#i dunno. just got reminded that not everyone is as receptive

[phantomknights]

honestly one of the most terrifying things to me is people thinking i'm not. me

[alicemitch09writes]

(un)loving miya atsumu

six

the boys in the club.

As soon as practice ended, you had just finished writing in the journal, signing off a few things, eyes glued to your written analysis and observations bent on heading home. Kaoru needed help with one of his homework and asked you earlier to help him.

Just then, a familiar voice called out to you.

“(Y/N)!”

Looking up, you meet the kind gaze of Aran. “We’re headin’ to that new boba shop by the station, wanna come with?” Behind him were Akagi, Oomimi, Kita, and a few other players, watching you with inviting smiles.

You paused, gripping on to your notebook.

Thing was, it had been a few days since the incident. As much as your seniors meant no harm, you didn’t want a reminder of your humiliation.

More importantly, this was Ojiro Aran – out of everyone in the team, he was the one who knew the twins best and the one of the few people they respected, he was their straightman as much as a big brother figure to them. And because you were associated with the twins, he had the same reception with you - if not, kinder and softer. Something akin to concern swam in those dark eyes of his, to which you had to ignore.

Atsumu – who was watching with a glare, brown eyes burning at you, threatening – would hate you even more for trying to take Aran from him.

And so, you shake your head. “I’m sorry, but I’ll have to pass. But please, enjoy for me.”

Without another word, you nodded at them all, ignoring the sad look in their eyes, and left.

"Torino?"

"Karasuno," you corrected, almost exasperatedly. Seriously, how old was Coach Kurosu again?

Realization dawns on him. "Ah, haven't heard that name in a while."

"Are they any good?"

"Dunno, they're an old powerhouse."

Humming, you look back at the pamphlet in your hands. "A rather glorious comeback, wouldn't you say?"

The older man pulls his head back, barking in laughter. "That's a rather poetic way of saying it!"

It would be something your captain would say, but currently, he's busy having a practice match with the rest of the team.

As always, with him on the court, everyone played to their best and didn't half-ass or slack. Heck, even Suna was doing some work!

But of course, there were his plays - graceful, smooth, and focused solely on the defense.

Definitely a clear cut choice of captain, the standard, in your opinion.

"Aran-san, nice serve!"

A blur of yellow and blue flies to his hand, dribbling it with his one hand as he walks to the end of the court and waits for the whistle. With him serving, it had everyone on high alert.

The ball flies up in the air, Ojiro runs up, hands raised to meet the falling ball, sending it flying to the other side of the court just barely touching the outer line. Still an in.

Definitely an ace alright, enough to be recognized in the country’s top 5 aces.

Whoever the next ace was – it’s going to be a tough call between Osamu and Ginjima - they have big shoes to fill.

Quickly, you write in your notebook.

'Ojiro serves: Ins - 5, Outs - 1'

After a week of exams, it was only natural that people reverted back to their normal state – you with managerial duties for the school’s illustrious volleyball club. Fresh out of the burn of their academics, everyone seemed to be in high spirits.

"What're you standing around the court for? Chase after it!" Coach Kurosu yells. "Geez, my dog chases balls better than these nitwits."

And there's his dog analogy, you thought to yourself, hilarious as always to hear.

On the other side of the court was a team composed of Suna, Osamu, Atsumu, and Ginjima - the trouble children, and two other second years. Opposing them were the third years - Kita, Akagi, Oomimi, Aran, one third year, and another second year.

Honestly, your captain would've done well as libero, with his amazing receiving skills and read of the ball's trajectory. He wasn't the team's defensive specialist for nothing. Nevertheless, as a wing spiker, he does well for his part. Regardless if his skills were average, just the way he presents himself in and out of the court was astounding.

"Suna, nice serve!" you called out, watching the tall boy walk back in line.

Just as the whistle blew, the ball was sent flying in the air leaving the opposing team scrambling.

For one rather lackadaisical, Suna's techniques were something. If only he gave his all in all of his games.

'Suna serves: Ins - 4, Outs - 0'

Seeing gray-dyed, you closely watched as Osamu toy with the current blockers, not once intimidated by Oomimi, the top blocker of the team.

As the ball appeared before him, instead of spiking it, he tossed it to his waiting twin, sending the ball to the other court. A flash of gold - a hungry look in his eyes as the ball goes the way he wanted it to go, enough to blind from your spot.

"The twins are on point today as usual," Coach Kurosu says with a nod. You nod with him, writing into your logbook.

'Miya Twins quicks: success - 6, fails - 1'

Yep, everyone was definitely in high spirits today.

Your thoughts and observations were echoed by the two coaches after practice, after congratulating them for all doing a great job during the previous week. Exams were no laughing matter, they were a test to see one’s mental and academic capability – as they were all students.

Now that you think about it, as Coach Oomi was telling off a few of the boys, you had to follow up on their performance once the results were out. Normally, they’d get their test results in a week’s time, probably.

After that, a short break for the holidays.

Must be nice…

"Ah, by the way," you call out, making your presence known and just before the coaches ended today’s practice.

All eyes were on you, attention on high. Turning to your coaches pointedly, expectantly, they only stared back, question in their eyes. Frowning, your head tilted slightly, they stared back. The frown on your face deepened, unamused.

Seriously?

Planting your hand on your hip, your expression sours. "You both forgot, didn't you?" they winced.

"A-Ah, you have to be specific, (L/N)." Coach Oomi defended, Coach Kurosu nodding beside him.

Your frown only deepened, eyes narrowing.

"We just talked about it before practice started," though your voice was even, there was enough bite to it. And though older than you, the two men felt small under your reprimanding gaze. More so when you sighed, as though you've said too much. “And you both told me to remind you about it before we end today’s practice.”

As the team watched, they felt just as though you were talking to the lot of them – your voice thick with disappointment. Kita watched, unaffected by it all almost amused by it all.

With a sigh, you turned to the team, eyes easily finding blond-dyed hair. "Miya Atsumu,"

The setter straightens at the sound of his name. "Y-Yes?"

Lifting your lips up, a gentle smile filled your face.  "Congratulations, you've been selected to join the All-Japan Youth Camp." You say with a smile – a true, genuine, and proud smile, despite knowing that you were the last person he’d like to hear it from.

Something in Atsumu starts at the sight of it.

It took a second for him to process your words, before he burst into joy. “Y-Yosha!”

Congratulations were tossed his way left and right from his teammates. Beside you, it seemed as though it finally came to the coaches as they sheepishly scratched the back of their heads, avoiding your gaze.

"W-Wait, how about 'Samu?" Atsumu asked, directing his question to you.

The smile on your face thinned. "Sadly, there's an invite for only one Miya."

Interestingly enough, Osamu’s only reaction was to blink, his gray-brown eyes becoming distant.

"B-But-"

"Should you have any concerns or queries, feel free to approach any of the coaches." There was a finality to your tone, causing the older men to jump.

“A-Ah, right. Thank you for that, (L/N).” says Coach Kurosu, smiling at you, apologetically and gratefully. He got a nod from you. “Again, congratulations Atsumu. Now for the rest of y’all, I don’t want the rest of you slacking behind just because of this, y’hear me?”

“No coach,” they replied.

“Alright, good. Dismissed.”

(A few days before his leave for Tokyo, Atsumu was at school with a rare free period shared with Osamu, Suna, and Ginjima. They all decided to head to the library, in lieu of studying but to loiter in actuality.

Atsumu was gushing to the brim, excitement in his bones to meet some interesting volleyball players from all across the nation. Heck, he might even see that one annoying player with the wicked spins on his serves.

“Ah, that’s Itachiyama’s Sakusa,” Ginjima says.

“Isn’t he one of the top high school aces in the country?” Osamu asked, voice thinly veiled with curiosity.

“Actually, he’s the top ace.” Suna said without looking up from his phone, fingers tapping and sliding every few seconds.

“Shit, for real?”

“He even beat Aran!”

A loud shush sounded off, the student librarian glaring at their table. The four boys quieted down, Osamu shoving at his twin, who retaliated with his own shove before Ginjima stepped in to break it off.

“Man, I’m gonna meet a buncha interesting people!” the setter gushes, he was practically radiating it off. In all their years playing volleyball, this was actually the first time that Atsumu was going alone. Although they talked it out with his twin, Atsumu sharing it with his brother and friends make it believable that he isn’t alone in this, it was enough to fill his spirits. (Nobody tell him he’s lonely about going alone, though)

“Just don’t go off starting a ruckus,” Osamu stands from his seat, because the student assistant was glaring holes into their table. He comes back a moment later with some books in his hands, a mix of cookbooks, sports, and literature books.

From his seat, the student assistant looked appeased by the sight of books before turning back to his duties. Their group exchanged snickers, returning to their idle state.

Just then, through the open doors, Ginjima caught sight of you passing by “Ah, it’s manager.”

Atsumu never turned so quickly on his life – which the Ginjima found rather comical – indeed finding you out the hallway uniform nice and tidy as always, not a hair out of place, with arms filled with textbooks.

With Kusakabe beside you.

It made his blood boil for some reason, seeing the two of you together – when there were a few other classmates as well. You’ve become close with Mr. Four-Eyes, it seems.

“Ah, she chose an extra class, right?”

“That’s right.” Osamu answered with a nod. “Chemistry, I believe.” To which everyone deflated at, it was a science with a bunch of math. Yet, unsurprisingly, it was rather fitting for you. It shouldn't also surprise them that you chose to add an extra class instead of having free time like them. College prep kids were built different, it seems.

Recovering, Ginjima watches the back of your head as he comments. “Ah, I keep forgetting manager’s in a college prep class.”

“Wasn’t her big sister in one, too?” asked Suna, looking up for once, chin resting on his folded arms.

When you were out of sight, Atsumu turned back to his group. “I think so? She was in Class 5?”

“Manager’s in Class 7, though.” Ginjima stated.

Suna scoffs. “There’s just a 2 difference.”

“Aren’t they just the same, though?” Atsumu frowned, now recalling how each of the (L/N) siblings were intellectuals. Mika, you, and Kaoru were all in honor’s classes, with you being in the classes for all of your middle school, junior high, and probably all of high school. Kaoru might even follow in your footsteps if he can balance soccer and his studies.

“Pretty much, I guess.”

“Nah, (Y/N)’s the smarter sibling.” Osamu answered again, rather smoothly almost defensively. “She’s been part of the top students since middle school.”

Ginjima and Suna hums, with the latter going back to browsing his phone.

“Osamu, you know a great deal about manager, huh?”

The corner of his lips twitch, briefly meeting his twin’s gaze before plucking a random book from their stack. “Yeah well, she’s my best friend.”

My best friend, Osamu says. Not ‘our’.

Ah, yeah, there was that. He couldn’t share the joy with you anymore.)

Walking down the busy hall, students flocking every corner, you carefully maneuvered even without looking up. What’s more, you were at the third year’s floor – which should intimidate lower year levels, but not you.

Glancing you, you found Class 5 and approached the door.

“Excuse me,” you asked the student closest to the door. “Is Aran-san around?”

“Ojiro?” turning to the room, the student called out. “Hmm, ah, there he is. Oi, Ojiro, someone’s here for you!”

As soon as he was called, a tall figure stands from his seat, eyes widening at the sight of you. He raises a hand as he approaches. “Yo, (Y/N), what’s up?”

“Ah, we’ve run low on some supplies,” you reported, hands folded behind you.

Almost immediately, he falls into vice-captain mode. “Yes, that! Well, don’t worry about inventory check because Shinsuke and I did them for you.”

“Really?" unconsciously, your shoulders relaxed. "That’s a relief.”

Aran's whole face softens down at you. “Hey, as captain and vice-captain, we’re both obliged to at least ease our manager’s burdens. We can help out, too, y'know?” You had to smile at that. “Just gimme a sec, I’ll get the list.”

You watch Aran walk back to his seat, leaving you alone to look around his classroom. It was no different than yours, except there was a certain feel to it. In fact, everyone in the room - although were, very much like you, students - had a feel that was different about them. Third years, huh?

“Here we go,” Aran returns with some papers in his hands.

“Thank you very much,”

“Now, don’t forget to ask the coaches-“

“Will do. By the way, how’s your little sister?” A little small talk couldn’t hurt, right?

The older teen sort of frowns, the same frown he uses on the twins. “I swear, the older she gets the more she’s getting on my nerves!”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” you stifled a laugh, failingly. If you remember correctly, Aran’s little sister was just Kaoru’s age.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh about it all you want.” Sighing, he threw his hands in the air. “Why can’t she be more like you?”

“Cold, stoic, barely human?”

He sputtered, gesticulating rather dramatically. “Oi!”

“It’s the truth.”

Grumbling, he clears his throat, fixes himself into his big brother persona, arms folded over his chest for added effect. “I wish she was more collected and responsible, like you.”

“A ringing endorsement from one of the top high school aces, I’m flattered.”

Sharing laughter, he reached over to ruffle his hand over your head. “You at least deserve to be complimented every once in a while.”

You hum, warmed by his words. "You could at least just talk it out with her, that's how I deal with Kaoru."

"Yeah, but she doesn't take me seriously."

"Neither does Kaoru," Aran looks surprised by this, you can't blame him, your younger brother was a brat and a lot to deal with. "However, it does help to aptly remind him time and time again of his misdemeanor. You most certainly have to be strict with managing him but also respect their feelings. In addition, you must speak to them like a child and not a subject of some sort."

For some reason, he felt a chill run down his spine. "S-Sheesh, you sound like Shinsuke when you say that."

Unable to help yourself, the corner of your mouth lifts into a smirk-like smile. "Who do you think taught me all those?"

His expression flattens, eyes shut as it comes to him. "Ah. Man. Geez."

He then sighs in defeat, shoulders lifting and dropping. "Still wished she turned out like you, (Y/N)."

"Trust me, you don't want a boring little sister. Anyway, good luck with her though."

"Will do, thanks for the tips," he mutters a few things under his breath, something like a prayer.

Tucking the papers aside, you just about turned to leave when you nearly run into someone.

“Atsumu, watch where you’re going ya lug!” Aran says behind you. 

“S-Sorry-“ he looks down, eyes widening when he realizes he crashed into you, you blink back in concern. “S-Sorry-!”

“No, I’m sorry for not paying attention to my surroundings.” Taking a step back, you found Osamu, Suna, and Ginjima behind him - giving them all a bow before walking away.

Before he left for Tokyo though, both your families had a little get-together at the Miya residence.

To say it was awkward was an understatement, especially because of the rift between you and one particular twin, and because the family didn't exactly know about the situation - but you managed by helping around whilst the twins (plus Kaoru) played some games.

“Don’t you want to join them?” the Miya matriarch asked you kindly.

Over at the living room, the boys were loudly cheering, eyes glued to their game, Kaoru nestled between the twins.

You shook your head, focusing on chopping the vegetables. “I’m fine.” Cooking helped calmed you, busying your hands and sense of smell and taste helped calmed your nerves. Meticulously following through recipes in your head, focusing only on making delectable dishes for all.

As much as you can, you didn't want the family to notice something between you and Atsumu, didn't want to ruin the already bright atmosphere because of his success, didn't want to ruin his day, didn't want to ruin his reputation because of you.

Dinner was a quiet affair between the families, congratulating Atsumu over and over for qualifying for the All-Japan Youth Camp. Osamu heartily ate, sitting next to you, Atsumu to his other side. With his twin as the star of the feast, you saw him brimming with pride and a bit of shyness - especially in the presence of family. It made you smile, but only for a quick while.

So you ate quietly, keeping your head low.

It was already worth knowing how quiet you were unless asked a question. Nobody seemed to mind, used to your quiet presence.

"Kaoru, eat properly," you berate, reaching over, napkin in hand to wipe your brother's face.

It's also known that you were such a caring person - sister, most especially.

"You're almost an adolescent now and still you eat like a child." There was rice on his shirt on his table, how embarrassing. How is he 12?

"Nee-san, please!" At that, the adults laugh, seemingly used to it all. Even Atsumu laughed in. "I'm not a baby!"

"You'll always be a baby to us, brother boy." Atsumu teased your little brother, booping his nose with his finger.

Groaning, Kaoru angrily puts down his bowl and chopsticks, swatting you and Atsumu's hands away. The adults laugh again, especially at the combined forces of you and Atsumu.

The blond-dyed teen meets your eye, time freezing for a moment, you kept thinking of them as brown when they were actually honey brown. It was hard to look away from them, especially with how he took you in. Something kickstarted in your chest.

Clearing your throat, you quickly sit back, he does the same. Osamu fills his plate and yours too.

Feeling a vibration in your pocket, you take out your phone, eyes widening at a notification.

"Ah, Mi-" unsure how to address him, especially because the adults and Kaoru were there, you cleared your throat again, capturing everyone's attention, including Atsumu's. "Mika-nee sends her congratulations."

Like magic, his whole face lights up like a Christmas tree. Misery, it was it feels like, followed by a thousand arrows shot through your already fragile heart.

"She furthers that, 'she knew you could do it. Have fun in Tokyo,' it was a miracle how firm you kept your tone, in its usual monotonous tone. "And 'hello to everyone, I miss you all.'"

The adults then turn to tease Atsumu, Osamu reminding his twin that your sister was still with her boyfriend, resulting in them fighting. Bemused by their usual antics, the adults ask you questions about your sister's well-being, you answered as best you could before they began to talk amongst themselves about traveling, allowing you to wallow on the pain.

Yep, that was the Mika effect.

She could light up a room by just the mention of her name, amplifying the happiness of someone's achievement.

And who were you? Just a bystander. A ghost, even. Your words meant absolutely nothing, especially for Atsumu.

But - you peeked up, seeing him steal from Osamu's plate - at least it made him happy, right?

As much as it pained you, that smile on his face was everything.

"Nee-san, can you pass me some meat please?" Kaoru asks you politely, rice sticking to his cheeks.

Swallowing the pain, you robotically reach out and placed an ample amount into his waiting plate, grateful for the distraction.

Again, this was about Atsumu. Not about you.

Reaching over, you were just about to clean his face when he does it himself. "I can do it myself, nee-san." your little brother's grin was a mess, yet you couldn't find it in your heart to get mad, especially at the proud look on his still messy face.

With Atsumu gone for a whole week, and nationals coming up soon, practice as of late has been hectic and hard. Also, because the team was short of one Miya, it went quietly and peacefully – a strange and rather unnatural occurrence. That excuse any kind of indolence though, especially with nationals drawing near.

"Put your backs into it!" barked Coach Kurosu.

Somehow, because nationals were coming, practice went on slower than usual. And that was saying, you were still in the middle of winter.

The boys had to work themselves to the bone, beating the chilly winter breeze, pumping the blood in their veins. Each player gave their all, yelling out when both coaches couldn't hear them.

Blowing on your whistle, you called out. "Alright, take a 10-minute break." 

Never have you seen the whole gym deflate, thankfully.

Heck, it was only the first half of practice!

Water bottles were handed and consumed in record time, a few players even fell to the ground, legs raised against the wall.

"I'm gonna die!" 

"You're not going to die," you retort at the first year. "Just don't force yourself." The first year whines once more.

"There's a difference between forcing yourself and giving your all in a game," a cold voice added in, causing the first year to shoot up sitting. "That being said, you needn't need to slack off. Just play like you usually would."

"Y-Yes, Kita-san!"

Huffing you turned to your captain, who blinked back at you. 

"Good work today, captain."

"Practice is far from over, (L/N)." he mused, eyes bright.

Humming, you glance at the stopwatch - eight minutes had just passed. (E/c) eyes then drifted over the gym, over the heads of the club members, a sea of black and white practice uniform. This was a scene you were used to all of your two years as manager, for all of four seasons. 

Somehow, just looking out at it all, something felt missing.

No, not something - someone.

Someone with golden blond-dyed hair, bright honey brown eyes, a sly smirk, and astounding presence.

It was missing one Miya Atsumu.

Glancing back at the stopwatch, a minute had just passed you realized.

Lifting your head again, you were met with the same view. 

Sighing, you pocket the stopwatch and announce the remaining minutes of practice there was left. Frowning at nothing, you felt something tug at your ponytail. Looking over, you were met with a darker version of a person in your head - darker hair, darker eyes, same gentle eyes.

"Osamu, what's up?"

"Can you help me tape up?"

"...that's rare, you don't normally tape up your hands." you say, leading the two of you to where the first aid kid was.

"It's winter," was all he reasoned, almost in a grumble. Almost childishly.

It almost made you snort, that was usually his brother's complaint - as he was more particular with his hands and being a setter in general.

"(Y/N), please." he whined, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Yes, yes."

With one Miya short, it meant one was left behind - Osamu.

Even without his twin, he pretty much carried himself just fine. Between the two, he was much more independent. Atsumu was always the clingy twin.

And with his older twin away, that meant, more time with the lad. More time with your best friend.

But as the saying goes, two is better than one.

Two Miyas is better than one.

Still, you made the most out of it, since there was no way you coming in between the brothers.

“You said that chicken noodle soup is your ultimate comfort food, right?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

Osamu was silent for a moment, watching the steaming white rice in front of both of you. “Mine’s onigiri.”

For some reason, that surprised you. “Really? Not your mom’s-”

“Yeah.”

Hands washed, the two of you dug on to the bowl of rice, carefully shaping it in your hands. “That’s a surprise. You never told me that.”

Although, it did explain how after you moved in and met him, he was asking you to help him make onigiri. Much like now. Except with his chubby hands then, most of his end product ended up badly shaped, too soggy, bland, or lacking.

Years of practice saw to his improvement, with his onigiris being perfectly shaped, flavorful, and rich in texture enough to beat the rice balls at convenient stores. Not to mention that he’s grown a penchant for cooking, after being friends with you.

Rice was a rather versatile grain that has a lot of varieties, depending on how you choose to make use of it. Japanese dishes were mostly simple but made had a lot of intricacies that rivaled gourmet dishes. Onigiri had a lot of variants – white rice, wrapped, seasoned, mixed rice, fillings, to name a few.

But for Osamu, the humble white rice onigiri was his favorite.

It was worth noting that through the years you’ve watched him mold his rice – once, burning his hands because they were too hot or because he was too impatient – he seemed rather determined in the process. He shaped the onigiri as though he were holding something precious, taking careful means, making sure that he had the right amount of seaweed and mayonnaise.

Most of his onigiris were huge, like the size of his hand. Well, he was an athlete and a huge glutton – so those two combinations spoke plenty. However, when he finally finished his first perfect onigiri, something crossed his eyes – it sent a twinge in your heart, seeing so much emotion in those usually guarded eyes of his.

“Osamu?”

The boy just stared at his onigiri for a while, as though in disbelief. Upon closer inspection, he looked as though he were in a daze.

“…have I ever told you why it’s my comfort food?”

There seemed a weight to his words, shown in the way his eyes glazed over a simple homemade rice ball. People have different ways of expressing themselves, some through writing, some through sports, some even through cooking.

Osamu conveyed his feelings through cooking, it seems.

Turning to face him, you wore a gentle smile. “I would very much like to hear it.”

Meeting your gaze, slowly, his lips lift into a smile.

Over a plate of perfectly made onigiris, Osamu tells you a story of his first love.

There was a knock at your door, followed by the doorknob turning. “Nee-san,” came your little brother’s voice, accompanied by crinkling plastic. “here.”

Flipping on to the next page, busily writing into your notebook,  was all he got. You barely looked up from your notes!

Miffed, he tried calling you again, “Nee-san!” he dragged on the first syllable, doing the same with the last syllable with a baby voice. To no avail, much to Kaoru’s disappointment.

Though you were wearing earbuds, normally Kaoru would hear soft, gentle tunes playing off it, so you could still hear him. Only, you were really into your notes, as though your own brother wasn’t in the same room as you.

Puffing his cheeks, he paddled up towards you, poking you in the cheek. “Nee-san,” Much more disappointed and annoyed, he looks at the plastic in his bag, carefully lifts it up until the cold plastic touches your cheek, the touch shocking you instantly.

“Ah, Kaoru,” You gently pushed him away from you, pulling your earbuds off, rubbing at your cold cheek. “what are you doing here?”

“I knocked!” his cheeks were still puffed, the (adorable) frown on his face easing. “Here.” He raises the plastic earlier to you, at an eye level.

Bubble tea.

Blinking, you carefully take it from your brother’s hands. “Who’s it from?”

“Atsumu-nii and Osamu-nii.”

Your brows furrowed at that. “Both of them?”

“Yep! I have one, too!” he showed his own drink, heartily sipping from it, unaware of the questioning look in your face and tone.

You would understand if Osamu bought it, but Atsumu? And Kaoru, as much of a brat he can be at times, hardly lied – at least to your face. And he loved the Miya twins. He was also scared of lying to your face.

“We’re about to eat dinner, though.” You berate, especially at the amount of sugar in his drink. “When did they give it?”

“Just minutes ago! Atsumu-nii handed it over because Osamu-nii had to make dinner.” Ah, so that confirms it then.

Humming, you take the drink in your hand. “Thanks, Kaoru.”

The little boy toothily grins. “You’re welcome, nee-san!” rushing to the door, he turns to tell you, “I’ll come back when dinner’s ready!”

“Yeah, thanks.”

With a click, you were alone in your room once more. Music softly played from your earbuds, homework sitting idly.

Surprisingly, the drink was still cold. Just how long ago did they buy this?

Atsumu and Osamu bought this, you remind yourself, twisting the drink in your hand, fiddling with the straw with your other hand. Straightening your drink, you punctured your straw in.

Taking a sip, you let the flavors settle in your tongue before swallowing. “…not too sweet, just salty enough.” Just the way you like it.

Twirling the drink in your hand, it just occurred to you that today was Atsumu's return from Tokyo.

masterlist • seven

[gretavanbitch]

Tangled up in blue 6-

Warnings- drinking, smoking, smut

Note- Hi loves, I just want to say thank you for all of the kind reception to this story. I am so glad you are enjoying it, and I hope you like the new chapter! also asks are open for imagines about any of the boys. 

~

The warmth of the bonfire surrounded the group, illuminating their faces with light. Penny sat close to Josh, a blanket wrapping around both of them. The night was midway through, hours of the usual alcohol related antics had long passed now there was a quiet calmness in the group. 

Both Penny and Josh. sit criss cross applesauce, Josh’s head leaning on Penny’s shoulder as they listened to Jake tell a story. He was describing the time that Sam made a bong in high-school ceramics. Giddy laughter shook Josh’s body, bittersweet memories of youth unfolding with the night. 

“He tried to convince Mrs. Reid that it was a watering can,” Jake chuckled, leaning back into his chair as he spoke. Penny smiled, imagining the trouble that the band got into as teenagers, and wishing she was there to see it herself. The remains of her tequila soda were floating around at the bottom of her cup, her third tequila soda that night. Both her and Josh had three drinks, a substantial buzz enveloping them both. 

“Hey Pen,” Josh spoke in a hushed whisper, his head still on her shoulder and eyes toward the fire. 

“Hey babe,” She whispered back, kissing the top of his head after she did. 

“Gimme some lovin,” he sighed, lifting his head and meeting her eyes before meeting her lips in a sweet kiss. His scent overwhelmed her senses, causing the light of the fire and the sounds of the group disappearing completely. The only thing that existed was him, and he was the only thing that mattered. Whenever he touched her, she melted. Whenever he spoke, she listened. And whenever he left, she broke. He was her world, and she could only hope that she was his. 

A gust of cool air sent a chill down Penny’s spine, reminding her that getting lost in her mind would only distract her from the important things. Like the beautiful soul next to her. 

“wanna go watch a movie?” Josh asked, nudging his nose against Penny’s softly. Penny hummed in response, reaching for his hand as he offered it to help her up from the seat. They muttered goodnights to everybody before making their exit up to the bedroom. 

When they reached the room, Josh flicked on the bedside lights and grabbed his laptop from the bag. Penny pulled down the blankets on the bed and patted the spot next to her softly. She was still wearing Josh’s grey hoodie and boxers, and he was wearing a white shirt and grey sweatpants. 

The white duvet cover ruffled slightly as Josh placed the laptop in his lap, clicking on the netflix tab. 

“Watcha wanna watch baby?” he asked. Penny sighed, nuzzling her head into the crook of his arm, wrapping her hands around his waist. 

“twilight, this is the perfect place to watch twilight,” Penny concluded, getting excited with her own idea. Josh chuckled, but clicked on the movie anyways. 

“anything for you, Pen,” He then pulled the blonde closer to him, resting his head on top of hers. 

After about 20 minutes of the movie, Josh’s eyes began to flutter closed, as his chest rose and fell steadily. 

“Hey Josh?” Penny spoke, just above a whisper. 

“mm?” he mumbled, half asleep. 

“do you ever see us settling down? like kids, and a dog, and a nice house, yanno?” Josh was more awake now, thinking deeply. Penny’s hand drew mindless circles on his stomach, her cheek resting against his chest. 

“I dunno, i’ve never been one for domesticity,” he thought “but I would do anything for you.”

“Aw Joshie, you going soft for me?” Penny teased, craning her neck up to jut her lips out at Josh. He rolled his eyes, chest shaking with his low chuckles. The dim light of the computer screen illuminated his face just enough to outline his face perfectly. He looked down at her through his lashes, smiling softly. 

“No, I just love you Pen,” He smiled, pulling her frame completely onto his chest, moving the laptop to the side as he did. 

“I love you too Josh,” Then she kissed him, running her fingers through his curls lightly. He smiled against her, pulling her chest closer to him. His hands ran over her waist and down to her butt, squeezing it lightly. Penny moved her legs over his frame to straddle him, running her tongue against his bottom lip as she did. This elicited a sigh from Josh, his erection growing under Penny’s core. 

After a few minutes, she pulled back momentarily, peeling her hoodie off to reveal her bare chest. Josh caught his lip between his teeth, eyes half closed and darkened with lust. 

“you’re so pretty, baby,” Penny sighed, running her hands down his jaw. Josh just groaned in response, pulling her back in for a heated kiss. She then removed his shirt, and peppered kisses down his collarbone, biting softly as she did. He sighed, running his hands through her slightly messy hair. The sounds of the rest of the band outside the window could still be heard, but they felt a million miles away. 

An idea then popped into Penny’s head and she smiled a devilish grin as she got on her knees next to Josh’s frame. He raised his eyebrows, running his hand down her back lovingly as she got comfortable on her knees. Her eyes met his as she palmed him through his sweat pants, his breathing hitching in his throat in reaction. His eyes fluttered shut with a smile on his face. She bit her lip, pulling his member out of his boxers. Her mouth salivated at the sight of him. He was perfect, longer than you would expect and thicker too. She thumbed over his tip, gathering precum as she did. He sighed, taking his own lip in his teeth. 

She then licked a stripe up his length, wrapping her hand around his base. Her tongue swirled around his tip before her lips wrapped fully around him, slowly lowering her head. Josh let out a whimper, holding her hair softly as she began to bob. After a few minutes Josh’s breathing became more eratic and his hips began to jut up, causing Penny to gag a few times. 

“fuck baby stop,” he moaned, “I need to be in you.” 

Penny grinned, removing herself off of him. Josh immediately and aggressively crashed his lips against hers, gripping her hips tightly. He then ran a few fingers through her heat, inserting two. 

“mm so wet for me, mama.” 

Josh then flipped Penny over so he was now hovering over her. He kissed her nose softly, pushing her hair behind her ear. So beautiful, he thought. He removed her boxers, softly running his hands down the dips of her hips. Every part of her was perfect. The stretch marks that ran down her hips, the beauty marks that decorated her face, and his favorite part, her smile. The way that her lips curled up just enough to reveal her teeth was his favorite sight in the whole world. To him, she was his world. 

He kissed down her breasts, stopping to appreciate each one. She hummed in response, smiling and running her hands through his hair. He then lined himself up at her entrance, pausing momentarily to tease her clit with his tip, eliciting a gasp from her. He met her lips once more, pushing himself into her deeply. They moaned in unison, her nails tracing down his back harshly. He started with a steady pace. Her chin was tilted to the sky and his head was buried in the crook of her neck, both panting and whining. 

“look at me baby,” Penny cried, getting closer to reaching her own peak. He rasped a groan, meeting her eyes. Her eyes were half shut, closing occasionally with a particularly deep thrust. Penny’s vision then became blurry, legs shaking, and a string of profanities falling out of her lips as she came. Josh followed suit only seconds later, moaning loudly and collapsing onto penny. 

For a few minutes the only sounds to be heard in the room were Josh and Penny’s heavy breathing and the light wind outside the window. Josh lay on his stomach, arms wrapped around Penny’s frame. She played with his hair softly as his breathing became slower, lulling him to sleep. She followed suit soon after, welcoming the serenity of sleep next to Josh’s warm frame. 

~

Streams of golden light ran wild through Josh’s hair. The breeze from the open window jostled the curtains softly, causing a chill to run down Penny’s exposed chest. She yawned quietly, prying Josh’s arms off of her frame. Her bare feet padded against the floor, picking up one of Josh’s white shirts and her boxers from last night. 

