#then I saw a bit of lime on the handle so obviously I had to get the limescale remover. which is in the bathroom

[meraus]

Just thought I should make dinner and now three hours later my bathroom and kitchen are both spotless and I’m still hungry. Does anyone want to swap brains

[silvervioletvalentine]

🖤!I knew you were trouble when you walked in!🖤

Pairing: Auston Matthews x model + rivals sister Cherrie!

Word count: 13k. I have a problem. I know ok. I just can’t write short oneshots. I’ve tried lmfao

Summary: in which he knew she was trouble since the very first time he saw her in the stands, cursing out his name after he had accidentally (on purpose) broken her brothers nose on the ice during a heated game. Three years of pining later and finally , she stumbles into his hotel drunk and as mouthy as ever. He really couldn’t resist. She may have been trouble, but she was worth it all.

Warnings: like none? Just fluff I think. A little bit of angst with her brother (who I totally made up because I can) when he finds out. Confident , bitchy Cherrie that won’t make it easy for Auston. And Auston just being a major simp. That’s it.As always lemme know what u think please. First time writing for auston soooo , lemme know if u like this and if I should write for him again! I’m thinking of maybe writing for mitch and maybe barzal too. Anyways.. bye bye!! Xoxo

It was nearly midnight by the time that Cherrie had managed to stumble her way back to her hotel , head spinning and limping a little , for reasons she had no clue to as why she was exactly , eyes hazy as she hummed along to a Taylor swift song playing in her head.

She thought that she was handling herself pretty damn fine, like the independent adult that she was.

She kind of impressed with herself for getting back to the hotel without , A: injuring herself , or B, calling either an ex , or her whiny brother who had done nothing but get on her nerves for the last couple of hours. Hence the reason why she has left the club early in the first place, because if she had to head him complain one more time about how 'it wasn't fair, that ref was clearly a maples fan!' And hear him curse out every players name, in a absolutely foul mood after losing against them.

She felt like she was going to go insane , and maybe slightly more mean than usual . Because she was her fathers daughter after all and the mean, anger issues that she tried to bury down kept crawling back up each time he whined again, just staring blankly at his face and wishing that he would shut the hell up and let her enjoy her vodka lime peace.

Was she being a little bit of a bitch by not being more sympathetic to her brother , who was so clearly upset after a losing game? Yes. Obviously .

But did she care? Absolutely not because as far as she saw it, you won some and you lost some. As simple as that. And they had just stood absolutely no chance against them that night , they had been on fire from the very start.

Even she could admit that they had been just too good, not to her brothers face or course, she thought that praising his rival team might have been a little too far , even for her.

He was a little sensitive after all and she didn't want to see her brother cry. They would just be awkward and she had no doubt that he would be a little snitch and tell dad.

Hence why she had snuck out of the club the moment her brother had been distracted , telling herself that she could see him some other time. Even though he was leaving early in the morning to a flight back home, Cherrie would send a text. Maybe.

If she lived to see the next day that was, feeling herself stumble a little too hard. Somehow managing to knock herself into the couch in the reception , letting out a mix between a startled laugh and Yelp as she went tumbling down.

"Fucks sake!" She groaned , just managing to catch herself in time, clinging to the back of the couch to steady herself . Head bowed as she let out a small drunken giggle, vision swimming for a long moment.

So lost in her own head, and trying not to face plant on the floor, that she hasn't noticed the eyes that had been watching her since she first stumbled out of the cab and into the hotel without any grace , always loud and dramatic as ever in her scene.

Because if she had noticed said eyes. And just who those eyes belonged to, she might have turned back around and decided that she was better off joining her moody brother at the club again after all.

Because what she wasn't expecting to hear between her giggling and muttering along of her Taylor swift song, was a voice call over to her in amusement , scaring the absolute shit out of her.

"I see you're about as steady on your feet as your bambi brother is." Auston Matthews said to her, leaning casually against the vending machine as he watched her panic.

Head snapping over to him in shock , mascara smudged eyes going wide as she realised to just who she was faced with. The same hockey player that had smashed her brother into the boards and to the ice more times that she could count.

She stiffened , trying to straighten herself back up and not seem like she was totally shit faced. A not so very convincing act as she hiccuped while doing so .

Glaring at him for referring to the way her brother had once , or twice, lost his foot while on the ice, somehow managing to trip over his own two skates in front of everyone. Hence the bambi nickname.

"And I see you're as much of an asshole as you look like." It was a weak comeback but come on, she was like, ten vodka shots in.

She squinted to focus her eyes on him, frowning slightly as she took in the sight of Auston standing there in a oversized sweater and basketball shorts, slides on his feet and a beanie pulled low over his head.

Not bad. Her drunken brain said. Not my usual type but he's got a little something.

And he was currently smirking right back at her , his eyes running over her body in her little back dress , gaze lingering at her stumbling feet for a moment before looking back up again

He laughed lightly "I think I look pretty good." He replied , grinning like a joker as he struck a pose at her.

Trying to replicate one that he had seen her do in one of her shoots before . One hand on the vending machine and the other on his hip as he duck pouted at her mockingly.

She scoffed, ever the mean girl. Flicking her hair over her shoulder with a flair , narrowing her eyes at him the best that she could in her drunken state.

But something about matthews just got underneath her skin. Maybe it was the casual way that he was talking to her, as though they were friends who had talked plenty before . As though he wasn't her brothers rival , as though he hasn't managed to break her brothers nose and pride before.

Like he wasn't public enemy one to her right then.

Well, he was supposed to be. And her brother would no doubt be expecting her to give Auston shit and make him pay .

But well, vodka and ...come on, she was defending him.

Albeit a little weakly but she was. That was something wasn't it?

"Whoever told you that is a liar. Perhaps you should surround yourself with honest peope instead." She snapped back at him, feeling the start of a headache come on. Or maybe it was the onset of the hangover that she would be having tomorrow.

Either way. She just wanted to go to bed and sleep it off, not talk to some cocky hockey player that her brother hated in her hotel.

Auston scoffed in amusement , gaze never leaving her face. taken aback by how she managed to look so pretty, even when she was glaring at him like she was , eyes glassy and lipstick smudged.

A hot, drunken mess.

"Like you?" He resorted back quickly without missing a beat.

"and are you honest or just a mean little bitch?" He braced himself . Kind of expecting a slap.

He didn't know her after all, didn't know what the line was or what she bantered like with others . It was risky move but come on, he had Cherrie Valentine in front of him, mouth just as quick witted and mean as he knew she was. He couldn't help himself. This was a one off opportunity.

The only time he ever caught glimpses of her was on billboards and magazines, or in the stands at games they played against her brother , where he would see her shouting and screaming insults and curses at them. Ever the passionate woman.

And he wasn't insane enough to approach her then, no matter how much he wanted to, he knew he would have gotten his skates shoved up his ass, and not just by her brother either.

She was the scary one in his opinion. A loudmouth with no filter and no mercy, and he just knew that she made grown men cry and had their tears in her morning tea.

She was a nightmare and a daydream rolled into one fine, beautiful woman. And well, Auston was just a man. So sue him if he wanted to talk to her a little... wind her up and watch her bite back.

Cherrie could only looked at him silently , fighting back the grin she wanted to let out with everything in her.

Telling herself that it didn't matter if she thought it was funny , he was still the enemy. He didn't deserve to hear her laugh.

So she soldiered on and doubled down on her glare .

Seeing this Auston let out a laugh, motioning to the vending machine that he was leaning on.

"Want some candy? You look like you could use some." He said lightly , the smirk never leaving his lips.

She huffed "fuck you!" She spat back at him .

He just looked her up and down "no thanks. Not while your drunk and missing a heel." He told her casually, nodding down to her feet that she kept stumbling over.

And huh. She looked down at her feet and noticed that one heel was in fact missing.

He was right. What the fuck?

She didn't reply. Pride keeping her from doing so. Instead she pulled off the other heel and tossed it aside too, briefly wondering when the hell she had lost the other one. If she was to place her bets , she would guess the cab ride back from the club. That seemed plausible.

She slowly stumbled over to the vending machine , stomach grumbling as she looked at all the snacks and drinks inside . Realising that she hasn't had anything since those cheesy nachos before the game.

She side eyed Auston who was still smirking to himself , no longer looking at her as he got himself some Reece cups from the machine. Just waiting patiently.

She gave in far too quickly , pride gone.

"I want a chocolate bar and some sprite." She tells him firmly , tapping at the glass to what she wanted . Like she earned it.

Like this was a totally normal thing to do. Demanding chocolate bars from her brothers hockey rival. This was not how she saw her night ending at all .

Auston snorted "not even a please?" He muttered in amusement getting more change out anyway. He wasn't about to tell her no.

Not in any universe.

Cherrie just narrowed her eyes at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she leant tiredly against the side of the machine . Mostly so it could hold her body weight up, fighting back a yawn.

"I'm a black belt in karate." She lets him know wisely.

Auston eyes her, laughed lightly , then punched in the numbers to get her the chocolate bar and the bottle of sprite . Chucking to himself as he did so.

"Good to know." He muttered amused. Handing them to her. Watching as she quickly took the chocolate bar then shoved the drink back into his hands, not even looking at him as she told him 'to hold it.'

Sighing contently as she shoved a piece of the chocolate into her mouth, eyes fluttering closed for a moment in bliss . "S'nice." She slurred. Having another piece.

"Can I have some?" He asked.

She glared quickly "touch my chocolate and I'll rip your fingers off." She warned him seriously . "Asshole." She then added in a mutter just because she could.

Auston laughed , uncapping the lid on the drink and carefully handing it to her so she could take a sip. Hand hovering underneath her chin in case she spilled it, she was that drunk. He was more than amused.

She gulped it down and Auston shook his head, moving the bottle away from her lips carefully as she panted, swallowing it quickly.

"Not so quick! You don't want to make yourself sick." He scolded her.

She grumbled "don't tell me what to do." Before yawning loudly as the vodka and tiredness finally caught up with her.

That was her excuse for why she let Auston steer her to the elevator; and why she told him which floor and room number she was in. Leaning tiredly against his side as he tapped his fingers against her shoulder lightly , supporting her waist while she continued to munch on a piece of chocolate lazily .

He looked down at her, heart racing in his chest . So close that he could count the freckles on her nose , realising then that the pictures really weren't like the real thing at all. She was even more beautiful up close. It was unreal and Auston had to remind himself how to breathe normally , not wanting to be weird.

So he looked at her and his heart skipped a beat? Totally normal behaviour. He convinced himself easily.

"Enjoy the game tonight?" He couldn't help but tease . Having seen the way she had shot to her feet and cursed his name when he had pushed her brother against the boards again , he had even winked at her when he skated away.

Because he was a little shit like that and he had been trying to get her attention for a long time.

And unfortunately for him the only way to do so was to push her brother around at games and watch her get riled up. She was really creative with her insults when she spitting mad, Auston thought that the rage made her look even more sexy. Her eyes just lit a spark.

Head tilting up, cheek still pressed against his shoulder as she glared at him lazily "we'll get you next time." She promised.

Auston had to laugh "I don't think so. But bambi tried. Bless him." He joked. Getting a slap in the gut in return, he gasped.

Laughing loudly "ow! Good to know who the stronger Valentine is!" He quipped .

Cherrie just groaned wondering what was wrong with him. But she still let him lead her out of the elevator as it dinged, feeling his arm slide around her back to support her as she stumbled to her hotel room door with him by her side.

Swiping open the door, she lingered for a moment hesitating in going in.

Auston suddenly falling quite as he looked back at her, swallowing , mouth running dry.

"Well..goodnight-" she muttered lamely about to head inside and sleep this weird night off.

But it got even weirder as she watched Auston get uncharacteristically nervous. His fingers tugging at the ends of his hair as he muttered her name to get her to wait .

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly, eyes darting away from hers for a moment "are you going to be here long?" He quickly added "in Toronto." Not wanting to have to wait till the next game in months time to see her again.

Cherrie frowned a little, wondering why he was asking then nodded her head warily . "Yeah." She found herself telling him "I'm here for the next week for some shoots. I have a rented apartment to go to tomorrow."

He pursed his lips, barely hiding his excited grin, nodding along like he knew this already .

"I live like half an hour away from here." He told her casually . Shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking on the Balls of his feet like a teenager nervous about asking out their crush.

She looked at him strangely , letting out a small confused laugh. "Then why are you in a hotel?"

He simply shrugged and tried not to think about why he wanted to make her laugh again. Of all the things that he could do and say to see her smile.

"It's just nice to get out of the house sometimes." He said.

Cherrie just looked at him, then shook her head in amusement . "You're so weird matthews."

He shrugged again, confidence coming back in full swing.

"Come to a pottery class with me tomorrow." He more told her then asked. But hey, at least he got the words out. Though they sounded a lot smoother and charming in his head.

Cherrie did laugh loudly this time, looking at him like he was insane . Unable to believe what he was doing, what he was asking.

Because she wasn't stupid but she couldn't figure out why he was going out of his way, at midnight , to do it at all.

He was her brothers enemy. She had seen the two brawl More times than she could remember, had seen the way Auston always deliberately made him a target. Had to hear her brother curse his name to hell and back each time, Cherrie sometimes doing the same.

Because hockey was a passionate sport and if her brother even found out that she was standing there, taking to Auston Matthews in her hotel room , drunk at midnight. He Would have a stroke, she had no doubt .

She told him so , as though Auston didn't already know what he was trying to get himself into.

"My brother will kill you." She muttered, eyes on his. He hadn't looked away from her once yet.

He just smirked and muttered teasingly "over pottery? A bit of an over reaction but.."

Cherrie inhaled sharply and shook her head at him, not knowing whether to be amused or annoyed. Maybe a bit of both.

"I know what you're doing." She tells him, leaning against her doorframe lazily.

Seeing the way his eyes flicker down to her mocking smile, notices the way he inhales a little too deeply , before his eyes flicker back up to meet her own again.

Cockily , he hummed "maybe. But I'm not hearing a no so...." He trailed off with a grin, pleased with himself .

He backed away from her door with a small laugh "so I'll come pick you in the morning." He continued to casually tell her, testing his luck.

Because he would beat himself up forever if he didn't at least try. This was a once in a million chance, he wasn't going to waste it.

"Say...around eleven?" He looked at her hopefully.

And a hopeful Auston Matthews reminded her of a puppy. Eyes wide and smile giddy , head tilting a little too. And well, she loved puppy's. And she was drunk and she was...

She was running out of excuses.

So she said yes. Then shut the door in his face. Unable to see the way he let out a loud breath of relief , fist punching the air in glee.

It was weird when he came to pick her up the next morning, there was no denying it. She was on edge and cranky and hungover , utterly grumpy and scowling at him when she got into his car like she would rather be anywhere else.

Auston looked at her grumpy face , oversized sunglasses and laughed lightly . "Don't you look like sunshine." He teased before passing her a Starbucks coffee and a muffin.

And Cherrie just looked down at them in amazement , then back over to him silently . Speechless , because what the fuck was going on?

And like the emotionally constipated grown child that she was, she decided to go the route of her usual communication and told him in a mutter "fuck you."

Because she didn't want to question the butterflies in her stomach or why she was struggling not to look at his side profile in the glowing sun as they drove.

He didn't take offence . Instead he just snorted a giggle and muttered "so charming." Then he nodded towards his phone on the dashboard and told her easily "pick something to listen to. Or we could just sit in silence..." he teased, laughing again when she quickly reached for his phone and pulled up Spotify.

She clicked on his playlists and scrolled through the songs , pausing as she saw a familiar theme.

Blinking down at his phone in disbelief "you listen to Taylor? There's like..all the eras.. lover, red, bad blood ..." she looked over at him curiously .

Mathews just grinned over at her briefly before focusing back on the road "course I do. She rocks. My favourites been evermore lately." He told her casually . Pretending not to see the look on her face, pretending like he didn't want to each out and touch her pretty face.

Cherrie swallowed then , blinking down at her chocolate muffin in disbelief . "It's my favourite too." Then she clicked on you need to calm Down. Because holy shit did she need to.

Her heart was racing as fast as her mind was, side eyeing Auston the whole ride there as he sang along to every song. Nudging her arm annoyingly until

she was singing along with him too.

Her brother was going to murder her if he ever found out. Was all she could think in defeat. Bobbing her head to the music , ignoring the way matthews couldn't stop sending her glances and smiling at her every other minute.

She was getting pretty good at pretending.

Half an hour later and Cherrie was huffing , face scrunched up in misery as she clung at the fucked up looking piece of  clay in her hands. Sat at the desk in front of the pottery wheel, a strangled sound escaping her in stress , as her attempts of making a vase of some sort collapsed on her again.

"I can't fucking do this shit." She cursed out in frustration , making Auston glance over at her from where he been serenely enjoying himself, clay perfectly in shape as he watched her struggle in vague amusement. Even pulling out his phone to take a candid photo of the model glaring down at the clay like it had just killed her own puppy.

"Calm down. Take a deep breath babe." He advised her patiently.

Nudging her shoulder with his, he ignored her hiss of 'don't call me babe.' Simply because he was close enough to see the way her cheeks coloured at as he called her it.

He tried not to grin like a lovesick idiot, instead he gently cupped his hands around her own on the wheel, helping her.

She went quite as he hovered around her, swallowing thickly as she looked down at their hands on her fucked up piece of clay.

"What we aiming for?" He asked while admiring the collection of rings covering her fingers.

It was something he had noticed about her quickly , she was always wearing some type of jewellery , necklaces , earrings , bracelets and rings. Even if she was wearing sweats out, she still had to wear them.

She exhaled quietly and let him guide her without moving away "was going for a vase but maybe just something that doesn't fall down is more realistic." She said answered .

And he helped her achieve that. With a smile on his face the whole time and a more reluctant one on her own. But he still took it for a win.

Then after they were baked in the oven and cooled  down, they got down to painting them, sat beside Auston at the table , painting her pottery a simple light green colour.

"What's yours gonna be?" She asked him curiously . Eyeing the small dish shaped pot he had made, he was holding it gently as he delicately painted it blue, with hearts all over it. His brush strokes gentle and precise, taking it seriously .

"It's gonna be a trinket dish for all your pretty jewellery." He murmured to her casually , finishing off another small heart. Secretly painting his initials in it too.

Cherrie just fell silent again, just looking at him. Stomach a whole damn zoo.

Fuck. She thought with a sigh. She was so fucked.

"Thanks. That's..." she didn't know what to say.

Flinching a little when he reached over to take her hand in his, smoothly sliding off her mood ring , grinning at her as he put in the small dish.

Letting out a pleased hum seeing that it fit in just fine , "sweet? Kind?" He supplied to her with a smirk, sliding her ring onto his own finger. Clenching them to watch the colours change as it heated ahinst his skin.  Wondered what the colour meant . He took a good guess, wasn't too hard.

Cherrie just sighed and watched him play with her ring on his finger, no plans to give it back.

So she took the cap from ontop of his head and placed it on her own, a theif for a thief. Watching in Amusement as he quickly ran his hand through his hair self consciously , frowning at her.

She frowned back.

Then he broke out into a soft laugh, his eyes lingering on her as he murmured to her quietly "ya know , you're very pretty." It was an understatement.

She was so fucking beautiful that his stomach hurt, but he felt like saying that would scare her away so soon. And he didn't want that.

Confident as she was, she just hummed and nodded her head in agreement . "I know." She was a model for a reason after all.

Auston laughed, nudging her arms . Enjoying the way she scolded at him when he ended up knocking the tiny paintbrush out of her hand. Huffing at him as she picked it back up again, fixing where it had smudged on the pottery.

"It's your turn to tell me how pretty I am too." Auston joked.

She huffed out a mean little laugh , not even looking away from her pottery . "I'm not lying to you matthews. Sorry." She didn't sound very sorry at all.

He didn't say anything . Just sighing dramatically instead as he went back to finishing off painting his too, making Cherrie lift her head to look at him with a frown.

Side eyeing him quietly , she shifted uneasily in her seat. Taking in his soft sweatshirt and vintage jeans , face as soft as the night before when he couldn't look away from her then either .

But now that she thought about it, he had always looked at her that way . Even when she was cursing him out for breaking her brothers nose during a game from behind the barrier , he always looked at her. For her.

So she huffed reluctantly and muttered quietly "you're eyes are alright I guess." Flushing darkly when he let out a startled laugh .

Looking back at her with a wide grin on his face , utterly amused by her inability to just be nice.

But flattery for someone she liked wasn't in her dna, she just bullied them instead. It was much easier. No matter how childish it was.

She never claimed to be mature anyways.

Emotionally constipated . Her friends joked.

Just reasonable and honest. She called herself .

"Alright eyes?" He was giggling hysterically now. Snorting even as he placed his chin in his hand, gazing over at her in amusement. .

"Wow. You're such a charmer . How do you have so many ex's?" He asked her while grinning .

Cherrie just looked at him blandly , then pointed at her face , then pointed down to her chest.

Auston followed her finger and hummed long and hard, getting what she was referring to. Both were very gifted and beautiful after all.

"Ah. Okay." He said nodding casually , his eyes lingering on her chest that was pushing out of her tight tank top that she was wearing.

He wondered "are they real?" He blurted out, genuinely curious. They looked too perfect to be real.

Cherrie eyes widened in offence , scoffing at him. "of course they're real! My back pain Says fuck you by the way." She shot back at him. Though she was amused by the way he couldn't keep his thoughts in his head at all.

He winced apologetically "sorry. They just look so perfect. They're very nice." He said while grinning at her , before sneaking another not so subtle glance at her tits.

They were great. 10000/10.

She rolled her eyes at him but she was hiding a smile , shaking her head . "Shut up." She muttered .

Ignoring the way he shuffled his chair closer to her own, hiking up his muttered jokes and judgey  comments about other people there , just to see her smile again.

Day2 .

The next day Cherrie ended up looking down at the caller Id in her phone in disbelief as it rang suddenly , Love or your Life written across the screen as she answered it with a amused scoff

"Are you serious Matthews? You stole my phone to put your number in it while I went to the toilet?" She said instead of hello. Amused despite herself.

She found herself getting up from the couch, playing with her hair as she listened to him talk. Practically feeling his stupid grin through the phone.

"Are you really that surprised?" He replied .

She grinned to herself , dropping her hair and fidgeting with her bottom lip instead .

Heart fluttering "I shouldn't be but you're kinda looking a bit desperate now matthews." She teased him.

He gasped dramatically and she had to force herself not to laugh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much she enjoyed his theatrics.

"I do not! I just want to hang out with you." He told her honestly not finding a need to lie.

He never had with her before and he wasn't going to start now.

She paused in the middle of the room, swallowing .

Then she murmured a soft , confused "why?" Wanting to know why he was trying so hard when he should have known better .

He sighed a little before telling her jokingly  "because you told me that I have 'alright eyes' and now I can't stay away.' But it was mostly true. Only his eyes had been on her long before two nights ago.

She didn't say anything so he tried his luck again "can I come over?" He asked her bluntly. Not beating around it.

She scoffed "no." Glancing around her temporary home, she started fluffing up the pillows on the couch despite it.

He huffs "please?" Then he bargained "I'll make you food."  Knowing that good food was her soft spot.

She said okay.

The first thing he did when he arrived was hug her, grinning to himself in amusement when she froze up, her arms sticking out to the side like an akward stick man. 

Placing his chin on her shoulder as he let out a content sigh, having missed her since the moment she left yesterday.

"What the hell are you doing?" She exclaimed , flustered . Turning her head so she could rest her chin on his chest, frowning up at him, startled. Feeling her heart race in her chest as she caught his smile.

He just hugged her head to his chest, laughing at the annoyed groan that she let out as he held her close.

"Hugging you." He stated the Obvious, amused.

"don't tell me you've never been hugged before babe?" He teased her, giving her another squeeze just because he could.

She finally had enough "get off me!" She huffed , pushing him off her.

Rolling her eyes when he just laughed at her "make me food." She said to distract herself away from the heat rising in her cheeks.

Auston wiggled his eyebrows at her but made his way to small kitchen regardless.

"bossy. Are you this bossy in bed too?" He joked (hoped), winking at her.

She glared at him , lips twitching .

"I will hurt you." She promised him. Then she watched him pull out the items from his canvas bag he had brought with him, smiling when she saw the pasta.

"Don't poison me please. I have the shoot tomorrow and clutching my stomach while vomiting isn't really a good look for me." She tells him. Leaning up against the counter beside him, turning her head to watch him cook for her.

Auston rolled his eyes at her , pulling on her hair and chuckling when she kicked him in return .

"I'm a good cook." He promised her. Plus he had bought the most expensive pasta and pasta sauce that they had in the store, so it better be fucking good.

"You look pretty." He told her again. Just because he could. Admiring her with a soft Blush on his cheeks that he hoped she didn't see .

And again, she just nodded her head with a small grin. Confidence never wavering "I know."

Then she glanced at his smart, waffle material , white shirt and mumbled quietly "I like your shirt." And that was a lot coming from her. She didn't just go throwing compliments about .

Auston paused with his hand on the bottle of pasta sauce , surprised.

He shot her another glance, face softening at the way she wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Thanks. Meets your approval babe?" He quipped, pleased. Having spent extra time getting ready to make sure that he looked good for her. She was a model after all, fashion was her thing. He wanted to look good beside her.

And he remembered her saying once in an interview that she liked quite luxury on a guy and well, the shirt was $3000. So it couldn't get more luxurious than that. He was glad she liked it. Because you could bet your ass that he was going to go back and boy it in every colour now.

Cherrie hummed a little, pouring herself a glass of wine. "It's nice." Was all she said.

He grinned smugly , ego boosted.

They made casual conversation while the pasta cooked. Moving to the couch when it was done, plates in their laps as they sat side by side, Auston telling her about how he had accidentally knocked out his own teammate once , Cherrie laughing freely bedore her phone rang.

And her whole face dropped as she looked at who was calling her. Immediately putting her plate on the coffee table in front of them with a small gasp, eyes going wide with fear.

"Brother?" He guessed easily. Not bothered at all. Happy to just watch in amusement as she panicked. Still eating his pasta contently . It was fucking good. Not that he had been worried.

Cherrie was not as relaxed "shut the hell up! Don't say a single thing!" She hissed at him , staring down at her phone like her brother could reach through it and see just who she was eating with then.

Auston snickered "scared of your brother?" He teased her. Shuffling closer.

She gave him a look "no. I just don't want you to get your legs broken!" She snapped.

He grinned  , placing his hand over his heart mockingly . "Aww you care about me!"

She scoffed "I do not! I'm just a good person and my brother hates you. So shut up!" She couldn't avoid it any longer , picking up her phone like it was the devil.

"Then why did you let me in?" Auston whispered to her smugly. Grinning when he got a middle finger in response.

She totally liked him. He thought gleefully.

Picking up her fork and pushing the pasta to her lips, feeding her another bite while she lied to her brother and told him that she was alone and just watching a movie.

Cherrie glaring at him as he continued to feed her like she was a baby (his baby. His babe.), snickering beneath his breath at the look on her pretty face.

She was incredibly sexy when she was mad.

Auston ended up going to her photoshoot with her the next day, refusing to leave her side. Being incredibly clingy and incredibly obvious but he couldn't care less.

Too busy watching her in awe. Sat on a loose chair as he watched her work her stuff in front of the camera , turning this way and that way as she modelled their clothes.

Well. He sucked in a sharp breath as he watched her walk out of the dressing room in the next set.

He couldn't exactly call what she was wearing clothes.

Considering she wasn't wearing them at all. Instead she had on a pale pink lace bra and thong, hair long and perfectly curled over her shoulder as she turned to look over it at the camera, lips pouted and red.

Auston felt like he might pass out. Wafting at his suddenly too tight shirt with his hand, eyes glued to the way her bare body moved confidently into poses

, this way and that way. On her knees, on her back, just standing their in fucking lace with that god damn smile.

He groaned beneath his breath , sweating. Heart racing as he followed her back into her dressing room when she was done.

Shutting the door behind them with his foot, he leaned against the dresser as he watched her take off the necklace that she was wearing.

"You look so beautiful right now." He told her quietly , eyes never leaving her.

He pulled out his own camera and lifted it up to his eye , taking picture of her as she took off the glittery makeup she was wearing . Breath hitching when she shot him a smile over her shoulder , laughing a little.

"You're like my own personal paparazzi ." She muttered in amusement . Yet she pulled a face at the camera , getting closer to him. Enjoying the attention.

She was made to be in front of the camera after all.

Eventually Setting it aside, he gently lopped his arms around her waist. Throat bobbing as he swallowed . Confidence wavering for a moment as he looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms.

"Can't help it." He murmured back to her quietly , feeling his pants harden as he glanced  down at her breasts spilling out in lace. Right there for him to see, chest nearly brushing ahinst his as she moved closer to him.

"You're perfect." He said. Meaning it.

Cherrie sighed, like she knew what was gonna happen next and wasn't going to stop it. He held his breath.

"Matthews?" She hummed .

He let out a strangled breath , fully hard now.

"Yeah?" He breathed out , fingers flexing around her waist as they slid down to grip her lace covered hips instead.

He swallowed again. Mouth ran dry.

She looked at him for a moment , contemplating if it was worth it. If he was worth it.

Then she saw his nervous, hopeful eyes on her. Felt his palms grow sweaty on her hips, felt his hard on pressing into her thigh as he shifted anxiously on his feet.

She was done for. Completely fucked.

So, she thought , she might as well be fucked in best of ways as well.

"This is your chance if you want it." She let him know quietly. Looping her arms around his neck, titling her head to give him a pointed look. Heart racing.

And he did want it. So fucking bad. It was obvious.

He didn't chance her changing her mind.

Just leant his head down and kissed her like he has been wanting to all this time. Humming in relief against her mouth when she quickly kissed him back, playing with the hair on the nape of his neck as she deepened the kiss.

Nudging his nose gently with her own , tasting him, biting down on his bottom lip until he was moaning against her tongue. Hands cupping her face firmly as she pressed his back against the wall behind him.

Then her hands slid beneath his sweatshirt and his fingers took a handful of her ass , squeezing with a lustful groan.

His mind short circuiting when she moved her mouth away from his to kiss down his jaw, then to down his flushed neck instead . Tongue slowly and carefully tracing her name down his throat, making sure he felt every letter, as he laughed breathlessly , eyes blown wide in anticipation and something more than desire . Burning for her completely.

His Heart racing. Unable to believe that it was finally happening between them.

"I kinda feel nervous." He blurted out despite the way his hands were gripping the back of head, threading his fingers through his soft hair as she suddenly knelt down to her knees in front of him and swiftly pulled down his pants , Auston just looking down at her in awe.

Gasping sharply as she confidently gripped him on her warm hand, squeezing him firmly as he swallowed thickly , barely breathing as he watched her through hooded eyes. Feeling like he was living out one of his wet dreams that she was always the star of .

"First time?" She joked slyly , giving him a wink when he just let out a strangled breath , speechless .

Then without another warning , she dropped her head down and got to work on showing him just why she had such a long list of ex lovers , and just why she was one of the most wanted women in the world.

But Auston don't think that anybody wanted her just as much as he did. It really wasn't possible.

Then She fucked him like she was a pornstar and Auston genuinely had to sit down on the couch when it was finally over , his legs shaking and face red as he caught back his breath, sweating and panting loudly as he watched her pull her clothes back on. Feeling like he was in a dream. Never wanting to leave it.

He watched her get ready in silence for a minute. Just taking her in before finally sitting up and joining her in putting his clothes back on, his eyes on her face as she brushed her sex hair into a lazy ponytail , a relaxed stance about her now and Auston felt proud to be the one to put that satisfied , fucked out smile on her face.

He stood up carefully when he was done, slowly  approaching her and putting his arms around the back of her neck , burying his face into her shoulder as he hugged her close. Just breathing her in contently.

"Come home with me?" H practically pleaded, voice quiet and hopeful. Never wanting to let her go now.

If he thought that he was In love with her before they had sex, his feelings were much worse now.

He kind of wanted to marry her then. Be her forever. Die for her. That kind of love. It was crazy but so was he.

She sighed quietly , lips twisting as she hesitated for a second "Auston..."

But then she glanced up in the mirror in front of them and caught their reflection, face softening as she saw the way that he was looking at her.

His cheek blushing pressed against her own softly as he swayed them from side to side gently , kissing the corner of her mouth with puppy eyes.

"Please?" He whispered hopefully .

Then he quickly added like it would change her mind "I'll teach you how to knit."

She laughed in disbelief , unable not to. Because what the fuck was wrong with him?

They had fucked and now he wanted to take her home and knit with her? Who did that?

...

She went home with him. Because of course she did.

