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thanksjro · 4 years ago

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Bayverse: Treating These Movies with More Dignity than They Deserve or Contain, Because I’m a Goddamned Professional - Part One

TRANSFORMERS (2007) - UNCOMFORTABLE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN TEENAGERS THAT I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

The date was September 17th, 2020, and I was in a stream with nine or ten other people watching the first Bayverse Transformers movie. Why we were watching it doesn’t particularly matter- sometimes you just gotta watch garbage so you can refresh your palate for the good stuff, I suppose. Also, a couple of folks wanted to make goo-goo eyes at Blackout’s rotors.

...It’s not my thing, but I’m glad they’ve got something to make the journey worth taking.

I made some sort of comment about only using my brain for this blog’s content, and someone (you know who you are :)) suggested that I take a proper look at the film. Being who I am, I immediately latched onto this idea, despite it being technically outside of what I write about.

And then I quintuple-downed, because winners don’t quit.

Good to know that my BA in Film Production wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Fun fact, I broke my television trying to watch Transformers for this. I think the universe was trying to stop me, by making me perform surgery on electronics, and also aggravating my carpal tunnel.

This movie came out when I was 13, and it was the first Transformers thing I saw after Cybertron. Yes, the anime one. No, not the one that’s objectively terrible.

Anyway.

How did I feel about Transformers when I saw it the first time? Well… it was okay. I liked the robots. I thought Mikaela was pretty, not that I knew what that meant back then. I watched it a few times, if only because my oldest younger brother kept renting it at Blockbuster. It was fun.

Now I’m older, and wiser, and know feminist theory, so my opinion is less “this exists” and more “blind, murderous rage”.

Our film opens up with some claptrap about the Cube™, a MacGuffin of ultimate power that allows the Transformers to create worlds in their image and populate them. Which means this is how they reproduce.

It always comes back to baby-making, doesn’t it?

The narration goes on about how the Cube™ is very powerful, and some folks wanted it for good, and others for evil. The criteria for being “good” and “evil” isn’t established, and I’m not exactly sure how one would define such a thing, when all the Cube™ does is create life, but, well, we’ve only just begun. Maybe we’ll get some answers later on.

Haha, I doubt it.

So, the Cube™ is the catalyst for our 4 million year war this continuity, and that sucker was lost in the shuffle a while back. This is a problem, because, again, the Cube™ is how the Transformers reproduce. Now everyone’s in a mad scramble to find the thing so their species doesn’t die out.

Three guesses as to where it ended up, and the first two don’t count.

Smashcut to the shit nobody cares about- the humans. We see an Osprey fly over the Qatar desert, carrying a buttload of American soldiers. We get a taste of some good old-fashioned xenophobia, as several soldiers mock a guy for not speaking English and loving his mother’s cooking, going full “funny haha gibberish language” on him. We’re two and a half minutes into the film, and I already want to stab something.

Ed Sheeran breaks into the conversation, I guess because he was feeling left out, revealing that he is the New Yorker stereotype of the film, for some reason. The fellas ask their captain, Lennox, what he’s looking forward to most about getting home from their tour, and he reveals himself to be a family man. While he’s been away, his wife had a baby, who he hasn’t so much as held yet. His men respond by mocking him.

For loving his child.

We’re three minutes into the film, and the toxic masculinity might actually make me have an aneurysm.

The Ospreys land, the lads disembark, and we get a snapshot of what downtime during deployment looks like to Bay. There are a lot of kiddie swimming pools involved. Two men play basketball. We watch multiple men take outdoor showers. A young Qatari boy brings Lennox a camelback water pack with a smile on his face. This lets me know that he’s a prop and not a character in this film. I can’t wait to see how many horrors he’ll be put through to simulate pathos.

We get a shot of a helicopter flying over the desert, one that the US military doesn’t recognize as their own. They send a couple of planes to check it out, and said planes get their shop wrecked. The helicopter is revealed to be the same ‘copter that was shot down several months prior. That’s… not good. Ghost helicopter?

No. Not at all, actually.

Lennox gets on a video chat with his wife and daughter, who is wearing one of the most ridiculous baby outfits I’ve seen in a hot minute. And I used to work in childcare, so I’ve seen a good amount of those. The writing implies that normal bodily functions are unladylike and therefore undesirable… in an infant… and that’s when all hell breaks loose, thankfully saving me from more of Bay trying to make me give a shit about these characters.

The helicopter lands, we get a shot of the mustachioed pilot, who glitches (gasp), and the line “have your crew step out or we will kill you” is uttered. Not even trying to hide the nationalism, are you?

This film hit theaters in 2007, when the xenophobia from 9/11 was still heavy in the air of the general populace, so things like this were more tolerated, and in fact approved of. Of course, it’s not like America has really improved on that subject, or ever really had a point where we weren’t terrible about it, since we live in a world where the military-entertainment complex exists.

See, the Department of Defense and a good chunk of American entertainment industries have a little deal going, and have for the last few decades, and it goes like this: The DoD will allow the use of their vehicles, personnel, and bases, or the likenesses of such, for free, in exchange for their operations being shown in a positive/morally justified light. This is why you never see the armed forces portrayed in a way that makes them out as anything less than heroes- nobody would be able to afford the sets/likenesses without the DoD’s aid. This is also why you see straight-up advertisements for the military branches on televison, in cinemas, and online, and why both the Army and Navy have flirted with having Twitch channels.

It’s all a ploy to get you to join the military, kids. It’s propaganda.

But enough about that, it’s time for our first transformation sequence!

We get a lot of moving parts with this, since it’s realistic CGI in a live-action movie, and it still holds up. It’s hard to tell what’s actually happening, but it, if nothing else, feels alien, surreal, and horrific to behold. They even included the original sound effect in the cacophony, which is nice.

Our ghost helicopter reveals itself to be a Transformer, not that we get that terminology at any point in this film. This specifically is Blackout, a Decepticon. The soldiers start firing on him the moment he starts transforming, then are surprised when the thing they started shooting with several guns retaliates. This is the point where everything ever in this military base explodes, brilliantly and repeatedly, because it wouldn’t be a Bay film without it. There’s a lot of shouting and bright lights, and I’m positively certain that a great deal of people died during this fight.

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

Blackout rips the top off of a building like it’s a tin of anchovies, and then snags all the hard drives he can, downloading everything. This is a problem, but it seems like nobody was prepared for a giant alien robot hack-attack, because in order to shut down the power to the servers, you need to be able to unlock the breaker box, and no one seems to have the key. They solve the problem with a fire ax.

Lennox is leading the Qatari boy through the base towards safety. I should mention that it’s night now, and several hours seem to have passed since the Ospreys landed, so I don’t know why this kid is still here. He’s got, like, a house and family to go home to.

We get some more tank-throwing action, Sergeant Epps almost gets flattened under Blackout’s foot, then the movie decides it’s going to try to make things more interesting by having each shot cut flash, for whatever reason.

Someone shoots Blackout with a rocket launcher, I think, and this is the point where he throws his tiny little man off his back to go do his job. Yes, Blackout’s got a baby, and that baby is Scorponok, his symbiotic pal who likes to dig into the ground and be a sneaky little bastard.

Blackout blows up a ton more military equipment and personnel, and then it’s time for another smashcut.

Now we’re in high school, just like all those dreams I’ve had where I’ve forgotten my homework. This is where we meet Sam Witwicky, our main character, and also the stand-in for our target demographic. He’s insufferable, and I don’t like him. Mikaela Banes, our love interest, is also present in this scene, but we don’t get to know about her character for, like, another 20 minutes, because who gives a shit about women, right? They’re just props, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Sam is presenting on his great-great-grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, for his family genealogy report, in front of a class containing maybe three actors who are age appropriate.

I know child labor laws are a good thing, and that hiring adults to play teenagers is just the lay of the land, but I swear some of these students look like they’re old enough to be on their second mortgage and third kid.

Anyway.

Archibald Witwicky was an explorer, one of the first to traverse the Arctic circle, and apparently his crew was made up of folks from 2007, because I swear the clothing for a few of these dudes isn’t period-appropriate. We get a seamen joke, because of course we do, and a sextant joke, because of course we do. Sam is also hawking all this crap he’s brought in for the presentation, because he is a little bastard who has no idea what his peers would want to buy, or really how to relate to them at all. He’s selling these “priceless” artifacts so he can get a car. Mikaela finds this charming, for some fucking reason. Also, her boyfriend is weirdly stroking her shoulder blade with his knuckles the whole time this is happening, and I hate it.

Archibald Witwicky went mad after his expedition, talking about an “ice man” so often that his family ended up locking him in a mental asylum, likely to be forgotten about. Which is sad. But we won’t be getting into the medical mistreatment of the mentally ill in Bayverse, now will we? That’s just Too Deep™.

Sam’s teacher didn’t very much appreciate having his class be turned into an episode of Antiques Roadshow, but still gives Sam an “A” on the project, despite it being a very poor report that lasted all of two minutes. I suspect the teacher has tenure, and therefore no longer gives a shit about academic integrity. This “A” means that Sam’s father will buy him a car.

Which is nice, I suppose, if I gave a damn.

Sam’s father, Ron, picks up his son in a car he probably bought at the crux of his midlife crisis, in a green that reminds me of a school gymnasium floor, then plays a prank on his child by pretending to pull into the Porsche dealership. Sam isn’t getting a Porsche, which is good, because he doesn’t deserve one. As Sam gripes to his father, a yellow Camaro drives by oh so conspicuously. Wonder what’s up with that.

Instead of the Porshe dealership, they head over to the used car lot, which is being run by Bobby Bolivia, who spends his time yelling at his employees and wanting to murder his mother. Sam is incredibly ungrateful about the fact that his dad is helping him get a car, even though it’s his FIRST car, and nobody gets a nice one the first go around. Or, at least, they shouldn’t, given the statistics about accidents with young drivers.

“No sacrifice, no victory” is uttered by Ron, which is the family motto, or so he claims. Archibald Witwicky said the same thing when he had multiple people dying trying to get to the Arctic Circle, so there’s precedence for the phrase, but we’ll see how it holds up throughout the film.

Bobby Bolivia shows Sam and Ron the cars he has for sale, and Sam is immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro in the lot, though there’s a small problem- it’s too expensive for what he and his father agreed to. Also, nobody knows where the hell it came from, so paperwork might be an issue. When Bobby tries to show Sam the yellow Beetle they have right down the line, everything explodes, because this is a Bay film, and fuck the original material this movie was based on. Bobby lets them have the Camaro for a lower price, suddenly fearful of whatever strange powers have just visited his place of business. “The car picks the driver” is suddenly more than a bullshit line to spout off in order to sell cars, and I’m certain that’s shaken the poor man.

Over in Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense prepares to address just what the hell happened in Qatar, lamenting on how young the audience he’s going to be speaking to is. In particular, he’s referring to the two dweebs and the hot chick sitting in one of the rows. All the women in this movie who aren’t someone’s mom are made up to be very pretty. And not even in a realistic way. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

So, the military network was hacked. That’s bad. Nobody knows who did it. That’s also bad. The only lead the US has is a soundbite, which is the signal that hacked the network.

Everyone here at the briefing is going to be helping to figure this mess out. This is great, if you like looking at Rachael Taylor for a few seconds at a time, and can compartmentalize hard enough to make that worth the effort of watching this godforsaken film.

Back at the Witwicky household, we meet Mojo, a chihuahua with a cast that doesn’t seem like it’s actually doing anything. I wish he was the main character instead of Sam.

Sam arrives home from the dealership, and says “alright, Mojo, I’ve got the car. Now I need the girl.”

As if ownership of a person is something to aspire to.

As if women are property to be owned.

As if women aren’t people, but rather commodities.

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

We’re introduced to Judy, Sam’s mother. She’s shrill, and annoying. This is by design, because none of the women in this film are actually people, but rather archetypes to bounce off of the male characters.

Sam and his father have a moment of what some might consider banter, then Sam gets huffy with his mom over gender roles for the dog. I, for one, think Mojo looks positively dashing in his bedazzled collar, and to hell with whatever Sam says to the contrary.

Sam drives off to go be a misogynist, with the promise to be back by 11PM.

Over in Qatar, the soldiers and that little boy are running from the attack on their base, as Lennox’s wife watches a public announcement on the matter back at home. The Secretary of Defense lets us know that we’re at DEFCON Delta at this point. Lennox Jr. cries, and all I can think about is how they probably pinched that baby to make that happen. They pinched a baby for Transformers (2007).

The soldiers in Qatar talk about shit they have no idea about, Sergeant Epps going on about somehow having been able to see a forcefield around Blackout through his super special binoculars. I don’t know how, or why, he knows this. I don’t know anything anymore.

Ed Sheeran has his doubts about this whole thing, and Lennox is also present in the scene, because I guess he’s important. Through a bit of dramatic irony, Fig- the guy everyone was making fun of for being bilingual at the start of the film- says that this probably isn’t over, as the shape of Scorponok shifts through the sand just beyond them.

Epps is having a minor crisis over the fact that Blackout saw him, but we don’t have time for that, because we’ve got to get to cover. The lads decide to head to the little Qatari boy’s house. Again, I wonder why he was at the base at all, considering that it seems like they’ve been traveling for a good portion of the day.

Back with Sam, he’s picked up his friend Miles, and together they’re going to a lake party. Are they invited to this party? Yes, but also no. It’s public property though, so it should be fine. As they park, Sam notices that Mikaela is here, which is great for him.

Mikaela’s boyfriend, Trent- whose name I had to look up- is a massive tool, and starts pestering the two boys for daring to exist in his airspace. Miles climbs a tree. I’m glad he’s having fun, at least. Sam makes a joke at the expense of people with brain injuries, and this for some reason? Warrants a shot of Mikaela making the blank “pretty girl” face? In response?

Mikaela saves Sam from becoming a wet stain on the grass, which is very kind of her, and more than Sam really deserves. Trent, his boys, and Mikaela start to head off for another party, to get away from Sam and his tree-loving friend. Mikaela offers to drive, and Trent says that she can’t handle his truck, because she’s a ~girl~. This causes Mikaela to ditch him, and start walking home.

The script knows enough about misogyny to know that this would be a nice “take that”. Michael Bay, however, likely fails to see why everything he did with said script involving this character is a goddamned problem.

Because Mikaela, bless her heart, has a lot of problems.

Let’s start with the outfit: a croptop, a jean skirt that BARELY covers her ass, and a pair of wedge heels that are at least four inches tall. On a character that is, at oldest, freshly 18.

Look, I’m all about self-expression and the freedom to choose how you dress for yourself and yourself alone, but this clearly isn’t that. This is a character, not a person, whose wardrobe was designed for the straight male gaze. She’s wearing fucking STRAP HEELS to the lake. This is about oogling. This is about reducing a whole-ass person to the same status as a piece of meat. In fact, who was on wardrobe for this? I’d like to have a few words with-

A woman? Okay, well, what else has she worked on?

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

Miles just called Mikaela an “evil jock concubine.” I don’t like Miles anymore.

As Mikaela walks down the road, strutting hard enough that I’ve got sympathy pains in my hips, the radio in the Camaro turns on, playing “Drive” by the Cars, and giving Sam a hell of an idea; he’s gonna drive Mikaela home, so she doesn’t have to walk the 10 miles to her house. Why he knows how far she lives from the lake isn’t addressed.

Sam kicks Miles out of the car and goes to give Mikaela a ride, which she accepts after a bit of self-deliberation, and also him making an ass of himself. The shot here is framed with Sam like he’s a normal-ass person, and Mikaela from her breasts to the top of her waist. Because of COURSE it is.

She hops in the car and then goes off about her taste in hot guys. Which is weird, and out of left field. Sam is about as confused as I am, then continues to make a fool of himself. This is his nature as a person. Mikaela has no idea who Sam is, even though they’ve gone to the same school for the last 10 years and have multiple classes together. And the fact that she was staring him down all through his genealogy presentation. And at the lake.

This movie isn’t very well thought out, I feel.

It’s at this point the the Camaro turns the key on itself and starts to sputter out and die, as “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye pops on the radio.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid with a girl who didn’t even know his name five minutes ago.

I don’t like how this car knows what sex is.

The Camaro breaks down on a cliff, and Mikaela hops out to work on the engine, and also to get the hell away from Sam’s sputtering.

As Mikaela admires the sweet engine in this Camaro, showing off her knowledge of cars, we get several shots of her from her breasts to her thighs, while Sam is treated like an actual person. Don’t bother trying to play it off as an artistic choice, Bay, this is blatant horndogging. This adds to NOTHING, other than my ire.

Sam says more stupid shit, and Mikaela, who must be the nicest fucking person in the world, just tells him to fire up the engine so she can try to sort out the problem. Then he asks why she goes for jackasses like Trent, and she decides that she’s hit her limit for today, opting to walk the rest of the way home. Good on you, Mikaela. Don’t take Sam’s bullshit.

Sam, realizing that he’s put his foot in his mouth for the 80th time today, pleads with his Camaro to do him a solid and work, and this actually works out for him. Great. Sam, victorious, once again offers Mikaela a ride, which she, once again, takes.

He drops her off without further incident, and she thanks him for listening. Even though they didn’t really talk that much. I dunno, maybe they had a super deep conversation offscreen. Mikaela asks Sam if he thinks she’s shallow, because clearly all women need approval from the men around them, and Sam says that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Which made me groan aloud.

Anyway, she gets inside without a problem, and Sam professes his love for his new Camaro for allowing him to talk to a girl. Or at least talk at her.

Back in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon National Military Command Center, we’re making weirdly racist calls on who hacked the military.

Up with Air Force One, a conspicuous boombox transforms into a robot, and then runs off to hack shit. The President of the United States requests some snack cakes. A flight attendant goes down to storage to retrieve said snack cakes, and finds that boombox in the elevator with her. Considering this is Air Force One, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse, and we don’t think here.

The flight attendant brings the boombox down with her and places it on the counter as she goes to get the presidential snack cakes. The boombox immediately disappears. Now, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse-

The flight attendant opens up the snack cake package, for some reason, and drops the cake on the floor. She then proceeds to eat it, and then act shocked when it tastes like floor. There’s a robot in her fucking line of sight, and you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing-

She leaves to go feed the President floor cakes, and our little robot friend gets to work stealing government secrets. He, if nothing else, looks pretty cool doing it. He’s a very pointy lad.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie- Rachael Taylor’s character- can hear the hacking. This sends everyone into a panic, because, well, that shouldn’t be happening. The hacking noise is a direct match to the one from Qatar, so that’s obviously a problem.

Back on Air Force One, our little robot friend is looking for “Project Iceman”, which he very quickly finds, and downloads everything they’ve got on it, and also plants a virus. The process seems to be… doing things to him. It’s weird. This movie is weird.

The Pentagon cuts all the system hardlines, stopping the process, but it’s too late- he got what he wanted, just about. Two security personnel come into the room, and the robot kills them both with some spinning blade disc nonsense. Air Force One is forced to land for the safety of everyone on-board. More security detail comes in to deal with the little bastard, but he transforms into a boombox and sits on a shelf to avoid suspicion. Now, you’d perhaps expect-

With the plane grounded, our robot is able to walk his little ass over to a cop car. And when I say walk, I do mean walk; this fucker is in multiple folks’ line of sight and nobody notices a thing. When he enters the car, he’s greeted by the mustachioed driver- the same driver who was operating the helicopter at the beginning of the film. This mustache man is a holographic avatar, one that’s being used by all the Decepticons.

We get our first real taste of Cybertronian language, as our robot- it’s Frenzy, his name is Frenzy- lets everyone know that he’s found a clue to the location of the AllSpark, and, through the power of the internet, knows where to find the guy who’s gonna give them what they need.

Three guesses to who it is, and the first two don’t count.

Back at the Witwicky household, Sam’s car does a runner in the middle of the night. Sam, horrified that his property is being stolen, pursues on a bike, screaming at his dad to call the cops. Sam also calls the cops, as he tears through the neighborhood.

The Camaro breaks into an abandoned building, Sam follows, and we finally get a shot of our audience appeal character. Sam watches in disbelief as a giant yellow space robot shines a beacon into the sky, then makes a video on his flip phone recording the experience. He apologizes to his parents for owning pornographic magazines, and goes to face his probable demise.

However, death does not come from above, instead manifesting itself as two of the strongest junkyard dogs in the known universe, who break their brick-inlaid chains to get at this little dip of a man. Sam is chased through the yard, climbing on top of a couple precarious oil drums, even though there’s a ladder, like, right there. The Camaro rolls in, scaring off the dogs, and Sam bolts, throwing the keys to his ride at his ride. When he gets outside, the cops have arrived, and immediately arrest him.

Back with the US government, the Secretary of State is having a conversation about all the bullshit that just went down with Air Force One. He and his fellow cishet old white men discuss their options, until Maddie comes in to set them straight on some of the facts. They act all indignant about it, because women can’t be smart, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Anyway, we get a weird little deflection of Maddie’s role in everything, because a woman is nothing without the men around her, then she brings up the point that the bullshit that happened on Air Force One went down in just a few seconds, which isn’t something that anyone can actually do. She brings up quantum mechanics, which everyone blows off as nonsense- not that I wouldn’t as well- and theorizes on a DNA-based computer, which is technically a thing, if not trapped in the realm of speculation. It’s at this point that the Secretary of Defense tells her to come back when she can back these wild claims up, and isn’t just clearly spitballing.

And then he snaps his fingers at her, and any point he might have had leaves my brain so I have more room for being enraged.

Back with Sam, we’re at the police station talking to the cops. His dad is here, and Sam is trying to explain that his car is a dude. Even though he took at a video (one that was likely crap, given how quickly he spun his phone around to show off what he was seeing) the cops, understandably, don’t believe him. Then one of them, not so understandably, starts… threatening Sam? With his sidearm? And daring him to try something? This isn’t any sort of statement on the corruption of American law enforcement, it’s just bizarre.

Back in Qatar, our soldier buddies have found a telephone line, and are going to try to use it to get in contact with the rest of the world. It’s just too bad that Scorponok’s decided to make an entrance, and knock said telephone line the hell down. Ed Sheeran has next to no reaction to this, despite it happening maybe ten feet behind him. Fig speaks Spanish, and Ed Sheeran makes a point to be an asshole about it.

Scorponok is about to stab Lennox with his very pointy tail, when Epps notices- finally, someone with peripheral vision- and starts shooting. Then everyone starts shooting, kicking up enough sand to blind themselves, as Scorponok scuttles away, buries himself, then reappears behind Ed Sheeran.

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

The others bolt, not wanting the same to happen to them, and for the fourth time I wonder just why the hell this young boy was at the base in the first place.

Off in the distance, the community of a nearby town wonders just what the shit is going on out in the desert. Our soldiers run into the town, and everyone gets their guns and start firing on Scorponok, who retaliates, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

Lennox demands that the young boy take him to his father, and proceeds to borrow his phone. As shit goes down outside, we have a sort-of gag where Lennox is trying to contact the Pentagon, while a telemarketer tries to get him to buy a phone package. In order for this call to go through, he’s going to need a credit card. This is where the well-known “pocket” scene comes from, as Lennox searches Epps’ pants for his wallet as he fires on Scorponok. It’s probably the best-written thing in this whole film.

With the credit card acquired, Lennox finally gets through to the Pentagon, and tosses Epps the phone so he can talk. Maybe he’s got anxiety about speaking on the phone, I dunno.

Scorponok shows off his disregard for historical architecture, blowing up several buildings, and the US government just watches this all go down. One of the actors in this scene looks like my dad, and it trips me up every time he’s on screen. Anyway, now the Pentagon knows about the giant space robots running around in Qatar. They send over some air support about it. All this manages to do is piss Scorponok off.

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

Also, Fig’s been grievously wounded. The others, for once, don’t make fun of his native language while they help him hold his blood inside his body.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s looking to prove that the bullshit that’s been going on is of the sci-fi variety, and in order to do that, she’s going to need a little outside help. She takes the information from the Pentagon, slaps it into an SD card, hides that shit in her blush compact, and then runs out the door to Glenn Whitmann’s house. Or, rather, his grandma’s house.

Glenn is a hacker, and shouldn’t be seeing anything that Maddie’s brought him, but everyone knows that confidentiality is for nerds, so whatever.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s immediately been caught. It’s almost like slapping the military network onto an SD card maybe wasn’t such a hot idea. But what do I know?

Glenn takes a look at the soundbite and figures out that there’s a code embedded in the thing in about two seconds. Good to know our tax dollars are being well-spent on the US military, that some dude in his jammies can figure this shit out faster than a whole team of analysts. They figure out that “Project Iceman” is involved with this somehow, and also the existence of Sector Seven. It’s at this point that the FBI busts in. Good. I kind of want Maddie to go to jail for this, because she was about as stupid as she could be handling the situation.

Glenn’s cousin goes through a closed glass door- don’t worry, it’s tempered- and there’s a weird cut before that exact same shot continues, and he’s tackled into the pool. There was no reason for that to have happened, but here we are.

Back with Sam, we’re treated to him in his boxers, shooting basketballs in his room. He goes into the kitchen, where Mojo is standing on a stool. It’s a very tall stool, the sort you sit on, and he’s just… there. I don’t know how he got there. There’s no one else in the room besides Sam, and I know he didn’t put him there.

Clearly this must mean Mojo is God, and being on that stool is his divine will. I will be approaching the rest of the franchise with this in mind, because it’s clearly the only answer.

Our merciful Lord Mojo jumps up on the kitchen counter and begins growling at something through the window. Sam looks out… the opposite window… to find that his Camaro has returned to him, and is less than thrilled about it, to put it lightly. He drops a jug of milk- luckily it was mostly empty, given the sound it makes when it hits the floor- and gives his buddy Miles a call. You remember Miles, don’t you? If you don’t, it’s fine, because he reestablishes his quirkiness with a single shot, as he sits in a swimsuit and bathes his huge-ass dog in a kiddie pool, and answers the phone with a headset he just happened to be wearing. He must get a lot of calls during Dog Washing Hours. 

After giving us one of the most intense voice cracks I’ve ever heard, Sam books it out of his house, hopping on a bike to escape his murderous Camaro. He’s not seen the thing commit any murders, mind you, but he seems pretty convinced that it would do the job, given half a chance. Also, this isn’t the bike he rode the night before; that one is likely being chewed on by those strong-ass junkyard dogs. No, for some reason, the Witwickys have a pastel pink girl’s bike, with the fun little handle tassels and the basket and everything. As far as I can tell, Sam is an only child, and if you think Bay’s going to allow for a teenage boy to have the vulnerability to own a pink bike, you’ve not been paying attention for the last 48.5 minutes.

The Camaro gives chase, rolling after Sam on his bike at a brisk 7 MPH down the friggin’ sidewalk, one of the only scenes in this travesty of a film to actually get me to crack a smile. Sam races through town until city planning puts a stop to him, through the magic of using chunks of cement to decorate the mulch around their trees. He crashes his bike, faceplants into the concrete in front of Mikaela, and promptly dies, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told a fib. I’m sorry.

Instead, he does a flip and lands on his back, likely receiving a concussion, in front of Mikaela and her friends. Her friends laugh, because everyone hates Sam, as they should, and Mikaela says that what he just did was “really awesome.” Don’t try to be nice, Mikaela, this is Sam we’re talking about; you could stick the dude in the freezer overnight and he still wouldn’t be even remotely cool.

Sam gets back to the whole “running away from a car” deal, and Mikaela decides that this is the sort of thing she’d like to do with her day, so she ditches her friends in the middle of their scheduled Burger King™ time to go see what the hell Sam’s on about.

As Sam is chased by the Camaro who is being chased by Mikaela on her motorized scooter, a cop becomes involved, tearing through the streets to join this ridiculous game of tag. Now, we’ve seen two different flavor of cop so far- the mustachioed avatar cop car that picked up Frenzy from the airport, and the dude who threatened a teenage boy with a gun after accusing him of being under the influence of drugs. Either way, I don’t think this is going to turn out well for Sam.

Sam’s cornered himself under one of those really wide bridges where people can park their cars, which wasn’t terribly smart, but it’s Sam, so this is about par for the course. The Camaro manages to miss him, but the cop car does not. Sam is actually pretty cool with the cops being here, as if they could do anything about “Satan’s Camaro.” I guess he didn’t see the decal on the side of this car that says “to punish and enslave…”

Sam attempts to approach the car for help, and gets clotheslined by a car door for his troubles. He hits his head on the pavement, certainly exasperating the brain injury he received not ten minutes ago. Still, he continues to try to talk to the holographic avatar through the windshield, revealing that the bike he’s been riding is his mother’s. Mystery solved, I suppose.

The cop car doesn’t much appreciate being slapped on the hood, and begins to rev violently at Sam, threatening to run him over several times. Then it explodes into being a robot. Sam, who’s seen a lot of really weird shit in the last 24 hours, nopes out of the situation. It’s at this point that I realize he’s wearing a shirt for the band the Strokes. I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but it did. Guess my brain needed something to latch onto during all this.

Sam is running as fast as his little legs allow, as our newest robot friend takes up a leisurely jog to keep pace. Then he kicks Sam. He kicks Sam’s body like the football. This, of course, instantly turns Sam into a bag of jelly and kills him, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Sam somehow survives being punted by a giant metal leg and lands in the windshield of a car that doesn’t turn into a robot. Then he gets yelled at by the cop car. This is Barricade, a member of the Decepticons, and Sam’s got something he wants. Or, should I say “LadiesMan217” has something he wants.

LadiesMan217 is Sam’s Ebay username. This is both stupid because no teenage boy existing beyond the year 1985 would have ever called himself that, and also because it’s just stupid.

Barricade wants the glasses Sam presented for his genealogy report, and he wants them NOW. Seeing as the thing he wants is for sale, and nobody had been bidding on it, one would wonder why Barricade and his associates didn’t just try to purchase them like upstanding citizens. Perhaps Decepticons don’t understand the concept of money, or perhaps they don’t have a stable address to have the glasses shipped to. Or perhaps nobody considered that angle when the script was being put together. Who can say?

Sam gets back to running away from Barricade, we see where Mikaela got to, and the two of them collide. Sam rips Mikaela off of her scooter, and they both fall to the ground. Mikaela, who did not buckle the clasp on her helmet, asks Sam what his fucking problem is. Then his problem shows up, and they take a very long time to get up so they can run. So long, in fact, that the Camaro has to swing in to save them. After much pleading from Sam, Mikaela gets inside Satan’s Camaro, and the two of them are whisked away to safety. Barricade pursues, and then the butt rock starts.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling, the Camaro busts through a window and several shelves in an abandoned building, there’s some drifting, and then suddenly it’s nighttime. Barricade somehow got in front of the Camaro, and is circling like a shark. The Camaro locks the two teenagers inside itself, though I suppose they could climb out through the still-open windows if they really wanted to. The Camaro cuts the engine off, then cuts it back on and bolts for the exit, and this somehow tricks Barricade long enough for them to get past.

The Camaro dumps Mikaela and Sam out one of the doors and then transforms into that yellow space robot we saw a bit ago. It’s Bumblebee! Nearly an hour in, and we finally get a proper look at the little bastard. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the first 20-something minutes on being xenophobic and appealing to the focus groups that think it’s fine sexualize high schoolers.

Bumblebee- no, he’s not introduced himself yet, but I just can’t keep calling him “the Camaro” anymore- comes out of his transformation ready to square the fuck up. Barricade throws himself at Bumblebee, they roll around on the ground for a bit, then things start sparking and exploding, because this is a Michael Bay film. Frenzy jumps out and starts chasing down Mikaela and Sam, while Bumblebee and Barricade murder death punch each other. Frenzy manages to grab Sam by the ankles, drag him to the ground, and rip his pants off. Not sure how that happened, considering he’s still got his shoes on.

While Sam’s busy being chased by a sentient pile of safety pins, Mikaela’s taken it upon herself to be proactive about her survival, and is raiding a nearby building for power tools. She sprints out holding an electric jig saw and saves Sam by decapitating Frenzy. If you know anything about Transformers, then you know this doesn’t actually kill Frenzy, but good on her for being a badass. Why couldn’t Mikaela be our main character again? Oh, right, because she’s a ~girl~.

Sam punts Frenzy’s head, like, 50 yards, which seems like something he shouldn’t be able to do, given that he’s a massive weenie, but there you are. With that out of the way, Sam takes Mikaela’s hand and they run off to go watch the giant robot fight. The bottom of Frenzy’s head turns into a spider and he crawls his way over to Mikaela’s purse. He’s gonna steal her gum, the fiend!

Mikaela and Sam have, unfortunately, missed the giant robot fight, which means that we, as the audience, have also missed the giant robot fight. Which is unbelievably stupid, seeing as everyone who has ever watched this movie came for the GIANT GODDAMN ROBOTS.

Mikaela asks just who the hell the yellow robot is, I guess because she’s finally had a second to process what the hell’s going on. Sam claims that he’s a super-advanced robot, “probably from Japan.” Whether or not this is a reference to the Japanese origins of the original toy line isn’t clear, though somehow I think it’s more xenophobia. Sam also makes the claim that if Bumblebee had intended to hurt them, he would have done it by now. This is quite the jump from a few hours ago, when he was calling the poor guy “Satan’s Camaro.”

Sam finally, finally asks Bumblebee what his deal is, and we get our first taste of the Bayverse Bumblebee Gimmick. The Gimmick here is that, due to an injury to his vocal processing, Bumblebee cannot communicate through traditional means, i.e. speech. Because of this, he instead strings together sentences by flicking through the radio frequencies and choosing key words. This can lead to some interesting audio design, like describing his fellow Autobots to “rain down like visitors form heaven, Hallelujah!” because a radio sermon fit what he was trying to say best.

This gimmick is one that has been used in other pieces of Transformers media, at least in part. Bumblebee is unable to speak traditionally in Transformers: Prime, and instead communicates in beeps and clicks that his teammates can understand, but not so much the humans, save for Raf. In Bumblebee (2018), the idea was used whole-cloth, with the injury resulting in his inability to speak happening on-camera within the first 10 minutes of the movie, and the idea of “expressing oneself through music” being introduced by his human companion Charlie Watson.

All in all, I rather like the idea going on here; it’s an interesting part of his character that opens up for a lot of interesting and creative moments.

It’s just too bad it was introduced in fucking Bayverse.

But yeah, anyway, the other Autobots are coming to Earth. Shit’s gonna be lit.

Bumblebee turns back into a Camaro, and Sam uses the power of FOMO to get Mikaela to go in the car with him. We get a shot of Barricade fucking dying on the side of the road. Frenzy murders Mikaela’s phone, and then steals its identity, including the little bejeweled heart stickers. Good thing Mikaela remembered to go get her purse, otherwise he probably would have felt very silly doing that.

Mikaela refuses to sit in the driver’s seat, seeing as she now knows Sam’s car is sentient, and sort of feels weird about this whole thing. Sam suggests that she sit in his lap instead, as the camera angles to give us a peek at the cup of Mikaela’s bra. When asked why the hell she should do such a thing, Sam says it’s a concern about her safety, given that the middle console of the car does not have a seatbelt. Sam either fails to recognize that seatbelts going over two layered bodies won’t save either of them in the event of a crash, or he’s just trying to make an excuse to have a pretty girl in his lap.