She brushed her teeth and washed the makeup that she neglected to remove last night from her face. The cold wood of the stairs creaked softly under her feet as she made her way to the kitchen. She could hear the sound of voices as she rounded the corner, yawning once again. 

“Well well well, look who it is,” Sam smiled into his coffee cup from his seat at the counter. Penny laughed, flipping him off as she poured two cups of coffee. 

Jake and Sam shared a knowing glance for a moment before Jake spoke, “did you have a good night last night?” he snorted into his coffee. 

“It was fine, why?” Penny asked absentmindedly stirring cream into Josh’s coffee. 

“oh nothing, you should just be the singer on our new album, you got some pipes,” Sam laughed. Penny’s eyes bugged out of her head and her hand clamped over her mouth. 

“oh shit,” she laughed. Just as the laughter was dying down, she heard the pattering of footsteps down the stairs. Josh emerged in his boxers, head a fluffy mess. He rubbed his eyes as he sat down on the stool next to penny, thanking her for the coffee with a kiss on the cheek. 

“what’s so funny guys,” he questioned as everyone, including Penny giggled quietly. 

“Josh, everyone heard us last night,” Penny laughed, rubbing her temples. 

Josh leaned back, hands up against his head and a proud grin on his face. “whoops,” he smiled. Penny just shook her head, smiling and slightly embarrassed. The morning progressed into a slow and lazy tempo, breakfast taking them an hour to finish eating. The group was now haphazardly lounging in the living room, Scarface playing on the TV. Josh was sitting on the floor, leaning against the couch with penny’s head on his lap. Jake and Danny shared the couch, while Sam was out picking up the girls at the airport. Penny was excited to finally have some more feminine energy in the group. Carly, Emily, and Dana were all going to be joining them on tour for another week and a half then they all would be returning to work, including Penny. Her heart ached at the thought of leaving Josh again, but she hoped to document as much of it as she could through her lens. 

Halfway through the movie, Penny needed a smoke. She grabbed her pack and headed towards the back door. The soft pattering of rain sent a chill down her spine, causing her to wrap her arms around her frame. Josh was inside, totally engrossed in the film, and she was okay that he wasn’t joining her. She needed just a moment alone, a moment of quiet. Once she returned to Nashville, she would be alone again. There would be no beautiful mornings of golden sunlight shining on Josh’s face, or quick kisses while he cooked dinner. What is the point of living if you aren’t with the one you need? No, she couldn’t think like that. She was more than Josh’s girlfriend and she knew it. She was an artist and so was he, but sometimes it’s hard to get motivation outside of the beauty of love. She crushed her smoke in the ashtray and opened the sliding door, feeling slightly unsettled by her thoughts. The only aspect of comfort coming from the knowledge that the girls would be here soon, she could talk to them. 

Lunch arrived with homemade sandwiches by Danny. Everyone was eating and talking loudly, enjoying eachothers company when Sam finally made his way back to the house with the girls. She could barely get out a word before Carly enveloped her in a huge bear hug. She laughed, squeeking out a greeting before hugging both Dana and Emily very tightly as well. Everyone said their hello’s before the girls found their way to their designated boy, the soft lull of romance filling the air. 

Josh smiled into Penny’s hair as they watched the couples bathe in each other’s presence. She sat on his lap at the dining room table, leaning back into him with his arms wrapped around her. When it reached two in the afternoon, the boys began to prepare for the show that night, gathering special picks and tamborines up. 

The boys would be heading to the venue a few hours earlier than the girls, not wanting them to have to sit around while they do soundcheck and work on mechanical aspects of the show. Penny was grateful of this, knowing she could use some girl time right now. 

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” Penny smiled, kissing Josh sweetly as he hugged her goodbye. 

“I’ll text you for outfit advice,” he winked as he made his way out to the car that would take them to the venue, leaving the girls with the rental. The girls agreed to spend a few hours alone in their own rooms, most of them were still jet lagged and needed a good nap. When it hit six, everyone slowly emerged from their rooms, makeup bags in hand. 

“alright bitches,” Carly spoke, putting her hands firmly on her hips, “let’s pregame and talk shit.” Everyone yelled out in agreeance, gathering their makeup and drinks of choice to gather in the living room. 

“So ms Penny,” Dana began “things seem to be getting pretty serious with Josh.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she primed her face. Penny smiled, spraying her face with rosewater. 

“yeah I think we are,” She responded, forming her lips into a thin line as she rubbed product into her skin. 

“well, I support it. You both look really happy,” Emily smiled, patting Penny’s knee softly. 

“thanks guys,” Penny smiled. Her mind drifted for a moment, remembering the gaping trench in her gut. She remembered the fact that she simply cannot process leaving Josh for more than a day. 

Silence filled the group for a few moments, everyone focused on their own makeup and drinks. 

“I actually have something I wanted to ask you guys,” Penny sighed, placing her eyeshadow brush down harshly. They all nodded, waiting for her to continue speaking. “I go home next week, and well i’m terrified because last time I was alone I completely shut down,” Her eyes welled, she quickly dabbed the tears away, not wanting to ruin her makeup. “I feel like I don’t exist when Josh isn’t with me.” 

She finally looked up to meet the faces of the other girls. Their faces were sympathetic, they stared at her like she was a hurt baby deer, helpless. Dana finally spoke up, breaking the silence. 

“We all feel like that babe,” everyone nodded in unison, frowns on their faces, “It just gets easier with time, you have to find ways to distract yourself and grow comfortable with yourself.” 

“yeah, and remember whenever they are on tour, all of us four are alone, so just give one of us a call and we’ll be there,” Emily said quietly, rubbing a hand down Penny’s back lovingly. 

“thanks guys, seriously I love you all,” Penny chuckled, enveloping them all in a hug. 

“We love you, now lets get drunk for real this time,” Carly responded, pouring everyone tequila shots. 

~

GUYS! sorry for the delay on this chapter, I am hoping to update again this week! hope you liked it :)

[jesswritesthat]

hey babe! i love your writing so much!!! so i recently watched kaguya-sama: love is war and i was wondering if you could do a headcanon of kuroo, bokuto and atsumu where their crush gets sick and they visit her and she drags them into her bed to sleep with them? you can decide how it ends. thank you so much in advance if you do end up writing this! i love you and take care of youself💞

Hello lovely! Thank you so much for this, I’ve never seen Kaguya-Sama but it sounds really cute. Also take care of yourself too and I hope these are okay! Much love 💕

Summary: Bokuto, Kuroo and Atsumu checking up on their sick crush headcanons

>>>>—————————>

Bokuto Kōtarō:

• Has felt like he's been missing something all day but couldn't quite decipher what it was until Akaashi mentions how you're off sick.

• Thats when your phone is bombarded with ‘urgent’ messages inquiring about your wellbeing to the dramatic extent of:

[ Kou: (N/N)! You haven't answered me yet, are yOu StiLl AliVe?! ]

[ (N/n): no ]

[ Kou: Aw, can I have your cool headphones then, since you won't be needing them anymore? 😁💕 ]

[ (N/n): Wow Kou, I'll haunt your dumbass at Volleyball games for that. ]

[ Kou: Even in death, your support means everything to me. ]

• Despite his nonsense he kept updated with you throughout the school day by sending memes in hopes of raising your spirits. The most peace you got was during Volleyball Club time - the Ace too invested to message you at that point.

• At the end though he calls his team for a serious discussion and they're all expecting major improvements on their gameplay ready for Nationals.

But no.

"What can I get (N/n) to make her feel better, this is crucial. I need only good ideas!"

• They all knew about his crush on you, he wasn't exactly secretive about it but you were none the wiser. Even so, Fukurōdani offered what advice they could to their friend because like him, they cared about you too.

• "Akaashi picked up your schoolwork." Bokuto says as he walks into your room, waving the papers and placing them on your side.

"And you didn't think to take notes for me?"

"Nah, I wanted to bring you good stuff."

"Fair point."

• Bokutos likely brought everything he could find once he went home and changed/showered - he's got flowers, your favourite snacks, drinks, medicine and some movies to cure your boredom. Like how much do I owe you???

He's says it's fine though, in return you have to be better by tomorrow.

That's not how it works Kou.

• You're both seated on your bed watching some shitty movie when you start getting a bit sleepy and you just want warmth.

"Can you give me a hug Kōtarō? I just need a hug, I know how weird that sounds..."

• Doesn't even think twice about it, he practically tackles you onto the covers which elicits lovely giggles from you - the potential of him getting sick too isn't even considered, he's just focused on being with you and making you feel better.

• His arms are so warm and they’re beautiful, you forgot how toned he is and you grow so comfortable in his embrace. He’s also really relaxed about it and is calm enough to ramble on normally - except when you nuzzle against him during a cold shiver. Bokuto full on freezes mid sentence, releasing a cautious breath prior to changing the subject.

• It’s obvious he’s content with you though, and surprisingly falls asleep first which makes you laugh. Kōtarō keeps a strong but delicate hold on your body and is subconsciously receptive enough to your every move. You adjusted yourself slightly which stirred him, his voice is much huskier than before due to sleep but remains concerned.

“Can’t you sleep (Y/n)? I can-“

“I’m fine, you’re keeping me warm.”

• With a nod of understanding he’s gone again and you follow shortly afterwards, the both of you unintentionally making the nap a sleepover. Which you only realise the next morning - still in his arms even if the position has changed. You take a few minutes to enjoy it.

• Miraculously doesn't get sick, his immune system must be immortal as he's brimming with energy once he gets up. His radiance is actually contagious as you feel much better in yourself too and his vibrant attitude really motivates you for the day despite being physically exhausted from beating the flu.

• "Your partner is going to be blessed if you bring them breakfast, I mean talk about amazing." You comment as he brings up a plate that he’d crafted in your kitchen, which is surprisingly decent. You suppose he must keep his body fit somehow.

"My crush will have to do for now."

"Wait I - ah, you have a crush on me?"

"Hah, didn't you know? I never tried to hide it or anything."

Kuroo Tetsurō:

• Notices your absence immediately, he's observant by nature but especially where his crush is concerned and he isn't afraid to contact you before class starts.

• "Hey (Y/n), it's Kuroo, are you running late today?"

"Hnn, I'm not gonna make it. I tried but I feel awful - Sickness: 1, (L/n): 0." Already by the grogginess in your voice he can tell you're under the weather and winces at the sound of you stifling a cough.

"Ah geez, go to bed would you? And drink plenty of water, I'll inform the teachers and everything."

"Thanks Tetsurō, I owe you one."

• Will message you at regular intervals throughout the day regarding your health with cute little reminders. You were on his mind frequently, he’s lowkey worried okay?

[ Tetsu: Drink water, and eat breakfast if you can. ]

[ (Y/n): Yeah yeah I have, go learn something. ]

[ Tetsu: Why are you replying? Shouldn't you be sleeping it off - I don't want your germs. ]

[ (Y/n): Sharing is caring. ]

[ Tetsu: Oya? It took a cold for you finally admit you care, so is it gonna take a pandemic to say you love me? 😏 ]

[ (Y/n): 🖕🏻]

• Is actually considerate enough to tell you he'll swing by after practice, and asks if you want anything from the shop so you give basics like water and tablets. Comes equipped with the extra notes he's taken from all of your shared classes and requested papers from teachers in those you don't, so you're not falling behind.

• Aside from the bare minimum you requested, he chucks your favourite snacks on your desk stating that it’s important to keep morale high too. Liar. He just wanted to do something nice for you.

• Checks your temperature despite your protests of not being a child, he only does this because it vexes you and Kuroo finds that cute. As a silent apology for teasing the Hell out of you, he’ll make you some tea and you both get lost in conversation.

• Notices you’re starting to doze off, rest you should’ve had instead of texting everyone - but ensuring everything is fine, he’s about to stealthily exit until your fingers grasp his wrist and tug him back slightly.

"Stay Tetsurō..."

"You'll likely regret that request once you wake up."

"S'ok, it's you."

• The strength you have when tugging him into bed with you catches him completely off guard and he’s actually blushing - doesn’t know what to say but knows he has to at least maintain some composure.

“So uh, never knew you wanted me this badly.”

“Ugh shut up dumbass, I can feel your rapid heartbeat from here.”

“Right...”

• Kuroo goes all shy, you’ve wrapped your arms around his waist and are comfortably leaning against his side and he absentmindedly runs his fingers soothingly up and down your arm to settle his own nerves.

• It’s peacefully silent, simply enjoying one another’s company before he hears your muffled sniffles indicating you’ve fallen asleep and a soft smile graces his lips. If you were his, then he’d definitely kiss your forehead, and lips to be honest, but the fact you aren’t leaves him with a disappointed sigh.

• You both end up taking a nap, waking up wrapped in each other’s arms and noses practically touching which startled the Captain - Kuroo literally falling off of your bed with a yelp much to your amusement. Afterwards, he departs suggesting you get more rest, get better soon and he’ll see you at school next week.

• At least that was the plan, which altered with the text exchange the following morning.

[ Kuroo: Sharing is not caring, I wanted your snacks not your sickness! ]

[ (Y/n): RIP us. 💀 ]

[ Tetsu: You owe me one remember? I've got the house to myself this weekend so would you like to suffer together? I have blankets, entertainment and food. ]

[ (Y/n): Beats sniffling alone, I'll bring the tissues and drugs. ]

• So, you went over with a trail of sneezing in your wake and ended up snuggled with Kuroo under a blanket with a variety of games gracing the TV as you skilfully passed around the tissues. Aside from being ill, spending time like this with him was perfect.

• "Sickness: 2, (L/n) and Kuroo: 0..."

"No, Kuroo: 1.”

"How so? You K.O. a sneeze or something?"

"I got to spend the day with you didn't I? That counts as a win in my book."

"Tch careful, anyone would think the Scheming Captain cares~"

"I do smartass, I care about you a lot (Y/n)..."

Miya Atsumu:

• Atsumu wasn't one to act needy in any way, the only excuse for him to contact you in regards to your absence was to do it with a remark and hope you'd elaborate.

[ Atsumu: Yo, are ya ditching me to survive English on my own? That's cold (Y/n) 😭 ]

[ (Y/n): Sorry 'Tsumu, I'm too busy dying to care rn. Have a fun missing me loser. ]

[ Atsumu: Hah you wish, you alright tho? ]

• You're good friends but he's never really expressed genuine concern about you before, not verbally anyway. You thought the final "K" after you'd told him you were gonna rest would be the end of it.

So you were beyond surprised when he rocked up to your house later that evening.

• It took everything you had not to mock him for his embarrassed stature, solely flustered by the fact you'd seen him so considerate. Admittedly you were also exhausted and probably couldn't think of a snarky reply anyway.

• "What's up? Was there homework or - ugh, or something?"

"Huh? Oh I dunno. But uh, I got 'Samu to make you some Okayu, and a Umeboshi Tea since it's good for colds and stuff."

• Totally pestered Osamu all day to help him make you something and had to do stupid favours in return but Atsumu will deny it if you ever ask.

• “I love how you don’t care what you look like when you have guests over.”

“Take your stupid backhanded compliments and shove them up your pretty litt-“ You bite back, flipping him off in the process while Atsumu remains proudly victorious.

“Nah ah, is that any way to speak to the man who brought you dinner?”

“It’s the way to speak to the man whose currently annoying me.”

“You’re welcome, this is revenge for ditching me in class gorgeous~”

• Despite how irritating he could be, Atsumu stuck around for a bit to make sure you ate everything he’d brought and taken the appropriate medication.

• “Oh yeah, I brought that movie you were talking about the other day. Figured it might pass the time a bit.”

“Thank you! I’ll give it back once I’m better - thank you so much ‘Tsumu.”

Your excitement was endearing, and he had to collect himself a bit since admiring such little quirks was out of the question - his crush was bad enough as it is.

“Wanna watch it now? I haven’t got anything to do so I can give you spoilers.”

“Sounds good - and not a word!”

• You spent the afternoon watching the film and playfully wrestling the blonde in order to shut him up whenever he made an attempt to spoil it - he would never, but provoking you was too funny.

• You settle down later on, putting on a mindless tv show for background noise before collapsing onto your bed with groan. Atsumu raising a smug brow at your exhausted state as he threw his jacket on.

• "Wanna sleep with me?" It was innocent, at least you didn’t think much of it then.

"Do I what now?" He was smirking, thankful that your panic left you oblivious to the blush crawling up his neck at the mere insinuation alone.

"Sleep wit- ohh I did not think that through! I meant sleep in my bed, next to me, to help me drift off. Maybe it's the sleepiness or medicine but I really want you Atsumu..."

"Not helping your case at all." Again he smugly responded, dropping his jacket to the floor with a sly smile.

"Stop smirking and just hug me okay? Then you can leave and tease me about this later."

• Atsumu isn't awkward about it, subduing his nerves enough to pull you into his arms as he sits up - dutifully ignoring the butterflies in his stomach due to your close proximity and the intoxicating smell of your hair.

• Atsumu becomes unintentionally soft, his fingers slowly begin to glide through your hair and he hesitates when he feels the hum of contentment you release before continuing. Your whole body just relaxes against his and he subconsciously does the same, not even realising he was this tense around you - was his body always like that in your general presence?

• As you start quietly talking about nothing and everything, he notices a weakness - you’re a lot more open when drowsy and god he wants to take advantage but knows you’ll remember the questions he asked and murder him for it when you’re able.

• Intead he attempts to protect any dignity he thinks he has left with you - jokes on him, it’s absolutely none. You guys are way past that level and he knows it.

“You better get healthy quick, not that I care but English is really borin’ on my own ya know?”

"The people you truly care about must be really lucky to have you 'Tsumu..." The mumble is enough to make him roll his eyes, but he waits until you’re asleep to reply.

"Yeah... you are..."

<——————————<<<<

[ Masterlist ]

[smolbeandrabbles]

Houston, We Got A Problem - Modern!Payne x Reader (Slow West)

@mandy23b​ @wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​ #MendoTagSquad

Author’s Note: Right. Basically. I was inspired to do this due to pic I saw. And then I had to find a song and a plot that could make this modern and it all kinda worked out-! About 3 or so months after I originally went “this thing will get written-!”  (And then I started in in April and didn’t finish it until August!)

Anyway - I think if I have a checklist of things I can weave in here I got nearly all of them..! 😉😉😉

Disclaimer: AU, obviously / I think he’s as close to in-character as I could have got him but also understand he’s a little OOC (but had to for the context, I guess!) / Slow West & all associated characters not mine / my usual disclaimers-!

Premise: Offered a once in a lifetime opportunity in Houston, Texas - Payne is torn up about leaving you in Colorado. You know it’s a dream he’s been chasing, but you aren’t about to let him leave without reminding him what he has to return to...

Words: 4722

Warnings: AU / Swearing / Drinking / Sexual Connotations / Slight OOC-ness, maybe? He’s a little softer I think than he aught to be but I’ll let you all decide this for yourself-!

________

This is my kinda town, this is my kinda place I wouldn't mind hangin' 'round For more than just a couple days I got a twelfth floor room with a killer view of the empty Astrodome A tab at the bar downstairs, but all I can think about is home

You should've seen 19th Street, you should've seen the midnight rodeo The way them saloon doors swing, when they line dance to "Copperhead Road" Something ‘bout the air down here, that'll make you feel the way all them cowboys do I wish I was an outlaw, But all I can think about is you I got new boots covered in red dirt A "Don't Mess With Texas" T-shirt And a Lonestar postcard postmarked with missin' you It's got the biggest sky you've ever seen, the coldest beer you'd ever drink But I still feel like I landed on the moon 'Cause it ain't got you Houston, we got a problem

---

Undisclosed Location, Colorado

 You could see the truck before you could hear it; stirring up clouds of dust from the dirt roads leading down to the ranch. You were standing out on the front porch, not eager to get caught up in the hot mid-afternoon Colorado sunshine. You were watching Payne, Silas and Marimacho down in the corral with the horses; but that dust made your eyes raise to the horizon. You weren’t due any visitors, and everyone meant to be working here was already in situ. You knew that ad hoc visits sometimes happened; but usually they would call ahead. Cell reception wasn’t great out here, but the landlines worked just fine.

For now the guys were taking a well-earned cigarette break, keeping their sharp eyes on the horse they were training. When the truck was more visible; sun glancing off the paintwork and the hum of the engine filled the quiet air, Payne hopped up to straddle the fence for a closer look. There were no logos to indicate what it might be for, and he was sure that you would have told him if anyone was expected, or had called. He took a drag of his cigarette and squinted at it suspiciously as it continued to wind its way towards the house - you were already outside and could deal with it for now, but he had to admit he was curious. Silas and María joined him on the fencing; equally suspicious. “What’s up there?” Payne raised an eyebrow “Hope it’s good whatever it is...” He watched you point him out.  “Guess they’re looking for you, Payne.” “Ah shit, well, I’ll report back..! You two got this one, right?” Maria scoffed “Course we do-!” “If we don’t you’re not doing your job well.” Payne shoved Silas at that, who laughed, and jumpped down, putting out his cigarette he wandered over to you.

You stepped out to the front of the porch to greet them. Both men whose clothes and build said they were probably also in this profession. So they weren’t lost. Trainers or buyers? That was the question. “Good afternoon, m’am-!” They both sidled up to the porch, tipping their hats - ah-! The old-fashioned kind. “Afternoon gentleman. What can we help you with?” “We’re looking for a man by the name of Payne? Heard he’s the best in the business and that this is his ranch.” That irked you just a little, this was your ranch and your parents before you. And it had collectively become “yours” over time. True he had the reputation, and he’d built it into what it was... but it was not Payne’s. He used to work for your father; Payne had a gift for breaking and training horses, and had put this place on the map beyond your father’s wildest dreams. You weren’t about to argue that point now, instead you gave a small smile and pointed back to where they’d just driven from. “The man you’re looking for is out there working, gentleman...” Although he was watching you, the other two now at his side, and as soon as you indicated to him, Payne cleared the fence and began wandering over. “Oh-! Thank you m’am!” They both turned, not giving you the opportunity to ask what this was about. But you knew Payne; he wouldn’t have them speak without you in the know.

  By the time he reached the truck, the men had already started towards him; “Gentlemen-!” “Ah! You must be Payne!” “Correct,” He nodded to you, “I see you’ve already met my partner in crime, Ms.Y/N.” You mouthed him a ‘thank you’ - at least he always made sure you were recognised. Payne gave you a wink, before turning back to them; “What can we help you with?” “We hear you are the man to come to - for Horse Whispering, or for breaking horses.” Payne folded him arms across his chest and tipped his head, “That’s kind of you to say, suppose the proof can only be in the success - you need horses breaking, or otherwise?” “Yes. We have the horses, but we wanted someone with your expertise for this particular job.” Payne nodded; “Whereabouts are you from?” “Houston, Texas.” Both of you suddenly froze in place. That was Midnight Rodeo territory. There was a lot that could be done in Texas to do with horses. Payne wasn’t beyond being a full-on cowboy at times, if the need called for it. He swallowed hard, “Well, then maybe we should take this inside... that’s... quite a way to come for just me.” They looked to each other, then back to him with massive grins, “Well, Payne, you ain’t just anyone - you’re the best of the best. And hopefully we can have a good discussion. We haven’t looked at anyone else; you’re the man we wanna hire.” Your eyebrows shot up at that - this wasn’t an opportunity your man would want to miss, you knew that.  Payne turned back to his friends to whistle that he’d be a while, and then ushered the men inside - this was likely to be a long discussion; but an exciting prospect at that.

 ***

 By the time they left the sun was low in the sky, and Silas and Marimacho had already packed up ready for the morning – leaving the horses out to graze. You were both sitting on the front porch watching them and discussing the offer, his head in your lap. “It’s a good job, it’s a big job. But you’re gonna be here alone.” You smiled, he was right – it would be unprecedented for Payne to get something good going on in Texas, especially with such draws at the Midnight Rodeo, and to bolster his reputation and his name; yes, you’ve heard of him – now here’s the proof that what they say is true. You certainly weren’t about to let him pass that up, even if it would mean being here alone for a few weeks. You knew he wouldn’t want to go alone; he’d need the whole team – after all Payne always said it was a team effort. You ran your hand through his tangle of curls; “Baby, don’t worry about me, you should do this thing. It’s gonna be real good for you.” He sighed, folding his arms; “I dunno, Y/N… I just…” “You can leave me alone, I’ll be fine.” His eyes met yours and doubt was written all over his face. Payne had a point it wasn’t usual for you to be apart, and you’d suggest going with him but you’d be needed to hold the fort here – and he’d only trust you to do that. “Well, yeah, I’ll miss you. Of course I will, but…” You bent your body over his, “you need this, and you want it. And I won’t let you say no because of me.” and kissed him gently. “But there’s so many other factors-!” Payne looked back to the horses again – “I mean, you by yourself out here? What if you need help-!? I mean, do I leave someone with you here or-!?” “Shhhh…” You rubbed his shoulder affectionately, “Stop thinking so much and make a gut decision.” He scoffed, “If I even knew what that was.” You shook your head and kissed his cheek gently, shifting him off your lap; “Well – maybe it’d be better for you to have an inner dialogue…” He sat back on his hands as you stood, brushing yourself down, “I’m gonna make dinner-!” Payne replaced his hat and raised an eyebrow, reaching out to take your hand “What would you do, if they wanted you?” “I mean I doubt they ever would, I’m hardly the same calibre,” His fingertips danced over your skin, causing you to smile more, “but I would go. If it’s what I wanted.” “And you wouldn’t feel guilty?” You sighed, “I hope you don’t think I would guilt you about it anyway.” You bent to kiss him again, “No. I wouldn’t.” You swept back to the front door, “And don’t you dare try to guilt trip yourself out of it!” He laughed, “I still gotta decide if I wanna go-!” But you knew, deep down, his decision was already made. Dinner was eaten in relative silence, mostly because you felt every time you opened your mouth he might think a little too much on staying for you – you hated to think that a man who wasn’t really one to be tied to any one place, would skip out on Texas for you. Payne had never been homebody and he’d left you here before – you supposed it was the longevity of it. And perhaps how far away he would be. He helped you clear the table before leaving you with a kiss on the cheek and heading outside again. You sighed gently, watching him go. You were worried; how could you not be? But his fretting over this was for nothing; after all it wouldn’t be forever, Payne would still return to you. And if he needed you to make that decision for him, then you certainly would. You gave him another hour or so alone whilst you set out everything that needed to be done the following day, and chalked up everyone’s schedule. After which you got the house in order for the evening, and, thinking that he’d now had enough time to think, joined Payne back on the porch. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes; he was lying back again, one arm behind his head, smoking a cigar. The glass and bottle next to him filled with a suspicious looking green liquid that you knew he shouldn’t be trusted with. ‘If it’s bad enough for Absinthe, I guess it really IS bad.’ You strolled over, shaking your head slowly; “Boy. Don’t make me decide for you!” He was silent for a moment, blowing smoke into the late evening air; “Wish you could.” You leant against the porch frame, one hand on your hip; “I’ll help you get ready…” Your eyes flicked to him; “I’ve been alone before. I mean I love ya, but I think I can survive.” He shot you a look, “I just don’t think sitting out here with absinthe is really gonna help you think with any clarity!” You grinned, “I have a solution, though.” He sat up again, taking another drag, “Oh yeah?” You gave him a smirk, “Yeah… But you’re gonna have to promise me you’re going to go.” “I could just as easily go back on it.” His head tipped, daring you to do something about that proposal. “Well,” You sauntered around him, dragging your fingertips across his shoulders, “if you don’t want me…” He let out a soft groan, “You know I’ll do it.” “You shouldn’t do it because I think you should either…” You paused, picking up the glass and finishing it for him. Regretting it about 5 seconds later and shuddering; you’d nearly always hated the taste – especially neat. “You should do it because it’s all you’ve ever talked about. Because you dream about it. All I’m trying to encourage you to do is chase your dreams.” Payne tipped his head back, blue eyes searching yours; “You’re still gonna be here right?” “You think I’d leave you? I think you’re much more likely to find someone new in Texas.” He growled, “Are you fucking kidding me-!?” “Just checking!” Though the grin on your face was teasing. He stubbed out the cigar and rolled over onto his front, eyes narrowed; “Is that what you think of me?” You took a step back, with a smirk; “Why don’t you prove to me you won’t?” Payne jumped to his feet and pretty soon had you backed against the front door, hands in your hair and lips on yours; “How dare you suggest such a thing-!?” You simply smiled; “I just wanted to check there was someone to wait for, and tell me all about what happened when he lived his dream…” He shook his head, bringing your lips to his again, before moving his hands to the hem of your shirt; “Well – Let me just prove to you, that there’s something worth waiting for.” ***

Houston, Texas

Payne hated to admit how much this was hurting him. He was living it here in Houston, this was the ‘I made it!’ dream.

He’d been here almost a month now, and the entire crew has flown down with him. He was supposed to be having the time of his life, and he was having the time of his life. These were some of the most gorgeous horses he’d ever been given the opportunity to work with and break. And watching them go from fairly wild to seeing them get calmer, and some of them eventually in the rodeos themselves or out working, was breath-taking, and everyone was impressed. Especially the gentlemen who had hired him. He was getting a lot of exposure; his whole crew were. This felt a lot more like play than work, and Payne didn’t think he’d ever seen them all so happy.

But all he could think about was home; all he could think about was you. Even when he was run off his feet, you were still in the back of his head. He called you every day, and if you didn’t pick up then he’d leave a message - but no matter if he got through to you or not, Payne always ended with “I miss you.” Because he did - and he and you had travelled before, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to this but it felt bigger, it felt longer... it was longer. And there wasn’t a real end in sight. But Payne knew he wanted to go home; even realising his dream wouldn’t stop that feeling - he was a Colorado boy, and the ranch and you would always be home.

Payne knew what was coming, from the way everyone was so delighted at his team’s progress, he knew that they would offer him a job. It was always in the air but never said; it was going to be asked as soon as he was on the brink of leaving, Payne knew. It would be him, and he would say no ‘not without the crew’ then it would be all of them asked, and he would still say ‘no, not without her’, and then they would say it would be fine to move everyone’s families too. But you’d refuse; it was a ranch handed down through generations - back to when the West was first being settled. When outlaws and bounty hunters ruled the land. You weren’t leaving - you’d probably rather leave him than you would that house. And Payne had spent way too long crushing on you, then wooing you, and now being with you to let that happen.

This might be his dream but he was comfortable with you. And all Payne had ever wanted was to be comfortable.

 Tonight was another night at the midnight rodeo, but for the first time since he’d arrived here Payne was skipping out. His phone had vibrated a couple of times when he knew it was due to start but they’d left him alone since then. Instead he was sitting at the desk in his hotel room, looking out over the city. There was a glass of whiskey sitting next to him (absinthe wouldn’t have tasted the same away from home either and it wasn’t exactly a wide spread sold alcohol), yet Payne was a little too absorbed in what he was doing to pay real attention to that either. Calling you was all well and good, but Payne didn’t have a fantastically verbal love language. He didn’t think of things to say in the moment that could express his feelings to you adequately; but he could write it. He could ponder what words sounded right, he could change them all around and make sure that it all flowed. Everything that he somehow couldn’t say out loud, Payne was at least glad that you could read it. It might only have been a postcard, not a real love letter, but it would have to do for now. He could still say everything that he wanted to; and Payne would still end those letters in the same way as he did his calls:

‘I miss you.’

 **

You knew what it was as soon as you opened the mailbox, and dropped everything else inside before sitting up on the paddock fence, yours and his horse grazing in the field behind you, you sat and read. You inhaled - knowing that he would have sprayed it with his cologne, in the same way when on occasion you wrote to him you would cover your notes in perfume - and for a second it felt like he was here, with his arms around you.

At first you were smiling; he was such a sweetheart in the way that he wrote. You knew Payne wasn’t good with words, romantic words, but this was always where he told you he loved you. Letters happened even when he was home, you’d find them all over the house and they would always make you beam; you kept them in a little box and sometimes you’d sit and read them back. It always amazed you how what he wrote may have been different the longer you were together but, what he said stayed the same. He still loved you the same, and you loved him just as much. So soon enough, as you continued to read his postcard, you weren’t just smiling, your heart began to ache and tears threatened to spill. You sniffed and rubbed your eyes, not allowing any to fall, as you did so his horse nudged against your arm and you patted his muzzle with a half-laugh-half-upset exhale; “I know... I know... I miss him too.”

 Payne knew the question was coming. You were going to ask it eventually. You knew he had to work but sometimes too long was too long. And you knew what this meant to him, and that you’d persuaded him to chase it across the country, but you missed him. There was no end date: it wasn’t like he’d be back at the end of the month; the truth was he didn’t know when it would be over. “When are you coming home?” He didn’t want to tell you he didn’t know, but he didn’t. Payne could hear it in your voice though, that you couldn’t take much more uncertainty. And neither could he; it wasn’t about wanting to go home anymore, but needing to. “Baby, I... you know what they’re going to say, they’re gonna wanna keep me on.” “Well they can’t have you.” Your answer was curt. He chuckled “Feisty. I wasn’t gonna leave, I know where my place is.” Your voice was amused though, “Damn right-!” “As you know good work is never done when horses go in and out all the time. I guess the specific group I’ve been working with are nearly fully trained. So, I’ll be home soon. I promise you that, I’m comin’ home-!” “Don’t make me hold you to that-!” He grinned “Ha-! Oh, I won’t-!”  