And Auston ended up knitting her a scarf while she slept soundlessly on his chest, the smile never leaving his face the whole night long .

She was wearing the very same scarf that he made as she used to hide the hickeys he gave her on her neck when her brother facetimed her in a fury the very next day.

"What the hell are you doing Cherrie?" He almost yelled down the phone , looking at her in disbelief "there's photos of you and Auston fucking matthews all over the internet. Want to tell me what that's  about?" He demanded to know. Seething.

And she winced .

Not meeting his eyes she sniffed, acting indifferent. Like she wasn't tucked up in his bed right then, in his hoodie and handmade fucking scarf while he baked her cookies in his kitchen because he wanted to.

She felt her heart race with anxiety, guilt hitting her then. "yeah-I er-I bumped into him outside the grocery store." She lied , forgetting for a moment just who she was lying to.

He was her brother for fucks sake. He could see right through her and noticed the way her eyes were wandering , the way she was sat there in a scarf that she wouldn't be seen dead in usually . He wasn't that stupid.

"The photos are in front of a pottery class building Cherrie." He stated bluntly. Not happy at all.

But who would be after seeing pictures of his sister cozying up beside the guy that had humiliated him in the ice more times than he could count?

She laughed abruptly , mentally kicking herself . "Yeah I bumped into him there too." She tried to cover herself but she knew it wasn't working. "Small world eh?" She added sheepishly .

Dalton, her brother, just scoffed angrily .

Glaring down the phone at her and she was so fucking glad that this argument was taking place over FaceTime because she wasn't so sure she could lie to his face in real time. She pierre herself on blunt honesty after all , so lying to him was new and awful .

"I can't believe you! You were laughing and smiling at him Cherrie!" He shouted furious "touching his fucking arm! We hate him , what the hell are you doing?!"

Getting worked up now , anger Inherited , she rolled her eye at him in irritation .

"you hate him! Maybe he isn't so bad!" Seeing his rage she quickly added "off the ice!" Like it would help her case.

It didn't.

Her brother let out a unamused laugh "you're joking!" He couldn't believe it, feeling betrayed because where was his sister who had threatened to break matthews legs after he had hurt him on the ice?

"This guy had broke my nose before Cherrie! Always on my fucking back!"

She looked away from her phone with a frown, swallowing nervously because it was true . Auston liked to terrorise him on the ice, they're was kind denying it. .

"Thats just hockey."she weakly defended.

Her brother then just shook his head in absolute disbelief, unable to believe what he was hearing .

"I don't want you near him Cher. He's a asshole! And this is something that he would do just to piss me off! I know it! Try and get close to you just so he can use it against me on the ice!" He accused . Furious at the very thought.

And Cherrie froze as the first shot of doubt made its way to her head.

Lips parting in a shaky breath as she wondered if perhaps he could be right , getting with his sister would be a really big hit wouldn't it? She would be the name tossed around on the ice, the easy target. All because she liked a boy.

But that couldn't be right. She swallowed .

She had seen the way Auston looked at her, the way his fingers always seemed to itch to be on her skin, even if just a graze. The way his eyes search her face for her reaction whenever he said some stupid joke , the way he huddled closer to her in their walk home as they bitched to each other , judging everybody they passed, snickering like a couple of mean girls.

The way he held onto her and didn't seem to want to let her go. He had went of his way to make every excuse to see her again.

Surely that couldn't be an act just to her back at her brother on the ice?

Right?

He wouldn't be that cruel.

"Just-" she took in a deep breath to gather herself, shaking her head angrily at the phone.

"just shut up alright? I'm not doing anything wrong and neither is he! He's allowed to say hello!"

He had done a lot more than say hello to her but the pot had already been well stirred already, and it was on the verge of boiling over , she didn't want to make it worse.

Dalton looked at her for a moment , saw the way she wouldn't look at her screen to meet his eyes and let out a long sigh, hoping with everything in him That she was being honest .

"Well say goodbye each time then because you don't want him hanging around Cherrie. He's no good." He said.

And Cherrie had to agree there because matthews was no good for her Heart at all.

Once she had finished assuring her brother that she wasn't lying to him, the guilt , the doubt and the anger had her stomping back into his kitchen , heart pounding in her chest .

Glaring at him like he was the problem as she watched him hum happily to the radio as he baked , focused on making her cookies because she had said she needed sugar.

She had meant him. But he had taken it literally and pulled up a recipe and who was she to deny a man that wanted to bake her cookies?

"Auston matthews." She started furiously , more angry at her brother than anything . Pissed off that he thought he could tell her what to do.

Auston paused , hands on the dough as he looked warily over his shoulder at her .

"oh shit. What? Too many almonds?" He wondered , glancing down at his cookies. Hoping to break the scowl on her face.

But it didn't budge , instead she glared harder "are you joking? Am I a joke to you Auston? You think you're funny?" She gritted out, furious and overcome with a sudden insecurity that her brother was right .

Auston frowned, utterly confused as he wondered what could have made her mood dip in the matter of half an hour while she had been 'napping' in his room.

"Sometimes I do." He said cautiously, side eyeing her.

a little amused by how she had stormed into the kitchen with a ball of fire steaming from her ears without any explanation.

"But I think right now you do not." He mumbled sheepishly catching her scathing glare.

She just scoffed angrily "are you just doing this to get back at my brother? Some fucking game?" She demanded to know. Never one to beat around the bush.

He glanced down at the cookies , and frowned even harder. Brain still sluggish from the lack of sleep they had last night , turns out she had an insane amount of stamina once she got started. And she was very competitive too, even between the sheets. His legs were sore and so was his dick.

"Why Am I baking to get back at him? Is he allergic to almonds or something? Cause they're not for him anyways babe." He joked before looking back up and seeing the look on her face.

He quickly wiped his hands in a tea towel as his face softened, realising that this was serious and no laughing matter.

He sighed quietly "no. Of course it isn't. I couldn't care less about your brother." He told her honestly . Meaning it.

All he thought about was her, she was the one that was worried about Dalton. Not him.

She scoffed again "yeah right." She muttered grumpily , arms crossed defensively over her chest as she sulked.

Getting annoyed at her lack of understanding and her shitty character view of him, even after everything, he huffed at her .

Tugging her arms from her chest with a scowl that rivalled her own, knowing that he needed to tell her bluntly how he felt otherwise she wouldn't take the hint at all.

"Is it so hard to believe that I just like you for you Cherrie?" He said to her seriously . The most serious he had ever been with her before. But she needed to know.

He wasn't going to let her stupid brother plant some stupid seed of doubt about him in her mind , when all Auston wanted to do was worship the ground she walked on for the rest of their lives.

And Auston couldn't believe how shocked she looked as she gaped back at him, speechless for a long moment.

Both of them just looking at eachother , Auston with his hands on his hips as he stared her down in exasperation.

Cherrie just in disbelief.

"You like me?" She echoed , cheeks flushing at the incredulous laugh he let out at her shock.

Rolling his eyes at her in amusement "no . I hate your guts ." He deadpanned. Scoffing "don't be so ridiculous. Honestly...you're so lucky that you're so pretty cause you're dumb as shit whe it comes to this stuff." He said bluntly.

She just blinked at him, stunned.

Letting him take her into his arms with a dramatic sigh, arms wrapped around her waist as he grinned down at her in amusement , shaking his head at her.

He kissed the tip of her nose and muttered "I've liked you since the very first time you screamed some very colourful words at me when I accidentally broke your brothers nose that time."

Recalling how his heart had skipped a beat when he had met her furious eyes, his cheeks flushing beneath his mask as he was overcome by all that she was . As angry as she had been. She was incredibly hot when she looked like she wanted to kill him. That didn't help his infatuation at all.

Cherrie felt her mouth run dry, wide eyes staring into his soft ones.

"That was years ago though.." she breathed out, flustered by the softened look on his face then. His heart bare for her to see.

He just shrugged lazily , kissing the side of her face a couple of times as he murmured against her blushing cheek.

"I know. I'm crazy about you." He admitted without any shame . "So imagine how happy I was when I finally bumped into you at the hotel while you were drunk off your ass and missing one shoe?"

She buried her face in his chest, hiding her grin. Wrapping her arms around his waist as she squeezed him with a small frown , overwhelmed .

"Stupid idiot ." She mumbled, kissing over his heart. Bad at feelings. Bad at words.

He laughed loudly , running his fingers through her hair affectionately. Amused "I've just told you I adore you and you call me stupid?" He grinned

"you're so sweet babe." He teased.

She shrugged back at him , giggling a little . "You know exactly what you're getting yourself into with me Auston." She simply replied. Because it was true and she wasn't going to change herself for anybody.

And Auston just nodded his head, serious about it .

"I do. And you're worth all the trouble that you're gonna bring me. Ain't nobody better than you." He told her. Meaning it.

She just let out a light laugh and kissed him before he could see her burning cheeks.

He was worth it as well. He was just as much trouble as she was too after all. He had started this mess.

On the morning that she was supposed to fly back home, Cherrie was saddled with a clingy Auston refusing to let her out of his bed.

Laying like a needy koala on top of her, arms wrapped around her shoulders and legs around her waist, he wasn't letting her move at all. No matter how much she pinched at him or pulled his hair. He just grumbled and held her tighter, pouting .

"Don't leave." He groaned upset , kissing all over her face as she squirmed beneath him, feigning annoyance as though she wasn't Hiding a smile at his affections .

"Why would you want to leave me?!" He whined.

She just huffed, arm lazily wrapped around his shoulder as he clung to her. Stopped her fighting and just stared down at his frowning face in amusement.

She didn't exactly want to go but she couldn't stay forever , she had ...well, she had her apartment back home and..well, no friends but..still.

She had plans. With her brother. She couldn't just stay.

"Auston. I need to get up. My flight is in an hour. My bags are packed. Get off." She shoved at him again half heartedly but he just squished her into the mattress even harder, making her huff for a breath. Cursing his name. "Matthews!"

He groaned "it's baby to you." He muttered frowning up at her with his chin on her chest .

Heart aching at the thought of her leaving him just like that. "And you're bags aren't packed." He told her casually , lips twitching mischievously.

She paused in her struggle to narrow her eyes at him, sighing loudly when she saw the look of a man child trying not to laugh like a naughty child looking back at her.

"I swear to god Auston-" she hissed, looking across the room to where she had left her suitcase earlier. Closing her eyes in disbelief when she noticed that it was open, her clothes no longer nearly packed inside.

Auston just giggled against her chest, sounding smug. "Can't go now cause by the time you repack you'll be too late." He told her lightly , grinning at her glare. Unfazed by it . He just thought it made her look even more hot than she already was.

She smacked the back of his head, hard. Auston gasping as he looked down at her like a wounded puppy , whining her name as he rubbed at his head with a frown.

"Ow!"

She huffed "I can't believe you! What is wrong with you?!" She exclaimed. Looking at him in disbelief.

Auston just shrugged , carelessly . "Wanted you to stay. You've got nothing to do back there anyways. Apart from that runway show but we can fly there together on the day." He said. Having it all planned out. He wasn't planning on letting her go anytime soon.

And Cherrie, Cherrie felt herself give in easily .

Because he was looking at her like...like that. Smiling and kissing at any piece of her skin that he could reach, hope written acrosss his stupid face and she just couldn't do it . Couldn't break his heart.

"Fuck you." She sighed instead .

Then she pushed him off the bed and onto the floor with one giant shove while he was distracted , laughing loudly at the girly scream he let out as he went down.

He laid there, like a starfish for a moment moment .

Blinking up at her with wide eyes and a hopeful grin "is that a yes? You'll stay?" He hoped.

Seeing her crawl back beneath the covers and toss a pillow at him with another 'get fucked.'

He laughed joyfully , whooping loudly "it's a yes!" He yelled excitedly before hurrying to get off the floor, throwing himself back down on the bed to cuddle her, kissing her like there was no tomorrow .

So fucking happy because she wasn't going anyway. She was staying with him. She was his.

Unfortunately between all the fucking, the baking and knitting. The go karting dates and intense games of twister and monopoly , Auston had completely forgot about how he had agreed to hang out with Mitch that Saturday. His friend used to just letting himself in, did just that.

And Auston was too busy with his head buried between her thighs on the twister mat to hear the sound of his door opening and closing , or the footsteps quickly coming towards them.

It wasn't until they heard a girly , shocked scream coming from the doorway that they both jumped apart. Their heads snapping over with wide eyes to see Mitch standing there, his hands covering his eyes as he screamed .

"Oh shit man!" Auston gasped as he quickly pulled up cherries shorts again, glancing down apologetically at her as he helped her sit up. "I forgot you were coming over!"

Mitch scoffed loudly , in shock . "No shit! Oh my god." He groaned in disbelief as he warily pulled his hands away from his eyes , his eyes meting cherries as she glared at him. Mortified.

He glared back at her too because he knew exactly who she was.

"I know you!" He exclaimed , gaping at her. "You called me a bitch boy with no brains like .. a waist of a pretty face twice! After each game!" He accused. Looking at Auston like he was expecting him to be shocked too.

But Auston just snorted as he wiped the back of his mouth with his hand, giggling as he leant his hand to Cherrie.

Only to have her slap it away as she got back up to her feet on her own , crossing her arms over her chest defensively as she looked at his teammate who was looking between the both of them in shock .

"She's called me worse." Auston said amused.

Embarrassed and annoyed, she didn't back down.

Instead she glared back at Mitch and scoffed "you kept calling my brother four legs!" She shot back at him. Because as annoying as Dalton was, he was still her brother and she would defend him from other hockey players with her life.

Mitch rose his brows at her, pulling a face "that's just hockey sweatheart! You didn't hear the things he called me!"

Auston frowned at him , "don't call her that." He muttered. Getting ignored by the both of them.

"I don't care what he called you!"

"I can't believe this!" Mitch looked at Auston in shock "she's the one that you wouldn't shut up about all these years! But she's so mean!" He gasped. Stunned by it all.

Cherrie looked like she was going to hit him, so Auston gently pulled her away.

Patting her back soothingly With a grin on his face, not bothered at all. Too in love and happy to care about anything else other than Cherrie.

"I know." He sighed dreamily "amazing eh?" He said. Grinning down at her like a lovesick idiot.

Mitch just blinked down at him in disbelief.

Then seeing the way Auston Kissed the side of her head and the way she gently hugged his side, fingers lopped through his belt loop, he sighed in defeat. Rubbing his hand over his face in absolute disbelief .

"This serious?" He asked them , hands on his hips like a annoyed father. Looking between the two of them silently.

Cherrie frowned "none of your business" she snapped while Auston just grinned "so serious." He said at the same time. Making them glance at each other, him in amusement while Cherrie just looked exasperated.

"What?" He laughed freely , kissing her head. "It is!"

She eventually nodded with a small sigh , hesitating for a moment before looking at Mitch with a slightly less hostile look on her face.

He was Austin's teammate after all, and it was serious. So she would have to get used to having him around because she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

"It is." She agreed. Both her and Mitch just staring each other down.

Then Auston broke the tension by holding up a wooden box and asking them brightly "a game of Jenga anyone?"

What Cherrie hasn't expected when cancelling her hangout with her brother back home, was to have him turn up at her apartment in Toronto a week later without any warning.

Because if she had. Knowing that he was coming over . She wouldn't have let Auston stay over the night before.

Wouldn't have engaged in a rough sex battle for hours on her bed that morning , wouldn't have sent him to the answer the door. Thinking it was postmates with their breakfast that she had ordered.

So poor Auston was a little blindsided as he swung open the door with a happy grin on his face, just in his boxers , covered by cherries pink , silk dressing grown that barley covered her ass never mind his.

Only to be greeted by her brothers murderous face looking back at him on the over side of the door, making Austin's smile quickly slide right back off.

He tended up, shoulders lifting before letting out a akward laugh as he fastened the silk gown a little tighter around his bare chest.

Aware that his appearance screamed 'just got fucked by your sister!' Then. Hickeys littering his neck and chest because she was a little vampire , he ran a hand through his hair . Cringing a little at the awful timing of it all.

Clearing his throat as he tried to act casually , like this was totally normal.

"Oh. Hey man. Fancy seeing you here." He said .

Her just brother glared in fury , then shoved him through the door before cocking his arm back and punching him right in the nose just as Cherrie came running into the room again, in Just his shirt. Looking like sex too.

Auston groaned lowly , laid out on the floor as he clutched his poor throbbing , bleeding nose. Winching in pain "fucking hell! No hello?" He choked out, cupping his nose with a wince .

Cherrie gasping as she quickly knelt beside him, heart pounding in her chest as she glared up at her brother furiously . Quickly pulling off the fabric headband from her hair and holding it against Austin's bleeding nose.

"Dalton! What the hell is wrong with you?!" She shouted at him angrily . Gazing worriedly at Auston who was slowly pushing himself to his feet with her help, his eyes warily glancing at her brother who was red in the face and looking ready to kill.

He glared back at her in fury "don't you even start!" He hissed back at her , feeling betrayed .

"What happened to 'I only said hello?!" He Shouted. Looking like he was going to hit him again.

Auston frowned a little , sniffling as he plugged his aching nose with the fabric . Exhaling heavily "fuck me. That's what I said to you man." He managed to snark, bloody nose and all. Not helping himself at all.

"And don't talk down at her like that." He added quickly with a scowl , telling himself that smacking her brother back wouldn't help at all. In fact that might make her smack him as well. And he don't want that.

She's Worth the trouble. He reminded himself easily , tasting blood in the back of his mouth. It wasn't her fault that her brother was a dick with a mean right hook.

Dalton paced her hallway, hands in his hair as he looked at his sister , hurt by her lying to him .

"I can't believe you lied to me!" He shouted . Upset.

Cherrie let out a cold laugh, motioning towards Austons bloody nose with her hands harshly.

"I lied to you because I knew you would do this!" She screamed back at him. Just as upset. Because this was not how she wanted him to find out but it was too late now and she couldn't take anything with Auston back .

She wouldn't even if she could. She was in too deep now.

He scoffed hatefully, glaring at Auston . "No shit! Your lucky I don't kill him Cherrie! This asshole has broken my nose and concussed me more times than I can remember !" He yelled.

Auston rolled his eyes bitterly , wiping at the drying blood beneath his nose. "Maybe the concussion did some damage then. Stupid ass." He muttered.

Cherrie shot him a look "shut up." She snapped.

He did.

Then she looked at her brother and scolded "and you-I'm a grown ass woman. I can do whatever I like! You don't get to tell me who I get to be with!"

He gasped sharply "be with?!" He looked sick.

Glancing between them again and finally noticing the way Auston stood so close to her, his hand gently pressed to her back for comfort. Cherrie checking worriedly at his bruising nose every two seconds while he murmured to her that he was okay.

He felt his stomach drop "oh no." He almost whined in misery . "no. No! Please tell me this is just some stupid fucking faze! You can't be-" he looked helplessly between them "you don't actually like him do you?!" He demanded to know.

Cherrie went silent. Feeling two pairs of eyes on her, Auston frowning a little when she didn't say a thing at all.

Taking it upon himself to let him know "she does. This isn't some meaningless hook up man."

Dalton glared at him angrily "you. Shut up. You don't get to speak."

"I'll say what I want to asshole." He snapped back at him. Done with his shit. Because who did he think he was to barge in and ruin their day like this?

Her brother swallowed . Eyes widening because that sounded too much like something his sister would say for comfort.

He groaned again. "No. Cherrie come on..." he said pleadingly . Looking at her for the truth.

She swallowed thickly, glanced at Austin's frowning face as he fidgeted with his fingers and sighed in defeat .

"He's-" she breathed in nervously, not good with feelings at all. She felt sick. "I'm staying in Toronto for a while Dalton." She ended up saying instead .

He just looked back at her, confused "why?" Then he glanced at Auston and scowled "for him?" He scoffed.

She ignored his pettiness and nodded her head, reaching her hand behind her back and letting Auston intertwine their fingers.

Finding comfort in it as he gently squeezed the palm of her hand three times, shuffling closer to her till their sides were pressed together. Wincing as she took a glance up to see his bloody nose that was already bruising, having no doubt that it would look even worse tomorrow.

"For myself." She muttered then swallowed "and Auston. For the both of us. Because I want to."

Her brother shook his head "I don't get it." He said genuinely.

Glaring at him "why my sister? Cause if this is just some sick fucking game to mess with her- I will fucking kill you-" he started to threaten him, protective of her as always.

And Auston had enough . Just wanting to wash his aching nose and eat some food with Cherrie in bed, before taking her to the movies just like he had planned before he brother had barged in.

His plans weren't going to change , so he needed to set him straight now before he did what his gut was screaming at him to do and punched his stupid ass back.

"Shut up dick face." He finally spat losing his patience. "I'm doing this because I fucking love your sister alright? I've been in love with her for years so you don't get to come in here and accuse me of shit when you don't fucking know shit at all!" He snarled, picking up a cushion from the couch and hauling it at his head instead .

It went silent. Air tense. Her brother slowly looking down to the cushion that bounced onto the floor after hitting him, while Cherrie just gaped at him in shock. Gasping.

Heart pounding In Her chest as she murmured tearfully "you're in love with me?" Tugging at his hand to get him to look at her again .

Auston did. Face softening as he took in her tears eyes and flushed cheeks. Rolling his eyes at her with a small laugh , exhausted and his nose stinging like a bitch.

"Duh." He said with a sigh while cupping her face in his hands , giving her a little shake in amusement.

"thought I made it obvious. But I forgot that you're a little dumb when it comes to love." He said.

"Fuck you." She sniffled while leaning into him , grinning tearfully as he fondly pinched her cheek.

Auston smirked at her a little , "you love me too right?" He checked. Confidence wavering for a split second when she didn't immediately say it back.

But he had nothing to worry about because she snorted, then pinched his side and told him straight "I am so in love with you , you stupid asshole!" Before kissing him.

Auston laughing breathlessly against her mouth. Getting lost in her, relief filling his chest know that her knew she felt the same .

I mean. He had a feeling that she did but still, it was nice to hear it verbally. It Settled any doubt and now he wanted to buy a ring.

They only pulled away when her brother loudly cleared his throat, their faces flauhing, having forgotten that he was even there. Auston giving him a awkward grin when he met his glaring eyes.

"I'm going to beat your ass at the next game." Was all he muttered in defeat knowing that he has no say in this . She loved him after all.

Tossing his bag aside and stomping down the hallway to find the spare room, needing a long minute to take on the fact that his sister was in love with his rival. And his rival was so obviously ,  sickeningly in love with her too . He kind of wanted to die.

Auston just scoffed, wrapping his arms around cherrrie as he watched him wander away. Feeling smug, he replied "after that hit. You better watch your back!"

Making Cherrie slap his side with a glare "behave." She warned. Amused.

But it was Auston. And he was a little shit , so he also called out to him loudly before he could reach the bedroom door.

"Oh! And I'm taking you're sister out to see the movies later and you're not coming!"

Her brother yelled back "fuck you! I don't want to go anywhere with your stupid ass anyways!"

Auston scoffed "yeah well this stupid is ass is going to marry your sister. So better get used to it brother in law!" He really couldn't Help himself at all. It was just too easy.

The only answer he got was a strangled noise from him and the slamming of the door behind him.

His chuckling quickly fading as he turned around to be faced with Cherrie, arms crossed over her chest as she shook her head at him, unimpressed with him winding her brother up even more.

"What?" He muttered with a smirk.

Wrapping his arm around her neck and nudging his nose gently against her own in mirth "it's true. You like diamonds babe?"

She just sighed in exasperation and kissed him to shut him up. But he got the message loud and clear.

She totally wanted a big diamond . He had seen those rings on her fingers. She wasn't going to be cheap at all. He grinned into the kiss, lit with happiness from Within.

It only took, like three fucking years. But Totally worth the trouble . And the bloody nose.

Because the mouthy, mean girl was finally his.

[allthingsfangirl101]

What Ifs–Zac Efron

Masterlist

Zac's POV

I looked up, my face burning when I saw Y/N walking with her eyes focused on her iPad. Her hair was tossed over one shoulder as she chewed on her bottom lip.

She looked up, our eyes instantly falling on each other. She smiled as she walked over to me, tucking her iPad under her arm.

"Hey, Zac," she greeted as she walked up to me. "I'm glad I caught you before you went back to the hotel."

"Yeah," I said, trying to hide the shakiness. "What can I do for you?"

I'd like to take you to dinner, I thought. And maybe more. . .

"Well, the jet leaves tomorrow morning at 10," she started to explain our travel planes. "The latest they need you at the airport is 9:30 so you can sleep in a little, but try not to sleep too late. I feel like I should give you a wake-up call."

"Only if you come into the room, banging pots and pans together," I tried to say teasingly. I smiled victoriously when I made her laugh.

"Is that what it takes to wake up the Zac Efron?" She teased back.

"I'm a heavy sleeper," I shrugged.

"Anyway," she chuckled, "I'll have a car waiting for you outside the hotel at 9. The flight is supposed to be about 5 hours. It's a little longer than our previous flights, but I have a bag of games if you get restless."

She sent me a teasing wink before going through the rest of my schedule. I met Y/N during my first meeting with Netflix about the show. Netflix hired her to be my assistant while we traveled. The more I talked to her, the more I realized she was too good to just be an assistant.

"Why are you working for Netflix?" I blurted out without thinking. "I mean. . . You have all the certifications, training, and experience to be a travel agent, and yet you work for Netflix, planning our trips. Why aren't you working for some big travel agency?"

I held my breath, expecting her to be offended but she laughed.

"It's simple," she shrugged. "I could plan the vacation of a lifetime for a family, or I can help you plan adventures for you and your viewers."

"I didn't think about it like that," I said under my breath. She sent me a smile, about to say something but was cut off.

"Y/N?" We turned around to see Darin waving her over.

"I'll see you later?" She asked as she slowly started to walk away.

"Yeah," I stuttered. "Definitely."

                         * * * * *

"Tell me something," Dylan laughed as he sat on the desk. "How long have you had a high-school crush on your assistant?"

I froze with my pair of pants still in my hand. I cleared my throat before putting my pants in my suitcase and grabbing a shirt.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, clearing my throat.

"Come on," my brother scoffed. "It's so obvious."

"It is not," I defended myself. I cleared my throat again when I saw the knowing look on his face.

"Everyone knows, man," he sighed.

"Everyone?" I stuttered.

"Well, not everyone," he smirked. "Y/N is completely clueless to you being in love with her."

"I'm not. . ."

"Zac," he sighed. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing?"

"You're forcing yourself not to fall for Y/N."

"What?" I scoffed. "I'm not. . ."

"You are," he cut me off. "Ever since you got your life back on track, since you decided to step away from Hollywood, you haven't been allowing yourself to be happy. You're self-sabotaging, Zac."

"What do you mean?" I asked, barely audible.

"You know that being with Y/N could make you incredibly happy," he explained, "but you refuse to break down your walls for her."

I took a shaky breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed. I ran my fingers through my hair and leaned my elbows on my knees.

"What if I tell her and she doesn't feel the same?"

"What if she does and you never find out?"

I looked down at my hands, nervously rubbing them together. I took a shaky breath before looking back up at my brother.

"I can't," I stuttered.

"Zac," he started but I cut him off.

"I can't drag her into this," I said, standing up and wiping my hands on my pants. "I'm a mess and she doesn't deserve a guy who will only drag her down."

                         * * * * *

The next morning, I walked into the hotel lobby to see Dylan talking to Y/N. I bit my lip, holding in a smile when she laughed at something my brother said. A wave of jealousy washed over me as Y/N reached forward and touched his arm as she laughed. She playfully pushed him before shaking her head.

I watched as she excused herself and walked away from my brother with a smile still on her face. As she went to check with the guy behind the desk, I walked over to Dylan.

"Hey," I said, trying to hide my jealousy. "What were you and Y/N talking about?"

"You were jealous," Dylan laughed. He cleared his throat when he saw the way I was looking at him. "Come on," he sighed.

"What?" I stuttered.

"Y/N and I were talking about horrible hotels we've stayed in, but you thought we were flirting," he said in a knowing tone. "Zac, a guy isn't jealous when a girl talks to another guy unless he has feelings for her. The idea of Y/N being with another guy obviously bothers you."

"Maybe," I said under my breath.

"Then do something about it!" He sighed. "You care about Y/N. So tell her before some other guy comes around and notices how amazing she is."

"But what if. . ."

"Enough with the 'what ifs', Zac," Dylan cut me off. "Those are the two most damning words in the English language. When put together, those two words have the ability to stop you in your tracks, force you back into a whole, and make you lose the one person who could make you happy."

I glanced over at Y/N, nervously chewing my bottom lip. "You really think I should ask her out?" I mumbled.

"Ask her out before Steve does."

"Wait, what?" I asked, stopping him from walking away. "Steve, the camera guy likes Y/N?"

"Yeah," he laughed. "Almost as much as you do. He's had a thing for her since we hired him after Mark left."

Dylan smirked and nodded towards Y/N. My heart sank into my stomach when I saw Steve walking over to Y/N and start talking to her.

"Dude," Dylan said, clearing his throat. "Just go get her."

I left my brother and walked over to Y/N and Steve, interrupting their conversation.

"Hey," Y/N said, turning away from Steve and towards me. "You ready to go?"

"I am," I nodded. "Thanks to you."

"I know," Steve chuckled. "I don't know where we would be without her."

"We'd probably be stuck in LAX."

My comment made Y/N laugh. I hid my victorious smirk as Steve excused himself and helped organize the luggage.

"So," Y/N said, slightly clearing her throat. "Are you excited to go to Puerto Rico?"

"I am," I chuckled. "I'm kinda surprised you got Chef José Andrés to agree to do our show."

"It actually wasn't that hard to get him to agree," she shrugged. "I just told him what message you were trying to portray and what you'd already done in the previous cities. He loved it and jumped at the chance to be a part of it."

"Wow," I said under my breath. "That's. . . Amazing."

"That's my job," she joked. "Oh! I think I might be able to get permission for you to milk a goat and try some ceviche."

"What's ceviche?"

"It's a seafood dish with diced cubes of raw fish marinated in either a lemon or lime juice mixture," she explained. "The reaction of the citrus juices cure the fish protein and causes it to become. . . What?"

She cut herself off when she saw the look on my face. She nervously bit her bottom lip, her cheeks turning red.

"Nothing," I chuckled. "Sorry. I just. . . I love how excited you get about this kinda stuff."

"Oh," she said under her breath.

"I love how passionate you get about work," I continued. "I mean, you could be working for a big travel agency. I know you said you like this better, but you could be doing a lot more and you choose to plan my galavanting around the world."

"I like planning your galavanting," she giggled.

"And I like you."

My eyes widened when I blurted that out. Y/N's eyes slowly widened as my words registered.

"You. . . You what?" She asked under her breath. I sighed, deciding not to hold back anymore.

"I like you," I confessed. "I like you a lot, Y/N. Ever since you started working with us, I find myself wanting nothing more than to spend time with you. The experiences I've had have been incredible, but I find myself still wanting to see you at the end of the day. I know it's not exactly professional for us to start dating, and I'm not assuming that you'd be willing to go out with me, but I couldn't handle thinking 'what if' anymore."

Y/N reached up and covered my mouth with her hand, cutting me off. She smiled up at me as she slowly moved her hand away from my mouth.

"If you stopped nervously rambling, I could tell you that I like you too," she said, her voice soft.

"You. . . You do?"

"I like you a lot, Zac," she chuckled, her cheeks turning pink. "Ever since I started working with you, I find myself wanting nothing more than to spend time with you."

It was my turn to cut her off as I grabbed her waist and pulled her into me. She gasped as I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers. She didn't hesitate before kissing me back.

As our lips moved in sync, I tightened my arms around her and pulled her closer to me. I felt her smile as she slid her hands up my chest, wrapping her arms around my neck.

We pulled apart when we heard someone yelling that the airport shuttle was outside. We looked into each other's eyes, not saying anything as we smiled at each other.

"Do you think, when we get to Puerto Rico, I can take you out to dinner?" I asked under my breath.

"As long as we don't have to catch, gut, and kill our dinner," she teased, "I'm down."

[octalove]

Back Then

(Batsis/Jason Todd/Dick Grayson)

Description: Reader’s little brother is having some trouble adjusting to his new life. Sad toward the end.

The sun was bashfully hiding behind some thin gray clouds, not unusual for any given afternoon. Leaning against my still-warm black Maybach 57, I tried not to grow impatient. “Maybe he joined an after school activity.” Dick mumbled through the Twix bar I’d picked up for him at the vending machine during lunch. He was sitting in the front seat, with the window rolled down, listening to Adele. I rolled my eyes, knowing full well that Jason Peter Todd would rather be skinned than join an after school activity. Still, though, Gotham Preparatory School for Boys had let out eleven minutes ago, and most of the other boys had gotten into their parent’s cars and sped away to their uptown abodes. Dick and I had come straight from Gotham Academy, punctual as usual, so as to avoid a folly of disapproving glares from dad and Alfred at dinner tonight. Where the hell was that kid?

