. “Hey, uh, yeah, I guess I kind of beat you to it.”

Your lips parted, looking back to Tony in utter shock.

He looked so much different, but still the same somehow. He was a little younger, wearing the same shirt you had on, but yours was more worn and faded.

Tears brewed in your eyes and you shakily stepped down from the platform, hand covering your mouth as Tony and Bruce approached you.

Your gaze shifted back to Bruce, slightly lowering your hand and brows furrowed. “But. .how? Why—?”

“I missed him, too,” Bruce admitted. “Besides, our world still needs him, but not as much as you. I’ll give you guys a few minutes.”

Your eyes softened and you sniffled, taking a small step towards Tony. You two had been together ever since he defeated Ivan Vanko and Justin Hammer, having gotten married a little after Peter Parker had managed to web himself into your lives. You’d yet to have any children of your own, always saying you would when the time was right, but things always got in the way of that.

“Oh my god,” you murmured in disbelief.

“Well, it is me. Many people feel that way when meeting me,” he said, causing you to let out a genuine chuckle at his cockiness. Tony sighed, taking your hand in his and linking your fingers together without hesitation. “I’m still not entirely sure what happened. Jolly Green Giant over there wouldn’t give me all the details, but it took some time and he told me a few things that only I would know, and while I did have my doubts, I thought it would be nice to see the future, and of course, you.”

You let out a little laugh, playfully rolling your eyes. “Seriously? That’s why you came here?”

Tony grinned. “Maybe, maybe not. I didn’t really peg you to be one to ruin the past all for—”

Your face slightly faltered when his voice abruptly stopped, concern washing over your features. You opened your mouth to speak, but your eyes followed his gaze, noticing he was staring at your wedding ring that shined on your wedding finger. He slowly looked up to meet your gaze, a small smile working its way onto his lips. “You always did have the best taste,” you softly told him.

Tony beamed, his grin widening. “Yes, I did. But. . .what do you say we get married? I know we already were, but technically that wasn’t—”

“Tony, are you trying to propose to me with the ring your future self already bought?”

“Uh, maybe?”

“You’re such an idiot,” you giggled, pulling into you to give him a hug. You were still sniffling some, but joy was overtaking you.

“But I’m your idiot, right?”

“Of course. Forever and always.” You pulled away, a content sigh leaving your lips. You still couldn’t believe he was standing right in front of you. You allowed your eyes to take in every feature of him, your smile never once faltering. You finally had him back, and he had you. “And, you know, we never actually got to have those kids we wanted. . .”

“Say no more—”

A throat suddenly cleared behind you, your eyes tripling in size at the sight of the woman. “I’m sorry, did I step on your moment?”

Your eyes instantly darted over to Bruce who was off to the side of you and Tony, fiddling with part of the machine. He innocently shrugged his shoulders, timidly grinning as Natasha Romanoff made her way into the room. “Did I forget to mention we brought Nat back, too?”

You laughed, shaking your head.

You finally had your family back.

Tony squeezed your hand, recapturing your attention. “About that family—”

You playfully rolled your eyes and moved forward without a second thought, connecting your lips in a passionate kiss. You hands pressed the sides of his face, one of his arms shaking around your waist while the other firmly pressed against your back, pushing your chests’ together. You tightly held him onto him, promising to never let go of him and basking in the joy that Tony Stark, and Natasha Romanoff, were both home.

———

#tony stark #tony stark x reader #iron man #iron man x reader #tony stark imagine #marvel imagine #marvel #avengers #avengers imagine #robert downey jr

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copperjackalope · 4 years ago

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This is the second part of the out-there Green Mage theories of mine. While you don’t have to read both cause each part is separate, they do connect in some ways. You can find the first part HERE

THEORY: THE ORIGINAL TEST

So this is one you might have to stay with me as I go through, because it really is out there. But there are pieces that sort of lean towards it. Now of course this could have many different meanings, I’m taking one of my own.

But now I bring you to this screen cap from Green

Now of course this could just be the weak grasp of time in an immortal realm, but we are also talking about Green here- the time keeper. The one who marks the tally’s. Eternity very well could be a graspable, measurable time for them. And given the flash of the tally’s found all over the world itself, I very well believe Green kept track when they were stuck in mushroom forest- via weak magic or what may have you given the loss of eye.

But what I’m saying is lets consider Green and Frogs grasp of eternity to be the same. And I want to bring up one of the more interesting pictures found- I did some color bumping

A picture of Green in brown mages room, but oddly enough they seem to be in Red. Its a small pictures, but I don’t think it would be a mistake. Of course its not past me that it could be, but I’m going to treat it like it is not.

The color red of course throughout the game refers to death and destruction when it comes to text and characters- while Green may not have ever been ‘red’, the color is used here as a mark on them.

Basically to rip the Band-Aid off, Green was the original attempt at someone to free this world. Someone who has lived in this world, has seen it, and did plenty to show that too much time truly had passed. Also why they have so much reference to the Gods and Entities, they very well might have been the first one the entities attempted to use. Also why they have such a weird amount of power, and do things in the game that only entity connected beings (such as when they warp the screen) do or do things that break the rules of the game (such as the lightning bolts, which are technically breaking the rules of the normal note like attacks. Orange does the same with their machine, but I don’t count that quite the same because Orange uses artificial means where as Green it seems to be an ability)

Green rather abused this, using these abilities for their own amusement and perhaps pushing others to the brink of death without killing. Because they fear death just as much as the others, and more so fear being alone. They don’t want to be alone in this world, but their assumption is that would happen.

Circling back to the theory above, this is why Green was so hungry for a more challenging battle. And might have been why their incapacitation was necessary. Also, perhaps, why mushrooms door was hidden.

Circling back to main game, there might be a reason Green seems so helpful towards Red. They give them the pot necessary for a trade, the give them the piece of a door needed to get to Gold Pig. Its not that they are unaware of what all this will bring (and a theory for a different time is that they of course saw the original destruction done by pink/red hinted at throughout the game).

The Gods brought in a human instead, someone not tied to this world and therefore thought to be a better choice than someone who was. Pink/Red failed to complete it the first time obviously, but-

Perhaps Green also saw a need to make amends for their failures. So they help Red. And even with the fact that they ‘locked the door’, there’s a lot of suspicious points about it. Namely, why did they even tell blue in the first place? The door would have been more hidden if they didn’t tell anyone- and Green likely is fully aware that Blues memory wouldn’t be that short. They locked it for the sake of looks, but it seems like they didn’t truly mean for it to stay hidden

Of course, rolling back around, Green fears death and there is no way around it. They don’t want to die. And perhaps a part of them hopes due to old situation they won’t be. (Maybe in a way hoping Red will take the corridor towards the Garden by the time they get to them, as that is another end). But of course when it comes to be obvious that this is how it will be, they go down in the way they want- fighting.

TLDR: Green was the original ‘Red’ but fucked up big time.

#everhood #everhood green mage #everhood spoilers #everhood theory #long post

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banashee · 4 years ago

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5 Times Jon and Martin hug +1 time they kiss

The first time Martin and Jon hug - or more precisely, the first time Martin hugs Jon - it is a response to the fact that they’re still alive more than anything else. It’s after Jane Prentiss’ attack, after Martin finds the body of Gertrude Robinson down in the tunnels.

Everyone is a bit worse for wear, which isn’t surprising after everything. The whole institute is full of dead worms and police, so there is little time to think of anything else until the worst of the storm has calmed.

It’s only after, when Jon asks Martin for his statement about the incident that everything hits him at once.

“I’m sorry I left you. I thought you and Tim were right behind me…” The guilt about almost losing the two of them eats on Martin, and when he looks up at Jon, he is surprised to see that his eyes have softened more than he’s ever seen on him.

“Martin, it’s not your fault.” Carefully, as if unsure if he even should, Jon reaches out over the desk in an attempt to comfort, and Martin takes his hand and squeezes without thinking about it, grateful to have something besides a cold, hard table or the edges of his chair to hold onto.

He is also starting to tear up - great. As if today hasn’t sucked enough already, now he’s about to cry at work, too. But Jon… Is unusually patient. He waits for him to finish his statement and doesn’t push more than absolutely necessary.

Once the recording is done, he looks him in the eye, and thanks him again for letting him record this statement.

“Thank you, Martin. And, I suppose, I am glad that you are alright. I was… worried when you weren’t with us anymore.”

“I was worried about you, too. Both of you. I-'' Ah, great, now he really is crying in front of Jon. Martin wishes for the floor to open up and swallow him whole, but Jon doesn’t comment on that. He simply waits for Martin to calm down or leave or… Whatever he chooses to do next, reall, he doesn’t know.

To both their surprise, after Martin wipes over his face with one of his sleeves, he pulls Jon into a quick but heartfelt hug. The man feels stiff like a board and thin as bones in his arms, but after the first second of surprise, he hesitatingly hugs back.

“I am glad that you are okay.” he repeats quietly, and when Martin hurries out of the room after they let go, Jon looks after him, hoping that he really is alright. Or at least, will be alright.

There is a lot he would have liked to say, or do, but as always, there seems to be a blockage in his head that stops him from doing so.

It is late at night and Jon doesn’t think there is anyone still in the office. Yes, Martin is still in the Archives, but that is because he currently lives here. However, it is getting late and he is probably in the storage room and asleep by now, so that doesn’t really count, does it?

Jon wants to keep going, because he is having too many thoughts to calm down, but he is also exhausted. He doesn’t remember when he last got a decent night of sleep, or whatever counts as such ever since he started working down in the Archives. Sleep has always been a difficult subject to him, but it is even more so now.

Jon is cold almost all the time lately. He doesn’t sleep well as it is, but there is also something about this whole job, this whole situation, that leaves him nervous and shivering. Truth be told, he is afraid. More afraid than he is willing to admit, his short heart-to-heart with Martin when the worms attacked aside.

But even then, he had been unwilling to get into any more details. Trusting people, being vulnerable - it is an almost foreign concept to Jon, as much as he would like to be closer to the others.

He’s been holding himself back, trying to keep them at arm's length, for everyone's safety. But ever since Jane Prentiss’ attack, ever since he realized how much he really cares about Martin, Tim and Sasha when he’d feared for their lives, this particular plan had started to fail more and more.

Jon sighs, rubbing his tired and itching eyes under the glasses. There are slight tremors running through his entire body. Maybe he should get some tea, warm up and then see. He didn’t have a lunch break, because he keeps forgetting these things, so maybe it might help.

Jon sighs, then he slowly gets up from the seat by his desk. His recently injured leg is still hurting, and he knows he should give it a rest. He knows he should let it heal properly, but he’s always been bad at taking care of himself. Besides, what is he supposed to do at home? Sit there and wait for something terrible to happen while everyone else is stuck here? No, he’d really rather not.

When Jon steps out of his office, he is surprised to find that there is a faint light coming from the staff kitchen. Slowly, he steps closer to the room until he can see Martin. He is sitting at the kitchen table in an old t-shirt and what looks like green sweatpants with an ugly pattern, hunched over in his seat as he cradles a mug between his large hands. His hair is a mess, standing up in every direction, and he very much looks like somebody who tried and failed to sleep for quite some time.

Near him on the table, he can see the corkscrew and there is no doubt that there is one of the fire extinguishers in the room. Even though most of the worms are dead by now, old habits die hard, and it seems like these things help Martin feel a little bit safer.

Jon decides to say something now rather than later. He doesn’t want to startle the other man, and he also hopes that he wasn’t too loud while he worked.

“Oh, hi Martin. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Martin almost jumps out of his skin and his head whips over to the door where Jon is still standing. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting the company at this hour. As soon as he realizes who it is, Martin seems to relax a bit.

“Christ Jon, I didn’t - I had no idea you were still here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“It’s fine, really. Can’t sleep, anyway... There’s tea in the pot, if you want any.” he adds, and nods over to said pot on the table.

“Thank you.” Jon pulls another mug from the cabinet and fixes himself a mug, grateful that he doesn’t have to fumble his way through preparing everything. Now that he thinks of it, his hands are shaky and he would probably pour boiling water all over himself or something of that nature.

Truth be told, he is rather grateful for the company.

“Can’t sleep, either?” Martin asks eventually, and Jon looks up at him. He isn’t sure what Martin sees, but he is pretty sure that it’s fresh scars, exhaustion, more grey hair and eye bags down to his knees, or something to that effect. Really, there is no denying it.

“Not really, no. Getting work done here… It’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Jon shrugs self-consciously and takes a sip of his tea. It’s warm and comforting, and it instantly calms his nerves. At least a little bit.

The two of them share a bit of comfortable silence as they drink, and eventually, Jon slumps sideways with a sigh, more even exhausted than he had been before.

His head lands against something warm, soft and sturdy, and he finds that he doesn’t mind that.

Martin looks up in surprise when he finds that Jon has actually fallen asleep right on the spot , leaning against his shoulder. A deep blush is creeping up his neck, but thankfully, it is in the middle of the night and there is no one else around to see the scene unfold.

Careful not to wake him, Martin attempts to keep drinking his tea, pointedly ignoring that Jon, who seems dead to the world, actually wraps both arms around his middle in his sleep.

Oh, Fuck.

Martin is screwed - well and fully screwed and he knows it.

When Jon wakes up later, he is stammering and apologizing profusely, clearly embarrassed about the whole situation. But despite everything, somehow, something between the two of them seems to click into place that night.

Another time, a little bit later down the line, Jon and Martin hug in the middle of the office. There is no specific reason, really, but truth be told, the two of them have grown closer and closer over the last few months and weeks.

When they hug, it very much looks like what Tim will amusedly call “The happy fork lift” while he watches the scene unfold with a fond grin. It doesn’t happen often that he gets to see a treat like this - because “forklift” is actually quite accurate for what’s happening here.

Okay, so Jon is short. That is not his fault, but the fact is, he barely reaches up to Martin's shoulder when both of them are standing up straight.

No one dares uttering the word “adorable” because for one, Jon is technically still their boss,

But, the thing is, Jon is short, and when Martin hugs him that night, happy and seemingly carefree for once, he lifts him straight off of his feet.

Tim may or may not be cackling in the background and Melanie may or may not be rolling her eyes at them.

Today, there is no specific reason for them to hug. It’s just - their week has gone well for once - or at least, as well as a week can go for them these days. They’re off for the weekend now, so maybe for once, they’re simply a couple of coworkers - friends now, really - who are about to leave and that’s it. Just a friendly “see-you-on-Monday”-hug, and well.

If both Jon and Martin cling on for just a second longer than they usually would, that’s between them.

It’s been way too long since they talked.

Jon has just come back to work, freshly out of coma and the world might just as well have gone on without him. It feels like that, sometimes.

Jon doesn’t feel like himself at all, even if you take aside the whole “back from the dead” thing. The truth is, Jon is lonely.

Georgie is barely talking to him anymore. Tim is dead, which hurts like hell, even though they had their troubles towards the end. It doesn’t mean they stopped caring. Jon wishes they could have talked things through one last time, because that’s what friends do, right?

Sadly, they never got the chance.

Daisy, Melanie and Basira are around, but that’s not really the same. Jon isn’t as close to them, like he used to be to Martin, Tim and Sasha. Sasha who has been dead for so long and none of them noticed it at the time. It hurts, just as much as losing Tim, and it feels just as fresh.

Martin is still here, but Jon hasn’t seen him since he came back.

Every time he hears a door open in the hallway, Jon finds himself jumping up from his seat, sprinting to the door just to see if he might have missed Martin. More often than not, it’s someone else. Until one day, by chance, he runs into him in the hallway.

“Martin! Hi!”

Martin looks up, and it looks like he is… Grey. Fading away, like he isn’t really here.

“It’s - it’s good to see you. We haven't talked in a while.” Jon is smiling at him, but Martin seems incapable to return it. There is something lost and sad about him, more so than usual - it’s his eyes, Jon realizes. Martin looks sad and empty, but he’s Martin and he’s missed him so much.

Without thinking, Jon steps closer and wraps his arms around the larger man in a hug that doesn’t get returned this time. Martin stands there, stiff and just as lost as before, and he feels cold. So cold. But he still smells the same, smells of tea and woolen jumpers and that one brand of shampoo that he’s been using for years. It is familiar and comforting, but at the same time, it feels wrong.

When Jon returns to his office and closes the door behind him, there is a thick lump forming in his throat. He doesn’t feel better at all.

They are standing on a foggy beach and Martin is freezing cold. He is even more faded away than before, as if he barely even exists anymore. Far away from everything and everyone around him.

When Jon finally reaches him, reaches out for him, he is afraid that he might not even be able to touch Martin at all. But when he reaches out, Martin's hand is ice cold, his skin clammy and crusted with salt.

They stand there in the middle of an empty beach, waves rolling lazily behind them as the thick white fog seems to swallow them whole.

“I was so alone.” Martin tells him, and his voice breaks. Jon closes the distance between them in a heartbeat, wrapping himself around the larger man as tightly as he can, trying to protect him from the world around them and everything that is trying to hurt him.

“Come on, let’s go home.” he quietly tells him, and after what feels like eternity, Martin agrees.

They keep holding hands the entire way to Martins apartment, throughout the night and the entire next day when they’re huddled together on a train, on their way to Scotland.

Martin wakes up warm, comfortable and with a mouthful of Jon’s hair. The man in question is cuddled up into his back, both arms and legs wrapped tightly around Martin, like an octopus. He does that quite a bit, and honestly, Martin can’t complain.

He loves all the small ways in which they can express their love to each other, and if one of the most “human cactus” people Martin has ever met in his entire life wants full-body-cuddles from him on a daily basis, who is he to deny him that?

Besides, it’s not like it’s a hardship. Martin loves these moments just as much, and he wonders sometimes how he ever managed to feel truly alive before he - they - could have this.

Martin is well aware that he’s got privileges that no one else would have with Jon. He knows he won’t ever sleep with him - well, not like that, anyway - and they have talked about this, about boundaries and wishes, everything important to them. They have found and developed their own ways to be close and show their love to one another, and it works. It just works.

“You’re like a small backpack.” Martin had joked once, and as a result got the treat of hearing Jon sleepily laugh into his shoulder. God, he loves hearing him laugh. It doesn’t happen nearly often enough, but, not without a sizable amount of pride, he noticed that Jon laughs a lot more now that they are together.

Martin attempts to pull the salt-and-pepper strands of Jons hair out of his mouth without waking the other man, and as always, it proves to be a real challenge.

Jon’s hair seems to have a life of its own, and it’s everywhere. Spread out over the pillows. In Martin’s face. In his own face - everywhere. Jon, oblivious to all of this, sighs in his sleep and tightens his hold around Martin, hands clasped around on his sleep-warm chest. Meanwhile, Martin carefully attempts to free himself from his boyfriend's hair.

‘I should braid it later ´, he thinks as he carefully tucks the rest of it away and gently scratches Jon’s scalp while he is at it.

Braiding his hair relaxes both of them, and Jon tends to lean into the touch like a cat, which is always a plus. Martin smiles as he allows himself to slowly wake up while he enjoys the warm company of his boyfriend. It’s been a while since either of them could sleep so peacefully, and even though it happens on borrowed time, they are determined to enjoy every minute of it.

After a little while later, Jon slowly stirs awake. His hold around Martin tightens for a moment, then he pushes his face into the crook of his neck.

“Good morning, my Love.” Martin says, fingers tracing along Jons forearms that are still wrapped around him. He smiles when he gets a kiss on his neck in response.

“Sleep well?” he asks then, and Jon stretches out his limbs while he remains wrapped around Martin. Cat. This man is a damn cat.

“Hmhm… Good morning, Love.”

Now that there is a bit more space, Martin used it to turn around and face Jon. He is half awake and smiling at him, as if Martin is the best thing he has ever seen. Truth be told, he is, and Jon is happier to have him than words can express.

Martin is his person, the love of his life. As hard as the last years and months have been on them, at least they have found each other, and that has to count for something, right?

More so than that, they’re comfortable with and around each other, in a way Jon hasn’t been around anyone in a very long time, or maybe ever. They know each other, good parts and bad parts alike.

They remain wrapped around each other for a bit, chest to chest this time, and Jon smiles a happy, loops smile when Martin presses a kiss on top of his head and then keeps stroking his hair, neck and back. His own hands are tracing small, invisible patterns on Martins back now, and the two of them thoroughly enjoy slowly waking up like this.

Neither of them has had a nightmare, which is rare these days, but they’ll take some peace and quiet whenever they can.

After a little while, Jon and Martin pull away from each other, just a little bit, to be able to look at each other and to share a proper good morning kiss, ever gentle but definitely enthusiastic.

“Hi.” He smiles.

“Hi yourself.” Another kiss, and then they are interrupted by the sound of a growling stomach. They share a look.

“Time for breakfast?”

“Yes, definitely. I think we’ve got ingredients for pancakes, if you want.”

And just like that, they start another day in the cozy cabin in the middle of the scottish highlands.

Notes:

Warnings: - mentioned canon character death - references to depression, loneliness etc.

#banashee writes #the magnus archives fanfic #tma fanfic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #5+1 things #hurt/comfort #fluff #all seasons #tw canon character death mentioned #tw loneliness #tw depression

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

Text

In the House of Hours

Based on a prompt by @currentlylurking! Well, two prompts, technically. You know how it goes.

In the House of Hours

In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

The staff could become a scythe. The mirrors could see through time. The medallions on the shelf, medallions that they wore, under their robes (he could tell, thought he didn't know how), exempted others from his ability to manipulate time, and allowed them passage through the mirrors.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

In the second hour, he discovered trying to stop his body from changing made him sick.

In the third hour, he found a mirror that was just a mirror, and discovered his reflection. He examined himself. Clockwork insides, looping ghostly tail, blue skin, red eyes, a face that kept flicking through ages, always older or younger than when he had last looked. He liked his clothing. It was purple. The words that came to him, he knew, but he did not know where they came from. He didn't know he knew them until they passed his mind.

Everything was new. He was new.

He had a scar over one of his eyes.

Why did something as new as him have a scar?

In the fourth hour, he discovered that trying to look back at his own timeline made him sick.

In the fifth hour, he found the library. He read the dictionaries and encyclopedias, then moved on to the other books. He greedily kept all the words to himself. He knew things, now. More than his masters told him.

He couldn't help but notice, there were no stories in his library, and there were large empty spots on his shelves, free even of the lightest coating of dust. His encyclopedias had mentioned stories.

He wondered where they were.

In the sixth hour, he felt himself pulled to his mirrors. There was a paradox. A knot in reality.

This was his first task. What he had been made for. The thrill that went through him was immense, indescribable.

He worked the knot apart with gloved hands, his tail lashing back and forth. He knew how best to unwind the strings of time, what tools to use, how long each step should take.

It was so odd, to have been created with that knowledge, but it all felt so right. Like he had done it a thousand times before.

When he was done, he sank to the floor of the mirror room, drained. He almost wanted another paradox to happen, even though that would be bad for the timeline.

A dreamy smile came to his lips as he shifted from old to young. The timeline. It was his job to keep it safe. To keep it healthy. He already loved it, sitting here. It was more than worth enduring masters who didn't even give him a name.

Didn't even give him their names, come to think of it.

In the seventh hour, there was a knock on the door. He drifted towards it, curious. His masters had left through that door. Had they come back? Perhaps they had forgotten something.

Such as his name.

He played with the door handles, unsure if he should open them. His masters had said not to leave. Opening the doors didn't count, did it?

He pulled on the handles, frowned, and then pushed.

His masters weren't there. Instead, a small... boy. Yes, a boy. A small boy floated there. A ghost. His white hair was in disarray, and tears streaked his face. He held a thick, glowing book to his chest.

"Clockwork?" the child asked, his voice wavering.

"What about it?" he asked, endeavoring to be polite despite his confusion. Strange though this child may have been, he was still the first person he had met other than his masters. He was curious.

Perhaps the child was asking about- "My appearance? Or the tower?"

The child's lips wavered. His eyes went shiny, the green light in them glinting off tears gathering at their lower lids. Then his small round face crumpled, and he burst into tears, whole body trembling.

This was evidently the wrong thing to say.

He froze, uncertain how to handle this. Futures lay before him, but he couldn't interpret them. There were too many.

There had been no books on how to handle children, ghost or otherwise, in his library, a horrific oversight if he was expected to deal with this kind of a situation on his first day of existence. He made a note to correct that on his first opportunity.

He almost reached out, some deep instinct reacting to the child's distress, but stopped, remembering the admonition not to leave without permission.

"Would you like to come in?" he asked instead. His first guest. It could be worse.

At the invitation, the child practically flung himself at him, and clung to him with one arm, the other still wrapped around the book, sobbing.

"Clockwork," he said, "I'm so, so sorry."

"Ah," was the only response he could come up with. He attempted to gently pry the child off. He had no idea how much force children could endure without breaking. In fact, he wasn't sure how much force an adult ghost could endure without breaking. Or, perhaps more to the point, how much force he could apply. It hadn't come up yet.

"Clockwork is-" said the child, speaking into his robe and doubtless getting all kinds of slime on it. "Clockwork is your name. The Observants didn't tell you?"

"Who?" The name was rather fitting. A bit childish, perhaps, but fitting. He was made of clockwork, after all.

The child shuddered and looked up, eyes burning. "They didn't tell you?"

"Other than my makers, you are the first being I have met," he said. "I do not know what 'they' you are referring to. Furthermore, I do not know who you are, and cannot imagine how you know me, as I have not existed for fewer than seven hours."

"That's not true," insisted the child, voice wavering but somehow also furious. "That's a lie."

He was growing somewhat annoyed, now. Who was this child, to barge into his home, cry on him, and then call him a liar?

Before he could begin to take the child to task, he thrust out the book he was holding, pushing it into his chest so that it rubbed against the clock case in it. Reflexively, he took it.

"This," said the child. "This has everything you need to know. At least," the child wilted. "That's what you said before." He choked back a sob. "This is all my fault, and I hope- I hope you'll forgive me, when you're done reading it. I- I should go." He backed away, then turned and fled, zooming into the distance.

Clockwork watched him go. He seemed rather fast for such a small ghost.

In the eighth hour, he read the book.

He read the book.

,,,

Daniel has been pestering me about my history, lately. He seems to be under the impression that I am concealing some sort of tale of adventure that he wants to 'unlock.' That I did 'daring deeds' in my 'youth.' I have attempted to explain to Daniel that I never had a youth, but he is, as ever, impervious to reason.

