#so I can’t really find the new infant content that I’m sure is there

[newlyy]

First experience with a sim infant 🫠

[phoenixyfriend]

Rex and Anakin Raise a Family: Part Four

Part One, Part Two, Part Three – Chrono

Warnings: grief, resentment, lactation, animal death

----

For all that Anakin had said he could handle the twins, Rex still takes one in the sling as they go into town. They don't have a hoverpram yet, and neither of them could figure out a way to fold the fabric to securely hold the babies' heads up. Anakin takes Luke, and Rex takes Leia, and they ignore the whispers that still follow them.

The General keeps just behind his shoulder when they get to the hardware shop that carries the closest paint they can find in such a small town. It's not meant for armor, really, but speeder paint will do the trick for now. Rex's hands shake as he picks out the shades he needs, and the young Rodian at the register almost asks about it.

The issue isn't pressed.

They make their way back to the cottage, and Leia starts fussing fifteen minutes past the town's edge. Anakin looks like he wants to offer to take her back, but Rex is fine. He can comfort her. He can--

Anakin takes the paint, floating it along in the air before them, freeing Rex's hands to focus on the infant strapped to his chest.

"I'll feed her as soon as we get back," Anakin says, low and calm. "She's a little hungry."

Pacifier, then. They're only a few minutes out, by now. She can wait for them to get back to where exchanging the twins won't involve juggling.

Rex feels eyes on him, looks up and sees the soft, quiet smile on his General's face, and ducks his head back to Leia.

She glares up at him as well as a newborn can, sucking angrily on the paci in her mouth. Rex has no idea if she's actually upset or if her face just naturally follows such an expression, but it's adorable nonetheless. He hums to her, nonsense without words.

He's never learned lullabies; they picked up drinking songs in the field and from local soldiers, from their Jedi, war songs from their trainers, pop songs from the radio. A few learned lullabies, those who loved children and wanted their own, one day, brothers like Waxer who would have adopted Numa in a heartbeat if it had been an option.

He wants to learn lullabies. He wants to be able to sing children's songs to these tiny, helpless lives he holds in his hands, day in and day out. He wants to learn Mandalorian songs, real ones, not just battle chants and mourning melodies. He wants to be able to raise them with the childhood he didn't have.

"Rex? Door's open."

He looks up, and Anakin's standing on the porch, pulling the keys from the lock and gesturing in with his head. Rex hadn't even realized he'd stopped walking, subconsciously waiting for the blockage of the door to be handled. It's easier to focus on the children.

The paint gets sent to the backyard--trapped fumes wouldn’t be good for the children--and Rex lays Leia down in her crib. Anakin urges him to the backyard, says I’ll handle it about anything Rex uses to delay, and it’s only a few minutes later that Rex finds himself sitting on the grass, armor spread across a sheet of disposable flimsi, paints and brushes at the ready. He doesn’t quite remember setting it up, but he must have.

Anakin joins him, a twin in each arm and the Force laying out a picnic blanket. Leia’s nursing, swaddled up but content to suckle, and Luke seems happy to doze when Anakin sets him down on the cotton gingham. It’s a warm day, with a light breeze, and the babies are where the wind won’t carry the paint fumes.

“I’m here if you need me,” Anakin promises, though his attention drifts immediately to his daughter.

Rex begins to paint.

----

His remembrances are endless.

Every brother he’s ever known, every general he’s met, every small commander and random civilian, everyone he loved and knew. He lights a pyre, sings under his breath and tries not to break in a way that can’t be patched together. He mourns the tubies and cadets, the Jedi younglings, names he never learned and now never would.

Anakin gets Japor from somewhere, carves it whenever he’s too jittery to sleep and the twins are asleep. Rex recognizes a few symbols, like the open circle fleet, like Fives’ helmet eel, like Ahsoka’s markings. There are more, though, that are wholly unfamiliar, things he thinks are born of desert sands and binary suns, rough and painful and deeper in Anakin’s heart than even the Jedi.

He asks about the one for Fives, when he sees it.

He hides his anger.

Explanations, first.

“It’s an apology,” his General tells him, eyes distant. “I should have listened to him. I didn’t. The carvings are regrets, broken trust... that sort of thing. I’m part of why he died, and in that, part of why the rest is gone. He and his memory deserve a place of honor.”

Rex considers that, and accepts it.

Fives deserves an apology. The General recognizes that.

The General recognizes that he fucked up.

This is a good thing.

Rex lets go of his anger, still curled tight to his chest after months, as best he can.

He’s not very good at it, but he can try.

Luke starts crying, and Rex gets up to warm a bottle.

----

“I need to stay close to home until the twins are a little older,” Rex says. Teskarim, the woman at the childcare store, tilts her head to encourage him to continue. “I’m... I’ve never been anything but a soldier, and nobody here needs security services, but I can hunt. Do you know if there’s any kind of licenses required, or lists of which animals are legal hunt and which are endangered?”

“I... don’t,” she says, chewing her bottom lip. “But I think the butcher’s shop can probably point you in the right direction.”

Damn. He’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to talk to anyone new today.

“Thanks,” he sighs, and shells out some of the local currency for more formula.

----

The butcher has answers, and preferences. Rex isn’t much of a trapper, but he’s a hell of a shot, and decent enough scout and tracker. He listens to what there is to hear, and mentally takes all the notes he can. There aren’t any licenses needed in this hemisphere, but there are legally-defined hunting seasons for different creatures. The butcher knows when the optimal times of day are, which parts of the nearby forest and mountains are best to stake out, and so on.

Rex tells Anakin about his plan. He gets a slow blink in response, a cringe in what he thinks is guilt, and an offer to meditate for the best direction to take when he goes out. He accepts the offer in the spirit its meant, and sets out the next morning with the expectation that he may need to spend a few nights out under the leaves and stars.

The calm and quiet are their own kind of comfort. He’s loyal to Anakin, and he already loves the twins, but there’s a part of him that needs to be away from natborns right now. Anakin was a Jedi, a general, and fought in the metaphorical trenches with the rest of them, but he wasn’t a brother.

They grieve many of the same people, but they do not grieve the same way.

Rex needs the solitude. Not forever, not even for very long, but he needs it.

It takes two days, but he finds one of the in-season creatures, a creature shaped much like an Alderaan deer, but larger, and with longer fur. It’s darker in color, too, and he gives it a bit of time to wander about until he can be sure it’s a male, and he’s not about to leave some fawns without a mother. The shot is clean, and it doesn’t take him very long to tie it up and sling it over his shoulders to bring back to town.

The trek back takes hours, and the creature on his back is a pain to carry, but it’s almost worth the looks he gets from the civvies. Eyes bulge out the sockets at the sight of him, and he’s glad his helmet hides his smirk. He’s Kamino stock, hardened by over three years on the front lines, and there’s a pride in how easy the physical things are for him. It’s not impossible for a natborn to carry this kind of creature this far without help, but it’s uncommon.

He kind of likes the attention, now that it doesn’t come with the many prejudices that being a clone always had.

Anakin meets him at the butcher’s, one twin on his chest and the other on his back.

Seems he’s found a solution to that.

“Here to help me barter a fair payment?” Rex asks, and gets a too-charming grin in response.

“Well, I’ve been doing it most of my life,” Anakin says, cheery in a way that feels pasted on. “And I’ll have a trick to know if we’re being cheated.”

It’s a solid response, but Rex doesn’t like it. He takes note of the bags under Anakins eyes. “Have you been sleeping, sir?”

“Twins,” the man himself says. “And don’t call me ‘sir,’ Rex, we’ve been over this.”

“You need to sleep, General.”

Anakin pouts at him, probably because of the title. “I can handle two days alone, Captain.”

Rex rolls his eyes and sidles through the entrance of the butcher’s shop.

They’ve got this.

[arrowflier]

Ian growing his first tomatoes and being proud of himself really excited to share them with Mickey and cooking with them everyday. But what he doesn't know is that tomatoes don't agree with Mickey. They upset his stomach and make him feel sick. He loves seeing Ian so happy and proud of himself so he doesn't tell him and eats everything he makes him. Ian eventually realizes what's going on. A prompt if you'd like to write it

Content Warnings: food, vomit

The first time it happened, Mickey assumed it was a coincidence. 

Ian had been so fucking excited for his first tomato crop; he'd spent ages looking up recipes, running ideas past anyone who would listen, and scrounging through old boxed from the house to look for weird cooking shit.  He had beamed when the day of his first harvest finally came, carrying those little red fruits in his big hands so carefully that you'd be forgiven for thinking them infants, or puppies, or some other fragile living thing.

So after an hour of Ian washing, slicing, and cooking up his new pride and joy, there was no way in he'll Mickey was going to ruin his husband's happy smile by telling him that just the smell of dinner was making his stomach churn.

It was probably nothing, he told himself, choking down bite after bite, letting out agreeable little hums after each one just to add to the sparkle in Ian's eyes.

Maybe lunch wasn't sitting well; he should have known not to eat anything offered by the Alibi, even under new management (especially under new management).  That had to be it.  There was no way it had anything to do with the dish Ian had painstakingly made from ingredients so fresh they had still been on the vine just hours before.

So Mickey swallowed his bile with the last bite on his plate, asked for seconds, and ate that too.  Then he made his excuses, ran down to the little restroom off the gym, and threw it all up where Ian wouldn't have to see.  He ignored the visible seeds and flecks of red tomato skin as he flushed the evidence away.

Just a coincidence, that was all.  Next time would go better.

The second time it happened, Mickey thought that maybe Ian was just a bad cook.  Ian's courage had been bolstered by his "successful" first attempt, apparently, because this time he went all out.  He'd even traded one of his precious tomatoes for some fresh herbs from the plot next to his in the community garden, just to make it special.

And special it was.  A special he'll, more like, when Mickey nearly voided his bowels an hour later on their new sofa.  He leapt up and made it to the bathroom just in time, and spent the next thirty minutes trying to quietly take care of things so Ian wouldn't hear.

Of course, Ian did hear, and he just had to ask about it.  They were getting ready for bed, Mickey tugging on a too-large sleep shirt from a pile of Ian's laundry, when a hand landed lightly on his waist.

"Feeling better?" Ian asked softly, rubbing soothing circles into the stretched skin of Mickey's sore belly.

"Uh, yeah," Mickey hedged, not wanting to reveal his lingering discomfort.  "It's nothing, really."

"You sure?" Ian asked, pressing closer against his back as his hand migrated to rest over Mickey's chest.  "You can tell me if something made you sick, you know," he said.  "I won't take it personally."

If he wasn't used to Ian hitting close to home while having absolutely no knowledge of what he was talking about, Mickey might have wondered then if his husband was catching on.

But it was an innocent enough question, after all.

"Nah, man," he said, pulling away to sit on the bed.  "Probably picked up a bug on our rounds or something."

Ian looked unconvinced, biting his lip, and Mickey rushed to reassure him.

"I'm be right as rain tomorrow," he promised.  "Just you watch."

Ian hesitated, but ultimately nodded, and joined him in bed.  He curled just a little tighter around Mickey than normal, hand resting carefully on his stomach.

It wasn't a lie, Mickey figured as he waited for sleep to claim him.  He would be fine by morning.  And next time, he'd do the cooking himself, just in case, and then this couldn't happen again.

By the third time, just the next morning, Mickey finally had to admit what he dreaded all along: it really was the goddamned tomatoes.

He’d made the omelets himself, using normal ingredients they got from the store, all things he had eaten before.  He’d mixed in some diced tomato, just for flavor, and because he knew Ian would like it.

And like it Ian did.  His husband was chowing down like someone might take away his plate if he didn’t eat fast enough, barely stopping to sip at his coffee, while Mickey sat silently across from him.

The first bite of his eggs had already almost done him in, the taste of the tomato now forever associated with stomach cramps and bile and bloating.  He knew there was no way for it to be effecting him already, but his stomach clenched when he tried to lift another bite to his lips, and he set down his fork with a clatter.

Ian stopped eating.

“Everything okay, Mickey?” he asked, concerned.  “You’ve barely touched your breakfast.”

“What are you lookin’ at my breakfast for?” Mickey deflected.  “Eyes on your own fuckin’ plate, you’ve got yours.”

Ian obediently ducked his head, but still managed to catch Mickey poking a chunk of tomato away from everything else on his plate.

“You don’t like the tomato?” he asked, ignoring Mickey’s exasperated sigh at his interference.  “I think they really add something.”

“Love them,” Mickey answered with a forced, toothy smile.  “Just saving the best for last.”  He stabbed at the tomato with his fork, spearing it, and lifted it to his lips to make a point.

“Yum,” he said around it as he chewed and forced himself to swallow.  “See?  Delic--”

Then he was up, away from the table, and running to the kitchen sink as it came right back up.

“Mickey, what the fuck?” Ian yelled, his chair sliding back with a screech as he hurried to join Mickey at the counter.

“Sorry,” Mickey managed, head still down, as Ian rubbed his back.  “Think something’s wrong with me; didn’t mean to waste it.”

Ian’s hand stilled.

“Waste it?” he asked.  “Mickey, what are talking about?”

“The tomatoes, Ian,” Mickey sighed.  “I know you’re fuckin’ proud of ‘em or whatever, but I just can’t keep ‘em down.”

“Can’t keep them...” Ian started, then stopped.  His hand fell away, only to reappear on the back of Mickey’s neck, forcing his to lift his head and look at him.

“Mickey,” Ian said firmly.  “How long has this been going on?”

Mickey didn’t answer.  Ian shook him, just lightly, then winced when it set him retching again into the stainless steel sink.

“How long have my tomatoes been making you sick, Mickey?” he asked again, quieter, and Mickey finally gave in.

“Few days,” he muttered, and Ian let go of him completely.

“A few--Mickey, it’s only been a few days.  And I’ve been putting them in everything.”

Ian sounded worried, almost distraught, and that was exactly what Mickey had been trying to avoid.

“No, it’s fine,” he insisted, pushing away from the sink.  He forced himself to swallow past the burning bile in his throat.  “I’m not some fuckin’ pussy-ass kid, Gallagher, I know how to work through a fuckin’ stomach ache.”

If anything, that only made Ian look more concerned.

“I know you do, Mick,” he said.  “But why the hell did you think you had to?  Terry’s gone, we’re doing good; you know you don’t need to do shit like that anymore.”

Oh.  

“You’re not upset?” Mickey asked, just to clarify, and Ian rubbed a hand over his face.

“Of course I’m upset, Mickey,” he sighed.  “You lied to me for days because what, you didn’t want to look weak?”

“No,” Mickey said.  “Cause I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

Ian took a deep breath.

“Mickey,” he said slowly.  “I promise my feelings aren’t hurt just because you can’t stomach tomatoes.  It really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

Mickey shrugged.  “I should be able to, though,” he said.  “Ketchup, soup, fucking pasta--I eat all that no problem, and we just had extra sauce on our pizza last week.  It’s just...”

He hesitated to say it out loud.

“Just my tomatoes,” Ian finished for him.  ‘Right.”

Ian took a step forward, and took Mickey’s hand.  He guided him back over to the table, sat him down--moving his plate away so he didn’t have to look at it--and joined him there.

“Mickey,” he started.  “Maybe it’s not just that.”  Mickey bit his lip, figuring that Ian cared more than he let on if he wanted to find some other excuse, but what his husband said next surprised him.

“I mean,” Ian continued, “it’s not like either of us had a lot of fresh ingredients around growing up.”

Well, he was right about that.

“And really fresh stuff, not processed, none of the preservative shit we’ve been eating our whole lives...well, it’s not your fault that your system doesn’t know what to do with it.”

“Still wish I could eat it,” Mickey grumbled, feeling a little better in spite of himself.  “It makes you so happy, man, and I had to go and ruin it.”

Ian laughed.

“You didn’t ruin anything, you idiot,” he said fondly.  “But next time I want to try something new, maybe we’ll take it a little slower, yeah?”

Mickey nodded.

“And maybe,” Ian added, “You’ll tell me there’s a problem before you puke all over our dishes.”

Mickey looked over to the sink, where sure enough, the majority of their dishes were piles and waiting to be washed, now needing it more than ever.

Oops.

“At least they were already dirty?” he said, and Ian smiled.

“Yeah,” he agreed.  “At least there’s that.”

He leaned forward, and pressed a kiss to Mickey’s head.  Then he grabbed up Mickey’s unfinished breakfast and a fork.

“Really, Gallagher?” Mickey asked.  “You still wanna eat after that?”

“Why not?” Ian answered, mouth already full.  “Besides, if you don’t like it,” he added, a stray piece of egg clinging to the side of his mouth, “then all the more for me.”

It was Mickey’s turn to grin, even as he watched the gruesome show that was Ian trying to eat.

Tomatoes or not, table manners or not, he really loved that man.

[lumosandnoxwriting]

Forever Just Isn’t Enough - George Weasley

Title: Forever Just Isn’t Enough Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Fingering, female receiving oral, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cockwarming, feeling full kink ?? again idk if that’s a real thing but oh well Extra Warnings: major character death!! Minor character death. Slightly alcoholism, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief and dealing with grief, one comment that could allude to suicide, mentions of death and infant loss, mentions of blood and blood loss. Mentions of injuries. Mentions of childbirth. Summary: just when things seem like they can finally fall into place, everything nearly falls apart. Will George and Y/N really get their forever? Or will their dreams crumble around them? A/N: summary is shit but here it is! Here is its, the mammoth that is good girl part 3!! This fic has been nearly a month in the making and it is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written!! It’s 23k words so buckle up! This really is the final part, and I have definitely become attached to this universe. Everything in italics is flashbacks!! I would like to give a huge thanks to @pineapplesandpinas who left a reply on one of my posts that actually inspired this fic! I’d also like to give a huge thanks to the person who gave me some editing help and is coincidentally the person who requested this in the first place, I hope you like it!! As always feedback is welcome! Tags: @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27 @allforthexgame @pigwidgexn @hufflrpuffforfred @wand3ringr0s3 @whiz-bangs78 @gcdric @starlightweasley @vogueweasley @theweasleysredhair @dracoswhore007 @lexymoniqu​ @amourtentiaa​ @mischiefisbeingmanaged​ Read Part 1 here, Read Part 2 here

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N’s chest heaves with deep breathes as she runs down a corridor, watching walls crumble as they get hit with stray curses. She used to be able to walk through Hogwarts with her eyes closed and know exactly where she was in any given moment. But now her heart hammers in her chest as she stands at the junction of two different hallways, unsure of where they’ll lead her. Y/N can hear footsteps barreling towards her, and in a moment of panic she heads to the left, gripping her wand tightly in her hand.

Her legs carry her as fast as they can down the hallway as she silently prays to find someone she knows. By the time she clambered into the room of requirement from the passageway that starts at the Hogs Head Inn preparations for the impending battle were already in full swing and the Order was spread out around the entire castle. Y/N had caught a flash of red hair as she helped Cho Chang cast a protection spell, but by the time she turned her head it was already gone. Death Eaters reached the castle nearly 30 minutes ago, and Y/N has been on her own the entire time, casting curses and spells at them as she searched for Ginny or Hermione. For George. She’s already seen a few bodies lying still on the floor, and her heart is in her stomach with the thought that George could be one of them. Laying lifeless in some hallway all by himself.

Y/N starts to slow down as a wall approaches and she can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. A dead end. The footsteps behind her persist, and she has no choice but to stop as she reaches the end of the hallway, turning around to face her fate. She raises her wand as she looks at the person coming up towards her, but it falters slightly as a familiar face stops just a few feet away. “Adrian?”

Adrian grins as he takes a few steps closer to Y/N, but it’s not the same fond smile he’d shared with her many times. It’s wicked, evil almost and Y/N tries to swallow the lump that’s suddenly formed in her throat as memories of the last time she’d seen Adrian come swirling to the forefront of her mind.

Y/N turns around when she feels a tap on her shoulder, a wide smile on her face. Seven years of hard work has all lead to this: graduation day. She feels absolutely euphoric, and when she turns around and spots Adrian she pulls him into a hug – too excited to second guess herself. It’s the first time they’ve hugged in nearly half a year and while it feels familiar, it’s mostly awkward.

After the conversation Y/N and George had on the train ride back to school from winter break Y/N really made a conscious effort to start a new life with George. The way they had been operating as a couple was only leading them towards disaster, and they were both willing to do anything to avoid that possibility.

The main change they made together was to spend more time together as a couple that didn’t involve getting rid of their clothes. Instead of sitting with each other’s friends during meals all the time, they decided to sit on their own a few times a week so they would get a chance to just talk to each other and reconnect after a crazy day. Y/N started to spend the night over in George’s dorm with him, and while they did have sex most of the time, they took the time to just lay there and hold each other too. While Y/N was busy doing her homework in the library George would just sit there with her, sometimes working on stuff for the joke shop, but sometimes just sitting there and watching her work.

But by far the biggest change was one that rested in Y/N’s hands alone, she needed to set new boundaries with Adrian. Her friends had become her security blanket over the years, their friendship began on that first train ride to Hogwarts, when they were all nervous and scared. She relied on them heavily to be her emotional support, and when George came into her life Y/N made no efforts to change any of that. Y/N had thought George could just slip into their friend group as if he had always been there, but it quickly became clear that wasn’t the case.

Her relationship with Adrian was definitely the biggest point of contention in her and George’s relationship, and was thus the one thing that really changed. It was common for her and Adrian to be physically affectionate towards each other. An arm around the shoulders, a tight hug after a long day, even the occasional hand holding. Y/N hadn’t realized how that might hurt George, and so she put a stop to it immediately. On the occasions where she did sit with her friends at meals she stuck by Daphne’s side, instead of falling into her usual seat next to Adrian. She stopped wearing his Quidditch jumpers to their matches and she made sure to quiet his flirtatious comments, reminding him that she has a boyfriend now, and comments like that make her and George uncomfortable.

So now being close with Adrian feels too close, and while he tries to linger in her grasp Y/N pulls away with a tight grin. “I can’t believe it, we’re finally done!”

“This is the last chance we have, Y/N,” Adrian starts, placing his hands on her hips. Before Y/N can shake off his grasp Adrian lurches forward and presses their lips together.