“Maybe he ran away. Joined the circus.” Dick tried again. “Maybe I’m gonna put you in a circus.” “Back in a circus.” He corrected with a grin. Finally, at 4:15, Jason emerged from the school’s artfully carved wooden doors. His head was bowed, dark hair sticking up in all different directions, brow furrowed. He looked small in his school uniform, plaid socks and disheveled blazer. He hugged a book to his chest. A leathery hand lay on his shoulder, attached to a spindly man in his late 50’s, with receding salt and pepper hair, and golden oval glasses perched on his beak-like nose. I narrowed my eyes and crossed my arms, and upon spotting me, the man turned pale as a ghost, just as Jason looked up to reveal a purple bruise under his eye. He snapped his gaze back down. Dick quickly assessed the situation as well, and hopped out of the car, standing equal to me at a solid 5’8, but with all the toned muscle of a gymnast since walking age. We were about to play good cop bad cop- me, the polite, sophisticated elder sister who didn’t want to involve her egregiously powerful father, unless provoked by lack of cooperation, and Dick, the ill-tempered 15-year-old brother ready to raise hell if he didn’t get a good idea of what the fuck happened.

“Headmaster Ellison.” I said tersely, smoothing out my Gotham Academy uniform. I was thoroughly familiar with him from Dick’s days at the prep school- he’d called him Headmaster Hellison, and had a catalogue of grievances as long as his list of unfinished assignments.

“Ah, Miss Wayne. You look lovely today.” I had to steel my face into something vaguely agreeable, because even though it appeared he was the one afraid of me, I was 17 and in a schoolgirl skirt, and something about getting complimented by old men always skeeved me.

“What happened?” I cut right to the point, deciding small talk might soften my resolve, and I was in the mood for this to piss me off.

“Well, you see, we had a small incident today-“

“It’s okay! Can we go home?” Jason piped up abruptly and nervously, eyes pleading with me to let it go. Unfortunately, Waynes skewed toward long grudges.

“Come here, let me see.” I said more softly. Stiffly, Jason trudged across the neatly cut grass, still avoiding my eye. The bruise itself wasn’t bad, but I could tell it had just begun to bloom.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. “Jason has been encountering some problems with some of the other boys. This wouldn’t be the first incident, but it did escalate this time-“

“Not the first incident?” I clipped.

“It never got physical before, just some small verbal altercations that we easily handled.”

“Obviously they weren’t handled.” It was Dick’s turn to interrupt. It always struck me how he could make his voice go from lazily playful to stark and authoritative, biting off words almost as effectively as dad. Who needed Batman and Robin when Y/N Wayne and Dick Grayson were on the case?

“Please, can we just go? I’m okay, honest.” Jason begged, grabbing my hand and tugging just a little. His bronzed face was all swollen and puffy- not just from the fight. I could tell his eyes were rimmed with red. But he looked at me with all the determination and bravado of a street rat from Gotham, and my heart always bled for him in that regard. I sighed.

“Well, I have violin practice here shortly, Headmaster Ellison, so I’m going to take my brother home,” I bit off the brother part with a special zeal to emphasize that Jason Todd, no matter his name or background, was a Wayne, and I was his reminder. “And my father will be calling this evening to handle it once he gets off work.” Work that includes being able to liquidize this whole school right into his bank account in the time it takes to send an email.

“Get in, Jason.” I said. He did.

After a silent ride home, in which Dick tried to coax the full story out of an increasingly moody Jason, we arrived back at the manor whereupon I briefed Alfred, concerned, supportive, and called dad, exasperated, quiet. I let my little brother stew in his room until later that night, when I finally got tired of waiting him out and knocked on the door.

“Jaybird.” I cooed softly.

“…”

“Jay. If I open this door and you’re not there, I will set up the largest manhunt this city has ever witnessed.”

“I’m okay.” A quiet voice called back, sounding annoyed.

“May I come in?” I asked.

“…”

“…”

“Ok.”

I cracked the door open. He was balled up in his window nook, engrossed in a book. The room was dark, and he was reading with a flashlight, which was really unnecessary because he had about a dozen lamps, including a really cool lava lamp that Dick had gotten him. He’d changed out of his uniform and into pants and a hoodie, his hood pulled over with the strings pulled taut. He glanced down at the keys in my hand, narrowing his eyes.

“Come on.” I said.

“Where?”

“You haven’t eaten since you got home, kiddo.” His gaze fell askance. When it came to Jason, food was the way to ensure the answer was yes, whatever the question was.

“Can you bring me back something?” He grumbled quietly after a moment. I shook my head.

“I’m going to Sherman’s. Dine in only. One time offer.” I said with a smile. He frowned.

“I don’t wanna talk to Bruce.”

“Bruce isn’t coming. Just you and me. And we don’t even have to talk.” After some consideration, he pulled himself from his nook and brushed past me on his way out. I grinned to myself. Too easy.

Sherman’s Diner was the finest restaurant experience in Gotham City. The reflection of the neon lights skewed across puddles which danced with the drizzling rain. Fuchsia, cyan, lime green, red. Cracked white tiles and a sign with Sherman himself; a little plump chef man who, despite his jovial countenance and enthusiastic smile, appeared to be weeping tears of rust. Inside, the floor was unswept, the tables a bit sticky from all the no-show teenage staff of the payroll, and one of the lights above a lonely booth flickered. Jason loved it. The waitresses loved him.

“Come on in and sit down, hun, we’ll get ya some coffee!” A blonde woman called from behind the counter. One thing about Gothamites and Diners, black coffee was a 24/7 ordeal; 9pm on a school night was no exception. I let Jason pick the booth- he usually went for the same one, creature of habit that he was. We slid into the cool, torn red leather and neither of us needed to look at the menu. We sipped our coffees quietly for a while- Jason pretending to like it because it was the worldly thing to do. He’d never admit that he only started after he saw that dad and I always passed on sugar and cream.

It seemed our little evening standoff was going to bleed into the night. I took it as an opportunity to show him how patient I could be when necessary. The waitress- Darcy- set down a small slice of Oreo cake on the table. For him. Finally, he sighed, taking a bite of it.

“I hate school.” He mumbled.

“The school? Or the kids?” He didn’t answer. “What happened, Jay? Last week you loved school.”

“I like English.” He offered.

“Jason.” I said, leaning forward and folding my hands on the table. Food hadn’t worked. Patience was out the window. It was time to apply pressure. “If you don’t tell me who hit you, I, on my honor as a Wayne, am obligated to track down every snotty little boy who ever set foot in Gotham Prep and hit their snotty little faces to see how they like it.”

Jason’s lips tugged into a smile, which he fought, and eventually lost. So he hid it behind his cake. But after a minute, his smile fell. Something else crossed his face and he looked out the window.

“I hit first.” He said quietly. Solemnly. I blinked at him, surprised.

“You did?”

“Yeah. Jared Mullins. I hit him first.”

“Why?”

He sniffed, furrowing his brow to try and fool me into believing he was something tougher than a ten year old boy. Maybe he was. Tougher than the likes of whoever the hell Jared Mullins was. “He said…”

I waited.

“He said I was poor. Said I don’t belong at the school. That Bruce only took me in cause he felt sorry for me.”

“Sounds like he deserved to get hit.” I sipped my coffee. He didn’t smile again. A beat passed in its place.

“I don’t know why I hit him.”

“Because it was a stupid thing to say.” He shook his head.

“That’s not it. He was right.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “Jason! The fuck he was. You know that’s not true.” Alfred would’ve been appalled to have me cuss in front of him, as if it wasn’t a large majority of his vocabulary since before he came to the manor.

“You don’t get it.” He said, eyes glued to the rain on the window. “You’re his daughter. His real daughter.”

“And Dick isn’t his real son?” Dick was usually the one to advise him when his legitimacy came into question, not me. Because in truth, I didn’t understand. Jason didn’t answer the question. A plate of chicken tenders and fries appeared, but they went untouched.

“Look at me please.” He did.

“It doesn’t matter that you’re not dad’s real son. And it definitely doesn’t matter that Jared whoever the hell thinks so or not. Dad took you in because of who you are, and everything you’re going to be. You belong in this family and wherever else you go, because you’re worthy of everything Gotham has to offer- and more.”

Jason’s face crumpled a little before he composed himself, blinking fast and wrestling with the emotion. He didn’t say thanks, but that was thanks enough.

“Hey. Did you see how scared Headmaster Hellison was?” I asked smugly.

A small smile. “Yeah.”

“That’s because you’re one of us. And we scare the piss out of people like him and Jared Mullins. Cause we’re a damn good family.”

Jason smiled at me. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

*

People like us

I watched- all I could do was watch. There was no way in hell I could stop him. The Jason that stood before me was 6’3 and impenetrable. Even if I thought I could get the gun from his hand, I wasn’t going to save anyone. The only thing about himself he kept when he drug himself out of the grave was his stubborn conviction. Anyone he wanted dead would wind up that way.

Scare the piss out of people like him.

The man let out a guttural, desperate noise as he tried to crawl away, pale as a ghost as Jason stood over him. He was a criminal, to be sure, but not one willing to die for his trade. Evidently, that wasn’t enough.

Cause we’re a damn good family.

“Red Hood! Stand down, now.” Batman’s voice snarled, echoing off of the concrete walls and floor. I flinched. Jason didn’t. A single shot, blood spatter, all the rest. His red monochrome helmet was on the ground, black hair all mussed and disheveled from the fight. A bruise was blooming under his eye.

His gaze flicked up, landing on me. Any trace, any remnant of my brother was gone. The man who came back was a dejected, solemn thing, who carried this dark look in his eye and looked like he could eat me whole. I tried to convey something to him with my eyes. It didn’t appear to take effect.

“You’re late to the party.” His voice rumbled in his chest, and he turned his attention to Batman.

I tried not to let my voice shake as I stepped forward.

“We’re here now.” I said.

His jaw clenched at the sound of my voice. Something grim passed his features.

“Yeah. I guess we are.”

[theculturedmarxist]

Below is the story of my day touring Tema with Prince Philip, in this chapter from my book “The Catholic Orangemen of Togo”. You may be surprised to read that I rather liked him.

The African Queen

One morning I was sitting in the lounge at Devonshire House, with its fitted wool carpets and chintz sofas. I was drinking the tea that our steward, Nasser, had brought me. I heard movement in a corner of the room, and thought it must be Nasser cleaning there. But looking round, I saw nobody. Puzzled, I got up and walked towards that corner. Rounding a settee, I nearly stood upon a thin, green snake. About four feet long and just the thickness of your thumb, it was a bright, almost lime green colour. There was not much wedge shape to its head, which rather tapered from its neck. Its tongue was flickering toward me, perhaps a foot away, its head raised only slightly off the floor. I took a step backwards. In response it too retreated, at surprising speed, and zipped up the inside of the curtains.

I stood stock still and yelled “Nasser! Nasser!” This brought Nasser hurrying into the living room with Gloria, the cook. “Nasser, there’s a snake in the curtains!” Nasser and Gloria screamed, threw their arms in the air, and ran together into the kitchen and out the back door of the house. This was not altogether helpful.

I remained where I was to keep an eye on the snake, not wanting it to be lurking inside the house unseen. After a while the front door opened and somebody, presumably Nasser, threw in Nasser’s scruffy little dog. The dog was normally banned from the house, and celebrated this unexpected turn of events by immediately urinating against the hall table. Then the dog too ran into the kitchen and out of the back door.

Abandoning my watch, I went out and recruited the reluctant gardeners and gate guards. They armed themselves with long sticks and came in and beat the curtains until the snake fell onto the floor. As it sped for cover under a sofa, Samuel the youngest gardener got in a solid blow, and soon everyone was joining in, raining down blows on the twitching snake. They carried its disjointed body out on the end of a stick, and burnt it on a bonfire.

Everyone identified it as a green mamba. I was sceptical. Green mambas are among the world’s deadliest snakes, and I imagined them to look beefy like cobras, not whip thin and small headed like this. But a search on the agonisingly slow internet showed that indeed it did look very like a green mamba.

The important question arose of how it had entered the house. With air conditioning, the doors and windows were usually shut. Nasser seemed to have solved the mystery when he remarked that a dead one had been found last year inside an air conditioner. The unit had stopped working, and when they came to fix it they found a snake jammed in the mechanism. That seemed the answer; it had appeared just under a conditioner, and it seemed likely the slim snake had entered via the vent pipe, avoiding the fan as it crawled through the unit.

This was very worrying. If anti-venom was available (and we held a variety in the High Commission) an adult would probably survive a green mamba bite. But it would almost certainly be fatal to Emily, and possibly to Jamie.

A week or so later, I was constructing Emily’s climbing frame, which had arrived from the UK. A rambling contraption of rungs, slides, platforms and trampolines, it required the bolting together of scores of chrome tubes. I was making good progress on it and, as I lifted one walkway side into position above my head, a mamba slid out of the end of the tube, down my arm, round my belly and down my leg. It did this in no great hurry; it probably took four seconds, but felt like four minutes.

There was one terrible moment when it tried an exploratory nuzzle of its head into the waistband of my trousers, but luckily it decided to proceed down the outside to the ground. It then zig zagged across the lawn to nestle in the exposed tops of the roots of a great avocado tree. Again the mob arrived and beat it to death with sticks. I persuaded them to keep the body this time, and decided that definite action was needed.

I called in a pest control expert. I was advised to try the “Snake Doctor”. I was a bit sceptical, equating “Snake Doctor” with “Witch Doctor”, but when he arrived I discovered that this charming chubby Ghanaian really did have a PhD in Pest Control from the University of Reading. As Fiona had an MSc in Crop Protection from the same Department, they got on like a house on fire and it was difficult to get them away from cups of tea to the business in hand.

He confirmed that the dead snake really was a green mamba. We obviously had a colony. They lived in trees, and he advised us to clear an area of wasteland beyond the boundaries of our house, and build a high boundary wall of rough brick at the back, rather than the existing iron palings. He also suggested we cut down an avenue of some 16 huge mature trees along the drive. I was very sad, but followed this sensible advice. That removed the mamba problem from Devonshire House. But I continued to attract mambas on my travels around Ghana.

The second half of that first year in Ghana was to be almost entirely taken up with preparations for the State Visit of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh in November 1999. A huge amount of work goes into organising such a visit; every move is staged and choreographed, designed for media effect. You need to know in advance just where everybody is going to be, who will move where when, and what they will say. You need to place and organise the media to best advantage. You need to stick within very strict rules as to what the Queen will or will not do. Most difficult of all, you have to agree all this with the host government.

I had been through it all quite recently, having paid a major part in the organisation of the State Visit to Poland in 1996. That had gone very well. The Poles regarded it as an important symbol that communism had been definitively finished. It was visually stunning, and at a time when the Royal Family was dogged with hostile media coverage, it had been their first unmixed positive coverage in the UK for ages. I had handled the media angles, and my stock stood very high in the Palace.

I am a republican personally; I was just doing my job. The Palace staff knew I was a republican, not least because I had turned down the offer of being made a Lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order (LVO) after the Warsaw visit. I had earlier turned down the offer to be an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) after the first Gulf war.

Rawlings was delighted that the Queen was coming. He craved respectability and acceptance in the international community, which had been hard to come by after his violent beginnings. But he had turned his Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) into a political party, the National Democratic Congress (NDC), and had fought elections in 1992 and 1996 against the opposition New Patriotic Party, which had an unbroken tradition running back to Nkrumah’s opponent J B Danquah and his colleague Kofi Busia. There were widespread allegations of vote-rigging, violence and intimidation, and certainly in 1992 the nation was still too cowed to engage in much open debate.

Even by 1999, social life was still inhibited by the fact that nobody except those close to the Rawlings would do anything that might be construed as an ostentatious display of life, while Rawlings had sustained and inflated the personality cult of Nkrumah still further (he is known as Osagyefo, “the conqueror”.) Open discussion of the disasters Nkrumah brought upon Ghana was almost impossible. It is still difficult for many Ghanaians today, after decades of brainwashing. As Rawlings had gradually liberalised society, the increasing freedom of the media, particularly the FM radio station, was giving a great boost to democracy. But there was still much prudent self-censorship. The media was particularly reticent about investigating governmental corruption.

The NDC government was massively corrupt. There was one gratuitous example which especially annoyed me. A company called International Generics, registered in Southampton, had got loans totalling over £30 million from the Royal Bank of Scotland to construct two hotels, La Palm and Coco Palm. One was on the beach next to the Labadi Beach Hotel, the other on Fourth Circular Road in Cantonments, on the site of the former Star Hotel. The loan repayments were guaranteed by the Export Credit Guarantee Department, at the time a British government agency designed to insure UK exporters against loss. In effect the British taxpayer was underwriting the export, and if the loan defaulted the British taxpayer would pay.

In fact, this is what happened, and the file crossed my desk because the British people were now paying out on defaulted payments to the Royal Bank of Scotland. So I went to look at the two hotels. I found La Palm Hotel was some cleared land, some concrete foundations, and one eight room chalet without a roof. Coco Palm hotel didn’t exist at all. In a corner of the plot, four houses had been built by International Generics. As the housing market in Accra was very strong, these had been pre-sold, so none of the loan had gone into them.

I was astonished. The papers clearly showed that all £31.5 million had been fully disbursed by the Royal Bank of Scotland, against progress and completion certificates on the construction. But in truth there was virtually no construction. How could this have happened?

The Chief Executive of International Generics was an Israeli named Leon Tamman. He was a close friend to, and a front for, Mrs Rawlings. Tamman also had an architect’s firm, which had been signing off completion certificates for the non-existent work on the hotel. Almost all of the £30 million was simply stolen by Tamman and Mrs Rawlings.

The Royal Bank of Scotland had plainly failed in due diligence, having paid out on completion of two buildings, one not started and one only just started. But the Royal Bank of Scotland really couldn’t give a toss, because the repayments and interest were guaranteed by the British taxpayer. Indeed I seemed to be the only one who did care.

The Rawlings had put some of their share of this looted money towards payments on their beautiful home in Dublin. I wrote reports on all this back to London, and specifically urged the Serious Fraud Office to prosecute Tamman and Mrs Rawlings. I received the reply that there was no “appetite” in London for this.

Eventually La Palm did get built, but with over $60 million of new money taken this time from SSNIT, the Ghanaian taxpayers social security and pension fund. Coco Palm never did get built, but Tamman continued to develop it as a housing estate, using another company vehicle. Tamman has since died. The loans were definitively written off by the British government as part of Gordon Brown’s HIPC debt relief initiative.

That is but one example of a single scam, but it gives an insight into the way the country was looted. The unusual feature on this one was that the clever Mr Tamman found a way to cheat the British taxpayer, via Ghana. I still find it galling that the Royal Bank of Scotland also still got their profit, again from the British taxpayer.

So while the State Visit was intended as a reward to Jerry Rawlings for his conversion to democracy and capitalism, I had no illusions about Rawlings’ Ghana. I was determined that we should use the Queen’s visit to help ensure that Rawlings did indeed leave power in January 2001. According to the constitution, his second and final four year term as elected President expired then (if you politely ignored his previous decade as a military dictator). We should get the Queen to point him towards the exit.

Buckingham palace sent a team on an initial reconnaissance visit. It was led by an old friend of mine, Tim Hitchens, Assistant Private Secretary to the Queen, who had joined the FCO when I did. We identified the key features of the programme, which should centre around an address to Parliament. A walkabout might be difficult; Clinton had been almost crushed in Accra by an over-friendly crowd in a situation which got out of control. A school visit to highlight DFID’s work would provide the “meet the people” photo op, otherwise a drive past for the larger crowds. Key questions were identified as whether the Queen should visit Kumasi to meet Ghana’s most important traditional ruler, the Asantehene, and how she should meet the leader of the opposition, John Kufuor. Rawlings was likely to be opposed to both.

The recce visit went very well, and I held a reception for the team before they flew back to London. Several Ghanaian ministers came, and it ended in a very relaxed evening. Tim Hitchens commented that it was the first time he had ever heard Queen and Supertramp at an official function before. It turned out that we had very similar musical tastes.

Planning then took place at quite high intensity for several months. There were regular meetings with the Ghanaian government team tasked to organise the visit, headed by head of their diplomatic service Anand Cato, now Ghanaian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom. We then had to visit together all the proposed venues, and walk through the proposed routes, order of events, seating plans etc.

From the very first meeting between the two sides, held in a committee room at the International Conference Centre, it soon became obvious that we had a real problem with Ian Mackley. The High Commissioner had been very high-handed and abrupt with the visiting team from Buckingham Palace, so much so that Tim Hitchens had asked me what was wrong. I said it was just his manner. But there was more to it than that.

In the planning meetings, the set-up did not help the atmosphere. There were two lines of desks, facing each other. The British sat on one side and the Ghanaians on the other, facing each other across a wide divide. The whole dynamic was one of confrontation.

I have sat through some toe-curling meetings before, but that first joint State visit planning meeting in Accra was the worst. It started in friendly enough fashion, with greetings on each side. Then Anand Cato suggested we start with a quick run-through of the programme, from start to finish. “OK, now will the Queen be arriving by British Airways or by private jet?” asked Anand. “She will be on one of the VC10s of the Royal Flight” said Ian. “Right, that’s better. The plane can pull up to the stand closest to the VIP lounge. We will have the convoy of vehicles ready on the tarmac. The stairs will be put to the door, and then the chief of protocol will go up the stairs to escort the Queen and her party down the stairs, where there will be a small reception party…” “No, hang on there” interjected Ian Mackley, “I will go up the stairs before the chief of protocol.” “Well, it is customary for the Ambassador or High Commissioner to be in the receiving line at the bottom of the aircraft steps.” “Well, I can tell you for sure that the first person the Queen will want to see when she arrives in the country will be her High Commissioner.” “Well, I suppose you can accompany the chief up the steps if you wish…” “And my wife.” “Pardon?” “My wife Sarah. She must accompany me up the steps to meet the Queen.” “Look, it really isn’t practical to have that many people going on to an already crowded plane where people are preparing to get off…” “I am sorry, but I must insist that Sarah accompanies me up the stairs and on to the plane.” “But couldn’t she wait at the bottom of the steps?” “Absolutely not. How could she stand there without me?” “OK, well can we then mark down the question of greeting on the plane as an unresolved issue for the next meeting?” “Alright, but our side insists that my wife…” “Yes, quite. Now at the bottom of the steps Her Majesty will be greeted by the delegated minister, and presented with flowers by children.” “Please make sure we are consulted on the choice of children.” “If you wish. There will be national anthems, but I suggest no formal inspection of the Guard of Honour? Then traditional priests will briefly make ritual oblations, pouring spirits on the ground. The Queen will briefly enter the VIP lounge to take a drink.” “That’s a waste of time. Let’s get them straight into the convoy and off.” “But High Commissioner, we have to welcome a visitor with a drink. It is an essential part of our tradition. It will only be very brief.” “You can do what you like, but she’s not entering the VIP lounge. Waste of time.” “Let’s mark that down as another issue to be resolved. Now then, first journey…”

The meeting went on for hours and hours, becoming increasingly ill tempered. When we eventually got to the plans for the State Banquet, it all went spectacularly pear-shaped as it had been threatening to do. “Now we propose a top table of eight. There will be the President and Mrs Rawlings, Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, The Vice President and Mrs Mills, and Mr and Mrs Robin Cook.” Ian positively went purple. You could see a vein throbbing at the top left of his forehead. He spoke as though short of breath. “That is not acceptable. Sarah and I must be at the top table”. “With respect High Commissioner, there are a great many Ghanaians who will feel they should be at the top table. As we are in Ghana, we feel we are being hospitable in offering equal numbers of British and Ghanaians at the top table. But we also think the best plan is to keep the top table small and exclusive.” “By all means keep it small,” said Ian, “but as High Commissioner I must be on it.” “So what do you suggest?” asked Anand. “Robin Cook” said Ian “He doesn’t need to be on the top table.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Neither could Anand. “I don’t think you are being serious, High Commissioner” he said. “I am entirely serious” said Ian. “I outrank Robin Cook. I am the personal representative of a Head of State. Robin Cook only represents the government.”

I decided the man had taken leave of his senses. I wondered at what stage can you declare your commanding officer mad and take over, like on The Cain Mutiny? Anand was obviously thinking much the same. “Perhaps I might suggest you seek instruction from headquarters on that one?” he asked. “Anyway, can we note that down as another outstanding item, and move on to…” I don’t know whether Ian secretly realised he had overstepped the mark, but he didn’t come to another planning meeting after that, leaving them to me and the very competent Second Secretary Mike Nithavrianakis.

The most difficult question of all was that of meeting the opposition. Eventually we got the agreement of Buckingham Palace and the FCO to say that, if the Queen were prevented from meeting the opposition, she wouldn’t come. But still the most we could get from Rawlings was that the leader of the opposition could be included in a reception for several hundred people at the International Conference Centre.

I had by now made good personal friends with several Ghanaian politicians. Among those who I could have a social drink with any time were, on the government side John Mahama, Minister of Information and Moses Asaga, Deputy Finance Minister, and on the opposition side John Kufuor, leader of the opposition, his colleagues Hackman Owusu-Agyemang, Shadow Foreign Minister, and Nana Akuffo-Addo, Shadow Attorney General.

In the International Conference Centre the precise route the Queen would take around the crowd was very carefully planned, so I was able to brief John Kufuor exactly where to stand to meet her, and brief the Queen to be sure to stop and chat with him. As he was the tallest man in the crowd, this was all not too difficult.

Once the Queen arrived and the visit started, everything happened in a three day blur of intense activity. Vast crowds turned out, and the Palace staff soon calmed down as they realised that the Queen could expect an uncomplicated and old fashioned reverence from the teeming crowds who were turning out to see “Our Mama”.

The durbar of chiefs in front of Parliament House was a riot of colour and noise. One by one the great chiefs came past, carried on their palanquins, preceded by their entourage, drummers banging away ferociously and the chiefs, laden down with gold necklaces and bangles, struggled to perform their energetic seated dances. Many of the hefty dancing women wore the cloth that had been created for the occasion, with a picture of the Queen jiggling about on one large breast in partnership with Jerry Rawlings jiving on the other, the same pairing being also displayed on the buttocks.

After the last of the chiefs went through, the tens of thousands of spectators started to mill everywhere and we had to race for the Royal convoy to get out through the crowds. Robin Cook had stopped to give an ad hoc interview to an extremely pretty South African television reporter. Mike Nithavrianakis tried to hurry him along but got a fierce glare for his pains. Eventually everyone was in their cars but Cook; the Ghanaian outriders were itching to start as the crowds ahead and around got ever denser.

But where was Cook? We delayed, with the Queen sitting in her car for two or three minutes, but still there was no sign of the Secretary of State or his staff getting into their vehicle. Eventually the outriders swept off; the crowds closed in behind and we had abandoned our dilettante Foreign Secretary. Having lost the protection of the convoy and being caught up in the crowds and traffic, it took him an hour to catch up.

Cook was an enigma. I had already experienced his famous lack of both punctuality and consideration when kept waiting to see him over the Sandline Affair. His behaviour now seemed to combine an attractive contempt for protocol with a goat-like tendency – would he have fallen behind to give a very bland interview to a male South African reporter? He was also breaking the tradition that the Foreign Secretary does not make media comments when accompanying the Queen.

When we returned to the Labadi Beach Hotel, there was to be further evidence of Cook’s view that the World revolved around him. He was interviewing FCO staff for the position of his new Private Secretary. Astonishingly, he had decided that it would best suit his itinerary to hold these interviews in Accra rather than London. One candidate, Ros Marsden, had an extremely busy job as Head of United Nations Department. Yet she had to give up three days work to fly to be interviewed in Accra, when her office was just round the corner from his in London. Other candidates from posts around the World had difficult journeys to complete to get to Accra at all. I thought this rather outrageous of Cook, and was surprised nobody else seemed much concerned.

The port town of Tema, linked to Accra by fifteen miles of motorway and fast becoming part of a single extensive metropolis, sits firmly on the Greenwich Meridian. As far as land goes, Tema is the centre of the Earth, being the closest dry spot to the junction of the Equator and the Greenwich Meridian. You can travel South from Tema over 6,000 miles across sea until you hit the Antarctic.

There was in 1999 a particular vogue for linking the Greenwich Meridian with the Millennium. This was because of the role of the meridian in determining not just longitude but time. Of course, the two are inextricably linked with time initially used to calculate longitude. That is why Greenwich hosted both the Naval Academy and the Royal Observatory.

The fascination with all this had several manifestations. There was a BBC documentary travelogue down the Greenwich meridian. There was a best-selling book about the invention of naval chronometers, Longitude by Dava Sobel, which I read and was as interesting as a book about making clocks can be. There were a number of aid projects down the meridian, including by War Child and Comic Relief. Tema and Greenwich became twin towns. And there was the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to Tema.

I think this was the idea of my very good friend John Carmichael, who was involved in charity work on several of the meridian projects. It was thought particularly appropriate as one of the Duke of Edinburgh’s titles is Earl of Greenwich – though the man has so many titles you could come up with some connection to pretty well anywhere. We could make it a new game, like six degrees of separation. Connect your home town to the Duke of Edinburgh.

Anyway, Tim Hitchens had warned me that the Duke was very much averse to just looking at things without any useful purpose. As we stood looking at the strip of brass laid in a churchyard which marks the line of the meridian, he turned to me and said: “A line in the ground, eh? Very nice.”

But we moved on to see a computer centre that had been set up by a charity to give local people experience of IT and the internet (providing both electricity and phone lines were working, which thank goodness they were today) and the Duke visibly cheered up. He was much happier talking to the instructors and students, and then when we went on to a primary school that had received books from DFID he was positively beaming. The genuinely warm reception everywhere, with happy gaggles of people of all ages cheerfully waving their little plastic union jacks, would have charmed anybody.

We returned to Accra via the coast road and I was able to point out the work of the Ghanaian coffin makers, with coffins shaped and painted as tractors, beer bottles, guitars, desks, cars and even a packet of condoms. The Prince laughed heartily, and we arrived at the Parliament building in high good spirits. There he was first shown to a committee room where he was introduced to senior MPs of all parties. “How many Members of Parliament do you have?” he asked. “Two hundred” came the answer. “That’s about the right number,” opined the Prince, “We have six hundred and fifty MPs, and most of them are a complete bloody waste of time.”

The irony was that there was no British journalist present to hear this, as they had all thought a meeting between Prince Philip and Ghanaian parliamentarians would be too boring. There were Ghanaian reporters present, but the exchange didn’t particularly interest them. So a front page tabloid remark, with which the accompanying photo could have made a paparazzi a lot of money, went completely unreported.

On a State Visit, the media cannot each be at every occasion, as security controls mean they have to be pre-positioned rather than milling about while the event goes ahead. So by agreement, those reporters and photographers accredited to the visit share or pool their photos and copy. At each event there is a stand, or pool. Some events may have more than one pool to give different angles. Each journalist can probably make five or six pools in the course of the visit, leapfrogging ahead of the royal progress. But everyone gets access to material from all the pools. The FCO lays on the transport to keep things under control. Organising the pool positions ahead of the event with the host country, and then herding and policing the often pushy media in them, is a major organisational task. Mike Nithavrianakis had carried it off with style and only the occasional failure of humour. But he had found no takers for Prince Philip in parliament, which proved to be fortunate for us.

I should say that I found Prince Philip entirely pleasant while spending most of this day with him. I am against the monarchy, but it was not created by the Queen or Prince Philip. Just as Colonel Isaac of the RUF was a victim of the circumstances into which he was born, so are they. Had I been born into a life of great privilege, I would probably have turned out a much more horrible person than they are.

Prince Philip then joined the Queen in the parliamentary chamber. Her address to parliament was to be the focal point of the visit. I had contributed to the drafting of her speech, and put a lot of work into it. The speech was only six minutes long (she never speaks longer than that, except at the State Opening of Parliament. Her staff made plain that six minutes was an absolute maximum.) It contained much of the usual guff about the history of our nations and the importance of a new future based upon partnership. But then she addressed Rawlings directly, praising his achievements in bringing Ghana on to the path of democracy and economic stability. The government benches in parliament provided an undercurrent of parliamentary “hear hears”.

But there was to be a sting in the tale: “Next, year, Mr President,” the Queen intoned, “You will step down after two terms in office in accordance with your constitution.” The opposition benches went wild. The Queen went on to wish for peaceful elections and further progress, but it was drowned out by the cries of “hear hear” and swishing of order papers from the benches, and loud cheers from the public gallery. There were mooted cries of “No” from the government side of the chamber.