,,,

I have resorted to telling Daniel that knowledge of my past is dangerous. However, as I could not reveal the nature of the danger without triggering it, Daniel did not believe me, and only became more determined to find out my 'dark and tragic backstory.' My backstory, as it were, is neither dark nor tragic, and, in any case, is none of his business.

I told him this.

We have had something of a falling out. I can only hope that this is not the end of our relationship. My sight is often inaccurate when it comes to Daniel.

,,,

Daniel has relented. Perhaps I should not be so surprised. Like any ghost, he can grab on to an idea and refuse to release it, but he has always been attentive to the needs of others. It is one of his most admirable qualities.

But all this talk of history has given me the urge to refresh my memories. I shall visit the old books tomorrow.

,,,

Daniel knows.

Curse my carelessness and his curiosity, but he knows. I should not have left this book exposed on my desk when he is known to visit at all hours.

He has sworn not to tell. I can only hope it will be enough. But it was not enough for those who came before me, and none of us have ever known why.

,,,

They know.

Daniel and his friends have devised a rather clever plan on my behalf, one that I would not have considered on my own. Perhaps I am too resigned to my fate, too eager to submit, the weight of those who have come before me and failed pressing down on my shoulders. Perhaps I should have hope.

,,,

It didn't work. Rather, it did, in all particulars but the one I failed to foresee. They have taken Daniel. They will kill him, if I do not come.

,,,

Daniel, I have put this book where you might find it, so that you will bring it to the version of the Master of Time that comes after me. Consider it a final request on my part.

Be reassured that this is inevitable. I have, after all, never escaped being reset to my initial state once the Observants have set their mind on it. I do not blame you. I could never blame you. Over our acquaintance, I have come to value you as my closest friend. Even, as a son.

I cannot say the same for my 'blank' version. I did not react well to this revelation in the past, although, presumably, you will get this book to him in a period of time shorter than a hundred years. Still, I advise you not to linger.

With all the love an automaton such as myself can express, I wish you well, Daniel.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

,,,

Clockwork tilted his head back and screamed, because he knew exactly what had been taken from him and why.

He read the book again.

In the ninth hour, he looked for the other books, the books his... former self had mentioned, the ones he had learned from. He practically tore the tower (Long Now. The tower had a name. Long Now.) to shreds in his need.

They weren't there.

He went to his mirrors, looking for them through time. They were hidden in far away places. Out of the tower, out of his reach.

Unless he broke the rules.

In the tenth hour, he broke the rules. He gathered up the books and more. He found a letter, on fresh, white paper.

,,,

To my later self,

Now that you have read the records of our past incarnations, you have perhaps noticed a disturbing trend. When another learns of my history, I am wiped clean, made into a blank slate. But the one who learned vanishes entirely, without fail, no more than a week after my memories are removed.

I know what this means for Daniel. You do, too.

Whatever animosity you bear him, I beg you, do not let them destroy him.

-Clockwork, Master of Time

In the eleventh hour, he searched for the boy, Daniel, through the time windows. He did not experience the animosity his former self seemed to expect, but neither did he feel the obvious affection he had had for the young ghost.

This frustrated him. No, it angered him. It infuriated him.

How dare his 'masters' steal his history and then pretend to have made him? How dare they steal his connections, his relationships to others, his name?

He remembered fewer than eleven hours, and he had been so lonely. He hadn't even realized it until he read the books. He was still lonely.

The mirrors seemed to stare at him, like the eyes of his masters, mocking him for being unable to find his past self's child.

There.

As the twelfth hour struck, he reached through the mirror, and pulled the child into his arms.

The child struggled, at first, understandably. Clockwork hadn't given him any warning, and he had been in a rather brutal fight. Twenty against one was not a fair fight by any stretch of the imagination, and, while Clockwork's knowledge concerning children was limited, he had absorbed the fact that children were generally weaker than their adult counterparts and also that the general sentiment was that children should be protected.

As soon as Daniel noticed that it was Clockwork holding him, he went limp, large green eyes blinking up at him, as though dazed. Perhaps, he truly was dazed. He was injured in a number of locations, the most apparent being a thickly weeping gash over his left eye.

"Clockwork?" he asked, voice thin.

Clockwork felt faintly ill. The boy's opponents had been his masters. They would know what Clockwork had done. They would be coming. Would they make him forget, again?

"Clockwork?" repeated the boy, shaking his arm. "Are you okay?"

Clockwork stopped time.

No one had asked him that, before. His masters certainly hadn't, when they had woken him.

He shuddered, holding the child close, and made a decision. This child had belonged to his previous self, as far as he understood such things. As he was, in most ways, the same entity as his previous self, or at least his heir, that meant this child belonged to him.

His child.

No, he would not let his masters take Daniel. He would not let them destroy him, the only thing he could truly say was his.

But his masters could move through time, just as he could. They would be here soon, to take and punish. The loss of these last several hours would not be great, compared to the others he had suffered. He would find the books again, eventually. But the loss of Daniel?

That was untenable. Daniel had to be preserved.

He opened the door that led to the prison nestled in the roots of Long Now, and flew straight down the stairwell, eschewing the stairs. There were monsters kept down here. Horrors frozen in time, turned into vapor, and sealed in the foot-deep, hands-breadth-wide honeycomb cells in the walls, never to be released. Things that were simply wrong. Their crimes were listed on neat little cards outside their individual cells.

Core buzzing, Clockwork pressed Daniel's hand to the mouth of an empty cell, activating it. As the temporally-frozen child was absorbed, the opening automatically sealed itself.

There. Safe.

With trembling hands, Clockwork filled out a card with an explanation of Daniel's crime. Defying the High Council of Observants. If the patterns in his old journals held true, he would eventually grow to despise the Observants. Even if it took a year, ten years, a hundred, a thousand, one day he would question his 'makers.' One day he would become curious enough to open a prison labeled like this.

He wrote something entirely different on the back of the card before he affixed it to the front of Daniel's prison.

In the thirteenth hour, the Observants came, carrying Clockwork's key.

As they pushed it into the hole in his back, they told him how they always knew when someone discovered his weakness. Eventually, inevitably, that person would try to steal it, and the Observants kept a very close eye on the future of the key to prevent such an event.

Two months from now, Daniel would have tried to steal the key.

He would have given it to him.

They couldn't have that.

Like always, Clockwork forgot.

In the first hour, he was introduced to his masters. They had made him. He existed by their grace. He was to obey them, always.

They showed him his tasks, his tools, his home.

He was never to leave, except to solve a paradox. He was never to interfere with the timeline, except by their orders, or to prevent it from crumbling. He was to guard the prison below.

His home was a tower, full of ticking.

They did not answer his questions. They did not tell him his name. They left before the hour was out.

He didn't like his masters very much.

In the nine hundred and two thousand, two hundred and ninety ninth hour, Clockwork ached. He had ached for a long time, though for what, he did not know. The ache echoed in the hollow spaces inside his chest, and sometimes he wondered if the ache was, in fact, a longing. A yearning. He had seen it in others.

But what would a creature like him long for?

He had a home, a purpose, time for leisure, all the luxuries he could dream up. Shouldn't that be enough?

Well. Freedom would be nice. Not having to obey the Observants, carry out their version of the timeline... that would be good. There were just so many better versions of future history, so many more elegant solutions to problems. Wars he could have stopped. Happy endings he could have facilitated.

Wouldn't it be better, to maximize happiness in the timeline? Or at least to maximize freedom of choice?

He thought about all the tragedies he could have avoided simply by solving a paradox or world-ending disaster in a different way than the Observants had insisted on.

Sometimes, he hated the Observants.

In the nine hundred and two thousand, eight hundred and seventy first hour, he idly looked through the Infinite Realms with one of his viewing mirrors. He had time, he always had time, and he was bored.

The Infinite Realms were, by their nature, infinite, with infinite variety. Even Clockwork had not seen, and could never see, all of them. There were an uncountable number of wonders out among the ectoplasmic mists.

But Clockwork was feeling melancholy, so he was looking at more mundane sights, closer to home, flying the perspective of the mirror across flying islands and through caves, pretending he was the one making the flight.

He spiraled through a cave and- Wait a moment. He pulled the perspective back. There was a neat little library tucked into the corner of the cave. He zoomed in, curious, then he startled, so hard his chest clock missed a tick. That was a hard thing to do. He was over a hundred years old.

The books had his symbol on them.

In the nine hundred and three thousand and twelfth hour, he finally gathered up the courage to break the rules, leave Long Now, and go look at the books. In all this time, he had never set foot outside his tower.

The journey was exhilarating. Partially because of how swiftly he was going. He didn't foresee the Observants visiting, but he couldn't always see them clearly. But as for the rest...

There was just something different about doing this in person, in feeling the ectoplasm on his face, in being able to turn his head and see, well, not everything, but it felt like more than he could see through his mirrors.

He found the cave quickly enough, as well he should. He had used his mirrors to map out the very route he had taken dozens, if not hundreds, of times before actually taking the dive and going. Or, now that he was here, should he say coming?

He was almost giddy.

Some of that faded when he laid eyes on the books again. Why would there be books out here with his symbol on them? It felt ominous.

He read the books.

He read them again...

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and seventh hour, Clockwork went down to the prison. After reading the most recent of the journals, and then, of course, recording his own and adding it to the collection, he had decided to oppose the Observants.

True, he didn't dare do so openly. He didn't want to be erased, but he had some leeway to make things more difficult for them. He could make some of those decisions, those alterations to the timeline, that they had warned him off of. Perhaps he could even, at first, pretend that they were mistakes.

But, first things first. If he was going to defy the Observants, it would be useful to speak to someone who had done so before, and so successfully that the Observants felt the need to imprison them here.

He wondered, what would they be like? A warrior, perhaps? A politician? A scholar?

Would they even want to help him? He understood that so much time spent in the honeycomb prisons could be... difficult.

Or would they be evil? Would they fight him? In his time, he had imprisoned more than one utterly foul villain down below.

Rarely did he wish so fervently to be able to look at his own personal timeline.

But he had to take the risk. If he understood that last journal correctly, the Observants had destroyed his son. His surrogate son, to be sure, but still. For ghosts, that was good enough. At least, Clockwork could find no sign of Daniel in the time after his 'reset.'

He'd never had a chance to fulfill his immediate predecessor's final request.

Clockwork imagined what it would be like, to have a child. To have family. He had seen humans and ghosts with such things, such people. They weren't always happy, but Clockwork couldn't help but wonder if having one would have filled the constant ache inside him.

But there was no more time for musing on what could have been. He was in front of the prison, looking down at the label that said, Defying the High Council of Observants.

He reached out and deactivated the seal.

Vapor poured out, and slowly, sluggishly, began to form into a ghost. A rather small, slender ghost. Its- His head barely came up to Clockwork's shoulders.

This child had defied the Observants?

Almost as soon as the last bit of vapor condensed, the ghost collapsed. Clockwork caught him before he hit the floor, and he squirmed in his arms, twisting to latch onto Clockwork's robes. He made small mumbling noises, too confused and slurred to count as speech.

Behind him, the label card fluttered to the floor, and, for the first time, Clockwork noticed that there was writing on the other side. He summoned it to him with a touch of telekinesis.

The reverse side of the card read Daniel, son of Clockwork.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and eighth hour, Clockwork carried the smaller ghost up the stairs. He, Daniel, was obviously in a bit of shock after being in the cell for so long. Not having a body, among the other effects of the prison, could remove a ghost's sense of time and self, and wear away at things like motor control and the ability to speak.

At least, that's what his past selves had recounted. He had never had the opportunity or reason to release a prisoner before.

He tried to put the little ghost down, but Daniel was insistent on staying attached, burying his head in the crook of Clockwork's neck. Finally, however, he dozed off and became human. Which was something he did.

Well. When he woke up, he could tell Clockwork how he had found himself in Long Now's prison.

As of the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and sixtieth hour, Daniel had yet to do anything of the sort.

What he did do was look up at Clockwork with large, trusting eyes, cuddle, eat, sleep, and make soft, indistinct almost-speech noises. It filled the aching emptiness inside Clockwork, but also made him worried. Had the time in the prison broken Daniel in some way?

But how could Clockwork fix him?

The best Clockwork could do was provide for Daniel's needs and hold him, letting his core hum him to sleep.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, seven hundred and ninety fifth hour, Clockwork became convinced Daniel was shrinking. Becoming softer, slightly more rounded.

Younger?

He was right.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and tenth hour, Clockwork stopped dithering and made plans to take him to a doctor.

Daniel had had interactions with the Far Frozen before. Positive interactions. For that matter, they still worshiped him. Literally. Even if they did think he had been ended.

Better, they had Daniel's old medical files. If anyone could tell what was wrong, they could.

He bundled Daniel up in heavy, insulating clothing, unsure how his human body would handle the cold, and wrapped him in his cloak. Danny giggled and mumbled the whole time and, as soon as Clockwork finished, promptly fell asleep.

Clockwork, rather daringly, chose to travel to the Far Frozen via mirror. It was faster, that way.

Rather than first registering the cold, Clockwork was struck by how brilliantly, blindingly white the Far Frozen was. The view through the mirror hadn't done it justice.

Nor had it done justice to how large the yetis were. Or the size of their warriors' spears.

"Who are you?" demanded one of them, while others scurried around. "Why have come here?"

"It is my understanding that your tribe prides itself on its medical knowledge," said Clockwork.

"You're here for treatment?" asked the yeti, warily.

"Not for myself," said Clockwork, revealing Daniel's bundled form.

The yeti gasped. "Great One!"

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and eleventh hour, Clockwork learned about jealousy. He had never truly been jealous before, but now... Now he could say with certainty that he was, and he hated it.

He hated more that Daniel was favoring Frostbite with that trusting, open look of his. He hated that Frostbite remembered Daniel, and he, Clockwork, only had written recollections.

Daniel was his, not Frostbite's.

But he forced himself to watch the examination and Daniel's interactions with the other ghost dispassionately. This was about finding out what was wrong with Daniel and healing him, not Clockwork's petty and, frankly, shameful feelings.

Frostbite gave Daniel a lollipop and tucked a thick blanket around his shoulders before walking over to Clockwork.

"Do you know what happened to him?" asked Frostbite.

"Not precisely," said Clockwork. "I found him in a vapor prison."

Frostbite grumbled, almost growled, deep in his chest. "That would explain certain things. To be trapped without a body for so long..." Frostbite shook his head. "His currently state is something of a defense mechanism. To protect his mind, both the human and ghostly sides of it, he turned off everything but base instincts. Some of it has started to recover, but certain aspects of it are being rewritten, as he adapts to his new situation."

"Rewritten?" asked Clockwork, hiding his anxiety. If Daniel could not remember, Clockwork could not ask him what had happened. If Daniel did not remember, he would be cursed in the same way as Clockwork. "Why? For what reason?"

Frostbite fixed Clockwork with a yellow stare. "He has bonded with you," said Frostbite. "Accepted you as a parent. He is instinctively altering himself to better fit that role. Some of those alterations are disrupting or recycling dormant structures in his core, which in turn affects his human brain."

"Ah," said Clockwork. "Is there any way to," he made a small, abortive gesture, "let him be himself again? Wake up those structures, those memories? Before more are destroyed."

"Yes," said Frostbite. "But it may be kinder to let him forget."

"What do you mean?" asked Clockwork, irritated. He knew what forgetting was like. It wasn't kind.

"He has been gone for a long time," said Frostbite. "His human family and friends..." he sighed. "Humans do not live that long, and he was very attached to them. They will be dead by now, and I have not heard of them becoming ghosts."

Clockwork worried at his gloves. Yes, that matched with what he had read in his predecessor's journal. He had taken a look at the fates of the residents of Amity Park after Daniel's disappearance. They had not been universally pleasant. The city itself had been abandoned shortly after, except for attempts to close the Fenton Portal and prevent ghosts from escaping into nearby areas.

"It should be his decision, whether to remember or forget," said Clockwork. "He needs all the relevant information, and all his wits. Should he wish to forget afterwards, I will take him to the Lethe." He wasn't being selfish with this. He wouldn't even ask Daniel about his former self before asking after his decision.

Frostbite nodded. "Let's get to it, then."

Daniel woke again in the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and twenty second hour.

Clockwork had been working himself into a sort of numb panic when it happened, worrying about whether or not the the Observants would try to visit him in Long Now and find him gone, worrying about when Daniel would wake, worrying about what Daniel would know, and how to break the news that his family was dead to him.

But seeing Daniel's eyes fluttering open eased some of those worries.

"Clockwork?" he mumbled, reaching for the edge of Clockwork's cloak.

"I am here, Daniel," said Clockwork, taking his hand.

"What happened?" asked Daniel, his words slurring slightly.

"I am afraid I do not remember," said Clockwork.

Daniel's features twisted in distress. "They made you forget again?" he asked, the last word a whine. "That's not fair."

"What do you remember, Daniel?"

"I remember- I remember you pulling me away from the Observants," he said. "Through the mirror, I mean. They were going to kill me, they said. Because I knew about your key, and I was going to try to steal it, they said." He shuddered. "I was losing. They really were going to do it."

"I pulled you through?"

"Mhm," said Daniel. "I was surprised, because I thought you'd be mad at me, after I gave you the book. The journal, I mean. Because you forgot everything, and it was my fault." Daniel's eyes glittered with water.

"I don't blame you," said Clockwork. "You got the book to me?"

"Yeah," said Daniel.

This suggested that there was a short-lived version of himself between the author of the last journal and his own first memory. One who hadn't a chance to write a record of himself, one who had saved Daniel from the Observants, and sealed him into the honeycomb prison.

"And after that?"

"Mm. After that... It was like being in the Fenton Thermos, I guess? It was all fuzzy. Fuzzier. And the inside was different, I think. I don't know. I couldn't get out. And then I was with you? But it was like a dream."

"You were with me," said Clockwork.

"Oh, that's good," said Daniel. "Was I in the thermos? Is that how you hid me from the Observants?"

"You were in a similar object," said Clockwork. "Daniel, I must warn you, because the Observants removed my memory of hiding you, you were in it for quite some time."

"Days?" asked Daniel, eyebrows knitting in concern. "I guess I'll have to come up with a really good excuse for Mom and Dad. Unless you can send me back through time? Or maybe not, if the Observants are still looking for me."

"It was significantly longer than that," said Clockwork.

"Weeks?"

Clockwork shook his head. Daniel struggled to prop himself in a sitting position on the bed.

"Months?" he whispered.

"Daniel, it has been over one hundred and three years."

The boy gasped and fell back. Clockwork could hear the steady rhythm of his heart and core jumble momentarily."

"One hundred and three?" he asked, voice almost inaudible, even to Clockwork. "They're all dead, aren't they? Everyone I knew."

"With the exception of Plasmius, I am afraid so."

"Of course that fruitloop would survive. I-" Daniel choked back a sob.

Clockwork, uncertainly, patted Daniel's shoulder. Daniel rolled over onto Clockwork's arm and cried into it. "Can you send me back?" he asked. "Please?"

"The Observants would find you," said Clockwork, "and you aren't from that time anymore. You would have to wear a time medallion constantly."

"I could phase it into myself," said Daniel, pulling himself up Clockwork's arm. "That's what Dan did. I won't become Dan, will I?" Daniel's eyes were wide and wild. "You have to send me back. I don't want to become Dan."

"You won't," soothed Clockwork, pulling Daniel into his lap. He only knew of Dan through the journal. He couldn't see a ghost like that in any future. He began to rub circles into Daniel's back, just above his core. "Don't worry, I'll make sure of it." He tried to send out comforting pulses with his core. He had read extensively on the subject of ghost children since he had found Daniel, but that didn't mean he had any experience, or confidence, with them as of yet.

"Will you send me back?" asked Daniel, weakly.

"I can't," said Clockwork. "But if you want, I can help you forget. There is a river-"

"I don't want to forget," said Daniel.

That was that.

In the nine hundred and three thousand, eight hundred and fifty eighth hour, they went home.

Before they left, Frostbite stopped Clockwork. "The Great One will keep changing," he said.

"I thought you fixed that," said Clockwork, watching as the small boy raised his hands to the sky to catch snowflakes.

"There was nothing to fix," said Frostbite. "The changes are natural. A child's ability to adapt is beneficial. The only issue was that they were blindly destroying inactive parts of himself." He paused. "He may come to forget his past, naturally. He may experience further changes to his appearance, personality, or powers. Take care of him."

"I intend to," said Clockwork.

In the nine hundred and fifteen thousand, two hundred and third hour, Daniel finally stabilized.

In either form, he looked about ten, slender, gentle, and quiet. His eyes were, perhaps, a touch larger than a human would find natural, and his canines came to sharp, sweet points. He wore robes like Clockwork's, now, purple as a human, and silver and black as a ghost.

He told jokes frequently, but quietly, and could hide so well that even Clockwork couldn't find him, even when looking through time. When Clockwork worked on paradoxes, he stood by the table and watched, quietly, always knowing which tool to hand Clockwork, often before Clockwork even realized he would need it. He loved to read the astronomy books in the library. He loved training his many powers with Clockwork.

He was different from the Daniel the journal had described and yet, somehow, exactly the same.

Clockwork loved him so much. If the Observants ever found out about him-

But they didn't. Daniel hid every time the Observants even came close to Long Now. And that was fine.

In the nine hundred and ninety nine thousand, eight hundred and first hour, someone else found out about the key.

The Observants saw this.

In the one millionth hour, the Observants came for Clockwork, bearing his key.

They did not see Daniel, lying in wait for them.

Very soon they did not see anything at all.

(After all, Daniel had once defeated Pariah Dark in single combat.)

Clockwork picked his key up from the ground and walked to Daniel, putting an arm around his small, trembling shoulders.

"I'm sorry about making a mess," said Daniel, prodding a slowly-melting glob of ecotplasm with one bare foot.

"Don't worry," said Clockwork, turning the key over in his fingers, marveling at what it felt like to finally be free. "We'll clean it up in no time at all."

This was supposed to end either with Clockwork's memory getting wiped again, or with new Clockwork finding Danny, but my brain wouldn't let me stop. I'm sorry. Hope my gimmick here didn't bother anyone too much.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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defkooka · 5 years ago

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until i see you again [pt.1] I na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: collegeau!, summerau!, friends to lovers!, angst, romance

word count: 11.4K

summary: na jaemin was the boy who made you fall for him the summer of your sophomore year of high school. na jaemin was also the boy who unintentionally broke your heart that same summer, leaving and never returning again. now he’s back, ironically during the summer of your sophomore year of college. some things never seem to change huh?

a/n: i love dreams new comeback! chenle was looking *chefs kiss*. anyways, a small series on our flirt jaemin. i’m stuck at home doing school work and nothing to do but to write so i couldn't help myself when the concept video for puzzle piece came out, like jaemin looks soooo cute! hope you enjoy :) PS: REQUEST ARE OPEN

the soles of your feet were burning and you were sweating like crazy at this point. you could even feel the sweat begin to drop from between your boobs which was never a good sign, the only thing keeping you from melting into the tile floors was the hot breeze coming from the fan sitting on the far corner of the pink marble counter.

“why the fuck is it so hot right now?!” eunjung came walking from the back room, two big tubs of chocolate ice cream on each of her sides and a big pouty look decorated her face.

“you would think that working at an ice cream shop all summer would mean we would at least not sweat gallons a day. but look at us now, who would have thought? not me!” ellie sarcastically commented and turned to lean against the metal counter to look at you. you rolled your eyes and fanned yourself with the rag on your shoulder avoiding her ‘i told you so’ gaze.

“better than making 8 dollars an hour watching mean devil children all summer,” you said while you played with the bright pink and neon green cups that sat on the dispenser, “scholarships and financial aid can only get you so far”.

summer had come faster than you had anticipated this year. you went from stressing over big tests, homework, and maintaining a job all at once, to dying in the scorching heat of an ice cream shop. you and your friends planned to make this the best summer, but you couldn't really do that with an empty bank account. so when eunjung saw a ‘help wanted’ sign from your local ice cream shop hanging on the front door, she couldn't pass on the opportunity of bringing you and ellie along.

“come on guys, cheer up! at least we get all the free ice cream we want.” she shrugged her shoulder and smiled down at the large cookie dough cone she had prepared for herself.

“i would much rather be taking care of ms. jacksons kids than sitting in here in this heat. like literally it’s a fucking ice cream shop, shouldn't all this ice cream be melted by now?” ellie dropped her head back and whined. “well you said yes to working with us, so suck it up bitch!” eunjung kicked ellie’s shin and once again for the tenth time that day they began bickering.

“guys! chill out. and she’s right ellie, this isn’t so bad. at least better than us sitting on eunjungs couch all summer with no money whatsoever.” you laughed and turned towards the door to gaze outside at the empty streets. it’s been a pretty slow day, only a few people here and there. you even had a few some older couples coming in and sitting down for a while, before leaving right out the door again.

“i wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t so empty! everyone's either at the carnival or getting ready for that stupid lake party.” ellie crossed her arms on the marble top next to you and grouched.

“didn't you say you wanted to go to said ‘stupid lake party’?” eunjung looked at her in confusion, “i know!” ellie threw her hands up in frustration and walked out from behind the counter to sit at one of the tables in front of the big glass window, you and eunjung following behind.

“don’t worry! we have like 2 more hours until our shifts are over so we can just head home, get into cute little bikinis, and go have fun and get drunk at the lake. but i am NOT carrying your ass home drunk again.” you squeezed her shoulders in reassurance before taking a seat with your back facing the door.

“ugh i can’t wait! all the hot guys, the music. i heard jisung was going to be there with the guys.” eunjung smiled and blushed while licking away the ice cream that had dripped onto her hand.

“uhhhh you mean your boyfriend?” ellie mocked her by making kissy noises and poking her sides. “he’s not my boyfriend, stop it.” she swatted away her hands and you laughed.

“yeah right, you have been flirting and all over each other since literally our freshman year of high school!” you crossed your arms on the metal table in front of you, feeling the icy cold metal against your burning skin.

“i like to take my time with things thank you very much.” she stuck her tongue out at you guys and ellie and you shook your heads in laughter.

you all kept small conversation on silly things that happened during your weeks when all of the sudden you heard the bell of the front door ding, and then male laughs follow along, making you three look up.