Given what movie this is, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

Mikaela has a similar line of thought, but scoots over anyway, saying that the seatbelt line was a “smooth move”. It wasn’t, but if I picked apart every single bad line Sam had in this film, I’d be here all day.

Mikaela questions Bumblebee’s taste in alt-mode, which offends him to the point of dumping both her and Sam out in the street and driving away. He returns, moments later, as a sleek new Camaro, that I’m sure some car aficionados would call “sexy.”

Bumblebee’s alt-mode is a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, of which there were none during the time of filming. It was put together for this movie in roughly five weeks. Sam is blown away by the fact that he now owns a car that does not currently exist in his universe. Mikaela is impressed, or at least she would be, if women were allowed to show that emotion in a non-horny way in a Bay film.

Judy doesn’t count.

As Bumblebee breaks into yet another restricted area, we get a shot of the Earth from orbit, as several objects rocket towards the planet. Sam and Mikaela watch the Autobots burn up in the atmosphere, and Mikaela tries to hold Sam’s hand as they do, and it’s at this point that I have to address how much I hate these two’s dynamic.

I don’t give a single solitary shit about this romance, because A) it’s poorly written, B) Mikaela could do infinitely better than Sam, C) I dislike Sam so very much, D) Mikaela, who is a way more interesting character, got placed on friggin’ love interest duty because ~girl~, and E) it’s useless padding to try and make me care about what’s happening here, and I just DON’T. I do NOT care about whether these two get together or not.

We see the Autobots crash-land, three out of four of them causing massive amounts of property damage and possibly killing at least one person. Their stasis pods crack open, and they each climb out, completely naked and in desperate need of clothing to hide their shame. With a quick scan of nearby vehicles, they’re once again decent to be seen in public.

Bumblebee drives the kids out to what I can only assume is the warehouse district he sent that beacon out in, as our collection of good guys finally come together at long last. A massive Peterbilt semi-truck stops directly in front of Mikaela and Sam.

We’re over an hour into this film, and we’re just now getting to the quintessential Transformer, Optimus Prime himself.

In the original cartoon, Optimus’s alt-mode was what’s known as a cabover truck, one where the cab- where the driver sits- is seated directly over the engine. These were popular during the days when maximum truck-lengths were much shorter than they are currently. This is why when you look at height charts for Optimus over various continuities, his G1 cartoon counterpart much shorter than his other iterations.

Modern trucks are longer, and don’t need the cab to sit on top of the engine to save on space. The designers chose to use a Peterbilt to make sure that Optimus would have an imposing stature when compared to his fellow Autobots.

Because heaven forbid we not have heightism come into play in this film.

Our Autobots transform, and say what you will about these bastards being visually incomprehensible, the transformations themselves are cool as hell. My personal favorite is Jazz’s, where he does a cool windmill into his root mode.

Optimus crouches like he’s looking at a cool bug on the sidewalk and addresses Sam by name. He doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela, which I find to be a bit rude, but whatever. He then introduces himself as the leader of the Autobots.

Peter Cullen is back as the voice for Optimus Prime, sounding wonderful as always. He almost wasn’t brought on for this project, because Michael Bay didn’t want him. If the fans hadn’t thrown a hissyfit, who knows who we would have gotten to be our space dad for the next hour and a half?

This is actually an issue that’s recurred several times in the last few years, and not just with Cullen; Frank Welker, the voice of Megatron, as well as many other Transformers, has been refused roles within Transformers properties. In general, this is because both Cullen and Welker are union actors, and Hasbro would prefer to hire sound-alikes than pay more money for the originals. This isn’t to shame the non-union actors, goodness no, just to merely point out less-than-fantastic business practices.

I realize there have been a lot of tangents, but you have to understand that I am suffering as I do this.

Optimus then introduces his team- there’s Jazz, whose first line is “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”, Ironhide, who incorrectly quotes Dirty Harry, and Ratchet, who calls out just how obnoxiously horny Sam’s character is. We also finally get Bumblebee’s name.

Mikaela asks the very good question of why the fuck the Autobots are here on Earth. Optimus explains that the AllSpark is here, and they’ve got to get to it before Megatron does. He then goes on to explain who Megatron is, stating that he “betrayed” the Cybertronian empire.

No, how exactly he did that isn’t addressed. We’ll just have to take Optimus’s word, I suppose.

If you’ve sussed out by this point the the AllSpark and the Cube™ are the same thing, congrats! You win. Megatron followed the AllSpark to Earth, where he promptly was neutralized by the cold of the Arctic circle. This was 110 years prior to the events of this film, and where Archibald Witwicky came in to the story.

When the expedition was happening, Archibald fell through the ice during a collapse, and ended up finding Megatron’s frozen body in an ice cave. He went poking around on this strange metal giant, and ended up activating Megatron’s navigation systems, which imprinted the coordinates of the AllSpark onto Archibald’s glasses.

Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

So, the Autobots need the glasses, so they can find the AllSpark before the Decepticons do, so those guys don’t use it to build an army out of Earth’s machines, which will destroy humanity.

Sounds simple enough, let’s go get that vision correction device!

Back with the military dudes, everyone’s taking a gander at the tail that Scorponok left behind. They theorize that the metal that makes up these giant murder-robots reacts to extreme heat, but elaboration on that point will have to wait, because the tail has begun to flail. They quickly strap it down, then call the military to let them know to strap anti-tank guns onto anything that’s going to be approaching any giant robots.

Meanwhile, in an interrogation room, Maddie and Glen have been left to sweat a bit. Glen takes to stress-eating, while framing it as a psychological tactic to subconsciously prove his innocence to the FBI.

This is a fat joke, with the added nasty layer of Glen being a black man about to be interrogated by one of the most intimidating white cops I’ve seen in a hot minute.

Glen immediately folds, pinning all the blame on Maddie, and claiming that he’s been a perfect angel his whole life. We get some weird purity culture out of him, before Maddie lets the FBI know that she needs to talk to the Secretary of Defense, NOW.

Over at the Witwicky household, Sam’s parents are watching the news, trying to find out what all those loud crashes were about. Optimus Prime drives down their residential street, the rest of the gang in tow, then they all park to wait for Sam to go get the glasses.

For about 20 seconds.

Sam has to physically hold the door shut to prevent his father from coming out and seeing several very tall robots from outer space tip-toeing around his freshly-landscaped yard, I guess because they got antsy. Optimus plods around on the grass and breaks a fountain, and our benevolent god Mojo comes out of the house, assuredly to smite the leader of the Autobots.

Mikaela runs onto the scene, and Sam chastises her for not controlling the robots who didn’t even acknowledge her existence, outside of pointing out Sam was sexually attracted to her.

Mojo pees on Ironhide’s foot, which prompts Ironhide to threaten to shoot the creature. This is why Ironhide isn’t getting into heaven. Sam, one of Mojo’s chosen few, claims that the mortal shell of his god is seen as a beloved pet by many humans. Sam runs into the house, before Mojo can incur his divine wrath on the Autobots.

While Sam goes to get the glasses, the Autobots decide to do a little peeping on the house, watching his parents watch TV. Sam tears his room apart trying to find the glasses, and Optimus thinks that it would be helpful if he brought Mikaela up to help look. It’s at this point that I realize that Sam has an utterly bizarre fish tank.

I mean, legitimately, what the fuck is this? No filter, no plants, might not even have any rocks on the bottom. Is this a comically oversized bong Sam threw a couple fish into? What the fuck.

Mikaela starts looking for the glasses, running into what is likely a box of porn mags, then they both look out the window to find that the Autobots have decided to hide in plain sight by transforming... in the middle of Sam’s backyard. Amazing work, gentlemen.

Sam finally convinces the Autobots to go sit in the alley and wait, only for Ratchet to run into a power line and trip into a greenhouse. The resulting impact is interpreted as an earthquake. Judy does not have the reaction one might expect from someone who’s lived in California for at least ten years.

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

The power cuts out, and Ron goes up to check on his son, because he’s at least a halfway-decent father. Ratchet’s shining a light to aid in the search for the glasses. Sam’s parents notice this bright light, and bang on Sam’s door to see what’s up.

Sam quickly hides Mikaela and then attempts to salvage the situation, answering the door and trying to control the narrative. Unfortunately, Ron is far too inquisitive for Sam to do this, and then Judy asks if Sam was masturbating.

Judy, is privacy just not a thing to you? Because if not, it really ought to be.

She keeps going with it too, trying to come up with code words, until another one of the Autobots trips and causes Ron to panic again, climbing into Sam’s ancient claw-foot bathtub to protect himself. He looks out the window to check on his beloved yard, lamenting that the earthquake tore it up.

Ironhide is strongly considering killing Sam’s parents. Optimus tells him that they don’t harm humans, and also begins to wonder if he made a mistake bringing this guy along.

Back in Sam’s room, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Sam is an absolutely terrible liar, and Mikaela reveals herself, if only to prevent Judy from trying to talk about self-pleasure again. Of course, now she gets to be subjected to both of Sam’s parents objectifying her, so this might be a lose-lose situation.

Sam is reminded that his backpack is in the kitchen, just in time for the government to show up at his house. Mikaela makes a comment about Judy being nice. I suppose on a surface level, yes, being told that you’re gorgeous by someone’s mom is nice. I do have to question the context that compliment took place in, however.

Sam’s about to hand the glasses over to the Autobots, when someone rings the doorbell. It’s Sector Seven, and they’re here to talk to Sam about his stolen car being part of an issue involving national security. Ron and Judy are more concerned about their yard being torn up, Judy yelling that they “need to get their hands off [her] bush.”

We still have another hour of this movie.

The agent leading this mission asks Sam to come with him for questioning, which his parents are very much against. Mojo also voices his displeasure, but it would seem that Agent Simmons is not a follower of the Tenets of Mojo. Sam gets geigered, and his readings are high enough for Sector Seven to take him and everyone in this house into custody.

As Sam and Mikaela are riding in the back of the car, Simmons brings up Sam’s Ebay account, and also the phone video he took of Bumblebee earlier in the week. Mikaela is rather unimpressed with Sam at the moment, probably because he’s gotten her arrested. She still tries to help him out though, because she really is just the nicest fucking person on the planet.

Alas, the combined efforts of these two teenagers isn’t enough to fool the long arm of the law, especially when it’s a branch of said law that deals with extraterrestrial activity. Simmons threatens to lock up these literal children for life if they don’t start talking. Mikaela isn’t taking the bait, so he goes after her father’s parole hearing instead.

Yep! As it turns out, Mikaela and her father stole cars to get by, and she’s got the record to back that claim up. Simmons calls her a criminal, then says that criminals are hot. Mikaela looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t blame her in the slightest.

Optimus, I suppose because his dad senses were tingling, takes the opportunity to place his leg in the road for the car to run into, then grabs said car like an unruly cat and lifts it until the roof rips off due to stress. The agents in the other cars pile out and point their guns at the giant space robot. The rest of the Autobots quickly relieve them of their weapons.

Optimus notes that Simmons doesn’t seem surprised that a bunch of giant robots just took all his guys’ guns, and demands that he exit the vehicle, posthaste. Simmons obliges, after a bit more prodding. Mikaela undoes Sam’s handcuffs, and he gets fucking pissy about it, as if this girl he’s had a grand total of three (awkward) conversations with should have told him something as personal as “hey, so my dad’s in jail and I’ve been to juvenile detention.”

Luckily, she doesn’t let him get away with it, calling him out as the spoiled, self-centered, privileged little shithead that he is.

Of course, we don’t get any sort of real acknowledgement from Sam, having to move on with the plot. Perhaps, if we hadn’t spent the last hour and 20 minutes faffing about on drivel, we could have had Sam get an actual moment of self-reflection, and potentially even character growth. However, this is Bayverse, and everyone knows that personal accountability is for fucking sissies.

Mikaela and Sam ask several questions, but get no answers from Agent Simmons. And then Bumblebee pees on him.

I hate that I had to write that. I hate it very much.

Anyway, I don’t know why that had to happen, but it did, and I’m nothing if not thorough.

Optimus tells Bumblebee to cut it out, and with that the Sector Seven agents are cuffs and left on the side of the road. Mikaela orders Simmons to strip, as punishment for threatening her father, then cuffs him to a street lamp.

...Yes, that does sound like a bizarre sexual fantasy, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for our teen heroes, they forgot to confiscate everyone’s phones, and Sector Seven knows what’s up, thanks to the power of speakerphone. More cars and a couple of helicopters show up basically immediately, and the Autobots decide it’s time to dip.

But not before Ironhide fires off a pulsewave into the ground that causes a five-car pileup.

Optimus, I suppose because he knows he chose a ridiculously flashy alt-mode that is in no way practical, just picks the kids up in and places them on his shoulder like a couple of parakeets, then takes up a leisurely jog to get away from the eyes in the sky. He runs through the city, racking up what is likely millions in property damage, as the helicopters pursue. He passes by a “Legalize LA” billboard, which feels odd to see, given what movie this is.

The ‘copters somehow manage to lose Optimus, despite him being relatively slow, and having a notable radiation level that they’ve been using to track him. He hides inside the scaffolding of a bridge, only for Mikaela and Sam to slip off of his polished body to their deaths, thus ending the film.

No, they don’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Bumblebee snatches them up just before they hit the ground, the impact of his metal body catching them at 75 mph, killing them instantly and ending the film.

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

Mikaela and Sam are fine, some-fucking-how, but Sam’s dropped the MacGuffin glasses. The helicopters swing back around, having noticed the sound of a car crashing into the ground and the screams of two whole adolescents. They break out a fucking harpoon gun and fire on our kid appeal character.

Repeatedly.

They wrap up Bumblebee in a series of cables, as he screams like a moose. Mikaela and Sam are held at gunpoint by what is honestly far too many dudes, and are then arrested for the second time in ten minutes. Bumblebee is smoked... because he’s a bee? Sam, not liking this one bit, finds the strength in his weenie body to push a cop off of himself, run at one of the dudes with the smoke guns, throw him to the ground, and then start smoking him. He’s immediately tackled, but points for trying.

Sam and Mikaela are placed back into custody, and the rest of the Autobots regroup with Optimus to see what the plan is. Optimus says that they can’t save Bumblebee without hurting humans, so I guess Bumblebee is just a POW now. Well, at least they got the glasses. That’s cool.

Back at the Pentagon, things are getting dicey, as the other world powers are starting to suspect that something’s up. The Secretary of Defense is approached by a man with a mustache and a briefcase. He’s from Sector Seven, but the Secretary gives not a fuck about mysterious organizations. All the computers in the room suddenly go down, the virus from earlier working its magic- only this time, the blackout is global.

Mr. Mustache opens his briefcase, while explaining that Sector Seven is something known as a “special access” sector of the government, which is why nobody’s ever heard of it; it’s beyond top secret. Commissioned by President Herbert Hoover 80 years prior, it deals with alien life.

When the Beagle 2 spacecraft was lost on the way to Mars in 2003, the mission was declared a failure. This was a lie. The Beagle 2 recorded several seconds of Mars before being crushed to death by a Transformer. This tidbit is pretty funny, given that the Beagle 2 was rediscovered on Mars in 2014, seven years after this film released. Not a terribly mysterious death anymore, is it?

Comparing the footage from Mars to the footage from Qatar has Sector Seven thinking that these are the same species. Which they are. God, it’d be so fucked up if there were two species of giant robots in this film.

Mr. Mustache theorizes that because the Transformers now know that they can be harmed by human weaponry, they’re being proactive about their safety and shutting down all forms of communication technology with that virus that keeps popping up. It’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan for humanity.

Mr. Secretary tells his guys to try going analog with comms, breaking out the short-wave radios, to tell their ships to return home.

Over at an Air Force base, Lennox and the gang have landed, only to be scooped up by a bunch of dudes in suits.

Back with Maddie and Glen, the two of them have fallen asleep in the interrogation room, Maddie still wearing her friggin’ four inch pumps as her legs are propped up on the table, crossed in a way that seems rather uncomfortable. Glen gets to sleep like a normal human being, with his head resting on his forearms. Why this place doesn’t have a holding cell for these situations is beyond me.

Mr. Secretary comes in to bring Maddie on as his advisor. Glen can come too, I guess, considering he’s the one who actually figured out the sound file virus.

We get a little military glorification, and then it’s revealed that Mikaela and Sam, as well as Maddie and Glen, are aboard this helicopter. Their paths cross at last. Our heroes are transported to the Hoover Dam, where Bumblebee is also. They are still smoking him.

Meanwhile, the Autobots are figuring out where to go, with the power of Archibald’s glasses. Ratchet, who I guess is omnipotent, senses that the Decepticons have also figured out the location, and that this is going to be a race against the clock. And I mean, he’s right, but the phrasing is a bit odd.

Jazz wants to know when they’re going to save Bumblebee. Optimus says that they aren’t, and that Bumblebee’s sacrifice is noble, and that he would want the Autobots to leave him and complete the mission. As this is said, we get another shot of Bumblebee getting smoked and trapped in a lab. Yep, this is totally what he would want. He absolutely signed up for this, giving himself up to the government and not at all fighting like mad to not be captured.

I don’t think Bayverse Optimus actually knows what martyrdom is, which is bizarre, given that it’s a major trait in a lot of other iterations of the character.

Ironhide isn’t even sure why they’re bothering to save humanity, given that humans are violent and awful, his point being hammered home as Bumblebee is tortured for scientific reasons. Ironhide seems to have forgotten that Cybertron has been at war for literally millions of years. Optimus has faith in humanity, however, stating that we’re “young”.

And then he says that he’s going to end his own race, by destroying the Cube™, which is how they reproduce, because that’s the only way to end the war.

Which is arguably one of the most hardcore fictional applications of eugenics ever conceived.

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

Optimus then proves that he does, in fact, know what self-sacrifice is, stating that, if all else fails, he’ll shove the AllSpark into his spark, which will destroy them both. He’s pretty chill about it, too.

Up on top of the Hoover Dam, Frenzy has fallen out of Mikaela’s bag.

Mr. Secretary is also at the Hoover Dam now, as is Lennox’s team. Oh, and Agent Simmons, who is thankfully wearing pants. He offers to buy Sam a coffee, as repartitions for threatening his family, arresting him, and being a complete creep to a teenage girl. Sam gives not a fuck about caramel macchiatos with extra foam and chocolate drizzle, however. He only cares about his car.

Mr. Mustache, who is also here, needs Sam to spill the beans on all these friggin’ giant robots that are running around. This is where Sam realizes he has the upper hand for once, and he starts making demands. One such demand is having Mikaela’s record scrubbed clean, which is an actually very nice thing for him to have done for her. We’ll see if his intent comes to fruition. For now, it’s time to talk about Bumblebee.

We get a shot of all these folks heading into the secret base hidden inside the Hoover Dam, and it’s at this point that I notice that Maddie’s shirt is basically see-through.

Inside the Dam, we see that Sector Seven′s been keeping Megatron this entire time, keeping him neutralized with cryo-stasis since 1935. Cryopreservation was invented in the 50′s. This isn’t a nitpick, I just thought it was a neat little fact.

Megatron being on Earth has resulted in most modern technology. This sort of plot point always bothers me, because it takes away agency from the entire human race. We didn’t use our own ingenuity and work ethic to advance society, we plagiarized from a more advanced species. I dunno, it just rubs me the wrong way.

We get the part of the movie where info is hashed out, so that everyone is on the same page, Sam spouting off Autobot propaganda. We can forgive him for this,considering he’s 16, and no one is immune to propaganda, especially when they have zero way of doing their own research to form their own opinion with.

Sector Seven also has the AllSpark, kept in the room next to Megatron’s, like the chumps they will soon find themselves to be. It’s about ten stories tall and the reason the Hoover Dam exists. With so much concrete suppressing its alien energies, surely no one will ever find it!

Except for Frenzy, who came in through a mouse hole. Whoopsie-doodle!

The AllSpark zaps the nasty little man, restoring his body with its weird MacGuffin powers. Frenzy tells all his coworkers that he found what they were looking for, and everyone starts heading over.

Maddie asks Mr. Mustache what exactly he means by “energies”, perhaps worried that this whole thing has been some elaborate ploy to get her to invest in magic healing stones. Mr. Mustache brings everyone into a testing chamber, since the best way to explain how the AllSpark works is through a demonstration.

There’s a big fish tank in the middle of this testing chamber, in which Agent Simmons places a donated device from the crowd- Glen’s Nokia phone, specifically. Simmons makes a geologically-confused comment. When this is pointed out by Maddie, Mr. Secretary hushes her, simply saying that Simmons is a strange man. The tank is locked down, and then the show starts.

Cube™ energies are shot into the tank, and the phone explodes into life, transforming into a gorilla-shaped gremlin creature. Happy birthday, little dude!

Little dude starts shooting at the tank walls, cracking the glass until Simmons pulls the trigger and ends it. Happy deathday, little dude!

The Decepticons are making tracks towards the Hoover Dam, but Starscream- yeah, he’s in this now, don’t worry about it- arrives first, because he is a very fast jet. He transforms, showing off his ridiculous Dorito body, and fires on the base’s generators. The resulting explosions can be heard all the way down in the testing chamber, and Mr. Mustache calls upstairs to see what’s up. Looks like Megatron may be getting warmed up, seeing as his ice bath has been cut off. Lennox asks if there’s an arms room in Sector Seven, which sort of feels like asking a bakery if they have any flour.

Frenzy has entered the room that houses the controls for the cryo-stasis and set that whole system to “no, thank you”.

Mr. Mustache runs through the base, screaming for everyone to get to the Megatron chamber. Off in the distance, the Autobots approach. Could probably used some fliers on your team, huh Optimus?

Back with Frenzy, he’s decided to just straight-up raise Megatron’s core temperature directly. Hope he doesn’t do it too fast; rewarming hypothermia victims recklessly can do some serious damage.

Outside of the base, Lennox and the boys are loading up with weaponry, along with what’s the entirety of Sector Seven′s cannon-fodder department. Oh, and all the main cast. Yep, just got a couple of teenagers chillin’ in the munitions room.

Sam wants Simmons to take him to his car- he hasn’t used Bumblebee’s name in a hot minute, not sure what’s up with that- even though Simmons is currently busy loading a very large gun. Simmons doesn’t want to do that, because he’s got no idea if what Sam mentioned earlier is even true, and he doesn’t want to pin the fate of humanity on a single Camaro. Lennox takes this opportunity to tackle Simmons, despite likely not knowing that Bumblebee is one of the “good guys”. A Sector Seven guy very much doesn’t like that, and points a gun at Lennox, which prompts all of his guys to also start threatening folks with guns.

Mr. Mustache walks in on the scene, but doesn’t do anything, since he isn’t armed and knows better than to tangle with someone who’s packing. Simmons tries to intimidate Lennox, because he must have missed the day of boot camp where they tell you that guns kill people. Lennox is fully committed to shooting this dude in the lungs before Mr. Secretary suggests he give the people what they want, before things get ugly.

Simmons takes everyone to the robot torture department of Sector Seven, where they are still smoking Bumblebee. Geez, you’d think they’d have something in place for if they ever came across another giant robot after Megatron, but I guess not. The gang gets everyone to stop smoking Bumblebee, which allows him to stop moose-screaming and strongly consider murdering everyone involved with his forced captivity. Unfortunately, revenge with have to wait, as we’ve still got to deal with the AllSpark, and the fact that the Decepticons are here.

They take Bumblebee to the AllSpark, where he makes direct contact the thing, causing the AllSpark to transform, compacting itself down into a far more reasonable size that Bumblebee can carry in one hand. It doesn’t seem to weigh more than a grown adult, if his body language is saying anything. I’d make a joke about the conservation of mass being ignored, but since this is Transformers, I can’t really say much. Conservation of mass doesn’t exist for this franchise.

Bumblebee would really like to get this show on the road, and Lennox agrees, quickly formulating a plan to get away from Megatron and taking the AllSpark to Mission City, which is relatively close to their current location, so that they can hide it there.

Lennox, I know this plan is a first draft, and we don’t have a ton of time for revisions, but the whole point of building a whole-ass dam around the Cube™ was because it was very difficult to hide, given its magical MacGuffin powers. Regardless of this flaw, Mr. Secretary agrees. Lennox also asks that the Air Force be involved in this, I guess because the U.S. military wanted more screentime.

Of course, that whole “global blackout” thing is still going on, so we’re going to have to get creative with how we’re going to contact the Air Force. Mr. Secretary and Simmons make a break for the WWII-era radio Sector Seven has, while Lennox and the boys head out to shoot things, and Mikaela and Sam hop into Bumblebee with the Cube™.

This is about the point that Megatron wakes up. The first thing he does is introduce himself, which I thought was very polite of him. Then he breaks out his flail and starts bashing shit around. Not so polite, that.

Over with Bumblebee, we’re shown that the AllSpark, all-powerful object that can create life and is the whole reason this conflict is even happening, is just chillin’ in the back seat by itself. It’s not even buckled up.

Megatron escapes the base, and it’s actually super easy. He just transforms, goes through the tunnel, and he’s free. I feel like we could have at least attempted some security measures for in case the cryo-stasis failed, given that we’ve had this dude in containment for the last 70-something years, but okay.

Starscream comes over to say hi to his boss, not that Megatron gives a shit. He just wants to know where that fucking Cube™ is. When Starscream tells him that the humans have it, Megatron makes a comment about how Starscream has failed him yet again. This is their first interaction in this movie, and Starscream’s been in the story for a grand total of five minutes at this point. I know that this is a reference to their dynamic in just about every installment of the franchise up to this point, but it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest. Even if it’s going to be expanded upon in future sequels, this is a shit-tier way to set their (awful) relationship up.

Not that anyone should ever bank on getting a sequel anyway, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Megatron tells Starscream to retrieve the AllSpark, and then we cut over to the radio plotline. The radio, which is so cobweb-covered I feel like Sector Seven needs to have a serious discussion with their custodial staff, has its nobs and buttons fiddled with by Simmons until it crackles to life. But where are the microphones? Everyone starts looking for the mics, as Simmons pushes Glen into the seat, I guess because hacking modern computers and using Depression-era radio tech are similar enough.

Maddie asks Glen if he can hotwire a 90′s-era computer to transmit a tone through the radio, so that they can send a Morse code message to the Air Force. Which sounds ridiculous to me, but I don’t know enough about radios or computers to know if that sort of thing would be possible. Maybe it’s fine. Or maybe it’s Hollywood bullshit. Who knows?

Back over with Bumblebee, we get a bunch of car commercial shots, of both him and the other Autobots. Aww, the gang’s back together again! Nobody tell Bumblebee that Optimus was completely cool with leaving him to his fate.

Optimus and the gang whip around to join the convoy, and everyone makes their way towards Mission City.

Back at the radio subplot, someone’s bangin’ on the door, trying to get in. The others try to block the intruder, while Glen does his hacking stuff. Mr. Secretary breaks a case and pulls out a gun that’s about as old as he is.

Glen gets the computer working, and Mr. Secretary gives him the Super Secret Military Codewords™ to use to talk to the Air Force. While he does that, Simmons finds a flamethrower and starts burning Frenzy as he attempts to enter the room. The Air Force receives the message for an air strike. Oh, goody.

Over with the convoy, it appears that the Autobots and Lennox’s boys are being pursued by the Decepticons. It’s difficult to tell, seeing as the cameras have gone full Bay-mode, but I’m guessing that’s what’s up. One of the Decepticons flips over a minivan, likely killing a family of five. another causes a multi-car pileup.

Bonecrusher transforms, then Optimus transforms. Bonecrusher iceskates across the highway, slamming into a bus so hard it just straight-up explodes. He is on fire. He tackles Optimus, and they proceed to fall off the side of the raised highway they’re on. Then they beat the shit out of each other, until Optimus decapitates Bonecrusher with his arm-sword.

Yeah, space dad is a little intense in the Bayverse.

Back at Sector Seven, Frenzy’s decided to leave the door alone, and instead is crawling through the ventilation shaft. Mr. Secretary and Simmons fire off shots into the duct above them, as if bullets would do anything against this nasty little pile of needles.

Frenzy bursts through the bottom of the duct and crash-lands into a glass case, taking cover behind a pillar and fires on the humans on the other side of the room. While this shootout is happening, Glen receives a response from the Air Force, just in time for Frenzy to accidentally decapitate himself with one of his own spinning blades of death. This time, he does not survive losing his head.

The Air Force will be sending fighter planes to Mission City, and to establish this, we get several shots of what some might call “military porn.”

Over in the city, the convoy has arrived. Lennox hands several short-wave radios over to Epps, telling him to use them to direct the Air Force when they arrive, so they can take the AllSpark... somewhere, I guess. Above, an F-22 zooms across the sky. It is not one of the Air Force’s F-22s.

Ironhide recognizes Starscream, and gets ready to throw down. Bumblebee grabs a nearby Furby truck and hoists it up to use as a shield. This marginally works, as the missile that hits the truck doesn’t immediately kill him, though it probably did all those Furbies inside.

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

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

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

#transformers #bayverse #part one #maccadam #Hannzreads #Hannzwatches #text post #long post #film analysis #off topic

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let-the-dream-begin · 4 years ago

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In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 33: Blueprints

Chapter 32

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March 19

Jamie’s car hummed down the highway, one hand on the wheel, the other laced with Claire’s. The Spotify playlist he’d put together for the trip had gone over swimmingly; he’d mixed together all of Claire’s favorites—Barry Manilow, Elton John, Billy Joel to name a few—a few miscellaneous songs he knew she liked, and a few of his own favorites, some country songs that he knew would earn him a scoff and an eye roll.

The trip up, he could hear Claire humming as she gazed out the window.

“Come on, Sassenach. Sing.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why no’? Ye’re embarrassed?”

“Yes! And why shouldn't I be?”

“Because ye’ve, repeatedly, might I add, held my face between yer legs and begged like a depraved—”

“Oh my god! Fine!”

She’d blasted the volume, perhaps because she thought he wouldn’t be able to hear her as clearly, and she begrudgingly began singing along to Manilow’s “I Write the Songs.” After a few minutes, and after Jamie had rolled the windows down all the way, she was singing at full volume, her hair whipping into her open mouth.

She was no professional by any means, but she had a sweet, sultry, velvet sounding tone to her voice. It was different from the way he’d heard her sing with Faith, more wild and unconfined.

Now, on the way back, she was bopping to “Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,” swinging their joined hands between them. He flicked his eyes off the road for just a second to take her in, and he kissed her hand as she continued.

They’d had a wonderful weekend, just the two of them, for the first time. Through Self Direction, Claire was entitled to something she referred to as the special needs parent respite program, a trip paid for by Self Direction, and childcare provided by them as well. Mrs. Lickett, Leina, and Amy had rotated their time with Faith all weekend since Friday afternoon. Claire had been incredibly nervous, especially since Amy and Leina were still relatively new. But with Jamie’s reassurance, she’d managed to let herself believe that January to March was enough time to get accustomed to two new people without Mummy or Jamie being around. Mrs. Lickett was the one doing bedtime and overnights anyway, which was something Faith was already accustomed to with her.

“I haven’t had a weekend away since before she was born.”

Jamie had burned with hatred for the sorry excuse for a husband she’d had before, and he simultaneously vowed that this weekend away would be the best she ever had.

And, not to pat himself on the back, but he was nearly certain it had been.

They’d stayed at a quaint bed and breakfast in Auburn, by the Finger Lakes. They visited a winery, did a beer trail—the Finger Lakes Beer Trail, to be exact, hiked through a state park, went biking, made love in a hot tub, made love in their bed, made love on the balcony of their suite overlooking a garden, made love on the hike through the state park…

Come to think of it, Jamie could not name a place that they hadn’t christened as such on their trip.

As much as he loved Faith, really and truly loved her like she was his own daughter, having Claire to himself was a thrill like no other. He’d underestimated how incredible it would be. He thought that they’d gone on plenty of dates, spent plenty of late nights together with Faith fast asleep…but this trip had been different. Is this what their honeymoon would be like, he wondered…?

Proposal first, then marriage, then honeymoon, Fraser.

“Don’t Go Breaking My Heart” concluded, and Claire sighed lazily, leaning across the gap in the seats to lay her head on his shoulder, resting their joined hands in his lap. “Copacabana” came on next, and he glanced down at her mischievously, expecting the performance of a lifetime. She didn’t budge, just nestled further into his shoulder.

“What’s this, Sassenach? This is a Barry classic.”

She chuckled softly. “I know. I’m just very tired. We didn’t exactly do much sleeping.”

He made an amused noise in the back of his throat. “Aye. Something that I refuse to be sorry for.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t want you to be.”

Barry carried on about Lola and Tony, and Claire remained silent, even at the climax of the song.

“Ye sure ye’re alright?”

She looked like she was about to say something, but she didn’t. Then, after a moment:

“It just feels like it went so fast.”

“I ken what ye mean.”

“It’s not that I’m dreading parenting again. I mean, that’s a daily existential dread kind of thing. But it’s not like I don’t want to go back home to Faith.”

“Ye’ll miss me that much?” he was teasing, laughing as he said it.

“Yeah.” She was gravely serious.

His brow furrowed, and he brought their hands to his lips to kiss her knuckles again. He didn’t know what to say.

“I’m just…I’m tired of saying goodbye.”

The lines on his forehead deepened. “What d’ye mean?”

“I mean I…” She sighed, frustrated. She sat up, keeping their hands clasped. “Could you pull over?”

His heart leapt into his throat, his stomach tumbling. Rationally, he knew this could not have been going in a direction that would shatter his heart. It would make no sense. But logic could not calm the nausea as he took the next exit and pulled into the first parking lot that came up: a Burger King.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Oh God, nothing is wrong,” she said, shaking her head, laughing. She released his hand to unbuckle, then got up on her knees in the passenger seat. She took his hand with both hers, facing him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

He unbuckled as well, swiveled a bit in the seat, and closed his free hand over hers.

“I’ve wanted to ask you this for a while, because it just makes sense, but I thought I might sound crazy because it seemed too soon.”

His confusion must have been visible, because she laughed again.

“What I’m trying to say, and failing miserably at…is that I…I’m tired of having to say goodbye. I want you here. Well, not here. But home. With us.”

He blinked dumbly “Ye…ye want me to move in…? Wi’ you?”

Claire nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. “Is that crazy?”

To answer her, he captured her lips with his, kissing her firmly, sucking in through his nose for air. “Is it crazy that I’ve been wishing fer it fer months?”

She chuckled through her nose and kissed him again. Christ! And to think he was worried! She wanted him to live with her! Her and her child! It was, of course, something that he hadn’t been unable to stop thinking about for a while as well, but he’d never have asked it of her, not before she was ready. He never asked a thing of her before she was ready. And it always worked out in his favor.

She lost her balance, leaning so deeply into the kiss that she tipped off her seat and face first into Jamie’s lap, and they sputtered with laughter.

“Sorry…” She scrambled back onto her side, but not before pecking him on the cheek.

“You’re flushed wi’ joy, mo ghraidh.” He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

“Well, shouldn’t I be? I just snagged the hottest roommate on Long Island.”

He laughed, gently tugging on the strand of hair.

“Well, since we’re here, would you like some deplorable fast food?”

Jamie winced. “Tempting as that sounds…I’d rather we drive around fer something else.”