I had drafted that phrase, and it had a much greater effect than I possibly hoped for, although I did mean it to drive home the message exactly as it was taken.

For a moment the Queen stopped. She looked in bewilderment and concern at the hullabaloo all around her. The Queen has no experience of speaking to anything other than a hushed, respectful silence. But, apart from some grim faces on the government benches, it was a joyful hullabaloo and she ploughed on the short distance to the end of her speech.

Once we got back to the Labadi Beach Hotel, Robin Cook was completely furious. He stormed into the makeshift Private Office, set up in two hotel rooms. “It’s a disaster. Who the Hell drafted that?” “Err, I did, Secretary of State” I said. “Is that you, Mr Murray! I might have guessed! Who the Hell approved it.” “You did.” “I most certainly did not!” “Yes you did, Secretary of State. You agreed the final draft last night.”

His Private Secretary had to dig out the copy of the draft he had signed off. He calmed down a little, and was placated further when the Queen’s robust press secretary, Geoff Crawford, said that he took the view that it was a good thing for the Queen to be seen to be standing up for democracy. It could only look good in the UK press. He proved to be right.

The State Banquet was a rather dull affair. Ian Mackley’s great battle to be on the top table proved rather nugatory as, in very Ghanaian fashion, nobody stayed in their seat very long and people were wandering all over the shop. There were a large number of empty seats as, faced with an invitation to dinner at 7.30pm, many Ghanaians followed their customary practice and wandered along an hour or so late, only to find they would not be admitted. This caused a huge amount of angst and aggravation, from which those of us inside were fortunately sheltered.

Mrs Rawlings had chosen a well known Accra nightclub owner named Chester to be the compère for the occasion. His bar is a relaxed spot in a small courtyard that features good jazz and highlife music, and prostitutes dressed as Tina Turner. It was a second home for the officers of the British Military Advisory and Training Team (BMATT).

Chester himself was friendly and amusing, but amusing in a Julian Clary meets Kenneth Williams meets Liberace sort of way. Chester says he is not gay, (regrettably homosexuality is illegal in Ghana) but his presentation is undeniably ultra camp. It is hard to think of a weirder choice to chair a state banquet, but Chester was a particular pet of Mrs Rawlings.

Chester was stood on the platform next to the Queen, gushing about how honoured he was. His speech was actually very witty, but the delivery was – well, Chester. I turned to Prince Philip and remarked: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two Queens together before.” To give credit to Chester, I gather he has been telling the story ever since.

High camp was to be a theme of that evening.

Fiona and I accompanied the Royal party back to the Labadi Beach Hotel to say goodnight, after which Fiona returned home to Devonshire House while I remained for a debriefing on the day and review of the plans for tomorrow. By the time we had finished all that it was still only 11pm and I retired to the bar of the Labadi Beach with the Royal Household. The senior staff – Tim and Geoff – withdrew as is the custom, to allow the butlers, footmen, hairdressers and others to let off steam.

The party appeared, to a man, to be gay. Not just gay but outrageously camp. The Labadi Beach, with its fans whirring under polished dark wood ceilings, its panelled bar, displays of orchids, attentive uniformed staff and glossy grand piano – has the aura of a bygone colonial age, like something from Kenya’s Happy Valley in the 1930s. You expect to see Noel Coward emerge in his smoking jacket and sit down at the piano, smoking through a mother of pearl cigarette holder. It is exactly the right setting for a gay romp, and that is exactly what developed after a few of the Labadi Beach’s wonderful tropical cocktails.

We had taken the entire hotel for the Royal party, except that we had allowed the British Airways crew to stay there as always. Now three of their cabin stewards, with two Royal footmen and the Queen’s hairdresser, were grouped around the grand singing Cabaret with even more gusto than Liza. Other staff were smooching at the bar. All this had developed within half an hour in a really magical and celebratory atmosphere that seemed to spring from nothing. I was seated on a comfortable sofa, and across from me in an armchair was the one member of the Household who seemed out of place. The Duke of Edinburgh’s valet looked to be in his sixties, a grizzled old NCO with tufts of hair either side of a bald pate, a boxer’s nose and tattoos on his arms. He was smoking roll-ups.

He was a nice old boy and we had been struggling to hold a conversation about Ghana over the din, when two blokes chasing each other ran up to the settee on which I was sitting. One, pretending to be caught, draped himself over the end and said: “You’ve caught me, you beast!” I turned back to the old warrior and asked: “Don’t you find all this a bit strange sometimes?” He lent forward and put his hand on my bare knee below my kilt: “Listen, ducks. I was in the Navy for thirty years.”

So I made my excuses and left, as the News of the World journalists used to put it. I think he was probably joking, but there are some things that are too weird even for me, and the lower reaches of the Royal household are one of them. I have heard it suggested that such posts have been filled by gays for centuries, just as harems were staffed by eunuchs, to avoid the danger of a Queen being impregnated. Recently I have been most amused by news items regarding the death of the Queen Mother’s long-standing footman, who the newsreaders have been informing us was fondly known as “Backstairs Billy”. They manage to say this without giving the slightest hint that they know it is a double entendre.

The incident in parliament had made the Rawlings government even more annoyed about the proposed handshake in the International Conference Centre reception between the Queen and John Kufuor. My own relationship with Ian Mackley had also deteriorated still further as a result of the Royal Visit. I had the advantage that I already knew from previous jobs the palace officials and Robin Cook’s officials, and of course Robin Cook himself, not to mention the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. All in all, I suspect that Ian felt that I was getting well above myself.

As the party formed up to walk around the reception in the International Conference Centre, Ian came up to me and grabbed my arm rather fiercely. “You, just stay with the Queen’s bodyguards” he said. I did not mind at all, and attached myself to another Ian, the head of the Queen’s close protection team. I already knew Ian also. Ian set off towards the hall and started ensuring a path was clear for the Queen, I alongside him as ordered. Suddenly I heard Sarah Mackley positively squeal from somewhere behind me: “My God, he’s ahead of the Queen! Now Craig’s ahead of the Queen.” If I could hear it, at least forty other people could. I managed to make myself as invisible as possible, and still to accomplish the introduction to John Kufuor. The government newspaper the Daily Graphic was to claim indignantly that I had introduced John Kufuor as “The next President of Ghana.” Had I done so, I would have been in the event correct in my prediction, but in fact I introduced him as “The opposition Presidential candidate”.

As always, the Queen’s last engagement on the State Visit was to say farewell to all the staff who had helped. She gives out gifts, and confers membership of the Royal Victorian Order on those deemed to merit it. Only once in the Queen’s long reign had she ever been on a state visit and not created our Ambassador or High Commissioner a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order – that is to say, knighted him. Ian and Sarah were to become Sir Ian and Lady Sarah. This seemed to me to mean the world to them.

The day before, Tim Hitchens had turned to me as we were travelling in the car: “Craig, I take it your views on honours have not changed.” “No, Tim, I still don’t want any.” “Good, you see that makes it a bit easier, actually. You see, the thing is, we’re trying to cut down a bit on giving out routine honours. The government wants a more meritocratic honours system. We need to start somewhere. So, in short, Ian Mackley is not going to get his K.” I was stunned. Tim continued: “And as well, you see, it hasn’t exactly escaped our attention that he has … issues with the Ghanaians, and some of his attitudes didn’t exactly help the visit. Anyway, if you were to want your CVO, then that would be more difficult. Ian Mackley is going to have one of those. So that will be alright.”

No, it won’t be alright, I thought. You’ll kill the poor old bastard. For God’s sake, everyone will know.

I wondered when the decision had been taken. The kneeling stool and the ceremonial sword had definitely been unloaded from the plane and taken to the hotel: that was one of the things I had checked off. When had that decision been reached?

We were lined up in reverse order of seniority to go in and see the Queen and Prince Philip. I queued behind the Defence Attaché, with Ian and Sarah just behind me. She was entering as well – nobody else’s wife was – because she was expecting to become Lady Mackley. Tim was going to tell them quickly after I had entered, while they would be alone still waiting to go in.

You may not believe me, but I felt completely gutted for them. It was the very fact they were so status obsessed that made it so cruel. I was thinking about what Tim was saying to them and how they would react. It seemed terribly cruel that they had not been warned until the very moment before they were due to meet the Queen. I was so worried for them that I really had less than half my mind on exchanging pleasantries with the Queen, who was very pleasant, as always.

If you refused honours, as I always did, you got compensated by getting a slightly better present. In Warsaw I was given a silver Armada dish, which is useful for keeping your Armada in. In Accra I was given a small piece of furniture made with exquisite craftsmanship by Viscount Linley. Shelving my doubts about the patronage aspect of that (should the Queen be purchasing with public money official gifts made by her cousin?) I staggered out holding rather a large red box, leaving through the opposite side of the room to that I had entered. Outside the door I joined the happy throng of people clutching their presents and minor medals. Mike Nithavrianakis and Brian Cope were Ian Mackley’s friends, and they were waiting eagerly for him. “Here’s Craig” said Mike, “Now it’s only Sir Ian and Lady Sarah!” “No, it’s not, Mike”, I said, “He’s not getting a K” “What! You’re kidding!” It had suddenly fallen very silent. “Ian’s not getting a K, he’s only getting a CVO.” “Oh, that’s terrible.” We waited now in silence. Very quickly the door opened again, and the Mackleys came out, Ian with a frozen grin, Sarah a hysterical one beneath the white large-brimmed hat that suddenly looked so ridiculous. There was a smattering of applause, and Sarah fell to hugging everyone, even me. We all congratulated Ian on his CVO, and nobody ever mentioned that there had been any possibility of a knighthood, then or ever.

Personally I don’t understand why anyone accepts honours when there is so much more cachet in refusing them.

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 5: Judgement

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (canon divergent from the end of book 2)

Word Count: ~3800

Rating: PG

Summary: Three hours since The Walker Absconding

Author’s Note: Remember in TRR3 when Hana planned to move in to Valtoria, even if not romanced? Well, even though canon seems to have forgotten this fact, I still remember it. Thus, in this series, Hana lives permanently at Valtoria, just in a separate wing from the Walkers.

This series follows the Walkers, their friends, and Cordonia as a whole after they flee the country with their daughter during Barthelemy Beaumont’s attempted coup. To catch up on this series, check out it’s masterlist. (link can be found via my bio - sorry, Tumblr is once again not putting my posts with links in tag searches)

“I’m sorry. But we aren’t risking coming back.”

Hana glanced up from the phone as Drake’s words cut through the room. She’d been preparing for this, mentally steeling herself for the confirmation. It still was shocking, though. How quickly everything was changing… for all of them.

She tried to read Olivia’s expression. She was expecting more fire and rage than she witnessed across her face, but instead she mainly saw exhaustion as her eyes fluttered closed for a brief moment and she let out a heavy breath through her nose. Certainly, some anger was visible. Her jaw was clenched and her red fingernails clutched the edge of Liam’s desk so tightly that Hana was concerned that she would damage the finish.

Seeing Olivia’s manicure prompted Hana to glance down at her own fingernails, painted a pale gold with just a bit of sparkle. She and Riley had watched a few rom coms last night as they did their fingers and toes, a tradition that had started back during Liam’s engagement tour. Riley had selected a shocking neon lime green this time, telling Hana she liked to keep the other nobles on their toes. Well, she had certainly done that today.

“I suppose you aren’t interested in hearing how terrible of an idea this is,” Olivia sighed out, interrupting Hana’s thoughts.

“Not really.”

“Well, I won’t be able to stop the treason charges. And you’ll be clearly guilty of the kidnapping, so I don’t know how you see this panning out here, Walker.”

There was a slight pause before Drake responded, “Uhhh… do we know who will be charging us with kidnapping yet?”

“You mean, are you going to force the hand of the man who has been with you through everything, who considers you his closest friend, or rather, who considers you to be his brother, to be the one who calls for your arrest?” Olivia’s voice was thick with malice and judgement, but her face was calm and calculated. Hana realized she wasn’t actually experiencing the emotions she was attempting to convey, at least nowhere near that intensely. She was trying to intentionally guilt Drake into agreeing to her original plan.

There was no response for several tense seconds. Hana began to wonder if Drake had hung up on them, but eventually, his voice came through the speaker of Olivia’s phone. “Yeah, that’s what I’m asking.”

Olivia grimaced slightly before answering, “We don’t know yet. A High Court justice will have to set up an emergency hearing to see who will hold power going forward. That hasn’t happened yet.”

“Okay… How’s… how’s Liam doing?”

“He’s fairly stressed, Drake. It’s a lot to handle - fighting a surprise coup, particularly when your allies start abandoning you and making a run for it.”

“Olivia… I…. I’m sorry. Can you tell him that?”

Olivia’s eyes rolled up in her head. She clearly wasn’t swaying him like she’d hoped she’d be able to do. “Tell me, Drake. Was this your brilliant plan, or was it your wife’s?”

“No.” Drake’s voice took on a sudden edge, clear even over speaker phone. “You are not going to try and divide us here. This is our family. You don’t get to judge the decisions we’ve made.”

“Okay, so obviously this was Riley’s idea. Put her on the phone.”

“No. She doesn’t have to listen to this shit.”

“She’s a grown woman. She doesn’t need you to play big, strong protector here. So hand her your damn phone.”

Hana wasn’t sure what tactics Olivia was planning to use to sway Riley, but if they were anything like the ones she’d tried on Drake, she knew it could turn ugly. Drake was more likely to internalize the pain Olivia threw at him, but Riley had a tendency to lash out. The last thing that needed to happen was to have Riley and Olivia devolve into bitter screaming.

“Wait!” Hana said, “Let me talk to Riley, Drake.”

Olivia raised an eyebrow, but didn’t object as a muffled, “Hana wants to talk to you,” drifted through the phone. There were a few seconds of rustling before Riley’s voice came across loud and clear.

“Hana?” She sounded a bit frail, almost as if she’d been crying. Hana couldn’t recall ever having seen her cry.

“Hi, Riley. How are you?”

“Not gonna lie; things have been better.”

Well, at least she still had some of her humor. “Look, sweetie. I just want to make sure you and Drake and Bridget are doing what’s best, okay? I want to be able to help you, in whatever ways you need.”

“Hana, I’m sorry. But we can’t come back. If Barthelemy comes out of this with the power of the Crown, there might not be a way to stop him from taking my daughter, and I can’t take that chance.”

Olivia opened her mouth to retort, but Hana shook her head vigorously. Riley fought back when she felt backed into a corner. It was essential to keep her from going on the defensive.

“Okay. Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be able to provide you if you’re on the run. Are you sure you can’t come back and we can fight this together, like we always have done?”

She heard a little sniffle before Riley spoke again, “No… Hana, I’m sorry. She’s not your kid, and I just… I need to keep her away from all the assholes trying to take her from me.”

Hana closed her eyes and swallowed. It was obvious that Riley was not willing to consider alternatives, and she was stubborn enough that Hana knew she wasn’t going to get anywhere. With her last hope of being able to reunite their little found family completely shattered, Hana switched the focus of her conversation.

“I understand, Riley. You and Drake focus on keeping your little girl safe, okay? I’ll take care of the corgis and anything else you need me to handle at the estate.”

“Thank you, Hana,” Riley sighed, the relief evident in her voice.

“Well, I guess there’s nothing left for us to discuss at this point,” Olivia said, massaging her forehead with one hand. “Only answer your phones for either Hana or me at this point. We have to figure out how much to tell Liam, okay?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell him-”

“Riley, do you want to get charged with treason and have extradition orders sent out across the EU for your kidnapping today, or would you like a little time before that happens?”

Riley gave no response, but Olivia took her silence as agreement. “That is why Liam can’t know right now. But Hana and I will be in touch. Got it?”

“Yes.”

“Do not answer your phones for anyone other than the two of us. Understood?”

“Understood.”

“Excellent. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Ol-” but Olivia ended the call before Riley could even finish saying goodbye. She let out a sigh and tipped her head back in her chair.

“Well… That was about what I expected,” she breathed out before looking at Hana. “Obviously, not a word of any of this to anyone until we get through the judicial hearing and figure out how much power Liam holds here.”

Hana nodded. She understood the need for secrecy at this point. What she didn’t understand was why Olivia was including her so fully in the entire process. “Why me?”

“Hmmm?”

“Why did you want me here for this?”

“Because two of us should know. This isn’t the sort of thing that goes well with only one person scrambling to keep things covered up. It makes that person look very guilty and shady. So, I needed someone here. Liam would be obligated to act, and Maxwell is a shitty liar, so that left you.”

The implications of her statement raced through Hana’s mind. “You think I’m a good liar?”

Olivia shrugged, “I think you can keep your cool better than Maxwell, that’s for sure. And maybe a few years ago I would have said ‘no,’ but now… I think you can probably keep up a convincing enough poker face.” And at that, she picked up her phone and started typing quickly.

“What are you doing?”

Olivia didn’t take her eyes off the screen as she kept typing. “I’m telling Ray he should buy them some basic supplies, you know, clothing, food, toiletries, that sort of thing, before he heads back. I’m letting him know I’ll reimburse those expenses.”

“Seriously?”

She gave another little shrug. “You heard them. I think they are being idiots, but there’s not going to be any way to change their minds at this point. So it’s time to move on to planning next stages. Once their disappearance is fully noticed, it’ll be a lot harder to help them. But for now, we just have to do what we can.” 

Hana smiled at Olivia’s generosity. She knew she was right. Going forward - if Barthelemy succeeded - their group would likely be subject to increased surveillance due to their known close connections with Drake and Riley. And while Hana hoped that Liam’s lawyers might be able to put a stop to things, waiting to find out if that was the case would likely be too late. There were steps that needed to be taken now.

“I need to get to Valtoria, don’t I?” she asked. Olivia had an employee with them now, but Hana knew that her permanent residence at Valtoria would grant her opportunities to act without much suspicion, at least at the moment.

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her. “You up for that?”

Hana gave her a crisp nod. “It will go better if I can get things taken care of before anyone official comes looking for them there, won’t it?”

“Absolutely. You have a way to get there?”

She shook her head. “I mean, I know how to drive, but I don’t have a vehicle here.”

Olivia was silent for a few seconds, her eyes rolling up and darting back and forth. “You guys came via limo, right?”

She nodded. Given that it was the start of the Social Season, they’d used a limo service, even with Drake grumbling that they should have just taken their own car. He probably wanted that car even more at the moment. 

“Right,” Olivia continued, “Call up the company you used and tell them someone from the Valtoria party is ill and that you’d like to move up the pick up to as soon as possible. Make sure you act like you have a migraine or something for the ride so you don’t cause immediate suspicion with that story.

“When you get home, be subtle where you can. Don’t hide routine documents that center around Valtoria’s day to day functioning. Just grab their personal documents. And only gather up a small chunk of their personal belongings. Obviously, it’s a judgement call on what to pack away, but try not to make it obvious that items are missing - leave their quarters looking lived in. Will the staff question your presence in their private rooms?”

Hana shook her head. “The staff are all gone. Drake and Riley hate having them there, so they pretty much always give them the day off if they are coming to the capital.”

“I never thought I would say this, but god bless Drake Walker and his unrefined ways. Do you have somewhere you can stash their things where they won’t be found until we figure out how to get them to them quietly?”

“I think so.”

“No, Hana. You need to know so. Because Liam can’t afford to have any more of his allies clearly committing criminal activity today, and if you are found to have been aiding them in their ‘kidnapping,’ well then…”

“I understand, Olivia. I’ll make sure things aren’t found.”

“Good. Well, we both have jobs to do, I guess.”

Hana took that as a dismissal. She stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her dress as she walked out of Liam’s office. “Good luck, Olivia.”

“Same to you, Hana. Same to you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time a justice of the High Court had been summoned, legal briefs submitted, and an emergency session called, it was nearly 10:30 pm. Liam was hungry and more than ready for this day to be over, but he sat still at the prosecution desk in the courtroom, dressed in his regalia. He hoped it sent a clear message that this title was still his.

The courthouse was eerily quiet at this hour, and both teams had brought limited personnel. At each desk were two lawyers, plus the official named parties on the case - Barthelemy and Liam himself. The gallery was nearly empty as well, with only Olivia, Bertrand, and Maxwell seated on Liam’s side of the courtroom and Adelaide and Landon on the other. Kiara was not in attendance. He wondered where she was and what she might be doing instead of coming to this hearing. He also wondered if Barthelemy’s team had noticed the absence of Drake and Riley in a similar fashion. All he could hope was that they assumed that it was too late for them to be here with Bridget.

The case was being heard by Lilith Questa, a woman in her late 60s and the second longest serving of the five justices on the High Court. High Justice Questa wasn’t the most favorable justice from Liam’s perspective, but she wasn’t the least favorable either. She had served on the High Court since Liam was a teenager, and she often took a no-nonsense stance in the decisions she wrote. She usually erred on the side of strict adherence to the letter of the law, which should help them, but had little patience for bureaucratic red tape and nobility that tried to squirm through loopholes. He wasn’t sure if that would hurt his side or Barthelemy’s side more. Realistically, it probably meant she would have limited patience for both camps.

“Please stand for High Justice Lilith Questa, Representative of Our King’s Court.”

In spite of the usher’s instructions, Liam remained firmly seated in his chair as the justice walked in, clearly still shrugging on her robes over jeans and a sweatshirt, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail instead of her usual bun. This might be her court, but all the courts were technically his. All justices represented him and his law. Reigning monarchs were in fact the only ones not required to rise in Cordonian courtrooms, and he was not going to give so clear a visual signal that his power was in question by standing for the justice. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the defense desk. Barthelemy also remained in his chair.

“This is an emergency hearing of the High Court in the matter of His Majesty, King Liam, versus Lord Barthelemy Beaumont. All parties have been sworn in, Your Honor,” said the court’s usher.

The justice nodded as she sank into her seat, the rest of the room returning to their chairs a moment later. “Alright, let’s get things started here. It’s late, and someone needs to be running this country,” she quipped, fanning out a stack of papers on the bench in front of her. “I’ve read your briefings. His Majesty is arguing that the vote conducted by the Conventus Nobilis is invalid because it was called by an improper party, is that correct?”

Liam felt a little jolt of relief. The fact that she still referred to him as “His Majesty” was a likely indication that she was siding with him. He could tell Diana, the head of his legal team, had noticed that as well as tension fell from her shoulders as she stood to address the justice. He didn’t want to count his apples before they ripened, but this was a very good sign.

“Yes, Your Honor. The statutes pertaining to the Conventus Nobilis clearly state that only the head of a major noble house may call such a session. Lord Barthelemy Beaumont does not hold that title.”

“I’m inclined to agree with His Majesty’s lawyers here,” High Justice Questa said with a little nod, her eyes roving over papers as she spoke. “Lord Beaumont, doesn’t the fact that I am addressing you a ‘lord’ and not ‘duke’ tend to indicate that you are not the head of House Beaumont?”

“Your Honor,” said Charles, the lawyer representing Barthelemy, as he stood, “Barthelemy has been gradually resuming duties as head of House Beaumont as he has recovered his health over the past year. In fact, Duke Beaumont is set to travel to the States to visit his in-laws for the entire Social Season, and he signed documentation handing over all daily duties to my client here. I’ve included that document in my briefing.”

“Yes, I saw that. However, the fact that the Conventus Nobilis hasn’t been called in several hundred years would indicate to me that it doesn’t exactly fall under ‘daily duties,’ Charles.”

“Be that as it may, Your Honor, Cordonia has a long established precedent of dividing official duties of the noble houses between members of that house as they see fit, and that document we provided does afford Barthelemy Beaumont the powers of head of household while Duke Beaumont is unavailable.”

The justice looked up from her papers at that, eyes staring down the occupants of the defense desk with a withering intensity. “Charles, can you tell me who is the man seated behind His Majesty?” she asked, gesturing to the gallery seating behind Liam.

Charles turned and looked, pausing for a moment before he responded, “That would be Duke Beaumont, Your Honor.”

“So, he’s clearly not unavailable,” she said, raising her eyebrows and shaking her head, “but nice try.”

Liam kept his face neutral, but he wanted to grin so badly. He heard a tiny little snort behind him, likely Olivia revelling in High Justice Questa’s snide little exercise. It was becoming painfully clear that she viewed this whole endeavor as a waste of her time and resented having to appear for this emergency session at all.

“Lord Beaumont recused himself from the vote!” Charles cried out in obvious frustration with the way this hearing was proceeding. 

“Yes, but the vote was never proper and should not have occurred. And in fact, Lord Beaumont wasn’t the only one who did not have the right to be there. The records submitted by both parties indicate that Lady Kiara Theron voted for House Theron, and while Duke Theron may have relinquished some of his duties to his daughter to facilitate an upcoming formal transition of power, participation in the Conventus Nobilis cannot be assigned to anyone other than the proper head of house.

“As far as I can see it, this is a clear case of an improper summoning of the Conventus Nobilis. Therefore, any actions taken by that body are not recognized by the High Court of Cordonia. I find in favor of His Majesty. This matter is now closed.” And with a bang of her gavel, High Justice Questa rose from her bench, gathered up her papers, and swept out of the courtroom. This time, Barthelemy stood with the rest of the room.

Diana turned to face Liam once the door swung shut behind the justice. “Congratulations, Your Majesty!”

He gave her a gentle smile. “It’s you and your team who deserve the congratulations. You compiled all the briefs in record time.”

She bowed her head slightly as she accepted the compliment. “Is there anything else you require from my team tonight?”

Liam glanced over to the defense team. Barthelemy was conferring with Adelaide, frantic whispers being exchanged between the two. After a moment, he gestured towards Landon, who stood up and joined them.

Liam felt a tap on his arm, so he turned his attention towards Olivia. Her eyes were locked on the same brewing conversation. “He’s still scheming,” she said, a scowl etched across her face. “I bet he’s convincing one of them to call the Conventus Nobilis again for another vote since he can’t.”

He knew she was probably right. It was unlikely, after all, that a coup would be halted this easily. “I’m inclined to agree. Bertrand, I’m afraid I’m going to ask you to postpone your trip to Texas. I need your vote.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Bertrand said with a solemn nod.

“It’ll be Hakim instead of Kiara voting. Maybe we could flip him?” mused Olivia.

Liam shook his head. “Maybe, but it seems unlikely Lady Kiara and him didn’t discuss how she would be voting for their house. It may be worth a chance, but contacting him should wait until morning at this point.”

Olivia nodded in agreement, but at that moment, Landon came over and approached Bertrand and Olivia. “Duke Beaumont, Duchess Nevrakis, I’m calling a meeting of the Conventus Nobilis tomorrow at the palace. This is your formal notification. Do you understand?”

“I do,” said Bertrand, hesitating for just a moment before shaking Landon’s offered hand.

“Oh, I’ll be there,” said Olivia, merely raising an eyebrow when Landon reached out to shake her hand, forcing him to awkwardly drop his arm and turn away after a few moments.

Liam let out a sigh. “I’m afraid I’ll still be requiring your team this evening, Diana.”

She gave him a small little smile and nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty. We’ll reconvene in Lady Olivia’s quarters?”

“Sounds perfect. How about I bring some late night sustenance for your lawyers?”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that-”

“I insist. I know I’m starving, and I’m guessing your team feels similarly.”

As Diana thanked him and left to return to the palace, Liam turned to Olivia tilting his head to the side. She stepped a few meters away from Bertrand and Maxwell, watching to see if they were paying attention out of the corner of her eye, but as far as Liam could tell, they were wrapped up in their own conversation.

“Did you speak to Drake and Riley?” he asked, keeping his voice low.

“I did,” she replied, but her tone and her expression revealed nothing else.

“And?”

“They are safe.”

Liam’s heart sank. The fact that she was refusing to divulge more information was essentially proof that Drake had fled the country with Riley and Bridget. A wave of loneliness and isolation washed over him, but he quickly tried to squash it down. He still had Olivia and Maxwell and Bertrand and Hana. He needed to handle this rationally. “Anything else I should know from your conversation?”

There was a brief pause before Olivia answered, “Not at this point, I don’t think. You should just focus on working with your lawyers to prepare a case for tomorrow, when the no confidence vote will likely be legitimate.”

He swallowed roughly, and she must have noticed, because she reached out and squeezed his hand while giving him a sad little smile. Taking a deep breath, he nodded at her. “Come on; we need to return to the palace. We have a Crown to save.”

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld @drake-colt-lover-99

Fight or Flight: @masterofbluff @burnsoslow @bobasheebaby @shz256 @iaminlovewithtrr​

[knylinphd]

obanai x fem!reader | dinner [smut]

obanai iguro x reader

female reader

While the pillars are having a dinner, Obanai benefits from them being drunk and not looking under the table.

warning : smut, lime.

          The pillars decided to throw a little party, having a dinner all together, with unlimited drinks. Of course it was irresponsible, and of course Muichiro was one of the pillars and he wasn't able to drink, but they needed a little break from time to time. But Obanai, no. He decided not to drink, and he knew that his girlfriend, (Y/N), wasn't the type to drink alcohol neither. At least not to drink enough to be drunk and unconscious.

That's why he actually thought of something interesting ; getting her flustered at him being out of character. And what a great occasion it was, with that dinner where almost everyone was going to be drunk, to tease her.

The dinner took place just like he thought ; everyone drinking more and more and getting more and more drunk, and (Y/N) only drinking two glasses. Right now, the brunette was talking with Sanemi, the silver-haired boy blabbering about some 'dumbasses'.

Slowly, Obanai started to caress (Y/N)'s thigh. At first, she didn't say anything, and kept going on her conversation with Mitsuri. However, when she felt her boyfriend's hand started to rub slowly the inside of her thigh, she simply raised an eyebrow ; the action wasn't embarrassing nor very sexual. Moreover, he had drunk one glass, but maybe it had managed to make him a bit drunk.

            ''And what do you think we can do about it, hm ?'' Obanai asked Sanemi, while he started to move his hand towards (Y/N)'s crotch. The sudden movement made her widen her eyes and turn her head to look at Obanai. He smiled at her when he locked eyes with her, rubbing more now that she had noticed what was going on.

             She tried to make him understand that she was actually busy having a conversation, by whispering it in his ear, but he simply hummed to nod. Indeed, he turned back to Sanemi to continue his conversation with him, without ever stopping his action with his hand. The girl, now fully understanding what was her boyfriend's idea, tried her best not to give him satisfaction and actually continued her own conversation, acting as nothing was wrong.

        In fact, it wasn't that much of friction ; she could handle it. Even more since Obanai was still trying to be discreet and wasn't moving very fast nor with much force. But the snake pillar wasn't dumb, thus he noticed it. That's why he slowly made his way under the girl's pants. At first, he simply rest his hand against her thigh, caressing her skin ; he actually really liked skin to skin contact, even without anything sexual intended.

           However, touching there was arousing (Y/N). Maybe it wasn't sexual for him, but it was turning her on. Did that sneaky bastard really manage to turn her on when he actually didn't try to ? Well, that's what he noticed when he starting to slowly make his way to the girl's panties. He was talking to Sanemi at that exact same moment, making him escape a giggle when he felt how wet the girl was.

           She kicked his leg with her foot, not caring if someone would see. ''... Did you just kick him ?'' Mitsuri asked. (Y/N) blinked a few times, acting shocked, as she turned to Obanai. ''Oh sorry, did I ?'' She had an angry expression on. But did he care ? ''Yeah, but it's okay. It wasn't hard enough to hurt me.'' She bit her lip at his comment. Mostly because she was preventing himself from insulting him, but also because she had felt two of his fingers making their way under her panties.

After a cocky smile given by Obanai, (Y/N) kept on going with her conversation, the snake pillar mirroring her action. His fingers started to play with the girl’s clit, sometimes rubbing her lower lips to add some friction. It wasn’t long before he entered a finger, the girl gasping at the sudden action. She actually coughed to hide any suspicion, even though Mitsuri was way too focused on her drink right now to notice the noise.

Obanai chuckled when he heard his girlfriend’s reaction. ‘’What’s so funny ?’’ Sanemi asked. ‘’Nothing, sorry. I think the drink is getting on me, that’s it.’’ The brunette answered. ‘’With only one glass ? What a loser ! Anyway-‘’ and then the wind pillar kept going with his conversation. The couple was actually happy that they ended up having conversations with very talkative people -at least when they were drunk.

The brunette pumped with only one of his fingers, mostly to tease the girl, who had managed to regulate her breathing and actually reply to her pillar friend. That’s when he decided to slip in another finger. He looked at his girlfriend when he did, that time ; she had bit her lip, nodding to a statement Mitsuri was making.

