#i've just. been excited or enthused

[dingo-saurus]

it's been 4~ weeks of CPAP trialing (i think) and i have hung out with my best friend more often than i have in 5 years, i've been chatting to another old old best friend frequently and chatting to THEIR loved ones and friends a little too. and i'm not anxious out of my mind about it - in fact i reached out and started a couple DM convos that went well. i've been writing again a little. doodled a mech. i've been showering every few days rather than every few weeks. i've been dancing to myself in my room while i do Tasks (and i'm *doing tasks*. i *vacuumed* and i *cleaned my bathroom*), listening to music more often In General. almost constantly. i started tentatively trying to build up strength in my muscles again and there's already a huge difference - i'm not struggling at all when lifting my paint station anymore, it's light. my legs stopped trembling when i go down stairs. i helped carry heavy groceries inside no problem. using my standing desk for more than an hour is comfortable. my sex drive is starting to return in bits and pieces. i'm pushing my limits slowly and carefully because i know how hard overexerting myself can hit me fatigue-wise. but i haven't been hit yet. i'm still just... fine

jesus christ i was fucked up huh

[rogersideup]

One shot request: the reader from nice to be kneaded and Steve have a baby. Creative control is all yours. I just need a baby in that man’s arms.

Nice to be Kneaded

More Fun Stuff

Just Between Us

Can be read as a one shot, or in conjunction with Nice to be Kneaded.

Series Masterlist More Fun Stuff Masterlist

Post Endgame Steve x Baker reader

Word Count: 1,564

Some things are best kept a secret <3

Getting home from a long day at work at the bakery felt like a billion pounds falling off your shoulders. It had been a long, chaotic day of fulfilling unusually large orders all while trying to appease the masses that never slowed down since the blip.

Unlocking the door and stepping inside, the view in the living room immediately put a smile on your face, and took the weight of the world off your back.

"Dada" Steve spoke to the now almost one year old.

He was splayed out on the living room rug, your little daughter in front of him, belly laughing right in his face.

"Mama!" She responded, laughing even harder at Steve's immediate response.

"No, Dada!" He shook his head, smiling at the sound of her giggles.

Your smile widened as you kicked off your shoes and put your bag down.

"Say dada!" Steve encouraged. "Da-Da"

"Mama!" She responded.

"Dada" He tried again.

"Mama."

The closer you got to the adorable scene, the more you could tell Steve was exhausted and probably losing his mind a bit. He was wearing no pants and a shirt, and he had yet to even brush his hair. But, your daughter looked freshly bathed, fed, dressed, and happy as a clam.

Moments like these always warmed your heart, and you were endlessly thankful to have a husband who was so supportive of not only you, but his own daughter.

You could've never been running two bakeries and raising a kid if it weren't for his wild blonde hair and lack of pants.

"Okay, sound it out." He changed methods. "Start with D. Duh duh duh."

"Duh" She babbled back.

"Now dah! Dah dah dah."

"Dah dah dah"

"Now Dada!" Steve was so hopeful.

"Mama!" Her cheeky smile widened and pointed to you, putting her arms in the air hopeful you would pick her up.

"Hi baby! I missed you!" You enthused, happy to scoop up your little cinnamon roll off the plush rug. "Oh my goodness, did Dada put you in this cute little outfit?! What a cutie!"

"Dada also gave her a bath, because she was a bit stinky." Steve told you, the superhero nearly struggling to get up off the floor, a testament to how tightly she has him wrapped around her teeny baby fingers.

"Do you have the best Dad in the whole world?!" You asked her, she smiled and giggled in response. "Say Yes! Yeessss"

"Yes!" She responded with ease.

"Yay!!" You celebrated.

Teaching a baby how to talk meant every conversation was now grounds for teaching, and you would happily teach her that Steve, was in fact, the best dad in the world.

Steve finally made it up off the floor, which excited her even more.

"Mama!" She squeaked happily, pointing to Steve.

"No, Dada." You pointed to him, trying to help Steve out.

He's been trying for three days now to get her to call her anything close to Dad. She's had Mama down for a week now and you were starting to feel Steve's pain.

"Hi, Captain Underpants" You smiled at him, it was impossible to not be happy and completely enchanted by the sight of him. "I missed you."

He gave you a kiss, and you wrapped your free arm around him to hug him the best you could.

"Hi, Sweetheart. I missed you too" He happily snuggled up to you. "How was work?"

"Chaotic." You stated simply. "How was your morning?"

"It was good, we went on a nice long walk, had breakfast, lots of snacks, a bath, but no nap yet." He told you.

"You look like you could use a nap." You grinned sympathetically, reaching your arm up and running your fingers through his hair a few times. "I've got her, you go get some sleep, baby."

"You just got home, I think you should nap first." He denied.

You shook your head. "I'm not tired, and you do a lot for us. You got up with her like three times last night. I know you didn't sleep well."

"I think I need a shower more than sleep, much like her, I'm also I bit stinky" Steve stated.

"Go take a shower and a nap." You sympathized.

"You're sure?" He questioned.

"Positive." You nodded, giving him another kiss. "Because even the best dad ever needs sleep, too. Huh, Cinny?"

The two of you have been calling her Cinny more than her real name, short for Cinnamon Roll of course.

"Yes!" She used the new word she learned a whole minute ago.

"Best dad ever?" You asked her, pointing to Steve. He raised his eyebrow in anticipation.

"Yes!"

"Who's this?" You asked her, still pointing to Steve.

"Mama!" She stated proudly.

Steve's shoulders deflated. "She'll get it soon." You comforted him. "Go relax, I love you."

"I love you too." Steve told you before playfully and gently smacking your butt and waking off.

You brought Cinny into her room and sat down with her on the glider chair. There was a lot of one sided conversation about how much you missed her and how much you loved her before reading her some books to get her to wind down for her nap.

It took about 45 minutes, but she eventually knocked out snuggled into your chest and neck. You took a very selfish 20 minutes to appreciate the baby cuddles and get your fix since you really did miss her at work today.

After a successful transfer into her crib, you turned the baby monitor on and quickly went upstairs to change out of your work clothes and into something far more comfortable.

Then you were right back downstairs to the other not-so-little human you missed all day too. Steve was asleep on the couch, but this time he had sweatpants on and no shirt.

Maybe one day he could find it within himself to be fully clothed, but for now, you definitely weren't complaining.

You leaned over and gave him a kiss to his temple before sitting next to his head and massaging it.

Being a stay home Dad looked really good on him. You'll admit, after his retirement he seemed a bit lost for a while. Like he had gone so long being Captain America or on the run from the government that he didn't even know who Steve was anymore. But the second he became a Dad, it was like he immediately knew exactly who he was supposed to be.

You thought that having kids would change things. Through your whole life you heard stories of exhausted mothers not having time for life anymore, slightly miserable, never talking fondly of their husbands, or even how their husbands found them less attractive after having their kids. There was a lot of silent fear that maybe that would happen to you, maybe the two of you would be under so much stress you'd start to resent each other, or maybe you'd be less attractive to Steve after your body changed in the process of growing baby Cinny.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. You'd never been more attracted to or in love than you were right now with a happy sleepy baby, and a happy sleeping husband. He took such amazing care of you and in turn, all you ever wanted to do was take care of him.

Even if he was sleeping, you wanted him to know how much you loved and appreciated him, and his crazy blonde hair. In true Steve fashion, even in his sleep he snuggled into you.

He dug his face into your stomach, and his arm held you close. Cuddles from Steve lasted a solid hour before you were nearly dosing off to sleep yourself.

Not all things could be a fairytale, and you knew that because you could hear Cinny start to fuss on the monitor. Small little cries let you know she was awake and ready to be done with nap time.

So you carefully slipped out underneath Steve, and he was so exhausted that you managed to stand up again without waking him.

"Mama" Your daughter pouted and wiped small tears off her face when she saw you enter her room.

"Good morning, honey." You said quietly matching her tiny pout, and cradling her in your arms. "It's okay, baby, you're okay."

You snuggled her and swayed her as her tears slowly came to an end with quiet promises of playtime and more snacks, you even asked her very politely if she could keep her babbles and voice to a reasonable level as to not wake up Dad.

Did she understand? No. Did you try anyways? Absolutely.

Once she was fully awake and a lot less grumpy, you tip toed back into the living room to set her up with her favorite little aquarium toy.

When she spotted Steve dead asleep on the couch, her whole face lit up with yet another cheeky smile.

She pointed at him. "Dada!"

Your eyes squeezed shut and your head lulled back, so immensely disappointed that Steve missed that moment. But, you were proud of her.

"Yes! That's Dada!" You confirmed enthusiastically but quietly. "This stays between us, kid."

You were now fully prepared to pretend like the next time she called him Dad was her first, because really, you loved Steve that much.

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Vil Schoenheit - Luxe Couture Vignette

"My orders are absolute"

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

Announcer: The curtain rises on this year's Fairest City's International Film Festival. And today... Please take a gander around me!

Announcer: Queen's Palace is completely flooded with the press and movie fans. Enthusiasm is in full force!

Announcer: With so many filmmakers and actors present, this is the event of the season. Let's chat with a few of them.

Announcer: Hello! Which production are you most excited to see during this film fest?

Movie Fan A: WELL, OF COURSE, THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!!

Movie Fan A: Ever since I was a kid, I've always loved the animated movie on the Fairest Queen and her spirit of tenacity.

Movie Fan A: I'm really looking forward to the live-action remake! Can't wait to see what other info they drop during the film fest.

Announcer: The anticipation is immense! Alright, next… Hey, you over there! And why have you come to Queen's Palace?

Movie Fan B: There's someone I really really need to see…! You know how there's going to be a screening for the Beautiful Queen?

Movie Fan B: I was hoping maybe, just maybe, my most beautiful bias would make a surprise appearance, so I came here!

Announcer: Oho, I see. And who is it you're such a fan of?

Movie Fans: LOOK, IT'S VIL SHOENHEIT!!

Movie Fan B: Yeah, my fave is Vil… HUH!?

Announcer: Everyone, please take a look! Vil Schoenheit has arrived here at Queen's Palace!!

Movie Fans: KYAAAAAAA, VIL-SAMAAAAA!!

Ace: Woah, this is crazy! There's so much screaming for Vil-senpai that I can feel it vibrating my whole body!!

Jamil: Don't lose focus. Our job here is to protect Vil-senpai from his enthused fans and the media.

Azul: Indeed. As recompense for these Luxe couture garments, we must put forth our labor as compensation.

Vil: That's right. [Yuu], Ace, Grim. I expect the three of you to properly carry out your roles as well.

[Yuu nods]

Ace: I mean, I've got on this Luxe couture fit on, so. I gotta make sure I keep lookin' cool, don't I?

Vil: Absolutely. I need you to look your best so you can be of the utmost use for me.

[click! snap!!]

Cameraman: It's Vil Schoenheit!! I gotta snap as many pictures as I can from all angles!

Vil: Hello, everyone, are you all enjoying this very special day?

Movie Fan B: KYAAAAAAA! VIL-SAMAAAA!! I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO MEET YOUUUUU!!!!!

[Vil waves hand with a sparkle]

Movie Fan B: Ooahh, he waved at me! Now I can… die without regrets…

[faints with a thud]

Movie Fan C: PLEASE SPARE ME A GLANCE TOO, VIL-SAMA!

[Vil looks over with a sparkle]

Movie Fan C: THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFEEEE!

[faints with a thud]

Azul: Amazing… Fans are dropping like flies just from meeting Vil-san's eyes…

Jamil: Even when we find erratic people in the crowd, they're instantly affected by Vil-senpai's beauty.

Ace: And this guy's just as stoic as ever even seeing the crowd act like this… Vil Schoenheit is way too incredible!

1. He's so enchanting… 2. I can't stop taking pictures…!

Vil: Don't be content just yet. We're just getting started.

Vil: We'll make sure that no one ever forgets my momentous walk down the tapis rouge.

Vil: Jamil, bring that to me.

Jamil: Of course, I have it right here.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit has stopped on the tapis rouge and has been handed a box.

Announcer: What could possibly be in the box? …It's an apple! Vil Schoenheit is now holding an apple!

[green smoke starts to surround Vil]

Announcer: Oh? And now he's surrounded by smoke… I can't see Vil Schoenheit at all.

Announcer: What is happening…? Huh!?

Vil: NOW, EVERYONE KEEP YOUR EYES ON ME, THE FAIREST ONE OF ALL!

Fans: WOOOOOOOOOOAH! / KYAAAAA!!!!

Announcer: B-B-B-Beautiful!!! He's so beautiful… More beautiful than I could possibly imagine!!!

Grim: That guy with the mic can't say nothin' other than beautiful anymore.

Ace: Haha, he's even stolen the announcer's vocab away. I'd expect nothing less from Vil-senpai.

Cameraman: Look at his spectacular attire, and his flawless posing…! This is out best chance to snag all the photos!!

[click! snap, snap!!]

Vil: Heh. Just as I expected, the reception is fantastic.

Azul: Indeed. Your design was a grand success. This was a fantastically gorgeous idea fit for this stage.

Vil: It's much too early to be complacent. All of you, make sure you follow me closely.

Jamil/Azul/Grim/Ace: Yes, sir! / Got it!

[Yuu nods]

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[Vil talking to others]

Ace: Hey, hey, [Yuu]! That person Vil-senpai is talking to right now…

1. They're definitely that one recently popular singer. 2. I feel like I've seen them on TV…

Ace: Right? Celebrities are chatting him up left and right… You can really feel just how much of a super celeb Vil-senpai really is.

Ace: Maybe we can slip into the convo at the right time! Think we could get an autograph!?

Grim: Oh hey, they're passin' out drinks over there! I'm gonna go get… Myah!?

[Vil grabs Grim]

Grim: Hey, don't grab me by the scruff!

Vil: Silence! Just because we made it safely inside the Queen's Palace does not mean you can do as you please.

Vil: You are to stay calm and refined, and carry yourself beautifully during the film festival as well. Or do you intend on humiliating me?

Azul: Quite right. The energy of these first years can be quite troublesome.

Vil: If you think so, I would rather you watch those little spudlings instead of passing out your business cards.

Vil: Especially while you tell them you're my schoolmate… Really, I give you an inch and you take a mile.

Jamil: I've confirmed our seating arrangements for the screening. The theater is just past here.

Vil: Wonderful. We should make our way there before the aisles get too crowded.

Grim: Movie's finally over. That was super long… Hey, why's everyone standin' up all a sudden?

[APPLAUSE]

Azul: Well, well… What a magnificent standing ovation.

Vil: The Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity was fully explored throughout the whole Beautiful Queen movie.

Vil: She was never complacent with the status quo, and spent her entire life attempting to improve herself further…

Vil: It's only natural to be deeply moved by how she pursued her life goals, especially as a performer, myself.

Jamil: I agree. It was a fantastic film. We should join the rest of the audience in applause.

[APPLAUSE]

Vil: Ah… The entire venue has nothing but praise for this film. A spectacular sight to behold. I'm sure Dad is just as elated right now.

Ace: The live-action Beautiful Queen movie rocked. Based on that showing, it'll definitely be a huge hit!

Azul: Well, the film fest has concluded… Vil-san, what are our plans afterward?

Vil: Our plans? Well, that would be…

Vil: We head home.

Ace/Grim/Azul: HUH!?

1. That sucks… 2. No way…

Jamil: It'll get dark soon. If we want to make tomorrow's classes, we should probably head back to campus soon.

Vil: That's right. The main role of a student is to learn. That's why even I have put my career on hold.

Vil: When I received my admissions letter from Night Raven College, I have to admit I did hesitate.

Vil: Was there even any reason to place my acting career on hold just to attend a school…? Or so I thought.

Vil: However, I'm sure that the knowledge, studying and experience that comes from school life will undoubtedly be a boon.

Vil: Once I decided that, I chose to reduce my work commitments and instead devote myself to my studies.

Vil: By spending my days simply being Vil Schoenheit and a member of the Pomefiore Dormitory...

Vil: My understanding of the Fairest Queen's spirit of tenacity deepened, which in turn led to this successful promotion.

Vil: My daily life as a student has absolutely been a boon for my career, just as I expected it would be back before I enrolled… No, I suppose it would be correct to say even more than I had expected.

Vil: This little venture has proved to me that my decision had been the correct one.

Vil: And thus, I am also determined to spend the rest of the time I have left as a student to my fullest, with no regrets.

Ace: Vil-senpai…

Ace: Okay, you can say all that, but you do realize that this is probably the only time the rest of us get the chance to go to a film festival, right!?

Azul: Ace-san is completely correct. It would be an absolute pity to squander this opportunity to network with all these celebrities!

Vil: Oh, is that so. Then do as you please. That is, if you are willing to violate your contract.

Ace: Violate what contract? We played your lackeys already.

Azul: Actually… The conditions set by Vil-san were to "walk the red carpet"…

Azul: If he intends on walking the same path we took to get here, we must escort him during his return, as well…!

Vil: Correct. I see you fully understand the terms of your agreement.

Ace: Ehhhh～!? I thought we were only here for the grand entrance…

Vil: So I'll ask you one more time. I will be returning to campus, what will you do?

Ace/Azul: Return alongside you…

Jamil: Considering the role we were undertaking today, it's only natural.

Vil: Excellent. Then we should make haste to leave the venue.

[Fairest City – Queen's Palace]

[snap! snap snap snap!!]

Grim: Myah, the flashes are way too bright!!

Azul: I had anticipated the crowd would be more settled than when we had entered the venue...

Ace: Doesn't feel like they've petered out at all… And we even tried slipping out mid-fest.

Announcer: Vil Schoenheit-san! Please elaborate on your promotion work for this event!

Newspaper Reporter: WE WOULD BE HONORED TO HEAR YOUR COMMENTS ON THE LIVE-ACTION BEAUTIFUL QUEEN MOVIE!

Cameraman: Vil-SAN!! LOOK THIS WAY!!

Jamil: The press are coming at us in full force…! Ace, Azul, hold them back!!

Ace/Azul: RIGHT!!

Vil: Now, now, how frantic everyone is. There's no need to worry, I won't run from you.

Vil: I will gladly answer your questions, at least until I finish walking the tapis rouge.

Newspaper Reporter: Whew, that draped train flutters so beautifully… …Ack! I shouldn't be standing around enraptured.

Newspaper Reporter: Ahem. Then, I'll start. How did it come to be that you would do this promotion?

Vil: Eric Venue personally requested me. Must mean no one was better suited for the promotion than I.

Magazine Reporter: Your whole outfit coordination today is so stunning! Can you tell us some highlights about this look?

Vil: I call this "Black of Night" ―

Vil: It came about by utilizing the iconic Luxe brand color that originates in the Fairest Queen legends.

Vil: Instead of accessorizing with magnificent jewelry, I simply used myself as the adornment…

Vil: Which allowed my beauty to be accentuated even further.

Announcer: SPECTACULAR! YOU ARE TRULY BEAUTIFUL!!

Announcer: Speaking of which… Your companions here all look fabulous as well. Are you all models as well?

Ace: Ooh, is that how we look? I mean, we all look pretty rad, can't fault you for thinking so～

Azul: I'm grateful that you thought to cast your eyes on me as well. Thank you so much for you kind words.

Jamil: Guess it's not too terrible to be thought of as one of Vil-senpai's colleagues.

Grim: Myahaha! This guy knows what they're talkin' about!

1. Wow, I can't believe we were mistaken for models!

Vil: Calm down… Don't get all riled up. Obviously, it's because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

2. I feel like I've never been noticed like this before…

Vil: Heh, you seem pretty composed. At least you can tell it's obviously because of the Luxe attire you're wearing.

Vil: Although, I suppose if you are basking in my glow, it wouldn't be surprising for others to notice you lot as well.

Vil: These fellows aren't models, but are merely my dutiful manservants. And they obey every order I give them.

Vil: Isn't that right?

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: Yes, sir... Vil Schoenheit-sama.

Vil: …It seems the tapis rouge has come to an end. I'm sorry, but this is the end of the interview.

Vil: I do hope you all have a wonderful evening.

Announcer: Vil-san, please wait a moment!!

Newspaper Reporter: I still have another question for you…!

Vil: Here we go, boys. Get to work and secure a path!

Grim/Ace/Jamil/Azul: YESSIR!!

[Fairest City – Crystal Galleria]

Ace: Wheeew, we finally escaped. The press was pretty intense, but that was an ambush of fans!

Azul: Gasp, whew… Truly an ordeal…

Azul: With how Vil-san made such a grand appearance in front of the media like this despite recently taking a break from his acting work...

Azul: I can fully understand why anyone would want to take as many photos as possible in that scenario…

Vil: It's been sometime since I've had such an ardent reception. It's not something that I get to deal with while on Sage's Island.

Jamil: Good thing we were able to give them all the slip. It was a great plan to confirm possible back roads to escape to last night.

Ace: Is that what you were all doing!? I just thought you guys all snuck out of the hotel to have a bit of fun…

Vil: I don't think Azul or Jamil would let a single thing slip by them. You both have earned my praise just this once.

Vil: There were a few close calls, but… I would say you all just barely succeeded in the job I entrusted you with.

Azul: Your kind words fill me with joy. And once again… Thank you for allowing us to accompany you.

Vil: Of course. This was a fairly wonderful two days, was it not? Not only we were able to relax here in the Fairest City…

Vil: But we were also able to watch an early showing of the live-action Beautiful Queen.

Azul: Yes, indeed. The movie was utterly beautiful from start to finish… I could even feel the dedication in the tableware and cutlery chosen for the film.

Jamil: I understand the tenacious spirit of the Fairest Queen even better now. I feel like I need to put forth even more effort in my own life now.

Vil: Excellent thoughts.

Vil: Next. How about we hear the thoughts from the youngest spudlings here, who seem to be trying to avoid eye contact, hm?

Ace: It was super real-looking, and super fab, and the Fairest Queen was suuuper pretty… Basically, it was just super awesome all around!

1. I agree! 2. It was impressive!

Vil: Sigh, how appalling. How could you watch that masterpiece and only have such boring impressions?

Vil: It seems you still don't have a full understanding on the spirit of tenacity.

Vil: Once the movie is available to the public, you are to go watch it in theaters. Understand? My orders are absolute.

Vil: …And if the mood strikes, perhaps I'll join you.

Requested by @amourteddyst and @ordinaryanon.

[pillowspace]

NOTE: although I've now finished Ruin, this was written for fun when I had only seen the first half. Its relation is limited

(Wasn't) Worth Fixing by clutterspace

You find the Daycare Attendant of your childhood hidden behind your apartment building, severely damaged.

You... probably weren't intended to.

G | Words: 1,386 | Chapters: 1/1

∘₊✧────────────────────✧₊∘

Your mother used to work as a technician at the pizza place half-way across town when you were little. It took some time for you really memorize the name—Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex—when all you did as a young child was raise your hands up high to your mother so tall and ask when you could go to pizza.

For every day she had gone to work, she brought you with her. You boundlessly scribbled in Freddy Fazbear themed colouring books with crayon on the near silent bumpy car ride there, as she had always requested the quiet before the cacophany of shouting noise the mall offered its full family guests. And much too young to be let loose among the older children, you had always been dropped off at the establishment's daycare before her shift.