**

It was a harder conversation than he’d expected. But Payne wasn’t one for giving up, nor negotiating when he wanted something. He very much had a ‘my way or the highway’ attitude, and he wasn’t about to be forced into staying when his work was over. The money he was offered was good – brilliant even – he couldn’t deny that. Yet, Payne knew where home was, and it wasn’t here – even with how much he was loving his time here. He kept firm, and made sure they knew he wasn’t about to be pushed around. The one thing Payne worried about was his reputation; after all he didn’t want this relationship to turn sour. Once he’d left they could use anything to turn the rumour mill: ‘aw, the boy couldn’t hack it.’ That just wasn’t true. But Payne didn’t really trust anyone outside his friends and you; and was always that little bit suspicious. You’d always called it out as an odd trait; especially as he seemed pretty open and friendly towards most people. ‘How else am I supposed to get business and get paid, Y/N!?’ ‘AHHH! So it is for your own ends!?’ Yeah, you probably had it right, but he wasn’t admitting that. Though there was always a reason he kept a decent revolver around. What he did promise was that he could come back periodically for a few days, maybe a few weeks, and continue to work for them. But Payne wouldn’t be contracted here, and he explained as such – he’d built up his, and the ranches, name in Colorado and there he would stay. He had a lot waiting back home – and this would never be home. Even if he could miraculously get you to agree to move. Not that he gave them much of a choice, but they saw the logic in his decision and accepted his offer. He’d really have to talk it out with you first; but Payne was sure you’d not mind too much. Weren’t you always calling him a drifter anyway? The ranch was just a home base. That suggestive way you’d look at him, voice sultry to match your blink and say; “If the sex wasn’t so good you probably wouldn’t even stay, huh, babe?” Payne shook away that thought with a deep exhale, you weren’t the only thing he was missing right now. By the time he got back to his crew from the final meeting and tidy up, they were all already packed away. Everyone had the same notion, they were ready to go, ready to get back to families of their own. Still, Payne knew how much they had loved it here; and far be it from him to hold any of them back. “Before we do all get on a flight tomorrow morning back home, I do wanna say to you how proud I am of how hard you’ve worked. We’ve always been like a little gang of outlaws, and hell if we haven’t shown these Texas rangers a thing or two!” There were plenty of laughs and cheers at that, and Payne grinned, “But, I’m going to give you the choice, and no hard feelings. You can stay if you wanna stay, if you think this is better for you…” He turned to take in his surroundings, “I’m not gonna stop ya.” There was silence amongst them for a minute, and as Payne’s eyes settled back on them he had a horrible feeling they were all about to walk away. Skelly was the first one to scoff; “Payne, ya gotta be kiddin’ man! We ain’t leavin’!” Silas joined in immediately; “Hell yeah, you’re a good man and a good boss and we’re sticking with you the whole way! Fuck these guys, it’s all or nothing with us-! Hell, you’re the one that damn near had us make a pact.” Payne chuckled at that; “Yeah, we were kids back then Silas.” “Well, it still means a lot to us!” Marimacho folded her arms with a smile; “You stick by us and our families. If we ever need anything you and Y/N are there, and if there’s ever something troubling us you’re lenient and understanding. Side note too, but your gal is awesome… We’d miss her too much! No-one gets left behind Payne, you’ve always been about that.” “Here, here!” Kid and Gull followed suit on the other three. He blinked a couple of times, humbled – glad that they wouldn’t turn their backs on something good. Still, he smirked, Payne could count on their loyalty – they were a motley crew for sure, but all great friends. He was glad they’d still take some stupid lines said as teenagers so seriously. He nodded, looking at each of them in turn; “You’re right. No-one gets left behind.” His smirk turned back to a small smile; “So, lets get back to the ones who are waiting for us.” *** He had called you the evening before to say he was leaving. You thought it seemed very sudden, but you supposed Payne would rather make sure, and head home than promise you something and find out he couldn’t keep it. He’d also let you know they were getting on the plane, and now you knew he was on his way back you couldn’t have been more excited. So, as soon as you heard his truck, you couldn’t help grinning. It was an all too familiar sound; and not just to you. Seemingly every horse in the stables knew too; his and yours racing to the top end of the paddock, and the dogs were also in chorus. You chuckled to yourself; “Daddy’s home.” Washing and wiping your hands quickly on a towel from where you’d been working, you ran to the door as you heard his truck pull up. By the time you’d opened it and run onto the porch, he’d already leapt from the vehicle and was walking over. Payne stood at the bottom step, presenting himself, grinning at he looked up at you; “Honey, I’m home!” You shook your head at him but, too overcome with joy to care about him being cheesy, you leapt off the porch and into his arms. “God, I missed you so much… I missed you so, so much!!” You cried blissfully as he held you tight to his chest. Payne understood that notion all too well; he’d spend the entire flight thinking about how he couldn’t wait to hold and kiss you again. And now here he was, and you were in his embrace; “I know…” He kissed your hair, before you shifted to capture his lips, arms tangling around his neck. It was a hard kiss, and long, very nearly taking both your breaths away. You smiled, stealing another, “You’ll have to tell me everything.” “Didn’t I already?” He smirked, not letting you leave his lips – oh, you knew exactly how the rest of this day was gonna go. “Uhm, I think I said when you came back, you had to tell me all about how you lived your dreams!” “Ahhh… You won’t even give me 2 seconds to say hello to my lady?” “I think you made your intentions for your lady perfectly clear…” You grazed your lips to his once again, “I may say she has done the same.” You tipped your head, with a raised eyebrow, “Mayhaps she has, but who are you gonna listen to first – the kids are whining.” You didn’t need to point that out, he could already hear that the animals were glad he was back. He pulled you in closer, voice lowering, “The kids can hush, mom and dad are talking…” smirking whilst kissing you again, “How well can they have been looked after, if they’re cryin’ for me?” “Of excitement, actually. They just missed you as much me!” “Uh huh, how about my coat, you look after that?” You laughed, “No-one is wearing a coat like that in this weather.” He made a face, “Okay, ‘cept you. Crazy man.” “Ha!” This time it was Payne laughing hard, and his hands ran down your body. You smirked running your hands from behind his neck across his broad shoulders to study his shirt, before chuckling. Emblazoned on the front were six photographs of form fitting jeans, with the caption ‘A Cowboys Best Assets’. The shirt itself hugged close to his chest and left your partner easy on the eye; not that he wasn’t already, of course. “Well, damn. That shirt’s not wrong… I like it.” Besides he was wearing a pair of those jeans himself right now. “Oh really? Thought you might.” “Mhm…” You tangled your fingers in it, and pulled him into yet another kiss. “But I’d like it and your best assets on the floor of our bedroom right now.” You removed his hat from his head and placed it on your own, with a wink. He didn’t need telling twice, hoisting you from the floor as you wound your legs around his waist; “Oh, yes m’am.” Payne took the porch steps quickly, and didn’t stop until he had you tangled in bedsheets.

---

is this from a Tumblr post? I feel like it is... Might need to find it out there and credit back

Thank you for reading my lovelies! 😘😘😘  You know I love this enough to continue it, right? 😉

[loveafterthefact]

Love After the Fact Chapter 42: If This Is My Only Chance, Let Me Be Here

Alfor makes an attempt at parenthood.

First  Previous  Next

Alfor listens to everyone bicker and argue about hows and whys in silence. He's too busy dwelling on Romelle's words, about that blue ember fading into nothing. He only pays attention when someone shouts Lance's name and the boy jumps.

“What? What is it?”

“Who tried to kill you and why?” Adam stares at the young prince. “Where the quiznak has your head been?”

Alfor bristles, not in the mood to hear anything against his son.“If you cannot maintain the proper level of decorum when addressing my son, I-”

Lance cuts in. “Apologies, my thoughts were elsewhere. Why do you need my opinion?”

“You’re the idea guy,” Adam sighs. “Nobody takes a shit around here unless you think it’s a good idea. And then I get your ideas, and turn them into flowers.” Adam smiles, raised fingers opening like a flower in bloom. “So? Who wants you dead?”

"I... Don't know. Aside from the obvious, it could be anyone." The young prince sighs, wraps his arms around himself.

"What do you mean, 'aside from the obvious'?" Lotor seethes. Lance just sighs, visibly exhausted. Alfor's hand twitches, wanting to reach out, put a hand on his boy's shoulder. Something holds him back.

"Sorry. Sorry. I'm just-" The boy sighs again. "Sorry."

"Let's begin with security," Alfor murmurs, wanting to help. "Who knows how to get into your tower?"

“Hunk, Pidge, and Lanval. I trust them.”

“Guess I’ll be interrogating people in the morning.” Adam stretches his arms above his head.

“You’ll be interrogating people immediately,” Alfor growls. “Run along and do your job, before I find someone else to do it for you.”

He doesn't mean to be unkind, harsh, but Alfor is scared. He's terrified of losing his son. His son almost died. He was almost murdered. Adam simply nods, bows out of the room. His gaze doesn't waver, face cool and unruffled despite his king's anger. It's one of the reasons Alfor finds Adam unsettling.

“The rest of you go find rooms to stay in, in the heart of the castle. No windows.” Coran herds everyone out of the room, offering his husband a pointed look on his way out. Before anything more can be said, Alfor is alone with his son.

The silence rings in his ears like the clash of cymbals. His son, still dressed in bloodied nightclothes, folds his arms, turns away, gazing at his little spouse in the pod.

“I know you still think I’m in the wrong,” Lance whispers. “But just because you learned to live as a monster doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

Alfor sighs, sits on the floor on tired bones. “It was a different time. In the beginning, I dreamed of having your choice. But your grandmother, Queen Amasi, loved war. She loved the idea of conquering worlds, of reaching across the stars and painting them in blood. And what she wanted more than anything was to squash out the seemingly primitive race living right next door. Milophoebs of war, and as the young future prince and king, I was expected to take part. When my queen gave the order for me to slaughter a village of innocents, I chose the easy way.”

“The easy way would have been to say ‘no’.” Lance grinds his teeth under Alfor’s gaze.

“No, my son. You were born a prince. You’ve been disobeying me since before you even learned the word ‘no’. I only ever knew how to say yes.” Alfor licks his lips. “A man who says yes to a royal’s every whim has no business being a royal themselves.”

“The blind following the blind.” Staring at his spouse in the tube, Lance doesn’t quite mind this distraction.

“More like the blind leading the seeing.” Alfor watches his son, the one who could have been dead over a varga ago. Thank the Ancients he’s still here, standing chilly in front of him. He doesn’t give a damn about his reception. All he feels is relief.

“I'm worried that there was no assassin for Keith,” Lance whispers. “I'm worried an enemy knows I haven't bed him. But I didn't say anything because it’s possible they didn’t think we’d put up such a fight. Maybe one of their group was lost in transit. There could be any number of reasons, and with each reason, more motives and more questions.

“The question for the immediate is how they got in. I’ve been thinking about it, and… I think they somehow accessed the breezeway doors in the garden. When we returned from the ball, the garden doors were open, so I closed them. It didn’t occur to me then, because Keith’s left them open before, but I don’t think they were opened at all this quintant.”

“Hm. They would have left them open because they weren’t sure when you would return. A cold room with open doors is far less suspicious than a cold room with closed doors.”

“One came in first. Easier to hide. Then, once we were asleep, they let in the others. They were probably under our bed the entire time. In our room. Touching our stuff. Just hanging out, waiting for us to fall asleep.” Lance’s fingernails dug into his palms.

Alfor simply hums, watches his son slough off that sense of security home typically affords. With his position, it's practically a right of passage.

“He loves that garden. I can’t take that away from him. Or the loft in the tower. Sometimes it’s the only good thing in his day. But I have to keep him safe, too.”

“Lance, that boy does not need your rescuing or your charity. He’s a child, not incompetent. Or helpless.”

“He’s my responsibility! Zarkon made him my responsibility!” Those brown fingers curl into his hair. “He said- When he- When he handed Keith over to me he told me to take good care of him! Zarkon said I had to give him the life that he couldn’t provide! And now he got hurt protecting me!”

“Lancel.” Alfor reaches out nice and slow, runs a gentle hand through his son’s hair. Those fingers loosen, slip away. “Zarkon could have given Keith all that you have and more. The difference is that you wanted to do it, and he didn’t. He shipped off his own nephew because he was tired of the reminder.”

“Reminder?” Lance mumbled.

“That he left his brother to die alone out in the sticks and leave a little boy behind to fend for himself.”

“Oh.”

Alfor sighs, ruffles his son’s hair. “He’s not your responsibility, Lance. He’s not your ward, or your kit, or your pet. He’s your husband. He doesn’t need a babysitter. He needs a friend.”

They both know the situation isn’t that simple, that Keith does in fact need more than that, but reassurance is an exercise in selective truth. Lance bites his lip, looks up at him with cautious blue eyes. “We’re- We’re working on more than that? It’s, uh. I dunno. It’s something. Maybe even something good.”

“Took you two long enough. Much as I hate it, you are good together.”

“Finally coming around, huh? Guess you can teach an old shreika a new trick.”

“Cram it. I’m not that old.” Alfor smirks. “But yeah, maybe, this one time, I can overlook the kit’s… heritage.”

“Very generous of you.” Lance still laughs, tipping his head back against the pod. Almost relaxed. Alfor feels some weight fall from his shoulders. It's not too late.

“I never knew you were funny,” the boy murmurs.

“I didn’t use to be. I didn’t use to be anything. Melinor showed me how.”

“I… I never realized you cared about her.”

“I adored Melinor. She was my best friend. She made me a person, even if there are still parts of me that are missing. We loved each other deeply, in our own way. I miss her every second of every day.” The king chuckles. "I can still see the smirk on her face as she shoved me into Coran…

“You’re doing a wonderful job, Lance. With everything. With the ball, and new legislation, and taking care of the people, and your relationship with Keith- You’re doing amazing, and I’m proud of you.”

Alfor watches a bright shine collect along the rims of Lance's eyes. That shouldn't happen, he thinks. It shouldn't be like this. “Thanks,” the boy chokes, gulping. “I- Thanks.”

With a nod, Alfor gets to his feet. His son’s misty eyes break something in him and he doesn’t know what else to do about it except flee. “I’ll leave you to wait for him while I go put the fear of the Ancients into our guards. We’ll be increasing the watch from now on. If you insist upon it, your room has been cleaned and you may return to it. There will be guards posted outside your tower.” The king makes for the door, stops, turns back just before his exit.

“You’re taking tomorrow off. Both of you. Adam is off too, as soon as he finishes his interrogations. Give him more, if you can spare it. He looks ready to crumble.”

Lance nods, lets his father slip away again. He rises, begins to pace, fights to keep himself awake as he waits for his spouse.

Shiro leans silently against the wall just outside, lost in his own history.

[idkthisisjustforfanfic]

two years too late, chapter f o u r

Jake Newcomb was tall and blonde and probably one of the most sarcastic people you’d ever met. When you were ten, you had told him that if you never married anyone, you’d be marrying him. He took it in stride, really, seeing as you informed him of this decision rather than asking for his take on the matter. 

You liked to think of him as the brother you never had, the one you’d go to for advice or reassurance if he could handle being serious for more than five seconds. He’d probably called you by your name only fifteen times, ever--Smalls had been a mainstay since it’s origination in 2007.

Adam Penter met Jake when they were in nursery school--only a year before they were in the same class as Harry in Year 1. Adam was just as loud and just as funny as Jake and Harry--but he was a much better listener and couldn’t stand the Rolling Stones.

He’d been in and out of relationships with girls the whole time you’d known him, seemingly always with ones who turned him into some type of puddle the second they left him. He was sensitive and sweet and put up a good front: his humor just a shield for his emotions. 

Jake and Adam together sometimes felt like babysitting--avoiding blowouts and roughhousing became second nature when everyone was together.

“M’probably just gonna beat the shit out of him as soon as he gets here,” Jake laughed, his elbows resting on the kitchen table at Adam’s mum’s. The curtains over the window were the same for the last thirteen years: a red and white toile pattern that always seemed to remind you of history class.

“So you’re serious when you say he paid for you ticket?” Jessie’s eyes were kind of wide, she leaned in on the table to stare at you more directly. 

“Yes and I thanked him a thousand times already, very sweet of him, I know.”

“Did he say anything about why he suddenly wanted to hang out with you?”

Adam’s question had no ill-intent, but the words still stung like a skinned knee. 

“No, I dunno--he said he was glad, though, on the plane.”

“Hmm,” Bryn sipped at the beer in her hand, eyeliner thick around her eyes for a night on the town. Holmes Chapel, that was. 

There was never much going on in the sleepy town where everyone knew everyone’s business. Save for the few days before Christmas and New Years when your generation would flock home, momentary pauses on their lives in London or Manchester, a drive up to the countryside to get sloshed at the Red Lion before some quality family time. 

Bryn was leaning against a wall, right next to Adam. As soon as Harry showed up, you’d head downtown. “And you still haven’t talked about it?” 

“No!”  You said quickly, setting your beer on the table with force. “And none of you are going to bring it up tonight, yeah? Cause that’s seriously the last thing any of us need having not seen him in so long.”

They seemed to shrink at that, averted gazes and hunched shoulders as Jake cleared his throat. “S’fine, Smalls. None of us will bring it up and it sounds like he won’t either.”

You hadn’t told them that he’d tried. You didn’t tell them about your emergency trip to the toilet  for a minute to clear your head. 

“And you’re--are you, like--” Jessie treaded carefully, you knew the question she was posing before she could even form a full sentence. 

You cut her off. “No. I’m not. I will not. Let’s leave it.” You were not falling in love with him again. 

Jessie Alby had been your best friend since you showed up at their school at ten years old. She  was bold and brazen and sure, quite loud and energetic, a thick accent inherited from her Northern parents. She’d been dreaming about going back to school, a PhD in Creative Writing. She now had her sights set on being a Uni professor. You couldn’t really picture her in that role, though, not with the mouth she had.

“Oh fucking relax,” she rolled her eyes. “M’just asking.”

Bryn Miller was quite the opposite, really. Poised, posed, and rather posh, Bryn was smarter than the rest of you by far. She started working in finance straight out of Uni and she probably made twice your salary. She’d be running her own company in a few short years, you were sure of it. 

There was a knock on the door, Jessie danced over to open it, revealing a hooded Harry on the front step of the tiny house. His hands were in the pockets of a denim jacket, dressed down in a sweatshirt and black jeans. He offered a wide grin into the house before stepping in from the cold.

“Well hello,” Jessie greeted excitedly, his arms wrapping around her with a squeeze. The rest of them rushed over through the living room, socked feet padding on the brown carpet that had endured one too many alcohol spills in your teen years. You trailed behind, giving them space and time to take a look at him--like parents whose child had just come home from their first weeks at school.

A chorus of greetings echoed through the living room as they all took turns hugging him. Jessie then Adam then Bryn and then Jake. 

“Smallsy,” he offered a two-finger salute in your direction. “Two days no see.”

You forced a laugh and smiled in return, all eyes in the room on you. You shrugged your shoulders. “How’s your mum? And Gemma?”

Adam seemed to motion for you to all follow him back into the kitchen. 

“They’re good,” Harry said casually. “S’good to be home for a bit. Adam, are your parents here?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Downstairs, I think.” He opened the fridge, tossing a beer in Harry’s direction once you’d all reclaimed your seats around the kitchen table.

Of course he’d ask--he’d always been the one friend to make sure he said hello and thank you to whoever was hosting. But Adam’s parents meandered upstairs a bit later when they heard the laughter in response to Harry’s story about he and his sister fighting over the bigger guest bedroom. 

One of the first things Harry had done after the band started making money was buy his mum a new house on the outskirts of town. An upgrade from their townhouse with a small garden, the one where you’d watched scary movies on Halloween and where you did homework at the kitchen table once in a while. 

The new house was set back from the street, almost out of view when you drove by. You’d been only once--beautiful shrubs maintained by a stranger in a landscaping shirt still stuck out in your memory. That was probably the summer of 2012. 

You watched and stayed quiet as Harry reintegrated into the group, his laugh just as loud as it was at sixteen, only now he had a five o’clock shadow and an extra four inches in height. He told them all about your midnight walks through the village--the Pad Thai you’d eaten and the Sara Bareilles concert. 

He asked them about their jobs and their families, nodding thoughtfully as they took turns giving  him an update. You wondered, as the stories and updates unfolded, if anyone else was feeling angry by the way he’d faded out so easily. 

Jake and Adam had always been quick to defend him, even when he royally fucked them over. They’d make an excuse. He’s busy, he’s in a foreign country and doesn’t get good reception. As far as you were concerned, it didn’t matter.

So maybe it angered you a little bit that things seemed to click back into place like puzzle pieces--once apart but never changing shape.  But maybe everyone else was more forgiving because they hadn’t been in love with him when he left. 

**

The inside of the Red Lion was frozen in time. The brick fireplace in the corner always seemed to keep the dim room warm as you threw back drink after drink. Tiny wooden tables were cramped together as always, bodies and chairs spread around the room as music leaked from the speakers overhead.  

You’d all shown up a bit late--a fair amount of old classmates already settled when the six of you walked in from the car park. 

Kieran Chesna, Mollie Amsbury, Kenny Tilley, Maddie Winslow, Amy Goodwin, Michael Waite. Familiar faces greeted you with hellos and how are yous, but you certainly noticed the buzz and the whispers that spread when Harry stepped in behind you, pulling a beanie off of his head when he was shielded from the wind. 

You could only imagine how strange and out of place he must have looked to them all--making a rare appearance as if he was still one of the gang, not an award winning musical artist who had enough money to buy the Red Lion out from its owners. But if he was nervous he hid it well, offering hugs and handshakes to people you’d both known since you were kids. 

 You’d made your own rounds with Bryn and Jessie in tow, getting an update from Amy about her engagement and from Kieran about his sister’s wedding. After grabbing a cocktail from the bar, you sat back down between Jake and Mollie, answering their questions about your work in New York.

“So you don’t ever think you’ll come back?” Mollie smiled up at you, her blonde hair was shorter  than it was last Christmas when she brought a new boyfriend to the meetup. Apparently he wasn’t in the picture anymore. 

A shrug of your shoulders and sip of your drink. “Not here, at least. Maybe London, but it’d take a really good reason to get me out of New York.”

“So cool that you’re writing for The Scoop,” she cooed, resting her chin in her hands. “You’re kind of famous, y’know!”

You shook your head but laughed. “M’not famous--I just have some dedicated readers I guess. And I’m an idiot on the internet, so that helps.”

Jake lifted an arm to pat you on the back, his lips pulling into a smirk as he looked between you and Mollie. “Leave it to Smalls to post her own embarrassing date fails on twitter for the whole world to laugh at.”

You couldn’t disagree--working at The Scoop had completely changed your life in a lot of ways. You were way more comfortable poking fun at yourself, your followers growing each time you shared an article or got into funny quarrels with celebrities on social media.

Your list about the fifteen most embarrassing things about millennial culture really seemed to seal the deal. Your stories were getting millions of views, your inbox was being flooded with messages from strangers, and most importantly, Whitney was impressed and appreciative of the humor you were bringing to The Scoop. 

It was nice to know that your classmates were impressed with your work and the fact that you moved to the other side of the Atlantic, but the excitement in Mollie Amsbury’s face increased tenfold when Harry sat down next to you.

It’s not like there was a competition to see who’d been the most successful as an adult, but if there was, Harry would win. Which was fine. You loved your job. You loved New York and you didn’t need Harry Styles in your life to be happy.

“The album is amazing, Harry, as always,” Mollie’s eyes glazed over, Harry took a sip of his beer before setting it on the table. 

“Oh, thanks, Molls--how’re you, though? How’s work?”

“S’good, s’whatever,” she laughed, her eyelashes fluttering as she offered a coy smile to Harry. Jake offered you a knowing look between them as he ran a hand through his hair. 

Harry was funny like that--there were moments when he hated the attention and wanted nothing to do with it. Some nights he’d show up at the Red Lion and seem annoyed by anyone even mentioning that it’d been a year since they saw him. 

Other moments he ate the attention up, hungry for the reassurance that your former classmates still loved and adored him, despite his long absences and poor communication. 

“Tell me about tour though--so cool you’re doing it all by yourself now!” Mollie was more than happy to give Harry the attention--she still rested her head in her hands, watching the words fall out of his mouth like honey. 

“S’cool, definitely different than being in the band, but s’good. Busy for sure, so I’m glad to have some time off for the holidays.”

A smile pulled at Mollie’s lips, a knot in your stomach. 

“So amazing,” her voice was high-pitched, like a bird singing in the sunrise or maybe a whizzing blender. Either way, you took another sip of your drink. 

You liked Mollie Amsbury. She was sweet and friendly and never gave you any trouble in school. She was just as bad as the rest of them, though, becoming more enchanted by Harry as his net worth grew and suddenly missing him so much more than she ever did before he was famous. 

To save Mollie’s reputation in your mind, you decided it’d be best to do a lap and visit with others. After all, hearing about someone’s job as a cashier would be more entertaining that listening to her gush about how talented and special your friend was. 

“Hi,” you found Jessie at the bar and pulled up a stool beside her, letting your elbows rest on the counter in a sign of defeat. She sat with Adam and Michael Waite--both incredibly enthralled by a video on Adam’s phone, their faces squished together to watch whatever it was. 

“Hi,” she turned to take a good look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you sighed, the bartender took your empty glass and offered a refill. “Just sick of hearing Mollie drone on about how amazing Harry is.”

Jessie peered over her shoulder, a quick glance in their direction to take in the sight of Jake still stuck between them. “Yeah, well, you know how it is,” a sigh escaped her lips, turning back to your before offering a smile. “S’fun, though, to see everyone, right?”

You stared at her suspiciously, eyes scanning her face as the bartender set down a new drink in front of you. 

“What?”

“Why do you want me to be having so much fun?”

“Y/N, just relax, will you? You’re so...on guard about him being around again you’re not even able to enjoy the fact that we’re all together.”

You rolled your eyes, blinked a few times, took a sip of your cocktail and contemplated her words. She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either. When you didn’t say anything, she kept talking. 

“He’s being fine, okay? He’s normal and he’s not mad about it or anything, so just, relax, okay?”

“He’s never said anything about it to you, has he?”

“No,” she said quickly, “not even last--”

She cut herself off and her eyes doubled in size, her face going white before she bit at her lip, horror washing over her face as you leaned in to lower your voice.

“Last when? Did you see him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Jessie,” you spoke her name calmly, even and controlled as your fingers tightened around the cold glass in front of you. 

She let out a dramatic groan--almost more of a whine--and let her head flop to the side as she grimaced. “We saw him last Christmas--he was home and texted Jake and then, I don’t know, we just tagged along.”

Your jaw hung open, eyes unblinking as Jessie tried to twist her mouth into a smile. “We didn’t tell you because we knew you’d be upset and he asked us not to because he figured you didn’t want to see him.”

“Are you kidding me?!”

Jessie leaned forward to grab your hands, holding them in hers with force. “I’m so sorry--we’re total knobs and you have every right to be mad and we suck, alright?”

“You do suck,” you pulled your hands from her. “You’re liars and traitors and--”

“Why is she a liar and traitor?” Bryn appeared beside you--her hair pulled back into a pony, her glasses framing her face in the dim room. 

“You’re one too,” you said angrily, leaning back to the bar to reach for your drink. You’d need at least three more if you were going to let them off the hook for this. 

“I let it slip that we--y’know--engaged with the enemy.”

“What?” Bryn’s head dipped to the side, her eyes narrowed as she waited for Jessie to explain. 

She looked around the room, mostly to search for Harry. When she located him--now standing with Maddie Winslow and Kieran, she turned back to the two of you. “We saw Harry last year. I told her. She’s pissed.”

Bryn’s face contorted into one of hesitance. “Oh, Y/N, we didn’t--we were just--we missed him, you know?”

“He literally ditched us! Then he shows up in 2015 and lets me make a fool of myself and then you two go engaging with him?” You borrowed Jessie’s word, the two drinks you’d already had lending themselves to the flurry of emotion rising in your chest.

Anger. Betrayal. Jealousy. Guilt. Confusion. On one hand, you were proper pissed. They’d thrown caution to the wind and gone behind your back. They’d lied and kept something from you for a year and as far as you were concerned, you had every right to flip a table or light something on fire. 

But then there was the guilt. They wouldn’t have to lie or sneak around if you’d not been so uptight about seeing him or talking to him or anything in between. Or, realistically, if you hadn’t been such an idiot to begin with. 

The scene in the bathroom played in your head for the ten thousandth time. 

“What do you mean?” He asked, his head turned to the side to watch you for a second, but you couldn’t get over the cool tile on your bare skin. 

“Dunno,” you slurred out the word, a whine escaping your lips when he cracked a smile. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” He laughed, his finger reaching over to poke you in the stomach. 

“The cute smile thing.”

“Can’t help it,” he shrugged. “You bring it out of me.”

“Why’s she staring off into space?” Adam appeared beside you, leaning an arm on your shoulder, his question posed to Bryn and Jessie as he finished the last sip of his drink. A shaky breath escaped your lips as you pulled yourself back into the present.

“Jessie blabbed that we saw Harry last Christmas.”

You looked up at Adam, his face dropping quickly when your eyes landed on his. “Smalls,” he said your name slowly, apologetically, even. 

“Save it,” you said, pushing yourself up from the stool before hopping down to the floor. “I’ll get over it. I just--I need a minute.”

They watched you walk away, doing your best to avoid Harry’s gaze as you passed him in the middle of the room with Jake and Kieran by his side. You slipped out the front door of the Red Lion, the main street through town still busy despite the late hour. 

You leaned up against the side of the building, thoughts swirling in your head like the wind in the sky. 

You smiled up at him, your lips pulled into a thin line to avoid the smile that so badly wanted to plaster itself on your face. The bathroom was dark, the noises of a muffled party were seeping through the door. Jessie’s laugh, Jake talking loudly over the music. 

But you felt safe in here--secluded and cozy and best of all, it was just the two of you. You turned to look at him quickly. “Why’d you show up tonight, anyway?”

He brought his gaze to the floor quickly. It wasn’t necessary a question you needed to ask. His band was done. Who knew what he’d do next--though you knew he’d figure it out--maybe a quick stop in Holmes Chapel was enough to get him grounded. 

You blinked quickly, forcing out the memory like it was a bad taste in your mouth--stubborn and harsh as the door to the Red Lion opened. Jake appeared in a sweatshirt, a cigarette between his lips when his eyes landed on you. 

“What’reyadoinouhere?” His words jumbled together, a combination of the alcohol and his attempt to keep the cigarette in place. 

“Avoiding you five,” you laughed, anger fading from your veins as he came around and draped an arm over your shoulders, the heat from his body a welcome change from the night air. 

“What’d we do now?” He brought a lighter out of his pocket and held it up to the butt--you lifted a hand to help shield the wind. 

“Hung out with Harry last year and didn’t tell me.”

“Hmm,” he nodded, taking a puff before letting the smoke return to the black sky. “Surprised the girls kept it quiet that long.”

“Me too,” you said. 

A moment of silence passed between the two of you. You were appreciative of the fact that he didn’t try to make an excuse or explain it away. Instead, he took another puff of the cigarette and then looked down at you. 

“Y’know, Smallsy, I do think you should talk to him about it.”

You let a groan escape your lips, a churning in your stomach reminded you of why you hated this particular piece of advice.

“Why do you think that, Jacob?”

“Because he doesn’t care.”

You let out a small laugh, amused by Jake’s level of intoxication but also intrigued by his statement. A few people walked up to the front door--faces you recognized but couldn’t quite name--and headed inside. 

“Why do you think that, Jacob?”

“He told me.”

Smoke danced up from his mouth, swirls of gray against the black sky above. “He told you?”

He nodded, his lips pursing together. 

“Wh--what did he say?”

“He said ‘it was two years ago, doesn’t matter,’” he imitated Harry, his face twisting into a serious grimace with dipped eyebrows. It was a good thing that Jake was some type of Marketing and Analytics pro in London--he didn’t have a future in acting. 

You let out a snorted laugh at his impression--his face immediately delivering a frown, he pulled his arm from around you and took a step back. “Laughing at my impression? I thought it was spot on, honestly!”

“It was shit,” you said simply, folding your arms over your chest before another gust of wind fluttered by. A small Holmes Chapel bus slowed across the street, depositing passengers onto the sidewalk. 

Another puff from his cigarette between words. “I think you’re being a baby about it, Y/N.”

You looked up at him, his tone more serious than before. Your shoulders tensed, suddenly more defensive. “M’not being a baby--you weren’t there, you know. You didn’t see what happened.”

He rolled his eyes. “Heard all about it though from both of you.”

You shrunk at that--silently questioning how Harry’s retelling was different than yours. Did he recount the temperature in the bathroom, hot air blowing from the radiator nearby? 

