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renegadefearstreet1966 · 5 months

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Chapter Seventeen | Answers

credit to gif owner.

Cindy looked at Joan, who was sprinkling weed into paper.

“Maybe she was on something.” She suggests.

Joan rolled her eyes. “Drugs are peaceful, not violent.”

Bunny glanced at Gary as they tried to stifle a laugh.

“I’m not talking about marijuana.” She said firmly.

Bunny watched as Gary laughed with Joan which caused her to snicker.

“Just admit you’re jealous that the witch wanted your hubby all to herself!” Gary joked, pulling Tommy into a headlock and ruffling his hair. Joan laughed.

Tommy pushed him off, not finding any of this funny. “Be serious, man. W-why would nurse Mary wanna do something like that? Why would she want me dead?”

Bunny looked in Tommy's eyes and saw confusion.

“Oh, no. She wouldn’t.” Gary shook his head.

“But the witch might!” Gary and Joan cursed, laughing together as Tommy leaned forward.

“Hey, they’re just playing around,” Cindy comforts.

“Don’t listen to them.” Bunny treasures.

Tommy leaned further forward, completely serious.

“Did you see her eyes? There was something in there, something wrong.”

Both females had serious expressions plastered on their faces before startling when suddenly Kurt clapped loudly from the front of the mess hall. He snaps the teens out of their stupor and looks toward the front.

“Alright!” He shouted. Sunnyvaler’s cheered. “Chicks, dicks, listen up! We had a scary situation, but we cannot let that mess with the most important night of our summer. Tonight is Sunnyvale versus Shadyside. It is red versus blue. It is good versus evil. Tonight, we commencicate color war!”

“It’s commence, my god.” Gary groaned.

Bunny rolled her eyes, the blonde Sunnyvaler was being over dramatic as well as being a huge dick. Sunnyvaler’s cheered as Shadyside groaned. Joan licked her joint to roll it up.

“He might be dumb, but he’s kinda shagadelic.”

Bunny looks back up and sees him cheering himself. Gary turned to joan.

“He’s disgusting. You’re disgusting.”

Kurt began talking as Bunny groaned.

“Tonight’s first event is capture the Flag, baby.” He lifted up a red flag that belonged to Sunnyvale. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! Now, Sunnyvalers… We have never, ever… lost a Color War! So let’s not let tonight be a stain on our legacy.”

He pointed at the Shadyside flag, but Bunny ignored him as she sighed in annoyance.

“And let’s go out there like our ancestors before us and murder those Shadyside witches!”

Looking over at Tommy, she saw that he began sweating profusely and bowed his head down from the constant cheering. Joan got up and walked toward the front, being the spokesperson for Shadyside

“Uh, hi!” She giggled. “Thank you, Kurt, for that neat-o speech. Now, Shadysiders, let’s get out there and do our best because—”

The female stopped listening from there, noticing the brunette was gone. Tommy didn’t seem to notice, looking as if he was about to puke. Bunny got up from the bench too, following after the older Berman.

Wondering where Cindy went, she overheard her talking as she saw Ziggy and Cindy in the Arts and Crafts cabin. Not wanting to eavesdrop, Bunny did it anyway as her stomach churned.

“...Not in the mood,” Ziggy replied, hitting the top off a paint can.

The older Berman sister ignored her and carried on speaking.

“Earlier, you said Mary was upset.”

The red-head scoffed, turning around and faced her sister.

“Oh, so now you care!”

“Ziggy, this is serious.”

“It was serious earlier, and you didn’t give a shit.”

Bunny watched as Ziggy grabbed the paint can, walking toward the cabin entrance. She didn’t want to be seen, so she hid behind the treeline, being able to hear them from afar. Cindy walked after her younger sister.

“Come on, you were the last person to see her before she snapped.”

The sisters walked further along the camp path as Cindy struggled to catch up with Ziggy’s wide steps.

“What about drugs? Did you see any around?”

“Ziggy, that’s enough.”

“You’re too scared to admit it. When things go bad, you wanna explain it away.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to blame everything on some fairy tale. Life sucks sometimes. I get that. I mean, God knows it's been hard since…”

Bunny saw Cindy’s eyes fill with tears. She wanted to rush out and comfort her.

“Since what?” Ziggy tried antagonizing her older sister. “See, you can’t even say it! Since Dad left! Since Mom started drinking. Since we’re going to lose the house. And it’s not gonna magically get better. And saving up all summer to buy a super cute polo shirt can’t hide that either. Trying to explain why nice old Nurse Lane almost lost it today can’t either.”

Ziggy took a step towards Cindy.

“We’re all cursed. For Mary, it was today. But someday, it’ll be you. And this whole fake bullshit life of yours, it’s gonna come crashing down.”

“That’s a horrible thing to say.”

“It’s not horrible if it’s true.”

There was silence between the two siblings.

“I don’t know who you are anymore, but… but you’re not my sister.”

Ziggy didn’t seem to be fazed. “Then who am I?”

“A monster.”

Ziggy smiled sadly, walking back towards her cabin, opening the door and putting the paint cans inside. Cindy walked forward to see the inside of the cabin. Bunny stepped closer, seeing partially inside as the cabin was vandalized likely by Sheila.

“That’s what they say.”

Ziggy then forcefully shut the door in Cindy’s face.

Stepping up to the Berman sister, Bunny ended up startling Cindy as she apologized. She looked the saddened brunette in the eyes.

“What’s going on?” Bunny asked, acting as if she wasn’t eavesdropping.

“Nothing. Just sibling issues.” Cindy said, putting on a smile. “Anyway, we need to find Tommy.”

“Why? What are we doing?”

“Sneaking into Nurse Lane’s cabin. We need to see why she tried to kill Tommy.”

“Okay.”

“Get what you need, and meet us outside her cabin in ten minutes!” She shouted, ushering away.

Later, Bunny saw as Color War was starting, wishing she were out monitoring campers instead of snooping in Mary's cabin as well as snitching on her. Slipping out of her cabin and jogging toward Nurse Lane's cabin, she sees Tommy and Cindy. Bunny greeted them.

“Let’s go.”

Cindy unlocked the cabin as her, Tommy and Bunny stepped inside. A lamp was on, generating a source of light for them to search around in.

“What exactly are we looking for?” Tommy asked.

Cindy passed him the keys, turning her back to him.

“Answers.”

“It doesn’t matter, alright?” Tommy tried to convince her, but Kathleen knew she was stubborn.

“It matters. There’s a reason Mary did what she did and said what she said. We’re going to figure it out now.”

Both Tommy and Bunny sighed, only his was pained and fatigued.

“Come on, Cindy. Please, I..”

Cindy ignored him, looking in Mary’s office. She huffed, annoyed. She rummaged through the drawers until she pulled a bottle of pills from the desk. She chuckled, bringing them into the light.

“No label, half-empty. Like I said, she was on drugs.”

Tommy looked at his girlfriend as well as Bunny.

“Get these to the cops, then they’ll tell us what they….”

Cindy paused as Tommy picked a book up from the desk. A symbol stood out on the page. ‘Witches Mark’ it said.

“What is that?”

“‘A deal was made with the devil. Sarah Fier cut off her wicked hand on Satan’s stone in exchange for eternal life, scattering the soil beneath with the witch’s mark, bringing darkness upon the land.’ ” Tommy read from the book.

Bunny saw an unimpressed expression on Cindy’s face. She looked like she was about to say something when glass broke in the other room, located in the back of Nurse Lane’s cabin.

Cindy gasped, grabbing the other girl's hand and squeezed it. They walked out of the office, Tommy first, followed by his sister as she pulled Cindy behind.

“Did you hear that?” Tommy asked.

They nodded as he went further, book still in hand. Bunny followed him, leaving Cindy behind as she’s hesitant but stuck with her, holding hands. They emerged into the main room with the medical beds, looking around.

“Hello?” Tommy asked. “Hello, is somebody here?”

Abruptly, Alice jumped from behind the door, screaming as it made Tommy jump back. It also startled Bunny as well. Soon the three calmed down when they realized it was Alice and Arnie. Alice laughed, nearly falling over herself.

“That’s not funny.” Tommy complained.

Cindy walked forward, letting go of Bunny’s hand.

“Alice? What are you doing here?”

She scoffed.

“Looks like we’re both here for the same thing.”

Alice pointed at Cindy’s hand, pointing out the drug capsule.

“Must really want me to scrub those toilets.”

Cindy put the bottle in her shoulder bag.

“This isn’t for you.”

Alice glared at Kathleen then at Cindy.

“Wait, Berman, I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing.” Arnie smiled, pointing to the drugs, bringing everyone’s attention back to them.

“They’re not for me.” Cindy glared. “I’m giving them to the cops.”

“Oh yeah, the cops. Yeah, right, of course. No, what are you talking about? What, now you’re gonna snitch on Mary, too? Bunny, are you joining the snitch team as well?”

“Can you… can you not, please?” Bunny said, swallowing the lump in her throat.

Arnie lunged for the book in Tommy’s hand, lifting it up so he couldn’t reach.

“This for the cops too?”

“Give that back!”

“Come on, don’t be a dick.”

Arnie threw it to Alice as she caught the book, opening it and began reading.

“‘She emerged from the meeting house, one hand severed, lost forever. We hanged the witch, body chained and buried but without her hand, her grip on the land holds firm.’ Ooh. This is Sarah Fier shit!”

“Alice, come on.” Crindy pleaded.

“‘When she is near, blood will fall and the curse will last until body and hand unite.’”

“Alice, it’s Mary’s diary. Let’s put it back.”

Alice flipped through the book as Bunny sat next to the sweaty male, checking to see if she’s okay.

“It’s not just a diary. It’s a map.”

Alice turned it over, showing a map of the camp, but it had markings all over it.

“What?”

“Crazy Nurse Lane made a crazy map.”

Alice walked toward Tommy and Bunny and placed the opened book on the bed. She kneeled down next to Cindy, opposite Alice with Arnie standing at the end.

“It’s camp, but looks like she drew all over it,” Alice announced, pointing out one part of it to Cindy and Barbara. “1666 Union.”

“Union, that’s Shadyside.” Bunny starts.

“What?”

“The settlement before it was divided into Shadyside and Sunnyvale.” The other brunette finishes.

“Really?”

“If you went to class.” Cindy comments.

Tommy spoke. “So, the camp is built in the same place as the settlement?”

Arnie loomed over the end of the bed, pointing at the map.

“Woah, look! Sarah Fier.”

The name Sarah Fier was written in the corner of the map, but all around it was covered in exes.

“Do you think that’s her house?”

“What are the exes?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

Alice got up quickly, picking up the book and Cindy’s purse.

“Hey, that’s my bag.”

The blonde ignored her, ordering her boyfriend to grab a flashlight as they rushed out of the cabin. Bunny began following them as Cindy was close behind, but Tommy walked out slower.

“Alice! Bring that back! What are you doing?” Cindy yelled.

“Come on, Alice. Give it back!”

“It’s called fun, Cindy Berman. You used to have it, remember?” Alice spoke, rushing toward the woods, holding Cindy’s bag. “We’re gonna find you, Sarah Fier!”

Bunny and Cindy glanced at each other, wondering if they should follow the couple. Tommy walked out finally, holding his head in his hands. He was pale and sweating profusely.

“Tommy?” Bunny questions.

“Tommy!” Cindy yelled harshly.

He shook his head, looking at the brunettes.

Tommy put on his plaid jacket and ran off after Alice and Arnie. Bunny stood there, rigid but was brought back to reality when Cindy groped her hand.

“Come on. They took everything!”

They ran after the mischievous couple.

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chemmerson · 2 years

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need to do work but brain hurts

#the grad school blues #my brain is so tired but cant stop thinking about syllables #and vowels #and consonants #hey wanna hear a speech path joke #the best kind of party is a fricative party cuz a fricative party don’t stop #HA GET IT #im so exhausted #em’s brain dump

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omg-imatotalmess · 4 years

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Pet Names

Hey guys! I have had the headcanon that George would turn into a puddle when you call him something sweet, and my hypothetical question got lots of positive responses. So, here I am, yet again, offering a subby boy because that’s my specialty. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: No

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up kids!), sub!George, dom!reader, pet name kink, praise kink, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, riding, swearing

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There was one thing about dating George Weasley that was an absolute fact: George loved pet names. Of course, you knew that to a degree. Since you started dating, it had become a rarity that he called you by your given name. You would have hated it from anyone else. Pet names typically weren't your thing, but you couldn't bring yourself to hate them when his voice dripped with sweetness. However, it never really occurred to you that he might want you to use them too. It wasn't until the two of you were lying on a couch in the Room of Requirement that you even thought about it.

Snuggled up to his chest, listening to his heartbeat as he dozed, you began to reflect on the whole pet name situation. He always had something sweet on the tip of his tongue while you only ever called him George. Georgie, if you were feeling particularly affectionate. You wondered if it bothered him that you didn't have a cute name for him. It wasn't like he'd ever asked, but sometimes he had trouble asking for things that he thought were embarrassing without joking about it. He always gave you delightfully cheesy nicknames when people were around that could easily be brushed off as joking. So maybe the embarrassment thing was the case. He just didn't exactly know how to ask.

"I can hear the wheels turning in your head, sweetheart," George said, breaking you from your musings.

"Sorry, go back to sleep," you said, nuzzling his neck affectionately.

"Wasn't sleeping before anyway. Even if I was, what goes on in that brain of yours has to be more interesting," he said. Smiling, you rolled completely on top of him so you could see him better. "Well, hello there."

"You caught me. I was thinking again," you said.

"Were you thinking about me?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I was."

"How embarrassing. Do you have a crush on me or something, love?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

"You're an idiot," you said fondly. "Really, though, I wanted to ask you something." The playfulness drained from his face immediately as he adopted a more serious expression. He almost looked a little worried. Smiling, you leaned forward and pressed a kiss between his furrowed brows in an attempt to make the wrinkle go away.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No, I was just thinking about the nickname thing," you said. Your answer did nothing to relieve the expression.

"Don't you like them? I'll call you something else if you want." You shook your head.

"Actually, I was wondering if you wanted me to call you something else. Do you want cute names too?" you asked. George shifted under you, his expression morphing into one you'd become incredibly familiar with. A bright red flush bloomed over his cheeks as an almost concerningly wide grin pulled at his lips.

"Thought you'd never ask snookums!" he laughed nervously, "Here I thought you were about to let Ron and Hermione out cute us. Personally, I think you should go for something like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband.' The whole phrase. Just to prove them that we're the cuter pair." As he rambled, you found yourself becoming more and more amused by his expert avoidance of your eyes.

"George?" Your voice was gentle but prodding, cutting his nervous speech short. Blinking, he offered another nervous laugh.

"Yes, darling, sweetness, light of my life?" he asked.

"Breathe," you said.

"Right. I'll live a lot longer if I do that," he said, pulling in a steadying breath. Smiling, you ran your fingers through his hair in an attempt to soothe him further.

"Now, as much as I truly do like 'the sweetest love of my life and future husband,' it's kinda a mouthful," you said.

"That's what she said," George rattled off automatically.

"Jesus, I didn't mean to fluster you so bad. I'm sorry, sunshine," you said, testing the name.

And he whimpered. It was just a soft, breathy little sound. One you would have missed if you hadn't quite literally been laying on his chest. You weren't even sure if he was aware he'd done it, but, Christ, were you happy he did. That one little sound told you so much. Not to mention the way his fingers squeezed needily at your hips and that his eyes seemed to lose focus. Suddenly, you felt like you were taking up his entire field of vision. Nothing beyond you existed. Not to him. All that for just one simple word.

"You like, sunshine?" you asked.

"I dunno if it has the same ring as, uh, as whatever it was that I said, but it's alright," he said, squirming under your penetrating gaze.

"Just alright? You want something else?" you teased.

"If you-if you think you can c-come up with something better," he stuttered.

"Okay, baby boy," you purred.

If you thought sunshine had done it for him, baby boy blew that out of the water. A shiver tore through his body right down to his fingertips as his mouth dropped open into a quiet moan. Despite the low volume, the sound echoed in your ears. It dripped with pure need. As though he couldn't go another second without you touching him. The cherry flush that bloomed high in the apples of his cheeks swooped over the tips of his ears. He was beautiful. Enticing. And you were only human. Leaning forward, you traced your tongue up the shell of his ear, biting it lightly.

"That better?" you muttered against his ear. Pulling back, you watched as George opened and closed his mouth, fishing for anything to say in response. He wasn't having much luck, just spitting out collections of sounds that didn't quite resemble words.

"Come on, baby boy, use your words," you said, cupping his cheek and rolling your thumb over his bottom lip.

"Yes." His voice cracked on the word.

"Good boy," you said, smirking like a well-fed cat, "Now, how 'bout we get you out of those clothes. I wanna see all of my pretty baby."

"Please," he breathed. Carefully, you repositioned yourself, so you had full access to his clothing. You only managed a couple of buttons before his much larger hand curled around one of yours. Before you could ask him what was wrong, he brushed a tender kiss over your knuckles.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he said. Smiling, you pulled his hand to your mouth and returned the gesture.

"I love you too," you replied.

With your hand back, you made quick work of his shirt. You pushed it open and took in the lightly freckled expanse of his chest. His skin was a swirl of cinnamon-colored constellations. You trailed your fingers across them, admiring the trail of goosebumps the left behind. George was lovely. Devastatingly so. Bringing your head down, you followed the same path your fingers had taken, stopping briefly to lap at his nipples. He whined softly at the attention, tangling his hands in your hair.

"You're so beautiful," you said.

You kissed up his chest to his lips, and he tilted his head to meet you. His lips pressed hungrily to your own. The faint taste of honey teased your senses as you dipped your tongue into his mouth. You loved that he always managed to taste sweet. Lightly, you ran your tongue over his own, savoring that elusive sweetness for as long as you could. Slipping your hand down to rub him through his pants, you were surprised to find him fully hard. Even though you'd barely touched him, he was straining against his zipper.

"(Y/N)," he whimpered against your mouth.

"I bet that's uncomfortable. You want me to take care of that, baby boy?" you asked, popping the button.

"Please. Please take care of it," he begged, bucking his hips into your hand. Without responding, you pushed his pants down to his thighs while trailing burning kisses down his torso. You pressed a kiss to each of his hip bones before wrapping your hand around his cock. Giving it a few long, slow strokes that had him bucking into your hand, you looked up at him.

"Tell me what you want," you said.

"Your mouth. Please, (Y/N)," he said quickly.

"Anything for my sweet baby boy," you said.

Slowly, you dragged your tongue from the base to the tip, paying special attention to the ridge of the head. A low moan sounded above you. You took a moment to appreciate the sound before sinking his cock into your mouth. His hips bucked, and you gagged slightly. Breathing softly through your nose, you gripped his hips tightly to keep him from doing it again. You bobbed your head slowly, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his cock.

"C'mon, don't tease," George begged, straining against your restrictive grip.

You didn't say anything but picked up the pace slightly. Removing on hand from its place on his hip, you fondled his balls and teased lightly at his perineum. His hips flexed wildly against your hand. It only took swallowing around him once before he was calling out warnings and groaning loudly into the open air. You pulled off before he could cum, ignoring the disappointed whine.

"Wanna come. Please, (Y/N), I wanna come so bad," he cried, bucking into the air looking for friction.

"I know, baby boy," you said, shimmying out of your pants. "I wanna be ridding you when you do, but you gotta prep me first. Can you do that for me? Can you finger me until I'm nice and open for you, baby boy?"

"Uh-huh," he said, fumbling for the lube that appeared on the table. Turning, you presented yourself to him, so he had better access. Gentle as always, he sunk a long finger into you.

"That's my good boy," you sighed. As he fingered you open, he pressed open-mouthed kisses to the backs of your thighs. You wrapped your hand around his cock again, stroking it in time with the thrusts of his fingers. Then he curled them a bit.

"There! That's it," you mewled, rocking back against him.

"More!" He obediently added another finger.

"Am I making you feel good?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Whether it was from moaning or just from the idea that he was bringing you pleasure, you couldn't tell.

"So good," you said. You felt his cock twitch in your hand, and he shivered.

"Close," he whimpered.

"Let me sit on your pretty cock, baby boy," you purred. Almost reluctantly, he slipped his fingers from you, and you positioned yourself over him. Neither of you was interested in waiting long. Once he was fully seated inside you, you could already feel him shivering with the effort not to cum.

"Move?" It came out as a question. Both asking your permission and begging you to ride him until he was shaking with overstimulation.

Picking up your hips, you dropped them back slowly. You savored the slight burn of the stretch. Hands quickly found your hips. And then you were moving. You weren't sure if he'd thrust up into you or if you'd started this pace on your own. You didn't care. It didn't matter when he was hitting that spot inside you just right.

"So good, baby boy! Right there!" you cried.

"So tight. So good. Wanna cum! Please can I cum?" he begged, digging his fingers into your hips in a way that would definitely bruise.

Pulling his chin up with two fingers, you kissed him like your life depended on it. Tongues tangled sloppily, your teeth clicked together, and the angle was a little off considering the constant motion. Still, you couldn't bring yourself to care with him, whining obscenities into your mouth. Begging to cum so prettily. If you were a little meaner or not so desperate yourself, you'd draw it out a little longer. Maybe next time. Separating with a wet pop, you smoothed your thumb across his spit-slick, swollen lips.

"Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me?" you asked. He nodded, hooded eyes staring at you pleadingly.

"Close, close, please," he whined, dropping his head forward to your chest.

"Cum, baby boy." With a long, low moan, he was gone. He pounded sloppily into you with uncontrolled thrusts, wrapping his arms around your back to pull you impossibly closer. Between that and the sight of his utterly wrecked expression, you went tumbling over the edge after him. Your own shout of pleasure shook the room. Your thighs trembled with the force of it. For a second, you swore, you stopped breathing.

"Holy fuck," you panted as you came down from your high.

"Felt pretty holy to me," George said, leaning heavily against the arm of the couch.

"When I find my brain, I'll say something witty," you said. You let him slip out of you, opting to ignore the mess running down your thighs in favor of laying against his chest again.

"Anytime you wanna do that again, I'd happily oblige, love," he said.

"You just fucked my brain across the room while I called you baby boy, and you're already thinking about round two?" you snorted.

"Should I not be?" Well, round two did sound pretty good.

"Give me a hot minute, and I'll get right on that, sunshine." You didn't miss the love in his dark eyes as he gazed down at you with a crooked grin. Or the way his cock twitched in interest.

#its 3:30 am #but here it is #george weasley x reader #george weasley x reader smut #george weasley #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #george weasley smut #george x reader #george x reader smut #harry potter smut #harry potter imagine #dom!reader #sub!george #smut #harry potter #hp

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letarasstuff · 3 years

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Girl meets World

(A/N): This was requested by an anon and is based on a show named 'Boy meets world', tho I never watched it so I went solely with the summary from said anon. I hope you still like it :)

Summary: Spencer's daughter is not ready for her first kiss. But are her classmates fine with that?

Warnings: Mean kids, angst but fluff at the end

Wordcount: 1.6k

✨Masterlist✨ ___________________________

Being on the not so popular side in school is not particularly hard, but it doesn’t exactly make things easier for (Y/N). That’s why Spencer was happy to hear from her invitation to a classmate’s birthday party.

“You call me and I’ll get you. I don’t mind if it’s in ten minutes or in two hours. Whenever you feel uncomfortable or you are done with peopling, it’s fine wanting to leave. Ok?” Her father tells her, sitting with her in the car in front of the birthday girl’s house. “Understood. Thank you, Dad. I see you no later than ten. Love you!”

Off she goes. Spencer watches (Y/N) going up the path to the front door, a bright colored bag with a gift in her hand. He considers driving up to Penelope’s apartment, which is only five minutes away, and cries with her over his daughter growing up with a tub of ice cream in both their hands. A second later the father puts his plan into motion.

Meanwhile (Y/N) is inside with a bunch of people from different classes. All those kids already make her nervous. But she is determined to make it through the night. After all, the girl doesn’t want to be seen as a baby that gets overwhelmed by a room full of human beings.

At first it isn’t that bad. (Y/N) finds a few classmates she has a class or two with and they converse. Until someone screams “Let’s play Spin-The-Bottle”. Now the eleven year old kind of feels like she is on a movie or a show. What’s next, she has to kiss the boy she has a crush on since the beginning of the school year?

Still all of the children gather around in a circle and a bottle is placed in the middle. “The rules are simple”, a kid explains, “The bottle chooses two people. They get five minutes in that closet over there.” Right, just like she predicted. (Y/N) is hesitant. They are too young to do something like that. Once again she doesn’t want to be the party pooper, so she sits down between two classmates.

Every time the bottle spins a dread weighs down in her stomach. (Y/N) is only eleven years old. Is she even ready to have her first kiss in a closet? Shouldn’t it be out of love, willently without anybody forcing two random people to such an act?

Seems like the others think these rules are fair and square. Everybody is participating with the utmost joy. Maybe it’s just her, who grew up with romantic novels written by people who not even her Grandmother witnessed alive being read to her for bed night.

Deep into calculating the probability of the bottle pointing to her, it needs a few shouts and a nudge to get (Y/N) out of her head. “Looks like it’s your turn to go into the closet”, her neighbor says to her, gesturing to the bottle, which in fact points towards her. The girl swears that the color of her cheeks is even darker than a tomato.