The place had once held a charm to it, a brightly coloured wonder of dizzying family fun that evolved into a more thoughtful appreciation for the advanced robotics you eventually grew old enough to possess. Even the daycare had been attended to by a single machine, and to this day, you genuinely wondered sometimes if the bounciness of life its creaky frame held had really been there at all, a marvel of technological advancement, or if it was only the low standard magic that all little eyes saw the world through. Your memories were few and far between, but it had been a joyous place that looked upon you kindly, and much of that credit went to that very machine in place.

It was enough to make you feel a little bad for just how much you begged your mother to let you freely roam outside of the daycare later on, but life went on and on for little minds, and it wasn't a thought worth lingering upon.

When you blessedly just barely became old enough for it, you had gotten your wish granted to you by your exhausted mother, and stuck closely around the Glamrocks and their masses of crowds from then on. It was an endlessly exciting change from the norm, and the musical daycare of childish screams and brightly enthused words of encouragement that had welcomed you with open arms became an afterthought.

You had asked your mother one day where Bonnie went. The older kids had spoken in jokes that fell like cruelty upon your ears, and it was only your mother who might as well have been the CEO in your eyes who you could trust. Older now, you knew there was no harm in the jokes the other children had made among one another, but that a mind so easily swayed could only listen in horror.

Your mother had not sugar-coated it, much too used to the more grown-up side of her occupation to bother. You would have been fine to hear that he was on vacation, or off to bigger and better performances across the globe. You would have smiled, proud to hear of his accomplishments. But the words she told you had been without care.

He wasn't worth fixing, so they got rid of him.

It had been a nagging fear that crept over your spine for a year afterwards that the same could ever happen to you, childishly lacking in the understanding of your differences in value to the surrounding world.

And it was as you silently stared back into the wild, frozen, broken eyes dimly illuminating the dark, filthy alleyway between apartment buildings in vibrant yellow and red hues, with a right hand on your own open back door's handle and a left hand tightly gripped around a filled garbage bag at your side years later, that those very words rung back to you.

Police sirens blared in the distance, but that was the usual.

People talked, but knew little. There had been something off from the usual in town lately, police cars circling the area endlessly. They were looking for someone, or something. And your neighbours speculated, but they all speculated different topics amongst themselves, bringing all that mystery down to a he said, she said, who cares anymore. It all became naught but a backdrop with no follow-up.

Maybe no one wanted to hear a possibly dangerous animatronic was on the loose. Or- no. Maybe just no one wanted to admit to the potentially catastrophic failing, what with the previous rumours already spiralling out of control. A silent capture was in play.

The animatronic looked banged up, shattered holes all along its body. Fabric was littered with rips and tears, while not an inch of casing went uncracked. Its rays adorned with a familiar blue hat were broken, and its faceplace was almost entirely shattered in half. But despite all of the horrific damage it bore, you could recognize the animatronic for the daycare of your early childhood from anywhere, even though only an hour prior, you would not have recalled its form. It held itself still under your gaze, and you too did not move, for there was a shocked terror in the way it held itself firmly pressed against the bottom of the wall, too-thin metal fingers cracking the pavement beneath it.

It looked so scared for something (someone?) that could easily do to you what it was doing to the pavement. Though you doubted that it had any desire to do so.

You didn't know how long you two stared, until finally, you took the slowest step you could towards the garbage bin that stood only a couple feet away in the dim alleyway. The second you moved even an inch, a mechanical hum rose in volume from the wary animatronic's metal body that reminded you of the sounds your own computer makes. It didn't move, didn't talk, only watched you out of the corner of your eye as you ever so slowly made your way towards the bin. You lifted the garbage bag into it, and the clattering sound of its contents shifting within rung out much too loud for the careful silence you required. You internally recoiled from the noise, but outwardly showed not a reaction as you inched your way back towards your door as if nothing out of place had been seen at all.

Your hand fell upon the door as you stepped up across the threshold. You did not walk any further, and instead looked over your shoulder at the vulnerable state the broken, hiding animatronic you had unintentionally spotted was in. You inhaled, feeling doubtfully uncertain, but reminiscent for the sounds of shrieking laughter and the ever so foggy memory of a large sunshine grin poking into a play structure to announce that you had been found. As advanced as its facial recognition likely was, you sincerely doubted that it could connect you back to the toddler you had once been. It had no idea who you were, and therefore had no intentions of ever having been seen by you. But even if it did, would that matter at all? You couldn't be but a single file and a brief, fading memory to its systems.

(It seemed smaller like this, but you knew that you had only grown taller.)

He wasn't worth fixing, so they got rid of him.

"They check this alleyway," you whispered into the cool night air. A small clicking sound of an unknown origin sounded out from the animatronic at the sound of your voice. It did not respond, but you did not expect it to.

You turned away and walked inside of your home, intent on brushing your teeth and going to bed.

You did not close the door behind you. An unspoken invitation, because surely you would not be to blame if the ever so frightening machine found its way into your home all on its own.

You stayed in your bedroom for the rest of the night, and when the muffled sounds of police sirens finally circled back towards your street, you just barely heard the almost inaudible sound of your back door quietly clicking shut. You did not emerge, no matter what shuffling noises you heard afterwards, and instead rolled over in bed to play a song from your phone's lit screen into your newly pushed in earbuds.

If anyone asked, they had been in all night.

[cuffmeinblack]

Who Else But You?

Garreth Weasley x f!OC (Adanna Egwe)

Tags: Yule Ball | fluff | friends to lovers

11k words | ao3 link

Summary: The news of a Yule Ball sends ripples of excitement throughout Hogwarts' seventh years, though Garreth Weasley is less than enthused. Mandatory dance lessons are also an unwelcome distraction from his experimental brews and upcoming exams.

Though perhaps having his best friend as a partner might make the ordeal less excruciating...

A friends to lovers story, told in part by Garreth's diary entries.

If you prefer to read the diary entries in plain text, head on over to ao3!

A/n: For @garrethweasleyfest 2024! Prompt chosen: Yule ball practice lessons. Credit to @ellivenollivander for the title <3 This is essentially a Salvation AU, in which the Yule Ball is a catalyst for Garreth and Adanna to admit their feelings for each other. You don't have to have read Salvation! But Adanna is my OC from that fic, and there's also a cameo from another prominent character...

Garreth had turned the dormitory upside down, inside out and back to front, and was no closer to finding his precious journal. He'd checked his trunk a dozen times, though he would never have stored it there amongst the various semi-combustible substances. He'd contemplated that perhaps he'd been sleepwalking and misplaced it—it had been known to happen—and so searched his roommates’ belongings, too. Between the piles of trinkets, sweets and magazines of dubious content, he was still left empty handed and growing increasingly anxious at the prospect of the little leatherbound book making its way into the wrong hands. His innermost thoughts laid bare; secret recipes ripe for the taking. He chastised himself for not placing a tampering charm on it and fled the dormitory.

Bounding down the stairs, his next port of call would be the common room, and then he would scour the rest of the castle if necessary. But he didn't have to look much further, for Garreth spotted it as soon as he jumped off the final stair, clutched in the arms of the enemy. It could have been any old book, if not for the myriad potion stains and the G.W. stamped large across the front. The gold initials winked at him from across the room, beckoning him closer, crying a silent plea of ‘save me!’.

How had Cressida managed to slip it from his grasp—a book he carried everywhere—without him noticing? She didn't hide the subterfuge, leaning against the side of a sofa and reading the contents with a faint scowl on her face like one might peruse a textbook. Garreth slipped through the crush of students returning from dinner, long strides bringing him to her side before he'd formed a coherent idea of what he wanted to say. What came out of his mouth was a garbled mess of words and possibly a few expletives as he snatched the journal from her hands. Cressida made no attempt to stop him, only looked up at him with bored disinterest; a far cry from the kind of looks she'd been giving him the past few weeks. He supposed she had read the diary entries that contained his unfiltered thoughts on her, but Garreth felt absolutely no sympathy given the blatant invasion of his privacy.

“What in Merlin's bloody breeches do you think you're doing with my journal?” he finally managed to ask. 

Garreth had tried to mutter it under his breath, but still he drew attention from various students around him, a few quiet titters echoing behind his back. He felt his cheeks burning as Cressida crossed her arms, still scowling, now adding a pout to the mix. She seemed to be under the impression that it was her who had been wronged.

“You could have just told me no, Garreth. Instead I had to find my answers in your journal!”

“That's why you took it? Because I've not asked you to the ball?” Garreth replied incredulously.

“That, and I saw my name. I think I have a right to know what you're saying about me.”

“You have no right to my private thoughts. And besides, this is the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it rather?”

“What do you mean?”

Of course, she had no idea that he'd read her diary in fifth year—but who hadn’t? The pages had flown around the library for quite some time before they were returned to her, and by then their contents had made the rounds of the Hogwarts rumour mill.

“You made some particularly unfair observations about me in your own diary, if I recall.”

Cressida was now standing in front of him, a head shorter, and the pair were drawing quite the crowd. Eyes remained averted but the room was far too quiet given how many people filled it, the silent lurkers doing an unsubtle job of listening to the argument.

“You…how did you…?”

“Well they were flying around the library for anyone to read, Cressida.”

She blanched, fists clenched at her sides. She reminded Garreth of a teapot who's water was approaching boiling point, ready to start clattering and whistling with steam coming from her ears.

“How dare you!”

“I suppose we're even then? We both know exactly what the other thinks of each other.”

“Yes, now I understand exactly why you don't want to take me to the Yule Ball. I knew you had a thing for Adanna.”

“What? That's not—”

“Please, Garreth.” 

Cressida’s blush had crept all the way to her hairline by now, both as mortified as the other. Garreth was busy spluttering his denials whilst she stepped around him, ready to flee to the safety of her dormitory, but she turned to say one last damning thing before her disappearance.

“There's no point in denying it, Garreth. Especially to her.” She bit her lip, showing the first hint of regret for her actions. “She knows now.”

Garreth gaped at the back of her head for a long while, right until the hem of her robe disappeared up the staircase. What did she mean? He wanted to shout, but Cressida would be sequestered safely in the girls’ dormitory by now, any answers barricaded inside along with her. He stood in dumbfounded silence enduring the lingering gazes and laughter around him, a faint nausea descending upon him as realisation dawned that Adanna had read his words. There was nothing sordid or explicit in his journal, but one didn't have to read much between the lines to realise that Garreth had surrendered to his attraction. The consequences could be disastrous. He flew into a panic.

Gathering the offending book into his arms, he moved to flee the common room in search of Adanna, but was met by a gangly, immovable object with a wrinkled brow.

“Where are you going?” Leander asked. “Already missed dinner and now you're running off again?”

“What are you, my mother?” Garreth huffed, peering around Leander's shoulders towards the common room door.

“You and Adanna are both being very odd…”

“What do you mean?” Garreth asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.

“She was very quiet during dinner. Decided to sit with her own house and looked rather solemn.”

Garreth swallowed the lump forming in his throat, his heart now thumping wildly behind his ribcage. This was precisely the reaction he had feared, ever since contemplating more with Adanna all those years ago. He'd buried the notion for fear of ending a friendship too precious; only this damned ball had dragged every deep rooted desire to the surface. What his journal entries hadn't captured were how he longed for their dance lessons, for the opportunity to be alone with her; to hold her waist as if she were his, losing himself in her earthen eyes. But his scribblings had clearly been enough.

“I have to go,” Garreth muttered to a baffled Leander, rushing out of the room.

The journey down to the Hufflepuff common room was simultaneously the longest of Garreth's life and yet not nearly enough time to contemplate what he wanted to say. Should he deny the allegations? Tell Adanna that the journal had been tampered with by a vengeful Cressida? Despite all she'd done, Cressida didn't deserve a reputation built on a lie—which only left Garreth with the truth. It was such a terrifying prospect that it took him several minutes of staring at the great oak doors next to the kitchens before he mustered the courage to enter.

He'd been to the Hufflepuff's underground dwellings so many times over the years that he need not ask for help entering—he tapped the barrel (worn old from years of use) in the rhythm to the house founder's name, careful not to miss a syllable lest he wanted to face Adanna smelling of vinegar.

Most Hufflepuffs didn’t even bat an eye when Garreth came to visit—he liked to think he was a honourary member of their house, as Adanna slotted so seamlessly into his own. He greeted a few classmates, and Adelaide was kind enough to fetch Adanna from the girls’ dormitory for him, after he’d answered a few questions about Leander’s dress robes. 

“I want to match, but black isn’t really my colour,” she sighed, before disappearing with a light skip in her step.

If only Garreth’s own Yule Ball anticipation was as carefree as Adelaide���s; worrying about his ghastly robes instead of alienating his best friend.

When Adanna appeared, Garreth held his breath, searching frantically for the words he wanted to say—but none appeared. He suddenly became aware of every muscle in his body, his posture, the arrangement of his features. Suddenly awkward in his own skin, he gripped his journal tighter as she approached, her gaze landing on the bundle in his arms. She looked neither happy nor sad to see him, only anticipatory. When she stood only an arm’s length away from him, waiting, he finally gasped for breath.

“Hello,” he said, rather pathetically.

“Hello.” Adanna chewed her lip, as she often did when nervous.

He was making her nervous, and subsequently felt like the world’s biggest arse. Looking for a secluded spot amongst the shrubbery, he tilted his head and guided her away from the groups of lingering students. He wasn’t sure he could bear another public spectacle.

“Did you…get a visit from Cressida by any chance?” he asked, brushing a stray fern frond from his face.

“I did,” she replied, averting her eyes. “She shouldn’t have taken your journal. I tried to stop her, but she was so insistent that I read—”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? They were your private thoughts.” 

Garreth cast his own eyes downward, hating every second of this confrontation. “I never thought you would ever find out, Ada.” 

“Did you mean them?”

Words were spilling out of him like vomit now, a build up of nervous energy cascading without end. “I’ve always found you beautiful, from the day we met. And it was hard to ignore those feelings, but I thought I’d finally got the hang of it until all of this Yule Ball madness. I kept thinking about that night in the clocktower. Not in a sordid way, mind you, it’s just that it felt so right with you in my arms. I can’t really explain the feeling—like a puzzle piece slotting into place, or finding the perfect ingredient for a tricky brew. I suppose I had an epiphany, about you—about us.” He couldn’t stop himself, this confession, or whatever it was. Adanna stood still with her lips slightly parted as if to interrupt, but she let him ramble on against his better judgement until he finally ran out of steam. “So yes, I meant them. Every word.”

She didn’t reply right away, but her eyes glistened so wondrously in the warm glow of the common room that Garreth was content to just watch her parsing his words, hoping beyond all hope that she somehow felt the same. He hadn’t come here to tell her any of this, only to apologise for her ever finding out in the first place, and to perhaps mitigate the worst of the damage. His plan hadn’t quite worked out that way. Standing in front of Adanna with his heart fit to burst, he couldn’t bring himself to brush off his affections, to downplay just how much he cared for her beyond the platonic. It was now or never, he supposed—speak now, or forever hold his peace.

“I—,” Adanna started, then paused, breathless, as if only now remembering that she could talk “—feel the same.”

“What?” Garreth asked dumbly, sure that he’d misheard.

“I think about it, too.” 

Then she smiled, and the fear and doubt that roiled in his stomach seemed to arch like a cresting wave before dissipating completely, leaving only a warmth that tingled from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. His eyes prickled, his face cracking into a wide grin—nothing could have prepared him, and nothing would compare.

“So, will you go to the ball with me? Properly, this time.”

Tentatively, he reached out and took her hand, careful not to disturb this new and precious harmony. Small, delicate fingers, slipping perfectly into his own. 

Adanna nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Hah! Who’s the idiot now, Leander?” Garreth chuckled to himself.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

~*~

How does one navigate the murky transition of friends to…well, something more? Garreth supposed there wasn’t exactly a handbook detailing procedures, but nor did the current state of affairs feel quite right. As if stuck in some awkward limbo, he and Adanna didn’t quite know what to do with themselves before the Yule Ball that evening. He’d not technically asked for anything more than for her to accompany him to said ball, and certainly not outright asked for her to be his girlfriend or anything of the sort—a glaring mistake in hindsight.

During the term’s final lessons they had cast each other furtive glances, exchanged sweet, knowing smiles that spoke of desire and longing that neither seemed able to act upon. They touched more often; a brush of knuckles here, a press of knees there. Their friends knew only that they would attend the ball together, everything else a suspicion. Only Garreth could manage to profess his feelings for a woman and leave out such an important question. He’d meant it implicitly, but when it came to matters of the heart, one couldn’t be too clear. 

He would remedy the situation later that evening—once seeing to an important familial duty. 

“Why can't we go to the ball?” Charlotte asked for what might have been the dozenth time that morning. 

Her pout was pronounced as she dragged her satchel towards the crimson train idling in Hogsmeade station. Hector walked alongside Garreth with both Weasley siblings’ trunks, not nearly as put out as his sister but nevertheless envious at the prospect of glimpsing the Ministry's ‘special guest’. Garreth's younger brother and sister would be heading home a day early; only sixth and seventh years were permitted to attend the Yule Ball. 

“I'm sure they'll hold another one when you're older, Charlotte,” Garreth replied, levitating the two trunks inside the idling carriage.

All around them were similarly despondent faces; young students who wished to experience the magic of the infamous celebration. Faculty members helped to board the youngest as friends rushed to find the best seats on the Hogwarts Express for the hours-long voyage back to London. Hector spotted a few of his fellow fifth year Gryffindors and was off, only a half-hearted backwards wave to say goodbye.

Charlotte lingered, fingers picking at the top of her trunk.

“You'd better board. Look, there's erm…Constance?” Garreth said, pointing towards a small, mousy first year along the platform.

“Catherine!” Charlotte corrected. “Will you tell me all about the ball when you come home for Christmas?”

“Of course I will—”

“Is Adanna coming with you?”

Garreth frowned at yet another thing he'd neglected to ask her. “Maybe. Her dad is coming back to the country though.”

Charlotte sighed again, looking wistfully back at the castle. “I bet she'll look beautiful.”

Yes, I suppose she will, Garreth thought, suppressing a grin.

“Come on, get on the train,” he urged her as the train whistled and the clock ticked by, urgently approaching nine o'clock.

Charlotte finally relented, clambering onto the train with her trunk which had been enchanted with a featherlight charm. Her scrawny little arms were surprisingly strong, but she had insisted on packing her entire belongings for the two weeks holiday.

“See you tomorrow!” Garreth called after her as the final whistle blew, doors snapping shut, locks clicking into place.

And then Garreth was left with the lingering siblings and faculty, staring off into the highlands as the train became a distant speck. Duty taken care of, he returned to the castle to await the ball.

Festivities would start at eight o’clock, giving everyone enough time to eat before dressing for the occasion. The Great Hall would be sealed off after lunch and platters of food brought to the common rooms for the remaining students whilst they prepared; donning robes, styling hair and whatever else needed to be done.

Garreth felt woefully unprepared. He strided at a brisk pace back to Gryffindor tower, catching tantalising glimpses of decorations being moved through the castle. Christmas trees and holly garlands had lined the halls for weeks now, but whatever Headmaster Black had planned (or demanded of his aunt), involved gilded cages of various birds; mottled wings and soft grey feathers ruffled against the tiny red-breasted varieties that Garreth recognised.

He was curious, to be sure, but now that term had ended and distractions were few and far between, Garreth found himself uncharacteristically nervous. It would be a momentous occasion—not for the finery or important guests, but to be spending it with Adanna in an unmistakably romantic setting. The thought was enough to churn the remnants of his breakfast, a loud gargle echoing through the now almost empty common room.

“Hungry again, Gar?” Natty quipped from her armchair perch. She sat with her feet curled under her, a book resting on her knees.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m starting to regret the second helping of eggs.”

“That is not like you to regret food. Are you alright? You look quite…twitchy.”

She was right. Garreth had been shuffling backwards and forwards as they talked, hands stuffed into his pockets and flapping like an overactive diricawl.

“I don’t know what to do with myself. I can’t think about anything until this ball is over with.”

“Are you not excited?” Natty asked with a twinkle in her eye.

“I am, but…I have no idea what I’m doing.”

A point proven when Leander came practically skipping up to his side, clutching a small box, neatly wrapped in decorative paper and tied with red ribbon. He was flushed, giddy almost, and just as ‘twitchy’ as Garreth.

“All ready for tonight? Gods, I’m excited. Do you think Adelaide will wear her hair up or down? I don’t suppose it matters,” he babbled, fiddling with the edge of the ribbon and making it fray with his fidgeting fingers. “Oh, I asked the girls and they’ll meet us in the entrance hall at eight.”

Garreth blinked. “Uh, right.” 

Yes, he was woefully unprepared. Too distracted by this weird, new dynamic between himself and Adanna that he’d entirely neglected the finer details of the evening.

“Shit.”

“Garreth!” Natty hissed. Once realising that there were in fact no pure and innocent little first years to corrupt with his expletives, she sighed. “What is wrong?”

“I haven’t thought about tonight at all. I thought it would be enough to just show up, you know? My robes are a disaster, and what is that?” Garreth spluttered, pointing to the box Leander was clutching so tightly.

“Just a little something for Adelaide. I thought a gold hairpin to match my tie—”

“See! I haven’t got Ada anything!” Garreth threw up his arms, panic finally setting in.

“I’m sure she won’t be expecting a present, I just thought it would be nice—”

“Yes, you thought. And all I’ve done is worry about whether or not I should tell her she’s beautiful, or kiss her hand when I see her.”

Natty gave Garreth a soft smile and tilted her head in a way that suggested he’d inadvertently said something endearing in his garbled stream of consciousness.

“Well, not much we can do about your robes, they are hideous—”

“Thanks, Leander.”

“—but it’s not too late to get her a gift.”

“Well, it’s a bit late to pop into Hogsmeade,” Garreth grumbled. “But she does always like the flowers I pick for her…”

“She would love a corsage, to match the flowers in her hair,” Natty offered.

Glancing at the great grandfather clock in the corner of the room, Garreth supposed he had a good couple of hours before lunch in which to gather some suitable flowers. Being December in the Scottish highlands, there wasn’t much in the way of flora and fauna sprouting in Hogwarts’ expansive grounds, only a smattering of hellebores and cyclamen offering their colour amongst the bare branches and fallen leaves. But of course, Garreth was awfully used to procuring what he needed from the school supplies. He might have been banned from Sharp’s stores, but Professor Garlick was much more forgiving when it came to sneaking a few extra leaves here and there—she also happened to share Adanna’s love of mundane plants.

“Do you think Garlick would give me a few flowers?” Garreth wondered.

Leander chuckled. “I reckon she’d give you a whole shrub if you told her it was for one of her favourite students.”

~*~

Garreth made the final touches to the corsage by late afternoon. It had been finicky work; not something he’d have trusted to do with magic. His fingers had suffered multiple lacerations from the thorny rose stems before he stripped them off, then bundling the most floriferous of the catmint with a few sprigs of lemon thyme. The oils stung the cuts but smelled divine; fresh citrus from the herbs with a distinct musky perfume from the deep red rose. His professor had offered a pretty white flower to match the asphodel flower crown, but Garreth was drawn to the velvety petals of this particular variety. He knew enough about Adanna that red roses sparked in her a comforting nostalgia; memories of her late mother and the garden she’d tended.