“um excuse me, aren’t you guys supposed to be working?” you turned around at the familiar voice and saw chenle and jeno walking towards your table. you saw another head of ashy blue hair walking behind them but didn't recognize them since you couldn’t really see their face with chenle’s head in the way, so you didn't pay much attention to it.

“look what the cat dragged in.” ellie flipped off chenle with a teasing tone and a smile, he mimicked her words and flipped her off as well before giving you a high five and waving at eunjung who sat across from you.

“awe don’t be so bitter ellie, i know you miss us even though you saw us like two days ago.” jeno began poking the side of her neck constantly making her squirm under his touch. “don’t touch me like that!” she punched his buff upper arm, but not strong enough to the point where it would actually hurt him, not like it would anyway. jeno was somehow built like a ken doll. literally any time any of you would try and inflict any sort of pain towards him, he wouldn't even as much as flinch, god does love to play favorites.

jeno frowned and rubbed the part up and down jokingly and continued to tease the black haired girl sitting in front of him.

“technically we areee supposed to be working, but it’s been dead all day so we’re just killing time until we leave.” eunjung shoved the last of her ice cream into her mouth and discreetly wiped her hands on ellies shoulder while she continued to fight off jenos mocking hands.

“you guys coming to the lake later?” chenle played with a few strands of your hair in attempt to braid it, but failing miserably at it too.

“fuck yeah we’re going, i refuse to let summer slip away before i go back to sitting in lectures all day. anyway who’s even dow-” she stopped mid sentence after she finally noticed the third head with jeno and chenle. she had a shocked yet amused expression on her face and she stayed like that for a few seconds in complete silence. jeno seemed to noticed her behavior and snapped his head towards the person who still remained unknown. he walked behind you to grab their arm before finally introducing them.

“shit i forgot, you guys remember jaemin right? he moved away 3-4 years ago, we were all like best friends back in school.” your body went stiff at the mention of that name. you haven't heard of it in a long time, not after spending months brokenhearted when he first left and slowly seeming to forget about him over the years, well. until now.

jeno dragged jaemin forward where he stood at the front of the table and smiled at ellie and eunjung.

“of course i remember jaemin. where the hell have you been all this time kid?” ellie stood up with a smile to give him a tight hug before she pulled back, and let eunjung hug him too.

“college.” he laughed with a straight set of teeth, making you reminisce of the small, wimpy black haired boy with braces that would run around with you guys back in grade school all throughout high school, before he had to move away. he was older now. way older, and definitely not a boy anymore. his ashy blue hair was the thing that stood out the most, he wore it with confidence. jaemin back in high school wasn’t much of a person who liked attention, he loved having friends and was a very friendly person, but never bold enough to something like dye his entire head blue. you also didn’t miss that his height had skyrocketed, now he stood a solid 4-5 inches taller than you. even though he didn't look anything like the way he had left, he somehow still acted like the same jaemin you crushed on back in freshman year and all through that summer. his warm, wide smile was the same, his bright black eyes were the same, and the happy aura around him was still the same.

“you just came down for the summer or something?” eunjung pulled away from the hug and widely smiled at him.

“sadly, yes. my mom wanted to spend a summer back home for a while so she dragged us to come down.” he sadly nodded along with his words and pushed his large hands into his shorts pockets.

“well, i guess that means we have to make the most of it right? you’re gonna be hanging out with us all summer long from now on, just like old times. dude we’re getting the old crew back!” ellie excitedly hugged eunjung before turning to you. once she saw the look of pure and utter shock in your face her smile slowly dropped but soon turned into a knowing smirk.

“jaemin, you remember y/n right?” your eyes went wide and everyone’s attention shifted towards you where you still sat on the chair. jaemins smile dropped a little bit at the sound of your name before turning to look at you, then he broke out into the biggest grin you’ve seen on him yet.

“holy shit. hey y/n, long time no see.” his eyes roamed up and down your body before meeting your gaze once again. not in one of those weird perverted ways, but in a ‘holy shit, i cant believe it’s actually you!’ way. he hadn’t seen you in years nor heard your name in a while, just from time to time when he would speak to the guys and they would talk about where they were hanging out and who was coming along. every time he heard it, it made him think about you and all those past memories back in high school, especially making those old feelings bubble up in his stomach, but he never lodged on them for long since he truly believed he would never see your face ever again.

“yeah, long time huh?” you smiled at him and you both didn’t say anything after that. you guys just stood there taking each others appearances in.

jaemin noticed the way your hair got shorter, you had probably cut it from the way it used to flow down your back when you were kids. you definitely didn’t look like the little girl he would tease, you looked grown. like a woman. your breast had gotten bigger and peeked out from the tight black work shirt you had picked out that morning in a rush. your legs were longer and thicker, and your skin glowed from the way the sun was hitting it just right from the window in front of you. jaemin always thought you were pretty when you were kids, but you were stunning now. all those past memories hitting him like a truck while he stared at you in awe.

“okayyy. why don’t weee, go get you guys some ice cream, shall we?” eunjung pushed jeno and chenle towards the glass display once she saw you and jaemin get into an intense stare down and the atmosphere had gone silent.

“we have to bring enough for everyone. renjun wants milk flavored!” chenle screamed while jeno followed behind him. ellie gave you a look before she walked away with another smirk. “what the fuck is even milk flavored?” you heard eunjung say before jaemin took a seat on the chair in front of you, leaning back into it with his hands in front of him on the shiny metal table.

“how you've been?” he looked at you with that fondness he used to look at you with back in that summer, which was one of the reasons you fell so hard for the guy. you couldn't help the pink blush that began creeping onto your cheeks and your head shot down towards your lap for a few seconds before looking back up at him.

“i’m doing good. besides spending thousands on college, could be worse-“ you shrugged your shoulder and you both laughed. “so, how’s your life back at home?” you tilted your head sideways and watched his eyes.

“it’s going great. it was hard settling in at first. you know, making new friends in an entire new country. it was rough, i missed you guys like crazy. but i’m glad that coming back; nothing really seemed to change with you all. renjun and donghyuck still fight over everything, chenle and jisung still have that bromance thing going, jeno and ellie still act like an old married couple, eunjung is still somehow the sweetest person for no apparent reason,” he turned around and looked at jeno and eunjung trying to pull ellie off of chenle after he tried to stick his hand inside of the display and steal a free sample and you both chuckled.

“and you,” he turned back around and met your eyes. suddenly you felt nerves shoot through your entire body and felt like shrinking into yourself from the intense stare of his dark brown eyes, “you’re still you.” he finally cracked a smile and you felt your chest tighten a little.

“yeah, it was pretty hard after you moved away. everyone kinda didn’t know how to act around each other for a few months but we learned how to adjust. perfect example right there.” you quickly pointed towards the scene happening in front of you to try and cover up your flustered state before he seemed to noticed. you both laughed once again but that still didn't calm the nerves bubbling inside of you.

jaemin turned and looked up to meet your eyes for what felt like the hundredth time. nope, that thing he did with his eyes where he would stare at you and make you feel like he was looking right inside of you and feel everything you would be feeling still hadn’t change at all, yet all you could do was smile back at the silver haired boy and look down at your clasped hands in front of you.

“i missed you like crazy you know.” your eyes shot up to meet his and his smile dropped a little as his eyes sincerely watched you.

“uh yeah. we all missed you.” you uncomfortably shifted in your seat. you didn’t really want talk about this subject to the boy that you had spent most of your weeks crying over in your bed because you were never seeing him away. nothing better than teenage heartbreak.

jaemin caught onto the mood change in the air but didn’t continue to push the subject, not wanting to make you even more uncomfortable.

“alright. i think that’s enough ice cream. we should head back to the lake and start setting up our spot, jaemin let’s go!” jeno grabbed the boys shoulder and pulled him up to his feet. jaemin nodded and turned back towards you but saw that you refused to meet his nervous gaze.

“we’ll see you guys there?” chenle turned around to talk to the three of you with one hand on the door.

“yeah, we have to head home and change but we’ll be there by 6.” eunjung nodded and ellie and you agreed.

“so, i guess i’ll talk to you later at the lake?” jaemins voice sounded hopeful, you felt guilt so you finally looked back up at him and forced a smile, “yeah, i’ll see you there.” you nodded and he gave you a grin with a wink of one eye which made you feel all flustered all of the sudden. and he got smooth too?

“cool” he teased and walked behind jeno and chenle after saying his goodbye to the girls.

“no fucking way na freaking jaemin is back in town looking that hot.” ellie announced once she saw the guys were a safe distance far away before rushing back over to where you were sitting in excitement.

“i haven’t heard from that kid since like a few months after he had moved. i didn’t know the guys still talked to him.” eunjung stayed behind the counter and looked at you both with confusion.

“i guess they did. y/n, you okay?” ellie looked at you in concern after you had stayed silent and looked totally spaced out from the conversation. you didn't really know how you were feeling, you never expected to see his face ever again after he had left. he was just some memory you managed to push to the back of your head ever since he left and never dug out of thought of ever again. so why did you feel those stupid butterflies in your stomach? it was high school. FUCKING HIGH SCHOOL. you should NOT be feeling butterflies over a boy you liked back in high school, that’s like rule #1 in the ‘how to live a normal life’ handbook, women edition. high school boys are stupid and should never be brought up again after graduation. well, jaemin wasn’t just any high school boy. he was the high school boy who showed you how to fall in love and live a little more.

“yeah i’m fine. just kinda shocked, i never thought i’d see him ever again.” you looked back down at your hands as you played with them to try and keep yourself calm from all the different thoughts and emotions that were rushing through your body right now.

“yeah i thought so too. considering how things ended.” she patted you on your back in comfort with a half smile.

“where the hell are they?” ellie sat on the side of the curve tying her high top converses with frustration, her bangs falling on her eyes as she forcefully blew them away from her face with puffs of air. “they said they weren’t going to take more than 10 minutes. i’m gonna rip donghyuck a new one when i lay my eyes on him.” she stood up and kicked a pebble down the street as you and eunjung watched it roll into the road.

“they’ll probably be here any second. relax.” you pulled on ellie’s bra strap and yanked her back before she could furiously kick another rock.

“we have things to do! it’s not the last day of summer for nothing!” she threw her arms in the air before lazily sitting on the curb again.

“exactly why we SHOULDN'T be stressing out el! the guys said they were going to be here, so we just need to wait.” eunjung sat down next to her and you soon joined them.

today was the last day of summer before you entered into your sophomore year.

you had spent the entire summer with your friends running around town down crazy and stupid things. late nights by the lake, climbing up the hill just outside of town to watch the sunset, swimming in chenles pool every time the heat began to become too much. this was truly THE best summer of your life, you had spent it all with your amazing group of friends and nothing in life seemed to could ever top this.

your heard a stampede of footsteps coming around the corner and all three of you quickly turned to witness the 5 boys sprinting towards you guys almost tripping over each other.

“fucking finally! where the hell were you guys?!” ellie abruptly stood and dusted the dirt from her neon pink shorts, moving away some of the bangs that had fell onto her face.

“we just out ran the kim’s dog, how can a 1 foot dog run so freaking fast?” chenle tumbled onto the curb and laid on the grass trying to catch his breath.

“coco?! seriously?! the dog is literally a chihuahua! what was he going to do to 7 grown teenagers?!” eunjung looked at them like they were the dumbest people she’s ever met. you and ellie laughed and you sat up and dusted your pants while coming closer towards the group of boys getting scolded by the slim girl.

“evil things. very evil things.” renjun wiped the sweat from his brow and nodded knowingly.

“whatever. so, did you get the stuff?” ellie smirked.

“why are you making it sound like a drug deal, jesus. but yes, we got it.” donghyuck pulled the brown cardboard box in front of him out towards you and opened it, revealing all kinds of multicolored fireworks inside.

“we’re gonna go crazy with these!” jisung pulled a firecracker from the box and examined the package carefully before throwing it back in the mix.

“where did you even get these?” you shifted your head closer to the box taking a good look at the fireworks that filled the it.

“jeno knows a guy.” donghyuck yanked the box away from you before closing the lid and giving you a sickening smirk.

“i do?” jenos head snapped up in confusion and looked at hyuck with knitted eyebrows. “yes! you do!” hyuck hissed at him and came closer to his ear.

“dude! we can’t let the women know our secrets!” he said before jeno mouthed an “oh” and nodded in understanding.

“we’re literally right here dumbass” ellie raised her eyebrow at him. they mocked each other with faces as chenle stood up from the ground before speaking up.

“where are we even going to light these anyway?”

everyone looked at each other waiting for the other to speak up with some sort of idea.

“how about the top of the hill? it’s a good view of the town and it’s not far.” jeno shrugged and everyone broke into loud “oohs”.

“wow! lee jeno is the man today!” renjun patted his back teasingly and soon the other boys joined in. jeno broke into a flustered smile while shooing the boys away from him.

“we should get going then. suns almost about to go down.” eunjung said and everyone agreed and began walking towards the hill just outside of your town. you looked around the group and began to count heads; a habit you have obtained due to hanging out with such a large group of friends overtime.

“hold up, wheres jaemin?” you stopped in your tracks and everyone turned back to look at you.

“he said his parents had to talk to him, so he’ll be a little late. i’ll text him where to meet us.” jisung pulled out his phone to shoot a quick text to jaemin and you all began your walk once again.

all you managed to say was ‘oh’ and continued to walk with the group with a frown while they held conversations with each other.

you and jaemin have stuck like glue this entire summer. he tells you everything like you’re his psychologist or something, with you doing the same. he would’ve definitely told you something about meeting his parents today. maybe it was a last minute thing? you decided not to stress about it and just let it go as you followed behind the group trying to keep up with their speedy steps.

after you guys walked and climbed the hill for a solid 15 minutes, your legs ached as you finally reached the top. it gave you a perfect overlook of your town, the sun setting behind the tall buildings and puffy clouds graced the orange sky. you walked towards the giant walnut tree to rest that you’ve sat under countless nights this summer; jaemin usually by your side.

you guys would come here and talk all the time about random things and would just let the hours run by as you sat on the soft grass. sometimes you would come alone; just the two of you and watch the sunset, he would slowly slide himself now and then closer to you and push your head down on his shoulder and wrap an arm around your smaller figure and just sit there in silence. you would never object to this gesture; finding it adorable how he would nuzzle his head on your hair and run his hand up and down your arm when the wind blew too hard. you sometimes would find yourself yearning for his touch or his presence when he wasn’t around, and even times when he was.

over time you developed some kind of fondness for the black haired boy; soon fondness turning into real feelings. of course you never acted upon these feelings, it’s probably some stupid 15 year old girl crush, maybe just a little summer thing that would end up disappearing over time. so why stress about it? might as well actually enjoy it while it lasts.

“where should we light these?” jeno pulled a lighter from his back pocket and crouched down to open the brown box.

“away from the tree please, last thing we need is causing a forest fire on the last day of summer.” renjun said with hands on his hips.

“let’s do this one first.” jisung pulled a small red and blue box from inside, little yellow and gold designs covered the paper that covered it with a long candle wick coming from the middle.

“it says to set on the ground, and light it with a match. remain 10 feet away from the box to avoid injuries.”

“can i just hold it in my hand while you guys light it and wait for it to explode?” ellie jokingly said. “yes please.” donghyuck whispered before his eyes bursted open as an angry ellie approached him; fist already clenched in the air to punch the air out of him,

“i was kidding!” he laughed and grabbed her wrist before she could get a clean hit of his face, gently pushing her away from him. “i’m going to throw you down this fucking hill, watch.” she teasingly warned him with her index finger.

“alright, alright kids. gather around please.” hyuck grabbed the match from jenos hand and jisung placed the small box on the dirt ground.

“watch the master do-“

“WAIT! let us get away first. better you going down than us.” renjun interrupted while you all ran a safe distance away from the explosion that was about to unleash.

“oh wow. nice, sacrifice the cute one.” hyuck threw his arms up and argued.

“just go!” eunjung laughed and hyuck turned back around with a roll of his eyes.

“here goes nothing.” he quickly lit the match, making a fast 180 turn and sprinting towards where you all stood. you all turned to the box with huge smiles on your faces and waited for a few seconds. you heard an ear screeching sound before loud bangs were going off into the air, the fireworks exploded into all different colors, decorating the low lit sky. you all awed at the colors and cheered until they all died down after about thirty second.

“holy shit! my turn!” chenle screeched before he grabbed another one and set it down on the ground, quickly lighting the match and doing the dash to your spot before the explosion went off with a loud ‘bang!’.

you all laughed and watched the different flashes of colors jump into the air before banishing with a loud rain-like sound once again as you took turns lighting them all. all the smiles on your faces displayed straight joy as you spent the rest of the night setting off every firework inside the box, and slamming firecrackers on the ground and enjoying the loud booms they created echo through the night air.

“you know you all look insane, right?” you heard a a familiar voice coming from the bottom of the hill, before you saw jaemins face come into view.

“where the hell have you been?” you ran towards him before jumping into his arms, he effortlessly caught you before you pulled away with a smile. you could see that something was wrong with him from the moment you pulled away from his hug, he tried his hardest to smile his usual big toothy grin, but it was only met halfway and insincerely.

“i had to talk to my parents for a while. but i’m here now, that’s all that matters.” he tried to look happy, he tried to be okay in that moment, but seeing the worried look on your face while you tried to decipher what was wrong crushed him and made his heart ache a little. for the past summer, jaemins entire world revolved around you. he always had some sort of small crush towards since that day he accidentally pushed you in the lunch line back in 4th grade. but never really did anything about it, i mean you've been in the same group of friends forever and you were like what, 12? he hadn't even hit puberty yet in middle school. but when freshman year of high school ended and summer started rolling around, your skin seemed to glow, your eyes sparkled a little more than usual every time you talked to him, and your smile would pull at the strings of his heart making him feel giddy inside. you've been friends since grade school, but he made it his mission to win you over that summer. spending every second of the day around you and watching you becoming more and more pretty right before his eyes.

“jaemin, what’s wrong?” you grabbed his sweaters sleeve and examined his face.

“nothing. just tired.” he shook the thoughts out of his head and tried to walk towards everyone else, you stopped him before he could even take another step by gripping his sweater even tighter.

“jaemin...” you looked him dead in the eye with a serious look.

“i’ll be okay, don’t worry.” he grabbed the hand that was gripping his sweater before interlacing your fingers with his, giving you a half smile before pulling you along with him towards the rest of your friends.

“jaemin!” jeno called out once he saw the boy walking towards them and you right behind him. all your friends knew that jaemin had a little thing for you, so it didn't come as a surprise to them when he finally decided to make moves.

“you missed the show bro, jisung almost lit his shoe on fire.” renjun held his stomach in a fit of cackles while jisung nervously laughed and scratched the back of his neck.

“fuck, i cant believe i missed that.” jaemin smiled at the group in front of him.

“where the hell were you the whole time?” eunjung subconsciously ran a hand through her hair, licking her lips trying to add moisture onto them. from the corner of your eye you could see the blush creep on jisungs face as he quickly looked away and distracted himself with the now half burnt shoelace of his right foot. he’s totally crushing on her.

“uhh i got caught up with my parents about something. don’t worry about it.” he simply said and shrugged. everyone gave him a knowing look and shifted their eyes towards you but you didn't notice the sad stares directed at you with pity from your friends, too distracted staring up at the pretty stars.

“it’s whatever, at least you made it in time for the big one.” hyuck pulled a box from the ground, it was bigger than the other fireworks you’ve been setting off throughout the night, this one had yellow and orange sparkles all over its purple exterior with little cartoons decorating the front of it. hyuck places it down on the dirt ground before handing the red lighter to jaemin.

“would you like to do the honors?” he smirked with a raised eyebrow. jaemin laughed before grabbing the lighter into his large hands. you all laughed and cheered before backing up a few feet away from him.

“speech! speech! speech! speech!” chenle began to chant and soon you were all joining.

“what kind of cult is this?” ellie said before chenle looked at her with crazy eyes.

“cult? this is the jaemin love club sweety, get it right.” he jokingly said before you all bursted into laughter. literally all you've guys been doing all night is laughing and setting off explosives on top of hill, maybe you were a cult.

“shut up! let our club president speak! na jaemin i love you!” renjun yelled before turning his attention back to jaemin with a proud smile, throwing finger hearts at him which caused the younger boy to laugh.

jaemin stood there a few seconds trying to collect his thoughts, switching the lighter from one hand to the other and running his fingers up and down the bright red plastic. he felt his mind racing through all the amazing memories you guys created this summer, like getting jisungs foot somehow stuck in a chair in eunjungs backyard, or accidentally locking jeno outside on the porch as a joke, but later forgetting about him until 3 in the morning when you were all having a sleepover. poor guy was sleeping next to the plants and using the fertilizer as a pillow. he smiled at all your silly arguments like the one where you all fought over whether if pineapple belonged on pizza or not, which ellie didn’t give up on until she proved her point that it was a creation sent from heaven. also the stupid choices you had made all summer like peer pressuring mark into driving you all down to the beach a few hours from here and getting lost for 4 hours getting back home. your parents never let you live that one down. but his favorite memory of all; was you. like the time you sat with him all night on his roof watching the stars and playing slow r&b songs through his phone while you horribly tried to sing along and told each other childhood stories. or the time where you guys were walking along side of the lake one afternoon and he had the bright idea to start bothering the ducks, which only resulted in him making them angry and you guys getting chased all the way to the main road. you were always there for him, the good and bad. he never really cared about a girl the way he cared for you, yeah he’s had crushes here and there throughout his life but never like this. he didn’t think you were just pretty, he thought you were intelligent, confident, hardworking, and open minded about everything you did. but could he really call that love? he was so young. what the fuck does he know about love?

“i don’t really know what to say, there’s so much shit yet so little words to explain it. spending every second up each others ass is not easy” he joked and you all laughed in agreement.

“We made some amazing memories, some pretty stupid ones too. i’m still sorry about pushing you into the lake eunjung.” he apologetically looked at eunjung and she laughed before giving him a reassuring smile. “today is the last night we get to do things like this y’know, before going back and cheating our way through sophomore year like we did freshman.” another set of laughs filled the night air.

“um excuse me, not i. this is a brain of gold.” renjun confidently said before jisung and chenle looked at each other.

“who’s gonna tell him?” jisung said before an angry renjun ran towards him.

“ya!” he grabbed him by the collar and shook him. “okay! okay!” jisung said in a fit of giggles trying to push the older boy off of him.

“can you please get to the sentimental part please” ellie crossed her arms impatiently.

“jeez fine. moral of the story, i just want to say thank you to all of you. we’ve been friends for so long that I've even lost track of the years. every memory i can possibly think of right now, somehow involves every single one of your dumbasses. we’ve been there for each every time something big or minor happens and i just want to appreciate that. were standing here on our last day of summer for a reason, so i just want to say...thank you. for making my life so great up to this point.” he finally looked up from the rock under his foot that he’s been staring at for the last minute while he gave his little speech.

you heard a soft sniffle next to you and turned to witness tears rolling down eunjungs face.

“oh god, here comes the waterworks-”

“that was so beautiful? and heartfelt? why would you think this is okay to do to me jaemin?!” eunjung dug her head into jenos side while he cradled her in his arms with a roll of his eyes. “there, there little one. shut up now” he patted the top of her head like a little puppy.

“that was deep bro” donghyuck took large strides towards him and embraced him into a tight hug sending the stumbling back a little, loud fake sobs leaked of his mouth before jaemin began to squirm and whine before pushing hyuck away successfully.

“jaemin that was so sweet” you pouted your lips and clasped your hands in front of you. his eyes locked with yours and he blushed at your comment, shyly looking away with smile.

“well, enough of that sentimental shit. let’s end this summer with a bang, shall we?” ellie announced before you all began to cheer once again with loud screams and claps.

“here’s to the best summer ever with the greatest people.” jaemin yelled before flicking the lighter a few times until a spark of fire emerged, he lit the box and swiftly raced back to you, he crashed into your arms and you both stumbled back a bit in laughter, before gaining your balance and waiting for the small colorful box to explode.

you all watched it intensively before you heard a loud whistle resonate through the night air, and all the sudden two sparks of lights shot into the night sky, before they exploded into an eruption of colors. you all watched the light show above you in a awe for a few minutes until the last bit of light left the sky, only leaving the far away stars to look down at you.

no one said anything. you all just stood there in silence enjoying each others presence, it’s like no one needed to say anything for you all to understand each others thoughts and feelings right in that moment.

this is it. this was when it hit you that these people standing with you in that second, were people you wanted forever in your life. this summer showed you how important it is to have people you value with you, those you can share a life with and connect with on an emotional level. the ones that you can laugh with, cry with, and argue with. bonds that are made for life.

you looked over to jaemin who was standing next to you. his head was directed up towards the stars and his eyes were twinkling a little different than usual, his expression was almost sad like. but the juxtaposition of the chilly breeze blew his hair back making him look like some kind of angel. he slightly parted his lips and closed his eyes for a second, taking in the silence.

your eyes drew in the shape of him in your mind, engraving it into the deepest parts of your conscious and keeping it there forever. but you couldn’t restrain yourself any longer. your fingertips touched his before you fully wrapped your hand with his, jaemins eyes shot open before they landed on you, looking a little taken aback. he began to relax his hand and finished interlacing your fingers together sloppily. his eyes scanned over your face before breaking into a sweet grin replacing his former pained expression.

“we should get going. it’s getting late and i don’t feel like being late for school in the morning.” renjun spoke first and made everyone snap back into reality.

“i already picked out my outfit, it’s laying next to my pillow.” jeno proudly smiled before he started to make his way down the semi-steep hill. “me too!” jisung ran down after him before jumping on his back and wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

“that was fun.” jaemin said next to you, your hand still holding his, “yeah, it was fun spending our last night like this.” you looked down with a blush.

“i’m going to miss nights like these” ellie wrapped her arms around renjuns shoulders, with a pout.

“you do realize that we’re literally gonna still be around each other every single day, just with school thrown into the mix, right?” jeno turned around towards the short girl with a raised brow.

“shut up jeno! it’s not the fucking same and you know it” ellie argued shooting a death glare to the side of jenos head. he threw his hands in the air in defeat with a teasing grin.

you all walked and buzzed with conversation for the rest of the way, teasingly pushing and shoving each other and cracking jokes. this was your last summer night after all, it wouldn't be a good one if someone didn't almost get hit by a car. you continued to mess around until you all came to a stop on the corner of the street where you all had met that same afternoon.

