#instead of acknowledging that there's addition to be done just shoves the calculator off the table

[the-dark-swan]

On My Side

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

the Pandemic AU that literally no one asked for. i wrote the entire thing because of two lines of dialogue that popped into my brain (bonus points if you can guess which ones). 

i’ve never shared anything i’ve written for the TOG fandom on tumblr before so here *chucks story into the void and runs*

(also available on ao3)

“I swear to every god that is listening I will choke you next time I see you, Rowan Whitehorn,” Aelin snarled, leaning her face dangerously close to her computer’s camera.

The speakers emitted a cacophony of howling laughter. She saw Rowan in the little square showing his camera feed, a shit-eating grin on his face. A beat passed, as he waited for a pause in the din of noise. His grin turned feral and he replied, “Do you promise?”  

More laughter shrieked through the speakers, only broken by a choked gagging sound, no doubt from her cousin Aedion. “Could you guys keep it PG for more than 5 minutes at a time? I am begging you,” he groaned.

This all had started as an innocent way for them all to see each other again during their cities’ respective stay-at-home orders. Fenrys, ever the ring leader, had suggested in lieu of their typical March Madness bracket arguments, they could make brackets for other, more mundane things, then argue and vote on them via video chats. The first bracket they had done was MLM power-rankings based on the product and likelihood that Lorcan (the most cynical among them) could be convinced to join. It had taken them two hours before they had reached a conclusion, but for the most part it was goofy and civil.

Today’s debate was more personal: who among them was more likely to start a brawl in a bar. Instead of not wanting to be the one chosen, the group had immediately started vying for the position of most likely to.  The current debate was between Aelin and Lysandra. Rowan had just given his two cents that not only was Lysandra more volatile when drunk, she was also more likely to cause a fight.  Aelin was positively furious.

In the camera, Rowan spread his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “Sorry, love, Lysandra is more likely to start a fight,” he knew she hated when he used pet names on her, “If the question was who is more likely to finish a fight, I would most certainly have picked you.”

“That’s it, Buzzard, I don’t care about social distancing…” Aelin leaped up and out of the screen.

Her friends couldn’t see her, but she stormed out of her apartment, practically ripping the door off its hinges. She took the steps to the third floor two at a time. One right turn and two left turns brought her in front of Unit 343. There was no resistance as she turned the handle and shoved the door open. Somewhere in the back of her mind, the rational part of her puzzled at what reason Rowan could possibly have for having his door unlocked.

Aelin stalked through the long hallway that opened into his loft apartment and found Rowan sitting on the ground, back against his couch, the laptop still open in front of him. Through the speakers, she could make out Fenrys’s voice.

“... twenty dollars says she spits directly into his eyes from Aedion. Lys has an additional five dollars down that Aelin will bring up the incident from New Year’s…”

Rowan reached forward calmly, pressing a button on his laptop, then finally raised his head to look at her. Pine green eyes roved up her body, making Aelin suddenly very aware that she was barefoot and actually wearing a shirt of his that she had stolen months ago.

“Was there something you needed to say?” he asked.

From the computer, someone asked, “Oh my god, Rowan, is she in your apartment?” to which Rowan responded by turning the volume down.

“Technically, you shouldn’t be here,” he added, his voice rumbling in that way that did funny things to Aelin’s heart.

Before she could stop the words, she shot back, “Technically, I thought you were supposed to be on my side, not Lysandra’s.”

“Did he mute them? I can’t hear anything,” a voice complained through the computer speakers.

He cocked his head at her, ignoring the laptop entirely. “You’d sound jealous if I didn’t know better.”

Aelin opened her mouth, but no words came. “Does anyone read lips?” Fenrys asked through the speakers.

“I was under the impression I was an ‘insufferable, territorial bastard ’,” he mocked in a terrible impression of her voice. “You can’t have it both ways.”

“No, you can’t have it both ways, Mister Don’t-Touch-Me-Like-That,” Aelin spat at him, crossing her arms protectively over her chest.