He wrapped the small bundle in red ribbon borrowed from Leander and tied a passable bow, holding it out at arm’s length to admire his handiwork. More used to chopping up flowers and crushing stems, Garreth didn’t quite have the same eye for the beauty that Adanna did, but he was sure that she would be pleased with his efforts.

What remained of the winter sun had dipped below the horizon, and most of his housemates were now in their dormitories readying themselves for the evening, with only a few strays littering the common room. Eric sat in a dimly-lit corner with his wand aloft, muttering some incantation that only seemed to produce a weak flurry of snowflakes before petering out, the carpet below his feet a shadow of damp remnants of magic.

Garreth left for the bathroom and bathed in citrusy suds until the inevitable clamour began outside the door. Eric was soon barging in in blind panic, evacuating Garreth in only a towel that did nothing to hide his modesty or blanket him from the chill. Curls dripping a trail behind him, he hastened back to the dormitory to find Leander fully clothed and fussing over his hair. The gravity-defying coif he usually styled had not a hair out of place.

“Is that glitter in your hair?” Garreth asked, padding back to his bed and shrugging into a fluffy dressing gown.

“No!” Leander yelped, retreating to the mirror and tossing his head back and forth under the lamp light.

Garreth snickered, but the mirth was short-lived as he pulled his robes from the wardrobe. He’d not looked at them in days, somehow hoping that when he came to put them on they might not appear quite so awful—but the frills were just as lacey, the style just as dated. He did not, in fact, have a kind spirit watching over him, ready to bestow good luck and replacement robes.

His face scrunched as fingers glided along the hems, but he could delay no longer. Garreth dried his hair with a gentle wind charm before pulling on his outfit—his smartest pair of breeches and shoes were a promising start, only getting progressively worse with every subsequent layer. The only thing worse than Leander’s jokes were his silence, which was now so loud that Garreth could barely stand it. The ruffled cravat came with the most ludicrous velvet bow tie that he was sure wasn’t intended to match.

Garreth turned to Leander, clutching the limp fabric. “Leander, do you have any spare bow ties?”

“Afraid not,” he replied, trying his hardest not to wince at Garreth’s appearance.

Eric had no such qualms. His eyes blew wide as dinner plates upon entering the dormitory, freshly bathed with dark hair plastered across his forehead. “That’s quite the ensemble, Garreth.”

Garreth groaned. “Do you have any spare bow ties?” he asked Eric, desperation creeping into his voice. “Look at this thing!”

“It matches your eyes,” Eric swooned with a devious grin on his face.

Garreth almost threw the tie at Eric, until it was snatched from his hand by Leander.

“What—”

“You can swap with me,” Leander sighed, holding the emerald fabric up to his neck; the antiquated style contrasted starkly with his sleek robes.

“Are you sure?”

“What are friends for? Ridding you of disastrous bow ties, apparently. I’m afraid I can’t do much about the robes, but Adanna’s eyes deserve a little relief.”

“I’m touched,” Garreth drawled, but he nudged Leander on the arm and smiled in thanks. Usually Garreth would baulk at accepting such charity, but it was testament to just how desperate he was to claw back any scrap of respectability that he hesitantly held out his hand for Leander’s neatly-pressed black tie.

“Thank you, really. At least it matches my shoes.” 

Silver linings and all that.

He brushed his hair and did his best to tame it, then dabbed cologne onto his neck before shrugging into the robes. Considering they were his dear cousin’s, they didn’t fit too badly—she’d always been tall, towering over relatives at family functions. 

Then there was not much to be done except wait. Minutes ticked by agonisingly slowly before Garreth suggested to his roommates that they hunt down the rest of the Gryffindors as a way to expend his escalating nervous energy. They didn’t have to look much farther than the common room, where Natty, Nellie and—to his dismay—Cressida sat by the fire.

It was some sort of agony to approach the beautifully attired women whilst Garreth himself resembled an elderly witch’s tatty window dressing. He’d expected Cressida’s cruelly amused reaction, given their falling out, but Natty and Nellie were kind enough not to comment on all the ugly details. Somehow, they found compliments amongst the bountiful ruffles (‘they fit you so well!’) whilst Garreth didn’t struggle at all to sing their praises.

Nellie wore a sweeping gown of burgundy silk, Cressida a high-necked navy blue dress with even more lace than Garreth’s robes, whilst Natty had opted for bright swathes of apricot fabric that swept across her collarbone, revealing a lavish gold and amber necklace.

“My mother’s,” she said with a smile. “She can always be counted on for the right accessory.”

“Will she be coming tonight?”

Natty nodded. “I think all the faculty are attending.”

“I can’t wait to see old Mr Moon getting sloshed. Mum’s told me so many stories.”

“Not if the headmaster has anything to say about it,” Leander said. 

Nellie sighed, smoothing out her skirt. “Hopefully he doesn’t spoil all the fun.”

“I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” Cressida said as every head turned in unison towards the old grandfather clock. “Twenty minutes.”

Garreth turned to Leander, his palms suddenly sweaty and the fabric of his waistcoat far too constricting. “Godric. We should find Ada and Adelaide, shouldn’t we?” 

Nellie soon peeled away to the dungeons to meet Imelda, Eric hastily walking off to find Samantha, whilst Cressida and Natty linked arms and followed Garreth and Leander towards the Entrance Hall. Natty would be going alone by choice, insisting that the very best way to enjoy a ball was to dance with as many people as possible, though Cressida was rather more dejected by the idea of attending alone. Her fury bore into the back of Garreth's head, but he was determined not to let their animosity sour the mood—besides, he might even thank Cressida for her interference. Without it, he might never have admitted his feelings to Adanna.

And what a wonder she was. 

No sooner had they entered the Entrance Hall had his eyes landed upon her, drawn to the head of delicate flowers atop a bed of tightly coiled curls. Only vaguely aware of the festive decorations or anyone else in the room, Garreth headed straight to Adanna, who pulled her eyes away from Adelaide as he approached.

There were not many instances in Garreth’s life where he’d been rendered speechless—having many things to say on most topics; perhaps too many by usual standards—but he could quite unequivocally say that he had lost all ability to speak once Adanna turned to face him, revealing herself in all her glory. Garreth stopped mere inches away and gaped like a fish, until Leander nudged his arm.

“Hello.”

Garreth could practically hear Leander’s eyes rolling beside him.

“Adelaide, you look lovely. I hope you’re well?” Leander asked with only a faint quiver in his voice.

Garreth had somehow been caught in a staring match with Adanna, who’s eyes seemed to swirl and twinkle like the effervescence of his Fizzing Whizzbeer—not the most romantic comparison, and one he’d keep to himself, but nevertheless captivating. She seemed draped in moonlight; an ethereal vision amongst more worldly beings that surrounded her. The silver brocade of her dress skimmed perfect curves that she hid beneath her uniform in a way that was both demure yet utterly enticing, the neckline just low enough for Garreth to find himself struggling to breath when his gaze ventured lower.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally muttered, what might have been minutes after first taking in her appearance.

He could hear Adelaide and Natty squealing in the background.

“Thank you,” Adanna replied with a hint of shyness. “You scrub up well, Garreth.”

He chuckled, and the spell that shrouded her in that otherworldly haze fell away. This was Adanna, after all. Plucking the corsage he’d carefully crafted from behind his back, he offered it in upturned palms. 

“I’m afraid it doesn’t quite match the rest of your outfit, but I thought you’d like the colour.”

As she held it beneath her nose, Adanna inhaled deeply and let her eyelids flutter shut. “You were right. It’s perfect, Gar.” She tucked the corsage into a loop of fabric on her dress, sitting just over her heart.

“Shall we go inside?” Garreth asked, holding out his arm. “I’m not sure where Leander’s run off to but I’m sure we’ll spot him.”

Adanna slipped her hand around his forearm—a not entirely foreign gesture—and nodded, then they ventured forth.

Now that Garreth’s brain had acclimated to Adanna’s proximity, he could truly appreciate the lengths to which the school’s staff and house elves had gone to in order to create a yuletide wonderland. Adanna gasped beside him as they entered the Great Hall, casting their eyes upward to the enchanted ceiling; a deep indigo backdrop with swathes of golden starlight, magically enlarged celestial bodies that glimmered beyond reach. Beneath them, gently swaying bells much like those housed in Hogwarts’ belltower—all in warm gold that carried the theme throughout the room. 

Garreth pointed out the birds he’d seen earlier—many now roamed free to glide above awestruck guests and perch atop potted trees and garlands, picking berries from amongst prickly foliage. A dozen great firs lined the walls, bedecked in emerald baubles, velvet bows and flowers.The effect was rather like a gilded garden, humming with magic.

“I can certainly see Headmaster Black’s influence,” Adanna commented.

“Speak of the devil.” 

Garreth spotted the headmaster making the rounds of the various guests, dressed in his finest emerald tailcoat and silk cravat. Garreth led Adanna out of his path, spotting Natty talking to Nerida over by the refreshments table which overflowed with tiny canapés and bowls full of what looked like fruit punch. It appeared that Natty’s ball card was almost full already, a long night of dancing ahead of her. 

As the last of the students filed into the hall, the headmaster took to the raised platform which would usually house the faculty table, but was now packed with decorations, a sleek grand piano and string quartet with no musicians in sight. Black’s speeches were notoriously dull, full of long-winded tangents and inarticulate boasting—the welcome that followed his thunderous call for silence was no exception. At no point did he wish the students a Merry Christmas, only reminded them of the various punishments for ‘unbecoming behaviour’. Garreth might have nodded off, were it not for the introductions of various guests. 

Black had clearly invited those he wished to impress; Ministry bigwigs and pureblood wizards that no doubt filled his country manors every summer. No Quidditch prodigies in sight, much to the disappointment of everyone present. Garreth felt his attention wander to the woman next to him as the headmaster droned on about someone's accolades, and he found that he didn't care much at all about the greying wizard’s Order of Merlin when Garreth could happily, and openly, take in Adanna's beauty. 

“Are you staring?” she whispered, not turning her head to look his way.

“Maybe a little.”

Her chuckle was drowned out by a weak round of applause as Black finally left the platform, and cheers erupted, to his dismay, as the instruments began to play—the moment had come to show off his newly acquired dance skills. 

Luckily, he need not adjust to another partner—by now, he and Adanna knew each other's rhythms. They moved together effortlessly, unburdened by the need to keep some modicum of physical distance. Nor was it strange or awkward, which Garreth had worried it might be. Here their roles were clear; hand in hand, dancing below the twilight sky, there was no ambiguity left. He found his thumb idly stroking Adanna's waist, and she squeezed his arm in return. 

Garreth wanted nothing more than to kiss her, and he'd intended to once the song finished, until his plans were thwarted by a barking summons.

“Weasley!”

Adanna stiffened in his arms, her eyes widening.

Garreth grimaced. “What does the headmaster want with me?” 

Phineas Black stood on the periphery of the dance floor, chin tilted skyward, waiting. Garreth let Adanna go with all the regret in the world, but she slipped her hand around his arm before he could retreat in a show of solidarity. 

He'd had his fair share of tense encounters with Black over the years, particularly in relation to his notoriety as a menace in the potions classroom, but the man now looked more furious than during any reprimand Garreth had previously endured. Whilst still retaining his air of pomposity, Black's nose wrinkled so intensely that Garreth could see right up his nostrils despite standing just as tall.

“Weasley, what are you wearing?”

Ah, so it was his ensemble that had the headmaster’s breeches in a twist.

“Dress robes, sir,” Garreth replied dryly.

He could feel Adanna twitching next to him, no doubt holding in a laugh. Black opened his mouth and bared his teeth, but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall, stiff man with eyes as dark as coal. If Phineas Black had a particularly severe looking cousin, Garreth imagined that this stranger might be another member of the infamous family.

“Augustus, how nice to see you.” Black greeted the man with a strong handshake, Garreth's fashion faux-pas now forgotten—but the man, Augustus, seemed to have noticed Garreth lingering, his gaze drifting slowly over his robes.

Now seemed the opportune time to make a quick getaway. “Well, we'll just be off—”

“Weasley, is it?”

This ‘Augustus’ was addressing Garreth, to Black's horror; he might have preferred if Garreth and Adanna disappeared into the throng never to be seen again.

“Your father is a ministry man.” He said it as a statement. “One might think his son would take more care with his appearance. After all, first impressions reflect on our family name, hm?”

He talked as if Garreth were no longer there, casting a sideways glance to Black who nodded fervently. Garreth's blood boiled, cheeks burning from rage, though he couldn't muster the shame that Augustus seemed so intent on inflicting.

“Ah, you see sir, our family doesn't tend to judge others’ worth by their appearance. Awfully shallow mindset. Anyway, lovely to meet you, but we should get back to dancing.”

He said it in such a cheerfully blithe way that his words would take a moment or two to register. Before either man could retort, Garreth had guided Adanna back into the crowds, weaving through twirling couples engaged in a waltz.

“Gar, stop!” Adanna said, gripping his arm and pulling him to a standstill. 

He'd been striding so fiercely that she'd been barely able to keep up.

“Sorry, I—”

“Don't apologise, I just can't walk that quickly in these shoes.”

Garreth exhaled heavily, still trying to rid himself of pent up anger that needed an outlet.

“What a—a—” 

He couldn't quite find a word for the horrible man they'd just encountered.

“A git?” Adanna supplied helpfully.

“Precisely.”

“The worst kind of prejudiced wizard. How typical of Black's acquaintances.”

“I suppose I should have expected it,” Garreth said, picking at the lace of his robes.

Adanna pulled his hand away, smoothing down the fabric. Her hands gliding down his chest sent a jolt along the length of his spine, a storm erupting in his gut.

“Would dancing help you calm down?” she asked.

“It might,” he replied with a lopsided smile, entirely distracted by the grip she had on his lapels.

They fell into easy conversation whilst dancing at a languorous pace to a gentle melody, laughter erupting as they made fun of the two grumpy men still conversing at the sidelines whilst the couples trying to enjoy a romantic moment cast disapproving glares their way. But it didn't matter—this was what Garreth loved about being with Adanna. She was such easy company, her presence so comforting and joyful; it seemed at times that she was another piece of Garreth's soul, her presence making him whole. 

“He shouldn't be able to say things like that and get away with it,” Adanna said.

“I’ll probably be in detention for the rest of the year just for what I just said, but at least I got the last word.”

She was right, of course. Men such as Black and his friend so rarely met the consequences of their actions. Wild ideas of revenge swirled in his mind, thoroughly distracting him from his footwork.

“Ow!,” Adanna squeaked as Garreth’s foot squashed her toes.

“Sorry! I wasn’t—”

“I can tell when you have an idea, Gar. Your eyes go all misty. What is it?”

“What if I could make sure that he didn’t get away with it?” 

Garreth grinned, now remembering a tiny vial filled with swirling ocean blue liquid tucked into his trunk. It was an old brew that he'd experimented on back in fifth year—meant to make the drinker gassy, so that they expelled colourful bubbles. A silly party trick, or a harmless prank. Unfortunately, what he'd actually created was a powerful laxative that Leander had been on the receiving end of. Garreth still teased him about the full day he'd spent on the toilet.

“Wait here,” he said, planting a swift kiss on Adanna's cheeks and attempting to extricate himself from the dance floor.

But Adanna’s grip held firm. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I have a brilliant idea that’ll give Augustus the absolute worst night of his life.” 

Garreth’s thoughts were already miles away with the vial in hand, turning over ideas for how to administer the potion. The curve of his lips faltered slightly when he saw Adanna tilt her head in exasperation. 

“Do you really want to spend the night pranking that horrible man?”

Did he? Perhaps some juvenile part of him did. In past years he might even have tried to involve Adanna, but she had always been the one to rein in his more ridiculous and morally questionable ideas. The alternative—spending the evening with her wrapped up in his arms, exploring this entirely new side of their relationship—sounded much more enjoyable, now that he really thought about it. The impulse for revenge dimmed with every passing second, fading entirely as they locked eyes.

“No, not really,” he replied truthfully.

The instruments echoed their final notes, whatever clumsy waltz they’d been attempting came to a stop, and Garreth noticed a faint but unmistakable rustling, an interlude between the strings’ symphonies. He and Adanna looked up to the source at the same time, to find sprigs of mistletoe conjured above their heads. It appeared that the castle itself agreed with Garreth’s assessment.

“I think Hogwarts is trying to tell us something,” he said.

A new song crescendoed and couples seemed to glide around them, paying them no mind as he stroked her cheek, heart pounding so fiercely it was all he could hear. This was it—that moment yearned for but never in his dizziest daydreams did he think would become a reality. The moment that would change the course of their friendship forever, irreparably, that he would pursue without question.When their lips met, they smiled. Finally, they seemed to say in unison, entirely wordlessly as they clung to each other as if the world was ending. Somewhere in this gilded hall, they had found the courage to take a step into the unknown—and neither regretted a thing.

[wanderingelvis]

First things first, in love with your writing style! Have a little request for you: teenage!Elvis taking a bubbly!bookworm! reader to a high school dance at Humes. The reader lives at Lauderdale Courts as well and he often spots her reading on the grass in front of the building. The two bond increasingly over books (he could listen to her enthusing over novels for hours) and this led to his asking. A very cute, softhearted romance overall. Thank you, let me know what you think! 💜

i love this request sm, it was meant to be short but i got carried away and now it's the longest request i've written! 🧚

🧚🏻 Masterlist 🧚🏻

word count: 4,762

pairing: 50s elvis x bubbly, bookworm female! reader

Oh Lord, Elvis adored you. You were practically the human version of a golden retriever and he thought you were awful sweet.

Elvis had a tough time at high school, he was a bit different, he liked to style his hair differently and enjoyed different music to most of the folks at school. Girls loved him, but finding friends was a challenge.

It meant that Elvis was fairly reserved, which was often mistaken for stand-offish and intimidating, when actually, Elvis just wanted to make sure he was surrounded by kind people.

Your mother and father had warned you about the boy from Lauderdale Courts, the one that looked "rebellious" and sinful, even if they actually quite liked Gladys and Vernon Presley. But you knew that Elvis wasn't a mean spirited person, he'd never made fun of you at school like some other people had, when he'd had every opportunity to do so.

You didn't let mean comments from school get to you. You knew that it was just a reflection of the whoever had said the nasty words and that they'd learn better eventually. That's what your book had told you, all the characters that had been the subject of harsh words never let it get to them and you decided that you wouldn't let the words get to you either.

You loved books, they were your passion and you would rarely be found without a book in your hands. Between classes, at the breakfast table, on the lawn in front of Lauderdale Courts, you always managed to find time to start reading your latest favourite novel.

And that's how Elvis first approached you, on the lawn of Lauderdale Courts, under your favourite tree with your nose buried in a book. You hadn't even noticed him standing over you until he coughed to get your attention.

Elvis had been through a rough day, he was graduating high school along with you, but he'd started talks with a record label and there was a possibility of even touring and performing some songs. It was exciting albeit stressful and there were a lot of people applying a lot of pressure onto the young star.

Elvis just wanted to relax when he arrived home after some meetings, to unwind and calm down a little, and when he spotted you basking in the warm, golden sunlight, giggling adorably at the book, he figured that whatever happiness you held was infectious - and he walked over straight to you.

He'd always noticed you but you'd never exactly paid him much attention as your stories were your top priority.

"Hello darlin'," Elvis said, crouching down by you as you peered up at him, squinting a little to avoid the blinding evening sun. "Mind if I join ya?" He asked.

You were a little taken aback at first, no-one ever approached you, especially when you were reading and you knew that Elvis was popular with the girls at school, so you wondered why he wanted to spend time with you. Nevertheless, you didn't question it too much, he was friendly enough.

"Sure!" You smiled, turning your head back to your book in your hands, it was Little Women, a book you'd read before but you really couldn't get enough of it, this must've been the fourth, no, fifth time you've read it?

"You're Y/N right?" Elvis interrupted, making you turn your attention back to him.

"Yup. You're Elvis Presley." You said softly.

"You know who I am?"

"Sure, you're in my History class, you sit next to Jonny Albright. You live on the floor above me!" You said gently.

"And you're the girl who loves books ain't ya?" Elvis pointed out, not in a mean way, just observatory as he laid down on the grass, propping his upper body up by leaning on his elbows as you sat with your back leaning against your favourite tree.

"Guess I am." You giggled. "Do you like books?" You asked after realising that Elvis was wanting a conversation.

"Sure I do, maybe not as much as you do, but I like 'em, I see you a lot out here readin' y'know." Elvis said, making you feel an odd sensation for the first time and you blushed a little at him admitting to noticing your habits.

"I love books and stories, my Momma and Papa, they say that it's good to read but I gotta try to make some friends more and I know they're right but I just can't help it, I start readin' a book and I can't put it down until I know what happens at the end!" You said with a soft smile, you did want some more friends but you felt like you found friends in the characters of all the stories you were reading and you didn't actually mind if they weren't exactly real. You looked up at Elvis who was just watching you with sheer interest and intrigue. "You know, my Papa even put me on a ban from buyin' any new books the other week. I just been readin' all my old ones all over again." You confessed.

"So that one ya got there, that ain't a new story?" Elvis chuckled, you were very sweet, he was starting to regret not having approached you sooner. His thoughts about his meetings were already slipping away.

"Nope, this is my favourite book, it's Little Women, have you read it?" You asked.

"No, but I'd like to, when I got some more time maybe." Elvis said, he wasn't exactly sure if he would like to read it, he didn't really know what it was about truthfully, but he was starting to like you a little already, and when your face lit up with a smile at him suggesting he might read your favourite book, he knew he'd said the right thing.

"Oh wow!" You said, excited at the prospect of sharing your love of books with someone. "Well, I'd let ya borrow this copy but my little dog, Basil, he tore out a few bits of a few pages, it's not too bad because I've read this maybe five times or somethin' like that, so I can understand the missin' bits, but it might not make sense otherwise. But maybe, um, maybe you could try the school library! I could even look for you tomorrow at school if ya wanted me to! I really wouldn't mind!" You said, beginning to ramble, but you were just so excited.

"That copy is sure lookin' worse for wear sweetheart." Elvis chuckled, the spine was torn and chunks of pages were missing and you'd sure like a new one but your Papa was right, you couldn't be spending anymore money on new books.

"I know, but it's my favourite story." You said fondly. "The main character, Jo, well she wants to be a writer ya see, and that's kinda what I wanna do when I grow up, maybe." You confessed.

"A writer say?" Elvis said, raising an eyebrow, impressed.

"Uh-huh! A writer! I ain't written much yet but I got dreams and I got ideas and I think maybe, one day, other people would like to read what I got to write." You told him eagerly.

"I'd read anything you wrote darlin'." Elvis said, being simultaneously flirtatious and sincere.

You blushed at the words, no boy had ever said such kind words to you, let alone one as handsome as the one laid out in front of you.

