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erimeows · 3 years ago

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To Be Known

It had been a chilly December night, the wind howling outside as Bumblebee sat in the comfort of the Autobot’s base, surrounded by his loved ones; Optimus to his left on the couch, Bulkhead and Sari on the floor, and Ratchet in the single recliner. There was a movie playing, one of those cartoonish Christmas films, but he hadn’t been paying any attention.

Instead, he’d been worrying his lower lip, glancing back and forth between his lap and the terribly empty spot to his left where Prowl would usually be sitting on the arm of the couch- not because it was his preference, but because he was neutral on where he sat in the living room and knew that Bumblebee liked to have both the middle and the left cushion to himself.

Sometimes, Bumblebee would move all the way to that left cushion, pretend to fall asleep, and rest his helm on Prowl’s thigh. Prowl always knew, and he knew that Prowl knew he was awake, but neither of them said anything.

Whatever they had, as small as it was, went unspoken.

And that was why Bumblebee wondered whether or not it was appropriate for him to find Prowl and question why the ninja bot had missed their weekly movie night. They were teammates, friends even, but Prowl’s whereabouts weren’t necessarily his business.

Still... Not having Prowl there was bothering him. So, he stood up and left without saying another word, making his way through the base. He checked the halls, closets, kitchen, and Prowl’s room to no avail. After that, he figured he would check both porches and the roof, and if Prowl wasn’t in any of those spots, he would try to ignore the issue and go back to watching Dr. Seuss’s How The Grinch Stole Christmas.

He had luck on the back porch, though. When he peeked out of the glass screen door, Prowl was visibly laying on the concrete ground and peering up at the sky. There were no stars tonight, only clouds and a foggy sort of darkness. With a small frown, Bumblebee stepped outside and shut the door behind him. Prowl sat up from where he was laying and turned around.

The yellow bot imagined that Prowl was staring at him, but he couldn’t tell with those familiar visors hiding his optics from view. Sometimes, he wished he could rip them off, hold Prowl’s face in his servos, and stare into those optics- maybe that’s where all of his secrets were held, where all of the things he avoided or refused to tell Bumblebee laid, swirling around in pools of blue.

“Bumblebee, why aren’t you at movie night?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” He retorted quickly and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

“I needed to get away for a bit,” Prowl explained with a shrug. Just then, Bumblebee’s optics flickered up at the sight of a single snowflake. It seemed to be the start of snowfall, as more quickly followed. Another gust of wind howled through his audials and sent a flurry of dead, crunchy brown and orange leaves blowing past them and skirting against the concrete floor. “You’re free to join me.”

Though the words were said in a tone bordering sarcastic and challenging, Bumblebee took his teammate up on the offer and sat next to him on the ground. It was too cold for him, especially with the snow falling onto his body and melting against the heated metal, but Prowl didn’t seem to mind it, so he stayed and pretended as if he wasn’t struggling to keep his dentas from chattering.

It was complicated. Their relationship was odd and lacked communication. Were they simply friends, teammates, or something more? Bumblebee could’ve sworn that there were times where he caught Prowl staring at him a little too long, or times where their conversations were more intense and intimate than they really should’ve been, but he pushed it deep down under the assumption that he was simply projecting his own feelings.

What even was love to Prowl? Was it how he always protected everyone else? How he always tried to include them in his interests? Bumblebee didn’t know, as Prowl’s way of expressing love seemed to be much different than his own. Throat tight with anxiety, the yellow bot began to speak.

“Prowl...”

At the sound of his voice, Prowl seemed to perk up. He’d sat up earlier and was now lounging with one leg crossed over the other and his servos behind him on the concrete to hold up his weight. Bumblebee simply sat with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them.

“Yes, Bumblebee?”

“What’s it like to be loved? I mean... What is love to you?”

“To be loved?” Prowl took his visors off and set them on the ground beside him before blinking. His optics were a light, icy blue that matched his demeanor, adorned with long optical lashes that quickly began to catch the snowflakes falling onto their frames. It was one of the only times Bumblebee had seen them up close. He dared to smile at the beautiful sight regardless of the utter confusion etched into Prowl’s features. “It’s unlike you to be so serious.”

While the comment was true, it wasn’t what Bumblebee was hoping to hear. Part of him wanted an honest answer. Part of him wanted a confession. The rest of him wanted a distraction- from his feelings, from the impending war that was restarting with the Decepticons, from the seriousness of it all, and from the fact that his life continued to change in ways that were scary and wouldn’t stop. He wanted Prowl’s wisdom, too, because maybe if he heard enough from the older mech, he’d learn to be as calm and unphased as him too.

“Please,” He pleaded and averted his gaze. “Just answer me.”

“To be loved... To be loved is to be known,” Prowl sighed, his breath appearing as a cloud in the bitter air before he took another vent.

Bumblebee expected him to continue after that, to say something poetic and wise, something that would make the statement make sense.

All that followed was silence.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will someday. Surely, there’s someone out there who you know who knows you in return- truly.”

Bumblebee hadn’t understood what Prowl meant back then, and he remembered staring, baffled as Prowl stood from his spot and made his way inside. He also remembered sitting there for hours and racking his processor in an attempt to understand. He didn’t understand- couldn’t understand, not back then.

But he did now.

The words kept gnawing at his processor, as did the image of Prowl’s back as he walked away, just like he had three days ago when he’d given his life to reunite all the pieces of the All Spark in the last battle against the Decepticons.

How long had it been since that discussion? A couple weeks? It was the last time they’d talked seriously before it had happened, and now that Prowl was gone, all Bumblebee wanted was to be able to go back to that night and say everything that had been on his mind. He wanted to tell Prowl how he’d felt, what he’d wanted, to see if Prowl returned the sentiment-

No, there was no doubt that Prowl felt the same if the letters sprawled out across the floor in front of him were any proof...

Prowl’s room suited him incredibly well; all neutral colors, bland on the outside, but full of subtle decorations and little things that suited the ninja bot, as well as the occasional, unfitting poster that Sari had bought him. Plants that had been healthy and tended to by the ninja bot now sat wilted in his windows, but his berth was made and his carpet had been clean before Bumblebee had pulled the letters out. He looked down at them with a wretched sob and covered his mouth to prevent anyone else from hearing- the situation was already bad, and he didn’t want to burden anyone else.

The fact that Prowl was dead and gone was enough. The fact that everyone seemed more celebratory about the All Spark retrieval and the victory against the Decepticons while he was drowning in his grief made it worse. The fact that he had never gotten to tell Prowl how much he’d loved him had bordered being the last straw, but being left behind and wondering what could’ve been was almost better than knowing the truth; the truth being that Prowl had loved him since the day they met, something he’d discovered during the cleaning of Prowl’s room.

It had been early that morning when a knock on his door had disrupted his recharge. All he’d been doing since the incident was sleeping, waking up in a panic, crying, and repeating the cycle, so when he answered the door to see no other than Optimus Prime and Jazz standing there, it had been a shock. Worse, he couldn’t even bear to look at Jazz- the Elite Guard member reminded him too much of the hole in his spark.

But he’d forced himself to listen.

“Before he passed, Prowl forwarded me his will,” Jazz had explained. “He left everything to you.”

The words had his optics snapping up to meet Jazz’s visor, and he’d searched his face for any signs of insincerity, only to find nothing. Optimus’s servo was on the yellow bot’s shoulder seconds later. He’d glanced over to meet his leader’s optics, sky blue and familiar and warm but filled with pity.

“I know it’s hard, Bee,” Optimus had blinked, then turned his helm, as if consumed with guilt to the point where he couldn’t even bear to look at him. “But I need you to clear out his room, take what you want, have us look through the rest, and then get rid of it. We’re leaving for Cybertron in less than a week for his funeral, and Ultra Magnus’s health is quickly deteriorating- he’s being kept alive by machines as we speak and will surely go any day now. Sentinel Prime is Temporary Magnus, and we need to stop the havoc he’s wreaking. We have to go back, and we can’t bother the Sumdac’s any more than we already have by leaving our things behind, so we need to make quick work of packing up everything and getting out of here.”

At that, Bumblebee scoffed, but nodded. Of course, Optimus was worried about moving on, about the next battle, about Ultra Magnus and Sentinel Prime, about politics on Cybertron. Meanwhile, all the yellow bot could do was wallow in his sorrow. He knew they had to leave earth soon, but he hadn’t even started to pack up his room, let alone Prowl’s.

How could he be expected to? He had wanted things to be different. They all had. When this all started, he’d dreamt of the day that they’d leave, Prowl nagging him about packing and the two of them spending time together on the ride back, staring at the vast blanket of darkness that was space as they flew back. Maybe Prowl would have pressed a kiss into the top of his helm when no one was looking or wrapped an arm around his waist.

It was a ridiculous dream, he’d thought upon closing the door on Optimus and Jazz without another word.

And now he was alone with one of the letters in his shaking servos. His tear-filled optics ran over the words again and again- he couldn’t believe them. Pages upon pages were written about him, to him, all dated but never sent, from when they met up to the day Prowl had died; one every day.

They were filled with dumb, trivial details about himself that Bumblebee honestly thought were annoying. He was surprised that Prowl even knew a lot of them.

His favorite color was actually black, not yellow.

He had a sweet tooth and hated anything bitter, sour, or spicy. Prowl knew this and had a recipe written down for how Bumblebee liked his energon; chilled and blended with cream and vanilla and strawberry flavoring.

He scrunched up his face when he didn’t like the taste or smell of something, and he shifted his weight between his stabilizing servos when he was around those who made him uncomfortable.

He was easily cold and preferred hot weather.

He was a thrill seeker, but regardless of that, he was terrified of heights.

He frequently ended questions with the word ‘yeah’, which he’d never actually had pointed out to him.

He used dye-drops to make his optics appear more blue.

He was terrified of most large animals but loved cats- especially their toe beans.

He tapped his stabilizing servos against the ground when he was nervous and tapped his digits when he was excited.

His favorite genre of video games and television was actually romance, not action.

And his face was always covered with a blush... But only around Prowl.

Bumblebee thought back on it all with a sigh.

He hadn’t even gone through anything else yet and he was already wanting to tear himself apart over the black sweater Prowl had got him for Christmas, how Prowl always made his energon in the mornings because ‘I’m already awake before you, I might as well’ and how Optimus had tried his hardest but hadn’t been able to replicate it for Bumblebee since the ninja bot’s passing, why Prowl even paid so much attention to his tics or the faces he made, the way Prowl always just so happened to bring warm clothing or sit especially close to him when they were out in the cold, how Prowl had always only tried to show him small and unintimidating animals, the number of compliments Prowl had given him on how pretty his pale blue optics, the laugh Prowl always seemed to be holding back when he had asked questions, the attention Prowl had paid to what games he played and what shows he watched, the heart Prowl had drawn next to the note about Bumblebee’s ‘beautiful, constant, rose-hued blush’, as he’d put it.

More than anything, he tore himself apart for not saying anything sooner, as with the multiple confessions that were written down on the mountains of opened letters in front of him, he knew it would have worked. Everything would have been okay, if only for a bit.

Were they together, would things have turned out differently? Would Prowl still be here? Would this hole in his spark be gone, would he have a chance at being happy?

In the midst of his thoughts and grief-fueled exhaustion, Bumblebee eventually fell asleep on the pile of letters. Hours later, he was inevitably found by Bulkhead, carried to the med bay by Optimus, tended to and fueled by Ratchet, and watched over by Jazz.

But, when he woke up in the morning, surrounded by those who loved him, he couldn’t help but notice that Prowl was still gone.

#tf #tfa #transformers #transformers animated #fanfiction #oneshot #oneshots #drabble #drabbles #bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #prowl #tfa prowl #bumbleprowl #tfa bumbleprowl #angst #angst fic #tw death #tw character death

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witchysolfan · 3 years ago

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Sari calling Optimus “Uncle Oppy” when she visits the land of dreaming and encounters him there. The dead leader that now rests in peace.

The first time Sari came, she sensed she may disrupt his dreaming with her presence and started to leave but a voice called out to her. Red met blue and a soft, inviting smile beckons her to come closer. The girl coming over and is greeted by the dreamer.

“Your dreams are beautiful…” she told him, keeping eye contact. “I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s of no consequence young one.” The gentle voice was deep and kind. Sari knew he would tell great bed time stories like her Papa used to do. “You wouldn’t have come here if you weren’t invited.”

The little girl quirked her head.

“This is my dream. I can welcome or deny entry to anyone here. I sensed you near, and I decided to let you in.” An old sadness enters his optics. Though at peace in death’s embrace, he still feels for others. He still holds on to his compassion in comforting others, especially the young.

“You have been through much, Sari.”

Sari swallowed thickly.

“Have you told your Dad how much you truly hurt inside?”

She shook her head.

“I’m…a big kid…I don’t…need to worry him.” She was careful in blanking her face. Hiding away deep inside, not thinking of how she feels.

If she feels too much, her powers start to react.

If she feels too strongly, she will ruin things and scare people. It’s fun sometimes to scare people but….not like…that. Not the way she scared her Dad.

She bowed her head.

Optimus reached up one finger to slowly lift her chin up to look at him.

“It’s alright, Sari. Your Dad loves you.” There was something on his face that flickered. An old sorrow, a relief, a grief of so much loss, an acceptance of how things are now. “Your Dad….has come far in doing the best for you. He will understand.”

Sari began to speak, saying her Dad did not have these dark thoughts. These ugly feelings of wanting to rage, give into burning anger of perceived injustice, to revel in frightened faces she saw as evil and make so many pay for what they have done. To her. To Papa. To Dad. To everyone she loves.

There was great rage in Sari as much as there was great fear and hurt.

It was frightening.

It was ugly.

It was violet.

Burning, terrible, violet.

“He understands. This rage is familiar to him….he knows it.”

Red eyes widened up at him.

“Please, talk to your Dad. He will understand you more than anyone.” He let go of her chin and slowly curled his hand around her, his thumb pressed softly to her head. “It is alright to cry.”

Something broke inside and the rivers flooded with the growing cries of a little girl struggling with herself. Clinging to the thumb and hiccuped in her crying.

Optimus silently let her vent in hand as the field of flowers from earth surrounded them.

It will take Sari a bit longer to come to her Dad about her emotions and black rage she struggles with, but she has the dreamer to help her with each visit until then.

Optimus smiled at calling him “Uncle Oppy” the first time. The flower crown she made resting on his head.

If her silly stories on the shenanigans that goes on the Lost Light caused much amusement to the dreamer, then perhaps it is worth having his dreams interrupted by her visits. Even though she never visited too many times and never stays for long, a thoughtful gesture from the child who knew how much her ‘Uncle Oppy’ valued this peaceful rest, Optimus had come to look forward to seeing the child. Wondering what stories she will bring next time.

#witches heretics and other outcasts #au #story concept #Optimus prime #sari sumdac #Optimus is indeed dead in this AU but he’s still around #just Sari visiting a dead guy in the land of dreaming #she doesn’t do it as often or for too long as the dead deserve their rest #transformers prime #transformers

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talesofealdancynedom · 4 years ago

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Asada Fauxbit, in fairy robes with familiar; riding a “giraffe, but with malice”

Tale 19: Meriam Craweleoth: Mage Queen of The Grand West (chapter 7.1 - Has Yet to Pass 7/10) part 4. Stories of Old

Maps

Harsh Language

Upon the western mountains of the Far East, lies the Sinoian wall of fire. The mountains between the great desert, and the temperate lush kingdom. Due south of that, where the climate is soft by the sea, lies a very unlucky fishing town. To the south west, in Indonia of the Central South, lies the Monkey Gate within the heart of a cursed jungle.

Five aligned nations, out of ten, only created half a circle around Francia; Meriam needed more alliances to make the world get along. But Francia was between Anglia and the rest of the world. The North Central kingdom, was like the hole of a donut. A donut that was bribing allies in Indonia to it’s south, and Sinionia to it’s East. Meriam would need the favor of the sultan of the South Central to guarantee a safe passage to eastern lands. She took her men with her, to meet this powerful man in his jungle palace. They traveled safely through the Westlands of Dania, to get to the South Central. Once in the ivory, pearl, marble and oak home, the sultan spoke down to her. He sat on a silk pillow, surrounded by sari drapes, wearing bangles and slippers. The sultan was quick to insult Meriam, by tasking her with an impossible quest. He did not care that she was a mage or a queen. If she wanted the trust of Indonia, Meriam must understand that people in this country are cheats, and that the secret to Indonia’s heart, lies in an alliance with Sinonia first.

“Appease the emperor on the other side of the desert, with a grand gesture, and I will mark your papers; Mage Queen. Offer me something greater than our northern neighbors do.” Th sultan said, playing with his silver beard. “You will find guides outside the cursed jungle of Veya.” He chuckled. Meriam felt frustrated; She was asked to do an unspecified favor, for an unknown man, after crossing Ealden Cyendom’s central desert.

“Fuck.” She murmured.

As Meriam and her company traveled to the Monkey Gate, they began to remove clothing; it was far hotter than any land they had been to thus far. The humidity made it sticky, and the rain’s slowed their passage. When Meriam and her men arrived at the small village, they began to look for someone who spoke their language, that may guide them. Their investigation was fruitless; and they paid good silver to sleep on weaved mats in and uninsulated stone shack. The doors and shutters were made of intricately carved wood, that resembled lace patterned in lotuses and peacocks. They did little to keep out the rain; but did keep back the wildlife and wind. The fruit and nuts they bought were delicious, as was the fresh rain water; but they began to miss home. This may be, the longest journey they will have to embark on.

In the sticky, hot, humid night, while Meriam and her men struggled to sleep, they heard someone enter their room. They sounded like they were trying to be quiet, which resulted in them making even more noise. The sliding wood window creaked, and they heard the clink of bangles, and knocking over of pots and baskets; followed by very familiar Anglian cussing. Then, Meriam suddenly rose summoning fire in her palm, as her men drew swords at the intruder; Who was now in the middle of the room. To their surprise, it was an Indonian woman with pale golden eyes and hair against, her brown skin. She wore a scarf about her head that was a translucent tan, that glittered like her clothes, in pin stripes. She had her nose pierced as well as her ears, which held elaborate gold rings that matched the innumerable bracelets she wore about her wrists and feet. She was built like a knight, under the glittering fabrics of her Monkey kingdom fairy robes. Upon her shoulder, she had a marmoset. The robes hung in an ex across her shoulder and breast, and she wore gold armour to link the loose fabric. Her pants were baggy, her sash wrapped and left a fabric tail at her back, and her curled slippers matched perfectly. Meriam wanted badly to draw her; for she had never seen a mage of this kingdom.

She was stealing their fruit.

“You spoke in Anglian just now!” Meriam said. The woman was surprised, and looked Meriam up and down, with a mango in her mouth. Then she also held out a palm of fire. Magic. This must be the mage of the Monkey Gate.

In order to share magic, and teach it, mages use the language and letters of Anglia, as few other peoples know the language well. This meant they found a translator; but not a guide. More pressingly, they had an intruder.

“Who are you!” a knight demanded.

“I am Asada Fauxbit.” She said, chewing her bite of fruit. “Who the fuck are you?” She contested.