Rowan went still, in that eerie, preternatural way of his. From the computer, someone murmured, “I think she just brought it up.”

The New Years’ Incident. Nausea rolled through her stomach every time she devoted any thoughts to it. The memory of Rowan yanking her hands away from his face, growling “Don’t touch me like that,” while everyone around them counted down the final seconds to midnight, was not a memory she liked to dwell on.

He rose to his full height, unfolding long, muscled limbs from where he sat on the floor, towering tall enough that Aelin swore he had his own gravitational pull. “Are we finally going to talk about it?”

In her chest, Aelin’s heart took off in a nervous gallop. Did she want to have it out with him over it, finally? Three months of carefully maintained distance from Rowan had been painful. Sidestepping him when he went to touch her, letting their inside jokes die on her tongue, sandwiching herself between Fenrys and Aedion at shared meals like they were bodyguards. Now that she thought about it, this was the first time they had been alone together since that night, despite living in the same apartment building.

Across the room, Rowan moved slowly, rounding the coffee table that separated them in measured, calculated steps, as if he was approaching startled prey. Aelin remained rooted to the floor, swaying a bit as he came within arm’s reach. This close, she had to tilt her head back to look him in the face.

“I’m sorry, Aelin.”

She shook her head, swallowing around the lump in her throat. “You don’t really even have anything to be sorry for. It was nothing.” In her head, ‘Don’t touch me like that’ played on a loop.

“It wasn’t nothing, Aelin. You won’t let me within three feet of you. And I miss you. Although, given the pandemic, maybe that has been for the best.” He paused for a beat, raising his hand out towards her. When she didn’t retreat, he moved closer, reaching for her hand and grasping it gently. She offered no resistance as he lifted it towards him and pressed it to the curve of his jaw.

Beneath her hand, his mid-day stubble bit into her palm. “Rowan,” she started, but he shook his head, cutting her off.

“Lately, it feels like the world is ending, and I keep thinking how you might have never known how much I miss you and how sorry I am,” his voice cracked and he swallowed roughly. “I didn’t mean it, what I said. I got… I got scared, Aelin. You mean everything to me. Everything. I thought if I… if we… if we kissed, it would ruin everything. I couldn’t risk messing everything up and losing you, but then I did that anyways.”

Her body rocked into his gravity of its own accord, her other hand automatically bracing against his chest. Talking over the pounding of the blood rushing in her ears, she said, “You didn’t lose me. I trust you, always. And if friendship is all you can give-”

“No,” he interrupted gruffly. “No, Aelin. I’ve had three months to be honest with myself and this has never been just platonic.”

A shuddering breath stuttered through Aelin’s chest at his confession, hope clogging her throat, preventing any more words from escaping. Rowan left her hand on his face, moving his own to cup the back of her neck and tip her face further up. This close, she saw the way his pupils had swallowed most of the green of his irises. She licked her lips and his eyes tracked the movement.

Just as he started to drift towards her mouth with his own, a voice startled them both. “Do you think they’re kissing or fighting? Lorcan had ten dollars on a brawl, Elide had twenty on a make out.”

“Could you excuse me for one moment?” Rowan whispered, his breath ghosting across her face. Removing his hands from her, he marched over to where the laptop sat open on the coffee table, bringing his face back into view and unmuting it.

“If you would kindly stop interrupting us-”

“I’m sure there’s lots of talking-” the unmistakable voice of Lysandra quipped.

“Like I said, there's money down on fighting or fucking pick your-” Fenrys added unhelpfully.

“Shut up ,” Rowan growled, leaning his face nearly all the way into the camera. “If you could shut your traps and stop trying to profit off of your friends’ love lives, that would be great.” Aelin slapped her hands over her face, a blush spreading like wildfire across her face. Love lives? Love? She hadn't dared to acknowledge the way that word rattled around her brain when she looked at Rowan, yet here he was casually throwing it out into the world. Through her fingers, she saw Rowan note her reaction.