“Fair enough. Burger King doesn't exactly seem like the best meal to celebrate a couple moving in together.”

Christ! Moving in together!

“I dinna understand it.”

“What? Burger King?”

“No…I dinna understand how every single time I think I couldna possibly be any happier…I’m always proven wrong.”

——

Jamie pulled up in front of Claire’s apartment a little after eleven that night.

Our apartment, he reminded himself.

He reached over and nudged her awake, and she woke with a start.

“Shit…how long have I been out?”

“About two hours.”

“Jamie! You should’ve woken me! I feel awful for making you do all that driving alone.”

“Don’t. Ye’re the busy career woman here.”

“You have a career.”

“No’ one that starts at seven in the morning tomorrow.”

She sighed and then got out of the car, retrieving her duffle bag from the back seat. Jamie followed her up the stairs, and Mrs. Lickett was on the couch, asleep with a book in her lap. Claire gently woke her, thanked her profusely. Jamie looked around the living room, the photographs on the walls and surfaces that now included him in them, and he wanted to weep.

Claire went in to check on Faith, and Jamie wandered into the bathroom, still holding his duffle bag. He opened it and pulled out the pouch containing his toiletries. He pulled out his toothbrush and slowly, reverently, slid it into the cup that contained Claire’s and Faith’s, full of princess logos. He tucked his shaving kit into an empty space in a drawer and slid his deodorant next to Claire’s behind the mirror. The rest of his toiletries were all travel sized, so he kept them away.

He was brought out of this ritualistic unpacking by soft lips on his shoulder, and he turned to take her in his arms.

“Hmm,” she said, looking at the toothbrushes. “How symbolic.”

He hummed in thoughtful amusement, reverently kissing the crown of her head. She pulled away to sweetly kiss him on the lips, then caressed his face in her small, tender hands.

“Welcome home, love.”

——

May 12

Jamie was awake long before Claire, long before even the sun rose. Unable to sit still any longer, he carefully tucked blankets and pillows against Claire’s back, knowing the lack of his warm presence might wake her, and he slipped out of bed. Last night had been rather hectic, and Claire had desperately wanted to pack everything for the zoo the night before, but had been unable. So Jamie took the initiative now, laying out the sunscreen, packing all of Faith’s snacks, unplugging her play-tablet and putting it and her headphones in the electronics bag. He checked the charge on her assistive communication tablet and decided to plug it in anyway just in case, making a note to not let her leave without it. He packed doggy bags and Angus’s portable food and water bowls. He packed a few snacks for himself and Claire, and then he moved onto prepping breakfast.

He wouldn’t actually cook them just yet, given that Faith wouldn’t be awake for at least another hour, but he prepared batter, fruit, and chocolate chips for birthday pancakes. He moved to the fridge, checking the cabinet above it where he and Claire had hidden her birthday presents. They each had one to give her today, and one to give her the day of her party next weekend; next weekend since Mother’s Day was that coming weekend. They hadn’t decided if she’d be opening the presents before or after the zoo, so he kept them up there, deciding it best to wait if she asked for them or not. He let himself sit on the couch for a bit before he started heating the pan for the pancakes. He smiled at his tartan blanket, very at home on Claire’s couch.

He’d finished moving over all of his things in the beginning of April, and that night, he and Claire had champagne in their kitchen. He’d put all his own furniture and dishes in storage, to be placed in a house someday, if that was what Claire wanted. He’d brought over his cubed shelving, the kind that you bought with fabric drawers, and between that and the spare closet in the master that Claire hadn’t previously needed, everything fit perfectly. Atop the shelves, he laid out a few picture frames of his family, and what didn’t fit, Claire added to the wall of framed photos of her and Faith—well, her Faith, and Jamie.

Faith had adjusted beautifully, apparently hardly noticing a difference between Jamie being over all the time and just living there. Her favorite change had not, evidently, been Jamie himself, but the tartan blanket. She was constantly wrapping herself up in it, even as the May weather got increasingly warmer, rubbing it on her face, humming contently. It made Jamie unreasonably happy; it felt as if Faith’s love for the blanket extended into a love for his culture that he was so passionate about, an acceptance and celebration of who he was. He knew that was silly; she could not possibly understand the depth of its meaning, but the smile on her face when she became a tartan burrito was joy enough for him. Claire, of course, did not appreciate Faith’s attempts at eating dinner as said burrito…nor Jamie’s encouragement of the habit.

Jamie heaved himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen to start cooking, but then a door burst open, followed by giggling, and the pattering of six little feet. Faith collided with his legs before he could cross the threshold into the kitchen, and Angus sat dutifully behind.

“Well, would ye look who it is.”

Jamie bent down to pry her off his legs and lift her above his head, causing her to squeal.

“The birthday princess herself!”

He settled her on his hip and kissed her cheek, but she reached up again, grunting, apparently wanting to be thrown up again. Jamie just shook his head and continued into the kitchen.

“What day is it, lass? Can ye tell me?” She signed birthday about a dozen times in a row, vibrating with excitement. “Aye, that’s right. Happy birthday.” He signed the words with one hand, then kissed her nose. “Would ye like to help me make yer birthday breakfast, a leannan?”

Faith reached greedy hands toward the pancake mix, and he chuckled. “Aye, we’ll get there. We have to let Angus outside first. Come on.” He carried her to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony, where they kept a few of those synthetic grass potty-patches for dogs, occasionally emptied by Jamie or Claire (mostly Jamie, but who was counting). They tried very hard to ingrain in Faith that it was her job to let him out, but it would take a while before she did so without being told. Jamie flipped the lock for her, and she used all her strength to heave open the door, and Angus pattered outside. Jamie then helped her get him fresh water and his breakfast, and then he was back inside, eating and drinking, and Jamie sat Faith on the counter.

Jamie scooped three circles into the pan of perfect proportion for Mickey Mouse, and Faith gasped dramatically. “Who’s that, Faith?”

She answered him with two perfect cups of her hands atop her head, the sign for Mickey Mouse.

“Clever lass! That’s Mickey, alright. Good signing. Good job.”

Jamie gave her a handful of chocolate chips to drop into the pancake, and she plopped them all in one spot. Jamie snorted, laughing. For the next handful, he tried hand over hand in an attempt to get her to spread them more evenly, but then she learned that the more she did it wrong, the more Jamie would try to correct her until she’d be eating chocolate chips with a side of pancake.

“Alright, no more,” Jamie said. “Ye can put some in mine and Mummy’s. How’s that?”

Before Faith could protest, Jamie was flipping the pancake, and she gasped again. “See? Mickey’s almost done cooking.”

Jamie almost laughed at how strange that sentence would sound in any other context. He slid the pancake onto a plate, used whipped cream to make eyes, a mouth, and a nose, and covered the spots with berries.

“There he is, lass.” He put the plate on the table with a flourish, and Faith threw her hands up, demanding to be taken off the counter and put in front of her food. He obliged her, carrying her over with airplane noises, and dropping her in her seat with a little crash sound effect. “There ye go. Special birthday breakfast for the birthday girl.” He kissed her head. “Ye have to eat his face first, ye ken. His eyes, his nose, his mouth.” He pointed to the strawberry eyes and nose and the blueberry mouth. “When ye finish that, then ye get syrup to eat his head. Aye?”

Faith began shoveling berries into her mouth with no regard for the whipped cream, covering her hands and face with it. Jamie started the next batch of pancakes while she ate her berries, and he cut hers up for her and added syrup while the first side was cooking. When it was time, he brought over the pan and let her put some chips in before returning it to the stove. He checked the time, decided he could let Claire sleep for a few more minutes, then started the last batch of pancakes.

When Faith was done eating and the stove was off, he spent a great deal of time de-sticky-fying Faith’s hands and face, and then he led her to his and Claire’s bedroom. (Christ, he still got butterflies thinking of it as theirs.) Faith was bouncing with excitement, but Jamie made her wait for his dramatic count to three before throwing the door open and letting her zoom into the room and onto the bed.

Jamie chuckled at the undignified oomph that Faith forced out of Claire when she pounced on her back. She started grumbling, face still in the pillow, and then it was like a switch was flipped, as if her morning-brain needed a few seconds to remember the day.

“Oh, my sweet girl!”

Her voice was breathy and still drugged with sleep, but the joy was real as she flipped over onto her back and pulled Faith to her chest.

“My six year old! Oh my goodness…”

She showered Faith’s curly head with kisses, and Faith hummed contentedly. Jamie sat on the bed by Claire’s legs, feeling a few miles closer to heaven at the sight of his girls tangled up in bed, a mess of wild curls spilling all over the pillows.

“Happy birthday, my little love.”

Faith hummed and began pushing violently away from Claire. Claire sputtered, jerking away and releasing her, and then Faith was scampering away.

“Are those pancakes I smell?” Claire said hopefully, her eyes still only half open.

“That they are.” Jamie leaned over and kissed her, and she moaned sleepily, letting him press her into the pillow, and then—

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Jesus H. Christ, how many times did she press it?”

Jamie sat up, looking over at Faith’s tablet screen. “Quite a bit.”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoozoo—“

“Well make it stop!”

“Zoozoozoozoozoozoo—”

“Yes, Faith, we hear ye.” Jamie pressed the top of the screen to stop the endless stream and quickly cleared it before she could press it again. “Mummy is getting up right now, and then we’ll be getting dressed, then sunscreen, then off to the zoo.”

“She’s doing it again—”

“Come on, lass, let’s get ye dressed.”

Jamie hauled her over his shoulder, causing the iPad to flop onto the mattress. She squealed, letting her limbs fall limp.

“Yer breakfast is on the table. I packed everything we could possibly need. Eat, get ready. Let me see to her.”

“You do know it’s her birthday, not mine. You don’t need to pamper me.”

“Ach, there’s where ye’re wrong.” He sauntered over, six year old still tossed over his shoulder. “Six years ago ye were in labor fer…”

“Twenty-three hours.”

“Twenty-three bloody hours.” He leaned over, eliciting another squeal from Faith, and kissed her. “I say today is a day ye deserve to be celebrated as well. Go eat. Enjoy.”

“You sweet, bloody man.”

“Aye, I am.” He stood up straight again, and Faith let loose another squeal. “Off we go, birthday girl!”

——

It was midday; they’d just eaten lunch and ice cream, so any crabbiness to be found in the little girl was dispelled as they strolled through the gorilla exhibit. As Claire had told him she would, Faith was telling every animal she came across that it was her birthday, using her signs. Faith and Angus were held on by Claire, and Jamie pushed the stroller that was holding their bags, Faith’s communication device, and the two giraffes that she’d gotten last year’s birthday. (They’d in fact gotten ten minutes away from the house before Faith had started wailing, and it had dawned on Claire impressively quickly that Faith likely had meant to take them with her; of course they’d turned around to get them.) He and Claire had a running bet going as to which animals she’d get this year, because they both knew full well that she’d be doing the exact same thing, her desire for repeating matching sets all too permeating in everything she did.

“You know,” Claire said over her shoulder. “I think I might change my bet to gorillas.”

“Ye sure?” Jamie cocked a brow. “After last year’s debacle wi’ the tigers no’ appearing, then she sees them this year…ye were quite certain.”

“Yes, but look!”

Faith practically had her nose pressed into the glass, her eyes locked on a mother gorilla with a baby on her back.

“Aye, she’s quite taken.” Jamie watched the mother and baby.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Claire said softly. “I mean, look at her eyes. How can anyone believe she doesn’t have a soul.”

Jamie glanced at Claire, as enthralled with the creatures as Faith was, and his heart warmed. “Aye. They’re beautiful.” He crossed his arms. “Though my bet will remain wi’ the red pandas. They’re just too damned cute fer a wee lass to no’ want.”

Claire opened her mouth to retort, but it died on her lips, and she stiffened. Jamie’s brow furrowed, confused. Before he could ask what was wrong, a loud, high-pitched voice sounded, apparently for the second time. The child had been talking already; he just hadn’t heard it at first.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying.”

Jamie flicked his eyes down, and sure enough, there was a little girl, standing far too close to Faith for comfort. Faith was humming, her usual, happy stimming sound. She was having fun. Jamie was so used to the noise he hadn’t even registered she was making it. It was white noise to him at this point, to Claire as well, he knew.

“Can you stop that whining noise? It’s annoying!”

“That’s the third time,” Claire hissed, and her small body began shaking with rage.

“Stop. It’s annoying.”

“You’re going to let her talk to my child like that?” Claire raised her voice above its previous whisper, and Jamie’s stomach flipped.

“What?” An older woman, appearing to be the complainant’s grandmother, turned away from the glass.

“You’re standing right there. I know you can hear her being nasty to my child.”

“Claire.”

“No! I want her to answer me.”

“Hey! Stop it!” In her final, fatal mistake, the blonde girl gently shoved Faith by the shoulder, appearing as if she only wanted to get her attention.

“Makenna, come on, let her be,” the grandmother finally intervened.

“Get her away from her, now.”

“Hey. They’re just being kids. Relax.”

“No. My daughter is being a kid. Your granddaughter is bullying her for being happy!”

Without another word, the grandma seized Makenna by the hand and dragged her away, disappearing into the crowd. Jamie wrapped a firm hand around Claire’s wrist to stop her from running after her.

“It’s no’ worth it. They’re leaving.”

“I feel like I’m about to explode.”

“Aye,” Jamie said softly, indeed feeling her vibrating intensifying. “I can feel. It’s over now. Look at her, she’s fine. She didna hear a word of it.”

Faith was indeed oblivious; her noise-cancelling headphones were secure in place, and she’d likely thought the girl’s small shove to be Angus. She was far too focused on the baby gorilla to have a care in the world.

“She’s fine, Claire,” Jamie repeated, loosening his grip on her wrist now that Makenna and grandma were out of sight. “Her birthday hasna been ruined. She willna remember that at all. If ye made a scene…that she’d remember.”

Claire hastily, angrily, swiped at a few tears. “I know.”

A few other guests were giving them looks over their shoulders or out of the corner of their eye. Whether it was because they, too, found Claire’s daughter annoying, or because they felt sympathy, was anyone’s guess. Nobody came forward to offer support, but neither did anyone else condemn them.

“She’s fine.”

“Yes. She’s okay.”

“Are you?” Jamie tried to meet her eye, and she finally let him. She nodded minutely.

“Just…I need to forget about it…”

Jamie nodded. Claire crouched down next to Faith, tapping her shoulder gently to signify that she was coming close so as to not startle her, being that she couldn’t hear anything. Claire began signing to her, and Faith answered clumsily, pointing to the mother and baby gorilla. After taking a moment to blink away his own tears that he hadn’t let show until Claire couldn’t see, he crouched down on her other side and joined the conversation.

She was fine, she was oblivious. She was happy, blissfully so. Her birthday was still perfect.

But Christ, that had hurt.

At the end of the day, neither Jamie nor Claire had won the bet. Despite Faith’s awe over the baby gorilla, the cuteness of the red pandas, or even, for argument’s sake, the appearance of the tigers, they walked out of the gift shop with a mother and baby elephant. Faith settled into the stroller for the journey back to the car, and by the time they took Angus for a potty break and made it to the exit, she was fast asleep, two giraffes and two elephants piled on her tiny body.

“Hey,” Jamie said. He was pushing the stroller with both hands, and one of Claire’s hands rested on his, her other holding Angus’s leash. “I love you.”

Claire peered up at him through her lashes and pecked him gratefully on the lips. “It was wonderful to have you here this year. It was the perfect sixth birthday.”

“It was. Wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. It was.”

Her cheeks were slightly pinked with sunburn, her nose darted with new freckles. Her amber eyes were swimming with the colors of the sunset around them, and Jamie sighed in perfect contentment.

“Jamie?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, too.”

No, now he was perfectly content.

——

May 14

Claire opened her mouth again, waiting patiently for Jamie’s response, and she hummed happily when he popped another grape between her lips. She sighed contentedly, shimmying back into his chest. His arms snaked around her again, and he kissed her temple. They were leaning against a tree, covered by the shade, watching Faith on a playground. It was completely fenced in, the playground and an adjoining field. Angus was laying in the grass napping, off duty until Faith needed him. She was quite independent on playgrounds these days, preferring to stop around, climb up the slide and then slide back down on her stomach, bounce on the see-saw herself, rather than drag her dog along with her. It was a good thing, Jamie had decided. The only time Faith decided to be utterly helpless was when she wanted to be pushed on the swing. She could pump her legs; Jamie had seen her do it. But she would always and forever prefer Jamie to push her. He’d been up and down a few times over the course of the afternoon.

It was a beautiful Sunday, Mother’s Day. They’d had a picnic lunch in the field, then sent Faith off to play. It was the perfect balance for Claire; Faith was close enough, having a grand old time, and yet Claire wasn’t overworked or stressed. They could just be like this, as a family.

Jamie had recently refrained from feeling any guilt when referring to the girls as his family. It was not presumptuous, not overstepping. Not anymore.

Jamie and Faith had presented Claire with breakfast in bed this morning, but not until eleven. Faith was ready to cook and have it delivered at seven, but Jamie managed to keep her happy with Sesame Street, Disney Channel, and a trip to the florist until an acceptable hour for letting Claire sleep in. The pancakes were all, of course, Mickey shaped, at Faith’s insistence. Claire loved them, and told Faith as such over and over. As Jamie had carried in the breakfast, Faith had carried in the flowers. It had been a perfect morning that carried into a perfect afternoon.

“I don’t see her,” Claire said, craning her neck. “Do you?”

“Aye, she’s under that wee rock wall cave.” Jamie gestured with his chin. “That flash o’ pink in the window. See?”

It was a small arch made of rock climbing wall that came just above Jamie’s knees. Faith enjoyed heaving herself up and just standing there, and apparently hiding underneath.

“Oh, yes, I see.” Claire eased back again. “How long has she been in there?”

“A fair bit,” he said.

“Is she just…sitting in there?”

“Aye, but I think she’s been making a nest.”

“What?”

“Ye haven’t noticed that she’s been picking up leaves and bringing them in there wi’ her?”

“No…” Claire said, a bit dazed. “I was trying to look for her on the slides or the ladders. In the groups of kids.”

“When have ye ever kent yer daughter to be among throngs of weans?” He’d meant it as a joke, but she deflated a bit.

“I hear them trying to talk to her,” she said softly. “Asking her her name, how old she is. Will she play tag, or hide and seek.”

In the beginning, Jamie and Claire had switched on and off shouting over to the kids and telling them that Faith wouldn’t answer, but after so many times, they’d given up. Faith wasn’t bothered either way.

“She’s perfectly happy on her own,” Jamie assured her.

“You don’t think she gets lonely? Or feels left out?”

“Nah.” Jamie kissed the crown of her head. “Not every kid, or every adult for that matter, needs conventional companionship. If she was lonely or unhappy she’d be all over us, asking fer snacks or juice.”

“You’re right,” Claire acquiesced. “You’re always bloody right.” She swatted his forearm in mock resentment, and he just kissed her head again.

Less than an hour later, Jamie was folding up the blanket and rousing Angus. They were out of snacks, and by the time they got home, it would be time to start dinner. When Jamie had asked Claire what she’d wanted for her Mother’s Day feast, all she’d requested was something they could all make together. So he’d decided on homemade pizza with all the toppings that Faith could throw on it to her heart’s desire.

“Come on! Five minutes are up!” Claire called, making her way to the playground. Faith was still under the rock wall. When Jamie had given her the five minute warning, she’d been on her knees and elbows, her head practically tucked into the ground.

Faith crawled out of the little tunnel obediently, and Claire reached out her hand, and Faith took it. Jamie made his way over to walk with them to the car, but Faith started tugging back.

“No, Faith. Playground is all done. It’s time to make pizza. Remember? We’ll get your chef apron, and—”

“Sassenach.”

“What?”

Jamie jerked his chin to where Faith was pulling toward. A single brown leaf was stuck in the grass, just outside the perimeter of the spongy playground floor. Claire let go of Faith’s hand, and she scuttled over to the leaf and picked it up. They watched as she crawled back into the tunnel, and she emerged almost immediately, giving Claire her hand right away.

“Good girl. Thank you, lovie.”

Instead of making her way to the car, Claire inched toward the tunnel. “Mummy wants to see what you made.”

Jamie smiled, following closely behind. Claire bent down to look into the little hole in the rock wall that they could see Faith through before.

“Wow, look at that,” Claire said, her voice breathy. “You made a little nest. That’s so sweet, baby.”

Jamie peered in, his grin stretching from ear to ear. She had to have picked up every single leaf in the entire playground, the entire field for that matter. He heard Claire sniffle, and he stole a kiss to her temple, onlooking children be damned.

“Mummy is so lucky, Faith,” she whispered, holding up the I love you sign. Faith copied, pressing the three fingers together, and Claire kissed Faith’s sweaty forehead.

——

At around nine-fifteen in the evening, Faith was fast asleep with Angus’s head trapped under her little arm. They’d all three spent the night making pizza, eating ice cream, and snuggling on the couch to watch The Little Mermaid. Jamie ducked out of Faith’s room, buzzing with excitement at having Claire to himself once more, and he locked the bedroom door behind him to find Claire already stripped down to her underwear and bra.

“Damn,” she said. “You weren’t supposed to come back until I was naked. I’m not wearing cute underwear.”

“Bloody hell, Sassenach,” Jamie half snorted, half growled. “D’ye think I give a bloody fuck about yer underwear?”

He attacked her lips with his, and there was a feverish ripping-off of clothing and underwear until they were both naked and hot and pressed together. Then Jamie slowed things down. He intended to worship her tonight, intended to show her with every kiss, touch, and stroke how much he loved her for the wonderful mother that she was, for the woman that she was. For the woman that she was because she was a mother.

After he made sure she’d found release with whatever method she deemed necessary, twice, Jamie finally perched over her and slammed home, delighting in the arch of her throat as she threw her head back in ecstasy. He could still taste her as he bent to kiss her, and her responding groan told him that she could also taste her.

He refrained from taking her hard and fast, not tonight. He let her feel every inch, let himself feel every inch. How many times had they done this? How many times had they gone to oblivion and back together?

As a lad, he’d been told by every teacher he ever had, all of them Catholic, that this was a sin. Not really the act itself, but doing it out of wedlock. He’d of course grown out of that belief, finding nothing short of holiness whenever he laid with Claire. Though, actually, the act itself could be considered a sin even in wedlock if done for pleasure. Some people believed this act must only be carried out if the intention was to create life.

Claire clenched around him, and he shuddered, groaning into her ear, unable to stop himself from speeding up.

“Yes…yes, love…”

He bit her ear, listening to her commands, listening to her body, and keeping up the faster pace.

Creating life…Christ, if Claire wasn’t on the pill, how many times might they have created life since last July?

She clawed at his back, dug her heels into his arse, mewling into his ear. His wee vixen would meet her end three times tonight, perhaps four if he paced himself.

How many times could he have made a mother of her since last July? Mathematically speaking, only once, really. It had only been ten months since they’d begun. But to think, every time he’d had her, every time she’d held him in place while he found bliss inside of her…

It was almost shameful, almost beastly, the primal urge he felt to mark her as such, to have her carry him inside her like that even long after they’d finished, pill or not.

And without that pill…

God, yes, he could make a mother out of her again. And she’d be beautiful; she’d be a goddess that they’d create together with their own hands, their own mouths, their own joining.

It was that thought that sent him fully out of control, no longer able to spare any ounce of power.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Her words slurred until they were one strangled cry, and then they were falling together, teeth and nails latching onto anything they could.

Afterward, they lie sprawled on the disheveled sheets, catching their breath, comforter and throw pillows hastily tossed aside long ago. When Claire shivered, Jamie chuckled and pulled the top sheet over them. They were facing each other, and Claire looked mischievous, as if she were about to suggest something else to warm her up. She didn’t, though, just kept looking into his eyes like she was keeping a secret.

Then he began feeling like he was the one keeping a secret. He bit his lip, debating opening his mouth to speak or to capture that exposed, beautiful nipple again and distract her, distract himself.

He cleared his throat.

“Can I ask ye a question?” He propped himself up on his hand, and she smiled up at him.

“Of course.” She turned slightly to see him better.

“D’ye ever think about…” His voice trailed off, his throat suddenly filling with sand. Or vomit.

“What?” She mirrored him, propping up on her hand as well. “You can ask me anything, Jamie.”

He smiled nervously and averted his eyes for just a second. “Children. Well, more, that is.”

Claire blinked at him, clearly surprised.

“I’m sorry if that’s out of line…”

“No.” She stopped him before he could fully spiral, sitting up and covering herself with the sheet. “It isn’t at all.”

He sat up as well. “Ye sure?”

“We’re…building a life here, Jamie. Aren’t we?”

Now she seemed nervous.

“Aye.” He sat up and took her hand assuredly. “That we are.”

Her tight face relaxed into a tiny smile, and she squeezed his hand. “Right. So…if you want more children…you’re allowed to share that with me.”

“I didna say I — ”

“Then why are you asking?”

He had nothing to say to that.

“You’d want that?” she asked, her voice suddenly quite small. “You’d want to…have a baby? With me?”

Jamie felt his heart leap into his throat. “Aye,” he said, perhaps too quickly. “No’ right away,” he remedied. “Just…in the future. I…ye ken I love Faith like she’s my own. And together I…we’ll raise her together. As ours.”

Claire nodded, her eyes misting.

“And I could always and forever be happy wi’ just that,” Jamie continued. “It doesna matter to me that she was…sired by someone else. No’ at all. But…to see ye grow round wi’ child…my child…” It was his turn to well up. “D’ye ken I’d give anything to have known Faith fer…even a day longer than I’ve known her…? To have seen her take her first steps, watch her grow from the size of my hand to a full little person…to have watched ye carry her, bring her into the world, hold yer hand through it. To hear her first cry…Christ.” He hastily wiped his eyes. “To…to have been there during her diagnosis, fer both of ye. I wish every day I could have all of it. Because to me…she’s mine. And I canna imagine it any other way. But I wasna there.”

“Oh, Jamie…”

“It’s foolish.”

“No.” She fervently shook her head. “Not at all.”

“I mean it’s…it’s wrong…selfish to want to have a bairn wi’ ye because I didna have all that wi’ Faith. Isn’t it?”

She offered a tiny smile, shaking her head again. “You silly man. You want to be a father, and all that goes with it. That’s not selfish. That’s beautiful.”

“Ye dinna think me a greedy, ungrateful bastard?”

She bit her lip, laughing through her nose, shaking her head. She cupped his face, her grin broadening. “Someday, Jamie…it would be the greatest honor to carry your baby.”

Overwhelmed with relief and joy, Jamie kissed her passionately. He hadn’t lied; he would be happy, more than happy, to raise Faith alone as his daughter. But he feared there would always be a part of him that longed for a baby, that longed to see Claire pregnant, nursing, all of it. The thought of having it someday was enough to send him shooting into the sky.

When their lips parted, Claire did not look as joyful as he felt.

“What is it?” he said immediately.

“Jamie, I…I do want it. I want to have a baby together. Someday. But…” She swallowed. “It’s not…a proven fact, but some studies show that it’s…genetic. Autism, I mean. There’s a high chance for a second-born.”

He nodded, slowly understanding.

“I say this with all the love in my heart for Faith, but…could you…could we handle a second child with needs like hers?”

Jamie’s brow furrowed, but he nodded without hesitation. “Faith is old enough now, we’ve got a system in place fer her. If we had to do it all over again with another, it wouldna be easy, but ye wouldna be going into it blind again.”

Claire nodded. “Okay.”

“Would it be alright wi’ you?” Jamie asked. “I have no judgement, Sassenach. Ye ken that. But you know as well as any that becoming a parent means ye’re to be prepared fer any kind of child. If ye truly think it wouldna be best fer you, or Faith, then she should be our only one.”

Claire waited only a brief moment before shaking her head. “If the doctor had put Faith in my arms for the first time and said, ‘this is your baby, but she’s going to have autism’…I wouldn’t have given a damn. I was already in love. From that first second.” She squeezed his hand. “I want that again, no matter what. I want you to experience that. With me.” She kissed him sweetly, gently. “I want your child, Jamie, no matter what.”

He was happier than he’d been just two minutes ago, happier than he thought possible. As he sealed that oath with another kiss, he knew it was time.

Time to put that ring that he’d bought in August to good use.

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aminiatureworld · 4 years ago

Text

Steadfast

Characters: Childe, gn!reader

Word Count: 3,241

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Premise: He’d always assured you that he wouldn’t change, that he was still the man he was before. And yet how different things were, and how much it hurt to see what had come to pass.

In which the reader sees the changes in Childe

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for this request anon! Really from the bottom of my heart thank you. I really liked the concept of this prompt, I feel like it really gave me an opportunity to focus on how relationships change and grow, rather than always writing about new couples, or people just beginning to fall in love, although there is of course that involved. It’s interesting to see how people grow and change, even if it can be a little sad sometimes. Writing this was kind of depressing, I hope that this wasn’t too sad, considering you requested hurt comfort. I might’ve gotten a bit carried away…

Funny story, I actually hate one of the people Childe shares a name with. Look what you did to Cassandra Ajax the Lesser, look what you did… So to make up for this unfortunate coincidence I pronounce the names differently in my mind. Ajax the Lesser is pronounce “A-jack-s” and Childe’s name is pronounced “Ai-axe”.

I decided not to bullet point this, as I feel like it works better in a more “traditional format”, that being said if bullet points are easier to read I can go back and fix that.

When you’d first fallen in love with Ajax it had been before the change.

Back then everything with him had seemed so exciting, like stepping into the sea for the first time. You were a bit afraid, worried that you might be swept away all at once, but another part of you wanted to run straight ahead, to immerse yourself in this new and exciting experience. Wanted to keep going and never look back.

You’d known Ajax since before you could remember. The two of you had grown up in the same small village, where one could hardly take five steps without bumping into someone, and being close in age had made you automatic playmates. Ajax was a brash child, not always easy to get along with, but impossible to pull away from. Even when he knocked you to the ground, or sat on you so you couldn’t move, declaring himself the winner of whatever you’d been playing, you’d still run to meet him the next day, the tears you’d shed utterly forgotten. Childhood friends might’ve been a cliché, but it was truly then that Ajax as a person had begun to stick in your mind.

This only continued throughout the course of your adolescence. Attending the same schools you two were nearly inseparable, causing you merciless teasing from the rest of your classmates. Ajax apparently got the same treatment, resulting in him decking a kid who declared you two were going to get married when you grew up. He’d been suspended for a few days, but never seemed to regret it, and when you’d gone over to his house to ask about it he’d grinned as usual, proclaiming he’d gladly do it again.

Growing up was a difficult process, so many snags and pitfalls, new anxieties, and old ones that you’d never truly worried about before. But it was all perfectly fine with Ajax there. He was always ready to pick you up, and flash you a smile to go along with his help. No wonder you found yourself hopelessly infatuated him, years of trust and affection building up to the newfound feeling of love.

And then Ajax went missing.

You still remembered the terror that shocked your system when his mother visited, tone unnervingly light, asking if you and Ajax weren’t playing some type of game. You’d bolted outside when she’d revealed Ajax had gone missing, running towards the woods that was the only exit to the village where you lived. The adults had quickly caught up to you, but your fears had already grabbed hold, and you found yourself confronted with all you felt for him. You loved Ajax. How did this happen? Love was still so foreign, a word you could throw around but never truly catch. And yet you loved him, you loved him very much. And now he was gone.

They didn’t let you see him initially, saying he was tired, he needed rest, he’d be alright in a few days. Your imagination had run wild, your mind spinning a terrible story. Perhaps he’d been mortally wounded, perhaps he could no longer see, made blind from the snow and the cold. Perhaps he wasn’t really back, and they were simply lying to make you happy. These thoughts chased you, and it was only when you saw him again that your heart settled, even if a part of you whispered that Ajax was altogether changed.

He’d begun to leave the village. Though no one quite knew where he was you certainly knew a lot of brawling was involved. He’d sometimes sneak into your house, in a last ditch effort to keep his parents and the rest of his family from finding out how much he’d truly changed. You’d cried sometimes, seeing him with black eyes and bruising, slashes of red marring his hands, his arms, his face. He didn’t like to see you cry, would start scolding you, as if it was some fault of yours to feel worried, to care for someone who already was growing into a stranger. He always realized his fault though, and after a little while he’d pat the spot next to him. You’d sit down, head sometimes on his shoulder, listening as he spun his tales of greatness into the night, as if he were a knight fighting a great dragon and its army, rather than a troubled new adult with nowhere to turn to in terms of understanding.

When he’d ask you to be his partner you thought you’d never feel unhappy again. You felt like you were on air, kept grounded only by his arms around you, his heart beating steadily against your ear as you nestled against his chest. You could tell he was happy too, and though it amazed you slightly that he should be as in love with you as you were with him, you could only thank the Tsaritsa and every other archon under the stars, thank them for being so generous as to give you all you ever wanted.

It seemed such a funny thought in retrospect, when it was the Tsaritsa herself who was now tearing him away from you.

“Ajax, how could you?!” Your voice felt odd to your ears, somehow too thin, distant, as if someone else was saying it. “You knew, you knew that you’d have to join the Fatui. So why, why in the name of the Seven did you start that fight!”

“They were asking for it!” Ajax’s voice was just as raw, frustration mixed with something unknown. Entitlement perhaps, fear otherwise. “You should’ve heard the things they said about me, about my family. How they’d raised a good for nothing thief, a shithead who knew nothing more than how to swing a sword, and who would one day meet someone bigger than him, and die in the street, given to the rats, utterly forgotten. I had to prove them wrong! It was a matter of honor!”

“It was a matter of ego!” You cried, feeling the ground spin slightly underneath you. “How could you let them goad you like that Ajax, goad you when you knew exactly what was going to happen.” Sitting down you put your head in your hands. The world was shattering around you, and there was no one to blame for it except the one you loved the most.

“My darling, please, I don’t want to fight.” Ajax knelt down in front of you, taking your hands in his as you raised your head to face him.

“You always want to fight…” you replied, voice hoarse, pitched barely above a whisper. “And now you’re leaving, leaving to be part of an organization of cowardliness and deceit. What happened to the adventures you were going to have? What happened to the dragons you were going to slay?”

“I’ll get them yet.” There was amusement in Ajax’s voice, but it was clearly forced, and soon forgotten about. “I promise it’ll be alright, my darling I would never do anything to knowingly hurt you.”

And yet you have, you thought. You’ve run a dagger through my heart, and now your talking to me as if I’m not being destroyed by it. It hurts, it hurts so damn much.

“You’re going away.” You finally replied. “You’re going away to a place that will only destroy you more. And now things will never be the same again. Haven’t you wondered about what will happen to you there? If you’ll ever be allowed to return home? Haven’t you wondered whether or not you’ll ever see your family again? Things will never be the same again Ajax, never. You’ve crossed the chasm, and now you cannot return.”

“Don’t talk like that.” Ajax placed a hand on your cheek. “I promise nothing will change. I will always be myself my darling. This is only a stepping stone, a piece of my journey. I promise, I promise I will always remain as I am. And I’ll never forget about you, nor my family, nor this village. Nothing is going to change. I’ll make sure it won’t. So stop crying my darling; tears never looked good on you anyways.”