Shyly she gets up to the wardrobe. The remaining girls nod encouragingly while the next person is chosen by the bottle. Luckily it’s not the boy she has a crush on, this would be like in a fanfiction, too much like a cliché.

Just a few seconds later she finds herself in the closet. Is it appropriate to make a joke about coming out of the closet?

“Well, here we are”, the other boy says. (Y/N) thinks his name is Tyler. “Yeah, I guess.” She shuffles her foot and scratches her neck. “So, shouldn’t we kiss or something?”

Geez, that boy is out for action. “Uhm, what about if we do not? I’m not ready for that and no offence but I want my first kiss with somebody special and you are just a boy from my grade and there are no feelings between us and I need that special moment, because I’m a hopeless romantic.” The girl says all of this in one breath, making her speech pace compete with her father’s.

But Tyler smiles. “It’s okay. I get it, really. I won’t tell anyone. We can just sit here and talk until they knock. How does that sound?” (Y/N) smiles and nods. They sit down on some boxes and just laugh quietly about anything and everything they tell each other.

As soon as they have to come out of the closet, the other kids bombard them with questions. Tyler shuts all of them with one answer up. “A lady and gentleman are quiet and enjoy themselves.”

The rest of the evening goes relatively uneventful. There is a nice buffet and after that the kids watch a couple of movies until the first parents show up to pick up their children. Spencer is relieved to see his daughter so energetic and happy after the party.

“And then we played spin the bottle like in a teen movie. Dinner was also really nice and I think I made one or two more friends. Isn’t it amazing, Dad?” He answers her enthusiastically that he is in fact very happy for her. And Spencer is. But it kind of also implies that she grows up, a fact he doesn’t like.

The party was on a Saturday night and now it’s Monday, the first day after it. (Y/N) is ecstatic to go. In her mind her classmates finally accepted her for who she is. But as soon as she enters the school yard the kids from her grade look weirdly at her.

Immediately the girl’s mind goes into panic. Has she something on her face? Is it the way she dresses? Or is it some- The kiss. Or technically the not kiss.

“Hey Reid, I heard you are unkissed. What about I show you in the janitor’s room? Do you also want rose petals and candles laying around?” Someone starts to taunt her. The bystanding classmates begin to laugh.

(Y/N) has to listen to similar comments for the rest of the school day. A few boys from her science class make kissing noises whenever the teacher isn’t near them. Tyler once catches her eyes, mouthing an apology. But it’s not relevant to her at this point. The only thing that counts right now is getting through the last class without breaking down in front of the others. She can’t show them any more weakness.

When his daughter comes home, Spencer is already there. Hotch gave them an early off, since the last few cases were draining for all of them.

Instead of greeting him with a smile and the definition of happiness she enters the apartment with the biggest frown the father has ever seen on her face. “Hey Dad”, (Y/N) flatly says before disappearing into her room.

Confused, he assumes that she just has to do a load of homework, so he lets the girl be for the next couple hours. But as the clock is pushing near dinner time, he begins to worry.

“Sweetheart, I thought about cooking pasta for tonight. Do you wanna help me try Uncle Dave’s new recipe?” He asks at her closed door, respecting her privacy. There is no answer, just a sniffle from the other side. This alarms Spencer. “Sweetheart, may I come in?”

A few seconds pass until a faint “Yes” makes its way to his ears. Inside (Y/N) sits on her bed, her eyes are red from crying. “Oh Sweetheart, don’t be upset. Whatever it is, we can fix it. Tell me, what’s wrong?” The young doctor tries to console her. It’s always more difficult to calm your own family down than any stranger he meets on a case.

“I-it’s stupid. I don’t know why I’m upset over this.” (Y/N) frantically wipes the leftover tears away. “Hey, don’t say that. Your feelings are valid. You can be upset about anything you want, ok? If you don’t want to tell me about it, it’s fine. But I promise you that I’ll value whatever you say.”

The girl nods, finding her composure. “I- At the party we played Spin-The-Bottle and whoever was chosen had to go into the closet with the second one and kiss. I-I was in there with a boy named Tyler, b-but I told him I wasn’t ready. H-he was really sweet about it and respected my reasons. Dad, I’m not old enough and it wouldn’t be anything like I imagined my first kiss would be. But now the whole school or what feels like the whole school makes fun of me a-and I was so embarrassed.”

Spencer can feel her pain. Kids can be worse than professional torturers, he witnessed both first hand. “Oh Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’ll think of something about it. How do you feel about coming with me into the office? The others are missing you, especially Emily. She has a ton of pictures of Sergio she wants to show you. And for tonight we get your favorite take out and watch a movie of your choice, ok?”

(Y/N) smiles at the thought of the pictures she is going to see. “Yes! Can we get pizza and watch Lion King?” Even though it will be the fifth time they watch this movie this month, Spencer is happy to do anything his daughter wants. She has him wrapped around her finger.

So not long after this heartfelt conversation they sit on the sofa in the living room, crying their eyeballs out after Mufasa died. He deserved better.

Taglist:

All works:

@dindjarinsspouse @big-galaxy-chaos

Criminal Minds:

@averyhotchner @mggsprettygirl @herecomesthewriterwitch @ash19871962

Spencer Reid x child!reader:

@ilovetaquitosmmmm

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x daughter!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x child!reader #x reader #reader insert #x child!reader #x daughter!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #fanfiction

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mobiusxyearslater · 3 years

Photo

Rekindling (A Sonally Story)

A/N: This whole thing takes place about two years before the whole AU/Your Dork starts off for context. ~Mun @t-vict101

On a cool night in New Mobotropolis, Princess Sally Acorn is walking back to her cottage from the Tommy Turtle Memorial Hospital. She witnessed her friend, Bunnie Rabbot give birth to her firstborn daughter Annabelle. The whirlwind excitement and joy practically drained Sally’s energy, it was time for much-needed rest. She quietly walked along the dirt path still thinking about her new niece, how cute she looked, and how happy Bunnie and Antoine looked. That’s the kind of love that could last lifetimes. Sally starts to wonder if she could feel that way someday. Well, she did at one point, the only person she felt happy with was--

“Hey there Princess! You’re out late!” Sally heard a voice pipe up.

She looked forward to see the source of the cheery voice, well who else could it be? The one and only hero of Mobius, Sonic the Hedgehog, sat there on her porch giving her a soft wave. Sally stared at him for a few moments unsure of what to do. The last time she saw him he was off fighting Doctor Eggman and saving the world once again. That was almost half a year ago. But that was how Sonic was. There was no tying him down after the job was done which led to their romantic relationship being more on and off if anything.

The ironic part was that their last break-up wasn’t because Sonic wasn’t around. It was because Sally was too busy juggling her life between her duties on the council and her duties as leader. Sonic did confront her about it which led to a big fight then eventually they agreed to go their separate ways. There was a twinge of guilt in Sally’s heart because of that and seeing Sonic there acting as if nothing happened. All Sally could do is muster up a small chuckle as she looks at the blue blur.

“Well, you know me. I’m always busy with one thing or another.” she joked as she took a seat next to Sonic, who gave her a chuckle.

“Oh, boy don’t I know it! So what was it this time?” He playfully props his chin in his palm, “Council meetings? Ribbon cutting? Oh! A big speech in front of the entire kingdom?”

Sally gives him a small nudge and shakes her head, “Oh shut up. If you have to know, Bunnie and Antoine just had their baby tonight..”

“What??” Sonic perks up, “Those two have a kid now? Man. I feel like I miss out on a lot.”

Sally chuckles and shakes head, “Well that’s what happens when you’re gone for months on end.”

Sonic chuckles and scratches his head, “Heh. Well, I do come back once in a while though so it’s not all bad.

Sally let out a small chuckle and nod looking out to the moon, “Yeah.. I guess so.”

The two sit in silence just watching the moon. There was a feeling that someone should say something but neither of them did instead soaking in the atmosphere. Somehow, someway, the silence was relaxing for them both. No one brought up the past or having to suffer the awkwardness of reliving the whole thing over again. But there was one burning question that rattled in Sally’s head. Of all places to go in the middle of the night, why hers? Sonic still had his parents, his Uncle Chuck, heck he could just crash at Tails’ place if he really wanted to.

Sally cleared her throat, making Sonic’s ear twitch. “So, you just randomly decided to pop up here?”

Sonic sweats a bit and gives off a nervous chuckle, “I guess I made it too obvious huh?” He looked at her shrugs, “...I guess I just missed you.”

Sally quirks a brow tilting her head, “Is that right?”

Sonic huffs at her tone and tilts his head, “What’s with that tone? I really did miss you.”

Sally chuckles and pats his head, sighing out tiredly, “And I missed you too.”

Still unable to get a read of what she’s thinking, Sonic wags at her at a finger, “...Why do I feel there’s a huge BUT coming up.”

Sally frowns and sighs out, “But… This feels like a pattern..”

Sonic gives her a confused look, “What do you mean..?”

Through her tiredness she starts to pet through the blue hedgehog’s quills, “...This. Us. You leave for a long time then come back saying you missed me. Old feelings come up and we try again. Then…”

Sonic watched Sally as her words tiredly trailed and looked down to the ground. He always loved Sally, that fact is the solid truth, but being committed was a whole different ball game. Thinking about her words more, he started to see the pattern too. Sure his feelings were genuine at the moment but he’s always changing his mind about them. He started to think that maybe Sally wanted more than just part of him. Maybe she needed all of him, just like he wanted all of her. Maybe just maybe, him leaving for months after each attack isn’t fair to her at all.

Sonic huffs out a chuckle and slides his hands behind his head, “...You wanna hear something funny?”

Sally rubs the tired out of her eyes and looks at him, “What’s that..?”

Sonic rubs his nose a bit, “While I was gone I actually dated someone for a small while.”

All Sally could do is huff in response, “So you can here in the middle of the night to tell me about your exes to your ex?”

Sonic nudges her a bit, “Just listen for sec. While I was away, I actually dated Amy for a small bit.”

Sally’s brows perk up hearing the news, “Wow. You actually let up and let her catch you huh?”

Sonic shrugs letting a small chuckle, “I did. I was always running and she was always there. I figured that was something I wanted or something. At least I thought I did.”

His words slowly trailed off as he thought about his time with Amy. The pink hedgehog sure was a spitfire. Wherever Sonic went she gladly went along with him for support. He figured giving her one date wouldn’t hurt. Then it turned into two. Then it turned to something exclusive. Their honeymoon phase was sweet but soon after Amy found herself in a bit of a rut. Hopping from city to city, fighting badniks left and right, she was all in on that no doubt but she wanted something more. At first, she thought Sonic was that solution, but when she had him that feeling never really went away.

Sonic sighs out softly circling his thumb in his palm. “So she dumped me. She said something about traveling around to find her purpose or something.”

Sally stared at the dejected hedgehog and softly petted his head, “You’re number one fan dumped you. That must’ve been a blow to the ol’ ego of yours.”

Sonic stifles a small chuckle letting himself relax under Sally’s touch, “Yeah it was but I get it. It was fine for a while but I guess somewhere down the line. She realized I couldn’t give HER what SHE needed.” He lets out a sigh and looks up at the sky, “...I am proud of her though. Whatever she decides on doing for herself, she’ll be great at it.”

Sally nods in agreement and lets out a small yawn, “Yeah. She’s too determined to let herself fail at anything that’s for sure. She’ll probably be the best.”

Sonic shakes his head and looks at Sally, “Alright, enough about my dating life. What about you? Anyone in your life?”

Sally huffs out a chuckle and shakes her head, “Not really. There have been dates here and there but my busy schedule made it way too difficult to really settle into anything.”

Sonic snickers a bit, “Woo boy don’t I know it--” he stops himself when he watches Sally’s face slowly fall into a frown, “Come on Sal. I don’t blame you for your hectic schedule.”

Sally gives him a look and crosses her arms, “Isn’t that the reason you dumped me the last time?”

And there it was. That sting of awkwardness they worked so hard to avoid has finally come to the forefront. The silence draped over them as they sat there with their thoughts. No one knew what exactly to say at that moment. Sally realized she still had her hand on Sonic’s head and quickly pulled away looking away.

Sonic took a deep breath, “I know I gave you grief about it before. I just thought we could be how we used to be when we were 17.” Sally opened her mouth to say something but Sonic held up his hand. “Which I realized now… It can never be like that. I guess… I was…. I dunno.. Anxious about everything changing. You and Rotor on the council, Bunnie and Ant having a kid, Tails being the next inventor of the century, even Amy…” He takes a deep breath and kicks the dirt a bit, “...Seems like everyone is running this race and I'm dead last.”

Sally hums a bit pondering about his words, “...I guess… You’re feeling everyone is outgrowing you…?”

Sonic’s ear twitches and lets out a small pout leaning his chin in his palm, “....Maybe yeah…”

Sally lets out a small laugh and Sonic gives her a pouty look. She nudges him playfully, “Oh stop. I’m laughing because you’re the hero of Mobius. Everyone loves talking about you and practically wants to BE you.”

Sonic huffs out and crosses his arms, “I KNOW! I know I just… feel like I can do… more… Like I could do more for the world, my family, our friends, even you--”

Sally’s brows perk up at the last part Sonic started to say but cut himself off. It was kinda strange seeing him so vulnerable. Usually, he had a real cocky attitude with everyone and was the brightest in the room. Honestly, this was a side of him that she tried to bring out a lot of the time but he would always brush it off like it was nothing. He seemed almost embarrassed that he was saying all of this out in the open, especially saying it to her.

She softly puts a hand on his shoulder, “...Hey. It’s normal to feel that way. Almost everyone feels that way sometime or another, right?”

Sonic sighs out and looks at her, “Yeah but it’s ME we’re talking about.”

Sally huffs and stands up, “Yeah and I know you better than you think. You’re a guy who takes action. You’re always putting others first before yourself. You’re a hero that inspires everyone to be the best versions of themselves.” She holds out a hand to him, “...Now are you going to stop moping and do something about it?”

Sonic stares at her hand remembering those were the words he said to her years before. He huffs out a chuckle before grasping onto her hand and standing up, “You got me there. And you’re right, like always.”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head, “Of course I am. I’ve known you way too long to be wrong.”

Sonic chuckles a bit and watches her make her way up to her front door. He leans on the porch rail and tilts his head, “So I’m guessing I shouldn’t keep you from your beauty sleep any longer huh princess?”

Sally chuckles and shakes her head turning back to him, “Well that all depends if you’re going to keep me up all night.” She opens the door and gestures inside.

Sonic gives off a snarky chuckle as he walks up the steps stopping in front of her, “Oh ho ho! And what exactly do you mean by that princess?”

Sally rolls her eyes and pushes him inside of the cottage, “I mean you’re sleeping on the couch!”

Sonic pouts and leans back in her hands, “Aw but I could really use a nice big warm bed after months without one!”

Sally shakes her head, “You should’ve gone to your parents then.” She lets out a soft chuckle before shutting the door behind her, “You big dork.”

END

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic au #sonic #archie sonic #archie sonic the hedgehog #archie sonic comics #sonic fanart #sonic fandom #sonic satam #sally acorn #sonsal #sonally #fan fic writing #fan fiction #writing

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viseralantlers · 3 years

Text

old friend (c!karl jacobs x reader)

takes place in episode 5 of tales ! The wild west one !

warnings: Injury, swearing, character death

Request: nope!

note: using Kit as the alternate name to avoid confusion and follow how the time travel thing works kinda !!!! If you don’t like it feel free to pick another one and fill it in ! I was mostly trying to keep it gender-neutral !! Sorry if it makes it difficult to understand : (

John led Karl around the small town to pick up people to help stop the hostile bandits he had the pleasure to meet when he first entered the saloon just a few hours ago. Now an eccentric band of characters were leaving William’s shop to head to their last stop, the bakery.

“Alright, so this is Kit!” John spoke with a slight drawl as Karl watched hesitantly as a head peaked up from behind the counter that had been covered in fresh loaves of bread. Karl paused at the sight, it was y/n. It couldn’t be, they had died on doomsday. He felt frozen to his spot as he studied their every move. Karl knew deep down that this wasn’t y/n. He’d seen these past versions, relatives of sorts. of his friends, but he’d never seen anyone that had looked like y/n. It had always been sapnap or technoblade, it was as if y/n died not only in the present but in every past he traveled to.

“Huh” they said as they wiped the flour from their hands on a black apron that had been tied around their neck and torso, stepping around to the group.

“Hey, Kit!” John was cut off as y/n jumped into a question.

“John, I thought you already picked up your stock for this week?” John scratched the back of his neck feeling Percy’s stare digging into the back of his head due to his newly revealed spending habits. Y/n, now Kit, continued talking before abruptly pausing when they finally noticed the crowd that had accumulated in their small bakery. “What’s all this about?” They said with a hint of anxiety slipping into their voice.

“Nothing to be worried about!” Karl jumped into action at the sign of y/n’s trepidation “We just wanted to ask if you wanted to help us take down those old democrat haters.” Karl nervously laughed.

“Oh! Yea, for sure bucko, I hate those guys as much as the next one of y’all.” They smile, a steady joyful expression breaking their former nervous demeanor. Karl felt strangely sick at the sight, at how much it reminded him of his old friend, or more so crush, before their passing. Though he also noted the change in your speech as a strong southern accent slipped in every once in a while, even using the word y’all.

“Good to hear, Kit!” John said happily as y/n and William shared a small conversation talking about stock and sales in the recent weeks. Karl trailed behind the group as he watched y/n converse with the crowd, their face filled with a wide smile, even daring to talk with Crops as if he wasn’t a convicted cannibal. They seemed as kind as ever, as an addicting presence as they used to be when the two lived together in L’manberg.

“Hey Karl!” y/n practically beamed at him as he passed them on the wooden prime path as tommy affectionately called it. “Niki and I made this new bakery together wanna come check it out!” They singsonged already reaching to grab at Karl’s sleeve. They smelled like freshly baked bread, their face dusted with a soft blush from the exertion of baking.

“Yea, sure!” Karl granted them his hand letting y/n pull him in to waste an entire day tasting pastries and sweets. He went home that night with flour handprints on his back and a warm feeling in his chest.

“Great shot!” Karl was pulled out of his trance as he watched Michael whiff the target by a few feet. Shaking his head he studied each member shoot with varying success. Though what really caught his eye was an aim that only rivaled y/n’s own coming from who John had called Kit, the baker that smiled exactly as y/n had every time he whispered a bordering on senseless joke into their ear on party island. He struggled to solidify the name Kit in his head as he watched Kit stick out their tongue as they focused their aim and hit a perfect bullseye. Kit smiled to themselves before they followed the party to the tents surrounding a warm crackling fire.

“Hey, Kit, right? Sorry I’m just never very good with names.” Karl said as he settled down beside the sweet-smelling baker.

“Yep!” They chirped with a relaxed face as they studied the flicking fire as it reached up towards the open sky. “Need something?” They asked turning to Karl. Karl blushed at the eye contact not knowing why he started the conversation in the first place.

“No, no, no,,, uh nothing, I just wanted to say good shooting back there I guess.” He laughed to himself playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Thank you very much, kind stranger! Just a little hobby I picked up after they built that old shooting range. You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name back in my store?”

“It’s Karl.”

“Karrlllllllll” Kit drew out with a goofy face focusing on the l “Pretty name!” Karl felt stuck in time as the interaction mirrored one he had had with y/n.

“Kaaarrrrrrllllllll! Did I ever tell you your name is pretty?” Karl looked at y/n confused.

“No, but ,,,, I wouldn't quite call it that.” He blushed looking down at his feet.

“I would.” y/n nodded affirmatively “cause it’s Karl, not Carl, it’s pretty,,,,,, your pretty,, really.” y/n laughed at they looked up at the lazily passing clouds with a gentle smile plastered on their relaxed face.

Karl laughed away the small compliment after he looked back up into Kit’s e/c eyes as the group broke into talking about the coming showdown between the two sides.

“Kit, I think you should fight, Mason. You have the best shot out of us aside from me, of course.” Sherif Thompson spoke.

“That’s okay with me! Anything to stop those guys from ruining my pastries really.” Kit said as their interest was engulfed by the warmth from the fire once again. Karl felt fear dig its way into his chest as he looked at Kit’s side profile remembering the last time he had seen them like this.

“Karl go to your library, please. The grid can’t reach it” y/n called to Karl over the never-ending sounds of explosions and falling rubble. “I’ll be okay, I got my bow and my charisma.” y/n chuckled sadly.

“Come down with me! We can be safe together. This isn’t worth it, y/n!” Karl begged as he yelled over to their figure standing tall knowing they were on their last life, knowing that they were not going to go with Karl, knowing this could end in tragedy. Y/n turned with fresh tears trailing down their cheeks.

“This is my home, Karl.”

“I know.” Karl resigned to the fact that you weren’t gonna come with him. Weren’t gonna cower as L’manburg breathed its final breath full of smoke. “I love you.” He yelled as they gave a brave smile jumping down to join the fray. He had imprinted the side profile of their face as they stood solemn, lit by the cloudy sky and the flashes of explosions.

Suddenly it was high noon. Tension building in Karl’s chest as he called out the paces studying Kit walk away from Mason. The track record had been 2-0 he could only hope it would remain so positive.

Y/n had died from an arrow.

An arrow through the chest.

It had been thought to have been shot from Dream’s grid.

No one knew who did it. There was no way to know.

They bled out at the bottom of the crater,

alone,

As Karl huddled in the library,

Eyes shut tight.

Karl knew that in some twisted way, he might as well of fired that arrow himself.

FIRE!

They both fell to the ground, Mason dying upon impact due to the arrow directly piercing his heart. Kit wasn’t as lucky, the arrow had hit it’s target, but not quite a bullseye, the tip was lodged into their upper thigh.

“y/n!” Karl called out in a panic, the strange name not lost to the group around him. He rushed to Kit’s side as tears freely flowed down his face. “Does anyone have a potion?” Kit stared at him in confusion.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, not an artery or anything, just hurts.” they gave Karl a soft smile trying to reassure him of the small injury not being lethal.

“Yea, yea, sorry, I just.”

“y/n’s dead, Karl.” Quackity said as he walked into the secret room of the library that was hidden behind the bookshelf full of y/n’s favorite classics. Karl was frozen in fear as he studied Quackity’s face for any sign of this being some sick sadistic joke. He only found sorrow and loss.

“No, no, y/n, will be here any second! The fight is over, and they are okay, right? Right?” Karl begged Quackity as he felt his hands begin to shake, his breaths becoming ragged. Quackity sat down beside him letting Karl curl into his side. Karl hand’s gripped to his shirt as he sobbed. Quackity knew he couldn’t stop Karl’s pain, but he could comfort him through it.

“I guess, you just reminded me of an old friend.”

#karl jacobs x y/n #karl jacobs x reader #karl x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #mcyt insert #mcyt imagine #mcyt fanfiction

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mimiplaysgames · 3 years

Text

save it for the morning after (3/3)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua Rating: E (Explicit) for Smut Word Count: 7,850

Summary: Aqua learns the value of being vulnerable.Terra learns to trust his body to another. Everyone gets a happy ending. ;)

Read on AO3

A/N: AAAAHHHH Happy Terraqua Day!!!! I can’t believe I finally finished this one, it always felt like it would never happen. I’m actually quite nervous - I don’t take the same kind of path of other smut and being so deviant honestly freaks me out so much. I really do pull this story into extreme directions for smut, that I wonder if I can call it smut at all. But let’s see. Hope you like. <3

~*~*~*~*~

“Aqua.”

“Hm?”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

“Go ahead.”

“....”

“Are you okay?”

“The... um, your scars...”

“They’re not yours.”

“Aqua—”

“They aren’t.”

“Please.”

“...They’re not yours.”

~*~*~*~*~

Well, damn.

Ven hones in on Terra—a ballsy move considering it’s a super-bad idea to get this close to a large opponent—but Ven skids, spinning on his knees and tripping Terra like a pet running through its owner’s legs. Ven serves an uppercut with his short Keyblade. It almost jabs Terra on the ribs if not for his lurch backward, and he lands squarely on his ass against the desk behind him.

A pot of ink rattles and tips, spilling all over his pants and spreading up the spine of his shirt.

Ven snorts. “You look like you shit yourself.”

Terra wipes his backside, picking up excess ink in layers. It’s slick, skating through his fingers with the weight of iron and dripping onto the floor. More of it runs between his legs, finding a way in between cracks and folds of skin, moistening up his boxers. Damn it. He slathers his hand through Ven’s hair with so much force (Hey!) that Ven waddles to stay in balance.

“And you look like you’ve been picking through trash.”

Ink clumps chunks of blond hair together, drooling down Ven’s ears and staining his collar. It makes him look oily for lack of a better term, like someone who hasn’t taken a shower in weeks. When he touches his scalp out of reflex he flinches, wiping his coated fingers on his own shirt… before realizing what he’s doing. He groans.

“It suits you,” Terra says.

“I dunno.” Ven wipes the rest of it on Terra’s shirt. “Looks better on you.” Might as well. The shirt is honestly ruined.

One corner of the offending desk is covered in globs of shiny black. Terra corrects the ink bottle and surveys the damage. The tile floor will be easy to clean, but the wood is inhaling the color.

“Aqua’s going to kill us,” Ven mutters. “She spent a lot of time in this room.”