He started to do random movements, mostly to play with the wetness ; he actually really liked the sensation. Once, (Y/N) made the link with the fact that he was a snake pillar, and that snakes were kinda slimy, but he had brushed it off. Maybe she was right though, as he really liked the slimy sensation. Sanemi went to the bathroom, thus Obanai took the opportunity to stare at his girlfriend during the whole time. He was catching some glances, here and there ; each of them making him grin or giggle. (Y/N) was very pissed.

When Sanemi came back, Obanai had to focus on him once again, or else the silver-haired boy was going to get mad, he knew it. However, he started to pump much faster, making the girl fear that people would see his arm moving. The brunette was convinced of the contrary ; the pillars were too drunk to notice his arm, and if they were going to actually do, he would just make up a lie. They were drunk, they would believe it. He even went as far as ‘even if they notice what I’m doing, they won’t remember it tomorrow’. Thus, he surely wasn’t going to stop.

Actually, the contrary happened ; he even began to give even more friction to his girlfriend, adding his thumb to rub her clit. (Y/N) started to shake her legs at the feeling, even though the brunette didn’t know if it was to actually feel less his actions, or to maybe make her feel them even more and thus to cum faster.

Obanai wasn’t even listening to Sanemi anymore. He was just looking at his lips to give him the impression he was, nodding a bit from time to time. But he was grinning, feeling his girlfriend’s walls getting tighter and tighter around him. And he knew he was going to send her to the edge by doing a certain movement she really liked.

She immediately slipped out a moan when he started, the movement being the one used whenever they had quickies ; it was the one that was making her reach her peak, making her much wetter. Obanai was doing it so he could get in much easily when they had to be quick. Mitsuri laughed when she saw the pained expression on her friend’s face.

‘’(Y/N) ? Are you okay ?’’ The girl nodded, but actually hid her head in her arms, that were actually resting on the table. ‘’Obviously you’re not.’’ Mitsuri replied. ‘’I think it’s maybe the alcohol hitting her. It’s actually quite strong, she’s not used to getting drunk.’’ Obanai commented, not stopping his action -maybe even going faster.

(Y/N) was groaning, actually biting her arm to try to restrain her noises. ‘’Oh, maybe you just got your periods ! I have mine nowadays, maybe we’re in synch now !’’ Mitsuri said, almost happy. The (h/c)-haired girl gasped. ‘’Yeah, yeah yeah, maybe it’s that ! I’ll check in a bit !’’ She shouted, trying to avoid moaning in-between her words.

‘’Why are you laughing ? Your girlfriend’s in pain.’’ Sanemi commented, seeing Obanai enjoying the show too much. ‘’It’s just funny to see her this way, she’s not like that often.’’ The brunette replied. (Y/N) bit her hand when she finally came, actually managing to remain quiet, even though she had to take a deep breath. After a few seconds, where Obanai took off his fingers, (Y/N) tried to regain her breath, and then sat like she was before that ‘accident’.

‘’Okay, I’m better. I don’t know why it happened suddenly. I think I’m going to stop drinking.’’ She said, making Mitsuri giggle. The girl immediately continued her conversation, while Sanemi had started to talk to someone else, since Obanai wasn’t listening to him anymore. Talking about him, when his girlfriend turned her head to look at him and furrow her eyebrows, he licked his fingers. She rolled her eyes, knowing that he had enjoyed it way too much. He simply chuckled and rest his cheek against her shoulder, listening to what Mitsuri was talking about.

[transformersaesthetics]

Top Ten Expensive Transformers

The hiatus is over! Thanks for your patience with last week folks. Something a bit different today Tumblr! Not the long awaited project, but a fun little aside. A while ago, I was scrolling around on Google, and I saw a clickbait article that alleged to discuss ‘the top ten most difficult to obtain Transformers’. I was curious, and, perhaps foolishly, I clicked on it. To my disappointment, the article was merely a list of expensive MISB G1 figures, which is… Well, boring. So, today, I hope to correct that grave injustice with an article about, in a loose order, 10 Transformers that are difficult to obtain, even if you’re willing to lay out a lot of money. 

A couple of rules before we jump in; First, these aren’t the most expensive Transformers or the rarest transformers, because those questions don’t really make sense. How much a figure costs varies from seller to seller, so it’s impossible to establish a list of the absolute most expensive. Also, many figures that are famously expensive are not expensive in absolute terms, but for their price point.  Similarly, with an exception we’ll discuss in a moment, actual rarity can be quite hard to establish. As far as contents of the list go,  Takara Tomy will occasionally create special ‘lucky draw’ figures for contests in magazines and things. How many they produce varies from figure to figure, but it generally is between 50 and 10. These will be excluded from the list, because if they weren’t, the whole list would be lucky draw figures. (Although they’re cool as shit and you should go take a look http://www.luckydrawtransformers.com/)  Similarly, there are a ton of figures like Victory Leokaiser that command a lot of money on the secondary market just because they were japanese exclusive. These would also take up a ton of room on the list, so I’m going to avoid them unless there’s a really good reason to have them on here. Same for convention exclusives. Without further ado, let’s get started! 

10: Action Master Thundercracker 

Normally, when a toy is exclusive to somewhere, it’s Japan. However, as we’ll discuss later, in G1, Europe and other parts of the world saw some strange distribution. (NexusShard17) Towards the end of G1, “the European Hasbro branches continued releasing new toys which the USA would never get.”(NexusShard17) Perhaps the most notorious of these is Action Master Thundercracker, which has one of the most magnificent color schemes ever seen on a transformer. Where Thundercracker is traditionally blue, Action Master Thundercracker is neon pink, lime green, and a bunch of metallic copper paint and baby blue thrown in for good measure. (Geewunling) Because of the exclusivity of the figure, and it’s desirable, awful color scheme, it tends to command quite a bit on the secondary market. 

How do I get one? 

You can reliably find him on ebay in varying states of completeness, which of course impacts the price. For the figure itself with a few accessories, he goes for around 70-80 dollars, ranging to 150 and up for MISB. 

9: Dark of the Moon Wheeljack/Que: 

Who? 

Wheeljack/Que had a bit part in Dark of the Moon. He was mostly kind of around until he got shot towards the end of the film, for emotions or something. (SFH) He had a toy fully produced, but, when the DOTM line was prematurely axed, Wheeljack’s toy was left in limbo. Takara was eventually able to release Wheeljack in their markets, but he never saw an official US release. (SFH)  

How do I get one? 

Because the toy did actually see an official release somewhere on the planet, it’s not particularly rare, just expensive for a deluxe. You can generally buy one for around $100 on eBay. 

Notes: 

This fate is actually fairly common for toys. Most of the final wave of DOTM was eventually released by Takara. Similarly, although much of the tail end of Transformers: Animated was genuinely axed, figures such as Blackout did see release in Japan.(Abates) (And are also quite expensive.) I mostly picked Wheeljack because he’s the one I always think of. 

8: Masterforce Browning

Who? 

Browning was exclusive to the Japanese G1 line, Super God Masterforce. However, what really makes him difficult to come by is his alternate mode; Browning turns into a Browning M1910 pistol. (TVsGrady) Not only does he turn into a real model of gun, it’s a pretty convincing alt-mode from a distance; no orange safety cap, just sweet sweet chrome the whole figure over. Obviously, this would not fly in today’s toy market, and that makes a reissue of Browning extremely unlikely.

How do I get one? 

Between the reissue problem, the fact that his alt-mode is honestly really cool and novel, and his limited, Japanese release, it’s tough to even find an original Browning for sale on Ebay. Even when he is available, he tends to command a clean couple hundred. Your best bet would be dedicated trading forums. 

7: Hasbro DOTM Leadfoot 

Who? 

Much like Wheeljack, Leadfoot had a bit part in DOTM. He showed up for a few scenes with the Wreckers and built a spaceship and made Nascar jokes. Also like Wheeljack, Leadfoot was planned to receive a deluxe class figure, but with the untimely demise of DOTM, it was not to be. Takara did release a version of Leadfoot, and, like Wheeljack, this is expensive, but not unobtainable. What is excruciatingly hard to come by is one of the unreleased Hasbro two-packs of the character, which contained Leadfoot in a different deco from Takara’s, and a deluxe Topspin. Packaged samples are known to exist, but never officially saw release in any market. 

How do I get one? 

Takara’s Leadfoot generally commands $80-150 on eBay, and you can generally find one or two floating around. If you want the Hasbro deco, well… Good luck. The transformers wiki confirms that there was once one listed on eBay.(MSipher) Now, nine years after DOTM, your best bet would be to know someone, to know someone who knows someone, or to have an in at a place where things like this are discussed and trafficked. 

6: Rally Rhinox 

Who? 

Many of you are likely familiar with the Beast Wars character Rhinox. Many of you are probably not familiar with the promotional toy that character received at local American chain Rally’s. (S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47) It looks nothing like Rhinox, or even really like a rhino.(S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47) However, “Most people didn't realize the promotion even existed until after it was over, and the restaurant chain is fairly small and somewhat regional.” (S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47) Because collectors are how they are, it tends to be quite expensive. 

How do I get one? 

The cursory ebay search I did recently didn’t turn anything up. However, a little more digging found some previous listings on old transformers forums. It appears to have gone for about 100 dollars, which is quite a bit, considering it’s a worse happy meal toy. 

5:Latin American G1 product 

What? 

G1’s international distribution was a bit of a mess. Hasbro handled the US, but “The earliest toys released in continental Europe (minus Italy) were distributed by Milton Bradley, which was in the process of being taken over by Hasbro at that point.”(NexusShard17, The Transformers) In Latin America, the situation was even more complex. No fewer than five licensees were producing G1 figures, often in unique and striking color schemes. (Whalermouse) With the passage of time, the exact scope of what was produced has become unclear; for example, “There are supposedly upwards of three dozen different mold/color combinations altogether, many of them unique to the Peruvian line, but the ravages of time have made samples stunningly rare and reliable information scarce.” (Whalermouse) The actual rarity of the figures depends on what specific piece you’re after, but all of them command outrageous sums. 

How do I get one? 

Many of these pieces are available to purchase on ebay. However, even the mini-vehicles tend to command on the order of 300-400 dollars. However, as you can imagine from the fact that it is uncertain what all exists, some individual colors and figures might prove exquisitely difficult to find. 

4: W Cassettebots 

What? 

Wouldn’t it be cool if Soundwave had some cassettes that turned into dinosaurs? What if they combined? Well if you lived in Japan in the 80’s, and preferred Blaster, you didn’t have to dream. There were two teams of cassettes that turned into dinosaurs, and that combined, albeit somewhat awkwardly. (M Sipher, W Cassettebot) At the end of the Headmasters, “there were a number of toys exclusive to Japan, most of which today command large sums on the secondary market due to rarity (or at least perceived rarity) in the West.” The W Cassettebots were solidly in that category. However, unlike other such exclusives, the W Cassettebots didn’t see a reissue until 2018-2019. (Interrobang; S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47) For decades these figures could command 2000-3000 dollars for the pair. Even knock offs would go for several hundred dollars. Although these are expensive simply because of their exclusivity, their notoriety earns them a place on the list. 

How do I get one? 

If you’re a reasonable human being, you buy the reissue. It’s two orders of magnitude cheaper and you can actually play with it.  If you’re actually interested in the real deal, an accepted path is to buy some KOs to familiarize yourself with what those look like, and then… find the boys themselves somewhere? Likely by reaching out to an individual seller; I’ve never even seen a real pair on ebay. 

3: G2 Bomber Megatron 

A toy that essentially anyone can buy, but with a packaging variant that is next to unobtainable? Oh baybee, welcome to this version of G2 Megatron. “A planned-but-more-or-less-canceled redeco of Generation 2 Dreadwing, this two-pack of Megatron and Starscream was only released to test markets in Ohio in very limited quanities, and never saw a wide release… the toy was instead made available, with just a few small deco changes, in the Beast Wars II toyline as BB and Starscream.”(ItsWalky) Why do we care about how difficult this is to obtain? My god, because it’s there. Because it’s there. 

How do I get one? 

I’mma say you don’t. I’d guess less than 500 samples of any sort of this are around, and new in sealed box which is the only thing you’d care about? You’re at the mercy of Ohioese children of the 80s not playing with the cool toy they were bought. Good luck finding one. When you do, be prepared to break your wallet in half. 

2: G2 Defensor and Menasor 

These guys really should be number one on the list (but they’re not quite for a good reason). The place they occupy in transformers culture is legendary. It’s a newsworthy event when a set of these figures even becomes available to buy. Even Hasbro has lampshaded the rarity of these figures in the bio of one Shortround, a Cybertron toy. (KilMichaelMcC; Bronzewolf) Much as the first entry on our list, Action Master Thundercracker, had a phenomenally garish color scheme, Menasor and Defensor were going to be released that way in G2. However, between one thing and another, they were canceled. In spite of that, several samples are known to exist. Imagine it. A G1 combiner, unreleased, with this magnificent, gaudy color scheme, all those delightful little bits and pieces to lose or misplace over the years, a bare handful of extant ones in any event… The stuff of legends, to be sure. 

How do I get one? 

Know someone who knows someone. These tend to go for in the neighborhood of 20000 dollars. If you have the 20k to drop on one of these guys, you probably know someone who can put you in contact with one. They are also, rarely, listed on ebay. 

1: Chrome Optimus Prime

Okay, I know I said no Lucky Draw figures, but this one is special. There aren’t ten, or fifteen, or fifty of these. There are exactly two, as part of a single display. (MasterX224) “Won by TFW2005.com member James Zahn, this one-of-a-kind (well, two-of-a-kind) piece is an almost fully vacuum-metallized Leader-class Optimus Prime in red, silver and blue (based heavily upon Generation 1 Optimus Prime), presented with a custom display base with an embossed silver Autobot insignia and a perspex display case.” (MasterX224) The fact that there are two of this figure catapults it to the absolute stratosphere of rarity. It’s difficult to imagine what figure that actually exists could be rarer than this. Maybe a one-off thing for a valued Takara employee? Maybe the very first prototype of Optimus Prime? Even things like Menasor and Defensor have a handful of samples. What has just two? Well… this Chrome Optimus Prime. 

How do I get one? 

Well it helps to be James Zhan. And… yeah I think that’s really all. He’s certainly not going to give it up any time soon. Maybe if you meet him he’ll let you take a look at it some day? 

I hope you all enjoyed this loose list of some of the rarest/most expensive for what they are Transformers. There’s a ton of other super notorious lads, (cough G1 Raiden cough) that really do deserve to be on here. These are just a few of the ones I thought were interesting and, candidly, know about. I’m not in the circles of those folks who are collecting the rarest of the rare. If there’s anything you know about or would even like to spread rumors about, mention it! I’d love to hear about them. Also, if this caught your fancy, make sure to check out the lucky draw website. They have all sorts of interesting stories up there.

TVsGrady et al. “Browning” TFwiki. https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Browning Accessed 11/1/2020

SFH et al. “Wheeljack (Movie)” TFwiki. https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Que Accessed 11/27/2020

Abates et al. “Blackout (Animated)” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Blackout_(Animated) Accessed 11/27/2020

NexusShard17 et al/ “Transformers: Dark of the Moon (toyline)” TFwiki. https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Transformers:_Dark_of_the_Moon_(toyline) Accessed 11/27/2020

MSipher et al. “Leadfoot (DOTM)” TFwiki. https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Leadfoot_(DOTM) Accessed 11/27/2020

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47 “Rhinox (BW)/toys” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Rhinox_(BW)/toys#Beast_Wars Accessed 11/27/2020

NexusShard17 et al. “ The Transformers (European toyline)” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/The_Transformers_(European_toyline)#1985 Accessed 11/27/2020

Whalermouse et al. “The Transformers (Toyline)” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/The_Transformers_(toyline)#Mexican_.26_South_American_Transformers Accessed 11/27/2020

MSipher et al. “W Cassettebot” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/W_Cassettebot Accessed 11/27/2020

M Sipher et al. “Fight! Super Robot Lifeform Transformers! (toyline)” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Transformers:_The_Headmasters_(toyline)#1987_.28The_Headmasters.29 Accessed 11/27/2020

Interrobang et al. “Graphy” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Graphy#Vintage_G1 Accessed 11/27/2020

S.H.I.E.L.D Agent 47 et al. “Dairu” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Dairu#Toys Accessed 11/27/2020

Geewunling et al. “Thundercracker (G1)/toys” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Thundercracker_(G1)/toys#ActionMaster Accessed 11/27/2020

ItsWalky et al. “Megatron (G1)/toys” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Megatron_(G1)/toys#Generation_2 Accessed 11/27/2020

Bronzewolf, “Unreleased G2 Menasor Prototype listed on Ebay again” Siebertron

https://www.seibertron.com/transformers/news/unreleased-g2-menasor-prototype-listed-on-ebay-again/36662/ Accessed 11/27/2020

KilMichaelMcC et al. “Generation 2 Defensor and Menasor” TFwiki.

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Generation_2_Defensor_and_Menasor Accessed 11/27/2020

MasterX224 et al. “Optimus Prime (Movie)/toys” TFwiki. 

https://tfwiki.net/wiki/Optimus_Prime_(Movie)/toys#Leader_Class_toys Accessed 11/27/2020

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Somebody To You: 12

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CHAPTER TWELVE:

It was the first gray day in over a month. It hasn’t rained in LA since Jess’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. Zoey sat outside on the balcony with Binx on her lap, letting the gentle breeze nip at her skin. She always found it so peaceful right before a storm. She looked out at all of the car lights going up and down the surrounding streets - they looked like ants from the twenty-second floor. 

She could hear the laughter from Brett and Nancy inside making fun of a horribly cast Indie movie and grinned, glad to have such great friends. She should have been inside getting ready for her date, but it was too calming out here to do that. She’d rather stay out here, listening to the palm trees rustle, the cars rush by, and the cat purr. She felt her phone buzz and she turned it over to see Harry trying to facetime her. Like Zoey, he had the day off today. He was in Arizona now, so they were in the same time zone, at least. She answered the call and held the phone at a better angle. Soon, Harry’s face came into view, swallowing a large bite of something.

“Are you eating dinner?” Zoey asked.

Harry panned down to show her his plate of pasta, “Room service,” he said.

“Nice. What’s going on? Bored?”

“Was supposed to head out in a few but my friends are stuck in traffic so I thought I’d call and see what’s up.”

“You have friends?” Zoey asked sarcastically, earning the middle finger from Harry as he took another huge bite of his pasta. She continued, “Nothing. Just sitting outside with Binx, waiting for tonight.”

“What’s tonight?”

“I’ve got a date.” Harry’s eyebrow raised suspiciously when Zoey quickly added, “It’s not with Brett. Although, he is here.”

“At your place? Is he with Rory?”

Zoey rolled her eyes, “No, Rory’s still working. He’s with Nancy. Would you chill? Nothing is going on between them.”

“It didn’t look like nothing,” Harry countered.

Zoey groaned, “You of all people should know that paparazzi pictures aren’t always what they seem. I told you I was with them that day, would you relax, you big baby? We talked about this.”

He sighed, putting his fork down and wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin, “I know. But I can’t help that I get jealous. It fucked me up.”

After their outing a few weeks ago, paparazzi had caught a picture of Aurora and Brett laughing together walking through the downtown area, of course cropping Zoey and Andy out of the background. She was obviously big news because she was newly famous, but also because of her recent connection with Harry, so people began speculating when they saw her out and about with a new hunky man. Brett ate that shit up like a cake, but Rory seemed a bit flustered by it. And Harry. He saw the pictures before any of them did. Well, that was all he needed to put his ass in gear. 

At first, he was mad, calling Zoey while she was at work and interrogating her about the situation, freaking out. “I thought he was your boyfriend? I knew something was up with him! Why is Rory with him? Why didn’t you tell me?” He made an absolute ass out of himself. She’d never heard him so upset before. And Zoey felt bad, but she had to shut that shit down, telling him that if Rory was with someone, it wasn’t his concern since Rory isn’t technically his girlfriend and reminding him that Brett was not her boyfriend and she had no control over what another person says or does. Brett has been nothing but kind to everyone there and Harry didn’t need to drag other people down because of his own insecurities. 

It was a long conversation and Harry really got his ass handed to him. He promptly apologized to Zoey and even sent her a bouquet of flowers for it, which was sweet. Although, Rory got an even bigger bouquet and a box of chocolate-covered strawberries after the conversation the two of them had with each other. Harry didn’t go into specifics with Zoey, but he did hint that he thought everything would be fine and they had an understanding. Still, it’s been a few weeks since this all went down and Harry still brought it up, his insecurities unwavering.

“Well, it wasn’t a date. They were literally just walking. Andy and I were right behind them. Besides, even if it was a date, she warned you that she wouldn’t wait forever. She told you that back in May. Your tour is over in less than two weeks. You’ve had months to give her an answer. Did you yet?”

“No,” Harry admitted. As soon as he saw the annoyance in Zoey’s eyes he hurriedly continued, “But I know what I want now. And I’m going to tell her. But I want to tell her in person. Or ask her in person, I guess.”

Zoey’s eyes widened, lighting up a bit, “You’re finally going to ask her out?”

“Well, my last show is in Portland the Friday after next and I was going to head back home to London on Sunday, but I was thinking about making a stop there before I go. Maybe surprise her. I’m not sure yet. I might get too impatient and just do it over Facetime if I can’t get a flight there right after the concert.”

Zoey grinned excitedly, “That’s really sweet, H. I’m happy for you.”

Harry blushed, smiling, “Thanks. Hopefully she’ll say yes.”

“Well you’re not proposing, and I know she really likes you, so I’m sure she will. I mean, you’re basically dating as it is. You two are still good, right?”

“I think so. I mean, we haven’t talked a ton because we’re just on opposite schedules right now, but when we do talk it seems alright.”

“Good. Then you have nothing to worry about,” Zoey grinned.

They talked for a bit more, but as the time neared her having to leave she decided to hang up and start getting ready. The restaurant her date was taking her to was pretty nice, so she dressed up in a shin-length, long sleeve sleek black dress with a bit of a shoulder and a slit going up the side, some pointed black heels, and put her dirty blonde hair in a low bun with strands dangling to frame her face. When she stepped out to say goodbye to Nancy and Brett, they both looked her up and down, Nancy letting out hollers and Brett whistling. 

“You look hot!” Nancy yelped as Brett shook his head in awe.

“This guy better watch it! I don’t know if he can handle you. Trust me. I’d know,” he winked.

Zoey shook her head, laughing and heading towards the door, “Bye guys. Be on standby in case I need a quick out!” she called, grabbing her keys and heading to her car. She never liked to be picked up on a first date. She always drove herself and met her date at the location.

Meanwhile, Mitch and Adam had finally gotten back from their trip to town. Normally Harry made it a point not to drink during the tour, but he made an exception tonight. They had off for three days and a bunch of people from the tour was going out, so why not? Besides, it was a Tuesday night. It wouldn’t be too crazy.

So, with rings on his fingers, layered necklaces, a brown shirt, navy trousers, and a lime green blazer, Harry headed out to the bars with his friends. They had filled a good portion of the bar in town, and he quickly became friendly with the owner, taking pictures and making a quick video for his daughter at home while making the rounds to the members of staff and getting drinks for everyone. 

Drink after drink the weight on his shoulders began to lessen and he felt looser, eyes more bloodshot, and making more jokes. His spotted Mitch and Adam on the couch in the corner and made his way over, plopping on the edge of the seat next and flinging an arm around Adam.

“You guys having a good time?” Harry slurred a bit.

“Yeah, man, this is great,” Harry nodded.

“Looks like you're having a good time,” Mitch smirked. 

“I’m great!” Harry announced, looking out at everyone smiling and laughing and having a good time. He frowned a bit, “Tour’s almost over. A week and a half left.”

“What are you gonna do when it’s done? Start recording?”

“Eventually,” Harry nodded, “I’m gonna go back to London and see some family for a bit. I think I’m going to stop back in LA first, though.”

“What, to see Zoey?” Mitch teased earning a little chuckle from Adam.

“Nooo,” Harry exaggerated, head wobbling as the drinks kicked in more, “To see Rory. I’m going to ask her out.”

Both Mitch and Adam’s eyes widened and they simply said, “Oh.”

“I didn’t even know you still talked to her,” Adam confessed, “Well, congrats, man.”

“Did you tell Zoey yet?” Mitch asked.

Harry nodded, taking another sip of his drink, “Yeah, I was just on the phone with her before you got back and told her. Why?”

Mitch shrugged, “I don’t know, just curious what she said about it.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, “She’s happy about it. She’s friends with Rory, too. She’s my best friend, dude. We don’t like each other.”

Mitch nodded and Adam asked, “So when do we get to meet her? Is she going to come to the last concert or something? Maybe visit us in London?”

Harry shook his head, slurring some more, “No, she’s got work that day and she never calls off. And she’s never been out of the country yet. I don’t know. I’m sure you’ll meet her one day. She’s cool, you’ll like her. It’s like once you start talking to her you can’t stop. Like she never runs out of things to say. Not in an annoying way, it’s like there’s never an awkward silence, you know? You’ll see.” Adam and Mitch shared a look before changing the subject.

The second she got to the restaurant it began to drizzle. She made it just in time. Her date was a patron she met at the bar named Eric. He was older than her by about six years but was always very friendly when he came in. He was very clearly an important businessman, as were most people that came into her work, not that she really cared about that. She found most wealthier businessmen were typically creeps or jerks or some combination of the two, so Eric seemed like a breath of fresh air. He always dressed in the nicest suits and had his hair perfectly styled, sporting a different expensive watch each day.

He stood from his seat when he saw her walking in and gave her a friendly hug, kissing her cheek before she sat opposite of him. Nice restaurants always had the worst lighting. She could hardly see anything in the dim lighting, the candle in between them illuminated upwards, casting quite creepy shadows on Eric’s face. 

He smiled and practically growled, “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she grinned, brushing the hair away from her eyes.

“I’ve already placed an order for you, I hope that’s okay. I remember you saying you liked salmon and this place really has the best.”

“Oh, great, thanks,” she grinned, taking a sip of water. Zoey hated when people ordered for her. She knew he meant well, and at least it wasn’t just a salad, but he couldn’t have waited for her to look at the menu first? What if she wasn’t in the mood for salmon. She put the glass down, “Thanks for doing this on a Tuesday. I know I’ve got a really strange schedule.”

“It’s not a problem. I’d have done any day of the week if it meant I got to have dinner with you.”

The line might have worked, but it sounded weird coming from his mouth. Eric seemed different when he was alone compared to when he was surrounded by colleagues at her bar. Even with his cheesy pickup lines, he seemed less confident here. Shyer. More out of his comfort zone. 

Still, she smiled politely and continued the conversation, “So, why are you single? LA’s got a lot of pickings. Not a great dating scene? You know I’m fairly new here so I’m just getting the hang of it.”

Eric swallowed, nodding a bit, “Well, truth be told I’m not too sure myself. I just got out of a pretty long relationship, so I’m new to the dating scene, too.”

“Really? How long were you two together?”

“About nine years.”

“Nine years? Wow, that’s a long time.”

He nodded, “Yeah, it was pretty rough. We were actually set to get married this month before she broke it off.’

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

She listened to him talk more about his ex. He talked so much that he barely ate a bite of food when their dinners were brought out. And the more he talked, the more emotional he seemed to get. By the time she had finished her salmon, he was practically in tears. The conversation turned more to a therapy session and ended with her trying to convince him of his worth. That, even though she’s sure his ex was a lovely girl for someone, no girl is worth losing sleep over if they’re not as equally invested into the relationship as their partner. And by the time they were getting ready to leave, Eric seemed more happy and confident than she had ever seen him.

Eric laughed as they stood up and headed for the door, “Sorry about all that. I guess I’m still not exactly over it.”

Zoey waved him off, “Don’t apologize. I completely understand.”

When they got into the landing of the restaurant they peered outside at the downpour of rain. The roadways looked like streams and the streetlights reflected against the water, making it look like it sparkled against the night sky. 

“Ready to make a run for it?” Eric asked, holding onto the door handle.

When Zoey nodded, he pushed the door open and they ran, cold water splashing up against her leg with each step, shielding her eyes as the rain pelted against them. When they made it to the parking garage, soaked, he shook the water off his arms and groaned, “I’ll need to get this suit to the cleaners now.” He looked down at Zoey and smiled, moving a strand of hair that had been slicked down with water on her forehead to the side of her face, “Thank you. For tonight.”

“Goodluck, Eric,” she smiled kindly at him, kissing his cheek before getting in her car. She gave him a little wave as she pulled out and drove away.

Zoey drove home in silence, reflecting on the date. She felt bad for him, truly. But what was it with men pining for women who they treated poorly? Why was it so hard for men to see what they had when they had it and not when it was too late? What a waste of a date. She was really looking forward to this one, too.

By the time she pulled into her condo’s parking garage, it was a little past midnight. Her dress was disgustingly damp and clung to her skin like plastic wrap and her heels squeaked with every step she took. Once in the lobby, Zoey bent down to undo the straps on her heels and pulled them off, letting her bare feet on the cold marble floor. She carried her heels in one hand and headed towards the elevator, pressing the button. When the elevator finally reached the ground floor and the doors opened, she was surprised to see Brett heading out.  

He laughed when he saw her, “Was your date outside? You're soaked.”

She smiled, happy to see a familiar, emotionally available man after that horrible date, “I’m cold, too.”

“Where’s your date? Couldn’t handle you?”

“Something like that,” she grinned, “Are you leaving?”

“Yeah, Nancy went to bed.”

“And Rory’s not back yet?”

“Nope, not yet.”

Zoey thought for a moment before stepping a bit closer to him, “Well...you can stay if you want?” 

Brett thought for a moment, looking her up and down before backing up a bit, “I’m...uh...actually getting a bit tired. Raincheck?”

“Oh, yeah. No problem,” Zoey stammered, getting red in the cheeks, “I should take a shower anyway. Get out of this wetsuit of a dress.”

She frowned a bit, looking into his eyes. It might not seem like that big of a deal, but she and Brett haven’t had sex in a week. He’d had every opportunity and hint thrown his way, but it either went right over his head or he made an excuse. He’d been on the phone a lot more at work recently and knew that he had gone on a date with that redheaded waitress from the restaurant they went to a few weeks ago, so she assumed things had gotten serious between the two, but couldn’t he have just told her that?

He nodded and smiled a tight grin and she watched as he headed towards the door. Before he could even pull it open, Aurora walked through, colliding into him.

“Oh, hey!” She chirped, looking up to see both Brett and Zoey standing there. “You leaving?” she asked Brett.

He nodded, muttering, “Yeah. I’m tired.”

“Okay. See you later,” she said, heading over towards Zoey. 

The two girls got onto the elevator and Rory took a long look at her roommate, “Did you get stuck in the rain?” she asked.

Zoey nodded, motioning to herself, “This happened in less than three seconds.”

“I like your outfit. Why all dressed up?”

She wiped some water that was dripping down her forehead from her hair and said, “I had a date tonight.”

“Oh, with Brett?”

“No, some guy I met at work. Let’s just say there won’t be a second date,” Rory laughed as the elevator doors opened on their floor and they stepped out. Zoey continued as she punched in the code to get into their apartment, “You going to bed?”

Rory nodded, exasperatedly sighing, “Yeah, I’m exhausted. I’ll see you in the morning.”

They split up when they got inside, Rory going to her bedroom while Zoey went into hers. She stared at herself in the mirror and gasped. Streaks of mascara running down her cheeks from the rain, and her baby hairs starting to curl from the dampness. She did her best to wipe the makeup off, but there were still some residuals left. Really, she should be taking a shower right now, but she wasn’t in the mood. She couldn’t stop thinking about Eric and how much he missed his ex. It reminded him of Michael and how desperately he tried to hold onto her before she left.

She picked up her phone and searched through her contacts, finding the one she wanted, pressing the button for FaceTime call. Within seconds, the screen widened and Harry’s face popped up.

“Hello!” He sang, grinning, the picture shaking a bit as he was unsteady, clearly walking.

“Hey, are you busy?”

“Nope, I’m actually just getting back to the hotel now. What’s up?” he asked, dropping a set of keys, his wallet, and a few other knick-knacks on the desk before stumbling and plopping on the bed and taking a look at her. He blew out a chuckle, “What happened to you?”

She grinned, “It was raining.”

“How was your date?” 

She extended her camera out further and spun, panning the room, “Do you say anyone here with me?”

Harry smiled, “Bad, huh? You look lovely, though.”

“Thanks. Aside from the makeup running down my face and my hair a frizzy mess,” she groaned, wiping more water from her forehead, “I had to comfort this man so he wouldn’t cry about his ex-girlfriend.”

