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softboywriting · 3 years

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Hard To Love | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You’re Nathan’s personal assistant. He’s an insufferable bastard. Both of you have unchecked tension and feelings for each other. What could possibly go wrong? [swearing] [sexual themes/situations] [arguments] [exhibitonism - implied] [pining] [Dominant!Nathan] [Nickname use - pet name/non derogatory] [Nathan being Nathan] [nsfw - kissing, lap sitting/grinding, heavily implied masturbation!f reader] [F!reader/Nathan]

Word Count: 7k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Nathan is...well... Nathan. Insufferable, workaholic, egotistical. He is a lot to handle and doing so isn't always easy. You had a lot of breakdowns, screaming matches, some nearly coming to blows. But you didn't give up and you learned to work around him, and coax him out of moods, serve him back the same dry humor and disinterest. After finding out he had gone through four assistants, two that never made it past their first week, you knew you couldn't give up on him. There was a diamond in the rough and you were going to find it because despite all of the hard times, you care for him. He's a fucking bastard, but he's your fucking bastard.

"It's been six months." Nathan says over breakfast one morning.

You look back from where you're cleaning up the pans you used to make his vegetable omelet with soy egg substitute. His favorite. You had taken over cooking from Kyoko three months ago when she began to malfunction. You're not sure what happened, or if maybe Nathan staged the malfunction to give you more to do. You suspect the latter.

"Six months? Really?"

"Don't act like you don't count the days."

"I don't actually." You set your plate of food on the table and he reaches for one of your toasts. He has his own, well, had. He ate it already but he has egg left so he wants more toast. "I stopped months ago."

He chuckles softly. "I still don't know why you won't quit."

"Why do you want me to?"

"I don't."

"Then why do you bring it up?" You raise your eyebrows and he shoots you a look over his vitamin water. "Cat got your tongue?"

Nathan folds his hands, elbows on the table as he shakes his head. "Most people in your position, having dealt with what you have dealt with, would be itching to get as far away as possible. Surely you must be mentally unstable to stay with me, gaining some sick pleasure from our fights and shit. I almost feel bad."

He almost feels bad, as if he were to blame for nothing. Typical. "And if I am fucked up? Gonna fire me?"

"Fuck no."

You smile over your coffee. Decaf. He won't have regular in the house after he nearly went into cardiac arrest from an over abundance of caffeine. He did it to himself. Slugging back redbulls with his vodka after drinking his pre-work out mix that had far more than he needed in it. He may be a technical genius but he can be such a fucking moron.

"You like me." You tease, rubbing your barefoot on his leg under the table. "You would miss me if I left."

He snorts indignantly but does not deny your observations.

"How was the food?"

"Perfect." He sits back, foot bumping yours now, running up the side. "Don't know how you do it."

"Perfect? Wow. High praise from you." You swat his foot away with yours and he starts trying to pin it down by stepping on it. "Better than Kyoko's?"

Nathan hums. "I programmed her with cooking skills from top chefs across the internet. Technically she should be the greatest chef on the planet. So the fact that you can make me food that is better floors me."

You hook your ankle around his and he lets out a little grunt. "Cooking is an act of love. Yes you can program an AI to make things perfectly but technical skill doesn't equate to preferred taste. Come on, Nathan, you're smarter than this."

"Questioning my intelligence now?"

"Every day." You jerk your leg back as he lifts his other foot to trap it. "Cheat! You cheater! One foot only!"

Nathan lets out a boisterous laugh, head falling back, hand over his chest. "You get so worked up over that!"

You roll your eyes and stab your eggs viciously. "Fuck off Nathan."

"No need to get so mouthy."

"Mouthy." You scoff. "Rich coming from you."

He stands, catching your chin in his grasp. "I got you to break."

"You- oh God damn it." You jerk away, arm extending to shove him.

He chuckles proudly to himself. "I'll be in my lab. Find me if you need me."

"Gonna let me in today?"

"I might."

"Yeah, yeah. I'll see you later."

____________________

Nathan could have the AI clean the house, but then you would run out of things to do. Honestly your job could be done by any one of his creations, humanoid or not. You don't actually need to be there at all, and yet Nathan keeps you around. For a man who is hell bent on privacy and secrecy surrounding his work, you have no idea how he has let others in. He laughs when he says that he had the men who built the complex killed after the fact. Surely it's a joke. You think. Though you've never asked, never dared to investigate the truth in his words. It's best you don't know.

The house doesn't need cleaning that often. Just laundry, dishes, some sweeping and mopping should you or Nathan track in mud after a hike. Most chores take a few hours out of one day a week. Your title is assistant and yet you don't actually assist him. Not in his work anyway. You feel like your title should be maid or housekeeper. It's fine, you really don't care because he pays you so generously that you would do whatever he needs you to.

"Kitten!" Nathan's voice comes from the intercom system built in the house. "Come to the lab, kitten."

You scowl at the nickname. He dubbed you Kitten your second day at the complex because he thought your wandering around perplexed by the maze like design of the house was akin to a new kitten trying to find its way in the world. You suppose there could be worse names he could call you, and there are ones that have come out in screaming matches, but kitten has stuck.

"Lab. Now. Come on."

"Fuck." You groan, tossing aside your book you were getting very into.

"I heard that."

"Of course you did." You lift your badge and scan the door to your room to head out into the hall. One of the AI walks by and you think her name is Lily. She's beautiful. Unfortunately her programming has failed and she cannot speak. "Hi Lily."

Lily raises her hand in greeting.

If she is out then that must mean Nathan has been working on her. You turn away from the AI and walk down the hall to the junction that splits left to Nathan's room and right to another hall that goes to the lab and test rooms. The lab door is open, the light blue on the access pad.

Nathan spins around in his chair. "Kitten, you've made it."

"As if I could get lost."

"I have something to show you."

"Do you? I thought you didn't want me involved in your work."

Nathan gives you a hard look. "Do you want to fucking see it or not?"

"I don't even know what it is."

He grabs a small item off his desk and brings it to you. "This is it. My newest AI."

You take the small flash drive from him and turn it over in your hands. "This is a new program?"

"Yes. My best work yet. I'm going to build her this week."

"Exciting."

"Please show some enthusiasm for fucks sake." He snatches the device from your hand. "I'm kind enough to share this with you, you could at least say thank you."

"I never asked."

Nathan slaps the flash drive down on the desk and stares at you. He is not used to being served his own cold attitude and he never will be. Since you started going toe to toe with him, he has been on top of his game. It's like you engage his mind beyond his massive ego. "You're insufferable."

"Likewise." You smile and he smiles back. The pissing match has ended. "I need to get groceries soon."

"You know what I like."

"Of course I do." You fold your arms over your chest and he averts his eyes for a moment. You know he's staring at your breasts, pushed up in the tank top you had chosen to wear while deep cleaning your bathroom earlier. "But what do you want?"

"Loaded question, kitten."

"Going that route today?"

"Maybe." He saunters towards you and catches your hair between his fingers. "I want... something sweet."

You raise your eyebrows. "You're craving sugar? Are you ill?"

He chuckles. "A little. Just in the head."

"Seriously."

"Yes I want something sweet. Get me some donuts." He puts his hands on his hips. "Get yourself something too."

"I always get myself stuff. Do you think I only buy your groceries?"

"It's my house, of course I think you buy my shit."

You reach out and touch his beard, fingertips gliding along his cheek. You don't miss the way his eyes flutter at your touch. "Do you need your beard oil? The conditioner stuff? Looks dry."

He grabs your hand and curls his fingers around yours. "Yes, I do. But don't touch it."

"Possessive today huh?" You smirk and he groans irritably deep in his throat. "You live for my touch."

"I live for you to leave me the fuck alone."

"Then fire me."

"No."

"Then suffer." You bring your other hand up and pat his opposite cheek. "Does physical affection bother you Nathan? Does touching another human bother you so mu-"

He backs you against the wall and pins your wrists. His face is only inches from yours, body pouring heat onto you. It sparks something deep inside and you feel heat pooling in between your legs. "Don't you have somewhere to be?" He murmurs, grip tight on your skin.

"Don't you have some issues to work out?"

"Fuck you."

"You'd like to."

Nathan drops your wrists at that and retreats into the lab, the door closing and locking behind him. It drives him mad that you're not one of his AI that he can order around and do what he pleases with. You like to think that's why he keeps you around, to remind him that he's human and he needs someone that isn't an algorithm to keep him sane. Maybe he also let a little piece of you crave out a chunk of his icy cold heart.

You rub your wrists and look at the reddened skin. They might bruise. You straighten your clothes and head back to your room. You'll need to wear something more appropriate to the store. It's cold out these days.

_____________________

"Do you get lonely?" Nathan asks one evening over drinks in the lounge.

You put down your laptop and give him your attention. It's the first time he's spoken to you in two days since the wrist grabbing incident. "Lonely?"

"Yeah. Do you miss relationships? Hook ups?"

"Not really. I was never super social to begin with."

"Right."

"Why?"

"Just curious." He takes a long drink, emptying his tumbler. "Why do you think I want to fuck you?"

You feel your cheeks redden. The way he is staring at you makes your arousal rear its ugly head. Staring shouldn't turn you on. He hasn't done anything. "I think you're desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. You decommissioned Kyoko months ago, Lily doesn't have a vagina and yes I know this because you told me in a drunken stupor ages ago. So you haven't fucked anything or anyone in months."

"You think I need to fuck?"

You stand and walk over to him, knocking his knees open to stand between his legs. "Nathan, just fucking admit that you want me. That you keep me around because one day you'll grow a pair of balls and ask me to sleep with you."

His hands come up and grab your hips. He pulls you down and you straddle his lap, thin pajama pants hardly acting as a barrier between you and his cock in his gray sweats. "I keep you around because you piss me off." He grips your ass and you roll your hips against him. "You piss me off and make my blood boil like no one else."

"So you hate me?"

Nathan brings your head down to meet his. "I couldn't hate you if I tried."

"Then what are we doing?"

"We're having a moment." He grabs your hair and you snap at his nose with your teeth in response. "Behave."

You let out a moan as he begins kissing up your throat. "This was your plan all along."

"Do you ever shut up?"

"No."

"Then I'll make you." His hand closes around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you stop talking. "Why do you have to be so in my head? Why..." He kisses your shoulder, biting the junction between it and your neck. "Why did you have to show up?"

"You hired me." You whisper and he drops his hand from your throat in favor of sliding it up your shirt. "You selected me."

He rolls his hips up against you, biting down on your skin to elicit a yelp from you. "You're damn right I did."

You grind down against his cock and he grabs your hips to still them. You let out a soft whine from the lack of pleasure and he grips harder.

"Get up."

Your heart sinks, and you stare at him in confusion. "What?"

"Get up. We're not doing this." Nathan pushes you off of his lap and you stumble to your feet.

You straighten your clothes and walk around the coffee table to grab your laptop. You can't say you didn't expect this. It was a long shot to begin with and you initiated it so you knew he would shut it down. Still, it hurts. His rejection isn't disinterest, it's personal protection. He won't let anyone that close to his heart.

"Good night, Nathan." You mutter as you head for the doors to the inner workings of the complex.

"Night, Kitten."

_____________________

It is three days before you see Nathan again. Locking himself away isn't uncommon practice. It's a Thursday when you see him out on the deck with the punching bag. You happened to catch a glance when you were preparing breakfast as you had every day. He didn't eat with you, but you still made it for him and left it under the warmer. The plate was always gone when you came back, so at least you know he is eating.

You grab a few grapefruits from the basket on the counter and start juicing them. It'll be a nice surprise for him. You grab a cup from the cupboard and tilt the juicer to dump its contents for you. It looks good, smells tart but it is not your type of juice. Fitting for a man like Nathan. Bitter, tart and sort of hard to swallow. You rub a bit of the squeezed rinde around the top of the glass and grab the sugar dish to sprinkle some around the rim. A little sweet to lessen the bite, a representation of you in this metaphor.

"Kitten, good morning." Nathan says as you approach with his juice and a towel. "What's this?"

"Grapefruit."

He raises his eyebrows. "Fresh?"

"Yep." You hand him the glass and he inspects it suspiciously. "No poison. Promise."

A smile creeps it's way across his face as he gulps it down. He takes a moment at the end to lick the sugar clean from the rim, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. It's far more sexual than you think it should be, and it was never your intent to get this response.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes." You pass him the towel and take the glass.

Nathan scrubs the towel over his face and rests it around his neck. "I'm going for a hike later."

"Okay?"

"You're going with me." He turns back to the punching bag and starts his routine back up. "Be ready at nine."

You sigh. "Alright."

_____________________

Nathan's idea of a hike and your idea of a hike vary greatly. You view a hike as wandering around the forest along trails and seeing the beauty of nature before you. Leisurely pace, breaks, maybe a snack or two and some photos for the memories. Nathan however thinks hikes are treacherous climbs up cliffs and rock jumping across rivers and streams. He goes as quick as possible as if he's trying to get somewhere and he's going to be late. It's hardly relaxing.

"Come on, why are you so slow?" Nathan barks from atop a rock some several yards ahead of you.

You're panting, legs pushed to their limit from the half an hour long uphill climb you've just endured. You have no idea how he isn't even winded.

"Fuck off Nathan!" You huff, grabbing a scrubby looking tree for support as you haul yourself up over a broken chunk of the path. A game trail, not even a proper walking path.

He laughs, his voice echoing off the cliffs surrounding you. "You can do it, Kitten! Get that little ass up here!"

You finally reach him, your lungs threatening to explode. "First of all, this isn't a hike it's a rock climbing marathon." You hold a finger up to his face threateningly. "And second, my ass isn't little."

"Oh I know." He folds his arms over his chest.

"So you stare at my ass a lot then?"

"I'm a heterosexual man. Of course I'm going to look at your ass."

You roll your eyes. "Thanks for the objectification."

"You're welcome."

"Can we take a break here? My legs are killing me."

Nathan stretches his arms up and back. "This is why I brought you with me."

"Why?"

"So you can get some exercise. Your stamina is shit."

You glance to the drop off below then back at him. "You wanna keep insulting me?"

"Facts are not insults."

"I will push you off this cliff, Nathan."

He steps away from the edge and closer to you. He doesn't say anything about it. Doesn't apologize for the comments about your stamina and needing to work out more. He reaches for your face, plucking something off of your cheek. "Eyelash."

"Make a wish."

"Wishes are for children." He flicks his finger off to the side.

"I wish my boss would get his head out of his ass." You smirk triumphantly. "Is that a child's wish?"

Nathan flicks his eyes up and down your face, eyes settling on the bite bruise peaking out from under your sweatshirt collar. You had forgotten about it until this very moment, when you realize he hadn't seen it yet. "Is that mine?"

"Of course. Who else has been biting me out here in the middle of nowhere?" You reach up to touch it and he shoves your hand away to pull the fabric aside for himself.

"No one else can touch you."