Weeks of time choosing which books to display on the shelves. Days researching the right chalkboard to purchase. Journeys spent gathering minerals for students to practice with: ash from a far away volcano, water from the forest river nearby, unearthed dirt from the garden, and feathers from nests settled at the peak of the tallest mountain. Aqua has a vision of this room playing the dual role of serving lectures and encouraging hands-on experimentation in a safe environment. She wants it to be respectable and impressive before the semester starts. They’re not allowed to traverse the room with shoes on, and Terra and Ven were respectable about that before one of them (Ven) started to get cocky about his fighting abilities.

Yeah, they fucked up. “Think of it this way. We proved it’s not practical for physical training,” Terra says.

“You’re the one who’s going to tell her that.” Ven scoffs, splaying a wet towel on the floor.

Terra pulls his suspenders over his head and lets them hang from his waistband. Pinching his stained muscle shirt off and bundling it up, he uses it as a rag to absorb the puddle on the table. What’s sinking into his socks is now warm. He ignores it.

“Do you think I could pull this off?” Ven asks as a by-the-way, twiddling a shy hand at the back of his greasy head.

“Black hair?”

“No, you’re right. It’s creepy.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Pfft, you also ‘didn’t’”—Ven bookends the word with finger quotations—“spar fairly.”

Terra considers throwing his damp shirt at Ven’s face. “I’m not at my prime yet.”

“That’s not it.” Ven flips the towel and swipes the remaining streaks with the cleaner side. “You’re holding back. You promised you wouldn’t do that anymore.”

“I’m not holding back.” He is. Just the image of raising his Keyblade against either of his friends is enough to make him nauseous, but he swallows it to be a good sport.

Giving it his all is something else entirely, a deeper, invasive illness.

“I know you can hit harder than that.” Ven dunks the towel in a pail of water, clouding it.

“I just have a lot in my mind and it’s hard to... relax, I guess.”

There’s a moment of pregnant quiet before Ven says pointedly, “I thought Aqua was helping you out with that.”

A moist squish slaps Ven on the nose.

“Now you’re being sensitive,” Ven says, pulling Terra’s shirt off his shoulder.

“You missed a spot,” says Terra, using his thumb to smear the stain across Ven’s cheek. For shits and giggles he continues upward, rubbing raccoon circles on Ven’s eyelids. “You really pull this off.”

“Do you annoy her this much?”

“She enjoys it.”

“Ugggh.” Ven throws Terra’s hands off of him, his chin tucked in so much that two layers of neck skin fold over. “Gross.”

Terra pauses. Gross wasn’t what he expected out of Ven’s mouth.

In fact, Terra hasn’t been sure of how Ven took the news the first time.

Oh, Ven had said when they told him Aqua was moving into Terra’s room. Okay. Cool. He shrugged as if he could have heard more exciting news, and left to take a short walk in the woods with Chirithy. The three of them never spoke about it again. Ven wouldn’t mention a word when he saw them dragging her dresser and vanity table, and seldom joined them if he heard them laughing together with the door closed.

Things are changing in minute strokes, in seconds that cluster for as long as Terra can recognize them, until they dissipate and become something not quite foreign but never quite familiar anymore, as though where he comes from is far from home and who he thinks he knows are almost-strangers.

“Have we ever made you uncomfortable?” Terra asks.

“What, no!” Ven waves his hand, feigning shock, staring at his shoes and everywhere else but Terra. “I mean, Aqua’s been Aqua since we got back, and you’re just weird sometimes, but—”

“Then why do you...” Terra sighs, choosing his words. “Avoid us when we’re together?”

“I don’t want to interrupt.”

An almost-lie. “I hope you don’t think we don’t want you around.”

“Noooo. Neither of you make me feel that way.”

“But you do.”

Ven lifts his shoulders higher than his ears and drops them with the same weight as throwing books on the floor. “It’s just… nothing’s the same.”

Nothing is, what with the quiet mornings since the Master is no longer here to prepare breakfast before the sun rises, or huff at anyone when they disturb his meditation. Now they’re preparing the castle for the largest student body of Keyblade wielders it’s seen in years, something Terra thought would be a good distraction for everyone.

But Ven’s right. Home doesn’t feel like home when the floors are re-tiled, and specific rooms are repainted, and the Master’s favorite lounge chair sits empty in the same spot in the library by the fireplace. Maybe for Ven, home is the turn right to knock on Terra’s door and the turn left to knock on Aqua’s.

“It’s weird.” Ven grimaces. “I didn’t mean it that way. I’m used to talking to you about things you promised to keep from Aqua—”

“I still wouldn’t tell her anything!”

“—and I’m used to it being the three of us.”

Terra pauses. “We’re still the three of us. We’re still best friends.”

“That’s not how it works, and you know it,” Ven says, smiling warmly. “You are one half of two. You share a language I can’t butt into.”

Terra kneels onto one knee, brushing oily hair out of Ven’s face. Aqua would have liked this look on him: less spiky. “Ven, you’re always going to be a part of our lives.”

“Stop worrying. What you have is not a bad thing. I think it’s kind of awesome. I wish you’d give it your all in a fight. I wanna see what you and her are capable of together, because it’d be huge.”

“I’m only trying to say that we don’t want you to feel like a third wheel. You’re more than welcome to knock on our door anytime—”

“Ah. No. No thanks.” He shoos Terra away.

“Why?”

“I don’t wanna see anything.” Ven squints.

Terra snorts. “You’re not going to see—”

“I don’t wanna hear about it either.”

“But—”

“Nope.” Ven covers his ears with his palms. “Nothing. No inside jokes. No pet names. Yuck. Keep that to yourself.”

Terra presses his lips together to zip up the snickering. “Okay, I won’t say anything.”

“Good. I don’t want any images in my head.” He wipes his hands like he’s done a good job explaining himself. “I should’ve expected it anyhow.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Ven says slowly. “I mean, the Master kinda knew.”

“He said something to you?” Terra asks with a shaky voice. He’s flipping through memories, when he and Aqua were very careful and very private, when they didn't touch each other in case there were witnesses near. He was so certain he’d suffer punishment if Eraqus ever found out. Lists of long essays about the dangers of being reckless with emotions every time Aqua made him laugh too much. Grueling physical regiments to knock discipline into his body every time he made bad decisions based on a tug between his legs.

“I didn’t understand it at the time,” Ven says, leaning back on his hands and tapping his heels on the floor. “We were all hanging out, and you and Aqua left, and then he got sad.

“When I asked him what was wrong, he told me you guys created a very bright Light together. A Light bonded is a Light stronger, he said.” Ven mimics the Master’s lilts in speech, using his finger to emphasize points. “But be aware, Ven. Such a blinding Light casts an equally blinding, deep Shadow. What a dangerous force that is.”

It’s a good imitation. The ache in Terra’s chest twists into his guts and warms him at the same time, like a loving hug that squeezes too hard.

“Honestly it made me think you and Aqua were doing something you weren’t supposed to.”

“Maybe we were.” Terra’s throat constricts, his voice gravelly and his shame nostalgic. “We thought the same sometimes.”

“Which isn’t fair. Why can normal people experience that but it’s such a big deal if Keybearers do it?”

Because when you elevate the person you admire to a standard you can’t match, it makes you do stupid things. Aqua had followed him world after world, expecting it would eventually lead to a fight. Too many Keyblades in a friendship does no one good.

To-may-to, to-mah-to. They did end up fighting, it just wasn’t his own Keyblade that inevitably hurt her. What a dangerous force that is.

“So the Master did not approve?” Terra asks.

“I wouldn’t say that.” Ven rubs his cheek in thought, forgetting all about the ink. “He said your combined Light looked beautiful and warm. And that you’d have many nights where it would be enough when it gets hard... Honestly, he only wished that you keep your head on your shoulders.”

Wishes asked for are wishes granted, the Master used to say, so long as you work for them. The years Terra had wished for this exact approval had only left him with space to forge false hope. Nothing major, nothing long-winded. Just a simple, impossible wish as they placed the flower wreath on his memorial and bid their goodbyes.

Finally, that wish is fulfilled. As Ven grants it to him, it’s hard to believe or accept, sitting on the floor of what used to be a ballroom, covered in drying ink.

“Thanks, Ven.” Tears cascade down his cheeks, pretending to be inconspicuous. He wipes them with his clean forearm but he can’t keep up. There’s one for every moment in the last twelve years when he wanted to apologize to the Master, leaving his eyes burning. “I’m sorry, I’ll stop soon.”

“S’okay.” Ven tucks his ankles under, giving Terra time to process. Ven knows when a topic is too sensitive. But he can also tell when enough time has passed for the raw cuts to seal, when everyone’s ready to laugh. It’s his special gift. Only after Terra slows down does Ven lean forward. “Did you know you make this ugly face when you cry? You’re a train wreck.”

Terra yanks Ven’s head under his arm (Oomph, grunts Ven), locking his elbow around the neck.

Ven beats on Terra’s biceps. “Let go of me.”

Terra summons his pauldron, elbow pad, and gauntlet—for good measure. He licks salt from his lips and smirks, clutching Ven more, sinking him into the pecs.

Ven coughs. “You smell horrible.”

“Nasty-horrible or heroic-horrible?”

“Do you make Aqua sniff your armpit? Let go of me.”

A poor mistake. Ven tumbles back when he’s let go, but he grabs Terra’s shirt before his head hits the floor. He punches it into Terra’s stomach so quickly that Terra isn’t allowed time to react or block, leaving a sprawled, black bruise over his abs.

“Put a shirt on,” Ven says when Terra can’t rub it off. “Freak.”

~*~*~*~

Their bedroom door is ajar. Terra hears the shuffling of feet. He quiets his arrival, crumpling his messed-up shirt in a fist, and leans on the door frame to watch her. Aqua pulls a book out of a stack deftly with one hand, the other carrying a cheese pastry. She swallows a final bite, licking her fingers (something she’d never do in front of anybody else but him), and meditates on the chew before sitting at her desk.

He likes her best like this: half-dressed, without her usual corset and sashes, down to nothing else except her shirt and shorts, simple and free.

Her longest scar creeps out of her backless shirt. A snake, a reminder of the damage Keyblades are capable of: they never heal and barely fade. This is why wielders shouldn’t raise them against people.

Gluing her attention to an open book, Aqua reaches over for more cheese pastry, but her hand meets a plate of crumbs. When she realizes, she snaps up, alert as if she’s been robbed, glancing over her shoulder for signs of movement. This is also something she would not appreciate anyone else seeing, how she’s afraid of being alone, how she’s paranoid that she’s actually not.

Terra steps in and taps her shoulder before she could ask him what happened to the pastry. “That looked delicious.”

She blinks, slowly absorbing his words; she doesn’t feel well today, nothing to be ashamed of. Terra says nothing else. This way, he doesn’t bring more attention to the fact. He won’t touch her so she doesn’t feel coddled (despite how much he wants to). He won’t crack a dumb joke when there’s better moments for them. This way, she keeps her dignity.

When Aqua sees the smears and handprints on him, her eyes finally find reality. “What happened to you?” She stands up and swipes the stain on his chest. It’s dry but not enough, leaving a mark of gray on her fingers.

“An accident.” Terra clears his throat, trying to seem unbothered. Just another day in the castle. Everyone gets covered in ink, what’s the big deal?

If she hears the hesitation in his voice (and she should, she knows him too well), she doesn’t care, marching to their bathroom. The sink turns on.

“What kind of an accident?” she calls. The water flow is disturbed. She’s washing her own hands first.

“Eh, we spilled some ink,” Terra says, praying to the stars she won’t interrogate further. He tosses his ruined shirt into a wastebasket and opens the first dresser drawer for another. Gone are the days when Terra used to stuff his clothes into a heap; Aqua likes to fold every single article, his on one side and hers on the other.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s fixable, I promise.” At least he hopes there’s some magic spell in some book somewhere that could lift ink out of cracks of wood.

He goes down one drawer for pants and it’s the same story.

Down to the middle for socks and underwear, each tightly rolled. Tucked into the back of this one are two newly purchased books, their hardcovers wrapped in plain paper so that anyone peeking in couldn’t read the titles. Edited with illustrations of anatomy, they are lectures of techniques on what to try with your partner. Where to place your hands, how to play with your fingers and tongues, how to listen, when to take it slow and when to take it fast...

“Here,” Aqua says from behind him. She has a wet rag. It’s warm as she gently rubs it into his skin, across the spread of his chest. Her other hand is splayed on his hip.

Just the thought of those books now, of slipping her out of that shirt, the stains on his stomach be damned—

“Am I going to get mad at you?”

Be damned. Terra smirks in a way to invite her to join along with him. “At both of us. But... You never stay too angry for too long so… Why worry about it?”

She pauses. “What are you rambling about?”

“Nothing.” He glances away. “It happened in the new classroom.”

She digs the rag into the groove above the diaphragm as if contemplating his vivisection. A stream of water drips over his belly button, into the hem of his pants, down the dips of his pelvis, between his inner thighs. Let her get mad. Be damned.

“How bad is it?” Her voice is hard.

He caresses the small of her back, which is right now tense and stretched as she makes herself seem taller, like she’s about to take him on. “You’re smart. You’ll figure something out.” She opens her mouth to say something and he kisses the bottom lip. “I’ll do the dishes for three months. That’s enough atonement, right?”

Aqua clenches her teeth into a false smile, nails now leaving divots on his skin. “And the cooking.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And the gardening.”

“Now you’re pushing it.”

She continues to clean him, this time rubbing harder. It leaves his skin lightly raw. “You’re not in any position to bargain.”

“Do you expect me to beg?”

“Then beg.”

Terra would be lying if he says he doesn’t find this side of her hot. She’s a splash of freshwater that would bring him back from the brink. The woman standing in front of him chooses to clean him despite the shower being paces away. She’s the same girl who would plant an extra candle on his birthday cakes, for the year to come. To her, maybe it meant little or nothing. Stars, she’s beautiful, and he doesn’t say it enough.

“You’re doing better,” she says, leveling her voice, nodding to herself as if checking her information. That’s Aqua. Putting aside her annoyance for the sake of making sure he’s taken care of. “You’re not flinching as much.”

Maybe. Her touch is absolutely making the hairs on his neck stand. It is absolutely driving his dick insane. “You know, Ven’s okay with us.”

She stops. “He said something?”

“Kind of. He doesn’t want to know or see or hear anything.”

Her eyes go wide. “Excuse me?”

“He never said he actually heard anything.” He kisses her temple and lets it linger there, taking the opportunity to inhale her smell. Even when she sweats and spars for hours, there’s still a sweetness. Terra laughs into her hair. “He doesn’t want to know nicknames, either.”

Aqua flashes him a look.

“Now we have to,” says Terra. “We don’t have a choice.”

“What should we use?” Aqua moves to his abs, fighting an amused smile that’s twisting its way to her lips.

“Terr-able.”

“That one is awful. I think Terr-bear fits you better.”

“So you admit I’m big, strong, and scary?”

“I admit you’re adorable sometimes.”

Terra purses his lips. “What about you?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Aquamarine.”

“How about Aquafina?”

“That’s worse.”

“Babe?”

“Absolutely not.”

“We could call him Ven-tilation.”

“Stop.”

He follows his instinct to lower his head so when she laughs with him, their lips meet. They kiss everyday, but the first taste of the hour is always the one to discharge his breath, like he’s been underwater and she’s giving him the chance to surface.

“You’re going to get me dirty,” she says, giggling into his mouth.

He moves to her neck. “A little mess doesn’t hurt anybody.”

It’s when he brushes his fingers across her back, skating over the scar, coiled like rose thorns, that he hitches. Across from them is her vanity mirror. The scar is still red despite its age of twelve years. He’s so stupid.

“This again?” she whispers. She’s not upset but disappointed, though in him or in herself, he can’t tell. Moments like these are weird, when he can’t read what she’s thinking. Working on the straps on his left arm, she pulls off his gauntlet, finger by finger.

“I wish you would tell me,” he whispers back, as if having the conversation at a normal volume would shake them up.

She turns his bracer to make its removal easier. “I already did.”

“I wish you would be honest with me.” He leans his chin on her head, feeling her fingers slide down his arm.

“I am.” She flicks a knob and slips off the couter from his elbow. “You want me to tell you it was you who did this to me,” she continues, unbuckling the pauldron on his shoulder. “But it wasn’t.”

“I know better.”

“It was done with my hands.”

To that she says nothing, rubbing the rag down his exposed left bicep. Ink had run under the armor. Darkness seeps in even with protection.

She sighs. “Promise me you won’t obsess over it.”

He really shouldn’t but… he nods.

Aqua hesitates anyway. Taking him by the wrist, she presses his right hand on the rib under her left breast. “This one was his.” She warns with her eyes. “Not yours.”

Terra can’t feel anything through her shirt. He slips it under, running the pads of his fingers across the bumps and ridges. This one was his, this one with the gnarly tear right through the middle of the scar tissue, a ravine rupturing open. This one would have been done by that nameless silver Keyblade, with its sharp, ornate frills and that giant hook at the tip of it. It would have caught her skin as it tried to disconnect her body from her heart. And Terra? He’s had so much to lose and nothing to give back.

Terra holds his Aqua close as he continues to read the scar, how deep the hook sunk in, how she must have dodged back and broke that connection.

“Did it hurt?” he asks.

She sighs like she finds something amusing. Or trying to. She shudders, closing what little is left of the gaps between their bodies. “The Realm of Darkness numbs everything. I don’t think I felt it much.”

The view from their window looks over blossoming fields under mist, what’s left of snow capping just the mountaintops, everything else green. She’s lucky. So is he, ridiculously enough.

“I should have done more to stop it,” he says.

“You can’t continue to say things like that.” She swallows and stares at the wall. “What about the person I’ve become? I wouldn’t be here, standing in this room, now. It changed me. The Realm of Darkness did things to me that I’ll never be able to claim back. I will never be able to remedy it. I never wanted it, but I don’t know if I deserved it.”

“You didn’t.”

“I couldn’t make mistakes, in case I got hurt. I couldn’t be vulnerable. I had to be brave.”

“You already are.”

“And now I’m like stone.”

Terra presses his forehead to hers. “No, you’re not like stone at all.”

Aqua buries her face into his shoulder, anchoring herself to his waist. It’s so unlike her, to be unable to look him directly in the eyes. Whatever she has to say scares her. “You’re here, and I’m here. I give you my scars and you give me yours and… I don’t know if I would trade that for something else. For something that looks better on the outside. Every moment we shared since you woke up, how could I want to erase them? I need you, Terra. I have to chip away somehow. I’m braver now, to hold you like this.”

She says it like she has her chest cavity open, heart beating to open air.

She’s brave for not crying.

She’s brave for telling him what she can’t say right now. I’m braver now, to hold you like this. (I love you.)

He lifts her chin to kiss her. (I loved you first.)

She drops the rag to hold his face.

Before, their kisses were desperate, thirsty and famished, hoping to be found. Now, they’re deliberate, wandering but not lost. She tastes like sugar and flesh, her tongue inside with his, slow and careful. Their needs have more definition this time: please, and more, and yes, again.

Terra indulges in the impulse to press her onto him. She should feel how greedy he is, her chest arched against his. She’s soft and he’s in love.

“Where is Ven?” she says, breathless.

“Probably showering,” he mumbles.

She waves her hand and the door slams shut.

“I said probably,” Terra murmurs, but his mind turns off when she kisses him again. Who cares what Ven hears?

Aqua treads slower. She tempts Terra’s tongue to seek her out, puckering her lips around it and giving it a small tug.

“Touch me, please,” he begs.

The sound of his pants unbuttoning makes his heart hammer, his entire groin anticipating for what’s next. When, when, when. Terra closes his eyes. Her hand glides down, palm first, his breath snagging when she wraps her fingers around his erection. His pants are at his ankles, Aqua is on her knees, and she presses a kiss right under the tip, where it’s most sensitive, before licking the entire length. Terra buckles. He catches the dresser behind him to keep standing.

“Shhh,” she breathes onto him. It shoots a spark from his stomach to his scalp.

Terra braces his teeth with his finger to shut himself up. He watches her work. She takes him in bite-size pieces, snail-tracking with her tongue before her lips close in on him. Fuck. She sucks while she pulls. Fuck. To see her like this, Master Aqua with poise, with grace, with affection and care—with him in her mouth. The hand wrapped around him squeezes tighter, and the other comes up to meet him at the testicles.

He stifles another moan, staring at the ripples of the drywall, listening to the feathered tap of spring rain on the window and the noise she’s making. His erection twitches against the roof of her mouth, and he has to restrain himself from thrusting into her. Maybe he can let go and let be, finally throw himself off the cliff, ride the thrill all the way. Give it his all.

But he can’t. The moment gooseflesh spreads across his inner thighs, the moment he feels full, is the start. The floor will rip out from under him, the lights will go off, he will fall, he will lose all his fingers, he won’t remember anything, he’ll be the monster who makes her cry.

“I can’t,” he hisses, pushing her off. “I can’t.” He lurches over his knees, his insides twisting at the sudden cutoff, aching as it throbs and shrivels. He was so close. They were just laughing a few minutes ago. Stupid body, stupid mind. “Damn it,” he groans, pounding the dresser.

“Hey, you’re okay,” she says softly, holding him by the elbow. “You’re safe at home.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” He digs his eyes into his palm, his body faraway like it’s a glass vial with his soul dumped inside. “Help me.”

Without letting him go, Aqua braces him with something cold—the rag, now on his lower back. It slaps him back to the bedroom, his beige carpet, the mist outside clearing out to a view of a forest that separates the castle from the mountains.

She greets him with a smile. “You really did something to yourself,” she says, cleaning him like it’s a lazy weekend day and there’s a list of chores.

Terra straightens up, shivers riding all the way up to his shoulders. “It’s so frustrating.”

“Don’t worry, Terra,” she says, softer and lower. “There’s no need to rush. I’ll wait.”

“But I’m tired of feeling caged up and stuck. I just want some semblance of control.”

Aqua kisses him on the shoulder to shoo away the haunting for a few seconds. “I’m here, anytime you need me. Would you like me to run you a bath?”

“No.” The rag is likely caked with ink, but its iciness is unlike the chill of clammy sweat a few seconds old. Every frigid touch is a reminder that he’s alive. “This is nice.”

Aqua runs the rag up his spine. “You know what I think? If we’re going to call each other pet names in front of Ven, we should have guests over.”

Terra snorts. “That’s evil.”

“He won’t be able to bark at us in front of other people.”

“I think I’m a bad influence on you.”

“I think you’re right.”

Terra sighs at her touch, cold at his neck, at his hairline. Like a light at the front porch in the dead of night, like hot tea on a sick day, she is what it feels like to come home.

She tells him, “Lean your head back a little,” and he obliges, letting her reach behind his ears. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips swollen, her hair frizzy, eyes blue and focused as she takes care of him.

“I can still kiss you, right?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Tilting his chin down, he does. He braids his fingers into hers; from the rag they’re like icicles, and he brings them to his heart.

They’re barely millimeters apart, but he’s still in that cage. If only he could be touched the way he needs. If only the lock trapping him inside the cage is brittle and easy to crumble. What if he tries to test it? What if he finds there is nothing at all? Stupid mind. What if there are several, each of them needing unique keys when he has none, no hope of ever knowing what real freedom is? Stupid body.

Should he pretend? Should he try over and over, to slam his head against the bars each time? Should he submit, should he accept he will never have what he wants?

Life has made him uneager to trust. But her lips have a deliciousness unmatched by anything he’s ever tasted, and he’s still a silly, stupid man.

“Let me try again,�� he says, breathing deeply. “I want to make you feel good.”

She’s surprised. “Only if you’re comfortable.”

“It will make me feel better.”

“...Okay,” she says so modestly. Terra never figured out how to knock it into her head that he wants to give her everything, that he is so, so guilty.

He invites her into an embrace, growing desperate the more he detaches his mind. Her body, the curve from her waist to her hips. The brush of her body against his reminds him that while he is naked, she is not. He picks her up by the thighs. Lost in the momentum of deep kisses, he carries her to bed, straddling her on his lap.

She hums. “The… the sheets.”

Dry, messy layers of ink still track down his legs. He groans into her mouth. She’s grinding him, and while he really likes that, it makes it incredibly difficult to take her clothes off, one hand rising the hem of her shirt and the other deep under her shorts, cupping her ass.

“Whatever, we can wash them later,” she says, lifting her arms up.

Her bare breasts—stars, this is what it feels like to come home.

“Kiss me,” she says, and he replies, nibbling down her neck, coming down to her breasts, where his lips and his tongue and his murmurs take in her nipples as they perk. Aqua stays quiet, leaning onto his shoulders.

There’s something about her amazing body, the silk of skin draped over defined muscle, treasure and tenderness in his hands, that he’s needy for. Every time he tries to define what that means, his mind ceases to function.

Xehanort tried to take it all away from him. If he lived, Terra would crush every tooth bloody. Damn him.

How dare Xehanort do this to him, lock him in this cage, keep him away from her? Damn him.

Why is he thinking about Xehanort?

“Are you okay?”

Terra is frozen, the nub of a nipple suctioned in his mouth. Oh, for fuck’s sake.

He lets her breast go with a pop. “I’m redirecting.” Leading her to the mattress, Terra lowers himself into her arms, but he’s halted by a light kiss and a hold of his face.

“Do you need me to check in on you?” she asks.

“No.” He smiles, kissing her with all the hope that she psychically understands his body is about to burst open, if only from the lack of space for the appreciation he keeps nurturing for her. “Thank you, but I’m okay.”

She nods, stroking his cheeks with her thumbs. “You take your time.”