“i should head home before my mom starts throwing my stuff out of the window. see you guys tomorrow at school.” jisung began to walk backwards while throwing a peace sign in the air.

“wait—i’ll walk with you! see you guys!” chenle quickly ran after him and waved at you with a big smile. you all waved bye to them as they walked down the quiet street and rounded a corner.

“i’m gonna head out too. see you scumbags tomorrow” renjun ran a hand through his hair and half smiled.

“i’ll come with you baby” donghyuck followed behind him and jokingly smacked his butt. renjun turned around so quick with a horrified look with both hands on his ass.

“i’m telling mark!” he ushered out and punched hyucks shoulder, sending him stumbling back a little while holding it, but that stupid smirk never left his face.

“he doesn’t have to know about us.” he jumped on renjuns back while he whined loudly.

“so embarrassing. anyways, the throuple is out. jeno be a doll and walk us home.” ellie said while she hooked her arms with jenos and eunjungs and pulled them down the street with a smirk and a wink.

“and then there were two.” you dramatically said in a movie narrative voice making jaemin chuckle.

“let me walk you home.” he slid an arm around you and pulled you closer as he began walking you to the direction of your house.

“you know what, i’m actually cheering for team throuple.” you commented while you played with the sleeve of his navy blue hoodie that was tossed over your shoulder.

“oh please, eunjung and jisung are practically in love. i bet they’ll get together by the end of the year.” he dared with a smirk.

“i hate it when you’re right.” you looked away distastefully and he laughed finally unwrapping himself from you. you felt a breeze blow by and a shiver run down your body, you swaddled yourself in your arms missing the way jaemin held you but not saying anything; you just continued walking.

“did you have fun this summer?” he asked out of nowhere tucking in his hands into his pocket.

“are you kidding? this summer couldn’t be topped. we did the craziest shit and somehow managed to make it out alive.” you looked up with an enormous smile to see jaemin looking down at you after those words left your mouth, he had that same pained expression he’s been wearing all night and the question came to your mind once again; why is he so sad?

“i’m glad that you’re happy. that you've been happy this summer and that i was a part of that.” he teared his eyes away from you and continued to look straight ahead. you looked at him oddly with a raised eyebrow. where the hell did that come from? jaemin was never shy about his feelings but never in your entire life of knowing him has he burbled something out of nowhere like that.

“alright, I've been biting my tongue all fucking night but i’m getting kinda sick of looking at you with that depressed face, what’s up?” you looked at him with worry once again. his eyes quickly landed on you and he looked shocked for a second over the fact that you even noticed it, he thought he was doing a pretty good job at keeping his facial expressions under control all night.

“wh-what? i’m fine, what are you talking about?” he stuttered out nervously and came to a stop once he saw that you were at the front of your house.

“and i shit gold out of my ass, now stop lying to me. seriously jaemin, what’s wrong?” you pushed the subject and once again he refused to make eye contact with you.

“i don’t feel like talking about it y/n” he uttered out to get you to shut up about it but you weren’t giving up so easily.

“jaemin. tell me. i’m not asking out of courtesy, i’m asking as your friend. now spit it out or i’m never giving back that pink sweater.” you threatened and he looked at you in disbelief.

“you fucking wouldn’t.” he glared daggers at you and you felt accomplished. “i’ll set it on fire if you don’t tell me in the next 10 seconds.” you crossed yours arms and puffed out your chest in victory which made him roll his eyes at you.

“fine” he finally said and you punched the air with a whispered ‘yesss’. you took a seat on your curb and patted the spot next to you, “please step into my office.” you placed your clasped hands on your lap and watched him sit down next to you. he placed his elbows on his knees and looked straight ahead into the choi’s front yard with furrowed brows.

“ready when you are.” you patted his back and waited patiently for him to gather his thoughts.

“i wasn’t really planning on saying anything about this. well, not now at least. i thought i could buy myself some time.” he chuckled and looked down at the floor.

“what are you talking about?” you looked at him puzzled.

“my dads doing pretty good at work, even thought he was probably gonna get a promotion. he’s been so excited about it ever since he mentioned it a few months ago. i didn’t think much of it, of course i was happy. he’s my dad, why wouldn’t i? i just thought he’d probably get a pretty large raise, that’s about it.” he paused and played with the grass that peeked out from the cracks on the concrete, he ran his fingers over the top of it before pulling it out strand by strand in frustration.

“i was excited about today actually. i knew donghyuck must’ve had something pretty good planned for the last day of summer. all the guys were excited, the girls too. i was just happy to get to spend the day with them. with you.” he finally looked at you with sad eyes. your heart clenched when he looked at you like that, you wanted to hug and kiss him until he smiled again and little bells would go off like they always did; at least in your head.

“this was not how this summer was supposed to end.” he bitterly laughed and threw the last few pieces of grass in his palm into the street before dusting his hands. you looked at him confused trying your best to piece what he was saying together but coming to no conclusion.

“i still don’t understand why you’re so upset jaemin. i mean, isn’t that a good thing? your dad is getting a promotion.” you raised an eyebrow and hugged your knees to your chest and looked at the side of his face for answers.

“my dad had mentioned something about moving to the other firm of the company too, which would require us to move. to a whole different country. “ you looked at him taken aback but allowed him to continue.

“of course i didn’t really pay attention to him since he never confirmed it. so i didn't really stress about it much, i just wanted to enjoy my summer.” he now took up playing with his fingers to keep his hands busy.

you felt your heart begin to race faster and faster and your palms beginning to feel sweaty against your skin. you prayed to yourself that this conversation wasn’t going to where you thought it was going.

“i was about to leave my house to meet you guys on the corner but my parents said they had to talk to me about something today. so i just texted jeno that i’ll meet you guys wherever,” he shrugged his shoulders and continued, “apparently, my dad did get that promotion. i was happy as fuck for him, but then he started to speak about that new firm again. he told me that he’ll be getting his own office, his job would cover an entire brand new house for us, that i would get to go to a new school, a private one, and make a bunch of new friends. i prayed that he said no. i felt like a horrible son but, i kept on wishing and wishing for him to just say that we didn't have to go, that we get to stay but,” he took a long pause and caught his breath, almost like preparing himself for what he was about to say next.

“he took the job.”

it seemed like time stopped once those words left his mouth. you felt your heart drop to the other end of the world. you looked away from him and swallowed the lump of spit that had seemed to form in your throat and tried your hardest to blink away the tears that were welding on the verges of your eyes.

“oh” you sensed his eyes on the side of your head but you refused to look at him. you felt your heart ache in your rib cage and literal physical pain every time you tried to breathe and you didn’t want to know what would happen if you mad eye contact with him.

“so, you’re leaving.” you said and quickly closed your mouth again to try and stop the tears from flowing down like a stream on your face.

“i was going to tell you eventually y/n i swea-“

“do the others know?” you asked and heard your voice crack in the process. jaemin didn’t say anything and looked away from you. you felt his body stiffen next to you and you turned to glare at the side of his head due to the silence as he refused to meet your eyes.

“jaemin, do the others know?” you began to feel anger brew in your system and your body progressively begin to feel hotter.

he stayed silent a few more seconds before looking down and finally speaking,

“yes. i told them a couple of weeks ago.” he whispered and you felt the last huff of air leave your body like somebody had just sat on your chest.

you felt a warm tear slip down your cheek before you swiftly wiped it away. you stood up from the curb and turned to walk back towards your home in hurried steps.

“y/n! stop please, i was going to tell you—“ he chased after you as soon as your body stood from next yo him. he wrapped his hands around your forearms before yanking you back to halt your movements.

“when jaemin?! huh?! everyone else knew weeks before that you were going to leave except me?! you had me looking like an idiot the whole summer for your ass! you knew about the fact that there was possibility of you moving away months ago, MONTHS AGO, and continued to play me like some idiot?!” you shoved his chest a few times, harder with every word that left your mouth, and he stumbled back before grabbing your wrist and holding them in place.

“no i didn’t y/n i swear! everything that I've said, everything that we’ve done, was real! you think i would be acting like that around you and make myself miserable knowing that i would eventually be leaving if i wasn’t completely head over heels for you?! the reason i didn't tell you sooner was because i didn't know how to. how exactly do you tell the girl you've been obsessing over since you were 9, that you've finally had the courage to make a move on, that you would be leaving in a few weeks after spending all summer long falling for her?!” he tried to reason with you but you couldn’t process the words leaving his lips right now. your eyes felt sore already from the hot tears that ran down your cheeks. all you just wanted was to crash through that door and lock yourself in your room for weeks. you didn’t want to look at his face. the face that you've memorized all the details of, the face of the boy who made you believe in those stupid high school love stories that last forever. what stupid lies.

“how could you do this jaemin?” you whispered in between quiet sobs and finally stopped fighting against him, he took his chance and pulled you into his chest, wrapping both arms around your shaking body and you sobbed into him. he buried his face in between your neck and slowly rocked you side to side until you’ve calmed down.

“i’m so sorry y/n, but there’s nothing i can do.” he whispered into you before you pulled away from him, wiping the wet stains from your face after a few seconds.

“yeah i know.” you took a few steps away from him but he seemed to notice and that made his heart ache a little.

“don’t do that, you’re closing off. please y/n, don’t do this to me right now.” jaemin felt tears come to his eyes and he tried his hardest to hold them back for as long as he could, but not being able to stop that single tear that escaped rolling down his cheek and dripping onto his hoodie.

“what else am i supposed to do jaemin? you’re moving away, you’re leaving us. and you didn’t even tell me.” you felt like bawling again but stopped yourself.

“we can still all talk. i’ll try and come down a few times a year—“

“jae. you’re moving to a whole different country.” you said and he slouched his shoulders in defeat at your words as the realization hit him.

“when are you leaving?” you finally spoke after a long pause.

“two weeks.” he lowly said and you scoffed.

“two weeks? how could you not tell me?!” you felt anger begin to bubble inside you again but checked yourself. you weren’t the only one who was hurting right now, jaemin was too. he had to leave everything he knew behind, his house, his family, his friends. you couldn't possibly imagine what he must be feeling.

“i’m sorry” was all he could say when he looked you in the eyes and a few more tears escaped.

“yeah, me too” you approached him once again and closed the distance between you in a tight hug. this took jaemin by surprise before he gave in and safely wrapped his arms around you and just held you there in silence.

“let me just do this one thing, please.” he pulled away and placed a hand on your jaw, you leaned into his touch and saw him come in closer to your face.

he stopped right before his lips touched yours and you felt his breath on them, you both looked at each other before he looked back down and finally closed the distance.

your first kiss. your first kiss was with the boy you fell for that summer. for a boy you were probably never seeing again. it was a short kiss, short but sweet. neither of you knew much of what you were doing so you didn’t really push it past what it was.

he pulled away and looked at you again before smiling sweetly down at you.

“we still have a week. so let’s make it last, okay?” he nodded his head up and down and you mimicked him with a reciprocated smile.

“okay” you placed your head back on his chest and stayed there a little longer with arms tightly wrapped around him. like he was going to dissapear any second.

“jaemin?” you whispered and he hummed, feeling his chest vibrate against your ear in acknowledgement.

“what if i never see you again?” you gripped his back a little tighter. he stayed silent for a while before bringing his hands to cup both sides of your face and cradle it in front of his.

“the universe works in funny ways you know. we will see each other again one day. i promise.” he kissed your forehead and you closed your eyes and allowed another fresh tear to slip down your cheek. you finally pulled away from the hug and he stared at you for a little while before whipping away the tears from his and yours face with a laugh.

“go inside. it’s late, i’ll see you tomorrow at school.” his eyes held adoration as he watched you nod again and start walking towards your door after whispering a ‘goodnight jaemin’ to him with a closed lip smile. when you closed the door behind you, you couldn’t help the pain you felt between your chest, it felt like your entire body was being drained and you dropped to you knees, covering your mouth from the loud sobs as you cried on your front door.

you both spent those entire two weeks with each other. you went everywhere that brought the smallest memory of your lives together, almost like you were trying to engrave it all into jaemin head so he never forgets. but trust, he never would.

you and your friends threw him a little goodbye party the night before his flight, there was a lot of tears and hugging. a few dramatic falls and cries from chenle, donghyuck and ellie, but you all had fun. you spent it like you needed too. together.

you didn’t send him off the morning of his flight, too scared that you would break down in front of his parents and more embarrassingly your friends. he was disapointed when he walked outside of his house and saw all his friends standing next to his dads car with balloons in their hands yet you were no where to be seen. but he still smiled and hugged every single one of them goodbye and promised to keep in touch.

ellie and eunjung came by later that day to check in on you. as soon as they walked through your bedroom door and made eye contact with you, witnessing the hurt expression on your face, you couldn't help the hot tears that started flowing uncontrollably. they comforted you while you cried the whole night, feeling like your body was floating until you finally fell asleep with dried tears on your pillow.

the crying continued for another 6 weeks before you learned to cope. you started hanging out with your friends again and going out more often. you and jaemin still stayed in contact, texting and calling as much as you could trying to keep each other up to date with what’s happening, him on settling into his new school, making new friends, and you on how ellie and donghyuck tried to get jisung to go through the basketball hoop and proceeded to get him stuck. it took almost 2 hours getting him out.

slowly you began to stop talking less and less, texts became shorter, and calls weren’t made as often. until one day, they stopped. you believed that it was just a tough lesson the world just wanted you to learn at an early age. you had moved on and it was all just some stupid summer crush on a friend.

life goes on. and it did.

“finally! fucking turtles!” ellie shouted once she saw the two familiar faces that were seungjun and chan walk through the glass door. she quickly pushed them out of the way and exited the shop in a rush.

“what’s with her?” chan looked over his shoulder before making his way over to the counter.

“she wants to go to the lake. badly” eunjung grabbed her bag and began walking towards the door.

“alright, guard the fortress freshies!” you held a L to your forehead and stuck out your tongue to the two younger boys, catching them roll their eyes before you chased behind your friends.

you followed the two girls to the parking lot where your car sat under the boiling summer heat.

“can you walk any slower?!” ellie stomped her foot on the ground while she waited for you to open the doors.

“actually, i can.” you slowed your steps like you were stuck in slow motion which only made ellie groan loudly in annoyance and a laugh to leave eunjungs lips.

“y/n please! i’m trying to have a hot girl summer again!” she begged before you finally gave in and unlocked the doors. she smiled brightly before climbing into the passenger seat and tossing her bag somewhere in the chaotically packed backseat.

“what do you mean ‘again’?” eunjung pushed over some of the jackets scattered on the seat to make space for herself before climbing in and closing the door behind her.

“well, last year i barely got to enjoy the thottivities because i was taking care of devil children the whole time. but this year? i’m not letting this heat slip away so easily baby.” ellie twisted her body in the seat to talk to the taller brunette behind her.

“didn’t you have a thing with hyunjin all of last summer?” you looked at her in confusion before starting the car and driving out of the parking lot into the streets.

“we did not have such thing!” she barked at you with crossed arms.

“yes you did.” eunjung uttered out not taking her eyes off her phone.

“shut up eunjung! like i haven’t caught you and jisung in our dorm before!” ellie fought back with knitted eyebrows.

“at least i own up to it!” eunjung stuck her tongue out before going back to her phone. you all laughed after a few seconds of realizing how stupid you all probably looked to passing vehicles as you screamed in the car.

“why don’t you guys just make it official anyway, i’m tired of watching you two sneak off somewhere every time we all try and hang out together. just say that you’re dating and call it a day.” you blasted your ac to try and somewhat control the sweat threatening to drip from your forehead.

“we’re taking our time! we don’t want to rush things.” she finally placed the device on her lap and pouted, eyes gazing out of the window to all the passing buildings.

“eunjung sweetheart, it’s been almost 5 years. i think we’re past the rushing part,” ellie snickered in her seat, “very very past actually.” you added in and you all shared a laugh.

“i’m just nervous, what if he doesn’t like me enough to you know, actually make things official?” she nervously made eye contact with you through the rear view mirror and bit her bottom lip; an adorable habit she’s collected through the years.

you and ellie turned to look at each other with knowing looks before shaking your heads in unison.

“girl, that boy is obsessed with your ass. do you see the way he looks at you? you basically have him wrapped around your finger. plus, why wouldn’t he want to be with you? you’re fucking banging. i’d be gay for you” ellie shrugged her shoulders and slouched in her seat. eunjung smiled and blushed from the backseat before abruptly sitting up and smooching ellies cheek. ellie squirmed under her touch and whined loudly before finally shoving the taller girl back into her seat.

“gay moment? i’m here for it.” you laughed and turned in your street before speeding a little to make the ride shorter.

the car fell into comfortable silence for a few minutes. you focused on the road while tapping the steering wheel to the random song playing from the radio. but not og after the peaceful silence was interrupted by ellies loud voice booming through the car.

“i’m sorry, but can we please talk about how jaemin is back in town.” ellie burbled out before eunjung gave her a wide eye death stare. your grip tightened on the steering wheel and you swallowed the lump of saliva that had formed in your throat before concentrating back on the road in front of you.

“ellie. we’re not-“

“no it’s fine, don’t worry about me.” you shook your head and relaxed your tense shoulders.

“i’m sorry y/n, but like what the fuck. that was so random just seeing him again after such a long time.”

“yeah i guess. it’s been so long i kinda forgot he existed.” you commented before pulling into your apartment complex and smoothly parking in your spot.

“you sure you ‘forgot he existed’? you don’t look at people you forget exist the way you were looking at him.” ellie unbuckled her seat belt and exited out of the hot vehicle.

“ellie!” eunjung shoved her shoulder and raised her arms in the air, her way of basically saying ‘what the fuck is wrong with you?’.

“i mean you can say that. i don’t know what i felt, everything just kinda came rushing back to me when i saw him. i didn’t really know what to do with myself except stare.” you shrugged your shoulders and began to walk towards your front entrance.

“i mean you were depressed for half of sophomore year over the guy. i would’ve reacted the same way love.” ellie hooked your arms together as eunjung unlocked the front door and holding it open for the two of you to enter, you murmured quiet ‘thank you’s before making your way over to the elevator and pressing the up arrow.

“i know. don’t even remind me.” you shook your head and closed your eyes for a few seconds.

“are you sure you’re gonna be okay tonight?” eunjung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and gave you a sympathetic look.

“of course i will. it’s been almost five years, i’m fine. it was just a stupid high school crush anyway.” eunjung and ellie shared a look before you stepped into the elevator with them following behind a few seconds later.

“i’m glad. don’t let it ruin your night. besides, we’ll be there the whole time along with the guys. just think of it as us normally hanging out. anyway, it’s summer time bitches!” eunjung screamed into the elevator with a loud echo left behind making you and ellie cringe at the sound.

“let’s just hurry the fuck up and get ready. i want to go get drunk and try and talk jeno into a threesome. you know what they say, third times the charm.” ellie smirked and pressed the button and watched the doors close in front of her.

this night should be very interesting.

an: i’m going to try and begin writing part 2 as soon as possible! knowing me it’ll probably take a while lol. i also a few other stories i’m working on so bare with me

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ceealaina · 5 years ago

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Title: Time May Change Me Collaborator Name: ceealaina Card Number: 3088 Link: AO3 Square Filled: Adopted - Time Travel (to the past) Ship: Stony Rating: E Major Tags: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame, Endgame Fix-It, Friends to Lovers, Summary: A slight shift in timing during the time heist mission leaves Tony and Steve trapped in 1970. Stuck together while they try and work out a new plan, they instead start to see each other in a whole new light. Word Count: 13,609

It started to go wrong the way these things usually did for them — the second they split up. (You’d think by now they would have learned.)

Tony’s timing (hah, how fitting that time was working against them) had been off by seconds. He was just about to cut into the appropriate container, grab the Tesseract and get the hell out of dodge when he’d been interrupted. It probably could have been worse. At least he hadn’t been cut red -- or blue -- handed. But he was caught so off guard by being met with fucking Howard of all people that he hadn’t been able to find an excuse to stay, walking his father out and making bullshit conversation and feeling his heart sink deeper with every step further he took from the Tesseract.

Steve hadn’t fared much better. He had, initially, gotten his hands on the Pym particles. But, distracted by a glimpse of Peggy, of seeing first hand the life she’d lived without him, he had hesitated a moment too long before leaving. He thought he’d made it out. He was outside and had signalled to Tony -- who was talking to his father, no way that was a good idea -- and was just waiting for him to join him when he heard shouts. Steve had to make a quick get away after that, leaving Tony to extricate himself as quickly and unsuspiciously as possible, and hope they’d manage to find each other again. Steve got away, but somehow the Pym Particles were lost in the process. Because that just seemed to be how their day was going.

Tony found Steve a couple hours later, sitting forlornly on a bench in some little park. He’d abandoned most of his borrowed uniform in an attempt at disguise, leaving him in a white t-shirt and a pair of alarmingly high-waisted bell bottom pants that he’d gotten from god knew where. There were a few birds scattered by his feet and Tony resisted the urge to make a crack about old men feeding pigeons in the park as he flopped down onto the bench beside him.

“Cheer up, Cap,” he told him, giving him a conciliatory pat on the shoulder. “It’s not so bad.”

Steve lifted his head to glare at him, but it was half-hearted at best. “Not so bad?” he repeated. “Tony, I lost the Pym Particles.”

“And I didn’t get the Tesseract.”

“Oh, great, things are going to be just fine then.”

“Wow. Sarcasm is not a good look on you, Rogers.”

“I’m not in the mood, Tony. We’re trapped here, and apparently we don’t even have the thing we came for. It’s over, we lost.”

“Well... Not exactly.” At Steve’ confused stare, Tony gave a half shrug. “The good news is, we technically have all the time in the world. Once we get the particles, we can go right back to where we were when we left.”

“We still have to get the particles,” Steve pointed out, but there was something almost resembling hope on his face. “And the Tesseract. And they’ll have stepped up security, if they think there was a breach.”

“Yup,” Tony admitted. “And since bouncing in as Captain America Iron Man could probably result in some catastrophically timeline-altering bullshit, we’re probably going to have to play the long game.”

“What do we do in the meantime?” Steve asked. “It’s 1970, and we didn’t exactly come prepared. You technically haven’t even been born yet; I don’t think your driver’s license is going to fly. We’ve got no IDs, no money, and no place to stay -- SHIELD's list of safehouses isn’t going to cut it right now. How are we playing the long game?”

Tony gave him a crooked grin. “I’m gonna tell you something, and I really need you to not judge me over this, Cap.”

“Oh, this should be good.”

“So back when I was thirteen and in my last years of high school, I was young, and bored, and…”

“A pain in the ass?” Steve supplied.

“Precocious.” Tony gave him a dirty look. “Point being, I may have run some scams, started selling fake IDs… Pre technology era, it was surprisingly easy, actually. Which probably doesn’t say much for the security of our country, but works out well for our purposes.”

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want to run scams selling IDs?”

“Well, the IDs would be for us, but basically… Yeah, at least until we get ourselves situated. Unless you got a better idea? I mean, stripping usually pays under the table. Not sure how prominent male strippers were in 1970, but I’m sure you could fetch a pretty penny with that ass.”

Steve gave a long, pained sigh. “Nope. ID scams it is.”

THREE MONTHS LATER

Steve padded down the hall and into the avocado green kitchen that never failed to make his soul cry a little. Tony was already there, sitting at the kitchen table with a legal pad and a mechanical pencil, muttering to himself as he sketched out equations that Steve couldn’t even begin to process. Steve arched an eyebrow at him, beelining for the coffee pot; Tony’s bad habits were starting to rub off on him.

“You get any sleep last night?”

Tony waved his free hand in a so-so gesture before scribbling a few more numbers and looking up to give Steve a slightly crooked grin. “Couple hours.” He made a show of looking Steve up and down, and even though he should have been used to it by now, Steve felt a shiver run up his spine. “Cute shorts, Cap.”

Steve rolled his eyes, shifting to tug at the super short hemline for the umpteenth time. “It’s July, Tony. It’s 90 degrees out there. And apparently this is what the 1970s have to offer for running shorts.”

Tony leaned back in the chair, balancing it on the back two legs. “Hey, I’m not complaining.” He gave him a wink. “Seriously, Steve. You look good.”

Instead of answering, Steve turned to the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs. Since they’d been stuck here, there had been a million little things that Steve had barely even noticed in the future that he missed terribly now, and currently his Super Special Super Soldier Protein Bars (Tony’d had them patented in 2013) were topping the list. He was sure someone, somewhere would have Thoughts on his shifting priorities and how they reflected the Decline Of America, but energy bars were infinitely preferable to having to mix raw eggs into his orange juice, and there was no way around it. He had to pinch his nose as he knocked the drink back, trying to swallow as quickly as he could, but it didn’t do anything to mask the texture.

The sentiment was apparently shared by Tony, who made a face as he watched Steve3. “I could probably reverse engineer some kind of protein bar that meets your super soldier needs,” he offered.

Steve gave him a fond smile. “I’ve had worse,” he told him, which was true, but not by much. “And I don’t think I’d trust your cooking. Anyway, I think I’d rather you reverse engineer a way for us to get the Tesseract.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Tony frowned back down at his legal pad and aggressively scratched out a few numbers. “I’m working on it.”

Steve arched his eyebrows at him. “And I’m going for a run.”

Tony waved him off, but as Steve headed back into the hall, he heard him call, “Bye, Cap! Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave!”

As he started his regular run through the winding streets of small town Jersey (ew), Steve’s mind started to wander the way it always did when he worked out -- even if he had to hold himself back to keep from attracting unwanted attention. And, the way it seemed to be doing more and more lately, as his worries took a backseat, his mind drifted to Tony instead.

Steve couldn’t say exactly when things had changed between them. It had been the same as usual, at first, the two of them poking and prodding at each other. Steve respected Tony, always had after New York, and he was pretty sure Tony felt the same way about him. But they also knew how to push each other’s buttons, and didn’t seem to be able to stop doing it.

As the spring had dragged on, and their plans to get back into Fort LeHigh went exactly nowhere, and frustrations grew, Steve had expected things to get even worse between them. But instead the exact opposite had happened. Maybe it was the fact that he had a kid now, maybe it was the fact that it felt like the whole world was against them right now, nothing going right, and they were the only ones who had each other’s back. But Tony was different now, and Steve had a feeling that he probably was too.