Heat blossoms in your stomach at his jealousy tinged words. Possessive Nathan really does it for you. But he isn't your boyfriend. He is your boss. "I'm not yours Nathan."

His fingertips ghost over the nearly healed bruise. "Yes you are."

"I'm not."

"Then why don't you leave?"

You shove his hand off your shoulder and he gives you one of his famed deadly glares for doing something he doesn't like. "You don't want me. So I can't be yours."

"It's not that I don't want you, I can't have you." He turns and starts walking away, resuming the hike. How very like him. He says something stupidly cryptic that only makes sense to him. Whatever. You're not here for his affection and approval. You're here to be his assistant.

____________________

"I'm out of alcohol." Nathan states plainly, looking into the cupboard that usually has a few bottles of his favorite liquors. "Where is my shit?"

You look over from the fridge and smirk to yourself. "I thought you were on a detox again."

"I'm done with it. Where..." He turns and looks at you. "You didn't buy anything."

"Nope. I was told not to."

"By who?"

"You."

He purses his lips and looks around as if thinking about when he would have ever said that to you. He looks perplexed and you feel so smug. "Since when do you ever listen to me?"

You laugh softly. This is your fault now? Following his orders and not buying alcohol? Really.

"You're my boss. I usually follow your orders."

Nathan kicks the cupboard closed lightly. "Stop that."

"Stop what? Following your instructions?"

"Stop fucking with my head." He leans on the counter and takes his glasses off to dig his palms into his eyes. "You're so fucking irritating."

"Sure am." You gather some utensils from the counter that you left to dry and begin to put them away. "I live to make you suffer."

Nathan pulls his hands from his eyes and stares at you, eyebrows furrowed. It's like you're a puzzle and he's trying to see the solution. "Sometimes I wonder."

"You're being a baby."

"Excuse me?"

You walk over and stand in front of him, hands on your hips, mimicking his pose when he explains things to you. He doesn't fail to notice this as his eyes sweep over you in assessment and he raises his head as if challenging you. "You're only saying I'm irritating and making you suffer because you can't drink. It's been what? A week?"

"Eight days."

"A week. I'm sure you can make it another two weeks."

"You're fucking joking."

"Nope. I'm not going into town for groceries again until absolutely necessary. It's a three hour flight there and then back, remember?"

Nathan clenches the edge of the counter top with white knuckles.

"Get as pissed as you want." You lean in close and he nearly moves back. You know he won't back down from a challenge. "Maybe you'll have to face your demons sober. Maybe you'll figure your shit out."

"I didn't hire you to be my fucking therapist."

"Yet here I am."

Nathan pushes off the counter and grabs the bottle of water you set out for him before he goes off to lock himself in his lab for God knows how long. Ever since you came on to him he seems to be jumpy around you. You don't know why he won't just admit that he likes you, that he wants you. He is going to get blue balls sooner or later. Well, maybe not because he can jack off but actual sex isn't the same and you know he has a sex drive through the roof. You used to hear it at all hours of the morning before he deactivated Kyoko. You'd be lying if you said you didn't get off on it a few times.

_____________________

Days and days pass without a word from Nathan. Ten is now the most you've ever gone and after five you start to wonder if he is even in the house. Maybe he went for a walk and fell in the river. Maybe he pissed off his AI again and it finally strangled him. You would have no idea because the place is so huge and quiet for the most part. Aside from living quarters the complex is soundproofed. One would think Nathan's room beside yours would be for privacy but it's not. The freak. He wants people to hear him.

At the twelfth day mark you actually begin to worry. A twenty day sober Nathan may be a new kind of animal and you're not sure if you truly want to interact. Distance makes the heart grow fond though and while he is insufferable you do care for him and wish to see his stupid smug face. It's a risk but one you need to take.

The light on the lab door is red. Locked. You raise your key card and it buzzes, remaining red. He's denied your access to the lab. Shocker. You press the com button on the wall but it doesn't connect. He's shut that off too.

You lean your head on the cool cement wall and sigh. One more day. You'll give it one more day. If he doesn't show his face you'll get the override key card that resides in the hidden box in the bathroom. You found it ages ago, by pure accident. You've never used it and he has no idea that you even know about it. But you'll do what you have to do.

______________________

Morning of the next day you find yourself in bed, looking around the soft cream colored walls. An idea comes to mind. A dirty, dirty idea. You know Nathan has cameras in every room. He's too anal about protectng his work not to. Plus he has major trust issues.

You lean over the side of the bed and pull open the nightstand drawer. Inside is a small vibrator that you brought with you when you moved in. There's another box in there too. One that was there when you opened the drawer the first night. On the top it says "For your needs, because you're only human."

Of course you opened the box out of curiosity, Nathan had said everything in the room was for you so it wasn't snooping. In the box was a dildo, some lube and a little bullet vibrator. You had never used them, finding the gift too personal and odd. Complimentary soap? Normal. Complimentary extra blankets and pillows? Thoughtful. Complimentary sex toys? Insane. Until you got to know Nathan, you thought it was the weirdest thing ever. In fact, you forgot about the box after a while as you hadn't had the urge to get off until recently. Today however, you're going to make a show of it in hopes of getting his attention.

You dump the contents of the box on the bed and pick up the dildo, wrapping your fingers around it. It's life like, fleshy and soft but firm enough for it's intended use. It's bigger than you might usually prefer but nothing you can't handle with some extra time. And you've got nothing but time. You take a glance around the room, not seeing any obvious surveillance cameras. This may be for nothing.

You make quick work of your pajamas, toss aside the blankets and prop yourself against the headboard. You decide to keep your gaze fixed on the television, imagining it's where he is watching from. You close your eyes and let your hands start to wander, doing thier thing while your mind runs wild.

Time passes slowly as you work yourself over, adjusting to the dildo and working yourself into a heated frenzy. It would be easier if you had something to watch, some porn or something. You're not intent on making yourself come, but you will if it comes to that. You just want to put on a show to draw him out. That's what you're telling yourself anyway.

The power goes out, darkening the room and thrusting you into silence. The back up system announces its engagement and the emergency lights come up red. You sit up and lean your head back against the headboard. Great. You toss the toys aside and get up, pulling on your pajamas. You go to the door, punch in the code for manual override during power failure. Nathan is such a nerd. It's not a specific number but rather the theme to Star Wars.

The door clicks open and you go out into the hall. No one in sight, not that you really expected anyone. "Nathan!" You call out, heading for the lab door. Everything is eerie red and you don't like it. "Power is out!"

No response.

"Nathan James Bateman!" You sing song as you slide your card on the lab door. It buzzes. "I know you hear me you fuck!"

"Power restored. All systems active."

The hall turns white, back to the bright daylight simulated lighting. You lift your key card up in hopes that the system turned off his lock out coding for your card. Sure enough it turns blue and the door clicks open. Relief washes over you as you step into the darkened office where his computer is set up, notes on the wall, security feeds pulled up on two of the monitors. The door to the actual lab is open and you walk through into the bright area.

"Nate?" You call out, the nickname slipping out as your voice wavers a bit when you don't see him anywhere.

"Kitten?"

You spin around and see the man you seek emerge from a doorway. It's the server closet where the breaker box is. "Hey."

"How'd you get in here?"

"The power failure reset the lock codes."

"You can leave."

"Nathan, you haven't been out in almost two weeks. I'm starting to get worried. What are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine."

You give him a once over. Wrinkled clothes. Disheveled beard. Hair grown out longer than you remember, still buzzed but not so close. His skin is dull and lifeless. "You look like shit."

"What's new?"

"Oh come on. You're more vain than that. What are you doing in here anyway? Why the power failure?"

"Fuck off."

"What an original come back. I've been trying to get your attention for days. The fact that it took a power outage for me to get to you is sad." You walk up to him and touch his chest, there is a little bit of dried blood smeared on his shirt. A cut on his hand most likely. "Nathan, talk to me."

Nathan pushes away from you and goes to his design table where there are blueprints laid out for an AI.

"Nathan."

"Leave." There is no venom in his tone. If anything he sounds pleading.

You decide to make a bold move and wrap your arms around his shoulders. He stiffens, hands stilling on the table, pen falling from his fingers. "Please talk to me."

"Just go. I don't want to talk to you."

"Fine. Dinner is at six." You pause at the doorway to the office area. "Did you hear me?"

"Six."

"Good."

_____________________

Things fall back into a normal rhythm in the days following. You do your work and he does his. You eat together, go for walks, talk about his progress on the new AI. Everything seems to be back to it’s usual flow, how it always happened after big arguments or falling outs.

So while you’re sitting in the lab watching him work one day and he asks you about the dildo in the bedside table you're thrown for a loop. It’s far from his usual choice of topics and you had actually forgotten all about it. His mentioning of it brings back the memory of when you were laid out on your bed, literally masturbating to try and get his attention. Christ what a desperate move that was. Stupid.

"So have you opened it?"

"The dildo box? Yeah I've opened it." You try to remain casual as you discuss something so personal. You definitely aren’t thinking about how good it felt.

He smirks. "Used it?"

"No." A bold lie. He has no idea. He never saw you in your bedroom. At least you don't think he did. Why would he ask about it if he had? Why is he asking about it at all?

“You’re a shitty liar.” He turns around in his chair and faces you, pushing his glasses up off the end of his nose. “Did you like it?”

“I haven’t used it.”

“Do you want me to bring up the video? I will.” He stands and heads to the office. “Come on, come here.”

You slide off the table and walk behind him in your shame, cheeks hot. You knew you shouldn’t have lied. Of course he was testing you. It's Nathan for fucks sake. He gestures to his rolling chair and you take a seat while he leans over the desk and clicks around on files on the desktop. “Is this really necessary?”

“Yeah. It is.” He opens a play back window and you can see the view of your room. No surprise. You try to figure out where the hell this camera is based on the angle. It seems to be the top left corner above your closet but as far as you remember there is nothing there. “Oh, there you are.”

“Nathan.”

“No, no watch.” He points to the screen as you toss and turn on the bed. He speeds up the playback as you get into the drawer and get the box out. You deliberately clear the bed, undress, get back on the bed.

You roll your eyes, looking away from the screen and he places a hand on your head and turns it back to watch. “So? I’m masturbating. Whatever. You do it too. If I wasn’t supposed to use the damn thing why did you leave it for me?”

“Oh I don’t care that you used it.” He clicks a little audio icon beside the playback screen. “I just want to know why you lied about it.”

“I am embarrassed? I don't make a habit of talking about my-”

“Nathan.” Your voice plays back on the audio coming from the video playback and you wish you could sink into the floor and disappear. “Nathan, harder please!” Of course he has audio on the fucking cameras. Of fucking course he does because why not right? It’s his house, his research facility.

Nathan looks at you over his glasses. “You’re embarrassed about talking about masturbating or you’re embarrassed that you think of me when you do it and I found out? Actually don’t answer that because this looks deliberate.” He takes a seat on the desk, blocking the view of the monitors. “Now, are you going to lie to me again, or tell me what this is about?”

“I wanted to get your attention.”

“Well you got it honey.” He clicks a button on the keyboard and it stops the playback.

“I wanted your attention to get you out of the fucking lab. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen you and the only way I can reach you from outside is through the cameras. So I thought, maybe there is one in my room because you’re a fucking control freak. Low and behold I was right, but it didn’t work how I planned it to.” You fold your arms over your chest and he chuckles. “What’s so funny?”

“You.”

“Me? How is any of this funny?”

“What kind of person thinks that masturbating on camera is going to get someone’s attention? No, seriously, why wouldn’t you try flash signalling the cameras in the halls? Set up a cue card with a message? Who says I’m gonna fuck myself for my bosses attention?”

You take in a deep breath and clench your jaw. He’s right, kind of. You hate it but he is. In any other situation you never would have done this. So why did you? Why did your brain go straight to exhibitionism? Because it’s Nathan and you’ve got it bad for him and you wanted him to see you. He’s got your brain just as fucked up as he has his own.

“It was wrong, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Nope.” He kicks his legs hanging over the desk. “I wanna know if you liked that dildo.”

“It was fine I guess.”

“Not too much?”

“Nathan, why do you fucking care?”

He hops off the desk and shakes his head as he heads into the lab. “I’m curious is all!”

“You’re a freak!”

“And yet you still like me!”

“I’m starting to wonder why.” You push up out of the chair, close the playback on the computer and leave the office. You’re covering that stupid camera and throwing that dildo in the trash chute. You should have known he’d get some weird complex out of watching you say his fucking name while plowing yourself with a toy. In a weird way it turns you on, but it also pisses you off because he won’t actually admit that he liked it. He won’t ever admit anything.

_____________________

“Can I ask you something?” You say to Nathan as he sits beside you on the couch. You’re in the lounge together, dinner long over, watching a movie as you wind down for the evening. He’s got his arm around the back of the cushions and your legs are pulled up under you, feet pressed against his thigh. You’re close, but not too close.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Don’t be a dick for ten minutes please.”

Nathan holds his hand up in defense. “Ten minutes. Shoot.”

“Promise you won’t be a dick? For real?”

“Yes. Ask me the damn question.”

You take a deep breath, knowing what you’re about to ask is going to be rough on him. “When we were on our hikes a few weeks ago, you said it wasn’t that you don’t want me, it’s that you can’t have me. What does that mean?”

Nathan stares ahead at the movie on the tv over the fireplace. A moment passes, a moment that is too long and makes the room fill with awkward tension. You expected this.

“Gonna stay quiet for the ten minutes you aren’t going to be a dick?”

“Shut up.” He says softly, no venom in the words.

You stare at him expectantly, awaiting a better answer than just shut up. “Seriously, would you just-”

Nathan’s arm comes up from the back on the couch and his hand catches the back of your head, dragging you closer to him as he presses a kiss to your lips. Your blood boils in the best way and you chase his lips as he pulls away. “That’s all it takes to shut you up?”

“Answer my question. Ten minutes aren’t up.”

“I can’t have you because you’re going to leave. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day you’re going to leave.”

“I’m not leaving Nathan.”

He scoffs. “So if I stopped paying you to be my assistant, you would stay?”

“Yes.”

"You're fucked up." He shakes his head. "You're fucked up and it's my fault."

You stare at him at a loss for words. Did he just admit fault for something? Are you hearing this correctly? Is Nathan Bateman, tech genius and egotistical maniac admitting he has done something? Holy shit.

"I did this to you. I made you stay here and endure my mood swings and drinking and all my shit. I stockholm syndrome'd you and I didn't even realize it." He leans his head back and closes his eyes. "You don't deserve this."

"Nathan, you didn't make me stay here. I chose to stay."

"Where the fuck were you going to go? Run off into the woods for days and days until you hope to find someone? What option did you have? I trapped you here. I've kept you caged in this house like an animal."

You lay your hand over his and he grabs it, threading your fingers together. "You don't think someone could actually love you, do you?"

"What?"