“It’s so fucking hot in here,” you said suddenly, your fingers working towards the buttons on your shirt. Shiny, silky, green. 

“So hot,” Harry said, his voice lower as he slumped against the wall in the dark. He crawled towards the radiator on his hands and knees. “What is wrong with this thing, anyway?”

He looked up quickly, the corner of his mouth pulling up when you drunkenly slipped the shirt off of your shoulders. 

“Too hot for this,” you said, tossing it to the ground, the buttons making tiny taps against the tile. 

“Alright, s’freezing. Fuck this.” Jake put out his cigarette and tossed it to the ground--you heard Alyssa’s voice in your head about saving the environment, but you didn’t have the energy to fight Jake on his disposal or ask any more questions about the night your life fell apart. 

He took two big steps to the door, held it open, allowing you to cross under his arm. One look around the room to see Jessie and Bryn laughing hysterically at something Harry said--a determined march to the bar. Your card smacked down on the surface. Another drink. 

Two more. 

Then a third. 

Then dark. 

**

You heard the clanging of pots and pans before you opened your eyes. One blink, two, a pounding in your head that felt more like a jackhammer on the pillow beside you than a headache. Grey walls, the scent of waffles--no, pancakes. 

“Morning,” his voice was behind you--stood over the bed as he folded a t-shirt and placed it into a drawer. 

“Jesus,” you flinched at the sound, pulling the sheet up to cover your fully clothed body as you twisted on the mattress to face him. “What happened--why am I here?”

“Relax,” he laughed, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “You didn’t want to go home--said your mum and dad would be livid if you showed up so trashed.”

You let out a breath of air. That was true, really. They would be. Harry padded around the bed and sat down beside you, his eyes steady on your face as you ran a hand through your hair. 

“I just offered to bring you to mine because the rest of the gang was pretty toasted too.”

You got a glimpse of the bar in your memory: Maddie and Mollie both hugging you goodbye, almost tripping over the legs of chairs in the crowded bar. 

You didn’t know if Drunk You was trying to actually avoid an issue with your parents, or if she was really just bold enough to find a way to sleep in Harry’s bed. You shivered at the thought. 

“Need an aspirin? I’ll get you some water, too.” He was up and out of the room in seconds, giving you time to throw yourself over the sheets to reach for your phone on the side table. Composing a message to Jessie and Bryn, you typed furiously. 

Y/N L/N (9:13am): Which one of you let my drunk ass go home with Harry?!

Jessie Alby (9:13am): GOOD MORNING BEAUTIFUL. 

Bryn Miller (9:13am): You were a mess and he offered. You should be thankful, not angry!!

You rolled your eyes, tossing the phone back to the mattress when he reappeared. 

“Here,” he said, handing you a glass half full, a tiny red pill in his hand. You took it, threw it into your mouth, and took a big gulp. He took back the glass and placed it on the night table. 

“I’m sorry--I hope I didn’t, you know, say anything stupid.”

He laughed, a small smile before he shrugged and shoved his hands in the pockets of his joggers. “No--s’fine. I offered, really. Wanted to make sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit,” he gestured down to a plastic bag on the floor, immediately causing a flush to rise your cheeks. 

“Great. Wouldn’t be the first time,” you forced a laugh. He smiled at that--less tension in the room than moments prior. 

“My mum’s making breakfast downstairs--Gemma’s here too. M’sure they’d love to see you.”

“They don’t think we, like, did anything, right?”

“I slept on the couch downstairs, so, they’re aware of that.”

“Good.”

He stood there for a second, silently watching as you licked at your dry lips. You didn’t remember throwing up or falling down or anything, so aside from waking up in a bed that wasn’t yours, last night seemed like enough of a success. 

“I’ll, uh, get dressed.”

“Right,” he nodded, heading out of the room to shut the door behind him. 

An exhale when you were alone. 

You remembered the fifth drink--the last, you were sure. Jessie and Bryn had followed you into the bathroom and Mollie walked in on you taking obnoxious selfies. She joined in and then, suddenly, Jake staggered in. 

I thought this was the men’s room, he laughed, before posing for a photo as well. 

When you stood from his bed and looked down at the clothes on your body, you realized they were his. A pair of sweatpants he’d had forever--Holmes Chapel Comprehensive School stretched down the leg in maroon lettering. A black t-shirt, advertisements from local banks and shops on the back, from his Year 9 footy team. 

You found the pile of clothes from the night before--a ball of dark colors on a chair in his room. Luckily, they were versatile enough to be worn in the daylight. 

It wasn’t how you expected to see Anne and Gemma after so many years--you’d imagined that maybe it’d be at someone’s wedding, hugs with cocktails while you caught up. Instead, it was over pancakes and coffee and in the comfort of their own home. 

They were thrilled to see you--Anne didn’t even seem to mind that you ended up in her home due to your staggering lack of decorum. When she hugged you and pressed her cheek to yours, she smelled like honey and whispered in your ear, so good to see you, love. 

It was fine, it was nice. You’d always liked his mum and sister and, after sweating out a hangover in Harry’s sheets, you were starving. But that didn’t stop you from bolting out the door as soon as the plates were cleared and the washing up was done. 

If you had to sit in the car beside him while he drove you home, the least you could do was get it over with. 

“Hey, whoa, Y/N, what is up with you?” His voice was loud enough for you to hear it over the morning wind, you turned quickly, unaware he’d even followed you out the door after you’d said goodbye. 

Your lips parted, nothing but a breath emerged. You looked around the front garden--hedges and grass and a cloudy gray sky. “I just--I feel bad, I didn’t mean to impose.”

“You’re not--I don’t,” he paused, cut off by the shutting of your door as you climbed inside his car.

“What?” You asked when his opened, he shook his head and pushed the key into the ignition.

“I don’t know why you’re acting like all of this is so weird. Like me being your friend is so weird.”

“Because I don’t know how to be that with you anymore.”

His shoulders slumped. He let out a sigh and then started the car. “Maybe we don’t have to be friends.”

“And do what? You’ll fade out again like last time, like both times, and we’ll just pretend all of this never happened? Why do you just get to decide when you get to be in my life? Who made that rule? S’not fair.”

He turned to look at you from the driver’s seat, hesitant, like direct eye contact might make you explode. He put a hand on the wheel and put it in reverse. “I know I’ve fucked up, I’ve said it, like, a bunch over the last week. But you won’t talk to me about it. You won’t even allow me to even begin going there because, what, Y/N, you’re embarrassed? You’re still so caught up about that night that you won’t have a conversation with me?”

You kept your eyes on the winding road once he pulled out of the driveway. “I tried, Harry. I tried to have conversations with you before you left and I tried that night and maybe if you just didn’t suck at being a friend we wouldn’t be doing this right now,” you motioned around the car--black leather seats and black carpet beneath.  

“Well maybe if you weren’t so stuck in the past you’d wake up and notice we’re in the present, okay? Things don’t have to always be the same as they were back then! Jesus, I mean--”

You held up a hand to silence him. He stopped. The radio hummed in the background and the heat puffed out of the vents. 

“I never should have said anything to you that night. I shouldn’t have even talked to you because I was mad that you left and I’m sorry, alright? I’m sorry that I went and made it messy--

I was drunk and it was two years ago and I don’t feel anything I said anymore.”

Quiet. 

“You don’t?”

“No.”

You didn’t really buy it, but you hoped it sounded convincing. 

The door was still locked. He pulled at the knob again but it didn’t give. He turned around and looked at you--a drunken smirk on his face before you could even speak.  

“If I’m locked in a bathroom with anyone, m’glad s’you.”

Maybe he said it because you were shirtless--but the four gin and tonics you had liked to believe otherwise. 

“Ditto.”

He didn’t say anything until the car slowed in front of your house. You unbuckled the seat belt before he put it in park, the only sound was the beeping from the dash, angry that one of you was unprotected.

“Smalls.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m not going to disappear again. Promise.”

“Okay.”

Your heartbeat slowed with the shift in the energy. Just like always, your heart didn’t know  whether you hated him or loved him, but with the headache and nausea that was setting in, you figured now wasn’t the time to decide. 

“Let’s do something for New Years, yeah? With everyone.”

You nodded--the five of you had been doing it together forever, it was just always a crapshoot as to whether he’d show up. “Sure, yeah.”

The door shut behind you and your mum waved from the door at Harry--who offered a smile and wave in return before pulling back onto the road. 

You typed out a message to Bryn and Jessie. 

Y/N L/N (11:03am): I shouldn’t have ever thought we could be friends. 

**

You were sure he wouldn’t show up. More sure than when you were sure you failed a chemistry exam in Year 10 and more sure than the time you knew Jake was going to royally fuck up his date with Laura Dalton. 

In years past he’d spent the new year in London--in clubs, no doubt, with alcohol and women and other celebrities who were much too cool to be sipping on vodka in someone’s parent’s basement. 

The plaid pattern on the couch was straight out of the eighties--the cushions on which you sat were older than all of you. Jessie appeared at the bottom of the stairs with a bottle of rum. “Who wants one?” She asked, her voice excited and lilting as she made her way over to you.

“You need one,” Bryn answered for you, her eyes narrowing in on your permanent pout. 

“I’m fine.”

“Right, and I’m straight,” Bryn laughed, her eyes rolling so far back in her head you were sure they’d disappear. 

Jessie let out an obnoxious laugh as she reached for a red solo cup. She poured a mouthful of liquid in and handed it to you. “Drink.” She ordered.

The wood paneling on the walls had heard many secrets and giggles over popcorn when you, Jessie, and Bryn had tried to fall asleep at slumber parties. Like the time Bryn took a deep breath and admitted her crush on Penny from her science class. We know, you and Jessie had smiled, excited that she’d finally just come out with it. 

“I still feel like shit from before Christmas.”

Jessie gave you a dismissive glance, Bryn was enamored with her phone. “You had Christmas eve, Christmas day, and the five days since to recover. You’ll live. Your liver has practically regenerated by now.”

“I don’t think it works that way,” you told her, squeezing your eyes shut before tipping the cup back to your mouth. A harsh taste--swallowed. Bryn was watching you when you opened your eyes.

“So--you’re done with him?”

“I’m done. There’s no point.”

“And what did he say again?” Jessie plopped herself down on the carpet, terribly eager for all of the details in person before Jake and Adam arrived.

“That I’m stuck in the past.”

“Prat,” Bryn let out scoff. 

“He has a point,” Jessie widened her eyes at you. You shot her a look that made her course-correct. “I just mean I think it’s good for you to close the chapter. You’ve spent a long time having feelings for him and maybe it’s just time to let it die.”

You sighed, she was right. “I should have never even talked to him that night--and I said that! I told him I regret it and that I was drunk and I don’t feel anything now that I said I did.”

Jessie tilted her head to the side. “Do you?”

“No.”

“Y/N,” Bryn lifted an eyebrow.

“I’m trying not to,” you confessed.

Jessie let out a sigh. “I vote you get drunk tonight and ignore him if he shows up and who knows--maybe we’ll go to the Red Lion if people head that way and you can make out with Michael Waite.”

“M’not making out with Michael Waite.”

“I’d make out with Mollie Amsbury,” Bryn said. 

“We know,” you retorted quickly. “No one’s making out with anyone. We’re staying here.”

“Fine,” Jessie said, her phone buzzing on the carpet beside her. “Adam’s here.”

She disappeared up the stairs, Bryn plugged her phone into a cable and played music throughout the room. When Jessie descended the stairs--two at a time out of excitement--she was trailed by three people, not one.

Adam. Jake. Harry. 

Harry, Jake, Adam. 

Jake greeted you and Bryn with a smile and hug, speaking over his shoulder to Jessie, who’d reminded them all that they were welcome to spend the night. Her parents were out of town to see her older brother, they’d return the next morning. Bryn opened up some snacks, Adam set up a dart board on the wall. 

“Let’s talk later, yeah?” Harry spoke to you quietly, his back turned to the rest of them while he poured a drink. 

“About?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You didn’t know there was an us. 

“Yeah,” he nodded. 

“Maybe.” You said. 

He walked away, leaving you to wish that refilling your drink would erase the tension and the awkwardness. As if drinking more would make it less likely to come up. So you did what you’d grown used to over the last two years. You avoided him and did your best to act like you weren’t secretly watching his every move. As if twitter didn’t suggest his username when you opened the search function--or like your discover page on instagram wasn’t littered with pictures of the boy who walked home with you in the rain in Year 8. 

And you thought you were getting away with it. You both drank more and Jake seemed to get more and more competitive over the current game of darts he played against Bryn. So when you felt it was safe, you wandered upstairs to find the bathroom on the other side of Jessie’s parents’ living room.

The same blue carpet sat in front of the toilet--the crime scene of your first drunken night at 15. 

You wiped your hands on the towel, the flush of the toilet muffled noises from downstairs--it was close and you knew it. You weren’t about to miss the countdown and the cheering, the midnight shot of whiskey that usually left you on the floor. 

You opened the door, ready to race down the stairs to find them all excitedly crowded around the television. Instead, the living room was dark, but Harry stood in the middle of it, the blue light of a small telly let his figure glow. 

He had on the same show that you could hear floating up from the basement, but the show in front of you was muted. A busy scene in London unfolded--crowds and cheering as people waited for 2017 to exit. 

“What are you doing up here?”

“I wanted to talk.”

“I don’t think now is a good time,” you said, motioning to the growing excitement on the screen. Neon pink numbers flashed in the corner. Thirty seconds, twenty-nine, twenty-eight. 

“I’m sorry that things were a mess two years ago. I’m sorry it was such a--”

“Terrible night?”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “We were both really drunk.”

You stared at him, the room going silent just like the plane had. Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen. “I’m sorry I made things awkward.” 

He shook his head. “You didn’t, Smalls, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you--if you’d listen.”

Thirteen, twelve, eleven.

A shrug of your shoulders, you glanced back at the telly. “We should go down there.” 

“We could stay here.” He took a step closer to you.

Your stomach seemed to get warm and for a second, you feared it would happen again. You could still feel your palms pressed to the floor, holding up your weight that night.

“I wish you still did feel the way you said you did two years ago,” he said.

“You do? Why?”

Five, four, three.

Instead of answering your question, he shrugged, looking over to the telly as confetti blasted over everyone on the South Bank. Noise erupted from the gang downstairs and Big Ben chimed loudly through the basement speakers.

“Always thought we’d be good together.”

“What?” You stuck your head out, unsure if you’d heard him correctly or if the two drinks you’d had were landing heavily on your still-recovering liver. 

He shrugged. “S’fine, though. I--I guess I missed my chance. I get that.”

“What the fuck are you two doing up here? It’s 2018!” Jessie flipped the light switch on quickly, her eyes going wide when she assessed the lack of space between you. You looked down, also unaware that somehow, you’d brought it down to a matter of mere inches.

A giant step back. “Coming down, sorry, I peed.”

“In the bathroom? Or out here?” Jessie’s face twisted into one of inebriated confusion.

“Yes in the bathroom,” you grunted back at her, a laugh escaping Harry’s lips. 

“We’re good, yeah?” Harry offered a hand between the two of you, to shake as if you’d finally closed a deal.

“Oh,” you looked over to Jessie, hoping she’d get the hint that now would be a good time for her to leave.

She didn’t though, she stared at both of you with a happy and drunk smile on her face. 

“Yeah,” you said, reaching forward to let your hand meet his. “We’re good.”

read the other parts here

AN: Thanks to everyone who has been sharing my excitement about this fic!!! Thank you for the messages and the love and for just READING IT!! Definitely some more hints in this chapter about The Incident. I hope you’re all excited to CRINGE over the full flashback.

tag list:  @clorenafila​ @ainsleesolareclipse @castawaycths @harryspirate @wanderlustiing @ursamajor603 @thurhomish @omgsharry @jdcharliewhiskey @stepping-into-the-light @rachkon​ @jdcharliewhiskey @sad-little-asshole  @shawnsblue​  @gendryia​ @g0bl1nqueen​  @laula843​  @flooome​  a-woman-without-a-plan @awomanindeniall​  @shaw-nm​ @staceystoleyourheart @ohprettylittlemind​ @anssu-amry​ @my-fandomful-life​ @stylesfantasy​ @bookingbee​  @mleestiles​  @haute-romance-quotidienne​ pinkpolaroidgirl craic-head-horan 

[daybreak-academy-fanfic]

Daybreak Academy: Chapter 82

Anxious Receptions

Summary: In which the Daybreak Academy headmasters, along with Ephemer and Anora, attend the wedding for one of Invi’s friends. Word Count: 1,844 First | Previous | Next ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆ ⚬ ☆

Something about being in a room full of strangers gave Anora anxiety. She couldn’t imagine why; it’s not like she could easily recall any incidents in her past that made her feel this way. Maybe she had a fear of being called out for something? It definitely felt like she was walking on pins and needles the moment their group of eight sat on the groom’s side during the wedding proper. She didn’t belong here. She didn’t know anymore. Someone was going to find out that she had the least relation to Kadin Nyoka and tell her to get lost, or accuse her of wedding crashing, or maybe even…

“You alright?”

Ephemer’s soft, hushed voice almost made Anora jump three feet in the air. He didn’t need to talk so softly now; the wedding had already taken place and now the eight of them were at the reception. Anora looked over at him and nodded. She reached for his hand under the table and gave it a light squeeze. Ephemer gave a little squeeze back before the two of them turned their attention back to the others.

“So here’s the deal,” Ms. April told the headmasters as she reached for the open champagne bottle, pouring the drink into their glasses for them, “If all of us get absolutely plastered, I volunteer Anora as our designated driver. She seems responsible enough.”

“Hey!” Ephemer almost immediately objected. “What about me?”

Ms. April looked at him. A wide, catlike grin was etched on her face now. “You bungee jumped off the gym building.” she told him- her voice just as amused and mocking. “Your sense of responsibility got thrown way out the window after that little stunt.”

Ephemer's ears and face quickly became a bright shade of red. “It was one time!” he insisted. “And I was bribed!”

That was when Gula let out a light chuckle before cutting in, “From where I was standing, it looked like you were having way too much fun up there if it was a bribe.”

“C-can we talk about something else?”

“By all rights,” Ms. April bemused, swirling her now filled champagne glass, “Anora should know this story. It was your crowning moment, after all.”

Ephemer could only shake his head and try to hide his face from the others. He hated that he could hear Anora’s light chuckles beside him. It was more unnerving hearing even Ira laugh at him too. After a while, their laughter died down enough that Ira started to get up from the table.

“I’m going to get some refreshments. Does anyone want something while I’m up?”

“Can I come with you?” Ava requested. “I wanted to see if they had any more of those little sandwiches.”

Ira gave her a nod of agreement, helping her out of her seat, before the two of them headed toward the drink table. Conversation quickly started back up again between the remaining six of them. They didn’t even particularly notice when the first dance started. What led them all to look over at the dance floor were the sounds of child-like giggles that rang through the reception hall. Ephemer was the first to look over.

Over on the dance floor was the wedding’s flower girl, Vidia, dancing with her father, the groom, Kadin. The little girl happily danced with her much taller father- even if it was just a set of wiggles and laughter from the both of them. Ephemer gave them a small smile as he rested his head in his hand.

“I’d like to have kids.” Ephemer wistfully sighed. Anora looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He only happened to notice it out of the corner of his eye.

“N-not now of course!” he quickly stammered, shaking his hands in defense. “Later! Much, much later! Like, after we graduate, later! I’m, like, the same age Ava was when she adopted me and I still don’t know how she did it!”

“Smooth recovery there, slick.” Gula couldn't help but add in. Ephemer did not hesitate to give the headmaster a rather cold glare.

“No one asked you.” Ephemer hissed back with a prudent scrunch of his nose. “It's not like I'm harassing you for not marrying Ava off yet. You're just afraid of me calling you 'Papa', aren't you?”

“You will address me as 'Father', young man.” Gula teasingly replied without a second guess.

The corner of Ephemer's mouth twitched before he insisted, “Papa Gula.”

“Watch it- or I'll show you why your name means 'short-lived.'”

“You're not my real dad.”

Upon finding she no longer wanted to hear this conversation, Invi started to get up from the table as well. “I’ll be back soon.” Invi told their group. “I need to give Kadin my congratulations.” 

She was grateful that no one really paid her any mind. Invi absently smoothed out her skirt as she walked toward Kadin and Vidia. Her heart clenched as she looked directly at the toddler while placing a hand on Kadin’s shoulder. He looked up at her and grinned.

“Heya Invi!” he greeted, ceasing his dance with her daughter to shake Invi’s hand. “So glad you decided to come. Saw that army you brought with you too- looks like some crowd. Practically a barrel of monkeys.”

“You could say that.” Invi politely agreed with a less than easy smile of her own. Her attention was diverted from Kadin when she felt something tugging at her skirt. She looked down and nearly paled at seeing Vidia look up at her with bright, wide eyes.

“Dance, dance, dance, dance!” little Vidia proclaimed, reaching her hands up at Invi. Almost immediately, Invi recoiled.

“O-oh no, I don’t think I…”

“Come on, Invi,” Kadin goaded, “Look at that little face. How could you resist it?”

Invi bit her tongue, trying to hold back some rather choice words to Kadin. She knew what he was doing. Rude. Despite her better judgments, though, Invi bent down to carefully pick the little girl up and started to do a light waltz with her. The toddler happily squealed in delight as Invi spun her around, occasionally pretending to dip her a little too.

Back at the table, the sweet display was being watched by one particularly nosey woman.

“Aced,” Ms. April softly said, nudging the tall headmaster with her elbow, “Don't you think there's something… familiar about that little flower girl?”

Aced looked over at her, confused. “What do you mean?” he questioned. At first, Ms. April didn’t seem to answer him. She leaned a bit closer before telling him;

“Look at her eyes.”

“Her eyes?”

The tiny, older woman gave a solemn nod. “And maybe a bit of her nose and chin. Don't they remind you of someone else's?”

Aced still gave Ms. April a quizzical expression before looking back at Invi and Vidia. Since Invi was holding the child, it was much easier to see their profiles. He studied them for a moment before the resemblance clicked with him. Aced's eyes grew wide as he shot April a surprised look. She raised a knowing eyebrow in return before taking a rather long sip from her champagne glass.

. . .

Everyone but Anora decided to socialize in some capacity over the rest of the reception. Ira became the dedicated drink and snack getter, Ms. April had coaxed Aced into dancing more than once, Gula made small talk, Ephemer even managed to get locked into a conversation with some other boys his age, and Invi happened to find the bride to give her best wishes. As for Ava…

The rather short woman weaved in and out of the tables with excitement. Some of it disappeared when she realized that only April, Aced, Ephemer, and Anora were still sitting there.

“Guys!” Ava happily huffed as she tried to regain her breath. “They're about to toss the bouquet! Would anyone like to join me? April? Anora?”

“Thanks but no thanks, Ava.” Ms. April brushed off with a wave of her hand. “I already know that I'm destined to be an old maid in some form or another. Don't need a bridal mosh pit to remind me of it.”

“What about you, Anora?” Ava cheerfully asked. “You want to come with me?”

Her answer was in the form of a very fervent head shake and wide, terrified eyes. Understanding, but not quite realizing, the urgency, Ava gave a bright smile before heading on off.

“You don’t want to join?” Ephemer teased Anora, giving her a little nudge. “I’m sure you’ll make a great bride someday if you catch it. We can have a pretty awesome wedding, just like this one.”

The face Anora gave Ephemer was a cross between confusion and bewilderment. She looked around the reception hall, and could almost feel her face pale over. There were so many people here. If she got married -to Ephemer or otherwise- it wouldn’t be this big. Without meaning to, Anora gave a small grimace before quickly shaking her head. Ephemer’s joking expression soon fell into one of almost disappointment. Did Anora not want to get married? A small thought flickered across his mind that he wasn’t able to take care of her anyway, so how did it matter. But the corner of his mouth twitched- he wasn’t ready to lose her. Not yet.

“Then how about a ring?” he then asked. “Just… I dunno, something to remind yourself of your loved one, and all?”

Anora gave Ephemer an odd little raise of her eyebrow. Before she could answer, the undeniable squeals coming from Ava diverted their attention. In however long their conversation lasted, the bouquet had been tossed and Ava had apparently caught it. She proudly waved the bundle of fake flowers in the air like a trophy. Gula, who was coming back to the table, let out a small chuckle as he sat down.

“Whelp, looks like my days as a single man are at an end.” he teased- more to Ms. April and Aced than to the teenagers.

“I'd drink to that.” April bemused, raising her champagne glass. Gula raised a bemused eyebrow at her before getting his own, their glasses clinking in agreement.

“Can I join in?” Aced nervously asked, raising his glass as well.

“You bet, teddy bear.” Ms. April agreed with a grin just moments before clicking her glass against his. Aced had to move a bit to reach Gula’s glass as well. The three adults tipped down their beverages with a single, unanimous gulp.

Ephemer watched them with a small raise of his eyebrow. He turned his gaze over to Anora -whose social energy meter was running low, so she was distracting herself by drawing little circles with her finger on the table cloth- and let out a small sigh. He could admit to not always being the smartest kid on campus, but he knew one thing; he wanted to be with Anora. He just had to make her a promise.

And he knew just what kind of promise he was going to give her too.

[muthaz-rapapa]

Sekai Seifuku Sakusen Wishlist

Hello people~

Say, does anyone still remember that figure line by Megahouse *retches* ?

Well, it was a short-lived series focused on, as the name (“World Uniform Operation”) suggests, showcasing female characters in their school uniforms.

To my knowledge, all of them were released as 1/10 scaled (eww). And the Precure seasons that had the privilege of getting figures...

Were Futari Wa, Fresh and Heartcatch.

Sailor Moon got theirs as well (the Inner Senshi + Naru) but they were very meh, imo. You were better off getting a more dynamic-looking prize figure at a significantly lesser cost.

Anyways, back to Precure. Not surprised about these three given their seasons’ popularity up to that point. But a shame because as of 2016, there hasn’t been announcement of any new figures. Which basically means, this line didn’t do well. Didn’t do well = the project is more or less cancelled.

On one hand, I’m sorta glad cuz the prices on these figures were ludicrous, especially when made at that scale and with Megahouse’s poor quality track record (I don’t even want to go into all that limited exclusivity bullshit). I bought Tsubomi and Itsuki and they seemed pretty alright. Still too much for a scale with such a simple design, though.

Then on the other, I can’t help but whine to myself a little cuz this is such a great concept. We rarely get merchandise of the Cures in their civilian forms and if they have there Cure alter-egos to go with them, it would be an awesome display on a collector’s shelf.

*SIGH* ...oh well.

That said...if there was a continuation for this series, then here’s my wishlist of the seasons + uniforms I want the most to least:

1) MahoPre - Nobody should be surprised that this is my first pick. MahoPre will always have a very deep, very special place in my heart and as far as uniforms go, the Magic Academy one is indeed my top favorite in all of Precure.

Because duh, it’s for magic school, not regular school, so the design had to match with that idea in mind. And it turned out so charming, didn’t it? I love the magenta/pink color scheme, the plaid bow, the mini sewn-on cape.

Definitely would want the witch hats and wands with them as well. Maybe even the brooms if someone’s feeling generous, enough? hehe :)

Dude, I should just open up my own figure company and make these myself.

2) Go!Pri - I wasn’t a fan of overalls growing up but my opinion of them has shifted to a more positive one recently thanks to seeing the latest fashion trends and Precure’s influence on me.

Really, the character designers draw the girls so cute in overall dresses that I can’t help but think it as well!

Anyways, it seems I have a penchant for academy uniforms or something. There’s a combination of cuteness and sophistication there that I find difficult to resist. Also, the purple undershirt is very fitting since they attend Royal Academy. Wish my school uniform was that nice-looking but alas, I didn’t go to an academy in the Precure world. :P

Anyways, I wouldn’t get all the girls from Go!Pri. Just Kirara and Towa who are my forever favorites. <3

I’ve also seen someone’s fanart of them as a pair (and Haruka + Minami as another pair) based on the Sekai Seifuku Sakusen concept so you can imagine the huge disappointment I felt when I knew Megahouse would never get to this season. *sobbing* 

3) KiraPre - As I said in another post, I’m not collecting KiraPre merchandise but the KiraPati uniform is to die for.

I know this breaks the trend of the line needing to be in “school uniforms” but KiraPre’s school uniforms aren’t anything to write home about. These, however, are much more adorable and therefore, more marketable. ;)

4) StarPre - SERAFUKU BISHOUJO SENSHI

For sure, since they both have space themes, it was only appropriate for StarPre to pay homage to Sailor Moon with having the Star girls wear serafuku.

I like the simplicity of it as well. Hehe~ ^^

And whether I would want everyone or not...it really depends on what kind of poses they’re in and if they can complement each other well.

Also, I suppose since Yuni never went to school, she’d just have a figure in her normal Blue Cat outfit which is fine, too.

5) SuitePre - Mm, yes, this one I’ve been waiting the longest for, despite the seasons listed before it on this list.

I wouldn’t say Suite’s uniform is the most unique but I do love the contrast of the overall cyan color with the magenta contours and bow. It’s a shade I don’t think I’ll ever see on another school uniform and even so, it’ll probably be hard to pull off nicely.

Suite managed to do it and I’m sure we can find tons of references to give the girls the perfect pose. So yea, I’d definitely consider the whole set as well if everyone can get a great sculpt and paint job.

As for Ako, she doesn’t have a school uniform so we can just put her in the same group as Aguri and Emiru and call it the Pipsqueak Elementary Squad.

6) HealPre - I love this uniform immensely for how neat and snug it looks. Not to mention, the dark green just makes it look very comfortable to wear overall. I know, maybe it’s just me being weird but it gives off a very calming effect.

And as Precure allows for more variations in clothing and accessories among the main cast, it would make for more interesting figures as well. Then you wouldn’t feel like you’re getting the same figure with only different heads and poses.

...and socks.

Would definitely love to have Nodoka. 

7) Hugtto - Pretty much the same reasoning as HealPre’s above.

In all honesty, there’s nothing that special about this uniform so the fact that the Hugtto girls could wear something of their own choice over it really brings out their characters more that way.

8) SmilePre - Also like Heal and Hugtto above but to a lesser extent, I guess.

Still, Smile is quite favored among Precure seasons so I’d think they sell well regardless.

This uniform isn’t half bad either. I’m not sure why because there’s not that huge of a resemblance but looking at their shoulders kinda reminds me of a military officer’s uniform, especially from the back. Just a little bit.

My pick would definitely be Reika in this pose specifically.

9) Splash Star - Let’s say for the record that I like all the Precure school uniforms (or just uniforms in general). So Splash Star should actually rank higher (around where Suite is) given its more unique design.

Hardly anyone else employs brown or plaid so this combination along with the sailor collar over the blazer (?)... I just think it makes Saki and Mai look very endearing. Hmm, yes, I approve! :D

However, this is a season I’m not familiar with so my demand for it is less than the others. But I do think they deserve to get their figures first. What with being the second Precure installment and all. shouldn’t that count for something?

10) Yes! 5 - Oh, I do love the Yes!5 girls.

But...they suffer from lack of variation the most out of all the other teams. Seriously, even in one set of of their casual clothes, they all own the same shirt albeit in their different, respective theme colors.

It’s...weird. But less so on a school uniform, I guess.

Anyways, pose and sculpt would be the trick here. Even though Yes! 5 does have its fair share of fans, with how old and poorly received both their seasons are, you’d be hardpressed to find a lot of collectors willing to shell out for figures of them. So there would have to be more effort in making them look exceptional to draw a crowd.

11) DokiPre - It’s hard to find everyone wearing their uniforms in the same shot and frankly, I think I can count all the times I’ve seen Alice wearing her own uniform (it’s this) on one hand??

I mean, does Alice even go to school with all the private tutelage she probably receives or is it just a formality? ...I dunno.

Whatever. I think this uniform looks nice and the girls look nice but it’s not as eye-catching than if they were to wear their casual clothes.

12) HaCha - Feel bad for putting this last because it certainly isn’t the worst of ‘em (none of them are) and I do quite like it (because there’s red and I like red).