Y/N moves her face away and tries to push Adrian off of her. “Adrian, stop. I’m with George, you know that.”

“But you could be with me. You should be with me,” Adrian tells her, tightening his grip on her hips. “That’s how it was supposed to be, Y/N. Marcus and Daphne would get married, we would get married. Our kids would grow up together, we’d stand on the same platform we met on holding hands as we send our kids off to school. I love you. And you were supposed to love me too.”

Before Y/N has a chance to respond, a familiar hand is grabbing Adrian’s shoulder and pulling him away from Y/N. George stands in between them, and while Y/N can’t see George’s face, she can tell from the way his back muscles are tensed that he’s pissed.

“What the hell are you doing, Pucey?” George spits. “Y/N doesn’t feel that way about you. She never has and she never will. If this wasn’t supposed to be a special day for her I’d knock your fucking lights out like I’ve wanted to since November. So, get the fuck out of here before I make you get the fuck out of here.”

Y/N wraps her arms around George’s neck as he turns around, watching Adrian stalk off over his shoulder.

-

“Long time no see, Y/N,” he taunts, keeping his wand pointed at her.

Y/N tightens her grip on her wand, keeping it at his chest. Their friendship may have ended in disaster, but she hopes that the years of memories they had before that keep him from doing anything. Adrian may not be the person she thought he was, but Y/N doesn’t want to hurt him. “How’ve you been?” she asks, trying to keep her voice even.

Adrian scoffs. “Don’t act like you care about me now, Y/N. You had your chance to be with me. And you gave it up, for what? True Love?” his voice is mocking, condescending and it makes Y/N’s stomach turn. “But where’s Weasley now? When you need him most?” Adrian’s eyes fall from Y/N’s face to her neck and she lets out a gasp as he places his wand on her chest and lifts up the end of her necklace with it. The tip of his wand is now directly in front of her neck, and a cold sweat runs down her back. “Still wearing this cheap necklace, I see. If you were mine you’ d be dripping with diamonds and pearls. You’d want for nothing.”

“All I want is George,” Y/N answers firmly. Y/N hasn’t taken the necklace George gave her for their first Christmas together off since the day he put it on her neck. It’s like a promise ring, it’s George’s promise of forever, and in these times she’s needed it now more than ever. “So, go head and kill me, or Crucio me, or do whatever you want. But I’m gonna die thinking about George, I’m going to die loving George. And I hope that knowledge drives you crazy for the rest of your life.” Y/N closes her eyes as Adrian’s mouth opens, getting ready to cast her own curse. But before either of them can say anything a familiar voice is casting a curse of their own.

“Stupefy!” George shouts, his wand aimed directly at Adrian’s back.

Y/N’s eyes pop back open as Adrian’s body slumps to the ground, and there George is, standing just a few feet away, his stance firm and his wand raised high. Tears start to spill down her cheeks as she steps over Adrian’s unconscious body before Y/N is running at full speed towards her boyfriend and jumping into his open arms. “Oh my god Georgie,” she sobs, pressing her face into his neck.

“Hi teacup,” he chuckles, wrapping his arms firmly around her waist. He can hear her laugh at the nickname, and George presses a kiss to Y/N’s temple. “I’ve been looking all over for you, darling. I’ve been losing my fucking mind.”

Y/N pulls away from George’s neck so she can kiss him desperately. It’s been far too long since she last saw him, and Y/N can’t help but think about the last time George held her like this.

-

“Y/N! Grab my hand!” George shouts, reaching out to her.

Y/N shouts a curse at a snatcher as she runs towards George, gripping onto his hand tightly with her own. She shuts her eyes tight as George pulls her into his chest, and it feels like all the air is being sucked from her lungs as George disapperates them to safety.

“Fucking hell,” Y/N groans as she lands on her back in the middle of a field, George landing right on top of her. George’s fingers dig into her sides and Y/N laughs as she pushes at his shoulders. “Get off of me you oaf I’m suffocating!”

They both giggle as George rolls off of Y/N, settling on his back next to her. “Are you okay, teacup?”

Y/N takes a few deep breaths, trying to find the answer to George’s question. Official Order business put them in the middle of some forest on the outskirts of Essex, and just before they were leaving they ran into a band of snatchers. They ran and fought them for nearly 20 minutes before George had managed to take them to wherever they are now.

“I’m okay,” Y/N answers honestly a few minutes later. She turns onto her side so she can look down at George. “Are you doing okay? Where are we?”

“Aunt Muriel’s house is about 100 yards north of us, we used to play Quidditch out here when we’d visit her as kids. It’s the only place I could think of that would be safe and secluded.” George reaches up and tucks a stray piece of hair behind Y/N’s ear. “I’m doing okay. Better now that I’m here with you.”

Y/N smiles at George sadly and leans down to kiss him softly. After the ministry fell Y/N left her training program at St. Mungo’s to work for the Order full time, and she was placed in a safe house up in Wales. Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes has been closed for weeks, and Fred and George have turned it into Potterwatch Headquarters. It’s now early November, and Y/N hasn’t seen George since the beginning of August at Bill and Fleur’s wedding.

“I wish I could come home,” she says quietly, running her fingers through George’s hair. He hasn’t been home for Molly to cut it and it’s starting to get long again. “It’s so lonely up in Wales without you. Feels like I can’t get a proper nights sleep without you in bed next to me.”

George grabs Y/N’s chin and pulls her down into a searing kiss. “Our bed is cold without you, teacup. Your pillow doesn’t even smell like you anymore.” He reaches up then and untucks her necklace from the collar of her shirt. “Still wearing this old thing?” he teases, toying with the charms. “I should get you something new, flashier. Even with Diagon Alley closed we’ve been doing some mail order business. And I’ve got all that savings. Could get you something nice.”

Y/N scoffs and slaps George on the chest playfully. “I love my necklace, Georgie. You act like you still don’t wear that stupid teapot pin every day,” she teases. “Teapots are kinda our thing and I love that. Besides you should spend your savings on something important. Like a new broom or something.”

“Or an engagement ring, or a wedding, or a house,” George muses with a grin. “I’m gonna end up spending it on you either way, Y/N. You take your pick.”

“Stop, don’t say that,” Y/N responds, her cheeks flushing pink.

George pulls Y/N onto his chest, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I promised you forever, didn’t I, Y/N? Once this war is over I’m going to put the fattest diamond money can buy on your ring finger and officially make you mine forever. Got it?”

“It doesn’t have to be the fattest diamond, just something simple and classy,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into George’s chest. She can feel his laughter rumble in his chest, and she smiles against his shirt. “I wish we could just lay here forever.”

“Me too,” George responds quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I love you. So much that it hurts sometimes. You know that, right?”

Y/N looks up at George, a look of concern on her features. “Of course, George. I love you too.”

“I just,” George pauses to clear his throat, needing to choke back the rush of emotion he’s suddenly feeling. “I need you to know, how much you mean to me. In case, in case this is the last time you ever see me. This war, everything is so uncertain. I could die, I just-,” George’s words cut off as he suddenly sobs, and hot tears start to roll down his cheeks.

“Georgie,” Y/N coos, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. She rolls off of him then onto her back, pulling George so he’s half laying on top of her with his head resting on her chest. She starts to run a hand through his hair, while the other rubs his back soothingly. “You can’t think about stuff like that, okay? I know things are scary out there but we gotta stay focused on the positive. That fat diamond and the big wedding and the house. The dog, the chickens, the babies. How am I gonna get my six little ginger babies if you die? Hm?”

“Six?” George asks with a sniffle. “I thought we agreed on four.”

“Yeah well I’ve had a lot of time to think while I’ve been on my own and I changed my mind,” Y/N chuckles. “Either way you have to stay alive in order to give me all that. So promise me George, that you’ll stay alive. That you’ll fight hard, for me. For you. For our ginger babies.”

George picks his head up and pulls Y/N’s face down to his, kissing her slowly and with so much love it makes his head dizzy. “I promise. Forever.”

-

That moment was already six months ago, but to Y/N it’s felt like a lifetime, so she hugs him a bit tighter, trying to convey six months’ worth of feelings and sentiments into one embrace. Time is not on their side, and while Y/N would happily stand here in George’s embrace for the next few weeks, if they both plan on staying alive they can’t linger too long.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Y/N asks, pulling away slightly so she can properly look at George. There’s dust and debris all over his face, she doesn’t see any blood, and as her hands roam around his torso and arms she can’t feel any bandages and he doesn’t wince at all.

George chuckles and cups Y/N’s face in one of his hands. “I’m absolutely fine, teacup. Not a scratch, I promise. Can’t give you those six ginger babies like I promised if I’m hurt, can I?”

“It’s seven now,” Y/N mumbles, pressing her face into his chest. “And I want a sheep too.”

“And a sheep? That’s it, that’s where I draw the line,” George teases, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What about you? Are you okay, Y/N? I thought Adrian. I thought Adrian was gonna kill you.”

Y/N shudders at the thought of what might have happened and looks up at George. There’s so much that’s happened since they last spoke, so much she needs to tell him. But now is certainly not the time or place for it. Once they get through this night they’ll have the rest of their lives to be together, heal together. “I’m doing alright. Better now that I’ve seen you. Have you seen anyone else?”

George shakes his head. “Fred and I got separated a bit ago, I saw him with Percy not too long ago, just before I found you. Ginny was on bridge duty with Neville and Seamus so who knows where she ended up. Dad and Mum were in the Great Hall when I left them, and I haven’t seen Ron, Hermione or Harry since the preparations began. But honestly I haven’t been paying attention too much. I’ve been trying to find you, teacup. I was worried when you didn’t show up in the room of requirement.”

“I was on duty, with Tonks. By the time we got the memo and got over here stuff was already going on, people were running around and making preparations and stuff. I tried to find you, but Cho needed my help. I’ve been running around this damn castle trying to find you,” Y/N explains.

Just then a wall somewhere near them collapses, and George covers Y/N’s head with his body. George kisses Y/N again as the dust around them settles, needing to feel close to her for another moment. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” he murmurs, pressing a brief kiss to her lips between each set of words. His eye catches the shine of her necklace and George reaches up, feeling the charms between his fingertips. “Just a little bit longer until we can have our forever, yeah?”

“As long as you don’t die on me,” Y/N tries to tease, digging her fingers into George’s shoulders. The fear bubbling in her stomach creeps into her voice, and she rubs her thumb over the teapot pin stuck to the lapel of George’s jacket, needing to ground herself with something familiar. “You can’t die on me, George.” Y/N can feel tears running down her cheeks, but she doesn’t move to wipe them away, not wanting to let go of George, even for a second. “I can’t live without you.”

“You’re my everything,” George murmurs, cupping Y/N’s cheek so he can brush away some of her tears with his thumb. “And you’re never getting rid of me. Got that?”

Y/N nods and leans up on her tiptoes to press one last kiss to George’s mouth. “I’ll see you on the other side, yeah?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-

Y/N runs as fast as her legs will carry her back to the Great Hall. It’s been hours since she saw George and her hands haven’t stopped shaking since Voldemort started to speak to them, urging them to stop fighting and collect their dead. George could be one of those dead and even though Y/N’s eyes are blurry from the tears she’s shedding, she doesn’t stop to wipe them away. She feels like she can’t breathe, and it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s running. Y/N knows she won’t be able to properly breathe until she sees George again, so she just keeps moving.

Her legs are on fire when she reaches the Great Hall and as she pushes the heavy wooden door open her legs finally come to a screeching halt. There are makeshift gurneys all over the floor, some covered, some not. But Y/N is sure the one thing they have in common is the fact that there’s a dead body laying on top of it. She tries not to let herself linger on their faces too long, just trying to spot a shock of red hair.

That’s when she sees it. The Weasley family is at the other end of the Great Hall, standing around one of the gurneys. Y/N can see Bill and Fleur clutching each other, and everyone has tears in their eyes. She can’t see who’s laying on the ground, but as she lets her eyes pass over everyone a gut-wrenching sob leaves her throat as one thing becomes clear. It’s one of the twins. Whichever one is still alive has their back towards her with their head bowed, so she has no idea who it is.

Y/N’s knees quiver as she forces herself to walk over there, bile rising up her throat. He had promised. George had promised her forever. Had promised her that he’d stay alive. Had promised to spend the rest of his life loving her. They had planned out their entire life, and now that may be all gone.

“George. George, please,” Y/N chokes out as she approaches, her legs feeling like jelly. Whoever it is finally turns around, and Y/N takes her first full deep breath in what feels like forever.  

“Teacup,” George cries as Y/N launches herself onto him, his arms wrapping around her waist to hold her close. He presses his face into her neck and just sobs, his shoulders shaking from the force of his tears.

Y/N starts to shush George and rub his back, trying desperately to soothe him. It has always been Fred and George. The only person she ever had to share George with was Fred and she never minded a bit. Fred and George were the most dynamic duo the Wizarding World has ever seen, destined to live out the rest of their days making the world laugh and causing chaos wherever they go. But now it’ll be just George, and Y/N has no idea how to make that okay.

Fred and Y/N certainly had their issues. Years of hating someone will do that to you, and when she and George started dating it became a silent agreement between them to be civil. But now, looking at Fred’s pale face over George’s shoulder, Y/N can feel her momentary relief rush out of her body, and overwhelming sadness takes its place as fresh hot tears start to roll down her cheeks.

Her and Fred had just barely started to come together when the war started, and now they’ll never have that chance again.

-

“He’s fine you know,” Fred comments as he comes to stand next to Y/N. “You’re looking at him as if he’s going to fall apart into a million tiny pieces with a hard gust of wind.”

Y/N chuckles, and finally looks away from George so she can look up at Fred. Bill and Fleur’s wedding is in full swing, and while Y/N knows this is supposed to be a time to celebrate, a rare moment of sunshine in the darkness of the Wizarding World, panic settled deep in her stomach the moment she stumbled into the Burrow with Ron and saw George lying on the couch, bleeding out of his head and it hasn’t left since. Had the curse been aimed half a centimeter to the left they’d be at a funeral right now, not a wedding. Molly had managed to heal George up fine, and he’s been his usual jovial self over the few days it’s been since his injury, but Y/N can’t help but still worry.

“It makes me feel better,” Y/N admits honestly, letting her eyes find George again. “I’m afraid that if I look away for too long he’ll just disappear. That all my fears will be confirmed and there will forever be a George sized hole in my heart and my life.” Y/N swallows thickly, trying to push away the tears threatening to spill over her cheeks. “He could have died, and I truly wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happened.”

“I thought he was dead,” Fred says after a few moments of silence, surprising Y/N. “When Dad and I got back he asked where George was, and no one said anything. Remus, Harry, they all just looked at us. I figured he was dead. That’s why they wouldn’t tell us. There was so much blood when we got in there, I actually thought he was dead. And then he moved, and it felt like I could breathe again.”

Y/N worries her bottom lip between her teeth as she watches George fiddle with the gauze wrapped around his head. She wants to just go over there and slap his hands away and remind him he has to keep it clean if he wants it to heal, a conversation she already had to have with him this morning after she found him sipping coffee in the kitchen with his toothbrush sticking out of the side of his head.

“It’s my fault. I wasn’t even supposed to go. But Tonks is pregnant, and she shouldn’t be putting her life on the line like that. Not even for blimin’ Harry Potter. George tried to convince me not to go. Said he’d worry about me too much if I was out there.” Y/N shrugs, taking a long sip of champagne. “Maybe if I had stayed here like I was supposed to he would have been able to dodge the curse, or he’d have been focused enough to send Snape out of the sky before he even got a chance to hurt George.”

Fred nudges Y/N with his elbow so she’ll look up at him. “You like, really love him, don’t you?”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “Really? It took George almost dying for you to realize that? Figured your first clue would have been all the times you heard us having sex. Or maybe the fact that I’ve been living with you guys for over a year now.”

“Okay, no need to be nasty,” Fred huffs. “Obviously I know you guys are in love with each other or whatever. But you’re like really in it, yeah? For the long haul. Thought maybe you guys shouting about how you’re going to be together forever was just some weird sex thing.”

“I mean it is a weird sex thing,” Y/N tells him, laughing as he grimaces. “But it’s more than that too obviously. There’s no person on this planet I’d rather be with than George. Or who I love more than George. He’s my everything, Fred. I’m not going to hurt him, I promise.”

“Better not,” Fred mumbles with a scoff. “I’ll curse you into next week if you do, bloody girl or not.”

Y/N can hear the smile in Fred’s voice, but before she gets a chance to respond George is heading over towards them, looking far too pleased with himself.

“Look at this, my brother and my girlfriend getting along, how cute,” he teases, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist. She reaches up to fix his bandage where it slipped, and her gentle touch makes his knees feel weak. “Just in time too. Be a bit awkward for Fred to be my best man if you two hate each other still.”

“Who said I’d want to be your best man anyway, git?” Fred jokes. “All this wedding crap is for the birds.”

George rolls his eyes fondly, pressing a kiss to the top of Y/N’s head. “Fine, I’ll just ask Ron or Harry or Lee. Maybe even Charlie. You’re not the only man for the job, Freddie.”

“But I’m the best man for it,” Fred responds, causing both Y/N and George to groan at his lame joke. “Try and replace me as your best man again and you’ll never hear the end of my cheesy jokes, moron.”

“No need to be feisty, I was just playing. Of course, you’re the only man for the job.”

-

Now Fred will never get to be the best man at their wedding. Or be there when their children are born. Or have children of his own. Just like how Y/N and George planned out their lives, he and Fred had done the same. Buying houses next to each other so they never had to travel far to see the other. They both wanted to have a boy first, close in age, so they each had someone to hand the joke shop down to. But in the blink of an eye all of that has changed, and Y/N doesn’t know if George will ever be the same again.

“You’re okay, George. It’s all gonna be okay,” Y/N coos, just wanting to calm him down. She presses a few kisses to the side of his face slowly, just letting him know that she’s there. Her arms wind around his neck as George’s grip tightens on her waist and she just hugs him tightly.

Y/N hears someone sob behind her, and she releases George so he can pull Ron into a bone crushing hug. She pulls Ginny into a hug next, letting the younger girl rest her head on her shoulder. Y/N isn’t officially a Weasley, not by any means, but this family has shown her nothing but love and welcomed her with open arms and she wants to do everything she can to help them through this. She and Hermione lock eyes, and Y/N can tell by the way the other girl is hovering on the edge of the circle with her hand on Ron’s shoulder she feels the same way.

Harry is hovering just behind Hermione, but instead of coming closer like Y/N expects he turns on his heel and heads out of the Great Hall. Y/N knows that can only mean one thing. This battle is far from over, and she hugs Ginny just a little tighter, hoping it gives them both the strength to keep fighting.

-

The sun is already high in the sky when everyone makes it back to The Burrow. They’re living in a new world, a world that will never be plagued by Voldemort’s darkness, but it seems darkness of other kinds has already started to take its place. 50 people lost their lives that night alone, not to mention the countless others who’ve been lost along the way. Death has touched many families in the Wizarding World, and everyone can feel its burden as they collapse into chairs at the kitchen table.

Molly starts worrying about food and making everyone tea, while George shuffles up the stairs without bothering to say anything. They all had lingered in the Great Hall for as long as they could, not wanting to leave Fred’s body there alone. It wasn’t until people from St. Mungo’s showed up to take away the dead that Molly and Arthur suggested they all head home, and Bill and Charlie had to practically drag George away from Fred. He barely even looked at anyone as they started to apperate home, and when Y/N tried to grab his hand he shoved her off.

Y/N tried not to take it personally, obviously George is going through the hardest moment of his life, but she couldn’t help but feel a little hurt. Her and George are supposed to be there for each other through everything, and it makes her chest ache that in the time where he needs people the most he’s pushing her away.

“He’ll come around,” Charlie whispers, nudging Y/N’s knee with his. She finally looks away from the staircase, trying to return his warm smile. “Fred and,” he starts, pausing to clear his throat. “George is tough, probably the toughest guy I know, and I’ve seen some things in Romania. He just needs a bit of time.”

“Thanks, Charlie.” Y/N takes a sip of her tea, just needing something to distract herself. It’s still fairly hot and the liquid burns the roof of her mouth, but the uncomfortable feeling of her singed tongue is a welcome distraction from the pain in her chest, and Y/N takes another sip.

“Y/N dear, why don’t you go ahead and owl your parents? I’m sure they’re waiting to hear from you,” Molly suggests, before turning back to whatever she has cooking on the stove.

Y/N rests her mug back on the table and plays with the sleeves of her jumper, trying to fight the tears that threaten to spill over her cheeks. “They’re um. They died actually. About three months ago now I think.” The kitchen goes still, and Y/N drops her gaze to the table as everyone turns to look at her. “They wouldn’t let me move them to a safe house, they kept going on about how they weren’t afraid of Voldemort, that they weren’t going to let him force them out of their house. But when death eaters come knocking you either join or die, so.”

Her parents may have refused to be moved to a safe house, but they allowed Y/N to set up an undetectable communication system, so they could at least keep in touch. When her parents went more than eight hours without responding to her last message Y/N started to freak out, and she convinced Remus to go with her to check on them. They were sitting on the couch as if they had simply fallen asleep together, but Y/N could tell something much sinister had happened. She managed to find their house elf Marjorie hiding in the garden shed, and she told Y/N everything that had happened. How people in masks had shown up and when her parents refused to leave with them jets of green light came from their wands. Y/N ended up being called away on a mission, and her parents were buried in the small cemetery at the end of their road, with no one in attendance but the grave digger.

Y/N can feel arms wrap around her, and she presses her face into Ginny’s neck finally letting herself cry. There wasn’t proper time for her to mourn her parents, not in the middle of the war, and as Ginny squeezes her tight Y/N finally lets the emotions that have been building inside of her for the past three months spill out. “They were my only family. And now they’re just gone and I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Ginny coos quietly, rubbing her back. “We’re your family too.”

-

George barely gets out of bed for days. The only times he moves are to shuffle to the loo or when Y/N or Molly is forcing him to drink water or eat something. His eyes are blank, lifeless and Y/N hasn’t heard him speak since the battle. He doesn’t even make sounds when he cries anymore, the tears just run down his face as he takes shaky breaths.  