You babbled on some more in the sticky summer air, explaining why you loved certain books, giving Elvis recommendations and answering all the questions he had - which were a lot. It was only when your mother hollered at you from your window that you had to bid Elvis goodbye and scurry in for your dinner. Elvis watched you dash away, turning back whilst running to give him a wave, knowing he was smitten with you.

You were adorable in every sense of the word, cheery, chatty and charming. It didn't hurt that you were awful cute looking too.

After spending all night thinking about your amazing evening with Elvis, you decided to make a beeline for the library during school the next day. You loved the library and librarians and whilst you wanted to be a writer, you sure did want to be a librarian too. The idea of looking after so many books and being surrounded by like-minded bookworms was such an exciting idea for you.

It didn't take you long to find a copy of Little Women and you took it out straight away. You didn't really know where Elvis would hang out but you decided to wander around the hallways looking for him.

You eventually found him, standing next to what you assumed was his locker. He was chatting to some friends who you would later come to know were Billy and George. Tentatively, you approached him, tapping his arm to get his attention. He turned around, looking down at you with a smile when he realised who it was.

Standing next to him, you couldn't help but notice how tall he was compared to you, you felt so little and the way he spoke to you sometimes made you feel that way too.

"M'sorry, I don't wanna interrupt," You said as you realised he was in the middle of a conversation.

"Not interrupting anythin' important sweet thing," Elvis said, making you blush at the pet name. "Billy, George, I'll meet ya at gym." He said, dismissing them before turning his attention back to you.

"I just went to the library, they had a copy of Little Women, well actually they had three copies, can you believe it!?" You enthused, making Elvis chuckle at how cute you were. "Well, um, anyways, I got one for ya, I figured you might be busy, my Momma said last night that your Momma told her that you got a lotta meetin's and stuff so I thought I'd get ya this! You don't gotta read it but it's real good!" You explained, trying to catch your breath from speaking so quickly.

You were a little nervous in front of him and you weren't sure why, he was very attentive in the short time you'd spoken to him, he didn't make you feel bad for being a bookworm, so you were a little confused at your feelings. You supposed you just didn't want to bore him.

"Slow down lil' mama, you gotta catch some air honey." Elvis laughed at your rambling and you giggled. "But that's awful thoughtful of ya honey. Y'know what I'm gonna do?" Elvis said, as you shook your head, waiting to find out. "I'm gonna come join ya after school by your favourite lil' tree and read some of this with ya, if that's okay of course, I know it's ya favourite lil' spot." Elvis said, as you placed the copy in Elvis' large hands.

"Of course it's okay Elvis! I'd really like that y'know! Oh! It will be like a mini book club, kinda! I always wanted to go t'one of them! We could talk about our favourite characters! I mean ya already know that mines Jo, but you might have a different favourite, I like Laurie a lot too, actually, I kinda like all the characters in a way!" You babbled, beside your little self with joy at the prospect of Elvis reading with you.

"This is awful kind of ya, baby." Elvis acknowledged.

He really was taken aback at your gesture. Lately, he'd been in many situations where people were looking to see what they could get out of him and he was finding it difficult to trust people and accomodate everyones expectations of him. It seemed like you were something of a little guardian angel, finding him at just the right time, with no bad intentions, just a whole lotta love.

"S'okay! You got three weeks until I gotta give it back or renew it but Barbara, the librarian, she's real nice and she lets me keep 'em for longer sometimes, especially when they're my favourites, so, um, so you don't gotta read it right away or nothin'!" You insisted, not wanting to pressure him.

"Thank you, Y/N, I mean it, this is awful kind. I gotta get t'gym, but I'll catch ya by your tree?" Elvis checked, he really wanted to spend his time with you. You were oh so bright and bubbly and it just radiated off you, onto him.

"Sure! Bye Elvis!" You beamed, waving at him again cutely, dashing off, not wanting to waste any of your recess time away from your books.

Elvis watched you leave once again and he shook his head, he was falling and falling hard.

Like clockwork Elvis met you by your tree. You were dressed in your little linen white dress, a smock scarf around your hair, protecting your head from the beaming sun and your bare feet with rested on the cool grass as the sprinklers would dust you with droplets of water, instantly cooling you down from the heat. You were practically in heaven, but the heat was a little much for you, even though you usually loved it. It had just been a tough day of classes, you were finding them a little harder as they went on, so you'd concentrate extra hard, giving you a bit of a headache. Mixed with the head, you were finding the words on the page a bit challenging to focus your attention onto.

"Hey darlin, how's ya book comin' along? Think you can guess the ending yet?" Elvis teased, knowing you'd read the book a million times over already.

"Can't really focus, my head kinda hurts." You admitted, feeling kinda frustrated. All you'd been looking forward to during those difficult classes was coming to your tree to read and now your head wasn't letting you.

Instantly, Elvis' protective and attentive attitude kicked in, he was already feeling attached to you and he just wanted to make you feel better.

"Shit honey, can I make you feel better? Can I get ya anythin'? You want some lemonade doll? My Momma just made a whole jug, it's real nice, a bit sweet but you'd like it." Elvis said, suddenly quite worried about you.

You couldn't help but softly giggle at his reaction. You hadn't actually heard anyone you knew curse before, you'd heard strangers do it but never someone you were friends with. "It's okay Elvis, just a little headache from school and the sun s'all. I just wish I could focus on my book, I'd been looking forward to it all day." You said, gazing up at him, admiring the golden glow the sun was giving him.

Elvis instantly removed the light jacket he had on, he didn't need it in this heat anyway. You watched him curiously as he draped it over one of the branches of the tree, offering you a decent sized patch of shade near where you were sitting. Elvis moved to sit down by you, taking the copy of Little Women that you'd got him earlier in the day, with the patch of shade covering his lap.

"Here, lie down honey, it'll help stop the headache if ya rest, you can put ya head on my lap like it's a pillow or somethin', so it's in the shade. Y'know if it's a bit cooler, it'll help stop the pain?" Elvis cooed. "And I can read the story to ya, as long as ya don't mind me startin' from the beginning?" He quizzed.

You felt those funny feelings coming back into your body again, making you feel happy, fuzzy and confused all at the same time. You obediently laid down, resting your head in Elvis' lap as he smiled lovingly down at you. You'd never been so intimate with a boy before, but you felt like you'd known Elvis so much longer than just a mere 24 hours, and Elvis felt the same way too.

The pair of you had such a kinship already that it was hard not to feel utterly relaxed in each others company.

"See? Not so bad is it?" Elvis said, tenderly brushing some hair away from your face that had clung to your temples from the summer air.

"It's nice." You said quietly.

You turned your head to look out at the lawn, watching as the sprinklers periodically spun around, hydrating the surrounding area. It was relaxing to watch as you listened to Elvis' deep voice reading you your favourite story.

You never wanted the moment to end, you finally found a friend who wanted to love everything you loved, and you were in nothing short of paradise.

It was near the end of Chapter 2 that you dozed off in the golden, evening sun, the droplets from the sprinklers hitting your exposed, tanned legs as well as the white little dress you had on, making your thighs appear through the damp wet fabric.

Elvis stumbled on his words after his eyes caught the sight, you were everything he wanted and he wanted all of you.

He paused, noticing the way that your chest rise and fell peacefully as you slept, completely relaxed and headache-free after everything Elvis had done for you. Elvis continued reading the book in silence, enjoying the story and realising why you loved it so much.

It wasn't until a while later that your Momma hollered for you yet again, signalling that your supper was ready, that Elvis pried you awake, your cute little whines making him smile.

"Aw, I'm sorry lil' mama, but you gotta go feed that belly of yours." Elvis chuckled softly, as you pushed yourself up from his lap, a grumpy yet adorable little pout plastered on your face from being woken.

"I gotta go already?" You mumbled sadly, realising you'd drifted off during your time with Elvis.

"Afraid so baby, but we can do this again tomorrow, we can do it whenever you like, kid." Elvis insisted, hoping that you'd ask him to spend every waking second with you.

You nodded, rubbing your eyes.

"You feelin' better now darlin'?" Elvis checked and you gave him another sleepy nod of confirmation.

"Uh-huh. Wanna stay with you." You said shyly.

"I know doll, I wanna stay with you too, you gotta go get your food though, otherwise you won't have any energy to read all your stories." Elvis said and you nodded, knowing he was right. "C'mere." Elvis said gently, opening his arms, indicating for you to let him give you a cuddle - one that you needed right now.

Despite being hesitant, you'd never actually given a boy your age a cuddle, you molded yourself into his arms, relaxing with a soft sight, inhaling his scent of Old Spice aftershave.

"Catch ya later, kiddo." Elvis smiled, kissing the top of your head, making those funny little feelings escalate.

"Ba-bye Elvis." You said, adorably, making Elvis' heart flutter. You were just precious.

Days turned into weeks, and every day after that you and Elvis would meet outside Lauderdale Courts, reading and chatting. He wouldn't often say much, he just loved listening to you enthusiastically babbling away at the current book you were reading. He was impressed at the speed of your reading, you could put away a short novel in an afternoon sometimes and Elvis would try to keep up with you but you'd read more than anyone else he knew.

He loved listening to you every day until you were called in for your dinner. His feelings for you were growing stronger with every word that came out of your mouth and the same went for you, you figured you maybe had a crush on Elvis and you really did hope that he liked you back. He'd never made you feel like a weirdo for being a bookworm, in fact he tried to emulate your passion, just to be able to spend time with you which you thought was awful sweet of him.

You would both look forward to seeing each other in the late afternoons every day, watching the clocks go by in the classroom and counting down until you saw each other. You'd even started walking home together, sometimes Elvis would even drive you if he'd gone for another meeting, which was a special treat for you.

It wasn't until a couple of months later in mid-July that Elvis finally mustered up the courage to ask you a question that had been on his mind after your head hit his lap on that second day, all those weeks ago.

"Y/N?" Elvis said, taking the book that you were reading out of your hands and placing it down on the grass. Elvis was sat against the tree, with his legs opened wide so you could sit in between them and rest your back against his chest.

"Hey!" You said at him taking away your book, you were just getting to the good part.

"I gotta question for you, it's serious now, I'll give you your book back in a minute but you gotta listen to me carefully honey." Elvis said as you sat up and turned around so you could look directly at him, curiosity painting your face.

"What's wrong? Did I give ya a bad book? I can replace it if ya want? Or are you sick? That can happen with the heat remember! I can try and make some shade if you are, or get you some water! You shouldn't be out here if ya-"

"Baby, I'm okay, you just gotta listen, okay?" Elvis said, taking your little hands in his large ones as you watched him intently. Elvis sighed deeply, his nerves getting a little better of him. "Here goes nothin'" He said, partially to himself. "Y/N, I wanna take you to the dance next week. What do ya say?" Elvis said, watching for your reaction.

You felt your heart skip a beat. You had decided you weren't going to go, even if secretly you'd wanted to. You knew it'd be filled with couples and you hadn't really wanted to surround yourself with that if you were going to be on your lonesome.

"Can I bring my book?" You asked shyly and Elvis beamed.

"Of course ya can, sweet thing. Can I take that as a yes?" Elvis chuckled, petting your soft hair.

"Uh-huh!" You giggled, biting your lip excitedly. "Oh boy, I've never been to a dance, I know there was a Spring one last year, but I just didn't have anyone t'go with, and I kinda, actually, no I wanted to go real bad to this one! And I didn't really wanna go with just anyone either ya see, but I just would've thought you would've had loads a girls to ask, I see girls tryna talk to you all the time at school! Especially Sue-Ellen, she sure does like you, sometimes it makes me feel-" You paused, realising you were rambling and maybe saying just a little too much.

"Makes you feel like what, little un'?" Elvis asked curiously. He thought Sue-Ellen was nice, sure, but he and her only talked so much because the pair of you were partners for a Lab test.

"No, it's silly, forget it." You said, brushing it aside.

"No, I wanna know Y/N. How does it make you feel when you see me talkin' to other girls, tell me." Elvis insisted, starting to enjoy seeing you wriggle around. He knew what your answer would be, he just really needed to hear it.

"It makes me, I don't know, I guess, it just makes me sorta wish that, sorta wish that it was me that you were talkin' to," You said gently, looking down at your lap as your sun-kissed cheeks started turning a little pink. "It makes me sorta, maybe, jealous." You practically whispered, but Elvis heard every word.

Elvis took your cheeks in his large hands, lifting your head so you would look directly at him.

"You know you're my number one girl, don't ya?" Elvis grinned, making your tummy do somersaults. You recoiled with giggles at the words, you were just putty in his hands at this point.

You ended up chatting away as the evening drew on, telling Elvis about the perfect dress that your Momma wore to her own dance, you'd actually tailored it a little so it would fit you and be able to attach a corsage onto it.

When your Momma called for you at the same time as usual, you gave Elvis a hug, telling him that you couldn't wait to go the dance with him and you thanked him for asking you.

You glanced at him momentarily before pushing yourself forward and placing your pink lips on his cheek, giving him a gentle kiss. It was the most forward thing you'd ever done but you felt so comfortable around Elvis that you didn't mind.

Elvis was a little stunned, he watched you as you giggled and crawled off his lap, running towards your Momma with bare feet on the grass and your dress flying up every now and again, exposing your thighs as usual.

Elvis would be the first to admit that he'd never experienced love in a romantic way but after today, he was sure that had changed.

When the dance finally came around, you were naturally a little anxious, even skittish, constantly fiddling with the corsage that Elvis had given you, as well as the lilac tulle of your dress. Elvis kept reassuring you throughout the evening that not only did you look completely beautiful but that you were both going to have a great time and that there was nothing to worry your pretty little head over.

"Y/N, I wanted to give ya somethin, it's nothing big or anythin' but I wanted you to have it." Elvis said before the pair of you arrived at the dance.

He placed a familiar shaped item in your hands, wrapped up in brown paper with a wonky bow on it. You glanced up at him, looking for him to give the go-ahead to open it, which he did. You didn't waste any time in taking off the wrapping, only for a gasp to leave your pink lips.

"Elvis..." You said, little tears pooling in your eyes, touched at the gift. It was a brand new, latest edition of Little Women, one that didn't have half of the pages ripped out.

"Is it the right one? The lady in the store said it was the best one they had, and I know you love that raggedy old one ya got but I thought my little girl should have one that at least has all the pages intact." Elvis said, hoping that you'd love it.

You'd never had anyone do anything so thoughtful for you before. You looked up at him with your glassy eyes and he immediately cooed. "Oh baby, don't cry now, it's just a book." Elvis said, thumbing away the tears.

"It's more than a book, Elvis, it's the nicest thing anyones ever done for me." You told him with a wobbly voice. Elvis leaned over and kissed your cheek, making you blush. Little did you know, that Elvis went to the store the day after he'd met you and bought that book for you, all those weeks ago. "And I can fit it in my purse!" You said with pride, showing Elvis who laughed at how adorable you were, as you looked forward to taking it to the dance.

The pair of you began to make your way to the dance, with Elvis holding your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand soothingly as you entered the dance hall. Your eyes lit up as you looked around, admiring how beautiful and pretty everyone looked as well as all of the pretty decorations.

"Wow..." You gasped as Elvis chuckled, looking down at you and watching your reaction. "I feel like a real grown up Elvis." You whispered to him.

"Not quite lil' mama, the fruit punch ain't got no alcohol in it just yet." Elvis laughed. "Wanna dance with me?" Elvis offered, leading you to the little dancefloor.

The pair of you slow danced to the music, Elvis occasionally pulling a funny face to make you do that giggle that he would now hear in his dreams, he loved it so much. You felt your spine tingle as he wrapped his arm around your waist.

Neither of you noticed all the eyes on you, the odd pairing of the up and coming rock 'n' roll star student and his little, bubbly, bookworm, but as the night went on, everyone got a little more used to it and no-one even noticed when you two headed off in search of the library in your party dress and Elvis' smart jacket, desperate to curl up together with that sparkly new copy of Little Women that you'd stashed in your bag.

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 14

🧡❤️🩶💛🚒🐦‍🔥

"So what's the plan?" Rigby jogged up alongside John.

"Here," John pressed a button at his wrist and the rock face in front of them opened; much the way a garage door might.

"Impressive," Rigby mused aloud. He let out a long, low whistle as he stepped inside.

"We need to clear a path around the pool. Jetpacks just won't cut it if we're gonna try n' stabilize One," John pointed to his brother's green Bird.

"Need me to pilot her?" Rigby's face held more than a trace of excitement.

"Oh...no, sorry," John scratched the back of his head.

"You'll be driving one of her pods. When we've cleared enough of the debris, and the villa has been stabilized; I may need you in Phoenix's carrier to help with moving One."

Rigby straightened and gave a nod.

"Time is scarce. Reports say Alan's okay, but we have a further three people in the villa who may require urgent medical attention, and I can't risk McCready's team in there until we know they have a chance at making it back out again," John sighed.

Rigby cleared his throat; his face visually construing a silent inner-debate.

"What?" John urged, then winced inwardly at his tone. Adjusting to Earth's gravity appeared to be even more wearing when fearing for your family's well being.

"You know, you can call them by name - Virgil and Gordon. We...we have your back," Rigby gave John an awkward clap on the back.

The clap echoed around the cavernous hangar.

John swallowed hard to staunch impending tears. There was a second's pause, before the astronaut stepped into his missing brother's Bird.

*. *. *.

"Knock, knock!" Parker called to signal his arrival outside of Alan's door.

"Erm...am I supposed to say who's there?" Alan's young voice came back.

" 'Oo's there? Well, hI'm glad to see that yer haven't lost your sense of humour along with yer bedroom!" Parker chuckled as he worked the lock on Alan's door.

There was a satisfying sound of the latch clicking, and the door swung open.

"Looks like you could use an 'and, Master Alan," he smiled, extending a hand.

"F-A-B-," Alan enthused, hauling himself up, and into the corridor, with Parker's help.

The teen cracked his back.

"Welp, I think I now hold the Tracy Island record for the longest pull up!"

*. *. *.

"We had to make an 'ole in Master Gordon's window to get to you. 'Fraid your brother's parking had made somewhat of a mess," Parker gestured towards Gordon's rooms.

"Didn't you teach him to drive?" Alan grinned.

"Cars, young Master Tracy, not rocket ships! And, I'll 'ave less of yer cheek! Scott might not be firin' on all cylinders at the moment, but you mark my words - I 'ave a memory like an elephant!" Parker chuckled, wagging a finger.

"You look like one too!"

"Oi!" Parker swatted at the teen as he ran.

*. *. *.

John and Rigby had made light work of clearing the debris surrounding the villa, and the structure was stabilised enough for a team to head up to help locate Virgil, Grandma, and Gordon.

"HELLO? VIRG? GRANDMA? GORD-"

"-OVER HERE!" Gordon hammered a small rock against a metal support beam.

The team tentatively picked their way over splintered floorboards and around mounds of rock that lay strewn across what was left of the comms room.

"Allie, is that you?"

"The one and only! I've brought some friends with me. Didn't wanna hog all the glory, y'know?"

"Phoenix?"

"Yup!"

Jonesy took a step closer, with a small hydraulic whine from the suit.

"Jonesy?"

"S'up Gords? I like what you've done with the place. You're kinda lacking in the door department though."

"Well y'know what Virgil always says; if you can't find a door, make one!" Gordon called from behind the fallen rocks.

"My thoughts exactly!"

"WAIT!" Tycho was almost pulled forwards into the rock face as he tried to stall Jonesy's suited arm.

"The structure's too unstable. Any attempt to move these boulders risks the whole lot coming down on top of Gordon," Tycho gesticulated wildly.

"Yeah, let's not do that." Gordon deadpanned.

"So what's the plan?" Jonesy couldn't deny that the thrill of using the exosuit had him itching to use his new superpower again. Two tonne boulder? No problem! He'd just shifted it like....kapow!

Tycho dragged his hands down his face as he thought.

"Hmm...we need to get a better view of what we're dealing with. Right here, we can only see half of the puzzle." Tycho pensively ran a hand down the largest boulder.

"And how are we gonna do that?" Jonesy was under the distinct impression that Tycho wasn't referencing the exosuit.

"I think I have just the thing!"

The scientist bent down and unfastened the clasps of a small metal case he'd carried down from the carrier.

"Jonesy, meet Mini Max.”

[jonahmagnus]

I make them transgender. Okay?

Headcannons below the cut ✂️!

Isabeau (he/him): Isabeau wanted to name himself Isaboy because he thought that would be funny (it is) but his mom wouldn't let him legally change his name to that so he chose Isabeau, which is exactly two letters off from Isabel. People still call him Isaboy as a joke, though.

The first person he told was Max, both because xe (Max) is ambiguously transgender in every universe, and because xir dad cracked his egg by showing him that masculinity can be whimsy and joy and not just the hardened role hes been forced to play until now. This realization would probably come after a short but very intense femme phase after whatever happens to his grandpa happens (exorcism hopefully) where he tried to embrace traditional "girly" things and while the freedom was nice he hated it so bad and eventually realized he was just forcing himself into another box. Him and Max are the Buzzcut Brothers during highschool.

Anna (she/they): Anna wanted to name herself Miku, and then remembered that she was white. She decided to name herself after the titular Anna from Fr/ozen, which is lame but its a "fucking Mildred?" situation where her friends are begrudgingly supportive. You can't really see it well, but her hairties are the same magenta as Miku's!!

The realization would come after like... years of repression and thinking that feeling Wrong is a problem unique to her and that Nobody Else Has Ever Felt This Way. The catalyst is an argument with Max over it which xe says "just google it, stupid". She does and then stares haunted at her computer screen and the posters of pretty anime girls up on her walls. How her favorite stories all feature transformation. She probably tells Doorman first, at like midnight, and then frets over her contact list before she calls up Max. Xe comes over grumbling the whole time but still supportive has she sobs her eyes out over this realization and gets snot into xir sweater. Xe makes fun of her name but nicely. And then xe asks if she wants to hear any other diagnosises that Max thinks she has. She says "no thank you I've realized enough for tonight ♡" and she is later diagnosed with autism, ocd, bipolar personality disorder and depression.

Crash (they/them): Crash names themself both after the titiular bandicoot and in honor or Crush, the guy who strangled them the day they realized they where nonbinary. This name is awesome and literally the perfect choice for them, its the perfect amount of absurd to suit them and also a normal enough sounding word that people would do a double take when they introduce themselves.

The first person they tell is honestly? Probably Rj. After a few weeks of Knowing that their... not cis, they track down Rj when their alone and explain the situation to them. Their super supportive, obviously, and extremely excited to have cracked Crash's egg. They are delighted by the name and in honor of the choice Rj takes Crash out to egg some houses with the jang. Crash tells the rest of the jang next, with Johnny being deeply enthused by the same they chose and concinved them to try and let Ollie roll them like a bowling ball. Ollie does so and another beautiful friendship is formed. Stephen solemnly tells them "Im proud a' you Crash, gender is a scam made up by the goverment to track our bathroom usage and its pretty cool that you're sticking it to the man like that". Crash nods equally solemnly in response, appreciating how thats fully just a fucking insane thing to say. They nervously tell Isabeau (who at that point is probably still Isabel) over text the next day, who then hunts them down to squeeze them in a hug.