“We are the queen of Anglia’s royal guards; we need to cross the desert to Sinonia, to impress their emperor with a grand gesture of peace. We need the favor of his kingdom, to win the heart of this one. So, we are told. Anglia and other lands need as many lands as possible united, to restore balance.”

“You got so conned, miss raven mage.” Asada smirked, examining Meriam’s feather and velvet fairy robes. “Indonia don’t give a shit about other kingdoms. The Sultan is putting on a front to extort Francia’s bribes.” Asada laughed. The knights all drooped in defeat, and sheathed their weapons.

“Also, that mission sounds so awful; I pity you. I’ll make you a bargain: Find me a mage husband, so I can produce a mage daughter to protect this cursed magic forest, and I’ll come with you and provide guides to cross the fields of fire. Just to be sure, this is to help you do this thing you think will work, for this person, that is somewhere.” Asada teased. It became apparent that the sultan had actually given Meriam no information at all; his instructions were vaguer then being asked: can’t you not put that thing there maybe? Meriam rolled her eyes. She wasn’t a quitter.

“Are you conning me? You’re willing to take us across a desert in exchange for magic seed donor? That’s all?”

“Yup. Preferably Sinonian in ethnicity, with blue hair, and an aura of chaotic silliness.” Asada mused.

“But why?!” one of Meriam’s men asked.

“My bloodline is cursed by the Monkey King, because of my mom. The Monkey King is a lady who likes a matriarchy, and her children shrouded in mystery and isolation. My mom said she’d raise me to keep the gate open, and tend the monkey fey; as I was a mage. In exchange the Monkey king promised to provide a protective curse on the jungle. The Monkey King said that a line of pure-bred mage daughters, must be the ones guarding her gate. Starting with me. A cursed magic bloodline, in exchange for safety. Oh, also, If I leave the forest for any reason other then looking for a groom, I kind’a die.” Asada explained casually. While she explained the curse, Meriam racked her brain of mages she knew. And she knew of many. But, when Asada said blue hair, she membered one of Feon’s books. It was the teal journal detailing types of mages; and the illustration for the storm breaker mage, was a Sinonian man of blue ridding an Orca. Sirulius Healpenbroc; a warlock who made storm staphs, like Feon’s. And possibly joy induced natural disasters. This was a bargain Meriam could make.

“If your determined to be another dame, pigeon holed into relying on men for events in your life, I may have heard of a suitable man, south east of the desert, in Sinonia.” Meriam grumbled.

“Pigeon holed? What if I want kids and a nice guy to hold me? What if I want to protect my magic forest home and fey friends? I can do both! Cursed or not, it’s my life and choice; as a mage I have more choice than any lady in this land. And I chose a man of the Grand East who can fulfill my feminine desires.” Asada boasted. “Wait? You seem madder about me willing to abide by this curse, then going across a desert called the fields of fire. Who hurt you?” Asada inquired. Meriam glared at her; She was a queen surrounded by demanding men. Five of them were with her right now. Of course, she was rabid with envy. Happily, wed or not, Meriam would have at least of liked the choice. Her knights wisely chose not to comment.

Coincidences can make a day. Exact change, or meeting an old friend at a market: things sliding perfectly into place is satisfying. The only trouble is that these moments are rare, and you never know when one is going to happen. If you are looking for one, it’s like watching water boil. Speaking of boiling, the desert earned its name; The Fields of Fire. Though Asada and Meriam could alchemize water, and they had all gotten loose white clothes, the desert felt eternal in it’s unrelenting discomfort; like a socially obligatory holiday gathering with collogues. The expanse of dry nothingness, resulted in there being little else to do, but talk to your road companions. The guides Asada found where merchants, who regularly crossed the desert. They did not know a word of any other language; which seemed counterintuitive for efficient trade. Meriam was on a long road of days of travel upon stinking spiteful camels with a group of knights, and Asada.

Meriam admired how unbothered Asada was. Her men wouldn’t stop complaining about how they feared the desert would consume them before they could ravish a Sinonian maidens, and drink rice wine till uncoordinated. Meriam was too sober to talk to human males, and was forced to talk to Asada.

“What are these animals?” Meriam asked looking over her camel.

“Giraffes; but unkindly.” She laughed smugly. Meriam was confused; she didn’t know what a giraffe was either.

“Do you hawk? You have tiny falcon on your shoulder? Also, didn’t catch your name.”

“My name Queen Meriam Craweleoth. I do not hawk, this is my familiar Nihten; she is a kestrel. You have been seeing me send her off to see where we are. I meld with her to use her eyes. As well as make her big enough to ride if I have to.”

“Neat. So, where are we? According to Nithen?”

“Nowhere.” Nihten said. Gave everyone a good chuckle. To distract from their discomfort, Meriam’s entourage listened in on the two mages conversation; and then began butting in.

“Are there fey in the desert? If magic is less frail then men?” one asked.

“Oh yes. There are many basilisks and drakes in the sand. I heard once of one who was disowned by the dragon king for breaking a sphere at a banquet. If we convince him to let us cross a river, he might accompany us on our journey to the west.” Asada said. Meriam looked confused; she was lost in the second half. They were going to the east. Asada’s smiles faded into bitterness.

“That was a joke. The dragon king would never disown a child nor make one capable of guiding people.”

“We rode dragons once!” another knight said. “You must have spent too long in your forest, monkey girl; I’m not sure you even know what magic this desert holds.”

“Ah, but I do. It holds desert magic; obviously. Now stop complaining, and telling me I’m wrong, or I’ll summon my Iron staph to knock some sense into you. It matches the Monkey King’s; who is also a woman not opposed to striking things. Your men are idiots Merriam! No wonder your sexist. Are all Anglian men this daft?” Asada exclaimed.

“Actually, their very loyal, talented, and make sure my husband’s mind is sound whilst I quest. They are made of the finest fibre Anglia can provide, by order of my King husband.” Meriam said proudly. “Intelligence is not a factor in determining their value as people.” She added. Her knights smiled proudly upon their grumbling ‘steads’.

“So, you hate being controlled by people, sorry men, but you still accepted your betrothal to the king? then gave him a child, and take his men, sorry your men, with you, just to make him happy? You knew you were a mage and could have used magic to evade them, right? Your ungrateful; I would love to live in a palace and have someone who takes care of me, supports me, and loves me for being myself! And you judge me for wanting that!”

“Shut up, I love him! And love is powerful,” Meriam snapped. “and no; I don’t judge you for wanting a romanticized version of reality you use to cope with being cursed into heteronormativity. I judge you for talking like a drunk, and pulling my leg. It is about respect and freedom. I am equal, if not above, the men I meet.” Merriam snapped.

Asada looked off into the desert. She was nodding quietly while refraining from laughter. Meriam wondered what was worse; Asada, questioning the motivations of all her life choices, the desert, the malicious giraffe, or how she had complimented Tiberias’s architecture. She felt a little faint. Meriam began to hate Asada for ripping apart the meaning in her life. Meriam looked away in distaste.

“Must be nice to love someone so much, you throw away your philosophy to kiss them goodnight… Before I knew I was cursed, as only a child, when I saw the people in the village, all I lusted for was to hold even one of their hands. I want that Meriam; I want someone to be with, that makes me feel like nothing else matters.” Asada said into the sands. The morale went down as they clomped across the bright dune. Meriam never wanted to be in this arid wasteland again.

NEXT--->

<---PREVIOUS

#art #tales of ealdan cynedom #fantast #short stories #fantasy #meriam #nihten #asada #sirulius

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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Ten Days (Crygi) - Cashmere

Hi guys, So I posted this story literally about … 6 years ago on tumblr with another ship, but decided 1) I want to get into writing again and 2) It was time to go through my old stories and do revamp on some, and it just so happens Crygi is my current drag race obsession, and I’ve had far too much wine and I’m far too emotional and after being here from the start of AQ? I’m finally posting my first fic here. So here we go!

—

It’s freezing in the apartment, just the way they liked it. You’d never really questioned it out loud but secretly you just wondered if they kept it that cold so you’d have an excuse to cuddle even if it was scorching outside, not that you ever complained about being curled up with them for hours on end.

You’ve been on the sofa for what feels like an eternity, the blend of mismatched fibers under you rubbing your skin raw , and all you can see is a kaleidoscope of blooming colors from the many paintings and sketches that litter the walls, sporadically spread across it with no rhyme or reason, as well as the red wine stains that still splatter across the wall from when they and Daegan had gotten into a wrestling match when the pink haired girl had blue shelled them in a winner takes all game of mario kart, and they’d forgotten they still had a full cup of merlot, and you’d groaned about how you weren’t going to get that bond back.

All you can hear is the rain steadily beating down against the large windows offering a view to the city you’d adopted as your own, it’s been raining constantly. You on the other hand haven’t cried. You want to, but your eyes remain dry, so maybe the sky is trying to compensate for you? You don’t usually ponder the deep mysteries of the universe, that was their job. Especially when they was high and asked questions like ‘Are lobsters just fishy mermaids?’, and ‘’If you erase a word.. Where does it go? Does it just vanish?”

You sigh deeply, the breath rattling your lungs and roll over to stare blankly at the back of the sofa so you don’t have to see the paintings, the vibrant colors teeming with life, mocking you. ‘You’re so brave’, it’s all you ever hear these days. Anyone that knows you will tell you how brave you are, how you’ve been cool, composed, keeping it together. How you’ve you’ve been ‘A beacon of strength’. But you’re not brave. You’re not. they were brave. You’re just terrified and floundering, blustering your way through. Faking it till you making it, with a display of false confidence; when inside you’ve never felt more alone.

Your entire body aches. You’re numb. Empty; and it’s the worst feeling in the world. You understand the pain, the agony. They came. They came and they took over you, and then they just .. Left. It’s as if your heart has left your body. Like it left to save you from yourself because if it was still there in shattered pieces? You’d fall apart with no hope of being put back together. You want to feel something. Anything. You want to cry, scream, reach out, react, anything but your body refuses to move so much as a single finger.

Is this how it feels? Is this oblivion? Hell? It’s been 10 days since you’ve lowered them into the ground. You’ve seen the sunrise, you’ve seen the sunset. You’ve counted the stars until they start blurring together. You’ve watch the sunlight dance on the walls and filter between the gauzy curtains made of what was supposed to be a sari that they’d picked up from a thrift store downtown. It’s been 10 days since you got that call. Your phone is next to you. Full of unread messages, and unanswered phone calls. But you don’t want them. The pity, the voices of everyone but who you want to hear. Your hands reach out, pale and slender and shake as you struggle to dial the numbers, having to delete that extra ‘8’ that keeps popping up. But when you manage it and lift it to your ear. It rings. It rings and rings. And then you hear it

’Hiiiiiiiii. This is TicTac and CrystalMethydfromdragraceseason12 and host of Get Dusted Party. Leave a message! Do it!” Their voice is still your favorite sound in the world, even though the message is truly awful and you drop your phone onto the rug, not even bothering to hang up,and a single tear rolls down your cheek, cutting through the layers of sweat that have dried against your skin, reddened and indented from the corduroy cushions that scatter the sofa.

Never again will they pick up the phone, never again will they call you back. Never again will you pick up your phone to hear their voice on the other end of the line asking you what to get for dinner, what time does your flight get in, is there anything you want them to look for at the thrift store, a picture of street art, a green lawn, a meme, and never again will you get a text message from them reminding you that they loved you.

You shakily reach down, dialing the number again, and again, and again. If only to hear their voice. You manage to get off the couch, only to fall to your knees, your muscles weak from days of barely being used. Your phone battery finally fails you, half way through the recorded message and a broken sob leaves your lips and you’re left in silence, the sound echoing from the darkened walls. You haven’t been able to cry, but now. On the floor of your home. The home you both build together and made your own; with nothing but a flat phone in your hand you start to sob uncontrollably, ten days of repressed emotion hitting you all at once.

It’s a tidal wave, like nothing you’ve ever felt before, assaulting and ravaging your insides. It’s raw, burning, all consuming, and you scream, choke, and wail helplessly, each cry more pained than the last, the sounds almost animal in nature as they tear through your vocal cords. You weren’t meant to be alone. They’d promised to never leave you, and they’d tried. They’d tried to fight to stay, for themselves. For you, for everything else in this world. Sunsets, ginger cats, paints, Missouri summers, colorful jewelry, loud laughter, thick blunts, and brightly patterned shirts in soft fabrics; but even their fighting spirit was no match for fate.

You need to get up eventually. To shower and wash your hair that hangs in oily clumps, to eat something, to leave the room that smells like them with the tiny personal touches that still litter the room like ornaments, the ugly keychain collection that hangs from the hook. You need to start taking steps to move on. But today isn’t that day. And so you remain on the rug, your cheek pressed to the tight weaving, squeezing your eyes shut and opening them again as if you’ll blink and wake-up and find everything is just a nightmare, a long drawn-out nightmare, though there’s only so long you can keep kidding yourself, and you’re reaching the end of that point rapidly; and it scares the hell out of you.

Because you need them, and you don’t want to wake up and acknowledge they’re gone, or to try to remember their face only for it to be a blur, to forget the languid way their fingers trailed along your ribs as though you were made of the finest porcelain, the way their hair fell in cocoa colored curls and the proud look in their eyes when their mullet ‘finally reached all the way to their crack’. You don’t want to forget how they tasted, or the way they laughed with their entire body, or the way that when you kissed how it felt like everything stopped and the world shrank down to the two of you no matter where you were. You can’t forget them, the memories seared into your brain, but in your head? That’s what moving on resembles. So you remain on the floor, your heart in pieces surrounded by the life you made together, and your tears keep coming in between pleas to the air around you, “Please come home?” though the resounding silence is your only answer.

#rpdr fanfiction #crystal methyd #gigi goode #crygi #angst #more angst #it just really hurts a whole lot and i’m extremely sorry #cashmere #tw character death #tw mention of death #(nothing graphic)#submission

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petitelepus · 5 years ago

Note

May I request some fluffy fluff cuddle time lazy day fluff with Transformers Animated Bumblebee and a cybertronian self insert? The bot may be a young mischievous little shit starter, but even he has a soft cuddly side that deserves you seen! Plus I want to see your writing for fluff?? Does that make sense??? I look forward to seeing what you come up with!!! :D I love your writing, and I look forward to seeing what you do with this request!

It’s the coldest season on Earth and you have no idea what you’re about to part-take in. Sari says it’s the most magical night of the year when people give gifts to each other. You fail to see the point of giving gifts but certain members of team Prime appear to be taken over by the festive tradition. Primarily Bumblebee and Bulkhead.

You stand there in guard like Sentinel had ordered you to. Something about not letting Optimus’ team do anything that could lead Sentinel into a bad light. Lousy jerk. You watched how Sari and everyone, save for the Optimus and Ratchet are putting on festive decorations.

“Hey!”

You looked down and saw Sari eyeing you up. You blink your optics and smile a little awkwardly at her. “Hello?”

Sari smiles and points at the box in the corner of the factory. “There are some ornaments there. Would you like to help us put them on?”

That sounded like fun. It was exactly what Sentinel ordered you not to do. You frowned and shook your helm. “I’m sorry but I have my orders and--!”

“Forget about them! I won’t tell your boss if you don’t!” Sari cheered and you smiled. That made more sense. You nodded and Sari took a lead start to the ornament box. You dug around it and saw long lines of lights. They were a mess, tangling and hanging everywhere. You started to untangle them when you heard a yell.

“Helms up!”

You looked up and saw huge spruce brought in by Bulkhead. You eyed the plant and Bumblebee jumped out from behind it. “Isn’t this cool? We can relax all we want, exchange gifts and play games!”

“Bumblebee, that’s not ALL that Christmas is about!” Sari said and pointed a crude drawing in her hand about her, her father and Autobots. “It’s about love and family and sharing things with your loved ones!”

“And gifts!”

“If this Christmas is so great, why do you have it only once a year? And on the coldest time of the year?” You asked. Sari was about to reply, but then she decided otherwise, tried again and failed. “Ugh, it just is how it is! And if we would celebrate it all the time then it would lose its meaning!”

“Oooh..!” You awed. “Okay, but where do the gifts come from?”

“A fat man brings them!” Bumblebee cheered and Sari rolled her eyes. “If you’re good then Santa Claus will put presents under the Christmas tree. But if you’re naughty, you get coal. But enough of that, let’s decorate the tree!”

You set to work on it together. Though you were struggling a little so Bumblebee took over the decorative side. You focused on getting some tinsel decorations all over the walls. In your duty, you didn’t pay attention to where you were going and pumped into Bumblebee.

“Oh, I’m sorry Bumblebee.” You said and the yellow minibot scoffed. “Pfft, you’re okay. I barely felt you!”

“Hold on! Nobody moves!” Sari screamed suddenly and you all turned to look at her. She has a huge smile on her face as she pointed at you and Bumblebee. “You two are standing under the mistletoe!”

You both looked up and certainly, there was some kind of a plant hanging there. “So?” Bumblebee asked and Sari scoffed. “So, you need to kiss! It’s a Christmas order!”

“What!?” Bumblebee’s optics almost bulged out from his sockets and you blushed and averted your gaze. Bumblebee looked at you like you had grown two helms more and then at Sari. “I can’t kiss them!”

“Why not?” Sari asked. “Don’t you guys kiss back in Cybertron?”

“We do, we just, ugh, I don’t know!” Bumblebee was getting tangled with his words. You rolled your optics and leaned down to peck him on the cheek. Suddenly everything stopped. Bee was quiet and Sari was grinning from ear to ear. You wonder if you crossed a line.

“Well, excuse me then, but I think I need some fresh air.” You said and excused yourself when suddenly someone grabbed your arm.

You turned to look as saw Bumblebee glaring straight at you, but it wasn’t a hateful glare but flustered. Even his face was shades of darker. “Bumblebee?”

That seemed to snap him out of his trance. He let go of your arm and shook his helm. “Yeah, no, it’s nothing.” You were uncertain, but you nodded and took off to the city.

There was pretty much to see during this white season. There were old men dressed in red and ringing bells, streets were covered in snow and there were pretty lights hanging everywhere. You get caught in red lights and you look around if you spot anything special. That’s when your eyesight catches something special.

“Oh, he is going to love that.”

You return to the base hour later and everyone is in a festive mood. You smile and take the present you bought and wrapped under the tree with the rest of the presents. Just in time as the whole team emerges from deeper parts of the factory.

“Well well.” Sari shakes her head. “Look who came back.”

“I’m sorry?” You ask in confusion. “Was I uninvited?”

“No!” Bumblebee snapped quickly and blushed when everyone turned to look at him. He coughed and rubbed the back of his helm. “I mean... There are these stone-hard Christmas traditions that we can’t break or Santa won’t bring us any gifts!"

“Yeah, sure.” Sari rolled her eyes and looked at you. “Would you like some oil?” She offered kindly, but you had to refuse. “I’m sorry, but I’m full. I’ll just actually go to my room.” You said and walked past everyone to go and relax in your smaller room.

You take a comfortable position over your metal bed and sigh. It was tiresome to be on Earth because Sentinel didn’t want to have anything to do with the planet, but there are lines.

There is a knock and you look up to see Bumblebee standing there while looking sheepish. “Hey, uh, you were gone for a while?”

You nodded. “Yes. The city looks beautiful in white. Probably prettier at night.”