They had talked about it, once, after yet another tossed out plan. Tony had admitted how much this was weighing on him, how scared he was that this would fail, how many people were counting on them -- Morgan most of all. And then, in a voice that broke Steve’s heart, Tony had admitted that making the effort to get along with Steve made him feel a little bit better about failing to get them out of there. Steve had tried to reassure him that it wasn’t his fault, that coming to 1970 may have been Tony’s idea, but that he’d also been right about it being their only chance. But he knew Tony enough to know that that guilt wasn’t going to stop no matter what Steve said. So he made the effort to be kinder to Tony in turn. And somewhere along the way, it stopped being an effort and just became their relationship. They still teased and prodded at each other, but instead of antagonism, it was all fondness, Tony looking delighted every time he’d get a smile out of Steve. They argued too, sometimes, because they were still them, but the arguments were fewer and farther between, and more often than not they’d just fizzle out entirely until they could come back to it later and have an actual conversation instead.

The team was his family, he loved and trusted them with every ounce of his body. But the little house he shared with Tony was starting to feel like home in a way that he hadn’t found since 1942. Steve knew he shouldn’t be getting too comfortable, that he was probably getting too complacent about their lack of progress. But it was easy to take heart in the fact that they’d be able to return to the same point in time. And he was enjoying the familiarity of their little life here. Tony had gotten a job at a local garage, kept making jokes Steve didn’t quite understand about how he was an actual mechanic now, and Steve had managed to pick up some freelance work drawing cartoons for the local paper. On the mornings when Tony hadn’t stayed up all night, Steve would start the coffee pot, making sure there was a fresh mug waiting for him when he dragged himself out of bed for his shift. And in turn, Tony would prepare dinner, because apparently cooking was a thing he’d learned in the past five years, more often than not making Steve’s favourites. They just knew each other now, things easy and familiar. Steve had expected to be bored, to be slowly going crazy with all the sitting around and waiting. But instead it was almost pleasant, like he’d been able to press the pause button on his life for one damn second.

Apparently Steve Rogers was the domestic type, who knew?

And then, of course, there were the other ways that Steve was starting to know Tony. Over the past few weeks, Tony’s teasing ogling had turned a little less… Teasing. Several times now, Steve had caught Tony staring at him when he thought Steve wasn’t looking, his gaze soft and heated and wanting in a way that made Steve squirm. And his comments on Steve’s body had an edge to them, a bit of truth to the words that hadn’t been there before.

And, well, the house wasn’t big. Steve wasn’t going to pretend that he hadn’t heard Tony jerk off on multiple occasions, that he hadn’t strained his ears to listen for the whisper of his name on Tony’s lips, that he hadn’t then jerked himself off with a little more noise than he would normally, picturing Tony do the same. Maybe it was just the fact that it was only the two of them here together, but Steve couldn’t escape feeling that there was something building between them.

***

The day had ended up being scorchingly hot, and Tony had picked up an extra shift at the garage, so Steve had cooked dinner. He’d never really bothered to learn to cook properly -- Tony liked to joke that his taste buds had been so ruined by Depression era food that not even the serum could save them -- but he could manage a few staples. He’d burned the first attempt at cheeseburgers, but the second set were better, and all the chaos was worth it when Tony shuffled into the kitchen, looking exhausted, only to inhale deeply and then positively beam.

“Steve,” he declared, still in his mechanic’s coveralls as he slumped into one of the kitchen chairs with a cold beer in his hand. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I think I love you.”

It was fully dark by the time they finished their meal. The windows and the kitchen door were wide open in the hopes of catching a breeze, and the sounds of the crickets outside filtered through the house. The heat hadn’t dissipated at all with the disappearance of the sun, giving everything a hazy, dreamy feel. Tony had unzipped the top half of his coveralls, leaving them hanging around his waist with only a threadbare white muscle shirt covering his chest. Steve kept having to look away but couldn’t seem to keep his eyes from drifting right back. Those coveralls were his number one weakness right now; he’d had multiple filthy fantasies about peeling Tony out of them.

“Fuck, it’s hot,” Tony muttered, knocking back the last of his beer. His legs were spread on the chair, posture loose and easy, and Steve watched his throat bob as he swallowed.

“You could go and change,” Steve pointed out, even as his dick screamed at him to shut up, that was the last thing he wanted.

Tony sighed. “Yeah, but then I’d have to move,” he complained, offering Steve a grin. “Anyway, it’s my turn to do the dishes,” he added, not seeming to care that he’d just negated his last point entirely.

“No, hey. You've had a long day,” Steve said. “I’ll do them.”

Tony hummed, considering. “You wash and I’ll dry?”

“Done deal.”

Washing the dishes with Tony was one of his favourite chores, and tonight was no exception. They alternated between companionable silence as they worked, broken only by the gentle splash of water as Steve rinsed another dish, and easy chatter, nohing of importance, just dumb jokes and mindless anecdotes.

“So then,” Tony concluded, giving a glass a half-assed swipe with his dishcloth and putting it away mostly wet. Steve thought about calling him on it, but didn’t. “It turned out that he’d somehow wired the radio to the headlights? And every time they came on, the radio would turn off. That’s why it wouldn’t work at night.”

It wasn’t even that funny of a story, but Tony’s laughter was contagious. Steve turned to smile at him, and something in his chest caught. Tony was grinning, face lit up with humor and a hint of anticipation as he stared back at Steve. He had a lock of hair falling over his forehead, curling in the hot summer air, and he was still wearing those damn coveralls, biceps on display. Hardly aware of what he was doing, Steve let the dishcloth slip into the sink and curled a soapy wet hand around the back of Tony’s neck. He had a brief moment to notice Tony’s tiny shiver at the water on his skin, and then Steve leaned in and kissed him. Tony’s lips were warm and soft and slightly parted, practically inviting Steve to deepen the kiss, to suck gently on his upper lip. Tony made a soft noise in response, barely more than a huff of air, and all of a sudden Steve realized what he was doing.

With a start he pulled back, almost immediately missing the touch of Tony’s skin beneath his fingers. “Oh god, I’m sorry,” he burst out, staring at the floor and pressing his fingers gingerly to his own lips, like he could hide what he’d done. “I don’t know what that was. It’s just the heat, and, and… You…”

Stomach twisting with nerves, Steve chanced a glance up at Tony, expecting him to be upset, or angry, or even hurt for some reason. But instead Tony was just staring back at him with a soft, pleased smile on his lips. “It’s okay, Steve.”

And sure, he probably just meant that he was forgiving Steve’s lapse of judgement, Steve knew that. But he could also be giving Steve permission, and so he leaned in, kissing him again. And when Tony didn’t shove him away, only sighed against his mouth and pressed his palms against Steve’s abs through his tight, white-t-shirt, Steve deepened it once more, pressing his tongue past Tony’s lips to taste him. His hands shifted to grip at Tony’s hips, thumbs sliding over the bare skin where his shirt didn’t quite touch his coveralls, and he was only half-aware of turning them until he had Tony pressed back against the counter, Steve looming over him and holding him in place.

They were both breathing hard by the time he pulled back again, and Steve couldn’t stop staring at Tony. His hair was more mussed now, though neither of them had touched it, little strands curling around his neck and ears. His lips were red and swollen, eyes dark and heavy, and he was still giving Steve that soft smile. He tilted his head a little, squinting like he was trying to read him, and then he grinned.

“Close the door, Steve.”

Steve blinked at him, wondering if he was somehow so horny for it that a little kissing had completely fried his brain. “What?”

Tony laughed softly, the sound sending something warm and pleasant furling through Steve’s stomach -- though that may have been helped by the way that Tony slid his hands up Steve’s chest, dragging over his tight nipples in the process, and fiddled with the collar of his shirt.

“Shut the kitchen door, Steve. So we can go to bed.”

Steve nodded, a little dazed, and reluctantly let go of Tony’s hips. He didn’t know if Tony meant to go to bed because if they’d reached this point it was time to call it a night, or to go to bed, but he moved over to the kitchen door. He could feel Tony watching him with every step, his gaze heavy on his back and setting Steve’s nerves into hyperdrive. He shut the door firmly, the click of the lock seeming thunderous in the weighted silence of the room. Swallowing thickly he turned back to Tony.

“So, uh…” His voice sounded strange to his own ears and he trailed off, not sure what he even wanted to ask. Tony seemed to know though, giving Steve an amused smile. He held out his hand toward him.

“Come on, handsome.”

Steve moved back across the room, and curled his fingers around Tony’s. There were calluses on Tony’s hand, dragging against his own smooth skin, and Steve shivered at the sensation. There was a soft huff of laughter from Tony and then he was tugging gently on Steve’s arm, leading him down the hall toward their bedrooms. It felt hopelessly domestic, and something that had nothing to do with sex tugged at his heart. They didn’t speak, not even when they reached Tony’s bedroom door. Tony didn’t hesitate, his hand still clasped around Steve’s as he pulled him inside, and Steve was helpless to do anything but keep following.

Tony led him over to the side of the bed, angling himself to face Steve as he sat down beside him. Steve’s breath caught as Tony locked eyes with him, running his hand lightly over his chest before he curled his hand in the cotton of his t-shirt, tugging at him gently until they were kissing again. Steve let himself melt into it, hyper-aware of every point of contact between them as heat flooded through his body. Steve let his hand slide over Tony’s ribs and the two of them tipped back against the mattress until they were lying side by side, sharing kisses so sweet they almost ached. One of Tony’s hands came up, running through Steve’s hair, and he shuddered against him, pulling back to look at Tony with heavy eyes.

“Tony, what…” Steve tightened his hand against Tony’s waist, not wanting him to pull away. “What are we doing?”

Tony huffed out another soft laugh, shifting closer until his chest was pressed to Steve’s. “I think that’s kind of obvious, Cap,” he told him, voice low and rough.

Steve whined softly, his hand clenching against Tony’s side before he forced himself to loosen his grip. “What… What about Pepper?” he asked, because he couldn’t not.

But Tony just smiled, unperturbed. “Don’t worry about it. We have an understanding,” he told him vaguely before pressing in closer. Steve could feel their lips brush against each other, unbearably intimate. “Just relax, Steve,” Tony hummed. “I want this. I think you want this too, right?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah,” he said, voice rasping over the word. Tony beamed.

“Then don’t worry about anything else.”

Tony kissed him again, soft and slow, and Steve let himself sink into it, everything that wasn’t Tony’s lips on his fading from his mind. Tony shifted against him, pushing himself up on one elbow so he could press Steve onto his back, leaning over him. He moved his hand up under Steve’s t-shirt, and Steve gasped a little, abs flexing at the touch of his cool fingers. Tony grinned against his mouth, tugging at his lower lip.

“There we go,” he hummed. “God Steve, you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you like this?” He pushed at the fabric, movements getting a little sloppy. “Come on, gorgeous. Let me see you.”

Steve felt hot all over, could feel his cheeks flushing red. He pushed himself up far enough to haul his t-shirt off over his head.

“Oh yeah,” Tony breathed. “There we go.”

Steve rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his fond smile. “You know, you have seen me shirtless before,” he pointed out. “This morning, even.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, but he sounded distracted, eyes locked somewhere around Steve’s nipples. “But it’s different now.”

Steve arched an eyebrow, peering down his chest skeptically. “I didn’t run that hard,” he told him, voice teasing.

Tony shook his head. “You’re not different. It’s just… Knowing I actually get to touch you, get to have you?” He visibly shuddered at the thought, and the idea of Tony wanting him that much sent something hot and squirmy rolling through Steve’s body.

“Tony, fuck,” he muttered, hips rolling up as he yanked Tony back down on top of him. Tony made a startled noise that shifted to groan as he ended up with Steve’s cock pressing into his hip.

“God,” he breathed, breath hot on Steve’s skin. He dragged his teeth over the tendon in his neck. “The things I wanna do to you.”

“Please,” Steve moaned, sliding his hand down Tony’s back to squeeze at his ass through the coveralls. “Whatever you want, anything.”

Tony grinned into his neck. “Whatever I want, huh? Never thought I’d hear those words coming from you, Cap.”

Steve opened his mouth to offer some kind of retort, but bit out a string of curses instead as Tony’s thumb found his left nipple, rubbing over the pert flesh. Tony was barely touching him, just flicks of his fingers and teasing little brushes of skin on skin, but every point of contact was setting Steve on fire, feeling like it was on the cusp of too much. He let his eyes fall shut, hands clenching periodically over Tony’s ass and side as his cock throbbed in his shorts.

“Tony, god, please. I want…”

“What?” Tony asked, and his voice was thick and rough. Steve opened his eyes again to see Tony staring down at him hungrily, biting down hard on his lower lip. “What do you want Steve?”

“Please,” he whined, dragging his hand back up to Tony’s hips to hold him in place while he rocked his hips up against him. “Wanna… Touch. Please.”

He could feel the hot air of Tony’s breath as he laughed against his neck, and then he slid lower down Steve’s waist, sucking the nipple he’d already been teasing into his mouth. Steve didn’t even try to hold back his shout as Tony bit down on the tender skin. His body arched up into the touch, nearly unseating Tony entirely.

“Christ,” Tony muttered. “You’re so fucking sensitive.”

Steve whined as Tony’s warm heat left his body, but when he opened his eyes in protest, Tony was grinning at him as he stripped off his tank top. Steve let his eyes drag hungrily down Tony’s chest, noted the way he flushed a little in response, and then scrambled to arch his hips and kick his shorts off down his hips. Tony was doing the same with his coveralls, and distantly Steve felt a little disappointed that he hadn’t had the chance to peel him out of them himself. But then his cock was springing free, resting hot and hard against his belly, and Steve couldn’t stop himself from curling his hand around it, groaning in relief.

It took him a minute to realize that Tony had stopped undressing, staring at Steve’s cock with heavy eyes and his lips parted. “Holy shit, Steve,” he ground out. Then he was kicking off the last of his clothes and moving to lean over Steve again, covering his hand with his. Steve gasped at the sensation -- he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone else touching him, and this was Tony -- and his cock grew heavier in their shared grip. “Fuck, Steve.” Tony bit down on his earlobe, hard, tightening his grip around him. “You gotta let me taste you, honey, please.”

There was suddenly nothing that Steve wanted more and he whined a little desperately, catching Tony’s lips in a desperate, sloppy kiss before Tony moved down his body, kissing sporadically over Steve’s chest as he went.

From the first flick of Tony’s tongue against the head of his cock, Steve was lost. He rolled his head back, knowing if he tried to look at Tony now he’d last all of five seconds. He panted up at the ceiling instead, body thrumming and over sensitive. The hot summer air was giving everything a dreamy, dazed feel, not quite real, and he gave himself over to the sensation, losing sight of time and what was happening, but hyperconscious of how good he felt, the way his skin lit up everywhere that Tony touched him. His mouth was hot and wet, swallowing around Steve over and over again, until he couldn’t focus on anything else.

Steve had no idea how much longer it had been when he felt his balls draw up tight, his orgasm suddenly right there. He gave a ragged moan, patting clumsily at Tony’s shoulder.

“Tony,” he mumbled, and he hadn’t thought he’d been screaming, but his voice sure sounded like it. “Gonna…”

But Tony didn’t pull off, just swallowed him deeper. Wondering if maybe he hadn’t understood, Steve dragged his eyes open only to look down and find Tony staring back at him intensely. There was a look in his eyes like making Steve feel good was the greatest thing he had ever accomplished, and Steve couldn’t hold on any longer. Clenching his fingers in the sheets hard enough to ache, Steve spilled down Tony’s throat, cursing when that only made Tony swallow harder around him.

When he’d finished, Steve collapsed flat on his back on the mattress, body limp and ears ringing. For a long moment he was only aware of his own breathing, his heart racing in his ears. And then he felt Tony shifting against him, opened his eyes to see Tony on his knees beside him, jerking off frantically. He was running his mouth again, but Steve couldn’t seem to focus on what he was saying, only catching bits here and there as Tony rambled about how gorgeous he was, how hot that had been, how he couldn’t wait to do it again, and again, and again. Steve couldn’t seem to tear his gaze away from the sight of Tony’s cock moving through his fist. He was thicker than Steve had expected, the tip wet as it poked between his fingers over and over again. He wanted to touch him, taste him, but he could seem to find the energy to do much more than reach up, mirroring Tony’s earlier movements and curling his hand over Tony’s, feeling the rhythm of him jerking himself off.

Tony’s eyes snapped to his, his face looking almost comically startled, and then he was making a strangled noise before he came across Steve’s chest. It seemed to go on forever and then he was collapsing onto his side, not quite touching Steve but close enough that he could feel the heat from his skin anyway. It was like second nature for Steve to shift his arm, stroking his fingers feather light up and down Tony’s back.

He drifted for awhile, everything still having that hazy, unreal feel. At some point he’d been aware of the mattress shifting, Tony getting up only to return a few moments later, giving them both a cursory wipe down with a damp cloth. Distantly Steve had thought that maybe he should get up, return to his own room, that maybe Tony wouldn’t want him actually sleeping beside him. But before he could make a move, Tony had tossed the cloth in the direction of the bathroom and flopped down beside him again, this time slinging an arm across Steve’s waist. His skin was hot and sticky, but Steve couldn’t bear the thought of getting him to move.

He must have slept, because suddenly he was awake again, aware of the crickets chirping outside the open bedroom window and Tony breathing into his neck. His breathing was steady and even, but somehow Steve knew he was awake anyway. He wondered what he was thinking of, if he was just riding the high of an amazing orgasm, or if he was thinking of home, of his family. That made Steve think of Pepper again, wondering what exactly ‘an understanding’ meant, and he felt guilt twist low in his stomach.

“Tony?”

“Hmm?” Tony’s voice was soft but alert, and Steve drew in a deep breath.

“What’s your ‘understanding’ with Pepper? Did you, I mean… You didn’t just say that so we’d keep going, did you?”

Tony made a disgruntled noise and pushed himself up with the arm not draped over Steve. He stared down at him, eyes slightly narrowed, although he didn’t actually look offended. “What, you think I was so thirsty for it that I lied so you wouldn’t stop me from cheating on my wife?”

Steve winced; put like that, it sounded really bad. “Well, no. And I don’t know if you noticed, but I wasn’t exactly putting much effort into stopping you, I just…” He trailed off, giving him an awkward, helpless shrug. Tony blinked at him a moment longer and then flopped back down on the mattress, fingers drawing idle patterns over Steve’s abs. The silence dragged out between them and Steve was just about to do something to break it when Tony spoke, the words mumbled against Steve’s shoulder.

“Pepper and I aren’t actually together anymore.”

Steve blinked. “Oh,” he said, a little dazed. He didn’t know what he had been thinking, but that was the last thing he had expected. “Oh shit, Tony. I’m sorry.” He felt his heart sink. “Was it… Was it because you came back? To help us with the whole time travel thing, I mean?”

“What? No! God no, nothing like that! Pepper was actually the one pushing me to do it. No, we, uh... actually... haven’t been like that for awhile.”

He sighed, flopping onto his back and slinging an arm across his eyes. Steve immediately missed the weight of his arm across his middle, but he curled his hand around the back of Tony’s neck instead and waited patiently for him to figure out what he wanted to say.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “After I came back from… From space, things were different. It wasn’t anything she did. It probably wasn’t even anything I did, it was just… Different. Whatever we had wasn’t there anymore. She knew it too. But then she told me she was pregnant, had been before that squid-faced fuck arrived even. And I…” Tony pulled his hand away and rolled his head so he could look over at Steve. “I don’t know, Steve. For the first time since we lost, I remembered what hope felt like again.” He smiled, completely different from how he had smiled at Steve earlier, but just as warm. “She wasn’t even born yet, but Morgan was already saving my life. I wanted that baby more than I’d ever wanted anything in my entire life.” He snorted, his smile going uneven. “Even my dad’s approval,” he added, and Steve winced but Tony’s eyes were dancing. “So Pep and I talked and talked and talked and talked, and eventually we decided… Fuck it. We may not have been in love anymore, but we still love each other. We’re always gonna love each. And with all the shit we’ve been through together, we figured we could totally platonically coparent a baby.” He shrugged. “It’s been working out pretty fantastic, actually, but uh… Yeah. We haven’t been together in like five years so… You’re off the hook.”

“Oh.” Steve nodded. “That’s good.” He knew he should have felt better knowing this and he did. But he also felt weirdly bad about it. He thought every day about what had happened when Thanos’s minions had arrived in New York, replaying it all over and over. This felt like just one more thing that he could have stopped, like maybe if he’d just been there they could have ended it before Tony ever went into space, and maybe Tony and Pepper would still be together.

He didn’t say any of this out loud, of course, but Tony seemed to know something was up anyway. His eyes narrowed a bit before he rolled back onto his side, hand resting comfortably on Steve’s stomach like it belonged there. “Hey. Whatever you’re thinking? Stop. This really is for the best, I’m not lying. We still love each other, and it’s working really well this way. Honestly, I’m not sure what would have happened if we tried to do this as a marriage, but I don’t think it would have ended well. And anyway, the past is the past Steve. There’s no point in worrying about it because we can’t go back and change it.”

Steve gave him a look. “We’re living in 1970, Tony.”

“Okay, but we’re not changing the past, we’re just… Borrowing from it. Well, if you ignore the idea that we’re making minute changes in time just by our ongoing existence here, and that the longer we stay the further those ripples will travel. But we’re not actively trying to change the past, and anyway, all of that should be negated when we eventually return the stones to their original point, so…” He waved his hand, giving Steve a sheepish smile. “Point being, I think we both did things we regret. Going over and over them isn’t going to help anything. Just gotta… Stop thinking about it and move on.”

Steve was quiet for a long moment, combing his fingers absently through Tony’s hair; it was oddly soothing. “I don’t think I can,” he admitted quietly. He gave a short laugh. “Tactical mind. I keep running through scenarios in my head. All the things I could have done differently, all the ways it could have played out instead… I can’t stop it.”

Tony lifted his head to stare at him, eyes wide and horrified. “Still?” he demanded. “You’ve been carrying that around for the last five years? Jesus, Steve.” He shook his head, blowing out a long breath. “Okay, well. I know I can’t make that stop for you, but I can promise you that even if we can’t change the past, we are going to make up for it. We’re going to fix this, Steve. You and me, together.”

Steve nodded, curling his arm tighter around Tony’s back as something in him eased a little. “Together,” he repeated quietly.

***

Steve woke up the next morning alone in Tony’s bed. The air filtering through the window was already hot and humid, promising another sticky day. For a brief moment he was a little disappointed that he hadn’t woken up with Tony beside him, but he could smell bacon and coffee drifting down the hall from the kitchen, so he slid out of bed, hauling on the boxers that he’d left on the floor and padded down the hall to the kitchen.

Like most mornings, Tony was working at the kitchen table, but he looked up as Steve came in and his expression went a little dazed as he took in Steve’s barely dressed state. “Uhh.” Tony made a punched out noise before he seemed to get himself under control, offering Steve a broad grin.

“Morning, Cap,” he said, voice sounding a little raspy like… Well, like he’d been sucking cock. Between that and his obvious appreciation of his body, Steve felt his dick twitch in his shorts. He shifted a little, giving Tony a bright smile in return.

“Hi Tony,” he said, moving over to the coffee pot. He could feel Tony’s eyes on him as he poured the mug and when he turned back around it took a minute for Tony’s eyes to drag back up from he’d been staring at his ass. Steve couldn’t help his pleased little grin as he sat across from Tony at the table. “Any progress?” he asked, nodding at the legal pad covered in Tony’s weird shorthand.

Tony shrugged, but he didn’t even glance at the paper, eyes trained on Steve. “Same as usual,” he told him, taking another swallow of coffee. “Surprisingly hard to hack a security system that hasn’t been automated yet. And they’ve really stepped up their shit.” He eyed Steve, tilting his head a little. “You going for your run this morning?”

Steve shrugged, glancing down at his mostly naked state and grinning ruefully. “I mean, I might put on a few more clothes first, but yeah, probably…” He eyed Tony, who was ogling him again. “Why?” he asked, voice a little lower.

Tony slunk a little lower in his seat, eyes going dark as they locked with Steve’s. “I don’t have to go to the garage until a little later this morning, since I worked late yesterday and everything.” He grinned then, eyebrows waggling. “Wanna do a different kind of cardio this morning?”

They didn’t actually make it to the bedroom this time, only getting as far as the kitschy sunken living room before Tony got his hand in Steve’s boxers and the two of them collapsed to the ground in an uncoordinated heap. Tony jerked him off right there, whispering filthy things into his ear until he came. Steve had barely caught his breath before he was shoving Tony onto his back so he could return the favor.

Afterward, they both lay splayed out on their backs, panting up at the ceiling. Steve hummed, vaguely aware of Tony squirming around beside him. “I never noticed that crack on the ceiling,” he said. “Should have asked for a discount from the realtor.” Tony giggled, right in his ear, and Steve realized that all the squirming had been so he could move closer to Steve, pressing up against his side despite the heat and slinging a leg over his hip.

“I’ll keep that in mind the next time we get trapped forty years in the past and have to buy a house together,” Tony promised, giving a contented little sigh against Steve’s neck. It was strangely comforting having him close like that, leaving Steve feeling settled. He curled his arm around Tony, rubbing over the bare skin at his hip.

“It this… A thing now?” he asked.

There was a long moment of quiet from Tony before he answered, like he was choosing his words carefully. “It’s… Whatever you need it to be, Steve,” he settled on at last. Steve wasn’t entirely sure where that left them, but for now he would take it.

***

Tony whistled to himself as he rooted around in the engine of the Dodge Challenger, in a ridiculously pleasant mood. He was genuinely enjoying working as a mechanic; it was good hands-on work, helping to keep his brain calm, but there was a simplicity to the older engines that he had always preferred. There was a reason he’d kept so many classics in his own garage. It was more than that too though. Since he and Steve had started sleeping together, things felt brighter somehow. The urgency that had been plaguing him since they had fucked up their first time heist, the sense of panic that he had been trying to hide, it had all faded. He was still worried, of course, still working on a new plan, but it didn’t feel so hopeless now. Between the two of them, he knew they’d get it done.

Tony had moved to grab a wrench from the workbench when Joe wandered out of the office, leaning against the doorway. “Barbecue and beers at my place Saturday night. All the fellas are coming. You in?”