"You don't think someone could fall in love with you because you're insecure. You push people away, you push me away because you think it's easier than letting yourself feel something for someone."

Nathan looks pissed but he holds his tongue.

"I'm not trapped here, you aren't twisting my arm and making me stay here against my will. I know what I signed up for, I know what I signed in those contracts. I could have told you to fuck off and shove your head up your ass months ago and taken a helicopter back into the city. I could have just run away on any one of my dozen grocery runs in the last several months. But did I?"

"No."

"Why is that?"

"I don't fucking know."

You lay the hand not held in his, on to his cheek and turn his face to make him look at you. "Because I love you, Nathan."

"No you don't."

"Yes, I do. You're a real son of a bitch sometimes and I want to break your nose and choke you to death every once in a while but I care. I care about you, about your work, about your life. I want to be here, I want to be a part of your life Nathan. You don't have to be afraid. I'm not going anywhere."

Nathan gets up and you hold your joined hands tightly.

"Don't run away damn it!"

"I'm not! Would you let go!"

"I swear to fucking God if you lock yourself in that lab again I am going to get a battering ram."

He takes his glasses off and presses them into your palm. "Take these as collateral. I'll be right back."

You sit back on the couch and glare at his form as it disappears into the house. You clean his glasses carefully with the edge of your shirt and set them on the coffee table. He has to come back for them, he's as blind as a bat without them.

Nathan returns shortly with a small box. "I made these." He hands you the box and you open it as he puts his glasses back on. Inside are two black bands, rings.

"I don't understand."

"I made them because I know I can be difficult." He plucks one from the box. "They track the wearers vitals, change colors based on varying indicators, and they will work no matter how far apart they are."

"You made high tech mood rings."

He shoots you a glare. "I made them for you." He places the ring in his hand into your palm. "So you will know that I'm alright when I'm working long hours. I know I'm not the easiest to read and I don't have the easiest time expressing myself sometimes."

You put the ring on and it lights up a soft pink color. The moment Nathan slips his over his finger you can feel a soft steady pulse coming from the ring. "Is that your heartbeat?"

"Yeah." He holds his hand out and you can see his band is the same color pink. "I'll give you a breakdown on all the colors and functions later, but pink means the body is at ease."

"Do you love me? Just tell me, straight up no games."

"Yeah." He cups your cheek and brings you in for a kiss. "I love the shit out of you."

You break away from his kiss and press your foreheads together. "Can I ask just one more question?"

"Fire away."

"Is the dildo a mold of your dick?"

A smile spreads across his face and you already know the answer before he says it. "It is."

"You're a freak."

"And you absolutely love it."

You smile as he presses his lips to yours and pulls you over into his lap. "I guess I do."

The end

Please reblog if you read or like. Thank yo so much for reading! -A

Header by the lovey talented delicate-venus

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

#nathan bateman #nathan bateman fic #ex machina fic #ex machina #ex machina movie #ex machina fanfic #ex machina fanfiction #Oscar Issac #oscar issac fic

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bethhxrmon · 4 years

Text

do flowers exist at night? -chapter six

Chapter Six: That Would Be Enough

Pairing: Steve Harrington x OC

Chapter Summary: After the events of the Upside Down, there is nothing to do except try to recover. Both Steve and Annie learn that they don’t have to do it alone.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Swearing, panic attacks, mental breakdowns, pining if you squint?

A/N: Howdy, we’re really getting into the more original parts of this fic so I hope you guys vibe with this! And if you do vibe with this chapter, I would love to hear your thoughts!! Also, if you need the rest of the story it is right here.

~*~*~*~

Steve sat on the edge of the bathtub, ice pack in hand. It was pressed up against his eye. Every few minutes it alternated from the top of his head to his eye. As many times as Annie tried to insist that he go to the hospital, he was against it. That left her insisting on taking care of him after everything. After all, she already had her things at his house, and she wasn’t too keen on going home.

The gate was closed, but that didn't mean she trusted her house. Besides, was it such a bad thing to not want to be alone? Plus, she would have to find Erik somewhere in his house first. Annie didn't know if Steve really wanted to just be by himself or not, but she was sure that if she was alone for too long that the realities of the night would swallow her whole. Everything from the demodogs to Billy to the tunnels left her longing to crawl into a hole and never come back. She didn't even want to think about everything with Billy.

"Okay, so... I don't know how this works so I'm sorry if it stings," Annie said, kneeling down so she could dab a damp washcloth on Steve's face.

He nodded, letting her press the towel to his skin, "What happened?"

"Um... Billy saw the kids through the window and he shoved you down. Right as he was about to beat the shit out of Lucas, you stepped in. You um... you almost had it too," she paused, hesitating when she felt him wince at her touch, "Then he broke a plate over your head and... and it was over from there."

Steve clenched his jaw to keep from moving away from Annie. How he was feeling was beyond her. All she knew was that something got knocked loose in there because he asked the question more than once. She couldn't bring herself to say that, though. For the most part, he was still there. That had to be enough.

There was a hand cupping her cheek and she yanked her head back, "How'd ya get cut up like that?"

"It's nothing... I got him off of you."

That was her explanation of choice. No need to explain trying to fight and getting pinned to the floor. She didn't even want to think about how she couldn't move. How Billy said those things. How there was something against her leg. How she knew what it was but she couldn't bring herself to say it. She wanted to forget the feeling of his mouth on her neck. Though, most importantly, she wasn't going to tell Steve. There was enough going through his head without her adding anything else.

He frowned and cringed as Annie turned to put some peroxide on his face, "I lost Nancy... didn't I?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "You did. Steve, I-"

"She didn' love me before... she wanted Jonathan," he closed his eyes when Annie accidentally got some soap on a cut.

She drew back, "Sorry... um yeah, I guess she did."

"It's 'cause I'm bullshit. She's right. I can't even watch a few fuckin' kids right."

Annie clutched the towel in her hand and she cupped his face with her other hand, "You're not bullshit, Steve. You did everything you could, okay? If it weren't for you, Lucas could be dead. Nancy doesn't know what she wants and the fact that she just ditched you like this is what's really bullshit here. You deserve the world and you can't convince me any different."

There was a long pause between them. For a moment, she thought Steve was going to ask her to leave. He didn't, he just stared at her and she stared right back. Her dark brown eyes looked at his rather confused ones. A part of her swore he looked at her lips, but maybe that was because she looked at his. Maybe she leaned up just a slight bit, but she quickly turned away to grab the ointment on the bathroom counter.

"Are ya gonna tell me how you got that cut?" he asked as she dodged his attempt to touch her face again.

She gave a weak smile, "You don't need to worry about that. I'm just... I'm glad you made it."

Even the thought of kissing Steve was stupid in hindsight. Would he even remember? Did a part of him think she was Nancy? She had no clue, and she probably only wanted to do that because she almost lost him. Had he died, she would have lost her one friend. Though, she didn't lose him. Instead, she was patching him up after that awful fight.

There was nothing Annie wanted more than to walk to Billy's house and stab him to death. Something to make him understand the pain he caused her. The way he laughed at Steve falling and at her being underneath him were sounds she couldn't get out of her head. Right up there with the screeching of those monsters. What would have happened if Max hadn't thought to use the anesthetic?

"Hey, I'm gonna take a shower," Steve said, moving to stand up.

Annie stood up as well, staring up at him, "Absolutely not. You're not standing for that long. You should probably take a bath."

"Alright, fine," he said, nodding for her to go.

She moved to leave the bathroom before turning back, "Um... can I use your phone? I need to call my mom."

"Yeah, it's downstairs in the living room."

Annie left the bathroom that connected to Steve's bedroom and closed the door. His grey bomber jacket was covering most of her body. When they dropped the kids off at the Byers', she stayed in the car. She must have been shaking like a leaf because Steve wouldn't take no for an answer. It smelled like him, meaning it didn't smell like Billy and that was enough.

The sound of running water could be heard from the bathroom as she laid down on his bed. How was she supposed to go to school ever again?

Looking at the clock, it was nearly two in the morning. Oddly enough, she didn't feel tired in the slightest. Maybe that was because the last time she carelessly fell asleep, she woke up to a bunch of slugs crawling all over her.

Would her mom even want to hear from her right now? It was obviously late. Still, if she didn't call her now, there was a chance that she wouldn't be able to do it later.

By the time she made up her mind, the water had stopped running a while ago. She crept out of Steve's room. They agreed to leave every single light on. It gave Steve a massive headache, but neither of them wanted to deal with what could be in the shadows. If only there was something she could do to make Steve feel completely better. There wasn't more she could do, though. Nothing aside from trying to be there for him.

Still, she couldn't help thinking that she was just bothering him. That he probably just wanted to be left alone. After all, she didn't know him very well. Their entire friendship was based on trying to help him with his girlfriend. Now that he and Nancy were no more, she was sure that after all this, Steve wouldn't want anything to do with her.

Which she understood. After all, she was the one calling her mom at two in the morning when the woman was sleeping in a hotel room hours away. That had to be annoying, but her mom was the only person who would have truly missed her had she died.

There were a few rings before the hotel lobby picked up her call and then transferred it to her mom's room. Annie twirled the cord around her index finger as she waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello?" answered a groggy voice.

Annie couldn't help smiling, "Mom, hey."

"Annette? Do you know what time it is?"

"Right... yeah, sorry-"

"Is something wrong, did something happen? Do you need me to come home, I can make that work," there was rustling on the other line.

"No, no... sorry I um- I had a- a bad dream. It was really bad and I just needed to hear your voice. Sorry, Mom."

Annie could hear a long sigh, "Are you sure that's it?"

"Yeah, I just called to let you know I love you," she said, tears pricking her eyes.

"I love you too, Annie. But you're sure that's all?"

A tear fell from her eyes, but she kept her voice clear, "That's it."

"Okay, go get some more sleep. I love you so much, goodnight."

The other end clicked off and Annie set the phone on the receiver. Her hands covered her mouth as she felt more tears coming on. How was she supposed to deal with this? What was she supposed to do?

She bent over, her shoulders sagging as she sobbed. Everything circled her mind. From her dad to the kids at school to the demodogs to Billy right back to those awful monsters and almost losing Steve and the kids. It all repeated itself in her mind. Suddenly there were arms wrapped around her and she couldn't even register that she was screaming until she realized just how much her throat hurt.

"Hey, hey, Annie. It's just me. I'm so sorry, it's just me, I-I'm not gonna hurt you," Steve rambled, quick to let go of her as she struggled to get away.

The way her body shook made her fall on the floor, seated on the carpet as she cried. Steve could only watch as she moved away from him when he tried to touch her again.

Her head was buried in her hands, wishing she could just disappear again. This was probably more than Steve knew what to do with. He probably would want her to just head out. After all, he had been through enough without her screaming and crying.

Except, he never said anything. Eventually she stopped crying and she looked at him. There was just a look of pure concern etched on his face as he crouched down to be at her level.

She was quick to wipe her tears, "Sorry, I um- I didn't know-"

"What did he do?" he asked, "Hargrove did something to you. I might have a concussion, but I'm not stupid. What happened after I passed out?"

Annie shook her head, "Nothing. I got him off of you. That's all you need to-"

"No, enough of that. You're not gonna hurt me by telling me what actually happened. Now what did he do?"

She looked at the carpet as tears started to form again, "I-I um, well, you have to understand, he wouldn't stop punching you after you passed out. I-I thought he was gonna kill you, and- and I took my knife and I had it on his throat. But- well, you see, he's stronger than me and we were fighting for it and he um... he cut me with it."

Her voice cracked and she wiped a few more tears, "I was pinned to the ground, I couldn't move and he was hard and- and pressed against me andIdon'tknowwhathewasgonnado."

"I'm gonna fucking kill him," Steve shook his head, "C'mere."

Annie wrapped her arms around Steve, sobbing into his chest, "I- you can't! He-he'll kill you first!"

"Hey, I'm fine," he said, holding her close, but making sure that if she needed to move away she could.

Annie looked up at Steve, "Have you seen yourself?"

"Okay, that's rude," he said, rubbing circles in her back, "But no one gets to do that shit to you... and I'm sorry I wasn't-"

"Don't do that. It's not your fault and I'd do it all over again if it saved you."

Steve frowned, looking over the cut on her cheek again, "I know, and I also know that I don't know you that well, but we've been through enough that you can come to me with anything."

"Thanks..." she said, unsure of what was left to be say, so she pulled back from him.

He stood up, offering a hand to help her stand that she took, "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

She simply nodded, pulling Steve's jacket around herself. It was something that didn't smell like Billy. Her clothes smelled like him still. No, she didn't love that the jacket smelled like demodogs or the Upside Down, but it was the better option.

Soon enough, Annie was under the shower head in Steve's bathroom. He was out in the bedroom and he promised he wouldn't leave in case she needed anything. Though, even if she did need something, she doubted that she would ask anything. After everything tonight, he had helped her enough. More importantly, she wasn't about to have him do anything when he was so injured. He should be in a hospital right now, but she knew he probably wouldn't hear it if she tried to push it.

Instead of thinking about that, her focus was scrubbing off everything from that day that she possibly could. Those demodogs, Billy, the tunnels, almost dying, almost watching other people die, everything she could think of. No amount of soap was enough to make her forget or enough to make her feel clean either.

Nevertheless, Annie made sure to go through her long, dark hair with two latherings of shampoo and she scrubbed her skin until some parts were raw. It wasn't until the water started to turn cold that she finally stopped the shower. None of it was enough.

There was steam on the mirror that she wiped away to get a good look at herself. As cliche as it was, Annie couldn't recognize the person in front of her to save her life. Her eyes just looked so dead and haunted. Of all the things that got her, it had to be this one night.

A little bit longer and Annie was back in Steve's room in pajama pants and an over-sized t-shirt. Steve sat on the edge of the bed and patted the spot next to him. She sat there, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt.

"You should be asleep," she said, looking down.

Steve shrugged, pulling his arm away when he moved to put an arm around her, "Didn't know where you'd wanna sleep. You know, if you wanted a guest room or something."

"Mhm... well, I don't wanna be alone for tonight. If you don't mind."

"Not at all, that's fine. I'll just take the floor."

Annie scoffed, "Absolutely not. You've got a concussion on top of getting dumped and almost dying. The least you deserve is to sleep in your own bed."

"Yeah, well- well you're the guest and so you get the bed," he insisted.

She thought a minute before sighing, "Then we should just share the bed."

"Sorry, what?!"

Annie laughed a bit, "I'm not about to let you sleep on the floor and you're not gonna let up either. We may as well just share. Your bed's large enough for both of us to have our own sides. It's not a huge deal."

"Oh, well, when you put it like that, yeah, I guess you're right."

It was settled and they were both soon under the covers. Before this, Annie didn't realize just how exhausted she felt. She was turned so her back was facing Steve, and she hoped he was already asleep.