Bumblebee nods furiously and laughs awkwardly. You’re starting to wonder if there was anything hiding behind his actions. “Is everything alright Bumblebee? You look like your cooling fans aren’t working properly.”

“Yes, no, I don’t know!” He shouts and holds his helm like he can’t decide what to do with his hands at the same time while having processor pains. Finally, he points at you and he looks pissed. “You kissed me!”

“Hardy, it was a peck on its best.”

“Yeah, but, ugh, I want more...!”

You raised your optical ridge at that. Bumblebee was blushing from horns to pede and you smiled lightly. He looked so frustrated that you couldn’t bring yourself to tease him.

Instead, you scooped to one side of your bed and patted the empty spot next to you. “There is room if you want to snuggle and talk about it.” You offered jokingly, but to your shock, he actually took the offer and settled down next to you.

“I don’t know, I haven’t been kissing guys after boot camp and it felt nice and you’re nice to me and don't underestimate me and it feels good when you look at me and no one else.” Bumblebee explained and you awwed and the dots connected in your helm.

“Could it be that you... Like me?” You asked and Bumblebee blushed so hard you thought his yellow paint would turn red. “I don’t know..! I haven’t liked anyone like this in millions of years and suddenly you come by and win me over! It’s not fair, I’m not strong or big so what could you see in me?��

“Hey Bee.” You caught his attention. “You’re one of the kindest bots I know and not to mention funniest. You know how to cheer me up and you and Sari have taught me a lot from Earth.”

“Yeah...” Bee mumbled until he suddenly snorted and looked like he remembered the best thing ever. “You thought that rain was acid..!”

“Hey, if I remember correctly, I heard Sari tell me that you thought so also!”

“Yeah, but by now it’s old information now! Everyone knows it!” He laughed and you pouted. “For that, I might take away your gift.”

This caught his attention. Bumblebee pushed himself on sitting position and you followed his example. His blue optics were bright like Christmas star you saw on spruce’s top and the smile on his face was so excited.

“You got me a gift?”¨

“Yes?”

“What did you get me?”

“That is classified information.”

“I’ll kiss you if you tell.”

Now is your time to look at Bee like he had grown two helms. Bumblebee smiled and all of a sudden he bolted forward you but before he could headbutt you he slowed down and kissed you on the lips instead.

Your optics widened in shock and you froze, but Bumblebee kept kissing you despite your lack of returning the kiss. Finally, something seemed to connect in your helm and you kissed him back. The kiss was sweet and innocent, nothing naughty about it.

When two of you pulled back you were all smiles and glitter in optics. “Truck Massacre 3.” You blurted out. Bee looked baffled. “What?”

“Your Christmas present. It’s a video game. I thought you might like it.” You admitted and as happy as Bumblebee looked he didn’t make a move to rush into another room where the gifts were.

Instead, he smiled bashfully like a young bot he was. “I think for once I prefer this over a video game.”

Now it was your turn to flush red. Bumblebee was acting so mature you, you had never seen him being so smooth.

“So kisses?” He asked like a hopeful puppy and who were you to deny mech his present?

#silvershadow13100 #tfa #ask #request #too long #My bad #transformers aniamted #transformers #bumblebee #reader #writing #my story

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starrystarrybabe · 5 years ago

Text

Oh, How the Mighty Fall [In Love] CHAPTER EIGHT (Ben Hardy x OC)

Lily Anne Mercury is brought in to help with Bohemian Rhapsody at the request of her Uncle Bri and Uncle Rog, and along the way, she might meet someone to share her life with. The only problem with this is that while their friends and the world can see that they’re perfect for each other, they’re going to be fully blind to this for a while.

CHAPTER ONE, CHAPTER TWO, CHAPTER THREE, CHAPTER FOUR, CHAPTER FIVE, CHAPTER SIX, CHAPTER SEVEN

DISCLAIMER: I’m fully aware that it would’ve been physically impossible for Jim and Freddie to have a child even with this method during the time they were alive, but the idea of Freddie as a dad and the idea of how his child would turn out to be was just too sweet for me to not write.

Hey, everyone! Apologies for the slightly altered formatting, the option for the lines isn’t currently available on tumblr and I am confused. If you could help me figure this out, I’d appreciate it. Thank you!

-- casey

TRIGGERS: explicit sexual content (18+ only please!)

FACECLAIMS:

Kelly Gale as Lily Anne Mercury

Sira P. Kante as Ezichi Adebayo

Erika Linder as Bronwyn Ryan-Hughes

Bree Kish as Madigan Ryan-Hughes

Sonakshi Sinha as Anusha Laghari

LILY’S DRESSES

Lily is howling in laughter as she watches comedienne Anusha Laghari’s comedy special on Netflix. It is filled with jokes about growing up Indian, dealing with white people, and being in the comic industry as a woman of color. She’s currently talking about how she’s being described as the “brown John Mulaney,” but nothing about that man is remotely like herself, as much as she likes John Mulaney.

“The man is from a bloody Catholic household and walks around like he’s taking up too much space. I don’t have anything in common with that. The only thing that’s similar about us is that we both get massive paychecks,” Anusha says, grinning as the audience cheers. “I’m alright with the success rate being similar, but I am my own person, and not any version of anyone else. It’s been a wonderful show here in Radio City, and thank you so much for coming out to see me! I love you all! Good night, New York!” Anusha blows kisses to the crowd before the screen fades away to the end credits.

Lily met Anusha when they were both very young, and the pair were in the same Indian dance class. Jer would drop her off, and the Indian mothers would look at her curiously, but not say anything.

Needless to say, the fact that she was only half Indian was very noticeable when Jim’s pale complexion and cable-knit sweaters clashed with the brown women and colorful saris he was surrounded by.

Lily had practically no friends in that class except for Anusha, who told off some mothers and walked over to Lily when she was crying. She was always there for Lily, even though her mother didn’t exactly approve of the life Lily lived. When she saw how dedicated Jim was to taking care of his daughter and helping her experience her culture, she gained respect for him and practically adopted Lily as her own daughter, bringing her along to family occasions and constantly allowing the girl to sleep over with Anusha, and vice versa. Jim would sit with Anusha’s family at recitals and smile as his little girl twirled around stage with her best friend.

Anusha was always funny. Comedy made sense for her. She struggled for years, moved to New York, booked strange hours and worked under sexist bosses to make her name in the industry. Now, she’s one of the biggest names in comedy. Lily couldn’t be prouder of her childhood bestie.

Lily calls her friend, catching her breath. Anusha picks up immediately.

“Hello, Lily!” she cheerily says. “How was the special?”

Lily wipes a tear from her eye. “Darling, you’re so talented. I’m so proud of you. Also, my stomach hurts from laughing so damn hard.”

Anusha lets out a laugh. “Thanks, Lily! You’re the best, mate. I’m so glad you like it.”

Lily sighs and pets Reykja, who jumps up onto the couch. “It was amazing, darling. I’m so proud to call you my friend, and I know that Jim is smiling at you as we speak.”

Anusha quiets, letting out a small sigh. “Lily… stop it, don’t make me cry. You know I loved Jim more than anything. He was the absolute best. I’m so proud to call you my friend. Your latest album is a hit, and you’ve got a gorgeous blonde man pining over you. Now, if I were you, I would have immediately dragged him to bed, but--”

“Can’t I be nice without you making things filthy?” Lily scoffs, shaking her head. “You don’t even like blondes.”

Anusha laughs. “You’re right. But I have an interest in one of your blonde boy’s friends.”

She raises a brow. “Gwil is taken and so is Rami.”

Anusha huffs. “I know, Lily! You think I didn’t do my research? I like Joe.” She takes a deep breath. “Joe seems really nice, and he’s very cute and talented. I looked online, and I didn’t see anything about him having a girlfriend.”

Lily smiles. “He’s single.”

Anusha lets out whoops and hollers of joy. “Yes! Could you get me his number? I really want to talk to him.”

“You’re in New York right now, aren’t you?”

“Yep! I’m coming back to London tomorrow,” Anusha says.

“He’s in New York as we speak. I can tell Joe to meet you somewhere tonight.”

Anusha nervously laughs. “Lily, babe… I’m in sweats and my hair is greasy enough to sustain a fire. I can’t meet anyone like this.”

Lily nods. “I get it. I’ll ask him if he’d be interested in meeting you, alright?”

Anusha sighs in relief. “That would be great. Love ya, Lily!”

Lily smiles. “Love you too, Nush.”

She hangs up and immediately calls Joe, who picks up after a few rings.

“Hi, Lily! I was just thinking about you!” He sounds kind of drunk. “Sebastian and I are out drinking and one of your songs came on and I screamed ‘That’s my friend!’’

Lily smiles and chuckles. “That’s very sweet of you, darling. I appreciate it.”

“I also told everyone how you and Ben are soulmates,” he continues, giggling.

She holds back anger and sighs heavily. “That’s great, Joe. The world already thought that. I can’t wait to see Ben’s reaction to the news. Can I ask you something quickly?”

Joe laughs. “Sure thing! What is it?”

“Do you know Anusha Laghari? She has a comedy special on Netflix,” Lily begins.

“Of course I know her! I love her stuff! She’s also super pretty,” Joe says happily.

Lily smiles. “She’s my best friend from Indian dance school, and she wants your number.”

Joe gasps, covering his mouth with his hand. “Me? And her? Lily, you’re joking.”

“I’m not. She told me herself,” Lily says, leaning back on her couch.

“She’s talented and funny and gorgeous and cool, and— and— I’m just a lanky white dude who met Jeff Goldblum once! Why me?”

Lily shrugs. “Because you’re funny and handsome and charismatic and sweet.”

Joe stutters. “Aw, Lily, I’m blushing. Really, she asked for my number?”

Lily nods. “Mhm.”

“Give it to her, and tell her that I’ll text her when I’m not drunk. Thank you so much, Lily!”

“Of course, Joe. Uber home and drink some water, love.”

“Sure thing. Bye, Lily!”

Joe hangs up and Lily texts Anusha Joe’s number, explaining that he’ll text her when he’s sober.

—-

The next morning, Ben looks in the mirror and tries to pep talk himself up, trying on his beanies to see which one works best with his navy blue adidas jacket and black-striped joggers.

“What’s better, Frankie? Yellow or red?” He turns to his pup, who opens one eye and sniffs in the direction of the yellow hat. “Thanks, girl. I’ve got to look good for our walk today. I’m going to ask Lily to go to the Oscars with me.”

Frankie yawns and stretches, standing up and walking to Ben’s feet. Ben leans down and puts the leash on her before checking that he has his phone, keys, and wallet. He puts on his sunglasses and they leave the apartment, walking over to his car.

They drive to Garden Lodge and Ben parks next to Lily’s G-Wagon. The gate is already open, since Ben and Lily do this joint dog walk five times a week and Ben arrives at the same time every time they do it.

“I think the garden is pruned well enough,” Ben comments, watching as Lily meticulously goes through a patch of yellow flowers looking for weeds.

Lily looks up at him and takes off her filthy gloves and large sun hat, shaking out her hair. “I saw some weeds earlier this morning, so I decided to do something about it.”

Ben smiles as Frankie licks Lily’s cheek, and Reykja runs out of the doggie door to meet her friend. Frankie barks happily and Rey yips in return, playing with the other pup.

Lily picks up the end of the leash attached to Rey’s harness, standing up and looking up at Ben.

“Ready to go?” He asks.

“Yep!” Lily responds, walking alongside Ben and locking the gates after they exit. As they walk out of the driveway, they see two teenagers pasting notes to Freddie on the wall.

They spend ten minutes with the excited teenagers who fawn over Frankie and Rey, explain how much they love Queen and Room 301, and get selfies with both of them. After the kids leave, Lily smiles up at Ben.

“They were more interested in you than me, you know. BoRhap made a difference,” she says, smiling as they begin the walk to the park a half mile away.

Ben nods. “I know. But they’re getting into your music as well because of the movie, so it’s not just Queen that’s thriving.”

She nods. “I just hope the Academy acknowledges all of that. Rami deserves to win, and BoRhap deserves all the awards it’s up for.” She chuckles. “I have a feeling I might be a little biased though.”

Ben looks down and lets out a little laugh. “I don’t mind. Actually, on that note, I’d like to ask you something.”

Lily bites back a smile and looks up at Ben. Is he going to do what she thinks he’s going to do? “Of course! What is it?”

Ben takes a deep breath as the dogs sniff the base of a tree, and gathers all his courage. “Would you like to go as my plus one to the Oscars?”

Lily’s eyes light up and her smile brightens the gray London sky. “I’d love that, Ben!”

Ben grins back at her, releases a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, and Frankie looks up at her dad, wagging her tail. “That’s great!”

Lily walks alongside Ben, and she laughs, shaking her head. “You looked nervous for a second, Ben.”

Ben feels a cold drip of sweat coming down his forehead and his face burns. “Huh? I’m not nervous. Why would I be nervous?”

Lily looks up at him and raises a brow. “I could’ve said no.”

Ben looks down, laughing nervously. “I mean, you could’ve, and gone with Joe again.”

She scoffs. “Even then I ended the night with you, Ben.”

Ben nods, smiling. “Yeah…”

She shrugs. “Besides, I practically set him up with my friend.”

Ben grins at her excitedly. “Seriously?”

She nods. “Mhm. You know the comedienne Anusha Laghari?”

Ben nods, grinning. “Of course! How do you know her?”

“She was my best friend as a child. We went to Indian dance school together as children.”

Ben nods, impressed. “Sometimes I forget that you know so many famous people.”

She grins. “Another one of my friends was Sean Ono Lennon. Yoko still sends me birthday gifts.”

Ben stops in his tracks. “You’ve met Yoko Ono.”

“Yes, I’ve been to her house for play dates with Sean. He helped me through the loss of my father.”

“Wait.” He waves his hands around in a confused gesture. “Does this mean that you met the other Beatles as well?”

She nods. “I know Paul and Ringo. I met George briefly when I was a baby but I don’t remember.”

Ben shakes his head as he continues walking. “That’s… how are you so nonchalant about that?”

She shrugs. “I was born into this life. It just sort of happened.”

Ben stutters for a minute before taking a deep breath. “Anyways, back to the topic at hand. Joe’s been single for a long time. What makes you think that Anusha can change that?”

Lily nods. “I have a good gut feeling about this, Ben. Also, she’s the one who asked for his number. He’s not chasing after someone who’s uninterested. She’s funny, he’s humble, and it wouldn’t be long distance since she lives in New York at the moment. That makes everything easier.”

Ben raises a brow. “Do you think it will last if it happens?”

She smiles and nods. “The last time I had a feeling this strong about anyone was when Zichi asked me about Gwil. Before then it was for Madi and Bron.”

Ben purses his lips. “You have a pretty good track record then. I trust your judgment. If Anusha is like she comes across in her special, her and Joe will be great together.”

She grins. “What you see is what you get with both of them. I have a good feeling about this.”

They walk along the track in the park in relative silence before Lily speaks up.

“You should wear a white suit jacket.”

Ben looks over at her and raises a brow. “All white?”

She shakes her head. “No. I think it should have a little bit of black, but that with nice dress pants and a pair of black Louboutins? Could be a major look.”

Ben nods, considering her suggestion. “What about sunglasses?”

She smiles, looking up at Ben. “That could be good.”

Ben takes mental notes of that before giving a suggestion of his own. “You should wear a red dress.”

She nods, pursing her lips. “Any particular style?”

He smiles and shrugs. “I think a princess gown would be fitting. After all, you’re the princess of Queen.”

She lets out a little laugh. “I guess I am. I’ll get it with a hoop skirt large enough to fit a person under.”

Ben raises a brow and looks away from her.

Anybody would be lucky to be under Lily Anne’s skirts. He just prays that one day, it could be him.

—-

Lily is corsetted tightly, and leans on the California King sized bed for support. “Fucking hell— holy shit! How much tighter can you go?” She asks the assistants helping her into her red ballgown.

It is heavy, large, has poofy sleeves, and her tits are barely contained by the layered fabric that dips low and squeezes her waist. The skirt looks like the curtain of an opera house, and the fabric is subtlety embroidered. She’s never worn something so grandiose before, but she has a feeling that tonight will be the night Ben admits his feelings to her, so she’s made every effort to look like a goddess.

Her heels are placed on her feet and her loose curls are adjusted before a heavy diamond choker and dangling diamond earrings are put on her. She looks in the mirror and catches her breath, her red lips turning up into a smile.

She’s never been this gorgeous before.

There’s a knock on the door, and she collects her clutch and does final checks on her outfit before opening the door and seeing Ben—

Her breath stops in her throat, because her man is looking so good tonight. That white suit with the black shoes and the perfectly tailored pants— she thinks she’s going to die.

He’s looking at her like she’s God, and in his eyes, she may as well be. Ben has never been struck speechless by how good someone looks before, but both of them are trying to form words as they look over each other.

“I— you— wow,” Ben gets out, shaking his head in awe. “You look amazing, Lily. Truly.”

She smiles and looks him over, adjusting his bow tie. “So do you. I was right to suggest the white tux jacket.” She smiles up at him. “You look stunning, Ben.”

Ben smiles and takes her hand as she exits the room and thanks her assistants. “We both look great. Now we just have to figure out how to transport me to the event so people witness how good I look.” She says, chuckling.

Ben nods, letting out a noise of thought. “You might need to stand.”

She sighs. “The things I do for fashion.”

—-

When they get to the red carpet, they are barraged by people asking if they’re a couple, and they brush off those questions, but a little part in each of them wonders how long it’s been since they could truthfully classify each other as mere friends.

This game they’re playing has to end. They need to admit to each other that they’re so much more than just friends to one another. The tension is thick, and the unspoken truth they both know has to come out of someone’s mouth.

When they leave the interviews and take photos together, Ben’s hand rests on the small of her back, and hers on his shoulder. Paparazzi are screaming about how good they look together, and they don’t respond. They already know that they’d be a gorgeous couple. If only one of them would make a move.

—-

“We’re not allowed in?” Lily Anne asks, raising a brow. “My uncles are performing and we were all a part of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

The guard shakes his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Your seats were taken by other people.”

Lily huffs, and looks back to see her friends nervously pacing, Anusha looking over to see what’s going on.

The rest of the night was going great, and she and Joe have hit it off wonderfully. Everything was wonderful until now.

Lily leans in, lowering her voice. “How much did they pay? I promise I can double it.”

The guard shifts uncomfortably and after a moment says, “One thousand for a whole row.”

She nods, and pulls out two thousand from her clutch. He takes it and nods, stuffing it in his vest pocket. “I’ll be right back, ma’am.”

Lily smiles and nods. “Good choice, darling. We’ll be waiting.” She walks back to her friends and smiles. “Give them a moment to kick the Kardashians out of our seats and we’ll be let inside.”

The whole group grins except for Ben. “How much money did you give him, Lily?”

Lily looks up at Ben. “That’s none of your business, Ben. It doesn’t matter, anyways. We’re in. That’s what counts.”

Ben shakes his head. “How much? I’ll give you the money, because it’s bollocks that you had to pay in the first place.”

Gwil and Joe nod, and Anusha speaks up. “Yeah. Tell us how much it was, and we’ll pay you back for it.”

Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “No. It was pocket change for me, really.” Zichi gives her an impatient and accusatory glare. Lily crumbles under the pressure. “Fine.” She leans in. “Two thousand dollars.”

Joe chokes on his own spit, and Gwil curses in Welsh. Ben looks down at her and places a hand on her shoulder.

“Lily, you did all that for us to get in?” Ben asks.

She nods. “This movie has been one of the most important projects of our lives. It’s brought together you guys in a bond that’s truly unbreakable, my band, and my best friend from childhood. We’re a family, all of us. We deserve to be there when Rami and the movie win the awards it fucking deserves. I can earn back my money. It’s worth it for this.”

They are escorted inside, and sit down, Lily Anne apologizing for her skirt going onto Ben and Joe’s chairs. She stands back up as they sit down and then sits, her skirt covering both their laps. Ben laughs and she looks over at him, frowning.

“Why are you laughing?”

“It feels like I have a blanket on my legs. How thick is the fabric of this dress? How are you even walking around in this? Your legs must be damp.”

She scoffs. “Don’t be stupid, I have ventilation installed in this thing. I can’t have a swampy vagina by the end of the night.”

Joe covers his mouth as he laughs, and Ben snorts, grinning. Anusha is trying to contain herself and failing, and the whole row tries to quiet down as the lights dim. After they settle down, Ben lets out a chuckle and Lily elbows him. Joe snorts and Anusha shakes from containing herself. Then, the music starts.

Nobody is singing louder than them. Adam looks over and blows a kiss to Lily Anne, and she winks back at him, waving to Brian and Roger. The camera pans over to them as they shout along to We Will Rock You. It’s wonderful, and they could care less about what the other people in the audience think about them. This is their moment, and they will bask in it.

Things quiet down as the award show starts, and whenever BoRhap wins an award, they stand up and jump around, hugging one another and cheering loudly. They must be annoying the fuck out of literally everyone else in the audience.

Finally, Rami wins. Lily begins to cry, and Ben hugs her. She carefully angles herself so she doesn’t get any makeup on his pristine white blazer but still enjoys the tight embrace. When he gives his speech, she squeezes Ben’s hand, and he squeezes hers back just as tightly.

The ceremony flies by after that, and while their group mingles with other celebrities, Lily and Ben stick together and make their way into a quieter area of the auditorium.

“Four out of five isn’t bad,” he says, smiling. “I think Freddie would be proud.”

Lily laughs. “He’d be proud regardless of if BoRhap won all of the categories or none of them. You all worked so hard on this film, and it showed. He knows you tried your best, and it was done with love. It was worth the time it took to develop the project. Tonight is merely proof of that.”

Ben smiles at her. “I’ve never seen you so happy before, watching Rami win.”

She shrugs. “Rami deserved that. He became Freddie, and that takes a lot of talent and hard work to be someone that big. I’m so proud of all of you. You did a glorious job.” Lily takes a moment. It’s time to say it. “There’s only one thing that could make this night even better.”

Ben raises a brow and looks down at her. “What would that be? I’d be happy to provide it if I can.”

She purses her lips, taking a deep breath. “We’re close friends, you know that as much as I do.”

Ben’s heart skips a beat. “Of course I do. Casual friends don’t just go to the Oscars or walk their dogs together.”

Lily nods. “Casual friendship doesn’t usually involve quitting cigarettes together or buying out Indian restaurants either.” She looks up at Ben, who’s looking at her with a knowing look. “I think we both know that we’re not just close friends, either.”

Ben presses his lips together, and nods slowly. “I think we’ve known that for a while now.”

“I care more deeply for you than I have for anyone else in my life, and I felt that way almost immediately after meeting you. I knew those feelings were true after you threw away your pack of cigarettes and vowed to help me quit one of our worst habits.” Lily speaks slowly and clearly, and their gaze could not be separated by anything going on around them. “You didn’t kiss me at the Globes because you were afraid of mucking it all up and losing something so precious to you.” She places a manicured hand on his chest and feels his heart pounding. “You’re just as precious to me, Ben. You’re the only man I’m ever going to devote myself to for the rest of my days, and I know that.”

His hands shake as he places one on top of hers, and the other on her waist. He has no words, but none are needed.

“You’re mine, and I’m yours. We knew that a long time ago, but tonight, I’d like to get that confirmation. That would send me over the moon.”

Ben nods and pulls her tightly against him, and in the room full of people, kisses her passionately. It feels like winning that last Oscar to finally have her lips on his, and when she cups the back of his neck with one warm hand, he closes his eyes.

The only thing that matters right now is her. Everything else is drowned out by the sensation of an embrace months in the making.

When she pulls away from him, her eyes are sparkling, and he rests one hand on her cheek, stroking it gently. She leans into him and smiles, red lips quirked into a smile.

“I’ve been waiting to do that for so long…” he admits. “But as much as you deserve gentle loving, tonight I’d love nothing more than to be the man under your skirt.”

Lily smirks, grinning like a cat that got the cream. “I know. Why else do you think this gown is so bloody wide?”

They rush off to find a bathroom stall.

—-

“No luck?”

“I can’t fit in any of these stalls, Ben. The skirt is too wide,” Lily responds, pouting.

Ben sighs deeply and runs a hand through his hair. “Stand in front of a sink.”

Lily’s eyes go wide. “Benjamin Jones, are you serious? Anyone could walk in here and see us!”

Ben nods. “I don’t fucking care. Let them see.”

Lily sighs and looks up at Ben to see if he’s actually serious, and he nods to a sink. She releases a resigned breath and does as she’s told.

Ben promptly ducks under her skirts and taps her thighs, and she spreads her legs to give him room. She’s wearing black mesh panties, and he can see that she’s freshly waxed, with only a tiny bit of pubic hair.

“Oh… you planned for this, didn’t you?” Ben says with a grin.

Lily huffs, her face burning under her foundation. “Well… yes, of course I did! But I didn’t plan for it to happen this publically!”

Ben chuckles and shakes his head, gently kissing her thigh and causing her leg to shake. “Don’t worry, darling. This won’t take long. You’re already soaking wet, and I know what I’m doing.” He kisses further up her thigh, one hand holding her leg firmly in place. “Just relax and let me take care of you.”

She lets a moan and squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the counter. After five minues of Ben’s tongue doing magical things to her clit, he tugs the thin panties aside and strokes her folds with one finger. His hot breath and amazing tongue and finger combined with the tight grip on her thigh-- she knows she’s close.

Just as she’s about to come, Lucy walks in the bathroom, and she clenches up, all chance of orgasm gone. Ben has frozen up too, so Lily is just standing there with his tongue on her clit and his finger inside of her while their best friend has no clue.

“Hi, Lily!” Lucy says, waving to her friend before frowning at her flushed face. “Is everything alright? You’re so red!”

‘I have our mutual friend’s mouth on my vagina. Everything is great.’

“Oh, it’s nothing! The dress is just heavy, that’s all,” Lily tells the blonde woman. “It’s not easy to walk around in.”

Technically that isn’t a lie. The dress is heavy, and she has had to have assistance to walk around at the event.

Lucy nods. “That makes sense. The dress is magnificent, but highly impractical.”

Lily laughs. “Isn’t that true of most fashion, darling?”

Lucy nods. “It is.” She takes a moment and sighs, smiling. “Tonight has been wonderful. I’m sure Freddie is happy.”

Does it feel wrong to think about one’s father while there’s a mouth on your clit and a finger inside of you? Yes. It does.

“Freddie is probably ecstatic right now,” Lily says, grip tightening on the counter as Ben continues slowly.

Lucy laughs. “I’m glad. The boys are celebrating. By the way, where’s Ben?”

‘Under my dress. Pleasuring me with his tongue.’

“I don’t know. He was in the auditorium last I saw him, but—“ Ben hits her G-spot and she has to take a moment. “Ah. Just some period cramps. Sorry.”

Lucy looks over and pats her shaking hand.

“I’m sorry. I have some Advil back at the hotel if you’d like it,” she says.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you, lo—“ Lily kicks Ben when he hits a sensitive spot, and he pulls away, crawling out from under her dress in pain.

Lucy looks amused. “Do you want the Advil, Ben?”

Ben is all flushed and his hair is a mess. There’s red lipstick on his mouth and his pants have dust on the knees from where he was kneeling.

“That would be great, Lucy. Thanks.” He looks down, beet red.

Lily scratches the back of her neck, and Lucy smiles at the couple.

“It was about time you two figured it out. I’m glad you did!”

Lily and Ben mumble their thanks, and Lucy finishes washing up.

“Joe wants to pick up snacks at 7/11 with you, Ben. Lily, Anusha is waiting for you. Come out once you’re ready and we’ll be on our way,” Lucy says. “Congrats!” She calls out as she leaves the bathroom.

Lily helps Ben up and sorts him out, sighing.

“I’m sorry, love. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Ben smiles and kisses her forehead after she cleans up the lipstick. “It’s alright. That was fun.”

Lily smiles at his flushed appearance and kisses him, tasting herself on his lips.

When they leave the bathroom, Brian, having spotted them, gives Roger twenty pounds for losing their bet of whether Lily and Ben would confess to each other tonight.

—

“So we have Sun Chips, Doritos, tortilla chips, queso, and guac. Do we need anything else?” Joe asks, holding some of the items in his arms.

“I think that’s all,” Ben says, only really half engaged in the conversation. He’s still thinking about Lily.

“Is something wrong, Ben? You seem distracted,” Joe asks, frowning.

Ben lets out a little laugh and shakes his head. “No, not at all. I mean, I’m distracted, but it’s not for a bad reason.”

Joe nods, smiling. “I’m glad you and Lily figured it out, really. I’ve been waiting for that to happen for such a long time.”

“Thanks, mate. I appreciate it. How’s Anusha?” He asks, following Ben as they head up to the checkout.

Joe grins. “She’s amazing, Ben. She’s gorgeous, funny, and I’m not uncomfortable around her. We get along really well.”

After they check out, Ben walks back to the Uber with Joe and after they get in, he smiles at his friend. “Do you think you and her could date?”

Joe thinks for a moment before nodding. “I do. I really like her.”

Ben grins. “As long as I’m best man at the wedding, I’ll support you.”

Joe flushes and Ben laughs, and as they head back to the hotel, they bask in their happiness.

—-

“Then Lucy walks in—“

“He’s still under your dress?”

“Yes! So we’re talking and he hits a sensitive spot and I kick him, and he exits the skirt in pain,” Lily finishes, reapplying her mascara.

Anusha cracks up, clapping her hands. “Lily!”

“What?” She looks over at her friend, confused.

“I never took you to be an exhibitionist, but I guess life is full of surprises,” Anusha comments, grinning.

Lily rolls her eyes and shakes her head fondly, picking up her nude lipstick. “Shut up. How’s it going with Joe?”

Anusha grins, pausing her makeup routine. “He’s amazing, Lily. I couldn’t have imagined a better person to go to an awards show with.”

Lily raises a brow. “Do you want to date him?”

Anusha nods furiously. “I’m never letting him go, mate! He’s been perfect. Why would I give up that?”

Lily raises her hands in defense. “Alright! Ease up, Nush. I’m glad you like him. He’s a really nice guy, and you two will make a great couple.”

Anusha grins and adjusts her cocktail dress, looking over herself in the mirror. Lily looks over at her and nods in approval, liking the way the dress looks on her. Anusha lets out a satisfied hum and smiles before looking over at her friend’s dress and raising a brow.

“You’re certainly going for easy access tonight, aren’t you, Lily?”

She shrugs and looks in the mirror, turning in her metallic, low cut dress with lantern sleeves and a short skirt, the deep plunging fabric left leaves little to the imagination.

“I didn’t get to come in the bathroom. He has a job to finish,” Lily says, smiling. “After all, now there’s no use in playing coy after what happened earlier.”

Anusha smirks and pats her friend on the back with a knowing grin. “If you can walk tomorrow, I’ll know he didn’t do his job well enough.”

Lily’s suite soon fills up with guests, and the alcohol begins flowing. The boys finally get back from their trip and the snacks quickly become the center of attention, and as Lily heads over to get some guacamole and chips, she feels someone put a hand on her shoulder and turns to see Sarina smiling at her. She hugs the woman and grins.

“How’d you enjoy the ceremony, Sarina?” Lily asks, looking up at the woman.

Sarina grins. “It was wonderful! I loved it. Roger and Brian are very pleased with how everything turned out.” Her grin becomes a smirk. “How did you enjoy the ceremony?”

Lily laughs. “It was great. The boys deserve this, as do Roger and Brian. But I know you’re not asking about that.”

Sarina shrugs. “It was bound to happen and we both know it. Roger had a bet with Brian about it, and he won. He’s ecstatic that you two got together before he’s on his death bed.”

She rolls her eyes. “He certainly has a flair for the dramatic, doesn’t he?”

Sarina lets out a small laugh. “That he does. I’ll leave you to find your man and I’ll go off to find mine. Have a fun time, Lily.”

She kisses her aunt’s cheek and continues walking, and feels a large, warm hand on her hip. She looks up at Ben and smiles, placing her hand on his chest.

He leans down and kisses her cheek. “You certainly chose an easier dress for me to take off of you, didn’t you?”

She smirks and kisses him gently. “I’m glad you like the view, darling. I figured after the hassle of the first dress you deserved something a little more easy access.”

Ben grins and kisses her back, tugging on her bottom lip as he pulls away. She looks up at him with dark eyes, and he raises a brow. “You want to go to your room now?”

Lily sighs, looking down. “We should be a little subtle. Let’s wait a little bit. Once people are drunker, we can slip away and nobody will notice.”

Ben nods, kissing her forehead. “Sure thing, Lil.” He leans in close to her ear and whispers, “I can’t wait to absolutely ruin you.”

Her knees go weak and she looks up at him with a smile. “Was that a threat or a promise?”

Ben smirks and pinches her ass. “It’s whatever you want it to be.”

She raises a brow and grins. “I’ll see you later in my bedroom, Benjamin.” She pulls him down and whispers in his ear. “If I’m able to walk tomorrow, I’ll be upset with you.”

She walks off, hips swaying. Ben’s eyes follow her body, and she grins, feeling him follow her.

Joe is already very drunk, and so is Anusha. They sit together on the couch, leaning against one another.

“We should do karaoke!” Joe exclaims. “Can we get a karaoke machine?”

Anusha gasps and puts a hand on his chest. “We should totally get a karaoke machine. You’re a genius, Joey.”

Joe blushes and grins at her, holding her hand. “Will you sing with me?”

Anusha nods, smiling. “It would be my honor.”

Lily looks over at Ben with a knowing look, and he nods, impressed.

Joe points at Lily. “Call the front desk. We need a karaoke machine, stat.”

Gwil stands up from his place on the couch. “I’ll get it. You stay sitting, Lily.”

Lily smiles at Gwil gratefully and leans back, Ben’s hand resting on her shoulder. She moves closer to him and smiles.

—-

Surprisingly enough, this hotel can provide karaoke machines. Joe hollers as the machine is set up by a level headed Ezichi.

Anusha looks over at Lily. “You should do it!”

Lily chuckles. “What song do you propose I perform?”

Joe grins as he looks at her. “Another One Bites the Dust.”

Anusha nods enthusiastically and she nods, smiling. “I’ll appease you drunken idiots.”

“I’m not an idiot!” Anusha insists.

“I’m not drunk!” Joe adds, pouting.

Ben snorts in laughter and Lily shakes her head fondly before standing up when Gwil cues up the song and hands her the microphone.

Her performance is captivating. The dress combined with her moves, and the eye contact she makes with the rest of the group as it continues is amazing. She ends up on Ben’s lap, with her hands resting behind his neck and his own on her waist. She feels his trousers getting tighter in the crotch and smiles at the good work she’s done. The crowd cheers her on and she stands to bow, and walks off to the kitchen. She’s intercepted by Roger, Sarina, Brian, and Anita, and hugs her family.

“Turning in for the night?” She asks.

Brian smiles and ruffles her hair. “We’re too old to party like this. The rock and roll lifestyle isn’t meant for the elderly.”

She grins and kisses his cheek. “Well thanks for coming anyways. I appreciate it.”

Anita smiles and hugs her niece. “We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The couple leaves after saying goodnight, and after Sarina exits the room, Roger presses a small plastic square in her hand. She looks down at the condom and back at her uncle, pressing her lips together. Roger grins and ruffles her hair, kissing her forehead before leaving the room. She sticks the condom in the waistline of her dress and walks back to the kitchen, where she pours herself a glass of water.

She feels hands on her waist and breath on her neck and smiles, closing her eyes. “How’d you like my performance, Benny?”

Ben’s grip on her waist tightens. “I think everyone is drunk enough.”

She turns in his arms and presses her hips against his own, looking up at him demurely. “Promise to make me scream, Hardy?”

Ben leans down, eyes darkening. “That would be detrimental to your career if we make that a habit, y’know.”

She shrugs. “I know. I’m sure hickeys all over your neck and chest would be detrimental to yours as well. I suppose these can be our mutual indulgences.”

Ben smirks and rests on hand on her cheek, brushing back a curly strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m happy to oblige your desires, and wish for you to do as you please with me.”

Lily leans in, placing one hand on his chest. “What are we waiting for then? I have so many plans for you.”

The two of them walk into the bedroom and lock the door, and Lily pulls out the condom. Ben looks amused.

“Roger’s gift,” she explains, smiling as she throws the condom onto the nightstand.

Ben grins and pulls her close, kissing her and gripping her hips tightly in his big hands. She wraps her arms around the back of his neck and leans into him, jumping up to hitch her thighs around his waist. He supports her weight effortlessly, and his hands cradle her ass.

“I’ve been waiting so long for this to happen,” Lily says when they pull apart, catching their breath.

She gasps as Ben pushes her against the wall. “I’ve been attracted to you since the day I met you.” He begins sucking kisses down her neck. “When I saw you with Joe at the Golden Globes, I was so angry with myself.”

Lily moans and fists Ben’s hair. “Why were you mad? You’re the one who asked him to take me.”

Ben grinds into her and looks up at her, pushing her dress off her shoulders to reveal her chest. “Because you looked gorgeous, and you could’ve been my date. But I was an idiot who was too scared to ask you.” He kisses down her collarbones, leaving angry red marks all over. He relishes in her little sounds, and the cursing, and his name being said like a prayer. “I could’ve been doing this to you before the show if we had figured ourselves out sooner. You’d barely be able to walk on the red carpet, leaning on me for support. Everyone would know why you’d be unstable, since you don’t drink. The headlines would be proclaiming how filthy of a couple we are.”

Lily gasps as he nips her breast. “Do you always talk this much during foreplay, or am I just a lucky woman?”

He grins and looks up at her flushed face. “You like it?”

She nods, pupils dilated. “So much. Please don’t stop.”

He raises a brow. “Not even to finish eating you out?”

“...I can make an exception.”

He moves her to the bed and finishes what he started in the bathroom.

---

She spends five minutes composing herself before shakily sitting up in bed. Ben is taking off his white jacket, and she clears her throat, leaning against the pillows.

“Ben.”

He turns around to look at her and takes off his jacket. “Yes, love?”

“Let me,” she says, sitting on the edge of the bed.