“Goodbye, fuckos.” He snapped the laptop shut unceremoniously.

His steps were near silent as he made his way back to her, wasting no time drawing her back into his arms. Aelin brought both her hands up to his face this time, letting her thumbs drag over his cheekbones. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, as if to remind her where this moment was headed.

“Did that word scare you?”

She shook her head. “Nothing about you could ever scare me. Like you said, I don’t think this has been platonic for a long time, if ever.”

He considered her again for a moment, eyes tracking across her features. “What if you deserve better than me?”

“Don’t tell me what I do and don’t deserve, Buzzard.”

“Gods, you’re such a brat,” he murmured, and then his lips were on hers.

[hisgirlwonder]

Atonement - Part Three

Length: 2.3K words Warning: A lot of this is power play with intrusive thoughts but there’s also the addition of smut in the form of sex toys/anal stuff, humiliation, some degrading pet play, sadism of sorts, voyeurism, that sort of thing~ Synopsis: With his trust broken, Michael is doing all he can to make you regret ever crossing him. Notes: Here’s the third part in the continuation of my favourite fic series I’ve written to date (I think my niche might be humiliation which probably speaks volumes about me lmao) and you can find part one and two here on my master list. Hope you enjoy!!! I should also probably point this out but I always write Y/N as consensual because we all know she secretly loves Michael and can’t resist him (even if she might come across as loathing him)

Michael’s actions towards you had caused quite a commotion in the Outpost. Since that show in front of the others, they were all scared stiffness and didn’t want to be the next in line and abided by his rules. Nobody realised that Michael wasn’t interested in punishing them even if they acted out because you were his target, his prey, his toy. He would have just snapped their necks and let that be that. But with you? No, you were different. You were his.

“What the fuck, where are they?”

Desperate hands of yours rummage through bags of clean laundry trying to find your own. You specifically remember last night putting them on a wash cycle and one of the other girls said she’d take care of the rest which by your calculations means they should be there. But they’re not and you’re stressing out. You didn’t need more punishment on top of what you were already being given.

Certain you’ve got another outfit hanging up in your wardrobe, you run back to your room as fast as you can. The adrenaline pumping through your veins turned you into a fumbling mess and made trying to unlock the door difficult, albeit not impossible, and you get there eventually. Once inside you rush over to your closet and fling open its doors.

Michael surely had better things to do than take my clothes, didn’t he?

Apparently, you might have been wrong. The cupboard in front of you is bare, stripped of your belongings. You mutter a fuck under bated breath, heart pounding. Knowing you don’t have much time, you quickly move onto your drawers and yank them open whilst praying you’re still in possession of something, anything, to wear to his office – your search falls flat. You haven’t even got a pair of socks.

There’s a knock at the door. It was if your thoughts were so loud that the Devil himself answered you because you open the door and who was it? Michael.

“Good morning, little grey. Did you get my message? I hope you enjoyed it.”

His tone was all too self-righteous and cocky for this early in the morning.

You’re staring at him in confusion, saying nothing.

I didn’t get a…

It clicks. He took all of your clothes to send you a message.

He continues, “I just love that look upon your face right now. It’s like you’re becoming aware what I can do to make you feel your own shame. There are a few things planned so don’t take too long to get ready. Make sure you shower first,” Michael says, rubbing it in with a wink. You wanted to slap the smug off his own.

**

A concerned Ms. Mead clears her throat, breaking the silence in the room.

“Michael, don’t you think you’re being just a little harsh on that poor girl.”

You look up from your screen to see Mead staring down at you, sadness in her eyes. She hated seeing you like this – she missed the old Michael, the one that had become buried deep under a cloud of jealousy. Mead could read you like a book and knew from the way you were reacting and the things she’d observed that you really did care for Y/N but you didn’t know how to show it.

“Thank you for the concern. I really do appreciate it but after she went behind my back and metaphorically shat all over me then she’s going to get every last bit of my harshness. How dare she let him-” you pause, smacking your clenched fist down in exasperation.