It’s just...hmm, I dunno. I guess it’s because the top’s buttons sorta makes me think of a chef suit. It doesn’t bother me or anything but... it’s just the first thing I think of when I see it. ( ^ ^ ;)

*sigh* With how HaCha’s being treated in S.H. Figuarts department and its polarizing reception in the fandom in general, I doubt this would be a priority on many people’s wishlists. Still, it would be wonderful to see HaCha get even some love, y’know?

~~~~~

Yea.

My dreams aren’t that big but they’re long alright. :3

[anonymoushouseplantfan]

I dunno Plant. To me all this info coming out that the Queen didn’t know, that Charles didn’t know, but the Harkles did it anyway and are continuing with it (the lawsuit for example) makes he BRF look bad. Like the foremost question everyone will ask is, “ how can you do something this ginormous behind the Queen’s back???? It speaks to her and Charles poor leadership, IMO. At least get them to drop the lawsuit, then people will see that you have some backbone. But now, they look weak

They do. They absolutely do. They can’t control these two even when there’s a tour on the line. It’s ridiculous.

But it reminds me of all the times Meghan did something weird like the VF cover, the baby shower, or the $7k engagement pics gown, and her sugars would insist that the Queen had known and the Queen had approved because “everything has to be approved by the Queen.” 

No, they didn’t know, and, no, she didn’t approve. All of that crap--from the first Love Shield to the second--was done behind everyone’s back. No one knew a thing. 

And yet they still got goodies like early Sandringham outings, Amner Hall stays, Foundation forums, train rides with HM, tours, houses, etc... And this even though no one believed her “team player who walks in humility” bs. They knew she was fake, they knew she was doing stuff behind everyone’s back, and they still gave her the world on a silver platter.

It boggles the mind. Yes, I know the race card is strong and they had to allow the marriage, but they didn’t have to give her the red carpet treatment Harry was demanding if she was pulling publicity stunts like a Vanity Fair cover or a $75k engagement gown behind everyone’s back. Yes, she’s manipulative and she released the engagement pics AFTER her attendance at Sandringham had been leaked and had her baby shower AFTER FrogCott had been arranged for and so on, but you’d think they would have caught on after the sixth or seventh time she stabbed them in the back after they gave her a goodie. 

I mean, that yoga butt pap walk she did AFTER she got the invite to Pippa’s reception should have given them a clue of how things were going to go. Ditto the facialist pap walk she did AFTER the engagement was approved. It’s bizarre that it took them two years to catch on and they only reacted after she had pretty much sucked them dry.

And they were capable of saying no. They said no to Doria going to Sandringham and they said no to the Di emeralds and Windsor Castle and the emerald tiara. It’s just that they still said yes to other stuff.

[aaronhart93-archive]

what happened in chicago ll eden & aaron

Discord thread featuring: Aaron and @wtf-eden

Mentions: @romanbeckett @davieslandon @alison-haynes

When: July 3-4, 2020

Description: Aaron goes with Eden to her mother’s funeral in Chicago

Trigger Warnings: death of a parent, funeral, nsfw

Eden.

Eden had arrived in Chicago on Thursday morning, and had spent the day at the hotel that Aaron had gotten for her. Her father knew she had arrived, but she hadn't reached out to see him yet. Her mothers services were on Friday and truthfully she was unprepared for them. She didn't know how she was going to face her father, yet alone the rest of her family members who hadn't seen her in years. Now, it was Friday morning, and she had sprung out of bed quickly, and knew Aaron had arrived that morning. She was going to need his support to get through the day, that was for sure. She spent an hour, changing from black dress to black dress, trying to pick the perfect one to impress her family. So her family would know she was doing just fine on her own. She took a deep breath, before walking to the room next to hers and knocking on the door lightly, waiting for Aaron to open up.

Aaron.

the businessman had gotten into town very very early and had time to take a solid nap before getting ready for the services. These sucks. He hated funerals. They always reminded him of his dad. Not to mention, they were just unpleasant in general. But Aaron was determined to stay strong today for Eden's sake. He knew she needed him, and he understood that completely. He had brought three suits; because he wasn't quite sure haw many he'd actually need. He took a quick shower, shaved, and changed into his suit just in time for Eden to knock on the door of their conjoined rooms. Marissa had set them up in a gorgeous hotel. He opened the door and looked down at the petite woman. He hadn't seen her since the reception. He could tell just by looking at her that she was nervous; and she looked fucking stunning. "You look great." he told her. "You ready?" he asked apprehensively.

Eden.

Eden was appreciative that Aaron had agreed to come to Chicago with her. She didn't want to face her father alone. Even though the two were split, it was nice to have a familiar face by her side. It was something she knew she was going to need for this weekend. She pushed a stand of her brunette hair behind her ear as she stood in Aaron's door way. "Thanks," A small blush appeared on her cheeks. Even though he had hurt her, he could still get her going with three simple words. Eden awkwardly shifted her weight on her feet, "Honestly? No. I don't think I'll ever be actually ready." She told him, gently linking her arm onto his. "How does someone prepare themselves for something like this?"

Aaron.

Aaron made a line with his lips as he watched her shuffle her feet nervously. He wished he could take some of her nerves away, but he wasn't sure how. Aaron gently squeezed her towards him when she wrapped her arm in his. He felt like she needed a strong grip to carry her through the day; literally and metaphorically. He shook his head and took a big deep breath before answering. "I don't think anyone is ever prepared for a death of a parent...not like this." he said, referring to how her mom died so suddenly. "I dunno, it's like...you grow up with your parents being there to support you and you think they're invincible. Then one day when you're older, you realize they aren't. And that feeling's a fucking bitch." he told her.

Eden.

Eden felt a bit of relief when Aaron gave her a squeeze. She knew that Aaron had lost his father, so he knew what she was feeling, though the only difference was he had seen his dad. She hadn't seen her mom in three years, she could barely remember how her mothers voice sounded and she would never get a chance to hear it again. Maybe she would make up with her father, but she doubted it. She wanted too, as this was far too painful. "I fucking hate it." She told him, as they walked out into the Chicago air. "After the services, --you'll get dinner with me, yeah?" Aaron had come out here with her to support her, but she didn't want to overstep anything, and she wasn't sure she'd want to see her family anymore then she had too.

Aaron.

“of course.” He assured her. With one hand in his pocket, and the other tightly gripping her to his side, they somehow managed to get through the service. It was weird. Meeting Eden’s family that she hadn’t seen in a while. Most people assumed Aaron was Eden’s partner, to which they just shook their heads. No sense in explaining the whole story. He held her when she cried, was a buffer when she was speaking to her family members...He was charismatic and used that to take a little bit of the pressure off of Eden. He stuck by her the entire time; never leaving her side once. “I’m starving.” He said, as the funeral-goers dispersed. “I’m only doing this because we’re in Chicago and i want to cheer you up, but how about some of that deep dish pizza you drool over?” He mused, leading her away from the crowd. He smiled down at her then stopped once they were far enough away from the crowd. “You okay?” He asked with a sympathetic smile.

Eden.

The services were awful, for every reason why a service would be awful. It was closed casket, as they said there was too much damage in the accident for an open casket. Eden felt bad everytime someone asked Aaron if the two were partners, as they weren't. If it had been a week earlier, the answer would be different. It had become clear to Eden that her extended family never got the story on why she had disappeared from the families life, but she knew this wasn't the time or place to explain it. As it came to an end, Eden felt relieved. She had been dreading this day all week. Eden sadly nodded at his question, "I'm fine. Just glad that it is over with." She admitted, rubbing her hands together quietly, "I can tell everyone was expecting to not see me." She admitted. It seemed as though her father was the only one expecting her, which made sense, as he purchased her plane ticket. "But, yeah, deep dish pizza would be great." Eden said, "You're going to love it." The girl did her best to push a real genuine smile.

Aaron.

it was hard for Aaron too, but he was trying not to think about it; just trying to be there for Eden. Still, Aaron found it hard to keep a straight face. He kept thinking about the last time he stayed at a funeral and wake the entire time; everyone expressing their condolences like the were to Eden for hours straight. Exhausting. The businessman thought several times that it would be easier to tell her family that they were, rather than leaving them wondering who he was. But he wasn’t sure what Eden wanted. Aaron frowned down at her and pulled her in for a warm hug; something he was good at. “I think you did great.” He told her confidently. “You’re really brave for going in there.” He told her. Aaron had support from the family he loved at at his dad’s services. this, however, was a completely different ballgame. The time time she had spoken to many of her family members wasn’t...well, pleasant. “Yes pizza.” He said, taking a deep breath and giving her a big grin. “What’s the best spot?” He asked.July 4, 2020

Eden.

Eden felt out of place at her own mothers services. It was something no child should ever feel, she should have felt welcomed and family should have been offering her casseroles to help her her over the pain, but instead they had been shoving questions about her own disappearance down her throat. It hadn’t been a pleasant situation, for anyone. She was sure it was probably worse for Aaron, being a bystander, so that made her extra appreciative of him being here now. She wrapped her arms around him in the hug, “Thanks, I tried. Not going to lie, I wanted to punch almost every single person we spoke to.” She mentioned, as she pulled from the hug. “There’s a local pizzeria called Donnys, it used to be my favorite.”July 5, 2020

Aaron.

Eden's family did kind of seem like the asshole he had pictured them to be. Then again, his family wasn't perfect either. When his family found out that Ali was pregnant, they weren't initially happy with their 21 year old having a child but they didn't react in a way that would cause him to run away from them. "Yeah, some of them seemed like real assholes." he agreed. "It's over with though." he reminded her. "Lead the way." he began. "You should document this, but me offering to get deep dish pizza is never going to happen again." he mused.

Eden.

Eden wished if for just a moment the people in her home life could show a bit of compassion for the girl. Sure, her mother and here hadn't been on speaking terms for the last few years of her mothers life, but that didn't mean she didn't love her mother. She did. It hurt that not a single person could seem to find it in them to care that she had lost her mother. "They are all assholes. Their too good for me." She said sassily. "I'm not the doctor my parents bragged I'd be, so I'm just a piece of trash now." She mentioned, grabbing onto Aaron's wrist lightly and pulling him down the street. "Oh, I'll be sure to take a picture of it when we get there."

Aaron.

Aaron shook his head. He wondered what his family would think of him if he decided to go down a different career path; the one he wasn't destined to have. He was entirely sure of what it would have been like but he knew it wouldn't have been like this. "That's the spirit." he said, forcing a smile. Aaron didn't know why, but when she grabbed onto his wrist, he slid his fingers between her's so that they were holding hands the entire way to the restaurant until they were seated. Aaron was truly shocked at how much he actually liked the pizza. "Nothing compared to New York." he would say several times throughout their dinner, but really did enjoy it. He hoped showing her that he was enjoying a little slice of her life would cheer her up.

Eden.

It had surprised Eden when he had slipped his fingers into hers. There was a good chance that he was just doing it to comfort her, but she was in no state to not enjoy it. She needed life to be simple, like it had been just a couple weeks ago when the pair was in Paris. This reminded her of that, and she would take what she could get. Of course he liked the pizza, it was delicious. Still Eden's favorite, so she enjoyed every bit of it. After dinner, she slid out from the booth, thanking Aaron once again for the day. She felt a lot better after eating pizza, though still there was a dark damper over her shoulder. "I'm glad you came out here with me."

Aaron.

Aaron had forgotten how easy things were with Eden. Their conversation flowed easily and he felt that they still had a connection. On top of that, no one seemed to be against them like people were with him and Roman. Aaron knew he made the mature choice but breaking up with Eden, but this was a little reminder to him about why he had wanted to be with her in the first place. “Me too.” Aaron said, wrapping arm around her petite shoulders. “I’m exhausted though.” He told her. “You cool if we call it a day?” He asked her as they started their walk back to the hotel. It was a gorgeous night for a walk.

Eden.

Eden leaned into Aaron slightly as the two headed for their hotel. Under other circumstances, Eden would want to show Aaron the best local places in Chicago. She was sure the businessman had been to Chicago before and seen tourist things, but sometimes there was only some things locals could show you. But tonight, she just wanted to go back to the hotel. The day had felt long. “I’m ready to call it a day.” She agreed, leaning into him as they walked. “Maybe later this weekend I’ll show you the best places of Chicago.” She said, figuring he wouldn’t want to stick in the hotel all weekend. And she knew she’d need to be out and distracted.

Aaron.

he was relieved she agreed. Aaron smiled. “I would be honored if you showed me all the best local spots tomorrow.” He mused. When he traveled, he loved living like a local. It was just the best way to travel. His flight out didn’t leave until Sunday morning and he had a local with him so there was no excuse not to enjoy his Saturday in Chicago with her. The pair sluggishly made their way up to their conjoining hotel rooms, chit chatting as they went. He walked her into her room, and said goodnight as he started to his room. He paused. “You sure you’re okay?”

Eden.

Eden: “I can show you the best places.” She told him. She knew when she first moved to New York, it had been nice to have Aaron to show her the best local places there, so she would do the same here. Eden started to unzip her dress, even though Aaron was in the room. It was nothing he hadn’t seen before, “I mean — no. But I’ll try and be okay.” She mentioned, heading towards her suitcase to find some pajamas. If they were in Paris still, the two would be sharing a room, so it was disappointing he would be leaving her for the night.

Aaron.

Aaron leaned against the door that connected their rooms as he scanned her body when she got undressed. “Okay. Goodnight.” He said, looking away to give her privacy. He went back into his own room and put on comfy clothes. He didn’t want to be lonely tonight. He was hurting. He had put on a brave face for Eden all day, but between his fights with Roman, Alison and Landon, he was hurting so deeply. He just wanted to be held. He slowly made his way to the door between their two rooms and knocked. What was he doing? “Would it make you feel better if I stayed with you?”

Eden.

“Goodnight.” She said as he headed out of her room. Eden slipped out of her uncomfortable dress, and threw on a big shirt. She pulled her long hair into a ponytail before heading into her bathroom to take off the makeup on her face. To her surprise, there was a knock on her door. Hearing Aaron, a small smile appeared on her face. She walked over, opening the door, “I would like that.” She mentioned softly.

Aaron.

the night was a lot better with Eden by his side. He was still restless and it hadn’t stopped him from going out to the balcony when she was asleep to text Roman like an idiot. But he knew deep down he was going to do that regardless. “Morning.” He said with a smile as she stirred awake and he turned over to face her.July 6, 2020

Eden.

Edens eyes flickered open when the room was filled with sun. She smiled when she heard Aaron’s morning voice. She turned over, smiling at Aaron. “Good morning.” She mumbled.

Aaron.

It was almost like there was no time lost between them at all. Like they were waking up again while they were in Paris together or at his penthouse in Kingsboro. It was weird because a lot of the feelings he had had waking up next to her all those times came flooding back. He knew he was feeling these things because he was heartbroken over Roman and trying to pushing those feelings down inside of him and replace them with happier, less painful feelings. He didn’t know he was leaning in to kiss her until their lips had connected and Aaron’s hand was on her waist.

Eden.

Things were easy when Aaron was around. And Eden had come to realize she was in love with Aaron and that was why it pained so much when he broke it off with her. But she had pushed those feelings aside as much as she can. But suddenly, his lips were on hers and she had no urge to fight it. Instead, she leaned into their kiss.

Aaron.

Aaron knew that he and Eden had once had potential to be in a serious, committed relationship. He could tell that that was where that was going with Eden before he chose Roman over her.  Now, he kind of remember why. The businessman brought her hips in to meet his when he felt her deepen their kiss. He found himself grazing his tongue along her lower lip, begging her for entrance. Okay, so was this actually happening right now? He knew it was wrong. He knew that doing this would only end up hurting her even more, but he didn't actually have the desire to stop.

Eden.

Eden hated that Aaron had broken up with her, and how abruptly he had done so. She had fallen for Aaron, something she had never let herself so in the past, so why did he capture her so easily? She wasn’t too sure. But now, as she allowed his tongue to enter her mouth, she could feel all those feelings flooding back in. Her tongue playfully made her way around his, before she pulled away. Eden licked her lips before climbing on top of him gently.

Aaron.

When she pulled away, Aaron bit his bottom lip and watched her crawl on top of him. A coy smile covering his face. The businessman rolled over onto his back as Eden crawled on top of his. His arms wondered down her side to grab at her waisted. He pushed her hips into his, causing a little moan to escape his lips. "Hmm..." he hummed as they made out. He was suddenly really fucking horny; things had escalated so quickly.

Eden.

This wasn't what this trip was supposed to turn into, but this felt right, so Eden wasn't going to stop it from happening. "Mmm," She mumbled as he moved his hips along her. After another couple minutes, she found herself peeling his shirt off his body and pressing kisses to his bare chest. It was just like Paris, if you could forget the whole breaking up part - and well, them being in Chicago.

Aaron.

Aaron knew he would probably regret this. He knew what this would do to him...and Eden. The friction between their hips caused Aaron come to life as he made out with the other woman. He was relived when she finally started peeling off his clothes. He loved the foreplay, but he needed to get fucking naked. “Fuck, Eden...” he gasped at the touch of his lips against his bare chest. He gripped her shoulders, pressing fingers into her skin.July 7, 2020

Eden.

There was nothing stopping them now, as she felt him bulging up in his pants. She groaned quietly as she pressed her lips along his chest. After another moment, the girl got off him just enough so she could help him out of his pants.

Aaron.

Aaron made an attempt to undress the woman while she was sliding his pants down. Tugging at her shirt until he got half of it off. He sat up to finish peeling off her clothes until they were both completely naked. He brought her in for another sloppy kiss before kissing and sucking her skin down her neck.July 9, 2020

Eden.

Eden loved the feeling of being naked with Aaron.  The feeling of their bare skin touching was exactly what she needed this morning. A small moan escaped her lips as he sucked down on her neck. Her lips smacked against his skin lightly, as her hand cupped him, moving her hand around his thickness. The last time they had sex, she hadn't expected it to be their last, so this time, she wanted it to be the best sex the pair had ever shared.

Aaron.

Low hums escaped the man's lips when he felt her hands around his hard. He ran his hand down her thigh and slow inserted two fingers into he dripping core, pushing them against her G spot. "You like that?" he whispered. Fuck, the wetness dripping onto his fingers felt fucking amazing. "Jesus, you're so wet." he beamed.

Eden.

Eden could feel herself get more excited than she had already been as his fingers made their way into her. A moan, louder than her last escaped her lips. "Fuck, Aaron." She mumbled, as her hand sped up around his hard.

Aaron.

"Fuck, babe." he moaned at her touch. The businessman took his fingers out of her slowly then flipped her over to that she was on her back. Because he just couldn't take this anymore. He was too eager to be inside of her. He hands fumbled over the bedside table, reaching for a condom before he realized that he was in her room. "Eden, do you have a condom?" he paused, looking down at her and raising his brow.

Eden.

As groaned as he flipped her over. She was desperate to feel him inside her again, she had been desperate for that feeling since the two had broken it off. A condom. Of course she had a condom. She hadn't been planning to have sex on this trip, as they weren't together, and they were in town for her mothers services. But she always had condoms, "Mmmm, yeah--." She pushed him off of her for a moment, jumping out of the bed and running over to her suitcase and tossing a condom over to him, before getting back into the bed.July 10, 2020

Aaron.

He watched at the piece of rubber landed next to him on the bed. He crawled back on top of her when he finished stretched the rubber over his length. He teased her again, running his hands up her thighs as he kissed her. He stuck two fingers inside of her to open her up to him again - fuck, she was wet. When he felt she was ready, he slowly slid himself inside of her moving in and out of her slowly and letting out a low moan.

Eden.

Eden craved him, she usually did when he was around. She had a lot of sex with different people in her life, but having sex with Aaron was great. A small moan escaped her lips as he ran his fingers along her, but the second he pushed into her, the moans got louder. "Fuck," She mumbled against his lips, her tongue sliding against them.

Aaron.

The businessman put his body weight on his forearms as he moved in and out of her, slowly at first but he picked up his pace when she felt her opening up to him even more. His lips moved from her's to her neck, letting hot breathes melt onto her skin. He moved his hand to her thigh and wrapped his around her thigh, pulling it up towards his shoulder so he had more access. Fuck, she felt so good.

Eden. 

The sex was good. It was always good when it was with Aaron. After the two finished, she laid beside him, wrapped up in the blanket. “Thanks again for coming to Chicago with me.” She said after a moment of catching her breath.

[ae0nx]

FRUITS BASKET ‘19 EPISODE 23 VS FRUITS BASKET ‘01 EPISODE 19

Ok! We’re finally here! We’re at the beginning of the storm! I’m so nervous... I didn’t know how to do these comparisons especially the storyline in the 2001 version not syncing up completely with the 2019 version. But I’m just gonna try and puzzle piece my way through it, ‘kay? :)

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

Also, just some notes that I wanna state about the 2001 version so I don’t keep repeating myself for the next 2-3 weeks:

- I love love love the opening. It breaks my heart and heals it every time I hear it and the images of the characters by doorways/windows/alleyways looking outward and always to the side of the frame is a great artistic choice and metaphor. Also, the lyrics are just simply... everything. ‘Let’s stay together always...’

- Some of the colour choices in clothing (or even the hair) that the characters have are... interesting. I definitely find myself appreciating the newer version as you can tell they put more thought into it, even if I do think the power ranger assigned colours are kinda silly. But really? Kyo wearing pastels?! No way. ...But I kinda love it anyway. Outfit Appreciation: 2.5 stars.

- I adore the music box sounding background music. It really adds a lot of whimsy to the show and kinda reminds me that Fruits Basket in a lot of its elements takes inspiration from fairy tales. 

- The English dub voices obviously sound different and in comparison to the 2019 version, you can really tell how much they’ve all matured as VAs. ESPECIALLY Laura Bailey and Jerry Jewell.

- I also adore how ridiculous and mostly comedic the 2001 version is. Which makes the later turn in the anime so much more heartbreaking and tough to watch as it comes as such a shock compared to the tone of the rest of the anime. Unbalanced? Maybe so. But on a shallow kind of level without thinking too hard, I can enjoy it.

- I love 2001!Shigure. Again, it’s a shallow choice and I don’t deny he’s a lot more interesting and fleshed out in the manga/2019!anime. I just like 20-something year old, new-father-to-two-teens-but-he’s-not-like-a-FATHER-he’s-a-’cool-older-brother’ who likes to laze around the house in his kimono and ISN’T MENTALLY TRAUMATISING THEM. Well, without meaning to anyway... AND LOOK HOW CUTE HE IS.

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

Right! Let’s get into it! 

This is me knowing the future trauma I’m going to have to go through with this anime.

But in all seriousness, the 2019 version really captured Tohru’s depression a lot better. Especially with the later scene where she breaks down in front of Kyo in the bedroom. A+ crying from Laura Bailey, I really felt it this time. As I said, the 2001 version seemed like it didn’t wanna deep dive too much so I’m glad we get a deeper in look to the complexities of Tohru this time.

It might be a translation ‘nothing’, but I find it interesting that Kyo felt like he jinxed her. Especially linked with his comments to Kagura later about how he feels ‘no one should want to hang around him’. I mean we’ll get into the reasoning for this most likely in the next two episodes but you can probably guess why... Poor kitty.

(Also side note: Do you think that’s why - out of everyone that has been bullied in this anime - Kyo seemed the least affected by school bullies? Is it cos of his experience within the Sohma family and his curse, that he almost expects that everyone he meets would treat him like that? It’s interesting because Hana had the same thought process towards her own bullying but she never fought back... But Kyo did. I might just conclude this thought as it just being in his nature to fight back, but we’ll see...)

Also, 2001 giving us Kyo freaking out in cat form about Tohru’s fever was pretty funny. Man, they really did do an overkill with the transformations back then...

2001 really was not good at showing the gradual progress of Kyo controlling his anger around Tohru as much as the 2019 version. Yes, in the 2019 ep, Kyo was still annoyed that Tohru wouldn’t just relax and concentrate on getting better but my God, Kyo is sooooo shout-y and yell-y in this version! And I don’t wike it lol.

However I shouldn’t shit on the moment too much. I do think 2001 wanted to show us that Kyo saw how receptive Tohru was to Shigure being calmer and nicer and it kind of influenced him to take more of a gentle approach to Tohru later. Kyo being influenced by Shigure is... questionable... but whatever, it’s got good intentions! (I still like the 2019 version better)

Momiji with the oversized work outfit! He’s so adorable I could cry.

- I’m kinda bummed that the 2019 version didn’t include the ‘Kyo stealing leeks from Yuki’s garden’ moment. It’s a hilarious moment (especially with Yuki’s reaction) and it is just PEAK ‘it’s not stealing if you’re taking it from family’ energy that I adoreeee and stand by lol

Really, 2001!Kyo... are you five years old?

‘ 🎵And at most... I’m sleeping all these demons away...’

‘ 🎵But your ghost... the ghost of you it keeps me awake’

Kyo seeing ghosts of Tohru is both unintentionally funny and dramatic in both versions to me, I’m sorry. I’m really just a child.

Where do I start? Kyo being ever so dramatic with the goggles and the face mask... Shigure with the all-knowing troll look. 2001 really gave us some gems and I think we all tend to forget that.

Plus...

I. LOVE. THIS. BROTHER. DYNAMIC. (I know it isn’t accurate don’t ruin the fanfic going on in my head)

- Tohru being depressed that she wasted Yuki’s time and didn’t fulfill her mother’s wishes makes me wish she was more so just concerned about herself and how she’s gonna pass for herself? But it is very much in her character to do so, so I guess I’ll let it slide. And I guess Kyo said what I said in well... his own unique way of giving advice.

- But when it came to the actual soup porridge scene, I lean more towards the 2019 version. There’s so much said in Kyo’s body language and Tohru’s own inner thoughts. She’s really falling in love with him and she doesn’t even know it!!! 

THAT PEEK FROM HIS ELBOW?! COME ON!!! STOP IT. MY HEART. these dumb fuckin kids...

I loveee the 2019 porridge moment so much more, but this moment right here just ELEVATED the whole moment. It says so muchhhh without saying much at alllll and ohhhh this poor boyyyy...!!!!! It really took a fluffy moment and just stabbed me in the heart and I guess I respect you for that? Thanks...?

I’m so glad the 2019 version is feeding us in stupid made up songs. *chef’s kiss* haha

- I’m really glad that Kisa calls Hatori ‘uncle’ in 2019 and not ‘grandpa’ like she did in 2001. Cos as someone in their mid-twenties that shit was straight up offensive lol

The Momiji and Kyo moments are always so heartwarming in this version. My faves. <3

- Also I dunno why but I really liked Hatori, The Doctor Who Smokes in the 2001 anime. It didn’t make sense but quite honestly if anyone in this anime chose to smoke to let off some steam, it should be him. (Not an advocate for smoking)

---- Right! No more 2001 comparisons cos the episode that is equivalent to this part of the episode is also riddled spoilers for the next 2019 episode so... just normal review from here. ---

Why is it that Yuki’s insults against Kyo always hurt so much more?! They are both terrible to each other but for some reason, I always feel it more when Yuki verbally backhands Kyo. Maybe it’s the way Eric Vale practically venomously spits out these words or maybe it’s cos Yuki kinda has more privilege than Kyo so it feels like he’s kicking a literal homeless cat.

- Also, my poor boy! Definitely felt myself sympathising a lot more this time around to how weak he was feeling.

Lol I felt that exasperated breath. At least this time, Kyo doesn’t call Tohru’s umbrella ‘a sissy girly pink umbrella’. A minor improvement? (So, I might of watched a bit of the 2001 version of episode 24...)

...Need I say anything? <3

- HEADLINE: Shigure ships Yuki/Tohru and Kyo/Kagura? What is he up to...

- Kyo shouting at Kagura in the middle of the supermarket was a shitty move but Kagura mooshing his head in response was great... what a terrible but very entertaining couple lol

- Kagura’s ‘If I told you, you’d cry...’ is giving me all the heart pain. How many times can I say that I’m not ready...

I’ve seen people in the tag compare this moment to his porridge moment with Tohru and while I agree, it does seem like Kyo just naturally wanted to help Tohru compared to Kyo feeling obligated to hold hands with Kagura. But errrrm.... I just think Kyo is a good kid haha. And while I do think he CLEARLY holds Tohru in a very treasured and locked away place in his heart, he just doesn’t like it when girls cry around him and will do anything to stop it. I also think he does care about Kagura, and that he’s more so annoyed that Kagura doesn’t seem to get that he won’t love her in the way she loves him (and well... her being a tsundere lol). But I could be wrong! I’m a walking manga amnesiac as always...

*HIGH PITCHED SCREAMING*

Talk about FINALLY. They really named the episode that and made us wait until the LAST SECOND OF THE EPISODE TO GIVE US THE WORDS: ‘You look well...’

What a tease.

And we’re not even gonna get into the preview for the next episode and how three words made me tear up minutes before I had to go to a party on Friday night.

Wow. This might be the longest review so far. I don’t doubt that next week’s will be longer lol. The reason why I wanted to do the 2001 comparisons will probably make more sense next week and I will also say my thoughts on the 2001 version of the events with the umbrella and Kagura and Kyo’s date next week before I go into the review.

Jeez, this took two hours to write. WHY DO I DO THIS?!

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep8: Magic Mai

So fun fact, I was out of town around this Thanksgiving and I grabbed a laptop from my Dad’s stack of machinery he’s sort of collected over the years and lo and behold--he put Linux on it.

Like I dunno if you all can relate to this problem, but everything he touches turns into Linux and he’s trying to live this Windows free/Mac free lifestyle, and I get it, I’m friends with so many vegetarians, but like I hate this laptop. I'm using Gimp to make these screenshots...So I can re-do them later in Photoshop because...it just doesn’t feel right to put Papyrus on this computer. It already has Linux. This poor machine has suffered enough. Long story short, this’ll be a small update because right clicking on linux is ass.

Also, because I was on a laptop and realized how small my blog is for the first time--I don’t have control over the size of pictures in text posts, tumblr does, and in this particular theme it’s not allowing me to change the size, and so do me a favor. Click ctrl and + at the same time a couple times (I’m assuming most of you are on firefox). There. the pictures are the right size now. If you hated that, you can click ctrl and - but like lets be real, my font is occasionally...tiny.

Anyway, we start discussing this episode on the confusing legs of the last one, where Mai is evil now, and it’s really not entirely clear if she’s possessed or if she’s just always been this way, or if she just FEELS like it.

And that’s all this episode is about, start to finish--is this Mai’s choice or was this not Mai’s choice? The answer is the same as it would be for a normal person: it’s complicated. Maybe it’s everybody’s choice. Maybe it was because no one did anything that Mai went completely haywire? Maybe it was because Mai hid how she was feeling so no one had any idea she needed help? Or, overall, maybe Mai is kind of a toxic person and wanted to be this way? Especially while she’s on children’s cartoon card drugs?

(read more under the cut)

So to start off, a weird thing happened at the beginning of this episode. After about 4 seasons, someone finally mentioned this:

How many seasons has Yugi been talking to himself? Like, out loud. In front of everyone and Kaiba? This whole time, right? Like Valon just dashed my headcanon where I figured Yugi was smart enough to think his thoughts instead of speak his thoughts. He’s just not that smart, unfortunately.

Meanwhile, Mai has managed to attract this other (teenager?) guy and like...to go worse than Joey so quickly is kind of shocking. Mai just seems embarrassed by the amount of very young boys in love with her. And she’s not even a cougar about it, she doesn’t really seem to want this to happen but it keeps on happening.

And although he is essentially the card form of a drug pusher, Valon has this soft spot for a girl I guess to give him some sort of redeemable flaw. However, she only wears tube tops and minis and spends like hundreds of dollars on her hair, so it doesn’t really make him seem any less shallow, tbh.

PS I’m surprised, that unlike all the other characters on Yugioh, I can’t just type in Valon’s name into Google and get his age and weight. No idea what his age is, and if you know, feel free to tell me but he just seems...exactly the same age as Joey. He seems very 17. Maybe it’s the obsession with motorcycles and children’s playing cards? Maybe it’s his big ol childlike eyes? He just seems young and niave like how a teenager who just fell in love with a very angry older woman would.

Joey tries to remind everyone, multiple times, that this game is the worst idea ever since it requires one of them to super die, but Mai is on card drugs so I don't know why they bothered. Also, why is Joey still surprised by this after 4 seasons of this?

Yo it’s S4 and Mai witnesses magic non-stop but still has basically no idea how it works. She really did say “I have no soul” and it was like...I’m 90% certain she literally thinks she has no soul right now. Which I guess, statistically speaking, is rare to actually have a still intact soul after hanging out with the main villain, with the way this show typically goes.

Meanwhile, last episode it really sounded like Duke Devlin was driving to Pegasus’ company building. It really sounded like he would have gone directly there, since Weevil and Rex told him that Yugi was going to Pegasus.

Remember that Duke Devlin works for Pegasus and probably has his own parking spot.

So where did he go instead?

You know how there’s only one gas station in the entirety of America?

I can’t believe it blew up.

Y’all what is the red splotch in the middle of the pile ps? That is legitimately a pile of blood, right? I didn’t shop that in. There’s just a red puddle in this kid’s show.

Y’all what is that? Like was there a scene with a red handkerchief that I missed? Is that a red handkerchief?

But to move past the mysterious pool of blood that confirms those bikers are so hella dead, I have no idea why Duke was here, I have no idea how he got the tip off that Yugi visited this place, but then he turned around and went back to SF so like...I guess he’ll arrive 3 days from now because again, they are in Arizona. They keep telling me this is right outside SF but like--Mesas. There’s Mesas.

And then this happened.

That one guy on the writing staff who just stans Seto Kaiba so hard got into the drawing room, I see.

PS someone had to pose for this shot for them to draw this shot from this angle.

Meanwhile, lets see why Mai turned evil. Ah, because it is Yugioh, the biggest reason is that she has no friends (probably because she’s got the most acidic personality known to man) and isn’t card popular enough and got super bitter and jealous.