Max (-/-): Max, of course, looks the same in every timeline. No matter what, they have a buzzcut and their name is Max. Cis girl? Buzzcut. Trans girl? Buzzcut. Trans guy? Buzzcut. Cis guy? Buzzcut. Nonbinary? You're never gonna belive it, but, they have a buzzcut. It/its situation in every timeline too. Doesnt matter the combo. She? She/it. Makes 'shit' puns about it. He/it? He is gonna "he/it" you with his car. They/it? Theres no pun for this one but it'll find a way to make one. It/its classic? Also no pun but it gets a boost to its attack speed so it doesnt really need one.

Max doesnt really come out to anyone. Xe doesnt feel the need to. You dont know its alphabet and you will never learn. If it feels like sharing xe will. If it doesn't, it wont. If you try and make it join a pronoun circle against its will, it will pull the god danm fire alarm. It will tell you its not cis but will not tell you in which way.

"Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-" "Spender, if you dont stop trying to get me to share my alphabet, Ill take a "she/it" on your work computer and pull the fire alarm"

[Plain text: "Max, why dont you come join the pronoun circl-"]

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Gnoll/Female Reader SFW Wordcount: 2,919 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

When you're convinced to go on a blind date with an asshole, Adamu saves you from a sticky situation. As it turns out, you'd rather go out with him anyway.

Outside the restaurant, the city's ambient buzz mingled with your own whirl of anticipation and nerves. The cool evening air did little to soothe the flutter of excitement in your stomach as you approached the restaurant's entrance, a quaint spot chosen by Eirik for your blind date.

Stepping inside, the warm glow and soft murmur of conversation enveloped you. The hostess greeted you with a welcoming smile, and you found your voice slightly trembling as you mentioned, "I’m here to meet - I mean, table for Karl?."

"Oh, you must be Eirik's friend! He mentioned a blind date," the waitress exclaimed brightly. She seemed genuinely enthused about the setup, a sentiment you wished you could fully share at the moment.

As she led you through the restaurant, the clinking of cutlery and low hum of diners' chatter accompanied your steps. The waitress stopped at a cosy table for two, where a man was seated, his back to you.

As she announced your arrival, he turned around, and you were met with a young face and a mess of curly, dark hair. Karl was undeniably handsome, with sharp features, a well-groomed beard, and eyes that seemed to appraise you in a single glance. His smile was confident, almost rehearsed, as he stood to greet you.

"Ah, you must be the mystery woman Eirik has been raving about," Karl said, his voice smooth, his handshake firm. There was a charm about him, no doubt, but it felt somewhat polished, a little too perfect.

As you took your seat, the nervous flutter in your stomach intensified. You smoothed out your dress, trying to appear composed, though inside, your nerves were a tangled mess. The idea of a blind date, already daunting, now felt even more so with Karl's poised demeanour.

The waitress, still beaming, handed you the menus, wishing you a good evening before leaving. You offered her a grateful smile, her enthusiasm a small comfort for your nerves.

"So, Eirik tells me you're quite the adventurer," Karl began, leaning back in his chair with ease. “Have you been to the alps? I have; there I was, standing at the summit of the Alps, the world beneath my feet. It's quite the rush, you know?"

You nodded and the first bubble of excitement welled in you. "That sounds incredible. I've always wanted to try mountain climbing. Last year, I..."

Karl, however, swiftly steered the conversation back to himself, barely acknowledging your input. "Yes, it's an experience of a lifetime. Then, when you lead the lifestyle I do, these things become somewhat routine."

As Karl delved into another self-centred anecdote, your attention drifted across the restaurant. There, at a table set for two, sat a young gnoll man. His dark fur contrasted strikingly with his bright green eyes, which stared at his glass of wine. His muscular build suggested strength, yet there was a patience about him as he checked his watch, clearly waiting for someone.

Your gaze lingered, intrigue. It was a welcome distraction from the one-sided conversation at your table.

Karl, noticing your diverted attention, cleared his throat pointedly. "I'm sorry, am I boring you?"

You snapped back to reality, meeting Karl's eyes, which now held a flicker of annoyance. "No, not at all. Please, go on," you said, though the sincerity in your voice waned.

Karl huffed, his demeanour shifting. "You know, when someone takes the time to share their experiences, the least you could do is pay attention."

The sharpness in his tone took you aback. The evening, already teetering on the edge of disappointment, had taken a turn for the worse. "I'm sorry, Karl. I just noticed someone across the restaurant. I didn't mean to seem disinterested."

Karl's response was a curt, "Well, perhaps you'd prefer their company then."

The air between you grew tense, the remnants of the evening's potential dissipating with each passing second. "I think I need a moment," you said, standing abruptly. "I'll be in the bathroom. If the waitress comes back, could you ask her to give us a few more minutes to decide?"

You couldn’t have left fast enough. The walk to the bathroom felt like an escape, each step a respite from the stifling atmosphere at the table. Inside, you took a moment to gather your thoughts, the disappointment of the evening weighing heavily on you. Eirik's well-intentioned setup had spiralled into an evening you couldn't wait to forget.

When you returned, bracing yourself for more of Karl's self-absorption, you found his seat empty. Confused, you glanced around, half-expecting to see him returning from a break of his own; but he was gone. The only evidence of his presence was the menu, left at the edge of the table.

You sat, a flush of embarrassment warming your cheeks. You tried to compose yourself as the waitress approached with a concerned look. "Can I get you a drink?" she asked, her gaze flickering to the empty seat.

You offered a small, somewhat sheepish smile, "uh, no thanks. Honestly, I think I should just head home. Maybe I’ll have just one..."

The waitress nodded, her expression softening with understanding, before leaving you to peruse the drinks menu. The bustling ambiance of the restaurant suddenly felt more pronounced, each laugh and clink of glasses echoing your own discomfort.

As you deliberated over your choice, a tentative voice interrupted your thoughts. "Excuse me, would you mind some company?"

Looking up, you saw the gnoll from across the restaurant standing beside your table, a hint of apprehension in his green eyes. Up close, you could see the intricate patterns of scars beneath his dark fur, tugging down the corner of his left eye. Yet, his posture was unassuming, almost gentle, as if he were trying to make his formidable presence seem less intimidating.

"I, uh, couldn't help but notice... It seems we've both been stood up," he added, his voice tinged with a shyness.

Surprised but touched by his gesture, you found yourself nodding, "Take a seat. It's been quite the evening."

He took the seat across from you, his movements careful, mindful of the space he occupied. Together, you ordered cocktails, a silent attempt to salvage what remained of the night.

As the drinks arrived, the initial awkwardness gave way to tentative conversation. Sipping a martini, you asked, “why did you come over? It's not every day that someone does something so kind."

He paused, his gaze lingering on his drink before meeting yours. "Well, I suppose I didn’t want both of our nights to be wasted. I thought, maybe, we could turn them into something a bit more... bearable, together."

His honesty, coupled with the softness in his expression, struck a chord in you. Here was someone who, despite his own discomfort, had reached out with an offer of companionship. It was painfully sweet.

You watched him above your menu, unable to hide your smile. Maybe tonight wasn’t a total loss. "How about gaeng som?" you suggested, “I’m pretty sure they make it extra spicy here.”

His eyes lit up with interest. "That sounds perfect! Back home, the hotter the meal, the better."

You smiled, pleased with the common ground you'd found. The waitress took your order, and as you waited for the food, the conversation flowed effortlessly.

"Not that I was listening in earlier, but I heard something about the alps?" he asked, his eyes curious. "There's something about exploring the unknown, the challenge of a steep climb, I just love it."

You nodded enthusiastically. "Absolutely. There's a trail I've been eyeing for the next weekend. It's supposed to offer some of the best views of Oceanhall."

“Yeah, I know the one! I’ve never gotten around to it, though. I- wait, hold on.” You were sure that beneath his fur, he was blushing. “I'm Adamu, by the way, I guess I forgot to say. Tonight was actually supposed to be a meetup with someone I met online."

His expression clouded slightly, a hint of disappointment creeping in. "I wonder if she saw me and... well, decided against it. I know my appearance can be a bit... daunting?"

You shook your head, the notion absurd to you. "I think you look lovely. If you really did scare her off, it's’ her loss."

His face softened at your words, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Thank you," he said, his voice laced with a newfound warmth. "I know I’m an acquired taste.”

You smiled softly, reaching out to take his hand. It wasn’t a secret that gnolls had a reputation for being intimidating. Rude. Violent, even; but when you met Adamu’s gaze, there was a softness there that made you melt.

Whatever you were about to say, though, was cut off when the waitress arrived with your steaming hot food. “Two portions of gaeng som,” she announced cheerfully. “Can I get you anything else?”

You didn’t remove your hand from Adamu’s as you ordered another round of drinks. He didn’t pull away either, though, and you found yourself warmed by his coarse fur.

He only tugged his hand free when it was time to eat, and you missed the tickle of his fur and claws against your palm. You ate in silence for a moment; content to be in each other’s quiet company.

Eventually, Adamu's curiosity got the better of him. "So, what actually happened to your date? He left pretty suddenly."

You paused, a spoonful of soup halfway to your lips. The memory of Karl's abrupt departure brought a stutter of relief. "Well, let's just say we weren't exactly a match. If I'm honest, I'm quite glad he left."

Adamu raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in his eyes. "Oh, why?"

You met his gaze, the connection between you palpable. "Because if he hadn't, I wouldn't have had the pleasure of your company, Adamu."

Adamu's smile widened, a look of contentment settling on his features. “Oh. That’s… actually really kind.”

In the warmth of the restaurant, with the lingering heat of the soup still dancing on your tongue, you found yourself caught in Adamu's gaze. The soft, ambient light of the room cast gentle shadows across his features, softening the scars and highlighting the soft brown of his fur.

There was an undeniable pull, a desire to lean across the table and bridge the gap between you with a kiss. Yet, you hesitated, the weight of nerves holding you back. You didn't want to rush, to shatter this delicateness between you.

Adamu seemed to sense the shift in your mood, his voice drawing you back. "I wasn't entirely sure about moving to Oceanhall," he admitted, his tone reflective. "It was a leap of faith, really. I needed a change of pace, something different from what I was used to."

You nodded, understanding the sentiment all too well. "Sometimes, that's exactly what we need."

He smiled. "I'm glad I made the move. Especially now," he added, his gaze holding yours.

The remainder of the meal passed in a comfortable quiet, punctuated by shared glances and soft laughter. It was as if the world beyond your table had faded into the background, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

When the waitress came by to inquire about dessert, you both scanned the menu, settling on sharing mango sticky rice. The sweet, creamy texture of the rice, paired with the fresh, tangy mango and the rich coconut sauce, promised a perfect end to the meal.

Adamu's earlier admission echoed in your mind as you ate, blending seamlessly with your own feelings. Oceanhall, with its beautiful beach and multiples cultures, was exactly the kind of place to get away from the drag of real life issues.

When the waitress returned to collect your plates, her knowing smile was directed at you. “I hope you both had a good time,” she said. “Can I get you anything else?”

You couldn't help but return her smile, a sense of gratitude swelling in your heart.

“Just the bill please,” Adamu said, before you could ask for the same.

As the waitress disappeared to retrieve your bill, she left you alone with Adamu. You became acutely aware of the details you hadn't fully absorbed before—the way the low lighting played off the contours of his muscular build, his broad shoulders straining against his grey shirt. The gentle curve of his smile made you flush too, more pronounced as his initial shyness melted away.

You found yourself openly admiring him, taking in the rugged handsomeness that his scars only seemed to accentuate, not diminish. There was a raw, authentic beauty to him, and it made your toes curl.

Adamu caught you looking, a flicker of self-consciousness crossing his features. "It's the scars, isn't it?" he asked softly.. "They don’t hurt. I sometimes forget they're there until I see that look in someone's eyes."

Your heart clenched at the thought of him feeling any discomfort, especially when, to you, he was nothing short of captivating. "No, Adamu, it's not the scars," you said softly, earnestly. "I was actually.. You’re absolutely gorgeous, you know that?"

The air between you thickened with the admission, a warm blush colouring your cheeks. Adamu's gaze held yours, a mixture of surprise and something deeper flickering within his eyes.

"Thank you," he said after a moment, the tension in his shoulders visibly relaxing. "I’ve had them since I was a kid - boating accident. My fur hides the worst of it, at least."

His soft voice, the twinkle in his eyes, it made you want nothing more than to grab him by the collar, and kiss him. The space around you seemed to pulse with the unspoken attraction that had been simmering beneath the surface all evening.

Adamu leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a huskier tone that sent shivers down your spine. "I knew tonight was going to be great as soon as I sat across from you."

The confession, so openly shared, fanned the flames of your own desire. The thought of being close to him, so close you could smell the sugar on your breath, made you shudder.

As the waitress returned with the bill, breaking the spell momentarily, Adamu's gaze lingered on you, loaded with unspoken questions. Once the bill was settled, he turned to you with a hesitant yet hopeful look.

"I don't want this evening to end just yet," he said, his voice laced with a quiet intensity. "Would you... would you like to come back to my place?"

The invitation hung in the air, a tantalizing promise of more. The thought of spending more time with Adamu was irresistible.

“I would love to.”

As you stood to leave, Adamu, ever the gentleman, assisted you with your coat, his hands brushing against yours in a fleeting, electric touch. The restaurant's warm ambiance gave way to the night's chill as you stepped outside, the sudden drop in temperature making you instinctively draw closer to him for warmth.

Noticing your shiver, Adamu gently draped his own coat over your shoulders, enveloping you in its warmth and the subtle scent that was uniquely his. It was like sweet mango and cinnamon, and something rich you couldn’t place.

The gesture, so simple yet intimate, stirred something deep within you, heightening the anticipation of what was yet to come.

The streets were quiet, the city's nighttime serenade a soft backdrop to your shared silence. The proximity to Adamu, his coat wrapped around you, created a cocoon of warmth in the cold night air. It was in this intimate bubble that Adamu stopped, turning to face you, his bright eyes searching yours in the dim light.

The tension between you was a tangible force that seemed to draw you closer. Then, almost as if it were the most natural thing in the world, your lips met in a kiss that was both tentative and desperate, a mingling of warmth and want that sent sparks flying through your very being.

The kiss was imperfect—the slight awkwardness of human lips meeting a gnoll's muzzle—but it only made you want him more. Neither of you cared for symmetry when the kiss deepened, fueled by the pent-up desire and the night's earlier revelations.

As you parted, breathless, Adamu's shy smile returned, a hint of his earlier awkwardness peeking through. "I, uh, live just a short walk from here," he said, his voice a soft rumble. "Would you like me to call a taxi?"

The thought of parting, even just to sit side by side in a taxi, seemed unthinkable. "I'd much rather walk with you," you replied, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart.

He beamed. “Yeah? Great, me too.”

The walk to Adamu's home was a blur of shared smiles and soft laughter, the earlier kiss lingering like a promise between you. The walk was brisk, quick, your hand nestled in his the entire time. Soon enough you were stood outside a little wooden gate, looking up at a narrow townhouse, garden blooming with wildlife.

Adamu paused at the gate, turning to you once more. The streetlight cast a soft glow around him, illuminating the gentle lines of his face.

In that soft light, you shared another kiss, this one laden with the promise of more to come. It was a seal on the unspoken agreement that tonight was just the beginning.

“Come on inside,” he said, tugging your hand.

With a grin, you followed him inside.

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

You're waiting for a train... (8)

A Son's First Hero; A Daughter's First Love

Robert Fischer x reader

description - Y/n's conversation with Robert is filled with more reality than should be in their dream.

word count - 3k

warnings - self-harm, physical violence (fake), tears, shitty parents, Robert Fischer's trauma.

a/n - so sorry this part is so late but I wanted it to be perfect so I've been working on it lot's and now I'm really happy with it!

Previous Part Series Master list Master list

If you want to be added to the taglist - here

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I furiously wiped away the unforgiving tears. Fearing my weakness would be obvious to those around me. I had to pull myself together and set out on the task at hand. Dad said Fischer would remember me but, in your dreams…well…anything’s possible.

“Eames. I need some help.” I pulled myself up onto the table where he was busy working. He looked up at my cheeky face, already excited for whatever idea spilled out of my mouth.

“Is that so?”

“I want to show my dad that I can do this.” I spoke.

“You know you don’t have to.” His voice gave away a sympathetic lilt. But my sincerity lingering in my eyes made him abandon his qualms about my well-being. Instead, he braced himself for the details of my plan.

“We both know that he may be the one dreaming, but we control the visual.” He smirked, sensing my direction. “Yes, he saw my face. But maybe, for this moment, we could just…alter it?”

“Ah, come with me my young Picasso.” He led me to a three paned mirror he’d set up on a rickety desk which would give way at the slightest touch. He firmly pressed my shoulders down into the even flimsier desk chair. “Let me teach you the art of disguise.”

“So, he won’t recognise me at all?” I managed to whisper out. And grasped the hand heading for my face.

Eames smiled down at me and squeezed my hand in a gesture designed to evoke a feeling of security. “We’re not changing your whole face, just mushing it up.” He spoke. “It’s like when you see a face in a dream; you know it’s a face, but you can’t quite make out the features.”

“Like a silhouette.” I softly agreed. My mind flitted back to the man from my own dream. How his indiscernible features had subtly begun to meld, and I already felt their final product. His eyes were now as familiar to me as ever.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*Eames pov*

I’d offered Y/n time to psych herself up for her next role in this so-called game. She couldn’t ever throw herself in, she required prep and time to create her character which would be placed into the subjects story. But as I walked away, I chanced a glance at her form which had simply walked into the room, no character necessary.

But I needn’t dwell on it for too long; I trusted Y/n. Speaking of which my firm walk was directed towards a certain leader who I needed a few words with.

Cobb and Ariadne stood locked in thought. Cobb fiddled with an object out of sight, but his hunched shoulders betrayed his nerves. If he had been stood to my liking, he would have been destroyed in the corner sobbing his little heart out. I approached from behind, a droll cough announcing my presence and more importantly, my desire to talk.

“May we have a moment, my darling.” I shot a smile Ariadne’s way. She responded to the over-enthused expression by retreating quickly. Cobb did not meet my gaze which had tracked on to him. He grasped his object even tighter with each new hand placement. He clearly already knew the topic and could feel my reaction.

“You have some nerve.” I spat.

“She nearly put this whole mission in je—” He defended with a surprising amount of conviction.

“No don’t give me that!” I fumed at his official attitude. Scoffing at his apparent corporate nature. “She made a mistake. We’ve all made them.” I tilted my head towards him in an unspoken statement. “But for some reason she is held to a higher standard than us all.”

His mouth opened in silent argument, but his false words would give away no sound.  I went to turn, feeling my anger was misplaced due to the severity of this mission. For Cobb and Y/n. But I just couldn’t. I came back and leaned in further so I could attempt to meet him face to face.

“It’s all well and good you accusing her of being a child, but don’t you forget that she entered into our world a child.” My voice kept its hushed tones, but the severity seeped through it. “Whether it was her choice or not, you still let her do it.” My finger was shoved into his face, and he minutely flinched at this. I calmed myself, feeling relieved at releasing that before we continued on this mission. My head hung low when even I felt the sincerity of my words. I loved Y/n like she was my own sister, but I couldn’t deny how sick I felt when she was here with us. And now with this new revelation, I feared that Cobb, Arthur, and my self’s efforts at protection would not be enough.

I now leaned against the table, complimenting Cobb who had ignored his object in favour of supporting his hunched frame on the desk. I broke the tense silence between us.

“Do you know why she liked talking to Fischer and didn’t immediately run off.”

“Please enlighten me to the inner thoughts of my daughter.” Cobb huffed out in severe annoyance.

I took a beat, almost relishing in his cocky attitude.

“Because for once she wasn’t in the shadows anymore.” I stormed off away from the man in shameful realisation.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

*your pov*

I had placed myself centrally in the door frame, staring unforgivingly at the locked steel door. Breathing was tricky in my emotional state but the little gasps every so often at least confirmed the living state of my body. I’d altered my clothes to seem more faded and dishevelled. Cuts and bruises adorned my body, but I had forgone the use of the dreams mechanics to create that specific look on my skin. My nails still had specs of my blood underneath from where I’d dragged them down my smooth skin. Feeling pain on my unblemished skin in this fake reality spurred on my adrenaline. The lack of numbness would work in my favour. There was something about squeezing into my flesh until it speckled with purple and blue which tricked my mind into believing this reality. Then maybe I could believe what was about to happen.

Footsteps clacked up to my frame, and I turned to see Arthur, adorned like a true criminal. Gun cocked, mask prepped. I couldn’t help but bite my lip seeing his body constrained in that that dusky brown leather. My mind was flipped back to our first solo mission and the memory of embracing him and feeling that jacket beneath my fingertips. He had delivered a swift kiss to my hairline but had left in another second hoping it would slip my mind.

His hand reached to clasp my forearm, but he faltered. His eyes instead met the side of my head and eventually his lack of movement confused me so I turned to see what was the issue. His face spoke a thousand words yet his lips delivered none of them. He eventually decided upon a few.

“You don’t have to do this.” I understood the hidden end of his sentence. We both knew it was more than the simple task at hand.

“I know. But I do.” I assured him with a little smile. Hoping it would convey enough normalcy to calm his nerves. He once again took my arm and I slightly winced at the contact. His steely gaze landed on our point of contact and look of regret spilled over his features as his thumb lightly traced my skin. His hand landed on the look but before he could turn it another though bubbled up.

“Are you okay?” He looked up at me piercing through his gaze.

“Yes.” I firmly said with a softer edge. “Do you trust me?” I teased but there was a slant of sincerity within it.

“Forever.” He stated and he punctuated the end by ripping open the door, mask on, and dragging me inside.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

“Thought we’d bring you a little treat.” Arthur grunted out through his fake voice. I stumbled alongside upping the part of the damsel. The act was tied up through a calculated throw to the ground and a well-timed yelp from me. As soon as my body crashed with the floor, Robert scrambled towards me and lifted me up. We found ourselves in a position we’d been in many times before. As he took my hands to gently place me in a more comfortable position, I finally let my eyes flit up to his. But once our gazes locked a flicker of familiarity danced across his features.

My heart dropped.

The flicker burned out.

“Miss, are you okay?” He looked over my body. Took in my tattered clothes, my physical anxiety. As he landed on my various cuts and bruises, his expression darkened. It confused me to see him as he brushed his fingers over my injuries. As if willing them away with a darkened anger bubbling up. His conclusion of who I was settled on his soul.

“Yes, I’m fine.” I stuttered out. “Well, as fine as I can be.” Laying it on thick. I added a few extra shakes to the mix but he mistook this for me being cold. He quickly ripped off his jacket and softly wrapped me in it. The gesture floored me where I forgot my character as I sunk into the fabric and let my head fall to my shoulder to breathe in the unique scent.

“Why have they taken you?” Okay good, he has already assumed I’m a fellow victim.

“They’ve had me for months.” I whispered out as if trying to evade my captors wrath. “I was taken because of my father’s debt.” His face fell at the mention of my father, sensing a shared trauma between the two.