And as much as it pains Y/N to see George like this, pains them all to see him like this they just let him be. Of course, they all feel Fred’s death. But no one, not even Y/N can fathom what Fred’s death feels like to George. So they let him lay in Fred’s old bed, stopping in to check on him periodically throughout the day and talk to him even though he never talks back. And every night before she crawls into George’s old bed Y/N is sure to kiss George on the top of his head and whisper how much she loves him before going to sleep alone.

The first day they actually force him out of bed is the day of Fred’s funeral. Bill and Charlie pick him up under the armpits and deposit him in the bathroom where Y/N is waiting, situating him in the empty tub. Y/N gives them both an appreciative smile before they leave, and as soon as the door is shut tight behind them she turns to George.

“Gotta get you undressed, okay bub?” she asks softly, kneeling down next to the tub. George keeps his eyes facing forward but gives a little nod, and Y/N takes it as her cue to get him undressed. Once she’s gotten rid of his clothes Y/N lets the tub start to fill up with water, and she runs her hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp as they wait for it to finish.

Y/N washes George quickly, just talking to him about whatever things come to mind. At one-point George reaches up and cups her cheek and Y/N can’t help but lean into his touch. It’s the first contact he’s initiated since they left Hogwarts, and it makes butterflies erupt in her stomach.

Once George is clean Y/N drains the tub and uses a spell to dry George off before pulling a fresh pair of boxers up his legs. “Your suits in your room. Do you want me to get Bill and Charlie or will you be okay going on your own with me?”

All George does is make a noise in the back of his throat, but he starts to stand up then, so Y/N lets him move, following behind him back into his and Fred’s old room. Molly is standing in the hallway, and she and Y/N share a hopeful look before they disappear into the room. This is the most life George has had in him since Fred’s death, and Y/N hopes this means they’re on the road to recovery.

“I got you a new suit,” Y/N tells him as he takes a seat on his bed and she heads over to the wardrobe to grab it from where it’s hanging. Her and Molly had gone to the flat above Wheezes the day before to grab some things for the both of them, but the main thing they needed was something for George to wear. The only formal clothes he has at the Burrow are the dress robes he wore to the Yule Ball, so they needed to get him something.

But as they examined George’s closet they mostly found t-shirts and sweaters, nothing proper for him to wear at a funeral. Turns out the only suits George owns are the few he rotates between for work, and when Molly had reached in to grab one Y/N put her hand out to stop her. Because all of those suits have a matching one hanging in Fred’s closet across the hall. And even though George isn’t ready to jump back into work Y/N knows that he will be, someday. And she doesn’t want any one of these suits to be tainted with the memories of Fred’s funeral. Not when they already hold so many happy memories. Memories of the first day the store was open, of all their late nights brainstorming new products or dealing with paperwork. Y/N had seen George at his happiest while wearing those suits, had watched him and Fred share mischievous smiles as their dreams became a reality. Someday George will step into one of those suits again, and Y/N doesn’t want the first thing he thinks about to be Fred’s funeral.

She gets George dressed quickly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead once it’s done. “I love you, George. And I know you love me too, even if you can’t say it right now, okay? I’m here for you always. No matter what.” Y/N goes over to the desk in the corner and grabs the teapot pin she bought for George all those years ago. It feels thin and flimsy in her hand, and she almost feels silly as she pins it to his jacket. Like she’s still that eager teenager, shopping in London with her Mum for the perfect gift to give the boy of her dreams that she loves with her whole heart. But it’s their promise of forever, and Y/N thinks George needs that now more than ever.

-

Fred’s funeral is packed, which is a surprise to no one. Fred was magnetic and left an impression on everyone he ever came in contact with. Y/N stays by George’s side, greeting everyone that comes to talk with them. Most of their classmates show up and Y/N even recognizes a few regulars from the joke shop. Even Professor Slughorn shows up, despite the fact that he never taught Fred, and Y/N is pretty sure she catches McGonagall wiping away a few tears out of the corner of her eye.

Andromeda comes through with baby Teddy in her arms, and even George cracks the faintest of smiles when the sparse hair on his head turns bright orange. The only time Y/N leaves George’s side is when Lee shows up and she goes to stand with Ginny and Harry who are comforting a teary-eyed Oliver Wood so that the two friends can have a moment alone. George doesn’t say anything, but when Lee goes to sit down George has tears running down his cheeks and Y/N goes back to his side so she can wipe them away.

Ginny ends up being the one to give the Eulogy. Both Bill and Charlie had tried, but every time they sat down to write something they just couldn’t get the words out. Percy had declined his dad’s offer, still too unsure of his place in the family and still too busy blaming himself to feel comfortable enough to talk about how much Fred meant to him. George had been the obvious choice, but he can’t even talk about the weather, and no one wanted to pressure him into doing something he wasn’t ready for. Ron had actually managed to write out a beautiful tribute with the help of Hermione, but two words in he got so emotional he started hyperventilating.

So, it fell onto Ginny’s shoulders to be the one to give the tribute to Fred. Y/N watches Ginny’s knees shake as she stands in front of her brother’s casket, her eyes never once straying to the cards in her hands. Her voice is clear and strong as she tells the story about the first prank she’d ever helped Fred and George pull off, but the tears streaming down her face glisten in the sunlight. Both Fred and George always held a soft spot for their younger sister, so as she stands up there and talks about how much she loved Fred it only seems right that Ginny be the one to say the final goodbye to him.

As Fred’s casket lowers into the ground everyone stands up, holding their wands high as they cast a bright white light into the sky. Y/N slips her hand into George’s, giving his fingers a tight squeeze as they give their final tribute to Fred. Ron waves his wand so a few whizbangs he and Harry had set up can go off. They had found them in Fred and George’s room so of course as they erupt into the sky the colors burst into a few different explicit words.

Everyone, even George, manages to laugh and it feels like the perfect way to send off Fred, the guy who dedicated his life to making people laugh and who died with his final smile still etched on his face.

-

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay a bit longer?” Molly asks, placing her hands on Y/N’s shoulders. “It’s not a bother at all having you two here. It’s nice, to have the house a bit full again.”

Y/N nods, sparing a glance over her shoulder at George. He’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, listening to Ron chatter on about who knows what. It’s nearly June now, and while things with George have been progressing slowly, Y/N is optimistic that they’ll only get better as time goes on. He gets out of bed for short stretches of time now, and when you talk with him he actually seems like he’s listening. He’s said a few quiet things to both Molly and Y/N, but when the whole family is around he tends to just sit there and let everyone else do the talking for him.

Things have started to get back to somewhat normal for everyone, and Y/N decided it was time for her and George to do the same. Bill and Fleur are back at shell cottage, working hard to get Gringotts back in working order, and Charlie finally went back to Romania last week. Arthur and Percy will be back at the ministry next week, and even Harry and Ron will be joining them for their Auror training.

George isn’t ready to reopen the shop yet, but Y/N figures just being back in the flat will help him continue to heal. “I think some normalcy will help George. Get him in a routine, back to living his everyday life. We’ll be back plenty, but I think it’s time we go home.”

“My boy is in good hands with you, Y/N, that’s for sure.” Molly leans in and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And you’ll owl? If anything happens?”

“Of course, Molly.” Y/N gives Molly a final smile before turning back to look at George. “You ready to go home, love?”

George nods and doesn’t say anything, but the corners of his mouth twitch up into a smile. He takes the hand that Y/N offers him, holding it loosely in his own. He still isn’t as physically affectionate as before, but Y/N is sure that with time everything will go back to how it was before.

-

“Are you going to get out of bed today?” Y/N asks, unable to stop the annoyance that creeps into her tone.

It’s nearly October now, and things with George have only seemed to stay the same, if not worse. Some days he gets out of bed and hangs out on the couch, flipping through muggle tv stations for hours on end, holding small conversations with Y/N when he feels up to it. Other days he lays in bed all day, or sometimes for days, his lips shut tight and him barely eating. Firewhiskey seems to be the main component of his diet and Y/N has no idea how he keeps getting more of it after she pours it down the drain, since he never leaves the house.

Everyone has been coddling George, and while Y/N can’t even imagine the pain George has been going through, she’s nearly reached the end of her rope. She’s brought in several different Wizard therapists to try and get George to open up, but each one just ended up leaving the flat after a frustrated hour of George not saying anything. She just wants to figure out some way to help him, and he’s been completely unresponsive in the whole thing.

“Maybe,” George mumbles, rolling onto his other side.

Y/N can hear the unmistakable sound of a Firewhiskey bottle opening and she flips the light on as she enters their room, heading over to George. “Where the hell do you keep getting this crap? Give me the bottle, George.”

George makes eye contact with Y/N as he takes a swig from the bottle, draining quite a bit of the amber liquid. It’s the only thing that has managed to make him feel something in the months since Fred’s death and he doesn’t care how much it bothers Y/N. “Last I checked you weren’t the boss of me,” George responds flatly before taking another drink.

The rude attitude is something new too. Along with his lack of physical affection, some days when George finds the energy to talk his tone is always crass. He’s never said anything horribly mean, but the way he says things never fails to cut Y/N deeply.

“I’m just trying to help you, George,” Y/N reminds him, softening her tone.

George scoffs and tosses the now empty bottle onto the floor. “Well no one asked you to.”

“Because that’s what you do when you love someone, George. You’re there for them no matter what.” Y/N waits for George to say something, and when he doesn’t she lets out a soft sigh. “I’m worried about you, Georgie. You barely get out of bed anymore, you’re not eating. I can’t even imagine the pain you’ve gone through these months. But it’s been nearly six months, love. And Fred wouldn’t want-.”

“Don’t. Don’t talk about him like you knew him. You and Fred had one civil conversation over a year ago. You have no idea what Fred wanted,” George says harshly, cutting Y/N off.

Y/N can feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes and she takes a deep breath to try and calm down. She knows this isn’t George talking, it’s the alcohol and the grief, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. “I get your upset George, I lost people I cared about too. But I don’t get all this anger. Why are you so mad at me? Is it something I said? Something I did? Just talk to me George, please.”

“You want me to talk? Fine, I’ll talk.” George sits up and crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes narrow as he looks at Y/N. “It’s all your fault, he’s dead because of you. I should have been with Fred. I could have cast a protective spell or pulled him out of the way. And he’d still be here. But I wasn’t with him. You know why? I was faffing about the castle looking for you, saving you. When I should have been with Fred.”

Y/N can feel hot tears running down her cheeks, and her fingers shake as she reaches up to wipe them away. “What are you saying, George? That you regret trying to find me? That you regret saving me? That you would go back and let Adrian kill me so you could save Fred?” Y/N pauses to swallow the lump in her throat. “You wish it had been me who died, don’t you?”

George doesn’t say anything, but it’s answer enough for Y/N. “Fuck you, George. I’ve spent the past five months of my life giving you my everything. Trying to help you, trying to make you feel better. And you’ve been what? Laying there wishing it had been me instead of Fred?” Y/N can feel her heart shattering as George just continues to look at her, the same cold expression on his face as before. “Well I’m done. With helping you, with coddling you. With everything.”

She can feel the necklace George gave her pressing against her skin, and while it’s normally a comforting feeling, now it feels as if it’s burning her skin and she reaches up, tearing it from around her throat. It’s the first time she’s taken it off since George gave it to her and as she looks at it in her hand Y/N wants to put it right back on.  But instead she throws it at George. It lands on his legs, and they both just stare at it for a moment.

“Take your promise of forever and shove it up your ass, George. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything, more than I’ve ever loved myself. But clearly you don’t feel the same way and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life pretending that it doesn’t kill me inside that you don’t love me the same way I love you.”

Without another word Y/N storms out of their bedroom and out of the flat, unsure of where she’s going to go next.

-

“You look dreadful,” Percy says honestly when George opens the door. His eyes are red with dark circles underneath, his hair is a mess and the pajamas he’s wearing are wrinkled and creased from him tossing and turning in his sleep.

Y/N had sent an owl to the Burrow after she ended things with George, and Percy had been the one to volunteer to visit George to try and talk to him. He gave him a few days to think about things before deciding to come and see him after work one day. The war took enough from George, and Percy couldn’t sit back and let George destroy one of the last good things in his life.

“What do you want?” George asks flatly, shuffling over towards the couch. He’s felt sick to his stomach since the moment Y/N walked away from him. He was angry and kind of drunk and sad when they fought, and George hadn’t meant a word of what he said to her. But he needed a way to get her to leave. Because George doesn’t know when he’ll ever feel normal again, when he’ll be able to love her properly again, and watching her throw her life away to help him fight a losing battle was getting to be too much.

It started two weeks ago, on one of his good days. He woke up in the morning feeling like himself, feeling like he did before the battle of Hogwarts. George had finally had a dream, not a nightmare or darkness in his eyelids while he slept. It was an actual dream, and when he opened his eyes in the morning the images of him running around a backyard with a redheaded toddler on his shoulders were still fresh in his mind.

And when he made it out into the kitchen where Y/N was making breakfast, she looked gorgeous and the smile on her face when George greeted her was bright enough to light up the world. He finally felt like things were going to be okay. He didn’t feel haunted by the closed bedroom door down the hall. George felt like he was ready, ready to get his shit back together and give Y/N everything he’d ever promised her.

But then he found it in the trash. A letter from the head Healer at St. Mungo’s. She was inviting Y/N to come back into the Healer program, to finish the training she started before the war. All she had to do was send a letter back confirming her reenrollment. But judging by the fact that she hadn’t mentioned anything, and the letter was in the trash, George figured Y/N wasn’t going to reenroll. It killed him that she was giving up on her dream to stay there with him--he was having a good day, but George knew that tomorrow, he could wake up and be right back to struggling to get out of bed. Y/N wanted to be a healer long before George occupied any of her thoughts, and he couldn’t let her throw that away.

So that day, he decided it was best if he let her go. Y/N had given up a lot for George already. His insecurities back at Hogwarts led her away from her best friends, his grief stopped her from dealing with the loss of people she cared about, and now, his inability to get his shit together was going to stop her from fulfilling her dream--the dream that made George start to fall in love with her in the first place. He couldn’t let her give up more of her life than she already had.

When Y/N tried to talk to him that day, he let whatever vile words he could think of spill out of his mouth. Seeing her so hurt, so broken, crushed whatever part of his soul was left, and he couldn’t let her keep living that way. But seeing her tear that necklace off broke something inside of George. He finally felt something other than numbness, and it was complete and utter pain. It felt like his heart was torn from his chest when Y/N slammed the door behind her, and even though George knew not being with him is what’s best for Y/N, his heart still beats for her and he’s sure it always will.

Percy sighs and follows George over to the couch. “What’s going on with you, George? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I wonder why,” George responds, watching Percy sink into one of their armchairs. It’s weird, seeing him here. Percy barely wanted to enter Fred and George’s bedroom when they lived at home together, so he knows something must really be bothering him if he decided to come to the flat to see George.

“This isn’t about Fred,” Percy starts, holding up his hand to keep George from responding. “I’m not saying that you’re not still upset about him or that your grief isn’t valid. I’m talking about Y/N. She owled Mum about what you said. And while I imagine you’re still very hurt, we all are, I know you would never say anything like that to her. I’m not going to pretend that I know what your relationship with her was like, but I know you, George. And I saw the way she took care of you after what happened. So I know there’s no way you could have meant those things you said to her.”

“I’m not good enough for her anymore,” George says suddenly after a few minutes of silence. “I’m broken, damaged goods. And Y/N deserves the world. She was wasting her life sitting here and taking care of me.  I couldn’t let her do that anymore.”

“George you’re not broken, or damaged. You’re healing, there’s a difference. And keeping all of this in is certainly not helping.” Percy sits back and just watches George for a moment. “We talked, down in the kitchen that first night after the battle, Y/N and I. I couldn’t sleep and she came down for some water. We were talking, and I asked her what changed, how she went from hating your guts to looking at you like you’re the only person in the world. Do you wanna know what she said to me?”

When George just shrugs Percy leans forward so he can look at George better. “She told me about the night in detention. About how you guys had an actual conversation for once. And that you made her feel like someone was actually listening to her. That you validated her dreams and made her feel like they were attainable. Y/N said that she told you stuff she never even told her closest friends, because just being around you made her feel safe, like she could be vulnerable around you.”

George thinks about that first night in detention often. After that night, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He even remembers having a dream about how nice her hair smelled, and how good it would have felt to run his fingers through it. He thinks about that night in the broom closet too, hiding from McGonagall; he’d wanted to kiss her so badly, being so close to her made his knees shaky and his chest tight. George had planned on kissing Y/N that night when he dropped her off at the Slytherin common room, until Umbridge had run into them. When they finally had their first kiss a few nights later in that secret passageway, George knew that from that moment on, he couldn’t live without Y/N.

“Why are you telling me this? It doesn’t matter now.”

Percy sighs. “I’m telling you this because you need to know that it’s okay to be vulnerable with Y/N. Keeping all of this in is only hurting the both of you, George. She very clearly loves you, and I know you must love her too if you’re willing to be miserable for the rest of your life to make her happy. But you can both be happy, George. Happy together. You just need to, and pardon my language, take your head out of your ass.”

George chuckles at that. “Wow, Perc, you must be serious, I’ve never heard you say anything so lewd.”

“Yeah well I slacked on my big brother duties for a few years, I figured it’s time to make up for it.” Percy pauses, pursing his lips. “Y/N’s staying at her parent’s house, getting it all cleaned out. Think about what you’re gonna say and then go over and apologize to her. You deserve to be happy, George. Fred would want you to be happy.”

-

It takes a few days and a visit from his Mum to get his haircut, but George gets his shit together so he can go and talk to Y/N. He spent quite a long time trying to figure out what to say to her, and while it’s not exactly perfect it’s what George feels and that’s what matters to him. Because there’s no doubt in his mind that Y/N is the only person he wants to be with for the rest of his life, and he shouldn’t let his inability to express his thoughts get in the way of that. They’ve already been down that road together before, and George vowed to spend forever with Y/N and he still plans on making good on those promises.

He pushes the front door right open, letting the noise of Y/N muttering to herself as she shuffles things around lead him to where she is. He finds Y/N digging through the drawers of the dresser in her childhood bedroom. She’s wearing an oversized t-shirt that George thinks used to be in his closet and her hair is tied up on her head. George can feel his legs shaking as he leans up against the doorway, and he takes a deep breath to calm himself down.

“Hey, teacup.”

Y/N jumps at the sound of George’s voice and she spins to face the door, her hand clutching her chest. “For Merlin’s sake, George. You scared the shit out of me.” She can feel her heart racing in her chest, and it’s not from the fright George just gave her. He looks good, like his normal self and it feels like she’s seeing him for the first time. Molly has definitely cut his hair recently, and even though he’s still in comfy clothes the Gryffindor t-shirt and sweatpants he’s wearing are uncreased and look like they’ve been washed recently.

“Sorry, love, thought you heard me when I came in.” George bites his lip, fiddling with his thumbs. “You doing okay?”

Y/N shrugs, looking down at the floor. George is the last person she expected to show up here, and she’s not sure how she feels about it. He’s been on her mind since the moment she walked out the door of their flat last week, and the last words he spoke to her have been running on a constant loop in the back of her mind. She’s still so angry and hurt over what he said, but Y/N would be lying if she said every cell in her body isn’t screaming at her to just go up and hug him.

“I’ve been doing better, than before,” George continues when she doesn’t say anything. “Percy came to talk to me a few days ago, made me realize what an ass I was. Though I must say he was much nicer than Ginny was when she did the same thing a few years ago.” He lets out a breathy chuckle, and his stomach flips when Y/N looks back up at him with a small smile. “I owe you probably the biggest apology I’ll ever give in my entire life and I’d love to give it to you if you’d let me.”

It reminds Y/N of that day on the train when their only problems were jealousy and what house table they should eat dinner at. Y/N instinctively reaches up to grab the charms of her necklace, her hand faltering when all she meets is the cloth of her shirt. It’s something she’s done several times in the days it’s been since she ripped the piece of jewelry off, usually when she was missing George and wanted to feel like a piece of him was still nearby.

“I guess that’s something I could do,” she says quietly, going to take a seat on the edge of her bed. She pats the spot next to her, encouraging George to come sit. His hands are shaking as he comes and sits down, and it takes all of Y/N’s restraint to not reach out and grab one of them.

“I lied to you. I don’t blame you, for what happened to Fred. And I don’t regret anything I did that night. If it had been you who died instead of Fred I don’t think I would have been able to carry on with my life. Because Y/N you are quite literally the only reason why I wake up every morning, you’re the reason why I have the energy to get out of bed somedays, and the reason why I feel okay when I don’t. Falling in love with you, being with you has been the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

George reaches up to wipe away a few of the tears Y/N has started to shed, his fingers trembling as they softly press against her cheek. “And even though I haven’t been the best person to be around lately, you’ve been by my side through everything. You’ve been so patient and understanding, way more than I deserve. You put your life on hold to help me, and I’ve been rejecting all of your efforts. I don’t know how to do all of this. How to grieve and handle my emotions. Talk about my emotions. And instead of just trying I’ve been keeping them all in, letting them settle in me and get worse. I haven’t felt like myself in months, haven’t allowed myself to. And yet every day you were there, with a smile and a reassuring touch, telling me how much you love me. I started to feel guilty, so overwhelmingly so it felt like my chest was going to cave in. Because there you were, putting your life on hold, giving up your dream to try and help me and I couldn’t even manage to tell you how much I love and appreciate you.”

Y/N reaches up and wipes away a few of George’s tears this time, letting her fingers gently caress his cheek. “George I didn’t mind, doing all of that for you. That’s what you do when you love someone. You make sacrifices, change your plans. I would give up everything to be there for you.”

“That’s why I said all of those things to you, Y/N. Pushed you away, forced you to leave. Because I don’t want you to give up everything to be with me.” George cups Y/N’s cheek gently so he can look her in the eyes. “You deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted in life, and you deserve to have a partner that can be there for you. That can support you fully in everything you do. And I didn’t think I could be that person for you.”

“Didn’t think you could be? Or don’t think you could be?” Y/N asks through her sniffles.