Speaking as an artist who is online, I can understand the frustration here. Sometimes (99% of the time) you work really hard and no one cares and you get like 2 notes. And honestly, why should they? Like, why do you do it in the first place?

Mai echoes a lot of the issues of Seto last season, where she wants so badly to be the absolute best to prove herself to the ghosts of her past who really don’t care any more.

But, since Mai was in a coma when Seto got through all of that, I guess she never got the memo and still seems stuck on just wanting to be the best with no other reason than “to be the best” which again, sounds so much like art school problems. This is everyone who has ever had an interest in animation. We all go through that phase.

Generally we don’t take peoples souls as a reaction to that type of discouragement, but then Mai made sure to mention in almost a foot note that she did spend like an entire season and a half trapped in Marik's shadow realm. And that kind of effed her up in a really big way.

Thanks, Marik.

Really feels like Marik should be dealing with this problem--really feels like maybe Marik is the only person that we can actually point to and say “Oh yeah, that guy is to blame for Mai right now” And he is the only person that Mai does not actively go out and try to kill.

And I’ll have you know I just deleted like a 15 K word rant about the difference between character assassination and your character just--evolving into a jackass, and how it’s OK to have your character change into a jackass, especially after trauma. I felt this need to really have to defend this ancient writing technique that people have been using since about as long as stories have been around.

Then I remembered “Oh yeah, I’m just making this point because a few number of very loud idiots on the internet want to have very lukewarm hot-takes about popular characters solely because they enjoy baiting people on twitter into getting into week-long arguments that don’t go anywhere.” and I just...let it go. I let it just...go into the ether. Ah. The peace that comes when you already know you’re right.

But anyway, back to Yugioh, which thankfully doesn’t take a stance on this nuanced subject, and only presents this very serious problem without actually offering a solution (because there isn’t a one fit’s all solution to falling off the deep end and getting into drugs and murder), Mai decides to just go and blame this decision she made on anyone else. Because, why take responsibility for your actions, when you can pin it on people who were on the other side of the freakin planet when it happened?

Like, I just want to remind y’all that she was in ATLANTIS.

I wonder how good the cell reception is in ATLANTIS.

I just...Mai is like in her mid twenties maybe thirty’s. She’s so arbitrarily old that she plays Yugi’s Mom in the video game spinoff where they’re reincarnations of medieval times. That’s how old she is.

Imagine if you made some epically BAD decisions because you were jealous of some teenager’s success and didn’t want to be weak anymore, and then you confronted those teens, and said “This is all your fault.”

Imagine looking someone as dysfunctional as Joey Wheeler and telling him “You made me like this” because lollllllll

And I present this as a joke but like basically this happens all freakin time. We’ve all had a friend like Mai. Past tense of course, because it’s really hard to keep a friend like Mai for very long. (One of my friend’s who went Mai destroyed my apartment one summer and then literally blamed it on me for going to California for 2 months and leaving her unattended.) But like...don’t let Mai’s do it to you. They can get better, but only if it’s their choice, really. You can’t force them to save themselves.

But, as Mai was finally ready to give up cards and probably improve her quality of life by a huge degree, unfortunately, she got sucked right back into the trap.

Bro note: being a serial murderer cultist is basically working at McDonald's in this universe so maybe this wasn’t even that weird?

But that aside, this is alllllmost like a dark version of “Mai got into an abusive relationship to fill the void in her heart” except she’s not even really dating this guy? Like she hates this guy? He’s just kinda there?

Y’all I really can’t tell if Valon is in an abusive relationship with Mai who is using him for power or if she’s in an abusive relationship with him because he only wants her pretty face and wants to kill Joey because Joey liked her once--and maybe it’s both? Maybe both of these people are just...really bad for each other?

Overall Joey is kind of tossed into this not-a-love-triangle and I’m like

“Hey show? show? Am I supposed to....were any these people ever dating? Is there supposed to be an implied history? Am I supposed to get attached to this?” because I mean...the only character who was able to get some actual physical romance on this show was Pegasus when he macked the ghost of his dead wife because, again, Pegasus is the freakin king of this entire show. Of course HE can do it.

But have this show clarify what the hell is happening between Valon and Mai? I’m gonna take a bet that we will never get to see it beyond Valon being like “Ain’t she a beaut!” Like Steve Irwin talking to an alligator, and Mai just pretending he doesn’t exist. Yugioh romances are so completely one way every single time. If something more than that happens, I’ll be

shook.

Anyway, as all the children on the show keep repeating over and over again, they haven’t had any contact with Mai since she left the freakin country and they went back to High School.

And so someone threatens to kill himself, as is Yugioh tradition, and someone else barks at him to NOT kill himself, as is also tradition, and they decide to play real cards next episode.

This whole entire episode, PS, Joey went out of his way to just...not play cards. that was this whole episode. Way to draw out a card game over three episodes, I guess.

Anyway if you want to read these from the start you can do so by clicking the link here

[mithranqueersmusings]

Baby, You’re A Rich Man XXIII

Chapter: 23/28

Rating: U

Summary: Ringo could never understand why that group of three boys made him feel so uncomfortable, or why the way George looked at him sent him into a panic. After a chance encounter Ringo discovers the truth and has no clue what to do with the information.

Tags: AU - Gangsters, Slow Burn, Smut, Eventual Romance, Violence, Angst

Pairings: George Harrison/Ringo Starr, John Lennon/Paul McCartney

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

Paul had been right that Brian would be awake by the time they got back to the hotel, in fact he'd already left several messages at reception inquiring after them.

"Fuck." John laughed when the receptionist told them.

Ringo began to worry a little but his intoxication far overpowered any negative feeling attempting to arise at that moment, so it was only Paul who took the situation seriously as he hurried up to their room to call Brian. The rest of them followed behind passively, still giggling and falling into each other as they climbed the stairs. It was almost 7 in the morning, and Ringo was boggled at how they'd passed so much time that night and just hoped he hadn't forgotten anything important. While Paul sat with the telephone in the other room, giving the rest of them a glare which warned them to be quiet, George pulled Ringo into their shared bedroom and onto the bed. John was close behind and threw himself down on the second bed, he kept fidgeting about trying to get comfortable before he rolled over onto the next bed and nudged up against George.

"What are you doing?" George mumbled, the tiredness was beginning to sink in, his eyes were closed and he was holding Ringo close to his chest.

"Shh." Was all John said as he tentatively put his arm around George who just grunted in response.

Ringo was beginning to fall into a deep sleep, he barely even noticed John's presence as his mind was completely occupied with the rising and falling of George's chest. After managing to fight off sleep for so long, the feeling was coming back with a vengeance now. It was only Paul's presence in the room that stirred Ringo, as he purposefully spoke loudly to rouse them.

"How sweet." Paul projected, making Ringo shudder in alarm as he opened his eyes "I just got off the phone with Brian."

George began to sir now, opening his eyes just barely "Huh? Can this wait?"

"Oh I'm sorry, feeling tired are we?" Paul laughed, still talking loudly.

"Paulie." John groaned "Just come to bed, we'll deal with it when we wake up."

Paul opened his mouth to speak again, to protest that they had to wake up and listen to him, but then he took in the image of the three of them sloppily cuddled together and decided against it. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his belt on the floor then clambered onto the bed beside John.

"Can we at least get under the covers then?" Paul suggested, tugging at the bed sheets that they were lying on top of.

John nodded sleepily and allowed Paul to pull the covers from under him, stirring George and Ringo who were just awake enough to do the same. The four of them then quickly fell asleep, George and John still fully dressed, as the city began to wake up around them. Despite the fact there were two perfectly usable beds in that room, the four of them remained tightly cuddled together on one of the double beds and not one of them found any cause to complain.

Ringo had been the first one to wake up on account of almost being pushed out of the bed by the other three tossing and turning in their sleep. He wasn't sure what time it was but he supposed it had to be the afternoon by now. Ringo didn't get out of bed immediately, he simply watched George sleep for a little while and admired the beauty of his face; he pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek before carefully getting up. The sight was a little ridiculous, Ringo thought with a quiet laugh, the three of them wrapped in one another tightly with an empty bed right beside them. He'd never experienced such closeness in a group of people before, especially not such affection amongst other men and he hadn't really realised the uniqueness of it until this moment, and it made him smile.

Over the next hour the rest of them gradually woke up, George was the last to which was a surprise to nobody, and eventually decided to go out to get some very late breakfast. They found a relatively normal looking cafe down one of the streets and each got a coffee to shake off the feelings left over from last night. George and John were both still barely conscious, John even rested his head on the table at one point to try and stop the pounding of his head. Ringo certainly felt strange but out of the three of them he thought he was recovering the best. When their food arrived, Paul turned the scant conversation to business.

"Shall we talk about what we're actually here to do then?" Paul asked only half seriously.

"Go on then, what did Brian say?" George asked, leaning against his hand to keep his head up.

"Well he wasn't too happy that we didn't call him last night but when I explained that we'd got a potential lead he wasn't too pissy." Paul began "He said the best thing to do is scope those guys out tonight and see where that leads us. He was very adamant that we shouldn't get physical unless we have to."

"Why do I feel like he was only saying that part to me?" John mumbled as he sipped his coffee.

"Your reputation precedes you, John." George chuckled.

"What should I do?" Ringo asked rather sheepishly.

"Just stay alert around Klaus and that lot, they might still have some more info." Paul smiled at Ringo "You gonna be alright without us around?"

"Hopefully." Ringo said "I've gotta get there for 6 tonight to go over songs and stuff. Will I see you guys when I'm done?"

"Maybe." George said "Can't make any promises unfortunately. If you can't see us just get back to the hotel, alright?"

"Probably best I give you this." Paul reached in his pocket for the hotel room key and pressed it into Ringo's hand.

"What if you guys end up in trouble or something?" Ringo asked "How am I to know?"

"You won't." John laughed bluntly.

"Well we shouldn't be getting into any trouble, should we?" George directed a glare at John "Just don't come looking for us, love, alright? Just get yourself to bed and we should be there by the morning."

"Alright." Ringo said somewhat sadly, George had placed his hand on top of his own to comfort him.

After they'd eaten John demanded they go back to the hotel so that he could collapse beside the toilet in case of any involuntary sickness. Paul sat in the bathroom with John for a while, Ringo wasn't sure how much of a conversation John could hold up in his current state but he supposed that didn't really matter to either of them. George and Ringo sat in the small lounge and listened to the radio for a while, Ringo playing with George's hair as he lay in his lap. John emerged from the bathroom after a while, his eyes watery and skin pale but he still wore his usual grin.

"How you feeling?" Ringo asked him as he collapsed onto one of the chairs.

"Ready for round two." John replied which made George laugh.

"Try not to throw up on these blokes later." George lifted his head up slightly to meet John's eyes.

"I dunno, might be a good tactic." John laughed "Hello, I'm one of Brian's men and I'd just like to inquire-" He cut himself off by making a retching noise which sent the rest of them into laughter.

The hours passed by fairly quickly as the four of them continued to joke around and listen to the radio. An hour or so before Ringo had to leave George announced he had something to give to him, and went rummaging around to the bottom of his suitcase and pulled out something that Ringo certainly wasn't expecting: a knife. The sight of it alone made Ringo nervous and as soon as George pressed it into his hand he felt like dropping it, as though it burned his skin.

"I don't think I can take this, George." Ringo said softly.

"I know, I know." George began "But this is a dangerous place, and if I can't be there to protect you the least I can do is give you this so you can protect yourself."

"I don't even know how to use it."

"It's a knife, not a rocket." John chimed in lightly.

"You probably won't even need to use it, its just a precaution." George placed his hand under Ringo's chin then "Please just take it, for me."

Ringo paused and looked down at the switchblade in his hand then up to George's dark eyes and saw the love behind them "Okay." He said simply and buried it deep within his pocket.

It wasn't too long before Ringo had to head out to the Top Ten Club again; it felt very peculiar leaving the three of them in the hotel room as he headed off into the unknown city, but he just had to remind himself that he had nothing to worry about. Part of him wished he was going with the rest of them, but the thought of having to confront those dangerous men made him relieved that he didn't have to get involved. He felt the weight of the knife in his pocket as he walked and it made him feel nervous, as though everyone who looked at him knew and he worried that it was making him more of a potential target. As the sun began to sink Hamburg began to rise up once more and Ringo supposed that he'd probably have a great time here if they were only on a normal holiday, yet the reason for their trip was never too far from his mind.

Klaus had been very happy to see Ringo which eased his nerves somewhat. They went over several songs with Klaus acting as the translator between Ringo and the rest of the group, who seemed to be growing increasingly impressed with Ringo's drumming ability.

"How long are you staying in Hamburg for?" Klaus translated the lead singer's question.

"Not too long, a couple of weeks probably." Ringo replied, speaking slowly and loudly as if it would somehow overcome the language barrier.

"That's a shame, you're a good drummer." Klaus spoke once more.

"Thank you." Ringo said with a smile.

"You came to Germany without even knowing how to say 'thank you'?" Klaus was speaking for himself now.

"What is it?" Ringo asked somewhat embarrassed.

"Danke." Klaus said with a smile.

"Danke." Ringo repeated.

"The manners of the English, I cannot believe it." Klaus laughed.

They practised songs for an hour or two before their shift officially started and Ringo had almost forgotten the exact reason for him being there, all until they were in the small room backstage and he saw the band taking out the same small pills from their pockets. Klaus offered one to Ringo but he politely declined, he wanted to try and keep a level head for as long as he could.

"Suit yourself." Klaus said "But you're gonna need them later, trust me."

"How long have you been taking them for?" Ringo asked as he tried to sort his hair out in the mirror.

"Not sure, as long as they've been giving them to us. Couple of months maybe." Klaus replied as he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed it down with a sip of beer.

"What did you do before you had them?"

"Just stayed awake, I suppose. We didn't used to play so much, or for so long, but at some point they kind of shooed a lot of the bands off and started giving us the pills. Must be cheaper, I guess."

"Weird." Ringo was worried about pushing the questions too far.

"Actually, now that I think about it, everything changed when they got that new manager in. What's his name?" He turned to one of the band members and spoke in German. "Ah, yes, Stefan. Stefan started working here and everything changed."

"Changed how?" Ringo asked.

"Well like half of the bands got fired, it was a pretty sad time seeing everybody go like that. Then they started giving us the prellies and its just stayed that way." Klaus began fiddling with his bass.

"What's this Stefan like?"

"I don't know really, we don't see him that often. At the end of every week or so he speaks to us and drops off a bunch of the pills. Gives out a bit of a weird vibe." Klaus' attention was drawn to one of the members again as they spoke to him "Oh really? Strange."

"What?" Ringo asked quickly, then cursed himself for appearing so eager.

"Oh, nothing. He just said Stefan's been sniffing around the other clubs the past few weeks, passing his pills around. Guess he's got some business plan or something."

Ringo didn't have much time to ask any more questions because soon they were heading off to the stage, but he was at least satisfied that when he next saw George and the rest of them that he'd have something to tell them. The thought of the other boys made Ringo nervous, he suspected they must have at least been planning something by this point or even heading out to find those men. He tried his best to not think of the sight of George when he'd returned after their first night together with a stab wound, or how battered John and Paul had looked. He counted himself lucky that he at least had something to occupy himself while they were 'working', and nothing was a better distraction for Ringo than drumming. While the club was almost the antithesis of The Babylon, dark instead of light, filled with everyday folk rather than the uptight classes, Ringo felt more at home here, but he couldn't deny he was still a little nervous playing for all these people with yet another new band. He just hoped that when he looked out at the crowd he'd see a familiar face, see George's sharp-toothed grin, but they were nowhere to be seen. As soon as they began to play Ringo allowed himself to get lost in the music, and he was extremely proud of his ability to get through the entire night without any need of a boost even if his body was aching for him to rest.

They finished playing around midnight and Ringo felt about ready to collapse onto his drum kit just to get some sleep. Klaus had invited Ringo out once again, but this time he refused.

"I'd love to, but I'm knackered." Ringo smiled, his fingers were killing.

"Knackered?" Klaus asked "What does this mean?"

"Oh, sorry. Really tired." Ringo amended "Maybe next time though."

"Next time, then." Klaus smiled, Ringo thought he looked absolutely crazed from his sober viewpoint.

He watched Klaus run up to the rest of the band excitedly as they headed off for what Ringo guessed would only be another unhinged night. The walk back to the hotel was awfully lonely, and seeing the mass groups of people drinking and laughing together only made Ringo feel his friends' absence even more. The weight of the knife in his pocket knocking against his leg was a terrible reminder of what might be happening to them right now, he wanted to remain positive but after the things he'd seen and experienced it was difficult not worry. He kept his heavy eyes peeled for any sight of one of them but he hadn't even caught a glimpse by the time he'd gotten back to the hotel. The receptionist gave him a warm greeting which he could only halfheartedly reciprocate.

The room felt especially empty when Ringo entered it, particularly the sight of the ruffled bed covers which only reminded him of how relaxed they'd been that morning. Part of him felt that if he didn't stay up before they got back, it somehow meant that he didn't care, but even he couldn't fight off the beckoning call to sleep, and after around an hour of waiting he finally crawled into the spacious-feeling bed and began to sleep. He could hear the bustling street outside the window and it was more comforting to him than silence, it at least gave his mind something to focus on rather than the horrible potentialities he was conjuring. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep, playing for such a long time was beyond exhausting and was something he'd have to get used to.

Ringo awoke with a start to the sound of heavy banging on the door. Shit, was all Ringo could think. He hurried out of the bed and rummaged around for his trousers to pull out the knife from the pocket. Was this it? He flicked the blade up and held it defensively as he moved slowly towards the door; would they break it down? Sweat began to drip from his forehead and he felt his hands beginning to shake. That was, until he heard a voice.

"Ringo you git, open the door!" John shouted and Ringo almost collapsed in relief.

He put the knife away and chucked it onto a table before he unlocked the door to find the three of them standing there looking relatively unharmed. George was certainly glad to see Ringo, pulling him in for a quick kiss before even fully getting into the room.

"This key situation is gonna be a right nightmare." Paul said with a yawn as he walked over to the sofa and plonked himself down on it.

"How'd it go?" Ringo asked excitedly, taking a seat beside George.

"Quite well." George smiled at Ringo, taking his hand in his own "Think we found the right guys, bought some stuff off them and followed them about for a bit."

"I bartered pretty successfully, I thought." John grinned as he pulled out a bag of drugs from his jacket pocket.

"You're just itching for a fight, aren't you Johnny?" Paul chuckled then turned to Ringo "You'd think laying low and not causing up a stir would be the best idea, then this one tries to get a deal on the coke. On the coke we don't even need!"

"Speak for yourself." John retorted as he tossed the bag onto the table.

"Where did you follow them to?" Ringo asked, he felt like a little kid asking their parent's about their day at work.

"Some dodgy house not too far away." George answered "Looked like everyone and their mum was there."

"So what's the plan?"

"All that's left to do now is confront them. This is the tricky part." John said.

"Well it shouldn't be." George spoke sternly "It probably won't be the friendliest discussion, so we'll probably have to end up intimidating them or bribing them to bugger off."

"Oh God, I hope it goes well." Ringo furrowed his brow in worry.

"It should be fine." Paul said reassuringly "If things turn ugly we'll just get out of there."

"Anyway, how was your day, love?" George asked then brought Ringo's hand up to his mouth so he could press a kiss against it.

"Fine, fine. Klaus did tell me about this one guy, I think he might be part of that crew or whatever." Ringo recalled.

"Oh?" John sat forward now in interest.

"Well he said that a few months back a guy called Stefan started working there, and the whole club sort of changed. He's the reason all those drugs are getting passed around." Ringo explained.

"Interesting..." John began "Do you know what he looks like?"

"No, sorry. Klaus just said he gives off a weird vibe, that's all I know." Ringo said somewhat shamefully.

"Don't think we've got enough time to go after every bloke that gives off a weird vibe." Paul laughed "But that's a start at least."

"Do you think you can try and find some more stuff about him next time you're there?" George asked in a soft voice.

"I can try." Ringo smiled abashedly "Klaus did ask me out for drinks again, I could go and ask him a few things."

"Did he?" George asked almost sternly which made John laugh.

"Calm it, Georgie, he's not making a pass at your beloved Ringo." John giggled "Its just hospitality."

"Hmm... I suppose." George's face had hardened "Just be careful, love."

"He will be!" Paul interjected "And if Ringo's gotta suck up to a few German lads to get us the information, then that's what he's gotta do." He had a teasing grin on his face.

"Well as long as its sucking up and not sucking on, I guess I'm alright with it." George laughed, easing up a little.

"Don't I get a say in all this?" Ringo spoke up with a chuckle.

They continued joking around for a while before they all decided it was best they got some food before they went to bed, Ringo wasn't sure how he'd been going so long without noticing how long it'd been since he'd eaten. Paul was very adamant that they'd be going to bed after eating, but not before calling Brian to inform him on everything, which earned him a dramatic pout from John. They all scoffed down their food hastily and hurried back off to the hotel for some rest, drunkards and prostitutes were littering the streets now and they had to physically pull John away from the temptation.

"Do you reckon if we finish this all up early Brian will let us stay for a little while longer?" John asked as they all got ready for bed.

"Depends on how we finish it." George mumbled as he brushed his teeth.

"You got some devilish plans in mind, John?" Ringo asked.

"I just think it'd be a waste if we left this city without seeing what it has to offer." John replied.

"Or who it has to offer." George called from the bathroom.

"Oh come on! Are you guys not even a little bit curious?" John asked, directing it more at Paul than anyone else.

"I don't understand why you need to pay for sex when you have me right here." Paul said with a small pout, offering his hand out to John who took it gladly.

"It's not like that, it's just an experience. It'd be fun!" John defended himself.

"So when I asked if this is all going to end in some weird orgy, the answer was yes?" Ringo laughed.

The conversation devolved into more jokes and John adamantly trying to defend his stance, although nobody seemed the slightest bit convinced. Before they all got into bed, John made the executive decision of pushing the two beds together - even if there was barely any space between them anyway. Paul took it upon himself to call Brian, since he knew nobody else was going to do it, while the other three got under the covers and waited for Paul to finish. It was a fairly short conversation, and Paul had nothing to report when he moved into the bedroom and got into bed beside John.

"He just wants us to be careful." Paul said sleepily "Didn't say much else."

"So you didn't ask him if we'd be allowed to stay afterwards?" John asked cheekily.

"Jesus, give it a rest John!" George called out with a laugh.

"Let's save that until after we finish this job, alright?" Paul cuddled up beside John.

There was a small pause before Ringo spoke "Do we have any plans for the day tomorrow? I'm not working until 8."

"I've got an idea." John said.

"Fuck sake, of course you do." George already had his eyes closed.

"I think we need to get ourselves some new clothes, else we're really gonna stick out like a bunch of tourists." John explained.

"Well that's not what I thought you were gonna suggest." George mumbled.

"Do we stick out that much?" Ringo asked.

"Well with Paulie over here in his fancy blazer, I'd say so." John laughed "Just look at your band Ringo, what are they all wearing?"

Ringo paused to think "Black?"

"And..." John urged him on.

"Shoes?" Paul chimed in with a chuckle.

"German accents?" George joined in.

"Leather!" John cried out "They all have leather jackets and trousers, and I think we need to get some."

"It does look pretty cool." George admitted quietly.

"I dunno if that's really my style." Paul spoke up.

"Come on, love, when in Rome." John said "It'll give us something to do tomorrow at least. Might even increase our chances negotiating."

"It wouldn't hurt to try it." Ringo had closed his eyes now too, resting his head on George's chest.

"Exactly, that's the spirit!" John was the only one with any energy at this point.

"Alright, fine, we'll go look at some leather clothes tomorrow. Just nothing weird, alright?" Paul mumbled.

"Weird? Me? I'm offended, Paulie." John scoffed sarcastically then leaned in to whisper in his ear, something Ringo couldn't quite understand and he was partly glad for it considering the reaction it received - a small gasp from Paul followed by a satisfied hum.

"Can we all shut the fuck up and go to bed now, please?" George said, nudging John slightly.

That marked the end of their conversation and it wasn't long before they all dropped off to sleep one by one. Ringo felt safe and secure in this moment, with his boyfriend pressed up against him and John and Paul cuddled up together beside them. The thought of tomorrow loomed menacingly in his mind, and he hated the thought of having to be separated from the other three once again, especially since they were taking a much larger risk this time. He panicked at the thought of anything terrible happening, especially if one of them got wounded like they had done last time; would Ringo even know the right thing to do in that situation? Ringo's mind was filled with fear, a voice in his mind telling him constantly that he shouldn't be here, but every time his mind focused on George's breathing or the sound of John muttering in his sleep, all those thoughts were silenced. He just had to face whatever situation came his way, he decided in that moment, and there was no use worrying about anything that he couldn't prevent.

Tomorrow was going to be an eventful day, that much was certain, and Ringo still wasn't sure whether he was more scared by the potentiality of violence or the thought of trying on leather clothing.

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - A Happy Ending

A/N – I cannot believe that I’ve got to this point. I loved getting here, but I’m sad to see it go. Fine, if we must part ways then I’m glad it’s to a happy ending. Based on headcanons by @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron and starring fan art by the miraculous @bloodypoptart

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Rodimus pouted from his position on the balcony overlooking the entire crew. This was where he usually made announcements, but no, this time you had called for an announcement and Megatron had simply agreed to whatever it was you were about to say. If you only relayed what you were going to say then Rodimus would say it for you, but no, apparently you were going to take one of the best parts of his job away. You assured him it was only going to be this once but he highly doubted that, once you found out how great it was to say anything you wanted while everyone else was forced to listen.

You glanced over to Rodimus sympathetically as if reading his thoughts. He gave a sarcastic thumbs up, indicating you were to start, although he already knew what you were going to say with Swerve stood by your side. Everyone already knew you were dating, thanks to Rewind. This was clearly an announcement to say so officially, probably to save face after the week’s earlier embarrassment. It’s not like he couldn’t say that for you. On his spot. On his ship. As Captain. But it was fine, he wasn’t jealous or anything, so long as you would hurry it up already so he could get back to actually following his quest… as Captain.

While Rodimus heaved a dramatic sigh, which you ignored, you looked at Swerve, silently affirming that he was ready. Swerve grabbed your hand, giving a small squeeze to let you know he was as prepared as he could be, though he was secretly more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life, including all the years he’d spent in the war; war was inevitably something all Cybertronians were used to, commitment and marriage were much scarier. In war, you could choose to rely only on yourself if it was so desired, in a marriage, you suddenly weren’t alone anymore and as such had so much more to lose.

“You sure you want me to do this?” You whispered to him as the crowd below started to get restless; it reminded you of your first day on the ship, when you had to be publicly announced for the crew to assimilate to you.

“They’ll take it from you better,” Swerve said supportively, but what he really meant was that he had to hear it from you, if only to further prove the wedding was still happening and he wasn’t forcing you into it somehow.

You took a deep breath, not needing to ask for the crew’s attention as all optics were trained on you; even those who couldn’t leave their posts were undoubtedly watching you over the vid-screens. “Hi,” You waved somewhat awkwardly. Rodimus rolled his optics and came over with a microphone, thinking about how he never needed one when it was him making the speeches.

You nodded in thanks, hefting the heavy microphone that was made for Cybertronian size and was almost the same length as your torso. “Okay everyone, so it’s pretty obvious me and Swerve are dating but that’s not what I’m here to announce. Look, before I say what I’ve got to say, well… I’m- Uh, we’re not here to seek validation or for you to ask a bunch of questions or anything like that, it’s just, me and Swerve… Well, um, we’re getting married.”

You bit your lip, waiting for an uproar or maybe some cheering or even a deafening silence. You got neither the reaction you expected nor wanted, as almost the entire crew burst into fits of laughter.

You looked to Swerve for support, but he simply shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised that the crew thought it was all some kind of epic joke. You glanced at Rodimus, who was also in hysterics. Speaking into the microphone again, you said, “Hey, this uh, isn’t a joke, I’m serious, we really are getting married.”

Nobody heard you, but deep in the crowd, Rung, Chromedome, Rewind and Whirl were watching you very closely, knowing that you spoke the truth.

Whirl shook his head, deciding to take control of the situation once and for all. He blasted a loud shot into the ceiling from the one gun he’d managed to hide from Ultra Magnus and always carried around with him for such events that might be made more entertaining with bullets. The room fell silent as Whirl shouted, “THE NEXT PERSON TO LAUGH GETS VENTILATED. NOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT (Y/N) SEES IN THAT IDIOT, FRAG, SHE’S PROBABLY JUST IN IT FOR THE FREE DRINKS BUT IT’S CLEAR THAT SHE’S NOT JOKING. YOU ALL SAW HOW SHE KISSED HIM ON THAT DAMN TAPE. SWERVE’S GOT GAME, I GUESS.”

You didn’t know what to say now that your entire speech had been derailed. You half expected things would get even crazier or that Ultra Magnus would interject, and it would turn into another debate about gun control. Instead, the entire room turned to you for confirmation and Ultra Magnus was too distracted to help as he cringed at the burn mark on the ceiling, clearly upset that his none of his Roomba armada would be able to reach the ceiling to clean it; besides that, he’d already lost far too many Roombas to the ‘secret’ fights the crew held.

“Yeah…” You said anxiously. “What Whirl said.”

Nobody said anything for a long time and finally Rodimus stepped forward, placing a comforting servo on your shoulder and smiling confidently. You thought he was the first to congratulate you in his own way, but little did you know, he was simply happy to be back in control with what he planned to do next.

“You heard the happy couple,” He beamed. “WE’VE GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN!”

Finally, there was a small cheer as everyone came to terms with what was happening. “Okay,” Rodimus said, “So I’m thinking we’ve got a lot to do and little time. Seven cycles sounds about right.”

You glanced at Swerve, seeing how everything was completely out of your hands; in seven days the two of you would be married. Everything in your life since joining the Lost Light had happened in whirlwind time, it should have been no surprise that your wedding would be no different.

“Alright,” Rodimus continued as he began pointing out people in the crowd, “Brainstorm and Perceptor, you two are on the (Y/N)’s bride outfit. Ultra Magnus, catering detail. Rewind, I want all kinds of documentation, I’m talking films, interviews with the bride and groom on their take on the love story, get everything you can. Blaster, you’re on music. Ten, Tailgate and Cyclonus, You three are on decorations.”

Cyclonus scowled, but before he could argue, Rodimus shouted his name, “HEY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEVER USE THAT SWORD FOR ANYTHING USEFUL ANYMORE ANYWAY… Primus, at least use it to cut up some origami or something. What does that leave… Mirage, you’re on bartending duty since Swerve can’t be and, let’s see, um…”

Swerve stepped forward to protest his distaste for Mirage, his chief contender, serving drinks at his wedding, but you held him back, “You really wanna serve drinks at your own wedding?”

Swerve sighed, and wrapped his arm around you, “I guess not, but the reception will be at my bar, not his.”

“Whatever you need to sleep at night, handsome,” You patted his chassis.

Rodimus practically glowed as he made his final announcement, “And last but certainly not least, only I can be the priest or whatever as the Captain of th-”

“CO-CAPTAIN,” A voice from the throng called.

Rodimus leaned over the railing, curling his fist angrily, “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Nobody answered, and Rodimus straightened up, pouting. “Fine, as Co-Captain I will officiate, Megatron can… I dunno, Megatron can be Swerve’s best man I guess.”

Megatron gritted his dentae and while he and Rodimus argued it out, Swerve looked at you pitifully, “Should I even try arguing this one?”

You gave his servo a squeeze, “Honestly, I don’t think you’d win.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of you held onto one another, the calm in the eye of the storm until Rodimus said, “Till all are one,” marking that the speech was over.

“Hey,” Swerve said, “You okay to be on your own for a while? I’ve got to sort something out… It’s a surprise.”

You smiled, “How intriguing. You think you can keep a secret?”

“Every once in a while,” Swerve chuckled.

“You know, it’s bad to keep secrets in a marriage, this could very well destroy us.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Fine,” You said playfully, “Keep your secrets. It’s just as well, I’ve got to see Rung anyway.”

Swerve kissed your head lovingly and the two of you parted ways, each on your own little mission, preparing to begin a new adventure, together.

It was taking you much longer than usual to get to Rung’s because every time someone saw you, they stopped to congratulate you, and more than once, you found your path blocked by various wedding preparations. You even heard talk that some of the bots were struggling to rearrange Swerve’s; you hoped that wasn’t true because if it was, Swerve was going to have an aneurism.