He sits next to her on the bed and she straddles his lap, beginning to undo his bow tie. She can feel the bulge in his pants and smiles, tossing the tie aside and beginning to undo the buttons. “I’ve got you all worked up, haven’t I?”

He lets out a small laugh and squeezes her hips. “You’ve had me worked up since the day I met you.”

She smiles and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders. He takes off the shirt and she runs her hands over his chest slowly, eventually getting onto her knees and undoing his belt. “I’ve always thought you were very pretty, Ben.” She unzips and unbuttons his pants, and feels his thighs tense up.

“In college my friends and I would talk about our celebrity crushes, and, well…” He helps her take off his pants and slips off his shoes after she unties them. “You were always mine.”

She smiles as he leans down and kicks off his socks, and kisses him, chuckling. “We really have been into each other for the longest time.”

Ben’s breath catches in his throat as she kisses up his thighs, looking up at him. She puts one finger in the waistband of his briefs and looks up at him for permission. When he nods frantically, she pulls down his underwear and tosses it aside.

Ben isn’t the biggest she’s ever seen, but he’s proportional and thick, and she knows that he’ll feel good. She can’t wait to take him. She takes him in her hand and begins slowly pumping, and his muscles practically ripple with the release and uptake of tension in his body.

“Relax, love. I’ll take good care of you.” She presses a kiss to the head of his cock and he releases a sweet moan.

The sounds of drunken karaoke in the background are ignored, and Lily focuses on Ben’s noises as she takes him in her mouth.

---

The wet slapping sounds of skin on skin fill the room, and Lily moans out her lover’s name as he’s propped up above her, holding onto the headboard of the bed and her waist. He grunts into her neck, and she rakes her fingernails down his muscular back.

Sex has never felt this good. Sure, Frank made her orgasm, but he never made her feel quite like this. Ben sets a good pace and is incredibly attentive to her needs. She’s not afraid to voice what she wants him to do, but she’s more than happy to let him have his way with her.

She’s always enjoyed being submissive. Luckily for her, Ben enjoys being dominant.

“Lil… fuck, Lil. I can’t hold out much longer,” he groans, leaning into her neck.

Lily moans, her fingers tugging on his curls. “Me neither. Speed up-- oh! Yes! Like that!”

Ben moans as he comes, and Lily shouts out his name, orgasming at the exact same time as him.

She kisses him gently as he lays down partially on top of her, his head resting next to hers on the pillows.

“I love you,” he whispers. Her heart soars.

“I love you too, Ben.” She smiles and moves so he can dispose of the condom.

When he comes back, he brings her into his arms, and she entangles her legs with his, resting her head on his warm chest. She yawns, cuddling up to him. He closes his eyes and smiles, and they fall asleep in each others’ arms.

When they’re walking to the terminal, Lily tries to avoid Ben’s eyes, because she knows that he’s smirking. She is beyond sore, and it is painful to move after everything he did to her the night before.

They board the plane quickly and after Ben puts his and Lily’s carry on luggage in the overhead bins, he settles in his window seat. She sits next to him and immediately rests her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes and sighing.

“Did the Advil help?” He asks, kissing the top of her head.

“Not really,” she mumbles. “I can barely walk, you wanker.”

He laughs and places a hand on her thigh, smiling. “You’re welcome.”

She smiles slightly and when Gwil and Ezichi sit in the middle two seats next to them, Ezichi grins at the sight. Gwil holds her hand and smiles as well, because he’s never seen Ben this content before.

After the plane takes off, Lily readjusts herself and curls up against Ben, and he holds her, closing his eyes. The pair fall asleep entangled in each others’ embrace.

Gwil stands up and takes a picture of them, and once they land on the ground, he posts it on instagram with the caption “It took ten months. @joemazzello”

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imababblekat · 6 years ago

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Imagine Prowl Feeling Jealous Of Bumblebee’s Close Friendship With His Cybertronian/Gem Crush

(A/N: While this is mostly focused on Prowl and his crush, it can be interpreted that Bee is developing one as well.)

“What are you two doing?”

Paint brushes halted, yellow and (g,c) paint falling to the ground and making messy splatters on the factory floors. The wielders of said art tools looked up to the ninja bot like two young children being caught in the act of something mischievous by their mother.

“What’s it look like?”, Bumblebee spoke up, covered in your frames theme color.

“Like you’re making a huge mess.”, Prowl stated un-amused, arms crossed and optic ridges narrowing.

You stifled a giggle, continuing your work on Bee while also trying not to ruin the yellow paint he covered you in.

“No-well yes-but no! You see, my dear Prowl, Bee and I are switching places for a day to see who takes the longest to figure out who’s who!”

“Brilliant right?!”

Prowl let out an audible groan, placing a servo to his shaking helm as you two continued to cover each other in the others color. Sure, perhaps you shared the same protoform mold as the young bot in front of you, but you two weren’t that similar. For starters, though metal appearing, the plates of your amour had a crystal sheen to them, something that clearly shown through the thick globs of paint slapped onto you. There were other factors as well, such as the different voices (though Prowl supposed you two could figure out how to switch that if either of you had the processor cell to do so), you’re very obvious carbon fiber infused clothing (something that Bee could not produce), and other more things that would give you two away in a nano second.

“If it’s so brilliant, Bumblebee, then amuse me in explaining how you’ll be wearing magical shorts and hoodie?”

Bumblebee opened his intake confidentially, but then frozen.

“Scrap, I didn’t think about that. . .”

“I did!”, you suddenly piped, pulling out some badly sewn together drapes to make up the clothing you wore on your body.

Prowl wanted to laugh at how ridiculously put together they looked, but held strong and kept his stoic appearance. He then watched as you and Bee struggled to get the items of clothing onto the young scout, fussing and tugging to get it over kibble and more prominent parts of his Cybertronian form. Once it was finally, somehow, on the young bot, you took the liberty of grabbing a full paint bucket of your color and dumping it over him. Bumblebee stood there drenched and struggled to keep his optics open from the drooping liquid, vents huffing in coughs as he attempted to strike a model pose.

“Tada!”

Prowl simply stared at the two of you, taking in Bumblebee’s harsh gags, and your attempt to paint the small black stripes of his helm onto your own. Buffoons, absolute idiotic buffoons is what you two were.

“I’m going to mediate.”, was all the serious mech had said, turning on heel and walking away from the confused expressions of both your faces.

Sometime had passed since that absurd scene Prowl had caught you two in, but as much as he tried pushing the gleefully dumb expressions on your faces, he just couldn’t. It bothered him, not the silly prank itself, but the reactions it caused from you. The way you smiled so brightly at Bee as he wore your work of art, or the cute, adorable scrunched up expression you’d make when said bot would get close to your face to fix any minor mistakes. Hell, just Bumblebee being in such proximity to you in general spurred a sick feeling in his spark.

“They’re just friends.”, Prowl mumbled to himself, fixing his posture as he sat in a meditative pose.

“But so are you.”, is what his clouding mind would echo back to him.

Prowl grunted frustratingly as it seemed tonight, he would not be able to clear his processor as usual. It just really irked him. You and Bee and the friendship you both shared. If there was one thing Prowl could clearly determine tonight, was that he had unmistakably fallen for you, and boy did he fall hard. Before, seeing you and Bumblebee engage in whatever mischief you were up to didn’t bother him in the slightest, in fact he wouldn’t even so much as bat an eye at it. Now, however, it pulled at his spark’s strings, because he knows he could never be with you the way Bee is. He’s not as open, not as uppity or boisterous. Prowl wasn’t a negative mech, but his calm demeanor was a stark contrast to the bouncing personality of Bumblebee’s.

Prowl thought of you and Bumblebee more; thought of you more. You were a rarity, something unheard of, but certainly not one of monstrosity or hideousness. Far from it actually! A home world Gem, somehow by the beautiful wonders of the universe, crossed with that of a Cybertronian. You came from the harshness of two worlds, but brought a beauty and light like no other in the way a geode was rough on the outside but a striking cluster of beauty on the inside. This, along with other in depth descriptions of Prowls enamor for you, is what the ninja bot felt, but with the closeness you shared with a certain yellow Autobot, he wouldn’t be the only one who did for long.

Prowl’s servo’s shook as he thought about this fact, and with it he also felt deep confliction. He knew what he was feeling, jealousy, something ugly and bound to ruin his friendship with his non stop talking friend as it had done with so many others. Bumblebee was, is, his friend! He shouldn’t feel such blinding hate and spite towards him when he’s done nothing wrong. Oh-but the sheer closeness between you two. The way he can so effortlessly make you laugh and smile without even trying; it all makes Prowl just seethe and shake and-

A loud ring snatches Prowl from his insecure, jealous, and poisoning thoughts, and it takes a second before he realizes it’s his comm link. With a deep inhale and exhale, he keeps his tone even and answers.

“Yes Ratchet; what is it?. . .What do you mean they-I-I’m on my way!!”

Prowl quickly transformed, hanging up on the doc and rushing to the other side of the factory base. Once in the area of the makeshift medbay, he changed back to bi pedal mode, looking up at the sound of sniffling. Sari was there, sitting up in Bumblebee’s lap as the latter tried desperately to keep it together.

“It’s all my fault Sari. It was my idea that we-“

Sari’s brows furrowed further at her best friend choking up as he tried to speak. The young girl continued to hold his face in one hand and rubbed his knee plate in soothing motions to provide him some comfort as he was soon falling into escaped sobs. Prowl walked by the two, not wanting to bother his friends especially in the moment they were sharing, but also because he was focused on getting into the actual medbay itself. Before he could walk in, or even get a glance inside, his view and path was obstructed by the broad build of Optimus.

“What happened?”, Prowl question, his tone slightly harsh and demanding.

Optimus looked down and away from his blue visor, before looking back at his teammate. He placed a servo on Prowls shoulder to offer some comfort for what he was about to explain.

“Bumblebee and (y,n) went out to do some scouting when they were suddenly jumped by Starscream. He had mistaken (y,n) for Bee, and-“, Optimus let out a shaky breath before continuing,” he force activated (y,n)’s transformation cog.”

Now, Prowl would describe you as nothing but perfect. A miraculous miracle in the strange happenings of life, but not everything about you was truly flawless. The biggest con of your mixed Gem DNA and Cybertronian CNA, was that you struggled to transform. Add to that your corrupted gemstone, and transforming was practically near impossible for you. One could only imagine what consequences could come from trying to perform the act.

Prowl didn’t bother to ask his leader to see you, furry and frightened concern coursing through him and giving him the strength to push the larger bot aside. He felt his spark catch in his throat, optic visor fizzing when his sights landed on the slowly fading, cracked gemstone lying on the medical slab.

~xXx~

#tfa prowl x reader #tfa prowl #transformers animated imagine #transformers animated #transformers imagine #maccadam #scenario #drabble #imagine #gem reader #cybertronian reader #su crossover #angst #sorry!!#request #@gothicwatermelons-blog #imababblekat's writing

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akhmorns · 5 years ago

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temor

desiderium, noun an ardent desire or longing especially : a feeling of loss or grief for something lost

a retrospective study on how Sunwalker feels about the Crystal Tower and its guardian

Somewhere along the way she’s stopped thinking about it, she realizes.

The Crystal Tower looms over her like a skyscraper- dividing her heart in two like a trained knife. L’mihn looks up and sees red eyes and a love far too good for her tainted hands, undeserving and undeniably warm. Yet in her mind lies the dreadwyrm, and he sees years of imprisonment and suffering- chains too tight, the shackles wrought about his feet and hands are scarring. It is bittersweet, and every time she steps within the interior it is both exhilarating and excruciating.

It feels a lot like back then.

Here, leaning against the railing overlooking a beacon two promises in the making, she feels the worst she’s ever felt. L’mihn turns her gaze down to the guards standing in front as her thoughts drift. Sunwalker travels back, years ago, to a time when dragons didn’t make their homes in the hearts of little orphan girls and she could barely read Allagan scripts, when she stood looking up at the tower from miles away- a ray of blue against the purple miasma.

It looks much nicer here.

Back then, she had stayed awake countless hours listening to G’raha’s histories, entranced and undisturbed by the glory of the ghost of an empire. The stains of a legacy lost to the ages had yet to bury themselves, the thrill of advancements lost to history running deep in her heart. L’mihn had been enthused, elated, so entirely eager to traverse the Crystal Tower- Mor Dhona had become a second home and NOAH her temporary family, every moment she was not doing other work she would be there to scour the tomes with G’raha, trading quips and theories and getting lectured at by Rammbroes for distracting their key historian.

L’mihn remembers a time far later, when she had stopped by to say hello- where he had said she was just like him.

They’re nothing alike, really. L’mihn had claimed as much only to be given a doubtful smile and a change of subject. He would never wander with a wyrm hidden in his breast, wouldn’t split his aether to feel the thrill of a euphoria six calamities in the making. G’raha- her Raha, had laughed with her and gotten hissy with her when she had snuck him out to go Morbol hunting of all things, had the promise of a future in his heart when he closed the doors on her. Where he had been selfless, she had been selfish, where he had accepted the light of the future she had taken the sins of the past as her own- and as she blinks the tower and the setting sun come into focus once more.

Well she’s crying now. Great.

One time, a familiar face had told her dwelling on the past would just hurt her more- and while then the circumstances were different, she was mourning the loss of a dear friend who had saved her life, she feels the sentiment come up again. L’mihn is over the pain of losing friends, but this isn’t the loss of a friend, she knows full well what this is. Somewhere along the way she’s stopped thinking about it, she realizes- the sacrifices she’s made for power, the self destructive nature that’s consumed her and sworn her into her fantasy of dying a hero. The bittersweet feeling she gets when she looks up the Crystal Tower, the guilt she feels when the Exarch claims her achievements, her heroism- it’s all led to this.

Once again, L’mihn Sunwalker has fallen into the routine of wanting to go back to better times. It hurts to admit, there’s really no way someone hasn’t seen her crying in the middle of the aetheryte plaza, on the balcony overlooking a painful realization. Once again, she stands at the foot of a slow dance with ghosts. In Ala Mhigo she thought she had solved it, accepted her legacy and moved on- and in a way she had. In her heart she had promised to Master Sari to keep the art alive, promised her dead father to stop crying over him, promised the scions to be more open, to understand she wasn’t hated for what she’s done- that it was okay, and she had. L’mihn wonders where things changed, and as she looks up at the sky it hits her.

Ah. The light.

Blistering, a freezing cold that tears her skin apart and cuts into her like a million pieces of glass. L’mihn still feels the remnants, even if the light is tame the scar is still real and sometimes she still feels like she’s dying. It reminded her a lot of back then- of when she had first gotten the brilliantly stupid idea to absorb a portion of the dreadwyrm’s aether: the explosion of pain, the burning of skin and lungs and the blood. Yet it felt nothing like the light, where the dreadwyrm had only stained her eyes the light had stained her entire being. In the end she lived, they lived- even though Ardbert doesn’t talk to her anymore it feels wrong to not include him. Eventually the scars will heal, and even if some days the passing mountain range will remind her of a friend who understood, she will move on.

The real problem has always lain with her.

Somewhere along the way L’mihn has understood she wasn’t really quite the same. This road she’s walked before, in the cold streets of Ishgard as she struggled to come to terms with the dreadwyrm that nested in her aether, is the same one she’s facing again. The light in all of it’s fracturing glory- has lain itself across the road as a reminder she will never be quite the same. The truth of it had always been there, and L’mihn had always ignored it, but Hades’ final words come to mind and she can’t anymore. In a way, it’s relieving. That she is not a monster- that the friend that mended her aether is and was always her, that the dreadwyrm sitting in her head is just a remnant, but she is afraid.

It’s fear. The fear that the little orphan girl will one day die in the shade of souls that are not just hers that L’mihn will no longer think about the late nights when she had little to do but read tales, that when she loses the days spent starving she will lose everything she is and was. It’s the fear that she’s lost herself.

Rammbroes comes to mind again, clearer this time, as she’s overlooking Silvertear Falls she mentions something about keeping the summoning art alive as a promise. The laughter behind her is clear in her head and she wants to turn around but this is a memory and she never did turn around, Rammbroes makes the passing comment that she’s just like him. When she turns around she crosses her arms and pouts- something about still being here when he wasn’t and it gets dropped there.

The Crystal Tower looms over her like a constant reminder of times gone by, of how much she’s changed and how much it’s scaring her. On one hand, he’s just like her- stuck with a purposeful demon wishing for days gone by as time goes by, and on the other- he’s nothing like her, he’s selfless and willing and entirely too good for a selfish girl like her. Between them lays Bahamut, in all of his freed glory- bitter and spiteful and angry, across the light stained road that’s being paved by the weight of who she really is. L’mihn stops leaning on the railing. It really was the perfect beacon, she realizes, the perfect bridge between a better time and the time that exists now, the unity of the passion of the adventurer she was and the fear of the hero she’s trained to be.

Rammbroes was right; she was going to pay G’raha a visit.

Somewhere along the way she’s forgotten about it.

#ff14 #ffxiv #shadowbringers spoilers #5.0 spoilers #G'raha Tia #anyway I vomited this out to an intense flamenco track and now i'm SAD #this is theoretically the pt 1 to the fic i posted earlier #this is more like her thoughts BEFORE she busts through his door lmao

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moonlit-nightingale · 5 years ago

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.:Helios:.

Warning(s): None.

Origin Date: 18 June 2019

As Sari struggles being alone once more, he finds company someplace he never thought he would.

----♦•♦----

He was honestly surprised that Ritsuka hadn’t said anything to him yet every time he handed Tani over to the miqo’te’s care. The stern quartermaster, much to Sari’s gratitude, never asked where the Xaela went. Perhaps it was because Sari returned mostly sobered up and of sound mind each time. There was no perceived neglect or danger to the little Auri girl. Sari may have been suffering and falling down a self-destructive path once more but he wouldn’t let Tani be caught up in it. He always refused to return to Ritsuka’s office before he felt well enough to do so.

There had been one disconcerting time that Ritsuka had demanded to see his flesh arm and the Qalli had been quite confused. But after a firm exam of the tanned skin, it hit him why. He was being checked for drug use. On some level, Sari was grateful that the cat was so thorough and protective of Tani. On some level it was almost amusing. No, he wouldn’t go that far. Ever.

At least he tried to assure himself of that. The bartenders about Kugane were beginning to recognize the Xaela at their places of business now. They were quick to have the strong liquor on hand and didn’t ask why. When Sari drank, he just wanted to be left alone in a dark corner. If prodded, well, it was never good. An instance of him starting a barfight, which he’d won, had taught one barkeep that. Though Sari was quick to repay for any damages and the disturbances afterward.

This evening he just couldn’t settle. He didn’t feel like waking up with a headache the next day so he merely had enough to take the edge off that dark cloud that hung over him. There was a garden bed that was in need of care in the morning and sitting out in the sun with a hangover was just terrible. That was one difference Sari had made in his drinking, he could still function for the most part. He didn’t neglect his chores; he kept to taking care of the temple’s greenery and ensured that there was always some meal to grab for those that wandered down to the kitchen.

So that meant everything as alright, eh?

Sari rubbed a hand over his face as he wandered down the busy evening streets in the Rakuza District where a good majority of the bars were tucked away from the open air markets hawking their marvelous textiles. The establishments here were less pristine than the ones in Kogane Dori but that suited the Xaela just fine. It was more of a chance that he’d be left alone. And they were also much quieter. Maybe he should stop in for one more drink?