And yet, how things have already changed. Still, you said nothing, instead wiping your eyes and pressing your forehead against Ajax’s. His familiar presence was reassuring, and you thought of the years ahead of you, perhaps the eternity ahead of you, when you could no longer rely on him being there. Your eyes welled with tears again, and this time you made no move to stop them. You let yourself cry. If there was anything in the world worth crying about, surely this was one of those things.

There was a new name signed in Ajax’s letters. “Childe” was the first name, “Tartaglia” was the second. They seemed to mar the page somewhat, written in Ajax’s – no, Childe’s – bold, slashing script. You hated the names, hated the memories they stirred up, reminders of all you’d lost in such a small amount of time.

The day you’d found out Childe was to become a Harbinger you’d raged as you’d never raged before. Locking yourself in the small apartment you’d managed to find – having moved out of Morepesok once the memories had become too oppressive – you’d spent most of your time reading the letter over and over and over.

He’d wanted you to attended, writing you were basically his family at this point, and besides, he wanted to show you to the Tsaritsa. Though the line about family filled your heart with no little affection, you’d refused flat out. It would’ve been too painful, seeing the crux of his transformation; the death of Ajax, the birth of Tartaglia. Childe had said nothing to your refusal, but he was clearly worried, and for a while afterwards the letters were more frequent. But even that stopped after a while, and now you savored what little information you could get, the torn pages of last month’s note a testimony to how much you reread them.

You wished that you could somehow end this purgatory you’d found yourself in. Though you’d begun your own career by now, pushing yourself to your limits as you were sure Childe was doing in his, nothing seemed so important as the drama that had comprised your entire life. How long had you known Childe? You could no longer remember. Long ago, so very long ago. Back when the world was simpler, comprised only of candy from one of the big cities, and fighting over the best fishing rod. Tears were shed over particularly brutal games of tag, then forgotten the next day. How odd that world seemed now, something you could never go back to.

Every once in a while you’d be met not by a letter, but by a visit. Those were the best days. The days where you could set all your worries and your unease away. When you could once more press your ear against Childe’s chest and feel the steady beating of his heart. As long as you could do that, maybe it’d be alright.

“How’s my darling?” Childe’s voice carried down the hall of your apartment. You’d dropped the letter you’d been reading, his letter, and ran towards the entrance. Throwing yourself in his arms you wept tears of joy. Childe returned the embrace just as enthusiastically, though his eyes were dry. They’d changed, his eyes, or perhaps you’d just learned to notice the hardness that resided in them. “I’m home.” Childe murmured, eyes closed, expression one of perfect bliss. “Don’t worry beloved, I’m home.”

His presence never left yours the days he came to visit. Always there was an arm slung around your waist, or a chin resting on your shoulder or your head. His presence was as comforting as ever, and you soaked it in gladly. He’d changed. Not that you were surprised by that, of course he’d changed. His confidence was much more calculated, his words now slicked with flattery and deceit. He easily persuaded the fishmonger to give you a discount, and some sweet talk with the waiter at a café you frequented earned you a free lemon loaf. You took it, knowing that he just wanted to treat you, but the sugary confection stuck to the roof of your mouth, which had somehow developed a bitter taste.

You said nothing about it. There was no longer any point in arguing. You two were tied together by all sorts of strings. History, location, youth, love. And yet you’d gone your own separate ways. No more were the dreams of adventuring together. The real world had come along and stolen it away. The Tsaritsa had ripped that future from your grasp, and with it went your happiness.

“Are you happy, my love?” Childe asked late one evening. You were cuddled on the small couch in what comprised your living room. You nestled against Childe, breathing him in. Were you happy? No. But in that moment you weren’t unhappy either. In that moment you could forget it all.

“Do you think that sailors feel lonely?” You asked instead, drawing circles absentmindedly on the palms of Childe’s hands. He wore gloves now, expensive ones, not like the mittens that were popular in Snezhnaya. It was so odd to watch him put them on each morning. How things had changed. “They must be lonely,” you continued now, “for there’s nothing but the ship, the water, and the stars above.”

Childe paused, staring off into the distance. He did that a lot recently. You didn’t begrudge him it. Sometimes, when he was in a frank sort of mood, he admitted that he didn’t like the Fatui’s underhanded nature. Better to fight something head on than attack from the shadows. He’d quickly added on that it was the Tsaritsa’s wish, and surely she must know better than him. But it must’ve been difficult, following a path so different than the one you were born to. Betraying your nature, every day of your life.

“It must be lonely sometimes.” He finally replied, glancing back at you. “But I don’t think they’re lonely, no. The stars may be far away, but they’re steadfast, unchanging. And sailors will always be able to rely on them.” You were silent, considering his views.

“Still... stars are so very cold.”

“Perhaps, but they’re also beautiful, are they not? And like I said, who ever heard of a star changing?” A pause, as it seemed Childe was steadying himself, dipping into unpleasant territory. “I hope I will always be your star, my love. I hope you will always be able to rely on me.”

“I will.” You promised, giving Childe a quick kiss. You meant it, even if you weren’t sure that the metaphor was apt. Childe was forever changing; his mannerisms, his name, his location, his words. Sometimes it seemed as if there was nothing left of Ajax, nothing but a small sliver of light, shivering in the darkness that was fate.

“And I will always remained steadfast in my love for you.” Childe promised in return. “For there is nothing more important to me than family, and you are my family. You are that which I hold closest to my heart, and I’ll never stop loving you. I promise.”

His words were smoother than they had been before, polished by the need to be appealing to those who heard it. But you knew they were true. All throughout your life, throughout the pain, the hardship, the feeling of slowly falling off a cliff, all throughout that the one thing that remained was the love between you and Childe. Even if you had nothing, at least you had that.

“Childe?” He grimaced at the word and you paused. “Ajax,” you began again, “are you happy?”

Childe didn’t reply, instead leaning over to kiss you. You reciprocated it gladly, not truly wanting an answer to your question, although a part of you desperately needed it. Was Childe happy? You couldn’t tell. But despite your newfound hatred for the Tsaritsa, your disdain for the gods which had grown in the years of your hardship, your long abandoned faith, you still prayed to the Seven that Childe was happy. Because he deserved it. Because you loved him.

You tried not to cry when he left, wanting to see him off with a smile and a wave, the way noble men and women would wave to the knights who were on their way to save the kingdom. But always your voice betrayed you, cracking and shaking, trembling violently against the knowledge that you wouldn’t see your loved one again, not for a very long time.

“Be careful.” You whispered, giving Childe one last hug.

“I will.” He assured you, kissing your forehead. “You be careful as well my love, I couldn’t stand it something were to happen to you. If anything happens, think of me, I’ll rush to your side immediately.”

“Don’t forget to write,” you replied, switching the subject so you didn’t have to think about the implications of Childe abandoning the Fatui, what might happen to him if he tried, “your letters are all I have.”

“I hope that’s not true!” Childe said, tone full of false mirth. “I hope you’re happy beloved, I hope you find happiness when I’m gone. Your life ought not to be spent waiting for me.”

“But you’re all I have.” You replied, staring down at the ground. “Everything has changed. My home, my work, my future. Even you’ve changed, you just keep changing and changing, running farther and farther away. But you’re still all I have. And I have to hold on to you, no matter what.”

Childe brought his hand to your cheek, raising your gaze up.

“I’m not changing my darling. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, I’m still Ajax. I’m still the man who wants to spend his life with you, who wants to travel the world with you, fighting monsters, sleeping under the stars at night. I’m still the man who wants to wake up with you every night and go to bed with you every morning. I’ll never run ahead of you, I’ll never leave you behind. Because if I’m all you have then you are what keeps me myself. You are why I can still be Ajax. And that will never change. So don’t despair, and don’t let yourself be swallowed up while I’m gone. Live your life to the fullest, I promise I’ll always be there, waiting for when you need me.”

Childe waved from the ship he’d boarded until it disappeared over the horizon. You waved back, even as your arm ached and your hand fell asleep. “Goodbye.” You whispered to the wind. There was no reply, but then again you weren’t looking for one.

Childe, Ajax, Tartaglia. These names all belonged to the one you loved. He was a whirlwind, a rogue current which had knocked you off your feet, carrying you into uncertainty. And yet you welcomed him, longed for him, loved him with all your soul.

Even if things kept changing, even if the Fatui’s hold on him only grew stronger, you’d still believe in him. He was your star, guiding you through a desolate ocean. Even if he sometimes disappeared behind the clouds, he’d always be there. You had to believe that, had to trust him.

He was your star after all.

Your Childe.

Your Ajax.

#If you really want to feel down look up the lyrics to “Dear You” and have it on as you read #For some reason the Higurashi soundtrack really fits this fic #I realize there’s a lot of crying in this I hope it’s not too much #childe #childe x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #oneshot #my writing

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keelywolfe · 3 years ago

Text

FIC: Gentle Sins ch.2 (BAON)

Summary: It's time for Stretch to go over everything that happened the night he was kidnapped. It's going swell.

Tags: Spicyhoney, kustard, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Aftermath of Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

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Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

He’d known talking about the kidnapping was gonna suck. That was a given, considering how Stretch’s memory held onto details a little too clearly; useful when it came to working on experiments or math problems, not so much when it came to dealing with the various traumas in his life. This, oh, so lovely opportunity to relive his own fear and his fears for his best friend, plus the uncomfortable nausea from the drugs and having to open up his mind and soul to the Judge again? Well, that was just an extra special treat, now wasn’t it, and there was only so much comfort he could take from the two familiar skeletal bodies pressed up close to his own.

Turned out, it was harder to talk about all this shit than he'd thought. It wasn’t the same as a chat with his therapist, this was nothing more than a straight-up retelling and with every word, his voice went softer, flatter. He kept waiting for Red to tell him to speak up to make sure the recorder was catching it all, only he never did.

Yeah, it sucked, big time, but Stretch went with it. Some evils were actually necessary and if those assholes were going to get the justice they deserved, (don’t think about that too closely, don’t) he needed to tell the whole story. Or, well, the most important parts of it, there were a few details that a Human judge probably didn’t need.

So, Stretch settled in and talked, kept talking until he was hoarse. Edge left a few times over the course of the tale. Once to the beep of the oven timer, and he wasn’t gone long, bringing back coffee and delicious fresh bread slathered in melting butter. The rich, yeasty smell alone made Stretch’s mouth fill with soft, eager magic and it did a lot for the gnawing hunger that he’d nearly forgotten about.

Another time he left to get Stretch a fresh glass of water. Probably it was a coincidence he’d just gotten to the point where Jeff was begging them not to hurt him, telling those assholes he was ‘fragile’ and as much as it chapped Stretch’s nonexistent ass to be called that, he had to grudgingly admit he couldn’t blame Andy for his concerns. Not with the way Edge and Blue always hammered it home to everyone in a ten-mile radius. Probably a coincidence, he’d been getting pretty dry and they might not have traditional vocal cords, but they could still get croaky.

Edge stood up abruptly and left, and Stretch didn’t stop talking, kept on to the part where they stripped off his clothes and dressed him up in that shitty Wally World getup. He’d been a little out of it for that part; whatever they’d slipped him made the world sort of loose-limbed and watercolor blurry, but he’d been awake enough to recall it pretty well. The kitchen door swung open right as he was describing lying on the bench seat of the van with his skull in Jeff’s lap and Edge came back out, glass of water in hand. Stretch took it gratefully and drank down the entire thing, handing off the empty glass as he went on. He didn’t pause when Edge settled next to him again, not even when his renewed embrace went almost painfully tight.

For his part, Red never moved except to sink further into the sofa in an effort to become one with the cushions. He didn’t get to Blue’s level of snuggle, but he was definitely more relaxed than when they’d started.

Sure was a shame Stretch couldn’t say the same. He was shivering by the end, leaning harder into them both, until he was practically in Edge's lap with his legs draped over Red’s femurs. The last time he’d had Red so close, it’d been because they were both waiting to hear about the state of their people out in California and there was another memory he could do without. That’d been a shitty time, too, but Red’s presence had been undeniably comforting right about then.

Red could be an asshole, he could be cruel, and his sense of humor bordered on sadistic. But he was here and Stretch knew him, better than Red was probably happy with, and he knew what Red was capable of. He wasn’t safe, if that was even the word for it, not the way Blue was or Sans, but having him pressed firmly up against Stretch with Edge on his other side felt safe and that was exactly what he was craving.

Red didn’t say anything the entire time, not even when Stretch started skimping on a few details. The cold fury he'd felt once they’d gotten loose didn’t really need a place in posterity, thanks, and they didn’t need any description about Judging on the official record. Red would know anyway, he had plenty of firsthand experience.

When Stretch got to the end of it all, right up to where Red came up the stairs and joined the party, there weren’t any questions. Red only sighed deeply and clicked off the recorder with a deliberate press of his thumb before he said, “gonna have to be a few changes for a while, honey bun.”

Edge stiffened next to him, bracing himself for something. Maybe he was expecting a tantrum and wasn’t his baby going to be in for a surprise because Stretch didn’t have one to give. He wasn’t stupid, he’d been expecting this from the get-go and now the best he could do was negotiate terms.

Red went on. “for starters, from now on when you go into ebott, you gotta have a bodyguard along. no more solo treks, no more bus rides, you get me?”

Yeah, that was about what he’d figured. Stretch was still processing that decree, trying to come up with an appropriately grudging agreement, and the last thing he expected was Edge to be the one to speak up sharply, “No, that’s out of the question.”

Stretch could only swing around and stare at him in disbelief, ‘cause, what the hell, no one told him today was opposite day.

Red leaned forward to glare at his brother from around Stretch. “it ain’t a question at all, it’s a fact. he goes into town, he’s got backup, and you can bet your ass that handy andy don’t count.”

“You can’t expect to limit his freedom that way!” Edge’s hold tightened until Stretch couldn’t hold back a wince. Edge noticed, his expression twisting. He let go and surged to his feet to snarl at his brother, “He spends a great deal of time in Ebott and not only for personal reasons. He does restaurant reviews, coffee shop challenges, thrift store searches. This isn’t simply about his enjoyment or his free will. All of this ends up on his twitter and extends our goodwill with Humans!”

“you think asgore don’t know that shit?” Red snapped back. “you think this is all my idea? well, it ain’t, but i sure as fuck agree with it! your pretty little liability jigged himself up as a hot celebrity and that’s got everyone’s attention, not only his twitter cunts!”

“hey, what did you just call me?” Stretch asked, suspiciously. That little nickname sounded like it had a story behind it, for sure.

Red ignored him. “this time it was a group of fuckin’ amateurs, what about next time? he's out there, he’s known! fuck, people know who he is over our damned ambassadors!

"He doesn't want that! He never asked for it!"

"don't make it less true!"

"he's right." The words were low but still cut through the brothers’ argument. They both turned to look at Stretch, one crimson gaze suspicious and the other stricken. Stretch couldn’t blame them; past experience would make anyone think he was gonna be pissed off and they weren’t wrong, but his anger wasn’t at them. It was at the assholes out there who made this necessary, the ones who believed that only Humans deserved a place in this world and if a centuries-old war hadn’t changed that belief then it wasn’t about to transform by tomorrow.

Stretch sighed unhappily and snagged one of the sofa pillows to hold. "i get it, okay, and he's right. i wanted to stay out of the politics, but i ended up diving right into the other side of the pool all on my own."

“Love.” Edge moved to sit on the coffee table in front of him and that alone gave a pretty good guess as to his state of mind. He reached out and took one of Stretch’s hands into both of his, his gloved fingers agitatedly stroking as he said urgently, “You shouldn’t have to do this. They can’t force you. Not unless you agree to it.”

“then i guess i’m agreeing.” Slowly, unsure of either of their reactions, Stretch offered, “how about we try it on a temporary basis for now? if security decides in a couple months that it’s overkill, i can go back to han soloing it.”

Red visibly relaxed, sinking back against the sofa cushions again. He’d probably been expecting a hell of an argument and that wasn’t even including Edge’s sudden defection from overprotectiveness. “even han solo went around with that monkey fella.”

It was a lame joke, but Stretch couldn’t help a little smile. “chewbacca is a wookie and i am going to pretend i didn’t hear that gross insult to star wars canon.”

Red’s grin widened, his sharp teeth always unnerving in a way that Edge’s never seemed to be. “’preciate it. i’ll get back to ya by tomorrow about whose gonna be your new sidekick.”

That seemed to settled things, but it didn’t make Stretch feel any better about it. He tossed the pillow aside and drew his legs up instead, wrapping his arms around them to curl up tighter. Edge was back beside him in an instant, adding his own arms to the tangle as he pulled Stretch into a hard embrace.

An unexpected weight came from the other side, and it was difficult not to turn and stare, but Stretch managed. He only slit open his sockets and looked out of the corner to see Red leaning harder his way. His hands were still in his pockets, let’s not get crazy, his crimson gaze focused on the ceiling. It made it easy for Stretch to let his own sockets slide closed, all the better to bask in the doubled comforting presence.

They were barely settled again when the front door abruptly swung open. Edge jerked away from him and was on his feet again in a blur, smoothly dropping into an attack stance, which, okay, shitty timing but that was weirdly sexy in a way that made Stretch’s libido perk up and pay attention. Less sexy was Red shifted beside him, his magic surging as he either readied an attack or made to shortcut both of them out of there.

Standing in the open front door was Sans, looking about as threatening as a hot dog delivery person, and he hastily raised both hands in surrender. “whoa, hey, i give, i give.”

The tension in the air deflated like last night’s party balloon. Red let out an explosive sigh and said, “don’t you know how to fuckin’ knock?”

“was waiting for you to teach me,” Sans said easily. He took in the scene in front of him, both brow bones crawling up his forehead. Not that Stretch could blame him, not when Red was all but snuggled up into Stretch’s side. He couldn’t see Red’s face the way he was sitting, but he swore he almost lost an HP from the force of the glare he was sending in Sans’s direction, daring him to say a word.

Say what you would about Sans being lazy, he sure wasn’t stupid. He didn’t say a single word. His permanent grin widened a fraction and there wasn’t a hint of jealousy there as he kicked off his shoes and headed over to the sofa. He crawled up right next to Red and settled his socked feet into Red’s lap, ignoring his sputtered, “hey, no, fuck off!”

That was about as effective as solving the problem of world peace by chewing bubblegum. The struggle not to say anything punny was definitely putting more pressure on his HP and Stretch was pretty sure Edge was about to discover if it was possible for skeletons to have a stroke.

“did you need somethin’ or are you here for kicks,” Red said, sullenly.

“nope,” Sans said. He sighed and settled more deeply into the cushions like he was getting ready for a nap. “but lunch would be nice.”

There was huff of sound, almost a laugh, before Edge said, “I believe lunch can be arranged.”

He started to stand and this time, Stretch followed him. “i’ll help.”

Staying in the snuggle pile with Thing One and Thing Two minus Edge wasn’t an equation Stretch wanted answered right now. Plus, his joints were starting to ache from being curled up. He needed to stand for a little while and work out the cramps.

He followed Edge into the kitchen, vaguely hoping that Sans and Red didn’t violate their sofa too much. Even as he thought it, an arm snaked around him, a gloved hand sliding under his sweatshirt to curl around his bare hipbone for a very welcome violation of its own. Sadly, that touch didn’t linger, withdrawing after a warm palm swept over the curve of bone and Edge stepped away, over to the fridge.

Lunch. Right.

He let Edge handle most of it, cutting fresh bread into thick slices and slathering them with mustard and mayo before layering on lunchmeat and cheese. He was adding a slice of tomato when Stretch decided instead of watching the show, he could at least manage drinks. Red and Sans would probably disagree but in his opinion the best beverage to go with a sandwich was a frosty glass of milk.

The carton was sitting on the top shelf of the fridge, right in reach, easy peasy and how Stretch managed to misjudge the angle and drop it, he really didn’t know. What he did know was that when the carton hit the floor, it burst open and sent a messy wave of milk across the tiles, soaking cold into his socks.

Behind him, Edge said something and Stretch didn’t hear it. Probably asking if he was okay. Not angry, no, Edge tried so hard to keep his temper whenever Stretch did something stupid, tried to be understanding, and it wasn’t even Stretch’s fault, not this time, not really, and Edge still tried. Nothing that happened that night was his fault, certainly not the kidnapping and not what came after, so why did it feel like he was the one still being punished for it.

The sudden aching surge of emotion rising unexpectedly from Stretch’s soul took him off guard, threatening to choke him. His knees went wobbly and he sank down to the floor, kicking off his drenched socks to sit by the spreading puddle of milk as he tried to hold back the threatening flood of tears.

He barely heard the approaching footsteps and when a gentle hand settled on his back, the dam broke. Stretch lurched towards it, sending Edge from a crouch to nearly sprawling on the floor as Stretch all but crawled into his lap and buried himself into his arms as he wept. Hands moved gently, fingertips encased in soft gloves smoothing over his bones and Edge didn’t attempt to hush him, no trying to tell him it was all right or things would be fine, no lies to try to soothe tears to silence. He only held Stretch until he was cried out, rocking him as gently as someone might a child, or maybe just someone they really, really loved.

By the time his tears petered out, Stretch was exhausted. A headache was looming strongly at his temples, his sockets itching and burning, and he was a little nauseous. Food was the last thing on his mind now, all he wanted was to stay here in the luxury of Edge’s arms. The floor was less comfortable, especially with the seat of his pants slowly going sodden with milk.

“i’m really tired,” Stretch admitted. It sounded more like a rough croak, barely audible.

“Then you should go back to bed.” There wasn’t time to protest when Edge moved, shifting to lift Stretch into his arms, uncaring of the soggy state of his pants. It couldn’t be good for his leg but Stretch only clung guiltily and let Edge carry him out of the kitchen. The guilt grew stronger along with relief when he saw Red and Sans were gone, minus lunch. Maybe they spied on the kitchen and saw what was going on, watched him literally crying over spilled milk, or maybe they got a little too touchy-feely on the sofa and had at least enough manners to finish it somewhere else. Stretch couldn’t even care. He was only glad they were gone.

Edge carried him up the stairs to their bedroom, setting him on his feet only long enough to strip him down to his bare bones. He tucked Stretch into bed and the tears started to well again when Edge didn’t join him. But he only went as far as the bathroom and came back with a damp washcloth. The cool cloth felt like bliss draped over his aching sockets, a second wet cloth wiping over his bones, gently cleaning away last night’s sweat and today’s, along with any lingering dregs of milk.

When he was clean, he heard the wet plop on the floor as Edge tossed the washcloth aside, for once uncaring about the state of the floor as he concentrated on the state of his husband. He stripped off his own clothes before settling them both beneath the blankets, lying beside Stretch and pulling him back into his arms.

“Go to sleep,” Edge murmured, but he was already too late. Stretch was drifting, letting the complicated tangle of his thoughts unravel into sleepy nothingness while he settled into the safety of a gentle, loving embrace.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #kustard #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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ziaxkawaii · 4 years ago

Text

Worth more than some perceive (Victorian!Todoroki X F!Reader) Part 3!

Part 1 Here! Part 2 Here!

~”You’ve got another one.” Your brother announced as he came into the back room, holding another white rose in his hands along with a card tied to it with the brown string.

~You stopped writing in your planner to first look at your brother and then at the rose. You got up.

~”I’ll go and put it in the vase, thank you.” You took the rose from him and carefully untied the string from the stem and threw it into a box on the table that had numerous pieces of the same type of string from the previous roses. It would be a waste of a perfectly good string if you threw them away.

~You went to put the rose into the vase, but then you realized that you should probably change the water in it as the other roses looked a bit whithered. You picked up the vase and brought it to the back to change the water.

~As you poured the water out, the old question resurfaced and you got curious. This has been going on for awhile, and at this point you’re not sure how you should be feeling about this anymore. Should you feel flattered or should you finally open your eyes and start to worry?

~You weren’t sure since you still don’t feel threatened or that you’re being watched, nor has William.

~”What do you make of this, William?” You questioned.

~”The roses? I’m honestly kind of vary of them, or at least the person leaving them.” He answered

~”I’m starting to doubt that these are not gifts of appreciation.”

~”Yeah, there must be a deeper meaning behind them.”

~You placed the roses in the freshly changed water and walked back out to put it back on the side table. Fixed the roses to look a bit nicer and then nodded in approval, ready to start yet another day.

~”But are you exactly worried?”

~”Not really since nothing else has happened yet, but I’m keeping my guard up. You can never be too careful.” You nodded at his response.

~”You’re right.” You agreed.

~Not long after you finished your sentence, a ding sounded through the air, signaling a customer has stepped into the boutique. You turned and immediately whatever worried thoughts you had previously washed away as you recognized the dual-hair-colored male. Seems like he has memorized the time you open the store, down to the minute.

~”Welcome back Todoroki!” You greeted Shoto.

~”How are you feeling this fine morning?” William joined your greeting. Then noticing he came alone this time. “Oh, roaming around alone today?”

~”I’m quite well, thank you. And yes. My butler has quite a lot of duties today, so I let him attend to them instead of coming here with me.” You both nodded in his direction. William nudged you on your arm.

~”Well, I’ll let you handle this one, I’ve got other work to do.” William called as he walked towards the backroom to finally start completing orders. You called him a quick goodbye and then turned to the other male in the room.

~”Well, how can I help you today? Last time you mentioned something about another commission?” You recalled his words from a week ago.

~”You are correct, so I’ll just get straight to the point.” You listened to what he had to say.

~”I would like for you to make a dress for my partner that will be attending the ball with me.” He said and your eyes widened from the request. Not only because he was ordering a dress without this partner of his, but also from the uncomfortable and unknown feeling growing in your chest.

~”I didn’t know you had a significant other.” You commented while trying to sound normal.

~”I don’t.” He said.

~”You don’t?” You lifted your eyebrow confused.

~”I’ll explain.” He breathed as though he was encouraging himself. “It might not seem like it at first glance, but the underlying purpose of this particular ball is for nobles to try and get their children to talk to other nobles' children, in hopes that the pair would get married.” He explained.

~”As the son of the steam train factory owner and founder, avoiding these balls are not an option. With the facts mentioned above, I’m bound to get many entitled women's attention if I come alone.” You started to understand where he was going with this.

~”To prevent this, I’m going to attend with a partner so I can avoid most of the excess attention.”

~You listened to him with interest but also you felt a bit bad for him, him having to go to such lengths to just be in peace.

~As a child, you’ve always heard wonderful stories about extravagant balls and how they are for the rich to have fun, but as you got older you started to realize that those seemingly magical balls actually had more purposes to them than to just have fun.

~They were also the perfect place to snag yourself a husband or a wife if one was still unmarried, or a woman’s father would pick a husband for their daughter if he saw someone suitable.

~”I see. So I’m going to take a wild guess and bet that your partner doesn’t have a dress that would match your very attention-grabbing suit?” You’ve been in these situations more often than you could count, so you had a hunch why he came here.

~”It would be better if I and my acquaintance would wear similarly styled clothing.” You nodded along to his words. Agreeing that it would look kind of odd if his partner had a completely differently styled and colored dress than him.

~Of course it wasn’t uncommon for a pair to not match ‘at all’, but the ball Shoto described he was going to, indicated to you that the pairs should at least wear something matching, be it the pattern of the fabric, style of the clothing or accessories.

~”Of course, I’m sure I’ll be able to make a dress for your partner in a couple of weeks. Do you happen to know her favorite style of dress or her size? Then again It would be even better if they could come to the boutique and tell me themselves.”

~You hated the feeling in your gut, the fact that you felt slight jealousy towards the unknown person who would have the pleasure to spend time with someone like Shoto Todoroki. Not because he was rich and handsome, but because he was genuinely polite and kind. He treated the noble and not-so-well off the same because he saw them all as people.

~You shouldn’t feel this way. It’s none of your business who he’s going to be dancing with. You’re just his tailor, nothing more.

~”Actually, I have not asked them yet.” He said pretty stoically but you could catch a hint of nervousness and embarrassment. You stood there for a moment, going over his words a few times until you found your voice again.

~”...You want me to make a dress for a woman,... who isn’t even aware that they’re going to a ball with you?...” You inquired, speaking every word clearly in case you’ve somehow heard him wrong and he would correct you.

~Again, it’s not uncommon for people, most commonly men, to buy their partners dresses as a surprise. But those dresses were cheap summer dresses that were only slightly modified to the receiver’s liking, not perfectly fitted and sewn gowns that cost more than someone's whole month's rent!

~”Yes.” He confirmed. “You see, every time I attempt to build up the courage to ask them, I shy away like a small child behind their mother's dress.” He explained a bit bashfully. So that was the case, huh. “And the ball is only a short while away, so if we start the dressmaking process any later, it might be too much work on your end.” You silently appreciated his thoughtfulness.

~It was kind of hard to believe. Shoto, a very stoic man with power and good looks, felt nervous asking a woman to attend a ball with him. Then again, everyone had insecurities about literally anything one could imagine, he was no different you supposed so you had no right to judge.

~”I’m sure they would love to attend the ball with you. If they know you the same way as I do, I’m sure they’ll accept the invitation from someone as kind as you.” You reassured him, pushing down the feeling in your gut and focusing on helping, dare you say, your friend. He deserved it.

~He give you one of his rare smiles that made your heart melt for some unknown reason.

~”Thank you for the advice.” He bowed his head to you slightly. You shook your head.

~”No need to thank me.” You said with a smile. “Anyway, would you like to discuss more about this dress that you’re ordering?”

~”Yes.” He answered simply.

~”Alright, what kind of dress do you think she would like? Any references you can think of she might find appealing?” You asked, bringing out your trusty notebook.

~”I do not know what she would like.” He boldly said and you sweatdropped. This is going to be very hard…

~”Do you know her measurements?” You tried again but he just shook his head.

~”Not an exact number.” He said a little bashfully, it was improper for a gentleman to talk about a lady’s size.

~”Y-You must at least know something, I can’t do a dress with little to no information! I need references here!” You said half-panicky. This was already stressing you out and you have barely even begun.

~How are you supposed to make a dress not knowing what the receiver wants? What if they don’t like the color or the style? Or what if the gown is too small, too big or the hem is too long? So many things can go so wrong here, it’s not even amusing!

~Just as your soul was about to leave your body, Shoto brought back your attention.

~”May I look at you for a moment?” He asked. You blushed slightly from the bold request.

~”S-Sure, but may I ask why?” You asked in return and he gestured for you to come from behind the counter. You walked to the front and stood in front of him and he started to eye you up and down. You felt slightly nervous under his gaze as he circled around you and compared your height to his, but you kept your unmoving stance. After a moment, he nodded.

~”Yes, your measurements are going to be perfect.” He announced and you took a double-take. Is this man serious?

~”Are you certain!? You want me to use my measurements for the dress?”

~”The measurements will do, you are the same height and size.” You almost wanted to tell him to reconsider so he wouldn’t be making a big mistake, but you figured he wouldn’t be changing his mind, so you relented.

~”If you say so. Then how about the style?” You inquired again, in hopes that he would now have something in mind, but you had a feeling he didn’t.

~”As I said, I know next to nothing about style.” He reminded you calmly and you thought for a second when you came up with a solution.

~”How about I show you different styled dresses and then you can see if one of them catches your eye?”

~”We can do that.” He agreed.

~You asked if he was fine with coming to the backroom to look and he said he was fine with it. You said quick hi to your brother as you entered the room and brought Shoto to a clothing rack full of finished gowns that you have not yet mailed or given to the customers that ordered them. You skimmed through them and each time you explained to him what style it was and the price, which he didn’t seem to be too concerned about.

~”All of them are good in my opinion, I think I should just leave all the designing to you.” He spoke and you started to sweat again from anxiety. He can’t possibly be dumping this on you.

~This wasn’t a discussion about his suit. Shoto had little references or wishes when he ordered his clothes, so it was fine for you to design them for him.

~Right now you are discussing about a dress that a woman was going to be wearing to a ball, and women tend to be very selective about what they wear even to the market. So you are basically screwed in this situation.

~”Todoroki, I understand that you are nervous about asking them, but I’m really about to faint from anxiety over this dress over here!”

~”You don’t need to take so much stress over it.” He hopelessly tried to help you.

~”Do you really think that’s going to help me calm down?...”

~”What I mean is… No matter what kind of dress you sew, I know it’s going to be fantastic.”

~”Todoroki, many women are picky about their clothing. Even if one dress is pretty, they might still prefer a different one.” You explained. He seemed to be in thought for a minute. You turned back to the rack while you let him in his thoughts. ‘How am I going to resolve this?’

~”How about that dress?” You heard him ask. You turned around to look at him and saw him point at a draft of a dress that hung on the wall next to your desk, your eyes widened a smidge. You walked over to the draft and admired it.

~”I have never done this dress before.” You admitted as you traced your eyes over the simple but beautiful dress that you had drawn. “No customer has ordered it before.”

~”How come?” He asked again.

~”Well, they never come to the backroom for instance so they don’t see it.” You stated as you started to run your fingers over the worn parchment. Your dream dress. Your perfect dress to meet a kind prince in a flower garden at night, while the stars twinkle and bare witness to the two people falling in love, as they dance the night away under the moon light.

~”Do you plan on one day making it?”

~”What for? It’s too expensive for me to make a dress for a chance that it would be one day bought. I never go anywhere where I would need to wear so formal clothing. It would only be a waste of perfectly good fabric.” You said solemnly as you looked at the drawing again. Which Shoto seemed to notice.

~It was pretty quiet for a moment, you went over your options in your mind briefly. Maybe you should just do one of your more popular styles and hope for the best. You were about to suggest your idea to Shoto, but he beat you to it, and boy were you speechless after that.

~”Would you be willing to make this dress if I ordered it?”

~Will this man ever stop surprising you? Probably not, but you’re pretty sure you’ll always react the same way as you do now, Staring him down and looking for any clues in his body language that he’s pulling your leg.

~”You want this design made?”

~”Yes, I think it’s a very beautiful gown and it would be a shame to just leave it as a draft.” He reasoned.

~”You’ll never cease to amaze me…” You breathed out, not sure if you, once again, should start to second guess his decision. “At this point I would be asking you to reconsider, but I have a feeling you wouldn’t be changing your mind.”

~”You would be correct.”

~”But why Todoroki? Why do you have so much trust in me?” You inquired.

~”Because you’re my friend,” He answered with no hesitation. “I would go as far as to say that I trust you more than some of my family members.” He admitted. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Alright I was not expecting that.’

~”I literally have no words.” You said dumbfounded.

~”There’s no need for any, I’m simply trusting you because I see you’ve got a good taste, and it would be an insult if a customer didn’t trust their tailor.” He flashed you his million dollar smile, and you almost collapsed to the floor right then and there. Cheese… You swear you’re soon going to have a heart attack from how hard your heart was pounding.

~“R-right, then I’ll make this dress if that’s what you wish, Todoroki.” Damn you and your stuttering.

~”Please, call me Shoto.” You looked at his heterochromic eyes seeing nothing but certainty in them. Your cheeks grew slightly pink.