Harry winced, slurring, “At least you got a free meal out of it. That sounds really good right now. I should order room service,” he sat up, scanning his room, “should I get dessert or a meal? Or both?” he asked himself.

Zoey laughed, amused, “Are you drunk?”

He whipped his head at the phone, “No! I’m buzzed.”

She shook her head, “I should get a glass of wine and get buzzed, too.”

“The boys were asking about you tonight,” he said abruptly.

“The boys? Who are the boys and are they single?”

“Mitch and Adam. They’re in my band, and no, they’re not single,” Harry rolled his eyes, making Zoey sarcastically groan, “They were wondering when they were going to meet you.”

Zoey furrowed her eyes in confusion. Harry never really talked about his other friends with her. Obviously she knew he had other friends, but he figured that they were in such a different circle than her that they just never came up in conversation and Zoey just assumed that it would have been the same situation in his other friend groups where he didn’t talk about her. So to hear that they not only knew about her but were interested in meeting her was news.

“Oh, so you’re saying you talk about me?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, you’re my best friend,” he said.

Zoey paused, seeing the look in Harry’s face. There wasn’t a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He was serious. She felt her heart melt at those words. He’d been the one person she’d met since Jess died that she felt like she could be 100% herself around no matter the circumstance. She never had to censor herself in fear of hurting his feelings or saying the wrong thing, and vice versa. Zoey always considered Harry to be one of her best friends, too, but she never said anything in fear of him not feeling the same way considering how many friends he had. But to hear the words come out of his mouth was a reassurance she never knew she needed.

“I’m your best friend?” she repeated.

Harry’s eyes widened, sobering up quickly at the realization of what he just revealed. He cleared his throat, “Sorry, was that awkward?”

She shook her head, “No, it’s not awkward, H. We talk every day about literally the most disgusting things. You couldn’t make me feel awkward. I just didn’t know you considered me one of your best friends, so that’s nice to hear.”

“Are you going to tell me I’m your best friend, too, or is this going to be that heart-wrenching situation where your best friend has a different best friend than you? Because don’t do that to me,” Harry joked.

Zoey laughed, “You’re a close second behind Binx.”

“The cat outranks me?” He gasped, before nodding understandably, “I get it.”

She shook her head, pursing her lips, “Ew, who would have thought that your best friend would be some rando from Pennsylvania?”

He grinned, “It doesn’t matter where you’re from. I was just talking to Mitch about this the other day. And I don’t want you to read into it, because it’s not that serious, but I honestly feel like you’re my soulmate. In a completely non-creepy way. Don’t laugh, I’m trying to be honest,” Harry flushed, embarrassed. Zoey bit her lips before waving, continuing him along, but finding it hard to hide her smile. He spoke again, “I just can’t imagine not having you in my life. Like, you’re the one person I can go to about anything at the end of the day and feel better about everything, you know? You keep me from going insane and I love you.”

After a moment of silence, Zoey smirked and jokingly said, “...Oh my god, are we about to kiss?”

“Shut up!” Harry laughed, “I’m serious.”

“I love you too, H.” she giggled, putting her chin in her hand, “You’re my best friend and I’m grateful for you every day. You saved me.” She got more serious, “ I don’t know what I would have done if you weren’t here and I don’t think I thank you enough for that.”

He shook his head, “You do. You thank me every day by just existing.” They smiled at each other for a moment before Harry spoke again, “Alright, yuck. We’re done with the mushy shit now. Let’s get back to talking shit about your date.”

The conversation continued as if nothing had happened, but both parties now had a deep sense of profound consideration for each other. She loved that stupid, annoying boy. Not like a lover, not like a brother or a family member or a friend, she just simply loved him beyond all sense of meaning. She loved his existence and his entire being and he loved her as well. She was his person.

“Did Rory ever get back home?” Harry asked.

Zoey nodded, “She walked in like four seconds after me. She went right to be, though.”

“I’m getting nervous about asking her out, now.”

Zoey rolled her eyes, chuckling, “Shut up, you know she’ll say yes. She’s been waiting this long. Why wouldn’t she?”

He didn’t know. He just had a weird feeling that something wrong was going to happen. He couldn’t shake it. Just as he was about to speak her hard a loud crack. Zoey’s room went dark, causing her to shriek.

“You okay?” he asked, sitting up straight.

“The power just went out,” she said, looking out of her window at the raging storm. It didn’t seem to affect any other building, just hers. A minute later there was another, deeper, cracking noise and what sounded to be a rush of water. “What the hell was that?” she asked, walking towards her door, and she gasped, loudly, “Oh my fucking god! Water! My room is flooding.”

KEEP READING

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

Taglist:

@thurhomish​ @stilljosiegrossie​

[rinharu-purple]

MakoHaru vs. RinHaru is like Apples vs. Pears

Ooohhh, how nice that we have a horrific pandemic hugging our from us fellow humans cruelly treated earth, so that we could stay at our homes, bake our own bread, have hundreds of zoom talks and try to learn how to knit a sweater for our dog. Everybody chooses another recreational activity to spend their time at their homes...Me? Well. I can  finally write my thoughts on Makoharu vs Rinharu ship war because that's my business and knitting has never been my forte...oooor writing gramatically perfect essays and yet here - we - are.

I think Makoharu and Rinharu are veeeery different and I will try to tell you in this post why is it that I think so...(nope, not because I'm a Rinharu shipper, why would you think that, and no there will be no Makoto shaming, he's a precious baby boy and I love him)

Lets start with the context, in which these two kinds of relationships can be found in.

Makoharu is the “We have been best friends since we were in our diapers and now we are like siamese twins, like salt and pepper, like Ernie and Birt, like avocado and lime juice” type.

Mako and Haru got to know each other while they were 6 years old when Makoto tripped on a sand castle on the playground and Haru helped himto stand up. Ever since then, it's almost always has been Makoto's mission to help Haru stand up, get up or get out of any situation, pool or bath. They are neighbour kids so they've spent their entire life together. Day by day, year by year. They've started swimming in a SC together,  went to the same school and then attended to the same university. Even when they were on school trips outside the city, they would share the same room. So unsparable they've always been. Considering the fact that they are currently in their early twenties, they must have spent almost 15 years together. In that point they no longer need to use words to communicate or Haru has to tell Makoto about his problems. Makoto can always be spot on about Haru's concerns whereas Haru can sense when something's up with Makoto, even though he's not so spot on as Makoto. Haru is not the best when it comes to seeing through the souls of people. He has a quite accurate sense of detecting suffering souls though.

Makoto is always observing and following Haru in a not creepy way. Makoto is loyal to Haru and givies Haru a safe space, where he could always go to, when in distress. Makoto is the translator to Haru's thoughts and feelings, when it's far too uncomfortable for him to express his thoughts himself or the replier to his unasked questions, when its too embarrasing for him to pose them. He gives him handkerchiefs, when he sneezes, tells him to get out of the pool because its still too early to swim outdoors. He also guides other people in their handling of Haru, so that he wouldn' be put into unsettling situations. Makoto is taking over the role of a protector for Haru. Some also see Makoto in a maternal archetype. Even though I find this a little bit far fetched, Makoto is definitiely the mother figure in the team, that's for sure. Just not in this duo.

What is then Haru's role in this relationship? What does Haru think of Makoto canonically? I really had to skip this part and give it some thought before writing anything about this, because I didn't have any straight answer at the first time. Haru cares a lot for Makoto. I mean, we all saw how he freaked out when he's nearly drown in the ocean. He also reacts frantically, when Makoto tells him about his plans to go to Tokyo.Haru is also very sensitive about Makoto's fear of the ocean and always tries to stay between Makoto and the ocean while taking walks at the beach. But Haru usually goes his own way, doing his own things, regardles of Makoto. Sometimes it's almost like he would take Makoto for granted, especially when he's lost way too much in his own problems. He doesn't see Makoto as a basic part of his swimming career and also doesn't confide in him in topics regarding Rin. For example he never told him why he'd quit swimming and he also didn't mention him about the “fence tension”. Makoto is transparent with Haru, but can we say it other way around as well? We saw Makoto struggle with his feelings towards swimming in High Speed and Haru could only catch up to this after quite some time. The same goes for Makoto's dilemma about his future plans in Eternal Summer, because Haru was dwelled way too deep on his own dilemma. What about their team relay in the first season? When he's shattered to pieces because Rin won the 100 m freestyle race, he just disappeared and discarded anyone else. This might be te only unbalanced element in the MakoHaru relationship.

Whatever the roles in that ship might be, due to their closeness and co-dependence Makoto and Haru are extremely comfortable around each other and trust each other completely. It is an established relationship which has very strong roots. It is an unbreakable bond. This is the main context of this ship. What about RinHaru?

Rinharu is the “Ever since I've met you my life hasn't been the same and I can't stand you yet you complete me trope... like yin and yang, like Mr. Darcy and Elisabeth, like two polars of a compass, same same but different” type.

Rin and Haru have always been rivals but also friends. They would compete in every single silly challenge out there, but then set the prize in rather questionable things like “the winner carries the loser bridal style”. They are responsible for the most of the emotional meltdowns of each other but then again they are also the ones to gather the broken pieces of each other and “save” one another. On the other hand, they contuniously keep taps on each other, observe one other from behind the scenes. They also are not using words to communicate like in MakoHaru, the only difference from MakoHaru ist that not only they fail to understand each without words but they also misinterpret each other and therefore have many quarrels along the way. Then again we have many intimate scenes between them, mostly at night, in a car, on a bench, in Haru's room or in the same bed abroad, in which they express their thoughts and feelings very straightforward with clear sentences. No innuendos, no sugary coats, no ego-masks. As honest as they can be. More interestingly, those feelings and thoughts usually turn out to be mutual. They think and feel the same way, they just don't confess them often. It is a relationship of two opposing ends all the time and yet they crave to be next to one another, swim together, see the world together, be like one another, cherish their moments and memories together.  They appear to be  the “opposites attract” stereotype, but they keep growing, expanding and evolving. Neither them nor us viewers know what the next scene in their relationship will be like. It's a relationship that's still in the making, they dont' have an established pattern.

As much as MakoHaru will stay being best friends RinHaru will also stay being friendly rivals, regardless- of any other direction their ship may take. Imo those are the foundations of these two ships, so how are they played out in the series? What is the tone of these relationships?

Makoharu is green and blue, you mix them and you have either a darker or a lighter shade of green

I've just described MakoHaru as an established, safe relationship. It's not only that, but its also a harmonious one. Makoto and Haru are harmoniously compatible with each other. They don't argue much, or have completely opposite opinions, wishes, desires. Even when they differ in their ways, they still manage to find a common ground and keep theit relationship on track. So that's why the producers always give MakoHaru scenes a stabile tone. They don't have drama, but they also don't have emotions on the extreme end of the spectrum. The comforting atmosphere is the basic of their interactions. When they have an argument, they work this through swiftly, and close the deal. They don't carry the burden along the way, they just leave it there.

In illustrations Makoto and Haru are mostly portrayed facing the same direction, wearing the same uniform (obviously), in the same setting, in cooperation. Their Drama CD stories are also that of two characters getting along well. Makoto pampers Haru to his good health as a firefighter and protects him from the police or they cook a meal together and Haru plays to role of a trainer to Makoto. But hey are also portrayed like a somewhat married couple in a domestic seeting. Even Nagisa mentions in the first season that hey look like a newlywed couple. Btw I really think that Nagisa is a hardcore MakoHaru shipper.

RinHaru is red and blue, you mix them than you have motherf#cking purple!

“.. like yin and yang, like Mr. Darcy and Elisabeth, like two polars of a compass, same same but different”  of course they are red and blue! Red and blue are two of the three main colors so they are not harmonious. When mixed they try first to dominate each other but when they finally blend, they make the sophisticated yet charming purple. Something that is neigther blue nor red, something brand new and that's RinHaru. When they are together they clash, they compete, they try to dominate each other but once they finally give in, it's a sight we've never seen before. The ever unforseeable atmosphere sets the tone of RinHaru, which is why both Rin and Haru are still insecure about each other and because their reactions are unpredictable to each other. They appear to be indifferent or comfortable when together and yet there is a certain lack of confidence in their  interactions. They break their heads while contemplating about each others actions and carry the burdens of the unanswered questions in their own heads for quite some time.

In the official artworks they are mostly looking at each other, provoking each other or“mirroring” each other. They are moving forward on their own paths, but in the same direction. Their Drama CD stories show Rin as a policeman, who try to arrest the trespassing merman Haru but then end up showing him his favorite sights and Haru offering him his blood to save his life. In the second one, Haru and Rin, on their way back from the high school regional tournament, at night, using the only time to spend some time together, reminiscing about their eternal summer together and making promises about the future. In another one, Rin is spending the night at Haru's and they once again reminiscence about their childhood and then it takes a misleading turn which includes teenage boys keeping books under their beds. There are always some intimate sparkles in those stories and Haru and Rin always have a romantic moment, in which either one does something romantic to the other or they share theit romantic thoughts about their relationship. RinHaru in my opinion is handled like a "beginning of the relationship" couple. They are exploring their feelings and their relationship progresses with time.

And that is an important point. MakoHaru might be portrayed like a married couple but they are not one. On the other hand, RinHaru really is an everevolving relationship. MakoHaru's setting hasn't changed ever since the first season but RinHaru is taking a different turn in every single one.

Here is a brief comparison of the first and last highlighting interactions of the both ships in each season.

First Season:

In the first season MakuHaru starts as it always does. Makoto pulls Haru out of his bathtub so that he could go to school in time, much like in the past. And there are important scenes in which they express their appreciation for them sticking to each other. RinHaru on the contrary, starts on a bitter note due to their dispute from the middle school and keep a cold face until they both speak or in this case shout/cry out their true feelings and make up.

Second season:

Second season also starts with Makoto pulling up Haru out of his baththub and ends in the same manner, even though they also have a fight because Makoto also tries to bring Haru to his senses about giving more serious thoughts to his future plans. RinHaru starts the second season with a new set of feelings. They set a new tournament record and reach the finish line at the same time, giving each other high five and experiencing this new “fired up face” sensation. At the end of the season we see them again at the starting block on neighboring lanes, but this time they give each other a confident, challenging and yet playful smile before diving in.

Third season:

In the final season up to date Haru and Makoto are attending university in Tokyo and to my surprise aren’t living together. Their first scene is as usual Makoto helping Haru out of water but Haru, this time, pulls Makoto right into the pool, pointing to the fact that Haru, indeed, has become more assertive and confident in his actions. At the end of the season, we see them both still meeting as best friends and studying together. Rin and Haru set off for the final lap of the series miles apart, nonetheless we find them thinking about each other, while they’re in water. Being far awy no longer bringst fear to their relationship, since they know that they are working towards the same goal and that their paths will cross again. And exactly this is what we see in the very final scene. Haru and Rin, standing side by side, at the international stage. Wondering what the future holds for them, but one thing is for sure...They’re diving into the future as a duo.

So when we leave every other scene out of the discussion and solely focus on what are the starting and ending status of these two ships are, we can see that MakoHaru stays stable over the years and don’t show much change, whereas RinHaru evolves and progresses over time and these guys are feeling closer to each other despite spending most of their times apart.

So how do the other characters react to these ships?

Well as mentioned earlier Nagisa is definitely a MakoHaru shipper. He makes suggestive comments about their relationships amd is also very attentive to Mako’s worries about Haru which brings me to Makoto’s reactions to RinHaru. Why was Makoto jealous of Rin and wanted to race him in freestyle? I think Makoto was jealous of Rin because he’ realized that there is someone, who occupies a certain area in Haru’s life, which he cannot be involved in. This would make any best friend uncomfortable and he also confides in Rin after his fight with Haru. Rin on the other hand accepts MakoHaru as best friends and supports it and tries to cheer up Haru about his fight with Makoto by saying that Sousuke und him fight all the time. Sousuke also seems to be aware of the dynamic of RinHaru and is quite cold towards Haru while messing with Rin about his fixation on Haru. He is also quite aware about Rin’s expressions changing while tlaking about Haru, so he senses something out of the ordinary there. Rin’s homestay parents also give Haru a wink while telling him that Rin used to mention from someone whom he looks up to. Ikuya as a newly introduced character, also shows some jelaousy like behaviour towards Rin, although this behaviour is pretty mutual. but I could see Ikuya having more concerns than Rin here. Let’s also not forget about how even Kisumi’s realized that Haru appeared to be lonesome, when Rin was in Australia during middle school (which Haru silently confirms during Ikuya’s heartfelt burst out in Starting Days). People know, that there is something more then what meets the eye for RinHaru.

In total, MakoHaru has always been a relationship, which owed its strength to its stability and therefore is a very rooted and powerful relationship. Makoto is without a doubt Haru’s best friend and he will remain being that. However I don’t think there has been more than that and also don’t see it turning into something romantic. I mean, like 19 year old college students in Tokyo, don’t you think that they would at least get into a flatting situation if they were more intimacy there? (or maybe this isn’t something common for Japan, I dunno). Since Makoto’s journey takes a different orientation than Haru’s I wouldn’t be surprised if Makoto would soon have a girlfriend. I see Makoto more of a heterosexual guy tbh.

RinHaru on the other side, is still a story in the making and their strong feelings and obsession for each other and most importantly, their paths finally meet and they will be able to finally spent more time together and get to know each other even more. Considering the passion, intimate moments and their desire to be together could turn into something in romantic. I think the romantic feelings between Rin and Haru have been there right from the beginning, but they had to live through all kinds of experiences and form their personas as professional swimmers and find their true identities, while establishing their relationship first before giving thought to what other feelings might be there. So its just a matter of time, that they become aware and act upon these feelings, so we could just hope that we got more Free! productions.

Thank you everyone, who’s made it this far. I know it’s been a long post, but there was no way for me to cover it any shorter than that. Please excuse any typo or grammatical mistakes. I checked the whole text twice, but I’m pretty sure, that I’ve oversaw many mistakes. Did you like it though? Would you add/change something in it? Let me know. I would love to hear your opinions!

[thewritewolf]

Two Cursed Detectives in Paris Chapter 4: Ladybugs and Owls

Eerie and Marinette have some girl time, followed swiftly by some detective work with Eerie and Connor.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Eerie watched the rain coming down hard outside, turning the City of Lights into a depressing grey. The only people out right now were those who absolutely had to be. Which meant the bakery wasn’t getting any customers and most people weren’t thinking of getting big orders of pastries delivered if they were just going to end up soaking wet by the time it reached their doorstep.

With a sigh, she stood up and went for her coat. This caught the attention of Marinette, who was leaning on the front counter in boredom.

“Where are you going, Eerie?” Marinette called after her. “Is there something wrong?”

“I’m not going to be doing any deliveries today and with your parents doing that catering gig today there isn’t much else for me to do here either.” She slipped on her coat and frowned. It didn’t have a hood and it wasn’t going to do much to keep the rain off her. “So I’m just going to head back to the hotel.”

“But your partner isn’t going to be there. You’ll just be sitting there all alone.”

Thinking back to the long university years of being an outcast, Eerie shrugged and slapped on a fake smile. “I’ll be fine, Marinette. I usually am.”

Just as her hand reached the door handle, Marinette said, “Wait! Why don’t you just hang out here for a bit? At least until the rain lets up.” Her voice became more hopeful and energetic as her confidence built up. “I could close up shop early! We could play some games, talk, all sorts of stuff while we wait!”

Eerie stared at the handle for a few long moments. It was flattering, really. Most people didn’t want anything to do with the cursed. Even those who did usually had some kind of weird curiosity about them - probing questions that made Eerie feel more like a carnival attraction than anything else.

But not Marinette. She was just so… earnest, even from the first moment that they met. When Eerie turned around her smile was smaller but more genuine.

“You know what? That actually sounds pretty nice. Let’s do it.”

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

As it turns out, Eerie wasn’t as good at games as she thought she was. Or maybe it was just that Marinette was in a league of her own. Given just how quickly she got trounced, maybe it was the second option.

“Do you want to do something else?” Being very aware of how easily she could accidentally crush the controller in her hands, Eerie gently set it on the table in front of her. “I think I’ve reached my limit for this.”

“Oh! Sure.” Marinette’s eyes settled on Eerie’s hands. “Could you do my nails like yours? They look really pretty.” Eerie looked at her hand, with the perfectly manicured red nails that came to a point. They didn’t look all that sharp, but looks could be deceiving.

“Thank you! But I can only take credit for the paint.” She flexed her fingers. “These are more talons than nails. Really tough and my hands are super strong too.”

“Is that part of your curse?”

“Mhm,” Eerie hummed. “It means that I’m the one opening pickle jars for Connor rather than the other way around.”

Marinette giggled. “You’ve mentioned him before. What’s he like? Is he… like you?”

“If by ‘like you’ you mean cursed, then yeah. Other than that we’re as different as it gets. He’s really embraced his curse, he’s messy, and he’s way too relaxed about a lot of things.”

“Do you not like your curse?” Marinette winced. “Sorry, stupid question. It’s a curse of course you wouldn’t like it.”

“Don’t worry, it’s fine. I guess I just… I never liked how it set me apart from people? But Connor… he revels in it. It’s just a part of who he is, same as his stubbornness and weird eating habits.” She rubbed her temples before sighing. “Still, he’s been a great partner. The first person to actually encourage me to use my curse rather than ignore it. Which can be frustrating at times, but it’s better than what I was dealing with before.”

“Me and Chat Noir are pretty different too,” Marinette said with a nod. “But I think that actually makes us better at our job. Between the two of us, there’s not much we can’t do. And, even when things are at their worst, I always know he’s in my corner. You know?”

Eerie smiled. “Yeah, I get it.”

They kept chatting as Eerie started to paint Marinette’s nails a lime green color. Slowly, she was starting to realize how much Marinette reminded her of herself at that age - before she got cursed. Driven, sweet, but very insecure about certain things. And that insecurity was plainly written on Marinette’s face as she clearly struggled with what she was about to say. Eerie simply smirked to herself as she worked, more than willing to let Marinette ask at her own pace.

“Could you… give me some advice? Boy advice?”

Eerie froze. Of all the things she had expected, that wasn’t among them. She mentally chastised herself - obviously it was going to come up after they spent all that time talking about their partners.

“Sure!” Eerie said with a false sweetness, hoping Marinette wouldn’t notice her panicking. When was the last time she had any sort of romantic relationship? Definitely before college.

“Well… there's this boy that I really like, but I can’t-” She pressed her hands against her face. “I just can’t be normal around him!”

Suddenly Eerie could very much relate, though probably not for the same reasons.

“Why don’t you tell me about him? Maybe we can figure out a plan of attack.”

Slowly, Marinette nodded. “Alright. Well… he’s a super sweet, really handsome guy.” She giggled. “You've probably seen him around, actually. His face is everywhere.”

It suddenly clicked for Eerie. The similar ages. How they were paired up as superheroes.

“You’re in love with Adrien Agreste,” Eerie blurted out, only barely refraining from adding ‘who is your partner that is constantly hitting on you.’ Besides her promise to Connor, that would only freak the poor girl out.

“Yup! That’s the one.”

For the next hour, Eerie did her best to help Marinette with her boy troubles without letting it show how much she was thinking about this critical new evidence. It was so frustrating seeing how into each other they were without realizing it.

Maybe Connor was onto something.

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

Eerie thanked the guard and waved Connor over. He settled into an easy pace beside her, slowing his gait to stay by her side. The people working there knew that there would be inspectors working on a case, but only the curator knew what they were really there for. The less people who suspected they were onto the forgery ring, the better. Although that meant they had to be a little… underhanded in how they went about getting their clues.

“Ready to take in some French culture like you wanted?” She said with a smirk.

“I was hoping more for some culture I could eat, but this is a decent second best,” he replied. His eyes roamed the empty corridors of the Louvre. Visiting hours ended hours ago and most of the lights were out. Even if they didn’t have their flashlights on them, it wouldn’t matter much. The benefits to being cursed with nocturnal animals, she supposed. “It’s pretty eerie in here, huh Eerie?”

She snorted. “And you better not forget it. We’re in my territory, raccoon boy.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” He trained his flashlight on one of the paintings. “I think these ones are clear.”

“Just like we thought then,” she said in a low whisper right next to his ear. She wasn’t sure, but she almost thought she could see a shiver run down his spine. “Let’s see if we can get to the vault and check out the pieces there.”

He cleared his throat. “You got it. Let’s stick to the dark hallways - less likely for a guard to find us.”

The route they decided to take through the massive museum was winding, all the better for staying out of view and taking in all the art pieces. After a few minutes of walking in silence, she struck up a conversation.

“Remember the bakery girl I was telling you about? Marinette?”

“The one with the big secret you found?” Connor peered into a trash can and pulled out of it in a huff when he discovered it was empty. “How could I forget?”

“Well, I found out something else. She’s got a crush.”

“Dang.” Connor frowned. “Adrien might take that hard. And after all that time I spent convincing him...”

“Don’t worry, your hard work wasn’t in vain.” Eerie nudged his arm and smirked at him. “He is her crush.”

Connor whistled. “That’s perfect.”

There was a pause between them for a few heartbeats.

“What’s the odds of them actually figuring that out and dating?”

“You’d make a lot of money betting against it, let’s say,” Eerie deadpanned. “Which is why I suggest we should get involved.”

“Really? I could’ve sworn someone made that exact same suggestion a couple days ago.” He tapped at his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. “If only I could remember what handsome, smart detective it was…”

“The world may never know. But for now, it’s this handsome and smart detective.” Eerie pointed at herself.

Connor chuckled. “So what changed, boss?”

“Now I know first hand that they are hopeless.” She stopped to peer around a corner. When she saw nothing, she kept talking. “Besides, I want to see them get together before we leave.”

“You’re not alone there.” He pouted at her when she caught his wrist to keep him from idly touching one of the statues. “What’s the plan, then?”

“Why do you assume that I have a plan? Can’t you come up with one?”

“The whole point of me hiring you as an intern was that I wouldn’t have to do any of that pesky big picture thinking stuff any more.”

“...You outsourced your plotting to me?”

Connor shrugged. “It’s worked so far! Your plans are pretty great.”

“Thanks.” Eerie ignored the way her heart fluttered at the compliment and focused on the task at hand. “I mean… we could try to set them up on a date, I guess?”

“I dunno. Those two are pretty dense. What if they think of that as just something friends do?”

“We could chaperone. Make sure things stay suitably romantic.”

“That might throw off the feel of the date, though.”

“We could chaperone from a distance. Close enough to put things on the right track if it comes it that, but far enough away that they won’t notice us.”

“I get the feeling that them noticing us won’t be a problem. Once they’re together, all they’ll be able to do is make heart eyes at each other.”

A reply died in Eerie’s throat when they wandered into a brighter section of the museum and an employee bumped into Connor in the halls.

The man glared at both of them and mumbled something that sounded an awful lot like ‘rude, nosy Americans’ to her. She looked back to Connor to see him sticking his tongue out at the man’s retreating back.

“We’re almost to the vault. Think you’ll be able to get us in?”

“Maybe we won’t need to,” Connor replied, thumbing through an unfamiliar wallet.

“Did you-?”

“Sorry, boss. I didn’t mean to take it, but in my defense, if he didn’t want his wallet palmed, he should have taken more care about where he was going. Besides,” he said as he pulled out a red business card. “I get the feeling that guy is guilty of more than just being a rude dude.”

Eerie took the card, her look of curiosity turning into a predatory smile as she recognized the pen name of the forger. That at least proves the forger is here. She grabbed Connor’s hand and pulled him along, excited to be on the trail again.

“C’mon, boss,” Eerie said, the thrill of the hunt making her heart pound. “One calling card isn’t enough to nail this guy to the wall.”

Behind her, she was oblivious to the way Connor’s face reddened at the hand to hand contact.

[shawnpetermuffins]

Pictured with You (v.)

A/n: this is where it starts getting good, y'all.

Summary: a couple drinks lead to a few shots which lead to questionable actions.

Warnings: maybe a little sexual??

Word count: 2.1k

***

She's drunk. Maybe not hammered, but drunk nonetheless. She's stumbling over her own two feet, meaning I can't be more than an arms length away from her in case she starts to hurl forward or backward, which wouldn't be ideal either way. The floor in front of her is sticky with spilled drinks, and the bar behind her back is littered with dirty napkins and empty shot glasses. I'm sipping lightly at the beer in my hands when I feel her, rather than see her, get out of the stool she was sitting on.

"Shawn!" She exclaims, hand wrapping firmly around my forearm. I place my hand over hers to keep her still. Her skin is overwhelmingly warm compared to its usual arctic temperature. (I probably shouldn't know that, but as I've very obviously pointed out to myself and Brian I'm infatuated with her and her whole being. She consumes my senses, not that I can admit that to her; she'd bolt in a second.)

I chuckle though, to cover up the fact that I'm, no doubt, staring at her. "What's wrong, honey?"

She close, too close, Andrew would say, but sitting here, nursing my third beer and a little buzz, I don't think she's close enough.

"I took a picture of you last night," she giggles and it's only now that it hits me that she might be a lightweight. "And ohmygod! You looked s'hot!" Her eyes roll back with an inaudible hum (mostly because I can hardly hear anything over the music that's getting louder by the second.)

"How many drinks have you had?" I ask through a laugh.

"Just two," she's leaning her head on my shoulder now and I look over to the back of the club where our friends are sitting. "But I may have had three tequila shots," I hear her mumble into my neck. Connor is looking down at his phone, which I'm oddly grateful for. But Brian's smirking, making obscene gestures with his hands and I just shake my head at him, turning my attention back to the beautiful girl that has somehow ended up in my lap.

"Whoa! Hi," I bite my lip, looking at her flushed skin.

"Your eyes are my favorite thing," she slurs.

I can feel my cheeks get hot from more than just the alcohol in my system. Your lips are mine, I think to myself. "I'm glad you like them."

"We should doashot together," she beams.

"I think you might have had enough shots," I say through a soft laugh and a final swig of my beer and setting it behind us.

"C'mon! Please?" She begs, cradling my face with her small hands. I playfully bite at her fingertips when they trace over my mouth and she finds it way too hilarious in her current, less than sober state.

And her smile does too many things to me that I can't deny her, so I nod. "Okay, let's bring a couple rounds to the guys, yeah?"

Her smile is radiant, it fills me with so much warmth, and I know that it's not gravity keeping me on earth. It's her. So when she's pulling back to our friends with a tray of twelve shots in my other hand, I can't help but follow. Because wherever she's going, I want to be right there with her.

"Shots!" She exclaimed, plopping down next to Brian.

Connor looks up, and I watch him glance from the small glasses, to y/n, to me, and then to where her hand is now resting on my thigh. I place my hand over hers, my glare never faltering.

"Y/n, look at me real quick," he says and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. We've not been here two minutes and he's already dying to take her attention away from me. I internally scream when it works, her hand leaving my leg.

His eyes scan her face in a curious fashion. "How many have you had?"

"Why? Are you my father?" She asks, gently shoving a shot glass in his hand and then giving one to Brian as well.

"Y/n," he says sternly and she sighs.

"Two drinks and three," with a mischievous grin she tilts her head back and swallows the shot in her hand, quickly reaching for the lime attached to the rim. "Make it four shots."

"I think we should stop there, yeah?" I don't know what his deal is tonight, but he's being even more territorial than usual and to say it's severely pissing me off is an understatement.

"I think…" she hiccups and lets out a soft giggle, putting the empty glass down. "I think you should stop worryingabout me, and focus on your lack of buzz. Because full offense, but you're kinda ruining mine."

Brian and I can't help but laugh at that and we both quickly take our shots, the familiar liquor buring only slightly as it goes down.

She's leaning into me, my arm wrapped around her shoulders as she scrolls through Instagram,  mindlessly liking a picture here and there. I press featherlike kisses to her scalp every so often, most of them earning a grunt or eye roll from Connor. And I'll be honest, he's a lot less fun when he's, one, not on everyone else's level of "drunk". And two, when he's trying to steal my girl from me.

Well… my future girl, I guess.

We're all sitting in this booth, a final round of shots in front of us, but no one is reaching for them. Until y/n does, getting a side eye from Connor that she expertly ignores. "Can we try something?" She asks me over the music. I can see the way her eyes are blown wide while she looks at me and I wonder if I look the same to her.

"What's that, hon?" Brian is paying us no attention, too focused on a tall blonde near the bar. But I can feel Connor staring us down as she gets closer, shifting herself into my lap.

I grunt in surprise when she settles herself on me. "Hold this in your mouth," she slurs, fingers tracing my jaw, my skin burning at the contact.

"Okay, and then what?"

"I'm gonna take it from you," she smiles shyly, resting forehead against mine, blocking my view from anyone or anything else around me, not that I wanted to focus on anything but her.