Oh, he will. No more interruptions. Focus on the smell of her skin, on the collarbone at the base of her neck. Right here, it makes her bite her lip. On the hollow between her breasts, the sound of her breath getting heavy. On the slight movement of her legs as she instinctively responds, spreading them, hooking around his. The buoyancy of her breasts in his mouth. The way she arches to push them against his face.

Under that left breast is the scar, tightly knitted.

The purpose for living is for memories, not reminders. Do not linger. Do not think about the cage. Terra lightly kisses it and continues downward.

Terra’s fingers glide down, a caress at the hips, a squeeze of her ass, running a mile of goosebumps as he bunches her shorts and panties and pulls them off. Her skin is streaked with fingerprints of gray, at most of the places he’s been. Aqua shivers as his lips brush the sides of her waist, as he traces his tongue and inhales the dips of her pelvis, as he loops his arms under her thighs, as he kisses her between the legs. She gasps. He licks from bottom to top, sucking on the clitoris once, then starts over.

Footsteps walk by outside their bedroom door.

Aqua jerks up. “Terra,” she whispers, warning him.

“Hm?” Stars, what now? “Here.” He grabs the comforter and throws it over her head. She chuckles as she wraps both of them in hiding. “Relax,” he whispers back. “He’s not going to hear anything.” Not that Ven opts to stay; his footsteps are already fading away.

He goes back to work, and hears her sigh—it’s loud enough to make him look up but too hushed to escape the sheets. Bottom to top. Again. Again. She cloaks the sound of her moans with the comforter plastered on her face.

It’s her taste. It’s the softness and suppleness of the skin between her legs. The way she fastens her knees over his shoulders, how wet she is. Her reaction. When he tongues the inside of her slit, she jerks, chewing her lip hard enough to make it white. Master Aqua, with poise and grace, for her there’s only love and the way his tongue curls up.

Her fist crumples the sheet—it holds her own breast, caresses her stomach down to rake through his hair and hold him there.

“Don’t stop,” she breathes.

Stars, that did it. He’s hard again. He drapes his arms over her pelvis, using his fingers to open her up so he has more access to her clit. She bucks, and he holds her down.

Her entire body trembles: the first sign that she’s running off her own edge.

Terra strokes her, the outside lips, the tease inside, the puckering motions. She’s a sweet, musky taste he can’t compare to anything else.

Aqua throws herself back on the pillow. Her thighs crush his head, and she clamps her hand on her mouth like a topper. Her mewl shudders and stops, it heaves, it mumbles. The wave rises then crashes, and she finishes with a long sigh, a release, a settlement, a tempered peace.

It feels so good to listen to her. Terra rests his head on her hip and brings a hand to his erection. A little bit of freedom paid with a little bit of control.

“I’m ready,” he says. “I need you.”

She hums in contentment, fixing the comforter so they’re completely covered and opening her arms to him. “Come here.”

Terra crawls over her, bracketing her body like he’s a fort, tethering her fingers to his and cradling her head in a protective halo with his arms. Aqua has to spread her legs wide to take on his thick waist, and she breaks her kisses with whimpers when he enters—she’s always more sensitive after he goes down on her.

She’s warm and tight, oh stars. Massaging him as he moves inside her. Their bodies compress into each other, hers curled up to mold against the way he rocks his hips, as though the subtle air between would have split them up too far, as though he can melt into her when he pushes, their hearts only separated by muscle and bone. He plants a messy kiss on her cheek, exhaling and inhaling in rhythms opposite of hers, her breath loud against his ear, tickling his neck.

Here it comes again, the oncoming of the precipice where he has to step off.

Fuck.

He can’t do it.

At the sprint towards the edge of the cliff, he skids and scrambles to hang by the rockface. Terra grunts, all his muscles seizing up as he holds his breath.

Aqua strokes his hair. “Do you want to stop?”

Of course not. “Give me a minute.”

“Remember, you’re safe.”

Terra nearly chokes. “I’m scared of losing control.”

“You won’t. You’re in control.”

In control. The intent to wring his fingers through the bars, a sleight of hand to balance the padlock like it’s on strings, turning it over and pulling it out of the latch. But Terra is no escape artist.

Terra licks his lips. He’s not in danger. He should trust she’ll catch him when he falls. In her arms, there’s no safer place to be. He has to remember this. Shut that mind up.

“I want to continue.”

She rubs his back. It’s soothing. “Tell me what you need.”

Terra smirks. “To get back in the mood.” He takes one deep kiss. “Entice me.”

Her insides squeeze him and he trembles. “How is that?” she asks.

“Do it again.”

She wraps her ankles over his back and squeezes. He hums into her shoulder.

“Again.”

This time, she takes back her kiss.

“Don’t let me go,” he says, and she hugs him tightly.

He starts slow. Terra leans on his elbows, bunching the comforter in his fist so it stays in place. She looks at him with half-lidded eyes, a healthy red blush, her mouth gently open, cast in the filtered glow of a secret, sweaty cocoon. This body he’s thrusting into, the lips he’s kissing, may the stars bless her.

“Aqua.”

“You feel so good.”

She stole the words right out of his mouth, squeezing his hips again.

“Oh,” he moans. It provokes him to thrust harder, deeper, feel her, feel her breasts bouncing under him, feel her moans coming from her throat, the desperation in the way she squirms with her hands. She massages his slick back, her nails digging in.

There.

Let him throw himself off. Give it his all.

“Don’t let me go,” he repeats.

“I won’t.”

He throws himself off. It’s not the wind thrashing him all the way down. Instead it’s fire, a combustion of flames in his muscles as his entire body submits to its force, leaving his knees weak. A flash of white that blurs everything he sees, a hurricane that knocks his mind into a stupor, a delicious burn that slicks over his body, trickling embers on top of sweat, hot and cool, good and better, good and fucking good. Terra shoves his face into her shoulder to muffle the sounds of groans escaping him, shuddering as the climax picks up again, a body alight in an ignition that throws him out of any awareness.

His eyes prick when he finally remembers where he is. Aqua is safeguarding him with a strong hold, keeping him in place with her. He sighs. The cinders that continue to radiate heat leave him with a hearth to wrap himself into, a happiness that he never thought he would ever feel again.

Aqua sniffs. She wipes tears onto his shoulder.

“We really should stop crying at these things,” he says.

She snorts, refusing to let her grip on him slack. “You did amazing. How are you feeling?”

“I’m…” he mumbles. Stars, wow. His arms can’t pick him up anymore but it’s a gratifying cloud to ride. He shifts his legs, alleviating the weight of his body. “A little weak.”

She runs a hand on the back of his head, coaxing him to rest on her chest. “When did you know?” she asks, brushing hair off his damp forehead. “That you wanted to kiss me? You must have spent some time thinking about it before it happened.”

Terra smiles into her chest. Somehow, they’ve never talked about it. “Long after I knew I was going to marry you.”

He feels her laugh. “Is that so? I’m going to marry you?”

“You will.” He looks up at her grinning face. “I can see the future.”

She scoffs. “You can see my eyes rolling at you.”

“I knew before you did.”

“Prove it.”

“I was seven.”

“You’re older than me, that doesn’t count.”

“You asked me to have a tea party with you, but the one thing that bothered you most”—he brings up his hand, pinky out—“was that I wasn’t drinking my tea right.” He mimics the high pitch of a little girl’s voice. “Pinky out. Pinky out, Terra, don’t be a slob.”

She gapes. “I don’t remember any of that.”

With renewed will, he props himself up, leaning close so their noses touch. “I knew then. That early on.”

“Since when is this a competition?”

“Still the first to know.”

Aqua interrupts what she’s about to say, like she’s about to step into cold water. She’s having an epiphany. Vulnerable again, like she’s allowing him to cut her right down the middle.

“I love you.”

She says it like the touch of a high note on a piano, a beautiful accident.

He leans closer, lips to lips, whispering, “I still got there first.”

She laughs into him. “I suppose, but I was the first to say it.”

“Then I’ll be the second,” Terra says. Like coming home, a shelter to withstand the downpour, that births life to the roots, that thunders, that opens for a clear day, he brushes her hair out of her eyes. “I love you.”

“Too,” she corrects. “You love me, too.”

A knock on their door jolts them, like a hard punch to the stomach.

“Okay, Terra,” Ven says from the other side. “I thought about it and I’m trying out this knocking thing.”

Wrong timing. Wrong timing.

“I’m going to kill him,” Terra hisses, and against Aqua’s hushed chuckles, he throws the comforter off their bodies and announces, “Ven, we’re naked.”

The silence that comes after is as loud as the crash of a chandelier. Terra can feel Ven recoil, a tea pot at the verge of whistling. “I didn’t need to know that!” Terra is about to reply but Ven groans dramatically. “I AM NEVER GOING TO KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR AGAIN.”

Ven stomps away, and if the door was actually open, he’d slam it.

Terra sits on his knees, pinching his nose. It’s hot in this room. He feels clogged again, back at the edge of the cliff. He wants to strangle Ven for dragging the moment away from him. “Great, I pissed him off.”

“Poor Ven.” When she sits up, Terra pulls her to him, sitting her on one of his thighs. “I can’t predict if he’ll ever get over that,” she says, balancing herself by hooking her arms around his neck.

Terra presses his lips to her ear, whispering, “But I did predict that you wouldn’t stay mad at me for long.”

She slaps his bicep. “I haven’t seen what you’ve done yet. Don’t be so proud of yourself.”

“But I am.”

“You’re still a slob.”

Slobby as he is, Aqua hugs him dearly. Hold her, you never know when the dream will end. You never know when the cage takes you back.

“I don’t know if,” Terra says, “it will be difficult for me next time.”

“Then it may be difficult,” Aqua says, kissing his forehead. “But it will be okay.”

Hold her. Not passively. Not half-minded. Hold her tightly. Hold her in the quiet, undisturbed, uninterrupted.

A drop of hot liquid spills from between her legs and drips down his thigh, almost burning. When Terra looks down to see that it’s white, Aqua jumps.

“Oh,” she squeaks.

“Oh. That would be me.”

She squeals, hiding her blush. “I’m going to wash up.”

“Such a slob.”

Aqua giggles, looking him in the eye when she rubs his chest. “Come with me?”

“Go ahead.” He kisses her. “I’ll catch up.”

If anyone told him twelve years ago that hope feels like a long day full of small conversations, the anticipation of cleaning a messy room, Terra would have considered that cynical. A sarcastic joke, the loss of the will to dream.

Twelve years later, it’s the sound of the shower running that teaches him to look forward to the next day, when he wakes up next to her, when he prepares dinner with her, when he kisses her in the middle of the night and play all over again. Peace is a long-distance acquaintance, a pen pal that urges you to look at your day like a spectacle.

Terra leans back to twist the latch of the window open, letting the spring haze billow in. Much better, the room is cooler now. The sky is bluer somehow, the mountains as grand as a painting.

#terraqua #terra #aqua #terraqua day #ventus #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #smut #lemon #AHHHHHHHHH #it's finally here #i am so fucking nervous #my fic

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xsugarysweetsx · 4 years

Note

Could you do a Leopold x reader? Where Leo wants to ask the reader out but is like “how tf am I expose to do this” so he asks Fuegoleon, and he has no clue. And then Fuego asks Mereoleona and she’s like “BATTLE HER TO THE DEATH”. Ad Leo’s like no. But then Leo asked Mimosa, and she was like OMG THATS SO CUTE. And basically bombards the reader about if she likes anybody or anything (they’re best friends). And so one day Leo was freaking, but the reader was like, “Hey Leo, wanna go on a date?”.

Awwwhh this sound adorable! Thank you for requesting! And thank you for being patient!❤️ Almsot to the end!

How he would battle you to the death

Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. P E R F E C T!

That was all that went through his mind when he looked at you. You were a new reicut to the Lions and you could say it was a crush at first sight. You were merely a commoner but he could see so much last that.

Not only were you strong but you were very skilled and always were a few steps ahead of your oponant. When he spared with you and managed to literally her sweeper off his feet, he knew he was screwed. He had a crush.

You were never cocky about how strong you were and never put yourself on a pedestal. You were also very kind and soft hearted towards other people. He couldn’t be the only one who wanted to call you his. He’s seen the way other boys and even older men looked at you. He hates it.

He wanted to ask you out. Take you on a nice date and treat you kindly. He would do it all, he really would! The problem was, he had no idea how....he felt a bit embarrassed in all honesty. He wanted to be able to seeep her off her feet without scaring her. It came so naturally to other boys his age so why not him?

He did spend a large amount of time training, so that could be one. But he had almost no idea! He needed help in this department.

Since he had no experience with any of this so he went to the next person. The most knowledgeable person he knew and trusted. His brother. He knocked on his door and when it opened he said

“how do I talk to women!” Fuegoleon was confused to say the least. He brought him inside and he let him ramble on about his troubles. He paced back and fourth through the room as he spoke

“And she’s just so amazing and you know that! But I don’t want to scare her away! You know more than anyone so I want to hear what you have to say!” He said sitting down in a chair

“Well Leo, I’m an honest man and I’ve always tried to lead you down the right path” he got excited to hear his brother’s speech “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“What?! But you know everything!” Well there goes his chance. His world was crumbling around him, if Fuegoleon couldn’t help, then what will?

“Well why don’t you ask another woman about this? Get a better insight in the topic” he suggested. In an instant he went to the next person he would ask

His lovely sister Meroleona

—————-

“So, my youngest brother is finally becoming a man huh?” She smirked down at him as she ruffled his hair

“Um sort of, but I don’t know how to even ask her out” he pouted. She stepped back and gave him that look when she’s about to go into battle

“BATTLE HER TO THE DEATH! IF SHE COMES OUT ON TOP SHE IS WORTHY OF YOU AND IF SHE DOES NOT, YOU MUST MOVE ON!” She yelled out in the most confident tone there could be. Leo thought you himself

Maybe this is why she doesn’t have any suitors

“Yeah, No” he spat bluntly “I want to show her why I’m worthy of her” she sighed. There were very few times where she was soft but she saw how much he was thinking about this. She went over and ruffled his hair as she usually does when giving him advice

“Well she sounds special to you...why don’t you go ask Mimosa about this? She has a..uh..softer approach on this” and she simply walked away. Guess not even her family will see much of a soft side to her.

————

But the suggestion was a good idea! He got the her household the fastest he possible could and banged on her door. She answered with a confused look as to why he was banging like that

“Hi Leopold what can I-“ he cuts her off

“I like Y/N!” She smiles at him and chuckled

“Well, took you long enough to realize your feelings” she giggled. His crush wasn’t exactly descreet when he’s basically glaring holes into her head, but in a good way. She let him in and took him into the living area

He explained his situation to her and she knew exactly where to start.

“Alright first of all, what would you like to do with her?” She asked

A finger coming to scratch his head as he thought “Mmmm, I wanna go on adventures with her and spar with her!” He said as his eyes twinkled

“Okay um..what’s your favorite thing about her?”

“How tough she is! But I think she’s really beautiful as well” he said with a blush

As soon as the word left his mouth a cocky laugh filled the room

“Impossible. There is nothing nor, no one as beautiful as I” said her brother, and for some reason petals were floating around him as he spoke

“No, she’s way misread beautiful than you are” Leo responded casually. Her brother looked physically hurt when Leo said that.

“Can you please go back to making out with your mirror?” She said passive aggressively, and yet still held a smile. He hmph and walked away as his hands laid upon his face.

“Well Leopold why don’t you try something your way instead of other people?” She wondered

“Because I suck at this and I want to be perfect for her” she rested his head in his hands as his eyebrows knit together. She felt bad, she could tell he cared for you very much but was struggling. Then an idea popped into her head. She rushed over and whispered it in his ear.

His eyes lit up like fires, the plan was perfect. He ran out of the house to prepare for tomorrow. This took all night for him to practice what to do and what to say.

The next day he has picked some wildflowers and had them nicley wrapped. He made sure his clothes were neat and clean and walked with pride. He found you casually taking your morning walk, enjoying the breeze. Since no one was around this was a perfect time!

He hid the flowers under his cape and out of sight. He cleared his throat to get your attention

You turn and smile “Hey Leo! Well don’t you look all proper today” you joked he laughed and approached you.

“Is it a bad thing?” He said as starts to walk with you feeling his heart flutter, and face heat up.

“No, you look good, a lot like your brother actually” he hummed and took the bold step

“Hey I need to talk to you” this mase you stop walking and give him your attention. “So listen I-um wanted to tell you some things...that have been on my mind I uh...” he took a deep breath

“S-so do you like anyone..hehe?” Strange question and you answered anyway

“Mmmm you could say I do have my eyes on someone” he didn’t know what to say and choked up on his own words

“I-I um I do-um what’s the ummm..”

Great he was freezing up and he was feeling exptremly hot for some reason. Now was when he was conscious of the decision he was making

“Um..Leopold...you’re on fire...”

Wait...

He looked to the side and saw the roses he got you had been set aflame. He started panicking and running airing trying to find some type of water. He finally ran far enough and found a small pool of water and jumped in. The fire going out and he was unharmed.

You went over to him

“Are you okay? How did that even...” you eyes trail down to his hand and see the flowers. He stood up and sighed, feeling defeated and apologized for everything.

“It’s funny isn’t it? A royal who’s magic is fire and I caught fire..hehe” he laughed weekly. You started to giggle and couldn’t contain your laugher. He felt a bit embarrassed

“Hey Leo?” You ask getting a little closer

“Yes?”

He felt a light touch in his cheek. You had given him a peck and said

“Wanna go on a date?”

“YES!”

You all thought Meroleona was loud this kid yelled yes so loud Solid dropped his wine over himself. He came the next day to complain to Fuegoleon.

Well this was cute and fun to write I hope you enjoyed and thank you for your patience!❤️

#leopold vermillion #black clover x reader #black clover leopold #leopold vermillion x reader #fanfiction #anime #anime x reader #black clover anime #black clover

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yodawgiherd · 4 years

Text

Rome pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M

Setting: Historical Rome

Second part of the Rome AU =) Stay cool.

The sun was hot, but Eren was used to that. Under the protection of the villa’s roof, the heat was not even that bad, other things irritated him way more. If he were to name one that pissed him off the most at this very moment, it was sitting right next to him. His father, Grisha, half-drunk as usual, yammering on.

“As I was saying,”, he continued whatever train of thought went on in his head, “If they increase the taxes again, I’d have to sell some of my farms.”

Money, yes. That was the one thing that concerned him. At least Eren was not the target of his father’s speech this time, it was old man Reiss, sitting across the table and somehow paying attention.

“We should put some pressure on the senate,”, Reiss said, “They can’t keep pushing at us forever.”

His father nodded at that.

“Power to the people! That’s right! We should…”

Turning off his brain, Eren filtered out his father’s voice, a skill he was proficient in, eyes searching for the last occupant of the table. The blonde girl, Reiss’s daughter and heir, Historia. One of his closest friends, and by the will of both their fathers, his future wife. No, he did not have a say in this, and neither did she.

Kicking her lightly under the table, he made her look up, doing a grimace afterwards to express just how boring the money-talk was. She hid her smile under her palm and kicked him back, much stronger. Eren couldn’t stop himself from grinning. Historia was great, really fun and everything, but there was a little problem neither his nor her father knew that would complicate their upcoming marriage. Eren himself discovered it by accident and had sworn not to tell anyone. As they still had time before being seriously pressed into tying the knot, they decided to just wait it out for now. There was time for everything.

His father finished another long monologue, draining his wine cup afterwards and reaching out. A slave immediately jumped in and refilled it, which made Eren’s stomach churn. He hated slaves. No, that came out wrong. He didn’t hate the people themselves, he hated the system of slavery altogether. Their family, as a rich patrician one, understandably had plenty of slaves, and it was a topic of many arguments between Eren and his parents. Even as a child Eren never understood why it is okay for a human being to be owned by another one, just because one was born wrong, conquered, or in debt. His father originally dismissed all that talk as a child’s words, but as Eren grew, so did his hatred for slavery. The idea of not being free just because someone decided it is that way upset him to no end. But he was not the head of the house, that was his father, so technically he could not do anything. He was not even the heir to their villa, that was his half-brother Zeke, currently a Tribuni in the Roman legions, winning fame for himself on the frontlines.

A sudden burst of laughter got his attention, as both Grisha and Reiss laughed out loud, with Historia having a tight-lipped courteous smile herself. She was very good at pretending that she is interested in whatever bullshit the two of them were talking about.

“I do understand that,” Reiss was just saying, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes, “When Historia was a child, she brought home a homeless orphan and wouldn’t stop crying until I gave her a place in my household. Now, what is her name….”

“Ymir, father.”, his daughter quickly offered, “She is my best friend.”

“I do not believe in associating with the lower classes myself.”, Grisha said, “Eren also had a small episode when he tried befriending some slave girl, but I quickly got him out of that.”

Oh yes, that was a great memory. Even now, years later, Eren remembered coming home and telling his mother all excitedly about this nice girl with strange eyes that he met, and that he gave her his candy. He remembered being all giddy when he asked if he could go and see her again tomorrow, perhaps bring her some more candy, so that she would tell him her name. And most of all, he remembered the pained expression that his mother had during that talk because unlike Eren in his childlike ignorance, she knew very well what Grisha’s reaction will be once he finds out.

“It was not easy,”, his father was just saying, “But a highborn must know who to make friends with, and it is not slaves.”

He turned towards his son.

“Tell us Eren, how did I stop you from seeing that slave girl again?”

As if he could ever forget.

“You threatened that if I ever went to visit her, you would buy her yourself and then have our house guards drown her in the Tiber.”, meeting his father’s eyes, it took everything Eren had to keep his voice calm, “And I would have to watch it all.”

“Exactly. And even with all the crying and locking yourself in your room, you obeyed in the end.”, looking back at Reiss, his father continued, “Principles must be taught to the youngsters, otherwise they would just get out of control.”

Sometimes, at nights especially, Eren wondered how that girl was doing, if she was even alive. Being a slave in Rome, mortality rates were high. Back then, she was working in a brothel, so was she a prostitute now? Did he maybe see her sometime when he was out drinking with his friends? Would he recognize her? Would she recognize him? No, he had to stop himself. This train of thought always made him angry, because it only reminded Eren of what his father robbed him. Maybe he could have had a best friend in that girl, just like Historia had in Ymir. Instead, he would never see her again.

Standing up abruptly, the eyes of everyone present swung at him.

“May I be excused, father?”, seeing the hint of irritation in Grisha’s eyes, he scrambled for an excuse, “I would like to take a walk with my lovely fiancé.”

That worked, so after being officially allowed to leave, he and Historia disappeared behind a corner where they shared a long exhale.

“God that was boring.”, Eren said, rubbing his forehead.

“You tell me. I almost fell asleep.”, she sighed, “I wanna do something fun.”

Now that was a language Eren spoke well.

“I’m in. Let’s grab some friends and live it up! Where did you leave Ymir?”

“I think she’s in a pub here somewhere, not far.”, Historia grinned, “Not like Ymir will be hard to find.”

Eren mirrored her smile, remembering just how loud the tall girl could be.

“You’re right. Let’s go then.”

Two of the taverns they checked lacked the Ymir factor, but the third one looked promising. Right from outside, they could hear loud voices, and when they entered their suspicion was proven right.

“I’m just saying,”, Ymir shouted over the ruckus, “You would look great at the chariot races!”

“I don’t think I’m good enough driver to…”

“Wait, who said anything about the driver? You would be pulling the chariot!”

The table erupted into laughter, while Jean, the butt of this joke, mumbled something and hid his reddened face into a cup of wine.

“That joke is so old…”, he sighed, but no one listened.

Ymir was the first one who spotted them, bolting from her seat and sweeping Historia in a hug.

“You’re finally here! We all missed you so much!”

When there was not any response from the table, Ymir turned towards it with a dangerous gleam in her eye.

“I said, we all missed you. Right?”

This time there were affirmative sounds from everyone. Nobody wanted to get on Ymir’s bad side.

Scooting over to make room for the newcomers, they ordered another round and the conversation flowed. Ymir wanted to know what their fathers were talking about, but Historia simply waved her hand and claimed that it was the usual boring stuff. While she was talking, Eren looked around, taking in this group of friends. He and Historia were the only highborn here, the rest of them were plebians. His father would never allow him to hang out with slaves, but he gritted his teeth and stayed silent while Eren surrounded himself with the lower class. It was a small victory, but Eren also genuinely found them much more interesting than any of the patricians. Now that he had the time to take everyone in, he noticed that one person was missing, so turning to Jean, he asked.

“Hey, where’s Armin?”

“Working tonight.”, his friend replied, trying to take another sip of the wine but realizing that his cup was empty. The discovery made him frown.

Armin was an interesting fellow. Part-philosopher, part-medic, he made his living by treating the filth of Rome. Slaves, lowborn, all these that would get rejected by any respected doctor flocked to Armin and he helped them all, whenever they had the money to pay for their treatment or not. In all honesty, Eren thought that Armin was probably the best person he knew, far nobler than him. The art his friend practiced, medicine, also highly interested him, but as with most things in life, Eren didn’t get a choice in his future career path. His brother was a soldier, so he was going to be a politician, Grisha decided. Easy as that. Which meant that Eren’s medicine studied were limited to the times when he visited Armin, trying to learn as much as he could form his friend.

“Do you know where he is?”, Eren pressed on, getting Jean’s attention, that was still focused on his somehow magically empty cup, back.

“It’s Uuuhh…. Hmmm….”

Eren had to suppress a sigh here.