“Didn’t,” George confirms, his voice serious. “Because living without you, even for a few moments was the most intense pain I have ever felt. And even though I don’t know when I’ll feel completely back to normal there are a few things I do know. I know that I love you. And I know that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know I want to support you and be there for you in everything you do. And I know that I want to try and be better for you. And for me. Most importantly I know that I want you, forever. I want all those things I promised you, the stupid diamond and the wedding and the seven ginger babies. I know that I actually want to live my life, not just watch it pass me by. And the only person I want to do that with is you.”

George pauses to dig around in the pocket of his sweatpants, and a moment later he pulls out Y/N’s necklace. Except this time along with the teapot and G charm, there’s a simple diamond ring hanging from the chain. “So I am so, so sorry for treating you the way I have, the way I did. And teacup, if you’ll let me, I promise to cherish you and support you and love you forever.”

It’s not the way Y/N ever imagined this moment would take place, but as she surges forward to kiss George properly for the first time in months, it feels absolutely perfect. She knows that they have a long road of healing and mending ahead and that their lives will probably never be the way they imagined them. But none of that matters. All Y/N needs and has ever needed is George. “Of course, George. There is no one else I want to spend forever with.”

George lets Y/N pull him into another kiss as he fumbles with the necklace, trying to get the ring off so he can slip it onto her finger. She starts to kiss down his neck, and George lets out a soft moan as he finally gets the ring in his hand. “Hang on teacup, wait a minute.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Y/N mumbles as she pulls away, her cheeks flushed pink. “It’s fine if you’re not ready to we can wait for as long as you want I just figured that-.”

George cuts her off with a laugh. “Oh no that’s not what I meant, Y/N. I am more than ready to be with you like that again. I just wanna put your ring and your necklace on first.”

“Oh right I kinda forgot about that,” Y/N says with a giggle, holding her left hand out for George. Between the war and George’s grief they haven’t been intimate in well over a year now, and Y/N’s fingers stopped being sufficient long ago so in her haste to get George into bed she completely forgot about the ring.

“You can’t not have your ring on the first time we do it as an engaged couple,” George teases as he slides the ring down her finger. The diamond glistens in the sunlight streaming in through the window and to George it looks as if the ring was made to be on Y/N’s finger.

Y/N examines the ring up close for the first time as she turns around so George can clasp her necklace back around her neck. It’s simple, but gorgeous and everything she’s ever wanted in an engagement ring. George finally gets the clasp of the necklace closed and Y/N shivers as the cool metal settles against her skin. A moment later George’s warm mouth is pressing kisses into her skin and she lets out a quiet noise.

“I missed you so much,” George murmurs as he turns Y/N back around, kissing her softly. He starts to slowly lay her back against the pillows as their mouths move together, crawling on top of her. “You did such a good job taking care of me, teacup. Now it’s my turn to take care of you.”

George helps Y/N out of her top before he starts to slowly kiss down her neck, his hands slowly rubbing up and down her sides. It’s been far too long since he showed Y/N just how much he loves and appreciates her, and he plans on making up for it now. He moves his lips down her chest, taking one of her nipples between his lips. The tip of his tongue flicks at the sensitive bud for a moment before he sucks on it gently.

“Oh, George,” Y/N moans, tangling one of her hands in his hair. She tugs on it lightly as her hips move off of the bed to grind up against George’s. She can already feel her arousal pooling in her panties and she’s ready for more.

“God you are gorgeous,” George murmurs before capturing Y/N’s other nipple in his mouth and giving it the same treatment as the other. “I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles into her skin as he starts to kiss down her stomach. “You are perfect in every way, Y/N.”

“I love you,” Y/N tells George quietly as he gets rid of her bottoms, lifting her hips up to help him. She shivers as she rests back against the bed, completely bare for him. His gentle touch on her knees makes goosebumps rise on her skin, and she lets out a whine as he spreads her legs open.

“I love you too, teacup. So much. More than anything in the world.” George starts to kiss Y/N’s inner thigh, leading a trail up to her dripping cunt. He pauses to suck a mark onto the inner most part of her thigh, just a few centimeters away from where she needs him most. George brings two fingers to her cunt, spreading her wetness around as he rubs through her folds.

Y/N’s hips grind down against George’s gentle touch, and she tugs on George’s hair when he chuckles. “Please, George. I need you.”

George slips two fingers into Y/N’s cunt as his lips attach to her clit, moaning against her when walls clench around his digits. He sucks on her clit gently, slowly moving his fingers in her, curling them with every push back into her entrance.

“Oh yes, Georgie, fuck. Feels so good,” Y/N groans, her hips starting to grind down against George’s face and hands. She spreads her legs even wider, whining when the fingers of George’s free hand dig into her thigh.

“Such a good girl for me, teacup,” he praises, pressing a wet kiss to her clit. He starts to move his fingers faster, scissoring his fingers to help stretch her and get her ready for his cock. “Making such pretty noises for me, just like you always do.”

Y/N lets out a low moan as George reattaches his mouth to her clit, bringing her free hand up to pinch at her nipples. She can already feel the familiar heat of an orgasm building in her stomach, and her toes curl as George’s tongue starts to trace patterns over her clit. “Love being your good girl, George. Always wanna be your good girl.”

George hums as he sucks Y/N’s clit harder, fucking his fingers back into her cunt harder. Her walls are clenching and twitching around him, and George has to grind his hips against the bed to get some relief on his aching cock.

“So close George, fuck,” Y/N moans, her toes curling as George’s fingers brush her g-spot once again. She can feel shocks of pleasure radiating through her cunt as her orgasm approaches, and she starts to move her hips sloppily, chasing her climax. “Can I cum? Please Georgie, wanna cum. Wanna be a good girl,” she babbles, tugging on George’s hair.

George takes his mouth away from her cunt and starts to rub harsh circles on Y/N’s clit. “Go on, darling. Want you to be a good girl and cum for me.”

With a few more pumps of George’s fingers Y/N is cumming, her thighs trembling as pleasure washes over her in waves. She can see stars behind her eyes, and she doesn’t even realize that she’s moaning loudly until George is kissing her and the room gets infinitely quieter.

George rubs Y/N’s hips soothingly as she comes down from her high, his lips gently pressing to her neck in a series of slow kisses. “Do you have any idea how fucking hot you sound when you’re moaning like that for me?” he asks, pulling away so he can look into Y/N’s eyes.

“I could wager a guess,” Y/N responds playfully, pulling George down into a kiss. She slowly starts to sit up as George deepens their kiss, letting out a moan against his mouth. Y/N trails one of her hands down George’s chest to his crotch, palming his erection through the fabric of his sweatpants. “Is this another present in your pants for me?” she teases, nipping at George’s lips.

“Why am I marrying you again?” George teases as he pulls away so he can take his t-shirt off. He gets off the bed then and starts to get rid of his bottoms, pulling them down slowly to tease Y/N.

“Georgie,” Y/N whines at his teasing, jutting her lower lip out into a pout. She gets up onto her knees and wraps one of her hands around the back of George’s neck as the other reaches down to wrap around his cock. Y/N pulls George down into a hot kiss as she starts to stroke him, her thumb swirling around the tip to collect the precum dribbling out, helping her hand to glide easier.

George kicks his bottoms off as Y/N strokes him, moaning into her mouth. “Godric I missed this. Missed you, teacup. I can’t believe I get to have you for the rest of my life.” He crawls back onto the bed as he kisses Y/N again, sitting down with his back against the headboard. His hands settle on Y/N’s hips and he pulls her so that she’s straddling his waist. “You gonna show me how much you missed me too?”

Y/N reaches behind her to grip George’s cock and she lets out a whine as she teases her slit with the tip. She lets George pull her into another kiss as she starts to slowly sink down, but it falls apart as her hips move and her mouth drops open to let out a few pants. “So fucking full,” she groans as their thighs meet, her hips rocking slightly now that George is fully inside of her.

“Fuck your cunt is tight,” George moans, digging his fingers into Y/N’s hips. Her walls are pulsating around him and he can’t help but jut his hips upwards. Being buried inside of Y/N feels like pure ecstasy to George, and it takes all of his restraint not to just flip them over so he can fuck into her hard. “How do I feel, teacup?  You like the way my cock fills you up?”

“George,” Y/N moans as she starts to rock in his lap, moving her hips in tight circles as she grinds down into him. She can feel George deep inside of her, and the way his cock brushes her g-spot with every moment causes pleasure to radiate through her core. “Feels good, so good. Missed being,” Y/N pauses to moan as George starts to help guide the movements of her hips. “Missed being full.”

George presses his face into the crook of Y/N’s neck, letting out grunts against her skin as she starts to rock against him quicker. He starts to move his own hips up into her and her walls clamp around him even tighter. “You’re incredible,” he pants, pressing a kiss to her neck. George pulls away so he can look at Y/N leaning in to kiss her briefly. “Feel so fucking good, teacup. Riding me so well, Y/N. Being such a good girl for me.”

Y/N tips her head back and moans as she starts to move faster, desperately trying to cum again. Her clit is grinding against George with every movement and the way he’s stretching her out has gone straight to her head, and Y/N’s mind is clouded with pleasure. Maybe it’s because they haven’t been intimate like this in so long or because they’re engaged now but Y/N feels complete with George inside of her and she never wants it to end as she grinds down against him harder.

“Please George, please,” she begs breathily, digging her fingers into his shoulders.

“What do you want teacup?” George asks as he stats to thrust his hips up harder. Her walls twitch with every movement and he can already feel himself getting close to his release. “Whatever you want it’s yours.”

Y/N tilts her head forward so she can rest their foreheads together. She looks into George’s eyes and a shiver runs down her spine at how dark they are. “Just want you, Georgie. Please.”

George kisses Y/N desperately as he flips them over, pressing Y/N down into the mattress as he starts to slam his hips into her hard. “You’ve got me,” George promises as he brings one of his hands down to her core, starting to rub harsh circles on her clit. He braces himself on a hand above her shoulder and presses their foreheads together again so he can look into her eyes. “Forever, Y/N. I mean it this time. Forever.”

“Oh fuck, George,” Y/N moans as she cums, her legs winding around George’s hips to keep him in place, fucking her deep. Electric shocks of pleasure radiate through her body and her chest starts to heave with deep breaths as the pleasure washes over her.

Y/N’s walls tightening and pulsating around him pushes George over the edge, and he cums too, a cry of her name leaving his lips. He kisses her messily as his cock twitches inside of her, his hips slowly rolling to help them both of them through the tail ends of their orgasms.

“No,” Y/N whines when George moves to pull out, her legs tightening around his waist. “Not yet, George. Wanna be full with you for a bit longer.”

George chuckles and presses a kiss to Y/N’s sweaty forehead, carefully turning them on their sides so they can lay somewhat comfortably, his cock still buried deep inside of her. “Of course, teacup. Anything for you.”

“Forever, yeah?” she murmurs, clenching her walls around George.

He reaches a hand between them and presses the charms of Y/N’s necklace into her skin. “Forever.”

-

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, did you know that Mrs. Weasley?” George asks with a dopey grin as he twirls Y/N around in a circle.

They decided to keep their wedding small. Partially to distract from the fact that Y/N really has no friends or family to invite. But mostly because they don’t need all the theatrics. It’s the middle of June, and the backyard of the Burrow is draped in twinkling lights, making the warm air seem as if it’s glowing as everyone talks or eats or dances. George had suggested they get married as quick as humanly possible. He even tried to convince Y/N that they should just get a marriage license from the ministry and get married right in Shacklebolt’s office before they even had the chance to tell anyone they were engaged.

But Y/N insisted that they have some sort of ceremony with their family. June seemed like the perfect opportunity, since both Ginny and Hermione would be done with school and Fleur would have already given birth to the first Weasley grandchild. Y/N also thought it would give George some more time to deal with his grief.

After he proposed George really did start doing better. He started getting out of bed every day and taking proper care of himself. Y/N encouraged him to reconnect with his family and friends, and they even started leaving the flat together at least once a week. George started seeing a wizard therapist, and as he learned how to identify and deal with his emotions, Y/N watched the light slowly come back to his eyes. By Christmas he was back to joking around again, and he even charmed some mistletoe so that the people who met underneath it wouldn’t be able to move unless they kissed.

In the new year Y/N reenrolled in her Healer training program, and while being by himself again gave George a bit of anxiety, he packed a lunch for her and sent her off with a kiss on the cheek and a smile. And it worked out in the end, because George found himself so stir crazy without Y/N around that he managed to go back down in the joke shop. Y/N ended up finding him sitting in the office when she got home, some of Fred’s old notes clutched in his hand while he cried. She was worried that he would start to move backwards, but when George noticed her presence he opened up to her about how he was feeling instead of pushing her away. He managed to make the trek back down into the shop every day after that and now Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes will be back open for business on July first.

“You’re only saying that because it’s our wedding day, Georgie,” Y/N teases, titling her chin up so he’ll kiss her. George presses their lips together briefly and Y/N rests her head on his shoulder, watching Arthur twirl Molly around on the other side of the dancefloor.

George presses a kiss to the top of Y/N’s forehead before resting his cheek there. “You think that’ll be us in thirty years? Dancing like fools at our kids wedding?”

“I hope so. I reckon we’ll be those proper embarrassing parents, like the kinds who’s kids hate going out with them in public,” Y/N muses with a laugh.

“You mean like your parents?” George asks softly, pulling Y/N into his chest tighter. “Your cheeks were so red the first time I met them I thought you were gonna turn into a tomato.”

Y/N turns her face into George’s chest to hide the pink flush of her cheeks as the memory of George meeting her parents for the first time comes flooding back to the forefront of her mind.

-

“Not another one Mum, please,” Y/N begs before picking up a pillow off of the sofa and shoving her face into it to hide her embarrassment. All her mother does is grin as she comes back into the living room with another album full of pictures from Y/N’s childhood.

It’s easter break for Y/N, and it’s only been a few weeks since George and Fred had their grand exit from Hogwarts. While George has been busy getting ready for the joke shop’s grand opening, he agreed to come to dinner at Y/N’s house so he could finally meet her parents. He was a little nervous leading up to it, unsure of how Y/N’s parents would take to the fact that their daughter is dating a poor blood traitor who’s a recent school dropout, but the second he walked through the door all his worries washed away.

Y/N’s family manor is large, but yet somehow still feels like home. It’s bright and warm and feels lived in. Y/N’s mother had hugged him tightly as soon as he stepped through the door, and her dad playfully fell to his knees to bow down to George, making a joke about how gracious he was that someone fell in love with his smart ass daughter so he wouldn’t have to deal with her for the rest of his life. Y/N was standing just behind him looking as if she wanted the world to just open up and swallow her whole, but George found it hilarious and gave her dad a curtsey in response, telling him that her smart mouth would greatly reduce the dowry he’d be willing to pay.

Even Marjorie their house elf had teased Y/N a bit as she brought them all drinks in the parlor. She said something about how the photo Y/N keeps of George under her pillow certainly did not do him justice as he’s much more handsome in person and Y/N’s cheeks went so red it was as if she had spent hours outside in the cold. They had only been sitting down for a few minutes when the first photo album came out, and now George is about to start flicking through the fifth.

George laughs as he takes the book from Y/N’s Mum, trading her for the one he just finished flipping through. “Oh, come on, love. It’s only fair. Ginny tells you embarrassing stories about me all the time.”

“Yeah, pumpkin. It could be worse, I could have Marjorie go dig the old Muggle video player out and we could pop some of the home movies into it,” her Dad teases.

Y/N groans at that and she puts the pillow down so she can glare at her father. “Fine, fine, the photos can stay.” She leans her head against George’s shoulder as he starts to flip through the book, and she just barely sees her Mum bring the camera out from behind her back before she’s taking a picture. “Mum! We talked about this, you promised no photos!”

“Oh, come on, one photo never hurt anybody. You’ll be thankful I took this photo someday when you’re old and fondly reminiscing about your youth to your grandkids,” Y/N’s mother says, putting the camera down. “And it’ll be a nice visual aid when I tell the story about how embarrassed we made you tonight at your wedding.”

“Can we not with the wedding talk? George and I are barely eighteen.” Y/N hides her face in George’s neck, her cheeks heating up even further when George chuckles and turns his head so he can kiss her on the temple. Both of her parents let out an aw, and she picks up the nearest pillow to throw at them.

George laughs as Y/N faceplants onto her bed later that night. They’ve just finished dinner with her parents, and Y/N snuck them upstairs when her Mum went to go find another old photo album. “You regretting asking me to come to dinner?” he asks, sitting down next to Y/N.

She turns her head so she can glare at George, but it quickly turns soft when he starts to rub her lower back. “They promised me they’d be on their best behavior. Clearly they lied.”

“It’s cute, that they embarrass you or whatever. Clearly they love you a lot,” George responds softly, giving her a reassuring smile. “How much of our wedding do you think your Mum has planned?” he teases with a chuckle.

“Don’t joke about that, George. Knowing her the answer is probably the whole thing,” Y/N answers with a giggle. She rolls over onto her back so she can look up at George, letting one of her hands reach up to run through his hair. “I hope they didn’t scare you away with all of their baby photos.”

“Darling if Daphne Greengrass’ iciest glare doesn’t scare me a few photos of you with some missing teeth is nothing,” George reassures her. “Your Mum even had me mark some of my favorites for her to include in the wedding slideshow when you went to the loo.”

Y/N groans and places one of her pillows over her face, before deciding to hit George with it when he laughs at her pain.

-

“They were quite embarrassing. Though I wish we could have seen the slide show my Mum was gonna make. Bet your Mum would have added a fair few photos of you to the mix,” Y/N points out, grinning up at George.

George leans down and presses a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “And half of them would have been of Fred I reckon, we were even harder to tell apart when we were babies.” He lets out a quiet sigh and kisses Y/N’s forehead again. “I wish he was here.”

“I know, Georgie.” Y/N squeezes George tighter for a moment, letting her eyes wander around the backyard. Ginny has a very excited Teddy Lupin on her shoulders, with both Harry and Andromeda laughing as the toddler’s face and hair changes into something new every few seconds. Bill and Fleur are in the corner trying to coax a restless Victorie to sleep and Charlie and Lee are taking shots together at one end of the bar. Percy is standing at the other end of it with Ron and Hermione, telling them a story about his new girlfriend, Audrey. “Percy did a pretty good job though, as best man. Don’t you think?”

Turns out the hardest decision in wedding planning was figuring out who the best man would be. Ginny was the natural choice for maid of honor, but it took George weeks to pick out his best man. Both Ron and Harry volunteered themselves for the role, and spent more time arguing with each other over why George should pick them rather than trying to convince George why they were the best choice. Charlie actually took himself out of the running, since he’d been Bill’s best man and didn’t want to take the opportunity away from another brother. And Lee was pretty chill about the whole thing, he was perfectly happy just to be the one in charge of the DJing.

Percy had been shocked when George asked him. Despite the fact that Percy had really tried to step back into the family after the war everyone could tell he still felt awkward. He was always the first to head home after family dinners, and the one who opted to sit on the single armchair rather than pile up with the others on one of the couches. At Christmas after he opened his Weasley sweater he excused himself to the bathroom, and they all pretended not to notice the red rims of his eyes when he came back. He always waited for someone to address him before he spoke, as if he thought no one cared about what he had to say. Most notably he always braced himself when someone brought up Fred, as if he was waiting for someone to shout at him for failing to save his brother.

But George had reassured him endlessly that he was the only person he wanted to stand up there with him while he promised Y/N forever. For one because Percy had been there for George during a time when he needed him most, and he gave George the push he needed to make things right with Y/N. George also ended up admitting later that him choosing Percy to be his best man would have annoyed Fred endlessly, and it made him feel like he was pulling one final prank on his brother.

George hums as he nods, letting go of Y/N briefly so he can twirl her around, before bringing her back against his chest. “Who knew he could be so funny? I’m pretty sure Ron nearly threw up from how hard he was laughing. It’s nice to see him be comfortable around everyone again. Feels like it did before, you know. That’s what I wanted, when I chose him. For him to feel like family again.”

“That’s actually really sweet of you, George. I’m sure Percy appreciates it,” Y/N murmurs, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Well it was either let him be the best man or name one of our kids after him, and I’m not sure I like the ring of Percy ll,” George says with a laugh.

Y/N rolls her eyes at that. “I’m revoking your naming privileges, George. You’re not allowed to name any of our eight ginger babies.”

“Eight? I thought we agreed on seven?” George asks with a soft chuckle.

“Well I decided I want eight. And a few hours ago, you stood up in front of our friends and family and promised to spend the rest of forever making me happy so it’s too late to take it all back,” Y/N states matter of factly, sticking her tongue out at George.

George shakes his head fondly and leans down to kiss Y/N slowly. “Fine, fine. Eight it is. Though we better start thinking about moving out of the flat then. Because if my height is anything to go by we’re gonna have some big babies, and I reckon we can only fit two or three of ‘em above Wheezes. And with the way you look tonight there’s no way there won’t be at least one more Weasley grandchild on the way when I’m done ravishing you.”

-

“How long do we have to wait?” George asks with a groan, flopping down onto the mattress.

“Three minutes. Same as when I told you before,” Y/N responds with an eye roll, throwing the empty pregnancy test box at George.

Despite George’s comments on their wedding night, it took them several months to even talk about getting pregnant. Once the joke shop reopened business was as good as ever. Even now eight months after reopening the store is still so busy that George has to sometimes eat his lunch while working the till or filling out paperwork. And once Y/N completed her Healer training she got stuck working the graveyard shift, so often the only time she and George saw each other was when one of them was coming home from work as the other was on their way to work.

Thankfully after a few months of hazing Y/N was switched to a much more reasonable shift, and she was back to spending most of her nights at home with George. It was then that they started discussing the next steps of their future, and both of them were set in the fact that they wanted to have a baby sooner rather than later. But they both decided to wait just a bit longer, until they had bought a house. Because even though they both love the flat above the joke shop, it’s just not big enough for a growing family.

Fred’s room hasn’t been touched since the Battle of Hogwarts. Y/N knows George has gone in there a few times, on the days when he misses his brother the most. But nothing has been moved or tidied up. There’re still shoes, and clothes and random papers all strewn about that George just hasn’t had the heart to get rid of. Y/N figures it helps George feel like Fred is still close by, so she doesn’t push him to clear it out. Except their bedroom in the flat was too small to have all the stuff needed for a baby, so they decided that a house would come before their family.