Miriam leans in on the edge of the desk, sight focused on you and trying to read your expression since you had a guard up. You’re refusing to look at her and instead your vision veers off to the side with flared nostrils and a mouth scrunched up in disapproval, matching the current mood.

“Michael, please, look at me.” Mead begs, moving around to be in your line of sight but you move your head again, still refusing to look at her, “It doesn’t have to be like this, you know? You don’t need to let your feelings get the better of you. You’re not a monster, Michael.”

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Michael. You’re not a monster, Michael.” You mimic, deflecting the obvious truth she was speaking. You did feel something for her but the news of betrayal hurled you back into the past when you were abandoned by your own flesh and blood.

“Wow, okay. I see I’m getting nowhere with you. I’m going to go and attend to other things but you know where I am if you decide you actually want to act your age and not like a defiant, spoilt child.” Mead sighs heavily then walks out of the room. You notice she’s left the door ajar as you hear her speaking in a surprised tone, saying, “Oh, hello, Y/N. Michael’s in there.”

**

“Uh, sir, hello,” your words were sheepish, uncertain. He doesn’t acknowledge your greeting nor does he do anything besides type away on his laptop. You’re about to say something else when he bluntly tells you to come to him. You comply with the instructions and tiptoe over to him, standing to the right of his desk.

The tapping of fingers on the keyboard ceases once he feels your presence near. He closes his laptop, pushes himself off the seat, and walks around you in circles with eyes fixated on your exposed skin.

Those icy blues are taking in the sight of the damage inflicted on your body. A single finger lightly skims over the parts that were tinged in shades of blue and violet from where he’d dug in too hard. With cold yet curious tone, he asks, “Do these hurt?”

The answer to that question is simple – of course they hurt. You were in agony trying to fall asleep last night because of that. If he had asked you, however, if anything had hurt more then that was an entirely different story. You’d say yes because it didn’t just hurt, it tormented you to be around him and to almost suffocate on the anguish filling the room that he was experiencing, all because of you. You can’t recall him ever using the word “hate” but you wouldn’t be surprised if that was how he felt about you nowadays.

You pull together a sentence but your words are spoken too timidly for him to hear. He wraps his hand around the bruised skin, gripping where the marks were present, and squeezes as he’s demanding for you to speak up. Tears pool in your eyes and you’re wincing in pain, yelling out that they do. Gasping under the pressure he’s putting on your contusions.

Michael begins to laugh to himself for some reason and drops the clasp he has around your bruised limb. Your eyes, slightly narrowed, on him and you’re rubbing at the soreness. He sits back down on his chair and as he’s pulling in his chair, he mocks you, “I already know what you’re going to do before you do, little grey. You think you get the privileges of a normal human being? Don’t be silly. We both know where you belong.” His head tilts in the direction of the floor, “Down you go, on your hands and knees.”

You’re amazed at how well Michael pulls off the cold, clinical act but you fail to realise that this is what he’s taught himself throughout his life – through the hurt, the abandonment, the pain, the loss, the best and only thing he can do is to build the fortress inside him higher, and stronger; even if this means losing himself even deeper each time he rebuilds it. He’s done it so many times you could almost call him a master in carpentry.

With you following his commands, you’re resting on your bent knees and flat palms. Michael squats down for a minute, eyes perusing over your positioning. You part lips to speak but Michael snatches your face up in one hand and he snaps, “Does the little bitch wish to speak? Too bad she can only bark.”

His emphases on the word bark showed how serious he was, he throws you from his hand and stands up, hovering above like a figure of authority. “You want to speak? So do it, and you get points if you make it extra convincing.”

You put two and two together and come back with something that makes a whole lot of sense. He didn’t want you to speak, he wanted you to bark like a dog because his aim was to make you feel less than human. So, naturally, you don’t want to rock the boat and you show him how convincing you can be.

“Very good. I think you’ve earned the right to speak for a little bit.”