“Come on Jean…”

“Oh right! He’s down in the pits tonight, treating the gladiators that get gutted there.”

The pits were a chain of tiny arenas where slaves, madmen and animals were pitched to fight each other to the death for the entertainment of the unwashed masses. It was like the Colosseum, only a hundred times smaller. Armin often worked there, as even the victors of these matches hardly ever escaped unscratched. The losers usually didn’t need medical attention anymore.

“You’re right, the pits could be fun!”, Jean went on, standing up and swaying only lightly, “Gang, let’s see some blood!”

As nobody wanted to be called a wuss for chickening out, they left the tavern in a sound of chairs dragged over the ground and the clink of coins, heading through the streets towards the pits. Jean led the way, as even drunk he could navigate the gutters the best out of them all. Eren fell in next to Ymir and Krista, the two of them inseparable as usual.

“I do hope that you are taking good care of my fiancé.”, he said to Ymir.

She turned to him with a wink, dropping her hand low and possessively squeezing the blonde’s butt, making her jump with a squeal and quickly retaliate with a well-aimed punch at the taller girl’s shoulder. This was the small secret that he and Historia had from their parents, who were so sure about their future marriage. Historia was, unluckily for her father, mostly interested in women, a fact that was rare but not unheard of. The problem was that while her family might not have that big of a problem with her orientation as it was, they would require her to have an heir. She was, after all, the only living offspring Reiss had. But that was a hurdle she and Eren would cross once they got there, and it was not here. Yet.

While they were consumed by this petty bickering, back and forth, Jean reliably led them through the labyrinth of Rome, finding his way with ease. Left here, right there, turn that corner and they were approaching their target, easily heard from the excited shouts that were up in the air.

With an excited shout, Ymir broke through the group, dragging helpless Historia with her, disappearing between the spectators. The rest followed soon after, their own excitement in various degrees. Eren himself had mixed feelings. He did not mind the duels, per se, but it was another business that was partly made up of slaves being forced to participate. The thing was in full swing, meaning that seeking out Armin right now was most likely impossible. He would be running between here and there, hands full of dead and injured, and hardly needed Eren to make his job even harder. With nothing better to do, he elbowed his way towards the edge of the ring, joining Jean at the railing.

“Hey.”, an unknown voice to his left, “You wanna bet?”

Turning, Eren saw a scrawny man with parchment and several purses hanging from his belt. A bookmaker. Before he could tell him that no, he does not want to place money on the lives of people, Jean butted in.

“Sure!”, he pushed past Eren, smelling of wine and sweat, “Who’s fighting?”

“The next bout is…” the bookie blinked at the parchment a few times, “Siren versus Cyclops.”

“Siren?”, Jean snorted, “Who the fuck takes such a name?”

It wasn’t unusual for the gladiators to have a nickname, some ancient beast or hero. But Siren was not a monster known for its martial prowess, so Eren had to agree with Jean here. It was rather strange.

“Oh, she didn’t choose this one, it was given to her.”, the bookie quickly supplied.

“So you… Wait a second.”, even with his wine-addled brain, Jean caught up on the unusuality, “She? Her? This fighter is a…”

“Woman.”, the bookie nodded, “But she is not to be underestimated.”

Laughing, Jean pulled out a few coins and handed them over to the bookmaker.

“Sorry, but I’m tight on the money now, so I’ll be taking the sure way. My coins are on the Cyclops.”, turning towards Eren, he nudged him, “What about you? Don’t want to make some easy denars?”

Maybe it was the old habit of disagreeing with Jean on almost everything, maybe it was something else, but Eren reached into his own purse, pulling out a generous number and putting them into the bookie’s eager hands.

“My money is on the Siren.”, he announced, making Jean’s grin widen.

“Dude, woman gladiators are a joke, don’t you realize that?”

Seeing that Eren was not changing his mind, Jean shrugged.

“Guess you don’t mind losing those then.”

“We’ll see how it goes.”, Eren answered, turning back towards the arena. Just in time too, as the combatants were being ushered in.

First in was the Cyclops, large and imposing scarred man, armed with a net and a trident. Raising those weapons, he was greeted by booming shouts coming from all sides, probably a fan favorite. Then the challenger appeared. The woman was lightly armored, most likely relying on speed over brute strength. She was armed with a short sword and a dagger, holding these with an experienced grip. The full helmet on her face prevented Eren from seeing her face, but her body was lithe and crossed with several prominent scars, marked just as her opponent was. She didn’t generate nearly as much hype as he, and there were several laughs heard from the audience. Eren and Ymir were probably the loudest supporters, cheering her on. Cheers or laughter, Siren didn’t seem to care either way, completely ignoring the crowd and keeping her gaze on the opponent.

Once the signal was given, Cyclops was the first to move, poking at his enemy with the trident, abusing the reach he had over her closer ranged blades. But Siren was too fast, easily dodging and batting aside the strikes, moving between them, fluid like water. A few minutes into this dance, the crowd was getting bored, and demands for more action were thrown into the ring. If there was no blood, there was no fun. While Siren ignored those, just as before, Cyclops obeyed, abandoning this safe approach. He stopped using the net as a shield and utilized it as a weapon instead, swiping at his opponent. It was easy to get tangled in it, and once Siren would be caught, a single trident stab would end her. The problem was, she did not get caught. Turning on the aggressive mode, she weaved in between his attempts, slashing at him. Not drawn too close, Siren’s attacks were shallow, more like scratches, but they still hurt and the blood that colored the sands was a proof of it. Cyclops was getting desperate, None of his attacks connected, it looked like he was striking a ghost. The metallic teeth of his trident were always late, the net too slow and clumsy to capture someone as elusive as her. Overwhelmed, Cyclops screamed in defiance before betting it all on a single last thrust, putting all of his might behind it. And for the first time, he aimed true. The spikes of his trident hit Siren in the hip, leaving behind three identical red paths, dripping blood. Unluckily, this also put him directly in her face with nothing to block. Cyclops had about two seconds to celebrate his luck when a short sword was slammed right into his throat, toppling the large man over. Stunned silence followed.

First one to wake was Ymir, shouting her support even louder. She laughed, hugging Historia while her eyes quickly found the bookie, gesturing for him to come closer. Jean on the other hand let out a tired “Fuck me.”, before dropping his head to his hands. Siren herself took a step back, cleaning her blades on the dead man’s body. Hooking a hand under her helmet, she pulled it off, shaking her hair free and revealing her exotic visage. The way the sun glistened on those midnight strands prompted another comment from Jean, who stirred from his defeated slump.

“Damn, would you look at that.”, he said, half-turning towards Eren, “Now it’s easy to see why they call her Siren.”

The girl was indeed alluring, just like the mythical creature, even with her face twisted into a dark grin. Making a very rude gesture towards the crowd that doubted her, she reserved a single wave for Ymir, her loudest supporter, before turning away and ducking into the old door that led into the bowels of the pits. Free from her spell, now that she was gone, Jean moved his attention to Eren, now fully.

“Well, there goes my savings. Say, my good friend, now that you won, would you lend me some coins? It’s not like need them anyway, right? Eren? Eren!?”

But the lucky bet winner did not hear any of that. He was staring at the door where Siren disappeared, completely obvious to his surroundings. Why? Because he knew that face. He knew those almond-shaped grey eyes, albeit now they were much wilder than before. He knew that dark hair, now chopped short, not nearly as long as it was before.

He knew who Siren was.

#aot #snk #fanfic #eremika

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banalbones · 4 years

Text

The Petite Prince: Chapter 8

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

Chapter 8: One (1) Breakdown

Summary: Roman is a child. It is now Patton’s turn to look after him.

Words: 2150

Ships: Familial everything, except roceit. Eventual familial roceit

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, mention of the words ‘sexual innuendo’ tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu @itriedandimtired @draw-your-perfect-world @cemmy @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @nonbinary-lizard-2 @fanforeveruniverse @i-cant-find-a-good-username @gabe-killed-me-with-ace-cream @7-slights-at-virgil @crazydemigod666 @tryingtobts

__________________________

Is everything about to go to shit?

How did you know.

__________________________

I’ve said too much!

Roman would have thought, if he were his usual age. But alas, he is not, and so the small prince just wanted a hug.

Plus, hugs usually made people happy!

And I made Mama sad! He was the only not-sad person! He needs a hug now.

And so the little prince snuggled closer to Logan’s chest.

Then he felt a tug.

Thomathy!

Logan, it seemed, had also felt the tug. He frowned.

“Roman, I may have to leave quite soon. Is there anyone you would like to stay with while I’m gone?”

The prince’s brows furrowed as he thought about the question.

“ReeRee?”

“I’m afraid he is already with Thomas.”

Who else was there?

“I d’kno…”

_______________________

Logan sighed. He would have to choose for the royal.

Virgil had told him of the conversation he and Roman had had the night before. It wasn’t an optimal situation, but it wasn’t as if he could get the prince to choose between going to Patton or Janus.

The two who had hurt him the most.

But Remy wasn’t here, and Orange…

He would go with Patton.

“How about Patton?”

The princely side’s face bore a pained expression, before immediately switching to a relatively happy one.

“Ya!”

Logan stood up, hugging the prince to his chest.

“Off we go.”

_________________

Patton was in his room, attempting to make himself some eggs and bacon for breakfast. As the only thing he could make well were brownies, it came out burnt.

Even the egg, somehow.

The moral side dumped the ‘breakfast’ into a bin, before clapping his hands together and summoning some edible food.

I really don’t know why people think I can cook decently…

I can only bake-on brownies!

___________________

Holy shit.

Get it? Like bacon?

We got it.

Egg-celent!

Oh my…

___________________

Patton had just gotten a text from Logan that he would have to look after Roman while he and Virgil looked after Thomas.

The moral side really couldn’t afford to mess this up.

Especially after seeing Remus’s reaction to how the whole situation went down.

The Duke had stayed silent for a moment, before sprouting tentacles and storming off, destroying almost everything in his path and shoving the other sides out of his room.

You could hear him screeching through the walls.

It was lucky that Roman had left when he did.

I don’t want to think about that. So, how will I decorate my room for Roman?

Ah, repression. A very useful tool, even when it shouldn’t be used.

Patton had been preparing an apology speech for the little prince after being thrown out of Remus’s room, in true princey fashion, and with this new opportunity, it would be the perfect time to put it to use.

Even though Patton wasn’t entirely sure how he would apologize to a fifteen month old child.

He’d figure it out.

________________________

Roman clung tightly to Logan’s neck. Falling off of his shoulders would be bad. Just like sad! But more hurt-y.

Roman didn’t really like hurt-y-ness.

He also didn’t like having to stay with Patton, but Mama said that he had to and the prince really wasn’t bothered to protest. Protesting would have made Mama sad, anyway.

The small royal decided not to think about how sad Da-Patton had made him.

Will he have brownies? He had brownies yesterday. Brownies are good…

“Little one?”

Roman giggled at the nickname.

“We’re here. Would you like a hug before I go?”

“Ya!”

And so the logical side lifted Roman from his shoulders and swung him around through the air. The prince squealed as Logan then raised him above his head.

“Simba!”

And with that the petite prince exploded with giggles, letting out a small roar.

Logan let out a sigh of relief.

Roman then hugged the logical side’s neck.

“Bye Mama!”

It was safe to say that the miniature monarch was feeling a lot happier now.

_____________________

Janus had been dealing with intrusive thoughts since his last ‘interaction’ with Remus.

The one ‘person’ he thought would always be by his side.

It wasn’t annoying at all.

For that’s all they were, annoying. Being forced to live with Remus for over twenty years gets you used to these sort of things.

It was slightly worse though, as usually Remus would scream them at him from the ceiling, instead of sending them through his head. The deceitful side had somehow thought that the Duke couldn’t do that to him.

Janus didn’t even know how Remus had found out about the situation. He was literally the only person who talked to him. Aside from Logan, he supposed.

Only person who willingly talked to him.

And either way, Remus didn’t really like his brother. Why did he care now?

His train of thought was cut off as he heard a ding from his phone. Someone talking to him?

It was Patton.

Frogger: Guess who’s been invited to my room?

Ssssss: Who? And should I care?

Frogger: Ooooohhhhh yeeeeaaaah! You don’t know what happened!

___________________

Patton, while waiting for the princely side to arrive, decided to text Janus. Building up friendship was important!

He explained what happened to Roman, and then sent a few cat videos he found. Janus had seemed confused at those, they were sent kinda out of context.

And then there was a knock at his door.

The moral side leaped to his feet and ran to the door, opening it with little difficulty.

“Hey guys!”

The scene before him was adorable.

The tiny prince cuddled up to Logan’s chest with the logical side smiling softly at him.

Patton wished he had a camera.

“Salutations Patton.”

Roman waved enthusiastically and smiled, the grin not quite reaching his eyes.

The moral side felt a pang of sadness.

“Come on in!”

______________________

Roman was a bit scared.

He knew that Big him said princes shouldn’t be scared, but, the prince reasoned, he was currently not even two.

Patton’s room was cleaner than the last time he had seen it, with a bunch of toys laid out on the couch.

“Hey kiddo! Have you had breakfast yet?”

Roman nodded.

“Okay then! What do you want to do?”

Roman shrugged.

He knew adults hated it when children did that, from Thomas’s past experience, but he couldn’t help it. He really didn’t want to talk to him.

“How about we play with some toys?”

Roman nodded again.

And so for the next twenty minutes, Roman played with some toys, settling into the game and creating a kingdom.

I’m booooored. I wanna play with someone! ReeRee was way more fun!

“Pa- Patton?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“Play!”

“Play?”

“Play.”

And so for the next twenty minutes, Roman and Patton built up their empire, defeating the dragons and witchs and saving the citizens.

“Attack!”

Roman ‘charged’ forward into the newly created pillow fort, swinging around his inflatable sword.

Then Patton wailed.

“My liege, I’m being controlled by the evil dragon witch! I’m sorry!”

“NOooooOOoOoooOoo!”

Patton held his hands out.

“I’m sorry!”

And then he struck.

Roman giggled uncontrollably as the fatherly side tickled him silly, falling into the fluffy pillows behind him.

A ball of water was unconsciously summoned in his fist.

And suddenly Patton stood, absolutely soaked, with a shocked look on his face.

Oh no… he’s gonna be mad!

…

As it turned out, Patton wasn’t mad. He instead grinned and fell to the ground dramatically.

“I’ve been freed!”

The grin widened as Roman jumped up and hugged him tightly.

Patton hugged him back.

______________________

“Where were you last episode?

Virgil stood in his usual place on the stairs.

Remus was at the TV, a stormy expression on his face.

Well I know that ain’t good.

“Well?” Thomas questioned.

“Why do you need to know?”

Thomas sighed.

To be honest, Virgil didn’t want to tell him.

Why? Oh, just because it was literally because he and Remus were trying to beat Janus(?!?)’s high score in Just Dance.

It was pretty embarrassing.

Thomas had been discussing the wedding and moral dilemmas, had accepted a side, basically destroyed one and Virgil had been hanging with Remus, Remus of all sides, playing Just Dance.

Definitely embarrassing.

“We were playing Just Dance!”

The Duke had spoken up for the first time in two minutes. He usually would have made a sexual innuendo and five death jokes by now.

Odd.

“Really? I thought you hated the Duke, Virgil.”

“I do, but I hate the snake more. Needed to beat his score. Hence Just Dance.”

“Janus? How do you even have that? Also, did you beat it?”

“Well-”

And so the conversation continued, with Logan eventually showing up as Thomas asked the question all of them were hoping he wouldn’t.

“Hey guys, I’ve tried summoning him a couple of times already, but he didn’t rise up. Where’s Roman?”

__________________

Why didn’t you want me to know? I could have handled it.

No, you couldn’t have.

You didn’t even know we could play Just Dance.

Speaking of that-

Oh god, here we go.

Can we just continue with the story?

___________________

Roman was having so much fun!

He was still a little appre- app-er-eh-hen-sive, but still!

He and Papa Patton had defeated the evil Dragon Witch and were now drawing. Roman had been ready to use his crayons on the table, but the moral side had managed to get him a piece of paper before it came to that.

Just a little bit there, and some more that here…

It needed more glitter, but it was good enough!

Patton was in the middle of creating his own drawing, a puppy with a crown. Very good, if he didn’t say so.

And then he looked over at Roman’s.

The petite prince had created an oil painting of the fatherly side standing princess style at the bottom of a grand staircase, complete with a glam makeup look and a meticulously styled ball gown.

What the… Holy crackers!

It seemed that while Patton had been focused on his own small piece of paper, the small royal had been summoning tools and colours and had made a masterpiece.

“Kiddo… That’s amazing! How did you do that in fifteen minutes? You deserve a sticker! And what a great idea- putting me in a dress- it’s so creative!”

At that Roman frowned.

“You okay?”

The prince nodded.

“Kiddo?”

“Pe-o-ple never like Big me’s- never like Big me’s ideas.”

He blinked.

Oh.

___________________

Ooooh, shits about to go down.

No shit.

Do you mean ‘no shit Sherlock.’?

Please don’t bring that back.

Too late! ____________________

“I’m sure that’s not true…”

“It is.”

Roman didn’t want to ruin the happy mood, but decided to be blunt. Big him never tried to show he needed help, so he would.

Mama Lo had said that it was okay.

“Big me tries! But no one c- but no one cares!”

The prince was standing now.

“He always comes up- always comes up with big lists o’ ida’s, but no no no! Bad bad bad!”

Roman knew Big him always put on a mask, but it was so hard to keep it all the time!

He was only (not even) two!

He couldn’t deal with that level of stress!

“Mama an’ VeeVee hate them! Big me’s always tryin’ change the ida’s for them! No fair!”

His eyes were glowing.

“An’ you! An’ you…”

There were golden tears streaming down the princely side’s face as he collapsed onto the floor. Surprisingly enough, he seemed older than he had been before. The rant had been good for him.

…

Patton sank down on his knees next to the sobbing royal, who, when he felt the moral side’s hand on his back, stopped crying immediately.

But he needs to cry…

Patton didn’t know what to do. Because for the first time, he realised that Roman needed help. And support. And comfort.

But not for the reasons he had thought.

And so Patton hugged the scaled down side, long and hard.

Screw the speech, this would have to come from the heart.

“I’m sorry Roman. We’ll do better. I’ll do better. I might not understand now, and maybe I never will, but I will do whatever I can to help you. I’ll try. I promise.”

Roman nodded.

But still didn’t cry.

______________________

They spent a few minutes like that.

Roman knew he would have broken down eventually, but he didn’t think it would be now. Or to Patton.

But he felt a lot better.

And so the five year old prince clung tightly to the fatherly side.

There was so much more, but Papa Patton had said that even if he didn’t understand, he’d be there. That had been a reassurance he hadn’t known he needed.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“Can I come in?”

Janus.

______________________

Thank you for reading this extremely late chapter of the Petite Prince! My motivation really waned throughout the past few weeks, so thanks for waiting for this.

I also want to say, Patton being the side Roman first breaks down to was a surprise to me, too. It just felt appropriate in the moment.

I am also feeling kind of iffy with the part after ‘no shit, Sherlock’, the mood just changed completely.

(Also, this may sound odd, but Roman’s eyes are still glowing. It will be relevant!)

#sanders sides #roman really couldn't decide what age he wanted to be #the petite prince #roman sanders #baby roman #virgil sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #thomas sanders #i am so sorry for the wait #sanders sides fic

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the-awkward-outlaw · 4 years

Note

i’m so excited your inbox is open!!😁😁can i request an arthur x fem!reader where he’s insisting he’s “an ugly, old outlaw” and all that bs and she gets really emotional and gives this speech on how handsome (adorable) and loyal and caring he is? basically just tooth-rotting fluff😊😊love your work!!🤍

I hope I ticked all the boxes for this one, lol. But it definitely turned out very fluffy (which is good, because I live for fluff! They are my favorite to write, especially with Arthur). Enjoy!

Masterlist

Read on AO3

You stand on the edge of Horseshoe Overlook, repeater in hand, waiting for an improbable attack. Of course, you can’t be entirely sure there won’t be one. Arthur mentioned a couple days ago running into some Pinkertons while he was out fishing with Jack. Something tells you that if they found this place, they’d have no problems marching in.

An hour later, the sun’s beginning its slow descent into the sky and you hear something: a horse coming down the path. Just as you lean around a tree to see who it is, Arthur comes into view.

“Oh hey, Arthur!” you say excitedly. Not only does he carry heavy weight in camp, he’s one of the nicest men you’ve ever met (despite being an outlaw), and he’s also the man you’re in love with. You haven’t had the courage to tell him this, the thought alone terrifies you.

He gives you an adorable “gun” finger salute as he trots past, but you notice his eyes don’t crinkle the way they do when he smiles, almost like he’s faking it. He goes on towards the camp and you follow him, wondering if something’s wrong.

When you get to camp, you ask Karen to take guard duty for now, explaining you’ll make up for it later. She accepts, saying you owe her a whiskey, to which you agree. Arthur dismounts his horse, feeding her a treat. You hear him say, “rest now, girl. You did good.” God, he’s so cute the way he talks to his horse.

He continues on towards his tent and young Jack crosses his path as he walks. “Hiya, Uncle Arthur!”

“Hey there, Jack. You keepin’ safe?” Arthur’s been worried about him ever since he ran into the Pinkertons. Of course, Arthur’s always been protective.

“Yeah.”

“You still reading with Hosea?”

“Yeah! He read me a story about a prince! I did a page all by myself!”

“That’s excellent, son! Good for you!”

Jack skips off and Arthur continues on towards his tented wagon, his shoulders rolling as he walks. You melt at the exchange he had with Jack. He is the most adorable, gentle man you’ve met. How is it that he’s a wanted man?

Arthur shuffles around his wagon a bit, adjusting some things on his little table. Then he grabs the flaps of the canvas and pulls them down, clearly wanting some privacy.

Silently, you go over to his tent and peak in. The sight breaks your heart. He’s sitting on the cot, hunched over, his hands clasped together as his elbows rest on his thighs. You can tell he’s upset about something.

“Mr. Morgan?” you ask.

He looks up and clears his face. “Oh, hey there, Y/N. What can I do for ya?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to check on you. I was… I guess worried. You okay?”

He smiles a little, huffing a bit. “Oh I’m doin’ just fine.”

You can tell he’s lying, and you’re nervous to stay any longer. It’s clear he wants to be alone. However, you swallow your fear and walk into the tent.

“Can I ask what’s wrong, Mr. Morgan? Whenever I have something weighing heavy on my mind, I find it’s helpful to tell someone.”

“Oh trust me, no one wants to hear about my problems. I’m just… just a sad, miserable ol’ outlaw.”

Your heart feels like it’s going to break. How can he think such awful things about himself when every time you see him, he’s doing something good to those around him? Bringing Mary-Beth a pen, reading stories to Jack, giving that one-armed man in Valentine money. Every time you’re with him, he proves the exact opposite of what he’s saying now.

“You… don’t really think that’s true, do you, Mr. Morgan?”

“Oh trust me, I ain’t sayin’ bad enough about myself. I’m… a no-good killer, a fighter. And uh, just a bad man.”

A tear slides down your cheek and you go sit down next to him. “Mr. Morgan, forgive me, but that’s not what I see. Every time you’re around, I see you helping folk, making people smile. I see you doing too much good to believe that a bad man is all you are.”

“You don’t know me very well, Y/N. Hell, you only been with us a few months. Wait a few years, you’ll be sayin’ somethin’ different.”

“I don’t think so. If anything, I’ll probably be sayin’ even nicer things about you. And honestly, Mr. Morgan, I’ve never lied to you. I ain’t startin’ now.”

“Trust me, you won’t. No one does, everyone who spends any length of time with me knows how horrible I am.”

“I’ve spent plenty of time with you,” you say. “I don’t think you’re horrible. Sure, you’ve made some bad choices, but who hasn’t? I… I’ve made choices that I regret too. But you can’t look at the world with people split in two based on good and bad. People are complicated. You’re complicated. That’s how the world is, and you ain’t doin’ yourself any favors by seeing it that way.”

He sighs heavily, looking away from you. He doesn’t speak for a few moments and when he finally does open his mouth, you’re sure he’s about to tell you to leave him alone.

“To be honest, Y/N, I really am a bad man. The only thing I’m good for is fightin’. All I ever been good at.”

“Mr. Morgan, can I ask who told you this?”

“No one told me, Y/N. I… I always known. And the other night, robbin’ that train full o’ city folk. Well, I robbed and beaten plenty of people before, they was really no different. But… I was over near Strawberry earlier. Some guy challenged me to a race. Guess he just bought a new horse, wanted to show off. Anyways, ol’ Artemis and I gave him a run for his money. I won, of course.” He scratches his chin. “When that other bastard got there, he was real angry. So angry he shot his horse in the head, so I shot him. Don’t quite know why I did neither. When…. When I shot him, I realized I felt nothin’. Not joy, not regret. Just nothin’.”

“Maybe because there was nothing to feel, Mr. Morgan. After all, a man who can so easily shoot his new horse he was so proud of moments ago cannot be much of a man at all. Perhaps… perhaps you killing him was a good thing.”

“How do you mean?” he asks. He finally turns to you, his blue eyes searching yours.

“Well, if he can so easily shoot a horse in that fashion, something tells me he doesn’t know how to rein in his anger, that he lets it get the better of him. Who knows? Maybe he was constantly hurting his wife or kids if he had them. Maybe you killing them will send them relief, freedom. That’s the way I have to see the world, Mr. Morgan, that our bad deeds have a positive effect somewhere in the world.”