But as it turns out, there’s a possibility they’re happening at the same time. It took them a few months to find the right house, and with Y/N’s inheritance from her parents they were able to buy a nice piece of land out in the country with a beautiful house with enough room for the large family they both want. There’s a great little pond and a tire swing, and enough room for a Quidditch pitch too.

And Y/N had figured her missed period was due to the stress of the move. But a few days ago, she woke up from a dream covered in a cold sweat that made her start to think otherwise. Fred was there. He was in the field behind her and George’s new house running around in the warm summer sunshine, chasing after a little boy. And when the little boy finally turned to look at her, Y/N felt like she couldn’t breathe. His hair was the same color as her own, but his face was all George. The same deep brown eyes, the same light freckles dotted on the same pale skin. It was uncanny really, and when the boy finally noticed her he called her Mum and started running towards her. Just before Y/N could wrap her arms around him she woke up, her heart pounding and the image of the little boy still fresh in her mind. She decided then it was time to take a test.

“What a great way to spend the first night in our new house eh?” George asks with a nervous laugh, patting the spot on the mattress next to him.

“Certainly not the way I imagined us breaking in the new house,” Y/N responds with a laugh as she settles down on the mattress with him, the pregnancy test clutched in her hand. They barely have any furniture set up and their mattress is laying on the ground and yet they may need to start planning for a nursery.

George takes the pregnancy test from Y/N’s hand and puts it face down on the bed before he takes her face in his hands and kisses her softly. “I love you, teacup. And whether this test is positive or not I can’t wait to start our family.”

“I love you too, Georgie.” Y/N lets her eyes flutter shut as George presses a lingering kiss to her forehead, unable to stop herself from thinking about the time she and George first talked about having children.

-

“You still awake down there, teacup?” George whispers into the still air. He didn’t want to say anything and after falling asleep next to Y/N for the past year he’s gotten pretty good at telling if she’s asleep by the pace of her breathing. But the bandage wrapped around his right ear is making it hard to hear, and he needs to know if Y/N is still awake or not.

Y/N’s head pops up immediately and she looks over at George. “What’s wrong? Does your head hurt? It is bleeding?”

George chuckles and shakes his head, shutting his eyes when the room starts to spin. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just an idiot, give me a minute.” Once George can no longer feel his heartbeat in his temples he opens his eyes and gives Y/N a reassuring smile. “Will you stop fussing? Mum’s done enough of that for you tonight.”

“I can’t help it, George. I thought you were gonna die.” Y/N’s voice cracks as the final word of her sentence falls from her lips, and she can feel the tears welling in her eyes.

The Battle of the seven Harrys had been a shitshow from the moment they left the ground. Y/N was riding a Thestral with Ron, and from the second they took off Death Eaters were everywhere. Luckily Ron is pretty talented with his defensive spell casting, and all Y/N really had to focus on was flying them back to the Burrow safely. Which was good, because the fight she’d gotten into with George earlier in the evening was still weighing heavily on her mind.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there. The original plan had been that Y/N would stay behind at The Burrow with Ginny and Molly, that way if anyone came back injured she’d be there to help assist Molly with any healing. But then Tonks announced that she’s pregnant and Y/N made Mad Eye Moody change the plan so Y/N could take her place during the actual mission. Which George was not happy about and they left the Burrow for Privet Drive still fuming from their fight.

“Teacup,” George coos, reaching out to stroke Y/N’s cheek. “You didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?” he teases, trying to get her to crack a smile. “Snivellous has wanted to take me out for years I reckon, it was only a matter of time before he tried.”

Y/N turns her head so she can kiss George’s palm lightly. “That’s not funny, George. You really could have died.”

“And you could have as well, Y/N,” George reminds her.

“Better me than Tonks,” Y/N mumbles, looking down at the floor.

“Don’t say that,” George responds firmly, gripping Y/N’s chin so he can make her look at him. There are tears spilling down her cheek, and George lets go of her chin so he can wipe them away with his thumb. Even in the dim light of the living room Y/N looks breathtakingly beautiful, and just the thought of living without her makes his stomach lurch. “Tonks is a big girl and would have been just fine going on the mission.”

“What if it was me? Hm?” Y/N asks, looking at George expectantly. “What if I was the pregnant one about to go on a mission that could kill me? Kill our unborn child? Wouldn’t you want someone to take my place?”

“Of course, I would, Y/N,” George chokes out around the few tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s not really sure when they started pouring out, but he imagines it was when Y/N mentioned their unborn child and death in the same breath. “But this is different.”

Y/N shakes her head. “How? How is Tonks being pregnant any different?”

“Because Tonks isn’t the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, Y/N. She’s not the person who I want to carry my children or raise my children with. It’s you.” George reaches down and grabs the charms of the necklace he gave Y/N, rubbing them between his thumb and his pointer finger. “When I gave you this necklace and promised you forever I meant it, teacup. I wanna marry you and have babies with you. And I can’t do that with you if you’re dead, can I?”

“You really think about all that stuff?” Y/N asks through her sniffles, her tone full of a mixture of surprise and disbelief. While she knows that her and George were both on the same page about starting a life together someday, she had no idea he was thinking that seriously about it. They’re just barely nineteen, and Y/N figured marriage and babies were far away in their future, so far away that they would never even cross George’s mind.

George motions for Y/N to come up and lay on the couch with him. “I’m not going to break. Get up here. I wanna hold you, teacup.” Once Y/N is settled on his chest, her head on his shoulder and their legs intertwined he continues. “Sometimes I can’t stop thinking about all that stuff. Like how we’re gonna get married someday. And live on a load of land somewhere. With some chickens and a dog. And a few ginger babies of course, can’t forget about them.”

Just George talking about them having children spikes Y/N’s heart rate, and she has to take a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. “How many ginger babies are we gonna have?”

“Hm, I reckon maybe two or three? A boy first, and then a girl. And then I think another girl would be nice,” George explains, starting to slowly rub Y/N’s back. “Why, teacup? How many do you want?”

“At least four,” Y/N says seriously, tilting her head so she can look at George. “Two of each. Maybe even a set of twins. A mini Fred and George perhaps.”

George chuckles and leans down to kiss Y/N softly. “Really? You sure you could handle another set of me and Fred? We gave you quite a bit of hell back in our school days if you remember correctly.”

“Yeah and look at where we are now. Laying on a couch together talking about all the babies we’re gonna have,” Y/N points out with a chuckle. “Besides can you imagine McGonagall’s face when two mini versions of you show up at Hogwarts one day? Bet she’d quit on the spot.”

“Oh come on, good old Minnie loved us. And let’s not forget you caused a bit of trouble as well, Y/N. Just the thought of planting a garden still gives me nightmares after you dropped that load of Dragon Dung fertilizer on Fred and I,” George reminds her with a laugh.

“And you made my hair turn yellow for weeks! And made my tongue nearly explode,” Y/N counters. “You want me to list more? Because I can list more.”

“No it’s okay, I get the point.” George just sits there quietly for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Y/N’s weight on top of him. “Just promise me you’ll be careful out there, yeah? Can’t have our four ginger babies without you, Y/N.”

Y/N pulls George’s mouth down to hers again for a few moments. “You too, George. You’re kind of the whole ginger in the situation, so you’re pretty essential in the mix.”

“I promise,” George mumbles, pressing one more kiss to Y/N’s mouth.

-

“You think it’s been three minutes yet?” George whispers, bringing Y/N’s mind back to the present.

“Probably,” she responds, looking up at George. Y/N reaches up and touches his cheek softly. “You wanna do the honors?”

George reaches his hand out and grabs the pregnancy test, keeping it flipped upside down. “How about we look together?” When Y/N nods George brings the test in between them and he uses his free hand to grab one of hers. “On the count of three, yeah? One, two three.”

As soon as the last number leaves George’s mouth he flips the test over to look at the results. There’s two dark pink lines staring back at them, and her and George look back up at each other.

“What did the two lines mean again?” Y/N asks.

George frowns. “I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

They both start to throw their blankets and pillows away, trying to find where the box landed after Y/N threw it at George a few minutes ago. “Why didn’t you just buy the one with the words? You had to get the one you need a diagram to figure out.”

“I was overwhelmed, okay? I’ve never been in a muggle pharmacy before and there was like 25 different tests and I couldn’t tell the difference between them all and I just grabbed one at random,” George huffs. He feels his fingers skim over the cardboard box and his eyes light up as he grabs it. “Aha! Here it is!” George skims his eyes over the directions on the back a few times to make sure he fully understands them. “Two lines means pregnant.”

They both let out a small gasp as their eyes drop back down to the test still clutched in Y/N’s hand. The two lines look even more defined now that they know what it means, and when they make eye contact again there are tears pooling in both of their eyes.

“We’re pregnant?” Y/N asks breathily.

“Well I don’t know how pregnant I am. But you’re definitely pregnant,” George teases with a grin.

Y/N rolls her eyes and shoves George’s shoulder before she grabs it and pulls him into a kiss. “Can’t believe I’m having a baby with an idiot like you,” she mumbles between kisses.

“And I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a meanie like you,” George responds playfully, placing his hand on Y/N’s stomach. He spreads his fingers and presses down lightly, as if there’s something there for him to feel already. “I love you,” he murmurs, resting his forehead against Y/N’s.

“You talking to me or the baby?” she asks quietly, placing her hand on top of George’s.

“Both.”

-

Fred Weasley ll comes into the world amidst a flurry of chaos, and it only feels right considering who his namesake is.

The day started out like any other. With her maternity leave in full effect, Y/N decided to head to the joke shop with George. While she can’t do much of anything besides sit behind the till and ring customers out, it made her feel good to be helpful rather than just sitting around the house twiddling her thumbs waiting for George to get home. And she knew George liked the fact that he could keep an eye on her throughout the day.

The pain started not too long after opening. At first she just passed it off as normal pregnancy pains, because she was nearly full term and she couldn’t remember the last time she didn’t have a dull ache radiating through some part of her body. But by midafternoon the pain was radiating through her back and down into her pelvis and not even sitting down eased it. She tried to hide it from George, not wanting him to go into full panic mode during the workday. But then he noticed her wincing as she sat back down after lunch and George started keeping an annoyingly close eye on her.

And then her water broke. George was cleaning up around the checkout counter and some dust that had been kicked up irritated Y/N’s nose and she couldn’t help but sneeze hard. When the liquid first started to leak out she was mortified, figuring she’d just pissed herself. But then she stood up and a large flush of liquid came out along with the largest pain she’d ever felt in her lower half. Y/N and George had just stared at each other for a moment, before realization hit them both. Clearly this baby was coming and coming soon.

George had one of the shop employees send an owl to his Mum while he helped Y/N up the stairs, wanting to Floo them over to St. Mungo’s as quickly as possible. Every few steps they’d had to stop so Y/N could breathe through a contraction, and by the time they reached the fireplace in their old flat George was surprised the baby hadn’t slipped out yet. Except when he reaches into the bowl on the mantle to grab some Floo Powder his fingers didn’t find anything.

They’d had to shuffle their way through Diagon Alley to use the public Floo at the Leaky Cauldron, and by the time they reached St. Mungo’s Y/N was already on the verge of giving birth and both she and George were soaked to the bone from the torrential downpour the sky unleashed halfway through their journey.

Baby Fred was born as thunder started to rumble, and he let out his first cry just as a flash of lightening came crashing down. Y/N is sure both she and George were crying harder than the rain that was going on outside. Fred’s eyes were already open when the Healer placed him on Y/N’s chest, and he was blinking up at her with wide brown eyes. He was already the spitting image of his Father, but the tufts of hair coming out of his head more resembled the color of Y/N’s hair. And while Y/N has never been particularly confident in the magic of Divination, she felt deep in her chest that he was the little boy she’d seen in her dream.

“What’s on your mind, Dad?” Y/N asks George quietly with a grin. It’s well past midnight, and little baby Fred is sleeping soundly against Y/N’s chest. George has been sitting in the chair next to Y/N’s hospital bed for the past hour watching their son’s chest rise up and down slowly, a look of concentration on his face.

“You sure it’s okay we named him after Fred?” George asks, looking up at Y/N. “We could have named him after your Dad. I didn’t even think about that. I should have thought about that.”

Y/N chuckles and pats the edge of her bed carefully, inviting George to come and sit with her. “Can I tell you about a dream I had? I think it might make you feel better.”

“Was it a sexy dream?” George asks with a raise of his eyebrows as he comes and sits down with Y/N. He rests one of his hands on Fred’s back, lightly stroking it with his thumb.

“No, it was not a sexy dream you oaf,” Y/N responds with an eye roll. “It was a couple nights before we moved, before I knew I was pregnant. It was summertime, and I was out in the backyard at the house. And Fred was there. He was chasing this little boy around in that field, the one we turned into the Quidditch pitch. And the little boy, he had my color hair but his face, his face was all you George. And then he called me Mum, and ran towards me, but I woke up before he got to me.”

George just sits there for a moment, letting Y/N’s words sink in. He suddenly feels overcome with emotion as he thinks about what she said, and he has to wipe away a few of the tears that escape his eyes. “That’s funny you say that, because I had a similar dream to that the night we found out you were pregnant.”

Y/N raises her eyebrows as she looks at George. “Really? What happened?”

“I was back at the Burrow. It was empty, quiet. But I could hear a creaking noise. And I followed it all the way up the stairs, to Fred and I’s old room. It looked the same, except there was a rocking chair in the corner. And Fred was sitting in it, and he was rocking back and forth, holding a baby. We made eye contact, but he didn’t say anything. He just gave me a little wink and then I woke up.”

“I don’t know a lot about divination or dream analysis. I don’t really know if I believe in any of it either. But I have a feeling we had those dreams for a reason,” Y/N explains, reaching up to cup one of George’s cheeks. “Like that was Fred, I dunno. Hand picking his name sake or something. Someone just as mischievous as him. A little pay back for Percy being your best man, perhaps?”

George laughs quietly and reaches a hand up to grab Y/N’s intertwining their fingers and giving them a soft squeeze. “You know what, teacup. I think you’re right. I have a feeling we’re in for a wild ride. And I can’t wait.”

-

And what a wild ride it is.

By the time George and Y/N are celebrating their 10-year wedding anniversary their house is steadily filling up with kids and with all the trouble they get into it’s a good thing George pushed Y/N to fulfill her dreams of being a Healer. It seems every day at least one of their kids is getting injured in some way: a scraped knee, a bump on the head, a bit of smoke inhalation from a whizbang George let Fred set off inside of the house. With how wild and unpredictable their kids are every day is an adventure, even the most mundane family days always seem to end up with something unexpected getting thrown into the mix.

“Mum! Mum! Can you open this for me? Please?” Fred asks excitedly, holding a candy bar up to Y/N’s face.

She eyes him wearily, taking it from him slowly. “Did your Dad say you could have this?”

Fred grins up at Y/N, and he looks so much like his Dad that it melts her heart. “Well he didn’t say no.” When Y/N narrows her eyes at him he lets out a giggle. “He was in the middle of filling something out and he told me to ask you.”

It’s a Saturday, so the whole family is at the joke shop together. Once Fred was born George hated having to leave him and Y/N at home when he went into the shop, so she started tagging along with the baby. It was a nice way for them to spend time together as a family, and when Y/N went back to work and the weekend became their only full family days it seemed natural for her and Fred to tag along with George to work. Now several years and a few more kids later, it’s still Y/N’s favorite family tradition.

“And so, you decided to ask me if you could have the candy bar, by asking me to open it?” Y/N asks with a laugh.

“Well if you said yes to opening it, that kinda already answers the whole, can I have it question,” Fred reasons.

Y/N rolls her eyes fondly and tears open the candy bar. “Nine years old and you’re already trying to out smart me. I’m so proud of you.” She leans down to press a kiss to his messy hair before handing him the sweet. “Share that with your sister, yeah? It’s 10 am I don’t need you on a full sugar rush already.”

“Thanks Mum!”

Fred runs off just as George comes up and he watches his son disappear with a fond shake of his head. “Oh to be young and have energy,” he muses with a grin, wrapping his arms around Y/N’s waist.

“Please, you still have plenty of energy left. Or have you forgotten how we got into this mess?” Y/N asks with a grin, pointing down at her bump. In just a few short weeks their family will be growing by two more, and Y/N is already exhausted just thinking about having to run after five kids.

“Oh trust me, I definitely remember how I got us into that mess,” George responds cheekily, leaning down to kiss Y/N sweetly. Luckily the store has been pretty slow so far, and they can spend the next few moments moving their lips together softly, just enjoying being in each other’s presence.

“Ew, gross,” Freya giggles, standing up on her tiptoes so she can peer at her parents over the checkout counter.

Y/N pulls away from George’s mouth with a sigh, turning her head to look at their youngest. All that’s visible over the counter is her wide eyes and the mess of fiery red curls on the top of her head. “Can we help you with something, nugget?”

Freya’s head disappears then and a few seconds later she reappears next to George’s leg, raising her arms up and bouncing on her toes. “Up please!”

“Ah, the Queen has made her demands!” George announces playfully. He gives Y/N a wink before letting her go, and he leans down to grab Freya, placing her on his shoulders. “Is this high enough for you, my Queen?” he asks, tickling her sides lightly.

“Daddy!” Freya squeals between her giggles, trying to get away from George’s attack. “No more, no more!”

George chuckles and gives her one more tickle. “Alright, alright, no more tickles.” The bell above the door jingles then and George leans down to give Y/N one final kiss. “Duty calls. I love you, teacup.”

“Love you too, Georgie.” Y/N reaches up and tugs on one of Freya’s curls. Despite the fact that she’s only three and has quite a bit of hair they’ve yet to cut any of it, and Y/N watches the long curl bounce back into place when she lets it go. “See you in a bit, nugget.”

Freya gives a little salute as George starts to head towards the customer before tangling her hands in his hair and pulling on them as if she were pulling on reins. “Horsey, horsey!”

George actually starts to move as if he were galloping, and Y/N shakes her head fondly as their daughter starts to laugh.

The store starts to pick up then, and for a few hours it seems like there’s a never-ending stream of people filtering through the door. Every once in a while Y/N gets a glimpse of George over the crowds of people, since Freya is still happily sitting on his shoulders, and every now and again Y/N watches the crowd part as Fred or Roxanne run through it.

They’ve just opened back up after shutting down for lunch, and Y/N has her back to the shop as she sorts through some of the mail. She turns around at the sound of someone clearing their throat and her heart drops into her stomach.

“Daphne. Hi,” she greets quietly, stepping back up to the counter.

It’s been over a decade since she last saw her old best friend, but the memory of their last conversation comes flooding back to her as if it took place yesterday.

-

“I can’t believe you’re moving in with George Weasley,” Daphne muses with a grin as she watches Y/N pack a few things away.

It’s been just over a month since they graduated from Hogwarts, and with her Healer training starting soon, Y/N decided to take George up on his offer to move into the flat above the joke shop with him and Fred. Now that they’re both transitioning into adulthood, their free time to spend together is sparse, and even though taking this next step is scary Y/N can’t wait to be officially living with George.

“I know, right? This time last year all I could think about was getting revenge on him and Fred for turning my hair yellow. And now all I can think about is the fact that I get to wake up next to him every morning,” Y/N admits with a soft blush.

“Just George and his little teacup,” Daphne teases, laughing wildly when Y/N throws a pillow at her.

Ginny had once jokingly suggested Y/N get a teacup pin after she noticed the teapot pin Y/N bought for George, since they’re always together and Y/N is so much smaller than George. After that day George’s new nickname for Y/N became teacup. And while she pretends that it annoys her, deep down she actually really loves it.

“You’re one to talk, Daph. It’s only what? A month until the wedding?” Y/N points out with a laugh. The smile on Daphne’s face falters and Y/N gives her a look. “What’s up? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

Daphne shakes her head as she sits up, giving Y/N a look. “No, of course not. I like to give Marcus a lot of shit pretty much all the time, but I really do love him. There’s just something I wanna talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Y/N asks quietly, sitting down across from her. There are very few things Daphne gets flustered over, and with the look she has on her face Y/N can tell she’s about to say something serious.

“You um. You can’t come. To the wedding,” Daphne stutters out, casting her gaze downwards. “Adrian said he’s not coming if you do and he’s Marcus’ best friend and I just want our wedding to be perfect and I know he’ll be upset if Adrian doesn’t come.”

Y/N can feel tears start to form in the corners of her eyes and she quickly tries to blink them away. “What? Daphne we’ve been best friends since we were eleven. You’re not going to be upset that I’m not there?”

“No of course I am! Y/N you know you’re like a sister to me. But Marcus is going to be my husband and it’s my job to do everything in my power to make him happy,” Daphne responds, reaching out to grab Y/N’s hand.

But Y/N pulls away and stands up. “Daph, it’s your wedding day too. You should have a say in who gets to be there.” Y/N pauses and just looks at Daphne, thinking about all the things they’ve been through together over the past seven years. “You’re really going to choose Adrian over me?”

“You chose George over us,” Daphne reminds her, finally making eye contact with Y/N again.

“That was different Daphne and you know that. I put space between me and Adrian because he was breaking the boundaries of our friendship and it was making George uncomfortable. And it was clearly the right decision since he kissed me and tried to get me to leave George at graduation.” Y/N sighs and crosses her arms over her chest. “George didn’t force me to do anything, Marcus is clearly forcing you to do this.”

Daphne rolls her eyes. “Marcus isn’t forcing me to do anything, I’m just doing my duty as his future wife.”

“That’s a bunch of crap and you know it. If Marcus really loved you he wouldn’t let some stupid drama from school get in the way of you being just as happy as he is,” Y/N responds firmly.

Daphne stands up then, her expression angry. “Don’t act so high and mighty, Y/N. Just because you have ambitions outside of being someone’s wife or a mother doesn’t mean you’re any better than I am.”

“Well at least when I get married I’ll be an equal in the relationship, rather than my husband’s little pet for him to boss around,” Y/N spits.