"You sure?"

She nods against me and I tilt my head back.

"Okay, put it in my mouth," I say with a wicked smirk.

She hums and taps at my bottom lip, begging me to open. I do and she gently sets the full glass against my tongue.

"Ready?" She asks and I give a thumbs up. It happens quickly, her mouth on mine only for a second as she sucks the cup into her mouth, swallowing the harsh liquor. But then the glass falls from her lips and lands between our bodies and I press my lips against hers again, in a desperate, needy kiss that leaves her moaning against me. Giving me the ultimate chance to roam her mouth, and I revel in the way tequila tastes off her tongue - it tastes better this way, if you ask me.

Her hands are holding my shoulders tightly as she pulls away with a pant. "I'll be right back," she whispers against my swollen lips and gets off me, stumbling a bit as she makes her way quickly across the bar into the little corridor where the bathrooms are.

I chuckle and put our empty shot glass on the table, avoiding the deathly glare coming from my videographer.

Brian claps my shoulder, a shit-eating grin covering his features. "You going after her?"

I don't even think about it, I just nod and start to follow the path I saw her take just moments ago. But I'm quickly stopped. "Shawn, wait."

I turn around with an irritated growl, "What?"

"Don't do this. You promised Andrew you wouldn't."

"Connor, I mean this in the best possible way, but fuck off. You've been staring us down all night, keeping us apart for even longer. We're attracted to each other, get over it. I don't tell you how to live your life, what give you the right to tell me how to live mine?"

"I don't want to see her get hurt, Shawn. You're not around enough to keep her happy."

I scoff, "and you are?"

He cowards back, "I don't- it's not like that with her."

"Yeah," I roll my eyes, "I'm sure it's not. Excuse me," I turn back around, trying to make my way through the crowd without bumping into too many people.

The music is much softer here, and I press my ear to the door of the girls' bathroom, hearing the water from a faucet run. So I knock on the door.

"Just a second!" That beautiful voice yells back.

"Y/n/n, it's Shawn." The lock clicks and she stands there for a second, looking dumbfoundedly at me.

"What are you-?" But she doesn't finish because I push myself into the horribly lit bathroom, locking the door behind me. And then I have her on the counter, legs wrapped around my waist with my lips trailing not so innocent kisses down the column of her neck and biting lavishly into her shoulder and collar bone.

"Shawn?" She moans out, hands sifting through my hair, but it sounds like a question. So I pull away enough to gaze up at her through my lust filled eyes.

"Hmm?"

"What are we doing? We shouldn't do this."

"But I want to," my finger traces the bare skin of her lower back. "Don't you?" I ask, dipping my head into the crook of her neck and peppering it with kisses.

She hums, "It'll get back to Andrew."

I cringe at the sound of his name coming up for the second time in just minutes. "I don't care," I say, because I don't. "I want you." I tongue at the shell of her ear and she lets out an obscene moan when my teeth press down on the sensitive skin. "Come back to my room tonight."

"I can't," she says defeatedly, pushing me away.

I want so badly to question her. To beg her to come with me. But I don't. I just nod and help her off the sink. "I want to," she says when I reach for the door handle.

"But?"

"I can't risk losing you," she says, placing a soft kiss on my cheek before leaving the bathroom first.

---

We're all drunkenly walking down the hall to our respective rooms. I wait until I see y/n close her door to hide away in my room for the rest of the night.

I strip out of my sticky clothes - my hoodie smelling partially like tequila now - and let the shower run, hoping the warm water will sober me up some. But standing under the shower head with my hands running roughly through my sudsy hair, I can only think of one thing. Y/n. And how I wish she was the one here washing my hair. I don't care if this was all we did. I don't care if we ended the night having never touched each other. I just wanted her here. Wanted her with me.

And I think that's why I call her when I'm out, dressed in sweatpants and another hoodie, the red one that she claims looks really good in pictures.

"Hi," she answers softly.

"Hi… are you in bed?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Can you come over?"

"Shawn," she sighs and it makes me weak.

"Please? Just want to see you. Maybe cuddle?"

"Just cuddle?" She says after an agonizing amount of silence.

"If that's all you want."

I know the wheels are turning in her brain, "okay." There's shuffling on her side, and when i hear the click of a door I jump from bed and rush to mine, opening it right as shes about to knock. We both laugh lightly and she hangs up the phone. I shove mine in the pocket of my sweats and smile down at her. Her hair is down and damp, face bare of any trace of makeup she was sporting no more than thirty minutes ago. And she's in this old My Chemical Romance (rip) shirt and leggings. I swear she looks even better now than I've ever seen her.

I clear my throat and move to the side for her. "Hi. Come in."

Her smile ruins me as she walks into the room, and I wonder how I'll make it if all we're doing is cuddling.

***

Tags: @curlyshawny @shawns-badreputation @anamariel2301 @turtoix @tomshufflepuff @ivegotparticulartaste @dino-16-avocado @sleepybesson

PWY tags: @lifeoftheparty74 @alinaxxshawn @rosesfromcth @learning-howto-be-myselfx3 @5-seconds-of-mendes @sweetheartmendes @shawnwyr @strangerliaa

I hope you're all liking it!! See you Wednesday with chapter 6!

Like, reblog, and leave feedback!! 💙

[indowolfgang]

About Jurassic Park’s lack of feathers: (y’all this is long)

most dinosaur related media doesn’t have feathered dinosaurs and a lot of people blame Jurassic Park. dinosaurs are my special interest and Jurassic Park is a big part of that so ima prove them wrong. first off i wanna say haters get owned: 2011: NASA scientists said it was the 7th best SciFi movie and 2012: Popular Mechanics said it was the 6th accurate and “was faithful to early '90s speculative genetics theories”

anyways... lets get into it

Games (that i have lol):

Ark: Survival Evolved: 10/29 dinosaurs

Compsognathus,  Deinonychus, Gallimimus, Megalosaurus, Microraptor, Oviraptor, Raptor, Therizinosaur, Troodon, Yutyrannus (this dino was actually found with direct evidence of feathers!)

at first i had no idea what type of ‘raptor’ they were referring to, but i checked and its a Utahraptor. the largest-known individual of Utahraptor was about 7 meters (23 feet) long so size is a-okay with me

i debated including the Pegomastax because the wiki says it has fur and quills, which could be argued as protofeathers, but since its from the early Jurassic its hard to say.. just to be safe i left it out

i only looked at dinosaurs cause there are a ton of made-up/mythical creatures, prehistoric birds/reptiles, and just a straight up vulture

The Isle: 3/30 dinosaurs 

Therizinosaurus, Orodromeus (AI), Austroraptor 

none of these are playable in survival mode btw

also i’m not sure if the game is going for accuracy or not, Dilophosaurus and Velociraptor are the right size but still... no feathers on known feathered dinos: Velo, Rex, or Utahraptor

technically feathers have never been found on Utahraptors but there is strong evidence that all dromaeosaurids had them since Microraptor and Dakotaraptor had them

Jurassic World Evolution: 0/69 (nice) dinosaurs

based on the movies Jurassic World, Fallen Kingdom, and eventually they added a Jurassic Park DLC. despite the Jurassic World movies not counting the Jurassic Park sequels (Lost World and JP3) as part of its time line, the Jurassic Park DLC includes skins from those movies. not much to say here... i’ll get into the movies further down

i didn’t count the pteranodon, cause its not a dinosaur and, still, no feathers

Saurian: 4/8 dinosaurs

Dakotaraptor, Tyrannosaurus Rex, Acheroraptor, Ornithomimid

i’ve only included the dinos that are currently in-game, the wiki says they are planing to add another playable dino, Anzu (feathered), but so far it hasn’t even been added as an AI yet

they are actually going for scientific accuracy so all the dinos that should have feathers do and they are, as far as i can tell, realistically placed. Good Job!

games are hard to talk about... usually games that feature dinos will have an element of ‘fantasy’ (Ark especially) and JWE is based on the Jurassic World movies so its dinos can only look like the movies dinos. The Isle is most likely suffering from the status quo, most dinos in popular media look like big lizards so they didn’t want to take a risk. the game isn’t finished and its possible it’ll go from a dinosaur sim to a shooter, since there are human models in game and controls for weapons. i’ve also heard players rumor that you’re not actually playing as the dino but as a camera that follows it around (which would explain the nigh vision mode). chances are The Isle will end up like Ark: man vs dino

Movies:

i thought about discussing The Land Before Time movies (cause i was obsessed with them as a kid lol), but that was pre-Jurassic Park so i’ll give it an honorable mention. ANYWAYS... Jurassic Park, Jurassic Park: Lost World, Jurassic Park 3, Jurassic World, and Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom. none of them have feathered dinos. lets look at why that might be 🤔

Jurassic Park:

no feathered dinosaurs. BUT, feathered dinosaurs were not very mainstream in the scientific community until about 3 years after the movie came out,

“Three years after the first Jurassic Park debuted, paleontologists announced that the small theropod Sinosauropteryx was covered in a fine coat of fuzzy protofeathers. This was just the initial drop in a flood of feathery dinosaur discoveries which confirmed that a wide variety of dinosaurs bore archaic forms of plumage, from simple filaments to asymmetrical feathers that would have allowed them to fly.”

[from this National Geographic article (x)]

looking more into the history of feathered dinos, i found well... a lot. its really difficult to find a concrete time for when paleontologists discovered (and agreed on) feathered dinos, some places say 1860, 1923, 1979, 1983, it goes on forever, one source even said 2001. Archaeopteryx, which an early Jurassic creature, had complex, bird-like feathers. so why no feathers on other dinosaur reconstructions? its possible these discoveries were ignored by the larger scientific community in favor of the well established depictions of big, slow lizards

[if u wanna do even more reading about feathers check out this All About Birds article (x) and the History of discovery section on the Archaeopteryx’s wiki (x)]

JP definitely upped the Velociraptor’s size and did my Dilophosaurus dirty, so i will fault them for that. the big ass raptor has stayed in pop culture for-fucking-ever. it feels like everyone is making naked Utahraptors and calling them Velociraptors. and g*d... my poor Dilophosaurus... why’d they make you spit? and why so small? you’re really 6-7 meters (20-23 feet) long! you are a large carnivore!! also it is possible that Dilophosaurus had feathers, though again, because its from the early Jurassic, it would have been more like a fur

Lost World:

no feathered dinosaurs. i cant really fault them for not changing the dinosaurs looks in a sequel, also trust me when i say it could have been worse the dino depictions in the book are insane... Chameleon Carnotaurus anyone?

the movie also didn’t explain why there were different dinos at Site B compared to the actual park. my best explanation is from the book: Site B was where the dinosaurs were actually hatched and raised, they were moved to the park just before they got to big to handle. so we are to assume that any non-Jurassic Park dinos we saw in Lost World were originally planned to be moved. sucks that they left this detail out of the movie adaptation, cause a lot of fans got confused (including me lol)

Jurassic Park 3:

no feathered dinosaurs. an incredibly mild attempt at ‘feathered’ raptors was made in JP3 by giving the males quills, but at that point the movies had an established ‘science’ and completely changing the look of the animals at the end of a trilogy might have confused a few people (even if it was more scientifically accurate)

Jurassic World:

no feathered dinosaurs. they literally stated in the movie that they left out accurate feathered dinosaurs because Dr. Wu was asked to create: “Dinosaurs that look like what the public expects dinosaurs to look like. Scary. Scaly. Wild.” Dr. Wu also states that the dinosaurs have never been actual dinosaurs. their DNA is a melting pot of DNA.

(i swear i read something about Dr. Wu attempting to make feathered dinos, but because of all the non-dino DNA he couldn’t get the genes to stick, i can’t find a source or any proof of this so i guess that can be our lil headcanon lol)

though for a more real life reason,

“The reasoning behind this being continued through the subsequent movies, though, is more about how imposing the featherless versions look.” ... “It seems more likely that the filmmakers went with how most people would perceive dinosaurs in the hopes that dino experts would take notice.”

[from this Screen Rant article (x)]

so basically JW cared more about scary, recognizable dinos than accurate ones

Fallen Kingdom:

no feathered dinosaurs. again a sequel is a bit too late to change up your designs. unfortunately the change had to happen in JW or not at all

In Closing:

basically Jurassic Park came out just before paleontologists announced Sinosauropteryx, which popularized feathered dinos. even then Jurassic Park was restricted by the technology of the time. the early ninety’s was not the best time for CGI and i can’t imaging making feathered animatronic dinosaurs that could stand up to the rain they filmed in. new media is definitely stuck in the past, look at the movies that come out and compare how many are sequels or prequels or remakes or whatever. Jurassic Park was a great movie and obviously the vultures that make movies are gonna try and ride its brand into the sunset. blaming the movie for stopping new scientific discoveries from entering the mainstream isn’t fair. the movie did a lot to bring current science into the lime light, it popularized warmblooded, avian dinos and showed them as intelligent, fast moving animals instead of slow movie monsters

but JW had no excuse!  they should get majority of the blame for making the public afraid of feathers cause they themselves were afraid of feathers! they had the technology, the budget, and the opportunity to follow in its parent movie’s footsteps. they could have at least TRIED to be accurate but they just stuck to what people knew cause that was more profitable. science is only as interesting as the toys you can make of it i guess...

a final note, just for my sanity: JP dinos aren’t real dinosaurs. not even in fiction. they’re DNA is so full of garbage that their inaccurate appearances could be explained away with that alone. the books get into this more, talking about all the failed embryos and how many diseases these creatures had. even delving into their lack of social skills and how the raptors didn’t act like a pack, but a group of aggressive individuals. unfortunately the average viewer isn’t gonna know about all this set dressing. hell, i didn’t even read the 2 books until recently (end of 2019/ start of 2020) so i was as ready to believe whatever the movies showed me. honestly the books and movies are all good in different ways, not accurate, but good. read the books if you want more gore and technical explanations and the movies if you want, well... more story, they add a lot of stuff that wasn’t in the books

one day i’ll get into the differences in the books and movies.. one day

[ this was originally a response to someone but tumblr hid it, cause links. so i’ve edited it to be a standalone post and also WAY longer. feel free to add on or correct any mistakes i’ve made (be respectful tho) ]

[hearts-hunger]

When I’m Not With You || Roger Taylor x Reader

Summary: At a party with emotions running high and Roger’s next tour dates closer than either of you would like, you learn the hard way that it doesn’t take much for little misunderstandings to turn into something worse.

Pairings: Roger Taylor x Reader

Genre: Angst, fluff

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: accusations of cheating, smoking, language

A/N: This fic is for @fredthelegend‘s writing challenge! Did I wait until the very last possible day to write it and get it posted? You bet! It’s who I am as a person, what can I say? As per the rules of the writing challenge, I drew inspiration for this fic from “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy”. It’s plenty angsty but it ends up fluffy, so it’s not all misunderstandings and screaming matches. Let me know what you think, and I hope you like it! ♡

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You looked over at Roger as he put his hand on the small of your back, the combination of his voice and his touch something you’d come to associate with comfort. He always made sure to do both when you were in big social situations like this, making sure he didn’t scare you and taking the time to ground you and let you know it was him. The ease and gentleness with which he’d handled your anxiety from the very beginning of your relationship never failed to endear him to you; as always, you found yourself incredibly thankful for a boyfriend that loved you as well as he did.

You smiled as you met his lovely blue eyes. “Hey yourself, cutie.” You knew he loved it when you called him that; he always said it was very American of you.

“Just checking in,” he said with a smile. “You alright?”

You nodded, gesturing with the drink in your hand. “One more margarita and I might drag you onto the dance floor,” you teased, “but yeah, I’m great.”

He grinned. “I might take you up on that.”

“You’ve got Freddie set up already?” you asked. Freddie had been flirting with - or, rather, casting longing glances towards - a burly brunette all night, and Roger had taken pity on him eventually and offered his services as Freddie’s wingman.

“You doubt my ability to him the date of his dreams?” Roger teased. “I’m the expert on flirting, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh, you don’t have to remind me,” you said, giving him a quick kiss. “I know better than anybody that Roger Meddows Taylor is the world’s biggest flirt, don’t I?”

He grinned. “Only with you, love. Only with you.”

You shook your head, affectionately exasperated. “You’re a mess.”

“Yeah, but I’m your mess,” he said, cheeky. “Lucky girl that you are. I’m going to have quick smoke, but when I get back, you and I have a date with the dance floor.”

You laughed. “Okay. Do you want another drink?”

“Sure,” he said. He gestured with his wine glass. “Just another Chardonnay, if you don’t mind.”

“You got it,” you said. “Don’t be too long.”

He laughed and gave you a kiss as he turned to go. “No, wouldn’t dream of it.”

You smiled to yourself as you watched him weave through the crowd of people towards the back door, stopping briefly to greet friends who congratulated him on Queen’s latest success. The party had been thrown by EMI Records to celebrate A Day at the Races hitting number one in England and Japan. The boys were just back from the American leg of the tour, and you and Roger had been practically inseparable from the moment you’d thrown yourself in his arms at the airport.

Even though he’d only gone for a smoke and he’d be back in no time, the months of being apart made every little moment of absence that much keener to you now, especially considering the precious little time you had before he left again. They had a few weeks before they had to head off for the last leg of the tour across Europe, which was slated to last at least a month. You didn’t want to waste a second of the time you had before Roger left again. So far you hadn’t - god, the two of you hadn’t gone so many rounds in one night since you’d first started dating - and you weren’t of a mind to start now. You headed to the bar to get Roger’s Chardonnay, deciding you’d take it outside and keep your boyfriend company while he smoked.

Finally making it through the sea of people carousing on EMI’s dime, most of whom he didn’t even know even though they probably had some connection to the tour or the album, Roger pushed through the back door and took a breath of the cool night air. The sound of Freddie’s crooning on “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” dulled as the door closed behind him and he found himself mildly relieved; though he was proud of the album and its songs, he couldn’t deny he was a bit tired of them after playing them nearly every night for the past three months. But it was a party to celebrate the album, after all - he supposed the DJ could be forgiven for playing it on loop all night. He’d ask them to play something else when he took you out on the dance floor, though, maybe one of the Beatles songs you’d listened to all the time when you first started dating.

He fished a slightly crumpled pack of Marlboro Reds out of the inside pocket of his blazer and took a swig of his wine before pulling out a cigarette, drawing a long inhale when it was lit. He quietly sang along with the bridge almost out of habit. “When I’m not with you, I think of you always.” He kicked at the gravel under his shoes as he blew out a stream of smoke, thinking he probably wouldn’t finish the whole cigarette before he headed back in to be with you.

“Bloody hell, sweetheart.”

Roger snapped his head up at the sound of Brian’s voice, fairly sure the guttural outburst hadn’t been directed at him but confused nonetheless. He hadn’t realized Brian was out here; looking into the darkness where his voice had come from, Roger tried to make out the guitarist’s form.

“Bri?” he called.

He heard a few harshly whispered curses from the shadows in response and couldn’t help but smirk, knowing exactly what was going on past the glow cast by the light above the door. A few seconds later Brian stepped out from the shadows, obviously disheveled; a girl with a rumpled dress and smudged lipstick followed right behind him.

“Interrupting something, am I?” Roger teased.

“No,” Brian said quickly, flustered at being caught red-handed. “No, we were just going back inside.”

The girl came up to Roger, eyeing him with interest. She smelled of lavender and vodka. “You’re the drummer, aren’t you? Robert?”

“Close,” Roger told her. “And you are?”

She gave him a smile. “Alice,” she slurred. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

She bit her lip as she looked Roger over. “You want some company, Robert?”

“Oh, ah, I’m good,” Roger said, struggling to keep from laughing as Brian rolled his eyes. “I’ve already got some company I wouldn’t trade for the world. Thanks for the offer, though. I’m sure you’re, um, really something.”

Alice smirked. “Your friend certainly thought so.” She looked up at Brian. “Isn’t that right?”

Brian looked absolutely mortified. “Yeah, well, we should go in before we’re missed,” he said. He gave Roger a withering look. “See you inside, Robert?”

Roger grinned. “Yeah, I’m just finishing up my cigarette.”

“Come on,” Brian said to Alice, though he didn’t wait for her as he went back inside. She made to follow him, but between the gravel and her high heels and the copious amount of alcohol she’d obviously had, she lost her balance and crashed right into Roger. Staggering back a step, he awkwardly caught her against him, wine sloshing over the rim of his glass and onto the sleeve of his blazer and the back of her dress.

“You alright?” he asked.

“Uh, sorry,” she said, seemingly unsurprised at her own lack of coordination. He released her as she got her balance; she pulled back from him without a shred of embarrassment at having careened into him.

“Sorry about your dress,” he said, holding the now empty glass. “Gonna find Bri ok?”

“Oh, probably not,” she said, unconcerned. “He only wanted a quickie, which is fine by me. Sorry for falling on you.”

He chuckled. “No problem.”

He kept an eye on her as she went back inside, making sure she didn’t trip again. He shook his head, smiling to himself. Brian sure knew how to pick them.

He took a few more drags from his cigarette before letting it drop to the ground, crushing it with the heel of his boot. Juggling the glass, he pulled off his blazer, thankful he’d decided not to wear his favorite rainbow one tonight now that the sleeve of this one was soaked with wine. He draped his blazer over his arm as he headed inside, already grinning at the thought of taking you dancing.

“Chardonnay, please,” you said to the bartender. “And a margarita with extra lime.”

You absently drummed your fingers on the bar, a habit you’d picked up from Roger, and looked out onto the party as you waited for your drinks. Freddie was talking with the brunette from earlier and from the looks of them, all smiles and “accidental” touches, it seemed Roger had done a good job as Freddie’s wingman. You smiled. Roger would do anything for his friend, and even if he didn’t know the first thing about chatting up guys on other people’s behalf, flirting was more or less a universal language on some level and Roger was certainly an expert on it.

Your gaze traveled to Deaky, who was clearly enjoying himself on the dance floor. You didn’t know what to make of Deaky’s dance moves sometimes, but he was nothing if not enthusiastic. You grinned and watched as he tried to figure out what to do with his hands usually occupied with his bass and settled on a sort of one-handed clapping motion.

“Here you go, love,” the bartender said behind you. You turned and took the drinks he put on the bar for you, smiling your thanks as you carefully made you way towards the back door. You were nearly there when you saw the door open; a girl with smudged makeup and messy hair came in, teetering slightly as she pulled the strap of her dress back over her shoulder. You didn’t think anything of it, really; it was almost a given at any party you’d been to with the boys that disheveled groupies were to be found around every corner, usually with someone in tow behind them. The girl stumbled off and she probably would have never crossed your mind again had it not been for the next person that came through the door.

The first thing you noticed was his grin, that beautiful smile you loved more than anything in the world. He wasn’t looking at you; you were still somewhat hidden by the people between you and Roger. What was he beaming at like that?

The next thing you registered was that he’d taken his blazer off. The champagne-colored jacket with multicolored birds stitched into it was draped over his arm, his empty glass held casually in his hand. Ever keen on fashion, Roger wouldn’t have taken his blazer off without good reason.

Oh, you thought as you saw the collar of his shirt. It surprised you how easily you resigned yourself to it, how quickly you went from confusion to rage to despair to resignation. In the space of a second, you’d seen the streak of red lipstick on the starched collar of his white button-down and felt absolutely nothing.

“Well hello, lovely.”

You startled a little, realized Roger was talking to you. He’d spotted you and come over, the smile on his face showing no hint of shame or remorse. You didn’t know what you’d expected. His expression was eager and affectionate as he looked you over, his baby blue eyes shining as they met yours.

“I was just coming back in to find you,” he said, setting his empty glass on the table nearby. “Thanks for getting my drink.”

He took it from you and took a sip, his head tilted back; you found yourself looking for love marks on his neck despite the numbness that had swept through your whole body.

“I believed you said something about another margarita and a dance, hm?” he said.

The thought of dancing with him, in front of everybody - in front of that girl, whoever she was - made you feel sick.

“No, I - ” You swallowed thickly. Your grip on your glass was so tight your knuckles were white. “I changed my mind.”

“Oh, come on,” he said. “I promise it’ll be fun. We can’t be worse than Deaky, anyway.”

He took your hand and tried to pull you closer to him; you reacted to his touch as if he’d burned you.

“No,” you said, louder this time. You cradled your hand close to your chest. “I don’t want to, Roger.”

His easy smile disappeared at your outburst; he searched your face with a sickening worry in his own.

“Hey, hey,” he said gently. “What’s wrong?”

You felt a hysterical laugh rise in your throat. “Nothing.” As much as you wanted to, you weren’t going to make a scene. Not here, not in front of your friends, not in front of the girl your boyfriend had snuck out to be with, the girl whose lipstick marked his shirt like a scarlet letter.

“It’s not nothing,” you heard him say. You met his eyes and saw the concern there, the kindness in his expression that you hadn’t ever had reason to question until now. A horrible thought struck you - was this the first time he’d masked guilt with affection, or had it happened before? How many times had he left you to be with someone else and fooled you with his pretty smiles and pretty words? How many times had he not had to, since he was halfway across the world and he could wash out the smell of perfume and the color of lipstick before you ever saw?

You suddenly felt lightheaded, swaying slightly on your feet. He reached out to steady you and you tried to back away from him.

“Don’t,” you said. It came out weaker than you wanted.

“Easy, love,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard you. He set his glass down and pried yours from your hands to set it down too, gently gripping your arm to steady you.

“How much did you have to drink?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

You felt a flash of anger. “Does it matter?” Of course he’d like to think you felt this way because you were drunk. Was he really arrogant enough to think you hadn’t noticed, that your fight-or-flight reaction to him since he’d walked through the door was just because you’d had one too many drinks?

“No, I suppose not,” he said. “But maybe we should go home if you’re not feeling well.”

“I feel fine,” you snapped. The last thing you wanted was to go home with him. You sucked in a breath and your head spun. You could smell her on him, the scent of lavender that neither you nor Roger wore plain as day on his shirt and in his long blonde hair. You felt yourself react to the smell of her perfume and the acidic despair that welled in your already rocky stomach.

“Rog,” you said weakly. Your voice sounded strange, calmer than you felt.

“Yeah?”

You put your hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Unhindered by the same numbness you were, Roger quickly opened the back door and steered you outside. He held your hair back as you retched.

“Okay, love, that’s it,” he said soothingly. “I’ve got you.”

When nothing more would come, you straightened and reached a hand to wipe your mouth. You noticed your hand was shaking.

“Let me go get you some water,” Roger said. “I’ll be right back.”

You stared blankly out at the darkness as he went inside, the air cool against your face as tears finally fell. You wanted nothing more than to let him take care of you, to let him hold you and tell you everything was going to be ok. You wanted to forget what you knew, what had broken the way you looked at him and maybe could never be repaired. You loved him; you loved him so much you could hardly stand it. Maybe he loved you, but not that way. Not enough.

He came back with some water and you washed your mouth out with it, avoiding his worried gaze. You hated that you couldn’t stop crying; though it wasn’t the heaving sobs you thought might come, not yet anyway, it was still a relentless stream of tears that wouldn’t stop no matter how you tried.

“Please tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart,” he said gently.

A part of you wanted to. A part of you wanted to tell him you’d seen what he had been too arrogant to hide, that you knew how easily you’d been discarded. How pathetic you must seem to him, a broken girl so easily fooled by his charm. You ran the heel of your palm over your cheek.

“It’s nothing,” you said. Your voice was soft with grief and shame. “I just - I just don’t feel good.”

“I know,” he said, sympathy in his voice. “Let’s get you home, ok?”

A sharp bitterness shot through you. “You sure there’s nobody you’d rather stay and talk with?”

He shook his head, seemingly unhurt by your tone. “Nobody as important as you, love.”

What a joke, you thought. Was that all you were to him? A joke, something to amuse him, something to make fun of without you realizing?

“Come on,” he said. You followed him back inside, not really having a choice - where else were you going to go? You could have told Roger you wanted to stay with one of the boys tonight, but you didn’t want to drag them into this. Besides, Roger would ask you why you didn’t want to come home with him, and then you’d have to tell him you knew. No other answer would convince him. But you didn’t want to be the one to break the ice about it. You wanted him to have the decency to tell you, to beg for your forgiveness; you wanted him to man up and take responsibility for what he’d done to you. For you to bring it up would only make it easier for him.

Thankfully no one stopped you on your way out. You didn’t know if you could manage pleasantries or ribbing from the boys that you and Roger were sneaking off early so you could have time alone. The thought of being anywhere close to Roger was painful to you; you’d rather die than sleep with him now, let him touch you with those hands that had felt another woman’s body and made her feel the things he made you feel.

When you got in the car, you moved as far away from him as you could manage, curling up against the passenger door as he started the drive home. It only briefly occurred to you to wonder whether Roger was sober enough to drive; your implicit desire to trust him with your well-being had been proved foolish, but you hoped he wasn’t stupid enough to get the two of you killed. You pressed your cheek against he cool glass of the window, shutting your eyes as the lights and shapes passing by threatened to make your head swim.

Roger didn’t say anything the whole ride home, but you didn’t know what you’d expected. You wished he would just say it, just admit what he’d done. That would be better than this tension, this thickness in the air that choked you.

You got out of the car before Roger had really even parked, eager to put some distance between you. You fished your keys out of your purse and tired to unlock the door, but between the alcohol clouding your head and the tears that refused to stop, you couldn’t get the damn key in. You bit back a sob as Roger’s hand came over yours and took the keys from you, unlocking the door and pushing it open for you.

Leaving your keys with him, you brushed past him and headed straight for your bedroom. Your chest tightened at the thought of sleeping in the same bed with him tonight, but you pushed that off to deal with later. Right now you wanted to get a shower and wash the night off of you, wash off his touch and the pain and the grief and the stubborn tears.

Despite everything, you were a little surprised that Roger didn’t ask to come in the shower with you. That was Roger’s favorite thing; even more than he liked making love to you in the shower did he like just being with you, washing your hair, feeling your skin against his.

He’s probably had his fill for tonight, you thought, nearly tasting your own bitterness. You made the water as hot as you could stand and closed your eyes as you stood under it, shoulders shaking as you kept your sobs as quiet as you could.

When the water grew cold and your tears had finally run dry, you got out of the shower and hesitated before opening the bathroom door. You didn’t know if Roger was in your bedroom, and you didn’t want to see him. You couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, though. You took a steadying breath and opened the door.

He wasn’t there, but you saw he’d laid out some comfy clothes for you on the bed, the exact ones you would have picked out for yourself. Just past your bedroom door you could hear Roger in the kitchen, humming “Here Comes the Sun” to himself. You felt a wave of sadness like a physical pain in your chest.

Too tired to find any other clothes, you put on the ones he’d put out and sat on the edge of the bed. You didn’t know what to do. You watched the shiny droplets of water fall from your hair to darken the fabric of your sweatpants. You noticed your hands were shaking but couldn’t make yourself care.

A few minutes later, you guessed - it could have been hours for all you knew - you heard the door open. You felt a surge of adrenaline as your fight-or-flight kicked in, but you were too numb to actually move.

“Hey, love,” Roger said, his voice gentle. “Feeling any better?”

You didn’t answer. You watched as he set a mug of tea on your bedside table.

“I made the peppermint kind,” he told you. “Thought it might settle your stomach a bit.”

He didn’t press you for a reply and you didn’t give one; he went to the dresser to get himself a change of clothes and you noticed he was still wearing his clothes from the party. The smudge of lipstick on the collar seemed to mock you, the scent of lavender you swore you could still make out bringing your headache back with a vengeance. He hadn’t even bothered to wash it off, to crumple up the shirt and put it in the laundry to get rid of the evidence on the off-chance you hadn’t noticed. It was like he was mocking you too.

“How many, Roger?” you asked.

He turned at your voice. “What’s that, love?”

You looked up at him, a determined set to your jaw. You wanted the truth, and you were done waiting for him to tell you.

“How many others were there?”

A confused frown tugged at his features. “What do you mean?” he asked. “How many others of what?”

Was he really going to play dumb? You felt anger spark into a fire in your chest.

“How many other girls, Roger?” you asked, your voice rising. “How many other girls were there before the one you had tonight?”

He looked genuinely confused, and you felt a burning self-hatred that you’d been fooled by him for so long. He was a terrific actor, you had to give him that, but no more. The game was up and no amount of playacting was going to fool you ever again.

“I don’t know what you mean, love,” he said, his voice disgustingly desperate. “What are you talking about? What girls?”

“Stop pretending, Roger!” you spat. “You don’t have to keep up the ruse any more. I just want to know how many girls you fucked when you thought I wouldn’t find out.”

His eyes widened. “What?”

You stood, feeling tears come again; this time, they were borne of rage instead of sadness.