Arthur grunts a bit. “Maybe. But… but I’m still nothin’ more than a fighter.”

“No you’re not. Forgive me, Mr. Morgan, but I’ve been watching you probably more than you think. You’re a good man, a wanderer, a hunter. An artist too I bet.”

“How do you figure that?” He cocks his eyebrow a bit, staring at you from the side of his eye. Part of you thinks he’s on the verge of smiling, which encourages you.

“I’ve seen you sitting on the edge of camp, writing and doodling in that journal of yours. John told me Dutch taught the two of you to draw, but it didn’t take with him.”

“Hmm, a lot of things didn’t take with that boy.”

You giggle, but don’t really want to lead this conversation into a heated discussion about John Marston and his flaws. “I bet you’re good though. Could… I mean, would you hate me for asking if I could see your drawings?”

You are extremely doubtful that he’d give you that privilege. After all, you and Mary-Beth talked about journaling and she mentioned how Arthur is notorious for it, but how no one has ever seen the inside of his. However, Arthur surprises you by sighing heavily and taking his journal out. He flips through it quickly, finding a page that has a drawing of a large wolf on it. He hands you the book, though he seems nervous.

Gently, you take it from him and inspect the drawing. It’s beautiful, professional even. You can so easily see the textures of the wolf’s fur, the bristles of the pines behind it. It’d be impossible to not admire the strokes put down, each one with their own intention and purpose.

“Mr. Morgan, this is incredible. I knew you were an artist, but I didn’t think you were this good.”

“Oh nonsense. Anyone can draw like this. Hell, I bet you ain’t that bad of an artist yourself.”

It’s your turn to raise your brow. “You wanna bet? Give me your pencil.”

He hands it to you and, in the lower right corner, you draw a small version of his wolf, which is far more than laughable. You’ve never been very good at drawing, but even this version is pathetic. After a few minutes, you hand him back his journal.

“There. Now your wolf has a badly deformed companion.”

Arthur takes one look at it and then he lets out a laugh. “I like it,” he says after a moment, his eyes meeting yours. This time, his eyes crinkle.

You can’t help but giggle. “I’m glad you like it, Mr. Morgan.”

Still grinning, he straightens up a bit. “Why you always callin’ me Mr. Morgan? You can call me Arthur on occasion, you know.”

“Oh I… I know,” you say, looking down at your lap, your cheeks burning. “I… I don’t know why I do.”

He admires your features for a moment. Arthur knows you’re sweet on him. He clued into it pretty quick when he first asked you to call him by his first name weeks ago and you refused. Then he heard Tilly and Mary-Beth joking about how they knew. He also noticed you did things for him no one else did: bringing him coffee in the morning, offering to clean his guns, how he was the only person you asked to teach you how to play poker and black jack. Other small things you did only for him. It didn’t take long for him to realize he felt something for you too.

He finds your behavior now endearing and you’ve helped cheer him up immensely. He grabs your hand and lifts it, placing a soft kiss to the back of it, which causes you to look up at him.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says.

You’re blushing hard again. “You’re welcome. Arthur.”

Just as he’s about to lean over to try and place a kiss to your lips, Grimshaw’s shrill voice carries across camp.

“Where the hell is Y/N?! That damn girl, always disappearing! I swear when I find her…”

“Shit,” you say and quickly yank your hands out of Arthur’s grasp and then darting outside to subdue Grimshaw.

Arthur chuckles, his heart much lighter than it was before. He looks down at his journal, finding your poor rendition of a wolf. Little do you know that it brings him great comfort and always will. In the future, when things go bad, he opens to this page just to look at it, to remember the things you said. It’s a moment he’ll never be able to forget.

#rdr2 fanfic #red dead fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x female reader #awkward asks

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artificialqueens · 4 years

Text

To New Hytes, 10/10 (Group fic) - Mac

AN: I’m truly at a loss for words. I can’t thank Meggie enough for all the work she has put into this. Betaing for me is not an easy task and she makes it look simple.

I started this fic exactly a year ago to this day and I never imagined I would finish it, let alone fall in love with it. I know that was so cheesy but it had to be said.

I hope you enjoy this last chapter!

Summary: Yvie finds out what Scarlet has been hiding, Vanessa gets a new opportunity, and Trixie finishes Katya’s book.

Yvie held her breath as the minutes ticked by.

Scarlet had asked her breathlessly over the phone to come to the studio as quickly as she could. Yvie had done so, telling her Uber driver she would tip him extra if he got there in half the time.

The parking lot was practically empty when they pulled up, save for Scarlet’s pristine white Lexus parked right next to the door.

Yvie’s heart hammered in her chest and she felt like she might throw up from nerves. Scarlet had sounded worried. Scared even.

As she approached the doors, she found them unlocked, and the pit of dread in her stomach threatened to suffocate her if she breathed too deeply.

She and Scarlet hadn’t talked, not about anything meaningful anyway. Yvie hadn’t mentioned the conversation she had overheard, or the fears she had, or the crippling feeling that she was about to be left.

Yvie, confrontation-loving Yvie, hadn’t said a thing because she was scared it would only accelerate the path to loneliness.

She had bitten her lip.

She bit her lip now too to keep from crying, the familiar studio setting doing nothing to keep her mind steady. The lights were all down, save for a flickering candle at the end of the narrow hallway. It was still light outside so the image wasn’t as creepy as it could have been.

She followed the path down the hall, noticing more and more candles lining the pathway as well as a sudden appearance of rose petals on the ground.

The unease in Yvie’s stomach waned a bit as confusion took over.

When she rounded the next corner, it suddenly hit her. Standing in the doorways of the numerous practice rooms were her friends and coworkers; her family at this point.

Nina and Monet smiled brightly, as they offered her a red rose each, Nina reaching out to squeeze Yvie’s hand in reassurance. Yvie couldn’t stop the tears from springing to her eyes as she continued down the hall. Trixie, Jinkx, and Violet were up next, handing her more roses and winking knowingly. Then Vanessa, A’keria, and Dela, who giggled as she passed. Blair and Kameron gave her full body hugs and the last two flowers.

Then there was Brooke. The face of the company that had brought her and Scarlet together. The person that had made their dreams a reality.

Brooke pulled Yvie close and held on tightly. “You deserve all the happiness in the world,” she whispered.

And if Yvie wasn’t crying already, that would have done it.

She held onto Brooke for dear life, her mind spinning on her neck from the overwhelming feelings building up inside her. She smiled into the older woman’s shoulder and tried to channel the years and years of gratitude, adoration, and love into a simple embrace.

“Thank you.”

It was two simple words.

But Brooke knew.

She always knew.

She pulled back to give Yvie a once over, smiling softly as she moved a piece of hair out of Yvie’s face.

“Now go get your girl.” Brooke nodded in the direction of the rehearsal room.

Yvie giggled through the tears in her eyes and squeezed Brooke’s shoulders once more before turning to enter the last door.

Scarlet stood in the middle of the wide room, surrounded on all sides by rose petals and candles, smiling so brightly Yvie swore she had to squint.

Their eyes met, and Yvie felt so incredibly stupid for ever doubting her. For doubting them.

Yvie didn’t hesitate, she walked right up to her girlfriend and pulled her in by the waist for a kiss. Scarlet chuckled, taken off guard at first, before relaxing into Yvie’s arms, sighing happily against her lips.

“Yes,” Yvie whispered against Scarlet’s smile.

Scarlet pulled back just enough so she could roll her eyes pointedly. “Let me do my speech first, stupid.”

Yvie chuckled and nodded her head a second later.

“Yvangeline.” Scarlet smiled, “The day I met you I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Fear.” She swallowed, and Yvie noticed her hands trembling the slightest bit as she took them in her own. “I was scared because you made me want to open up in a way I hadn’t done in a long while. And you just showed up with your loud laugh and your weird style and I couldn’t help but fall for you.”

“Naturally,” Yvie cracked, making Scarlet roll her eyes fondly.

“You saw the good in me when no one else would.” Scarlet flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “And I’m pretty great so I dunno how they didn’t see it.”

Yvie laughed to keep from crying. “You are.” She smiled.

Scarlet beamed. “So, my partner in crime, my one true love, my Yvie,” she said, taking a knee. “Will you marry me?”

Yvie didn’t even have to think before tackling Scarlet to the ground.

She was distantly aware of shrieks of joy coming from behind them, but she tuned them out, content to breathe Scarlet in and out for the rest of her life.

…

Brooke didn’t know what she was doing here.

She had taken time off, said she needed space and a place to regroup. But Scarlet had called her in a frenzy, pleading for her help and advice. Brooke wasn’t about to turn her away.

So now here she was, sandwiched between Nina and Kameron who were doing their best to collectively bite their tongues at her sudden appearance.

Scarlet, like any good stage manager, had walked them through the process, telling each person the precise place they needed to stand and the exact second they needed to poke their heads out. Brooke chuckled to herself that even during one of the supposed ‘happiest moments of her life,’ Scarlet still had to micromanage.

Pot meet kettle, her mind shot back.

Yvie of course said yes, and the rest of the girls surrounded the couple, drowning them in hugs and congratulations.

The group migrated toward the adjacent practice room that had been set up for the afterparty. Food and drinks and music began to flow freely as lively conversation ensued.

Brooke stuck to Nina’s side like duct tape, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who might ask her questions, specifically one young gorgeous brunette that seemed to be absorbed in whatever hilarious thing A’keria had said.

Brooke had said she needed time to put things in perspective. She had meant that she hoped time would make her feel less crazy, less out of control. A place where things weren’t so intensely overwhelming.

All she had found in her three days of leave was that her bed felt slightly bigger.

Nothing monumental.

No grand epiphany under intense stress.

No flashing lights or dangerous circumstances.

No near-death experience.

Brooke’s bed just felt too big.

The hole in her chest felt even bigger.

That’s how she knew it was love. Because it came in the form of something so painfully ordinary that it made Brooke want to scream.

Brooke was sulking in the far corner when Monet came by to steal Nina away for some “picture editing business.” And by “picture editing business” Brooke knew that Monet actually meant that they were going to go make out in Brooke’s office.

She rolled her eyes at the two lovebirds, but bit back a smile as they disappeared down the hallway, giggling like highschoolers. It was then that she caught Vanessa’s eye over the crowd of people.

Vanessa spoke to the group beside her, eyes never leaving Brooke’s, as she excused herself. She approached slowly, giving Brooke ample time to run away.

But she didn’t. Not this time.

“Hey,” Vanessa spoke cautiously, nervous energy rolling off her stiff shoulders.

“Hey.”

They both stared at the floor.

“Wasn’t sure when you was comin’ back.”

“Yeah, me either.”

The silence stretched out between them

Vanessa sighed. “Well,” she coughed, “I just wanted to thank you for everythin’.”

Brooke’s head shot up at her oddly professional tone. “What do you mean?”

“Nina didn’t tell you?” Vanessa looked surprised.

Brooke shook her head.

“I got an offer from another studio.”

Brooke’s heart plummeted to her stomach.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Vanessa breathed shakily, her hands fidgeting by her sides the longer she stood in place.

She let the information linger in the air between them for a bit, dousing the conversation with an even more tense air, before finally meeting Brooke’s eyes.

“I’m not gonna be in your way no more.” Vanessa smiled sadly. “You’re free.”

Brooke shook her head. No. No. This wasn’t right.

“Vanessa—”

The younger woman cut her off. “I appreciate the experience, Ms. Hytes.”

Brooke had only seconds to act, her brain taking over in a split second to stop Vanessa’s retreat. Her arm darted out of its own volition and she grabbed Vanessa’s hands in her own. It was an act of desperation, Brooke not willing to lose Vanessa. Not again.

“Stay,” she blurted out.

Vanessa raised her eyes slowly, her guard up. “What?”

There was that ever-present wariness lingering in the back of Brooke’s mind, but she shook it off and cleared her throat, desperately trying to get a hold of herself. “I’m asking you to stay.”

Vanessa’s eyes hardened and she went to shake her head. “Brooke—”

“Not as your boss,” Brooke clarified, accentuating her point by squeezing Vanessa’s hands, holding them securely, close to her heart. “‘Nessa,” she said softly, “I want you to stay.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Vanessa nodded. It was measured, unyielding. “I wanna hear you say it.”

Brooke shook her head, smiling to herself. Of course, Vanessa had to push.

The memory of their first meeting flashed in front of her eyes. All the unfounded anger and snarkiness and passive-aggressive words echoed in her ears. But so did the sound of Vanessa’s even breaths as she slept, her full belly laughs at Brooke’s endless list of dad jokes, her quiet humming in the shower.

Brooke found that in this instance, after everything it had taken to get them here, she didn’t seem to mind the pushing all that much.

“Because I love you.”

There was a beat of silence, just enough time for Brooke’s rational thinking brain to kick on and begin to spiral that she had misread everything and overstepped.

“You drive a hard bargain, Hytes.” Vanessa let the corner of her mouth twitch up. “But I guess I could stick around a bit longer.”

…

Katya had been standing outside the bar for nearly ten minutes now.

Trixie watched her through the sweaty window panes, sipping what had been rum half an hour ago but was now just melted ice cubes. She was stalling, swirling the water droplets in the bottom of her glass around in circles, attempting to get lost in this feeling of limbo that wouldn’t last much longer.

Katya hadn’t noticed her yet but had been checking her phone every few minutes for a text that wasn’t coming.

Trixie didn’t know how to do this right. Still wasn’t entirely convinced she wanted to do this in the first place. But Katya was looking more worried by the second, and Trixie couldn’t put this off forever.

She downed the rest of her ice cubes and didn’t shiver at the cold that traveled the length of her throat.

Katya looked up at her appearance, joy and hesitation etched into the clean lines on her face.

“Wanna take a walk?” Trixie offered.

Katya just nodded, the same nervousness persisting just beneath the surface of her skin. But she took Trixie’s hand in her own, much colder one; the younger woman fought the urge to shake it off.

“I read your book.”

Read was more of an understatement.

Trixie had devoured Katya’s autobiography in one sitting. She had poured over the pages upon pages of intricate details, funny asides, and heartbreaking losses. And at the core of it, she had found something so incredibly human that it burned in the back of her throat when she finished. Face wet, eyes sore, mouth dry, her stomach burning with the kind of ache that she had only ever heard songs about.

It was a mess. Chaotic and unhinged and tragically beautiful.

Tragic, because at the end of it all, Trixie knew for sure that she would never be able to compete with Katya’s home.

No amount of love she had for the princess would be enough to keep her.

“You miss it?” Trixie asked. “Russia?”

Katya quirked an eyebrow up at the change of subject. “Why do you ask?”

Trixie sighed and let herself come to a stop on the sidewalk. “I think you should go back.”

“What?” Katya exclaimed, eyes were wide in surprise.

“I think you should go home.”

“That’s not my home anymore. It never was,” she insisted.

Trixie shook her head, sad smile set in place on her lips. “That’s not true. The way you talk about it, the things you wrote… You talk about it like a lost love.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Trixie countered. “You love it and you miss it. There’s no shame in that.”

“I value my freedom too much to go back.”

“Katya, you have the opportunity to make a change over there. Your people are waiting for you!”

“They aren’t my people!” Katya exclaimed. “They are just people. And I don’t even know them. They don’t even know me. How the hell am I supposed to lead people I don’t know?”

“The way you do everything else. With unbridled passion.”

Katya looked back at her, shoulders set, eyes wild, lips turned up at the sides. She looked… impressed.

“You know you have to go back.”

“I know.” Katya laughed, loud and brazen and full of so much sadness that Trixie’s heart nearly gave out at the sound. “I just wanted a chance to live a little first.”

“And how was it?” Trixie smiled sadly, pulling Katya closer, their fingers intertwining loosely.

“Oh, it was wonderful,” Katya said wistfully, her eyes never once leaving Trixie’s. “I only wish we had more time.”

Trixie nodded, eyes watering of their own volition. Katya shook her head slightly as she wiped away the tears at the corners of Trixie’s eyes.

They stood like that in the middle of the sidewalk, holding each other, for an immeasurable amount of time. Breathing in and out for as long as they could stand it.

Eventually, Trixie’s legs tired and her arms ached and she felt the alcohol in her system fade to nothingness.

She was the first to pull away.

Words failed her at that moment as she stared into the eyes of this woman, the princess of Russia, this crazy fucking woman that had turned her world upside down.

Luckily she didn’t have to think of what to say.

“I won’t forget you, myshka.” Katya whispered in the small space

Trixie shook her head. “Me either.”

…

On the Uber ride back to the studio, Trixie unlocked her phone to find three missed calls and twenty-some texts, half being pictures of Brooke and Vanjie sucking face at Yvie and Scarlet’s engagement party. Trixie chuckled to herself.

About time, she thought.

Trixie thanked her driver with a generous tip and watched until his car disappeared into the bustling city traffic of the night.

She turned back toward the familiar building, her suddenly heavy feet making the trek to the propped door that much slower. She let her mind slow to nothingness as she entered the studio, noting the music still playing clearly over the speakers.

She made her way down the hallway, tracing her fingertips along the framed photos on the wall. Their first night of shows as a company, their first-ever programs, their world tour announcement.

Trixie smiled instinctively at the memories, clear as the pictures themselves.

As she rounded the corner to the rehearsal room, she smiled that much wider.

There, spread out in a circle on the very expensive, very meticulously cleaned dance floor, was the entire cast of To New Hytes Dance Company.

They greeted Trixie with a collective squeal and before she could blink, she was pulled down into the circle and handed a cup of room temperature wine.

As Trixie surveyed the scene, she felt a familiar warmth pool in the base of her gut, one that lit her up from the inside out. The smiling faces of her friends filling her vision and making the hole in her chest feel just a bit fuller.

When everyone had a cup, Yvie attempted to clear her throat loudly. It only resulted in setting herself off into a coughing fit and causing the rest of the girls to fall into raucous laughter.

After the noise died down, Yvie tried again.

“To old friends!” She hollered.

“To fresh starts!” Scarlet called.

“To New Hytes!” Trixie cheered.

23 notes · View notes

captainillogical · 4 years

Text

Profoundly Yours Ch.2

Amity receives a love letter in her locker. Luz wants to help figure out who it is.

Cover art by my lovely wife @firstofficertightpants

AO3 mirror

first chapter

Surprisingly enough, no one is paying attention to Amity when her locker spits the letter out at her, and she quickly stuffs the envelope into her pocket before anyone has the chance to see. It’s exactly the same as the other one, interestingly enough.

She rapidly gathers the things she needs for her next class, narrowly avoiding a few students in the halls as she makes her way to her next period. There are several students in the class chatting when she gets there, so she resides to looking at the letter later, regrettably.

She sits down at one of the empty tables next to the window, staring outside as she listens to more students fill in the class. Two students are arguing about which one’s stronger, and Amity rolls her eyes to herself when she hears them start to challenge each other to a duel later. It’s raining outside today, the clouds are completely covering the sky in large sheets of grey, and she sighs as she watches the rain pour down. Sleep didn’t come to her easy last night, she kept waking up every half hour or so. She’ll have to push through her tiredness to even be able to get through school today.

Someone sits down next to her, and she tries to ignore the presence as she waits for the teacher to come in and start the class. They place their books down pretty loudly, and she hears a pretty familiar cough.

“Were you going to ignore my presence the entire class, Blight?” Luz jokes, voice light and airy.

Amity turns her face to look at the human in surprise - she forgot she had a lesson with Luz today. Luz is smiling at her the same way she smiles at the rest of her friends - and the way it has Amity’s heart beating fast is utterly embarrassing.

“N-no,” She hears herself stutter a little, cursing herself internally for acting like some kind of fool around the human. “I just have a lot on my mind.”

Luz stares at Amity for several seconds longer than necessary, a worried expression taking up space on her face.

“You look a little tired, are you getting enough sleep?” She asks gently, and Amity thinks that Luz might be becoming a little too familiar with her. If she knows how to read her face like this, she’s going to figure out her feelings for the other girl, sooner or later. And that’s not good at all.

“I’ve been having some issues sleeping the last couple of days, it’s no big deal.” The green-haired girl answers truthfully - it’s not like she can lie about it, if Luz can see it on her face already. But she doesn’t want to talk about it, because then she’ll have to elaborate as to why, and she doesn’t want to go down that particular path. Just ‘hey Luz, can’t sleep because I think about kissing your stupidly cute face constantly, don’t worry about it!’ Yeah, that’s gonna be a no. “That’s not what's on my mind though. Here.”

Amity pulls the blank white envelope out of her pocket, and places it on the table on her books in a way that only Luz can see from this angle. Luz’s eyes go comically wide, and she shuts her mouth before she shouts in surprise at the object on the table.

“-is that another..?” She whispers to Amity, scooting her seat so close to her that she can feel her knee press against her thigh.

Amity tries so incredibly hard to not focus on the single warm point of contact she has with Luz. It might actually be the hardest thing she’s ever done in her life. She can feel her own palms getting sweaty.

“Yeah, I haven’t opened it yet though. Wanted to be discreet.” She answers, screaming at her own brain to calm the hell down. This is a lot harder than she had thought. “I wasn’t expecting another one of these at all, or so soon after the last one..”

“You’re not flattered at their insistence?” She wonders out loud, reaching over for the envelope - Amity smacks her hand from grabbing it automatically, and Luz yelps - tearing her hand away. Realizing what she just did, Amity feels her face light up in embarrassment.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just didn’t want the other students to notice I had-”

Luz laughs, cutting her off. “Is Amity getting comfortable with me?” She says in jest, Amity wishing she could sink into her seat as she feels her face get redder.

“Don’t get used to it.” She retorts, and Luz knocks her knee against hers teasingly.

The professor walks into the room then, addressing everyone in his class, and Amity tucks the note into one of her books for safekeeping, pulling her potions book out to the front. The murmurs of the other students die down, and he starts off with some monologue about last week’s lesson theory, and Amity is already having a difficult time paying attention.

She places her chin in her hand, glancing out the window. Rain pelts against the glass, and within five minutes she’s starting to feel a bit sleepy again as the teacher’s droning voice goes on and on. Except for the fact that Luz starts to shake her leg out of misplaced, unbridled energy - the one that’s touching Amitys, and now it’s all she can pay attention to.

Is the girl not aware she’s touching the other’s leg? Or does it just not matter to her? Is it just Amity sitting here, silently freaking out about this?

Ugh, she feels so stupid.

The teacher calls on the student sitting in the front row, who gives a perfect answer - and they start heavily discussing that specific topic; Amity watches Luz pull a piece of paper out of her notebook, placing it in front of herself and shielding it from the teacher.

What the hell is she doing? Amity tries her best to not outright stare at her table partner. Luz is scribbling something onto the paper, tip of her tongue peeking out of her lips. A particularly strong gust of wind knocks a nearby tree branch at the classroom window, Luz looks up at the offending noise curiously - Amity has to tear her eyes away from the girl before she catches on.

She can’t even pretend to be a perfect, ‘straight A’ student when the object of her affections is sitting right next to her. How utterly embarrassing. Get it together. The face Luz is making reminds Amity of when she first met the human - and hoo boy has her impression of her flipped a complete 180. Not to mention how Amity herself acted around her. She tries to not think about that part too much, as she already has written extensively in her diary about all of her own regrets.

Amity’s lost in thought before she realizes Luz is staring at her, and she feels the tips of her ears heat up in embarrassment. The human gives her a look - one Amity interprets as “you’re being weird again, Blight” and she slides the piece of paper over to her.

Amity looks down to peer at the note on the table, feeling the tips of her ears heat up even more.

Luz drew herself with a bunch of sparkles around her head, and inside the speech bubble next to her face it reads: “do you wanna spend the next free period together to look at that letter?”

Ah, yeah. Amity’s got it bad. How can one single girl affect her like this? She tries to visibly remain calm as she grabs her own pencil to write her answer, feeling her own fingers shake. Spend a free period - that she normally spends alone to study - with the human? Just the two of them?

Together?

She feels her brain shut off after that specific thought, and hastily writes down “don’t you spend that with willow?” and slides it back over to Luz.

Luz reads it, scrunching her face and giving Amity a look. She writes something back, staring at Amity purposefully.

“do you not want my help?” Amity reads the paper, feeling her heart drop. She quickly tries to write out a “thats not what i meant”- but is interrupted by the professor coughing, and loudly.

“Miss Blight, are you passing notes in my class?” He asks, and Amity hastily sits up straight.

“N-No! Of course not! I was just teaching Luz here the proper way on how to write out the name of this particular fungus, sir.” She answers, heart caught in her throat. Do not come over here, do not come over here - is running in her mind on a loop.

He stares at her from the front of the classroom for a few moments, before shrugging and moving on with his lecture. Phew.

Amity relaxes in her seat, feeling like she emotionally just ran a mile. After a few minutes while the teacher isn’t paying attention, she scribbles out what she was writing on the note earlier and writes down a “of course I do.” To slide over to the human.

Luz looks down at it briefly - to not seem as suspicious to the teacher - and Amity watches as a genuine smile breaks out on her face when she reads the words. It isn't good for her heart's health, being around Luz so much like this.

The rest of the class goes by pretty quickly after that, and Amity finds herself both looking forward to, and dreading the next hour.

They were going to go to the library and sit at a secluded table together under the guise of studying, but it ended up much too crowded for Amity's taste. Even the three study classrooms that are usually empty were chock full of students today.