“You know what? Fuck you. You’re not welcome at my wedding. Or in my life in general.” Daphne grabs her bag and starts to storm out of Y/N’s bedroom.

“Who said I wanted to be in your life anyway?” Y/N shouts at Daphne’s back, listening to the sound of the front door slamming shut echo through the house.

-

“Oh. Um, hi, Y/N. I didn’t know that you worked here,” Daphne responds awkwardly, placing the few things in her arms down on the counter.

“Oh, I don’t work here, not really. I just come in on Saturdays, with the kids. It’s a good way for us to spend time together as a family.” Y/N starts to key the products into the register, not really sure what to say. The air between her and Daphne is awkward, and Y/N can see Marcus fidgeting a few feet behind Daphne, looking at some things on a shelf with a little boy. “These for your son?”

Daphne spares a glance over her shoulder at her son and Marcus, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “No, they’re for Adrian’s son. It’s his birthday today, we’re having dinner with them tonight. Although MJ does love his fair share of Weasley products.” She pauses, letting her eyes flick down to Y/N’s bump for a moment. “Is that your first?”

“Four and five actually,” Y/N responds with a laugh. She gestures to where George is standing talking with one of the employees, Freya back on his shoulders. “That’s number three over there, Freya and funnily enough she also happens to be three. And over there,” Y/N pauses gesturing to the pygmy puff cage where a little girl with curly hair the same color as Y/N’s is happily petting a little black puff. “is Roxanne, number two. She just turned six and has spent the past few weeks trying to convince us to let her take home another pygmy puff.”

Y/N scans the store for a moment, trying to find Fred. When her eyes finally land on him he has his knees hooked around a rung of the ladder George uses to reach products on the upper shelves, and he’s hanging upside down with a toothy grin. “Fred Weasley ll you get off that ladder right now! You’ve already cracked your skull open once this year and I am not cleaning up anymore of your blood.” Fred laughs wildly as he climbs down, and Y/N shakes her head as she looks back to Daphne.

“That’ll be Fred, our oldest. He’s only a few years off from Hogwarts, and is it bad if I say I’m looking forward to it just a little bit?” Y/N asks with a small laugh.

Daphne laughs as well, grabbing her wallet to pay for their stuff. “Oh trust me, I’m right there with you. I don’t know how you do it, we’ve just got MJ and I feel like I can barely keep up with him. I’m looking forward to the peace and quiet when he’s off at school.”

“George is a great help, I don’t think I could do it without him. He loves being a Dad, and he’s pretty good at it too.” Y/N hands Daphne her bag and gives her a final smile. “Thanks for coming by. It was nice to see you.”

Roxanne comes up just as Daphne and Marcus leave the store with their son and pulls up a chair so she can climb up onto the counter, being careful not to let the black pygmy puff on her head fall off. “Who was that, Mummy?”

“Just a girl I was friends with, back when I was at Hogwarts,” Y/N responds sadly, tucking a stray curl behind Roxanne’s ear.  

“Oh. You’re not friends anymore?” Roxanne asks with a frown.

Y/N shakes her head and leans forward to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead. “No, not anymore. But that’s okay. We used to have loads and loads of fun together, and now I get to have loads and loads of fun with you and your siblings and your Dad.”

“I can’t wait to make tons of friends when I’m at Hogwarts. It’s so not fair that Freddie gets to go sooner than me.” Roxanne pauses, giving Y/N a cheeky grin. “Do you think if I snuck on the train they’d just let me stay?”

“Hmm, I don’t know love. Why don’t you give it a try when it’s time for Freddie to go?”

Roxanne giggles as Y/N presses a kiss to her forehead and she gives her mother an excited look when she pulls away. “Oh trust me, I’m planning on it.”

-

“You think she’s going to try and sneak onto the train?” George asks, leaning over to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

They’re heading towards the entrance to Platform 9 and ¾’s to send Fred off on his very first train ride to Hogwarts. Despite the fact that it’s been over two years since Roxanne first divulged her plan to sneak to Hogwarts with her older brother, she still hasn’t forgotten about it, and she had reminded Y/N and George of her plan last night when they tucked her into bed.

“I dunno, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing to keep an extra close eye on her,” Y/N responds with a chuckle. Roxanne and Freya are walking out in front of everyone, holding hands and twirling each other around. Their curls flounce as they move, and as if she can tell they’re talking about her, Roxanne looks back at her parents and gives them a wink.

Fred is in the middle, pushing his cart along all by himself. He insisted that he could handle it on his own, since he’s going to be off at Hogwarts, and even though Y/N can tell he’s struggling a bit the grin on his face keeps her from intervening. Not that she or George would be much help. Archer and Leo, their twins, are two now, and George has one attached to each leg, giggling wildly as he walks and Y/N has a baby wrap tied around her torso, with their three-month-old daughter Scarlet laying in it fast asleep.

When they reach the wall between platforms nine and ten, Roxanne and Freya pause, looking back at their parents.

“Can we go?” Roxanne asks hopefully, mischief in her eyes.

George laughs and shakes his head. “Let your Mum and Freddie go first, yeah? You two can go through with me after.”

Roxanne pouts but steps aside, nonetheless, pulling Freya to her side as Y/N comes to stand next to Fred. She puts one of her hands on his shoulder, and the other on the handle of the cart. “Ready?” she asks, looking at her son.

“More than ready,” Fred responds with a laugh.

They push through the barrier together, and the platform looks just the same as Y/N remembers. It’s bustling with people as per usual and as George and the girls join them they navigate through the crowd to try and find a spot to say goodbye.

Once Fred’s things are loaded onto the train, Freya and Roxanne are the first to hug him goodbye, but they’re both too entranced by the Platform and the train to really care that they won’t see him for the next few months. Archer and Leo are too busy chasing each other around the small area to care, but Fred grabs them both and presses a kiss to their heads before letting them toddle off after each other again.

George pulls him into a hug first, and his hands shake as a few tears slip down his cheeks. “Love you so much, bud. You’re gonna have so much fun, I promise. Your Mum tried to take it out, but I slipped that box of Wheeze products into your trunk this morning. Just send an owl when you’re getting low and I’ll send more.” He pulls away so he can look at Fred, and the bright look in his eyes reminds him so much of him and Fred when they were that age he has to take a moment to calm himself down. “I’m handing the prank torch down to you, and I know it’ll be in good hands.”

By the time Y/N is pulling Fred into a hug there are tears fully falling down her cheeks and they fall into his hair when she brings him in as close as she can. “Don’t get into too much trouble, yeah? But have fun and learn a lot, that’s kinda the whole point.” She pulls away to press a lingering kiss to his forehead and runs her hand through his wild hair. “And don’t be too hard on the Slytherins, yeah? Your future wife might just be one of them.”

“Ew,” Fred responds, scrunching up his nose.

Y/N laughs and presses one more kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Fred. Write loads, yeah?”

“All the time,” Fred promises. He reaches into the wrap to give his littlest sister a kiss on the head before he steps back to look at both of his parents. “Bye, love you guys.”

“Hang on, one more thing.” Fred pauses and looks up at George, watching as he takes the teapot pin off of the lapel of his jacket. “A piece of me and mum for you to have with you, yeah?”

It’s the first time Y/N has seen George without it and the tears streaming down her face fall harder as he pins it to their son’s sweater. Almost subconsciously she reaches up to grab at the charms of her necklace, letting their familiar texture soothe her as she watches Fred climb up onto the train.

Forever seemed like a long time when Y/N and George first promised it to each other on that journey back to Hogwarts all those years ago. But now, watching that same train carry their first born away as their other kids laugh and play around them it just doesn’t seem like enough.

[thanksjro]

Bayverse: Treating These Movies with More Dignity than They Deserve or Contain, Because I’m a Goddamned Professional - Part One

TRANSFORMERS (2007) - UNCOMFORTABLE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN TEENAGERS THAT I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

The date was September 17th, 2020, and I was in a stream with nine or ten other people watching the first Bayverse Transformers movie. Why we were watching it doesn’t particularly matter- sometimes you just gotta watch garbage so you can refresh your palate for the good stuff, I suppose. Also, a couple of folks wanted to make goo-goo eyes at Blackout’s rotors.

...It’s not my thing, but I’m glad they’ve got something to make the journey worth taking.

I made some sort of comment about only using my brain for this blog’s content, and someone (you know who you are :)) suggested that I take a proper look at the film. Being who I am, I immediately latched onto this idea, despite it being technically outside of what I write about.

And then I quintuple-downed, because winners don’t quit.

Good to know that my BA in Film Production wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Fun fact, I broke my television trying to watch Transformers for this. I think the universe was trying to stop me, by making me perform surgery on electronics, and also aggravating my carpal tunnel.

This movie came out when I was 13, and it was the first Transformers thing I saw after Cybertron. Yes, the anime one. No, not the one that’s objectively terrible.

Anyway.

How did I feel about Transformers when I saw it the first time? Well… it was okay. I liked the robots. I thought Mikaela was pretty, not that I knew what that meant back then. I watched it a few times, if only because my oldest younger brother kept renting it at Blockbuster. It was fun.

Now I’m older, and wiser, and know feminist theory, so my opinion is less “this exists” and more “blind, murderous rage”.

Our film opens up with some claptrap about the Cube™, a MacGuffin of ultimate power that allows the Transformers to create worlds in their image and populate them. Which means this is how they reproduce.

It always comes back to baby-making, doesn’t it?

The narration goes on about how the Cube™ is very powerful, and some folks wanted it for good, and others for evil. The criteria for being “good” and “evil” isn’t established, and I’m not exactly sure how one would define such a thing, when all the Cube™ does is create life, but, well, we’ve only just begun. Maybe we’ll get some answers later on.

Haha, I doubt it.

So, the Cube™ is the catalyst for our 4 million year war this continuity, and that sucker was lost in the shuffle a while back. This is a problem, because, again, the Cube™ is how the Transformers reproduce. Now everyone’s in a mad scramble to find the thing so their species doesn’t die out.

Three guesses as to where it ended up, and the first two don’t count.

Smashcut to the shit nobody cares about- the humans. We see an Osprey fly over the Qatar desert, carrying a buttload of American soldiers. We get a taste of some good old-fashioned xenophobia, as several soldiers mock a guy for not speaking English and loving his mother’s cooking, going full “funny haha gibberish language” on him. We’re two and a half minutes into the film, and I already want to stab something.

Ed Sheeran breaks into the conversation, I guess because he was feeling left out, revealing that he is the New Yorker stereotype of the film, for some reason. The fellas ask their captain, Lennox, what he’s looking forward to most about getting home from their tour, and he reveals himself to be a family man. While he’s been away, his wife had a baby, who he hasn’t so much as held yet. His men respond by mocking him.

For loving his child.

We’re three minutes into the film, and the toxic masculinity might actually make me have an aneurysm.

The Ospreys land, the lads disembark, and we get a snapshot of what downtime during deployment looks like to Bay. There are a lot of kiddie swimming pools involved. Two men play basketball. We watch multiple men take outdoor showers. A young Qatari boy brings Lennox a camelback water pack with a smile on his face. This lets me know that he’s a prop and not a character in this film. I can’t wait to see how many horrors he’ll be put through to simulate pathos.

We get a shot of a helicopter flying over the desert, one that the US military doesn’t recognize as their own. They send a couple of planes to check it out, and said planes get their shop wrecked. The helicopter is revealed to be the same ‘copter that was shot down several months prior. That’s… not good. Ghost helicopter?

No. Not at all, actually.

Lennox gets on a video chat with his wife and daughter, who is wearing one of the most ridiculous baby outfits I’ve seen in a hot minute. And I used to work in childcare, so I’ve seen a good amount of those. The writing implies that normal bodily functions are unladylike and therefore undesirable… in an infant… and that’s when all hell breaks loose, thankfully saving me from more of Bay trying to make me give a shit about these characters.

The helicopter lands, we get a shot of the mustachioed pilot, who glitches (gasp), and the line “have your crew step out or we will kill you” is uttered. Not even trying to hide the nationalism, are you?

This film hit theaters in 2007, when the xenophobia from 9/11 was still heavy in the air of the general populace, so things like this were more tolerated, and in fact approved of. Of course, it’s not like America has really improved on that subject, or ever really had a point where we weren’t terrible about it, since we live in a world where the military-entertainment complex exists.

See, the Department of Defense and a good chunk of American entertainment industries have a little deal going, and have for the last few decades, and it goes like this: The DoD will allow the use of their vehicles, personnel, and bases, or the likenesses of such, for free, in exchange for their operations being shown in a positive/morally justified light. This is why you never see the armed forces portrayed in a way that makes them out as anything less than heroes- nobody would be able to afford the sets/likenesses without the DoD’s aid. This is also why you see straight-up advertisements for the military branches on televison, in cinemas, and online, and why both the Army and Navy have flirted with having Twitch channels.

It’s all a ploy to get you to join the military, kids. It’s propaganda.

But enough about that, it’s time for our first transformation sequence!

We get a lot of moving parts with this, since it’s realistic CGI in a live-action movie, and it still holds up. It’s hard to tell what’s actually happening, but it, if nothing else, feels alien, surreal, and horrific to behold. They even included the original sound effect in the cacophony, which is nice.

Our ghost helicopter reveals itself to be a Transformer, not that we get that terminology at any point in this film. This specifically is Blackout, a Decepticon. The soldiers start firing on him the moment he starts transforming, then are surprised when the thing they started shooting with several guns retaliates. This is the point where everything ever in this military base explodes, brilliantly and repeatedly, because it wouldn’t be a Bay film without it. There’s a lot of shouting and bright lights, and I’m positively certain that a great deal of people died during this fight.

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

Blackout rips the top off of a building like it’s a tin of anchovies, and then snags all the hard drives he can, downloading everything. This is a problem, but it seems like nobody was prepared for a giant alien robot hack-attack, because in order to shut down the power to the servers, you need to be able to unlock the breaker box, and no one seems to have the key. They solve the problem with a fire ax.

Lennox is leading the Qatari boy through the base towards safety. I should mention that it’s night now, and several hours seem to have passed since the Ospreys landed, so I don’t know why this kid is still here. He’s got, like, a house and family to go home to.

We get some more tank-throwing action, Sergeant Epps almost gets flattened under Blackout’s foot, then the movie decides it’s going to try to make things more interesting by having each shot cut flash, for whatever reason.

Someone shoots Blackout with a rocket launcher, I think, and this is the point where he throws his tiny little man off his back to go do his job. Yes, Blackout’s got a baby, and that baby is Scorponok, his symbiotic pal who likes to dig into the ground and be a sneaky little bastard.

Blackout blows up a ton more military equipment and personnel, and then it’s time for another smashcut.

Now we’re in high school, just like all those dreams I’ve had where I’ve forgotten my homework. This is where we meet Sam Witwicky, our main character, and also the stand-in for our target demographic. He’s insufferable, and I don’t like him. Mikaela Banes, our love interest, is also present in this scene, but we don’t get to know about her character for, like, another 20 minutes, because who gives a shit about women, right? They’re just props, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Sam is presenting on his great-great-grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, for his family genealogy report, in front of a class containing maybe three actors who are age appropriate.

I know child labor laws are a good thing, and that hiring adults to play teenagers is just the lay of the land, but I swear some of these students look like they’re old enough to be on their second mortgage and third kid.

Anyway.

Archibald Witwicky was an explorer, one of the first to traverse the Arctic circle, and apparently his crew was made up of folks from 2007, because I swear the clothing for a few of these dudes isn’t period-appropriate. We get a seamen joke, because of course we do, and a sextant joke, because of course we do. Sam is also hawking all this crap he’s brought in for the presentation, because he is a little bastard who has no idea what his peers would want to buy, or really how to relate to them at all. He’s selling these “priceless” artifacts so he can get a car. Mikaela finds this charming, for some fucking reason. Also, her boyfriend is weirdly stroking her shoulder blade with his knuckles the whole time this is happening, and I hate it.

Archibald Witwicky went mad after his expedition, talking about an “ice man” so often that his family ended up locking him in a mental asylum, likely to be forgotten about. Which is sad. But we won’t be getting into the medical mistreatment of the mentally ill in Bayverse, now will we? That’s just Too Deep™.

Sam’s teacher didn’t very much appreciate having his class be turned into an episode of Antiques Roadshow, but still gives Sam an “A” on the project, despite it being a very poor report that lasted all of two minutes. I suspect the teacher has tenure, and therefore no longer gives a shit about academic integrity. This “A” means that Sam’s father will buy him a car.

Which is nice, I suppose, if I gave a damn.

Sam’s father, Ron, picks up his son in a car he probably bought at the crux of his midlife crisis, in a green that reminds me of a school gymnasium floor, then plays a prank on his child by pretending to pull into the Porsche dealership. Sam isn’t getting a Porsche, which is good, because he doesn’t deserve one. As Sam gripes to his father, a yellow Camaro drives by oh so conspicuously. Wonder what’s up with that.

Instead of the Porshe dealership, they head over to the used car lot, which is being run by Bobby Bolivia, who spends his time yelling at his employees and wanting to murder his mother. Sam is incredibly ungrateful about the fact that his dad is helping him get a car, even though it’s his FIRST car, and nobody gets a nice one the first go around. Or, at least, they shouldn’t, given the statistics about accidents with young drivers.

“No sacrifice, no victory” is uttered by Ron, which is the family motto, or so he claims. Archibald Witwicky said the same thing when he had multiple people dying trying to get to the Arctic Circle, so there’s precedence for the phrase, but we’ll see how it holds up throughout the film.

Bobby Bolivia shows Sam and Ron the cars he has for sale, and Sam is immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro in the lot, though there’s a small problem- it’s too expensive for what he and his father agreed to. Also, nobody knows where the hell it came from, so paperwork might be an issue. When Bobby tries to show Sam the yellow Beetle they have right down the line, everything explodes, because this is a Bay film, and fuck the original material this movie was based on. Bobby lets them have the Camaro for a lower price, suddenly fearful of whatever strange powers have just visited his place of business. “The car picks the driver” is suddenly more than a bullshit line to spout off in order to sell cars, and I’m certain that’s shaken the poor man.

Over in Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense prepares to address just what the hell happened in Qatar, lamenting on how young the audience he’s going to be speaking to is. In particular, he’s referring to the two dweebs and the hot chick sitting in one of the rows. All the women in this movie who aren’t someone’s mom are made up to be very pretty. And not even in a realistic way. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

So, the military network was hacked. That’s bad. Nobody knows who did it. That’s also bad. The only lead the US has is a soundbite, which is the signal that hacked the network.

Everyone here at the briefing is going to be helping to figure this mess out. This is great, if you like looking at Rachael Taylor for a few seconds at a time, and can compartmentalize hard enough to make that worth the effort of watching this godforsaken film.

Back at the Witwicky household, we meet Mojo, a chihuahua with a cast that doesn’t seem like it’s actually doing anything. I wish he was the main character instead of Sam.

Sam arrives home from the dealership, and says “alright, Mojo, I’ve got the car. Now I need the girl.”

As if ownership of a person is something to aspire to.

As if women are property to be owned.

As if women aren’t people, but rather commodities.

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

We’re introduced to Judy, Sam’s mother. She’s shrill, and annoying. This is by design, because none of the women in this film are actually people, but rather archetypes to bounce off of the male characters.

Sam and his father have a moment of what some might consider banter, then Sam gets huffy with his mom over gender roles for the dog. I, for one, think Mojo looks positively dashing in his bedazzled collar, and to hell with whatever Sam says to the contrary.

Sam drives off to go be a misogynist, with the promise to be back by 11PM.

Over in Qatar, the soldiers and that little boy are running from the attack on their base, as Lennox’s wife watches a public announcement on the matter back at home. The Secretary of Defense lets us know that we’re at DEFCON Delta at this point. Lennox Jr. cries, and all I can think about is how they probably pinched that baby to make that happen. They pinched a baby for Transformers (2007).

The soldiers in Qatar talk about shit they have no idea about, Sergeant Epps going on about somehow having been able to see a forcefield around Blackout through his super special binoculars. I don’t know how, or why, he knows this. I don’t know anything anymore.

Ed Sheeran has his doubts about this whole thing, and Lennox is also present in the scene, because I guess he’s important. Through a bit of dramatic irony, Fig- the guy everyone was making fun of for being bilingual at the start of the film- says that this probably isn’t over, as the shape of Scorponok shifts through the sand just beyond them.

Epps is having a minor crisis over the fact that Blackout saw him, but we don’t have time for that, because we’ve got to get to cover. The lads decide to head to the little Qatari boy’s house. Again, I wonder why he was at the base at all, considering that it seems like they’ve been traveling for a good portion of the day.

Back with Sam, he’s picked up his friend Miles, and together they’re going to a lake party. Are they invited to this party? Yes, but also no. It’s public property though, so it should be fine. As they park, Sam notices that Mikaela is here, which is great for him.

Mikaela’s boyfriend, Trent- whose name I had to look up- is a massive tool, and starts pestering the two boys for daring to exist in his airspace. Miles climbs a tree. I’m glad he’s having fun, at least. Sam makes a joke at the expense of people with brain injuries, and this for some reason? Warrants a shot of Mikaela making the blank “pretty girl” face? In response?

Mikaela saves Sam from becoming a wet stain on the grass, which is very kind of her, and more than Sam really deserves. Trent, his boys, and Mikaela start to head off for another party, to get away from Sam and his tree-loving friend. Mikaela offers to drive, and Trent says that she can’t handle his truck, because she’s a ~girl~. This causes Mikaela to ditch him, and start walking home.

The script knows enough about misogyny to know that this would be a nice “take that”. Michael Bay, however, likely fails to see why everything he did with said script involving this character is a goddamned problem.

Because Mikaela, bless her heart, has a lot of problems.

Let’s start with the outfit: a croptop, a jean skirt that BARELY covers her ass, and a pair of wedge heels that are at least four inches tall. On a character that is, at oldest, freshly 18.

Look, I’m all about self-expression and the freedom to choose how you dress for yourself and yourself alone, but this clearly isn’t that. This is a character, not a person, whose wardrobe was designed for the straight male gaze. She’s wearing fucking STRAP HEELS to the lake. This is about oogling. This is about reducing a whole-ass person to the same status as a piece of meat. In fact, who was on wardrobe for this? I’d like to have a few words with-

A woman? Okay, well, what else has she worked on?