“Thank you, sir. What’s the point in all of this?”

“To teach you obedience, silly. You clearly lack it and all dogs need training sometimes. Oh, and before I forget, I have something for you... a gift, if you please.” Michaels words were mostly calm but there was a touch of condescension thrown in there for good measure. “Before you feel the need to waste any extra oxygen in this room by asking another trivial question, just know it’s something I’m sure you will love, like the slut you are.”

You’re trying to swallow down your nerves but it’s as if you’re a cat with a furball caught in its throat, wanting to cough them back up.

Michael can’t do anything worse to you than he already has.

You’ve been staring at the floor and psyching yourself up to bundle your nerves and shove them deep down inside you that you didn’t notice Michael had disappeared until he came back. You look up and there he is, holding up a red bag. “Little grey, get up off the floor and come and get this,” he swings the bag in front of you by the handles, like an owner waving a toy in front of their pet.

Dying to speak, you bite your tongue for fear of backlash. Michael already senses it in you and pipes up with, “I know, I know. This must be confusing, right? I’m punishing you and then I’m giving you gifts,” Michael grabs his chin in his free hand, pursing his lips before he continues, “I guess you’ll just have to sit on the edge of your seat to see what I have planned next, huh?”

You stick out your hand to grab the bag from him, looking at him in the eyes but you can’t work out what’s going through his mind. Part of you wonders if this is some kind of joke and then the other part wonders if he’s trying to win you over just to gain more control.

Your teeth chew at your bottom lip and you pluck up the courage to dive in, feeling what seems to be a bottle and something fluffy. You pull both out and place them on the table; a butt plug with a tail and a bottle of lube. “I don’t understand. Why these?”

“I just thought I’d get you something to help with your canine transformation since apparently you do quite like being a bitch.” His hands grab for the bottle, shaking it around before holding it out to you, “See? I’m not entirely cruel.”

He places the bottle back down on his desk, continuing to explain his plan, “You’re going to wear this, if not for me then for your own self, because I can promise you things will be worse if you don’t.”

Your eyes hit the plug – it wasn’t like you hadn’t had anything up there before and it wasn’t overly huge so you figured you could do it.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You nod your head.

“Good. Now show me just how clear I’ve made myself.”

Michael points at the toy, “I want you to put a foot up on the chair so I can watch you stick that,” then he points at your ass, “In there. I also want you to look at me so I can feel every second of it. Got it?” He tongues his front teeth in some kind of sick enjoyment.

You bite back the nerves and nod your head again to show your understanding. Despite your submissive streak, you were being crushed slowly and painfully because this wasn’t how you wanted anything sexual with him to go.

With one foot propped up on the chair, you pick both the bottle and toy up, hands trembling slightly, and squirt fake slick on to the plug before rubbing it in and bringing it to your ass. The flesh of your behind hitting Michael’s gaze.

“No. Turn your face around and look at me when you do it. I want to see you.”

Was this just a punishment or his own fetish?

You turn, facing Michael, trying your best to be brave but you knew he’d be able to see the pain. It was pain because over and over again thoughts like you’ve done this to him, he’s hurting because of you, you worthless piece of shit, Michael is right to teach you like this ran through your mind.

For the first time in who knows how long his eyes light up as he’s staring at you pressing the tip of the foreign object into your hole, gasping slightly as it easily slides in. He’s tried to remain calm and composed this whole time but even he can’t hide his own enjoyment, whether it be from the power or from him fill your ass with something, and it’s showing. He’s biting down on his fingers at his own titillation over your docility.

“Wow, you didn’t even cry out in pain, almost as if it’s not your first time filling that ass of yours with something.”

His eyes are stuck on you, particularly on your ass, as his feet lead him to be behind you. His hands pull at your hair back his direction, you too were growing aroused but trying to hide it, “You really are a slut. Shall we see how much you can take?”