Sleep came to her so quickly and before she knew it, there was already sunlight in the room. They never turned off the lights, but Annie was quick to turn over and go back to sleep for a little while longer. Admittedly, she was a bit sore in places, and she couldn't imagine how Steve felt.

Upon officially waking up, Annie was finally able to look around Steve's room. It was something she had been too preoccupied to do the night before. Needless to say, the matching plaid curtains and walls were less than appealing. The bowling pin on his desk stood out to her the most. She sat up to ask Steve, but realized she was the only one in the room.

She headed downstairs, bowling pin in hand, where she could hear someone in the kitchen. Already aware that the Harringtons were rarely home, she automatically assumed it was Steve. He was the person she saw upon reaching the kitchen. He had yet to notice her presence and was humming to himself as he worked on breakfast. It seemed to be pancakes, and she stood by the wall and watched for a little bit.

"Um... care to explain this?" Annie asked.

Steve jumped ten feet in the air, "Jesus Christ, Annie! You can't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry, I thought you would've heard me, but seriously, what's with this?" she said, waving the bowling pin.

He shrugged, "What about it?"

"What's it doing in your room? Your room, by the way, is a total wreck! I don't know how you deal with those walls and curtains. This pin doesn't even make sense, like, do you bowl or some shit?"

He looked at her and suddenly had a rather somber look on his face, "Well, the bowling pin was my grandpa's. After he came back from the war... well, he took up bowling and that pin was his most prized possession."

"You're kidding me."

He glared, "I would never kid about that! It's really important, it makes me think I can accomplish anything."

"Oh shit, well, jeez, I'm sorry I feel like such a dick."

Then Steve started laughing, "I got you good! Admit it, book girl!"

"Oh, you suck!" she exclaimed, lightly hitting him with the bowling pin.

It seemed to be an unspoken agreement between both of them to not say anything about what happened the night before. They weren't survivors of awful circumstances, but rather a couple of good friends simply hanging out over the weekend. Neither would bring up the demodogs or tunnels unless the other one did first.

Besides, none of that was important at the moment. They deserved a break from that. If having some pancakes and making some coffee was the first step in processing everything, Annie was fine with that. A part of her was aware that not talking about this was what screwed Steve over with Nancy, but if they both seemed content to not say anything, she figured they would be fine. After all, they were just friends hanging out.

"What do you want in your coffee?" she asked, pouring two cups before going to get some milk and sugar.

Steve shrugged, "I just take it black. You know, it's best that way."

"If you say so," she said, handing him a mug.

As she fixed up her own cup, she watched as Steve went to take a solid drink from the mug. He didn't swallow, but instead rushed to the sink to spit it out. Annie couldn't stop herself from laughing.

"If you didn't like coffee, you could've just said," she laughed.

Steve gave a frustrated sigh, "No, it's... I've never had it before."

"Then you don't wanna have it black," she replied, taking his mug and fixing it with a fair amount of milk and sugar, "Now try."

This time, Steve took a tentative sip before nodding, "You're good at that."

"Thanks," she smiled, "I've always thought it was better that way."

A few hours later and Annie was doing a bit of damage control regarding Steve getting dumped. It only officially happened around twelve hours before, and he really had loved her. She had no problem with hugging him whenever he started crying when they tried watching a movie. It didn't help that he would complain about having a headache either. They could watch movies another time, though.

If only Nancy had some idea of the pain she had caused, Annie wasn't sure that would have even been enough for her. Of course, it was hard to watch Steve go through what he had and not think that he didn't deserve so much better. As douchey as the school tried to make him sound, she didn't see it.

She let out a small sigh, "You know what I think you need?"

"What?" he asked, looking at her with red eyes.

She got up and went to her bag and dug around before pulling out a mix-tape, "Some good, old-fashioned breakup music."

"I thought I told you to bring important stuff with you."

"My mix-tapes are very important."

"You forgot a jacket."

"Would you shut up and let me put this in your boombox? I promise this is gonna be super therapeutic."

He scoffed, "And you know that how?"

"Hey, before you got dumped by Nancy, I've had many failed relationships!"

Annie popped in a tape titled, "just got dumped, send help!" and pressed play. There was a grin on her face when she heard the opening notes for "Mamma Mia" fill Steve's room. He simply looked up from the bed and stared at her.

"Come on, I know you know the words!" she pressed, going to pull him up from the bed.

Steve rolled his eyes, "I don't know ABBA."

"You know their name, come on, you don't have anyone to impress," she said.

That was all it took to get him to at least sing along to the chorus with her. Just like she suspected, he knew the song. They both danced around the room to the remainder of the song before flopping back on his bed, laughing.

It was easier to just dance around and sing in their pajamas much to her cat's chagrin. There wasn't much they could say to each other that would really express how they felt about what they went through. Instead, they just sat around Steve's room, knowing that he probably wasn't in any shape to do much for the next day at the very least. That was fine with the both of them, though. All of this beat being alone by a long shot.

Taglist (if you wanna be added, please tell me!!!): @dungeons-and-demodogs @jxnehxpper @ilovebucketbarnes

#steve harrington #steve harrington x original character #steve harrington x oc #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things 3 #stranger things 2 #stranger things x original character #stranger things x oc #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington angst #stranger things angst #hurt/comfort #dfean?

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ks-caster · 4 years

Text

The Future is Infinite (Chapter 6)

Chapter-Specific Warnings: moderately graphic gore, non-graphic magical torture

Start || Previous

Navigating around rivulets of lava probably should have been a little more thrilling than it was. Wong had dropped them off on a hillside, a 5-minute walk from where Nebula’s sensors showed the fleet was parked.

“Why can’t we just magic portal our way inside?” Peter asked when Nebula showed a map of the terrain they’d need to cross.

“The ships’ defenses are designed with portals in mind,” Nebula explained curtly. “Nothing short of the Bifrost or the Space Stone itself could penetrate.”

Nebula led them towards the huge ship, and the fleet of smaller vessels being released from it to open their fueling vents - each taking a turn docking at a more permanent-looking structure built into the side of a gently spewing volcano. Octavia felt half-naked, running around an alien planet in casual clothes and ballet flats, nothing but a barely-visible forcefield between her and enough heat to melt lead on contact. She knew that her armor wouldn’t really protect her in this scenario, but she would have felt better, having it on. The comforting weight of her sword at her back was small consolation.

The four of them crouched behind a rocky outcropping, discussing how best to get to the detention area of the ship without being detected. Octavia kept watch, listening while her eyes tracked everything that moved around them. Some of the smaller ships were triangular, and others were massive loops.

“Just make sure you stay out of grabbing range,” Nebula reminded Peter. “If they rip the field pod off your back, you’ll cook in your suit in minutes.”

“West side of the fleet, start causing a distraction in 5 minutes, meet back here, don’t get cooked. Got it,” Peter listed before slipping around the rocks and running, low and fast, to get to the designated distraction point. Wong wrapped a web of golden light around himself, and when the light dimmed, he was barely visible. Octavia scuffed out the map Nebula had drawn in the dirt, and all three of them ran quietly towards the Sanctuary II.

-0-

It didn’t take long at all to slip onto the massive ship; Nebula lead them unerringly to a supply room where they slipped into whatever armor they could find to camouflage themselves. Like the kings of old, she’d described while drawing the map, Thanos had designed his ship with servant passageways, so that the people bringing his breakfast and mopping up the training rooms wouldn’t need to be visible among the warriors and allies who he believed deserved to be there.

“What a prick,” Peter had muttered, sounding very, very young even through his suit. As Octavia followed the blue woman through the detention level of the ship, she finally understood why Nebula had insisted that Peter be the distraction, rather than using his stealth skills with the team and letting Octavia run around and kill people outside.

No child, no matter how powerful, belonged anywhere near here.

They took care to keep their steps measured and even, soldiers marching in a familiar direction, following familiar orders. It was difficult not to look between the bars; to glimpse the faces of the poor souls trapped here. Maybe they should have brought the whole team, Octavia thought, her heart twisting. But, she reminded herself, there wouldn’t have been near enough space suits to rescue this many people.

When they defeated Thanos, that would have to be rescue enough.

The codes were changed out regularly, according to Nebula’s briefing, but they followed a predictable pattern. They had to, when one had so many dumb lackeys wandering around the ship, she’d added, lip curling in disgust. Her deft metal fingers typed a code in on a pad, and the door to what she’d described as the high-profile section whirred open. The three of them marched in, and Octavia had to work to control her breathing when the door clanged shut behind them. She wasn’t trapped, she reminded herself sternly - Nebula had given her the code to get out, and if that didn’t work, she could always just kill people until someone opened the door to escape. She swallowed, squared her shoulders, and followed Nebula to the little electrical room directly next to the main interrogation cell.

Octavia and Wong were silent as Nebula carefully untangled wires, plugging one and then another into ports in her forearm. The woman’s eyes were unfocused, her shoulders and jaw just a bit too set, and her breathing far too shallow for Octavia to believe she was okay. Maybe Strange had assumed she had PTSD because so many other people around him clearly did, she thought, remembering Stark barely staving off a breakdown. Wong reached up a hand and gently clasped Nebula’s shoulder, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into her skin.

Octavia leaned against the wall, where she could just peer out the door and into the cell. She saw Strange, clearly unconscious, on the way in, but they’d ducked away before being spotted by the two beings in the cell with him. From her vantage point, what she could see was a smaller cage, containing what she thought was the Doctor’s red cloak. It was moving, apparently on its own, trying to either break the door open or find a gap in the chain link sides large enough to squeeze through. So far, it was unsuccessful.

“Let me try,” a voice demanded, and a third person entered the cell, the door closing behind him. Out of the corner of Octavia’s eye she saw Wong stiffen, his eyes going wide. She turned to glance at him, frowning.

“Mordo,” he breathed. “Old friend…” he didn’t sound at all sure of the ‘friend’ part.

“Wizard?” Nebula whispered, as a few sharp slaps and a gasp heralded Strange being revived. Wong nodded.

“Quite a spell,” Mordo complimented, and Octavia could see the flying orange sparks and warm glow in the air that accompanied magic. The cloak’s agitation grew; it nearly knocked its cage off the table, and one of the original interrogators walked over and punched it back into place. “The trouble with a spell like this is, it’s all or nothing. Your very essence is feeding into it.”

“That was the idea,” Strange grit out. “Even if I die, removing the last vestiges of it from my corpse will take years.”

“Of course, of course,” Mordo crooned, and then Strange let out a choked cry. “But why would I break the spell when I can do this instead? The bill comes due, Strange…”

“Fire suppression system activating in 5, 4, 3,” Nebula counted quietly, and Wong waved his hands, summoning a long rod of golden light.

The buzzing screech of the alarm would have knocked Octavia off her feet if she hadn’t been braced for it. Sprinklers deployed, and Octavia surged out from the hiding place, fingers moving quickly to type in the code before anyone realized something was amiss. The two beings who had been in the cell originally ran out the door right past her, not looking past her stolen armor; they paused a moment once they’d run out a few paces, but before they had the chance to return and demand an explanation, one had met Wong’s magic rod, and Nebula had stabbed the other in the throat.

Mordo had his hand resting near Strange’s lower belly, fingers curled inward, palm up, with some kind of swirling light resting on his skin, and Strange was mid-scream of protest when Octavia’s first strike forced Mordo to dodge, releasing whatever he’d been doing. Nebula flipped a lever and Strange dropped, boneless, from whatever force had suspended him. Octavia caught him as he fell, but Mordo was on them again with a cry of rage.

“Master Mordo,” Wong roared, intercepting him. “You have betrayed the brotherhood of the mystic arts, and your planet of origin.”

“That’s not how I see it,” the other wizard growled, and Octavia’s eyes widened. The gold necklace where Strange kept the time stone was dangling from the man’s fingers. Wong spotted it at the same time she did, and he slashed downward at that arm, but Mordo vaulted backwards, turning to run down the hallway. By now, other guards had realized the source of the disturbance and began to congregate. They opened their ranks to let Mordo through, but then closed again, baring teeth and pulling out weapons.

“Here,” Octavia said, handing over Strange’s dead weight to Nebula. “Get him out. I’ll meet you at the rendezvous point in 20 minutes.”

“Octavia,” Wong started from where he was hurriedly releasing the sentient cloak from its cage, but she cut him off.

“I need you to do what you do best,” she said quietly, pulling out her sword and whirling it in an arc of sharp steel. “And let me do what I do best.”

Killing had always come more easily to her than rescue, hadn’t it?

-0-

The alien soldiers were weak. But god, there was no end to them. Nebula and Wong had gotten Strange safely back into the servants’ passages, and Octavia had defended the entrance until too many bodies had piled up around her for either her or the attackers to get much fighting done. After that, she turned and ran, the rabid horde chasing after her as she threaded her way through the maze that was the detention level.

Nebula had suggested a couple of exit points, in case everything went to hell; one of them was a small intake hangar where captured shuttles were impounded while their crews were killed or imprisoned. She made for it, but the creatures headed her off, surrounding her and forcing her to stop and defend herself. Time was ticking by, and she knew they couldn’t wait for her forever; she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that she’d distracted 100% of the army all by herself.

Shuri’s force field seemed to be effective at blocking whatever they were blasting her with out of their guns, but the physical ends of bayonets claws were able to penetrate. However, while she would bleed for a moment when cut, the wounds closed themselves with a dark red glow.

‘How was I making holes in the floor back in the medical center?’ she wondered, and then she was falling - only one story this time, and she landed on her feet.

“Yes!” She hissed, turning to run in the direction she judged the impound to be. The creatures followed her, snapping and roaring and clawing their way along the walls when there was no more room for them to run side by side. She slowed to turn a corner, and with an ominous whistle, a thrown dagger sliced through the air - and impaled the pod stuck to her back.

The pain of the blow and the jarring feel and smell of the ship without the forcefield around her slowed her down for a moment - long enough for a blast of blue light to hit the back of her calf, the pain searing up her leg and causing her to trip.

But instead of hitting the cold metal floor, she fell into the arms of a woman clad in bloodstained white armor.

-0-

“Is he okay? Why isn’t he waking up?” Peter was demanding, the eyes of his suit tiny red points as the Instant Kill function kept off their pursuers.

“Whatever spell Mordo hit him with, it did a number on his magic,” Wong responded, angling the round shield he’d conjured and spinning it to slice two of the attackers in half. “I’m going to take us the roundabout way to the meeting place,” he announced, opening the first of a series of portals placed strategically to split the horde up chasing them.

“What about Octavia?” Peter exclaimed, jumping through the first only to swing out and bash an alien soldier right in the chest, landing him on top of two of his comrades.

-0-

“I can run on my own,” Octavia gasped after the woman had helped her limp a few steps. She’d been holding a large gun, and laid down enough cover fire that they had a few seconds to breathe - and gave the Reality Stone enough time to put Octavia’s leg back together. “I heal quick,” she explained as she took her own weight back and they ran side by side towards the hanger. She vaguely recognized the woman - she’d been in one of the cells when they’d first entered. She must’ve used all the chaos of the breakout to escape herself.