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

Miles just called Mikaela an “evil jock concubine.” I don’t like Miles anymore.

As Mikaela walks down the road, strutting hard enough that I’ve got sympathy pains in my hips, the radio in the Camaro turns on, playing “Drive” by the Cars, and giving Sam a hell of an idea; he’s gonna drive Mikaela home, so she doesn’t have to walk the 10 miles to her house. Why he knows how far she lives from the lake isn’t addressed.

Sam kicks Miles out of the car and goes to give Mikaela a ride, which she accepts after a bit of self-deliberation, and also him making an ass of himself. The shot here is framed with Sam like he’s a normal-ass person, and Mikaela from her breasts to the top of her waist. Because of COURSE it is.

She hops in the car and then goes off about her taste in hot guys. Which is weird, and out of left field. Sam is about as confused as I am, then continues to make a fool of himself. This is his nature as a person. Mikaela has no idea who Sam is, even though they’ve gone to the same school for the last 10 years and have multiple classes together. And the fact that she was staring him down all through his genealogy presentation. And at the lake.

This movie isn’t very well thought out, I feel.

It’s at this point the the Camaro turns the key on itself and starts to sputter out and die, as “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye pops on the radio.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid with a girl who didn’t even know his name five minutes ago.

I don’t like how this car knows what sex is.

The Camaro breaks down on a cliff, and Mikaela hops out to work on the engine, and also to get the hell away from Sam’s sputtering.

As Mikaela admires the sweet engine in this Camaro, showing off her knowledge of cars, we get several shots of her from her breasts to her thighs, while Sam is treated like an actual person. Don’t bother trying to play it off as an artistic choice, Bay, this is blatant horndogging. This adds to NOTHING, other than my ire.

Sam says more stupid shit, and Mikaela, who must be the nicest fucking person in the world, just tells him to fire up the engine so she can try to sort out the problem. Then he asks why she goes for jackasses like Trent, and she decides that she’s hit her limit for today, opting to walk the rest of the way home. Good on you, Mikaela. Don’t take Sam’s bullshit.

Sam, realizing that he’s put his foot in his mouth for the 80th time today, pleads with his Camaro to do him a solid and work, and this actually works out for him. Great. Sam, victorious, once again offers Mikaela a ride, which she, once again, takes.

He drops her off without further incident, and she thanks him for listening. Even though they didn’t really talk that much. I dunno, maybe they had a super deep conversation offscreen. Mikaela asks Sam if he thinks she’s shallow, because clearly all women need approval from the men around them, and Sam says that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Which made me groan aloud.

Anyway, she gets inside without a problem, and Sam professes his love for his new Camaro for allowing him to talk to a girl. Or at least talk at her.

Back in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon National Military Command Center, we’re making weirdly racist calls on who hacked the military.

Up with Air Force One, a conspicuous boombox transforms into a robot, and then runs off to hack shit. The President of the United States requests some snack cakes. A flight attendant goes down to storage to retrieve said snack cakes, and finds that boombox in the elevator with her. Considering this is Air Force One, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse, and we don’t think here.

The flight attendant brings the boombox down with her and places it on the counter as she goes to get the presidential snack cakes. The boombox immediately disappears. Now, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse-

The flight attendant opens up the snack cake package, for some reason, and drops the cake on the floor. She then proceeds to eat it, and then act shocked when it tastes like floor. There’s a robot in her fucking line of sight, and you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing-

She leaves to go feed the President floor cakes, and our little robot friend gets to work stealing government secrets. He, if nothing else, looks pretty cool doing it. He’s a very pointy lad.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie- Rachael Taylor’s character- can hear the hacking. This sends everyone into a panic, because, well, that shouldn’t be happening. The hacking noise is a direct match to the one from Qatar, so that’s obviously a problem.

Back on Air Force One, our little robot friend is looking for “Project Iceman”, which he very quickly finds, and downloads everything they’ve got on it, and also plants a virus. The process seems to be… doing things to him. It’s weird. This movie is weird.

The Pentagon cuts all the system hardlines, stopping the process, but it’s too late- he got what he wanted, just about. Two security personnel come into the room, and the robot kills them both with some spinning blade disc nonsense. Air Force One is forced to land for the safety of everyone on-board. More security detail comes in to deal with the little bastard, but he transforms into a boombox and sits on a shelf to avoid suspicion. Now, you’d perhaps expect-

With the plane grounded, our robot is able to walk his little ass over to a cop car. And when I say walk, I do mean walk; this fucker is in multiple folks’ line of sight and nobody notices a thing. When he enters the car, he’s greeted by the mustachioed driver- the same driver who was operating the helicopter at the beginning of the film. This mustache man is a holographic avatar, one that’s being used by all the Decepticons.

We get our first real taste of Cybertronian language, as our robot- it’s Frenzy, his name is Frenzy- lets everyone know that he’s found a clue to the location of the AllSpark, and, through the power of the internet, knows where to find the guy who’s gonna give them what they need.

Three guesses to who it is, and the first two don’t count.

Back at the Witwicky household, Sam’s car does a runner in the middle of the night. Sam, horrified that his property is being stolen, pursues on a bike, screaming at his dad to call the cops. Sam also calls the cops, as he tears through the neighborhood.

The Camaro breaks into an abandoned building, Sam follows, and we finally get a shot of our audience appeal character. Sam watches in disbelief as a giant yellow space robot shines a beacon into the sky, then makes a video on his flip phone recording the experience. He apologizes to his parents for owning pornographic magazines, and goes to face his probable demise.

However, death does not come from above, instead manifesting itself as two of the strongest junkyard dogs in the known universe, who break their brick-inlaid chains to get at this little dip of a man. Sam is chased through the yard, climbing on top of a couple precarious oil drums, even though there’s a ladder, like, right there. The Camaro rolls in, scaring off the dogs, and Sam bolts, throwing the keys to his ride at his ride. When he gets outside, the cops have arrived, and immediately arrest him.

Back with the US government, the Secretary of State is having a conversation about all the bullshit that just went down with Air Force One. He and his fellow cishet old white men discuss their options, until Maddie comes in to set them straight on some of the facts. They act all indignant about it, because women can’t be smart, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Anyway, we get a weird little deflection of Maddie’s role in everything, because a woman is nothing without the men around her, then she brings up the point that the bullshit that happened on Air Force One went down in just a few seconds, which isn’t something that anyone can actually do. She brings up quantum mechanics, which everyone blows off as nonsense- not that I wouldn’t as well- and theorizes on a DNA-based computer, which is technically a thing, if not trapped in the realm of speculation. It’s at this point that the Secretary of Defense tells her to come back when she can back these wild claims up, and isn’t just clearly spitballing.

And then he snaps his fingers at her, and any point he might have had leaves my brain so I have more room for being enraged.

Back with Sam, we’re at the police station talking to the cops. His dad is here, and Sam is trying to explain that his car is a dude. Even though he took at a video (one that was likely crap, given how quickly he spun his phone around to show off what he was seeing) the cops, understandably, don’t believe him. Then one of them, not so understandably, starts… threatening Sam? With his sidearm? And daring him to try something? This isn’t any sort of statement on the corruption of American law enforcement, it’s just bizarre.

Back in Qatar, our soldier buddies have found a telephone line, and are going to try to use it to get in contact with the rest of the world. It’s just too bad that Scorponok’s decided to make an entrance, and knock said telephone line the hell down. Ed Sheeran has next to no reaction to this, despite it happening maybe ten feet behind him. Fig speaks Spanish, and Ed Sheeran makes a point to be an asshole about it.

Scorponok is about to stab Lennox with his very pointy tail, when Epps notices- finally, someone with peripheral vision- and starts shooting. Then everyone starts shooting, kicking up enough sand to blind themselves, as Scorponok scuttles away, buries himself, then reappears behind Ed Sheeran.

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

The others bolt, not wanting the same to happen to them, and for the fourth time I wonder just why the hell this young boy was at the base in the first place.

Off in the distance, the community of a nearby town wonders just what the shit is going on out in the desert. Our soldiers run into the town, and everyone gets their guns and start firing on Scorponok, who retaliates, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

Lennox demands that the young boy take him to his father, and proceeds to borrow his phone. As shit goes down outside, we have a sort-of gag where Lennox is trying to contact the Pentagon, while a telemarketer tries to get him to buy a phone package. In order for this call to go through, he’s going to need a credit card. This is where the well-known “pocket” scene comes from, as Lennox searches Epps’ pants for his wallet as he fires on Scorponok. It’s probably the best-written thing in this whole film.

With the credit card acquired, Lennox finally gets through to the Pentagon, and tosses Epps the phone so he can talk. Maybe he’s got anxiety about speaking on the phone, I dunno.

Scorponok shows off his disregard for historical architecture, blowing up several buildings, and the US government just watches this all go down. One of the actors in this scene looks like my dad, and it trips me up every time he’s on screen. Anyway, now the Pentagon knows about the giant space robots running around in Qatar. They send over some air support about it. All this manages to do is piss Scorponok off.

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

Also, Fig’s been grievously wounded. The others, for once, don’t make fun of his native language while they help him hold his blood inside his body.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s looking to prove that the bullshit that’s been going on is of the sci-fi variety, and in order to do that, she’s going to need a little outside help. She takes the information from the Pentagon, slaps it into an SD card, hides that shit in her blush compact, and then runs out the door to Glenn Whitmann’s house. Or, rather, his grandma’s house.

Glenn is a hacker, and shouldn’t be seeing anything that Maddie’s brought him, but everyone knows that confidentiality is for nerds, so whatever.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s immediately been caught. It’s almost like slapping the military network onto an SD card maybe wasn’t such a hot idea. But what do I know?

Glenn takes a look at the soundbite and figures out that there’s a code embedded in the thing in about two seconds. Good to know our tax dollars are being well-spent on the US military, that some dude in his jammies can figure this shit out faster than a whole team of analysts. They figure out that “Project Iceman” is involved with this somehow, and also the existence of Sector Seven. It’s at this point that the FBI busts in. Good. I kind of want Maddie to go to jail for this, because she was about as stupid as she could be handling the situation.

Glenn’s cousin goes through a closed glass door- don’t worry, it’s tempered- and there’s a weird cut before that exact same shot continues, and he’s tackled into the pool. There was no reason for that to have happened, but here we are.

Back with Sam, we’re treated to him in his boxers, shooting basketballs in his room. He goes into the kitchen, where Mojo is standing on a stool. It’s a very tall stool, the sort you sit on, and he’s just… there. I don’t know how he got there. There’s no one else in the room besides Sam, and I know he didn’t put him there.

Clearly this must mean Mojo is God, and being on that stool is his divine will. I will be approaching the rest of the franchise with this in mind, because it’s clearly the only answer.

Our merciful Lord Mojo jumps up on the kitchen counter and begins growling at something through the window. Sam looks out… the opposite window… to find that his Camaro has returned to him, and is less than thrilled about it, to put it lightly. He drops a jug of milk- luckily it was mostly empty, given the sound it makes when it hits the floor- and gives his buddy Miles a call. You remember Miles, don’t you? If you don’t, it’s fine, because he reestablishes his quirkiness with a single shot, as he sits in a swimsuit and bathes his huge-ass dog in a kiddie pool, and answers the phone with a headset he just happened to be wearing. He must get a lot of calls during Dog Washing Hours.


After giving us one of the most intense voice cracks I’ve ever heard, Sam books it out of his house, hopping on a bike to escape his murderous Camaro. He’s not seen the thing commit any murders, mind you, but he seems pretty convinced that it would do the job, given half a chance. Also, this isn’t the bike he rode the night before; that one is likely being chewed on by those strong-ass junkyard dogs. No, for some reason, the Witwickys have a pastel pink girl’s bike, with the fun little handle tassels and the basket and everything. As far as I can tell, Sam is an only child, and if you think Bay’s going to allow for a teenage boy to have the vulnerability to own a pink bike, you’ve not been paying attention for the last 48.5 minutes.

The Camaro gives chase, rolling after Sam on his bike at a brisk 7 MPH down the friggin’ sidewalk, one of the only scenes in this travesty of a film to actually get me to crack a smile. Sam races through town until city planning puts a stop to him, through the magic of using chunks of cement to decorate the mulch around their trees. He crashes his bike, faceplants into the concrete in front of Mikaela, and promptly dies, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told a fib. I’m sorry.

Instead, he does a flip and lands on his back, likely receiving a concussion, in front of Mikaela and her friends. Her friends laugh, because everyone hates Sam, as they should, and Mikaela says that what he just did was “really awesome.” Don’t try to be nice, Mikaela, this is Sam we’re talking about; you could stick the dude in the freezer overnight and he still wouldn’t be even remotely cool.

Sam gets back to the whole “running away from a car” deal, and Mikaela decides that this is the sort of thing she’d like to do with her day, so she ditches her friends in the middle of their scheduled Burger King™ time to go see what the hell Sam’s on about.

As Sam is chased by the Camaro who is being chased by Mikaela on her motorized scooter, a cop becomes involved, tearing through the streets to join this ridiculous game of tag. Now, we’ve seen two different flavor of cop so far- the mustachioed avatar cop car that picked up Frenzy from the airport, and the dude who threatened a teenage boy with a gun after accusing him of being under the influence of drugs. Either way, I don’t think this is going to turn out well for Sam.

Sam’s cornered himself under one of those really wide bridges where people can park their cars, which wasn’t terribly smart, but it’s Sam, so this is about par for the course. The Camaro manages to miss him, but the cop car does not. Sam is actually pretty cool with the cops being here, as if they could do anything about “Satan’s Camaro.” I guess he didn’t see the decal on the side of this car that says “to punish and enslave…”

Sam attempts to approach the car for help, and gets clotheslined by a car door for his troubles. He hits his head on the pavement, certainly exasperating the brain injury he received not ten minutes ago. Still, he continues to try to talk to the holographic avatar through the windshield, revealing that the bike he’s been riding is his mother’s. Mystery solved, I suppose.

The cop car doesn’t much appreciate being slapped on the hood, and begins to rev violently at Sam, threatening to run him over several times. Then it explodes into being a robot. Sam, who’s seen a lot of really weird shit in the last 24 hours, nopes out of the situation. It’s at this point that I realize he’s wearing a shirt for the band the Strokes. I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but it did. Guess my brain needed something to latch onto during all this.

Sam is running as fast as his little legs allow, as our newest robot friend takes up a leisurely jog to keep pace. Then he kicks Sam. He kicks Sam’s body like the football. This, of course, instantly turns Sam into a bag of jelly and kills him, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Sam somehow survives being punted by a giant metal leg and lands in the windshield of a car that doesn’t turn into a robot. Then he gets yelled at by the cop car. This is Barricade, a member of the Decepticons, and Sam’s got something he wants. Or, should I say “LadiesMan217” has something he wants.

LadiesMan217 is Sam’s Ebay username. This is both stupid because no teenage boy existing beyond the year 1985 would have ever called himself that, and also because it’s just stupid.

Barricade wants the glasses Sam presented for his genealogy report, and he wants them NOW. Seeing as the thing he wants is for sale, and nobody had been bidding on it, one would wonder why Barricade and his associates didn’t just try to purchase them like upstanding citizens. Perhaps Decepticons don’t understand the concept of money, or perhaps they don’t have a stable address to have the glasses shipped to. Or perhaps nobody considered that angle when the script was being put together. Who can say?

Sam gets back to running away from Barricade, we see where Mikaela got to, and the two of them collide. Sam rips Mikaela off of her scooter, and they both fall to the ground. Mikaela, who did not buckle the clasp on her helmet, asks Sam what his fucking problem is. Then his problem shows up, and they take a very long time to get up so they can run. So long, in fact, that the Camaro has to swing in to save them. After much pleading from Sam, Mikaela gets inside Satan’s Camaro, and the two of them are whisked away to safety. Barricade pursues, and then the butt rock starts.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling, the Camaro busts through a window and several shelves in an abandoned building, there’s some drifting, and then suddenly it’s nighttime. Barricade somehow got in front of the Camaro, and is circling like a shark. The Camaro locks the two teenagers inside itself, though I suppose they could climb out through the still-open windows if they really wanted to. The Camaro cuts the engine off, then cuts it back on and bolts for the exit, and this somehow tricks Barricade long enough for them to get past.

The Camaro dumps Mikaela and Sam out one of the doors and then transforms into that yellow space robot we saw a bit ago. It’s Bumblebee! Nearly an hour in, and we finally get a proper look at the little bastard. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the first 20-something minutes on being xenophobic and appealing to the focus groups that think it’s fine sexualize high schoolers.

Bumblebee- no, he’s not introduced himself yet, but I just can’t keep calling him “the Camaro” anymore- comes out of his transformation ready to square the fuck up. Barricade throws himself at Bumblebee, they roll around on the ground for a bit, then things start sparking and exploding, because this is a Michael Bay film. Frenzy jumps out and starts chasing down Mikaela and Sam, while Bumblebee and Barricade murder death punch each other. Frenzy manages to grab Sam by the ankles, drag him to the ground, and rip his pants off. Not sure how that happened, considering he’s still got his shoes on.

While Sam’s busy being chased by a sentient pile of safety pins, Mikaela’s taken it upon herself to be proactive about her survival, and is raiding a nearby building for power tools. She sprints out holding an electric jig saw and saves Sam by decapitating Frenzy. If you know anything about Transformers, then you know this doesn’t actually kill Frenzy, but good on her for being a badass. Why couldn’t Mikaela be our main character again? Oh, right, because she’s a ~girl~.

Sam punts Frenzy’s head, like, 50 yards, which seems like something he shouldn’t be able to do, given that he’s a massive weenie, but there you are. With that out of the way, Sam takes Mikaela’s hand and they run off to go watch the giant robot fight. The bottom of Frenzy’s head turns into a spider and he crawls his way over to Mikaela’s purse. He’s gonna steal her gum, the fiend!

Mikaela and Sam have, unfortunately, missed the giant robot fight, which means that we, as the audience, have also missed the giant robot fight. Which is unbelievably stupid, seeing as everyone who has ever watched this movie came for the GIANT GODDAMN ROBOTS.

Mikaela asks just who the hell the yellow robot is, I guess because she’s finally had a second to process what the hell’s going on. Sam claims that he’s a super-advanced robot, “probably from Japan.” Whether or not this is a reference to the Japanese origins of the original toy line isn’t clear, though somehow I think it’s more xenophobia. Sam also makes the claim that if Bumblebee had intended to hurt them, he would have done it by now. This is quite the jump from a few hours ago, when he was calling the poor guy “Satan’s Camaro.”

Sam finally, finally asks Bumblebee what his deal is, and we get our first taste of the Bayverse Bumblebee Gimmick. The Gimmick here is that, due to an injury to his vocal processing, Bumblebee cannot communicate through traditional means, i.e. speech. Because of this, he instead strings together sentences by flicking through the radio frequencies and choosing key words. This can lead to some interesting audio design, like describing his fellow Autobots to “rain down like visitors form heaven, Hallelujah!” because a radio sermon fit what he was trying to say best.

This gimmick is one that has been used in other pieces of Transformers media, at least in part. Bumblebee is unable to speak traditionally in Transformers: Prime, and instead communicates in beeps and clicks that his teammates can understand, but not so much the humans, save for Raf. In Bumblebee (2018), the idea was used whole-cloth, with the injury resulting in his inability to speak happening on-camera within the first 10 minutes of the movie, and the idea of “expressing oneself through music” being introduced by his human companion Charlie Watson.

All in all, I rather like the idea going on here; it’s an interesting part of his character that opens up for a lot of interesting and creative moments.

It’s just too bad it was introduced in fucking Bayverse.

But yeah, anyway, the other Autobots are coming to Earth. Shit’s gonna be lit.

Bumblebee turns back into a Camaro, and Sam uses the power of FOMO to get Mikaela to go in the car with him. We get a shot of Barricade fucking dying on the side of the road. Frenzy murders Mikaela’s phone, and then steals its identity, including the little bejeweled heart stickers. Good thing Mikaela remembered to go get her purse, otherwise he probably would have felt very silly doing that.

Mikaela refuses to sit in the driver’s seat, seeing as she now knows Sam’s car is sentient, and sort of feels weird about this whole thing. Sam suggests that she sit in his lap instead, as the camera angles to give us a peek at the cup of Mikaela’s bra. When asked why the hell she should do such a thing, Sam says it’s a concern about her safety, given that the middle console of the car does not have a seatbelt. Sam either fails to recognize that seatbelts going over two layered bodies won’t save either of them in the event of a crash, or he’s just trying to make an excuse to have a pretty girl in his lap.

Given what movie this is, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

Mikaela has a similar line of thought, but scoots over anyway, saying that the seatbelt line was a “smooth move”. It wasn’t, but if I picked apart every single bad line Sam had in this film, I’d be here all day.

Mikaela questions Bumblebee’s taste in alt-mode, which offends him to the point of dumping both her and Sam out in the street and driving away. He returns, moments later, as a sleek new Camaro, that I’m sure some car aficionados would call “sexy.”

Bumblebee’s alt-mode is a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, of which there were none during the time of filming. It was put together for this movie in roughly five weeks. Sam is blown away by the fact that he now owns a car that does not currently exist in his universe. Mikaela is impressed, or at least she would be, if women were allowed to show that emotion in a non-horny way in a Bay film.

Judy doesn’t count.

As Bumblebee breaks into yet another restricted area, we get a shot of the Earth from orbit, as several objects rocket towards the planet. Sam and Mikaela watch the Autobots burn up in the atmosphere, and Mikaela tries to hold Sam’s hand as they do, and it’s at this point that I have to address how much I hate these two’s dynamic.

I don’t give a single solitary shit about this romance, because A) it’s poorly written, B) Mikaela could do infinitely better than Sam, C) I dislike Sam so very much, D) Mikaela, who is a way more interesting character, got placed on friggin’ love interest duty because ~girl~, and E) it’s useless padding to try and make me care about what’s happening here, and I just DON’T. I do NOT care about whether these two get together or not.