“Sure, Shoto it is.”

~~~~~~

~You eyed the dress on the mannequin probably for the millionth time as you circled it, brushed off non-existent dust, or rearranged the hem of the dress to look better, even though it was already perfect.

~Saying you were nervous was an understatement of the century. You just couldn’t stop yourself from fidgeting and pacing around the back room. You have been walking around so much that you swore there is a clear path marked on the ground from where you have walked.

~”Just calm down will you? He asked you to make the dress from your drawing and you did just as he had asked.” William followed your pacing form with his eyes, and has been doing so for 10 minutes when the clicking of your short heels on the wooden floor became too distracting.

~”I’m not particularly worried about his opinion and you know it.”

~”I know dear sister, but why should you worry about a one woman’s opinion when you have not even met them?” William leaned on his desk and folded his hands over his chest.

~”They could complain to Shoto of the design or fit and then I would get a mouthful from him.” You imagined horrified as you pulled on your hair.

~”My gods..” He breathed out. “Now that is ridiculous. If his partner does not like the dress then it is not your battle, it’s Shotos and he can’t blame you for it.” He attempted to smack some sense into you. “And I doubt he would be that kind of person.”

~You finally stopped your mindless wandering. Breathing in deeply, and then exhaling. William eyed you. You turned to him.

~”I’m still nervous.” You admitted.

~”I’ll be alright.” He got up to rub your shoulders comfortingly. “Why don’t we calm your nerves with a cup of tea before he arrives-” He was cut off by the ding of the boutique bell. You tensed up.

~”I guess not then.” Your brother hummed. “Good luck!” He gave you a shove towards the doorway and immediately went over to his sewing machine to pick up from where he left off. You sighed and pushed your way to the main area.

~Shoto stood at the entrance, and he smiled as soon as you appeared in the room. You admitted, his smile did ease your nerves a bit, who wouldn’t feel comforted by that gentle smile?

“Welcome back Shoto.” You greeted your friend.

“Hello (Name). It’s relieving to be back, my father has been driving me mad.” He expressed as he hung up his jacket. You laughed lightly at his words.

~”I can imagine. Didn’t you mention he has been pestering you about some matter for some time?” You recalled the last time you spoke, which was a couple of days ago.

~”Yes, however this day has to be the most annoying of them all.” He walked over to the front counter where you stood.

~”How so, did something happen?”

~”You could say that, my father and I got into an argument over the most foolish thing. But I won’t ruin your day by complaining about it.” You felt bad for him that he must put up with his demanding father so much. Anyhow, it was not really your place to snoop into.

~”Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” You inquired.

~”Definite.”

~”Then I will not pry.” You announced, defeated. “The dress is ready, you want to have a look?”

~”I most certainly do.” He answered, with what you could’ve sworn to be excitement.

~”Then I’ll go get it, just a minute.” You disappeared into the backroom to go retrieve the gown. You took a moment to admire it for the last time. It was your dream dress. The dress you dreamed you would own once you grew up. The perfect fairytale dress for a magical ball.

~And now it was going to be someone else's dress for a ball.

~You tore your eyes off it. Not wanting to get too attached to it than you already were. You gathered up the hem of the dress and started pushing the movable mannequin to the main area.

~At least you actually got to make it in the first place.

~You rolled the mannequin over the threshold and over to the mirror. Spread out the skirt once it was in the perfect spot. And brushed out any odd creases. You stepped back and looked at Shoto’s reaction. He was speechless. Eyeing the gown with the most careful and amazed look you’ve ever seen. Even going over every ruffle and gem sewn on it with a delicate touch.

~”What do you think?...” Your question snapped the man from his daze as he turned to you, still a bit blown away.

~”It’s...It’s gorgeous, there’s nothing else I could possibly say.”

~”T-Thank you Shoto, I appreciated it.” Why were your cheeks getting warm, you get acknowledgement from customers all the time.

~”I like it very much, can you pack it for me, please?” He asked.

~”Of course I can.” You playfully answered and he rolled his eyes. You skillfully pulled the dress off the mannequin and carried it to the front counter to fold it neatly and pack into a big brown box.

~”Here’s the exact amount.” He handed you a check, and you took it just as you finished tying a dark-green ribbon around the box.

~”Here you go, feel free to stop by whenever.” You said your usual line as you expected to see him take the box and leave with his usual goodbye, but to your surprise, he doesn’t.

~You questionably tilted your head to the side, wondering what he was up to. Shoto then pushed the big box towards you and simply said:

~”Here, this is for you.”

~You blinked… Then twice… and after the third time you did and he did not move from his spot or do anything, you allowed yourself to once again question this man’s actions. This occurrence is starting to become a routine… It probably already is.

~”What is the meaning of this?” You inquired dumbfounded, thinking this was one big joke. Staring at the just tied up box on the counter like he wanted to return it.

~”It’s for you. For you to have as your very own.” But it was the opposite. He wanted to give it to you. For you to have as your own.

~”Wh- what are you..?” You stopped yourself before you started speaking total gibberish.

~”I understand this may come as a bit straight forward and unexpected, but would you like to accompany me to the ball this weekend?” He inquired while he looked at you with hope and nervousness in his heterochromatic eyes. Despite this, you still had to ask.

~”Are you tricking me?” Shoto flinched a bit when you didn’t answer immediately, then again, why did he think you would? He breathed to calm down his own nervousness.

~”I am not, I assure you, I’m most definitely serious.”

~”But why would you… ask me? What about the partner you’ve been talking about?” You fired question after question. Did his partner turn him down? Are they unable to attend? Are you his last available option?

~”I will gladly explain myself… if you let me.” Shoto said meekly while fiddling with the giant ribbon of the gift box.

~You allowed him to begin explaining, curious and, should you say, eager to hear what he had to say. Part of you still believing that whatever he was going to say, was going to hurt you one way or another.

~”When I first came into this boutique or rather was forced in here by my father, I thought that this suit tailoring process was going to be just like the previous ones I’ve been to. So bland and emotionless. Most of the tailors I’ve worked with were always driven either by money or leverage, not really caring about what or how they were sewing as long as they made the most profit.” He wasn’t looking at you, but at the smooth green ribbon between his delicate fingers.

~”When I came here, and we started the designing process, I was kind of taken off guard how much you cared about what you were doing. Always asking me if I was alright with what you had planned, in such a gentle way.” He squeezed the ribbon a bit more tightly.

~”I didn’t think too much of it at the time. By the second time I visited, I really started to see the passion in your eyes and hear the fire of enthusiasm in your speech. It showed on the clothes you made, managing to make so much more of the measly fabrics that you use, proving that you don’t need the best of the best to make something brilliant.” He let go of the ribbon, letting it slip from his grasp.

~“This side of you caught my attention like a shooting star on a cloudless night. I became interested in your passion and wanted to observe it more.” You tried your hardest not to blush, but your body betrayed you as your cheeks felt a tad bit warmer.

~“Every visit I would learn more about you and I couldn’t help but be captivated. You are so different from me that so many things you talked to me about were things that I have never even thought about. It’s refreshing to hear such things when you live the life I do.” He admitted.

~”Then… what was going on when you set the order for this gown?” You clearly could see his cheeks turn a shade darker.

~”At the time, I couldn’t build up the courage to ask you. So I made up an explanation that I had not yet asked my partner to the ball and needed the dress made before it was too late. Actually, I wasn’t technically lying.”

~”So… I… Was the partner you were planning on asking, this whole time?” You had a hard time wrapping your head around it.

~”From the moment I asked you to make this dress.” He confirmed.

~‘Oh how romantic.’ You thought with a slight laugh. These types of occurrences only seemed to happen in fairy tales, it was unbelievable. You noticed the white rose that poked out Shoto’s breast pocket. It was exactly the same looking as the ones you’ve received for weeks now.

~”That rose!” You suddenly exclaimed, startling both yourself and the male opposite of you. Your demeanor then immediately changed back to your meek demeanor when you realized that it could’ve just been a coincidence. a Really, really weird coincidence.

~”You finally noticed.” He commented. “What did you think of the roses that I left you? Were they a bit too much?” He nervously scratched the back of his neck. Why did he feel so nervous this whole time?

~”So it was you who kept leaving these in front of my front door and not some random guy who kept on mistaking the address.” You made quite a bold move and pulled the rose out of its previous sitting place and started to play with the petals of the flower. Gently feeling the velvety surface with the pads of your fingers. What a satisfying feeling.

~”That’s what you thought they were?”

~”Well I didn’t know what else to think. I didn’t really consider that they could’ve been from you though.” You looked at the delicate bloom in your hands. “But I’m glad they were from you, they really made me feel special.”

~”Do you know what will make you feel even more special?” He leaned closer to your face, so close where both of your breaths mixed, but you did not pull away.

~”What?” You inquired like an innocent maiden as you bravely peered into his miss-matched eyes, no-longer with shyness but calm anticipation.

~Boldly, Shoto closed the already small distance between you and gave you the most gentle and affection-filled kiss you’ve ever had in your life. Your knees would have buckled from under you, had you not taken a firm grip on Shoto’s shoulders, and Shoto taking a hold of your waist. Rose falling from your grasp, and onto the floor.

~He deepened the kiss even more and you gladly accepted it, embracing him with warm and welcoming arms. Soon, the need for air forced you to pull apart but you remained in each other’s hold.

~”Well, what do you say? Will you come to the ball with me?” He inquired again. You smiled again.

~”Of course I will.” He smiled and leaned in to give you another, shorter kiss.

~You suppose William will have to manage without you for a while.

#Shoto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto todoroki x reader #xreader #x reader #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #part 3

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junejalow · 4 years ago

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"I tried to warn you" R6 operators/oc

So a friend of mine from Discord, Cammie08 wanted a bar fight with Lion getting defensive over Rook that included my character Saulo "Chameleon" Benjamin with her police oc Venny Warwick who worked with Saulo's unit a few times. Hope you enjoy and thanks for reading!

Idel chatter, music thumbing in the background, people dancing in the middle of the large bar room, the smell of alcohol and food lingering in the air around the bar. A good friday night for the Rainbow operators. Harry had given them two weeks off to do as they please, a small handful of them went home to spend the down time with family and friends. The other's had decided this bar was a good start to their relaxing two weeks. They had nearly taken up one corner of the place, moving tables and chairs together to fit their large group. Their own idle chatter, stories, card and drinking games, sharing food, bellowing laughter, singing. All of it was a major stress relief for them.

"Did I ever tell y'all how Saulo got that scar on his face?" Asked the man sitting beside the urban expert. Saulo had introduced him upon arrival as an old work buddy from his Delta Force days, Venny Warrick had near 30 years experience working in police joint units. The very reason they met in the first place and continued to work off and on before Chameleon's departure to Rainbow. The aforementioned man gave a sharp jab to his side.

"What? It was funny!"

"Like hell it was! Never liked birds after that."

"Must be quite the story then, I would love to hear it." Timur piped in across from them, nursing a beer bottle in his hands.

"No, no you don't." Saulo replied quickly before Venny could, earning a snicker from the police man. "I'ma tell you anyways, I take the beating later." His friend said, shifting away when the other tried to snag him only for Maxim to swing an arm around his boyfriend and pull him and his chair closer. Effectively keeping him from moving.

"Really Maxim?!"

"What? I want to hear it as well, I find anything about you amusing and interesting. You know that." Calmly replied the trapper.

"Right right, so we were held up in Norway around Oppdal. We had this hot lead on a arms dealer who was using the storms around the area to cover their tracks and we were sitting outside just eating and enjoying a good warm meal and this bird of some kind literality came out of no where and snatched food from Saulo, gashed his lip in the process. It took months before we let him live it down." Venny told them, eyes gleaming with the memory as the table erupted in laughter and chuckles at the story.

"You fucker, Y'all tormented me every single time I ate somethin'!"

"And you was funny as hell too!"

"So you ain't gon' tell them about the time you got tied ta a bed while drunk?"

"Whoa whoa, time out there mate. Was this all in good fun or was a girl involved?" James asked from a few seats down, one hand mindlessly twisting around in Mark's short curly hair as the younger operator was leaning against him. Everyone always though they were a cute couple.

"Well I guess that's fair right? One story for another." Venny replied, downing the rest of his beer.

"And to answer your question good sir, there was a girl involved. So long story short, someone in the joint unit decided some sketchy bar on the edge of town was a good place to just knock back a few drinks before we head home after a successful mission. I got drunk worse than a nine eyed dog ever dared to be an-" He was cut off by Shutrat snorting and nearly spitting out his vodka.

"A nine eyed dog? What the fuck is that?"

"I believe it's an American term for a very drunk person." Jager replied from across the Russian, swatting Bandit's hand away as the other German attempted to steal his french fries. He mumbled under his breath about Elias having some and shoved his hand away again.

"Pretty much so." Venny replied, "Just a southern term I learned from Saulo. He thought us a lot over the course of our missions together."

"Look y'all kept askin' what I called different things so I told y'all."

"That... is a very odd term." Fuze mumbled.

"And calling Aleksandr 'Sasha’ isn't strange?" Marias asked, grinning at his boyfriend. Shutrat shot him a glance across the table, cold stormy grey eyes piercing into warm honey brown eyes.

"You leave that nickname alone Mari." The engineer raised his hands in mock defeat, knowing better that to push the Russian on subjects.

"Back to the story!" Smoke protested, growing impatient to hear the end.

"He was basically lead ta a back room by one of the dancer's and thang's got complicated, she tied him up, stole his wallet and we already knew somethin' happened because no one gets laid that fast." Chameleon chuckled, earning a playful glare from his friend.

"No bloody way! Why do ya like that mate?"

"Unfortunately, but she didn't get away. Perks of working with half a police and military unit."

One story turned into another, many of the operator's recalling times of fun moment. Dominic's best pranks, Maxim's CQC record attempt that disarming 4 people in quick session, Tachanka and Finka's drinking contest on base that ended with Doc forcing both of them to puke their guts out to avoid alcohol poisoning, Kali and Glaz's sniping contest which both were disturbed on when they caught sight of Lion chasing down Smoke over a prank Bandit came up with. The talk soon turned to missing places from their home towns, what they wanted to go see again and where they would visit on the next down time.

"Right well, I'ma go get more drinks." Saulo said as he stood up with Rook who offered to help carry. They got everyone's orders and headed off to the bar, Saulo watched the bartender fill out the orders with trained actions retaining to muscle memory and years of work while he chatted with Julian about different things. "Was that story true? The one Venny said about your scar?" Rook asked with a genuine smile. "Sadly. I'm honestly terrified of birds now. Fucker's just unsettle me." Chameleon replied, shaking his head a bit with a chuckle. "So that's why Monty doesn't bring Doux around, he never told us. I personally think she's a beautiful parrot." "I kindly asked him not ta speak about it but I'll agree she's pretty. Just don't want her near me is all." "Seems fair mon ami (my friend)." He agreed, taking a few drinks to add them in with the growing collection. A sudden presence behind them had both operator's tensing, thankfully Rook was the first to speak to the large man behind them. He greeted him with a smile, "We'll be out of the way soon." "I didn't come for a drink, I came for you short stuff. Been watching you since you came in." Julien shifted a bit closer to Saulo, he disliked starting anything or being center of attention. "I'm here with my friends and my boyfriend sir, I would very much love to return too them."

"I don't thank you understood my clearly, you're going to come back with me to my table and enjoy some drinks with us." "Olivier really wouldn't like that...Please move so we can return to our table." "What? That blond you were sitting with? He looks soft." "Sir... please I won't ask again. And don't try to start anything with him, he's a lot stronger than he looks. It's a warning for your own safety." Lion flicked his gaze from the card game in front of over to the bar, he noticed the uneasy expression his boyfriend held and slowly put down his cards much to Gustave's and Emmanuel's confusion until they followed his gaze over to the source of his distraction. Gilles released a knowing sigh. To say Lion was simply protective over Julien was a serious understatement. He was fiercely possessive, protective and loyal to anyone close too him. Rook's brow furrowed as he frowned at something the man had said, before he or Saulo could say anything he heard a chair from the table squeak across the floor followed by a booming voice that belonged to Lion, the name keeping his namesake. "Hey asshole!" The large french man barked as he stormed over, piercing blue eyes glaring pure anger into the civilian. Lion held nearly 7 inches on the man and had a much larger build. "I tried to warn you." Rook mumbled under his breath. "Get lost and leave them alone." Olivier snarled at the man who give a defiant look. "What? Thank you're scary just because you got muscle? I've been boxing for over 10 years and won several belts, you look like someone who just works out for fun." The arrogant man chuckled which was quickly cut off by Lion surging forward, the man's face met the bar with a loud thud. Thankfully Saulo and Julien had ben quick in moving with the drinks, careful not to spill any as a few of their friends cheered from their table. Lion twisted one of the man's arms behind his back, holding it there in a iron drip. "I don't care how long you've been boxing, don't speak to my boyfriend again. Understood?" He said with a deathly calm tone, he wasn't playing and Rook knew it. His worry starting to pool in his stomach as the owner came out from the back, upon seeing the operator's he had come to know he sighed and motioned for the bartender to clear out. He knew better than to get involved with the soldiers when someone pissed them off. Soon enough the man against the bar had called for his friends to help out instead of sitting down which got rainbow's attention. Smoke standing from his spot beside Mute, Montagne joining him along side Kapkan, Doc and Tachanka. They quickly got involved in the fight after a punch was thrown, by who no one could see outside the mass. All that mattered was the fact that the fight was over in minutes, the offending group at the feet of the operators. People around them cheered as they returned to their table, Lion gently wrapping an arm around Rook to guide him back. They passed around the drinks that had been ordered and acted as if nothing happened. Gustave inspected everyone for a moment, stopping at Olivier's hand right hand for any damage but boxing with James had toughened his skin, it only had light marks that would most likely bruise later but lesson learned to the other people. It was soon made better Julien linking his left arm with Lion's right as they sat back down, his smaller hand gently rubbing across his knuckles to sooth the irritated skin.

The rest of the night went by smoothly, eventually the bar closed and they had to leave. Saulo gave Venny a hug and promised to meet up again. Thankfully the bar wasn't that far from the base and most of them walked back while other's went to their apartments two blocks away. Little pieces of heaven away from work on the rare times they got away from work. The base settled down after drunken laughter and helping each other to their dorms, thankfully Doc and Montagne had stayed sober enough to make sure of that. They were like the responsible parents of the operator's that always checked in on everyone and watched like hawks for any issues. Doc made his rounds before bed and helped Montagne go about setting out drinks and meds for hang over's in the morning. Once that was done and everyone were in there respective rooms, the two GIGN operator's went back to their dorm and went to bed together.

#Kapkan #Doc #Tachanka #Lion #Rook #Montague #Glaz #Fuze #Smoke #Mute #Jager #Bandit #Kali #Twitch #Oc's #requests #fanficion

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adenei · 4 years ago

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Always A Bridesmaid, Never A Bride - Chapter 6

AO3 || FFN

Hermione

It was official. I’d agree to anything if it meant I had a chance to spend time with Harry outside of work. I knew it was a problem, and it was blatantly clear when Jenny called me in a rush this morning. She thought she’d scheduled an appointment to set up her registry at John Lewis for Monday, but her days had gotten mixed up and she took the only open slot for Sunday.

Of course, I knew she’d already booked herself at the bridal salon and florist, and couldn’t fit it in as she was explaining her mix-up. I was going to suggest she reschedule, but then I heard her mutter about sending someone else, and thinking she was going to send Harry, I offered to go, too. So, despite telling myself numerous times to just call her and cancel, I still forged ahead, even though I knew my ulterior motive was despicable.

Jenny had slipped her list of items under my door while I was in the shower. I thought it was odd if she was sending Harry, but then maybe she didn’t have time to stop by his place before her first appointment.

I took the list and caught a taxi to take me to the department store in the city. My phone buzzed and I checked it to see I had a text from Jenny. Your reinforcement should be there soon. Thanks so much for doing this again! I decided to go in and get started at the registry desk since I knew the set-up process would take a while. Finally, after I finished the paperwork, I was ready to begin.

“So, here’s the scanner!” the clerk said. “This is all you’ll need to choose the items that you’d like. Once you hear the beep, you’ll know it’s been added. If you scan something by mistake, just scan it again to take it off. I’ll be here if you need anything, and if not, just drop the scanner off before you leave.”

“Thank you,” I said as I pulled the list out from my bag and determined where I should start first.

I was paying so much attention to the list, I didn’t notice someone joining me.

“Fancy meeting you here.” I looked up to see Ron standing next to me.

“Jenny sent you?” I asked. Surely, this was a joke.

“Are you surprised?” Ron asked me innocently.

“Yes, actually, I am. What writer helps with menial wedding tasks like this?”

“When I cover a wedding, I cover the whole wedding,” he explained as I shook my head. “So, where should we get started?”

“Probably housewares,” I said with a sigh.

I handed Ron the list to check things off as we scanned them. If he was here, I was going to make sure he was helpful. Maybe it’d make the job go by faster.

“Who needs all this useless junk, anyways?” he asked as I scanned a beautiful set of ivory candlestick holders. “Don’t they both have separate flats already? Surely, they have enough stuff between the two of them to outfit one apartment.”

I rolled my eyes in his direction. “When you’re starting a life with someone, you want to pick out items for the home you’re going to share together. You know, to make it both of yours instead of a mix of two people’s things,” I explained.

“So you’re telling me if you were to get engaged, you’d chuck all of your current stuff just to ask for new versions of the same stuff because you’re marrying someone else?”

“Well...not everything, but I’ve been inside Jenny’s apartment and it’s rather bare in there.”

“What about Harry’s stuff?”

“It’s okay, but he is a bachelor. He only has half the stuff he does because of Teddy,” I said.

“Harry has a kid?” Ron asked, his eyes wide.

I chuckled. “Not exactly. Teddy’s an orphan that’s part of the Boys & Girls Club. Harry’s his big brother. Though, I wouldn’t be surprised if he really does try to adopt Teddy after he and Jenny are married.”

“And how does Jenny feel about that?”

“Why do you care so much?” I gave him an odd look.

“N-no reason. It’s just an interesting dynamic, that’s all.”

“Well, when we went to Teddy’s football game, Jenny seemed really taken with him. She’s surprisingly good with kids,” I mentioned offhand.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” Ron asked curiously.

“Oh, um, I suppose she probably has several nieces and nephews if four of her brothers are married.”

“Ah. Well, that’s good, then. I’m sure they’ll make a beautiful family,” Ron said.

“Yeah,” I said distantly. It was hard not to think about it, even though I really didn’t want to.

Ron was looking at me curiously. “You know what I think you want?”

“What? Please bestow your infinite wisdom about me, a person you barely know, to me,” I scoffed.

“I think you do all this because you just want a wedding for yourself. Not an actual marriage, but a wedding.”

I stared incredulously at him. “How can you even say that? You don’t know me! Of course I want a marriage! Who wouldn’t want someone to spend the rest of their life with?”

“Well then why aren’t you looking harder for your ‘one true love’?” he said in air quotes. “You spend all your extra time helping brides and attending weddings, and it seems like you barely date.”

“I do too date!” I retorted.

“Yeah? When’s the last time you dated someone? I don’t count,” he said pompously.

“What do you mean you don’t count? Of course you don’t!” I argued.

“Oh, you wound me,” Ron said, his words dripping with sarcasm. “Are you going to answer the question?”

I stopped to think about it. Was it bad that I really couldn’t remember. Ron took advantage of my distraction to steal the scanner from me and started scanning random trinkets.

“What are you doing?” I asked as I tried to take the scanner back.

He used his height to an advantage to block me. “Oh, come on, it’s all in good fun. Every couple deserves some random trinkets that they open and have to fake a smile for, don’t you think?”

There was a mischievous glint in his eye that made me laugh even though I should be scolding him. I was still mad at him for his accusations, but I was willing to play along so I didn’t have to answer the dating question.

“Is that what you think?” I said with a smile. “You’d want to open random gifts you didn’t ask for because someone thought it would be funny to play a joke on your registry?”

“It’s never going to happen for me, so it doesn’t matter what I’d do, now would it?”

Ron was smiling, but it wasn’t reaching his eyes. I stopped to contemplate his words for a moment. “Something must have happened to make you resent love so much. So, what is it?”

I snagged the list from his hand to see how we were doing as I began walking again. We needed to get to the linen section next. Ron still hadn’t answered me, so I decided to push his buttons a bit.

“Did your parents get divorced? An ex-girlfriend cheat on you with your best friend like in those cheesy romantic comedies? Or, were you left at the altar or something tragic like that?”

“Yeah, actually.”

I froze. I wasn’t really serious. I turned around to look at him. “What?”

“I was engaged a few years ago, but about two weeks before the wedding she called it off. Apparently she was more interested in my brother instead, and only realized it when she came home to meet the whole family.”

“Oh, my God, Ron, I’m sorry. It was—I didn’t mean it,” I apologized. That was awful and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

“It’s fine. I was too blinded by love to see that we weren’t a good fit anyways. My brother saw right through her shallowness and told her to fuck off. So, I guess there was a silver lining.”

I handed him the scanner. “Scan all the ugly things you want. I’ll feign ignorance as long as all the stuff on this list gets added.”

He let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

“Are you close with your brother, then?” We hadn’t discussed anything personal yet, aside from my involvement in weddings, but I found myself wanting to learn more about him.

“As close as we can be. He lives in Africa on a wild nature preserve.”

“And your ex was more interested in a—”

“Zoologist? Apparently. Guess my career as a writer wasn’t adventurous enough for her. Or it didn’t make enough money for her lifestyle.”

“If she’s more interested in money than love, you’re better off. You’ll find the one someday, I’m sure.”

“So will you...maybe,” he smirked.

“Good to see you being so supportive,” I said sarcastically.

Just like that, the moment had passed. Maybe I’d been a little too quick to judge Ron without knowing his backstory. First impressions were typically a good indication of a person for me, but now I was starting to think that maybe I’d misjudged him. Even though he reverted right back to his sarcastic ways, I was fairly certain that it was all a cover. I couldn’t help the feeling churning inside of me that yearned to know more.

Ron

I was sitting at my cubicle on Wednesday when Rita stopped by my desk. “How’s the article coming?”

I knew she was talking about the perpetual bridesmaid one. “It still needs work; still a rough draft,” I told her.

“I want to see what you’ve got. Email it to me,” Rita said bluntly before walking away.

“But—” It didn’t matter what I was going to try to say, she was expecting it and I needed to send it along.

I didn’t understand why I was hesitating, though. This was going to be my big break, and yet I had this nagging feeling in my stomach.

Sure, Hermione was strong minded and opinionated, but she was always so interesting to talk to. I found myself craving her company and wanting to learn more about her. Hell, I’d even admitted my darkest secret about Romilda that no one knew outside of immediate family.

The last time I put love ahead of my career I lost the section for my contributing investigative pieces and landed my arse firmly in commitments. I needed to stay focused so I shook the thoughts of Hermione from my head as I carried on with cleaning up the article. It’d been so long since I let anyone into my life, and I just didn’t know her well enough yet to trust her.

I did make one small concession, deciding not to use her real name because of the business. So I called her Hermione Wilkins in the article. No one needed to know, and it was my feeble attempt at protecting her identity. Satisfied with the draft, I pressed send on the email and moved onto my next task.

On Friday, Rita called me into her office. “This is really good, Weasley. You should be proud.”

I looked at her in slight confusion, not exactly sure which article she was talking about.

“The perpetual bridesmaid article! We’re running it on Sunday. You’re on the front page of the Styles section. And you’re out of commitments for good after you cover that Warrington/Potter wedding, of course.”

“Er, right. Yeah, thanks!” I tried to fake excitement over it, but the knot was pitted even deeper in my stomach.

“Why aren’t you more excited?”

“I just think it could use some more time, that’s all. She’s in that wedding, too. The one next weekend. Let me wait and see if I can learn more. You know, to add—”

“Ron, this is perfect as is. Isn’t this what you wanted? Or has someone taken a fancy to Ms. Wilkins?” Rita gave me a knowing smile, but it wasn’t a genuine one. It made me uncomfortable.

“Can we please just push publication one more week?” I asked once more.

Rita sighed dramatically. “I’ll see what I can do, but if you have started to care for her, you might want to tell her. You can go now. I’m sure you have things to accomplish before the weekend.”

I nodded slightly as I turned to leave. I had to find a way to tell Hermione. I wasn’t ready to lose whatever dysfunctional new friendship we’d created, but after she’d already accused me of lying to her, I had no idea how I was going to spin this. No matter how I looked at it, it was totally deceitful.

Not to mention my sister and all of her lies, too. No matter how annoying I thought Hermione could be, I knew she didn’t deserve that. She needed to know this was coming. I had to tell her.

~o~

My phone rang on Saturday afternoon. It was the first Saturday where I didn’t have to do anything related to weddings and it was brilliant, until I saw Ginny’s name on the caller ID.

“What?” I answered.

“I need your help.”

“Aren’t I already helping you enough?”

“Never,” Ginny said through a grin that I knew was undoubtedly plastered on her face.

“Well?” I asked, pretending to be annoyed.

“I just got a call that the favors are done and ready to be picked up in Brentwood. Harry was going to do it after the dinner tasting, but I’m worried that won’t give him enough time to get to Andover for dinner with Mum and Dad since it’s in the complete opposite direction!”

“So, you’re asking me to pick up the favors, then?”

“Unless you wanted to come to dinner—”

“Nope, I’m good. I’ve got to try and get a hold of Hermione tonight for something anyways,” I told her.

“Hermione?” Ginny’s voice sounded intrigued.

“Yeah, but it’s not what you think. It’s not like I’m into her or anything,” I said a little too quickly.

“Sureee,” Ginny teased. “Well, you’re in luck. She’s with Harry right now for the tasting at the Winchester in Putney. She offered to go to the tasting since I was wrapped up with things back home. Maybe she could go with you?”

“Yeah, maybe…” I had to admit that Ginny came up with a good idea.

“Listen, I have to go, we’re getting ready to leave now. Hopefully Harry will be hungry enough. I did reserve a later dinner, but Mum and Dad wanted to get settled at the inn beforehand since they didn’t want to drive home tonight…” Ginny trailed off.

“Okay, tell them I said hi, and I’ll take care of the favors for you.”

“Thanks, Ron, I owe you!”

“Yeah you owe me for a lot of—” I stopped talking once I realized she’d already hung up the phone.

“Doesn’t she believe in saying goodbye?” I said out loud as I shook my head.

I could be at the Winchester House in fifteen minutes. Grabbing my wallet and keys, I headed out the door and hailed a taxi.

When I arrived at the hotel, the maitre’d pointed me in the direction of where Harry and Hermione were seated. It was a relatively nice day. Warm and partly cloudy, but I could tell by the way the sky was changing that a rainstorm was coming in.

I walked through the main area to the outdoor seating section where I stopped near the doorway to look for them. I spotted them on the other side of the terrace overlooking the Thames at a small table. My first thought was of how gorgeous Hermione looked when she was smiling. She normally only reserved scowls for me, and I hadn’t realized how attractive she truly was until that moment.

The thought terrified me. I wasn’t sure if I was even ready to let someone else into my life like that. I’d sworn off love, convinced it wasn’t in the cards for me. If things were meant to look up, there was no way it could be her. Especially not after that article dropped. At least Rita was giving me more time to explain it to her.

I refocused on the two of them and began to take a few steps toward their table. That’s when I saw it. The look I’d seen on every bride who was hopelessly in love with their soon to be groom. How had I never realized it before? The way she smiled and leaned across the table.

All the unabashed flirting. Everything was making sense now. Why she was so upset at the club that first night, why she was so dejected when she called me, and why she wasn’t sure if she even wanted to be part of my sister’s wedding. Hermione was in love with her boss, who was also my sister’s fiancée. I wasn’t sure what was worse. Her pining over a man who had no interest in her at all, or Harry’s complete obliviousness to the entire situation. I’d seen him around my sister long enough to know he only had eyes for her.

I was feeling a mix of hurt and anger that I hadn’t felt since Romilda left me, and I didn’t understand why because it wasn’t like I was in love with Hermione or anything. I just enjoyed her company and was keen on the prospect that she might be a good friend if we could get past her constant accusations.

At that moment I lost all my ambition to tell Hermione about the article, and even to ask her along on the wedding errand. I was about to turn and leave when Harry happened to look in my direction and called me over. Shit.

“What are you doing here?” Hermione looked at me in surprised annoyance.

Of course she was annoyed, I just ruined the probable fantasy she was currently living with this whole situation.

“Jenny called and asked if I could go pick up the favors with you before the shop closes.”

“Oh, I thought I was going to take care of that,” Harry said.

“Yeah, Harry and I were just getting ready to head to Brentwood now,” Hermione said pointedly.

“Well, the bride is worried that it’ll make him late for some dinner that’s past the other side of London, so…”

“Hmm, she does make a good point. And it looks like the rain is heading in, which would make travel conditions worse,” Harry said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Hermione’ll ensure everything is sorted as the maid of honor, right?” I asked, raising my eyebrow in question and knowing she couldn’t say no.

“I—I guess,” Hermione sounded deflated as she shot me a death glare as Harry was finalizing the menu.

Good. Someone needed to pop the bubble because she was holding onto a dream that would never come true.

“Great, thanks again, you guys. I better get going if I have to stop home before heading to Andover.”

Harry got up and clapped me on the back as he took off toward the exit. I smiled widely at Hermione, who looked like she was going to murder me. I couldn’t wait to reveal what I’d found out about her little secret.

#romione #romione muggle au #side hinny #27 dresses inspired #ron x hermione #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger

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bangtan-madi · 5 years ago

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All Of Our Lifetimes — Three: Samothrace

Pairing — Taehyung x Reader

Tags — boyfriend!Taehyung, husband!Taehyung reincarnation au, lovers to strangers and to lovers again, established relationship, implied soulmate au

Genre — fluff, angst, crime (ish)

Word Count — 2.5k

Summary — Does love ever truly end, or does it simply take another form in a new life? The cycle is like clockwork: your lives end and you’re reborn again. You’ve lived it over and over. Each cycle, one of you loses your memories and is tragically unaware until the other finds and awakens their lover. After all these eons, all these lifetimes, is it possible to find each other again—even when neither of you awakens with your memories?

Part — 3 / 15

Warnings — language, mentions of murder (no description)

Previous — Next

On your way to breakfast the next morning, you get the call from Director Hyeon. What she tells you in the next few seconds nearly causes you to drop your phone and shout for joy, right in the middle of the sidewalk.

"We're offering you the job, [Y/n]. You're the most qualified and capable, by far. Everyone in the leadership has agreed that we can trust our boys to you. If you're interested...the position is yours."

Without giving your lungs a second to catch up with your erratic, excited breathing, you're exclaiming a vibrant, "Yes! Yes, I am very interested."