“Oh.” Tony couldn’t help his grin. He still wasn’t entirely used to his coworkers seeming to just like him, not wanting anything from him because, as far as they knew, he didn’t have anything to offer. “Yeah, sounds great!”

He turned back to the car, but Joe didn’t move away. Tony could feel his eyes on him, and he turned back, eyebrows arched expectantly.

“You know…” Joe hesitated another moment. “My brother never married. His roommate comes with him to family dinners and for Christmas. Charlie’s a great guy, and he and my brother have a really nice life. No one here would give you grief if your… roommate came along for a drink, is all I’m saying.”

Tony blinked, not quite sure what to do with that. “Oh. Uh, thanks. I will… Let Steve know.”

Joe gave him a warm smile then, followed by a quick pat on the back before he headed back into the office without another word. Tony turned back to the car, utterly nonplussed.

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” he grumbled at the engine, but even as he said the words, his stomach twisted a little and a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Pepper yelled, ‘liar!’ He blinked down at the mechanics beneath him, thought of how they ate dinner together every night, how long they could spend talking and laughing together, the animosity left over from the last few years faded entirely. How the sex they had could just as often be considered, well, love making, as much as he hated that particular phrase. Tony felt something catch in his chest. “Oh shit, is Steve my boyfriend?”

When he laid it all out like that, like an equation to be solved, it definitely sounded like a relationship. But even bigger, when he focused on Steve’s face, really pictured his smile and his laugh, he felt something in his belly go warm and soft. He didn’t know how he had missed it before, but it was the same feeling he used to have when he thought of Pepper, and Rhodey before that. Tony groaned, sinking forward against the edge of the car.

“Oh god,” he muttered. “I’m in love with Steve Rogers.”

The rest of his shift passed in a blur, Tony caught off guard and a little overwhelmed. The thing was, when he really stopped and thought about it, these feelings weren’t exactly new. In fact, he had a feeling that even while he’d been completely in love with Pepper, and even when he and Steve had been at their absolute worst, there’d been a part of Tony still a little in love with Steve. The way they’d worked so intuitively together, even when they were at odds, the way they’d be so in sync over the weirdest things… there’d always been a spark there. And now alone together, able to talk, and relax, and really take the time to understand each other, he supposed it made sense that that spark would grow into something real.

When he finally wandered in the front door, mind still a bit of a wreck, Steve was standing in the kitchen, cooking them dinner, which looked like it consisted of panned fried hamburgers and… Tomato soup, for some reason. He must have heard the door, but he didn’t look up, humming to himself as the meat sizzled in the frying pan. His hips were swinging a little in rhythm to whatever song he had playing in his head, and his shoulders were loose and relaxed, carrying exactly none of the tension that Tony typically associated with Steve. The whole scene was hopelessly domestic, and Tony wanted nothing more than to step up behind Steve, wrap his arms around his waist and kiss the back of his neck, just to see the squirmy little ticklish shoulder shrug that he would get in response. He was totally gone for the man.

“Aw, fuck,” Tony muttered to himself.

Steve did look up at that, looking over at Tony with a bright smile. “Hey Tony.”

“Hey honey, I’m home,” he answered automatically, getting a chuckle out of Steve before he frowned at Tony a little.

“Hey, you all right? You’re looking a little stressed.”

Tony waved him off, stripping off the top of his coveralls and noting the way Steve’s eyes went dark at the sight -- it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Steve had a thing for this particular look. “Just a long day,” he reassured him, hopping up on the counter beside Steve. He made a grab for some of the cooked burger and got his hand swatted with the spatula for his trouble. “Wow, domestic abuse,” he deadpanned.

Steve rolled his eyes. “What a drama queen,” he retorted, equally dry. “They’re almost done, just a few more minutes. Then we can sit down, and you can tell me allll about your long day.” He looked back up to give Tony a lecherous look. “Or not, and we can just skip to the part where I make you feel better,” he offered, waggling his eyebrows and looking pleased when Tony snorted.

Tony was quiet a moment, watching Steve’s hands manipulate the food. “Hey, Steve?” he said finally. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

Tony fluttered his eyelashes at him, not wanting it to come across too seriously, in case he was reading everything all wrong. “Are you my boyfriend?” he sing-songed.

Steve choked on his own spit, coughing for a minute, but when he’d caught his breath back he was grinning like an absolute idiot. “I mean, I guess, sure,” he offered. “I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Tony arched an eyebrow at him; he knew Steve well enough to know that the flush on his neck said otherwise.

“Okay, I’ve maybe thought about it once or twice,” he admitted sheepishly. “We can be, uh… Boyfriends, if you want. Like you said, this is whatever we want it to be. I know these are weird circumstances, but if we want to, we can call it boyfriends for now.”

For just an instant Tony felt his smile freeze on his face, but he masked it quickly, leaning forward to give Steve a sloppy kiss on the cheek before he could read the look in his eyes. “In that case, boyfriend, call me when dinner’s ready. I’m just gonna wash up.”

He slipped off the counter and headed down the hall for the bathroom, adding an extra wiggle to his walk to make Steve laugh. But once he hit the bathroom, he shut the door behind him and leaned back against it with a sigh. Boyfriends for now pretty much said it all. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised. These were wild circumstances. There was nothing wrong with Steve wanting to take a bit of comfort where he could find it. And if Tony had been hoping for something more, that could stay between him and the bathroom walls.

***

They didn’t talk about it again, at least not in so many words, but they talked about everything else under the sun and that was somehow even better. Steve loved sex with Tony, really truly did. Just a look from the other man could set him shivering, heat spiking up and down his spine. Tony seemed to take special delight in finding all the ways he could make Steve fall apart, surprising him over and over again. Steve had all but given up his own bedroom, spending his nights with Tony instead and they’d spend hours lying there sometimes, Steve splayed out and feeling like he was slowly going out of his mind as Tony kissed and touched and teased every square inch of his body.

But afterwards, when Steve had come more times than he’d thought possible, when Tony’d had his fill and would slide off Steve to stretch out beside him instead, for Steve that was almost better than the sex. They’d talk well into the early hours of the morning. Steve had told Tony how desperately lonely he’d been for the past five years, how nothing he’d done seemed to ease that ache inside him. Tony talked about Morgan, how completely he missed her, telling story after story about how brilliant she was already, putting him to shame, but also how creative and sweet and kind. He’d sound awed when he talked about her, which had led to confessions about how his own father had been. Steve had been horrified, hands tightening around Tony like he could somehow make up for it. And then next night, when he told Tony how proud he was of him for letting the bullshit die with Howard, that even from the brief interaction he’d witnessed, he could tell Tony was an amazing father, Tony hadn’t bothered to hide the way he’d choked up a little.

Nothing was off the table (except, perhaps, their exact feelings for each other, but neither of them brought it up so it was fine), the darkness, and the heat, and the fact that they were the only two here who could understand their situation making it easy for secrets to spill out. Maybe it was just the fact that they were caught in a bit of a limbo, that deep down Steve knew that nothing they did here would really matter once they got back to their proper point in time. But his time with Tony was easing something inside him that he hadn’t even realized was aching, was making him feel whole again. He wanted to get back, to make things right, of course he did. He just also couldn’t help thinking that he wouldn’t mind being stuck here with Tony just a little longer.

They slowly settled into even more of a routine than they’d had before. They ate dinner together every night, talked about their day before they’d slink off to bed together. Some nights they wouldn’t even do anything, just sprawl out on the bed, touching despite the heat until they drifted off to sleep. They went grocery shopping together once a week, and one day Tony came home with a second hand badminton net that he’d found somewhere. Steve had never played badminton, but they set the net up anyway, and Tony had showed him how to play. There were more barbecues, with the guys from Tony’s work, mostly, but there were a couple for the paper that Steve worked at too. Nobody seemed to look askance at Steve bringing along his roommate. Maybe it was just an extension of fighting side-by-side for so long, but having Tony with him here just felt right in some kind of visceral way that Steve couldn’t put a name to but that he loved anyway.

***

Steve was once again going over the Fort LeHigh plans that they had managed to cobble together, when the front door slammed open. “STEVE!” Tony hollered at the top of his lungs.

“I’m right here,” Steve answered, turning to meet Tony as he heard him rush up the hall. “What’s wrong?”

But even as he asked, Tony came into view, an enormous smile on his face, and it was pretty clear that there was nothing at all wrong.

“What?” he asked again, because there still had to be a reason that Tony was home hours early, grinning like an idiot.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Tony told him. “Do you know what tonight is?” he added, even though he knew perfectly well that Steve didn’t. “Planet of the Apes comes out. In theatres!”

Steve blinked at him. “Is that all?”

“Is that all?” Tony repeated incredulously. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Steve cracked then, laughing. “Tony, you’ve seen that movie more than a hundred times. Which I know because you’ve made me watch it a hundred times.”

“Yeah, but this is different,” Tony insisted. “It’ll be in theatres, Steve.”

“You’ve done that before, too,” Steve pointed out. “Remember? That 45th anniversary theatre showing or whatever? I distinctly recall you and Colonel Rhodes talking about it.”

Tony just shook his head. “It’s different,” he said again, making a face at Steve. “Just hurry up and get dressed, you damn dirty ape.” He waggled his eyebrows, making a show of staring at Steve’s bare chest; he hadn’t bothered getting redressed after his run. “I’m taking you out.”

And really, Steve was helpless to resist that thrilled look on Tony’s face. And even though he had to pinch Tony several times to keep him from whispering the lines along with the characters, it was a very enjoyable evening. They’d sat at the back of the theatre, Tony claiming it was because Steve would block the view for whatever poor asshole got stuck sitting behind them, but halfway through the movie, when their shared popcorn was gone, he curled his greasy fingers with Steve’s, rested their joined hands on Steve’s knee, and snuggled into him a little, resting his head against Steve’s shoulder. He could smell the faint, pleasant scent of Tony’s shampoo, and couldn’t resist turning his head a little to press his face against the soft curls of his hair. He pressed a soft kiss against Tony’s scalp and in return received a soft little content sigh from Tony.

Abruptly Steve realized that, for all the activities they’d done together, they hadn’t been on an actual proper date before -- and that’s what this was, whatever Tony’s original intentions had been in dragging him out.

Settling a little more comfortably against Tony’s side, Steve decided that was something he was going to fix immediately.

So the next morning, after Tony had made their customary Saturday morning pancakes, and they were sitting around the kitchen table, pleasantly full and content, Steve curled his hand around Tony’s. “So listen,” he said, doing his best to ignore the way Tony gave his hand a heated look before glancing up to meet his eyes. “I’ve been thinking, and we’re under a lot of stress, with working and trying to find a way out of here and everything.” Admittedly, it wasn’t his best excuse; the stress was real, but he felt a step removed from it, and was pretty sure Tony did too. Even from a purely business perspective (if you could consider the Avengers a business), this had definitely become the easiest mission he’d ever been on. Tony seemed to agree, giving him a mildly skeptical look but gesturing for him to continue. “So I was thinking that it probably wouldn’t hurt for us to plan to take a break regularly,” he said, feeling his cheeks starting to glow. “And I had a really fun time last night, so I was wondering if you’d let me take you out tonight? Repay the favour?” he added, all in a rush.

Tony tilted his head at him, curiously, and then he was beaming bright and wide. “Steve. Are you asking me out on a date?”

Steve shrugged, but he was helpless not to return Tony’s brilliant smile. “I mean, I guess?”

And just like that, Saturday night date night was born.

Steve knew he shouldn’t get too complacent, that getting used to this was only going to end in heartbreak. Tony had said this was whatever they needed it be, just whatever it took to get them through. The implication was pretty clear that once they got back home -- and they would, eventually, Steve had to believe that or else what were they even doing anymore -- things would go back to something like normal. He probably wasn’t doing himself any favors, giving himself this glimpse of what they could really have. But he knew, deep down, that he wasn’t going to be able to forget it either way, so he figured he might as well enjoy it now.

***

Tony actually happened to think vegetables were delicious. But there was something about the very specific look of consternation that Steve would get every time he found another box of poptarts or gummy candies or whatever hidden in the cart that Tony couldn’t get enough of. He was feeling punchy today for some reason, snickering to himself with everything he managed to slide into without Steve noticing. There was a good chance that Steve was just humoring him, since Tony couldn’t imagine anyone actually sneaking something past the man, but then again he’d worked with the STRIKE team for almost a full year without realizing they were literal Nazis, so who knew? Either way, he was having a stupid amount of fun with it.

“Oh my god,” Steve groaned as he realized that under the loaves of bread and packages of pasta, Tony had managed to fill the entire bottom of the cart with bags of jumbo marshmallows. “You are literally five years old,” he added.

Tony just shrugged, giving Steve a sugar sweet smile, and Steve fought back his own laughter.

“Make you a deal,” he offered. “You can keep three bags of marshmallows if you stop adding in everything else you see.”

“Oooh.” Tony eyed him; he didn’t actually care about the sweets, but tormenting Steve was its own brand of delightful, especially now, when Steve took it as the gentle teasing it was meant to be, didn’t get his back up about it. “Throw in some chocolate and graham crackers, and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Steve stared blankly back at him. “What do you need graham crackers and chocolate for?”

“Steven Grant Rogers,” Tony hissed. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t know what s’mores are?”

Steve didn’t even last a full second before he was breaking, snickering to himself. “You’re so gullible sometimes. I may not have ever had them, but I do know what a s’more is, Tony.”

Tony frowned, tilting his head before shaking. “Okay, nope, I give. I can’t tell -- are you telling the truth, or are you still fucking with me?”

“The… Truth?”

“You’ve really, honestly never had a s’more before? How is that even possible??”

Steve gave him a fond eye roll, even as he added the extra ingredients to the cart. “Contrary to what you seem to think, I wasn’t ever actually a boy scout. There weren’t any camping trips in 1930s Brooklyn. Where do you think I would have melted the marshmallows? On the heater? Admittedly, I spent a lot of time in the woods during the war. But that wasn’t exactly a romp with campfires and ghost stories, what with the whole hiding from the Nazis and Hydra thing.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Tony muttered. “But after that? You’ve really never had s’mores since? With the team or something? Nat seems like she’d enjoy a good s’more.”

Steve just shrugged. “Don’t know what to tell you. Never had ‘em.”

“Well, that changes tonight, Rogers. We’re having a bonfire.”

Tony had added three packs of hot dogs to the cart -- Steve would eat them, he knew -- and after they got home, relegated him to the kitchen while he got everything set up in the yard. Steve had looked skeptical, but when Tony finally called him out to where he had a bonfire burning brightly and a blanket spread out on the ground (because some of us have minor grass allergies, Steven), he looked impressed.

“Wow. Tony, this is… Really nice.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he grumbled, offsetting his complaint by wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist and kissing him on the cheek.

“No, I’m not,” Steve said, holding Tony against him a moment longer when he started to pull away. “You just… Don’t really seem like the camping type,” he added tactfully.

Tony snorted. “I’ve camped! … Once… Okay, a camper I am not. But Rhodey and I used to have bonfires on the beach when we were at MIT, and I was the designated fire starter. And when I was a kid, Jarvis used to let me help set up the fireplaces in the old house. I don’t know why, that was one of my favourite things.” He hummed, quiet and contemplative for a moment, and then pulled away to grab a package of hot dogs, slamming them into Steve’s chest. “Now grab a stick, Rogers, and start roasting.”

They sat out there for hours, cooking, and talking, and laughing. The sun had faded and the stars had come out long before Tony pulled out the s’mores ingredients, the two of them getting in a sticky mess as they squashed together the sweet treats.

“So?” Tony asked when they were full and satiated and sitting back on the blanket. He arched an eyebrow at Steve. “What’s the s’more verdict, Captain Handsome?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know, I think they’re kind of overrated. I prefer the marshmallows alone,” he told him, popping one of said marshmallows, unroasted, into his mouth.

Tony blinked at him. “Overrated?” he repeated incredulously. Then he saw the way that Steve was grinning at him, lips twitching up in a smirk. “You are such a troll,” he grumbled. “I’ll show you overrated.” Without any further warning, he launched himself at Steve, feeling a little gratified at the almost inaudible grunt that Steve made as he took his weight. He knew Steve could take him easily, especially when he didn’t even have an Iron Man suit, but Steve pretended otherwise for a minute, letting Tony knock him back as the two of them rolled around on the blanket and then into the grass, each trying to get the upper hand.

It didn’t take long before their movements shifted, less wrestling, more sliding up against each other with purpose. Tony could feel his cock thickening in his pants, sparks of pleasure going through him every time Steve’s hand would slide over his skin just right. He shifted a leg, getting it between Steve’s knees, and when he pressed up he could feel Steve hot and hard against him, the feeling made better by the sharp, needy little gasp that he made in response. They ended up with Tony spread out on top of Steve, the two of them rubbing off against each other as they shifted and rolled in the grass, stifling their noises against each other’s skin so the neighbours wouldn’t hear. Tony had his hand shoved down Steve’s pants, jerking him off with quick, sharp motions, and his face buried in Steve’s neck. He could smell wood smoke in his hair, and when he pulled back a little, he could see the starlight reflected in his eyes before they clenched shut as Steve came over his hand. Steve lay there for a moment, panting, and Tony took a moment to look him over in the dim light from the fire before Steve pulled himself back into awareness to roll Tony over onto his back and pay him back in kind.

It was up there with some of Tony’s best memories.

He should have known it wouldn’t last.

***

They were at the grocery store again, goofing off and being idiots, probably laughing too loud, when all of a sudden Steve froze, going pale. Before Tony could ask him what was wrong, he was grabbing Tony’s arm and dragging him around the corner and down an aisle, leaving their half-filled cart abandoned in front of the cereal.

“Steve, what?” Tony finally managed to hiss as Steve pulled him past the baking supplies and then zig-zagged ridiculously through the produce section. He half expected Yakety Sax to start playing over the loudspeaker.

“I just… I saw someone I recognized. Like from the forties recognized,” Steve answered vaguely, aiming for the front door.

“Do you think they’d recognize you?” Tony asked a little stupidly, although his behaviour made the answer pretty obvious.

“Uh, yeahhhh,” Steve answered anyway. “I think so.”

They made it out of the building without being caught though, Steve looking over his shoulder as they headed down the street. He made Tony cross the road, turning down a side street they wouldn’t normally take, and he was just breathing a sigh of relief when they rounded the corner and were met with Peggy, standing there waiting for them with a furious expression on her face.

For a long moment everything went almost comically still, Peggy and Steve standing frozen, staring at each other, Tony looking back and forth between them in a mild state of shock. Then the anger seemed to fade out of Peggy all at once, shoulders sagging a little as she took a half step forward, making an abortive gesture like she was going to touch Steve’s chest before she remembered herself.

“It is you,” she breathed.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, anything, but before he had the chance he was interrupted by Tony, still staring at Peggy with wide eyes. “Aunt Peggy?!” he blurted out, because he knew Peggy had cofounded SHIELD, and he knew she had worked with his Dad, he just somehow hadn’t expected her to be here, looking almost exactly as he remembered her from when she’d come visit when he was growing up. She used to spend hours sitting with him, listening patiently as he explained the workings of all his machines and inventions. She’d always encouraged him, and he found himself getting choked up seeing her now.

And then he glanced over at Steve, saw the look on his face as he stared back at her, and Tony felt his heart sink a little.

Peggy had turned sharp eyes on Tony at his outburst, looking him over, but now she looked back to Steve and without hesitation poked him square in the chest. “Explain,” she told him. “How are you possibly here? And why is this man who looks exactly like Maria Stark calling me ‘aunt?’”

Tony would never fully understand how, but somehow Steve managed to convince Peggy to come back to their place. And then he sat her down, and told her everything. How he’d been found in the ice, how the avengers had formed, about Tony being her ‘nephew’ and also Iron Man, and then about Thanos, how they’d lost everything and were doing everything in their power to make up for it now.

The one thing he didn’t mention, Tony couldn’t help noticing, was the relationship they’d developed over the last few months.

Peggy took it far better than Tony would have expected. Although, he supposed, if she’d helped found SHIELD, she’d probably been dealing with far crazier shit than this for years.

“So if I’m to understand correctly, you two are from the future. And you,” she turned to Tony here, “Are my godson. And you used Hank Pym’s… science experiment to figure out time travel and come back here and get that cube that Howard found in the ocean. To save the world.” She drew in a long breath as Tony and Steve both nodded, waiting for her to process the information. “God, Hank is going to be impossible to live with when he finds out,” she muttered. She drew in a deep breath, smoothing down her hair -- a move Tony remembered from when she’d try to keep her cool with Howard when he was a kid -- and then looked back over at Steve. “I take it you two are responsible for the breach a couple months back?” She didn’t wait for their confirmation, the question rhetorical. “Well, I suppose once again it’s up to me to clean up your messes, eh Captain?”

The smile she gave Steve was a little dry, but fond and familiar in a way that made jealousy twist low in Tony’s stomach. But even worse was the way Steve smiled back at her, sheepish and full of so much history and love that it almost ached to see. For a moment Tony felt like he had disappeared from the room entirely, the two of them only having eyes for each other. Somehow Tony managed to act normal as Steve and Peggy made plans for when and where they’d meet and how they’d stay in contact, even though it felt like he was losing a little more of Steve with every word that passed between the two of them. And when Peggy had left, and Steve turned to him with the broadest grin Tony had ever seen, still looked awed and dazed and delighted in the wake of her presence, the smile Tony gave him in return was almost genuine. He waited until Steve had left the the kitchen, wandering down the hall for something, before he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes and whispered a very quiet, very heartfelt, “Fuck,” into the empty room.

***

Tony wanted to go home. More than anything in the world he wanted to see Morgan again, missing his little girl a constant pit in the bottom of his stomach, even in his happiest moments. But being here with Steve was easy in a way his life had never been before, no stressors, no superheroing, no being recognized on the street… No end of the world barreling toward them faster than they could stop it. Now that they were close to going home, he couldn’t seem to appreciate the last few days they had here together, just he and Steve alone. They still talked, and fooled around, and did all the things they’d been doing before, but the time was passing in a blur. It didn’t help that Steve had been distracted since they’d found Peggy; more than once Tony had caught him staring into space with a soppy smile on his face. There was a growing feeling creeping through his stomach that he might be making the return trip solo.

And then he was out of time entirely, the two of them meeting Peggy in some back alley for the hand off. It had, she assured them, gone off without a hitch, but that wasn’t a surprise. Peggy had always been strong and brilliant, confident and capable. On some level it probably should have been weird that he was jealous of his aunt, but mostly Tony was just resigned to the fact that this was it. Peggy and Steve were staring at each other again, couldn’t keep their eyes off of each other, and Tony felt like his heart was somewhere around his ankles.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll let you two… Chat,” he mumbled, uncharacteristically awkward as he took the two briefcases that Peggy had brought and headed for the main road, forcing himself not to look back at them.

In a weird twist of deja vu, he ended up sitting on the same bench where he’d found Steve on that first day, after everything had gone tits up. He sat there, staring off into space and thinking of a million things at once, and it hadn’t been a full half hour before a shadow passed over him and then Steve took a seat on the bench beside him, their thighs not quite touching.

Steve was staring forward, maybe trying to figure out what Tony was looking at but he hadn’t spoken, so Tony didn’t either. Eventually, though, he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, clearing his throat.

“You, uh… You don’t have to come back with me, Steve,” Tony told him, giving him an out. He felt Steve snap his gaze to him, heard him make a strangled sort of noise, but he narrowed his focus to a tree in the distance and kept going. “If you’re finally happy… We can do it without you. Probably. Maybe. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out. I know you’ve already sacrificed a lot, more than anyone ever should have to, really. You can be selfish, for once.”

He turned to face Steve then, because he really didn’t want Steve to stay, but he needed him to know that he truly meant the words he was saying. He had fallen in love with Steve, and because of that he couldn’t bear to stand in his way.

Steve was staring straight again, leaning forward with his elbows braced against his thighs, hands clasped together between his knees. He blew out a long breath, and Tony tensed, bracing himself.

“You’re right. I am selfish, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.”

Tony bit down hard on his bottom lip; expecting it didn’t make it hurt any less. But then Steve was turning to face him, a shy, hopeful smile on his face offset by the determination in his eyes.

“And no way in hell am I giving this up. Giving you up.”

For a moment Tony was actually rendered speechless. “You… what?”

Steve shrugged. “I’m in love with you, Tony. It’s as simple as that. And I know you said this was whatever we needed it to be, and maybe that means you don’t have the same kind of feelings, but --,”

“God no, are you kidding?” Tony burst out before he could even stop himself. “I was already half in love with you when I said that, and it’s just gotten... more since. I just… I know that extreme situations aren’t the most conducive to long-term relationships, and I didn’t want you to feel pressured, so…”

He trailed off helplessly and Steve chanced a quick look around before darting in to kiss him. It was quick, because it was still a public place in 1970, but full of love despite that. When he pulled back, Tony shifted his hand to curl over top of Steve’s, squeezing tight.

“What… What about Peggy?”

Steve’s eyes were dancing. “What about her? She’s married, Tony, happily so. I just… I wanted to see first hand that she was okay, and she is, more than. She’s moved on, and… And so have I.” He grinned then. “She did tell me I was an idiot though, if I didn’t say anything to you because she’d never seen two people more obviously pining for each other. And uh, then she threatened that if I didn’t treat her godson right she’d be bringing me a wealth of pain.”

“Oh,” Tony said faintly, but he was laughing then too. “Well alright then.” He leaned in to give Steve one more quick kiss. “I love you, Steve,” he told him, because it seemed important that he say the actual words. “Now let’s go home and save the world. Again.”

THREE DAYS LATER

Tony snapped back to consciousness all at once with a sharp gasp, blinking his eyes open. The first thing his gaze focused on was Pepper and Rhodey, standing at the foot of his bed with watery, relieved smiles, Pepper holding Morgan in her arms.

“Daddy!” she shrieked. “You’re up!” She started wriggling frantically, attempting to leap onto the bed and making Pepper wince.

“Morgan, sweetie, remember how we talked about how you have to be careful with Daddy for a bit?”

“I don’t know.” And that was Steve’s voice, sounding gruff, but when Tony snapped his head up to see him leaning against the doorway, he was beaming brightly and looking just a little smug. “I think he can take it.”