“Do you have transport off-planet?” the woman asked, pausing a moment to shoot behind them.

“A wizard is making a portal in about ten minutes,” Octavia responded, pulling the small handheld alien gun out of the holster in her stolen armor and trying to fire back. It clicked uselessly.

“Safety, on the back,” the woman instructed. “Press twice, wait for the light to go on.”

This time the weapon sent out a jet of blue light and a creature fell to its death.

“All of the captured ships have homing technology installed in them,” she continued as they arrived at the hanger and Octavia disabled the guard with a powerful roundhouse kick. “So I hope your wizard can do his bit.” She pressed a few buttons and the outer door opened - bringing with it a wave of heat that had Octavia falling to her knees with a cry.

Right. No force field.

She hyperventilated, inflating her lungs and hoping that whatever this woman was, she could survive the climate long enough to catch up with Wong and the others. Apparently it was time to test the“functional immortality” bit of sharing her body with an infinity stone.

-0-

“She should be back by now,” Nebula growled, pacing back and forth behind the rocky outcropping where they’d met to discuss their initial plan. According to her internal chronometer, it had been 23 minutes since Octavia had said 20, and while she understood that people without a computer for a brain rarely meant time as specifically as she did, that made it hard to judge how long to wait for her.

“We can wait a few more minutes,” Wong said in a deliberately calm tone. He’d led their pursuers on a wild, backtracking chase before hiding them away behind the rocks, using his magic to make them unnoticeable. “Until they find us, we’re safe here.”

“Where’s the sticky boy?” Nebula asked suddenly, frowning at their surroundings.

-0-

If this was what Primefiya had felt like, Octavia resolved to treat Clarke with a little more respect from now on. Her skin was burning off and healing simultaneously, and she could tell that whatever the other woman was, she wasn’t having such a good time of it either. Barely able to see straight, Octavia stumbled forward, trying to keep the part of the ship they’d originally approached behind her and hoping that the pursuing soldiers had assumed they’d stayed onboard. She didn’t know how long she could fight in this state if she had to.

She caught sight of the specific group of rocks they were aiming for just as she heard the screech of one of the creatures. Two small groups of them approaching from different directions. How had they even gotten out here so fast?

The woman shot down one group, but then the gun sputtered and died, out of power. Octavia pulled out her own gun, but she could barely aim it. She couldn’t breathe, could barely stand to keep her eyes open…

“Hey ass-holes!” a familiar voice shouted, and the creatures turned just in time to see Peter swinging from one of his webs which he’d attached to the outer wing of the ship. They didn’t even have time to dodge the spider-leg-like extensions from his suit.

“Nice job, kid,” she rasped before collapsing. The woman in white caught her, and between her and Peter, they supported her back to the portal.

To Be Continued...

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thisdiscontentedwinter · 5 years

Text

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 6

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here.

The way Stiles figures it, the Alpha is the heart of the problem. As long as the Alpha is out there wanting both Derek and Scott to turn into mindless killing machines, that makes the Argents a problem too. Maybe they’ll back off when the Alpha is out of the picture? Although the amount of times Derek has been shot or stabbed, that’s a big maybe. There’s not a lot of love lost there, clearly. But the Alpha is still the biggest problem. And Stiles has no idea who it is.

He keeps circling back around to Deaton, Scott’s boss at the vet clinic, because Deaton is developing this habit of just kind of being in the vicinity when werewolf shit goes down. And when he talks, he’s always saying more than his words, even if Stiles doesn’t know exactly what he’s saying. He knows something, that’s for sure.

Except…

Except Scott works with Deaton three afternoons a week, and every Saturday. So if Deaton is really the Alpha, why hasn’t he taken the opportunity to get Scott to do his evil bidding or exert his mind control or whatever the fuck it is that Alphas do, when Scott is right there? Deaton is shady as fuck, basically, but him being the Alpha doesn’t quite add up.

Stiles has always loved solving puzzles, but when literally every person in town is a potential suspect? It’s not as easy as Law and Order makes it look, is all he’s saying. Despite his best efforts, Stiles is not going to solve this in forty-five minutes plus ad breaks.

He needs to know more about the Alpha’s victims. The bus driver, and the two guys drinking in the woods… Because if the Alpha is batshit insane, why haven’t there been more killings? Why isn’t he out there in broad daylight tearing people apart?

So maybe there’s a pattern, right?

Maybe there’s an actual motive.

He really needs to get a look at Dad’s reports.

Unfortunately, Dad knows better than to bring that stuff home, and has ever since Stiles was nine, helped himself to some light reading, and then asked Dad over dinner what carnal abuse was.

So now Dad’s files stay at work, and Stiles is pretty sure the laptop he brings home is password protected to NSA levels. Which leaves him with no choice—he needs to get to Dad’s files at the station, and copy them.

Stella, of course, is happy to help. For all that she’s a tattletale whenever Stiles is keeping secrets from her, all he needs to do to buy her undying loyalty is to make her an accomplice.

“You got this, Batgirl?” he asks when they pull up at the Sheriff’s Department.

She gives him the thumbs up. “Got it!”

Nobody has ever accused Stiles of stealthiness, or even subtlety, so lucky he’s got Stella to act as a distraction. She barrels into the station talking a mile a minute—she gets that from him—and straight into the bullpen, where she finds Dad and a few of the deputies, and proceeds to spin a tale about how mean one of the boys was at school today, and how he pulled her hair. Her outrage is palpable, and she adds the icing to the cake by announcing, “And Mrs. Svensen, she was the teacher on playground duty, said that he must have done it because he likes me. But I don’t like it when he pulls my hair! It’s not fair!”

Stiles slips away into the file room.

He finds the files on the recent killings, and photographs the pages using his phone. Even the autopsy reports, although they make his stomach churn. He does the same to Laura Hale’s file—stopping once and freezing when he hears footsteps passing—and then, more on instinct than anything else, looks for the file on the Hale house fire.

It’s huge.

Three massive folders stuffed with papers, and there’s no way Stiles will be able to copy it all.

Not in the few minutes he has left, anyway.

He doesn’t allow himself a moment to second-guess what is probably a monumentally stupid thing to do. Just unzips his backpack, shoves the file inside, and zips it up again.

By the time he gets back to the bullpen, Tara is showing Stella how to stomp on a guy’s foot and knee him in the balls in one smooth movement.

It’s sort of hot, but that’s Tara all over.

“Want to be my guinea pig, Stiles?” she asks him with a smile, fingers hooked into the utility belt hanging off her hips, and Stiles tries very hard not to think about what it would feel like with her hands touching him. Like, he’s pretty sure it’d be worth getting kneed in the balls.

He feels his face burn. “Um… I… um. What?”

“Back to work everyone!” Dad says suddenly, putting a hand on Stiles’s shoulder and steering him firmly away from his humiliating inability to speak in actual sentences right now. “So, what did you two drop in for anyway?”

Stella skips alongside them. “Stiles is taking me to the hospital, but I wanted to see you first.”

“The hospital?”

“My Reading in the Community program!”

“Oh, right,” Dad says. He looks at his watch. “What time does that finish?”

“Five,” Stiles says. Now he’s out of Tara’s sight he can apparently remember how to use his words. “I figured I’d drop her off then go to Scott’s and do some homework before I go back and collect her.”

He’s actually intending to sit in his Jeep in the parking lot and photograph the entire Hale house fire file, but why muddy the waters with truth? Then he can hopefully return it to the station before Dad notices it’s even gone. Not that Dad will notice, right? The Hale house fire was years ago. Why would anyone want to look at the file today suddenly?

Stiles ignores the snarky little voice in his head that reminds him that the obvious connection is Laura Hale, because come on, Dad’s probably already made that connection, and probably already looked over the Hale fire file again recently, and the chances that he needs to do it again in the hour that Stella is at the hospital at miniscule at best, right?

Totally.

This is fine.

Stiles is not going to get busted.

This is fine.

“Sounds good, kid,” Dad says. “I’ll see you both at home for dinner.”

Stiles and Stella escape back into the sunlight.

***

There are four other little kids waiting at the hospital with their moms when Stiles turns up. It’s always a little awkward. Stiles is pretty bad at mom talk. Usually he just slinks to the edge of a space and plays games on his phone until he can escape, but this is a pretty small crowd and it’s hard to get lost in it. Stiles figures most of Stella’s school friends know her deal, but they don’t necessarily tell their parents, because there’s always at least someone who looks at him like ‘Why is this kid here at this thing?’

And Stiles really doesn’t like explaining his life story to strangers.

He’s saved from having to do it today when Stella’s teacher arrives. “Okay, we’re all here! Let’s go and read. Parents, you can pick your kids up from here at five!”

She saves a special smile for Stiles.

Stiles likes Mrs. Lucas, but it’s weird. She’s middle-aged, and it’s weird that she was actually his teacher in elementary school too, and the one big memory he has of her is the time he had a meltdown in class because his mom was going to die, and she took him outside and hugged him and didn’t even complain that he got snot all over her blouse. It’s awkward because he sometimes wonders if that’s her one prevailing memory of him as well, and he always feels like a little kid playing dress-up when he has to interact with her for Stella’s school stuff as like Dad’s proxy.

He smiles and waves as Mrs. Lucas ushers the kids into the hospital, and then dodges the other parents and hurries back to the parking lot.

He’s got an hour to photograph every page of the Hale house fire.

He sets his alarm on his phone and gets to work.

***

“I thought you were going home after the hospital,” Dad says when Stiles and Stella turn up at the station again.

Stella bursts into tears.

She’s not pretending this time.

Stiles watches, hollow-eyed, as Dad pulls her into a hug.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Dad says, rubbing her back and looking at Stiles. “It’s okay, baby girl.”

“She got a coma patient,” Stiles says, his throat aching. “Mrs. Lucas said she was fine with it, but then we got to the car and this happened.”

Dad presses his mouth into a thin line for a moment. “Okay. You don’t need to go back next time, Stella.”

She draws back, tear-stained and affronted. “No! I want to!”

“You want to?” Dad asks, brows raising.

“Mrs. McCall says that it’s not like being asleep. He can still hear me read, so I’m going to do it again.” Her grim determination wavers. “It just makes me sad.”

Dad looks at Stiles, helpless.

Stiles shrugs. “I um, I need the bathroom.”

He’s feeling pretty close to a breakdown himself, after skimming through the Hale house fire file. He’d known, in the abstract, how bad it was. He’d even dealt with the autopsy photographs okay, since none of them looked like actual people as long as he didn’t study them too hard. But it was the other photographs that felt like a stab in the guts. Cora Hale’s yearbook photo. Talia and James Hale with their arms around one another, laughing. Patrick Hale in a little league uniform. Eight of them in total. Eight real people whose lives had been cut short in that fire.

That fire that Derek said had been started by hunters.

By the Argents.

Stiles had looked at the file and felt a chill to the core at the thought of that happening to Scott and Melissa. Happening to someone just because there are werewolves in the family.

He shuffles down the corridor toward the bathroom, taking a quick detour to replace the files in the file room.

He thinks of Derek again as he closes the door and makes his escape.

Thinks of everything that he’s lost.

Scrubs at his face before he returns to Dad and Stella, but it’s okay if Dad thinks he’s been crying too. He knows how Stiles feels when Stella gets hurt.

Dad ends up clocking out early from work.

They get pizza for dinner, because nobody feels like cooking.

They eat on the couch, Stella sandwiched in the middle.

Everything feels strange and fragile, like an itch under his skin, and Stiles hates it.

It’s not fair.

Nothing in the world is far.

Later that night when Stella and Dad are both asleep in their rooms, Stiles eases his bedroom window open, grabs the keys to the Jeep, and climbs out into the night.

Because nothing in the world is fair, and Derek shouldn’t be out there alone.

#sterek #my fics #discontentedwinter #Stella and the Wolf

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prongsno · 6 years

Text

you’re smiling in love (and we’ll sigh so relieved)

(based off a prompt from an anon) James gives Lily a class on kissing, but feelings always get in the way.

(read on ao3, word count: 7038)

James Potter stands with his back leaning against the wall. Muddy feet in a tangle, leaving dirty footprints over the floor. He draws out a shaky breath.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice unsteady. He gives Lily Evans a worried glance and scratches his head. “I mean, don’t you girls have fantasies about first kisses and all?”

He looks like a dream with his windswept hair, rosy cheeks and soaked Quidditch robes clinging to his mud splattered skin. Her heart stops, but only for the briefest of moments.

She wants to say that he is her fantasy. That he is all she ever thinks about… but the words slip by and evaporate when their eyes meet. His gleaming hazel eyes shine, making her body shiver.

She should be screaming in hysterics, going crazy. Her crush, James Freaking Potter, is right here in front of her. And he's about to kiss her.

Yes, there’s the thunderous beat of her heart slapping against her chest when those damned eyes of his look at her; but she’s far too realistic to think that crushes ever end in ‘Happily Ever After’.

“I’m sure,” she says, the slick and smooth tone of her voice surprising her. She clears her throat, giving him what she hopes is a reassuring smile.

She’s doing this to get over him, once and for all.

“It’s just kissing, right?”

“Right,” he mirrors her smile, shadows her laughter. And then he leans in, she does too, and he plops the softest of kisses on her lips.

He pulls back in an instant, it’s a second long if that.

“There,” he says, suddenly interested in the cobbled stonework of the floor, “congratulations. You’ve had your first kiss.”

There are butterflies everywhere and she knows she’s playing with fire when their eyes meet again.

She feels the pull of a smirk. “That’s it?”

He only shakes his head, a small smile tangled between his sweet lips. Then he steps forward once more, brushes a hand against her cheek and pulls her softly towards him.

Her eyes flutter shut and when their lips meet for the second time it’s like she’s been consumed.

This time it’s louder than fireworks, more addictive than butterbeer, hotter than fire.

He wraps an arm around her waist and her hands are in his hair, grasping at the curls that she’s desperately been wanting to play with since she got this stupid crush.

He’s gentle and an earthquake all at once.

Mary blows a bubble in her chewing gum, letting it pop and set against her lips before she pulls the gum with her tongue. Then she blows it again, all the while staring hard at Lily.

“Let me get this straight,” the girl says, resting her hands against her unopened Witch Weekly. “Potter kissed you, for educational purposes?”

Lily sighs. “I was panicking about Chadwell and James, well, wanted to help.”

“By snogging you senseless?”

“I wanted to know what I was getting myself into.”

“That's very unlike you, Lily.” Mary frowns as she flicks open her magazine. “Especially Chadwell, he's an obnoxious mop-bucket.”

“I needed a Non-Potter Distraction. Being friends with him is,” she scowls and scratches her head, “tiring, to say the least.”

“Witch Weekly warns you to stay away from arses like Chadwell y’know.”