The details are finalized over the following week, which gives you just enough time to fly back home and pack up your belongings to ship overseas. Milo is a huge help, despite the fact that she's so jealous. While she has several interviews scheduled via telephone or Skype over the next few weeks, it will be a month or possibly more before she will join you in Seoul.

"I'm so jealous!" she tells you over and over. "So happy for you...but damn! I'm the one in the BTS army over here!"

"I'll see if I can snag you an autograph or something," you reply, half-joking.

Milo looks at you like you hold the world in your hands. "I would fucking marry you if you did."

"You'd marry me anyway."

At that, Milo merely flashes a wink and giggles to herself.

After your clothes and transportable belongings are packed and shipped overseas to your new apartment, the two of you drive to the airport in unusual silence, only a few items in your overhead luggage. It's not uncomfortable, but along the way, you both realize that this will be the last time you'll see each other for at least a month.

Milo has been your best friend since middle school, and you've lived together since college. To be without her for that long, after all you've been through together, it's hitting you hard as the airport draws near. You reach for her hand over the armrest, lacing your fingers through hers.

"You're not gonna go run off and find some boy that keeps you in America, right?" you ask in a semi-joking tone.

Milo tilts her head as she stares at you from the passenger's side. "Only if you don't find a cute K-pop boy to fall in love with and forget all about me."

You make a faux gagging sound, drawing a smirk from your best friend. "Not a chance."

"Then don't test me, [Y/n]. I'll get a job and be with you in Seoul before we know it. A month isn't too long, and then we can be roomies again!"

Your hand tightens as you flash a genuine smile. "Wouldn't change it for the world."

You remain attached to each other until you get to the security check-in. Turning to Milo, you pull her into a tight embrace, one that she whole-heartedly returns.

"Don't make me wait too long, okay?"

"'Course not," she chimes back, trying to keep her voice it's usual happy-go-lucky. "We're Siamese twins, you and me. Not gonna separate us!"

You say your temporary goodbyes—the only reason you don't break down being that you constantly remind yourself that it is only temporary—and depart for the security line. Passport in one hand, the other waving back to Milo, you hold tight to the shred of the past while running headfirst into your future.

One thing is for certain: things are going to change.

The first few days as a permanent resident of Seoul are spent settling into your new job and new apartment. And, as per usual in a major life change, there are things that go wrong that you couldn't have anticipated. You get lost on your way to work on your first day and end up being a few minutes late, one of your packages of clothing has not shown up yet despite everything else has arrived, and the office space at Big Hit evidently used to be occupied by someone who never cleared out their shitstorm of a file cabinet.

Needless to say, by the time the weekend arrives, you want to do nothing more than relax and recuperate and do something other than stare between two monitors. If you have to translate another word from Hangul into the English alphabet, you're going to chuck something out the window.

But, understandably, your apartment isn't in the best shape. Boxes are half-way unpacked, and plenty of furniture still needs to be bought. What has been unpacked is haphazardly tosses on any clean surface you can find. It's not exactly a den of peace and serenity, and probably not the ideal place to relax.

So, after doing some online shopping for said furniture and organizing as best you can, you decide to take the rest of the Saturday afternoon and do something you genuinely want to do. An idea pops into your head, and you grab your coat from the counter as you head for the door.

You never finished your tour of the Seoul Museum of Art, knowing for a fact that you haven't gotten to the architecture wing or portrait gallery. You feel your heart longing to go back and explore the remaining spots of the building, knowing in your soul that you need to be there.

What better time than the present?

You find your way easily, enjoying the brisk air that catches your skin and under your coat. The seasons are changing, shades of winter like white and grey settling into post-New Year's hues of mocha and beige. The city smells like green tea and feels like an ever-changing living organism.

Something tells you that more than just the seasons will be changing this year.

Enter the museum, you find your way back towards the gallery where you left off. After the conversation with the stranger from yesterday, you were a bit too weirded out to really enjoy any of the other exhibits. Wandering for another hour, you hardly remember any of it. The story he told, the bloody fingerprint at the corner of "Vase with Honesty," it was all a bit too eerie for your liking.

But something in the back of your mind keeps prodding at you, and you desperately wish who that man was so that you could ask him more questions. How did he know about the murder? Why was he as drawn to the painting as you were? Why did he leave so abruptly?

All these questions circulate your mind as you round the corner, passing by the Van Gogh exhibit to your right. Just as you pass out of the entrance, you stop mid-step and turn on your heel, peaking back into the open space.

Standing in front of "Vase with Honesty," the stranger from yesterday wears the beige hoodie and a white facemask. You might've missed him if it weren't for the way his eyes followed you from the entrance to the exit of the temporary exhibit, dark eyes dusted by curly hair. You think it unusual to recognize a stranger just from a few minutes of interaction, but your life has been anything but usual the past two weeks.

Instead, you offer a tiny smile and wave, stepping out of the arched entrance and towards the man. "Hi...again."

His eyes avert yours, shifting to the wall behind you, the paintings, the ceiling. Anywhere but at you. "Hi."

"Seems like we keep running into each other, hm?" you offer in a friendly tone. "Come back to see 'Vase with Honesty'?"

The stranger nods. "I'm a...big fan. Van Gogh's art is comforting. I've never known why."

His confession causes a genuine smile to spread across your face. "That's what art's for, silly. Van Gogh was a tortured soul, but I think he'd be happy to know that his life's work gives comfort to people, even..." You glance at the description card in front of the piece, searching for the date. "Even 136 years later."

His brown eyes flicker to yours again for a brief moment, and it's long enough for you to nod your head towards the expansive hallway. "Wanna walk with me? I got a few rooms in the museum yesterday, but not much more than that. Always nice to explore with others, don't you think?"

The shy man nods once and joins your side as you turn towards the interior, keeping a couple of feet between you.

As you make your way to other wings, you and the stranger make small talk to pass the time. Well, you do most of the talking. You're not sure if this person doesn't trust you or if he's just catatonically shy, but he's refused to lower his hood or raise his head enough for you to get a good look at his face. His features are still obscured by his clothing and hair, but his voice is soothing the few times he does reply. His presence is calming. Something about the man puts you instantly at ease, and you find yourself being more friendly than you might be to any other stranger.

"Is Korean your first language?" he inquires, as you step into the empty room full of 20th-century modern art.

You shake your head, a slightly embarrassed heat rising in your cheeks. "That obvious, huh? I mean, I know I don't look Korean, but I was hoping I was passing all right."

He stops in front of a work by Georgia O'Keefe. "Not that obvious. I just heard a bit of an American lilt in a few of your words just now. You're very good."

"Oh...then, thanks."

"Why are you in Seoul, then? Visiting?"

"Working," you respond, moving to the other side of the room to view the other works of modern art. "I got a job in Yongsan. I just started this week."

The stranger's head perks up at your response, turning his face slightly towards yours. "How's that going?"

You shrug, making a non-committal noise. "I mean, it's a great job, don't get me wrong. It's just a lot. I moved away from America, from my long-time best friend and roommate, from everything I'd ever known for this job. And it's been a long first week full of things I didn't realize I was going to have to handle."

You shove your hands into your jacket pockets as the two of you turn to leave the room, enter back into the stark white hallway, and turn towards the next expansive opening.

"I shouldn't be complaining," you laugh. "The job is so much more than I could ask for, and I haven't even met a few of the people I'm supposed to work with. One of which I know I have a ton of questions for..." You shake your head. "I've have had this...let's call it a gut feeling, for a long time now. Go to Seoul. Go to South Korea. I knew my fate would bring me here one day, just didn't realize life would be so..."

"Hard?"

You turn towards your companion with an understanding sigh. "Yeah, hard."

A few moments of silence pass, and just as you're about to ask him about the bloody fingerprint and how he knew about the artist being murdered, you feel a chill run down your spine at the sight of the object in the room to your left. Not a chill from the cold or from nerves, this is a chill of familiarity. You turn your head slowly towards the object of your subconscious horror.

"Winged Victory of Samothrace," or a copy of the one in the Louve, stands high and mighty, the lone object in the fluorescent-lit room.

"What is it?" the stranger asks, voice low and muffled by his mask.

You stare at the statue, unmoving for a full thirty seconds. "I—Does that statue look familiar to you at all?"

There's hesitation in his response, though you can't see his face. "I—I've seen it in Paris. That must be it."

You shake your head, clenching your trembling fists at your sides. "I've never been to Paris. I've never seen it before, not in person."

The stranger reaches out towards you, asking, "Are you okay? You're trembling."

In an attempt to clear your head, you drag your gaze away from Winged Victory and turn back towards the hallway. Visions from your nightmare force their way into your mind, but you shove them out, trying your hardest to keep them at bay as you walk ahead of your confused companion.

"Just a coincidence," you whisper to yourself. "Just a coin—"

Your sentence falls flat as you raise your gaze from the marble floors to the open space ahead. The chill returns, and your knees feel even weaker than before.

Pillars stretch up, cradling a spectacular glass ceiling, surrounding a spherical water fountain.

Your heartbeat races, and your throat closes up. The door you'd tried to lock in your brain crashes open, releasing all the terrible things your brain keeps replaying over and over and over. Doesn't matter if it's day or night, these visions never end.

An artist murdered. Two lovers on the run. A mad-man with a thirst for blood.

And the death of you both in that very water fountain.

You stumble back, bumping into the stranger as you do. His eyes are wide and locked on the fountain, but you're too panicked to stop and investigate further. Every fiber of your being is telling you to run. To run as fast and as far as you can.

Without explanation and without fail, you let your fear take you the mile's distance from that spherical fountain to the nearest metro station.

If you could physically go any faster or longer, you're sure in your heart that you would still be running.

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illfoandillfie · 5 years ago

Text

Horror Movie (Right There On My TV)

Pairing: Ben X Fem!Reader X Joe

Summery: You and the boys have a horror movie marathon

Warnings: Ya’ll this fics got it all. We’ve got fluff! We’ve got hurt/comfort! We’ve got a little angst! And of course we’ve got smut (18+)! Oral Sex (mostly m receiving but also a little f receiving), sensory deprivation in the form of blindfolds, fear play, restraints, a little hint of slapping, a bit of sub!reader, a bit of denial, fingering, unprotected sex, a little bit of m/m, i think that covers it

Words:8453

A/N: This is my HalloQueen event entry for @mrbenhardys ! Kyra I have absolutely loved getting to know you and I hope you enjoy this! 🎃💚

Taglist: @laedymoon @dtfrogertaylor @ezmina98 @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor @hannafuckingsucks

Your relationship with Ben and Joe was hard to define. A facebook relationship status update would say it’s complicated. Acquaintances would say you and Ben were dating and that Joe was a close friend. The few friends who knew something about your situation would probably describe you as a lucky bitch for managing to snag two hot fuckbuddies. Which, admittedly, you were. It had started the same as most casual relationships you’d seen before, you and ben and a less-than-sober hookup. It happened on a night out celebrating a mutual friend’s birthday and then it had just sort of kept happening. A tipsy pash here, a booty call there. You fell back on each other after unsuccessful nights out and stressful work days. He never made you leave if you were at his place late and, after a week where you stayed over more nights than you spent at home, you’d ended up having a discussion about what was happening between you. Neither of you was in the right place for a proper relationship. You’d only recently got out of something fairly long term and he was very career oriented, still trying to learn how to mix his professional life with his personal, especially now that he was auditioning for roles in bigger productions. So you agreed to keep it casual and fun. Stress relief he sometimes called it, or distraction or a hundred other innuendos and code names. But no matter what name you used it was exactly what you both wanted: a regular good, fun shag.

The night you met Joe he flirted with you outrageously. Ben had invited you out with a bunch of other friends, a proper piss up to welcome Joe and make up for celebrations Ben had missed while he’d been filming. He was excited for the two of you to meet, sure you’d get along like a house on fire, though he probably hadn’t expected see you grinding against each other on the dancefloor quite so quickly. You caught him looking at you from over the shoulder of whichever friends he was talking to once or twice, feeling suddenly awkward under his gaze and a little like you were in the wrong. Maybe because it had been a while since you’d been with anyone other than Ben and there was the assumption you’d end up in his bed at the end of the night. But you’d reminded yourself that you and Ben weren’t exclusive, just friends who sometimes saw each other naked, and let your attention drift back to Joe. You’d ended up making out with him before the night was done, in a dark corner of the club, hands grabbing at each other, his tongue practically down your throat. That was as far as you got though. He was crashing in Ben’s spare room and you felt just a little too weird about the situation to let it progress any further. At least, until a few days later. You went over to Ben’s with the intention of just hanging out with the two of them, maybe watch a movie or take the dog for a walk. Ben had been so sure you and Joe would get on and you wanted to make a proper effort, have a conversation unhindered by house music and shots and wandering hands. Joe answered the door, explaining that Ben had just left with Frankie and didn’t expect to be back for a couple of hours. “I’ve just put the kettle on though, do you want a coffee? Tea? Ben’s told me so much about you and I’m dying to get to know the girl who pushed him out of a window.” “He told you that?” you asked, following Joe through to the kitchen. “Yup,” “Well he lied, I never pushed him out of anything. The idiot was drunk and fell out himself. Besides it was the ground floor, wasn’t a proper fall anyway.” “That’s not how he tells it,” “No, well, if he told it properly it wouldn’t be half so impressive,” you laughed. You’d ended up talking for a bit, realising Ben had been right about how much you’d like Joe. The friendly conversation led to picking up where you’d left off a few night’s previous which led to both of you giggling as you scurried into the spare room, shedding clothing as soon as the door was shut behind you.

Ben arrived home and was startled by you, wearing nothing but Joe’s shirt on your way back from the bathroom. The uncomfortable moment was only made more uncomfortable by Joe almost walking into you both, wearing only his boxers. “Y/N? What’s taking so long? You said you were going to blow me,” his voice trailed off at the end as his eyes landed on Ben. “Hey Ben, fancy seeing you here in your own home,” “You’re both getting on then?” Ben’s voice was cheery but uncomfortably so, like he was trying too hard. “Mmhmm, guess you were right about us,” you said, not quite meeting Ben’s eye. “Good, I’m glad,” his gaze were fixed on you, completely ignoring Joe who still stood in the doorway to his room, “Just out of curiosity, how long have you...” “Today was the first time,” you said, equally as focused on Ben as he was on you, “Came over figuring we’d all hang out and I’d get to know Joe because you kept going on about him. Didn’t really expect anything else to happen.” “Okay, cool. I mean, it’s fine, you’d make a cute couple,” “Thats not... it’s not like that. Right Joe?” you looked away from Ben for the first time since he’d appeared, “It’s nothing serious.” Joe blinked like he’d forgotten he was part of the scene taking place, like he wanted to call out to the director for his next line, “Oh, yeah, no. I mean, I’m only here for a couple of weeks and I’m not really looking for serious right now.” “Cool. That’s cool. None of my business anyway. Sorry, I’ll,” he gestured vaguely in the direction of the lounge room before disappearing through the doorway. You chewed on your lower lip, staring at the spot where he’d been. “Soooo,” Joe drew the word out until he ran out of breath, “can I ask what that was about?” “Huh? Oh um, yeah. Me and Ben have kind of had a thing going for a while,” you walked past Joe into his room searching the floor for your clothes, it didn't feel right to continue now that you weren't alone. “Shit, really?” “Yeah but not like anything specific. Just a casual thing. Other people weren’t off limits or anything so there’s nothing to worry about.” “Still feel kinda bad. It’s his house after all.” “Yeah,” you sighed, trying to convince yourself that was the only reason you felt bad. “What if we didn’t have to though? Feel bad that is.” You paused, halfway through pulling your underwear back on, “What d’you mean?” “What if he joined us,” Joe shrugged as he made the suggestion, trying to seem casual. “Really?” “Yeah, if you’re cool with it?” “I’ll go get him then,” “I’ll wait here then,”

You crept towards Ben as quietly as possible, almost making him spill his drink over both of you as you flopped onto his lap. “Shouldn’t you be with Joe?” Ben kept his gaze fixed on the TV screen. “Wanted to ask you something,” “What could possibly be so urgent?” “Do you maybe want to join us?” “What?” “Threesome, Ben. You in?” “Is that a trick question? Of course I’m bloody in,” You laughed as Ben swooped in to kiss you quickly and then pushed you off his lap, giving your arse a small slap to get you moving back to the bedroom. “Who’s idea was this?” Ben asked as he followed you back to where Joe was waiting. “Joe’s but it wasn’t like I needed convincing,” “Geez Mazzello, didn’t realise you were so hot for me.” “As if you haven’t been pining over me for months.”

The three of you fell into the arrangement quietly, without feeling like you had to discuss it overly much. It was just fun, after all. You did have a conversation over dinner about limits and likes but there was an understanding that, whatever your relationship was, it didn’t need to be defined or spelt out. You continued to hook up with Ben and, when the chance arose for you to see Joe you would, sometimes all three of you spending the night together. While Joe was away, home in the US, you kept in constant contact. Group chats between the three of you featuring jokes at each other’s expense, plans for things to do next time Joe was able to make it back to your part of the world and outrageously flirty messages, some of them down right filthy. Plus a private chat where you sent each other photos from your beds and lamented the distance between. Ben spent a few weeks visiting Joe and they made sure you knew everything that happened, your phone constantly vibrating as photo after photo was sent to you. The two of them at a baseball match, a series of shots taken while having dinner, a sneaky picture of an unaware Ben getting out of the shower, all of them captioned with things like bet you wish you were here, and better than what you’re eating, and jealous?

You and Joe got closer, despite being so far apart, during a few weeks when Ben started seeing someone else. It came as a surprise, Ben not so much as mentioning it to you until the day you texted to see if he wanted to come over to play videogames, have a drink and make out a bit. His reply felt awkward, like he didn’t want to admit he was with another woman, or maybe you were just projecting your own sudden, inexplicable hurt onto his words. You spent the night talking to Joe instead, wishing he was with you to make you forget the unexpected pang that had hit you when you saw Ben’s message. The conversation, which started with a joke about him no longer having to share you with Ben, carried you through three glasses of wine and ended with you sending him a video of you fingering yourself, only needing to wait about thirty seconds before he was calling for more. It was a good distraction for the night and one that continued regularly for the full length of Ben’s new fling. Eventually, sick of only being able to listen to your moans through the phone, Joe booked a flight back to visit. Once again he crashed at Ben’s place, though he barely used the bed. Even nights where the three of you would hang out together had the tendency to end with Joe following you home.

During his stay you learnt how he took his coffee and which were his favourite snacks, stocking up on all of them. You got used to the smell of his aftershave in your bathroom and on your sheets. And to the sound of his laughter ringing through your rooms. The day you came home from work and found him cooking dinner you decided that meeting him had been one of the best things to happen to you, and the thought was only confirmed later that night when he went down on you. Weekend mornings became excuses to stay in bed, snuggled up together under the covers, dozing between giggly remarks and lazy kisses. Unsurprisingly, Ben was a frequent topic of conversation. “Maybe we shouldn’t speculate about his bird so much,” you sighed, wriggling further into Joe’s embrace. “Well if he’d just tell us something about her we wouldn’t have to,” “You’re right, this is his fault. I bet she’s a bitch.” “Y/N!” Joe mock scalded, “Our Benny wouldn’t date a bitch. A cow maybe,” You both laughed, letting the sound fade into silence naturally. “No, she’s probably terribly lovely.” you said after a pause, “pretty too,” “I reckon she’s tall. Ben’s got a thing for tall girls,” he nudged you, pulling another smile onto your face. “I miss him,” “Great, what am I, chopped liver?” “Oh shush, you know what I mean. You saw us the other night, it’s different now. He’s more awkward around me.” “Yeah, I get the feeling you wouldn’t have seen as much of him if I wasn’t here,” “That’s probably true,” “It’ll pass. You’ll be back to normal before you know it,” “Bit hard since our normal involved a lot of sex, but I appreciate the sentiment.” “Well, if things don’t get better between you, you could always move over my way. I’m sure we’d be able to get you a job over there. And you wouldn’t even have to worry about a place to live or anything since I’ve got a perfectly good one. Could take my guest room. Or half of my room, I’ll clear some draws for you, save you some space in the wardrobe.” “Joe...” Part of you loved the idea, the thought of Joe liking you enough to want something more serious made you feel warm and gooey. But you sensed he wasn’t letting on to the full extent of his feelings, something unsaid hanging between you, and you didn’t know what to do with it. “I know, I know. A bit too serious sounding. But you are welcome any time. We can take pictures for Ben, maybe make him jealous enough that he breaks it off with what's-her-name and come back to us.” “Sounds like a brilliant plan. If they’re still together at the end of the month I’ll book my ticket.” You both fell into another fit of giggles, easing the momentary tension that had risen in your chest as he found your lips again.

They weren’t together by the end of the month. It only took a few weeks for the relationship to fizzle out and a few days after that he was calling you again. You tried not to look too happy when he appeared on your doorstep brandishing a bottle of your favourite rosé, a grin breaking out despite your annoyance at his interrupting you and Joe. “I can come back later,” he said, noticing your dishevelled hair and the robe you’d hastily thrown on. “It’s just Joe. You can come in if you want,” He nodded, dumping the bottle on the first table he passed as he followed you to your room. “Look who I found,” “Ben! Guess you finally realised how much you missed us,” “I think you missed me more,” he laughed, things instantly feeling like nothing had changed, “How’s our pretty whore been managing with only one cock to satisfy her?” “She’s been managing just fine, thanks,” Joe said as he hurled a pillow towards Ben. But Ben caught it, coming close to hit Joe over the head with it before swooping in to kiss him quickly. His smile was warm as he flopped onto the bed, squeezing into the space between you and Joe. “I did miss you though,” he said softly, pulling you into a deep kiss. You melted into him, your hand falling to his chest, able to feel his heart beating beneath your palm. “Hey, y’know as much as I enjoy watching you two together, me and Y/N were kind of in the middle of something.” You laughed against Ben’s lips, pulling away so you could lean over and kiss Joe too.

So it continued. Too many feelings for friends with benefits to feel like an apt description, but none of you claiming more than that. Any attempts to label your relationship only raised more questions until you gave up trying, but it was something none of you wanted to trade in or give up. Sometimes you worried that Joe, living so far away, felt left out, though you did everything you could to include him. But it became easier when he landed a role in a movie that was filming close to Ben’s place. He moved into Ben’s guest room again, this time for a few months rather than a few days or weeks. You celebrated his arrival by pouncing on him before he was even fully though the door, sinking to your knees and tugging his pants down with the promise that he could have you however he wanted in every room of the house. Ben rolled his eyes, dragging one of Joe’s suitcases over the threshold and complained that you’d never made him that offer.

The three of you settled into a kind of domestic bliss. Mornings spent drinking coffee before any of you had to rush off to work. Evenings spent walking Frankie, in a pair or all together, taking her to the park. Nights spent on the couch sharing a bottle of white wine as you talked, or drinking chai lattes as you snuggled close to keep warm. Sometimes you’d curl up in an armchair and doze, listening to the boys run lines together, or to Ben messing around with his guitar, the TV on in the background even though no one was watching it. Weekends and days off spent lazing around the house or heading out together. You cooked dinner together or argued about what to takeout to order, stole each other’s clothes, and sometimes all fell asleep in the same bed, whoever was in the middle waking up sweating in the morning from how warm it got. Fast and needy afternoon sex with Ben while Joe was still on set. Slow and lazy morning sex with Joe when he didn’t have to be in until late. Making out with one on the couch turning into both of them grabbing you, pulling you into place so they could have you at the same time. At first you returned to your own home each night but you gave it up as a bad joke before too long, happier to stay in either of their bed’s, even on nights when you were all too tired to so much as think about sex.

One night, a couple of weeks after Joe moved in, found the three of you huddled up on the couch together watching a scary movie. It had been your idea to have a horror movie marathon. The storm belting down outside set the perfect mood and the idea of cuddling up to your boys was too nice to pass up. Joe had jumped at the suggestion, already listing the movies he thought deserved to be watched before you’d even finished talking. Ben had agreed too, a little slower than Joe but with a joke about how scaring a girl with a horror movie was the number one way to get her into bed. You laughed and let them playfully argue about which of their beds you’d end up in, as you settled into the couch between them. “It’s gonna be mine, mate,” Ben said, readjusting in his seat so his body was turned towards you and Joe, “No offence but I’ve got the better arms for a comforting cuddle. Also, you don’t technically own a bed here. You’re in my bloody guest room so I think that means I get dibs,” “Bullshit! If you were a good host you’d let the guest have her.” “Think I let you have enough as is. That’s my jumper isn’t it?” Ben pointed at the maroon knit Joe had donned as he rushed out the door that morning. “That’s like comparing apples and oranges,” “Do I get a say in this?” You asked offhandedly as you scrolled through Netflix. “Only if you’re agreeing with me,” Ben countered, wrapping his arm around your middle and pulling you tight against his body. The sleeve of his yellow knit sweater scratched softly against the partially exposed skin of your stomach as you giggled. Joe leaned in towards you, his hand falling to your knee, “Don’t worry honey, we both know you’ll sneak into my bed once he’s asleep.”

There was a little more bickering from both of them, Ben reminding you that you could hide your face against his chest if you got scared, Joe scoffing that it’d be like hiding your face against a brick wall and you’d be better off leaning into him, even as Joe turned off the lights and you turned the volume up, loud enough to be heard over the storm. They both quieted down as the first movie started, though neither of them removed their hands from you. Occasionally Joe would shift his up your thigh, rubbing your skin softly as though he were soothing you or trying to warm you up, and at one particularly unexpected jump scare, both their grips on you tightened, neither relinquishing their hold until the movie was over. As the credits were rolling Joe grabbed the controller, flipping through the other horror titles until he found what he was looking for. “Found it!” “Bird Box?” “Yeah, I’ve been wanting to watch this for ages,” he said, “just haven’t had the chance yet,” “Ben, have you seen it?” “Um, no, I haven’t. But I’ve heard it’s good,” his voice sounded thick and he stopped to clear his throat between statements. “Alright hush up I’m starting it,” You glanced over at Ben but he caught you, flashing you a smile as he dropped a kiss to your shoulder and then turned back to the screen. You smiled back, deciding he’d only sounded odd from not using his voice for a couple of hours. Only fifteen minutes or so into the movie Ben got up, tiptoeing towards the front door, making sure it was locked, and then heading into another room as quietly as he could. You glanced at his back, but the screen soon drew your attention again, Joe’s eyes never having left it. Ben returned a few moments later with a large soft blanket, throwing it over the three of you as he settled back into place beside you, his arms looping around you loosely once more. During a particularly intense scene his hold on you tightened again, fingertips digging into your skin a little uncomfortably. You lay your hand over his, idly rubbing your thumb over his skin, and heard him release a shaky breath close to your ear, his grip relaxing. As the movie continued Ben tensed up more and more, pulling his feet up under him as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. A loud clap of thunder erupted outside and you felt Ben gasp, his chest rising with the sharp intake of breath. You, somewhat awkwardly, managed to bring your hand up to run your fingers softly through his hair, feeling him relax again at the comforting touch, though not enough to look at the screen properly or move out of your reach again.

When the movie ended Joe got up and walked towards the light switch. “How about I make us all a tea or coffee or something before we start the next one,” “Think Ben might need something a little stronger,” The lights flicked on and Joe turned to find Ben huddled up against you. He started laughing. “Joe! Don’t be mean!” “Sorry, but you have to admit it’s a little funny. Mr ‘im here with my muscles if you’re scared’ having to hide under a blanket,” You shot Joe a warning look before focusing back in on Ben, stroking his cheek when he sat up straight again. “You okay bub?” “Yeah, sorry, just don’t do great with horror stuff,” “You should have said, we could have watched something different,” “No no, I should have gone off and done something else. I’d seen part of that first one already though and knew it wasn’t too bad. A couple of jump scares got me but otherwise it was fine. That second one though, with the blindfolds…” he shuddered. “Aww, Benny, come ‘ere” you moved to straddle his lap, pulling him into a hug. You heard Joe scoff but ignored him as your hand slipped over Ben’s shoulder and onto his back to rub soothing circles there. “Will you stay with me tonight? Don’t think I’ll get much sleep if I’m alone,” “Of course bub, whatever you need,” “Thanks,” he gave you a small sheepish smile. “I didn’t know you don’t like horror,” Joe said suspiciously, flopping into the seat beside you and Ben, arms crossed over his chest. “Not really something that comes up much, is it?” “And you’re definitely not bullshitting us to get Y/N into bed?” “No, not at all.” “But it is a bit of a bonus,” you laughed, nudging Joe’s shoulder teasingly. “Good, because otherwise I’d have to be offended that you’d choose her over me. She’s all arms and legs, nothing like as cuddly as me,” You felt Ben’s hand fall to one of your legs, tracing lightly from your ankle up to your thigh. “They are very nice legs though.” “Very nice,” Joe’s hand mirrored Ben’s. “What are you two doing? I’m trying to be comforting here,” “Can think of a few ways you could comfort me, love. Both of you. Only fair.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as Joe turned Ben’s head, the fingers on his chin pulling him into a soft, warm kiss. Ben’s hands slipped towards your arse, holding you securely against him as you raked your fingers through his hair. Your lips replaced Joe’s as he pulled back, shifting onto his knees so he could better reach Ben’s neck, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. The longer you and Joe lavished attention on Ben, switching between sucking at his pulse point and pressing your lips to his, the needier he got. Small, contented sighs and hums rose up in his throat, contrasted by how hard he was growing under you. His fingers pressed into you as he encouraged you to rock against him, bucking up when either of you made him feel particularly good, until he couldn’t take it anymore. “Wait,” he rasped, holding you still as Joe sat back on his knees. “Tell me what you want, bub.” “Mouth, please,” Grinning, you slid off his lap, pushing the blanket aside. You tapped his ankle to get him to open his legs wider so you could kneel between them. Ben groaned when you ran your finger along the outline of his still clothed dick, teasing him a little more before you pulled his joggers down and set him free. “Don’t worry Benny,” you leaned forward and let a long string of saliva drip over Ben’s cock, “gonna make you feel so good you’ll forget all about the movie.” He swore as you took him in your hand, pumping his entire length once, twice, before closing your lips around him. You lowered your head until you felt him hit the roof of your mouth and then came back up, tongue dragging along his underside. You didn’t quite let him fall from your mouth, waiting until the last moment to sink back down until he was once again hitting the roof of your mouth. Looking up through your lashes you saw both boys staring at you. Ben’s cheeks were flushed, his hand balled up into a fist, clutching the blanket he’d brought earlier. Joe was looking at you intently, lip pulled between his teeth. He had one hand tangled in Ben’s hair, the other lay still against Ben’s stomach as if it’d been about to slip under his jumper when he’d become distracted. Not that you could blame him.

A loud groan from Ben broke through the air as you came up for a breath. “Please don’t sto- oh fuck,” he whined as you sunk back down, letting him slip into your throat. “She is very good at that, isn’t she,” Joe said, blinking himself free of the trance you’d put him under. Ben managed to choke out a noise that sounded like agreement, but he was much too distracted to articulate anything properly. You pulled up again, stroking him in the absence of your mouth, as you gave your jaw a moment to relax, relishing the way he whined so needily. “Go on, keep going,” Joe palmed at the front of his own pants, “not very nice to make the poor boy wait,” “Hmm, funny how I’m doing all the work here,” “You don’t need my help, princess, got it completely under control,” “That’s true,” you chuckled, lightly squeezing Ben’s balls and making him gasp, just to prove it. “Babe, as fun as listening to you and Joe talk is, you’ve started something and I need you to finish it.” “Sorry bub,” you giggled, dropping a kiss to his thigh and then another to his cock. Joe leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder, settling in to watch the show and you once again stretched your mouth around Ben, taking him as deep as you were able. You put everything you had into the blowjob, using everything you knew about Ben to drive him towards his release. His pretty moans only rose in volume as you bobbed up and down, swirling your tongue over his tip, gagging as you took him deep. Hollowed cheeks and cupped balls, finger nails lightly running along the spots you knew were most sensitive. You could hear Joe, cooing at Ben, telling him how lovely he sounded moaning your name, how hot it was to watch, encouraging him. “Gonna cum for us? Gonna show Y/N how much you like her mouth wrapped around your cock? She’s been so good. Earned a reward. C’mon, cum all over her tongue, give her something to swallow.” It wasn’t the first time you’d heard one of your boys encourage the other to finish in or on you, but it still hit you hard, making you feel more aroused than you already were. You hummed around his cock, trying to convey your own encouragement wordlessly, the vibrations enough to push him over the edge. Ben swore as he came, rutting into your mouth as you milked every drop from him, Joe praising him and you softly.

You stood up, stretching with a small moan before reclaiming your place on Ben’s lap, “how was that? Feel better?” “Mmhmm, much,” he said, lips bitten and eyes soft, fingers dropping to your knee, rubbing at the indent the carpet had made. “Good,” you leaned forward with the intention of kissing Ben but Joe stopped you, taking you by the chin, his thumb skimming over the corner of your mouth. “Missed some,” he said, dragging his thumb over your lip. It tasted like Ben when he slipped it onto your tongue. “Go on, suck,” he said, watching you just long enough to ensure you did as you were told before turning to Ben, “y’know, I don’t think it’s right that she gets away so easy,” “What d’you mean? “Don’t you want to punish her a little? Give her a little taste of her own medicine?” “Again I ask, what do you mean?” “She really deserves some sort of payback for putting you through all that,” You grabbed Joe’s arm and tugged his hand away, “If I remember correctly it was you who chose the movie,” “Shhhhh, princess,” he said, covering your mouth with his other hand, almost laughing, “that’s not important. What’s important is that it was your idea to have a horror movie night in the first place. And I’m ready to watch you squirm.” “I take it you have an idea then,” “Yuuuup,” he popped the ‘p’, “I’m thinking blindfolds, I’m thinking restraints, I’m thinking….hmm…maybe some edging, who knows?” “Babe? You okay with it?” You wriggled on Ben’s lap, trying to subtly relieve some of the pressure that had only built with each of Joe’s ideas, “uh, yeah, yeah sounds fun,” “I knew you’d be wet for it,” Joe smirked as he got up to retrieve the supplies.