“Turns out I’m not even worth ransom.” I spluttered out a laugh amongst my crocodile tears. Seeing this he brought up his hand to wipe them away, not bearing to see me in pain.

“They could’ve killed me. They probably should’ve.” I said. “I guess they just like something pretty to look at.” My head hung. “That’s all I am; to my colleagues, to men,” My breath caught in my throat. “and to my father.” The lump in my throat dropped and I managed to muster up a sympathetic sob. Upon hearing this he carefully gathered me in his arms. Instead of waiting for permission or fearing consequences; he sensed what I needed and had relished in giving me it. I let off a few minutes to fulfil my tears and let them drip onto his shirt. But as I lay in his arms I could no longer differentiate anymore and struggled to decide whether I was lying or not.

I pulled away when I felt dried out. I giggled at the wet patch that had formed on his chest.

“I am very sorry.” I continued laughing, pointing at his shirt. He laughed once he looked down and noticed. “I dread to think how much it cost.”

“It was sacrificed for a worthy cause.” He cupped my cheek and felt the dried up tear tracks.

“It’s nice to talk to someone for once.” I spoke.

“Really?” His face fell upon hearing this.

“Yeah, even before this I didn’t really have anyone.” I shook my head to wipe away his sympathy. “I worked for my dad, but I never really felt taken seriously. Like I was a part of it. Rather just a moveable doll to be used for whatever.” I giggled out at the almost lie I had forced myself to tell.

Robert chanced a look when I had let my eyes fall to the floor. His brow furrowed at the strain of taking in my various features which were so blurry. But it was something about my voice that struck a deeply hidden part of his mind. My dulcet tones had seemed to pierce our intricate layers.

“I feel like I know you.” My heart struck cold. And the most base bodily movement ceased. “You’ve been in my mind a lot recently.” I turned to face him. My lip trembled at the possible subtext of the words he was speaking. We seemed to be locked together for an eternity, neither feeling comfortable in pulling away.

“Anyways,” I brushed off his previous thoughts by trapping him with my dozy smile. Each time I smiled he became transfixed, and it was addicting. “Apparently you’re an old hand at the father stuff.”

He nodded his head through a teeth gritting smile.

“They talk a lot when they think I’m asleep.” I feebly gestured to the locked steel door. And I turned back to see the life had left his bones once he’d considered what I’d said.

“Well, his ability at business could not be faulted. Absolute inspiration and a hard-working and powerful individual. But in the father department, there was a lot to be desired.” He shifted his position so we were now turned to face one another, with our knees gently kissing.

“Growing up, seeing my dad like that was transcendent.” He laughed thinking back fondly. “He was a god.” His head fell. “but I didn’t want a god. I wanted my daddy.” His voice took on the note of child as if that desire had halted the ageing of his heart.

My fingers creeped toward him, betraying any logical strategy in my head, and I linked them together in a silent show of comfort. His eyes crinkled when our hands met and he spoke his thanks through a gentle squeeze.

“You know.” The words fell past my lips before I could stop. “Sometimes, I think my dad is afraid of how much I love him.” I waited until he looked at my face before continuing. “But I don’t know how to do anything else, because it’s all I’ve done for the past 5 years.” I smiled through the pain at how foolish I could be.

“If he truly doesn’t want me in my life.” I searched around the room to find the end of my comment. “Then I don’t know how to live like that.” I gasped out through an unconvincing laugh.

“My love is wasted on him,” Robert hooked on and decided to alleviate me by sharing some of his own. “It only serves to hurt me more.”

“I get that.” I offered him another smile and I was greeted with the sweetest relief of his own cheerful face, even if it is only for a moment. “But love is meant to hurt. It is only the deepest wounds which have the most lasting pain.” I spoke inwardly, forgetting the conversation I was supposed to be having.

“I don’t think I’m capable of love.” He shocked me back to him with this statement. My brow furrowed at the lifeless face he beheld. He met my concerned face. “Well, those are the traits you learn. You watch from a young age, your parents and their displays. I don’t think my parents ever gave me that.” I shuffled closer so our sides met. I hoped the proximity gave him comfort. I knew my next move but I doubted everything about it. Finally conceding I lifted my hand to grasp his chin, and tilted his face towards my own. And I met it with my other hand.

“I see your capability.” I began with a whispered tone. “I see it in your eyes.” My sincerity seeped even further through my disguise. “That longing desire to be loved that only comes when one has a great amount of love to offer.” Our lips were inches away and with a slight lean we would be locked in a kiss. My neck strained to go further but I had to stop. I was being risky enough as is it is.

“Maybe we both need to realise the burden of our love for our family.” Robert softly stated and as soon as those words hit my ear, the world stopped. We’d both felt it too. The tiny sparks dancing between each point where our bodies met.

The door was ripped open and Arthur stormed in. He grabbed my arms and began to drag me away. Robert firmly protested. Trying to run after despite the threat of being shot. He pleaded with them for my safety and as I was forcibly thrown out, I noticed something in his eyes. Something I’d seen before but never this intensely.

“just do what they say.” I spluttered out before I was safely behind the door with Arthur.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Once Arthur had removed his mask, we both stood as I caught my breath from the stressful exit. He placed his hand on my shoulder in a bid to calm me down.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Yeah. Perfect.” I gasped out.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Not hurt, or he didn’t –” His eyes ran over me during his uncertain questioning.

“No. Course not. All fine.” I half-way grinned up at him. We stood in silence, as Eames walked past all ready for his role as Browning. He opened the door and went in.

“I heard you in there.” He said through a small laugh.

“Oh really?” I tried to tease but my heart wasn’t fully in it.

“Yeah. It was a bit flowery, no? Bit poetic.” He laughed out. I joined in the humour but my eyes remained stoic.

“Yeah, I guess.” I became uncertain in my skin and my erratic hand movements betrayed this. “I don’t know he liked it.” I tried to show Arthur the humour behind my words and he seemed to buy it’s surface. After the laughter died out we walked back to the group. Despite the insincerity of our discussion, it felt like I had Arthur back. I liked it.

Once we reached the group, Dad immediately ran to meet us.

“Sweetheart, well done. Thank you for that—” He reached out for my arms but I never broke my stride and simply brushed past him. Arthur followed my lead.

Cobb was left standing aimless, before grasping his rejected hand into a tight fist.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

a/n - What do you guys think of the chapter? Is Arthur redeeming himself? What about Eames defending poor y/n? Are we liking Robert and y/n's interactions?

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite

[renlyslittlerose]

This whole Dragon Age Veilguard thing is making me feel kinda crummy, tbh. Ever since Cyberpunk 2077 (a game I love, don't get me wrong), I've not pre-ordered any games nor have I bought upon release, just because I want to be *certain* that I'm going to enjoy the game. AAA games in Canada cost close to $90 now, which ain't chump change.

And I'll also admit, from what I have seen of DAV I'm not like, super enthused? I'm not gonna go into the reasons why, just they exist strongly enough for me to be hesitant to purchase the game.

But at the same time, I've been with this series since 2009. DAO was my first Bioware game. I made so, so many good friends thanks to the series. I named my cat - my precious little baby boy - after Hawke. So I'll be *damned* if I get spoiled for the ending of a game I've been waiting for for a decade.

I feel like I have to buy the game and play it as soon as possible, not because I'm enthused and excited, but because I don't wanna be spoiled. And I know all y'all can be trusted to tag your shit, but just venturing out onto Reddit is going to be like stumbling into a lion's den. I was already spoiled for a character cameo yesterday, and the game isn't even out yet!

I'm just feeling very sorry for myself rn and needed to vent my feelings out before I literally lose sleep because I'm a worrier like that.

[blackbloodteeth]

And all that counts is here and now

The WIP™️ is no longer a WIP!!! Here's the fic I've been working slowly on for the past couple months, that was essentially a gift for a reverse raffle that everyone and no one was participating in (okay basically I left a secret on my AO3 profile and I wanted to see how long it would take for someone to find it haha).

Anyway, you can read it here on AO3 (same title), and it's a 9.8k monstrosity of silliness and Shenanigans (another shout-out to Sillu for enabling me to actually get this posted instead of still fussing with it haha). Basically: Soul has been a vampire for decades, and for a day, he gets to be human again. SoMa ahoy!

Since I'm still new to this whole 'posting about my fanfics' thing, here's the first scene for funsies:

————

His fingers slowly meet the tip of his nose, excitement palpable as his reflection feels along the warm tannish skin down his cheek, along the edge of his jaw, the lively blush of his lips. The ends of his other hand lightly brush against the scruff of his hair, sinking into the soft blonde strands that faintly resemble a light frost resting in the photos of an early sunrise – A winter that has only just begun to melt, but deep beneath that he has roots.

Of course the mirrored darks of his eyes look back at him, not a bloody, almost wine-like red, but a more welcoming shade of fine wood, one that stirs the soul like a piano's company and energy of the moment. His thumb and index fit into the corners of his smile, his canines a little sharpened but the rest of his teeth were dull. Human. Human teeth for chewing and being omnivorous.

All in his reflection.

Something truly giddy takes over Soul's face as he goes to looking himself over at as many different angles he can muster, watching the shadows of the bathroom light swim across his face and ears and the smooth stretch of his neck before he can't contain himself anymore, practically a giggle following his throat swinging out from the door and nearly startling Maka at the way he hangs all of his weight from the doorway.

"Makaaaa, look! Come here!" An amused but equally enthused sigh switches from a hop to a jog as she makes her way over to him, now the one leaning in as Soul points at the mirror on the wall like it might jump away any moment. "It worked – See, see! This is so much cooler than paintings!"

Her grin bites into her lower lip, tilting a side-eye to- "Okay, yes the drawings were... okay, but look—"

His fingers stretch out from his palms in front of the glass, hurriedly ruffling through his hair, his tongue sticking out and then grinning ear-to-ear at her again with all the sunlight in the world.

"—It's like a video but I'm actually in it! While it's happening!"

Something especially warm manages to come from her crossing her arms and the look on her face, dare he say mirroring his enthusiasm (he should know, he checked) while she starts to laugh. "Yeah, alright; That's... pretty dang cool."

"God I know, right!" Soul's hands start waving in place with all the excitement running through them, quickly on the move again as he tucks them around the heat of his throat, eyes closing around the drum beating all the way from the air filling his chest and back out again. He can't keep his eyes shut for long though, far too restless as his reflection curls his fingers sporadically until it jump-starts him back into motion, reaching for Maka's hand and pressing it against the pulse of his neck. There's a spark reflecting in her eyes, one that shines in the passing of each precious second at her fingertips, in the warm feeling in his skin – Alive. Alive. Alive.

It also soon echoes from his chest in a noticeable grumble, prying a chuckle loose from his smile at the twisting of her eyebrows and the odd sensation now taking the forefront of his attention.

"Hey... I think I just found out what feeling hungry feels like."

[Convenient teleport link to the rest of the fic.]

[sacred-coffin]

I want to write but today is edibles days so I'm just going to type out some thoughts about Terzo in light of some headcanons / Canon info I have consumed recently. Putting it under a cut bc it might be long

So, this is mostly from reading about Terzo "hating every body, but especially himself" and just. The idea that he grew up thinking he was no one's favorite (even if he did have a very loving mother) because, even in a place like the clergy, he is still, somehow, a black sheep.

Personally, I think he's gay, which is not a BAD thing in the clergy, but I can see it making a lot of women frustrated with him. That was just a little bit less attention he got. Epecially because his older half brothers are major heartthrobs.

Growing up, it just feels like Primo and Secondo have more succes than him. They're more like their father, after all, and being liked by Nihil helps protect them from Sister Imperator's jealousy (until she can get Copia in their place). But Terzo? Nihil didn't think he had what it takes to be Papa.

I saw another person contemplating Terzo being very into punk and goth music/culture, and of course the the clergy is all about being counter culture- but not like THAT. His mother loved it, of course, and not everyone was disapproving of him, but enough people with more authority than him we disappointed. The Emerituses are supposed to be CLASSY, or something like that.

I think his brothers weren't as disappointed with him at least, but they were a little bit in that sort of "older sibling" way, if that makes sense. They had moments of fighting and then getting along later like most siblings. Of course, that doesn't extend to Copia- I personally think Copia was introduced as an orphan who just happened to be Sister Imperator's favorite, star pupil, etc. etc. Growing up there were rumors that he might be her son, that he might be Nihil's son, but no one dared talk too loudly about it. Terzo and his brothers probably didn't think Copia was their brother, or if they did they didn't care to try and include him. Still, Sister Imperator's favoritism for Copia made Terzo even MORE upset. Copia did try to be friendly with him, but Terzo was very cold to him.

I also like to think about how Omega has been around for a very long time in the Clergy. He definetly saw Terzo grow up, in a way. (NOT like, from childhood, but maybe teenage/early adulthood?) And he always took a liking to him. Terzo's mother & omega were probably his biggest hype squad, but they weren't enough to keep him from getting depressed and jaded. It also probably took Terzo a long time to actually believe that Omega was being genuine with him. I think it'd be sweet if it finally hit Terzo that Omega REALLY liked him when he became Papa. Omega was so happy for him and excited to work with him, and Terzo had his "oh." moment.

Speaking of becoming Papa, we can all agree that he just oozed charm and charisma when he got on stage. It feels very contradictory to everything I've said up until this point, right? But I think that it was kind of like, a sudden boost to his, well, EVERYTHING when he became Papa. A sort of, "fuck you" to everyone who doubted him. Who cares if his father and Sister Imperator aren't super enthused about him being Papa? He's made it there.

Sure, that doesn't FIX him. But being on stage hypes his ego up so much, and being up there with Omega helps too, it kinda gives him that "fake it till you make it" energy. And for a time he was really making it.

But then Copia became Cardinal. And as much as Nihil didn't like him being Papa either, it wasn't hard for Sister Imperator to convince him.

And, well, you know how it goes from there.

Anyways, I'm going to project onto him now and say he was definitely bipolar and definitely never medicated. This made it hard for him to consistently believe that the people in his life that DID care about him were being genuine, he'd have long weeks of being depressed and apathetic. But being on stage, the center of attention, that's a mania trigger babeyyy

[asimplearchivist]

' 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕘𝕒𝕫𝕚𝕟𝕘 '

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕 𝐨𝐟 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊.

[𝓪𝓼𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓲𝓿𝓲𝓼𝓽'𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽] [𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓] AO3 | SPOTIFY | PINTEREST summary ✴ ⤏ you find optimus musing about the past while surveying earth's celestial sphere. you try not to let your personal feelings impair your ability to comfort him. pairing ✴ tfp!optimus prime/reader | (past) tfp!optimus prime/elita one word count ✴ 9.9k a/n ✴ ⤏ everything happy always happens in the first season, sometimes part of the second season if you’re lucky. this takes place right before the omega keys arc hits full swing but right after optimus receives the message from alpha trion via the star saber. (around/between “legacy” and “alpha; omega”.) it’s the moment of serenity before the storm, you could say.⤏ I've had this fic gathering dust in my drafts for years bc there should have been three more parts between it and 'yosemite falling,' but I'm updating my docs to word files in preparation to transfer everything off my old pc to a new one (which I haven't had a new pc in nearly fifteen years so I'm anxious as hell bc I don't handle change well but I'm also excited so???) and I figured 'what the hell, I'll go ahead and post it since I've been trying to clean out my drafts anyway. ⤏ the word ‘inamorata’ (italian, I believe) is legitimately perfect for optimus referring to elita one and you can pry that out of my cold, dead hands. t r y m e. (and yes, this also implies that optimus knows latin because he’s a giant n e r d .) ⤏ I also used lots of nods and references towards @ss-shitstorm’s backstory for op and elita in fortuna primigenia because she is optilita god. (the only striking difference is that ‘bee isn’t biologically theirs - they just kind of took him under their wing when he was still fresh off the press.)

Something was off.

You sighed softly and opened your eyes, taking in as much of the darkened hangar as you could before you yawned. The kids were sound asleep, as was the Autobots’ newest recruit (who had somehow managed to curl himself around the haphazard circle of sleeping bags and cots in a rather impressive imitation of a cat), and when you looked over you saw that Ratchet was still tapping studiously away at the main terminal, optics dimmed and distant as he worked. When your eyes adjusted you could see that it wasn’t the Iacon encryptions, but what appeared to be a personnel file. You saw a small picture of Smokescreen on the upper left-hand corner and figured Ratchet was either reading in on Team Prime’s most recent addition or filling out a medical file. Either way, it was way past the medic’s bedtime.

You looked back to the slumbering foursome, taking in how Smokescreen’s doorwings fluttered minutely in time with an occasional ex-vent. You smiled warmly at the sight. The newest recruit hadn’t quite found his place among the Autobot family yet, but with how well he got along with the kids you figured it’d be no time before he wormed his way into the elder soldiers’ hearts. You just hoped he wouldn’t take to Miko too much, because you’d sensed a mischievous streak in him the moment you’d found out he’d managed to convince Jack to pull a Miko.

It’d gotten Optimus the Star Sabre, but...that wasn’t the point.

The girl had wanted to hit off Smokescreen’s arrival with a bang, in the only way she thought suitable for someone who knew nothing about Earth - introducing him to slumber parties. He’d been all for the idea, jumping headfirst into the activities it entailed despite him not knowing a single thing that was going on. He’d loved the movies you four had picked out, and had picked up on the concepts and plots surprisingly quickly.

Ratchet hadn't been too enthused about all the ruckus going on, as one would expect, but Optimus had made it a point to soothe him when the medic would begin to grumble too loudly. It was a brief reprieve for the other Autobots, who’d been rather tense of late and needed a little night of fun, and it served to better acquaint them with their newest addition. Bumblebee seemed to get along with him fairly well, and Arcee seemed to regard him with a constantly exasperated but amused air. Bulkhead...acted amiable enough on the outside, but you worried about him. His near-fatal injury and subsequent recovery had hit him hard, and had hit his spirit harder. You’d thought to call Wheeljack to help lift the green ex-Wrecker’s spirit, but...you didn’t think the others would be nearly so inclined to welcome him back so soon after his day trip with Miko. And you’d seen the way Bulkhead’s demeanor would fall whenever he thought no one was looking - you hoped that he would bounce back soon.

You slowly sat up, being careful to make as little noise as you could manage as you slipped out from beneath the blankets and rose to your feet. You padded silently past the recharging Autobot, holding your breath when he twitched and made a soft noise. He settled down almost immediately after, doorwings flaring and closing slowly. It almost reminded you of a butterfly at rest.

You relaxed when you got closer to the main computer terminal, breathing out softly as you reached out and placed a hand on Ratchet’s pede. He jerked minutely under the unexpected touch, peering down until his optics found you. 

He ex-vented, straightening and returning his attention to the screen. “I’m almost finished. Go back to sleep.”

“You can finish it in the morning,” you murmured back, patting the warm metal beneath your palm affectionately. “A couple more hours of recharge than usual isn’t going to hurt you, Ratchet.”

He paused, his mouth pursing briefly, and you worried that he was just going to shoo you away and keep working. He surprised you by ex-venting long and low, hitting one last button and closing the file before letting his servos fall from the keyboard. 

“Fine,” he muttered, tone weary and all too telling. “Fine.”

You smiled gently. “Get some rest, you stubborn old mech. You’re going to need it if we’re keeping the overgrown puppy over there.”

He scoffed softly, but you didn’t miss the curve of a smile he was trying to hide. “You should as well. Who knows what diabolical plot Miko has devised for tomorrow’s activities.”

“I hope she doesn’t drag out the Monopoly board,” you muttered, smirking up at him. “We may as well kiss another Autobot goodbye.”

You shared a stifled look of amusement before you both cracked and chuckled.

“Sleep well,” he said, turning and walking quietly towards the open corridor.

“Sweet dreams, Ratchet,” you returned, watching him go. A sense of peace settled over you and you gave the hangar a visual sweep. Everything was quiet.

But...something still felt...off. You couldn’t put a finger on it, but…

Well, you were still a bit tired. You wondered if you could catch a few more hours with Optimus - you were already mostly awake, but being able to hear his spark whir and his engine rumble beneath his plating always helped soothe you back to sleep.

Optimus wasn’t in his quarters. Everyone else was (even Ratchet - you’d checked), but the Prime was nowhere to be seen. It was odd because Optimus was always somewhere within the base doing something - the only time he wasn’t was when he went on patrol, but he always let you know when he was leaving and would sometimes invite you to accompany him if it was somewhere with little to no risk-factor. But this was unusual. He’d just...disappeared.

It was irrational to think so, because you knew he wouldn’t have left without pretense - but it was something about how quiet the silo was, dark and empty besides the kids (and Autobot) slumbering in the hangar. You could almost hear Bulkhead snoring from where you were, the sound still ringing in your ears since you’d wandered through the hall leading to each of their quarters. (It’d just about scared you to death, the entire corridor dead quiet then filled with an inhuman roar unlike any you’d heard before - it was only after you’d plastered yourself into the nearest corner, trying to keep your heart from beating itself out from between your ribs, that you realized it sounded like Bulkhead.) But the silence, nigh oppressive in its grip, reminded you too much of the long three months that Optimus had been under Megatron’s influence as his past self, memories gone in wake of spending the energy of the Matrix of Leadership on forcing Unicron back into stasis.

You had a sudden, irrational apprehension bubble low in your stomach, and you began to search the base.

He wasn’t in the corridors, or the relic vault, or the energon refinery. He wasn’t in the storage room, or any of the other massive, unused warehouse-type rooms. He wasn’t even in Ratchet’s private lab, which had been your last idea. You even checked his quarters again, just in case your eyes had been screwing with you and you hadn’t actually seen the gargantuan red and blue titan lying on his berth. The entire base was lacking one Prime, and you were getting worried enough that you were starting to consider going to wake Ratchet up to help you find him when you reentered the main hangar and your eyes alighted upon the large metal platform that served as an elevator of sorts, along with its human-sized counterpart that Fowler used when flying in.

Maybe…

As you climbed the ladder up to the platform and sized up the elevator, you crossed your fingers and hit the button with an upward-pointing arrow. The doors slid open smoothly and without a sound, fortunately, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you cast a brief glance over your shoulder at the kids to make sure they were still asleep. Satisfied to see that they were, you stepped inside and folded your arms as the doors shut again. The machine rumbled to life quietly, and the sudden tug of gravity had you drumming your fingertips anxiously against your arm as you ascended.

A few moments later, it stopped. The doors opened once more and a cool gust of air made you shiver. The night was dark and it took a few moments for your eyes to adjust, but when they did you paused. The sky was an inky black, moon a sliver of a crescent but glimmering a bright ivory all the same. It cast a ghostly silver glow across the relatively flat top of the silo, the sand and stones washed out from their usual rich red. It was a bit difficult to distinguish anything of the horizon from the dark skyline, but the glimmer of metal gleaming under the moon near the edge of the mesa caught your attention.

There he was.

You breathed out softly, suddenly feeling not so confident. He was fine. He was probably just taking a moment to himself, enjoying the peace and quiet. You wished that he was resting, but you understood that having much privacy in the silo was sparse when you had three other giant mechs (now four) and one femme occupying it. Optimus had always been quiet by nature, so it made sense to you that needing it occasionally would be part of it, too. (...It made you wonder why he offered for you to go along with him on his patrols alone, honestly. That was probably the only me-time he ever got, save for moments like these.)