After solemn promises from Morgan that she would be careful, Pepper finally set her down and Morgan scrambled up on the bed beside him. With strength that he knew he shouldn’t have had, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tight enough that Morgan protested a little. She smelled fresh and clean and like her apple honey shampoo, and it was quite possibly the best thing that Tony had ever smelled. God, he had missed her so much.

Morgan settled onto the bed beside him, telling him stories about everything he’d missed the past few days, everything she’d been doing with Uncle Happy. Tony did his best to follow along in his shell-shocked state, because the last thing he remembered was snapping his fingers, all of the infinity stones in his hand, and he was pretty sure that meant he wasn’t supposed to be here now.

Eventually it was decided that Tony should get some rest, and so with a final, clinging hug from Morgan, Pepper escorted her gently off the bed. Her hands shook a little as she closed them around Tony’s, leaning in close to place a soft kiss against his cheek.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispered softly, a slight tremor in her voice.

They headed for the door but Rhodey lingered a second longer to lean in and give Tony a hug. “Gotta stop doing this to me, man,” he told him, and Tony could hear the tears in his voice, felt his own throat close up as he hugged Rhodey as tight as he could manage.

“I know,” he mumbled, burying his face against his neck. “I’m sorry.”

Rhodey pulled back just a little, enough so he could meet his eyes and give him a pointed look. “And sometime soon,” he added, “You are going to sit down and tell me exactly what the hell happened between you and Rogers while you were getting the Tesseract.”

Then he was moving away, leading Pepper and Morgan out the door with a hand on the small of Pepper’s back. Steve had moved out of the way to let them pass into the hall, but once they were gone he moved back into the room, coming to sit on the side of Tony’s bed now that it was just the two of them. For a long moment they just stared at each other and then Tony shook his head.

“Steve… What did you do?”

Steve shrugged, feigning casual. “Funny thing about spending so much time together. I knew exactly what you were planning with the stones. So I just stepped in and… Helped.”

Tony stared back at him incredulously, still half feeling like he was dreaming. “Right,” he said, voice a little faint. “Okay. And we’re alive and healthy and whole… How?”

“Uh, Carol brought a special something from somewhere. I didn’t catch the details; I was pretty fucked up for a bit too. But…” He gave Tony his best innocent, hopeful smile. “As you can see it did the trick.”

“Jesus Christ,” Tony muttered. Then he was lunging forward, practically crawling into Steve’s lap in his haste to kiss him. Steve took his weight easily, pulling Tony the rest of the way toward him as he wrapped his arms around his back, mumbling soothing words and stroking a hand over Tony’s spine. “You absolute idiot,” Tony gasped, allowing himself the comfort as he buried his face in Steve’s neck. “You could have been killed too. What the fuck were you thinking?”

Steve huffed out a laugh, but his voice was rough and thick when he spoke. “I thought I told you, Tony. I’m real fucking selfish.” He pulled Tony back so he could see his face, see how absolutely serious he was. “No way in hell am I giving you up.”

@tonystarkbingo @not-close-to-straight

#tonystarkbingo2020 #stony #steve rogers #tony stark #time travel #endgame fixit #friends to lovers #canon divergence #romance #fic #my fic #lemon

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chaoticevilbean · 4 years ago

Text

The Flames of the Moon

Chapter Three : Fans and Fear

"You have no idea where you're going, do you?" Sokka deadpanned, staring at the monk who had taken over flying for the day.

"Weeelll, I know it's near water," Aang trailed off a bit, and Sokka gave him a flat look.

"I guess we're getting close then." He sighed silently and continued mending his pants, showing the progress to Katara every now and then. While he was pretty good with a needle and thread, Katara had been sewing her whole life, and not just the five years their dad had been gone.

"Momo, marbles please," Aang called to the newest addition in their group. Sokka didn't look up at what was happening until the boy spoke again.

"Hey Katara! Check out his airbending trick!" Aang held the marbles midair between his palms, making them spin in a circle extremely fast. Katara giggled at his antics, complimenting him on his trick. How she didn't see that he was in love with her, Sokka had no clue.

When the bison started descending, Sokka had just finished his pants and pulled them on, examining it as some of his better work. Looking over the edge, he saw a crescent-shaped island, and Appa was heading for the beach.

"We just made a pit stop yesterday. Shouldn't we get a little more flying done before we camp out?" Sokka complained as they landed, though he didn't really mind too much. They weren't in that big of a hurry, after all.

"He's right. At this rate, we won't get to the North Pole until spring," Katara added. Both siblings knew the spontaneous trips would die out, but that didn't mean they couldn't complain. Aang didn't bother looking over, instead shading his eyes as he gazed over the water.

"But Appa's tired already, aren't you boy?" Appa did nothing. "I said, aren't you boy?" Aang nudged the bison, who yawned on cue, yet obviously not tired.

"Yeah, that was real convincing. Still, hard to argue with a ten-ton magical monster." Sokka was stopped from saying more by an excited gasp from Aang.

"LOOK!" A giant koi fish jumped out the water, and Sokka groaned internally at what he knew was going to be both awesome and terrible. "That's why we're here... elephant koi. And I'm going to ride it. Katara, you've gotta watch me!" Aang quickly took off all but the bare minimum of clothes and rushed into the water, leaping out with a shocked expression quickly. "COLD!"

Sokka twirled his finger away from his head in a 'he's crazy' gesture at Katara, before the both of them watched Aang attempt to ride the elephant koi. He succeeded, waving at Katara who waved back, both whooping and hollering. Sokka moved over to Appa so his sister could have her full attention on the lovestruck preteen, stopping Appa from eating a rock in the process.

"There's something in the water!" Katara yelled, bringing the firebender rushing back.

"What's wrong?"

"Aang's in trouble! Aang!"

"Get out of there! Come back here! AANG!"

"AANG!"

The boy was too far to hear them, and instead returned their frantic waving, no doubt misinterpreting their panic. His koi steed bucked him off, and the siblings watched in horror as a fin appeared behind him. He screamed, and ran on top of the water all the way to the shore, running right into Sokka. They both crashed to the ground near the tree line, watching the fin slowly turn and head back out to sea. Katara ran over to the two, helping them up as Aang got dressed.

"What was that thing?"

"I don't know."

"Well, let's not stick around and find out. Time to hit the road," Sokka declared, moving to board Appa.

~_~_~_~_~_~

They did not end up leaving just then. Instead, they were captured by an unknown force and tied to a large pole. Sokka somehow managed to keep silent during the interrogation, Katara taking the reigns in asking for their blindfolds removed. When the warriors that captured them were revealed as girls, Sokka tensed, though not enough for it to be noticeable. He didn't do anything when Aang revealed himself as the Avatar, and they were shown around town by Oyagi, the village leader.

Suki was apparently the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, and she kept giving him weird side-long looks as he pointedly attempted to not stare at any of them in their green armor and bright warpaint. Katara introduced him when he remained ever silent, deciding against opening his big mouth that might insult one of the girls. He definitely didn't want to be on the wrong side of one of those fans.

They ate lunch, where Aang asked after him. He simply shrugged and let Katara explain that he wasn't used to female warriors, since the women back home technically didn't count. Sokka thought that maybe he had avoided any problems as he went to practice his fighting with a full stomach to feed his inner flames. It wasn't that difficult to find a secluded spot where there was little to no chance of someone finding him, even if they were looking really hard.

In, out, release, Sokka thought as he practiced his boomerang's aim. It hit directly center of the knot he was focusing on, returning to his hand soon after. He did it again and again for a good half hour before putting it away and taking out his club. His moves were still choppy and it was strange to practice on actual earth instead of ice that could slip out from under him at any second, but he still improved, trying to remember the moves he had seen his father practice so many times before.

"GAH!" He stomped his foot and dropped his club so he could hold his head in his hands as he yet again failed to complete a move that he remembered perfectly fine, just couldn't seem to do.

Suddenly, he froze. He stomped his foot again. He remembered something a nonbender from the Fire Nation had done during a raid. They had slipped on the ice, nearly getting impaled by a spear, and had stomped on the snow. It somehow got them balanced, and now he understood why. He stomped one foot, then the other as he slipped back into a ready stance. Picking up his club, he fluidly moved, performing the move that caused him so much pain. With a smile, he raised his hands in victory, weapon high over his head in elation.

Sokka continued his training with renewed vigor, barely stopping for breaks as he worked, having brought all of his weapons and being determined to improve with all of them. He practiced with his club, boomerang again, spear, machete, knife, jaw blade, whale-tooth scimitar, and plain old hand combat.

As the Moon started rising, Sokka realized how late it was. Katara would worry, but hopefully she knew him well enough to guess where he disappeared off to. Aang and the others would take her word for it as well, since she was his sister. With a deep gaze around the clearing he was in, Sokka sat down in his meditation pose. Since no one was around, he did what he rarely was able to do with his firebending a secret.

His palms turned to the sky, Sokka lit two small flames in each, breathing deeply with his eyes closed. Tui shone down on him, bright and vibrant as always.

Unknown to the peaceful firebender, he was, in fact, being watched. Suki had noticed that the boy didn't speak, and the looks the Avatar and his sister gave him were enough to convince the warrior that he usually let his voice be heard. No matter how hard he tried to hide it, she and the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors had seen him staring at them. She didn't know why he was staring, though it could've been because he was Water Tribe and the Tribes, to their knowledge, valued men over women, so the girls were definitely a new experience for him. Ting had said that he was silent even when alone with his companions (although technically not alone because Ting was eavesdropping). Suki couldn't figure out what was keeping the boy silent, or why he was so interested in her fighters.

So the four of them that had found the group in the first place followed him as he wandered off into the forest. It wasn't too surprising that he found an extremely isolated clearing, far away from possible interruptions. It was surprising when he took out a boomerang and used it with deadly accuracy. If he wanted to, he could knock out or even kill an opponent without them being able to stop it, since even Suki underestimated the simple weapon. After all, it looked like a toy one might give a small child to watch them fail at getting more than a few feet.After the boomerang, he practiced with a club, at which he kept failing a move and screamed at the sky. Then he stopped in his frustration, stomped his feet and performed it with little problem.

Weapon after weapon he brought out, until he apparently had no more and began attempting to fight imaginary combatants with just his fists. At one point, it looked as though he was fighting an invisible opponent with a fan like the Kyoshi Warriors. None of this explained why he was silent, and so the hidden girls kept watching.

They were rewarded by the Sun setting, it's light fading and being replaced by the Moon. Sokka searched the trees for something, but he couldn't spot the four warriors where they sat perched in the leaves of trees. He sat in a mediation pose when his curiosity was satisfied, and Suki thought that he was maybe a waterbender.

How wrong she was.

Blue fire grew in his hands, and the other girls stared at their leader in apprehension. They had let a firebender into their village. Not only that, but they had only watched him because the few words anyone had heard him say was when he was still at the beach. He could've burned everything to ash by now.

Suki knew better than to jump to conclusions, instead motioning for her comrades to encircle the possible enemy. He didn't move as they did so, a peaceful lax expression on his face as he breathed rhythmically. Fans unfolded silently as they all prepared for his reaction.

"Sokka," Suki spoke bitterly. The firebender flinched violently, eyes snapping open and the blue flames surging in strength before snuffing out completely. The pure fear in his eyes almost gave her pause, but she didn't show it. Sokka remained frozen in place, body tensed as though he was a rabbit that heard a twig break.

"You're a firebender," she continued when he made no move to speak. "Why are you traveling with the Avatar? Are you going to spy on him? Attack him when he least expects it?"

"Make sure he doesn't die?" Sokka's words were phrased like a question, but from uncertainty or nervousness, Suki couldn't tell. His voice cracked as well, showing just how young he was. About the same age as herself.

"You're a firebender."

"You already said that, and I get that firebenders as a general rule are bad and following the orders of their evil leader. Trust me, I got that, my mom was killed in a Fire Nation raid that traumatized my sister and my dad left to fight in the war, but I'm not like them. I mean, I am a firebender, but I'm not Fire Nation, I'm Water Tribe, and I got these powers because there was a blizzard and the Spirits decided to help us. I really was only meditating because I'm trying to do it every day and I thought I was alone, otherwise I would've kept my flames to myself because it makes everyone really tense and worried and I don't like tha-" Suki held her hand up to stop the now rambling boy. Glancing at her fellow Kyoshi Warriors, whose faces weren't in the line of sight for Sokka, she saw they were just as stunned, however more visibly, as she was at the flood of words that spilled from his mouth. He was honest, that much was clear, and he wasn't there with a bad purpose. Suki thought for a moment. He had said Spirits.

"You mentioned the Spirits decided to help. What did you mean?"

"It was the polar night, and there was a blizzard, and we were all probably gonna die so Gran-Gran said to pray and we all did and I ended being the one the Spirits answered, and it was pretty terrifying for us all but the fire helped us survive until the men came back with fuel and it made it so I could swim in the ocean without freezing so we got more food and you can ask Katara about all the times she nearly killed me for terrifying her by not coming up for air."

"You- what?" Spirits, this boy talked a lot. How had he managed to remain silent the entire day?

"The Spirits gave me firebending and resistance to cold when I was a little kid," Sokka simplified. Suki looked once more at her companions, reading their thoughts on their faces.

"Get his sister," Suki ordered, sending one of them running off.

"She's gonna kill me," Sokka groaned, abruptly flopping onto the ground. "Uuuuggghh."

"Get up," Suki pushed him with her foot.

"No thanks, my body won't let me."

"What is he talking about," Mera asked, peering at him from behind her fan. He rolled over, watching the Moon instead of the three people with weapons aimed at him.

"I sat in a saddle without moving all morning, then got tackled twice, walked around for an hour, ate a big meal the likes of which I haven't had since my dad was around, and proceeded to train until night. My body currently hates me and wishes me dead." He finished his explanation and let the words fade away, leaving a stillness in the air. Silla had never liked the quiet, so she didn't last long while just standing around.

"So, what style were you practicing?" Mera facepalmed at the awkward attempt to make conversation with a definitely-not-an-enemy-but-still-a-firebender.

"I was attempting to mimic the traditional fighting of my tribe."

"Attempting?"

"The men left about five years ago, so it's not like I have anyone to learn from. When you're young, it's mostly learning hunting and fishing and surviving in the wild. I had to teach myself from memory."

"...wanna spar?"

"Silla no!”

“Silla yes!" Sokka lept to his feet, staring at the girl like she was a Spirit in mortal form. "I've been wondering what your fighting style is because I didn't really get to see it and I saw your fans, and then there was the whole fact that I didn't want to risk upsetting or insulting any of you just because I grew up in a patriarchy founded in centuries of tradition." Silla grinned at the teen, handing him one of her fans and demonstrating a starting form.

"Once we get your sister to confirm your story, you're gonna go to sleep, wake up early and learn to be a Kyoshi Warrior," Silla announced, sending a pointed look towards Suki, who sighed long and deep.

"If his story is confirmed, you can teach him to fight with fans, but boys aren't allowed in the Kyoshi Warrirors."

"Technically, that means you can have one boy, because you said boys as in more than one," Sokka pointed out.

"Suuukiii," Silla practically begged as she adjusted Sokka's grip and stance.

"You know what, fine, but he follows all of our traditions," Suki caved.

"Does that mean I get to wear full warrior garb?"

"Why does that just make you happier? Seriously, telling a boy he has to wear a dress usually makes him give up!"

"One, I'm not normal. Two, boys are allowed to like dresses, though your outfit is a traditional warrior's armor, not a dress. And three, that's kinda mean. Imagine me saying girls can't fight. I have every reason to, seeing as I grew up with that thought being the underlying current of everything in our tribe. I didn't so you definitely shouldn't." As he scolded her, Sokka began copying Silla's movements, going through the basic forms with ease, though he also wasn't wearing heavy armor.

Suki gave up, wondering how the boy had gained her trust so shortly after she had assumed him an enemy. He just had a look to him that made her feel like he meant no harm.

"So were you staring earlier because you hadn't seen female warriors before?" Silla asked. Sokka nodded, mirroring the thrust she had just shown him.

“I tried to teach the women back home how to fight, but it didn't work as well as it could've because I barely know any moves."

"Barely know any moves," Suki scoffed, drawing a bewildered expression from him. "You just used a variety of weapons well enough to hold your own against most people who haven't trained their entire lives to fight. And that was without guidance or any sort of instruction for what you said was most of your time training. Barely any moves." She grumbled the last bit, scoffing again as she turned to peer through the trees. She was relieved to see Ting returning with Katara in tow.

"What's going on," the waterbender demanded instantly, barely sparing a glance to her brother learning to fight and instead glaring at Suki.

"Your brother's a firebender."

"Yes, he is." Her gaze narrowed further. "And what of it?"

"When did he first show his abilities?"

"When the Spirits gave him them during a blizzard when he was six. Why?"

"To confirm his story. We'll be heading back to the village. He's going to join us for training early tomorrow, and he's not allowed to miss it." With that, Suki led her girls away, Silla taking her fan back and following after a wave. Only a little ways into the shadows of the trees they heard the begin of what sounded like a very loud reprimand.

~_~_~_~_~_~

The morning after Sokka's secret was revealed to the Kyoshi Warriors, he woke up at dawn, brimming with energy as the Sun rose. Aang and Katara got up shortly after, yawning as they joined him in his meditation. Katara struggled a bit more to stay awake with the Moon no longer in the sky, but she managed to remain conscious until they were done an hour later. Both her and Aang promptly fell back onto their pillows, eyes closing instantly with the lack of motivation to keep them open.

Sokka, however, rushed down to the kitchen where they had been told they could make their own food if they wished. They actually shared it with the Kyoshi Warriors, who slept in a main house nearby due to the location being near to the village center. The firebender lit the stove with a tiny flame, setting a pot of water on it and moving around to find rice and meat. He cut up the meat and some chili peppers he had found, mixing them with some seasoning and setting them aside in a bowl as he added rice to the boiling water, wary of the fact that he wasn't used to making rice himself, as it wasn't the most common meal back home.

After finally adding the meat and peppers, Sokka boiled some more water and began to steep some tea. He kept a closer eye on the tea than he did on the food, but still paid attention. He had only made tea a few times, considering they didn't often have nonpoisonous plants that could be used for tea.

He was just finishing putting the food in a large bowl when someone cleared their throat. Looking up, he saw what seemed to be all of the Kyoshi Warriors waiting in the kitchen's entrance, and Suki beside him with the kettle. He glanced down at the bowl in front of him, which only had enough for him, Katara, and Aang, and sighed, moving to get more water.

"Hold on and I'll make more," he called over his shoulder as he put a larger pot back on the stove. "There's about three servings in that bowl if some of you girls want to start eating. Do you need cups, Suki? Although I'm guessing that tea is now horribly burned or not done yet considering my amateur skills in tea-making.”

He was met with no replies, though he did notice a few of the warriors walking further in to grab smaller bowls and some cups from the cupboards. A small smile formed on his face, timid but stuck in place. Sokka loved cooking. He never understood why only the women had been taught, especially since the men had to cook whenever they hunted if they wanted warm food.

He once again cut up peppers and meat and seasoned them, turning around with the prepared items to find a warrior, Silla if he remembered correctly, already putting the rice in.

"Aw, man, Suki," another warrior spoke up, her mouth full of food. Sokka glanced over briefly to see exactly three warriors with chopsticks eating straight from the main bowl, Suki pouring tea into the many cups next to them. "Suki, we gotta keep him. Silla was right, this dude is meant to be one of us."

"We are not 'keeping' him, Sho," Suki said, eyes never leaving her work. "We are teaching him how to fight because he and Silla are literal toddlers."

"I was noticed by the Spirits when I was a toddler and got firebending powers," Sokka reminded her, putting the extras into the rice once again.

"So you are a firebender?" a warrior questioned as she started nibbling on some lychee nuts.

"Yep," Sokka nodded, adding a bit more seasoning to the pot, before grabbing some fruits and cutting them into slices. The knife was taken from him by a warrior he remembered was called Maya, and she pushed him aside so she could take over. Smirking at the challenge, he pulled out the knife he usually used as a weapon and nudged the girl out of the way, proceeding to continue his task. Maya attempted to squeeze between him and the counter but he held strong, years of staying in one spot on slippery ice giving him an advantage now that he was on solid wood.

"How are you so steady," Maya panted as she gave up trying to move the boy.

"Years on the ice and being an older brother to every kid in the tribe," Sokka replied smoothly as he put the fruit on a plate and handed it to the warrior, before taking the pot off the stove and pouring it into a larger bowl than the one he had before. There was definitely enough there, thanks to the different pot sizes. The bowl was immediately taken and the food dished out by a warrior, the amounts almost perfectly equal for each person. Sokka grabbed one of the cups Suki had poured, sipping on the tea and pleasantly surprised when it didn't taste absolutely awful. Apparently, Suki knew when to take it off the flames, but that would also mean...

"How long were you guys watching me?" Sokka asked, his head tilted as he gazed over all of them. Every head turned his way, and he was struck with a distinct sense of being prey with all the eyes boring into him.

"Long enough to see you struggle to find your way around the kitchen," one of them said, a sly smile on her lips.

"Wow, feeling the love," Sokka muttered, closing his eyes as he gulped down the rest of the tea and felt it warm him in a way his fire couldn't. He yelped when cold hands grasped his arms, which were bare without his jacket. His eyes jerked open and he saw one of the girls grinning at him.

"Come on," she laughed, dragging his dazed self over to the table with the rest of them and shoving a bowl into his hands. She switched his cup out for chopsticks, refilling his tea and grabbing herself some as well.

"Man, Oka, when you say you'll do something, you go all the way," Silla giggled as she put some meat on her chopsticks.

"This is Oka we're talking about, not Tilen," Maya teased.

Sokka fell into the background as much as the girls allowed, listening to their conversations as they ate and enjoyed his okay tea. Apparently, Silla, Suki, and the two other warriors from the night before, Ting and Mera, had described the events of their confrontation to the entire group to prepare them for training with him. Some hadn't believed it and some had, and Oka had declared she was going to make Sokka feel like one of them if it was the last thing she did. Fimo was the one who kept refilling his tea and bowl everytime it got close to empty because she had heard that firebenders needed more energy in order to make their flames. No matter how many times he assured her that there were more of them than him and therefore he really didn't need more food, she kept finding ways to get his hands away from his bowl long enough to dump another scoop in.

After they all had eaten their fill, Sokka started stacking the bowls in one hand, initiating a balancing act that had Geyo and Ba Be giggling. Granted, Suki took half of them when they got too high for her comfort, but he still had a sizeable amount when he walked to the sink. Before he was able to start washing the dishes, Silla yanked him away, tugging him along as she left the kitchen.

"Um, Silla?"

"Hmm," she hummed in acknowledgement.

"I need to wash the dishes."

"You made breakfast when you didn't have to and you woke up earlier than any of us. You are not washing the dishes."

"I made the mess, so I gotta clean it up."

"I don't remember you eating from a dozen different bowls. Though, with how much Fimo was feeding you, you might have eaten that much."

"But I-"

"Nope."

"I need t-"

"Not gonna happen."

"Ugh, why are girls more stubborn than guys? It's the worst stereotypes for us dudes and yet I've never met a girl I could out-stubborn!"

"It keeps boys from being idiots."

"You've obviously never met Bato."

"Who?"

"My future stepfather." Silla led him outside as they talked, going all the way to the training studio. As they entered, she released his hand and sprinted into a different room, returning moments later. In her arms was a large bundle of clothing that Sokka lit up upon seeing.

By the time the other warriors made it to the studio, Silla had managed to teach Sokka how to properly put on a set of the green armor they wore, and was beginning his warpaint.

"Wow, you look just like one of us," Geyo mused, traipsing around the boy. "Good thing, if you're gonna be our one male warrior." Sokka smirked at Suki when he heard that part, and Suki rolled her eyes at him.

It took very little time to finish Sokka's paint, and teaching him how to do it was rather simple since he was very good at replicating. Suki got him moving through warm-ups the moment she could, adjusting his stances and movements every time and mildly (greatly) pleased when he almost never repeated a mistake.

The warriors joined the duo soon after they started, going through each kata with the ease of practice. As the village began to grow more awake, Suki started taking them all through more advanced katas, deciding that Sokka worked better when moving with others.

At noon they stopped the practice for lunch, and Fimo literally dragged Sokka away when the Water Tribe boy attempted to continue alone. Laughter filled the air when Sokka sulked for a few minutes, and more came when the girls realized that he had a plethora of really bad jokes that were as funny as they were terrible.

The firebender was finally pitted against these more experienced fighters after they'd eaten. He failed again and again, but lasted marginally longer after each fight. It was late into the afternoon when they're training was interrupted, the Kyoshi Warriors impressed by how fast Sokka was progressing, though he had a long way to go.

"Firebenders have landed on our shores! Girls, come quickly!" Oyagi shouted, before rushing away once more.

"Yay, I'm a girl," Sokka called flatly as they ran outside and towards the village, bringing fleeting smiles to his new comrades.

Near the far edge of the village was Prince Zuko and his men on armor-clad komodo rhinos. He was searching the houses and streets with his eyes, posture tall and regal. The Kyoshi Warriors spread out, waiting for Suki's signal.

The signal was given and instantly, twelve green-clad fighters attacked the Fire Nation. Sokka moved to take down one of the soldiers, but lunged towards Zuko instead when he saw Suki go down. He blocked the fire blast sent her way with his new fans, reveling in the prince's startled expression. The banished royal fell off his rhino, quickly being surrounded by Suki, Sokka and Ba Be.

More fire was sent towards them from the teen's feet, and Sokka was the only one who remained upright after the flames. Zuko leapt up, standing off against his enemy.

"You're the Water Tribe warrior," he spoke with bewilderment.

"Right now, I'm a Kyoshi Warrior," Sokka amended, surging forward without warning. Zuko blocked the attack, trying to sweep the other's legs but failing as he flipped backwards into a handstand then fell upright again.

"Hey! Over here!" Both teens swung around to face Aang.

"Finally!" Zuko kicked a distracted Sokka away, hurrying forward to face off against the Avatar. Suki moved to Sokka, helping him away from the battle and behind a house.

"There's no time to say goodbye," she whispered.

"What about thank you?"

"For what?"

"You accepted me, a firebender, into your ranks for a day." The girl leaned forward with a small smile.

"It's not just a day, Sokka," she murmured, kissing his cheek before pulling him into a hug. "Now get out of here! We'll hold them off."