Taglist: @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @sensitivethot @sammythankyou @sevenwondr @langdonsdemon @creamy-pasta-boi

 Also wanted to add in you darlings since you loved the first two parts!! @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @cocosfern

[rockthistowninsideout]

Fanbruary 2019

Weekend 1 - Saturday 02.02.

For @citrus-cactus, based on the Takeru Hat Project.

„Hiya Yamato, it’s me, your most beloved brother!“ Takeru said after Yamato had accepted his call.

Yamato sighed and said “I know, I saw it on the display.”

“Well, aren’t you curious why I called?” Takeru sounded particularly chirpy.

“You will tell me in a second, I guess.” Yamato rolled his eyes.

“True, true. I need your help. I have to move out of my apartment because the owner declared personal needs. Thankfully, I have already found a new place, not too far from yours actually. The only thing I don’t have yet is someone to help me move all my stuff. That’s where you come into play. You still owe me a favour after I helped your band move into a new rehearsal room.”

Yamato only muttered through gritted teeth. His little brother was right but that didn’t mean he would be jumping with joy.

“Was that a yes? I had expected a bit more ecstasy; we’ll be closer again after all.”

“Hrmpf. Whatever. Okay, baby brother, I’ll help you.”

“Wonderful. Taichi has already accepted by the way. Toodles, Yama!”

“Wait, what do you mean?” Yamato asked, but Takeru had already hung up. Yamato eyed his mobile phone with disbelief, shook his head and then put it back on the table. For one reason or another, the first one that came Takeru to mind was not his own brother but his girlfriend’s. And hadn’t he said he didn’t have anyone to help yet? Years ago, he might have found this agitating but by now Taichi was already extended family, both as theoretical brother-in-law for Takeru and a third half for himself - if you counted Sora as Yamato’s second (better) half.

Because of this, Yamato just shrugged. He looked down when his phone buzzed again with a message from Takeru, stating when exactly the move was going to happen. From the table he grabbed a pen and marked the date in his calendar. Then he gathered everything he needed to go grocery shopping.

***

On Wednesday morning Yamato’s alarm went off earlier than usual. He groaned and buried his head under the pillow, then suddenly jerked up as he remembered that today was the day he would help Takeru move his belongings.

Unfortunately, Yamato slept in a loft bunk. Which he had forgotten in the heat of the moment. “Ouch”, he whimpered and rubbed the hurting spot on the back of his head.

When the pain subsided a little, he rolled around on his back and robbed to the ladder, cautiously taking rung after rung. Before he had coffee he was prone to be a hazard to himself.

After a crucial cup of that life-donating hot beverage and a hearty bowl of rice with tofu he set off to Takeru’s apartment.

“Hey Yamato! Fantastic that you’re here!” his brother called from out of the open window above his head. He just waved as an answer and climbed the stairs after Takeru had buzzed the door open.

Takeru opened the door and drew him into a quick hug. Yamato’s eyes went wide when he saw all the cardboard boxes stacked in the rooms as he looked over Takeru’s shoulder.

“Bro, how much have you assembled? You just lived here for a year.”

Takeru shrugged. “I was surprised myself. But look on the bright side: I have packed up everything already, you just have to carry it down.”

“Yeah, four stories down. And up again to get more.”

“But you have been working out lately, haven’t you? Shouldn’t be a problem. Though you can’t keep up with Taichi.”

Yamato sputtered. “What do you mean? And how come you are so well informed about Taichi’s shape?”

Instead of answering, Takeru pointed to a lonesome picture of Hikari that still hung on the wall.

“I don’t have to understand this?”

“Well, sometimes we do compare your progress with his. And you’re lagging way behind” Takeru said with a smirk.

“Hey!” Yamato shoved him playfully against the wall. “If you’re saying much more I’ll turn on my heel and you can only rely on your oh-so-jacked Taichi.”

“So you’re finally admitting I’m brawnier than you?” someone called from the door and you could already hear the glee in his voice.

The brothers turned to see a widely-grinning Taichi leaning in the doorway.