Your worry satisfied for the most part, you debated on returning to your makeshift bed and trying to get a few more hours of sleep. You were tired, and your eyes were heavy, and you weren’t sure why you’d woken up to begin with.

A heavy ex-vent, audible even from where you stood, caught your attention before you heard a soft, low rumble that was unmistakably Optimus’ voice. No one else was out there, so the fact that he must’ve been talking to himself made you pause. His words were unintelligible, and you pondered on whether you should leave him be or confront him. But the note of sadness in his tone made your decision for you.

You padded across the mesa, shivering as the breeze picked up a bit and tugged at your hair teasingly. You wrapped your arms around yourself, rubbing the flesh of your arms with your palms and trying to keep your teeth from chattering. The closer you drew to the Prime, the more distinct his voice became - but you quickly realized that he was not speaking English. It could’ve only been Cybertronian. You’d heard snippets of it before, brief mutterings and stressed exclamations from the others. And you could only describe it as music.

The tones and harmonics of his voice seemed to rise and fall and mingle as he spoke, rolling and chittering and rumbling through syllables that held no meaning to you. It sounded like he even used his engine to add depth to the sounds, his voice cutting through the air with its deep bass. It seemed deeper, somehow - it sounded as though it were coming directly from his chassis and pouring out of his vocalizer.

It was the most beautiful thing you’d ever heard.

You were suddenly struck with the desire to learn it, but you reasoned that it would be practically impossible. Mechanical beings such as the Autobots were simply more capable of producing more sounds that humans could, in that they could use more of their already more flexible vocals than humans were able.

But the thing that struck you most about Optimus’ indecipherable words was how mournful he sounded. The subtle whistles and whirs and trills descending through the syllables were distinctly sad, and you finally stopped walking when you were a few yards behind him.

"Optimus...?"

He stopped abruptly. You watched as he stilled, his digits sinking into the sand beneath them slightly. He slowly turned, and you swallowed when his optics, dim but still brilliant in the dark, focused on you.

"Sorry," you blurted, shame flaring in your face as you dropped your eyes and clutched at your arms. "I - I couldn't find you earlier, so I just - I wanted to make sure you're okay, but I can - I can go now, if-"

He murmured your name, a gentle serenity against your fluster. It calmed you embarrassingly quickly. "...you are not disturbing me. I was...merely pondering aloud." He turned his servo over and made a gesture for you to come closer. "Please, sit."

You did as he bade you, shuffling forward and settling in the dirt a healthy distance away from him. His servo came to rest in the dirt once again, and you were enraptured by the subtle motions of him tracing circles in the fine, dry grains.

"...difficulty sleeping?"

You blinked, craning your neck back to look up at him. His expression was curious, and mildly sympathetic. "Hm? Oh, uh..." You brushed your hair back out of your face, inwardly grimacing at how oily it felt. "I...I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Thought I'd find you. I...I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," he responded. "I did tell you that you could seek me out should you ever need me, did I not?"

"Yeah," you said, biting back the urge to 'sir' him. He'd told you before not to worry about formality with him. "I just...I didn't want to irritate you if...y'know. I didn't want to overstay my welcome."

"You could do no such thing," he assured you, his tone almost frustratingly soothing in how it instantly relaxed you. "You are always welcome to confide in me."

You sighed softly, dipping your head in an attempt to hide your smile. "Thanks, Optimus. Really. That means a lot more to me than I can say."

"You are more than welcome." And God, when you looked back up and caught the subtle smile playing at the edges of his optics and mouth, you swore you felt all the blood in your body rush up into your face. "I am here for you, always. Even when it may seem as though I am occupied with other things."

You nodded, his gentle words relaxing you. You shifted closer to him minutely, wondering just how a small, insignificant being in a world full of people such as yourself could've ended up with the privilege to know Optimus and have his support and confidance.

And then you remembered his sorrowful tone from mere moments earlier.

"...You know, I...you can come to me, too," you said tentatively, trying to look at him steadily but failing when he tilted his helm slightly and God he looked absolutely ethereal in moonlight- "I mean, I know I'm not the best person out there for advice, and I probably wouldn't be much help in the long run, but...I like to think I'm a good listener." You bit the inside of your lip and reached out, pressing your palm against the flat planes of the digit nearest you. "I'm here for you, too."

He studied you for a long, silent, nearly suffocating moment, optics taking in your face and form, expression unreadable. Then he ex-vented, long enough that the warm air gushed over you and made you shiver. His demeanor softened and you relaxed with he gave you a warm, grateful look. "I appreciate the sentiment. Thank you."

"You're more than welcome," you echoed with a ghost of a smile, your insides fluttering as he returned it.

After a split moment, you tore your gaze from his and exhaled, taking in the landscape stretching out before you for miles. The moon cast a silver glow across the desert, making it look otherworldly with the long, inky black shadows and subtle traces of nocturnal life stirring. The stars were breathtaking so far out from town, speckling the sky like iridescent dots of paint glittering against the dark expanse of night. A breeze picked up from the east, making you shudder minutely. Optimus turned his servo up on its side, shielding you from its chilly grasp.

"So..." You nibbled your lip, trying to break the silence. "...what do you think of Smokescreen?"

Optimus seemed to stew on your question for a while before responding. "...He seems to have much potential. But...he is young and has much to learn. Earth poses a challenge to him, as well as learning to be discrete among humanity. He doesn't yet understand that there can be dire consequences to war. But..."

You quirked a brow. "But?"

"...But I find his outlook to be good for morale, though unfortunately it seems to be having a negative effect on the others. They consider him naive, and while it holds merit, he is more than that. He still has hope. He still has courage, though it has the tendency to be...misplaced." Optimus paused for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "It gives me faith that there is still a chance we can end the war."

You nodded, folding your hands together and twiddling your thumbs. You studied the gooseflesh on your arms, soaking in his words. You felt his gaze return to you.

“And what do you think of him?”

You directed your gaze to the sky, tilting your head in thought.

You liked Smokescreen, in all honesty. You liked him a lot. He was zealous and bright and energetic and had such a sunny outlook on the world, looking at Earth as something new and fun and adventurous. He’d already made several inquiries to both you and the kids about humans and your culture, listening intently to every answer and explanation. He seemed to absorb everything he heard from everyone, and he was always eager to learn and help the other Autobots with even trivial things. 

Honestly, it was...refreshing. He was fresh meat, you could say, but you hadn’t realized just how exciting getting to know an alien could be - not to say that the others weren’t, just that they’d already had a basic understanding of the high points of human culture when you’d met them (no thanks to Agent Fowler, in all likelihood). You hadn’t had to explain the process of eating or sleeping or going to school to them (excluding the Satan's Waterfall Incident), but Smokescreen was a whole other ballpark. You’d worried he would have a processor crash when he’d asked why ‘those tiny round organics’ were so different, and were they related to you humans? Having to explain a human’s life cycle had never been on your list of ‘Things To Expect When Making Alien Friends’, but Ratchet had mercifully been there to help translate it into something comprehensible to the greenhorn Cybertronian. Luckily he hadn’t gone into the production of said ‘tiny round organics’. You weren’t looking forward to giving a being several hundred years older than you The Talk.

“I think he’s going to fit in well,” you said finally, looking back up and meeting the Prime’s gaze. “We’ll just need to catch him up on Earth stuff first.”

“Jack has made a good effort thus far,” Optimus said, “but Smokescreen still has much to learn of Earth and its inhabitants." He raised an optical ridge. "I have noticed you've been educating him on some things.”

You flushed. "Yeah, I, uh...he always comes to me with questions, for some reason. I'm not really the best person to go to for stuff like that but I try my best."

"You seem to do fine," Optimus told you. "He has come to me, as well, but it seems that he struggles keeping himself composed when in my presence."

You laughed a bit at that, easily perceiving the puzzlement in his tone. "Optimus, he worships the ground you walk on. You're his hero. I can understand why he'd get so flustered around you."

He blinked, optics rounding minutely. He genuinely looked surprised.

"What, did you think people don't admire you?" you asked, a dubious half-smile twisting your lips. "You're inspiring, and honest, and gentle...all of us respect you. It's hard to be as good of a person as you are and we all look up to you because of that. It's hard not to like you."

His optics brightened significantly and he looked away, engine rumbling quietly. He was obviously at a loss for words.

Humble, too, you thought with a soft smile. And entirely too cute.

You gave him time to recollect himself, continuing to take in the quiet, peaceful air around you. It struck you as odd, sometimes, how different things could change between night and day. You were actually chilled, where you'd be sunburnt and struggling for breath had the sun been out instead of the moon. You'd be able to see distant cars on the highway, but instead you could see the faint glow of Jasper City's lights on the horizon. It wasn't enough light pollution to harm the starfield above you, thankfully, and you began to pick out the constellations you knew of that you could see.

Sirius...Ursa Major...Ursa Minor... Your eyes lit upon a familiar row of three stars, and you grinned to yourself. Orion.

"Did you know we have a constellation called Orion?" you asked, glancing up towards the Prime next to you.

"I have heard of it," he responded, seeming to have finally regained his bearings. "Though I have never taken the time to find it myself."

"There," you said, pointing and directing his gaze towards the general vicinity of the formation. "Those three stars in a row. His body is kind of shaped like an hourglass, and his arm's above his head holding a club. See it?"

"...I do." He tilted his helm, seeming to take it in. "It has to do with Grecian mythology, does it not?"

"Yeah," you affirmed enthusiastically. "His full name is Orion the Hunter, and I think the Greeks considered Sirius to be his dog. He battled a bunch of monsters, including Scorpio, but...I don't really know much else." You looked back up to him. "Did your old name just happen to translate to Orion or was it the closest equivalent you could find?"

Optimus' optics lit up slightly at the question. You wondered if he enjoyed discussing languages or if he just liked answering questions in general. "My original name in Cybertronian stood for ‘hunter of peace’, or so I’ve been told. Orion Pax was the most basic translation that could be made.”

You smiled at the knowledge and, recalling the rumble of his native tongue from minutes earlier, you hesitated. “Could you...what does it sound like? In Cybertronian?”

“I spoke Iaconian before the war began, seeing as it was where I was placed after I was forged. I learned Cybertronian Standard after the war began, which became the normal method of communication to prevent misunderstanding.” He shifted minutely, resetting his vocalizer, before letting out a low trill of syllables overlaying each other in a smooth, pleasing roll. "That is my name, in Iaconian, and in a self-identifying context."

Your brows rose with interest. "Does that mean you have different dialects? And different meanings for the same word?"

Optimus' expression warmed. "There were many dialects before the war, but the provinces had their own primary languages. Standard was used for trade and political interactions. And yes, some words or phrases change slightly depending on who is saying them. For example, my name would sound slightly different if Ratchet were to say it as opposed to one of the others because of how long I have known him as my oldest friend." His optical ridges pinched slightly, mouth pursing in thought. "It is...difficult to explain. But Cybertronian is incredibly complex compared to many Earth languages."

"Well, that's probably because you have a different vocal range than we do," you supposed. "I...I heard you, earlier - I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, believe me - and it's not like I could understand anything you were saying anyway," you amended hurriedly. "But I noticed you were using your engine to make sounds, too."

Optimus dipped his helm, optics glowing in praise. "That is a very astute observation. We use it for filler noises of varying sorts."

Relieved that he didn’t seem to have taken offense to your (half) accidental overhearing, you sagged with a soft sigh. You found it in yourself to smile up at him dorkily. “That’s so cool. There’s so much about your culture that I don’t know, and...” You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “It’s kind of overwhelming to think about. I mean, Earth has over seven thousand languages, not to account for all the people and cultures that speak them. Every country has their own dos and don’ts and there’s just so much for just one person to handle. We’re lucky if we can learn more than one or two languages.” You looked out towards the stars again, wondering if you could see Cybertron from so far away. “And then, to think about your planet, too, on top of that…”

He hummed softly. “...Part of what I enjoyed most about being an archivist,” Optimus rumbled, “was that I never stopped learning. There was always new information, or old data waiting to be discovered in the Hall. I was often teased by my coworkers for leaving late and coming early so I would have time to myself among the tomes and files.” You glanced up at him and saw that he, too, was gazing at the starfield stretched out above the both of you. “I...was devastated when Iacon fell, and further still when the Hall did. It felt as though the last vestiges of home - the last semblance of assurance and safety - were taken from me.” He was silent for a moment. “But coming to Earth has helped, in a way. There is still much to learn, and I’ve enjoyed reading what I can about your planet. It...fascinates me, how vastly different everything here is to Cybertron,” he admitted, his optics flashing faintly. “I enjoy being here, despite...despite our circumstances.”

What a nerd, you thought, stifling the creeping sense of sadness low in your belly. At least he didn’t hate his arguable prisonhouse. (You couldn’t say the same for the others, though - particularly Ratchet.)

“I know it’s unlikely that it’ll ever happen again,” you began slowly, tentatively. His optical ridges quirked in curiosity. “But I’d love to see Cybertron if I ever got the chance. You always make it sound so beautiful.”

Optimus, while he looked somewhat pleased with your confession, deflated visibly. “There isn’t much to see, I’m afraid,” he responded quietly. “According to Arcee, time has rendered it in a worse condition than we left it.”

“Still,” you were quick to rebut firmly, “it’s your home. Even if I could just see a snippet of it for myself, it’d be worth it.”

Optimus regarded you a long moment, optics shuttering in thought. Then, his mouth lifted the slightest of margins. “Should that ever happen, unum parvum, I will be the first to show you.”

Something in the way he rolled the ‘r’ in the distinctly foreign word gave you the impression it was Latin or of Latin descent, but you wouldn’t doubt it if it was some sort of Cybertronian word, either. And even though you didn’t remark upon it, for some reason it still flustered you. So, out of your head as you were, the first words that came to mind were the ones that left your lips (unfortunately). “It’s a date, then.”

As soon as you said it, you felt the bottom of your stomach drop out and your face was engulfed in invisible flame. Much to your shock (and relief), however, Optimus merely chuckled - actually chuckled, which - while you were delighted to hear it coming from him for once - didn’t help the butterflies in your stomach at all, dammit-

“...will be sure to keep it in mind, should Alpha Trion’s message hold merit,” he said.

You recalled the events that had happened not too long prior, how the Star Sabre had begun to glow an ethereal blue and, with it, Optimus’ optics. He hadn’t elaborated on it any further than what he’d already shared - the Omega Keys and the possibility of being able to restore Cybertron (at least, not with you or the kids).

Despite your tendency to let the Autobots’ private, important matters lie, you had to admit that you were extremely curious. It could mean the war as you and they knew it.

“What did he say?” you inquired.

Optimus’ mouth pursed and he seemed to consider his words, his digits twitching beside you minutely. “He gave me the information necessary for the acquisition and use of the Omega Keys, but shared little else.”

You narrowed your eyes. Something in the way his optics shifted when he spoke didn’t sit right with you, but you had no right to demand answers from him. You trusted him, and you wanted him to trust you, too - and that included knowing when to keep your mouth shut and your suspicions to yourself.

His shoulders dropped, though, cutting off any words you could’ve said. “It...troubles me,” he admitted, ex-venting heavily. “It seems there has been such little time since my...lapse in memory, and yet so many things have happened since. Time seems to be slipping from my grasp, and…” His digits twitched, as though on reflex. “...there’s little I can do to retrieve it. I have tried accessing the memory banks stored within the Matrix, but it seems that restoring my full memory until I forced Unicron back into stasis overwrote what I experienced on the Nemesis.” His expression pinched. “I would have been able to access the relics much sooner had I been able to remember.”

“Optimus…” You blinked, taken more than a little off-guard at how readily he’d cracked his armor open, even if it was only just a sliver enough to see into his inner thoughts. You just hoped you could offer something worth his time. “...I think in some ways it was for the best.”

That seemed to catch his attention, as his optics refocused on you almost instantly.

“I mean,” you started, your face warming, “I would rather you have a tiny gap in your memory over you not remembering anything at all. Can you imagine what would’ve happened if Jack hadn’t been able to access Vector Sigma in time? Or missed the opportunity to restore your old memory?” You rubbed at your arms, not wanting to dwell on the possibilities of what could have been. “Even if we had managed to have gotten you back without using the Key, I don’t know that things would’ve turned out the same.”

“Most definitely not,” he agreed.

“But…” You dipped your head, studying the sand beneath you. “Everything happens for a reason. We were still able to accomplish what we have since we got you back, and I feel like you’re still as strong as ever, even if you are missing a few memories.” You risked a glance up at him. “And, for what it’s worth...I’m just happy you’re okay, and there wasn’t any severe damage from expending that much energy. It could’ve turned out so much worse, and I think we were blessed to scrape by with such little trouble.”

“I didn’t have the impression that the time I was absent constituted as mere trouble,” he rumbled. His optical ridges were furrowed in worry. “You were all in danger, severely so, and I wasn’t there to…”

“Optimus,” you pressed gently. He fell silent, watching you attentively. You swallowed. “What’s done is done; what’s gone is past. You can’t dwell on what’s happened because even you can’t stop and alter time. As cool as you are.” You squeezed his digit in hopes of it being a comforting gesture. “Just focus on all the good things that have happened since then. We got a new Autobot, and we managed to get ahold of some of the relics. You got your memory back, and you’re home with us and not with the Decepticons.” You tilted your head slightly. “I think we’re blessed, despite the circumstances. I feel blessed.”

Optimus studied you for a long, long moment, optics shuttering and flickering as he thought intensively. After a while, he lifted his helm back up and studied the horizon once again, and you felt that that particular branch of the conversation was now closed. The air shifted, and you shifted closer to his leg in hopes of getting a little warmer.

Silence followed, peaceful and still. You studied the stars, picking out constellations you weren’t normally able to see due to sheer light pollution, even finding your zodiac sign among the glittering expanse at one point. But even though you’d seen his tight expression ease somewhat after you’d finished talking, Optimus still seemed...off. Absent, maybe. Distant. His optics were dull, unfocused, and dimmed. His demeanor was not his usual careful neutrality. Instead, he just seemed...empty. And it worried you.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, sincerely. He blinked, optics brightening somewhat as he turned his helm to gaze down at you. “You still seem…” You pondered on the right word, nibbling the inside of your cheek before settling on the simplest word that came to mind. “...troubled.”

Optimus remained silent, gaze unwavering. He only returned his optics to the horizon before you both, still oddly emotionless. You began to worry for him in earnest, apprehension bubbling low in your stomach, before his digits clenched minutely on the sandy earth beneath you. In a voice softer than you had ever heard from him, he murmured, “In all the centuries that this war has stretched its hand into, this day remains to be one of the worst that I have known.”

You blinked in surprise, not having expected anything quite like that. You didn’t know what to say, wondering if it had to do with the events in the past week - Smokescreen arriving, the Star Sabre. Maybe it had to do something with Alpha Trion’s message? You’d never heard such plaintive despondency in his normally soothing rumble. It caused sadness to reverberate through your body in an instinctive, sympathetic response.

Optimus, fortunately, did not discontinue his train of thought in lieu of your lack of a reply. “There have been immeasurable losses on both sides,” he continued, softer still. His optics were distant again, unseeing. “So many lost to the tides of bloodshed and hatred - enemies and friends alike. Family.” His helm dipped minutely, the light in his optics fading until you could scarcely make out their glow in the dark. “Inamorata.”

Never before had you heard that particular word, nor were you certain it was even English, but something in the way he said it - the enunciation, the tone, how it left his glossa and lip plating - struck you as deeply intimate and plainly implicative of its only possible meaning.

You lowered your eyes to the hem of your shirt, plucking at the cloth and thread stitching. “I didn’t know you...I didn’t…” You bit your lip. “I...I’m so, so sorry, Optimus.”

He fell silent for a long time, and you were too saddened to risk seeing his expression. You could feel it in your gut - saying the wrong thing, or doing the most minor action could tip this over the edge and result in more hurt than good. Better to let him address it than risk you bungling it up with your...self.

“Your sentiment is greatly appreciated,” he said finally, genuine and quiet. “More than you know.”

You finally plucked up the courage to look at him, and found that his optics had regained some of their normal light. His face was drawn, though. Restrained. As though grasping at his self-control more than he usually did.

You suddenly felt very, very small in comparison to the massive servo resting on the ground between you and his seated form, the long, flat digits dragging shallow but broad furrows into the dirt.

“What was she like?” you asked finally, not knowing what else to say. You almost regretted speaking as soon as the words had left your mouth at the resulting ex-vent that left his frame and washed over your body. You shuddered at the warmth of it, your flesh prickling at the sharp contrast against the cool night air.

You almost didn’t expect him to answer your half-hearted attempt to divert the conversation away from the obviously traumatizing event he’d probably been dwelling on, but he tilted his helm back and focused his gaze on the stars twinkling silently above the both of you.

“She was...everything.” He paused a long moment, seeming to gather his thoughts. “She was brilliant, and bright, and always had an anecdote to offer. She always seemed to smile, no matter the situation.” His optics dimmed suddenly, optical ridges lowering minutely. “I found that she was also a fierce and dedicated warrior when needed.”

You clasped your hands loosely around your arms to fight against the chill of the night seeping into your flesh, studying his demeanor and movements. You’d never thought that Optimus would’ve had someone, even before the war, but now that thought just made you feel ridiculous. Of course Optimus’d had someone - who wouldn’t have wanted him?

“How did you meet?” you asked, trying to fight against the sudden tightness in your throat. “Was it still when you were an archivist?”

You didn’t expect him to respond as quickly and as easily as he did. “Yes. Though it was through rather...unsavory means,” he said slowly. His optics perked back up, however, and you could see the faintest suggestion of a smile softening the lines that had appeared from his frown. “She was a scientist, a naturalist, and a part of a group that was attempting to defend the natural flora and fauna of Cybertron, long before the war when the Council was attempting to expand the cities and populated areas to accommodate for newbuilds. They were protesting outside the Hall, and I was sent by my peers to settle them down and attempt to dissuade them from loitering. They claimed I was the most capable mediator and peacemaker, but I suspect that they simply didn’t wish to deal with the issue themselves.”

“Coworkers,” you remarked.

“Indeed,” he agreed lightly. “When I emerged from the Hall, they were already agitated by a few enforcers trying to get them to leave. I attempted to calm both sides, but someone threw a rather sizeable waste bin at one of the enforcers and struck me accidentally. I woke in the hospital where Ratchet worked, and there was a rather irate femme arguing with him.” Optimus nearly smiled, nearly revealed his denta, and his optics were borderline sparkling. “That was my Ariel.”

Never before had you seen Optimus with such an open expression. No longer was he hiding his inward self under layers and layers of armor and formality and restraint; there weren’t any subtle cracks in his demeanor to hint at what was going on in that helm of his. He feelings were laid bare, open and plain as day to see, and it was something you were struggling to comprehend. And it was nothing like you’d ever been able to draw from him.