Eventually they end up on the third floor’s stairwell in the corner, next to all the giant windows. It’s very quiet over here, rarely do students come up or down this way since it’s much farther than any of the bathrooms or classrooms nearby. Luz takes a seat near the bottom of the steps, stretching her arms over her head and yawning.

Amity tries not to stare. She knows she’s been doing a lot of that lately. She instead looks out the large windows and the many trees beyond - the rain is coming down pretty heavy. There’s a flash of lightning out there in the far distance, and after several seconds she hears the thunder. It pours a little harder after that.

She opens the envelope in her hand, unfolding the paper and sitting next to Luz on the third step.

Her hair was like trees

Brown, green, and strong.

Stronger and more powerful than any tree I’ve ever seen

People see her beauty, I saw her roots.

“I think this one is a little better than the other one, frankly,” Luz giggles, her shoulder pressed against Amity’s as she leans in close to read. She needs her brain to focus on literally anything else other than the constant physical contact the human keeps subjecting her to.

“Should I be flattered or insulted?” Amity shakes the paper in disgust, giving Luz a look of judgement. “Mentioning my roots of all things..”

“I think it’s nice!” Luz locks eyes with the other girl, meeting her gaze. “They were definitely acknowledging your superior strength!” She pulls away to flex, and Amity almost snorts out a laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

“You’re supposed to be on my side, don’t defend them,” Amity tries her hardest to not let her flustered feelings show on her face as Luz leans right back into her personal space.

“I’m just admiring their choice of words,” Luz replies with a grin, bumping her shoulder with Amity's slightly. “But you know what’s bothering me? They don’t leave a name, or any way for you to reply to these.”

“While that has been bothering me, honestly, it’s not like I’d contact them even if they did.” The green-haired girl says, watching the rain pelt against the glass on the opposite side of the stairwell. God, it’s dreadful out.

Suddenly, she hears footsteps on the floor above her coming downwards, and she quickly grabs the potions book to her left, placing it on her lap and hiding the love poem between some of the pages. Luz turns to look behind them both.

“Amityyyyyyy~” The condescending voice of Boscha is heard from behind her, and Amity sighs to herself.

Of course Boscha would somehow find her. Of course.

“What are you doing with her?” The three eye-ed girl walks down the stairs next to the both of them, Skara in tow. She stops to give Amity a bewildered look, and Skara’s not even paying attention. She’s glued to her scroll, rapidly tapping the screen.

Amity doesn’t feel up for it today.

“We’re studying, if you don’t mind.” She answers, giving Boscha a defiant look, the other girl raising her eyebrows in return.

“With the human?” She says it like it’s the scum under her feet. Amity hates the tone she’s using, and is getting irritated very quickly. “Come hang out with us instead.”

“Did you not just hear her? I know you’re not deaf, sheesh,” Luz retorts, bristling next to Amity.

“Excuse me?!” Boscha scoffs, fists tightening. Skara grabs her upper arm, still tapping on her scroll screen.

“Let them study. I don’t feel like getting into it today.” She says to her three-eyed friend, nudging her a bit.

“Uggghhhh, are you serious right n-”

“Boscha.” She interrupts her with a huff.

“Fine.” The other girl retorts, and stomps away like a petulant child after a couple of seconds.

Skara finishes what she’s typing, before looking up to smile at Amity and also Luz by extension.

“See ‘ya around.” Is all she says before walking away leisurely, eventually catching up to Boscha all the way at the end of the hall.

Several long seconds pass, and Luz lets out a long breath.

“She sure has issues.” She says, finally, and Amity laughs at that.

“Thanks for speaking up back there, she would’ve been a lot worse I think if you hadn’t, Luz.” Amity says, giving the other a small smile.

“What’re friends for?” The human replies cheerily, and Amity having to mask her emotions right now is one of the hardest things she’s ever done in her entire life.

Ah, yes.

Friends.

She slept terribly this night, again, for the fifth time this week.

#lumity #luz noceda #amity blight #luz x amity #the owl house #toh #my fic #profoundly yours

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loveistherootofhappiness · 4 years

Note

#12 surprised date while working late....911 Bobby and athena

I was finally able to get around to writing this. Sorry about the lateness. I’m not going to preface it too much and just let you read it. I hope you like it! Thank you for prompting me.

Fandom: 9-1-1 Paring: Bathena Rating: General Word Count: 1911

“Hey, it’s Valentine’s Day. I just wanted to tell her that I loved her,” Silverman said cheekily, as Athena’s handcuffed the struggling man with ease and placed him In Clark’s squad car.

“Of course you did. Just like you have the last 6000 times this month.” Athena rolled her eyes at the man, annoyed that this was the 4th time this week she was arresting him. “Do you know what the words restraining order mean?”

“Oh, come on, she didn’t mean that! She was just playing,” looking past her he see the complainant, Brittni, standing on the sidewalk talking with one of the other officers, “tell ‘em, baby, tell ‘em that I love you. You didn’t mean all those things-“ Athena, having heard this speech way too many times this week, closed the door.

She could still hear his muffled words of “affection” as she walked away. Before walking to her squad car, she walked where Brittni stood talking to Derek. “When we take him in this time, leave him there.” Brittni had the good sense to look sheepish and gave a nod. Athena nodded back choosing not to say anything else and praying that she heads her warning this time. She gave a look to Derek and patted him on the shoulder before walking back to her own squad car.

She spotted her young protege, Braxton, leaning against the hood, giving her a hand clap as she walked to the car. “Nicely done, Sarg.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Unfortunately, it’s all in vain. Knowing these two, we’ll be back.” Athena told her as she got into the driver’s side.

“I bet you lunch tomorrow, he’ll bail out and be back here by the end of the day today,” Braxton flopped down in the passenger seat, “today is Love Day, after all. Makes people do the most.”

“I’m not even going to take you up on that because I know it’s a losing battle.” Athena gazed out at the young woman, “now if only the two of them could figure that out.”

Braxton chuckled and was about to comment when the beeping of her phone caught her attention. She fished the device out of her pocket and smiled when she saw the text notification over the lock screen photo of her family.

From: Mr. Sarg 🙃 Does she suspect anything?

Braxton smiled down at her phone as she thought fondly about Bobby’s plan. She stole a look at Athena, who was currently concentrating on writing notes on her tablet. She knew that Bobby kept this solely between the two of them and she hadn’t told anyone.

Nah, she has no idea.😉

After replying, she closed her messages and went to the notes app, to read over the plan once more. She thought it was sweet, what Bobby was doing for them tonight and she was happy to be involved.

“Is there a reason you’re smiling so much over there?” Braxton startled a bit at the sound of Athena’s voice. She looked up to see her Sergeant eyeing her questioningly.

“Oh yeah, Jay sent me some cute pictures of her cuddling with the pups and some loving messages,” Braxton lied smoothly as she locked her phone and dropped in her lap.

Athena’s gazed at the young rookie, questioning whether or not she believed her. Braxton steeled herself with another line of questioning when,

“All available units, back up requested in Lincoln Heights. Domestic dispute turned hostage situation, suspect appears to be armed.”

“That’s like the next ‘hood over from here.”

Athena flopped her head back against the seat and sighed audibly, “love day, my ass,” she grumbled. Picking up her radio, she responded, “dispatch, unit 212 responding, we’re in route now.”

“Today’s so fun. I love working on Holidays,” Braxton joked. Athena just eyed her as she put the car in gear and drove towards the next call. As much as they disliked it, rise in domestics and similar calls was par for the course on holidays, especially Valentine’s Day.

That’s how the rest of the day went. Their shift was full of domestics and extravagant gestures gone wrong. As the evening settled into night, things started to wind down and they were just patrolling, nothing happening except a couple or routine traffic stops. That was normal though. There was always an “an eye in the storm” so to speak, before the craziness picked back up again.

“It’s almost your break time, Sarg.” Braxton commented as they rode through the streets.

“Is it? I didn’t even notice. The hours tend to run together on these type of days.” She stifled a yawn as she rubbed her eyes. It didn’t matter how long she’d been doing this, she’d never be used to these type of days, especially when she had someone she’d rather be spending her time with.

She opened her phone to the love filled message that Bobby sent her at the start of her shift this afternoon, rereading the words as she had several times today. He’d left her a rose and a well made breakfast this morning, the only time they were able to “interact” all day. Every time she thought about sneaking off to visit him another call would come in. She hoped they would run into each other, but their paths didn’t cross today.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Braxton asked, interrupting her train of thought.

“Just that I’d rather be spending time with my husband right now.”

“I feel you.” Braxton said as she sent quick texts to Bobby and Elaine.

To: Mr. Sarg 🙃 Everything all set on your end?

From: Mr. Sarg 🙃 All set.

Braxton was excited. She couldn’t wait to see the look on her face.

To: Cap Laney 👮🏻♀️ Hey, everything’s a go, if it’s still all good with you?

From: Cap Laney 👮🏻♀️ It is. Tell Athena she can have 45 minutes for this one.

It’s was amazing how lenient their captain was about us spending time with loved ones. As long as they didn’t go overboard and were still monitoring the radio, meeting up with a friend or family member during shift breaks was fine.

All she needed to do now was let her friend in dispatch know. “Where do you wanna go to eat? Oh, since we’re in Koreatown there’s really good place on-"

“Report of suspicious activity in Grand Park, limited information known at this time, any available units in the area?” Braxton stifled her giggle as she heard her superior cursing under her breath.

“Unit 212 responding.” Athena answered.

“Might be nothing.” Braxton kept up the unassuming facade.

“Doubt it. This is probably the start of the second wave.”

“We’ll see.”

It took them less then 10 minutes to arrive at the park. As they scanned the area the park was a little less lively than during the day, but the people they did see weren’t doing anything that could be considered suspicious. Athena and Braxton decided to check the areas that were a little less lit and quieter to make sure nothing was going on there.

As she walked across the lawn, Athena felt a firm hand grab her shoulder. Wasting no time, she grabbed her gun and rounded on the unknown person, knowing that it wasn’t her partner. She soon found herself pointing her gun at her husband.

“Bobby! What the hell? I could’ve shot you! What are you doing here? I thought you were at work?” Athena asked frantically as her heart pounded. She looked over at her partner to find her laughing.

“Okay, maybe getting your attention that way wasn’t the smartest idea.”

“You think?!” Athena put her gun back in the holster, “but that still doesn’t answer my question.”

“A little birdie told me that this was your break time today, so I thought I’d surprise you with a little lunch date. While you had the time.” Bobby grabbed her hand and led her over to a near by picnic table that had a candles, flowers, and a meal for two set up on it.

“How?” Athena asked as the wheels kept turning in her head.

“He and I have been setting this up for the last few days.”

“I contacted Braxton when I found out that we wouldn’t be able to see each other for yet another holiday. She said she could set something up.”

“Most of this was his idea. I just made sure that everything went the way it was supposed to. Surprise!”

Athena said nothing in response as she let it all settle in her mind. “So the call?”

“Dispatch was in on it. So was the rest of the shift. They knew were the only ones that was supposed to respond to it.”

“Wait the entire shift was in on this?” Athena asked.

“Yep, Cap too. She also told me to tell you that you can have 45 minutes for this one. Well, I’m gonna leave you guys to it. See ya Sarg, Mr. Sarg, I’m gonna go have some Korean fried chicken and call my wife to tell her about this. See you in 45.” Braxton walked away before Athena could get another word in.

“You know the Mr. Sarg thing is starting to grow on me, makes me think about that discussion we had about me taking your last name,” He looked to see Athena’s eyes squinted at him, “what? Robert Carter does have a nice ring to it.”

Turning towards her husband, she smacked him in the chest, “that’s for keeping this from me and doing all this,” and leaning on her tip toes she kissed him deeply, “and that’s doing for all this”

When her lips left his, she wrapped her arms around him, reveling in the feel of him, his scent. All things aside, she loved having this moment with him. “That’s the point of a surprise date. For it to be a surprise, what I supposed to do? Tell you. You’re just mad that everyone else was in on it except you.” She was, but she wasn’t going to say it out loud.

“Let me guess, the 118 knows, too.”

“Yeah, they know where I am and what I’m doing. Hen’s in charge while I snuck away to meet you.” He grabbed her chin and brought her lips up to meet his, “now can we eat?”

Wordlessly, she picked a side of the table and he sat across her. She removed the cover from the dish and was assaulted by the delicious smells underneath. She had to admit she was impressed by the number of hoops he went through to make this happen. Not even giving away a hint as to what he was planning. She loved him for it.

“I love you. Thank you for this.”

“I love you, too. We’ve barely seen each other or spent much alone time together these past few months . It’s Valentine’s Day, there was no way I wasn't going this whole day without seeing you again.”

“You make this whole scheme sound so simple.”

“It was. I wanted to spend time with you today. I was going to to make that happen, schedules and even a couple regulations be damned. Simple as that.” Bobby told her with conviction.

She let the air of finality be just that as she shifted the conversation and just focused on being in the moment with him. These 45 minutes were going to be over sooner than either of them wanted.

#bathena #athena grant #bobby nash #bobby x athena #911 #prompt fill #prompt response #fanfic writing hell #krl912 #fanfic asks #idk how i feel this #but its finished #i hope you like it

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writeyouin · 5 years

Text

Swerve X Reader – A Human Crewmate - Chapter 21

Chapter 21 - A Happy Ending

A/N – I cannot believe that I’ve got to this point. I loved getting here, but I’m sad to see it go. Fine, if we must part ways then I’m glad it’s to a happy ending. Based on headcanons by @rocksinmuffin and @straightouttacybertron and starring fan art by the miraculous @bloodypoptart

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

Rodimus pouted from his position on the balcony overlooking the entire crew. This was where he usually made announcements, but no, this time you had called for an announcement and Megatron had simply agreed to whatever it was you were about to say. If you only relayed what you were going to say then Rodimus would say it for you, but no, apparently you were going to take one of the best parts of his job away. You assured him it was only going to be this once but he highly doubted that, once you found out how great it was to say anything you wanted while everyone else was forced to listen.

You glanced over to Rodimus sympathetically as if reading his thoughts. He gave a sarcastic thumbs up, indicating you were to start, although he already knew what you were going to say with Swerve stood by your side. Everyone already knew you were dating, thanks to Rewind. This was clearly an announcement to say so officially, probably to save face after the week’s earlier embarrassment. It’s not like he couldn’t say that for you. On his spot. On his ship. As Captain. But it was fine, he wasn’t jealous or anything, so long as you would hurry it up already so he could get back to actually following his quest… as Captain.

While Rodimus heaved a dramatic sigh, which you ignored, you looked at Swerve, silently affirming that he was ready. Swerve grabbed your hand, giving a small squeeze to let you know he was as prepared as he could be, though he was secretly more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life, including all the years he’d spent in the war; war was inevitably something all Cybertronians were used to, commitment and marriage were much scarier. In war, you could choose to rely only on yourself if it was so desired, in a marriage, you suddenly weren’t alone anymore and as such had so much more to lose.

“You sure you want me to do this?” You whispered to him as the crowd below started to get restless; it reminded you of your first day on the ship, when you had to be publicly announced for the crew to assimilate to you.

“They’ll take it from you better,” Swerve said supportively, but what he really meant was that he had to hear it from you, if only to further prove the wedding was still happening and he wasn’t forcing you into it somehow.

You took a deep breath, not needing to ask for the crew’s attention as all optics were trained on you; even those who couldn’t leave their posts were undoubtedly watching you over the vid-screens. “Hi,” You waved somewhat awkwardly. Rodimus rolled his optics and came over with a microphone, thinking about how he never needed one when it was him making the speeches.

You nodded in thanks, hefting the heavy microphone that was made for Cybertronian size and was almost the same length as your torso. “Okay everyone, so it’s pretty obvious me and Swerve are dating but that’s not what I’m here to announce. Look, before I say what I’ve got to say, well… I’m- Uh, we’re not here to seek validation or for you to ask a bunch of questions or anything like that, it’s just, me and Swerve… Well, um, we’re getting married.”

You bit your lip, waiting for an uproar or maybe some cheering or even a deafening silence. You got neither the reaction you expected nor wanted, as almost the entire crew burst into fits of laughter.

You looked to Swerve for support, but he simply shrugged his shoulders, unsurprised that the crew thought it was all some kind of epic joke. You glanced at Rodimus, who was also in hysterics. Speaking into the microphone again, you said, “Hey, this uh, isn’t a joke, I’m serious, we really are getting married.”

Nobody heard you, but deep in the crowd, Rung, Chromedome, Rewind and Whirl were watching you very closely, knowing that you spoke the truth.

Whirl shook his head, deciding to take control of the situation once and for all. He blasted a loud shot into the ceiling from the one gun he’d managed to hide from Ultra Magnus and always carried around with him for such events that might be made more entertaining with bullets. The room fell silent as Whirl shouted, “THE NEXT PERSON TO LAUGH GETS VENTILATED. NOW, I DON’T KNOW WHAT (Y/N) SEES IN THAT IDIOT, FRAG, SHE’S PROBABLY JUST IN IT FOR THE FREE DRINKS BUT IT’S CLEAR THAT SHE’S NOT JOKING. YOU ALL SAW HOW SHE KISSED HIM ON THAT DAMN TAPE. SWERVE’S GOT GAME, I GUESS.”

You didn’t know what to say now that your entire speech had been derailed. You half expected things would get even crazier or that Ultra Magnus would interject, and it would turn into another debate about gun control. Instead, the entire room turned to you for confirmation and Ultra Magnus was too distracted to help as he cringed at the burn mark on the ceiling, clearly upset that his none of his Roomba armada would be able to reach the ceiling to clean it; besides that, he’d already lost far too many Roombas to the ‘secret’ fights the crew held.

“Yeah…” You said anxiously. “What Whirl said.”

Nobody said anything for a long time and finally Rodimus stepped forward, placing a comforting servo on your shoulder and smiling confidently. You thought he was the first to congratulate you in his own way, but little did you know, he was simply happy to be back in control with what he planned to do next.

“You heard the happy couple,” He beamed. “WE’VE GOT A WEDDING TO PLAN!”

Finally, there was a small cheer as everyone came to terms with what was happening. “Okay,” Rodimus said, “So I’m thinking we’ve got a lot to do and little time. Seven cycles sounds about right.”

You glanced at Swerve, seeing how everything was completely out of your hands; in seven days the two of you would be married. Everything in your life since joining the Lost Light had happened in whirlwind time, it should have been no surprise that your wedding would be no different.

“Alright,” Rodimus continued as he began pointing out people in the crowd, “Brainstorm and Perceptor, you two are on the (Y/N)’s bride outfit. Ultra Magnus, catering detail. Rewind, I want all kinds of documentation, I’m talking films, interviews with the bride and groom on their take on the love story, get everything you can. Blaster, you’re on music. Ten, Tailgate and Cyclonus, You three are on decorations.”

Cyclonus scowled, but before he could argue, Rodimus shouted his name, “HEY, DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! YOU NEVER USE THAT SWORD FOR ANYTHING USEFUL ANYMORE ANYWAY… Primus, at least use it to cut up some origami or something. What does that leave… Mirage, you’re on bartending duty since Swerve can’t be and, let’s see, um…”

Swerve stepped forward to protest his distaste for Mirage, his chief contender, serving drinks at his wedding, but you held him back, “You really wanna serve drinks at your own wedding?”

Swerve sighed, and wrapped his arm around you, “I guess not, but the reception will be at my bar, not his.”

“Whatever you need to sleep at night, handsome,” You patted his chassis.

Rodimus practically glowed as he made his final announcement, “And last but certainly not least, only I can be the priest or whatever as the Captain of th-”

“CO-CAPTAIN,” A voice from the throng called.

Rodimus leaned over the railing, curling his fist angrily, “WHO SAID THAT?!”

Nobody answered, and Rodimus straightened up, pouting. “Fine, as Co-Captain I will officiate, Megatron can… I dunno, Megatron can be Swerve’s best man I guess.”

Megatron gritted his dentae and while he and Rodimus argued it out, Swerve looked at you pitifully, “Should I even try arguing this one?”

You gave his servo a squeeze, “Honestly, I don’t think you’d win.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

The two of you held onto one another, the calm in the eye of the storm until Rodimus said, “Till all are one,” marking that the speech was over.

“Hey,” Swerve said, “You okay to be on your own for a while? I’ve got to sort something out… It’s a surprise.”

You smiled, “How intriguing. You think you can keep a secret?”

“Every once in a while,” Swerve chuckled.

“You know, it’s bad to keep secrets in a marriage, this could very well destroy us.”

“We’re not married yet.”

“Fine,” You said playfully, “Keep your secrets. It’s just as well, I’ve got to see Rung anyway.”

Swerve kissed your head lovingly and the two of you parted ways, each on your own little mission, preparing to begin a new adventure, together.

It was taking you much longer than usual to get to Rung’s because every time someone saw you, they stopped to congratulate you, and more than once, you found your path blocked by various wedding preparations. You even heard talk that some of the bots were struggling to rearrange Swerve’s; you hoped that wasn’t true because if it was, Swerve was going to have an aneurism.

Finally, your goal was in sight and you foolishly thought you were going to make it to Rung’s office until you were once again plucked out of the air by Whirl who threw you into a supply closet, locking the door behind himself.

You remembered the days you used to be afraid of such a situation, now they had become your normal. Although breathless by the impromptu kidnapping, you decided you still had to thank Whirl for his earlier rescue in the speech, if it wasn’t for him, none of the ship’s hubbub would be happening right now.

“Whirl, I-”

Whirl waved his claw casually, “Yeah, yeah, can it fleshie, I got something important to say. ‘Kay, now I’m not saying that marrying Swerve is bad but I’ve gotta ask, you sure you don’t wanna switch to a real mech?” He pointed to himself. “I’m a real prize, y’know. Nobody can take me in a fight. Tell me, what’s better than that?”

You couldn’t help yourself as you doubled over laughing, holding onto his leg for support, “Whirl, what the hell man?”

“Don’t blow this off so easily, really think about it, this is a one-time offer, trading Swerve for me.”

You wiped your eyes with the back of your hand, still snickering. “I’m afraid I’ll have to pass, but hey, if you would do me a favour and be my mech of honour, that’d be great.”

Whirl had seen enough of the films in Swerve’s bar to know what you were asking. He rolled his optic sarcastically, “You have no idea of what we could’ve had but sure, go with the orange guy. Fine, I guess I can be the mech of honour… Does that mean I get to kill Swerve if he runs?”

“I- Um- Maybe try not to do that.”

“What about stabbing him a little?”

“I’d uh- rather have him kept whole.”

“Gotcha,” Whirl attempted a wink, which ended up being one unusually long blink. “Psychological torture and a light-beating only.”

You patted his leg in a supporting manner, “Sure, that sounds like a deal.”

Turning around, Whirl unlocked the door, letting you out first. “As your mech of honour, I’m gonna go train. Gotta get buff if that orange scumbag tries to run. Primus, I hope he runs.”

You blew Whirl a kiss, which he tried hard to ignore blushing slightly anyway, “You do that big guy; you’ll be the best mech of honour a girl could have.”

Whirl walked away, leaving you to finally get to Rung’s office. You jumped up to the door buzzer, taking three attempts before you managed to press it, silently cursing yourself for not wearing your rocket boots.

Rung opened the door, a look of surprise contorting his features. He thought he’d be the last bot you would want to see, considering his slightly strained relationship with Swerve. “(Y/N), what a pleasant surprise. Is this a professional meeting or a social call?”

He highly doubted it was the latter, becoming further shocked when you claimed it to be just that. Settling himself down in his chair, and giving you a boost to the desk, he waited for you to set the tone of the conversation, ever conscious that if he spoke first, he would blur the lines between patient and friend. Although he didn’t fully approve on your and Swerve’s hasty decision, he was determined to be supportive, afraid that if he wasn’t you would stop visiting him in both personal and professional terms.

When it became clear that you weren’t sure how to start, Rung found it impossible to ignore his processor, and spoke up quietly, “Presumably, you’re set on your decision so I’ll spare the lecture and simply ask, is this definitely what you want?”

You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, looking Rung in the optics, “More than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I love him Rung. He makes me feel safe and God, so, so happy.”

Rung nodded, satisfied with you answer, “Very well. Then I suppose congratulations are in order.”

“Thank you. I um- Excuse me for getting straight to the point but I need to know something, how much do you know about human weddings?”

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.”

You paced the table, taking time to find the right words, “Right… well, me and Swerve have decided that we’re going to somehow mesh our traditions, one wedding with the Endurae Ceremony thrown in. In human weddings there’s this role I need filling and it’s super important to pick the right person.”

Rung observed you, waiting for you to ask his advice on who to pick. He sighed, deciding to intervene before things got out of hand, “(Y/N), I cannot influence your choices on who to choose during your ceremony. It would be unethical-”

You grabbed his servo, “I want you to walk me down the aisle like the father of the bride is supposed to.”

Although Rung didn’t know what the significance was behind your request, he could tell from the tone of your voice that it was an important role. He took off his glasses, wiping away some coolant, “(Y/N), you’re sure about this?”

“Rung, you’ve guided me since my first steps on this crazy ship. You’ve made me a better person, and there is nobody I’d rather have giving me away than you. You’re the closest thing I have to a dad here and I want you by my side on my wedding day.”

Graciously, Rung bowed his head, “It would be my honour and a pleasure.”

You grinned, jumping to hug his chassis, feeling the comforting warmth of his arms wrapping around you, “Thank You.”