Mary taps the cover of her acclaimed magazine with her pinky, pointing at the floating section on the top left side that reads ‘HOW TO KNOW HE’S NOT THE RIGHT WIZARD FOR YOU’.

Lily stabs at a yorkshire pudding with her fork. “I'm only going on a date, not getting married.”

The conversation comes to an abrupt stop when Sirius Black slams his Advanced Potions Making textbook onto the table, looking like he’s still half asleep, and James sits next to her all bleary eyed.

She tries to ignore the way her heart does a somersault.

His hair is ridiculous, all up at the ends like he’s got an animal living in it. It looks soft though, so soft that all she wants to do is just reach out and grab it.

Just like she did then.

He catches her gaze, a red tinge colouring his cheeks and ears before he begins to pour pumpkin juice all over his plate of chicken and vegetables.

There’s a few seconds of silence between them all and James stares down in dismay at what he’s just done.

“Alright, Potter?” Mary asks with an innocent smirk. “Something on your mind?”

“Just worried about our next game, MacDonald. That’s all,” he says and with a lazy flick of his wand the pumpkin and chicken slush disappears.

He starts with his dinner preparation again, this time reaching for some quiche. The plate is right by Lily and he stretches out his arm, brushing against her. Seconds freeze like icicles and she hitches her breath; he doesn’t react.

He’s silent as she shivers and freezes up next to him, there’s not even a response when Mary accidentally spills tea over herself and pushes Lily accidentally into him.

Sirius Black, amidst the chaos of Lily apologising to James and Mary going “Oops, my hand slipped!”, reaches across the table and grabs at Mary’s magazine before she can stop him.

“My my, MacDonald!” he chastises with a cheeky wink, “I never took you for a ‘top ten ways to make wand movements easier’ kind of person.”

A cough from behind them stops Mary from shooting a bat bogey hex at Sirius.

Anthony Chadwell, clad in his Hufflepuff robes, runs a hand through his blonde hair. Suddenly there’s a hyacinth flower in Lily’s face and Chadwell gives them all a sleazy smirk.

Lily blushes, Mary actually chokes on her tea this time, Sirius raises an eyebrow and James is rigid next to her.

“Yo, babe. Are we still okay for Hogsmeade, yeah?” he winks.

“Um, yeah sure. What-”

“Sweet! Laters,” Chadwell grins, finger guns and swaggers off to join his friends at the Hufflepuff table. As soon as he’s out of view Lily throws the flower onto the table.

“I think I’m going to call you babe and Hyacinth from now on.” Mary grins. “Do you think the git even knows your name?”

“He did The Finger Guns,” Sirius shakes his head, laughing. “I wouldn’t count on it.”

She waits until breakfast is almost over, when the Quidditch teams have already left for the pitch, before she finally makes her way to the hall. She doesn’t have the energy to see him right now, that and she doesn’t trust herself not to lunge and kiss him.

“Slept through your alarm did you, Lily?” Peter asks with a sad, understanding smile. He’s already pouring her a glass of pumpkin juice. “James and Dorcas have just gone.”

“Oh, what a shame,” she says, ignoring the knowing looks from the remainder of the group. She plops down next to Mary. “So, did I miss anything important?”

Sirius shrugs, stretching his arms as he lets out a massive yawn. His hand brushes against Mary’s shoulder and they both jump a little.

“Err what did you miss?” he says, cheeks a fiery red as he taps his chin, words spurting out. “James had a mini breakdown, in front of the whole team. Dorcas looked like bloody murder.”

“I think he was hoping a certain someone might’ve been here to cheer him on.” Remus says nonchalantly, glancing up at her with a sly grin as he flicks through The Daily Prophet.

“He was rather jittery.” Mary hums in agreement. “But he's always like that before every match, and more times than not we win.”

There’s a ruckus at the Ravenclaw table when an unsuspecting sixth year gets a howler off their Grandma, the hall turns quiet as the words ‘I CAN’T FIND MY FALSE TEETH’ echo around the walls.

Sirius picks at his toast and gulps down the last of his drink. “He's Minnie’s prized Quidditch Captain after all, I bet she's been praying for a nutter like him since the fifties.”

She doesn’t want to see him in his Quidditch robes.

That scene still flutters throughout her head; the way the robes had clung to his skin, damp and sticky from the practice that Dorcas penned ‘Potter’s Torture Time’.

She’s counting every step that she takes, laughing absently at Sirius’s thirteenth joke of the day as they make their way up to the stands. Seats are filling up quickly and they find a place near the back of the Gryffindor stands, in front of a couple of first years that have ‘JP’ painted red on their flushed cheeks.

“I need the loo,” Lily says immediately. She feels dizzy and hot, the constant reminder of James everywhere is driving her mad and she needs to recollect herself.

Mary checks her watch. “The match starts in fifteen minutes.”

Sirius, who’s sat next to Mary, leans across her and rests his elbow on her shoulder. She seems to squirm a little, cheeks slightly red but Sirius doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t want to miss the beginning,” he winks, “or any of it.”

“I won’t be long,” Lily gives them all a wave and sets off down the stairs. The air is freezing, and she tightens the scarf around her neck as she rubs her hands together.

Someone, who sounds suspiciously like Remus Lupin, starts a ‘POTTER! POTTER!’ chant, and the rest of the Gryffindor stands shout it out in chaos.

The last person she’s expecting to see underneath the stands is James Potter, and yet there he is. Shivering in the November cold, he jiggles anxiously on the soles of his feet. He does a double take when he sees her, a hand automatically rising to his hair to mess with it.

“Lily!” he looks surprised, and a bit bashful as well. “What are you doing here?”

She can’t exactly say, ‘I needed to get away from all reminders of you up in stands,’ when he’s right there in front of her. Instead she just shrugs, claiming she needed a bit of air.

James nods, teeth chattering as he glances up at the red and gold stand. They’re still chanting ‘POTTER!’ and he seems to wince every time he hears it.

“Nervous?”

“Not at all,” he croaks. “This is just a work out.”

“It’s okay to be a little anxious,” Lily grins. “I can’t even imagine the pressure you must feel. But, honestly - James, you’re gonna nail it.”

He takes in a deep breath and nods his head. “Thanks.”

Reggie McLaren, a fourth year Ravenclaw commentator, booms his voice across the stadium, welcoming everyone to the first exciting match of the season.

“I guess I should go, you’ve got a game to win.”

She gives him a little wave, not really knowing what to do, before she turns around, ready to set off.

“Not going to wish me luck, Evans?”

She turns around, and that’s when it hits her; how deep the feelings for him have buried into her. It’s like he’s in her blood, she can’t get rid of this feeling and it’s a painful banging in her head.

Something (perhaps it’s the Gryffindor impulse or just sheer nerves of being around him again) ignites inside of her and she has no control anymore. She sweeps forward with this new-found courage and stands on her tiptoes.

“Good luck, James Potter.” she smiles, and kisses him softly on the cheek. “Break a leg, but not literally.”

They’re so close to each other, she can see the faint scar on his cheek that he got in second year. She gulps, and he looks completely mesmerised.

“Thanks, Lily.”

He’s everything - and she’s head over heels in love.

She doesn’t know who initiates it, only God knows, but somehow his hands goes around her waist and her hands wrap around his neck. She stares deep into his eyes and the screaming stadiums around them quieten in the moment.

It’s just the two of them, somewhere far away.

They kiss underneath the stands, a short and sweet embrace that leaves her desperately wanting more. But as soon as they part she feels sick.

After denying it for so long, it’s such a relief to finally accept it. All she wants, all she needs is James Potter.

“Alright Evans? You’ve been staring into that drink for the past ten minutes.”

His voice gives her goosebumps.

There’s an excited, jittery and sickly feeling that bubbles up in her gut, memories flashing through her mind as she swallows hard. Then she looks up at him.

He’s shining, still delighted and thriving off the Gryffindor win.

Of course they won. Fran Kirby caught the snitch only twenty minutes into the game, but in that time James and the others had managed to score an impressive amount of goals.

Basically, Gryffindor slaughtered Hufflepuff- and Chadwell seemed livid.

Lily drops her eyes back down into her drink. Her heart’s thumping, as it always does when James is near her.

He’s still wearing his quidditch robes and still looks exhilarated from the win, dazzling and windswept like he’s just emerged from one of Celestina Warbeck’s love songs.

She blinks. “Have I congratulated you yet?”

“On our amazing, fantastic win?” he laughs, folding his arms as he leans against the wall next to her. “I don’t think so, no.”

“Congratulations. You guys killed it out there. Like I said you would.”

He makes her nervous, like sweaty-hands nervous, and she uses her free hand to wipe her palm on her thigh, trying not to be too obvious.

James doesn’t notice at all; he gives her the biggest smile and grabs hold of a sugar quill. “We were pretty badass, but not as good as Manchester United I bet.”

“No team is as good as United, but you guys are a close second.”

She’s astounded that he remembers her favourite football team, a fuzzy and endearing feeling flutters in her gut and she wants to just fly.

James chuckles and rests his head back against the wall. His smile is soft, and his voice quietens. “I mean it though - I couldn’t have done it without you,”

It feels like she’s on cloud nine, and she just wants to grab hold of him and kiss him.

“Don’t be daft,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a grin, “of course you could have.” Her heart is beating a million times a second, but she tries to be as aloof as possible.

“I’m serious!” he says and, at that moment, as if he has super hearing, Sirius looks up from across the room. He’s playing exploding snap with Remus, Peter, Dorcas and Mary - but quickly goes back to the game when he realises he’s not being called.

James grins and puts a hand on her shoulder. His fingers are perfect, not sticky hot and not freezing - just right. He looks deep into her eyes and she’s afraid of falling into them.

“You’re a good friend, Lil.”

The word doesn’t sound right on his lips.

She jolts somewhat, and he looks a bit confused himself.

Only now does he pull his hand back from her, as if he’s just realised what he’s done. Something in the air has definitely changed, and Lily instantly hates it - whatever it is.

“Right,” she says and clears her throat. “Well, what are friends for, huh?”

“Exactly,” he smiles once more, but it’s not as wide as it was just moments before. He puffs out his cheeks, checks his watch and then looks back at her again.

She should say something. All it takes is a couple of words, a deep breath and a little bit of determination. Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, at least she wouldn’t have to live with the painful guilt she’s feeling.

She’s ready to say it - to just say he’s an absolute idiot and she’s in love with him (or something along those lines, whatever manages to come out of her mouth). She parts her lips, his name hanging onto her tongue when Remus calls to him.

The rest of the marauders have their winter cloaks on and Sirius has hold of James’s.

“Ready to see Hagrid?”

James nods and peels himself away from the wall.

“Yeah sure.”

Sirius throws him the cloak, which he catches with ease. He’s pulling the cloak around his shoulders when he turns back to her, uncertainty set deep in his eyes.

He bites his lip. “So, I guess I’ll - uh - see you around?”

She doesn’t get to answer him, Remus is already pulling him out of the common room.

Anthony Chadwell is three minutes and twenty seven seconds late.

Mary scowls as she checks her watch for the fourth time. “He said half past?” she asks with a click of her tongue.

Lily nods, straining her neck a little at the queue of students passing by.

“You go on ahead, he’ll be here soon. I can wait.”

Mary shakes her head, “I’m not leaving you alone, you wally. You’re not even wearing a coat.”

Lily lets out a small hum, rubbing her hands against her arms almost instinctively. It wasn’t this cold ten minutes ago.

“The boys are over there,” she points to the group of four, who are kicking around an empty bottle as they wait in the queue.

James is rubbish, which is funny considering how good he is at quidditch. Sirius kicks it like a proper midfielder and James, missing the bottle by an inch, watches as it tumbles towards where she and Mary stand. Lily sucks in a breath when he rakes his eyes, a little hesitantly, over her.

“You lovely ladies joining us?” Sirius jogs over to pick up the bottle and gives them both a goofy, cute grin.

“I’m going with Chadwell,” Lily tries to give him her brightest smile, knowing full well that James is standing only a few inches away. She has a twisted, funny feeling in her gut and she claims it on jittery nerves.

Sirius shrugs, eyes turning to Mary now. “MacDonald, are you going to grace us with your presence?”

Mary rolls her eyes, despite a little blush colouring her cheeks.

She threads her arm through Lily’s and lets out a small chuckle. “I’m meeting Dorcas in Gladrags. Probably won’t have time to run into you dorks.”

“Hogsmeade is a small place, you never know.” Sirius looks smug as he puts his hands in his pockets, noticing with a smirk how the blush on Mary’s cheeks deepens by the second.

She’s muttering “ass,” under her breath when Peter clears his throat.

“Are we going or what? I’m freezing my arse off here.”

Lily taps Mary’s shoulder. “Go with them, honestly. I’m sure he’ll be here in a sec.”

Mary looks a little reluctant, but when Sirius grabs hold of her arm and pulls her away gently she doesn’t fight against him.

“You sure?”

Lily only nods, stretching her mouth into the biggest smile she can manage, waving as they start to depart down the road.

James rakes a hand through his hair and glances back towards her. He looks guilty, staring at her like he’s got something he desperately wants to say, but he doesn’t stop.

She’s relieved and disappointed at the same time.

He nods his head slightly towards her and then the cute, light smile is back on his lips.

It’s like Anthony Chadwell and James Potter are polar opposites of each other.

James is boisterous and giddy. He can make her smile and gasp for air with his crazy jokes and remarks. Anthony is sweet, yes, but his smile doesn’t make her tingle and she doesn’t want to daydream about him for hours.

She tells herself it’s because she doesn't know him well. But, when he suggests they go to Zonkos without even asking if there’s a place she wants to visit first, it’s starting to slowly sink in that something’s not quite right.

The joke shop, as always, is filled to the brim with students and she follows slowly behind as her date stomps through the crowds. He stops by a shelf near the back of the cramped shop and Lily has to stop a few aisles away.

“Showed up then, did he?”

Just his voice alone brings a shiver up her spine and she turns around, trying not to smile. But damn, just seeing him there makes her want to break out into a song and dance.

“Yeah, he did.”

James smiles, fiddling with a box of sugar quills that’s under his left arm. “Were you waiting long for him?”

“No.” Yes.

It was another ten minutes before he finally came running towards her, panting and claiming he’d forgotten about the time they were supposed to meet (but she’s not about to reveal that to the guy who’s currently making her heart ache in a painful manner).

He’s standing right by the dungbombs, and that’s definitely not by coincidence.

“I hope you’re not planning on using those in Hogwarts,” she grins, pointing to the boxes that are stacked high. He gasps.

“Me? Use dungbombs? Never!” he says, giving her a wink as his hand reaches out to grab a box.

He’s just about to open his mouth when they hear Anthony laugh somewhere behind them. That causes the both of them to stir.

Chadwell is standing not ten feet away, arms resting, rather comfortably on the waist of a sixth year Ravenclaw girl who’s giggling at something he just said.

James scowls and raises his eyebrows in disbelief. “Aren’t you -”

She shrugs.