Finally, your goal was in sight and you foolishly thought you were going to make it to Rung’s office until you were once again plucked out of the air by Whirl who threw you into a supply closet, locking the door behind himself.

You remembered the days you used to be afraid of such a situation, now they had become your normal. Although breathless by the impromptu kidnapping, you decided you still had to thank Whirl for his earlier rescue in the speech, if it wasn’t for him, none of the ship’s hubbub would be happening right now.

“Whirl, I-”

Whirl waved his claw casually, “Yeah, yeah, can it fleshie, I got something important to say. ‘Kay, now I’m not saying that marrying Swerve is bad but I’ve gotta ask, you sure you don’t wanna switch to a real mech?” He pointed to himself. “I’m a real prize, y’know. Nobody can take me in a fight. Tell me, what’s better than that?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you doubled over laughing, holding onto his leg for support, “Whirl, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blow this off so easily, really think about it, this is a one-time offer, trading Swerve for me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, still snickering. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, but hey, if you would do me a favour and be my mech of honour, that’d be great.”

Whirl had seen enough of the films in Swerve’s bar to know what you were asking. He rolled his optic sarcastically, “You have no idea of what we could’ve had but sure, go with the orange guy. Fine, I guess I can be the mech of honour… Does that mean I get to kill Swerve if he runs?”

“I- Um- Maybe try not to do that.”

“What about stabbing him a little?”

“I’d uh- rather have him kept whole.”

“Gotcha,” Whirl attempted a wink, which ended up being one unusually long blink. “Psychological torture and a light-beating only.”

You patted his leg in a supporting manner, “Sure, that sounds like a deal.”

Turning around, Whirl unlocked the door, letting you out first. “As your mech of honour, I’m gonna go train. Gotta get buff if that orange scumbag tries to run. Primus, I hope he runs.”

You blew Whirl a kiss, which he tried hard to ignore blushing slightly anyway, “You do that big guy; you’ll be the best mech of honour a girl could have.”

Whirl walked away, leaving you to finally get to Rung’s office. You jumped up to the door buzzer, taking three attempts before you managed to press it, silently cursing yourself for not wearing your rocket boots.

Rung opened the door, a look of surprise contorting his features. He thought he’d be the last bot you would want to see, considering his slightly strained relationship with Swerve. “(Y/N), what a pleasant surprise. Is this a professional meeting or a social call?”

He highly doubted it was the latter, becoming further shocked when you claimed it to be just that. Settling himself down in his chair, and giving you a boost to the desk, he waited for you to set the tone of the conversation, ever conscious that if he spoke first, he would blur the lines between patient and friend. Although he didn’t fully approve on your and Swerve’s hasty decision, he was determined to be supportive, afraid that if he wasn’t you would stop visiting him in both personal and professional terms.

When it became clear that you weren’t sure how to start, Rung found it impossible to ignore his processor, and spoke up quietly, “Presumably, you’re set on your decision so I’ll spare the lecture and simply ask, is this definitely what you want?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking Rung in the optics, “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love him Rung. He makes me feel safe and God, so, so happy.”

Rung nodded, satisfied with you answer, “Very well. Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I um- Excuse me for getting straight to the point but I need to know something, how much do you know about human weddings?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

You paced the table, taking time to find the right words, “Right… well, me and Swerve have decided that we’re going to somehow mesh our traditions, one wedding with the Endurae Ceremony thrown in. In human weddings there’s this role I need filling and it’s super important to pick the right person.”

Rung observed you, waiting for you to ask his advice on who to pick. He sighed, deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, “(Y/N), I cannot influence your choices on who to choose during your ceremony. It would be unethical-”

You grabbed his servo, “I want you to walk me down the aisle like the father of the bride is supposed to.”

Although Rung didn’t know what the significance was behind your request, he could tell from the tone of your voice that it was an important role. He took off his glasses, wiping away some coolant, “(Y/N), you’re sure about this?”

“Rung, you’ve guided me since my first steps on this crazy ship. You’ve made me a better person, and there is nobody I’d rather have giving me away than you. You’re the closest thing I have to a dad here and I want you by my side on my wedding day.”

Graciously, Rung bowed his head, “It would be my honour and a pleasure.”

You grinned, jumping to hug his chassis, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around you, “Thank You.”

Rung stroked your back, waiting till you pulled away from him before speaking again. “The pleasure is all mine, though if you could tell me more about my role and how I am to fulfil it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. Well, to put it-”

You were interrupted by the sound of a gong echoing over the ship’s announcement system, followed by Rodimus’ impatient voice. “(Y/N), how many times have I gotta tell you to carry around your communicator? Honestly, it’s zero, but you’re slipping, forgetting it in your room. Do you know how rude that is? What if we needed to track you? Like we did, right now, today, for a VERY important thing.”

You stared at Rung, silently begging him to tell you your communicator hadn’t really been bugged with a tracking device like you would give a dog or child. Rung raised his servos sympathetically as Rodimus continued his rant.

“What? You think I’m gonna tell you what the super cool thing is. Guess again. But if you’re not in rec-room 2B in ten minutes- wait, scrap that, make it twenty, gotta account for those tiny little legs… so cute. Anyway, twenty minutes, or I make no promises on what I’ll do to your room. Captain out!”

You shook your head disbelievingly, “I uh, I guess I have to go. Sorry Rung, rain check?”

Rung chuckled light-heartedly, “Yes, of course. Go find out what Rodimus wants, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to do all the research I can into human weddings.”

He helped you down from the desk, wishing you well as you ran down the hallways, trying to beat the timer Rodimus had set, and cursing the entire time as a cramp formed, hitting you like a needle every few seconds.

When you finally got to rec-room 2B, Rodimus was waiting outside, tapping his pede. “Primus, did you skip leg day? I’ve been waiting here forever,” He whined.

You held your hand up, ready to argue, but quickly let it drop, still trying to catch your breath.

Rodimus shook his head, placing a servo on the small of your back and guiding you into the room where a table was waiting with three seats. Cyclonus sat on the left seat and Nautica on the right, leaving the tall, middle seat for you. With Nautica’s assistance, you clambered up, watching Rodimus as he ran out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked worriedly.

“Don’t know,” Nautica said. “Rodimus dragged me in here as quickly as he could. Told me if I waited long enough, he’d get me a whole set of new tools… I think that was a lie.”

You nodded thoughtfully, turning to the ever stoic Cyclonus. “Tailgate,” He answered curtly, as if that was any kind of explanation.

Rodimus, re-entered the room, placing both servos on his cheeks, his mouth forming into a socked ‘O’ as if he never knew you were there. “Why, what have we here?” He asked loudly, strutting in front of the table like a peacock. “Well, if it isn’t our table of judges for the brand new, one-time-only, mech of honour contest! Today, for our three judges, we have a line a mile long, full of hopeful contestants to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!” He revved his engines excitedly.

“Uh, Rodimus,” You squeaked, thinking of Whirl. “I already-”

“AND HERE’S CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!”

Tailgate skipped in, clearly having been trained by Rodimus on exactly where to stand. His visor flashed eagerly as he waved at you.

Rodimus patted him on his shoulder, “Tailgate, why don’t you tell our panel a little bit about yourself and why you deserve to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!”

“Are you gonna shout that every time?” Nautica asked almost boredly, thinking of the tools she would never get.

“Withhold any comments until after the audition please, judge Nautica,” Rodimus commanded, his optics still trained on Tailgate who began his audition.

“Hi, I’m Tailgate and I’d make a great mech of honour for the same reasons I’d make a great Co-Co-Captain.”

A few other mechs peaked in from outside, trying to determine what they were supposed to say during their auditions.

“Rodimus,” You smiled awkwardly, feeling it stretch too far across your face.

“Not now judge,” Rodimus waved you off.

You sighed, seeing that there were no other options. “I already have a mech of honour!” You told the room, “I picked Whirl earlier.”

Riptide booed from outside, and Tailgate began muttering to himself, “Don’t get to be mech of honour, don’t get to be Co-Co-Captain, don’t get to be anything.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were planning any of this,” You gestured at the line of mechs who were blocking the door to listen in.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus held his helm in his palm. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)… You know how impulsive I am, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t blame me!”

“I blame you!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the disappointment surrounding you. “Ugh, fine, I guess I can have two bridesmai- uh bridesmechs.”

Upon hearing this, Tailgate pushed Rodimus away from you, “As I was saying. I would be the best candidate for a tonne of reasons, right Cyclonus?” He winked.

“I’m not going to be a part of this,” Cyclonus deadpanned, leaving the room solemnly.

“Wha- CYCLONUS, COME BAAAACK,” Tailgate whined, chasing after him.

Nautica pulled out her datapad, making a note. “Hmm, chases after his own personal problems instead of focusing on the bride. Not a good quality in a bridesmech. Too bad, he was doing so well until then.”

You smirked, amused with how scientific she was even now; it looked like most of the decisions of the contest would be up to her for the rest of the game Rodimus had dragged you both into.

“Contestant number two, we are waiting for you,” Rodimus called, in a game-show host kind of voice.

Riptide stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Riptide, but all my friends call me… uh Riptide.”

You snickered into the palm of your hand, finally beginning to see the appeal in Rodimus’ game, even if it was to be a long one, judging by the ever-growing queue outside.

Swerve hugged you close to him, wrapping you in your blanket that he’d moved over to his berth along with an assortment of pillows. You had already told him of your long day and how it ended with you picking Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind, Chromedome, and Riptide as your bridesmechs, mainly because everyone kept complaining until you did.

“A gaggle,” You groaned. “I have a gaggle of bridesmaids.”

“Bridesmechs,” Swerve corrected you playfully.

“They’re like Gremlins! Spill water on one and it multiplies.”

“Primus, I love you,” Swerve murmured at the reference.

You peeked up at him, frowning suddenly, “Hmm, you’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, talking but not babbling. What’s with that? I mean- Wait!” You sat up, “Are you trying to keep your secret thing quiet by not talking.”

Swerve blushed, going ridged, “NO!”

You slapped his chest, grinning idiotically, “You totally are. What is it? Come on, tell me!”

Swerve mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I bet I can get those lips open.”

He shook his head. You placed a single finger under his chin, drawing him close to you and kissing him, slipping your tongue in to rub against his metal one. He moaned into your mouth, accepting defeat, even when you pulled away.

The two of you laid down again, and Swerve finally spoke, albeit quietly, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“It’s just… in Mork and Mindy, they waited four years for the slow burn until Mork proposed to Mindy. Four seasons, that’s like four years for you guys. Are you sure I’m not rushing you?”

You stroked Swerve’s cheek, “I think this is more like a Sam and Diane kind of thing in Cheers.”

“Sam and Diane… (Y/N), are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No, they get together in like, season one.”

“And then they repeatedly break up and they finally stop seeing each other after breaking off their engagement in the season four finale.”

“Really? God, I have got to see more of that show.”

Swerve let go of you, “You haven’t seen all of cheers?!”

“Save it for the honeymoon babe. What I meant was, they spend ages beating around the bush until they’re finally together and then it’s a full-on relationship, in season one at least. Now come on, no more Cheers talk, tell me at least a little bit about your day, pretty please.”

“Fine,” Swerve huffed, “But the Cheers thing isn’t over, it’s just on hold.”

You nodded agreeably.

“What to tell you, what to tell you… Oh, I chose our song for the first dance.”

“Is it one of those funny ones where we pretend to slow dance then pick out a hip-hop number?”

“W—well, not uh, not really,” Swerve stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as his cooling fans kicked on. “I-I mean we could do that if you want, but I was thinking something more traditional?”

“Really? I thought you’d like an opportunity to show off.”

“I uh- I guess we could. I’d have to pick a different song but if that’s what you want then…”

Seeing how much Swerve wanted his traditional dance made your heart flutter. You pecked his lips, “No, whatever you’ve picked will be perfect, I just know it.”

“I’m still not telling you what song it is,” Swerve smiled.

“Oh, come on,” You pouted, “I’d tell you. Man… I cannot believe you can keep a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets… I’ve been thinking about how to integrate the four acts of The Conjunx Rites into a human wedding and, uh… how much do you know about the Conjunx Rites, by the way?”

“Between my vast knowledge of everything? I know… nothing.”

Swerve vented his fans anxiously, “Um, the first act is the act of intimacy.”

You bit back a laugh, thinking of the night before with Swerve between your legs. Reaching over and tracing your fingers lightly over his interface panel, you winked, “Pretty sure we already got that one covered.”

Swerve blushed and stammered on, “I-I was thinking we c-c-could just hold hands or something, for the crowds.”

You giggled, and stopped teasing him, keeping your hands to yourself, “Alright, then what?”

“I’m gonna save Act 2 for last because I dunno, we’re rebels and kinda screwing with tradition as it is, so next is the act of profference. We have to give each other a gift of some kind.”

Reaching behind him, Swerve pulled a small orange metal box from underneath the mountain of pillows. “I want to give you this officially on the day, but I think you should see it now.”

Wordlessly, you took the box, opening it to find a plain purple ring, the likes of which you’d never seen before. While you stared at it, Swerve started explaining.

“I don’t know if you’ll get it, but it’s made out of my innermost energon… Percy found a way to stabilize it into a metal, so, uh, well, it’s important to me and I’ll explain if you need me to.”

As it happened, you didn’t need Swerve to explain; you already knew that receiving inner-most energon was the highest form of love and respect you could receive from a Cybertronian.

“I get it,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes free of tears.

Trying to alleviate the sombre, yet joyous mood, Swerve said, “Brainstorm wanted to make it, but he was planning to inscribe it with ‘One Ring to Rule Them All.’ There’s still a good chance, he’ll put something like that on your dress.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. Closing the box gently, you handed it back to him, “I don’t know what I can possibly give you that could ever match up to that.”

“You’ve already given me something though (Y/N).”

“Please do not say that boxset of ‘Three Men and a Baby’ I found.”

“(Y/N), you’re exempt from act three because you’ve already given me something nobody else could; a reason to live.”

You looked up, shocked and afraid, despite his happy tone. You were about to say something when Swerve got the ball rolling again with act four. “The final act is the act of devotion, which is to perform a spectacular demonstration of love. I think we can both agree that’s the wedding.”

“So, then what’s act two?” You whispered, feeling an almost electric atmosphere once you asked.

“The Act of Disclosure, which I think we should do here and now, otherwise it kind of defeats the object of telling an intimate secret… We can’t really do that in front of a crowd.”

Swerve waited with bated breath to see your reaction; asking someone who wasn’t prepared to reveal something intimate about themselves wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I…” You took a deep breath. “On Earth, there was always so much pressure to find someone who you’re meant to be with. They don’t really show it on TV, but we are told all the time that we have to find somebody or die alone, there’s never any time to relax or be free under so much damn pressure and it is terrifying to think that we- that I was brainwashed into it just like everyone else. ”

“I never trusted anyone enough to think of them as someone I’d want to be with. When I got here, I acted more confident and mature and, I um, guess it was kind of a clean slate for me. I never actually expected that I’d find someone to spend my life with but suddenly, when the pressure to fall in love was off, I met you. Swerve, you are my happy ending, when I didn’t think I could have one anymore. I don’t um- Is that what you were thinking? Is it intimate enough? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be do-”

Swerve pulled you into a hug, his entire body convulsing in silent sobs. Suddenly, you knew why this step was so important, and so you held him, until he was ready to share his secret.

Swerve shook himself, as if trying to physically shake his nerves away, though it was evident he couldn’t as his vocaliser filled with static when he spoke. “Um, I’ve… Let’s face it, I’ve lived through a war. I’ve seen horrible things, done worse sometimes but that’s no secret of any Cybertronian. My secret is- W-What I’m trying to say… When war lasts that long, you have to expect that people, even the most desperate are going to be pushed into relationships, some of which last, most of which break. Some are intimate, but a lot were purely sexual… My point is, that even though I looked for anything in either of those categories, nobody ever loved me- Scrap, nobody even liked me enough to well… Y’know, uh- You were my first.”

Swerve half-expected you to laugh, despite the sober atmosphere. Instead you drew him close once again, staring into his visor, “Then all those others were idiots and I got lucky. I love you and I am so damn proud to be your first.”

Swerve looked away, “You’re not embarrassed by that?”

You shook your head, feeling your way over to his interface panel, a misty glint to your eyes. Swerve grabbed hold of you gently, still not meeting your gaze,

“Then… Then you won’t be embarrassed if I ask to wait till after the wedding? I know we already did it before but now… I want to wait till we’re married, and you are Mrs. Swerve.”

You drew back scowling, “What the hell, Swerve?”

He shrank back from you, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Why? Why would I be Mrs Swerve? You don’t even have a last name, if anything, you’d be Mr (L/N).”

Swerve’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, soon grinning goofily. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on?” He asked. “You giving the orders and me just obeying like the mindless idiot who worships you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thank Primus,” He laughed, grabbing you and rolling back onto the berth so you were on his chassis again.

You woke up, with a nauseous stomach, finally afraid now it was your wedding day. How had seven days passed so quickly?

“Swerve?” You mumbled. “You awake?”

You turned over, finding the berth empty, aside from a note that had been messily scrawled over the rest of the berth.

Hey fleshbag, it’s bad luck to see the groom on the wedding.

Swerve will be returned, mostly in one piece at the wedding.

- M. O. H. (MECH OF HONOUR)

 You smiled, the message alleviating your nerves slightly. All the same, you wanted to call Swerve and make sure he wasn’t getting cold pedes. Had it not been for a banging on the door, you would have.

“Who is it?” You called, falling off the berth ungracefully and hissing as you rubbed your sore hip.

“It’s your fairy godmother,” Brainstorm answered cheerily. “With your carriage and might I say, a very glamorous ensemble for you.”

You opened the door wide, “…Does it have your face on it?”

Brainstorm gasped, covering his faceplate playfully. “Y/N, this is your big day and you think I would make it about me? How dare you? I’ll have you know that this is a traditional Earth wedding outfit that I have lovingly synthesized with you in mind.”

“So Perceptor wouldn’t let you?”

“Not even when I offered to put his photo on it too, talk about selfish.”

You nodded almost mournfully, playing along with his game, “That prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, here it is,” He stepped outside, bringing your outfit back with him. It was in the traditional white, but instead of being a dress or a tuxedo, it was both. There was a small white zip for you to tear away either the skirt or the pants so you could choose your style. You teared up slightly.

“Yeah,” Brainstorm said sympathetically, “I mean it is good, but I’d cry too if my face wasn’t on it, where it clearly should be. No time for that now though, your carriage awaits.”

You tore your eyes away from the outfit, peeking through the door to see a giant truck with a bow on it; the bow had Brainstorm’s face on it.

“Magnus?” You asked, somewhat dazed.

“(Y/N), it’s almost time for your wedding and you have not even done your hair yet? This is going to throw everything off schedule,” Ultra Magnus reprimanded, proving that it was indeed him. He sighed, switching to his communicator, “Rodimus, (Y/N) isn’t ready yet… I already told you- No I will not use those ridiculous code names and furthermore- You will refer to me as Ultra Magnus or else- Fine,” Ultra Magnus said defeatedly, apparently losing whatever argument he was in with Rodimus. “Flaming Cupid, Princess Perfect is running late. Keep Lucky Orange calm and where he is, we will be there soon.”

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“I heard that Princess- I mean (Y/N). Get inside and get ready. Schedules wait for nobody.”

“Okay, I’m going, but real quick, are you comfortable doing this? You’ve never driven me anywhere before.”

“(Y/N), this may well be the most important day of your life, I would not be here if it wasn’t.”

Brainstorm leaned over to you, covering his mouth-plate and whispering, “He was afraid anyone else would speed.”

“Speed laws are to be obeyed,” Ultra Magnus warned you exasperatedly.

With that, you skipped back into your room to get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.

Swerve waited at the end of the aisle with shaking legs, the only thing that kept him from pacing was Megatron’s servo on his shoulder; the action was supposed to be supportive, but coming from Megatron, it only felt intimidating.

“I’m gonna purge my tanks,” Swerve whimpered.

“Do it glitch, I dare ya,” Whirl warned from opposite him, throwing a metal, painted bouquet at Swerve and hitting him square on the head, much to Megatron’s chagrin.

“Hey!” Rodimus picked up the bouquet, shoving it at Whirl’s chassis. “Remember, we’re here for (Y/N).”

“And me too, right?” Swerve squeaked, feeling faint.

Rodimus rolled his optics, “Yeah, yeah, you too, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Suddenly, music began playing, and everyone stood up as they’d been told to do. Nautica, Rewind, Chromedome, Riptide and Tailgate ran to the front where they were supposed to be just in time for Ultra Magnus to drive around the corner and let you out. Ultra Magnus transformed, spotting his Brainstorm bow for the first time and tearing it off in disgust. He took his place in the back, while Rung went to your side in his holo-form, so he could link arms with you.

You barely had time to look around at all the intricate decorations as you were walked down the aisle towards Swerve who looked completely dumbfounded that you’d actually showed up.

“Are you nervous?” Rung asked you quietly.

“Absolutely,” You whispered back.

“Don’t be, from everything you’ve told me over our messages this past week, you’ll do great.”

You squeezed his arm in thanks.

“I believe it is customary for the ‘father of the bride’ to offer a compliment. I may not be your creator, but I must say, you are glowing. I am truly happy for you (Y/N), ah, but here is where we part ways.”

Rung went to take his seat, but you pulled him back slightly, pecking his cheek, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Rung put a hand over his spark, bowing his head humbly and leaving your side, as you went to join Swerve.

“Finally,” Rodimus groaned, “That took forever.”

Chromedome nudged him warningly, giving Whirl just enough time to lean close to you, “Told you I’d get the glitch here in one piece.”

You nodded, holding back a laugh at the already unconventional wedding.

“Alright,” Rodimus boomed, “Let’s get on with it so we can get to the P-A-R-T-Y!”

Megatron glared at Rodimus, silently telling him to tone it down, but Rodimus didn’t care as he went into a full-on impression of an over-the-top-preacher. “I have been told that Act two of the Conjunx Rites has been completed, can I get a HALLELUJAH?!”

The entire room cringed and Rodimus scowled, “Ugh fine.” He grew semi-serious, facing you and Swerve with a smile, “Swerve, (Y/N), if you would like to initiate Act One of the Conjunx Rites?”

You reached out for Swerve’s servo, smiling radiantly the entire time. Thankful that you had made the first move, Swerve grabbed your hand gratefully, squeezing a little too tight, though you didn’t mention it.

“Very good, and I believe you have something to give one another?”

Once again, you surprised Swerve by holding out an orange metal box, identical to his. He reached out carefully, “(Y/N)… What-”

“Open it,” You said.

He did, finding a locket that would fit perfectly in one of his sub-spaces. He flicked open the locket, finding a lock of hair inside. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape at the unexpected gift.

“I may not have any inner-energon, but I figured this is close enough.”

Rewind leaned forward to get a better view, his camera displaying a live-feed to all the vid-screens on the ship, including two large ones for all the attendees.

“Ha ha,” Riptide laughed, “Gross.”

Nautica nudged him and Swerve ignored the pair as he tucked the locket delicately into his subspace, offering you his own box shortly afterwards, letting you put on the energon ring yourself because his servos were shaking so badly.

“Great,” Rodimus clapped his servos together, “Then that leaves act four, Swerve, I believe you’ve prepared some vows but I looked at them and they were long, so here’s a queue card that I wrote and believe me, it’s an improvement.”

He pulled a card from behind him which Megatron firmly snatched away, glaring the entire time, “Let. Him. Speak.”

Rodimus grumbled, stepping back, “Fine. Bet he doesn’t say ‘Till we are one’ though.”

All optics and Rewind’s camera went onto Swerve who stood dumbly, unsure of what to say now that he didn’t have his datapad with the speech on it. “I um-” His voice filled with static and he had to wait a minute to clear it. Ratchet creeped behind him, turning a fan on in case he overheated; you withheld a wry smile.

“(Y/N),” Swerve began, “You- You’re the Monica to my Chandler. You listen to me even when I get crazy and I know I’m not good enough for you, Primus, this whole ship does, but you’re here anyway. I want to spend every nano-click with you, in the non-creepy way. You’re my universe.”

The static began again and Swerve had to take a small step back, though he still held onto you, more for support than anything else.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus said, “Care to add anything to that?”

“What can I say other than what I’ve already said?” You mused. “You’re my happy ending Swerve, and if you can deal with all my gross human stuff, that’s good enough for me. I love you, you’re my lucky star… and I’m totally in it for the free drinks,” You laughed and the crowd chuckled along with you.

“Then by the power vested in me,” Rodimus went back to his preacher voice, “as Co-Captain of this ship, I present to you, these Rodimus stars for the Lost Light’s first ever interspecies marriage.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out two gold stars, passing the human-sized one to you and handing the other to Swerve. “I now pronounce you Conjunx Endurae and mech and wife.” He looked at Swerve, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your lady love!”

You didn’t wait for Swerve as you jumped into his open arms, kissing him while the crew cheered.

The two of you were broken up by a loud shot from another gun Whirl had managed to smuggle in. Once again, Ultra Magnus stared mournfully at the ceiling, wondering exactly where Whirl had got the other gun from; he had confiscated last week’s after the first incident.

Whirl picked you up, “FIRST ONE TO THE PARTY GETS A PRIZE KISS OFF (Y/N).”

A mass of Cybertronians transformed, each trying to beat Whirl to the bar while Swerve was left alone, wondering how he was still left competing with the crew over you, even now that you were married.

After you’d given a victory kiss to Whirl, the party kicked off to a roaring start, with you being dragged off in every direction while Swerve tried to catch up. Finally, you managed to reach him at the bar, which he glared at enviously, hating that Mirage was serving drinks, even on the happiest day of his life.

“Hello, Mr (L/N),” You bowed graciously.

“Hello, Mrs Swerve,” Swerve curtsied. He offered you his arm, “If I may ask you for a dance?”

“How courteous of you,” You smiled, then paused to listen to the current song. “Yep, I always wanted my first dance to be to Wrecking Ball.”

Swerve snickered, “I’m afraid not.”

He led you to the dancefloor then waved at Blaster, who instantly switched the song off. Frank Sinatra’s ever sweet melody, ‘I Love You Baby,’ played instead and you bit your lip, fearing your face would practically split open from smiling too much. Swerve led, matching the pace of the song, and gazing at you adoringly the entire time.

“This was your big surprise?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice to match the lie he’d just told; so long as you thought the song was his secret, he was fine.

You leaned into his chassis, ignoring the faster pace of the chorus so you could simply hold onto him, spinning slowly, “I love you too.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Swerve responded ecstatically, picking you up bridal style. You squealed, letting him twirl around, helpless to stop him anyway. All around, the night was perfect and you would never dream of asking for anything more.

Later on, when you were distracted once again by many a bot who wanted to congratulate you, Swerve received a comm on his private channel. He checked his messages, finding a text from Brainstorm and Perceptor, telling him his request was ready. Checking on you once again, Swerve slipped out, transforming so he could be at Perceptor’s lab in record time.

He let himself in, finding the two bots talking about you and the ethics of the project Swerve had asked them to complete. “It’s ready?” Swerve asked. “And you’re sure it will work?”

“Of course,” Perceptor said almost offendedly. “We invented it. It works.”

“Can I see?”

Brainstorm grabbed a remote control, pressing it with flair so one of the flooring panels lifted up as well as thick plumes of smoke.

Perceptor waved the smoke away casually, “Was the smoke machine really necessary?”

“Well you wouldn’t let me have the laser show,” Brainstorm explained. “Where’s your sense of presentation?”

Swerve didn’t listen to either of the pair, he was too focused on what had come out of the floor to care.

Perceptor turned his attention to Swerve as the orange mech stroked a lifeless mini-bot model that looked remarkably like you yet worlds different at the same time. “Are you sure (Y/N) will agree to this? We are talking about moving her consciousness from one body to another.”

“Human life is too short,” Swerve said as if it was an answer. “She doesn’t have to say yes today. Primus! I want her to stay human as long as she can but… But I just got her, I’m not losing her in the blink of an optic. Make sure this will work, I’ll get her to agree. She’s everything to me.”

He walked out of the lab, transforming so he could get back to the party. Finally, things were going his way.

THE END.

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[angrylizardjacket]

crashed into me {Bernie Taupin}

Summary: Ash, having split from Roger, is called in to work with Elton John, where she meets Bernie Taupin, who feels like a breath of fresh air, even if he's not so different from Roger, he's different enough. It feel different. It feels good.

A/N: atrociously long but I don't know the word count. (Edit: akdkaldksfdg it's 8200 words wtf) I'm so so so sorry to mobile users who Read More doesn't work for. And for everyone else for the next 3 days until I can get to a laptop and add a read more. SO this is a thing. I'm actually a little proud of it. It'll get like 12 notes because it's obscure as hell but I'm enjoying myself and that's what matters. I hope that if you read it, you enjoy it too!!

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.” 

When John Reid, Queen’s manager, calls Ash specifically, she can’t even begin to fathom what he wants. This is John Reid, who manages Elton John, who she’s met maybe twice in total, wanting her to meet someone- not Queen, just Ash. He calls and he asks her to meet him at his office, to bring her portfolio; he tells her that he’s got a client who is interested in working with her, and Ash feels like she’s going to throw up. 

When John Reid, Elton John’s manager, calls Ash, Queen’s designer, specifically, he knows without even really needing a meeting that she’d be perfect to work with Elton. The moment he’d met her, watched her negotiate for a place on EMI’s payroll with Foster, he knew she wasn’t one to be chewed up and spat out the industry like so many before her had been, and will be. She’s weathered rockstars, weathered Freddie Mercury for years by now, and she’s got the drive, the talent, and the vision to bring Elton’s extravagance to life. 

And more importantly, he knows what’s gone down between her and Roger, and since they’ve split, he doesn’t want either of their talent wasted on awkward encounters and unresolved tension; he wants to give her a project with another artist as much as he wants to give her an opportunity.

The meeting is more of a formality.

“Rocket, dear, lovely to see you, please take a seat,” Reid smiles warmly at her when she knocks on his door, wearing a bright red jumpsuit, the top of which is tied off around her waist, and a yellow, bejeweled, bell sleeved crop top. Her hair is out, looking somehow both styled, and an absolute, untameable mess, and she’s already reaching for her folio in the leather bag she’s got slung over one shoulder.

“Rocket? Who’s Rocket?” There’s someone on the sofa that Ash hadn’t been able to see for the door, and when she steps into the room, she can feel her heart in her throat. Elton. Fucking. John.

“Rocket here is a designer, she’s Queen’s designer actually, though she’s essentially on retainer for EMI; I think she could really bring your ideas to life, Elton.” Reid’s so clear and concise, and Ash has to remember to close her mouth, a little overwhelmed now that she knows exactly why she’s here. “Rocket, please, take a seat.” 

Ash steps quickly up to the desk, looking to Reid to avoid staring at Elton and the man she hadn’t noticed beside him, instead pulling out her portfolio and laying flat on the desk. The switch is instant, from nervous to all business, seizing the opportunity presented.

“You should have given me a heads up, I could have brought some of the actual pieces I was working on for Freddie, they’re far more impressive.” Ash tells him, voice a little tense. She avoids looking directly at Reid, opening up to the front page which was already a rather impressive photo of Freddie in a sequinned, striped jumpsuit, laid out over a sketch of the design with notes, and fabric samples. When she finally looks up at Reid, he’s giving her a faintly amused smile, before his gaze flicks to the sofa and it’s occupants.

“I’m sorry,” he’s not really, they both know, but Ash just gives a tight smile in response before he’s calling over the other two, “Elton, Bernie, would you like to come over and introduce yourselves and take a look at her portfolio, maybe get some ideas?”

There’s movement once he stops speaking; Elton, and the one who has to be Bernie, make their way over, both looking between Ash and Reid, a little confused, but mostly intrigued. Ash stands and moves to the side to let the other two get a good look at her work.

“Ash Clarke,” she offers her hand, smiling brightly trying to hide her nerves, “but most people around here call me Rocket; it’s a nickname turned professional name, you know how it goes,” she explains without being prompted, as if reading off a script. Elton grins at her.

“Elton John, lovely to meet you, Miss Rocket, I have to say it’s good to put a name to the brains behind some of Freddie’s pieces I’ve come to really envy,” he tells her, and Ash can feel herself turning bright red at the compliment.

“Thank you,” she tells him, her smile growing more bashful, still a little starstruck, “it’s lovely to meet you too.”

“You- you made all of these?” The other man asks, eyes bright as he looks up from where he’s been flicking through her portfolio. Ash drops Elton’s hand, and the singer turns to join his friend in looking through the book.

“Every design in there had to be made from scratch; it’s not as if you’re going to get Freddie Mercury’s look in Biba,” she laughs a little, gaze drifting as she scratches at the back of her neck, considering “I’m not exactly worried about time or effort in terms of construction; hand sewing a sequinned jumpsuit was pretty much my Everest.”

“We’ll see about that,” Elton says, and there’s an excited look in his eyes, and Ash pauses for a moment, before letting her grin turn a little sharp as she looks back at him.

“If anyone could give me a challenge, it’d probably be you.” 

And the moment her work becomes her focus, any indication of her earlier nervousness evaporates. When she greets Bernie, there’s a confidence in the way she holds herself, the firmness of her handshake, something in her smile he can’t quite identify.