“How did you get in here?” Yamato asked bewildered.

Taichi held out his flat palm with a key, saying “Hikari’s.”

Yamato just shook his head. “Back to the main topic: let’s get those boxes out of here. By the way, how do we get all those boxes away?”

“I came with a van” Taichi answered.

“Oh, okay. Well, let’s go!” Yamato said because he didn’t like just standing around doing nothing. He grabbed one of the boxes that was surprisingly light even though it looked to be filled to the brim. He risked a glance into it and stopped in his tracks, causing Taichi to ram his box into Yamato’s back.

“Sorry, man, but you seemed so eager to go and now you don’t want to walk out?” Taichi asked with a chuckle.

Just acknowledging his apology with a nod, Yamato turned around. “Takeru?” he asked, his voice trailing out. “How many hats do you have? These are - thirty?”

Takeru laughed. “Yeah, there are twenty-eight in there. But this is only one box. There are two more with the same number.”

“There are what?” Yamato and Taichi repeated in unison.

Taichi quickly calculated. “You have eighty-four hats?”

Takeru nodded unfazed. For him, this didn’t sound out of the extraordinary. “Yeah, for every occasion one. You want to see them?”

“Sure” Taichi said just when Yamato rejected “But not here.” The other two regarded him with a quizzical look. “I mean, let’s pack up everything here and then have a bit of fun in your new apartment.”

Takeru shot him the finger guns. “You’re right. That’s why you’re the more sensible from the two of us.” He snatched another cardboard box and nodded towards the door.

Before they all left, Yamato asked “You have the keys?”

Takeru nodded and so they proceeded down the stairs.

***

When all boxes were packed up in the van, Taichi, Takeru and Yamato got into it and Taichi drove them to the new apartment. It was situated in a quieter area than Takeru had lived before and, indeed, Yamato’s place was only a few blocks away.

Repeating the procedure from earlier, though in reversed order, they filled the new apartment with all cardboard boxes (Yamato had counted - there were twenty in total) and Takeru’s furniture.

After they were done, the doorbell rang and a few minutes later Hikari had climbed the stairs, balancing a tray with a tall food cover on it that augured a very promising cake.

Takeru welcomed her with a kiss, Taichi lifted her off her feet and Yamato hugged her quickly.

“I see you brought cake” Taichi exclaimed cheerfully and wanted to lift the cover off but Hikari batted his hand away.

“Later, after our work here is done.”

“What do you mean? You want to clear all those boxes today?” Yamato looked around incredulously, imagining the bulk of things they’d have to put into place. 

“Sure. That’s why I brought help.” She went back to the apartment door and called down the staircase. Only a couple of seconds later it sounded like a stampede of wild animals running up the stairs. Hikari stepped beside to let the rest of the DigiDestined pour into the apartment. Taichi, Takeru and Yamato were a little taken aback but had hardly time to catch their breath, mostly because Mimi was at the forefront and ran up to them to draw them into a strong hug you would have never anticipated from such a petite person. Now that she lived in Kyoto she didn’t meet them as regularly as she used to.

“Oh boys, I’m so glad to see you again!” she squealed and pecked their cheeks.

“Yeah, good to see you, too. Though I didn’t expect you to be helping in a move” Takeru said a bit carelessly.

Mimi gave him her most disappointed pout. “How long do we know each other now? Of course you need someone for impeccable decorating! As your girlfriend is apparently much wiser than you she immediately thought of me and she has never been more right before! Though if you don’t mind I will wait in the kitchen until the hard work is done here. I would just get in the way but with the rest of the gang you have more than enough hands to get through everything quickly.” She smiled sweetly and danced out of the living room, a trace of flowery perfume trailing behind her.

Takeru and Yamato looked at each other, inhaling sharply but smiling after they had held their breath while the hurricane that was Mimi Tachikawa had raged. They nodded at the same time, Yamato saying “alright”, and then he picked up the coffee table Sora had made out of old books and willow twigs and gifted to Takeru on his last birthday.