It’s stifling, the air is hot and sticky and it’s making her a little woozy. “We’re not exactly boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“But you’re his date.” James swears under his breath and shakes his head. “Merlin, Evans. I bet if the tables were turned he wouldn’t be happy with you flirting, so why the hell should he be getting away with it?”

“Maybe they’re just friends?” she’s whispering, even though James is stood so close to her that her shoulder brushes against his chest.

It’s rather ironic that James is getting more offended than she is. Should she be angry at Chadwell? She doesn’t feel anything for him, there’s no jealousy or bitterness - just the painful longing of the friend who’s by her side.

She can hear him swallow, she can count every deep breath he takes, even though the store is crowded and there’s an orchestra of sound in her ears.

“Like the way we're friends?”

All that matters in that moment is the way James looks at her.

And it’s almost as if they’re back at the common room, hidden away under the cover of night. He does the jaw thing (she doesn’t even know what ‘the jaw thing’ is, but she know it drives her crazy every single time) and Lily feels her fingers already itching to grab hold of him.

It’s like they’re back underneath the stands, just the two of them caught in the moment.

A student barges past them, hands full with two boxes of nose biting teacups, knocking Lily almost fully off her feet. Her legs stumble forward and she collides into James’ unsuspecting arms. His hand is instantly on her waist, holding her upright.

“Steady on,” he grins.

His stupid smile is contagious and utterly heart wrenching. She feels stupid for blushing under his intense gaze, she blinks and then the moment’s gone.

James stops their contact and he bites at his bottom lip, glowering as Chadwell lunges towards them.

“Babe,” he says and nods towards them, either not noticing or not caring to mention about the beetroot colour her cheeks are. “You ready?”

Lily clears her throat and quickly grabs onto the box of dungbombs James was admiring before. “Yes, just came here to get dungbombs. Very important.”

“Cool. Later, Plotter.”

She’s turning around, disliking the warm hand that Chadwell places on her shoulder when she hears James clear his throat.

“It's Potter,”

He doesn’t kiss like James.

There are no fireworks and she can’t see the stars in his eyes. He kisses like a limp fish more than anything, although there’s the faint hint of peppermint on his lips.

Anthony sighs as he presses a kiss against her lips once more, hands edging closer and closer to the small of her back. She instantly pulls them away, making sure he understands.

“Why don’t you just relax a little,” he murmurs in her ear.

All she can see is him. Him with his hurricane hair and cheesy smile, glasses wonky on his nose.

He’s far from perfect, but that’s what makes him so incomparable.

Sorry is almost out of her lips but she bites down on the word. What the hell is she sorry for? Nothing.

Anthony pulls away, his forehead creased.

“Listen, babe,” he itches his nose and pulls his hands into his coat pockets, “you’re really hot and all, but I just don’t think you and I… mesh well.”

He’s leaning against the wall, shoulders pulled into a careless shrug — like he didn’t just coax her into the empty cul de sac for a snog five minutes prior.

Lily blinks.

“If you ever want to have something... casual though, just send me an owl.” Chadwell gives her a wink.

There’s a few seconds of silence as Lily rolls around what’s just happened in her head.

“I’d rather french kiss a skunk, shave off my eyebrows and obliviate myself than be anywhere near the likes of you. You can expect an owl from me if I want to throw away my dignity and lose all of my self respect.”

She’s bubbling with anger and in the heat of the moment can’t help but slap his cheek whilst she’s at it.

He’s frozen in shock, his cheek a stinging red from her palm. He looks shocked.

“I’d probably be in St. Mungos too. I deserve to be treated far better than that.”

Sirius finds her in Scrivenshaft’s, hunched over the countless aisles of special quills.

“Evans!” he says happily. He doesn’t seem surprised, but, then again, Sirius always has that bright smile on his face. “Where’s your date?”

She picks up a quill, twirling it in her fingers before she has the energy to look up. “Um, he’s gone.”

“Gone? Like, to another shop?”

“Like, left. Gone. Told me that if I ever wanted a casual shag then I should owl him.”

She decides it’s better to leave out her sudden outburst.

“Yikes.” Sirius rubs the back of his neck, purses his lips and then glances over at her again. “Err, Mary’s in Tomes and Scrolls… do you want me to get her for you?”

“No. Yes. I mean, nah.” Lily shakes her head. She makes a grab for the nearest box of quills, not even glancing at the label. “I’m fine. Do you want a box of dungbombs?”

He looks at her dubiously and cocks his head slightly to the side. “Is that a trick question?”

She shakes her head, takes the box from her bag and thrusts it into his hands.

“Happy Christmas,”

“It’s April, Evans.”

“Then Happy Belated Birthday?”

He laughs, but takes the box from her anyways.

“My birthday’s in November,” he says with a grin. Nevertheless, Sirius stares at the box with wide, gleaming eyes.

“I know, there was that party in the common room, remember?”

It was slightly far fetched to call it such a thing - they had just played exploding snap and Mary had bribed the house elves to get a birthday cake topped with firewhiskey icing. They all sang happy birthday and Peter cried.

Lily clears her throat and takes out her purse.

“Anyways. I’m just gonna buy these and head back up to Hogwarts,” she says as she stumbles over a stool and scurries towards the till.

“You sure?”

She pays her galleon, grabs hold of her new box of quills and then gives him a smile. “Totally sure. Thanks Sirius.”

She’s a bad liar, but he doesn’t call her bluff.

He waits till she's out of view before he clucks his tongue and checks his watch. He takes a deep breath and taps his chin before he realises that he’s already made up his mind. He’s already marching over towards the bookshop.

Dorcas is giggling at a book in one of the shop corners and Sirius finds Mary surrounded by spell books, biting her lip and reading in full concentration as she practices a wand movement.

She looks up in surprise and he has to suck in a breath.

Mary is actually quite cute.

The heat of the Gryffindor common room is an immediate relief to her freezing bones and Lily sighs, feeling at ease for the first time that day.

She’s aching from the cold and inches towards the fire.

James looks up in an instant from his spot on the sofa and she stops dead in her tracks. He must notice her apprehension because he bites on his lip and bolts up from the seat.

“Lily!” his face is illuminated in the fire, flames dancing on his cheeks and burning in his eyes. The hearth crackles, soaking in the tense silence that falls between them before he’s swallowing heavily.

“Good date?”

She wants to laugh at the bitter irony. This is unbelievable and utterly ridiculous.

She’s still holding onto her box of quills, still not even looked to see which ones she grabbed in her blind state of panic.

“Alright, I guess.”

She doesn’t move an inch, not even when he takes an awkward step towards her. He’s wearing bright yellow quidditch socks, dozens of mini snitches flying around all over his feet.

“You guess? Not Prince Charming like you were hoping, huh?”

She allows herself to smile. “I never said Prince Charming, he’s actually far from it.”

James shrugs. “If I recall,” he says, taking another small step closer towards her, “you said he was fit and that you didn’t know what to do.”

“He is fit, but that doesn’t stop him from being a giant arsehole.”

He blinks. “Oh, bugger. Sorry - I didn’t realise that -”

“It’s okay.”

The portrait opens and a group of third years with fanged frisbees, chuckling and acting suspicious, make a beeline to the dormitories.

Lily plops her box onto the seat closest to her, resting on the armrest. James flexes a hand.

“Is it? You were really… excited. I mean,” he drops his voice down to a whisper, even though they’re alone now, “you wanted to… you know, practice.”

“You’re the one who offered,” she folds her arms against her chest and taps her foot against the sofa.

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs. “You said you didn’t want to mess it up with Chadwell.”

Lily jumps back up, sighing. “We’re just going round in circles now. I’m going up to my room.” She makes for a grab of her quills.

“Was it the kissing?”

Her fingers stop inches away and she curls them around her fist tight. Sliding a cool gaze over to him, he looks uncomfortable.

“Yes. And no,” she makes it sound like it’s obvious, throwing in a casual shrug whilst she’s at it. “Emmeline Vance was very insistent about your, ahh, consummate skills.”

James makes a noise that sounds like a strangled cat and a fog horn at the same time. He’s loosening his tie, messing up his hair as he clears his throat.

“Can I let you in on a little secret, Evans?” There’s a sheepish smile. Uh-oh, she thinks.

“Hit me,”

He takes a deep breath and scratches the back of his neck a little awkwardly. “I, err, that was a dare.”

“What was?”

“Kissing Vance. It was a stupid and dumb Seven Minutes in Heaven Dare by Frank Longbottom in fourth year. It wasn’t even seven minutes, more like a pathetic fifty seconds.”

“Oh.” Lily blinks.

James gives her a look, it’s rather odd; one that gives her goosebumps.

He cracks his fingers and shrugs. Words drip out of his mouth like melted ice cream on a summer’s day. “It wasn’t even heaven, it was in a bloody broom closet and was extremely uncomfortable.”

“I see.”

He looks like he’s in agony.

“So what I mean is, like, well - that I’ve only ever kissed her,” he sucks in a deep breath, staring intently at the wall. “And well, you.”

“And yet you thought you had the right qualifications to give me kissing lessons?”

“I didn’t exactly say I had relevant experience, I was just there at the right time and moment to lend a helping hand.”

“Vance wasn’t wrong though,”

James lifts his head. “Pardon?”

“About the kissing. You are bloody good at it.”

Anthony Chadwell is sent to the hospital wing the next morning, sprouting purple warts that explode into the words ‘I’m a Jerk’ whenever someone gets within four inches of him.

“I heard he was sobbing.” Peter snickers, almost choking on his orange juice as he recounts his story at the Gryffindor table.

“I had nothing to do with it,” James says, putting his hands up quickly in defense. “Although I wish on Merlin’s beard that I had.”

Remus clears his throat. “It’s nothing Madam Pomfrey won’t be able to handle. I’m sure Hufflepuff will play extra hard with Slytherin at the next match.”

Sirius sips at his tea and Mary grabs a piece of toast, stuffing it into her mouth. Lily decides it’s better if she doesn’t know, at least for now.

“What does your Witch Weekly say today, MacDonald?” Sirius quickly changes the subject, picking up his own slice of toast. “Any words of wisdom?”

Mary opens the magazine up to a random page. “Says The Bloody Banshees are the new HobGoblins.”

Sirius lets out a gasp, “That’s a right load of codswallop. The sheer nerve!”

True to Remus’ word, a few hours later when Gryffindor and Hufflepuff share Transfiguration together, Anthony Chadwell comes into class purple wart free.

Mary catches Lily’s gaze and winks as McGonagall directs him to his seat.

“I hope this will not affect the match tomorrow, Mr Chadwell.” The professor, chalk gripped in her hand, tries to smile as politely as she can at the Hufflepuff’s Keeper.

Chadwell scoffs, blasé and as smug as ever. “I’m ready to kick some Slytherin ass.”

The Gryffindor Head of House rolls her eyes, but turns back to the board and continues the class.

“Have you spoken to James yet?” Mary murmurs as the class scribble down the board notes.

“About what?”

“That you fancy the socks off him? That you want to snog him into next year?”

Lily rolls her eyes. “Have you and Sirius confessed?”

Mary freezes. “What?”

“About Chadwell? You guys were so obvious during breakfast.”

“Oh.” Mary coughs and messes with her hair. “It turns out he was a jerk to quite a lot of girls yesterday, so for all he knows it could have been any one of them,” she bites her lip, nudging her friend’s shoulder softly. “Sorry. I know you really wanted it to work out - ”

“Only so I wasn’t thinking about James,” Lily shrugs. “I guess I should've faced just faced him instead of running away.”

“You could just - I don't know - tell him?”

“I told him he was ‘bloody good’ at kissing.”

Mary has to slap a hand against her mouth to stop a shriek from escaping. She giggles and sneaks a quick glance at James and Sirius’s table, neither of them are paying attention to the lesson.

“You didn’t.”

Lily winces. “Unfortunately I did. Then I legged it before I could embarrass myself further.”

“But why? That could have been the moment where he confesses his undying love for you after he chases you down a moonlit garden!”

“Firstly, this isn’t Hollywood. And secondly he would have been chasing me up the girls stairs, then it would have turned into a slide and he would have fallen down on his arse-”

“Now that would have been hilarious.”

She manages to avoid him only for a few days, although Mary says ducking underneath a tapestry and hiding behind bookshelves doesn’t really count as ‘avoiding’ (neither does running into the library or stuffing one’s face with three eclairs apparently).

It’s the day before the Hufflepuff against Slytherin match when she runs into him.

He’s balancing four books in his hands and he’s got his wand balanced against his left ear.

As soon as he sees her his eyes widen and he pauses. He’s on the stairs and a student huffs as they barge past him, tutting at his immediate stop.

For some reason she can’t move, her feet are frozen (maybe because the castle’s so cold, it’s snowing outside and the corridors feel like ice caves - or maybe because part of her feels sorry for him).

“I’ve been, err, meaning to talk to you,” he says, grasping tight to his books as he meets her on the step. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry.”

Her heart skips a beat. “What have you got to be sorry for?”

He’s still fiddling with his books, they’re giant, bulky Potions textbooks that look like they weigh a tonne. He shuffles a bit on his feet. “Look, I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

Of all the possible places to have this kind of discussion, it would be slap bang in the middle of the stairs whilst students are barging past them left, right and centre.

Lily squirms, dread filling her up. “Okay?”

“When I said you were a good friend, I lied.” His voice is croaky but determined, his eyes are stuck on hers and she’s too entranced to move at all. She feels dizzy.

“No, wait - that came out wrong.” James swears and closes his eyes briefly. “I mean, I love - I love having you as a friend. Lily you’re, well, amazing - to be perfectly frank.”

She has no idea what to say, so thank you is all that trembles out of her mouth.

“That day,” he continues with a shaky breath, “when you said didn’t know how it would work out with Chadwell because you had never kissed anyone before…”

A group of first years run past, smacking into James’ side as they whizz down the stairs. His body jerks forwards and she instantly reaches towards him, slapping a hand on his chest to stop him from toppling over.

“Little buggers,” he glares as the group race around the corner.

“Maybe this isn’t the place to do this -” she squirms under his gaze, nervous and rather unsure about what he’s going to say. She drops her hand like he’s hot coal.

“No wait, please. I need to say this.” he clears his throat and taps his thumb against the side of the books. “I really like you. And I thought it would be okay to help you, like doing it as a favour to a mate or something. But, I realise now it was a stupid mistake because I - I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,”

A moment of silence passes between them; Lily is stunned and James watches her closely, trying to read her expression. After a few more seconds he bends down and places the books down by his feet and pulls his hands together, wringing at his fingers nervously.

“You liked Chadwell and I didn’t want to jeopardise anything that was going on between you but,” he takes a small step closer to her, if that’s even possible. They’re balancing awkwardly on the step, facing each other nose to nose. He looks vulnerable, unsure and completely afraid as to what she’s going to say.