Once they’re all introduced, Ash stands between the pair looking over her folio, walking them through designs, the intricacies of each piece’s construction; her voice is strong and her explanations are concise, though she’ll add amusing asides here and there. Before the half an hour meeting is up, Elton’s already agreed to take her on as his designer, and head dresser for the tour.

“I prefer to travel with my more intricate work,” Ash admits, a little awkwardly, but Elton’s already all but agreed. 

After everyone’s in agreement, a consultation has been arranged for Ash and Elton to go through some initial ideas, and Ash has signed onto the tour, she’s packed up all her things and is ready to head out. Reid’s office is in a very large, very fancy EMI building, and while Elton stays to talk with his manager, Bernie offers to walk her out, lest she get lost.

“How’d you come to work with Queen?” He asks, smiling goodnaturedly. The softness about his eyes reminds her a little of John. 

“I met Fred in uni, he’s like a brother to me,” Ash admits, though it’s a little hesitant, there’s a tightness in her own smile, and she avoids his gaze, “I’ve been working with them for about three-to-four years,” she paused, “dunno, just sort of fell into it, I guess.” She paused for a very, very long moment, before finally turning, slowing down to an actual stop. “You’re the songwriter, aren’t you?” After a beat, she frowned, amending, “like, I know you both write songs, but you’re- that’s what you do for the mostpart.”

Bernie blinked a few times, taking a moment to process all of what she’d said, amid the flurry of her accent, and found himself smiling, nodding as he actually took a moment to consider the woman before him.

“Yes, I write the words, Elton writes the music,” after a beat, his smile grew wider, “that’s generally how it’s worked out.”

“Well judging by the end product, it’s worked out quite well.” Ash’s voice was surprisingly fond, and Bernie agrees, laughing, and then they’re heading off again, and he’s asking her if she had a favourite song. 

“I mean, I do, I have a few, but they’re...” she hesitated, bouncing down the stairs to the ground floor, “most of them, well, they’re a bit tragic now, old memories and such; I don’t listen to them a lot anymore,” she found herself admitting.

“Can I ask what they were anyways?” And Bernie sounds genuinely curious. Ash makes a noise that sounds caught between a hum and a laugh, but Bernie holds up a hand, amusement shining in his eyes when she looks over his eyes, “can I take a guess and say one of them was Tiny Dancer?”

Ash laughs, nodding, though she’s also turning pink.

“The kicker is that I can’t dance to save my life, haven’t got a musical bone in my body,” they’re passing reception, and Ash waves to the woman behind the counter who smiles and waves at her in return, “but Rog was always adamant that the rest of the song was close enough that it didn’t matter.” Her words are fond but then her expression is twisting, falling once they step outside and her mind has caught on a memory; the reason she doesn’t listen to the song anymore, Bernie thinks. He goes to apologise, but then she’s smiling brightly at him, waiving it off and hopping down the front steps of the building.

She tells him it was lovely to meet him, so honest and bright, and he wonders if it was a trick of the light, her momentary scowl. He returns the sentiment in kind and tells her he looks forward to their next meeting. Ash’s smile grows wider, and then she’s off, easy for his eye to follow, all red and gold and ginger, like a flame through the sea of beige pants and slate grey sidewalks. Certainly she’s interesting, but he’s not quite sure what to think.

By the time he’s back in the office, though he’s sure to knock first, knowing Elton and Reid’s situation, he asks about her. Elton, ever the gossip, has already extracted from Reid everything he knows about the girl, within reason. 

The most scandalous gossip is always what Elton starts with, and it only takes a single sentence for the earlier interaction to start making more sense to Bernie.

“Well I knew I knew her from somewhere; she’s been in and around the tabloids in the past few years, dating Roger Taylor and all,” Elton leans back, smiling to himself; the gossip’s not malicious, it’s more like he’s proud of himself for solving some sort of riddle. It’s obvious he likes her well enough, is excited to work with her, is excited to work with someone who has the talent to match his ideas. 

They meet with her weekly; Elton because he’s the one she’s designing for, Reid because he’s Elton’s manager the same way Paul is Queen’s; in charge of the day-to-day, and Bernie because, well, because he can be, because he wants to be. Ash doesn’t complain, he’s good company.

They go over concepts at a coffee shop, and she’s dressed down from the last time they saw her. Her hair’s tied back, late and a little frantic, sketchbook in hand when she bursts in. There’s paint on her clothes and graphite on her fingertips, and loose pieces of thread littered all over her shirt if anyone looked hard enough.

She doesn’t give an excuse, just jumps straight into the ideas she had, opening her sketchbook to a page covered in designs and colours, telling them she’d have fabric samples after taking measurements.

She’s chaotic; a flurry of movement and colour, and a much thicker accent than Reid, exploding with ideas, and so enthusiastic about the ideas that Elton brings in turn. She’d rather write her address on a napkin than rip out a page of her notebook, and something about that is so endearing.

“Sorry, I know this isn’t usually how designers work,” she says, finally taking a moment to sip at the coffee she’d ordered on arrival, making a face at how lukewarm and unpleasant it was, “I’m just used to being far more hands on with my clients,” after a beat, she considered her words, before her expression wrinkles and she turns an entertaining shade of pink. “Professionally,” she picked her words carefully, “I like to establish a close and respectful relationship with my clients; I consider the people I work with to be friends.” She explains, and is thankful when no-one questions her on that.

Bernie’s the first to show up, a week later at the address she’d given them all, and it comes as a slight surprise to find that it’s not a studio, that it’s just her flat. She answers the door in practically the same clothes as she’d been wearing the last time she saw him, but with a grin adorning her face, looking far less hurried.

While she sets about making tea, he takes the moment to look around her apartment, picking his way past the reams of fabric leaning against every piece of furniture it seemed. There’s a selection of photos on her mantle, most notably, a slightly faded photograph of a younger-looking Ash, and Freddie Mercury, in front of the ocean. Most of her photos are of Queen members, though there’s a few of what he thinks is a band, though he doesn’t recognise them, the woman Ash is standing beside is stark naked, grinning and covered in body paint. There’s one, face down, and when he picks it up, he sees Ash asleep on Queen’s Roger Taylor, the two of them crammed into what Bernie recognises as a tour bus sofa; it’s labelled Osaka ‘72. It’s surprisingly intimate. He feels like he’s intruding. Something tightens in Bernie’s chest at the sight of it, and he puts it back down, wants to pretend like he never saw it, but turning back, he sees Ash watching him, quiet, leaning against her kitchen counter with two mugs in front of her.

“Sorry, I should have cleaned up.” Her voice is soft as she picks up the mugs, bringing one over to him where he’s floundering, babbling out apologies for intruding, though she doesn’t seem to be listening. Instead, she stands beside him, shoulder brushing his, looking at the rest of the photos.

“That one’s from our first year-” she picks up the one of herself and Freddie, “felt like we were the only two not straight out of high school, us old dogs had to stick together.”

This takes Bernie by surprise, who hadn’t thought much about how old she was, though when he thinks about it, he’d assumed she was younger than him, but perhaps that was just her height. It turns out he’s younger than her by just under a year; she’d just turned twenty-six. 

Elton and Reid turn up not long after, and she sets about making them tea also, before she starts taking Elton’s measurements. While she’s writing and sketching, she hands him a thick box of fabrics, and tells him to go through it, pick out some textures and colours he likes and that he thinks would work.

What a strange juxtaposition she presents herself as; endlessly patient and understanding with everyone around her, but always hurrying herself, wanting to do more, trying to push herself, challenge herself. Bernie can’t deny that he’s coming to quite like her.

In the months leading up to the album release and tour, they’re at her flat almost once a week, once a fortnight if they’re busy, but it becomes a familiar location. Ash is casual about it, insisting that suits would be overdressed, and so, even for Reid, it becomes a small sanctuary from the hectic life they’ve all been leading. Despite this, she’s always been a bit wary of Reid, not enough to have it effect their business, but every time she sees him in a suit, it seems to set her on edge; the moment he starts showing up in jeans and t-shirts, she seems far more comfortable. Sometimes they bring takeout, and Ash yells when Elton eats in costume, but she always relents ‘just this once’, every time. 

They swap anecdotes, and the three men come to realise that Ash was a lot closer with Queen than anyone else seems to know, and she in turn learns of Elton and Reid’s relationship. There’s a moment of nervousness, of hesitation after the confession spills from Elton’s lips, even Bernie is tense. After a beat, Ash sits back from where she’d been bent over her sewing machine.

“It doesn’t bother me, I’m in a similar boat after all, in terms of,” she flushes a little, gesturing vaguely to herself, though she’s facing away from them, hair hiding most of her face. There’s a new tension in the room now, “but I don’t have much of a preference,” she admitted, before laughing a little, looking back at them where they’ve taken up her sofa and armchair, “but honestly after everything I went through with Rog, I admire that you’ve kept it so discrete.” After this, she actually seems less tense around Reid, even when he’s wearing a suit, though Bernie’s not sure the others have even noticed.

Bernie finds her fascinating, will show up early just to talk while she will be sewing, or pinning, or embroidering, always doing something, always keeping busy. In turn, he’d started bringing his notebook, working on lyrics. They’d fall into companionable silence, working away at their respective tasks before Reid and Elton would show up and the noise would pick up again.

“Dude, how in the hell did you manage to tear this?”

Bernie arrives in time to see Ash holding what looks like it could be a shirt, gazing despairingly at Brian May, who just shrugged at her question. After a beat, she shook her head.

“You’re lucky I love you,” she sighed, taking a seat at her sewing machine, and greeting Bernie with a weary smile, “when do you need this by?” She asks Brian, who’s frowning in confusion at Bernie. The confusion is mutual. “Brian.”

“Saturday?”

“It’ll take me twenty minutes, can you make me a tea?” She sighs, and he’s happy to oblige. Once introduced, Bernie and Brian get on well, chatting idly about music and touring, and when Bernie mentions taking Ash on tour, Brian looks both surprised and amused, and before Ash can even open her mouth to protest, Brian’s already giving a wry yet vague warning about keeping an eye on her on tour. Before he can even finish she’s threatening to destroy his shirt, and that’s enough to shut him up.

Banter and teasing quips flow between them and it becomes obvious that they’re old friends through and through. Brian mentions that Freddie’s been whining without her around, and Ash gives a wry smile, calls Freddie a sook, and informs Brian that Freddie had been by the apartment only two days ago. She asks about how John Deacon was going with his girlfriend, and Brian’s smile turns fond as he catches her up. It doesn’t escape Bernie’s notice how they avoid talking about Roger.

Once the shirt’s fixed, Ash presents it with pride, and Brian takes her face in his hands, kissing her forehead and calling her a legend. Ash’s answering smile is toothy. Silence filled the little flat once Brian had left, as Ash leaned her head onto her desk with faint exasperation, her cheeks flushed.

“So, Miss Rocket,” Bernie leaned back in her armchair, mischief glinting in his eyes as he crosses his arms. He doesn’t call her that much anymore, but she’s not objecting to the nickname as much as she is this line of questioning he’s about to go down, “what exactly did you get up to on tour that it warrants a warning from Brian May?” There’s a teasing edge to his words and Ash actually gives pause, before looking up, cheeks still dusted with a faint blush.

“It’s not suitable for polite company,” her smile is sharp, amusement sparkling in her eyes, and Bernie laughs.

“Sweet of you to call me polite company-” but they’re cut short but Elton bursting in, asking if Brian May had just been here. 

Something about Ash’s relationship with Bernie had shifted that day, subtly, almost imperceptibly, but they both knew it had. Perhaps it was the solidarity of being close to someone in the spotlight, or the solidarity of everyone knowing your work but no-one knowing your name. Perhaps it was simpler than that.

Now, not that anyone noticed enough to make mention of it, when she wasn’t at her sewing machine or fitting Elton, more often than not she was by his side. Even at the photoshoot Reid had set up to get a look at the costumes under lights, Ash found herself coming to stand beside Bernie. Initially it had been to ask his opinion, but she’d then just stayed there, frowning at Elton with her tongue poking out just as little as she tried to think about what else the outfit might need.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” There’s pride in Bernie’s voice, and Ash hums distractedly, playing with the box of safety pins in her hand while Elton posed with a piano. His jacket was beautifully ostentatious, with big, furry shoulder pieces that somehow managed to distract from his tight, sequinned pants. It’s quite a look.

“Do you think it needs something?” She asks, tipping her head to the side. 

“I wouldn’t know,” Bernie says after a moment, before humming, “it’s quite fetching though, God knows only he could pull it off.” Ash laughs a little at that, but her frown deepens.

“Elton,” she calls out, and the singer’s attention immediately snaps to her, “you think it needs anything else?”

“A hat.” He answers, without missing a beat, and Ash’s face lights up like he’s given her the secrets to life, the universe, and everything.

“Of course!”

Once the photoshoot is over, Elton makes mention that they’re going out for drinks, makes a point to invite her, and Ash hesitates for a moment, but agrees, so long as she can stop by her flat to change. Halfway to her front door, arms laden down with garment bags, she turns back to the Rolls Royce the other three are crammed into, and asks where they’re getting drinks at a volume that’s probably louder than necessary. After a moment, the window is rolled down, and Elton’s smiling face is looking at her, telling her to wear whatever she’d wear out with Freddie, for context. Ash nods very seriously, tells him she won’t be long.

It only takes her five minutes before she’s crashing from her front door, a pair of enormous, black platformed go-go boots in hand, wearing a black, sequinned, sleeveless shirt, and brown, corduroy, high-waisted shorts. When she makes her way into the car, she’s too distracted trying to pull on her boots to notice where Elton was instructing the driver to go, or how Bernie was pointedly looking at anything but Ash.

Thankfully, Elton had taken the middle seat in the back, and was currently fawning over the sequinned shirt, and he and Ash got into a conversation that essentially amounted  to complaining about the texture of wearing sequins, but loving how they felt from the outside. When Elton asks Bernie his thoughts, the man in question stumbled over his answer, gaze fixed out the window. 

“He hasn’t got the same eye for fashion,” Elton stage whispered to Ash, who couldn’t help but giggle.

“That’s not his fault, people like him can get away with owning one leather jacket because they always look good in it,” she says blithely; Elton’s eyebrows raise with amusement, and Bernie’s grinning, turning pink about the ears.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not,” Reid finally chimes in from the front seat, and Ash, who has no interest in being embarrassed or playing coy, smiles, and says without hesitation that it is.

With her boots on, she’s about the same height as Bernie, though both of them are still dwarfed by Elton in platforms of his own, and with Reid in tow, the four of them make their way into one of the hottest clubs London has to offer. 

Elton boos when she says she doesn’t like drinking, but cheers when she agrees to cocaine, and boos again once she’s snorted a few lines, and rubbed the remains on her gums, and adamantly refuses to dance.

“So no drinking but a strong yes to coke?” Bernie laughs, sitting beside her in the booth. They’re shoulder to shoulder despite the ample room surrounding them, and he’s got a beer in front of him; Elton and Reid have already disappeared. Ash is surprised Reid even agreed to come out.

“I don’t hate who I am on coke,” Ash says, far too honestly, but she’s still smiling as if she hadn’t been painfully personal, “and I don’t black out on it; I like remembering my nights.” She elbows him, a teasing edge to her words and her grin. He can’t help but laugh, tipping his head back against the wall.

“I thought you’d rather someone more... exciting. Adventurous. Someone to give you nights worth remembering,” he hears himself saying, “not to say that I’m not fun,” he amended quickly, “but I’m no Roger Taylor-”

“Thank fuck for that,” she chuckles humorlessly, “you know, I’m so fucking sick of people assuming what I want; who I deserve, who I’m perfect for, according to them,” her jaw tightens, looking out at the dance floor, and Bernie can’t help but frown, turning to look at her, “listen, if you want to keep things professional, just say the word. But for the record,” she turned to look at him, meeting his gaze, expression serious, “out of everyone I could possibly be with in this moment, I’d rather you.”

Bernie doesn’t give himself time to hesitate, to deliberate, so he kisses her, his lips soft against hers, his hand coming to cup her jaw and pull her closer. She moves with him, pressing herself closer to his side, leaning in to his touch. When they break apart, he doesn’t drop his hold on her face, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. She’s not smiling, though neither is he, both looking at the other as if waiting for the other’s reaction, both even a little bewildered. 

“You’re lovely,” Ash murmurs, eyes wide, “you’re so lovely and it makes me actually so nervous.” She admits, and Bernie can feel himself smiling.

“What?” He snorts, and Ash is turning pink. suddenly bashful, as if she’s regretting saying it.

“I can be such an asshole, I keep asking myself how I’ve tricked you into this,” she tells him, but she doesn’t look away, can’t bring herself to. His expression actually turns soft.

“You haven’t, and you aren’t,” he tells her fondly, and Ash finally ducks her head, moving out of his grip, her smile surprisingly vulnerable. "You're very smooth, though; 'I'd rather you'? How was I meant to resist that, not that I wanted to."

“I get... sappy when," she hums thoughtfully, "intoxicated." But her expression falls a little, "you don’t know me that well,” but she’s not moving away from him, though she’s sitting forward, looking out at the dancefloor.

“Well I think I’d like to.”

They don’t stay at the club long, it’s too hot, too crowded, too loud, and in different situations they’d both be enjoying it, but tonight doesn’t feel like that kind of night. They mill about the streets of London until they find a twenty-four hour cafe, and though it’s dingy, it feels perfect. They drink terribly brewed tea and talk and laugh until Ash is coming down from her high, and she’s still nervous, but not hesitant. She hasn’t felt nervous like this for a long time, and it’s a welcome feeling, if she’s being honest. 

He walks her home, kisses her at the door to her flat building, and grins as he watches her head inside, a little giddy. 

The next morning, Ash lies in bed, staring at her ceiling, stomach ice cold and full of anxiety, wracked with worry that he didn’t mean it, that he thinks she didn’t mean it. But around midday, she gets a call.

“How are you holding up?” On the other end of the line, Bernie’s voice is warm. 

“Pretty alright,” she’s smiling, shifting in her dressing gown and fluffy slippers, heart quickly warming as if exposed to sunlight, “how about you?” There’s a long pause, before Bernie’s quiet, hesitant laughter.

“I’m great. Do you want to grab dinner?”

They’re not dating, not if anyone asks, and it’s easy to be discrete while in London. For the first time in a long time Ash realises she doesn’t have to worry about people gossiping and speculating; she’d be lying if she said she didn’t relish it.

At first the people around them seem none the wiser; Ash is always busy, always on the move, so it’s easy for people to see her with him and not think anything of it. Perhaps their respective, standoffish nature makes it easier to fool everyone around them; they haven’t known each other long enough to be comfortable with casual contact in front of other people, even things that could be construed as platonic.

But then he shows up early to the final fitting, something Ash had come to expect. For the first time since he’s known her, her flat is actually clean, relatively speaking; she’s got rows of clothes racks around the room, each bursting with sequins and feathers and more colours than you can shake a stick at, and headdresses line practically every flat surface in the living room, with a few even lined up in the corners, but there’s no giant reams of fabric leaning against the sofa or the wall, her sewing machine sits idle and clean on the desk in the back corner. It takes him a little while to realise, but he sort of misses the clutter.

Ash herself is wearing jeans and knitted sweater that’s too big for her, offering tea around a yawn she can’t quite bite back on this early Sunday morning. Something about it, perhaps the sleepy way she blinks after she finishes the question, has Bernie’s mind stalling for just a moment.

“Bern?” She asks gently, and his mind snaps out of it; she’s already holding two mugs in anticipation, slight frown creasing her forehead in confusion. Bernie smiles, can’t help himself, bright and fond.

“Tea would be lovely,” he agrees, and makes his way over to the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. He turns, leaning against it to survey the now strangely unfamiliar living room. The kettle clicks on, and he can hear the busy London street outside, but it's a haze, like sunlight filtering in through the curtains, not quite distinct, but surprisingly comforting.

"How long have you been here?" He asks idly, crossing his arms and Wat hing over his shoulder as she adds sugar and teabags to the mugs.

"A few years," she muses, before leaving the cups be and waiting for the kettle to boil. Maneuvering around, she gently touches his arm as she passes, making a beeline for the sofa and flopping onto it, petting the seat beside her invitingly, "actually it was my first place after uni, if you don't count friends' couches," she laughs, moving automatically to tuck herself up beside him. His leather jacket is sun-warmed from being outside, and Ash hums appreciatively. Resting her cheek on his shoulder, looking at the rows of feather and pomped headdresses on the coffee table before them.

"Seems rather small for a studio space and your home."

"It gets the job done," Ash turns, rests her chin on his shoulder, and when he turns back to her, faint fondness in his eyes, she realises how close they are, "I'm a creature of habit." Her voice is so soft, but she's smiling, leaning in, and Bernie's got a hand on her cheek, kissing her softly as the kettle starts to whistle behind them.

There's a beat, a moment, Ash sighs heavily at being interrupted and rests her forehead against his for a moment. Bernie chuckles, presses a kiss to her forehead.

"I've got it," he assures, waiving off her protests, "no, I've been here enough times," he assures, "I think I can handle two cups of tea."

He moves like he knows the kitchen by the back of his hand, and Ash watches in fond awe as he finishes fixing them both tea. When it arrives, it even tastes almost perfect, and Ash, who'd curled up on the sofa, takes her drink with a murmured 'thanks' moving her legs over his as he rifled through the satchel by his side.

As Ash stretches, reaches down the other side of the sofa to grab one of the books stacked there, she feels herself slipping into a moment of sweet domesticity, something she hadn't realised she would be able to enjoy so soon.

"You working on anything interesting?" Three minutes after trying to read, she feels her skin start to itch, and the closes her book definitively. The scratching of Bernie's pen against his notebook is a painfully familiar sound for reasons that don't involve the sweet lyricist before her, and she enjoys domesticity as much as the next person, but she's got no project of her own; she doesn't like being idle.

"I'm always working on something interesting, it's just whether or not the label will see it that way," he mused, frowning at his notebook. Something about his concentration was so endearing, but they'd been taking it slow, both because Ash was so used to her relationships starting physical with feelings coming into the mix later, but she didn't want Bernie to think that all she wanted from him was sex. She just wanted to prove that she could take things slow, that she could care about the people she slept with before she slept with them.

But that jacket and his jeans and the way he'd been smiling at her had her feeling some type of way.

“You alright?” His voice brings her back to reality, and his hand where it’s resting on her knee is warm. Ash gives him a smile as sincere as she can manage, pushes all less than pure thoughts from her head; Elton and Reid would be arriving in less than an hour after all.

“What are you doing after this?”

“Not sure, didn’t really have any plans; why?” Bernie’s smiling slightly, and Ash tips her head to the side.

“I was thinking about visiting the Tate,” Ash sits up further, Bernie raises an eyebrow, intrigued. This thumb is brushing small circles against her knee.

“The art gallery?”

“No, the pizza place- yes the art gallery!” Ash laughs, leaning the side of her head against the back of the sofa, “they’ve-” she pauses for a moment, a little self conscious, like she’s sharing too much of herself to be saying this all out loud, “they’ve got a Pre-Raphaelite exhibition at the moment that I’ve been dying to see.” She admits. After a beat, her green-eyed gaze turns a little hopeful, “do you think you’d maybe like to come along?”

Bernie’s constantly surprised and delighted about the little things he keeps learning about her, and this is no different. He agrees easily.

The fitting goes well; it takes a while, obviously, with all the options she’s prepared, but Elton seems thrilled by the end of it, excited for the tour to start, and though Ash grumbles about getting all the outfits into garment bags and packing crates, she’s clearly very excited too. She and Elton bounce off of each other so well, her energy matching his the moment she’s focused on her work.

Bernie wonders if he has a type, regarding the people he cares about. He doesn’t think about it too hard.

She turns starry-eyed at the sight of Ophelia, and takes Bernie’s hand where they’re standing shoulder to shoulder in the gallery.

“She’s always here,” Ash clarifies quickly, coming back down to earth, “but she’s always so lovely.” She laughs and it’s a little awed. As the afternoon progresses, he comes to find that she’s a lot more invested in this than he’d realised. They float through the Pre-Raphaelite exhibition, with Ash making comment at every other work, and Bernie marvels at the art, at the gentleness of the figures, and their striking realism despite this.

“Spite is such a wonderful motivator,” Ash says with a knowing fondness, though her words startle a laugh from Bernie. Ash turns to look at him, eyebrows raised, “I mean it! The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, the group of artists who painted all of these, they formed in opposition of Raphael, and what was popular at the time artistically-”

“How do you know all this?” Bernie cuts her off, and Ash’s mouth snaps shut, frown adorning her brow for the barest moment.

“I studied it.”

"Double degree in fashion and art?" He nudges her shoulder but Ash's mood seems to have already soured.

"No, the fashion one was my second go; I started with Art History." She's fidgeting now, playing with his and like she's moments away from dropping it. But then he's giving her hand a gentle squeeze, asking what happened; when she looks at him, she's weary, looking, for a beat, half a second, far older than her age, "essentially," she begins, though her voice is painfully flat, as flat as her gaze is shallow, "I was expelled."

"Oh," he frowns, just slightly, takes the moment to process this information, to file it alongside everything else about her, seeing how it all fit together. Obviously it wasn't even close to being the whole story, but he didn't like the way the topic seemed to upset Ash, so he changed it.

"Which is your favorite, then?" He asked, tugging her gently into the next room, his voice light. At Ash's confusion, he smiled, "I'm sure you've seen enough art to pick a favorite piece."

"The Lacemaker;" Ash doesn't even give time to pass and think, the answer tumbling from her lips. She turns pink at her own enthusiasm. Bernie merely raises his eyebrow in question, and is rewarded by Ash waxing poetic about the tiny, beautiful piece hanging in the Louvre, the way the light's painted, the concentration on the woman's face, the attention to detail-

"I don't know why," actually a little breathless by the time she stops rambling about it, she's realised they're both sitting on a sofa in the lobby, having viewed the full exhibition by now. With both her hands on his knees, she hadn't realised how intense she had gotten until she realises how close they are, "she just takes my breath away." Ash murmurs, voice dropping to contrast how exuberantly she'd been singing the work's praises moments ago.

"You sound like you really love this painting."

There's a moment in time that follows, her gaze tracing his every feature, and he wonders what she sees in him, or even if she sees him at all. Lips twisting a little at that, a sharp shard of insecurity pierces his heart, his mind, as he wonders if she sees him or if she's -

Her smile is so gentle, so sincere, and her hand comes up to ghost along the side of his face.

"Art's very easy to love." She says it like its a fact, and perhaps for her it is. Bernie doesn't read into it, just lets go of the moment of insecurity and lets it fade quickly as Ash kisses him.

As it turned out, they weren't being as discrete as they had assumed; on the plane to Japan, the first leg of the tour, Bernie's asleep on the plane and Elton calls Ash over, looking pensive. Ash, who had been idly reading, a few seats away, no where near either Elton or Bernie, is confused for about three seconds before she gets to the musician himself, and he doesn't play coy with what he wants to talk about.

"I know you and Bernie are seeing each other," Elton's tone is surprisingly level, though Ash's stomach drops. "Don't try and deny it-"

"I wouldn't. Deny it, that is," she's quick to clarify, taking the seat opposite him. Elton gives her a small smile.

"I'm not going to tell you not to, or anything like that, he seems quite happy, as do you, and I like you well enough; you both deserve to be happy, of course," but he pauses, his light smile shifting to something more serious, more sinister, "but he means the absolute world to me, you understand? And if you hurt him, I- I'll-" he struggles to find the words, the threat, but it comes through loud and clear. Ash, however, reaches out, rests her hand on Elton's where it's pressed flat against the table between them.

"He's... he's good, isn't he?" And she's not asking it as if asking if he's alright.

"He's the best." Elton confirms with a gentle smile, relaxing a little. "He's not a saint, but honestly he's better than I deserve most of the time."

Honestly, it feels like Elton's given his blessing, in a roundabout way, and Ash wonders if Freddie would give Bernie the same speech if he found out. Ash is grateful, however, as the idea of keeping up the charade on tour had been stressing her out.

After the first show of the tour, they all go out for drinks at a bar where no-one speaks English and their translator is almost overwhelmed at their exuberance. They sit around a coffee table, a set of armchairs and sofas for Elton and his entourage, and Ash sits in Bernie's lap. It's easy, it's strangely casual, his hand on her thigh as he rambles how well the show went.

Drinks flow freely and drugs are passed around and when Elton asks, Ash will dance, will dance badly, but in that moment she's without shame, because to see such genuine smiles from the people she's come to consider friends, consider something more as is the case with Bernie, it makes it all worth it.

When she comes back, flush and grinning, and sees the way Bernie's smiling, fond and amused at the spectacle she'd made of herself, she feels that want that she'd been so carefully controlling flare to life.

"The irony of my employment in the music industry does not escape me," she laughs, breathless where she resumes her place in his lap, curling an arm around his shoulders.

"No idea what you mean," he responded loftily, hand on her thigh, pulling her closer to him, "just wondering dear, what song were you dancing to, because I don't think it was the one the club was playing."

The way she laughs, it lights up the room, at least for him, and for just a moment, the excitement of the night, the thrill of another country, the liberation provided from the booze and blow, it all coalesces into one ecstatic high.

"Let's get out of here," his voice drops low, his grip on her thigh tightening, "we can spend every other night partying with the rest of them." He actually nips at her neck and it's all the convincing Ash needs before she's getting to her feet, offering her hand and biting her lip.

"Lead the way."

Bernie's a nice person, well he likes to think he's a nice person, and he doesn't like to make assumptions about people, so, a few days later, when he again asked Ash what Brian had been warning him about, he hadn't expected her to show him.

"You're a writer; show don't tell, isn't that a rule?" She smirks, pinning Elton's headdress in place and petting the rockstar on the shoulder. Bernie's quickly turning pink at the mere implication of her offer, murmuring about how it's a different sort of writing, but Ash just presses a kiss to Elton's cheek, "alright, my work's done, I'm going to go debase myself in a closet." It's so blasé that Elton laughs, wishes her luck.

Though it's outwardly teasing, when she gets to Bernie himself, her expression turns soft. He looks pleased, actually, his blush fading fast, seems eager to be lead into the nearest empty room or closet. Ash is always sweet with him, always taking time and checking in to make sure he's alright, which Bernie appreciates; he can tell at times that he's not what she's used to, but she adapts. But he learns too; learns to pull her hair and kiss her rough, to dig his nails in but also to hold her close in the quiet moments after, because she says she doesn't know how music works but her whimpers and moans are their own kind of melody.

A girl like Ash would never be a forever for him, and they both knew this. She was the girl he could still work with even after sleeping with her, she’s the girl he can delude himself to thinking he’s in love with for the tour, she’s the girl who will smile at him the next time Reid brings her in like nothing ever happened. But she’s too much like Elton, with bigger dreams than he can rightly comprehend, and he’s sure she’d leave him in the dust if she had to... not that he thinks that about Elton.

Their relationship has a timer.

It started ticking down the moment he asks about what would happen after the tour, and Ash can't meet his gaze.

He thinks he might always remember that afternoon, the two of them enjoying a day off in bed together, the sky outside overcast, though it didn't matter because the room was heated to a be comfortable against their bare skin. Bernie's on his side, shooting for idle when he asks, his fingers ghosting over her skin, as if mapping the plane of her back, each divot and muscle and vertebrae. Ash is on her stomach, holding her pillow beneath her head, half her face smushed into it, watching him through out half-closed eye.

"I'll probably go back into project mode-" she starts.

"As soon as we get back? No down time between tours?" He asks, fingers ghosting up and down her bare spine. Ash gives a hollow laugh.

"I'm always on the move," is all the response she offers before continuing on, "Freddie managed to call me while we were in New York; they've finished a new album and he's honestly begging to have me back." She paused, her smile fond and faraway, "he calls it 'A Night At The Opera', keeps calling it his magnum opus."

"A man like Freddie, seems a bit soon to call it that," Bernie laughs, and Ash finally meets his gaze, something in her chest tightening at the easy, kind fondness that seems to spi from him.

"He's bound to have at least another eight in the coming decade," she agrees, but then her expression fades and she shifts, presses her face further into the pillow, as if trying to make herself smaller.

"I- Bern," with her voice so small and vulnerable, he can't help but frown a little, concerned. His hand stills, comes to rest at the small of her back, "I don't know what's going to happen with us." She admits, "I-" the words catch in her her throat, so he steps in.

"Ash, I love you but I don't think I could keep up," and she can tell it hurts a little for him to say it, like he's giving her an out even if his heart's not entirely in it, "you're the Rocket, love, always on the move." A few seconds pass, and Ash's expression falls.

"Burning out my fuse up here, alone." She murmurs, forlorn. The lyrics hang in the air between them, but as soon as he process what she says, what she means, how she's spiralling, he pulls her into his arms, holding her close.

"I'm sorry," she's hugging him back, her cheek resting on his chest, "I'm so sorry."

"No need to apologise," he assures, "let's just enjoy it while it lasts." He pauses, holding her just a little tighter, a lump forming in his throat, "and you'll never be alone, Ash, there's always be people who love you; Elton and I are just two of them, I promise."

Ash is quiet for a very long moment before she moves, propping herself up, finally meeting his gaze, her own full of adoration. After a beat, she breaks out into a disbelieving smile.

"You're good, you know that?" She half laughs, "much better than I deserve," shaking her head, she talks before he can form a response or protest, "I love you, and I think I'll always love you, in one way or another; is that weird to say? We haven't known each other that long if you think about it," already she's back to sounding like her old self, and Bernie's laughing, pulling her back into his arms.

"No, I get it; I love you too."