A call his direction of an unfamiliar voice made him blearily look up. It was towards him, right? Ah. A rather lovely woman with a kimono draped low on her shoulders was trying to wave him over. A wry smirk crossed his face and he waved a hand. If only she knew. Besides there were likely plenty of other patrons she could prey on. But as he went to walk, hands settled on his arm, unfortunately his left one. A shame, perhaps if she’d felt the metal hidden under the glove and yukata sleeve of his right, she’d be spooked enough to leave him be.

An invitation to join for company. No, he’d politely enough declined. Ah, but they had liquor in their waiting area which doubled as a bar…?

Silvery eyebrows knit at the prospect. That sounded like a terrible thing to walk into, some instinct nagged at him. Fortunately said instinct was dampened by a bottle of sake at the moment! And he acquiesced, being led into the brothel’s entryway. It was clean, tidy, simple. Indeed a small bar took up part of the entryway with a few patrons that already had bought company for the night. There was nothing too obviously lewd in the front of the place… Sari could deal with this. And so he sat on one of the low benches at the bar and paid in advance for another bottle. Sakura sake? Well, bring it on. It was no surprise to pay in advance in a place like this, let alone the rather inflated prices. But he didn’t care.

The Qalli was a few sips in, cheek resting on one palm tiredly and gloved fingers holding the ceramic choko loosely between them. It was empty. A deep sigh. Why was it always empty? He could’ve sworn he’d just filled it. He reached for the bottle before someone took it first. Instantly that cold anger flared in his stomach as he looked to who dared?!

He was a hyur likely not too much older than himself, just a tad taller than the small-framed Au Ra. Handsome, he noted at the back of his mind.

“Pardon sir, let me serve you.” His Common was decent, the slightest traces of a Hingan accent in the words. A calming deep tone to them and a practiced smile.

Sari gave a very inelegant sound of a reply and offered out his cup. The man indulged with an odd grace that should’ve set off alarm bells within the hunter. But he was able to drink more and that’s what mattered. He was starting to pass a tad past tipsy now. This was usually when he stopped most nights. The bottle was so expensive though.

“You have me for the evening, please ask whatever you wish.”

‘Have…?’ What? Sari nearly spit out his next sip and barely stopped making a fool of himself, his free hand coming up to cover his mouth. The glowing blue shifted over to that handsome form next to him. Dressed in a simply patterned grey yukata, the Xaela never guessed that /that/ was why this man had joined him! Ah, it made sense. Who would approach him anyway without being paid? The bitter smile returned with a harsh laugh.

“I suppose my reaction to the woman from earlier means they sent you instead.” Ah, proudly, his words weren’t that slurred at all! “I’m sorry but I’m not interested in…that.”

His guest just chuckled at that, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter in quite a relaxed manner. He really was quite handsome, short dark hair but to just above his shoulders, sides pulled back to display that distinctly Eastern face, dark eyes that had a surprisingly amount of light to them for this slice of work.

“We don’t have to do ‘that,’” he teased lightly. “I can sit here quietly or talk. Your drink covers my salary for the night, sir.”

Salary…not a slave then? Good. Sari would’ve been mortified to even /walk/ into a place that did such a thing.

“That explains why it was so expensive,” Sari muttered before taking another sip from the choko. Ah, he was being rude wasn’t it. “I mean, it does. But…” How could his fuzzy mind phrase that politely?

It seemed the young man was quite unbothered, if amused! He scooted a bit closer on the bench. “You can call me Hiroji. And you, Master…?”

“I don’t need any titles.” He paused between nursing his drink. “…Sari.”

“Sari then. Tell me about yourself if you just wish to sit and talk, hm?”

Such a thing would usually raise his hackles with a total stranger but for some reason the Xaela found his tongue loose. And he talked. And Hiroji was attentive and kept his cup full. There was something soothing about spilling everything out to someone he’d likely never see again. Cathartic. How long he blabbered on, Sari wasn’t sure. There had been some tears but fortunately he didn’t end up blubbering like he did after some drinking nights. But he was emotionally worn out enough that when Hiroji gently pulled on his sleeve to stand, he didn’t protest.

He didn’t protest when the Hingan led him down that back corridor.

He didn’t protest when they entered a room and the partition door was slid closed.

There was only the slightest hesitation when there were soft fingers at his clothes. But they paused and that calm smooth voice said ‘at your whim.’ And then he didn’t protest again as his own hands reached out.

Why not? It didn’t matter anymore.

----♦•♦----

When Sari awoke in a futon not his own, there was tea waiting nearby with a note. Fortunately it was in Common. It seemed Hiroji’s writing was perfect.

‘This will ease your headache. Thank you for a wonderful evening. I apologize for leaving but I have my other job to get to. I hope to see you here again soon, Master Sari.’

He read it over at least five times, the headache pounding behind his eye. No, wait, he hadn’t.

Oh they had.

The Xaela collapsed back in the futon and pulled the blankets over him. It came back slowly, the previous night. There had been no fear, no apprehension as he’d always association with physical intimacy. He had a bit of ache to his body that he was familiar with but it wasn’t…like before. Like his encounters years ago…

A hand snuck out for the tea to sip in the sanctuary of the blankets. Unfortunately he wasn’t allowed to hide for long. The housekeeper for the brothel appeared not soon after to shoo him out, nearly in his bare skin! The tea had helped sharpen his mind back and he was simply a bit tired, likely dehydrated.

What had he done?

And worse, why didn’t he feel bad about doing such a thing with a stranger?

Magitek fingers rubbed over the simple band about his left ring finger. Maybe…this should be left behind. Just like he had been.

The Qalli had much to think about as he slowly walked back towards the piers that would ferry him to Shirogane.

…he’d visit again.

#short story

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phati-sari · 6 years ago

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Arshi FF: Charade - Chapter 27

Interlude 3 // Read on FFnet // Read on Wattpad

Chapter 27: Catering

Khushi

Khushi smoothed her hands over the pink salwaar suit she wore, adjusted her dupatta, and then stepped out into the corridor. Arnav-ji had gone out for a jog, and she was on her way to the morning puja.

"Good morning, Khushi-ji," Di greeted her brightly, "Can you please help with this?"

Skipping to Di's side with a smile, she helped with the puja preparations as the rest of the family filtered into the temple area. But she was distracted from her prayers by the return of her husband and watched as he murmured something to Om Prakash-ji before making his way towards the stairs. He slowed as he neared the temple and inclined his head in her direction in a silent greeting. His damp hair fell into his eyes. Her tummy swooped low as her cheeks and neck heated with a blush.

Hai Devi Maiyya, he's so handsome.

Khushi tried to concentrate on her prayers after shaking that errant thought out of her head, but it felt as though every fibre of her being was waiting for him to return. She was setting the table when he did, and her pulse stuttered when she saw that he was showered and dressed for work in blue and black.

They'd made progress last night. Or ... if not progress ... then they'd set their feet on a new path. Together. They had come to an understanding and were finally on the same page, a realization that inspired the nervous-excited flutter inside her.

"He told me you never wanted me. That all of it — the kiss, the dance, the earring — it was all a lie. A deception."

And here — finally — was a problem she could fix.

She couldn't beg him to trust, couldn't conjure up evidence to prove her innocence, couldn't force Shyam-ji into revealing himself. But she could show Arnav-ji that she wanted him. That she'd always wanted him, even when she hadn't known it herself.

Rounding the table, Khushi stood at her husband's side and began buttering toast for him. When he reached for the orange juice, looking amused by this change her routine, she hurriedly dropped the toast on his plate before grabbing the jug.

"What the—!"

"I'll do it," she smiled while pouring it into his glass, "You eat."

He grabbed her wrist and forced her into the chair beside him, "Sit. Eat."

A ripple of laughter travelled around the table as Di leaned forward, "Chhote, you're very concerned about your wife this morning."

Arnav-ji glowered at his sister and bit into his toast without comment. But a few minutes later, when everyone else was distracted by something Mami-ji said, he flashed a smile in her direction. After breakfast, Khushi followed her husband upstairs to help get his things together for work.

"I hope your day goes well," she handed him his phone after unplugging it from where he'd left it to charge.

He pocketed it distractedly, "Thanks, take care of yourself."

Khushi, be brave.

Arnav-ji looked up as she took a step forward, finally giving her all of his attention when they were close enough to touch. She didn't stop. He seemed to freeze as she wound her arms around his torso and rested her head against his shoulder.

Their embrace wasn't long. Khushi stepped away, trying to hide her blush behind her hair.

And her husband broke their not-quite-awkward silence, "Come to the door with me?"

#####

Khushi sighed as she watched Di knit something for her Rajkumari. He hadn't kissed her at the front door, but he'd smiled and squeezed her hand in farewell before leaving.

It's a start.

"What should we have for lunch today?" Anjali-ji didn't look up as she spoke.

"I can make something," Jiji's hands stilled over the sari she was embroidering, "I have to make something for Aakash anyway."

"I'll help!" Khushi popped up, eager for the distraction, "Jiji and I will make something special for everyone!"

"The servants can make something," Di shook her head, "You two should relax. It's only your first week in the house."

"No, Di, I need the ... I might go crazy if I sit around and do nothing today."

Hurrying to the kitchen, Khushi busied herself with the task gladly and chattered with her Jiji as they worked together. Di joined them as they were finishing up.

"Khushi-ji, Payal-ji, you've made so much food!"

"It should be enough for all of us, even Jija-ji and Arnav-ji," she smiled at her sister-in-law.

"It's enough for everyone who works at AR," Di picked up a salad platter, "This looks like it came from a five-star hotel!"

"That's very kind of you, Di, but I made that without paying attention."

"If this is what you can make without paying attention, imagine what you can do when you put your mind to it!"

Not knowing how to reply, Khushi ducked her head as they watched Di poke around in one of the pots.

"You know," Di said slowly, "I would suggest that you take this to AR but I'm sure Chhote has ordered pizza by now. The AR canteen is closed today."

"How do you know that?" Jiji echoed Khushi's surprise.

Di clapped her hands together with a mischievous smile, "My spies are everywhere!"

Khushi's heart leapt at the prospect of seeing Arnav-ji during the day.

"I can take this to the offices," she couldn't stop her grin, "Who would want to eat pizza when they could have this instead?"

It was quickly decided that Lalit-ji would drive both her and Jiji to the headquarters. Ecstatic, Khushi decided to make some jalebi to accompany the food and grinned when her sister joined her to help. She couldn't stop her hands from mixing up a batch without sugar.

Later, the food was packed into containers and laden into a white car, while she and Jiji bundled themselves into the back seat. Khushi noted that Jiji had found the time to change into a dark green sari and put her hair up into a complicated knot. She looked down at her pink salwaar, wondering if she should have changed as well.

But she put aside her doubts as the car slowed to a stop outside the offices. Lalit-ji helped them carry the things to the front entrance, where they were stopped by the security guards.

"You can't go inside," one of them said.

"Of course I can," Khushi grinned, "I have food for everyone."

"You still can't go inside."

"Do you know who I am?" she narrowed her eyes at the man, lowering her burdens to the floor.

A shrug from the second guard, "Khushi. You used to work here."

She pulled out her mangalsutra from behind her dupatta, "Khushi Kumari Gupta Singh Raizada. Don't you read the newspapers?"

The men faltered, their eyes seeming to widen with surprise as they stammered.

"Shall we call Arnav-ji?" Jiji spoke from behind her, "or may we go inside?"

The guards stepped aside with an apologetic smile.

"I'm ... I'm sorry ... Khushi-ji," one said, "Let me carry this for you."

"It's okay, I've got it," she gathered up her things, "Make sure you come inside to eat."

One of the guards held the door open for them while the other ran inside to speak with the lady at the reception desk. They marched inside without any more interruptions, and Khushi headed straight for the canteen to set everything up. The employees gathered around curiously.

"That's not the pizza we ordered," a man in cream coloured shirt said.

"You won't want pizza when you've tasted this," Khushi declared as the unpacked the food, "trust me."

"But Sir ..."

"It's okay, have some."

"Payal? Khushi-ji? What are you doing here?"

Aakash-ji frowned as he approached the counter they stood behind.

"We brought lunch," Jiji handed over the tiffin she'd lovingly prepared, "Khushi made enough for everyone."

Jiji and Jija-ji took their food to his office for privacy. Aakash-ji's arrival — and obvious approval — made some employees brave enough to draw near the counter. Khushi prepared plates for them, watching as the rest slowly formed a line. Her eyes anxiously darted to the door, hoping for a glimpse of her husband.

He arrived as she was finishing up.

"What the—!"

"Arnav-ji!"

"What are you doing here? And what's all this?"

Khushi faltered — he didn't seem as happy as she'd hoped. "I uhh ... I brought food for everyone b-because the canteen is cl-closed today."

Arnav-ji closed his eyes and took a deep breath, almost as if he were struggling for calm.

"In my cabin," his voice was a low and tinged with danger, "Now."

Khushi grabbed the special tiffin she'd packed for him before following, hurrying up the stairs and into his office as trepidation flooded her.

Please protect me, Devi Maiyya.

"Are you angry?" she asked once the door was shut behind her.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I told you ... I made food."

"What! For whom?!"

"Everyone. We ... Jiji and I made too much at home, and your ... your canteen was closed so we thought ... so I thought ..."

"Khushi!"

She smiled tentatively, forcing herself to ignore the anger in his eyes and step forward.

"It's okay, Arnav-ji. They liked it. And some people even requested food for tomorrow."

"No!"

"What?"

"Go home," his tone was all cold, quiet fury, sharp-edged and brittle.

"But—"

"—Get your things and go home, Khushi," he bit out.

His anger sparked her own, "No!"

"I'm telling you to—"

"—No, Mr Arnav Singh Raizada. I have as much right to be here as you do," she showed him her mangalsutra, "I'm your wife."

He froze, and so did she. Memories sprang to life between them.

"You understand that this is not real?"

"Yes."

"Papers to say that you will not ask for any part of the estate or company in the case of a divorce."

The anger seemed to seep out of the room, leaving only the bitter reminder of they'd come to be here. Dread pooled her in her tummy as she watched Arnav-ji close his eyes and suck in a deep breath.

"Khushi," he spoke softly, almost imploringly, "please go home. We'll talk later."

She spoke to her shoes, "I'll go once I've collected my things and Jiji is ready to leave."

Turning on her heels, she all but ran from the cabin as her throat closed around a sob.

The tiffin remained on his desk.

#####

Jiji, giddy with happiness from her private lunch, didn't seem to notice her melancholy mood on the way home.

"Daydreaming about your husband," she teased when Khushi had been inattentive for the third time, "Did you enjoy your lunch?"

"Arnav-ji was too busy to eat," Khushi forced a smile, "He'll eat when he can."

Jiji nodded, "It's okay. You know how hard he works."

Though she wanted to remind her sister that she'd been acquainted with the family first, and had known her husband for far longer, Khushi turned to the window without a word. At home, she let Jiji do most of the talking and busied herself by sweeping the poolside at the first opportunity.

Then she cleaned the temple area, tidied the storeroom, and fussed over the laundry the dhobi had returned.

"I'll go crazy sitting around all day," she waved the serving staff away when they tried to help.

She passed the hours this way until the chime of the doorbell announced the return of her husband. Then she retreated upstairs to fold and put away their clothes, dreading the confrontation she knew was coming.

Her husband entered the room in silence, standing next to the bed and placing a tiffin on the bedside table before turning to regard her. She studied his shoes.

You're not supposed to be angry. Not at me. Not anymore.

When Arnav-ji left the bedroom on a sigh, she slid their clothes into the wardrobe and sat on the edge of the bed to reply to a message from her mother. The door clicked open, signalling his return. She looked up when she heard something scrape against the carpet.

"The entire family knows we're not talking," he mentioned casually.

He dragged the sofa next to the bed and then did the same with the small white table. A large silver tray sat covered on the table.

"They asked if you wanted dinner," he elaborated as he worked, "and I said I'd take a tray. Di worried you were unwell after all the work you did today. So I had to tell her."

Oh.

She looked at the tray. He spoke again before she could give voice to the urge to apologise for worrying Di.

"Khushi ..." he dropped onto the sofa with a sigh, "You're going to drive me mad."

She watched curiously as he uncovered a meal. Chaat. Potatoes. Vegetarian biryani.

All her favourite things, things she'd told him about the other night.

Oh.

"Eat with me," Arnav-ji pushed the tray towards her.

When she didn't move towards the food, he broke off some roti and picked up the potato before holding it to her lips.

"Eat."

He ran a knuckle over her cheek after she accepted. Khushi shivered, closing her eyes as heat spread through her.

"Are you angry?" she asked hesitantly.

"No."

Noticing that he didn't seem interested in feeding himself, she put her phone aside and reached for the tray.

"Then?" she broke off a piece of roti and wrapped it around the sabzi.

He didn't answer. Khushi fed him, trying her best to keep her fingers clear of his lips.

"Some people asked for food for tomorrow as well," her voice wavered into their short silence, "They ordered things they want to eat."

"No," he prepared another morsel.

"But Arnav-ji—" her protest was cut off as he fed her again.

"No, Khushi. Once is enough."

"Why!?" she asked as soon as she was finished.

"Those are my employees. It looks ... odd ... if my wife is cooking for them."

"They're offering to pay me," she fed him.

"Hmmmpf," he swallowed quickly, "That's worse! You can't work for my employees. That would be very strange for me!"

"It's not strange!"

"Khushi, if you need money then—"

"—Look, I know you keep track of all your money, and that you lent me money for the clothes and then again on Holi, and I just want to make enough to repay you."

His hand froze between them, on its way to feed her again, "What?"

"I'll pay you back. I promise. I should have written it down and signed it, I know, but I promise I will. Is that for me?"

Arnav-ji fed her absently, seeming suddenly deep in thought.

"So you'll cook the food at here and take it to the office every day? Feed everyone?"

Khushi frowned as she fed him, "That doesn't sound right, does it?"

"There are kitchens there."

"So I go there in the morning, cook and feed everyone, and then leave with you in the afternoon? Like Madhu-Aunty used to? Well, without the leaving-with-you part."

"Yeah," his smile was small, "and as her replacement does now."

They mapped out a plan as they fed each other. It seemed reasonable, but doubt crawled into Khushi's mind.

"You mentioned that someone runs the canteen now. Will they mind?"

"I don't know. He seems ... unreliable."

She considered her options as she tidied up the tray.

"I ate everything but the jalebi," Arnav-ji titled the tiffin he'd placed on the bedside table towards her.

"And?" she reached for the sugar-free treats he offered.

"It was delicious."

Happiness soaked into her in a rush as he settled back on the sofa and bit into a jalebi.

He spoke again, "It will get you out of the house."

Away from Shyam-ji.

"Y-yes."

"Khushi, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Absolutely," she smiled at her husband.

Arnav-ji stood with the tray, "Okay then."

She stood as well, stopping him with a hand to his elbow.

"I'll take it down, you freshen up."