Rung stroked your back, waiting till you pulled away from him before speaking again. “The pleasure is all mine, though if you could tell me more about my role and how I am to fulfil it, that would be greatly appreciated.”

“Yeah, sure. Well, to put it-”

You were interrupted by the sound of a gong echoing over the ship’s announcement system, followed by Rodimus’ impatient voice. “(Y/N), how many times have I gotta tell you to carry around your communicator? Honestly, it’s zero, but you’re slipping, forgetting it in your room. Do you know how rude that is? What if we needed to track you? Like we did, right now, today, for a VERY important thing.”

You stared at Rung, silently begging him to tell you your communicator hadn’t really been bugged with a tracking device like you would give a dog or child. Rung raised his servos sympathetically as Rodimus continued his rant.

“What? You think I’m gonna tell you what the super cool thing is. Guess again. But if you’re not in rec-room 2B in ten minutes- wait, scrap that, make it twenty, gotta account for those tiny little legs… so cute. Anyway, twenty minutes, or I make no promises on what I’ll do to your room. Captain out!”

You shook your head disbelievingly, “I uh, I guess I have to go. Sorry Rung, rain check?”

Rung chuckled light-heartedly, “Yes, of course. Go find out what Rodimus wants, and don’t worry about me. I’m going to do all the research I can into human weddings.”

He helped you down from the desk, wishing you well as you ran down the hallways, trying to beat the timer Rodimus had set, and cursing the entire time as a cramp formed, hitting you like a needle every few seconds.

When you finally got to rec-room 2B, Rodimus was waiting outside, tapping his pede. “Primus, did you skip leg day? I’ve been waiting here forever,” He whined.

You held your hand up, ready to argue, but quickly let it drop, still trying to catch your breath.

Rodimus shook his head, placing a servo on the small of your back and guiding you into the room where a table was waiting with three seats. Cyclonus sat on the left seat and Nautica on the right, leaving the tall, middle seat for you. With Nautica’s assistance, you clambered up, watching Rodimus as he ran out of the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked worriedly.

“Don’t know,” Nautica said. “Rodimus dragged me in here as quickly as he could. Told me if I waited long enough, he’d get me a whole set of new tools… I think that was a lie.”

You nodded thoughtfully, turning to the ever stoic Cyclonus. “Tailgate,” He answered curtly, as if that was any kind of explanation.

Rodimus, re-entered the room, placing both servos on his cheeks, his mouth forming into a socked ‘O’ as if he never knew you were there. “Why, what have we here?” He asked loudly, strutting in front of the table like a peacock. “Well, if it isn’t our table of judges for the brand new, one-time-only, mech of honour contest! Today, for our three judges, we have a line a mile long, full of hopeful contestants to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!” He revved his engines excitedly.

“Uh, Rodimus,” You squeaked, thinking of Whirl. “I already-”

“AND HERE’S CONTESTANT NUMBER ONE!”

Tailgate skipped in, clearly having been trained by Rodimus on exactly where to stand. His visor flashed eagerly as he waved at you.

Rodimus patted him on his shoulder, “Tailgate, why don’t you tell our panel a little bit about yourself and why you deserve to be (Y/N)’S MECH OF HONOUR!”

“Are you gonna shout that every time?” Nautica asked almost boredly, thinking of the tools she would never get.

“Withhold any comments until after the audition please, judge Nautica,” Rodimus commanded, his optics still trained on Tailgate who began his audition.

“Hi, I’m Tailgate and I’d make a great mech of honour for the same reasons I’d make a great Co-Co-Captain.”

A few other mechs peaked in from outside, trying to determine what they were supposed to say during their auditions.

“Rodimus,” You smiled awkwardly, feeling it stretch too far across your face.

“Not now judge,” Rodimus waved you off.

You sighed, seeing that there were no other options. “I already have a mech of honour!” You told the room, “I picked Whirl earlier.”

Riptide booed from outside, and Tailgate began muttering to himself, “Don’t get to be mech of honour, don’t get to be Co-Co-Captain, don’t get to be anything.”

“Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were planning any of this,” You gestured at the line of mechs who were blocking the door to listen in.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus held his helm in his palm. “(Y/N), (Y/N), (Y/N)… You know how impulsive I am, why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t blame me!”

“I blame you!”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling the disappointment surrounding you. “Ugh, fine, I guess I can have two bridesmai- uh bridesmechs.”

Upon hearing this, Tailgate pushed Rodimus away from you, “As I was saying. I would be the best candidate for a tonne of reasons, right Cyclonus?” He winked.

“I’m not going to be a part of this,” Cyclonus deadpanned, leaving the room solemnly.

“Wha- CYCLONUS, COME BAAAACK,” Tailgate whined, chasing after him.

Nautica pulled out her datapad, making a note. “Hmm, chases after his own personal problems instead of focusing on the bride. Not a good quality in a bridesmech. Too bad, he was doing so well until then.”

You smirked, amused with how scientific she was even now; it looked like most of the decisions of the contest would be up to her for the rest of the game Rodimus had dragged you both into.

“Contestant number two, we are waiting for you,” Rodimus called, in a game-show host kind of voice.

Riptide stepped forward, “Hi, I’m Riptide, but all my friends call me… uh Riptide.”

You snickered into the palm of your hand, finally beginning to see the appeal in Rodimus’ game, even if it was to be a long one, judging by the ever-growing queue outside.

Swerve hugged you close to him, wrapping you in your blanket that he’d moved over to his berth along with an assortment of pillows. You had already told him of your long day and how it ended with you picking Nautica, Tailgate, Rewind, Chromedome, and Riptide as your bridesmechs, mainly because everyone kept complaining until you did.

“A gaggle,” You groaned. “I have a gaggle of bridesmaids.”

“Bridesmechs,” Swerve corrected you playfully.

“They’re like Gremlins! Spill water on one and it multiplies.”

“Primus, I love you,” Swerve murmured at the reference.

You peeked up at him, frowning suddenly, “Hmm, you’re awfully quiet tonight. What’s going on?”

“I’ve been talking.”

“Yeah, talking but not babbling. What’s with that? I mean- Wait!” You sat up, “Are you trying to keep your secret thing quiet by not talking.”

Swerve blushed, going ridged, “NO!”

You slapped his chest, grinning idiotically, “You totally are. What is it? Come on, tell me!”

Swerve mimed zipping his lips and throwing away the key.

“So that’s how it’s gonna be?”

He nodded vigorously.

“I bet I can get those lips open.”

He shook his head. You placed a single finger under his chin, drawing him close to you and kissing him, slipping your tongue in to rub against his metal one. He moaned into your mouth, accepting defeat, even when you pulled away.

The two of you laid down again, and Swerve finally spoke, albeit quietly, “Are you happy?”

“Of course, why do you ask?”

“It’s just… in Mork and Mindy, they waited four years for the slow burn until Mork proposed to Mindy. Four seasons, that’s like four years for you guys. Are you sure I’m not rushing you?”

You stroked Swerve’s cheek, “I think this is more like a Sam and Diane kind of thing in Cheers.”

“Sam and Diane… (Y/N), are you breaking up with me?”

“What? No, they get together in like, season one.”

“And then they repeatedly break up and they finally stop seeing each other after breaking off their engagement in the season four finale.”

“Really? God, I have got to see more of that show.”

Swerve let go of you, “You haven’t seen all of cheers?!”

“Save it for the honeymoon babe. What I meant was, they spend ages beating around the bush until they’re finally together and then it’s a full-on relationship, in season one at least. Now come on, no more Cheers talk, tell me at least a little bit about your day, pretty please.”

“Fine,” Swerve huffed, “But the Cheers thing isn’t over, it’s just on hold.”

You nodded agreeably.

“What to tell you, what to tell you… Oh, I chose our song for the first dance.”

“Is it one of those funny ones where we pretend to slow dance then pick out a hip-hop number?”

“W—well, not uh, not really,” Swerve stammered, feeling heat rise to his cheeks as his cooling fans kicked on. “I-I mean we could do that if you want, but I was thinking something more traditional?”

“Really? I thought you’d like an opportunity to show off.”

“I uh- I guess we could. I’d have to pick a different song but if that’s what you want then…”

Seeing how much Swerve wanted his traditional dance made your heart flutter. You pecked his lips, “No, whatever you’ve picked will be perfect, I just know it.”

“I’m still not telling you what song it is,” Swerve smiled.

“Oh, come on,” You pouted, “I’d tell you. Man… I cannot believe you can keep a secret.”

“Speaking of secrets… I’ve been thinking about how to integrate the four acts of The Conjunx Rites into a human wedding and, uh… how much do you know about the Conjunx Rites, by the way?”

“Between my vast knowledge of everything? I know… nothing.”

Swerve vented his fans anxiously, “Um, the first act is the act of intimacy.”

You bit back a laugh, thinking of the night before with Swerve between your legs. Reaching over and tracing your fingers lightly over his interface panel, you winked, “Pretty sure we already got that one covered.”

Swerve blushed and stammered on, “I-I was thinking we c-c-could just hold hands or something, for the crowds.”

You giggled, and stopped teasing him, keeping your hands to yourself, “Alright, then what?”

“I’m gonna save Act 2 for last because I dunno, we’re rebels and kinda screwing with tradition as it is, so next is the act of profference. We have to give each other a gift of some kind.”

Reaching behind him, Swerve pulled a small orange metal box from underneath the mountain of pillows. “I want to give you this officially on the day, but I think you should see it now.”

Wordlessly, you took the box, opening it to find a plain purple ring, the likes of which you’d never seen before. While you stared at it, Swerve started explaining.

“I don’t know if you’ll get it, but it’s made out of my innermost energon… Percy found a way to stabilize it into a metal, so, uh, well, it’s important to me and I’ll explain if you need me to.”

As it happened, you didn’t need Swerve to explain; you already knew that receiving inner-most energon was the highest form of love and respect you could receive from a Cybertronian.

“I get it,” You said quietly, wiping your eyes free of tears.

Trying to alleviate the sombre, yet joyous mood, Swerve said, “Brainstorm wanted to make it, but he was planning to inscribe it with ‘One Ring to Rule Them All.’ There’s still a good chance, he’ll put something like that on your dress.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. Closing the box gently, you handed it back to him, “I don’t know what I can possibly give you that could ever match up to that.”

“You’ve already given me something though (Y/N).”

“Please do not say that boxset of ‘Three Men and a Baby’ I found.”

“(Y/N), you’re exempt from act three because you’ve already given me something nobody else could; a reason to live.”

You looked up, shocked and afraid, despite his happy tone. You were about to say something when Swerve got the ball rolling again with act four. “The final act is the act of devotion, which is to perform a spectacular demonstration of love. I think we can both agree that’s the wedding.”

“So, then what’s act two?” You whispered, feeling an almost electric atmosphere once you asked.

“The Act of Disclosure, which I think we should do here and now, otherwise it kind of defeats the object of telling an intimate secret… We can’t really do that in front of a crowd.”

Swerve waited with bated breath to see your reaction; asking someone who wasn’t prepared to reveal something intimate about themselves wasn’t exactly comforting.

“I…” You took a deep breath. “On Earth, there was always so much pressure to find someone who you’re meant to be with. They don’t really show it on TV, but we are told all the time that we have to find somebody or die alone, there’s never any time to relax or be free under so much damn pressure and it is terrifying to think that we- that I was brainwashed into it just like everyone else. ”

“I never trusted anyone enough to think of them as someone I’d want to be with. When I got here, I acted more confident and mature and, I um, guess it was kind of a clean slate for me. I never actually expected that I’d find someone to spend my life with but suddenly, when the pressure to fall in love was off, I met you. Swerve, you are my happy ending, when I didn’t think I could have one anymore. I don’t um- Is that what you were thinking? Is it intimate enough? I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be do-”

Swerve pulled you into a hug, his entire body convulsing in silent sobs. Suddenly, you knew why this step was so important, and so you held him, until he was ready to share his secret.

Swerve shook himself, as if trying to physically shake his nerves away, though it was evident he couldn’t as his vocaliser filled with static when he spoke. “Um, I’ve… Let’s face it, I’ve lived through a war. I’ve seen horrible things, done worse sometimes but that’s no secret of any Cybertronian. My secret is- W-What I’m trying to say… When war lasts that long, you have to expect that people, even the most desperate are going to be pushed into relationships, some of which last, most of which break. Some are intimate, but a lot were purely sexual… My point is, that even though I looked for anything in either of those categories, nobody ever loved me- Scrap, nobody even liked me enough to well… Y’know, uh- You were my first.”

Swerve half-expected you to laugh, despite the sober atmosphere. Instead you drew him close once again, staring into his visor, “Then all those others were idiots and I got lucky. I love you and I am so damn proud to be your first.”

Swerve looked away, “You’re not embarrassed by that?”

You shook your head, feeling your way over to his interface panel, a misty glint to your eyes. Swerve grabbed hold of you gently, still not meeting your gaze,

“Then… Then you won’t be embarrassed if I ask to wait till after the wedding? I know we already did it before but now… I want to wait till we’re married, and you are Mrs. Swerve.”

You drew back scowling, “What the hell, Swerve?”

He shrank back from you, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Why? Why would I be Mrs Swerve? You don’t even have a last name, if anything, you’d be Mr (L/N).”

Swerve’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, soon grinning goofily. “Is this how it’s gonna be from now on?” He asked. “You giving the orders and me just obeying like the mindless idiot who worships you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Thank Primus,” He laughed, grabbing you and rolling back onto the berth so you were on his chassis again.

You woke up, with a nauseous stomach, finally afraid now it was your wedding day. How had seven days passed so quickly?

“Swerve?” You mumbled. “You awake?”

You turned over, finding the berth empty, aside from a note that had been messily scrawled over the rest of the berth.

Hey fleshbag, it’s bad luck to see the groom on the wedding.

Swerve will be returned, mostly in one piece at the wedding.

- M. O. H. (MECH OF HONOUR)

You smiled, the message alleviating your nerves slightly. All the same, you wanted to call Swerve and make sure he wasn’t getting cold pedes. Had it not been for a banging on the door, you would have.

“Who is it?” You called, falling off the berth ungracefully and hissing as you rubbed your sore hip.

“It’s your fairy godmother,” Brainstorm answered cheerily. “With your carriage and might I say, a very glamorous ensemble for you.”

You opened the door wide, “…Does it have your face on it?”

Brainstorm gasped, covering his faceplate playfully. “Y/N, this is your big day and you think I would make it about me? How dare you? I’ll have you know that this is a traditional Earth wedding outfit that I have lovingly synthesized with you in mind.”

“So Perceptor wouldn’t let you?”

“Not even when I offered to put his photo on it too, talk about selfish.”

You nodded almost mournfully, playing along with his game, “That prick.”

“Yeah… Anyway, here it is,” He stepped outside, bringing your outfit back with him. It was in the traditional white, but instead of being a dress or a tuxedo, it was both. There was a small white zip for you to tear away either the skirt or the pants so you could choose your style. You teared up slightly.

“Yeah,” Brainstorm said sympathetically, “I mean it is good, but I’d cry too if my face wasn’t on it, where it clearly should be. No time for that now though, your carriage awaits.”

You tore your eyes away from the outfit, peeking through the door to see a giant truck with a bow on it; the bow had Brainstorm’s face on it.

“Magnus?” You asked, somewhat dazed.

“(Y/N), it’s almost time for your wedding and you have not even done your hair yet? This is going to throw everything off schedule,” Ultra Magnus reprimanded, proving that it was indeed him. He sighed, switching to his communicator, “Rodimus, (Y/N) isn’t ready yet… I already told you- No I will not use those ridiculous code names and furthermore- You will refer to me as Ultra Magnus or else- Fine,” Ultra Magnus said defeatedly, apparently losing whatever argument he was in with Rodimus. “Flaming Cupid, Princess Perfect is running late. Keep Lucky Orange calm and where he is, we will be there soon.”

You giggled quietly to yourself.

“I heard that Princess- I mean (Y/N). Get inside and get ready. Schedules wait for nobody.”

“Okay, I’m going, but real quick, are you comfortable doing this? You’ve never driven me anywhere before.”

“(Y/N), this may well be the most important day of your life, I would not be here if it wasn’t.”

Brainstorm leaned over to you, covering his mouth-plate and whispering, “He was afraid anyone else would speed.”

“Speed laws are to be obeyed,” Ultra Magnus warned you exasperatedly.

With that, you skipped back into your room to get ready for the first day of the rest of your life.

Swerve waited at the end of the aisle with shaking legs, the only thing that kept him from pacing was Megatron’s servo on his shoulder; the action was supposed to be supportive, but coming from Megatron, it only felt intimidating.

“I’m gonna purge my tanks,” Swerve whimpered.

“Do it glitch, I dare ya,” Whirl warned from opposite him, throwing a metal, painted bouquet at Swerve and hitting him square on the head, much to Megatron’s chagrin.

“Hey!” Rodimus picked up the bouquet, shoving it at Whirl’s chassis. “Remember, we’re here for (Y/N).”

“And me too, right?” Swerve squeaked, feeling faint.

Rodimus rolled his optics, “Yeah, yeah, you too, whatever you need to tell yourself.”

Suddenly, music began playing, and everyone stood up as they’d been told to do. Nautica, Rewind, Chromedome, Riptide and Tailgate ran to the front where they were supposed to be just in time for Ultra Magnus to drive around the corner and let you out. Ultra Magnus transformed, spotting his Brainstorm bow for the first time and tearing it off in disgust. He took his place in the back, while Rung went to your side in his holo-form, so he could link arms with you.

You barely had time to look around at all the intricate decorations as you were walked down the aisle towards Swerve who looked completely dumbfounded that you’d actually showed up.

“Are you nervous?” Rung asked you quietly.

“Absolutely,” You whispered back.

“Don’t be, from everything you’ve told me over our messages this past week, you’ll do great.”

You squeezed his arm in thanks.

“I believe it is customary for the ‘father of the bride’ to offer a compliment. I may not be your creator, but I must say, you are glowing. I am truly happy for you (Y/N), ah, but here is where we part ways.”

Rung went to take his seat, but you pulled him back slightly, pecking his cheek, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Rung put a hand over his spark, bowing his head humbly and leaving your side, as you went to join Swerve.

“Finally,” Rodimus groaned, “That took forever.”

Chromedome nudged him warningly, giving Whirl just enough time to lean close to you, “Told you I’d get the glitch here in one piece.”

You nodded, holding back a laugh at the already unconventional wedding.

“Alright,” Rodimus boomed, “Let’s get on with it so we can get to the P-A-R-T-Y!”

Megatron glared at Rodimus, silently telling him to tone it down, but Rodimus didn’t care as he went into a full-on impression of an over-the-top-preacher. “I have been told that Act two of the Conjunx Rites has been completed, can I get a HALLELUJAH?!”

The entire room cringed and Rodimus scowled, “Ugh fine.” He grew semi-serious, facing you and Swerve with a smile, “Swerve, (Y/N), if you would like to initiate Act One of the Conjunx Rites?”

You reached out for Swerve’s servo, smiling radiantly the entire time. Thankful that you had made the first move, Swerve grabbed your hand gratefully, squeezing a little too tight, though you didn’t mention it.

“Very good, and I believe you have something to give one another?”

Once again, you surprised Swerve by holding out an orange metal box, identical to his. He reached out carefully, “(Y/N)… What-”

“Open it,” You said.

He did, finding a locket that would fit perfectly in one of his sub-spaces. He flicked open the locket, finding a lock of hair inside. He stared at you, mouth slightly agape at the unexpected gift.

“I may not have any inner-energon, but I figured this is close enough.”

Rewind leaned forward to get a better view, his camera displaying a live-feed to all the vid-screens on the ship, including two large ones for all the attendees.

“Ha ha,” Riptide laughed, “Gross.”

Nautica nudged him and Swerve ignored the pair as he tucked the locket delicately into his subspace, offering you his own box shortly afterwards, letting you put on the energon ring yourself because his servos were shaking so badly.

“Great,” Rodimus clapped his servos together, “Then that leaves act four, Swerve, I believe you’ve prepared some vows but I looked at them and they were long, so here’s a queue card that I wrote and believe me, it’s an improvement.”

He pulled a card from behind him which Megatron firmly snatched away, glaring the entire time, “Let. Him. Speak.”

Rodimus grumbled, stepping back, “Fine. Bet he doesn’t say ‘Till we are one’ though.”

All optics and Rewind’s camera went onto Swerve who stood dumbly, unsure of what to say now that he didn’t have his datapad with the speech on it. “I um-” His voice filled with static and he had to wait a minute to clear it. Ratchet creeped behind him, turning a fan on in case he overheated; you withheld a wry smile.

“(Y/N),” Swerve began, “You- You’re the Monica to my Chandler. You listen to me even when I get crazy and I know I’m not good enough for you, Primus, this whole ship does, but you’re here anyway. I want to spend every nano-click with you, in the non-creepy way. You’re my universe.”

The static began again and Swerve had to take a small step back, though he still held onto you, more for support than anything else.

“(Y/N),” Rodimus said, “Care to add anything to that?”

“What can I say other than what I’ve already said?” You mused. “You’re my happy ending Swerve, and if you can deal with all my gross human stuff, that’s good enough for me. I love you, you’re my lucky star… and I’m totally in it for the free drinks,” You laughed and the crowd chuckled along with you.

“Then by the power vested in me,” Rodimus went back to his preacher voice, “as Co-Captain of this ship, I present to you, these Rodimus stars for the Lost Light’s first ever interspecies marriage.” Seemingly from nowhere, he pulled out two gold stars, passing the human-sized one to you and handing the other to Swerve. “I now pronounce you Conjunx Endurae and mech and wife.” He looked at Swerve, “What are you waiting for? Kiss your lady love!”

You didn’t wait for Swerve as you jumped into his open arms, kissing him while the crew cheered.

The two of you were broken up by a loud shot from another gun Whirl had managed to smuggle in. Once again, Ultra Magnus stared mournfully at the ceiling, wondering exactly where Whirl had got the other gun from; he had confiscated last week’s after the first incident.

Whirl picked you up, “FIRST ONE TO THE PARTY GETS A PRIZE KISS OFF (Y/N).”

A mass of Cybertronians transformed, each trying to beat Whirl to the bar while Swerve was left alone, wondering how he was still left competing with the crew over you, even now that you were married.

After you’d given a victory kiss to Whirl, the party kicked off to a roaring start, with you being dragged off in every direction while Swerve tried to catch up. Finally, you managed to reach him at the bar, which he glared at enviously, hating that Mirage was serving drinks, even on the happiest day of his life.

“Hello, Mr (L/N),” You bowed graciously.

“Hello, Mrs Swerve,” Swerve curtsied. He offered you his arm, “If I may ask you for a dance?”

“How courteous of you,” You smiled, then paused to listen to the current song. “Yep, I always wanted my first dance to be to Wrecking Ball.”

Swerve snickered, “I’m afraid not.”

He led you to the dancefloor then waved at Blaster, who instantly switched the song off. Frank Sinatra’s ever sweet melody, ‘I Love You Baby,’ played instead and you bit your lip, fearing your face would practically split open from smiling too much. Swerve led, matching the pace of the song, and gazing at you adoringly the entire time.

“This was your big surprise?” You asked.

He nodded vigorously, not trusting his voice to match the lie he’d just told; so long as you thought the song was his secret, he was fine.

You leaned into his chassis, ignoring the faster pace of the chorus so you could simply hold onto him, spinning slowly, “I love you too.”

“Not as much as I love you,” Swerve responded ecstatically, picking you up bridal style. You squealed, letting him twirl around, helpless to stop him anyway. All around, the night was perfect and you would never dream of asking for anything more.

Later on, when you were distracted once again by many a bot who wanted to congratulate you, Swerve received a comm on his private channel. He checked his messages, finding a text from Brainstorm and Perceptor, telling him his request was ready. Checking on you once again, Swerve slipped out, transforming so he could be at Perceptor’s lab in record time.

He let himself in, finding the two bots talking about you and the ethics of the project Swerve had asked them to complete. “It’s ready?” Swerve asked. “And you’re sure it will work?”

“Of course,” Perceptor said almost offendedly. “We invented it. It works.”

“Can I see?”

Brainstorm grabbed a remote control, pressing it with flair so one of the flooring panels lifted up as well as thick plumes of smoke.

Perceptor waved the smoke away casually, “Was the smoke machine really necessary?”

“Well you wouldn’t let me have the laser show,” Brainstorm explained. “Where’s your sense of presentation?”

Swerve didn’t listen to either of the pair, he was too focused on what had come out of the floor to care.

Perceptor turned his attention to Swerve as the orange mech stroked a lifeless mini-bot model that looked remarkably like you yet worlds different at the same time. “Are you sure (Y/N) will agree to this? We are talking about moving her consciousness from one body to another.”

“Human life is too short,” Swerve said as if it was an answer. “She doesn’t have to say yes today. Primus! I want her to stay human as long as she can but… But I just got her, I’m not losing her in the blink of an optic. Make sure this will work, I’ll get her to agree. She’s everything to me.”

He walked out of the lab, transforming so he could get back to the party. Finally, things were going his way.

THE END.

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#more than meets the eye #MTMTE #transformers #transformers idw #Transformers MTMTE #maccadam #The Lost Light #ll #swerve #swerve x reader #swerve x human reader #reader #reader insert #every bot ever known to man #chapter 21 #part 21 #a happy ending

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