“But,” he says again and itches his nose. “I needed to come out and say it. I keep telling myself we’re friends and that I shouldn’t - can’t - say it but you’re the person I care most about in this world and -”

She doesn’t let him finish, she’s heard enough by now.

She stands on her tiptoes, and pulls at his shoulders before she silences him with a kiss.

It’s not like the others.

The kiss in the common room is a euphoric start, waves and waterfalls crashing down.

The kiss under the stands is an impulse, a nagging thought at the back of her head that wouldn’t let her rest until she had done its bidding.

But this one.

This one fills her up completely.

Lily feels alive and it’s James Potter who’s standing there in front of her, with his hands hugging her waist and lips kissing her again and again and again.

She can feel his heart racing, the flutter of his hands as he pulls her even closer.

There are students still barging past them, but they don’t care in the slightest.

He sighs against her lips, smiling softly. “You really had me a mumbling mess back there,”

Lily grins. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming this up.”

“We’re both terrible at this, aren’t we?”

“The absolute worst. But at least we’re not Sirius and Mary.”

James grins and it’s infectious. They’re kissing again, smiling in love and grasping hold of each other tight. It feels like the moment is never going to end, that they’ll stay in that second completely free from everything else in the world.

Someone clears their throat and another person else lets out a laugh.

“Mr Potter, Miss Evans.” Professor McGonagall is standing there, trying to look stern as she attempts to conceal a smile.

Sirius and Mary are standing beside her, snorting with laughter. The two are holding hands and find the situation absolutely hilarious.

There’s a group of students around them, it seems that the two of them were taking up more space on the stairs than they anticipated.

“Detention in my office tomorrow night, for causing a disruption on the stair-well.” The professor calls out as she continues up the stairs, and then she turns around briefly in the last second and gives them both a wink. “Oh, and congratulations.”

James can’t help it, he swoops down and kisses Lily again. This time cheers and cat calls follow, and students move past them once again.

“You two are absolute morons,” Sirius grins. “Took you bloody long enough.”

#jily #jily fanfic #jily fic #i cannot believe this took me eight months #im the worst #my fic #jily:fic

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thebrokenscript · 7 years

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saw the writing wednesday thing and was like yo i got a scene that fits the prompt p good so here we are idk if submissions are still being taken bc i’m....... super late but here have fun @finish-the-clone-wars

for context this scene takes place about two weeks after the 354th’s general turned on them. a clone called blitz has just died from injuries he sustained during the betrayal. one of blitz’s friends had a breakdown and ghost, petal, and kickstart are realizing that they can’t take everyone to fight without putting their new general in danger.

Ghost watched as Petal rose slowly. “They’re not stable enough to go into battle in two days,” Petal said. Kickstart nodded slowly. Ghost agreed, of course, but there was nothing that could be done. Soldiers were desperately needed on Ryloth, even soldiers who weren’t ready for battle.

“Even if they aren’t, what can we do?” he asked.

Petal sighed, rubbing his eyes. “I can talk to the new General and ask her to let them stay here for another week or so.”

“They’re not going to like that.”

“I know. But it’s for everyone’s good. Listen, we’re all on edge. If I could keep everyone here for a little longer I would but I can’t so the most unstable have to stay,” Petal said, eyes almost flashing a challenge at Ghost. Ghost met his gaze, barely shaking his head to indicate that it wasn’t a challenge.

“Our next mission is on Ryloth,” Kickstart said, shaking his head. “We can’t send in a group that can’t focus or work together. They’ll get slaughtered.”

Petal nodded. “Besides,” he said lowly, looking at Blitz’s body. “I don’t want to risk any of them turning on the new General.”

The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Ghost looked away. He had met General Svechl once. She seemed kind enough, but ever since General Anuli’s betrayal he had had his own misgivings about the Jedi. He didn’t think he’d do anything rash, but Breaker’s display made it obvious that she could be in danger from clones who had been hurt by Anuli.

“I’ve been... doing some research,” Kickstart finally said. “When I’m not helping the wounded.”

Ghost’s interest piqued. “Research?”

“On the kinds of wounds you can’t see.” He tapped the side of his head. “The ones in here.”

“Do you think you could help them if you stayed behind?” Petal asked.

Kickstart met his gaze steadily. “I could try. But only if you want me here instead of Ryloth.”

Ghost watched Petal lapse into silence. Everyone knew Petal and Kickstart were close. If Petal ordered Kickstart to stay behind, it would no doubt be seen by others as a way to selfishly protect him.

“I’ll request it when I talk to the General,” Petal finally said, brushing invisible dust off his armor. “But first we have to decide who is staying behind.”

Ghost crossed his arms over his chest. Whether the General decided or Petal, others would still be bitter if Kickstart stayed. But he digressed. “Breaker for sure. Do you think we should keep Nick behind to keep him calm?” he asked.

Petal hesitated. “I’ll ask him about it.” It was obvious that he didn’t want to leave Nick behind. Nick was about as level-headed as he could be after Anuli’s betrayal, something the 354th desperately needed, but at the same time perhaps Breaker needed him more.

A few more names were thrown out from each of them. They ended with fifteen troopers that needed to stay.

And then Kickstart raised his head. “Petal...”

“What?” the commander asked dully.

“I think you should consider staying behind yourself.”

Ice flooded Ghost’s veins at the words and his gaze snapped over to Petal. Petal blinked sharply as he processed what Kickstart was saying. His quickly darkening gaze snapped up.

“What are you suggesting, Kickstart?” he snapped.

The tension that had been simmering a moment ago spiked unbearably. Ghost slipped forward, moving between them. “I think Kickstart is just saying that you’ve been hit the hardest out of everyone, Petal, and that it’s understandable if you need a break,” he said lowly.

Petal wasn’t looking at him. He was staring daggers at Kickstart over Ghost’s shoulder. Ghost didn’t dare take his gaze off Petal. He could see him trembling with barely controlled fury. If he attacked it would not end well.

With a massive effort, Petal reined himself back in, taking a step back and turning away. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Besides, I have to be there.”

“You’re not fine Petal,” Kickstart said quietly. “And Ghost can lead the men while you recover.” Ghost’s heart plummeted as something snapped in Petal’s gaze.

“So you’re saying that I’m not needed?” Petal snarled, surging forward. Ghost slammed into him, pinning him back against the wall. Petal kept his blazing stare fixed on Kickstart. “Because if that’s the case I can always go right back to the Jedi and tell them to kill me!”

Fury surged through Ghost. A sudden crack resounded in the room. Petal’s head snapped to the side. Ghost lowered his stinging hand, pushing Petal harder against the wall. “You know damn well that’s not what he said,” he hissed. “You might have gotten hit the worst here, but that does not mean you get to treat us like this.” He let go of Petal, stepping back. “I will call the General and tell her about the men staying behind. And you will be on the list.”

With that said, he spun around on his heel, having to make a conscious decision not to attack Petal. Forcing himself to put one foot in front of the other, he stalked out of the room seething with fury.

He’d been noticing his temper wearing thin over the past few days, and Petal- something about him made him snap. Anger shuddered through him. He wanted to go back and finish the job, leave Petal broken or dead on the ground.

The thought was shaking.

His fingers twitched. He’d been away from the battlefield for too long- he needed to fight enemies, not allies. He needed to kill them himself. Distantly he realized that he was just as fucked as Petal and the others they had listed. The only difference was that he wasn’t going to snap and kill the new General.

Are you sure? a tiny voice dared to whisper.

He shoved it down, ignoring it and the phantom sensation of Anuli’s lightsaber burning up his face. He’d met the new General. She was nice enough.

Anuli had been too.

She was sensible.

So was Anuli.

She had actually talked to him and listened to him.

Just like Anuli used to.

It was fine. He was fine. Svechl was not Anuli.

Reaching a holocom he punched in a request to speak with her. He was fine.

Her face appeared, blue and wavering. “Captain,” she said, nodding respectfully.

“General,” he said, dipping his head back. “I wanted to talk to you about the troops and heading to battle in two rotations.”

Confusion flashed across her face. “Isn’t that Commander Petal’s responsibility?”

Ghost cleared his throat slightly. “The Commander is actually one of the people I wanted to speak to you about. I have a list of men who we believe are unfit to go into battle immediately. Not that they aren’t good soldiers, sir,” he said quickly. “It’s just that they were thrown off balance by General Anuli and need more time to recover.”

Svechl nodded slightly. “I understand. Who’s on the list, Captain?”

Ghost read off the list. “-and Commander Petal. Kickstart has volunteered to stay behind to help the men recover.”

Svechl was silent as she considered it. She started to speak, but was cut off by the door opening.

Petal walked in.

Ghost bristled, hands clenching into fists at his sides.

Petal stepped forward, staring Ghost dead in the eye as if daring him to say something. “General. Captain,” he greeted.

“Commander,” Svechl said.

Ghost held his tongue, glaring at Petal.

“Ghost here tells me that you have to stay behind. Are you doing alright?” she sounded genuinely concerned. Both Ghost and Petal stiffened. Even as at odds as they were, they both had the same reaction to her tone.

“I’m doing fine, General. Which is why I’ve come to ask that I be allowed on this mission.”

Svechl frowned. “If you’re unfit to fight, Commander, I won’t have you fight.”

“Then have me at command or intelligence. Something, sir. I have to go on this mission.”

Svechl cocked her head. “Why is that?”

Petal straightened slightly, pointedly keeping his gaze off Ghost, which only infuriated him further.

“I need to be there with my men to help them transition to your command, General.”

“I’m sure Ghost is capable.”

Ghost felt a stab of pleasure at the look that flashed across Petal’s face.

“I didn’t say he wasn’t, General. I just meant that the men know I was the one who killed General Anuli. If they see me supporting you, they’re much more likely to take to you faster.”

Svechl frowned slightly as she considered it. Even if Ghost didn’t like it, he knew that Petal had a point. He’d heard whispers drifting through the 354th. The men were on edge. Very few of them had taken immediately to a new General. The entire battalion reeked of distrust and fear.

“If I take you, Commander, you will not be fighting at all,” she said pointedly. “You will remain at the command center away from it all.”

“I understand sir.”

“And you still would like to come?”

“Yes sir.”

“Very well,” she said. “Commander you may join us. Have you told the other men that they’re staying behind?”

“I was going to do that after getting your approval, General,” Ghost said before Petal could speak.

Svechl nodded. “Will that be all?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll see you both in two rotations then.”

They bowed slightly and the hologram flickered out.

Ghost turned a burning stare on Petal. “You know you shouldn’t be anywhere near the mission,” he hissed.

Petal’s stare went cold. “You know you’re just as unfit to go as me.”

Ghost’s lip curled into a snarl. “At least I’m not going to snap and kill the General.” Petal froze. Ghost kept going. “Do you even hear yourself? ‘I killed General Anuli’. You say it all the time. Are you proud of it? Are you proud that you killed him and got away without punishment?” He could feel the danger he was putting himself in, but he didn’t care. He wanted to fight desperately. He needed a way to get rid of the anger coursing through him.

“I am not going to turn on General Svechl,” Petal said lowly. His voice was nearly a growl. A warning light appeared in his eyes and stance as his lip curled up.

“That’s what you said about General Anuli.”

Petal’s hands curled into fists. “Why are you defending him? You wanted him dead too!”

Ghost could see that he was trembling with rage. “What difference does it make?” he yelled. “We all fought him! You don’t get to put yourself above us because you were the one who killed him!”

“I’m not! I don’t want any of this Ghost!” Petal hissed, stepping closer to him. If Ghost had cared enough to notice, he would have seen the gloss of desperate tears in Petal’s eyes. But he didn’t.

Ghost shoved him back roughly. “You only got away without punishment because you’re a Commander. Do you really think any old trooper could say the same? Just look at Dogma!”

Petal’s face twisted into a snarl and he lunged. He crashed into Ghost. Ghost let himself be slammed into the ground. His head snapped back painfully, but he brought his knees up hard into Petal’s chest, flipping him off. Immediately he flipped onto his hands and knees. Petal was on his back, snarling up at him. Ghost’s lip curled and he raised a hand, slamming it down. Petal dodged, then swung around and crashed into Ghost, pinning him to the ground.

“You think I didn’t get punished?” Petal screamed, eyes alight with fury. His fist crashed into Ghost’s cheek, snapping his head to the side. “You don’t think I see them being cut down every night? You don’t think being sentenced for reconditioning did anything to me?”

Another punch. Pain spiked through Ghost’s tongue as his teeth stabbed into it. Blood flooded his mouth. Freeing his hand, he blocked Petal’s next blow. “We all see them dying!” he snarled, then spat blood into Petal’s face. Petal recoiled. Ghost lunged, slamming his fist into the side of Petal’s head. The blow knocked him off balance. Ghost’s leg swung out, slamming Petal’s legs out from under him.

The commander fell and Ghost was on him in an instant. “They all died for nothing Petal!” he screamed, tears rushing to his eyes. His next blow to Petal was sloppy. Guilt choked at him. His voice broke. “We failed them.”

Petal flipped him violently off. He crashed into the ground and fell limp, the fight draining out of him. Petal stayed where he was, not continuing the attack. He was crying too.

“I should have said something. I knew something was wrong with him.”

Ghost closed his eyes. “We all did.”

“We should have said something.”

“To who? Who would have believed us?” Ghost asked helplessly. “You know as well as I do that as long as the General is winning battles they don’t care what happens to us or how we’re treated.”

“I know, I know...” Petal shook his head. “Are you alright?”

Ghost’s face ached and his tongue felt thick. “Fine. You?”

Petal was silent.

“Petal?”

“I think I might have broken the scab.”

Damn. Ghost sat up quickly, ignoring how his head spun. “Let me see.”

Silently, Petal stripped off the top of his uniform. Sure enough, little rivulets of blood were trickling down his abdomen.

“I’m sorry,” Ghost whispered. “I was just so angry- I shouldn’t have attacked you.”

Petal shook his head, pushing himself up and offering his hand to Ghost. “We’re all sorts of fucked aren’t we.”

Ghost shrugged, shaking his head weakly as he took Petal’s hand. “We can’t stay here.”

Petal shook his head. “We have to get back into the fight.”

“They aren’t going to be happy when we tell them.”

“No.”

“Might turn ugly.”

“Yeah.”

Ghost sighed. “Let’s get this over with then.”

“We should get cleaned up first. They won’t take us seriously if we look like we’ve been fighting.”

“Not Kickstart.”

“Not Kickstart. We can just treat it ourselves. If we go to another medic it’ll spread around no doubt.”

Ghost nodded, hating to admit it, but it was true. Rumors were already going around that the 354th was falling apart. If they caught wind that their Commander and Captain had a physical fight, the rumors would only grow worse. Not to mention they could easily make their way to Svechl, who could decide to force them to stay on Coruscant. And that was a scenario that nobody wanted.

#yeet that was super long hA #hope it was a good read and not too confusing #writing wednesday #tdh sw au #my writing

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