“Please don’t make this any worse than it already is,” you said. “Just admit it. Be a man and own up to it, that’s all I ask. You owe me that much.”

“But I didn’t do anything,” he insisted.

You could have screamed. “I saw you, Roger!” you said. “I saw her putting her dress back on and I saw you come inside with that grin on your face like - ”

Like she’d been better than I have ever been. You couldn’t make yourself say it.

You met his eyes, wanting desperately to see anger or guilt or shame, something that would tell you he had finally dropped the act and felt the weight of his own guilt. When you saw only hurt, you couldn’t help the cry of frustration that escaped you.

“I don’t know what you thought you saw,” he said, his voice showing his distress. “But nothing like that happened, I promise. When I came in, I was - ”

Your breath came in a sob. “Please,” you said, cutting him off before he could give you some fabricated excuse. “Please, Roger, just stop.”

His hands went up in a gesture of helpless exasperation. “Sweetheart, I don’t know what to tell you. I swear to you that nothing happened.”

You pressed your hand to your mouth, anger and debilitating sorrow taking your breath away. Your sobs came as groans of pain as you tried and failed to keep them at bay.

“Did you ever love me, Roger?” you managed to say.

“What kind of question is that?” His voice was angry now. “I’ve always loved you, and I love you now despite whatever the hell this is you’re going on about.”

You sucked in a hitching breath. Of all the things you had imagined would come from this, his willingness to inflict such pain on you was something you had never considered. Why wouldn’t he just admit it?

“You can’t,” you sobbed. “You can’t love me. If you did you wouldn’t do this to me. You wouldn't lie right to my face when I told you I saw her, I saw what you’d done to her when you thought I wouldn’t know. You wouldn’t stand there with her fucking lipstick on your collar and tell me nothing happened.”

He looked at his shirt, pulling the collar out to see it better. You saw his face pale and realized that he hadn’t even known it was there.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice panicked and desperate. “This isn’t what you think.”

“What are we, in a fucking movie?” you said. “At least think of something more original.”

“No, sweetheart, I promise,” he said, his expression pained. “I'm so sorry. I didn't notice she'd got lipstick on me and if I'd seen it earlier I would have told you. It wasn't like that at all.”

“What was it like, then?” you spat.

“I went outside for a smoke, just like I told you,” he said, practically tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. “Brian was out there with this girl, and when she walked by me she tripped and I caught her. Her lipstick must have gotten on my shirt when I caught her.”

“Oh, right,” you said waspishly. “She fell and you caught her.”

“She did,” he said, distressed that you didn't believe him. “And if you’d asked me when I came in, I would have told you the same thing. I’m sorry I didn’t notice the lipstick before; I wish I had, and I wish I could have told you what happened before you got so upset.”

He ran a hand over his face. “Oh, God, this is all my fault, isn't it?” he said. “I'm so sorry, love. If I'd have known you thought - all you saw was her and then me coming in right after with her lipstick on me and my clothes half-off - God, and you've been thinking this whole time that I'd been with her. I had no idea. You were so upset and I couldn't even see it. I just thought you didn't feel well. I'm so sorry. But why didn’t you say anything at the party?”

You twisted your fingers together like you did when you were nervous; none of this was going the way you’d thought.

“I didn’t want to make a scene,” you told him, your mind racing to account for what he’d told you and how he was reacting to you. “I didn’t - I wanted you to tell me instead of me having to ask.”

For the first time you saw a flicker of hurt in his expression, a shadow of pain in him that didn’t come from realizing he’d hurt you. You’d hurt him in this too, and he couldn’t hide it.

“You wanted me to tell you I’d cheated on you?”

His quiet voice was like a dagger in your heart. “What am I supposed to think, Roger?” you said, lashing out in defense of yourself. “I’m not crazy for thinking that.”

He shook his head; you were surprised to see tears in his eyes.

“When have I ever given you reason to think that I’d cheat on you?” he said. “I mean, I’ll admit it doesn’t look great, and you don’t know how sorry I am - but do you really think I’m capable of that? Was it really that easy for you to take one look at me and assume I’d gone off and been with some other girl?”

“Easy?” you repeated. “No, Roger, it wasn’t easy. None of this has been easy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said.

You bit your lip. Your vision was so blurred with tears that you couldn’t even see his face.

“Why didn’t Brian come in with her?” you asked. “If he was out there with you, why didn’t he come in?”

“He went in before her,” Roger said. “Maybe you didn’t see him come in. But he went in before her, and when she tried to follow, she fell.”

“Why did you take your jacket off?”

“I spilled my drink when I caught her. It got all over the sleeve of my blazer. Here,” he said, retrieving the jacket from where he’d thrown it in the laundry basket. “Feel it.”

Hesitantly, you reached out to feel the proffered fabric; it was damp and smelled like Chardonnay.

“I promise you, sweetheart,” he said, the seriousness of his tone only made weightier by the love that also colored it. “That’s all that happened. That’s all. I didn’t kiss her. I didn’t do anything with her. She tried to come on to me and I told her I didn’t want anything to do with her.”

He tossed the jacket on the bed and closed the distance between you, taking your face in his hands. He brushed your tears away with his thumb, looking at you with love and an unmistakable hurt.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you more than anything. I would never do anything to hurt you. I would never do anything to jeopardize what I have with you. I know how lucky I am to be with you, and I’d be an absolute fool to throw that away.”

You didn’t know what to say. You had been so consumed by anger, by despair, by the certainty that he had done the one thing you couldn’t forgive that you didn’t know what to feel now. Everything in you ached to trust him, to trust what he told you was true.

“I’ve never lied to you, sweetheart,” he said. He let his hands drop. “I’ve never kept things from you. If you don’t believe me, we can ring Brian right now and he can tell you what happened, but you can trust me. I’m not lying to you about this. I would never cheat on you, and I can’t tell you how sorry I am that I made you feel like I would.”

You studied his face, his features so dear to you, the expressions that showed his emotions like an open book. He was right; he’d never lied to you. Despite everything, despite the evidence that you had collected like weapons to use against him, he hadn’t gotten defensive towards you. He’d explained what happened and apologized over and over for unknowingly causing you pain.

You felt a crushing weight in your chest. If what he said was true and you'd misread the whole situation... You’d accused him of something horrible. You'd thought him capable of cheating on you. Roger, the sweetest man alive, the love of your life - you’d really thought he could do something like that to you. Though he had never hurt you before, though he had been nothing but good and kind and loving to you from the moment you met, you had been able to think that of him.

You suddenly felt sick, but for a reason different than you had before.

“Roger,” you said quietly.

He looked up at you. “Yes, love?”

Your face burned with shame as you realized how much you’d hurt him and how much he still loved you despite it. You breath hitched.

“Why aren't you mad at me?”

He softened and you couldn’t bear to see it, you couldn’t bear to see the love you didn’t deserve so plainly on his face. Your expression crumpled and you hid your face behind your hands, shoulder shaking with renewed sobs.

“Oh, love.” You heard the sadness in Roger’s voice as he pulled you close, holding you against his chest as you cried. He rubbed a soothing hand up and down your back. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not ok,” you sobbed. “I said those awful things and I - I thought you cheated on me and I didn’t trust you and I - ”

“Shh, hey,” he soothed. “Sweetheart. Take a deep breath.”

You tried to do as he said, your inhale hitched with sobs. You pulled back and tried to wipe the tears from your face.

“You should be yelling at screaming at me,” you said miserably.

“What for?” he asked gently. “I’m not angry with you, love. I’m sorry for what happened, and I’m sorry I’ve done a poor enough job loving you to make you think I could cheat on you, but I’m not angry with you. This whole thing is my fault, not yours.”

“That’s not true,” you said. “You didn’t do anything wrong and I just assumed that - ”

“You just assumed what anyone would have in your position,” he said. “Unfortunately everything aligned to make this a disaster, and I can’t fault you for thinking what you did. I only wish I’d have known sooner and could’ve avoided hurting you like I did.”

“But Roger,” you said, your voice pleading, desperate for him to know how sorry you were. “I hurt you so much worse, I didn’t trust you, I blew everything way out of proportion and I ruined your party and I said terrible things to you and I - ”

You sucked in a breath, feeling like you heart was in a million pieces. “I’m sorry, Roger,” you said, your voice soft with pain. “I’m so sorry.”

He hesitated only a second before gathering you in his arms again, any anger he’d felt at your words dissolved at the sincerity of your pain at having hurt him. Your accusations had been hurtful but not irrational; he was more sorry than he could say for the way one misstep after another had eventually come to this. The months of being apart, the whirlwind of emotions that this week had been, the clawing grief you both felt at the inevitability of being apart again - added to the seemingly little misunderstandings, it had grown into something much bigger and much more painful than it might have otherwise. He wasn’t angry at you for thinking what you had. Tours always made things strained between you, and he knew something like this was bound to happen eventually. You had been frightened that your separation had weakened his utter devotion to you, that during the months away from you it had become easier and easier for someone else to turn his head. He told himself he’d do better next time; he’d do everything in his power to make sure you knew that being halfway across the world wouldn’t make him love you any less. Nothing could change that, no matter how long you had to be apart.

The words of Freddie’s song came back to mind. When I’m not with you, think of me always; I love you, I love you.

“I’m sorry too,” he said gently. “I love you, you know? More than anything in the entire world. You don’t ever have to be scared of me leaving you or cheating on you or doing anything other than loving you with everything I have. God, you were the only thing I thought about while I was gone. You always are.”

You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. You could still make out the scent of lavender but you ignored it, focusing instead on breathing him in, his scent of cologne and Marlboro Reds and something uniquely Roger. He was warm, his heartbeat strong and steady against your cheek.

“I missed you so much,” you said quietly. The thought of him leaving again brought tears back to your eyes, those miserable tears that never seemed to stop when he was gone. “I don’t want you to leave again.”

He sighed. “Me either, love.”

You looked up at him, gazing at the man you loved more than life itself. The man who had proved that no matter what, you couldn’t make him stop loving you. The man who tirelessly loved you despite everything about you that was unlovable.

“I love you, Roger,” you said.

He kissed you gently, with all the tenderness of the first flush of love and all the devotion of someone who had weathered the storm with you.

“I love you too,” he said. He drew you closer, resting his cheek on your head, memorizing the feel of you so he’d have it when he was thousands of miles away. “Oh, my love. I love you too.”

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl

[feargender]

what have i done with my heart on the floor

written for @jupeterweek day 3: AU

read here on ao3 

Peter hasn’t pulled off a job in months. He’s had multiple opportunities, of course, he’s heard tappings and gotten tips from contacts. But his heart just isn’t in it, he finds it exceedingly difficult to don the mask. His fingers slip on his lockpicks, grip clumsy in a way it hasn’t been in decades. 

He can’t help but blame himself for his misfortune. If he had just turned his back on Hyperion City, the entirety of Mars, like he had sworn to himself he would, this wouldn’t be happening. But Martian elections are always frightful things and he couldn’t help but feel… concern. Juno always manages to land himself directly in the middle of frightful situations and Peter knew that if he kept his ear to the ground long enough he’d hear the detective’s name. And he had. 

Following whatever it was that occurred in Old Town Hyperion following the landslide election, Mars was plastered on every news stream for a week. 

Peter remembers the sound his comms had made when he threw it against the wall of his hotel room. The screen cracked, but the report continued out of the tinny speakers. “This election week was not without its casualties, however,” the news reporter said. “Former Mayor Pilot Pereyra has been reported missing and presumed dead somewhere in the Martian desert, along with Private Detective Juno Steel, local investigator in Hyperion City.” The comms shattered easily under Peter’s sharp heel, but the words still rang in his ears. 

His stomach dropped straight into the floor, and kept plummeting. It’s been almost half a year, but he can still feel his heart ache with the pain of it. A keen sense of loss he hasn’t experienced in twenty years. He doesn’t remember it hurting this much, the hollowness inside. A genuine, physical pain he can’t break free from. His hands shake most of the time, these days, and his words escape him. He finds himself stumbling over the details of his aliases, even when alone, never mind what might happen if he was actually in the middle of a job and needed to remember the information. 

One does not have a lucrative career as a master thief without ferreting some savings away, however, so Peter is not rendered immediately destitute. However, the well is running a little dry, so when he is put into contact with a group of thieves looking to expand their number, he’s hardly going to say no. Especially not to Buddy Aurinko, living legend that she is. She seems to know that he hasn’t taken a job in quite some time, but isn’t bothered by it, if he can assume by her voice over the comms. But he assumes very little about her, so it’s hard to be sure. 

She made contact with one of his more broad aliases, Adrian King, more of a placeholder name than anything. He has to have something of a professional reputation, but cannot use his own name, so Adrian was born. He’s very similar to Peter in most aspects, mainly in that he doesn’t share much personal information, so it will be a simple enough guise. And, if Peter is being honest with himself, he could use the company. Perhaps in working with a group he’ll regain whatever it is he lost along with Juno. 

He comforts himself with this thought as he follows the broad back of Jet Sikuliaq across the bustling Venusian spaceport. This, in and of itself, is a bit disconcerting. He’s never met Sikuliaq directly, but when the RUBY7 went missing right out from under his own nose a few weeks after his and Juno’s… departure from one another, he had assumed it had been the original owner come to reclaim her. 

Jet is not a talkative man, which suits Peter just fine. The fifteen minute walk to the rather unassuming ship is silent, save for the moment that Jet pointed the ship out to Peter. The gate to the cargo bay is open, hanging open like the bottom jaw of a great yawning mouth, and Peter can see several figures standing around just within it. 

He slaps an easy smile on his face and affects casual posture, hauling his rolling luggage behind him. His eyes take in the distinctive red hair of Buddy Aurinko and a narrower, green haired woman standing next to her, like a shadow with teeth. The RUBY7 gleams a slightly sickly shade of lime in the harsh lights of the spaceport, but this is not what makes Peter stumble over his own feet. 

The lady leaning against the car is short, and stout. His hair is dark and in tightly coiled curls, a bit longer than Peter remembers. His face, too, has more scars, particularly around his right eye, which is made of glass. But his tan trench coat is the same, Peter is sure of it. He can see the tear in the left lapel that was there the last time he saw it. 

Juno’s mouth quirks into a slightly surprised smile. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” he asks, jokingly. But his eyebrows are pulled down worriedly, and Peter distantly knows that he must look like the universe’s biggest fool. In that moment, whatever disguise he had managed to cloak himself in slips away, leaving him utterly exposed, visible to the naked eye. 

“Juno,” he chokes out, mounting the ramp up to the ship and dropping his luggage, throwing his arms around Juno tightly enough that he almost topples them both over. But Juno catches them on the side of the car and then wraps his arms around Peter, who has his coat held fast in two tight fists. “I thought you were dead,” Peter hisses into the side of Juno’s head, face nestled against his temple. 

The part of Peter that is a thief more than he is even human knows that they’re being watched, but he doesn’t care. If he lets go of Juno now he might die, or worse, he’ll cry. The only thing keeping him grounded, and the tears from flowing, is the feel of Juno’s hands on his back, one of them shifting a little as if to comfort. 

Juno shifts his face so his mouth his hidden from view and says, “I’m fine, Nureyev.” At that, Peter pulls away far enough to look at him, really look at him. He looks healthier than Peter has ever seen him. The dark bags and deep lines under his eyes are absent, like he’s been resting, and the shoulders under Peter’s hands are stronger, a bit more packed with muscle. For once, he isn’t injured. No scrapes, no bloody bandages, no broken bones. 

Peter sniffs, trying to regain a bit of dignity. “So you are.” 

“I didn’t know you knew Adrian, Juno,” Buddy says, eyebrow arched. Peter feels hot embarrassment flood him, but she only looks curious, and a little sympathetic. 

Juno deflects that, saying only, “I didn’t know how to get in touch with him after Hyperion,” to explain away Peter’s reaction. Buddy’s mouth quirks, and Peter knows she noticed, but she only nods. 

“I take it you can handle the tour, then,” she says, already taking the hand of the green haired woman and walking away. Jet claps Peter on the shoulder hard enough that he nearly topples, and follows, leaving them alone in the cargo bay. After a moment, the great yawning door closes, the silence ringing. 

Peter is at a complete loss of words, simply staring at Juno, waiting for him to disappear. Juno takes Peter’s luggage in one hand, and Peter’s hand in the other, leading him out of the cargo bay. His skin is warm and calloused, and Peter revels in the contact. Juno begins talking, rambling about the ship as he leads them on a rather stunted tour before heading to Peter’s assigned room. “It’s small, but it locks. Rita can override the lock, obviously, but you know,” Juno stops in the doorway, shrugging. “Uh, you’ll have to get creative about storage.” 

Peter nods dumbly, following Juno inside, sitting on the bed when Juno indicates it to him. Juno sits beside him, the door hissing closed behind them. “I’m… I’m really sorry, Nureyev. I would have told you, if I could,” Juno finally whispers. Peter suspects this is an apology for more than one thing, but what happened between them is a conversation for later. 

“I saw on the news that you died,” Peter says hoarsely. 

“Yeah. A lot of stuff happened with Hyperion, more than anyone really knows. It was too much, I decided I needed to disappear. Before Mars killed me for real,” Juno says, shrugging again. 

“I missed you so much,” Peter says, and it feels ridiculous and childish to say aloud, but it’s the truest thing he can think of. Every day since he saw that news stream, he had missed Juno. As if the very universe was darker and more bleak without his presence somewhere within it. “It was horrible, I. It’s been horrible, Juno.” Now, it seems, Peter’s body has finally rebelled against him completely, the first hot tears leaking from his eyes. 

Juno reaches over and gathers Peter against him, holding onto him tightly. Peter mashes his face into the side of Juno’s neck. 

“I’m sorry,” Juno says again and again, until they lapse into silence. Then, once Peter looks up at him, bleary eyed and face wet with tears, he smiles. “You changed your cologne.” 

Peter gives a wet laugh. “And you kept this stupid coat,” he plucks at a loose thread in Juno’s sleeve. 

“It’s comfortable,” Juno protests. 

“It’s hideous,” Peter replies, voice rough. 

“I’m so sorry. For everything,” Juno says. 

Peter shakes his head, wiping his face before settling again into Juno’s side. “Can we not do that conversation now? I think I need some time.” 

“Of course, Nureyev. Whatever you need,” Juno agrees quickly. Peter kicks off his shoes, leaning more firmly into Juno until he shifts and they both lay back on the rather narrow bed, folded against each other.

Juno sheds his own shoes and goes to take off his coat, but Peter grips him tighter. Juno smirks. “I thought you said you didn’t like it.” 

“I said it’s hideous. There’s a difference,” Peter disagrees. 

Juno laughs softly. “I really missed you, too, you know,” he says quietly, leaning his cheek against the crown of Peter’s head. Peter sighs, scooting a bit closer, clinging in a way that will no doubt be slightly mortifying in hindsight, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t want to help it, even. He wants to hold Juno so tightly, until his poor heart has a chance to put itself back together again. Until the pervasive ache in his stomach eases. Once he has that, he’ll consider letting go. 

[mdelpin]

edit by @mdelpin

I Take Pride In What I Am 2019  Prompt: “I’m not tryna fall in love, I just wanna get fucked up” Pairing(s): CanaxMirajane, NatsuxGray, SilverxGildarts

"Maybe if you didn't drink so much, shit like this wouldn't happen!" Silver snapped at Cana as he fretted over her. She looked like she'd been in a fight, parts of her clothing torn, several of her fingernails were broken, and a bruise was deepening on her left eye.

"Dad!" Gray yelled, "That's enough! You know she was the victim here!" He knew his dad didn't mean to scream. Silver he was just scared for her, and with Gildarts out of town, he felt responsible. Gray was scared too.

Cana’s eyes were wild, looking around Silver and towards the front door of the house. Silver caught the direction of her gaze and moved to block her.

"Don't even think of going out again, young lady!"

"You're not my father, you're Gray's father, and I don't even know what my father sees in you. I hate you!" Cana's words were slurred, but they impacted Silver just as much as if every syllable had been enunciated perfectly.

She locked herself in her room, turning the music on as loud as she dared so that they couldn't hear her sobs. They had only been living together as a family for a few months, but this was the first time her father had left her alone with Gray and his dad.

She was still shaken from what had happened and to make things worse she knew Silver was right. She did drink too much, made stupid decisions like the one that had gotten her in trouble that very night. It had been nothing out of the ordinary, she'd met a guy, and they'd hit it off, but she hadn't expected him to try anything. He'd seemed nice, and she'd let her defenses down and when he'd offered to give her a ride home she'd accepted.

When they got to the house he wouldn't let her get out of the car, and then he started kissing her, and that part had been okay but when he tried to do more she started to fight back, and that's when everything turned ugly, even though it was still a bit hazy. Cana didn't remember how she had gotten the shiner, and she knew she'd been lucky that Silver had come home and figured out what was happening.

She shouldn’t have said those things to him, he beat the crap out of that guy for trying to take advantage of her. They weren’t even true, she loved him, and she knew exactly what her dad saw in him, it was all the things she had seen in Gray in high school, but as a friend.

Now Silver would call her dad and tell him everything, or even worse what if he left her dad cause he couldn't deal with her? Oh, god, no! It had taken her dad all this time to find someone he liked after her mother died. She couldn't be responsible for ruining that for him. Her anxiety started to kick in, and she couldn't breathe.

I fuck everything up, that’s all I ever do! Damn it, I need a drink!

She changed her clothes and cleaned herself up a bit before opening the window in her room and climbing out. There was a bar not too far from their house, she could be there in ten minutes.

Xxx

Cana entered the bar and was disappointed to see a different bartender. This one had pink hair, and he was looking at her with concern, probably trying to figure out whether he should serve her or not, she thought.

Before he had a chance to say anything, she ordered her usual drink, and after deliberating for a few seconds, he went and mixed it.

“Here you go,” The bartender handed her the drink, “You want a steak or something?”

"What?" Cana arched an eyebrow finding the comment somewhat random, and confused to find that small gesture hurt.

“For your eye, it’s swelling up,” He replied, “There might be some frozen vegetables out back.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay handsome, I’m good. Just keep these coming.”

He looked at her unsurely but extended out his hand, “I’m Natsu, I just started today. Do you come here often?”

“Not if I can help it, this place is a dump,” Cana snorted, “But it’s home. I’m Cana by the way.”

Natsu nodded at her, he seemed friendly but not too familiar.

“Hey is that girl working today?” Cana suddenly asked, “What’s her name…. Mary Jane?”

Natsu thought about it for a moment as he wiped down the bar, "I'm terrible with names, what does she look like?"

“Silver hair, gorgeous blue eyes, a voice to die for,” Cana drawled, her tone flippant.

"Gorgeous blue eyes?" Natsu rolled his eyes at her and grinned, and Cana found herself liking him more and more.

“Well I mean, yours aren’t bad either, but you’re not my type,” Cana winked at him smiling in relief when he just chuckled at her comment.

"I think I know who you mean," Natsu replied to her earlier question, "I'm not sure what her name is, but she's supposed to start at my break, which is in about thirty minutes. I gotta go check on some other customers, holler if you need anything."

Cana gave him a small wave and wondered briefly if he were gay, he was hot and friendly, and she thought Gray might like him. Maybe she'd get around to asking him after she'd had a few more drinks.

She grabbed her phone out of her purse to see if she had any messages. She had a few missed calls from Gray and a text from Silver, who was freaking out about not finding her in her room and begging her to reply.

She put her phone back in her purse, chasing her guilt away with her drink. For all her earlier worries, she didn't want to think about it now. She was away from it and looking forward to seeing the hot bartender.

Cana had always found girls pretty or interesting, but she'd never been taken enough with one to want more than friendship. The only girl she'd ever kissed was some random girl whose name she'd forgotten. It had been at a high school party during a game of Spin the Bottle. Truth be told, she couldn't even remember if she'd liked it or not, and of course, there had been alcohol involved.

Actually, this bartender was the reason for a lot of her current troubles. As much as she lived surrounded by gay men, Cana was having difficulty accepting that she found girls more attractive than guys.

She knew she was ridiculous. Obviously, no one in her life would fault her for it, but it went against everything she'd always expected of herself, and Cana was nothing if not stubborn. So she'd been forcing herself into situations with guys, and of course, that's precisely what had led her to her current predicament.

When she was sober, she couldn't handle the thoughts about her burgeoning interest in girls, when she was drunk; however, it was another matter entirely. Of course, she had no idea whether the bartender was even interested in her, but Cana figured there was nothing wrong with some harmless flirting and she had some time to get ready. She finished her drink and called Natsu for another.

Cana closed her eyes as she waited, trying to calm herself down before she could chicken out. Although the girl was friendly enough, Cana had never been brave enough to let her attraction be known.

Natsu brought her drink and once again asked if she wanted something for her eye. He looked concerned, and it made her wonder how bad it actually looked. She fumbled for her compact in her blue fuzzy purse as Natsu waited with a knowing look on his face.

She viewed herself in the reflective surface and flinched, she looked terrible. No wonder Silver had been flipping out. She quickly moved away from that thought, still refusing to deal with what had happened.

“Oh my God, I look like shit!” Cana muttered, she started to think that maybe she should go home after all. But the alcohol was already mixing with what she’d drunk earlier refusing to allow logic to enter the situation.

“Sure, frozen veggies and I should be good as new!” She chirped in what she thought was a quiet voice.

Natsu was gone for a long time, and when he finally returned with a bag of frozen vegetables, he'd magically turned into the girl of Cana's dreams. She held out the bag for Cana, wincing in sympathy as she caught a glimpse of her eye.

“Natsu told me you were asking about me,” The girl smiled and all Cana could do was peer at her from behind the bag of frozen produce.”

"I'm Mirajane, but everyone calls me Mira. I know we've chatted before, but I don't think we've ever officially met."

Cana stared at her, all words escaping her as she lost herself in the deep blue eyes that were looking at her with open curiosity.

"Uh, I'm Cana," Thankfully, her brain decided to enter the conversation, although a bit late.

Mira held her hand out to shake, and Cana grabbed it awkwardly, having to keep her other hand pressed against the veggies.

“So, Natsu was concerned, is everything alright?” Mira pointed at her face, “Should we call someone for you?”

“You mean you don’t think this looks cool?” Cana grinned, excited by being in Mira’s presence.

“Well, it’s just the other eye was so perfect, I didn’t see the need to ruin it,” Mira winked at her as she pulled out some lemons and limes and began to slice them.

Cana's cheeks were burning at the unexpected compliment, and she hoped that it wasn't enough to melt the veggies because the ice did feel pleasant on her bruised eye. She could hear Mira giggling at her and because she couldn't think of anything else to say she blurted out, "Hey, do you know if that new bartender is gay?"

Mira seemed put off by the question, “I don’t know, but it’s really not something to be gossiping about.”

"Oh, no! That's, oh god, you must think I'm terrible." Cana admitted, "I..he's cute and nice, and I thought he might hit it off with my stepbrother."

Mira seemed to relax a little at her reply, "Oh, I have siblings too, I get what you mean. You want them to be with someone nice, but all they seem to find are jerks."

Cana nodded, excited that she hadn’t screwed up irrevocably, “Yes, exactly! He’s getting over a bad breakup.”

“Aren’t we all, “ Mira laughed as she handed her another drink, “You should keep that on for another ten minutes or so, I’ll be back to check up on you.”

Cana stared after Mira, enraptured by the sound of her laughter. Yep, she was in trouble. Cana’s brain betrayed her, all thoughts erased but for what it would feel like to kiss Mira or even just hold her hand.

She finished her drink quickly, trying to get to that state where she was free from thinking at all, but she was losing. The whole day was catching up to her, and the soothing coolness of the frozen vegetables pressed against her face was making her feel slightly sleepy.

Cana heard an incessant beeping and shook her head, trying to figure out where it was coming from. After looking around the bar blankly, she finally thought to check her phone. In the time since she had last checked, it had exploded. There were messages from Gray, Silver, her father, and about four of her friends all desperately trying to find her, but it was Silver's message that broke her heart.

I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to yell at you, I was just scared. If you come home, I promise you I will pack my bags this second. But please, please come back. I need to know you're safe.

Leave? You can't leave! We need you! She put the phone on top of the bar as panic began to set in, but it was no match for the alcohol filled haze she had put herself in. She felt her body start to slump onto the bar, her hands instinctively cradling her head as she let herself rest.

“Is she passed out?” Natsu hovered over the girl he’d been talking to earlier in the night even as he looked to Mira to figure out what to do, “Does this type of thing happen often?”

“No, she’s a regular, I’ve never seen her like this before. Something must have happened, can you carry her to the break room? We can’t leave her out here like this.” Mira asked and before she was finished speaking Natsu had already vaulted over the bar and had Cana in his arms.

She noticed Cana's phone on the bar and grabbed it when she saw it was unlocked. She felt terrible looking through the girl's phone, but she needed to call someone for her. She followed Natsu into the break room already calling the person on the last text.

“Hi, is this uhm Silver?”

Xxx

“Gray, we gotta go,” Silver said the moment he hung up his phone, “I know where your sister is, come on.”

They got into the car, both men still concerned even though the bartender had told Silver that Cana was fine and had just fallen asleep. Gray got out of the car as his father tried to find a parking space while calling Gildarts to let him know Cana had been located.

He quickly entered the bar, coming face to face with one of the bartenders. He lost focus for a second as he was faced with one of the most attractive men he’d ever seen, who just happened to be staring at him with a confused face.

“Uhm, it pains me to say this, but we have a strict No Shirt, No Service policy here,” The bartender said even as his eyes refused to move from Gray’s chest.

"Damn it!" Gray looked down at himself not surprised to see that in his stress he'd managed to shed his shirt. It was an annoying habit, but if the look he was getting from the bartender was anything to go by, one he couldn't be too upset about at the moment.

He looked around for his shirt and found it by the door. By the time he had put the shirt back on, the bartender had a beer waiting for him.

“What’s this for?”

“Well, I felt like I owed you something… I mean I got a show so…” He grinned and handed the beer over, “I’m Natsu by the way.”

Gray found himself really liking that smile.

“Thanks! I’m Gray,” He shook the man’s hand and found himself noticing how well his green eyes complimented his pink hair.

“It’s been a rather exciting first day for me, one customer fell asleep and now an attractive man stripped in my bar,” Natsu commented.

Gray knew there was something about that comment that was yelling for his attention. He pondered it for a moment and then grinned internally. Of course! Natsu thought he was attractive. He found himself smiling as he drank his beer.

“Hey Gray, did you find your sister yet?” Silver came in, not paying much attention as he was still talking to Gildarts on the phone, who was now demanding to speak to his daughter.

“Huh?”

“Sister, asleep, bar… any of this ringing a bell?” Silver rolled his eyes at his son, immediately realizing he had somehow managed to lose him to a rather attractive young man. Not that he could blame him, there was something about his smile that reminded him of Gildarts a little, and he was well aware of how easy it was to get lost in that smile.

“Oh, you must be Silver,” Natsu greeted him enthusiastically, “Follow me, your daughter is with my coworker.”

Natsu led both men to the break room where Cana was asleep on a small sofa with Mira watching over her. He returned to the bar, not being able to leave it unattended for long.

“Is she okay?” Silver asked not able to see if Cana had acquired any new injuries since she had left the house. He winced when he saw how bad her eye looked.

"She's just asleep, she was a bit restless, but she seems to have calmed down now," Mira smiled at Silver.

“Darts, I’m gonna have to call you back,” Silver tilted his head as he watched Mira do something in Cana’s phone before putting it into her purse. “She’s fine, she’s right in front of me.”

He listened for a second before replying, “Fine, fine.” He hung up, taking a quick picture and sending it to his worried partner before putting his phone in his pocket.

“Thank you so much for calling me, we were so worried,” Silver gushed, arms already aching to pick Cana up and take her home.

"She comes here a lot, so I wanted to make sure she was okay," Mira smiled sweetly watching as Silver grabbed his car keys and tossed them to the younger man before picking Cana up. They all beamed as Cana snuggled up to him without waking up.

"Let's go home," Silver told the boy, and they shared a look that intrigued Mira as if it was something new to them.

She followed them out of the break room and watched them leave, noticing that Cana's brother made a point of saying goodbye to Natsu.

She took her place behind the bar, and Natsu immediately asked her, "Is it always like this?"

“Nah, it’s usually quite dull.”

“I’m kind of bummed, I never got a chance to ask for his number.”

"I don't know, maybe I'll put in a good word for you," Mira grinned at him mischievously and when he gave her a puzzled look she giggled, "I may have added myself to her Contacts list."

A/N: Ok I know I said drabbles and I am somewhat aware of what this means and that this is in no shape or form one. I try, it’s just, words happen. I hope you still like it!