***

Hikari had been right. With the many helping hands the whole undertaking was done in the rest of the afternoon and so the move had cost Takeru just one day. Now there were only the three boxes with hats left.

“So, Takeru, now I’m really curious. Show us your hat collection” Yamato said as he took a bite from Hikari’s strawberry cheesecake.

“Alright, y’all ready for a smoking hat fashion show?” Takeru replied and winked, hoping that people got the pun.

Taichi and Yamato exchanged an amused glance while Jou looked utterly confused and Hikari buried her face in her hand, sighing loudly.

Mimi, in her best cheerleading manner, started clapping her hands rhythmically and chanted “Takeru! Takeru!”

Takeru bowed. “At least one is as excited as I am. Okay, here we go. Our first model looks simple at first glance in its reserved off-white without any accessories. But by putting it on with the shield backwards and combined with a charming smile this cap becomes a cheeky and necessary addition to every young gentleman’s wardrobe.”

Taichi laughed boisterously when Takeru put it on and paraded before them.

Sora had gotten up and rummaged through one of the boxes. “Takeru” she called, holding up another hat “what about this one?”

She tossed it to him and he caught it with ease, changing this one with the white hat in one smooth motion. “This one is a bolder statement. Not everyone can pull off a watermelon print - but with the brown background colour it’s still a go-to choice for a relaxed stroll through the city.”

“Are you still sure you want to write novels? Because I’m pretty sure you would find work at basically every fashion magazine. You have the right flowery vocabulary for it” Mimi said in earnest and nodded to emphasize her words.

Takeru bowed before her. “Thank you for your advice. I might even consider it.” He winked, then trolled the next hat from the box. “This is a classier hat, based on the famous bowler hats from English gentlemen, but with a wider brim and nicely contrasted with a black velvet band. The two metal stars give it a juvenile air.”

“Okay, but how do you justify this monstrosity?” Yamato had joined Sora to poke around the hat boxes. He stared at his find in disbelief.

“How dare you call this a monstrosity? I worked thirty hours at this!” Sora exclaimed feignedly snubbed.

Yamato turned to his girlfriend with wide eyes. “Oh, uh, sorry. I didn’t know you had made this. But how? Why?”

Takeru came over and snatched it from Yamato’s hand. With a spaced-out smile he felt the soft fabric that resembled a particularly otherworldly galaxy. It was adorned with a lace band and a bronze-coloured brooch but the most outstanding feature of it was its shape. It was that of a wizard’s hat. “Yeah, that was one of your masterpieces, Sora.” Then he looked at Yamato, gaze gone clear again. “This was the cherry on top of my trip to the theatre. I played Dumbledore in the performance of ‘Harry Potter’ that our Fantasy course put on last semester.” He coughed, made a dramatic pause and then yelled, throwing his hands into the air and pretending to swish a cloak behind him, “Harry, did you put your name in the Goblet of-“

“-Fire?” the DigiDestined shouted back in unison. There was a second of silence and then everybody erupted into vigorous laughter.

Mimi was wheezing. After she had caught a bit of air again she gasped “They we’re so right with casting you as Dumbledore. You really have a flamboyant air to you.” She wiped tears out of her eyes.

“Absolutely. Maybe you should become a playwright instead of a novel writer”, Yamato suggested.

“Or be a part-time actor while still writing your novels. You’d be great” Sora confirmed.

Takeru bowed before them all, pretending to blush deeply. “Your praise flatters me, but my desired career cannot be changed.”

Hikari walked up to him and pecked him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, I would never try to change your mind.”

“Uh, of course, my angel of a sister has to save the day” Taichi remarked mockingly, but his smile actually expressed that he was still proud of her. He looked around. The bubbly excitement from only a few moments ago had died down, instead they were content to be quietly in the company of their friends. Only Meiko was missing, she was out of the country for a semester. That made his heart a little melancholic but otherwise it couldn’t get much better than it was now.