“She apologized, once she realized I had come back online,” he continued, seeming not to notice your shell-shocked stare. “Ratchet began to lecture her, but I dissuaded him. It didn’t seem that it had been intentional, though I did admonish her for attempting to harm an enforcer. She claimed she’d simply been attempting to get them to leave.” He tilted his helm back, gazing upwards. “After that, she would visit the Hall occasionally. We discussed our respective fields of study, and she was dedicated to her cause unlike any naturalist I had met. She was fiercely intelligent, witty, and wouldn’t hesitate to let one know exactly what was on her mind.” His digits gripped the ground slightly, as though looking for purchase. “She was the most beautiful femme I’d ever met in my life.”

You pursed your lips, wringing your hands before settling them on your lap in tight fists. “Sounds like she was good for you.”

“It took a long time to build a friendship,” he murmured. “We were similar in some ways, strikingly different in others. But some things are best built gradually.” He looked down to you, catching your eyes. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

You hesitated, biting the inside of your lip fiercely. You tried to quash the low simmer of emotion in your belly, doing your best to offer him a smile. “I do.”

Optimus’ expression shifted minutely, softening, and he released the ground before curling his digits around you carefully. The warmth seeped from his servo into your chilled flesh and you leaned against the firm metal gratefully. Your face warmed with a mixture of shame and puzzlement. There was a knot low in your belly, but you couldn’t determine the cause.

“It sounds like she made you really happy,” you murmured, half to yourself. Optimus hummed quietly.

“We became conjunx endurae shortly before the war began,” he rumbled, a mite more somber. “Sparkmates, I believe is the term you’re more familiar with. A more intimate equivalent to a spouse.” His thumb pressed into the flat of your back, nearly engulfing you, and he began to rub small circles between your shoulder blades that seem half-minded. “She took on the name Elita One when I became Prime. I...I lost her the same day we fled Cybertron. She didn’t make it to the spacecraft in time. She was defending a medical envoy attempting to flee off-world.” When you looked up in concern at the drop in his voice, you saw him grimace and press his other servo to his windshield plating, the faint echoes of pain plainly written on his face. “I felt it, before the reports ever came in. The feeling of my spark being severed from hers, shrinking and dying...it was the worst thing I have ever experienced. Worse than...worse than anything, in all of the war.”

That was something that had never occurred to you before, as obvious as it was. Ratchet had explained the concept of sparkmates to you briefly at your curiosity, and you’d been enraptured by the idea that two mechanical beings with such a unique core as a spark would combine them and, essentially, give pieces of themselves to each other. Over time, the sparks would gradually grow into each other until, potentially, they would be nigh indistinguishable from each the other. But you’d never thought about what would happen if one passed before the other. Ratchet had stated that if sparkmates had been bonded for a long enough time and one of them passed prematurely, it could endanger the surviving spark and potentially drag it down with it.

But here Optimus sat, and that in itself was an assurance that he’d come out of it mostly all right. Physically, at least. The emotion was palpable in his voice, the air felt unbearably heavy around you. His optics had dimmed and his servo was still pressed tightly to his chassis. You wondered if it felt like ghost pains - like when someone lost a limb and their brain still tried convincing them it was there.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, because you honestly didn’t know what else to say. You’d never experienced anything quite like that, couldn’t offer any advice or true sympathies - this was one thing that you couldn’t help him with, but...a part of you was grateful (and more than a little humbled) that he’d still decided that he trusted you enough to share his pain, no matter how old and scarred over, with you of all people.

Optimus seemed to withdraw from his inner thoughts, optics shuttering as they refocused on you. He dropped his other servo to rest on his thigh, the flat of his thumb dropping to the small of your back.

“It was a long, long time ago,” he responded finally, voice more even than it had been. Still, you didn’t miss the lingering, subdued inflection. “It has become...bearable. But…” The corners of his mouth upturned, just so, and you felt an odd, warm prickle - something like static - brush against the back of your neck. It made you shiver. “...being here helps more than one might would think. And...you…” He paused, thoughtful. He dipped his helm. “...you have shown me that it would do no harm to take time to myself, to reflect and decompress, and...I owe you deeply for that. I had forgotten how.” His optics glowed with the smile he would not outwardly show. “You’ve reminded me how to meditate on the past without dwelling on it, when I thought I had lost all meaning of it. Thank you.”

Your face felt as though it were on fire. You floundered for words, mouth dropping open and closing several times before you settled on clenching your teeth together and clutching your shirt for dear life. “I…” You swallowed. “...you’re welcome,” you managed feebly.

Optimus’ engine rumbled, the sound comforting in and of itself, and he returned his gaze to the stars again. You let out a soft exhale, shifting to slump against the solid curve of his thigh. He adjusted his servo accordingly, draping it lightly over your frame to protect you from the chill. You closed your eyes, resting your cheek against the cold metal.

Something occurred to you, silly in that you hadn’t thought of it sooner.

“...You were talking to her, weren’t you?” you murmured.

Optimus was quiet for a while, but you weren’t particularly looking for a verbal answer - his silence was answer enough.

You heard him ex-vent, felt the air shift slightly. His digits tightened over your form minutely. “...I still feel I carry a part of her with me, despite her undoubtedly being one with the Allspark,” he explained softly. “It...helps. Death is a distance unlike any other. Today’s date is...it is when I lost her. When we left Cybertron.”

Nibbling the inside of your lip, you peeked up at him. “You must miss her a lot.”

“I do. But I have accepted it. Perhaps one day I will see her again.” He dropped his helm, gazing down into the desert below the mesa. “I...do not possess supernatural beliefs, despite my ties with Primus. But she made a promise to stay with me, once, before the war began, should she ever be parted from me prematurely.” He let out a quick ex-vent that could’ve been a half of a chuckle. “There have been myths of lingering sparks, that those departed would resist the pull of the Allspark and continue to watch over those they care for, though they are believed to be just that. Rumors of seeing shadows of frames out of the corner of one’s optic, or flashes of light that some believed to be sparks have even been recorded in ancient texts - but science as we know it has proved it to be impossible. Still, I…”

He trailed off, if not a little uncertain, and your expression softened. You tried offering him a wry smile. “That sounds like will-o-the-wisps,” you remarked.

Optimus raised a curious optical ridge.

“It’s an old English myth,” You explained. “A lot of people believed that they were spirits of the dead lingering around to guide people - whether it was to good or bad places depended on different interpretations. But they’re actually just little sparks of discharge in the air.” You shrugged, contemplative. “It’s interesting that we have a similar concept of it.”

The Prime hummed in agreement. “Yet another instance where our culture seems to have passed itself off to yours through time.” He paused. “...Sometimes I feel as though she has been with me. Moments on the cusp of recharge, or overwhelmed in a battlefield. I refuse to believe that she is truly gone.”

“That comes with having faith, I guess,” you murmured, chewing your lip. “Optimus?”

“Yes?”

“You know it’s…” You pressed a hand to his palm, wondering if you should say it. You decided that being plain wouldn’t hurt, just this once. “...it’s okay to grieve, Optimus. No one would be able to hold it against you to mourn for your wife.”

Optimus stared, mouth opened slightly. He went to speak, hesitated, stopped. Then ex-vented shakily. “Perhaps in a different context. But...I am a Prime, the leader of the...I cannot…” He shook his helm, mouth thinning. “I cannot afford to leave those under my command at risk because of personal distractions.”

You blinked, brows rising. “Elita wasn’t a distraction - she was part of you, Optimus,” you told him, as though he needed to be reminded. “She was ripped away from you and they expected you to go on like nothing happened?”

He dropped his helm, tilting it away from you. His optics closed, tightly. “Others who had been bonded far longer than I lost their sparkmates,” he said softly.

“That doesn’t matter,” you persisted, sitting up on your knees and propping yourself on his leg. “You lost the love of your life, and you had to bottle it up, just...just because you were ‘obligated’ to a war you didn’t start. That’s bullshit.”

The armor along his shoulders drooped, tightening against his frame as he cracked his optics open enough to peek down at you. Your heart clenched when you realized he looked confused.

You fumbled for words, opening and closing your mouth fruitlessly. The silence was tense, heavy, and you felt as though you could cut it with a knife.

Finally, you gave him as gentle a look as you could possibly make. And, softly, you said, “You deserve to be taken care of, too, Optimus.”

He looked stricken, wordless as his gaze shifted back towards the desert beyond the mesa. The corners of his optics tensed, his mouth twitching downward. He looked so, so sad, and...it hurt every part of you.

A brief silence. Then Optimus rumbled your name. “...may I ask you a question?”

“Yeah,” you answered softly, closing your eyes and dropping your head.

“How do you do it?”

You frowned. “...Do what?”

“Present yourself with such sincerity. Openness.” The flats of his digits pressed into your front faintly. “You make it seem easy.”

You blushed, turned your head downward. You smoothed your hand over his palm. “I know that if I expect vulnerability from people, I should show myself vulnerable. The same applies to friendliness. Making meaningful connections with people means making compromises, even at the expense of comfort and privacy sometimes.”

Optimus hummed quietly, sounding pensive. You heard his vents hitch briefly, before air gushed from his sides. Your name was low on his lips. “...Would you...assist me in being more vulnerable?”

Your eyes shot open and you lifted your head to stare at him. He met your gaze, optics dim and expression tentative. Then a slow, soft smile wormed its way onto your face.

“You already are,” you told him gently.

He blinked slowly, optical ridges rising faintly, before his mouth lifted just so. “...In that case, I...I owe you thanks.”

“I didn’t have anything to do with it,” you responded, shaking your head.

“You had everything to do with it.” His thumb pressed into your back, a pleasant pressure that cemented his looming presence. “You have shown yourself vulnerable, and...in doing so, reminded me how to be.”

You opened your mouth. You closed it. Opened it again, voice weak. “You can’t use my words against me, Optimus - that’s not fair.”

He chuckled. Honest-to-God chuckled. You felt your heart swell.

“Perhaps,” he responded finally. “Or perhaps I appreciate your thoughts more than you realize.”

You tried offering him a noncommittal shrug, face burning. “Yeah, well, give me credit in your book of memoirs when all this blows over.”

Another chuckle, a little louder and a little longer. “I will certainly remember to do so.”

He paused when you yawned softly, trying to conceal the gaping maw of your mouth by clamping a hand over it. When you glanced up at him, mildly embarrassed, his expression was warm with what you’d dare to say as fondness.

“...You remind me of her, at times,” he told you softly.

You heart jumpstarted. “I...I do…?”

He dipped his helm minutely. “You share similar mannerisms, and you seem to have her innate ability to analyze information and offer the best advice. You have her fire, on occasion, as well,” he chuckled. “But at your core, you have a gentle soul, as she did. It comforts me to see that trait remain in people despite everything I’ve endured. Despite everything that has happened to you.” He paused, regarding your dumbfounded expression, then seemed to become a mite sheepish. “But that isn’t to say you aren’t unique to yourself. You are quite unlike any human I have had the privilege to interact with on a personal level.”

“...’Quite unlike’ good or ‘quite unlike’ bad?” you asked, quirking a brow and trying to smile wryly.

He lifted an optical ridge as well, the corner of his mouth turning upward minutely. “I believe you needn’t my say in it - you are aware of what lies within you better than I.”

You tried rubbing the flush out of your cheeks. “Thanks, Optimus.”

He hummed quietly, stroking a slow circle into the flat of your back. Then he turned his servo over in the sand when you yawned again. “I believe it is time for you to rest,” he told you gently.

“Try to, anyway,” you mumbled, but you crawled into his palm anyway. He curled his fingers around you and you grasped his thumb for support as he cradled you close to his chassis and slowly, carefully righted himself to his feet. Your stomach flip flopped for an entirely different reason then, peering between his flat digits towards the ground that was suddenly very, very far down. Despite this, however, and despite the instinctual fear thrumming beneath your flesh, you knew you were safe. Optimus had never and would never drop you.

But instead of heading for the elevator like you’d expected, he instead stepped closer to the edge of the mesa. You gulped when he lifted his servo and tilted it so you slid slowly against the massive column of his neck. You grappled onto a plate that descended towards his windshields, blinking up at him with your heart rising in your throat. Optimus crouched, turned, and lowered a pede towards one of the small shelves of rock beneath him.

“Optimus?” you pressed, voice hitching into a higher octave as the desert stretched out below you both. “What - what are you doing?”

Optimus hummed, frustratingly soothing. “The elevator is too loud for use at night.”

“So you climb a cliff?” you squeaked, his frame dropping with a slow but inevitable descent and leaving your heart in the roof of your mouth.

“It is something I’ve always enjoyed,” he shared calmly. There was a feline-like quality to his movements, well practiced and assured. Still, it was obvious he was being more cautious - probably on account of you. “I must admit that I climbed many a building I shouldn’t have in my youth.”

“You? Breaking the law?” you said, relaxed just enough to focus on him instead of the ground below you. “Scandalous. What would the others think?”

“I fractured my frame once,” he remarked absently, shaking his helm. “I went to Ratchet for help.” He paused, looked down past you, and his optical ridges furrowed as he considered the available footholds. He steered to the left instead, then took another step downward. “I did not make that mistake again.”

You laughed. “What, falling or going to Ratchet?”

The corners of his mouth lifted, but he did not specify. You laughed again, trying to smother it with your hand. His chassis thrummed and, slowly, he continued to descend the mesa’s side. You peered over his shoulders towards the stars to distract yourself, curling into him as best you could. You both lapsed into a comfortable silence, his optical ridges drawing together in concentration as his optics shuttered and contracting as he focused on his every movement.

It didn’t seem long before he paused, reached up to drape a servo over you protectively, and pushed himself off and away from the mesa. You squeaked as he fell, your stomach jumping into your throat - he landed with a jarring crash, though he allowed his knees to buckle to absorb the impact. You felt woozy, but climbed up onto his shoulder proper as he walked in through the hidden entrance and crept down the corridor with astounding near-silence. You smothered a yawn as he emerged into the hanger, staying close to the edge of the room and lifting a servo for you to climb onto. He lowered you to the ground, and you stumbled on weakened legs before righting yourself. You smiled up at him, hoping you had helped him in some way, to some degree.

The warm glow in his optics and the faint smile on his faceplate told you that you’d succeeded.

You patted his pede quietly. “Goodnight, Optimus. Sleep well.”

“And you as well.”

He stood there as you lingered, hesitating, as you padded across the hanger and returning to your cot. Smokescreen had flipped over at some point, somehow not managing to crush his doorwings in the process, Jack’s mouth was wide open as he drooled, Raf was curled into an unidentifiable ball underneath his blankets, and Miko had lost hers completely, sprawled out like a corpse at a crime scene.

You chuckled to yourself, settling back down and slipping under the blankets with a soft sigh. They were pleasantly cool against your skin, and the cot felt softer than it had before. Maybe it was because you were more tired.

As you pulled the covers over your chest and adjusted your pillow, you cast a look towards the three story metal sentinel in the corner, his optics beacons of light like those fabled wisps of old, silent and waiting. On a whim, you gave him a little wave, offering a shaky smile. You saw the slightest hint of denta before he lifted his servo and returned the gesture before stealing his way into the hall and out of sight like a shadow.

You were glad, because if he’d stayed much longer he would’ve seen how you slowly buried your face into your pillow and wept quietly for him, for everything that had happened to him, for what he’d had to endure for so long without being able to reach out. For the spark-deep weariness that seemed incurable. For the war.

For Elita.

And because part of him would always belong to her.

[pseudowho]

RE your clique post here...

...that needed to be said and I'm fucking sorry if you get any clapback for it. There are a couple of really obvious cliques in the JJK community let alone any of the other communities I'm in. It's nasty cos if you're out you're out and yours not reblogged but they'll reblog like they're reblogging the best shit that's ever been written and ignored your work like you're nothing.

I've read people coming to you for advice (though I've never come myself) and all your answers are considered and wise and empathetic and it's so fucking clear you're good at what you do. And if you called someone out I trust your call. And it's apparent that there's a lot of jealousy directed towards you.

So don't stress cos I'm pretty certain there's lots of readers of your blog who will stick up for you if anyone wants to stir drama.

Love you, Haitch! Xoxoxoxoxox

Okay, last one! Remember, as mentioned, I received a lot of Asks after I answered This One Here, so have narrowed it down to three more, as I don't believe we need to overstress the point. However, the community response to this shows how upsetting and exclusionary people find clique activity.

I think I've covered this a lot in the previous Asks; the acting as if the reblogging is 'fair', and then unfairly prioritising their friends in the clique, giving them more enthusiastic reblogs than anyone else, and even frankly ignoring your reblogs.

I particularly noticed a pattern: people excited to become moots with me, enthusiastically reblogging every piece of mine that I published (not expected by me) when I reblogged the pieces of theirs that I liked -> Gradual souring of them towards me; no reblogs, or comments or interaction at all -> Others in the group sharing their work and being enthused over, while I shared my work and it was ignored, so I just stopped sharing it -> Gradual feeling of being 'left out'

I stopped following anyone who followed me beforehand, after my particular incidents, as I became worried that it would turn a relationship transactional. Thankfully, I have found some wonderful friends who I'm able to talk about writing with, without either of us having the need to even read each others' work. It feels genuine, and lovely.

Ultimately, with people who have as little insight as that into how their own actions affect others, who call themselves empathetic, and virtue signal, and act as social justice warriors...to end up being bullies, who form a group like that? Sad.

I understand a lot of the 'forming a group' mentality comes from having always wanted a friendship group, and fear of being rejected, but it doesn't excuse 'protecting' your group by going to extremes. I don't at all begrudge people friendship groups. It's lovely when a group blossoms. And it's important to reflect on how your own behaviour can impact on the group, too.

For example-- I did something in anger after: published a story I had had written in my drafts for some time, that had been highly requested of me, based on a trope that one in the clique seemed to think she had ownership over. While I could have taken another deep breath, and not done this, there once again shouldn't be competition over a very highly used trope, and I found myself unwilling to hold myself back anymore for someone who treated others badly. I should have made my sadness and disappointment over being 'left out' earlier, and sooner, but again, I find it hard to justify only not being left out after you beg not to be.

But, that being said, I'm sorry you've suffered reduced interaction through not conforming to a clique. I hope you find the friends who will play in a playground with you, with no expectation of transaction for it.

Anyway!

I don't normally do much in the way of discourse on my page. I prefer to keep it light.

Sorry again, anon. If any of this rings familiar to you, you are very welcome to message me, and I'm happy to offer any support I can. Thanks for trusting my judgement! Make sure you take a step back and make your own call.

Love,

-- Haitch xxx

[sallow-tales]

Feather-light Falling – Garreth Weasley x GN!Reader

A/N: Well guys, here it is. Not only the first piece of Hogwarts Legacy fanfiction that I've written, but the first fanfiction I've written in probably 2 years. It's more of a blurb than anything, but I felt incredibly inspired. I'm pretty sure it's gender neutral, but let me know if you catch anything gendered! I hope at least someone likes it

PS: bonus points to anyone who can guess what song inspired me. I tried not to make it obvious.

Word Count: 962

In the crowded pub, Garreth enthusing about his most recent potion venture, it almost feels too good to be true. 

After everything you've been through over the last year, it feels like the world has been waiting with baited breath, for something, anything to happen. It couldn't all be over just like that, could it? 

Anxiety plagued your brain during every spare moment. Every corner you turned around, every darkened room you entered, you half expected to see a dark wizard or goblin on the other side. You couldn't even confide in your normal companions, as your relationship with Ominis and Sebastian was on the rocks after the incident with Uncle Solomon. You'd make it through, you were sure, but you just didn't feel like dumping your problems onto their shoulders, not when they each had so much to worry about on their own.

So when Garreth Weasley of all people approached you, offering his support if you ever needed it, you were considerably more open to the possibility than you'd expected to be.

“Hey, I, uh, I know we aren’t exactly close, but I want you to know that I’m here if you need anything.” His voice was genuine and you could see in his eyes that he saw you struggling. Despite his constant chaos, he’d always been an observant one.

“Thank you Garreth. I appreciate it, I really do.” You smiled politely, expecting that to be the end of the conversation, but then the redhead spoke again.

“Just wanted to make sure you know you’re not alone.” The words were intended to be a closing remark, but they struck a certain chord with you. Alone, that’s how you felt without Professor Fig, without Sebastian and Ominis by your side every moment–you felt alone. In that moment, you realized that you didn’t have to be, at least not right now.

"Actually, would you mind if… Can we just… go to the Three Broomsticks? I could really use a drink."

And thus you found yourself here, entranced with the ginger in front of you against everything you'd ever anticipated.

As you listen to Garreth ramble on, you can’t help but wonder why you hadn’t spent more time with him before. Sure, you’d helped him with a potion mishap on your first day of classes, and then snuck some billywig stings from the Honeydukes cellar when he’d asked, but outside of those few interactions he’d always been someone skirting at the edges of your life; there, but not necessarily of notice. 

Now, he’s there and all you can notice. The spattering of freckles like paint on a canvas, the way he talks with his hands, the quirk to his lips that indicates his sheer excitement at speaking about something he’s passionate about–and actually having someone listen.

Your conversation continues for a while longer and one butterbeer turns into two and then three and you realize that the beverage isn’t the only thing making you feel warm. It’s also the fact that your anxiety isn’t bothering you for the first time in months. It’s the fact that you feel happy and comfortable exactly where you are. It’s a feeling you haven’t known in longer than you can remember.

And as Garreth’s green eyes flick to yours mid sentence, it’s as if everything clicks into place. You’ve been waiting for the other shoe to drop for what feels like forever, and it does– not with the jarring thump you’ve been waiting for, but rather the featherlight touch of a snowflake floating softly to the ground.

There’s laughter and smiles and the urge to lean into him is so strong, but you can’t give in. You won’t let yourself give in. You don’t want to risk ruining this moment so artfully and accidentally created. 

Before you know it, curfew is fast approaching and when you realize the time, you instantly wish you hadn’t. You don’t want the night to end, because you fear that this feeling will end with it. Alas, you don’t particularly have another choice, not once he stands and holds his hand out towards you. It’s an invitation, but by no means an obligation. It holds a lifetime of possibilities–companionship, comfort, and the piece currently missing from your soul. You take it, and he carefully leads the two of you out of the crowded pub. 

The walk back to the castle is as slow as you can manage, and at one point or another his arm ends up draped over your shoulder and yours looped loosely around his waist, and you’re giggling and grinning from ear to ear. As far as you can tell, so is he.

When you step into the still air of the castle, you half expect the haze that’s fallen over the two of you to dissipate, but it doesn’t. A pang of doubt flashes through your mind, wondering if he’s even felt a fragment of the same emotions that have been pulsing through you all evening.

But your gaze meets his and you see the fire within him–not a wild blaze, or even the crackle of a fireplace. It’s the soft flickering of a candle, bright but fragile. It carries the capability to warm you, or to be blown out by a single stray breath.

It’s a look that you’re sure is mirrored in your own eyes.

“Do you think we could possibly do this again sometime? It was really nice spending time with you.” Your words are quiet, timid, barely above a whisper. He hears them anyway and he smiles.

“Of course. Anything for you.”

A soft kiss to his cheek signals your departure, but when you glance over your shoulder at him, you could have sworn you saw that candle behind his eyes burn slightly stronger.