Nodding, he transferred the tray into her hands and walked to the wardrobe. Khushi carried the remains of their dinner — and his lunch — downstairs, where she was met with glad exclamations from the ladies in her family. She sat with them, enjoying the company after an afternoon spent alone, and was surprised when her husband appeared in the corridor leading to the stairs. He inclined his head towards the bedroom and left before anyone else noticed him.

Claiming tiredness, she rose to her feet to head upstairs. Arnav-ji was typing rapidly on his laptop as he lay back on the sofa — still next to the bed — and barely looked up as she entered. Unsure what she'd been expecting, Khushi crossed to the bathroom to change into a white night-suit and brush her teeth and hair.

The laptop was gone when she returned to the bedroom. Instead, Arnav-ji stared at the ceiling, one hand bent behind his head and the other draped across his middle. His hair fell into his eyes. Heat coursed through her as she noticed that his shirt had hitched up, revealing a strip of golden skin.

Why did you make him so handsome? she pouted mentally at her best friend.

Clearing her head with a cough, Khushi settled on the bed.

"What?"

He frowned, using that uncanny ability of his to read her discomfort.

"N-nothing."

But there was something. Before she could second-guess herself, she stretched to press a swift kiss to his cheek. He seemed to stop breathing altogether.

She leaned back, cheeks heating with a blush, "Thank you."

Arnav-ji hummed in response, tapping his fingers against his torso, and then suddenly reached out to capture her hand in his.

"What are you going to call it?"

"Gupta Raizada Lunch Service."

He snorted softly, "Why not Raizada Gupta?"

"Well ... I guess ... uhh ..."

"Forget it."

"Wait," Khushi twisted, sliding her feet under the covers as she faced him, "What about KKGSR Dabba Service?"

"Better," he ran his thumb over her knuckles.

Lost in his touch, she spoke without thinking, "Tell me something."

Arnav-ji twisted so he could meet her eyes, "What?"

"An-anything," she ventured, suddenly nervous, "Like ... like that other night when I told you ..."

He considered her, not unkindly, for a long moment. Then, turning, he spoke to the ceiling.

"I don't like karela, but everyone assumes I do. Because ... diabetes."

Khushi tried to stifle her giggle but he heard anyway.

"Shut-up, Khushi," he smiled.

"Sorry. But ... who would believe that Arnav Singh Raizada is forced to eat karela?"

"I like kheer, as you know," he ignored her, tightening his grip on her hand, "I like gardening."

He fell silent.

And then, as her eyelids became heavy, "I went to Laxmi Nagar after you said you were returning to Lucknow. I saw your house. There were locks on your door."

Air left her lungs all at once.

"Di wanted to go to the temple," he said by way of explanation.

Another short silence, in which she fiddled with her pillow with her free hand.

"I went looking for you on Janmashtami. You weren't where I left you. I thought ..." he trailed off, and only spoke again after three quick breaths, "I looked for you but you'd already returned home. I didn't come home until I knew you were okay."

In the silence, Khushi remembered the chaos of that night. Tricking him to the puja. His anger. Their argument. Him leaving in a squeal of a rage, spattering her with mud. The long walk home. That brief, inexplicable feeling of his nearness as she'd tried to make her Jiji smile.

He was really there.

"Those bangles ... I wanted you to wear something I'd gotten for you. Not NK. Me."

And while she was still recovering from the very earth tilting on its axis, Arnav-ji turned to her.

"That's enough for one night, hmm? Shall we sleep?"

She nodded, smiling a small smile as she processed everything he'd said.

Her hand was still in his, bridging the space between the bed and the sofa when sleep finally overtook her.

Chapter 28

#ipkknd #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #arshi #ipkknd ff #arshi ff #iwrotethis #mine #ff: charade

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erimeows · 3 years ago

Text

Crush

Bumblebee never imagined a world in which he’d be obsessed with Sentinel Prime, but there he was, staring longingly at the Elite Guard member’s back as him and his team watched fireworks together. Luckily for him, Jazz had convinced Sentinel to tag along.

The yellow Autobot sat there, half-engaged with the conversation Bulkhead was trying to have with him. He hated that he was missing out on the fireworks, but something about watching Sentinel seemed to captivate him more.

A cocksure smile on beautiful lips which released an even more beautiful midnight laugh into the air, earning a laugh back from Optimus Prime, who was sitting by the larger bot’s side on the rooftop they were all currently on.

Jazz and Prowl were walking around the rooftop, talking and pointing out the fireworks they liked, while Ratchet (who was completely sober) laid in a corner with Sari sitting next to him and stared at the sky silently. Bulkhead had been by Bumblebee’s side the whole night, which he appreciated, but still... He couldn’t help but be upset, just watching them.

His fixation with Sentinel had gotten bad since the Prime had come to earth, to the point that he had memorized the outline of those rough lips and burned the scent of the older bot into the back of his processor.

But no, it wasn’t because he had a crush on Sentinel Prime, his former sergeant, like everyone teased him for.

Instead, it was because of how in love he was with Optimus Prime, one of his closest friends and the leader of his repair-team-turned-squad-unit.

And it hurt. Primus, it hurt.

It hurt to watch Sentinel have what he wanted so easily, to use that magic touch of his as he tossed an arm over Optimus’s shoulders and chatted away with him like the old friend that he was despite all of the fucked up shit he had done to the younger Prime.

It hurt to watch Optimus turn to face the blue and gold bot and laugh, those plump lips curved into one of the only true and genuine smiles Bee had ever seen from him, the tension between the two rivals melted by the oil they’d all consumed and replaced with their blatantly obvious feelings for each other, those of which had always been there. It was almost like they were destined to be, two main characters in some sort of love story, while Bumblebee was a supporting character meant to push Optimus in that direction.

But, no. He was selfish, and he would never do such a thing, even if it meant seeing Optimus- because Primus be damned, he could make Optimus just as happy as Sentinel could if not happier, couldn’t he? He was selfish and greedy and wanted Optimus to himself, so he did what he could, and if that meant making everyone think he was in love with Sentinel Prime with the way he gawked at him, he was fine with that- because Optimus was too selfless to go after Sentinel if he thought Bee was interested, anyway.

That wasn’t his intention when he started watching Sentinel, initially. He’d just been trying to absorb whatever the hell it was about the large bot that Optimus loved so much, and everyone had misconstrued it, but it had worked out for him.

Or so he thought. Look at him now, though, ignoring his best friend in favor of staring at Sentinel and Optimus, neither of whom were even batting an optic in his direction.

And this was how his new year was starting, him wishing he had some semblance of whatever Sentinel Prime had that made Optimus fall so hard for him; confidence, strength, sharp optics, wit, bravery, or maybe it was something else like how Sentinel’s audials twitched when he was nervous, how his face plates burned red when he lied, or how good he was in the berth.

The thought brought him no peace, and it brought him no rest. He heard Sentinel sneaking into Optimus’s room at night quite frequently, and though he never knew what happened in there, the thought of Sentinel and Optimus intertwined underneath the younger Prime’s berthsheets, whispering sweet and filthy things alike in each other’s audials, kept him awake and anguished.

Bumblebee felt himself frown at that, lips pulled tight and mouth tasting bitter. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so negative, but when it came to his feelings for Optimus, he couldn’t help it. It was all wrong; how immature, how deceitful, how angry he was acting about the whole predicament, but he figured that’s what love did to a mech when it was at its worst.

“Bee? Buddy?”

When he snapped out of his trance, Bumblebee looked up to see that Bulkhead was dangling one large servo in front of his optics, clearly trying to catch his attention. The pang of guilt that always came at times like this manifested in the yellow bot’s spark rather quickly, sinking to the bottom of his stomach like tar in a way that made him feel sick. He knew he was neglecting his other relationships while being caught up with Optimus and Sentinel, and Bulkhead had always been there for him... Why couldn’t he just be one of those mechs who fell in love with their best friend?

No, that was a cruel thought. Bulkhead deserved someone who cherished and adored him, he was too good for Bumblebee, as was Optimus.

“Yeah?”

“You’ve been out of it all night, and you seem sad... You have too much oil?” Bulkhead’s servo was on his shoulder plating, and for a second, Bumblebee struggled to speak. His optics landed on the bright fireworks above them, pink and purple and white and vibrant. Bulkhead was focused on him, Ratchet was pointing out planets to Sari, Jazz and Prowl were as in love as they always were, and Sentinel Prime and Optimus Prime...

Well, he couldn’t handle it. Maybe it had something to do with the oil he’d nervously been drinking to settle his nerves, or maybe he was just at a boiling point, but before he could think about what he was doing, he was standing up on his stabilizing servos with shaky knees. He must’ve looked bad, because within seconds, everyone’s optics (or, in Sari’s case, eyes) were landing on him.

“I- I think so, um... I’m gonna leave,” Bumblebee stuttered, voice cracking. Optimus was the first to object, standing from his spot on the edge of the roof. No matter how hard Bumblebee tried, he couldn’t seem to ignore the servo of Sentinel’s that was resting on Optimus’s back.

“Bee shouldn’t someone walk you back if you’re not feeling well?” Optimus approached him, but the smaller bot, unable to handle the emotional turmoil that was taking him over, found himself stumbling away before he could even process the consequences his actions might’ve had. “Where are you- hey, Bumblebee, wait up!”

“Let him go, Optimus,” Sentinel stopped him, because of course he did, and with that, Bumblebee was racing back down to the inside of their base from the stairwell on the rooftop and into his room.

When he reached it, he shut the door behind him and flopped down onto his bed with a frustrated shout.

He wanted to recharge, but his processor was too clouded with his conflicted thoughts to allow him to do so. The celebration on the floor above him slowly died down, the fireworks growing quiet and the sounds of berthroom doors opening and closing as everyone went to bed over the span of the next hour.

Optimus was probably already asleep, too.

Angry at himself, he started to rant, even if no one was around to hear him out.

“Ugh, why am I like this... I could’ve just put up with it like I always do, but no, I just had to go and make a scene in front of him, and now no one’s going to let me live it down, and they’re all going to assume I’m jealous of him for hugging on Sentinel when it’s not-”

His self-deprecating rambling was cut off by a knock at his door; knock, knock, knock. Three soft, polite, in rhythm taps that Bumblebee quickly recognized as his leader’s, followed by said leader’s deep voice ringing through the wall.

“Bumblebee? Are you awake? Sorry to disturb, but I wanted to see you. Could you come open the door?”

“Bossbot?” The Autobot perked up, and though he had fully intended to lay in bed sulking and ignoring everyone who came to check on him, the sound of Optimus’s voice had him rushing to open his berthroom door. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you since you seemed to be so out of it when you left, but you seem to be doing alright, thank goodness,” The Prime gave him that smile, the one of relief that made Bumblebee’s spark leap because of just how beautiful it was. “I should probably leave instead of pressing the matter, but... I thought I saw you staring at Sentinel and I, and I just wanted to make sure that you didn’t misjudge what was happening.”

His spark fucking dropped. While whatever his obsession with Sentinel happened to be was obvious to bots like Prowl, Ratchet, and Bulkhead who teased him for it, he had hoped that Optimus would never bring it up. It was a conflict he wasn’t ready for, and if he could, he would play it off.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Bumblebee tilted his helm, wondering if he had been that obvious while watching them on the rooftop earlier that night.

“May I come in?”

Optimus being Optimus, he didn’t get right to it, which made the anxiety building up in Bee’s chest ten times worse. But alas, he could never say no to his boss, so he stepped aside to allow the Prime inside.

“O-Of course!”

With that, he shut the door behind them.

The two sat next to each other on Bumblebee’s berth, the lights still off, which meant that the only thing keeping the room lit was the beams that poured through the window from the moon and the fireworks. Optimus’s face was gorgeous in that moment, full of something that Bee could only perceive as longing and regret and love if he didn’t know any better, sharp features highlighted by the moonlight that shone over them.

“I’m not sure what you think my relationship with Sentinel is, but it’s nothing more than enemies at our worst and sparklinghood friends at our best. Our relationship is very long and very complicated, but we’ve always been more like brothers than anything, and as much as you deny it, I know you’re in love with him... I pay attention to how you look at us, when the two of us are together, and how you perceive him. I just want to reassure you that I would never steal him away from you, Bumblebee. I love you too much to do that to you- even if I can’t have you, and even if it’s with someone else, I want you to be happy.”

“W-What?” The younger of the two spat, optics going wide. Optimus being the type he was, he cringed at what he’d said and scooted to the edge of the berth, not even able to look at Bumblebee after the impromptu confession.

“Ah, I shouldn’t have phrased it like that, but-” The red and blue bot stood up and held his helm in one servo. He groaned while Bumblebee couldn’t even process what was going on. Had he imagined the whole relationship between Sentinel and Optimus that he thought was there? Was this actually happening? Did Optimus love him back, and was he going to get the happy ending he’d always wanted? “Well, I suppose the truth is out, then... The oil seems to have gotten to the both of us. I’ll leave-”

“No, are you insane!?” Bumblebee exclaimed with a laugh and moved closer to the Prime so he could grab his arm with both servos and drag him back down onto the bed. Begrudgingly, Optimus sat back down, and Bumblebee closed the gap between them.

“Huh?”

“It’s- It’s you, Prime! It’s always been you and it always will be, you know?” Bumblebee’s words were rushed, stumbling over each other and dripping with excitement. The tension in Optimus’s shoulders seemed to release as his face was dyed bright red with a heavy blush- perhaps from the embarrassment that came with the same realization Bumblebee was having. “I was never in love with Sentinel; he’s a selfish, inconsiderate glitch who’s always treated you like you’re scrap metal! You’re brave, you’re kind, you’re always there for me when I need it, and I just... I love you so much, and-”

“Oh, beautiful, c’mere,” Optimus broke and pulled Bumblebee into him, strong arms wrapping around the yellow bot’s frame and pulling him into his lap. Bumblebee melted into the touch and buried his face in Optimus’s chest plates. “I’m sorry it took us this long.”

“Me, too.”

There was a moment of silence, but it was broken by Optimus, who spoke with an uncharacteristically teasing tone and an equally teasing smirk gracing his plump lips.

“How long ‘ve you been crushing on me, then?” The words were a bit slurred in a way that made Bumblebee hyperaware of just how buzzed they still were from the oil.

“...Too long,” He spat and quickly stared down at the ground like it had become the most interesting thing in the universe. “I don’t want to admit how long level long.”

“Ah, I see... Looks like I owe Sentinel some money after all,” Optimus laughed, earning a playful slap on his arm from Bumblebee in return.

“Wh- You guys bet on which one of you I had a crush on!? I need to hear about this!”

“Okay, so it started when...”

And, as Optimus started to tell his story, an arm still lovingly wrapped around Bumblebee’s small frame, he sighed in relief.

Surely, after this, no one would think he had a crush on Sentinel Prime.

51 notes · View notes

leagueofbane · 6 years ago

Text

“I’m going to be trained by the League.”

Here is the final installment of my Bane fic THE DEMON’S LEGACY. This story is available at Ao3 and FanFiction.net.

Twenty

Nyssa walked in a daze back to her room with her armed escort. She could not believe what had just happened. Bane, Gotham’s Reckoning, and her long-lost half-sister were going to allow her a chance to fulfill her destiny, the one her father had tried to keep from her. She trembled with excitement and concern, knowing she could trust neither of these murderers. They could be setting her up, allowing her to think she was accepted and thus lowering her guard. But if they truly didn’t want to give her this opportunity, why didn’t they simply kill her? Or was this all show for the other members of the council, to allow the illusion of following the League’s dictates? Whatever the truth was, she was in the soup now, and unfortunately so was her mother.

Her worried parent waited just inside the door to their room, wringing her hands, close to tears. Nyssa could tell she had been pacing. Her mother threw her arms around her the moment she entered.

“You’re safe!”

“Of course, Maji. I told you not to worry.”

“What happened? What did they say?”

“Here, let’s sit down. You look frazzled, and you’re not completely well yet, remember.”

She guided her distracted mother to the couch, holding her hand.

“Are they going to let us go, Nyssa?”

Nyssa steeled herself for her mother’s unhappiness. “I’m sorry, Maji; no. But Bane has given me his word that you won’t be harmed.”

“Me? What about you?”

“I’m going to be trained by the League. I have to leave tonight to start.”

“Leave? Where are you going?”

“To their training facility, but I don’t know where that is, of course. You’ll be staying here, in the palace.”

Indignation darkened her mother’s face. “I most certainly will not. I’m going back to my home. Either that or I’m going with you.”

Nyssa took her parent’s hands, pinned a sympathetic but firm look on her. “I’m sorry I got you caught up in this. But what’s happened has happened; we can’t go back. I’ll keep in contact while I’m training.”

“How long will that be?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe a year.”

“A year? Nyssa, no. This is nonsense. You must tell that muscle-bound murderer that you’ve changed your mind.”

Nyssa almost laughed. “I can’t change my mind, Maji, even if I wanted to. And I certainly wouldn’t be able to change Bane’s mind. The council has voted on this. I’m going to be trained and initiated, then I’ll take my rightful place as the Demon’s Head.”

“They are lying to you. It’s a trick, betee.”

“No. If it was a trick, they’d just kill me now.”

“Well, if you insist on going through with this fantasy, then take me back to our home. Right now. I won’t be a part of this.”

“I’m sorry, Maji. They won’t let you leave here.”

“What? So, I am a prisoner?”

“Don’t call it that. You’ll be detained so you can’t tell anyone about them.”

“One and the same—I am a prisoner. At least tell me I will see you regularly.”

“I don’t think they’ll let me see anyone while I’m training. I’ll keep asking, though. Perhaps I can at least write to you or call. But you’ll be safe here.”

“As safe as any caged bird,” her mother grumbled, pulling her hands into her lap and fidgeting. “And what am I supposed to do while my daughter is joining the ranks of the damned? Sit inside these walls and play cards with Maysam?”

“Actually,” Nyssa struggled to look at her, “you’ll be employed by Maysam.”

Her mother reared back. “Employed? I don’t need employment. I do just fine making and selling my scarves and—”

“It’s not a choice—it’s a condition. I’m sorry, but the alternative is much worse, as you can imagine.”

“So now I am to lose my daughter and be a slave.”

“Maji, please, it won’t be like that. You’ll be a servant to Maysam, just while I’m away.”

“I will not!” Her mother stalked to the window that looked out over the village, her sari whipping in her wake. She crossed her arms and kept her back to Nyssa. “This is a nightmare, betee. I need to talk to that hulking beast. I will convince him that I won’t say—”

“Don’t even think about talking to Bane about anything. You have to be compliant. I don’t want anything to happen to you. It would be my fault. I need to concentrate on my training, so we can both have a better life.”

“Being a captive is not a better life, Nyssa.”

Nyssa approached her and put an arm around her sloped shoulders, tears on her mother’s cheeks. Her heart broke.

“I can only say I’m sorry so many times, Maji. But you have to trust me; you have to believe me when I say our lives will be better.”

Her mother frowned, the anger drifting away, her arms uncrossing. “What if I never see you again?”

“You will. I promise.”

Her mother sighed and turned from Nyssa to stare back out the window, shaking her head. “Your father…I should have never looked at that man.”

When the council was dismissed, Bane and Talia went to Maysam’s suite to give her the news. They found her in the living room with Henri, both sitting on the floor at a low table, with coloring books spread before them. Bane smiled at the sight of his child instructing his great-grandmother that she must color inside the lines. Abrams was coming out of the kitchen with a drink for Henri.