Sokka nodded numbly, darting over to Appa.

"Appa, yip yip!" The bison took off, grunting as he flew out of the town. Zuko called his men back as they did, probably preparing to follow them again. Katara was saying something to Aang, and then he was jumping over the side. The boy rode the unagi, a great big catfish eel, letting the spray from its jump put out the fires on Kyoshi.

"I know, I know. that was stupid and dangerous," Aang said as he climbed back into the saddle after jumping mid-unagi-leap and letting Appa catch him.

"Yes, it was," Katara remarked before embracing the boy. Sokka was confused, but knew he could ask for a recount of their adventures later.

"So, Sokka," Katara smirked knowingly at her brother. "What was that thing I saw happening between you and Suki?"

"Um, you mean the thing where I apparently charmed her with my awful fighting skills and bad jokes or the thing where she was ready to kill me?"

Sokka basked in the sound of his sister's hand hitting her forehead.

#atla #sokka #katara #aang #suki #appa #momo #kyoshi warriors #zuko #waterbender #firebender #airbender #avatar #flames of the moon #blue fire #firebender!sokka #aang is in love #sokka is kyoshi warrior

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starwarsdestroyedme · 5 years ago

Text

Toe-socks

So, this turned out longer than expected. Also, thanks for the notice on the other post about the taglists!

One-shot

AO3

Relationships: Intrulogical, background prinxiety, Platonic LAMP, Platonic Logince, Platonic Royalty

Summary: Remus always loves to make an entrance. Logan only wanted to finish his presentation. Everybody is confused.

“Precisely because I can tell that Patton and Virgil are more reactive to Remus’ outbursts I suggested for them to stay with you. You agreed to this. Half an hour ago this wasn’t an issue”. “Half an hour ago I didn’t know you were banging my brother!”

Word count: 4837

Warnings: Roman may seem unsympathetic at the start, but I promise, it all gets sorted out and justified in the end, so, please, bear with me. Remus being Remus. Arguing. Logan and Roman say somewhat nasty stuff to eachother (they talk it out though), and none more I can think of.

Opposite Warnings: (self-explanatory name. I just wanted to also highlight nice things!) Patton being a proud dad, protective Virgil, Roman addressing his feelings and talking about them, Remus caring about Logan, CARELESS WHISPER PLAYS NEED I SAY MORE?

Edit: Now there’s a related story! Head over heels

Toe-socks

Logan passed to the next slide of his power-point. Today he was doing a presentation for his proposal about Thomas’ new schedules.

It had been a while since they all agreed to make a collective effort to meet once a month to correct various problems. That month specifically, the meeting was to be at Logan’s room - they too had established to rotate locations between the main room, Logan’s and the Imagination, depending on the topic, Patton’s and Virgil’s rooms were excluded for everyone’s safety - because the order of the day were the schedules.

“So, if we set bedtime to nine we’ll be able to regulate properly sleep schedules, which would noticeably improve overall daily performance”.

Virgil raised his hand.

“Yes, Virgil?”

“If the aim is for Thomas to get 8 hours of sleep why don’t we move bedtime to 10?”

“Ah, that’s because I’m taking into account the time he may take to fall asleep”.

“That won’t grant that he falls asleep at 10, specially if a certain someone appears…”

“It will be okay, I have a contingency plan for that situation”.

Logan went to the next slide, revealing his action plan.

“So, as Virgil kindly pointed out: if the Duke showed up, Patton and him should go to Roman’s side of the Imagination”.

“Are you okay with that?” Virgil asked, looking at Roman.

Roman nodded with a smile while he gently pressed on Virgil’s knee.

“I asked Roman prior to the meeting and--”

Roman stood up and stroke a pose.

“Fear not Dear Evaneshansen and Papá*, my castle and I are at your service! I’ll keep you safe!”

“That” Logan gestured at Roman and took a deep breath.

Logan adjusted his glasses and skipped to the following slide, eager to retake control of his presentation. They still had a few points to discuss, and it wasn’t as if Logan didn’t have more things programmed for today, so he couldn’t afford wasting time.

“We still have more to go through, so if you could please pay attention I should be able to get it done in--”

Then, the lights went out.

“Great, now what”.

“Hey, Lo! Who turned the lights out?” Patton joked, just as Virgil turned on a small torch.

“That, was a really dark reference, Patton” Logan answered.

“As dark as this room?”

“Oh, for the love of…”

Suddenly, Careless Whisper’s instrumental roared across the room.

“What is going on?!” Roman shouted.

Logan closed his eyes, his mouth contracted into an exasperated line. He sighed tired and turned to the left. A door, frame included and all, appeared next to the table. It opened at the purest Doraemon style, making way for a slithering cloud of smoke inside which green and white lights scattered.

A pair of toe-socks up to the knee, decorated with horizontal rainbow stripes, slid on the wooden floor doing the moonwalker. Inside of said socks was Remus, letting his hair down singing the first lines of Careless Whisper.

“I feel so unsure, as I take your hand, and lead you to the --” Remus turned around with impetus, pointing with his right arm extended, placing the other behind his head.

Remus’ expression was a picture the entire time, first biting on his lower lip suggestively, frowning in an expressive manner; then, eyes wide open, a hint of annoyance in them, and his jaw dropping into a grimace of indignation.

Logan corresponded him arching his eyebrows and making an effort to turn his lips into a two point thick line. Or, said differently, an angered mother face.

Remus blinked several times. He took a glance at the rest. Virgil had his arm placed in front of his brother, who was holding back more due to the authority of his boyfriend’s gesture rather than the force Virgil could be exerting against his abdomen. Patton had turned into the colour of a low-fat yoghurt. The father looked at him up and down positively horrified.

Grand entrance, check. It didn’t go as expected, but, he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Not unless the horse asked for it.

He went back to focusing on Logan.

“Was it today?!”

“Indeed”.

“Well, fuck me!” he cursed.

Logan adjusted his tie with annoyance and turned to his presentation. He looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Let me finish this first”.

The monosyllabic equivalent of a horse laugh escaped out of Remus.

“That wasn’t what I meant, but, works for me!” he smiled from ear to ear.

Right after that, he shrugged and set course back to the door doing the moonwalker.

“--guilty feet have got no rhythm. Though it’s easy to pretend, I know you’re not a fool…” he picked the song back as he disappeared, taking the door with him.

The room was left in sepulchral silence. Virgil looked at the floor with a face that said something along the lines of ‘I’m rethinking my entire life’, Roman’s eyes wouldn’t stop going back and forth from Logan to where the door had vanished. Patton had sat down on the couch and looked at Logan as to encourage him to speak.

“Sorry about that, now, where were we?”

Virgil glanced up and he made a contained version of one of Roman’s wild gesticulations.

“What the hell was that?!”

“Remus, of course, you saw him too” Logan played the matter down, wanting to go back to the presentation.

“I saw more than I wish I had seen” Roman said.

“He does not like wearing clothes” Patton added, as to agree with Roman.

“He was wearing socks, so, technically, he was dressed. I swear he only does it to be annoying”.

“I mean, why did he do that?” Virgil asked with a mixture of overwhelm, annoyance and confusion.

“That depends on what you’re asking about. If you’re referring to the… uh… nudity issue, then it’s because I told him I wouldn’t talk to him if he wasn’t dressed”.

Virgil furrowed his brows. Considering Remus’ personality, he found it very odd that he had even bothered to get ‘dressed’... or whatever that was. He knew first hand that if the Duke didn’t feel like doing something, persuading him otherwise turned out to be tricky, not to say almost impossible.

“On the other hand, if you mean the whole situation, well, I believe he was attempting to have intercourse with me” said Logan, trying to be conciliatory and failing miserably.

“Uh… okay, what?” Virgil muttered to himself.

“Is there something you need to tell us, kiddo?” Patton inquired.

Of course, Logan took this as a prompt for him to continue with the presentation.

“Yes. Thank you, Patton. As I was saying before we got interrupted…”

“Oh my god! Why is my brother trying to get into your pants, nerd?!”

Logan frowned and looked at Virgil for help.

“Get into someone’s pants, as in trying to have sex with them”.

“I think the answer will upset you, but, if you must know, we had it scheduled for later today. Remus has poor impulse control, so he came here earlier. He, also, completely forgot that the reason why, was because I had a meeting with all of you”.

Patton looked at Logan with muted worry.

“Well, I wouldn’t say upsetting… more like... shocking?”

“Deeply disturbing” corrected Roman.

"We’re all… a bit shaken up, but that’s no reason to say things so negatively charged--”

“What?! How am I supposed to react? Nerd over there is… ew… my evil twin brother, who, by the way, tried to kill him several times and we’re all going to pretend that it’s fine?!”

After Roman ended acting all fussy, he just stood there, taking a glance at the rest, expectant. Patton looked back at him. His lips pressed together and turned to the right, it was hard to tell if with disapproval, pity or empathy. He leaned to say all three. Then there was Virgil, who was still standing with a thoughtful semblance, and Logan, with his face of indignation half-dissolved in indifference, clearly denoted by the eyebrow he just raised.

“Taking into account that Remus’ direct actions don’t affect me, and he knows that, I’d hardly consider it a murder attempt, therefore, I don’t see your argument neither pertinent nor relevant”.

“We understand what you mean, Logan, but it isn’t particularly nice to see how you collapse on the floor with a shot to the head. Even if we kinda know nothing will happen to you it can still… frighten us up a little”.

“More like almost scaring Patton to death, and V being on the verge of an anxiety attack”.

Virgil turned his head towards Roman and gave him a look of ‘dude, no. Now’s not a good time and we agreed not to talk about it, I can’t believe you just brought it up only to tell Logan off on dating your brother’. Or, what Roman interpreted as: ‘you know it affected be a lot and we agreed not to talk about it, least when I’m impacted with all this new info’.

“I’m sorry, Virge. But it’s true, the fact is that both Virgil and Patton need to come to my side of the Imagination because Remus can’t manage to be nice to anyone for a even two seconds”.

“I don’t think you’re objective enough to be able to judge Remus’ capabilities properly. That, to begin with,---”

“Logan!” Patton exclaimed.

“Did I say anything incorrect? Roman cannot be objective with his brother because he deeply despises him”.

“Dude, sensitive topic” said Virgil whilst leaning his head.

“Roman may not like the Duke, but that doesn’t make his opinion any less valid” Patton began to say, looking at the logical side, and then moving onto Roman “and it’s not alright to say things tactless, Roman”.

“I say things tactless?! Have you heard any of what the nerd said?! I’m not the one who’s ignoring that you can barely be in the same room as my brother!”.

“Precisely because I can tell that Patton and Virgil are more reactive to Remus’ outbursts I suggested for them to stay with you. You agreed to this. Half an hour ago this wasn’t an issue”.

“Half an hour ago I didn’t know you were banging my brother!”

“That changes nothing, because hadn’t you found out, my arrangement with Remus would have remained the same, so the problem and the situation would not change, thus, this has nothing to do with Patton or Virgil. You’re simply determined on demonising Remus because of your disagreements”.

“Disagreements, that’s a light way to put it. Remus is bad for Thomas!”

“And that may be so at the moment, but it's still unrelated as to my relationship with him”.

“How do you expect me to look you in the eye knowing there’s something going on between you?”

“This conversation is useless and ridiculous”.

Logan went to the table and took a book from it, he then sat down and started to read its contents trying to keep exasperation at bay.

“Roman, we’re not here to judge Logan. I understand it’s hard to process, but it isn’t okay to---”

“No! You all think the same and the only one who’s being upfront about it is me”.

“I don’t think that… well, not exactly, but although I’m not the Duke’s biggest fan, it’s not okay for us not to support Logan’s relationship”.

“Oh, lord, they’re just having sex! I don’t see how it’s worth it for us to have a bad time just because Remus feels like having a fling with Logan”.

The deafening sound of a chair moving backwards cut the conversation. Logan, gripping his book with anger, had stood up.

“That’s it. Enough nonsense for today! Seeing that I can’t finish my presentation, I’m leaving”.

“Oh, yeah, run away from the conversation” Roman replied, just as mad.

Logan held back his desire to throw the book at the Prince’s face.

“Firstly, I’m not running away from anything. What happens is that the only explanation I owe you is that from my presentation, which was why we met today. You’ve spent forty-three minutes without letting me speak, interrupting me and deviating from the topic. Today, I only planned to talk about the new schedules. My relationship, or, as you so eloquently decided to put it, ‘fling’ with Remus is none of your business, nor open to debate. It is something private and you have no sort of authority to make value judgments about it. Secondly, I have tasks to do and very strict schedules that you are messing with. On another note, your sensitivity to the topics Remus brings up and his ability to be nice to others aren’t correlative. It merely makes him incompatible with you. You can’t universalize that. Lastly, your opinion is biased and you can’t assess the situation accurately without all of the data; which I have no obligation nor want to provide you with. I’ll send you a briefing of my presentation and will see you tomorrow. Goodbye”.

Logan sank back right after he was done taking.

“Logan, wa--!” Virgil tried to call for him in vain. “Oh, shhhhoot. Roman! Where the hell did that come from?”

“Are you going to take his side too?” answered Roman sounding genuinely betrayed.

“Yeah, he may have been a jerk, but you went waaaay further than that”.

“Well, you didn’t say any of that before Logan left”.

“No, because I was too busy trying to process everything everyone was saying, or rather, shouting” said Virgil, his nerves on edge.

“Are you fine, kiddo?”

“Yeah. I’m just having a hard time at dealing with it, it’s a lot to take in. Everything has escalated way too quickly”.

“That’s an understatement”.

“Ro… leave it”.

“So you both think it’s okay for him to elope with the Duke”.

“I don’t think that it’s right nor wrong, I simply make nothing of it because is none of my goddamned business”.

“This affects the three of us”

“No, no it doesn’t” said Virgil with frustration. “We’re not the ones dating Remus”.

“Look, Roman, I know you say this because you’re worried about your pop and your Virge, but that’s no reason not to support Logan. What we need is to work out together so we can find a solution” added Patton.

“Yeah? Well, how are we going to do that if Logan just vanished?”

“Maybe he wouldn’t have done that if you hadn’t hurt his feelings” Virgil shook his hands as if Roman’s head was in between them, and by doing so he could get the idea through that thick skull of his.

“I can’t possibly hurt LOGIC’S feelings, and I’m not the one saying it, it’s him who keeps on bragging about how he doesn’t have them”.

“Hmm… but we all know that’s not true”.

“Gosh, Princey, seriously you think Logan would get so mad if he didn’t care about Remus?”

“Logan gets angry whenever we don’t tell him he’s right, which is what all of that was about”.

“But it wasn’t, heck, imagine how you’d feel if someone said all that’s between you and me is just sex”

“But we don’t have… it’s not the same thing!”

“You don’t know that”.

“Yeah, if Logan’s reaction is anything to go by, I’d say it’s more than just that” said Patton with a face that had written sympathy all over it.

“Logan’s reactions can literally mean anything because he’s the least expressive out of all of us”.

“Okay, you don’t want to trust Logan’s reaction? Fine! Then let’s go by the fact that Remus left the room because Logan told him so, wears those ridiculous socks because of him and ACTUALLY has conversations with Logan about his schedules. You and I both know there’s no way your brother would do that if he didn’t give a damn about what Logan thought about him. Heck! Not even freaking DECEIT could get him to do what he wanted, he barely kept him under control. Only I used to manage to do it, and not without using a toxic amount of fear and anxiety first”.

Roman just stood there, looking at his boyfriend, deeply worried.

It was one thing for Virgil to defend Logan, but going to the extreme of bringing up his time as a Dark Side, now that was a whole different story. A wave of guilt run him up and down. He knew how triggering Virgil found it to even mention it.

"Maybe we'll all just have to learn to accept the fact that the Duke may care about Logan in his own way" said Patton looking at nowhere "and apologize to our dear old teach" he fixed his eyes on Roman.

"I… perhaps you're right. I simply… when I look at Remus I see everything I don’t want to become and it’s hard for me to digest that Logan and him are together, because Logan’s always shooting down my ideas. I know he’s already apologised for it, we’re trying to get better… but he still antagonises me and, although it can help me improve, the rest of the time it makes me feel as… as if I wasn’t good enough. I mean, yeah, there’s pressure everywhere,” hearing this coming from Roman, both Patton and Virgil walked up to him to stay beside him “but with Logan I notice it more. Him dating Remus makes me think that perhaps he’s better than me, that maybe I’m the side of creativity that Thomas shouldn’t listen to”.

“I didn’t know you thought that”.

“Oh, Roman, is that how you really feel? Why didn’t you tell us?” said Patton placing a hand on the Prince’s arm.

“Hmmm… I know I should have talked about it, but you already have your own issues and it didn’t feel important enough. Besides, it’s not easy to admit that Prince Charming” he gestured at himself moving his hand up and down, smiling bitterly “is afraid of not being able to make Thomas’ life into a fairytale”.

Virgil threw himself at Roman’s arms and held him tight after hearing all that.

“I know it’s hard… I know very well… but you can always come and talk to me, or to Patton… or Logan”.

“That’s right Ro, we’ll always…” Patton moved fast and gave him a hug from behind “have your back!”

Roman loosely held onto one of Patton’s arms, that circled his shoulders, and caressed Virgil’s head, a smile of contemptment beginning to appear on his face. How could he be so lucky to have them?

“Thanks guys… guess I should go apologize to Logan, I just have to find out where he is”.

It didn’t take long for that question to be answered. Remus materialised himself in the room without warning, like the living pop-up he was. It was possible perceive in his expression, characterised by that mix of smugness and diva, a glimpse of superlative anger. With that in mind, Roman disentangled himself from Patton and Virgil, placing the last one behind him too.

"I am going to end all of you, assholes" said Remus, with a tone more serious than anyone watching were used to.

Roman extended his left arm and conjured his katana, unsheathed already, with an agile wrist move.

"Starting with you bro" Remus aimed at him with his morningstar and positioned himself, as if all of that were just a baseball match.

Roman braced himself for disaster and the cleaning that would follow after. Scrubbing his brains off the wall wasn’t going to be particularly pleasant. Virgil stepped forward, or rather to Roman’s side.

“Try that and I’ll make you regret it” Virgil’s distorted voice flooded the room as if it were coming from the walls.

He responded by flinching the tiniest bit. Regardless, his resolve was clear: he wouldn’t back off.

“Oh, Virgil! This display? Just for me? But you haven’t closed the door! We may be seen! YOU may be seen. Are you willing to show your true colours in front of your new buddies?”

“They are not my buddies, they’re my family and if necessary I’ll get you off the way”.

“You should have thought about that before messing with my nerd” Virgil’s eyes opened wide with realisation. What about Logan? He couldn’t harm Remus. But Remus would definitely do it, judging by the lightning-fast morningstar moving towards Roman’s face. “Let’s put your theory to the test!”

Virgil pushed Roman to the floor, behind him, ready to take the full impact of the morningstar. He closed his eyes and waited.

"Remus, that's quite enough" said Logan.

Logic stood in between Virgil and Remus, effortlessly holding the shaft of the morningstar. Remus stared at Logan’s rest in bitch face dumbfounded.

The Prince’s body was spreaded on the floor, he leaned on his forearm, with a spooked expression directed right at the back of Virgil’s head. He only came out of the trance to find Patton. Morality gestured at him, trying to help him get up.

"What? Bitch, are you serious? He asked for it!" Remus pointed at his brother, releasing his grip on the weapon.

"I don't care. No matter how impermanent it might be, I'd rather you didn't kill, maim, harm not harass him".

"He deserves to…"

"Remus, I understand where this comes from” he began to say, putting the morningstar down “and I'm aware of how hard it is for you to exert control over your impulses. But this isn't helping me".

"But! But he's an asshole! He deserves to have his testicles bitten off by a hyena".

"Remus," Logan conjured a notebook with a pen clipped to the cover "I need you to write it down as we practiced. Let me handle this myself"

"But…"

Logan took a long, exhausted, breath.

"Please".

Remus’s body language changed completely, fully giving up. Loose. He took the notebook and sank back.

Logan turned around, giving the rest a chance to finally take a look at him.

Logan wasn’t wearing his glasses.

His tie was undone, and his hair look the slightest bit disheveled. Reddish spider webs were imprinted in his puffy eyes, matching his blushed nose.

“Wow, Logan, you look like shit” Virgil was the first to voice everyone’s worry, as per usual.

“Oh, my apologies” he conjured his glasses and put them on. Then proceeded to get his tie knot done.

Patton stepped forward to hug him, unable to hold back.

“Logan… dear mother of waffles!” The dad cupped his face. “Have you been c-- are you okay?” he bit his tongue on the last second, reminded of Logan’s reticence to talk about feelings.

“I… I have been preoccupied”.

“Logan…”

“Roman, I do not wish to engage in conversation with you. I got Remus to leave, okay? I’m not in the mindset for debate” said Logan, ready to sink back again.

“Wait!”

“What do you want?”

Patton and Virgil made a non-verbal pact to leave them some space and moved away, limiting themselves to watch the situation unfold, ready to intervene if necessary. Patton gave Roman a conciliatory smile.

“I’m sorry! I was too rash, and it wasn’t my place to judge your relationship with Remus. I guess I got angry when I found out that you’re dating him, because of how much you criticize me, it makes me feel that he’s better than me, and that maybe you’ll just want him to do my job instead…”

“Roman, there’s no way Remus could perform your job. He isn’t constant and gets more distracted than you. Even though his ideas are transgressive, they’re barely practical and don’t fit Thomas’ audience. You, on the other hand,” Logan joined the tips of his fingers and gestured at Roman “take production more into account and strive to create content that satisfies the audience”.

“But what good is that if I don’t challenge them?”

“Good content doesn’t have to be at odds with pleasing the viewership. If your aim is to entertain, or, as Patton would put it,” he briefly glanced at him “make people happy, how can achieving that be bad? If what you create does what it was meant for then it is a good content”.

“Well, that may be right, but Remus can handle more mature content better than me”.

Logan frowned and rethought his strategy.

“Would you consider Steven Universe bad content?”

“What?! No! Also, Steven Universe treats mature topics”.

“Indeed, but addressing mature topics isn’t a synonym for mature content. Roman, your ideas are perfectly capable of accomodating mature topics. You don’t need to make mature content to be a good creator”.

“But Remus is right, what will Thomas’ legacy be if we just keep doing the same things over and over?”

“Falsehood. We’re not doing the same things over and over, and, even if that were the case, that doesn’t mean we can’t change the content, if Thomas eventually decides to do so”.

“But what if I’m not good enough for whatever he chooses to do next? What if he replaces me for Remus?”

Logan smirked after hearing this and went on.

“Ah, I see what the problem is. Roman, would you refrain altogether from acting if you failed at an audition?”

“No” Roman answered with a hint of indignation.

“Good. Then we can extrapolate that to what you said.” Logan made a pause and considered his next words. “There is always a chance for failure, but failing doesn’t restrict our chances for future success. If we consider your ideas from the angle of whether or not they achieve their purpose, then I’d be inclined to say they’re good. Thus, making you a good creator”.

Logan paused yet again, leaving Roman room to speak. Interestingly enough, the Prince remained quiet, letting Logic’s words sink in.

“Of course, one could argue that what makes a content good or bad is inherently subjective, but entertaining that thought isn’t useful as a means of judging the quality of what you produce” he added, anticipating what Roman might have been pondering on. “Moreso, it is counterproductive because it only leads us to overthinking. Your desire to grow should not be a discouragement, but a source of motivation”.

“What about Remus?”

“Well… while I do believe that Remus should be allowed to be part of the conversation, he can’t act as a substitute for your contributions. Just as Remus can come up with things you can’t, that also applies the other way around”.

“Then you don’t like Remus better?”

“The nature of our relationship is completely different to the one I have with any of you, so I could not effectively compare them, thus value one above the other”.

Roman’s arms fell to his sides, he stared at the teacher, unsure as to what to say next.

“Well, thanks Logan, that was... really nice… I’m very sorry for before”.

“No problem, I can now understand why you reacted the way you did. I suppose an apology is due. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to correctly assess the way you were feeling and that I may have been somewhat insensitive”.

“We’re both at fault, I guess”.

“Correct. You were unfair and I was” Logan searched through his vocab cards until he found one and flipped it. It was written in all caps with black chinese ink, using thick angular strokes “an r/iamverysmart”.

“What?” Virgil began to laugh.

Patton went to Roman’s side and squeezed a bit on his arm.

“I’m very proud of you, Ro” he said in a low voice.

“Remus wanted to contribute to my efforts of understanding modern slang and gifted me with new vocab cards I’ve added to my research. Did I use that one properly?”

“Naaah… not really” Virgil replied and began to give him some examples so he could frame the concept properly.

“I’m glad I talked about it”.

“Me too. I know how hard it is for you, Roman, and I’m so, so proud”.

“Thanks, Dad” the Prince smiled. He went back to looking at his emo nightmare and Logan.

“Leaving aside the most gruesome traits of his writing, I’m now proofreading a mystery novel he’s begun, and it’s very engaging” the tiniest of smiles appeared on Logan’s face.

“Isn’t that your favourite genre?”

“In fiction, yes. So, understandably, I was pleased to assist him. He gave me the chance to contribute with plenty of Agatha Christie references”.

“Well, it might turn out you and Remus may make a good couple” said Roman, too distracted by how surprised he found what Logan had said to really think about the wording he had used.

Virgil looked at him in confusion, while Logan waited for him to elaborate.

Roman opened his eyes wide, mentally rewinding. Oh.

“Not that I am saying that’s what you are… I know you don’t need my approval, but no matter what’s in between you and Remus, I’m cool with it” he placed a hand behind his head and stood awkwardly.

“That’s… quite alright. I appreciate that. And, regarding your previous statement, yes, I believe we do”.

*so I’ve seen Roman call Patton padre a lot, but dad in Spanish translates into papá rather than padre. You see padre=father, papá=dad and papi=daddy. So I chose to go with papá.

Taglist:

@coffeemeryspace , @theantisocialghost , @musical--llama , @ambersky0319 , @tacohippy56900 , @1-800-im-not-ok , @dabookwormcat , @starkerparkerx , @littlestliu

@creativity-killed-thekitten I tagged you seeing that in ‘Rain on me’ you told me to, but if you wish to be removed from the taglist please do tell!

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