“Hey,” Ben said softly as Joe left the room, drawing your attention away from the doorway, “thank you, for before,” “It was a blowjob Ben, and probably not the last one you’ll get from me, no need to thank me so seriously,” “No, I meant for before that. You kept me much calmer than I felt during the movie. Just, y’know, letting me lean on you and the way you held my hand and stuff,” Ben’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not articulating it well, but you really did help,” “Well, you’re welcome,” you pushed a strand of hair behind his ear, “I just did what I would have wanted. What you’ve done when you’ve comforted me.” Ben pulled you into a hug, arms tight around your back as your head fell under his chin. “I don’t say this very often, Y/N, but I’m really glad we started doing this. And that we’re back to normal.” “Me too,” you laughed, “best sex I’ve ever had.” Ben laughed too, “well yeah, there’s that, but everything else too. I..” You could feel Ben’s heart beating under your hand, it sped up as he considered his next words. “At the risk of opening a can of worms… I don’t exactly know what we are or what to call this. But, it… it means a lot to me. You and Joe mean a lot to me. And,” You waited, holding your breath, Ben’s heart hammering against your palm. “maybe I shouldn’t say this while Joe’s not around but I… I think I –” “Found a blindfold!” Joe was practically bouncing as he came back into the room though he stopped when he saw you pushing yourself off Ben’s chest to sit up again, “Am I interrupting something?” One glance at Ben told you he didn’t want to say any more about it just yet, though you thought you could guess where he’d been heading before the interruption. “You caught us Joe, took so long we got impatient and squeezed in a quickie. Y’know Ben’s a cuddler afterwards.” “Ha ha, very funny,” he waved a piece of material in your face, “found a bandana in one of Ben’s cupboards. Not sure why he has one but it’s our good fortune he does otherwise I would’ve had to cut up a shirt.” “I dressed up as a cowboy for a party once,” Ben shrugged, “never got rid of the costume.” “Good thing because I’m definitely going to need to see you in it. I feel like you’d make a very sexy cowboy, don’t you Joe?” “Definitely. ‘Specially if he’s wearing the assless chaps I found too,” “Oh fuck off, I don’t own any assless chaps and you both know it,” “But now I know what to get you for Christmas,” “Don’t you dare,” “Why not?” “Cause I already got some for him,” Ben jerked his thumb as Joe, a cheeky smile lighting up his face at the joke. “Alright alright, enough assless chaps. Only one of us has had a chance to get off so far and that needs to change. So, blindfold.” He held the bandana up and moved behind you, looping it over your eyes and tying it toff tightly behind your head. “Can you see?” “Nope,” “Okay good,” You felt hands wrap around your waist pulling you backwards off Ben’s lap, feet landing on the carpet unsteadily. Before you’d even balanced yourself Joe was speaking in your ear, adrenalin and anticipation already pumping through your veins making your breath come quick. “You think you can get to Ben’s room without being able to see?” You were distracted momentarily by the warmth of Ben’s body pressing close to your front, his hands inching the hem of your shirt up. “Well? Do you?” “Yes, I think so yes,” There was a beat as Ben pulled your shirt off over your head, the noise of it rustling in your ears, your shoulders tightening as the chilly air hit you. You put your hands out in front of you, trying to find Ben and the warmth that came with him, but he was gone, moved out of reach once more. All you got was Joe, making sure the placement of the makeshift blindfold hadn’t been disrupted, and then a sudden quiet as the TV was switched off, whichever trailer had been playing in the background cut off mid-sentence. “Pants too, princess,” Joe said, snapping the waistband of the flannel pyjamas you wore. You hurried to wriggle out of them, the cold nipping at your bare skin. As soon as you were left in just your underwear Joe took your hand and led you away from the couch. “Okay, we’re going to go to Ben’s room,” he spun you around once, hands firm on your shoulders, “and you’re going to join us,” another spin, “and you’re going to be quick about,” a third spin, “because the longer you take the less chances you’ll have to cum.” He grabbed your shoulders, holding your firmly while you tried to shake the disorienting dizziness. “Take too long, princess, and you’ll end up completely denied until we decide you’ve earned more.” And then his hands left you, the soft pad of his bare feet disappearing somewhere towards the bedroom, any trace of Ben already gone, leaving you completely alone and unable to see.

You took a deep breath, trying to stop the vague panic that was already welling in your gut. In your mind you tried to conjure the layout of Ben’s house, looking at it from overhead, tracing the rooms from the lounge where you assumed you still were. Study, kitchen, bathroom, bedrooms, theoretically you knew where they all were but you had no idea which direction you were facing, no clue which part of the room you were in. But you couldn’t stand there forever. You’d either freeze or, worse, end up denied an orgasm for who knows how long. You had to start somewhere so you took a tentative step forward, arms held out in front to locate any obstacles you might run into. When nothing blocked your path you took another and another, hoping to find one of the two doorways out of the room. Your ears strained for any sound that might help you, any clue to your location, or theirs. The hum of some electronic left idle, the drip of a tap not turned off tight enough, hushed voices, anything. But the storm, still raging outside, interfered too much. All you could hear was the trees being whipped around by the wind and every so often a clap of thunder. Your steps were slow, careful, deliberate. The last thing you wanted was to kick a chair or a table by accident, or trip over something your outstretched arms didn’t catch. But you knew you were going too slowly. A clock ticked in your head, counting each lost second. You didn’t know how long too long was, five minutes? Ten?

Your hands hit something hard. Carefully you stretched a foot out too, toes brushing against a skirting board. A wall. Your heart leapt. A wall you could work with, follow until you found a doorway. The only question was left or right. You hesitated for a moment and then picked left, just because. You hoped that was the universe or something putting you on the right path, not a mistake. You held one hand against the wall as you walked, trying to remember what objects were against the walls in Ben’s lounge area. There was the TV of course and a large bookshelf. Maybe something hanging on a wall. Or did he take that down? You couldn’t quite remember. You felt more confident, steps faster now that you had something solid to follow. The wall led you to a doorway. You just had to work out which room you were in to know if you were on the right path. Tentatively, you left the wall, counting the number of steps you took so you could find your way back. Your hands waved through the air in front of you, searching for something to use as a point of reference. They landed on a smooth surface. It was large and cool. You had a suspicion of what it was, trailing your hands along it until the feeling changed. You tapped your nails on the new surface, a metallic sound reverberating around you. The sound made you smile, confirmed what you thought. It was the kitchen bench and you’d found the sink. You felt around to double check, finding first an upturned glass and then the tap, breathing a sigh of relief. You knew where you were and you knew where to go now. Finding Ben’s room shouldn’t be any trouble. You followed the bench until it met the wall and then followed the wall to the doorway. From there it was just a matter of weaving through rooms, trying not to bump into furniture. You didn’t even have to stick to the wall now that you knew which direction you were facing.

“There she is,” Ben said as you entered a doorway, “clever girl.” “Cold girl,” you shivered slightly, the chill getting to you more now that you didn’t have fear driving you ever onwards. “Think we can have you warmed up in no time,” he said, grabbing your hand and pulling you forward. “Can I take my blindfold off yet?” “Silly question, princess. Want to keep you on your toes.” Joe’s voice was closer than you’d expected, making you jump a little. He pressed a kiss to the back of your shoulder as he unhooked your bra. Ben was already sliding your panties down your legs, on his knees in front of you. You gasped when he leaned in to lick you, not expecting the sudden burst of pleasure. It was amplified by Joe, rolling your nipples between his fingers, both of them working in tandem to draw a moan from you. “Well aren’t you just dripping,” Ben mumbled against you, tongue delving back into your folds, dragging up towards your clit. “Guess it’s true what they say about fear being an aphrodisiac,” Joe chuckled, the sound sending a tingle down your spine. “Christ, guys,” you panted, dropping your hands to tangle in Ben’s hair, trying to press him closer. “Uh uh uh,” Joe tutted in your ear, grabbing your hands by the wrist and pulling them away, Ben wincing a little as you tugged on his hair. He stood back up and you felt yourself be turned around, a sharp slap landing on your backside to push you forward. You hit the bed, closer to falling onto the mattress than climbing in gracefully. But it didn’t matter. As soon as you were down you were pulled into place, Ben climbing in beside you. He still wore pants, though no shirt, your hands running over his chest, feeling his muscles move as he propped himself up on his elbow and leaned in to kiss you. You felt one arm be pulled over your head and heard a click. “Bastards!” you laughed, “Didn’t have to trick me. Would’ve happily let you cuff me. And why’d you only do one anyway?” “Well, love, since Joe was so patient watching you be a greedy little cock whore before, it’s only fair that I get to watch him fuck you. And we all know what you’re needy fucking moans do to me, so your hand is free so you can be helpful and wank me.” You clenched your thighs together, trying to block out the desire coursing through you so you could work out where Joe was. The mystery was solved when he got onto the foot of the bed, prying your legs apart and shuffling between them. You tried to squirm away as he pinched your bum but it only made him and Ben laugh. “Now, princess,” Joe said, making you twitch as he tapped his fingers against your thigh, “remember you don’t get to cum without our permission.” “I know,” “Good. Wouldn’t want to have to punish you, would we?” “I get the feeling you actually would,” The tapping turned into a slap, “naughty, might have just extended your denial.” You groaned, half in response to his threat, half because of the way it felt when he slid two fingers into you, pausing to let you get your bearings before he began to move them. “So wet, even without Ben getting a proper go at eating you out,” “You can thank me for it anyway. Been wet since she was on her knees.” Ben took your hand, crossing it over your body towards him. You heard him summon a wad of saliva before he drew his tongue along your palm and then led you to his cock. You’d missed him pulling his pants down, or off, too distracted by everything else that was happening.

Your mind whirred with the mix of sensations, trying to focus and to keep abreast of any changes around you. The ticklish fuzzy texture of the cuff around your wrist. Ben’s deep voice near your ear as he called you a good girl between breaths and pleased sighs, the feel of his cock getting harder under your hand and the warmth of having him so close beside you. Joe’s fingers pumping and out of your wet cunt, the stretch, the sound as his speed picked up, his other hand on your thigh, holding you open, slapping you every so often just to make you jolt in shock at the sound and sting of it. You tried to listen for any rustle of clothing or creak of the bed that might warn you what was to come but it was useless, every shift and adjustment taking you by surprise. Your own breath sped up as Joe fingered you, adjusting the angle of his attack to draw whimpers and gasps from you. And then the sudden emptiness as he pulled his hand away. You whined, hoping it’d make him quicker to give you more, but it didn’t work. Instead you listened as he offered his fingers, coated in your arousal, to Ben. Listened as Ben sucked them clean. Felt the wet trail as Joe wiped them across your stomach.

Your breath hitched when you felt Joe slide his cock along your pussy, your hips rising to meet him each time he nudged your clit. You must have looked desperate, judging from the way Joe chucked. He was sick of waiting but he enjoyed teasing you. Entering you slowly, letting you feel every inch of him. It gave you time to adjust to his size while still making you crave more. And then pulling your legs up over his shoulders, changing the angle ever so slightly, making you feel tighter, fuller. “You okay princess?” “Mmhmm, please just move already,” He didn’t need telling twice, holding your legs steady against him as he set a brutal pace. Once Joe sped up so did Ben. He’d kept your movements over his cock slow and steady, not wanting things to escalate too quickly, but at the sight of you writhing under Joe, moaning and panting he couldn’t help himself. He held your wrist still as he thrust up into your hand, taking control. You were glad to let him, too preoccupied with Joe pounding into you, rubbing circles on your clit. Knowing you were trapped between them, being used without knowing if you’d get to feel your own release, only turned you on more. Another thrust from Joe, particularly well timed to coincide with a very firm touch to your clit had you moaning that you were close.” “Hold it,” Joe grunted, relentless in his movements. You nodded, biting your lip, unable to form words that weren’t senseless begging. He didn’t slow down or remove his fingers from you though, and, afraid you wouldn’t be able to hold off unless he removed some of the stimulation he was giving you, you whimpered. “Please Joe, I c-can’t, I can’t,” “Can’t what, slut?” “I need to cum, please, please, please,” You thought for sure that Joe was going to stop touching you, or else you’d fall over the edge without permission, be punished and left without release for weeks. Instead you heard Ben tell you to cum, voice strained as he neared his own climax. You moaned loud as you followed his instruction, back arching off the bed and toes curling. Joe’s grip on your legs tightened as he held off his own orgasm long enough to fuck you through yours, pulling out and coating your stomach in his seed. Ben finished over your hand within seconds, gasping your name.

You were panting when you felt Ben collapse beside you, placing your cum covered hand on your stomach alongside the splatters Joe had left there. Joe stood up and uncuffed you before sagging down on your other side. “You can take the blindfold off, love,” Ben said softly as he snuggled into your side. You blinked at the sudden bright light. The first clear thing you saw was Joe smiling at you, leaning in to kiss your temple. “You okay?” “Yeah, great, just gotta catch my breath a bit,” “Ben, you good?” “Mmhmm. Give me like ten minutes and I’ll be ready to go on,” “Go on?” “Didn’t think that was all you’d get, did you?” “It isn’t?” “Ben’s convinced he wont get a wink of sleep without fucking himself, and consequently us, into exhaustion.” “Besides, you got back to the room really fast,” the blonde mumbled against you, “so if anything you earned a lot more. Like, us eating you out for hours a lot.” You couldn’t help but laugh, as your boys snuggled closer. Perhaps it was the high you were still coming down from, or the giddiness that came from knowing you’d essentially beaten the challenge they set you, or just the warm safety you felt lying between them, but whatever it was you found your heart pounding as you cleared your throat. “Hey, guys?” Both responded in wordless noises to show they were listening. “I love you. Both of you.” Your heart was in your throat, brain automatically trying to spin a way to unsay the words you’d just let slip. Their silence seemed to drag on for a thousand years as you waited breathlessly for their response. Ben moved first, though Joe wasn’t far behind, leaning over to kiss you deeply, saying the words softly back against your lips. Joe pressed a string of kisses along your jaw, kissing you properly once Ben had backed away, smiling as he said it too.

#my writing #ben hardy smut #joe mazzello smut #ben hardy x reader #joe mazzello x reader #ben hardy x reader x joe mazzello #ben hardy imagine #joe mazzello imagine #sorry it's a bit late!!#also long lmao #i wanted to flesh out the relationship #and then suddenly i was 4k words in and hadn't even got to the smut #i just really like writing fun banter and soft boys lmao #halloqueen #halloqueenevent

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ethospathoslogan · 4 years ago

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there will come a poet: chapter seven (a vampire sanders sides fanfiction)

A/N: story of my life, this chapter was supposed to be longer!! but, not only was i getting antsy to post a chapter, but what you’re about to read became a lot more narratively important than originally planned and, because what’s coming next is fairly dramatic, i wanted each moment to stand alone!!!

ALSO this is something i should've been doing from the prologue, but i have to give a huuuuuuge thank you to my friend bee ( @bumblebeekitten )!! she has been beta-reading this fic for me from the start, and has been the one hearing out my ideas, helping me piece together the plot, and giving me ideas as well!!! this fic would literally not be what it is now without her and, for that, i must give her all my thanks and love <3

summary: Virgil finally looked back down at him. “Why do you like the rain?”

ships: moxiety stans come get ur slowburn juice (also eventual logince)

WC: 1,976

content: light death mention

read on ao3

masterlist

spotify playlists

taglist: @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute , @glitchybina , @ab-artist , @daring-elm , @crazydemigod666

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On Patton’s fifth morning in the Anguine Kingdom, it was raining.

It took a moment for him to realize it as he drowsily looked out the window in his room but, as he watched the rain drops drip from the canopy above and could just catch the sight of grey clouds through the gaps in the leaves, his heart surged.

He loved the rain.

Grabbing his cloak, he quietly made his way out of the guest corridor and through where the brothers rested. As he was walking down the stairs, he only faltered momentarily when he found Virgil already sitting on one of the cushioned benches in the parlor, his dark eyes trained on the rainy skies as well.

And then, Patton smiled and continued down the stairs.

“Morning, Virgil,” he said, his voice soft as he came up beside him.

Virgil, looking up at him, gave him a small smile. “Oh, hey Patton.”

Patton sat on the other end of the bench. “I didn’t expect to see you down here,” he said. “Thought you’d be sleeping.”

Virgil chuckled. “I could say the same to you.”

“I’m just an early riser!”

“And I barely sleep.”

“I can see that!” When Virgil gave a shrug, Patton giggled. “But are you enjoying the weather, too?”

“Oh-” Virgil looked back out the window “-Uh, just thinking, really.”

“About what?”

A hesitation. “Nothing important.”

As Virgil kept his eyes on the rain droplets tapping against the window, Patton took it as a sign to not push the subject.

So, instead, Patton looked out the window as well.

“I love the rain.” He put a finger to the window and followed a raindrop as it travelled downwards.

Virgil moved his gaze to Patton. “You do?”

“Always have.” He smiled. “Back home, I always liked to go outside when it rained. Well, more like sneak out because, you know, princely duties, but Logan always covered for me!”

Virgil laughed slightly. “Didn’t take him for the renegade type.”

“He has a little rebellion in him!” Patton laughed, too. “Just don’t tell him I told you.”

“Secret’s safe with me,” Virgil said with a smirk.

Patton beamed.

Virgil then cleared his throat, looking back out the window. “Do you want to? Go outside, I mean.”

“Oh! I- I was planning to, but if I can’t or-”

“You can if you want. You’re not trapped.” Virgil hesitated before adding, “I mean, if you’re uncomfortable or anything, I can go with you…”

Patton smiled. “I’m not uncomfortable,” he said, “But you can still join me. If you want.”

“Oh-” Virgil scratched the back of his neck “-Uh, yeah.”

“Great!” He then stood and offered his hand out to Virgil. “Shall we?”

Virgil eyed his hand. “You haven’t seen much of the capital city, right?”

Patton shook his head. “Other than the Wall? Not really.”

“Well-” Virgil took Patton’s hand and pulled himself up. The sudden flush to Patton’s cheeks distracted him enough from the coldness of Virgil’s hand. “-I can show you around. Won’t be as nice as it once was, but...”

“I don’t mind,” Patton said with a smile before remembering to take his hand away.

As Virgil opened the large castle doors, Patton relished in the cool morning breeze that blew in. The summer air was tempered by the gentle rain and Patton, equally calm, stepped out onto the stone steps.

“It’s beautiful out,” he said softly, looking out at the capital city down below before back at Virgil, who still lingered in the doorway. “Don’t you think?”

Virgil stared up at the canopy, still shrouding the kingdom in shadows but occasionally breaking through to grey clouds. “I guess.”

As Virgil stepped up beside him, Patton looked back out at the kingdom. “I think the trees are giving us some shelter,” he said. “You can hear how hard the rain’s hitting the leaves.” He breathed in deep. “It’s… calming.”

Still, though, he gave an exaggerated frown as the raindrops blurred his glasses. Pushing them up on his head, holding back his curls from sticking to his forehead, he turned to Virgil and smiled.

“You ready?”

Virgil’s eyes passed over his face before he sharply looked forward again. “Try not to trip,” he mumbled.

“I’ll do my best!”

As Virgil led him down the spiralling steps (with Patton being extra careful to not slip on the stone), he said, “I don’t- I don’t have an actual tour or anything like that. If Roman was here, he’d probably have more to say. Might surprise you, but he was our, uh, socialite.”

Patton giggled. “Never would have guessed,” he joked. “But were you super busy? You know, back then?”

“Not really,” Virgil said, shrugging. “Just… didn’t go out a lot. Still know the kingdom, though.”

Patton nodded. “I don’t need a tour anyway,” he said. “I’m just happy out here!”

Virgil chuckled. “I can tell.”

When they reached the courtyard, Patton pointed down one of the side paths to the right that lead to the Vine Wall. “I’ve been there, and that’s about it!”

“Then let’s try to make things interesting,” Virgil said, and led Patton to the left.

The main thing Patton noted about the kingdom was that it was quiet. Always quiet, and always still. It was a small kingdom already—mainly consisting of a large capital city—and, after all this time, it seemed more like the brothers had come second to the foliage. Ivy clawed up the walls of the dilapidated buildings, and those closer to the Wall had been taken over by the vines as well. Most of the paths and stonework had become overcome by roots and weeds, and Patton had to watch his footing to make sure his feet didn’t snag.

“What was it like?” He asked after a couple minutes of walking. “Growing up in the middle of the forest.”

“Quiet. Isolated,” Virgil answered. “The Anguine Kingdom has been here for almost three centuries, but-” and he vaguely gestured to the city around them “-we don’t really have a lot to work with. I guess we could’ve tried to make villages farther out but, I don’t know, we did just fine with our capital city. For the most part.”

Patton worried his bottom lip, nodding. Before the climactic battle and the fall of the Anguine Kingdom, they had been a source of trade and commerce for the Hartt Kingdom. Even for a smaller kingdom, almost miniscule compared to the Hartt capital and all its attached villages, the Anguine Kingdom was once pivotal.

And then things changed, and the Hartt Kingdom adapted.

Patton kept his mouth shut about that, though.

“Did you like living out here?”

Virgil shrugged. “It was fine,” he said. “Again, didn’t really go out much.”

Patton nodded. He hesitated before saying, “Can I ask why?”

The Hartt legend said that the fourth son—that Virgil —hid away inside the castle because of the prophecy surrounding his birth, that the Queen’s death and the darkness that followed were only omens for worse things to come.

Patton found himself wanting to know Virgil’s side of it.

“It was just better for everyone if I… stayed away.” Virgil looked down, his steps slowing to a halt. “I’m not really… good company to have.”

Patton stopped in front of him. “I think you’re doing just fine.”

Virgil huffed out a dry laugh. “What about your legends? What do they think?”

Patton frowned. “That’s the past.”

“Is it?” Virgil arched an eyebrow. “You don’t know me like everyone else did.”

He took a step closer. “Well, what if I want to know who you are now?”

“There’s no difference,” Virgil said, crossing his arms.

“But… I think there is,” Patton pushed, his tone gentle. “I can’t… change things, what you think or- or what the past says but… I know what’s in front of me.” A pause. “I know you’re not as bad as you think.”

Virgil scoffed, sharply looking away. “Figured all that out so quickly, huh?”

Patton bristled. “I’m just telling you what I see!”

“Well I don’t see it!” Virgil, exasperated, dragged a hand through his hair. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate you trying but- but this has been my life for a hundred years! I…” He trailed off, shaking his head. His dark bangs clung to his forehead and, once again, he shoved them out of the way. “I’m sorry, it’s just…”

Patton bit his bottom lip. “Just what?”

A hesitation.

“I want to believe you,” Virgil finally said, quiet. “That there’s something-” He gestured to himself “-Here but… people get hurt when they’re around me, and that’s a pretty fucking hard thing to just forget about. If you stick around, and something happens...”

Patton frowned, tugging at the edges of his cloak. “But can we just make decisions on… what-if’s?”

“Patton,” Virgil warned, “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

“What if I want to?”

The air in between them was suddenly still.

Whatever Patton was getting into, the way his heart hammered against his chest made it feel like he was falling.

Virgil’s voice was low as he asked, “You don’t give up easily, do you?”

“Sorry,” Patton whispered.

“Don’t be.”

Patton’s eyes widened as Virgil looked up at the sky, shutting his eyes as the rain dripped onto his forehead.

For a moment, the silence between them felt like it would last an eternity.

“I hated the rain when I was a kid,” Virgil finally said. “My mother died the day I was born, and it stormed so badly for the next month that everything—farming, trade, commerce—plummeted.” He paused, his hands clenching. “A bad omen, you know? Cursed, even. And, after, it’s not like things were suddenly fine. I can’t just… ignore the signs.”

“You said you used to hate the rain,” Patton said quietly. “What changed?”

Virgil shrugged. “I grew up, maybe. Got used to it.”

Patton’s heart cinched.

Virgil finally looked back down at him. “Why do you like the rain?”

“Virgil, if you’re uncomfortable or- or sad, we don’t have to talk about this...”

“No,” Virgil said, shaking his head. “I- I want to know.”

Patton studied him for a moment longer. “Well,” he began, and couldn’t help but smile, “Because our gardens always looked best after the rain. Because it was the best time to try and catch frogs out by the pond. Because we had this huge weeping willow tree that was just so peaceful to sit under. It always felt like the world just paused. The rain makes it easy to… breathe, and just be. I think the rain refreshes us… takes the weight off the world’s shoulders for a little while.”

Virgil stared at him for a long time.

And then, finally, his lips turned up into a small smile.

“Not what I expected,” he said.

Patton laughed sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I just really love the rain.”

“It’s… different.”

His smile fell. “Is that bad?”

Virgil quickly shook his head. “I- No, it isn’t. I… I like it. It’s new.”

“Well,” Patton said, his smile returning, “New can be fun. Good.”

Virgil nodded, glancing away before meeting Patton’s eyes again. “I guess I’ll try to take your word on it.”

When the pair were finally walking back to the castle, the rain starting to come down a little harder, Patton instinctively gasped as his foot snagged a root and, even with his glasses on top of his head, he could see that the forest floor was coming in fast, and-

And Virgil immediately caught him on the forearm, his grip cold yet secure.

“Thanks,” Patton said, blushing as he looked up at Virgil.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. “Told you to be careful.”

He grinned. “Well, it’s good that you were here, then!”

Virgil faintly smiled, too, as Patton righted himself, before both continuing on their way.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #moxiety #virgil sanders #patton sanders #stuff i write #vampire au 2.0 #we're officially in it for the long haul my dudes

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salexectrian-heir · 5 years ago

Text

Loki: Chapter 12*

Pairing: Solavellan Rating: E*, this chapter is NSFW

Summary: Lavellan rescued a mischievious sphynx kitten outside her work who loves her dearly. But his destructive habits start to get out of hand when he steals her attractive neighbor’s underwear… repeatedly.

Chapter 12* (4.8k, NSFW)

Anise wove in between bodies at a record pace, clutching her lunch bag to her chest, dodging interns left and right. She needed a moment of silence to clear her throbbing head, and if one more first year came up and asked her how to properly intubate someone, she might just scream. Normally, she would be all for teaching freshly graduated doctors-to-be techniques, but after what she just witnessed in the resident lounge? Absolutely not.

Anise took a sharp right and dove into the stairwell that would lead her towards the basement, her feet moving on autopilot to the once familiar place she would run off to escape to early on in her career at Haven. At the second to last door from the bottom, she slumped into it, letting her weight push it open. Her brows arched as she saw someone else who apparently had the same idea she did, sitting on a gurney in the hallway of the abandoned wing of the hospital.

“Old habits die hard,” Dorian said with a smirk, and gestured for her to sit in empty space beside him.

“Gods, this takes me back to first year when we all would eat down here,” she said, hoisting herself up on the forgotten piece of equipment. She proceeded to open her own packed lunch, a tuna wrap with carrot sticks.

“Let me guess, your reason for avoiding our common area is the same as mine?”

They locked eyes, and said in synchrony, “Anders.”

Dorian cackled.

He fished a carrot stick out of her bag for himself before saying, “Honestly, I don’t know what we all saw in him. It ends the same way for everyone. You can’t fix him, no matter how hard you try,” he bit into the carrot stick with a loud crunch, “but at least it’s Hawke this time, and not a new intern. Maybe she will finally knock some sense into him.”

Anders was a brilliant doctor, one of the best neurosurgeons in the nation if not the best. He turned down multiple offers from hospitals all around the country before settling at the Ferelden teaching hospital. But his personal life was a total mess wrought with commitment issues, and he was constantly getting in over his head with the medical board with his fiery attitude and unorthodox approach to medicine (which was not necessarily always a bad thing, and definitely something that had drawn Anise to him in the first place, but his sometimes he just skirted the lines of what was ethical). Anise had made the mistake of getting involved with him shortly after starting her internship (as did Dorian) but quickly realized Anders was… a lot to say the least, and she politely ended things. To her surprise (and relief) he was understanding. They got along much better as colleagues than they did as lovers, anyway. Anise vowed never to date another doctor at her hospital moving forward. She was much more content to over hear gossip, than be the reason for the gossip.

And then, there was Hawke--their fellow resident, good friend, and ruthless rival. She was a handful, too. Equally as fiery, passionate, always managed to make everything a competition, and went tit for tat with Anders. He may have finally met his match. It didn’t surprise Anise they were sleeping together, or that they were airing out their dirty laundry in the resident lounge at this very moment. Something she had walked in on in her effort to get her lunch.

They had both stopped yelling and stared at her, mortified at the fact they had gotten caught. She had given them a painfully awkward wave before zipping over to the fridge, snagging her lunch, and darting out of the lounge in under ten seconds.

Their fighting resumed before the door had even shut on her way out.

“Let’s hope only metaphorically, Anders has a surgery this evening, and I’m getting to scrub in and perform the craniotomy.” She stuck her tongue out at Dorian’s envious expression.

“Brat. Does Hawke know about this?”

Anise rolled her eyes, “If I were to hedge a guess, it’s what started their fight.”

As she bit into her wrap, her phone vibrated in her pocket. When she checked it, she promptly choked.

[Vhenan]

Will you let me take you out to dinner this Friday?

Schedule permitting, of course

[1:13pm]

Friday.

As in The Fourteenth of February.

As in, Valentine's Day.

“Best steer clear of Hawke for the rest of the day then. Otherwise she might just knock you instead.”

“Hah..ha,” Anise replied weakly, eyes still glued to her phone. Her brain, temporarily out of order.

Solas wanted to take her out.

On the national holiday for couples.

Granted, he had taken her out before, but that had been more casual, and hadn’t felt as exclusive. From the outside, they could have just been good friends dancing together, grabbing a bite afterwards. People did that all the time.

(Well, he did kiss her, but no one had been around to witness it, so therefore it didn’t technically count, or so she tried to rationalize.)

That date also had been before they started sleeping together…before he called her vhenan...

A wave of heat rolled up her neck, burning the tips of her ears. She had been too cowardly to bring up what he had said to her in his sleep filled haze the day after the last time they had slept together. Their snow day together had been too picture perfect, and she didn’t want to chance ruining it. She spent the entirety of the day on top of him on her couch (they had switched apartments for Loki’s sake). And when they weren’t alternating between their favorite movies… they engaged in other forms of entertainment.

[Anise]

I believe my shift ends at 5 next Friday--if you don’t mind having a little bit of a later dinner, I would love to join you

[1:20pm]

[Vhenan]

I do not, I’ll make the arrangements.

[1:20pm]

[Anise]

Nothing too fancy!! You’ve seen my laundry, I only own scrubs and that one dress

[1:21pm]

[Vhenan]

It is done.

[1:22pm]

“Who’s Vhenan?”

Anise nearly jumped out of her skin and almost dropped her phone on the floor.

“Dorian,” she chided, shoving him hard, and scrambling to send off one more text.

[Anise]

No presents! And we go halfsies

[1:22pm]

“It’s your fault you made no effort to hide your screen. I’ve been talking to you this whole time and you’ve so carelessly ignored me. I had to know who was more important than your very best friend.”

“Absolutely no one.” Anise tucked her phone safely back into the privacy of her pocket.

“Darling Anise, we both know that’s bullshit.”

It was at that moment the door to the hall bust wide open, the sound of it slamming against the wall echoed like a gunshot, startling both Anise and Dorian.

“Oh fuck,” Hawke’s horrified face was quickly covered by her hands, sending tufts of her pixie cut jet black hair to stick out at even odder angles than they normally did, “and here I thought I could escape today for one fucking second.”

Dorian and Anise exchanged a quick glance and said together, “Old habits die hard,”

Dorian shifted further down the gurney, as did Anise, leaving space for one more body. Anise gestured to Hawke to take the spot, and offered her a carrot stick. Hawke made a disgusted noise but took the seat, and carrot stick, anyway. It looked like she might snap it in half. She fell into an awkward, tenuous silence beside Anise, who suddenly became very interested in the tuna of her wrap, taking small nibbles and examining the bite marks she left behind.

Finally, at long last Hawke said, “I can’t scrub in with Anders anymore.”

“Because you’re sleeping with him?”

Hawke shot Dorian a dark look. “I’m dating him, asshole.”

Anise paused mid bite, “Wait… like…?”

“Like, it’s official, All-Spice,” she quipped at Anise using that stupid nickname that speech pathlogist gave her that Hawke hung around with. Apparently, he gave everyone nicknames. “We went to the Chief, came clean, and everything. Anders had to speak privately with Viv for like an hour.” Hawke rubbed her face. “And then he comes back and tells me that I no longer am allowed to scrub in with him anymore.”

“I mean, that makes sense,” Dorian said, which was clearly the wrong thing to say to Hawke, earning him another, darker, glare as she chomped down on her carrot stick.

“Fuck you,” Hawke said with her mouth full, pausing to swallow before continuing, “I know that. I still get to be upset about it.”

“Valid,” Anise said, taking another small bite of her wrap.

“Sure, but you don’t have to scream about it,” Dorian retorted.

“Also, valid point,” Anise commented, covering her mouth with a hand as she chewed.

“Fine, you’re right. Sorry,” Hawke sighed, shoulders rising and falling dramatically. “And I’m also sorry for what you walked in on, Anise. I want it to be clear, I didn’t mean to sound like I was angry at you. I’m not. I just let--”

The door to the hall opened again, with considerably less banging this time, but all three residents snapped to attention as they saw who stepped through.

“The Witch,” Dorian hissed.

The Chief Resident’s expression soured.

“I heard that, Dorian,” she drawled, “why is it that when I need a competent resident, the three of you are nowhere to be found. Incoming abdominal gunshot wound, no exit, OR three.”

All of them immediately jumped up, pushing each other out the way to stand before Morrigan, Dorian and Anise shoving their lunches haphazardly back into their packs as Hawke edged them out.

Morrigan rolled her eyes. “Lavellan, you have a surgery tonight, you’re out.”

Anise didn’t fight it, given the circumstances, and quietly stepped back.

“Hawke with me. You look like you need it.”

“What,” Dorian protested, gesturing flippantly at Hawke, “how is that the basis of your decision?”

“Dorian, you suck up to every attending, you’ll find a surgery to scrub into before I make it back to the OR floor.”

Hawke’s amber eyes sparkled as she flipped off Dorian when Morrigan had her back turned. Dorian returned the gesture with equal flair.

“Remind me why we’re friends with her again,” Dorian asked, after they were gone.

“Because she’s a pariah like us, and you do actually like her as a person, flaws and all.”

Dorian grumbled something in Tevine under his breath, slumping back down onto the gurney. “And remind me why I’m friends with you, when you won’t even tell me all the interesting bits of your life?”

Anise sighed.

If she started telling Dorian about Solas, it would mean someone else would know, which would make it all the more real.

It really didn’t take her that long to decide.

“Okay, but you have to promise me not to laugh and call me crazy,” Anise warned, and Dorian’s face lit up, “but it started with my kitten and my neighbor’s boxer briefs…”

***

The restaurant was one of those scratch kitchen types, where everything was locally sourced and organic. It had a rustic feel to it that reminded her of home the moment they sat down at their booth, surrounded by plants and large glass windows. Surprisingly, it was comfortably warm. She had shrugged off her winter coat, but kept on the black blazer she had dug out of her closet that she hadn’t worn since she graduated medical school, and was happy to know it still fit perfectly. She had gone with a floral turtleneck underneath with a pair of tight jeans and ankle boots. Not too fancy, but still dressed up. He had worn something similar in fashion, a pair of nice jeans, a green sweater, and sport coat over top.

It was surreal. To be out, with him, clearly as a couple. Her heart hadn’t stopped fluttering since he took her hand when they left their apartment complex.

She hadn’t meant to talk about work, or make Solas talk about work, knowing how bringing it up seemed to ruin his mood. But when he asked about how the surgery with Anders she was able to scrub in on went, the incident with Hawke naturally came up, and suddenly she was discussing work.

“I’m sorry, I’m monopolizing the conversation. I would ask you about your week, but I get the impression it wasn’t any better than the last.”

“You would be correct in that assumption,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I managed to avoid the C.E.O for most of it. One awkward elevator ride was all I had to endure. Luckily, in silence.”

Even with that simple statement, she could see the tension set in his shoulders. “Let’s not talk about work anymore.”

He peered over his steepled hands at her. “What would you like us to talk about, Anise?”

Anise ran her tongue over her teeth and thought for a second. “I want to learn more about you. So let’s play a game.”

Solas’ brows arched. “What kind of game do you have in mind?”

“You try to make an assumption about me. If you’re right, I drink. If you’re wrong, you drink. And vice versa.”

He chuckled. “Where did you learn this game?”

“Med school. We had to find some way to cope,” she said with a laugh of her own.

“You might want to order a second glass of wine before we start.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you think I’ll only make wrong assumptions, and you’ll only ever make right ones?”