“Mama,” Henri called. “Come see my turtle!”

Talia sat next to him, putting an arm around him. “That’s a wonderful turtle, baby. The colors are perfect. And Jiddah’s is nice, too.” She winked at her grandmother.

“The council has reached its decision?” Maysam asked, her carefree expression of a moment ago flying away.

Abrams set Henri’s sippy cup on the table. “I’ll give you some privacy,” he said to Bane.

“No, Aaron,” Maysam said. “Please, stay. You need to hear this, too.”

Abrams offered his hand to help her up. Bane sensed something pass between the two when their hands met, followed by a private look that made Abrams blush and clear his throat. After Maysam settled in her accustomed recliner where she often rocked Henri to sleep, Abrams sat on a loveseat across from her. Bane and Talia settled on a sofa next to Maysam. Henri’s focus remained on his coloring.

“What was decided, hafida?” Maysam asked, doing her best to appear calm.

“Nyssa will be allowed the chance to be trained and prove herself.”

Maysam stared and started to speak, but Talia continued.

“She will leave with our brothers tonight and be taken to ’Eth Alth’eban. She will remain there until her training is complete. That is, if she can master the necessary skills.”

“And if she can’t?” Maysam asked with a glance at Abrams’s scowling face.

“Then,” Talia continued, “the council will decide her fate.”

Maysam frowned. “I must admit I’m a little shocked. Is this what you want, Talia?”

“It was my vote that decided it, Jiddah. I can’t say it’s really what I want, but I felt bound by the League’s practices. And, for better or worse, she is my sister. A part of me feels some sort of pull because of that blood tie. I don’t know why Papa rejected her, but he once rejected Bane, too, and that was a mistake. Maybe it was a mistake for him to reject her, too.”

“Time will tell,” Bane said, putting his hand over Talia’s on her thigh. “Your granddaughter did the right thing, Maysam.”

“What about Nyssa’s mother?” Abrams asked.

“She will serve Maysam in Sanjana’s stead,” Bane said.

“A servant?” Maysam said. “Certainly she will resent that.”

“Her feelings on the matter are immaterial,” Bane rumbled. “I assured her daughter that she would be treated fairly in her interim role. She must be detained until we know if her daughter will become one of us, so she might as well be useful in the interim.”

“I doubt Diya has any experience.”

“Neither did Sanjana,” Talia reminded her. “If you are uncomfortable with this, Jiddah, Diya may attend to me, and I will relinquish Hisham.”

Bane again noted something private in the glance Maysam exchanged with Abrams. Abrams seemed determined not to look at him. Ah, yes, Bane decided, something has happened between those two. He smiled inwardly. Abrams was a fool to think he could hide this.

“Well,” Maysam said, “let me try it. It might be even more difficult on Diya to serve her step-daughter than to serve me. She was always a good woman when I dealt with her in the bazaar—and she’s always been sweet to Henri—so I do wish to lessen the difficulty this transition will be to her.”

Hearing his name, Henri paused in his coloring. “Who that, Jiddah?”

“Ms. Panjabi from the bazaar, sweetheart,” Maysam said. “The lady who makes the dolls. She’s going to live here with us for a while.”

Henri grinned, his blue eyes crinkling. “She make me more dolls!”

“Only if you are a good boy,” Bane warned.

“I be good.” He tossed a grin over his shoulder at his father, reminiscent of his mother’s flashes of mischievousness, then resumed coloring.

“And you will not tear the dolls apart in front of her,” Talia said. “She will show you how to make them instead.”

“Oh, Mama,” Henri whined, sitting back on his haunches to look at her.

“You heard your mother,” Bane said. “I don’t want to hear another word about it from you, young man.”

Chagrin, Henri said, “But Papa Baba…” and buried his face against Bane’s round belly. When Bane sat him on his lap, the child leaned into the crook of his arm and let out a small huff. Bane raised an eyebrow at him, and Henri put his hands over his eyes and gave a small giggle.

“There is something else, Jiddah,” Talia said. “I’m afraid you won’t like this bit of news either, but I’m asking that you keep an open mind.”

“What is it, hafida? Just tell me.”

Talia hesitated. “When Bane spoke with Nashir after Nyssa was apprehended, Nashir told him that if Nyssa was allowed to live, we could no longer stay here.”

Maysam’s back straightened. “He should never have said such a thing! I’ve spoken with him before about this. As long I live, you will always be welcome here. You are his blood, hafida. And Haris is my son.”

Whenever Maysam made such a declaration about him, Bane’s heart swelled with pride and love. She always said it with passion and genuineness, as if he were a small boy who needed his mother to protect him; such an image amused him greatly, especially the older Maysam got.

He held up his hand to calm her. “Do not be angry with Nashir; he is within his rights.”

“No, he is not, Haris. I have rights here in this palace, my husband’s home. Nashir cannot chase away my family just because he is a coward—”

She started to stand, but Talia reached for her arm to keep her in the chair.

“Jiddah, please. Listen to me first. Then, if you still feel the need to talk to Nashir, do so. But don’t go to him angry like this. You know it will only insult him and make him more determined.”

“Nashir hasn’t seen determined,” Maysam insisted, her teeth showing. “I can’t believe he would even bring this up again to you, Haris. How dare he? I forbade it.”

“Jiddah, please,” Talia soothed. “Nashir has been very gracious letting us stay here this long. And he did it only for you, so it wouldn’t be right for you to attack him, especially since Bane agreed that we would leave if Nyssa was allowed to live. You can understand Nashir’s concerns. He has to think of his family.”

“You are his family, Talia. Obviously, I need to remind him of that.”

“Maysam,” Abrams’s gravelly voice surprised them all as did his oddly soft expression. He looked at Maysam as if they were alone. “Why don’t you let Talia say what she has to say? Charging downstairs to confront Nashir before you even know what Talia has on her mind doesn’t make any sense.”

Henri piped up, “Don’t be mad, Jiddah.”

Maysam sputtered a moment in broken protest, fingers playing with the silken fabric of her dress. “Well…I suppose Aaron is right,” she said at last. “I am sorry, hafida. But you just can’t go.”

“We need to honor Nashir’s request,” Talia continued. “We’ve already stayed here too long. No place is a sanctuary forever. Leaving may be the safest thing for Henri and us. You need to look at it that way.”

“Where we goin’, Mama? See elephants again?”

“No, darling, not to Jaipur. We haven’t decided where yet, Jiddah, but wherever we go, we want you to come with us. Bane will continue on in his current role so I can focus on Henri; Nyssa will just have to remain ignorant of that arrangement and think I’m the Demon’s Head for now.”

“Come with you?” Maysam echoed. Again, she looked to Abrams, whose confused frown made his underbite more pronounced.

“Abrams could come too, of course,” Talia said. “You will have our men protecting you, but we would be honored if he continued to serve you.”

Some of the dark concern on Abrams’s face dissipated. “Of course, I would, as long as Maysam wants me.”

“That goes without saying, Aaron,” Maysam said, calm again, an appreciative smile in her eyes. “But…I just don’t know, Talia. I’ve lived here since I was a young bride.”

“You do not have to decide right now,” Bane said gently. “Think about it, even overnight if necessary, but we cannot delay longer than that. I will be discussing various options with my brothers today. I will have a location decided upon before they leave tonight. There are many things to consider when it comes to safety for our new location.”

“One of the places we’re considering,” Talia said, “is Chateau Blanc. You said before you would love to see it. It’s beautiful and peaceful and green, Jiddah. You would come to love it there, I’m sure.”

“But France?” Abrams said. “Wouldn’t it be safer someplace more remote?”

“France is but one consideration,” Bane said. “Talia favors it.”

“What about John?” Maysam asked with worry in her tone. “He will be coming with us, won’t he? Or will Sanjana insist on remaining in her homeland? Her family is here, of course.”

“Yes,” Bane said. “He and his family will join with us. Exactly when is contingent upon James’s health. The doctor will insist that he not be moved until he is stronger.”

Talia reached for her grandmother’s hand. “Will you promise to consider it, Jiddah? I will understand if you decide to stay here, though.”

“I don’t see how I can, not now, not after more than two years of having my great-grandson with me every day. And Sanjana will need help with her child, as well, especially when John is away.” But her furrowed brow showed fear and uncertainty.

“There are many factors,” Bane said. “Consider your decision carefully.” He smiled down at his oddly patient son. “Now, I must excuse myself. There is someone to whom I promised a morning trip to the swimming pool.”

After the council had been dismissed, Barsad knew he should immediately go to Sanjana to let her know the verdict, but he did not want her to see him this angry, nor did he want that negative energy to be felt by his son. So, instead, he headed outside to the gardens to walk until the strengthening sun could sweat the poison from his pores, which happened quickly this time of year, even in the morning.

When he finally went to the infirmary, he found Sanjana with James in her arms, sitting beside the incubator, Dr. Haqqani just leaving.

“How’s he looking to you, Doc?” he asked.

“So far so good. We need to be vigilant in these next few days for jaundice, but there are no signs of it yet.”

“Good, good. Thanks, Doc.”

“I will be back after lunch to check on them.”

Barsad shook his hand and held the door for him.

“Has the council been meeting all this time?” Sanjana asked as he came to her. “I thought I heard the others in the hallway a while ago.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t come right away, darlin’, but I was a bit pissed off. I needed to cool down.”

“So, they’ve vote for Nyssa’s inclusion, then?”

“Yeah. I did everything I could to sway the others, but it came down to Talia’s vote.”

Frowning with worry, Sanjana held James a bit closer, kissed his forehead. “I’m surprised she’s letting Nyssa stay, aren’t you?”

“Because of Henri, yeah, I’m surprised. I don’t know if it was simply because of the League that she voted the way she did or if she feels some pull with that damn woman because of their father. Even from the grave, he seems to have an influence on her still.”

Sanjana murmured, “I’m scared, John.”

“Oh, honey,” Barsad kissed her head then sat beside her on the edge of the bed, “I don’t want you worrying. You know I won’t let anything happen to you and our boy.”

“How can Bane and Talia trust Nyssa?”

“They don’t. She’ll be watched closely. She’s leaving tonight for ’Eth Alth’eban. She’ll stay there until her training is over. The isolation alone might might break her.”

“Will they kill her if she fails?”

“That’s to be determined when and if it happens. You know which way I’ll vote again.” He stroked Sanjana’s ebony mane and basked in the sight of his tiny son, who slept contentedly. “But don’t worry, sweetheart. Even if Nyssa could tell anyone where we are, it won’t matter because we won’t be here much longer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Bane said Nashir told him we’d have to scram if Nyssa was allowed to live. Like you and me, Nashir doesn’t believe Nyssa won’t betray us, and he doesn’t want to be implicated, of course, in what the League does.”

“But…where will we go? And when? James can’t be moved—”

“We’re not going anywhere until the doc says James is out of the woods. Well, the others might leave soon, but I’m not going anywhere without you and our boy. Bane said he would talk to Nashir about it. And if Bane can’t convince him, then I’ll find a way to do it.”

“But what about Maysam? Henri will be devastated to be without her.”

“Bane and Talia are planning to convince her to come with us. I can’t see Maysam staying behind, especially because of Henri. We’ll see how things play out.”

“Where will we go?”

“There are a couple of options. Chateau Blanc is one of them, but I have a feeling Bane will want something more remote. We’re going to hammer it all out today.”

Sanjana stared toward the door. “My family… My mother…”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. But you’ll be able to say good-bye; I’ll make sure of it.”

She looked sadly at James. “I want my mother to meet her grandson, even if we aren’t married. My father wouldn’t have to know about it. Could we arrange something if we do have to leave?”

“Anything you want, darlin’. I’m sorry the timing is so bad for this.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I should just kill Nyssa and be done with it. Then you wouldn’t have to move.”

“You wouldn’t dare defy Bane, would you?”

“I’d be doing him a favor if, instead, we’re killing her anyway when she can’t cut it.”

“What would they do to you if you killed her, do you think?”

“Hard to say. Maybe excommunication.”

“Oh, John. Do you really think he would do that? He loves you like a brother.”

“He does, yeah, but he is my commander, and it would be gross insubordination on my part, so he’d be obligated to censure me. And then there’s Talia’s wrath as well. She doesn’t look kindly on insubordination either.”

“Then don’t do it, John.” She touched his knee. “I wouldn’t want anything to come between you and Bane. I would feel it my fault. You would never kill Nyssa if it were not for me and James.”

“I’d do it not just for you and James, but for Talia and Bane, too. Then things could remain status quo. Everything’s been pretty smooth these past couple of years.”

“But it would not be status quo if killing Nyssa led to your excommunication or worse. You know I care about Bane and Talia, too, and little Henri; I would miss them terribly, and so would you. No. As much as I’d feel safer with Nyssa dead, I have decided I don’t want you to jeopardize your position with the League or your relationship with Bane and Talia.”

Barsad grinned. “Just the other day you were demanding her head.”

“I know, but I was pregnant and not thinking it through then. I was being selfish.” She smiled up at him. “I know you will keep us safe.”

He kissed her. “Always, darlin’.”

In the evening, after darkness had fallen, Bane and Talia said farewell to the men of the council. Finn Donnell was the last to leave. They accompanied him to the front door, Hisham in tow with Finn’s duffel bag.

“It was wonderful to see you,” Talia said, taking the Irishman’s hands momentarily as they stood in the foyer. “Thank you again for getting here on such short notice.”

Hisham breezed past to take the bag to the waiting SUV.

“Anything for you.” Finn kissed her hand, then gave Bane a devilish grin.

“Best be on your way, brother,” Bane grumbled with a slight, indulgent smile.

Finn chuckled. “Aye, I should.”

Talia briefly embraced him, then he nodded to Bane and headed outside into the sultry night.

“Sometimes,” Bane teased her, “I think you do such things on purpose, my dear.”

“What?”

“You know.”

She gave him an impish smile then threaded her hand through the crook of his arm and urged him back to the stairs, the house quiet around them. “I have to admit, I do sometimes find it amusing.”

“You are cruel, little mouse.”

Talia chuckled. “It’s just a part of being a woman who has a very desirable man. I like seeing that you still want to possess me.”

“Still? Always. And when we get to our room, I will prove it.”

They climbed the stairs and headed for the elevator, the inuendo drifting away.

“I’m glad you’ve agreed to Chateau Blanc,” Talia said as the doors closed after them, starting their brief ascent.

“You know I have my concerns, but since Maysam has agreed to join us, I felt it was the most appropriate setting for her. The locale will give her the opportunity to explore a whole new world. Perhaps she then will not have time to be homesick.”

“I think Abrams particularly likes the location. He knows Jiddah will be farther out of reach of her in-laws’s enemies in France. Here he’s always expecting someone to storm the gates.” She softly laughed as she stepped out of the elevator.

“I think Abrams’s reasons for approving the location has more to do with something else.”

“What?”

“Oh, habibati, you disappoint me.”

“What?”

“Are you trying to tell me you did not pick up on the signals this morning when we spoke with your grandmother?”

“Signals?”

“Maybe you were distracted by thoughts of Finn Donnell,” he said with a sidelong glance as they reached the door of their suite.

“So jealous,” she taunted.

He returned her grin and opened the door, following her inside, his eyes on her shapely bottom. “I am referring to the tacit signals between your grandmother and Abrams.” He had lowered his voice once inside, for he did not want to disturb Henri asleep in his room down the hallway.

“They have been making eyes at one another since they returned from Jaipur,” she said, moving to the bed to remove her white, Romanesque sandals.

“This was different. They have most assuredly slept together.”

Talia’s head snapped up. “You think so?”

“No, my dear,” he kissed her forehead, “I know so.” He sat beside her and removed his own loafers. “Abrams was as sheepish as a schoolboy with his first sweetheart. They think they are keeping a secret from us.”

“Why would they do that? We’ve all been encouraging them.”

“It is surely Abrams, rather than Maysam. He will be worried about Nashir and his family’s judgment. Going to France will help erase that concern, and he knows it. Perhaps then they will reveal their little secret to us.”

“I’m going to ask Jiddah. She will tell me.”

“You will do no such thing, my love. Respect her silence. Give her the pleasure of revealing it to you in her own good time.”

Talia put on a false pout. “I suppose I can wait. But, if it’s true, I’m so excited for them. They both need this, especially Abrams. I have always felt so sorry for him. He’s come so far since living here, and I think Jiddah will be able to pull him completely from his shell once they embrace their relationship. Don’t you?”

“Yes.” He had started to unbutton her blouse while she spoke. “Now, let us speak no more of other couples.”

She lay a hand against his warm cheek. “If you insist.”

“Let us speak of something I have been thinking about since the birth of Barsad’s baby.” His lips drifted to kiss her neck.

In delight, she shrugged her shoulder against his cheek, squirmed beneath his ministrations. “What?”

“A baby of our own, a little girl, just as lovely as her mother.”

“Bane—”

“She could be birthed in France and grow up to run the vineyard.”

“Not the League?”

“Jin will do that.” His fingers had untucked her blouse from her skirt and worked their way up her back to unhook her bra.

“What if he doesn’t want to? Would we insist?”

“He will want to.”

“Always so certain, my love.”

“Yes,” he crooned. “And I am certain that I must have you this very minute, to plant my seed and watch you blossom as my daughter grows within you.”

“Do I get a choice in this matter?”

“Of course. But even if you resist, you know I will wear you down in time, especially because I think you want a sibling for Henri. I saw how you looked at little James and Sanjana. I saw envy, little mouse. Don’t deny it.”

“Well,” she sighed under the brazen wandering of his hands, “maybe I felt a little envious.”

“And,” he nibbled at her flesh, “since I will remain as the League’s commander for at least another year, you will be free to remain a mother only.” With her shirt and bra removed, his mouth lowered to her breasts, kissing, and one hand kneading gently.

“You see me as only a mother?”

“I meant your primary role, habibati. Of course, you will always be a part of the League, no matter what. But in the eyes of your lover, one duty is now more important than the other. It is a role I love to see you embrace. And I promise I will find ways to spend more time with the children. And if Nyssa succeeds in her quest, I will no longer have to devote my life to the Demon’s Head.”

Her fingers trailed lightly across his head, along his cheek to his ear. “You have done wonders with Henri in just this short time, habibi. I’m grateful, and I hope I can live up to your example as a parent.”

“You have already succeeded me in those talents, my dear. Never doubt that.” He kissed her lips, lingering close as he continued, “It was only your doubt that caused our boy to become rebellious. There is no reason for such doubt. You are a wonderful mother.” Bane kissed her again, longer, deeper, melting her down against the mattress.

Parted, she grinned at him. “I am not a wonderful mother, but you have given me hope that I can be.” Talia shrugged one shoulder playfully. “Maybe I could handle two. And a girl would be a joy, especially for Jiddah and you. Henri, however, might not be so enthusiastic.”

Bane chuckled. “He will have James to roughhouse with. And he will protect his sister, just as I once protected you, my dove. I can already see that quality in him.” He grinned and straddled her as he unzipped his pants. “Now, let us waste no more time. I am impatient to meet my daughter.”

END

#Bane #Talia al Ghul #Barsad #Nyssa al Ghul #Baniac #fanfic #The Demon's Legacy

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