“Indeed, I do.”

Anise rolled her neck. “Game on. I’ll go first. Your favorite color is green.”

“You went for something easy.” Solas took a generous sip of his wine. “What gave it away?”

Anise grinned. “Your sweater. Your ties are mostly green. Your socks have intricate green patterns on them. Your briefcase is a very dark green, almost black if you’re not looking close enough. But your sweater tonight really sealed the deal for me.”

“Astute observations. Then let me counter with this, your favorite color is blue.”

“Guilty.” Anise blushed behind her glass of wine, and took a sip. “I’ll bite. How’d you know?”

It was Solas’ turn to smile. “Your bedsheets are blue. As is the accent wall in your bedroom. The gift wrap you covered my wintersend gift in. Most of your scrubs are light blue, though this could be required at your hospital, but I took the risk.”

There were also two very obvious reasons, she wasn’t about to admit to as she gazed into them.

“Only attendings have a specific uniform color, and its navy ironically.”

Their dinner arrived after that, but they continued their little game even after their drinks were finished, using water instead until they ordered a second glass each. Solas guessed Anise had broken bones as a kid--she drank, she had broken two in her arm when she was four years old, and was religious--he drank, which prompted a long philosophical conversation about the elven gods and their teachings in which he was surprised to find she wasn’t religious, or spiritual, at all. That she viewed them more as lessons in morals more than anything. Anise soon learned, after a few more wrong guesses, Solas hated plums, but not as much as tea, loved to read research articles, if only to critique their methodology and sample size, and to her greatest surprise, had been arrested twice before the age of eighteen.

Anise finished off the last of her ravioli, and asked, “For what?”

“Disorderly conduct, and Trespassing,” Solas said, pusing around some of the vegetables on his plate, “I was very misguided in my youth.”

“I remember you saying that. My my, what a troublemaker you turned out to be,” she teased.

His lips twisted into that half smile she loved so much. As he studied her from across the table, setting aside his cutlery and dish, her stomach did flips. “You are the youngest child.”

Anise took a sip of her wine. “Youngest of three.”

“All girls?”

Anise shook her head triumphantly, “Only girl.” Solas took a sip of his.

“I have two older brothers. One is in law enforcement, the other is in a metal band.”

“Metal band? Diverse interests in your family.”

“Hah, you don’t even know what my father does for a living.”

Solas did that deep stare again. There was silence for a beat, then he said, “Politician.”

“Damnit,” Anise whispered, taking another sip.

Solas eyes lit up with a realization. “Is he--?”

“The Dalish politician, yes, yes, the one and only,” Anise rolled her eyes rather dramatically, feeling the wine settling in, “kind of obvious. Know how I mentioned in the past my family was busy with legal matters in Wycome? Well, I’m sure you saw recently on the news, the Dalish settlement in the Free Marches was officially recognized as a historical site and can no longer be bought or demolished, because of his advocacy and support from Wycome residents who rallied.”

“I did, it’s incredible what he has done for the history of his people.”

‘I agree. They are in the process of creating a museum to preserve the artifacts and culture from the ancient Dalish in the city. The land will remain untouched and essentially become a nature preserve with trails and historical markers. He keeps saying I have to visit once everything settles down and it’s opened to the public.”

The waitress came around to collect their plates and ask if they wanted dessert. The answer was obviously yes, as if Solas could ever say no to anything sweet. It was entertaining to watch his face light up over a simple frilly cake.

“I do believe it's your turn,” he said, licking icing off his fork.

That was… distracting.

Anise recovered, tips of her ears burning, “You’re an only child.”

Solas stared off at the space behind her quizzically. “What happens when someone does not know how to respond to a statement, do we both drink?”

“I’ve never encountered that kind of situation before playing this game,” Anise admitted.

“To answer your question, I do not know if I have biological siblings. I don’t remember my biological parents. I was placed into foster care in Arlathan when I was very young. I met kindred spirits there, people I would have considered siblings, at the time.”

“I would say they absolutely count.”

He nodded, and drank. While doing so he dug out his phone, scrolled through it for a moment, before smiling, a true smile, and catching her eyes again. “You must not laugh.” He held out his phone.

Anise raised a brow. “No promises without context,” she said, accepting his phone and turning her attention to the picture he had left up.

“Oh, my gods,” her hand quickly shot to her mouth before she could let a giggle escape. “This is you. You have hair. How old are you here? This is… your friend that took you dancing?”

“Seventeen. And yes, that’s her. Her name was Sage. I met her while in the boarding school the state sent me to. Scroll if you want to see more.”

The picture was of two teenagers in school uniforms, standing in the middle of a city street. Solas clearly the younger of the two, with messy brown hair that just barely glinted red in the sunlight. The girl beside him had a shock of green hair that fell just below her chin. One of her arms slung around his neck, laughing at him, as he flipped off whoever was holding the camera.

The next one was Solas eating a cupcake in a dorm room, or to more accurately describe it, having a cupcake shoved into his face by Sage, who had icing on her nose already. The third was an action shot of them dancing. They got a little older every couple photos or so. At the bottom she realized the photos belonged to a memorial album he had on Facebook. While she was busy admiring photos of Solas’ over the years she had not known him, and tearing up as she realized what he had given her, a piece of his past, he had paid for their date.

Sneaky.

“Hey wait, that’s not fair,” she said, returning his phone and standing up, “you baited me.”

“I did.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple and helped her into her coat.

***

The moment they made it into the lobby of their apartment complex, they were inseparable. In their favor it was empty, and the elevator was theirs alone. How they got that lucky, she didn’t know. What she did know was how badly he wanted her, evident with each pass of his tongue as it pushed past her lips. How his hands slipped under her shirt and roamed her stomach sending heat sliding down her spine to pool in her core. How the elevator brought them to their floor all too soon.

They stood in front of his apartment, her back pressed against his door with clothes entirely wrinkled and lungs breathless, torn between not wanting to stop but also wanting to move inside. She chased his lips as he pulled away to take out his key, but landed on his neck. She continued to kiss him as the lock clicked open. He groaned as her teeth grazed his pressure point, the fingers of his free hand digging into her hip. As the door swung inward, she grabbed a fist full of his shirt and pulled him across the threshold.

“I thought you might want to come back after,” he said between kisses, stripping themselves of their outer layers once the door had closed securely behind them. “Bathroom,” he instructed, nudging her with his nose to her cheek to get her to turn in that direction.

Her bra was shed somewhere between the entryway and his bedroom, leaving her only in jeans. She didn’t want to break their connection, but when she stepped into the bathroom what she saw demanded her full attention. Candles and flowers in petite mason jars lined the tub and sink counter. And a bath bomb on the lid of the toilet seat, still in its packaging. Her heart throbbed.

Oh. He remembered I liked those.

The strike of a match brought her focus back to him. He went to grab one of the candles, but Anise got between him and his target, blowing out the lit match. She took the box from him and tossed it somewhere on top of the toilet without breaking his gaze. Her mouth was on the skin of his neck a second later, backing him up against the wall. Nipping and sucking with a couple little harder bites in between, her tongue caressing spots she had marked him. But when his fingers slid into her hair and clenched, it sent a sharp twinge of pain across her scalp making her moan.

“Mm, interesting,” he said, licking along her bottom lip.

It would have taken way more self-control than she had to to resist the impulse to roll her hips into him, and as she did she was rewarded with feeling the hard press of his erection against her hip through his jeans. It sent a current through her, making her throb between her legs.

His fingers curled into the waistline of her unzippered jeans, yanking them, and her lacy underwear down her thighs. It took a little effort as they clung tightly to her thighs, but eventually he wrestled her out of them. He managed to get his pants off with one fluid movement, and had her against the counter in a heartbeat, the cold stone biting into her lower back, his mouth slating against hers.

He lifted her with no effort, setting her atop the counter space, spreading her legs wide open. His fingers raced along the inside of her thigh, finding her clit and starting a steady and slow rhythm that had her writhing in what seemed like no time at all. He pulled away and lazily dragging his fingers aroud the lips of her sex, taking a sharp breath at wet she had become.

“Anise,” he groaned, sliding a finger inside her.

She gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin as he moved within her. One finger soon became two, and she bit her lip to stop from mewling as they curled in just the right cadence that set her nerves on fire. How he had memorized her body, and the way she liked to be touched so quickly was beyond her. When she couldn’t hold it back anymore, she let a whine escape in the form of his name. He removed his fingers just before she could tip over the edge he had brought her to. Some part of her brain realized she was so wet she was dripping onto his counter, but she quite couldn’t bring herself to care. He pulled her hips forward, bringing her to the edge so he could angle himself to take her.

And take her he did.

Her back arched as he smoothly thrust up and in, her head pressing into the mirror behind her. Her legs curled around his waist at the pleasurable stretch she felt as he filled her, pinning him there against her. The other hand wound its way back into the tresses of her hair, spilling out between his fingers as they scraped along her scalp. He twisted her hair sharply, forcing a blissful cry from her mouth into his, which he devoured greedily, and only encouraged him to fuck her harder. With each snap of his hips his grip in her hair tightened, the tension in her pulling taut until she broke, clenching around his cock in such powerful waves she couldn’t help herself from riding against him. He barely pulled out in time to finish on her stomach. They remained as they were, her legs wrapped around his waist, ass on the counter, foreheads pressed together as they caught their breath.

“We did this out of order,” he said, his breathless laughter dancing on her cheek, “Bath first, then sex, was the intention.”

She hummed blithely, “I have no regrets.”

He released his hold on her hair, tucking several loose strands behind her ear, and laid a soft kiss on her temple before pulling out of her embrace. He cleaned his mess off her, and then himself while she wiped down the counter. Through some unspoken agreement, he went to draw the bath and she attended to the candles.

Finally, they sunk into the blessedly warm water, Solas first then Anise. Unable to contain her excitement, she unwrapped the blue bath bomb, and dropped it into the water with a very quiet, noise of delight. An explosion of blue and purple spread like smoke beneath the water as the scent of jasmine rose to greet her.

“Thank you,” she said, settling in against his chest, enjoying the way the heat of water made his body a cool relief at her back in comparison. An inky twilight surrounded their limbs, making anything underneath invisible to the depths of its color.

He laced his fingers through her own resting on his knee above the water, and squeezed.

For some reason, that simple gesture, that subtle contact, overwhelmed her. Her vision swam as the too familiar sting of tears rushed to the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it in. It wasn’t sadness, no that was a raw, hollow aching feeling that suffocated you until you could feel no more.

This… this was different. This was overwhelming, and in the best way imaginable. Like taking a breath for the first time after not being able to breathe, like lungs so full of fresh air it sent racing through her veins straight to her heart in a sweet release.

Am I really that lonely?

Or…is this…?

She knew the answer. Had known the answer for a while now, but refused to let it surface. At least, until...

“Solas,” she whispered.

He drew his free hand out of the water to caress her arm. “Yes, Anise.”

“Did you mean it?” She swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. “Did you mean it when you called me vhenan?”

He let go of her hand, and tugged on her to turn around. She hesitated for a moment, realizing he was going to see her crying but obliged, twisting her torso to face him. His furrowed brows that softened when he saw her expression. He cupped her face with both hands, the water from the bath mixing with the tears on her cheeks as he stroked her face with his thumbs.

His ever steady eyes bore into her own as he leaned in and whispered, “I meant it,” before closing and capturing her in a kiss. “Vhenan,” he said against her lips, kissing her in such a way she felt dizzy when he finally broke from her mouth to pass over her eyes, whispering “vhenan,” over each one, before coming to rest on her forehead.

“Ar lath ma.”

#solavellan #solas #solas x lavellan #solavellan fanfiction #dragon age inquisition #modern au #Anise Lavellan

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thrushpot · 5 years ago

Text

the craft (1996)

“id love to see the craft made into a fic” requested by anonymous.

warnings: death, attempted noncon, alcohol

a/n: first movie-inspired fic of more to come. centered around Billy (Skeet Ulrich’s character) and the witchy stuff getting played on him as karma. highly recommend watching if you like cult classics!!

—

You could’ve guessed before even moving here that Hawkins was gonna be a fucking drag. The weather was gloomy, the air wasn’t fresh like you’re used to, and it was so uncomfortably quaint that it made you feel stranded and claustrophobic. You bit your nails the entire flight and even after landing, while the pouring rain soaked your clothes and drenched your hair when first stepping foot in the small town.

It was an especially frightening discovery after a gritty argument with your folks, spouting on about what a brat you’re turning out to be, how much of a disappointment you’re bound to become; so in the midst of a fit enraged, not moving from where you lay stubbornly on your bed with angry tears, you had accidentally slammed the door shut. After realizing what you’d done, curiosity had replaced vexation. Neither of your parents could call the cops or toss you in some looney bin, so you chose to avoid catastrophe by keeping it low and only using it if bored in private. It felt oddly empowering, treasuring the gift, but you’d never been compelled to use it for harm before.

After eating dinner with empty conversation and the only background noise being imaginary crickets and the rain, you’d excused yourself once your plate was wiped clean. Stomping back upstairs, ignoring any distasteful remarks aimed at your departure. You wondered that if the town sucked ass, then that meant school likely would too.

—

It wasn’t hard to see from a mile away that you did not come from nor belong here. Cliques scattered the halls, although this school surely isn’t as big as your last it still has its fair share. Jocks and douchebags, popular cheerleaders, edgy goths. Those titles never served to you, naturally feeling better going alone. Nobody tried approaching the new girl just to say hi or bother looking in your direction. That is until basic jock Billy Hargrove did with a mischievous smirk during lunch a couple tables away, noticing you’re all alone sipping on your school milk. With crass confidence in his stride, he makes his way over to you in the most dramatic, full-of-himself way as possible taking a seat across from yours.

“Lookin’ pretty lonely there, new girl. Y/N is it?” he raises one brow, not asking for permission before snaking Doritos from your lunchtray, chomping while maintaining a smug expression. You scoff before shoving the red bag of corn chips toward him.

“Help yourself. And yeah, that’s me. Who are you?”

Billy has taken the bag with a don’t mind if I do attitude, answering you with his mouth full while licking the stained nacho cheese off his fingertips. “Name’s Billy. So why you here all alone? Haven’t found your crowd yet, or you just a ‘fraidy cat?”

You roll your eyes before playing along with his stupid game. “Well Billy, I just moved here and haven’t talked to anyone besides my lunch buddy that just hogged my chips,” you snip, watching the cocky blonde tilt the bag up to his mouth to finish the rest of the crumbs at the bottom. When he’s done with that portion of your meal, he points to the carton of two percent.

“May I?”

“Nothing’s stopping you,” you bite with sarcasm. He chuckles at your obvious distaste but nevertheless resumed picking at your food and chugging a good amount of the dairy drink down.

“You owe me fifty cents, by the way.”

“Oh yeah? How ‘bout I repay you with a little somethin’ else instead,” he inched closer, the proximity allowing you the feeling of his breath fanning your cheek. You’d been rendered speechless, caught off guard with how shameless and flirtatious he turned. “I’ll repay you with a few pointers, what with you being a little newbie ‘round here. Sound good?” he finished, grinning at how tense and worked up he made you in seconds. “What is it, sweetheart? D’ya think I’d repay you with somethin’ else?” he snickered, taking your carton again and quenching his thirst, the white drips of milk falling down his chin.

“Nope. Just don’t give a shit about your advice,” you snap back into character, his arrogance provoking you to try using one of your little tricks; maybe make him stutter or choke just so he’ll leave you alone. But that would be breaking the rules, and you were strict against taking advantage of it to cause trouble.

“I’ll give it to you anyways. See, my crew over there thinks you’re pretty cute, so you could come around anytime you like. Definitely avoid those freaks over there,” he slyly nods his head over in the direction of two girls dressed in black, chainsmoking. “They won’t be too welcoming.”

“What’s up with them?” you hush inconspicuously, intridgued by their scandalous bravado. You could see yourself hanging out with them even if that meant disregarding all the misinformation Billy feeds you.

“See the little one on the left? That’s Nancy the Slut Wheeler. Nickname sorta explains itself. She fucked more than half the guys on my team and cheated on her long-term boy toy Harrington,” he explains, not shy about what’s coming out of his mouth no matter how derogatory or degrading. “Not speaking from experience or anything. And the bigger one is Robin Buckley, she’s a dyke.”

“Uh, okay. That all the dirt you got or what?”

“Nah, there’s more shit floatin’ around here about stuff they do. I’ve heard they’re into witchcraft, but I dunno if I believe that one.”

Now that snagged your attention, but you wouldn’t share a thing like that with a guy like Billy. “Anyway, thanks for sharing lunch, Y/N. Was a pleasure. You should come to my practice after school, we could have another fun little chat. Whaddya say?” he licks his lips, holding your stare to persuade you into visiting. “Please?”

You really could give a fuck about watching a bunch of sweaty guys toss and argue around a ball, no matter which sport, but it was hard to find courage to decline his pleading yet intimidating stare. “Maybe I’ll swing by,” you hesitate, earning an enthusiastic holler out of Billy before he gets up from your table and makes a pit stop near you for a moment to whisper in your ear.

“Really looking forward to it, new girl.”

Successfully hiding your hot cheeks as he pats your back, sending a wink over his shoulder before heading back to his circle of friends not-so-subtly watching. When the bell rings to signal lunch’s end, Nancy and Robin catch your eye, ashing their cigarettes, fixating on you. Flustered from getting caught, you quickly snatch your lunchtray and dump whatever’s left in the trash, hanging your head low as you make your way to your next class.

—

Biology class was humiliating. After approaching Nancy and Robin about a group project assigned on your first day, Robin gawked as Nancy glared without a yes or a no about letting you join them. It was a long shot anyways. While awkwardly nodding as they both continuously stare you down, you shuffle to the very back of the classroom. With nothing better to do, thinking no one was paying attention, you flick your pencil in the air, making it stand as your hands stay in your lap. Moments later, getting lost in thought about Billy, wondering what his intentions were, how you were ever gonna fit in here; Robin witnesses the unworldly telekinetic party trick. Her mouth hangs in awe, not believing she allowed Nancy to bully her into rejecting you.

“You don’t know what you’re even talking about,” Nancy argues, popping her chewing gum as she gazes in the bathroom mirror and applies another sloppy smear of eyeliner.

Robin’s scoff is followed by a sigh before turning Nancy away from her reflection. “I know what I saw! She can... do things. Like with her mind. She’s our third, I know it,” the girl vigorously nods her head. Nancy remained unconvinced but decides to give in if it’ll shut her dimwit of a best friend the fuck up.

“Fine, okay! We’ll talk to her after school, see what happens. You better not be fucking with me on this. We don’t need any incidents happening because you’re seeing things that aren’t there,” Nancy stares her down like a wolf threatening to attack, eyeballing the taller girl with satisfaction as she gulps submissively.

—

You decided there was nothing better to do than make an appearance at Billy’s basketball practice after school. As he dribbles the ball and taunts his opponents, he spots you from afar and takes his attention off the game and momentarily directs it towards you instead. With a wink, he sticks his tongue out teasingly before taking his tank top off and giving one of his teammates a high five. While lost in the dance of seduction with Billy, you neglect to notice the presence of two girls lingering behind you.

“He’s not actually into you, you know.”

Snapping your head back in shock, you recover from the cheap scare before identifying the voice as Nancy Wheeler. The one Billy had accused of being the school’s slut. Right beside her stands Robin, not looking quite as vicious as her partner in crime. Robin, the significantly gentler and taller one, gives you a warmer greeting of a wave and a tight smile. Billy said that she was the infamous “dyke.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, not easily trusting her word but also not believing Billy’s rumors either. Nancy looks over to the court where Billy skips around effortlessly, making a basket for his team and earning praise and applause from his coach.

“He did the same thing to me. See, first he’ll try talking you into sucking him off, then when that doesn’t work he begs you to fuck him. Says all the right things, you’re beautiful Nancy, please baby, I won’t tell anyone if you just come sit on my cock. Then after you tell him you’re still not ready, he tells the whole school you did it anyway. Makes shit up to impress people.” Nancy bites as-a-matter-of-factly, nodding over in Billy’s direction on the court. Billy, busily unaware of being your topic of conversation, jukes an opponent and snatches the ball, slamming the weaker boy down to the ground with a snap of his body being thrown to the ground. You tightened your hold on your schoolbag not knowing who to believe anymore. Hearing one thing and then another gave you a fucking headache.

“Look, it’s not— I’m not even here for him. It’s not what it looks like,” you stammer as Nancy raises her brow with dubiousness. She cracks a salty grin at you then turns to the boys playing on the court.

“Go Billy! Score that basket, baby!” Nancy shouts with manic laughter, sickly happy when the distraction disrupts his focus, causing him to lose the ball and get shoved backwards by another opponent. Nancy turns and slowly struts closer, sitting on the bleachers and leaning over to whisper in your ear with a ruthless ball of hate gleaming her eye. “He’s a jerk. I’d stay away if I were you.”

With that, she jumps off the bleachers and orders Robin to follow. The taller girl weakly smiles again as you sit and stare as they exit the gym and light a smoke outside. Billy watches them leave and huffs, jogging over.

“Hey. Thought I advised you to not hang around them,” he tisks, spreading his legs before pouring a cup of water down his chin to cool off. You blush and look the other way, clearing your throat.

“I wasn’t. They just sorta came and started talking to me,” you mutter with an attitude.

Billy scoots impossibly closer and fixes a stray hair dangling in front of your face, petting your cheek as if you were a child. “Well, don’t believe whatever shit comes from her fat mouth, alright?”

“Um— okay I guess.”

“That’s a good girl. Glad you came, by the way. Wanna gimme your number so we could do this somewhere a little more private, hm?” he beckons, taking another generous swallow to quench his thirst while holding your stare. You’re stunned and backed into a corner again to comply, nodding while grabbing a pen from your bag. Billy holds out his palm and nods to the pen in your hand, encouraging you to get writing. You waver another moment, unsure if it’s smart getting involved, before saying fuck it and writing the ten digits on his palm. Billy’s name gets shouted from his coach, breaking the thick tension that grew as the moments wore on. He yells back that he needed a quick break before blowing you a kiss. After tossing himself off the bleachers and getting back in the game, he stares down at his hand where the black smudged writing is and smirks, looking up only to find that you’re already gone.

—

“Almost didn’t think you’d answer, maybe gave me a phony number or you’d be with those weirdos again,” Billy snorts, bottlecap flying before handing a beer over. You chuckle uneasily before accepting the beverage, tasting the warm mediocrity before swallowing. It didn’t take long for him to call, now being week two attending Hawkins High. His choice of setting for this “date” was a rooftop of some dark building, stars out and streetlights being the only source of light. Billy’s arm has wrapped around you as you both sip on the beer he provided, an awkward silence suffocating the air.

When the blonde got bored, he’d started trailing his fingers down your back, tiptoeing them teasingly awaiting your reaction. When he gets nothing but you stiffening up, he swoops down to devour your neck, feeling you tilt your head for him to give more. Jackpot. His wandering tongue sucks a deep purple mark as his grabby hands reach to grope you through your bra, making you gasp and feel dumbfounded on what to do and what to say.

“Billy, I don’t think—“

“Mm, what is it new girl? You want more, don’t you?” he mumbles in your neck, then gets greeted by the feeling of blue balls and disappointment when instead of coming closer, you pull away. He scoffs and sits up, straightening himself out.

“I’m just not ready for... that. Sorry,” you weakly apologize, outrageously uncomfortable by the invasion of space and feeling wrong when you notice the growing tent in his jeans. “Are you... like, mad or something?”

Billy sighs, humiliated by your rejection that poked a hole in his ego. He won’t give up on his conquest that easy.

“C’mon, beautiful, not like I’ll tell anyone. We could just have a little fun—“

“No, I-I really gotta go. But I’ll see you at school tomorrow?”

Billy glares at the ground, kicking a rock by his feet in annoyance before rolling his eyes. Guess he’ll just have to improvise instead when he brags to the boys tomorrow.

“Yeah, fine.”

—

The next day, sly comments were thrown at you before first period started. He didn’t talk to you at all like usual, your classmates whispering and giggling about the alleged “fun” you shared with Billy the jock Hargrove. Dirty details travelled around locker rooms, even raunchy ones about you supposedly riding him in the backseat of his car calling him “daddy.” He threw in another lie that you asked him to slap you in the face as he fucked you. The purple splotch he sucked on your neck didn’t help defend yourself.

“Hey, Billy!”

The jock turns away from the boisterous crowd that had worshipped him all day. Once he catches your eye he whispers to a boy next to him, whatever secret so hilarious that he clutched his stomach and snorted when Billy finished. He swiftly strolls over to you and folds his hands, faking formality with a plastic smile.

“Yes, new girl?”

“I wanna know why you said that stuff about me. You damn well know we didn’t do anything! How could you?” you whisper-shout, feeling disgusted and violated. Billy snorts a laugh and regains his composure a second later as if all this is some comedy sketch.

“Oh yeah? Really, new girl, I’d love to do it again sometime. Truly... I just don’t like sloppy seconds. You were great though, I had— nah, Daddy sure had a blast. But we’re done here.” Billy pats your head with mockery before strolling over to his circle of friends without a care in the world.

“You know what? Fuck you. Next time I’ll charge a buck an inch, make it cheap.” you spit, barely making it to the bathroom to scurry and wipe the tears desperately spurting from your eyes. You crawled to the corner of the washroom and hugged yourself, quieting down when you hear footsteps inching closer before entering. It was Nancy and Robin.

“Can’t say we didn’t warn you —“

“I know I should have listened to you guys. But now I wanna fuck with this bastard.”

—

Lovespells don’t take much, and the rumors were true. The Bitches of Eastwick had let you in, only took more convincing of your worthiness to Nancy, but she warmed up to you. When she saw what you could do she had to give Robin credit, you truly were their third. And finally, you’d been put in a place you genuinely belonged.

“Is he— is he staring still? What’s he doing now?”

“He’s totally still watching you. Holy shit Y/N, it’s working, I can tell!” Robin whispers as she muffled her laugh with the back of her hand, seeing how Billy couldn’t take his eyes off you longer than five seconds even in the middle of a lecture. As the bell rang, you and Robin gathered up your things to meet Nancy for next period. Billy wasn’t far behind, trying and failing to remain inconspicuous as he followed you.

“He’s behind us.”

“What?”

“Look out.” Right on cue, Billy pushed you and Robin apart to make room for himself while tripping over his shoelaces.

“Uh, hey Y/N,” the boy gulps, scratching the back of his neck, seeing his posse from afar giving him a “what the fuck” look. He flips them off and rubs his hand over your back. “I just wanted to, yunno, apologize for that shit I said. I feel real bad ‘cause you didn’t deserve it. You deserve a gentleman and I can be that for you now,” he explains, blocking your way. His eyes are void of hate or ridicule, instead swirling with awe and devotion as he bit his lip awaiting your forgiveness. You pretend to think, giving his head a noogie like an obedient pet, then grant a forgive-and-forget.

“It’s cool. Maybe tell your friends later that you’re a lying sack of shit, but for now, carry these books for me and my friend?”

He nods vigorously like a soldier eager to please, graciously taking your heavy books from you and Robin and stacking them in his arms. “Of course, Y/N. Anything in the world. Um, do you think I could sit with you in math?”

—

Billy had no fucking clue what happened to him, but he wholeheartedly couldn’t find it in him to even pay it a speck of attention. It didn’t bother him that nothing gave him any pleasure nor satisfaction anymore, the world shrinking to this dead, lifeless black and white, the only light and color he could see that brought joy was her. He could die just feeling her in his arms and he wouldn’t be sad. With complete and utter tunnel vision blocking him from surroundings, everyday he devoted himself to any task she wanted, even pathetically following her and her friends to the girls’ bathroom. He got in deep shit from the entire female staff, but he remained indifferent.

If she said jump, Billy asked how high. If she wanted him to braid her fucking hair, he’d learn fast and make sure it was done thoroughly and flawlessly. Billy was touch starved, weak, losing sight of everyone else around him. No more charming girls into bed, no more basketball wins for the team, his only purpose being solely Y/N’s love or validation. All priorities from the past drastically altered, but there were no second thoughts. No questions, just wants. Needs. The power she held over him was substantial and beautifully overbearing, like black magic or something.

Weeks after the spell kicked in, she now sits in his Camaro with her feet on the dash as Black Sabbath roars from the speakers. No complaints were heard on his end when you demanded he change the music, happily turning it to your favorite station. You plop a sucker in your mouth, tasting the cherry red flavoring before patting Billy’s head and calling him a good boy. Billy blushed and leaned into your touch, pulling over by the pier and shutting the car off.

“You don’t even know what’s happening, do you?” she asks with a laugh. He joins her even though he wasn’t aware of what’s funny. But he finds her delightful, so anything she does or anywhere she goes, he follows.

“No. No I don’t, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing matters. Just you and me,” he promises, playing with a strand of her hair before leaning in. He missed her candy-tasting lips when she turns her head, then feels something in his stomach churn after getting denied her kiss.

“Tough luck, champ. I don’t want that from you, just wanted to talk.”

Talk? Billy recoiled, clenching his fists at his sides. Something inside him is intensifying, he just doesn’t know what. Before he knows what’s happening, he’s shaking, burning with a need that feels so close yet so far. There’s no control stopping it.

“I mean, do you even eat or sleep anymore? It’s pathetic. This should be wearing off soon...” she trailed off, watching the waves crash at a distance.

“I won’t fucking eat or fucking sleep until I get what’s mine, you understand? I don’t care about anything else. I just wanna... why won’t you hold me?” he implored, yanking the collar of her shirt so she’s closer to his lips. It almost feels too good to be true.

“Stop! Jesus, I didn’t mean for it to go this far! You’re under a spell, you jackass, now let me go!” she squeals, punching his chest. Billy ignores it, that indifference coming back. He reached for his belt when he thinks he has her where he wants her but gets stopped by a righteous kick to the crotch, making him howl in anger.

“Goddammit!” the boy whined, cradling himself through his jeans from the excruciating pain.

“Stay the hell away, you hear me? Don’t ever come near me or my friends again,” she threatens, exiting the vehicle before stomping away. Billy scrubs the tears off his face and punched the steering wheel with miserable frustration.

—

“He... he grabbed me. Wouldn’t let go this time,” you gulp, feeling the ghost of his frighteningly tight grip pulling you. Steam shoots from Nancy’s ears as Robin takes comfort and asks if you’re okay. Nancy has already stirred up a plan for revenge as she flips through the pages of spells, searching for the perfect one.

“Nance, what are you doing?” you ask with reluctance, knowing it isn’t anything good.

“We need to make him pay. He was gonna hurt you, case you forgot. Hargrove’s always been a goddamn scumbug, but he tried fucking you without your permission and he won’t get away with it this time.”

—

Billy gulps the last of the beer from the solo cup and belches, eyes half-lidded and bloodshot. They widen a bit when he spots Nancy enter the house party. He’s determined to do whatever it takes to get you again, and if he has to talk to your leech of a best friend, so be it. The blonde seeks Nancy upstairs and follows her to a vacant room.

“Where is she?” he demands lazily, eyes faltering once again as he loses balance and falls to the bed back first. He gets comfy with the beer nestled in his grip, still expecting her to give him insight on your disappearance.

“How cute. Miss tormenting your little wife, don’tcha, hot stuff?” Nancy mocks, crawling over to where he lays on the bed and trailing two fingers over his crotch. Billy reacts with stealth, disgusted as he roughly shoved her hand away.

”Don’t. I’m warning you,” he threatens. “Tell me where the fuck Y/N is. I need, I need to talk to her—“

“I’m not telling you shit! She doesn’t want you, understand? You meant nothing to her this whole time. She used you.” Nancy laughs and points her finger at him. Billy rolled his eyes, calling bullshit. You wouldn’t do a thing like that, not in a million years. This is typical Slutty Wheeler, throwing tantrums because she couldn’t get a taste of his dick anymore.

Nancy’s blood boiled, veins popping out of her forehead; on the verge to end this already. But she has to fuck with him like he fucked with her first. The teenage girl burns with hostility as she recalls the spell, working her magic. She runs her hands over her face as it morphs into yours. She takes a look in the mirror and finds your eyes staring at her reflection. With a sick, evil smile, she gets back on the bed and runs her hands down Billy’s chiseled chest, feeling him jump until he sees your face. He gasps, too dumb from the spell and drunk from the liquor to realize he was being tricked again.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so damn much,” he mumbles to who he thinks is you, unbuttoning Nancy’s shirt and kissing every inch of skin he sees. She moans in ecstasy, laughing at how fucking easy he is, then sticks her tongue down Billy’s throat. They were all over eachother for another twenty minutes until a furious knock interrupts.

It’s you and Robin.

“What the fuck?” Billy wipes his mouth of Nancy’s spit then throws himself off the bed in a hurry. Her spell wore off, now changing back to her usual self, giving Billy a playful wave.

“You’re — you’re a witch! They were right!” Billy stutters, his world turning upside down making him sick to his stomach.

“They usually are,” she shrugs.

“Nancy, you got what you wanted. He’s freaked out, now let’s go.” you ordered, the guilt eating you alive. Nancy doesn’t stop.

“Your lover’s a witch too, yunno. The only reason you’re obsessed with her is cause we cast a spell on you. But that’s why I’m here, helping you forget.”

Billy’s chest heaved up and down rapidly, shaking his head, sobering up. “No. No, she didn’t — she wouldn’t do that,” he denies, sweat gathering on his forehead and heart hammering fast.

”NANCE! This is fucking over! Now let’s go!” you beg, loathing his puppy-dog eyes. Robin stands frozen beside you, knowing how unpredictable Nancy got when she’s angry.

“You’re just jealous.”

Robin gulps and closes her eyes, knowing that’ll set her off.

“Jealous?” Nancy emphasized, preying onto the boy as he backs away. “You’re Y/N’s servant. You barely fucking exist to me. This whole time you’ve treated girls like whores, but you’re the whore!” she cries, feet lifting off the ground, towering over him as he backs further towards the window. Billy’s beyond petrified now, weeping quietly as he dares try calling for help.

“I-I’m sorry, Nance. You know I didn’t mean it. I liked you last year, but— but I’m in love with her now, and I’m sorry!”

His sorry ass apology does nothing besides push the last of her buttons, feeding into her wrath.

“Did you hear that, Y/N? He says he’s sorry! Oh, what a shame we have to kill him, ‘cause at least he’s sorry!” Nancy claws are her hair, spinning back and fourth, screaming nonsense as Billy pleads and holds his hand out to you.

“Who’s it gonna be, Y/N? This rapist scumbag slut, or your friend that took you in when you were a nobody?”

Tears of your own had escaped, mortified by how escaladed things have become. You shook your head helplessly, holding onto Robin for safety. There was no stopping her now. Like a wave from a natural disaster, Nancy thrusts her arms in the air and hurls the boy out the window with God-like force. You’ll never forget the sounds of his cry for help on the way down and the SPLAT when his body hit the pavement. Nancy lets out a sigh of relief as if a long day’s work is finally over, and wipes the sweat beading off her forehead. She turns to you and Robin after catching her breath.

“What’re you staring at, guys? C’mon, let’s find Robin a girlfriend next.”

—

my first whack at a horror-ish/thriller instead of drama/romance. I freaking LOVE this movie, def go check it out if you haven’t cause there’s a lot more plot I left out. thaaaank you all, I’ll be starting the next movie fic soon !:)

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things fanfic #billy hargrove #stranger things imagine #the craft (1996)

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