We see the Autobots crash-land, three out of four of them causing massive amounts of property damage and possibly killing at least one person. Their stasis pods crack open, and they each climb out, completely naked and in desperate need of clothing to hide their shame. With a quick scan of nearby vehicles, they’re once again decent to be seen in public.

Bumblebee drives the kids out to what I can only assume is the warehouse district he sent that beacon out in, as our collection of good guys finally come together at long last. A massive Peterbilt semi-truck stops directly in front of Mikaela and Sam.

We’re over an hour into this film, and we’re just now getting to the quintessential Transformer, Optimus Prime himself.

In the original cartoon, Optimus’s alt-mode was what’s known as a cabover truck, one where the cab- where the driver sits- is seated directly over the engine. These were popular during the days when maximum truck-lengths were much shorter than they are currently. This is why when you look at height charts for Optimus over various continuities, his G1 cartoon counterpart much shorter than his other iterations.

Modern trucks are longer, and don’t need the cab to sit on top of the engine to save on space. The designers chose to use a Peterbilt to make sure that Optimus would have an imposing stature when compared to his fellow Autobots.

Because heaven forbid we not have heightism come into play in this film.

Our Autobots transform, and say what you will about these bastards being visually incomprehensible, the transformations themselves are cool as hell. My personal favorite is Jazz’s, where he does a cool windmill into his root mode.

Optimus crouches like he’s looking at a cool bug on the sidewalk and addresses Sam by name. He doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela, which I find to be a bit rude, but whatever. He then introduces himself as the leader of the Autobots.

Peter Cullen is back as the voice for Optimus Prime, sounding wonderful as always. He almost wasn’t brought on for this project, because Michael Bay didn’t want him. If the fans hadn’t thrown a hissyfit, who knows who we would have gotten to be our space dad for the next hour and a half?

This is actually an issue that’s recurred several times in the last few years, and not just with Cullen; Frank Welker, the voice of Megatron, as well as many other Transformers, has been refused roles within Transformers properties. In general, this is because both Cullen and Welker are union actors, and Hasbro would prefer to hire sound-alikes than pay more money for the originals. This isn’t to shame the non-union actors, goodness no, just to merely point out less-than-fantastic business practices.

I realize there have been a lot of tangents, but you have to understand that I am suffering as I do this.

Optimus then introduces his team- there’s Jazz, whose first line is “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”, Ironhide, who incorrectly quotes Dirty Harry, and Ratchet, who calls out just how obnoxiously horny Sam’s character is. We also finally get Bumblebee’s name.

Mikaela asks the very good question of why the fuck the Autobots are here on Earth. Optimus explains that the AllSpark is here, and they’ve got to get to it before Megatron does. He then goes on to explain who Megatron is, stating that he “betrayed” the Cybertronian empire.

No, how exactly he did that isn’t addressed. We’ll just have to take Optimus’s word, I suppose.

If you’ve sussed out by this point the the AllSpark and the Cube™ are the same thing, congrats! You win. Megatron followed the AllSpark to Earth, where he promptly was neutralized by the cold of the Arctic circle. This was 110 years prior to the events of this film, and where Archibald Witwicky came in to the story.

When the expedition was happening, Archibald fell through the ice during a collapse, and ended up finding Megatron’s frozen body in an ice cave. He went poking around on this strange metal giant, and ended up activating Megatron’s navigation systems, which imprinted the coordinates of the AllSpark onto Archibald’s glasses.

Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

So, the Autobots need the glasses, so they can find the AllSpark before the Decepticons do, so those guys don’t use it to build an army out of Earth’s machines, which will destroy humanity.

Sounds simple enough, let’s go get that vision correction device!

Back with the military dudes, everyone’s taking a gander at the tail that Scorponok left behind. They theorize that the metal that makes up these giant murder-robots reacts to extreme heat, but elaboration on that point will have to wait, because the tail has begun to flail. They quickly strap it down, then call the military to let them know to strap anti-tank guns onto anything that’s going to be approaching any giant robots.

Meanwhile, in an interrogation room, Maddie and Glen have been left to sweat a bit. Glen takes to stress-eating, while framing it as a psychological tactic to subconsciously prove his innocence to the FBI.

This is a fat joke, with the added nasty layer of Glen being a black man about to be interrogated by one of the most intimidating white cops I’ve seen in a hot minute.

Glen immediately folds, pinning all the blame on Maddie, and claiming that he’s been a perfect angel his whole life. We get some weird purity culture out of him, before Maddie lets the FBI know that she needs to talk to the Secretary of Defense, NOW.

Over at the Witwicky household, Sam’s parents are watching the news, trying to find out what all those loud crashes were about. Optimus Prime drives down their residential street, the rest of the gang in tow, then they all park to wait for Sam to go get the glasses.

For about 20 seconds.

Sam has to physically hold the door shut to prevent his father from coming out and seeing several very tall robots from outer space tip-toeing around his freshly-landscaped yard, I guess because they got antsy. Optimus plods around on the grass and breaks a fountain, and our benevolent god Mojo comes out of the house, assuredly to smite the leader of the Autobots.

Mikaela runs onto the scene, and Sam chastises her for not controlling the robots who didn’t even acknowledge her existence, outside of pointing out Sam was sexually attracted to her.

Mojo pees on Ironhide’s foot, which prompts Ironhide to threaten to shoot the creature. This is why Ironhide isn’t getting into heaven. Sam, one of Mojo’s chosen few, claims that the mortal shell of his god is seen as a beloved pet by many humans. Sam runs into the house, before Mojo can incur his divine wrath on the Autobots.

While Sam goes to get the glasses, the Autobots decide to do a little peeping on the house, watching his parents watch TV. Sam tears his room apart trying to find the glasses, and Optimus thinks that it would be helpful if he brought Mikaela up to help look. It’s at this point that I realize that Sam has an utterly bizarre fish tank.

I mean, legitimately, what the fuck is this? No filter, no plants, might not even have any rocks on the bottom. Is this a comically oversized bong Sam threw a couple fish into? What the fuck.

Mikaela starts looking for the glasses, running into what is likely a box of porn mags, then they both look out the window to find that the Autobots have decided to hide in plain sight by transforming... in the middle of Sam’s backyard. Amazing work, gentlemen.

Sam finally convinces the Autobots to go sit in the alley and wait, only for Ratchet to run into a power line and trip into a greenhouse. The resulting impact is interpreted as an earthquake. Judy does not have the reaction one might expect from someone who’s lived in California for at least ten years.

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

The power cuts out, and Ron goes up to check on his son, because he’s at least a halfway-decent father. Ratchet’s shining a light to aid in the search for the glasses. Sam’s parents notice this bright light, and bang on Sam’s door to see what’s up.

Sam quickly hides Mikaela and then attempts to salvage the situation, answering the door and trying to control the narrative. Unfortunately, Ron is far too inquisitive for Sam to do this, and then Judy asks if Sam was masturbating.

Judy, is privacy just not a thing to you? Because if not, it really ought to be.

She keeps going with it too, trying to come up with code words, until another one of the Autobots trips and causes Ron to panic again, climbing into Sam’s ancient claw-foot bathtub to protect himself. He looks out the window to check on his beloved yard, lamenting that the earthquake tore it up.

Ironhide is strongly considering killing Sam’s parents. Optimus tells him that they don’t harm humans, and also begins to wonder if he made a mistake bringing this guy along.

Back in Sam’s room, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Sam is an absolutely terrible liar, and Mikaela reveals herself, if only to prevent Judy from trying to talk about self-pleasure again. Of course, now she gets to be subjected to both of Sam’s parents objectifying her, so this might be a lose-lose situation.

Sam is reminded that his backpack is in the kitchen, just in time for the government to show up at his house. Mikaela makes a comment about Judy being nice. I suppose on a surface level, yes, being told that you’re gorgeous by someone’s mom is nice. I do have to question the context that compliment took place in, however.

Sam’s about to hand the glasses over to the Autobots, when someone rings the doorbell. It’s Sector Seven, and they’re here to talk to Sam about his stolen car being part of an issue involving national security. Ron and Judy are more concerned about their yard being torn up, Judy yelling that they “need to get their hands off [her] bush.”

We still have another hour of this movie.

The agent leading this mission asks Sam to come with him for questioning, which his parents are very much against. Mojo also voices his displeasure, but it would seem that Agent Simmons is not a follower of the Tenets of Mojo. Sam gets geigered, and his readings are high enough for Sector Seven to take him and everyone in this house into custody.

As Sam and Mikaela are riding in the back of the car, Simmons brings up Sam’s Ebay account, and also the phone video he took of Bumblebee earlier in the week. Mikaela is rather unimpressed with Sam at the moment, probably because he’s gotten her arrested. She still tries to help him out though, because she really is just the nicest fucking person on the planet.

Alas, the combined efforts of these two teenagers isn’t enough to fool the long arm of the law, especially when it’s a branch of said law that deals with extraterrestrial activity. Simmons threatens to lock up these literal children for life if they don’t start talking. Mikaela isn’t taking the bait, so he goes after her father’s parole hearing instead.

Yep! As it turns out, Mikaela and her father stole cars to get by, and she’s got the record to back that claim up. Simmons calls her a criminal, then says that criminals are hot. Mikaela looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t blame her in the slightest.

Optimus, I suppose because his dad senses were tingling, takes the opportunity to place his leg in the road for the car to run into, then grabs said car like an unruly cat and lifts it until the roof rips off due to stress. The agents in the other cars pile out and point their guns at the giant space robot. The rest of the Autobots quickly relieve them of their weapons.

Optimus notes that Simmons doesn’t seem surprised that a bunch of giant robots just took all his guys’ guns, and demands that he exit the vehicle, posthaste. Simmons obliges, after a bit more prodding. Mikaela undoes Sam’s handcuffs, and he gets fucking pissy about it, as if this girl he’s had a grand total of three (awkward) conversations with should have told him something as personal as “hey, so my dad’s in jail and I’ve been to juvenile detention.”

Luckily, she doesn’t let him get away with it, calling him out as the spoiled, self-centered, privileged little shithead that he is.

Of course, we don’t get any sort of real acknowledgement from Sam, having to move on with the plot. Perhaps, if we hadn’t spent the last hour and 20 minutes faffing about on drivel, we could have had Sam get an actual moment of self-reflection, and potentially even character growth. However, this is Bayverse, and everyone knows that personal accountability is for fucking sissies.

Mikaela and Sam ask several questions, but get no answers from Agent Simmons. And then Bumblebee pees on him.

I hate that I had to write that. I hate it very much.

Anyway, I don’t know why that had to happen, but it did, and I’m nothing if not thorough.

Optimus tells Bumblebee to cut it out, and with that the Sector Seven agents are cuffs and left on the side of the road. Mikaela orders Simmons to strip, as punishment for threatening her father, then cuffs him to a street lamp.

...Yes, that does sound like a bizarre sexual fantasy, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for our teen heroes, they forgot to confiscate everyone’s phones, and Sector Seven knows what’s up, thanks to the power of speakerphone. More cars and a couple of helicopters show up basically immediately, and the Autobots decide it’s time to dip.

But not before Ironhide fires off a pulsewave into the ground that causes a five-car pileup.

Optimus, I suppose because he knows he chose a ridiculously flashy alt-mode that is in no way practical, just picks the kids up in and places them on his shoulder like a couple of parakeets, then takes up a leisurely jog to get away from the eyes in the sky. He runs through the city, racking up what is likely millions in property damage, as the helicopters pursue. He passes by a “Legalize LA” billboard, which feels odd to see, given what movie this is.

The ‘copters somehow manage to lose Optimus, despite him being relatively slow, and having a notable radiation level that they’ve been using to track him. He hides inside the scaffolding of a bridge, only for Mikaela and Sam to slip off of his polished body to their deaths, thus ending the film.

No, they don’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Bumblebee snatches them up just before they hit the ground, the impact of his metal body catching them at 75 mph, killing them instantly and ending the film.

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

Mikaela and Sam are fine, some-fucking-how, but Sam’s dropped the MacGuffin glasses. The helicopters swing back around, having noticed the sound of a car crashing into the ground and the screams of two whole adolescents. They break out a fucking harpoon gun and fire on our kid appeal character.

Repeatedly.

They wrap up Bumblebee in a series of cables, as he screams like a moose. Mikaela and Sam are held at gunpoint by what is honestly far too many dudes, and are then arrested for the second time in ten minutes. Bumblebee is smoked... because he’s a bee? Sam, not liking this one bit, finds the strength in his weenie body to push a cop off of himself, run at one of the dudes with the smoke guns, throw him to the ground, and then start smoking him. He’s immediately tackled, but points for trying.

Sam and Mikaela are placed back into custody, and the rest of the Autobots regroup with Optimus to see what the plan is. Optimus says that they can’t save Bumblebee without hurting humans, so I guess Bumblebee is just a POW now. Well, at least they got the glasses. That’s cool.

Back at the Pentagon, things are getting dicey, as the other world powers are starting to suspect that something’s up. The Secretary of Defense is approached by a man with a mustache and a briefcase. He’s from Sector Seven, but the Secretary gives not a fuck about mysterious organizations. All the computers in the room suddenly go down, the virus from earlier working its magic- only this time, the blackout is global.

Mr. Mustache opens his briefcase, while explaining that Sector Seven is something known as a “special access” sector of the government, which is why nobody’s ever heard of it; it’s beyond top secret. Commissioned by President Herbert Hoover 80 years prior, it deals with alien life.

When the Beagle 2 spacecraft was lost on the way to Mars in 2003, the mission was declared a failure. This was a lie. The Beagle 2 recorded several seconds of Mars before being crushed to death by a Transformer. This tidbit is pretty funny, given that the Beagle 2 was rediscovered on Mars in 2014, seven years after this film released. Not a terribly mysterious death anymore, is it?

Comparing the footage from Mars to the footage from Qatar has Sector Seven thinking that these are the same species. Which they are. God, it’d be so fucked up if there were two species of giant robots in this film.

Mr. Mustache theorizes that because the Transformers now know that they can be harmed by human weaponry, they’re being proactive about their safety and shutting down all forms of communication technology with that virus that keeps popping up. It’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan for humanity.

Mr. Secretary tells his guys to try going analog with comms, breaking out the short-wave radios, to tell their ships to return home.

Over at an Air Force base, Lennox and the gang have landed, only to be scooped up by a bunch of dudes in suits.

Back with Maddie and Glen, the two of them have fallen asleep in the interrogation room, Maddie still wearing her friggin’ four inch pumps as her legs are propped up on the table, crossed in a way that seems rather uncomfortable. Glen gets to sleep like a normal human being, with his head resting on his forearms. Why this place doesn’t have a holding cell for these situations is beyond me.

Mr. Secretary comes in to bring Maddie on as his advisor. Glen can come too, I guess, considering he’s the one who actually figured out the sound file virus.

We get a little military glorification, and then it’s revealed that Mikaela and Sam, as well as Maddie and Glen, are aboard this helicopter. Their paths cross at last. Our heroes are transported to the Hoover Dam, where Bumblebee is also. They are still smoking him.

Meanwhile, the Autobots are figuring out where to go, with the power of Archibald’s glasses. Ratchet, who I guess is omnipotent, senses that the Decepticons have also figured out the location, and that this is going to be a race against the clock. And I mean, he’s right, but the phrasing is a bit odd.

Jazz wants to know when they’re going to save Bumblebee. Optimus says that they aren’t, and that Bumblebee’s sacrifice is noble, and that he would want the Autobots to leave him and complete the mission. As this is said, we get another shot of Bumblebee getting smoked and trapped in a lab. Yep, this is totally what he would want. He absolutely signed up for this, giving himself up to the government and not at all fighting like mad to not be captured.

I don’t think Bayverse Optimus actually knows what martyrdom is, which is bizarre, given that it’s a major trait in a lot of other iterations of the character.

Ironhide isn’t even sure why they’re bothering to save humanity, given that humans are violent and awful, his point being hammered home as Bumblebee is tortured for scientific reasons. Ironhide seems to have forgotten that Cybertron has been at war for literally millions of years. Optimus has faith in humanity, however, stating that we’re “young”.

And then he says that he’s going to end his own race, by destroying the Cube™, which is how they reproduce, because that’s the only way to end the war.

Which is arguably one of the most hardcore fictional applications of eugenics ever conceived.

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

Optimus then proves that he does, in fact, know what self-sacrifice is, stating that, if all else fails, he’ll shove the AllSpark into his spark, which will destroy them both. He’s pretty chill about it, too.

Up on top of the Hoover Dam, Frenzy has fallen out of Mikaela’s bag.

Mr. Secretary is also at the Hoover Dam now, as is Lennox’s team. Oh, and Agent Simmons, who is thankfully wearing pants. He offers to buy Sam a coffee, as repartitions for threatening his family, arresting him, and being a complete creep to a teenage girl. Sam gives not a fuck about caramel macchiatos with extra foam and chocolate drizzle, however. He only cares about his car.

Mr. Mustache, who is also here, needs Sam to spill the beans on all these friggin’ giant robots that are running around. This is where Sam realizes he has the upper hand for once, and he starts making demands. One such demand is having Mikaela’s record scrubbed clean, which is an actually very nice thing for him to have done for her. We’ll see if his intent comes to fruition. For now, it’s time to talk about Bumblebee.

We get a shot of all these folks heading into the secret base hidden inside the Hoover Dam, and it’s at this point that I notice that Maddie’s shirt is basically see-through.

Inside the Dam, we see that Sector Seven′s been keeping Megatron this entire time, keeping him neutralized with cryo-stasis since 1935. Cryopreservation was invented in the 50′s. This isn’t a nitpick, I just thought it was a neat little fact.

Megatron being on Earth has resulted in most modern technology. This sort of plot point always bothers me, because it takes away agency from the entire human race. We didn’t use our own ingenuity and work ethic to advance society, we plagiarized from a more advanced species. I dunno, it just rubs me the wrong way.

We get the part of the movie where info is hashed out, so that everyone is on the same page, Sam spouting off Autobot propaganda. We can forgive him for this,considering he’s 16, and no one is immune to propaganda, especially when they have zero way of doing their own research to form their own opinion with.

Sector Seven also has the AllSpark, kept in the room next to Megatron’s, like the chumps they will soon find themselves to be. It’s about ten stories tall and the reason the Hoover Dam exists. With so much concrete suppressing its alien energies, surely no one will ever find it!

Except for Frenzy, who came in through a mouse hole. Whoopsie-doodle!

The AllSpark zaps the nasty little man, restoring his body with its weird MacGuffin powers. Frenzy tells all his coworkers that he found what they were looking for, and everyone starts heading over.

Maddie asks Mr. Mustache what exactly he means by “energies”, perhaps worried that this whole thing has been some elaborate ploy to get her to invest in magic healing stones. Mr. Mustache brings everyone into a testing chamber, since the best way to explain how the AllSpark works is through a demonstration.

There’s a big fish tank in the middle of this testing chamber, in which Agent Simmons places a donated device from the crowd- Glen’s Nokia phone, specifically. Simmons makes a geologically-confused comment. When this is pointed out by Maddie, Mr. Secretary hushes her, simply saying that Simmons is a strange man. The tank is locked down, and then the show starts.

Cube™ energies are shot into the tank, and the phone explodes into life, transforming into a gorilla-shaped gremlin creature. Happy birthday, little dude!

Little dude starts shooting at the tank walls, cracking the glass until Simmons pulls the trigger and ends it. Happy deathday, little dude!

The Decepticons are making tracks towards the Hoover Dam, but Starscream- yeah, he’s in this now, don’t worry about it- arrives first, because he is a very fast jet. He transforms, showing off his ridiculous Dorito body, and fires on the base’s generators. The resulting explosions can be heard all the way down in the testing chamber, and Mr. Mustache calls upstairs to see what’s up. Looks like Megatron may be getting warmed up, seeing as his ice bath has been cut off. Lennox asks if there’s an arms room in Sector Seven, which sort of feels like asking a bakery if they have any flour.

Frenzy has entered the room that houses the controls for the cryo-stasis and set that whole system to “no, thank you”.

Mr. Mustache runs through the base, screaming for everyone to get to the Megatron chamber. Off in the distance, the Autobots approach. Could probably used some fliers on your team, huh Optimus?

Back with Frenzy, he’s decided to just straight-up raise Megatron’s core temperature directly. Hope he doesn’t do it too fast; rewarming hypothermia victims recklessly can do some serious damage.

Outside of the base, Lennox and the boys are loading up with weaponry, along with what’s the entirety of Sector Seven′s cannon-fodder department. Oh, and all the main cast. Yep, just got a couple of teenagers chillin’ in the munitions room.

Sam wants Simmons to take him to his car- he hasn’t used Bumblebee’s name in a hot minute, not sure what’s up with that- even though Simmons is currently busy loading a very large gun. Simmons doesn’t want to do that, because he’s got no idea if what Sam mentioned earlier is even true, and he doesn’t want to pin the fate of humanity on a single Camaro. Lennox takes this opportunity to tackle Simmons, despite likely not knowing that Bumblebee is one of the “good guys”. A Sector Seven guy very much doesn’t like that, and points a gun at Lennox, which prompts all of his guys to also start threatening folks with guns.

Mr. Mustache walks in on the scene, but doesn’t do anything, since he isn’t armed and knows better than to tangle with someone who’s packing. Simmons tries to intimidate Lennox, because he must have missed the day of boot camp where they tell you that guns kill people. Lennox is fully committed to shooting this dude in the lungs before Mr. Secretary suggests he give the people what they want, before things get ugly.

Simmons takes everyone to the robot torture department of Sector Seven, where they are still smoking Bumblebee. Geez, you’d think they’d have something in place for if they ever came across another giant robot after Megatron, but I guess not. The gang gets everyone to stop smoking Bumblebee, which allows him to stop moose-screaming and strongly consider murdering everyone involved with his forced captivity. Unfortunately, revenge with have to wait, as we’ve still got to deal with the AllSpark, and the fact that the Decepticons are here.

They take Bumblebee to the AllSpark, where he makes direct contact the thing, causing the AllSpark to transform, compacting itself down into a far more reasonable size that Bumblebee can carry in one hand. It doesn’t seem to weigh more than a grown adult, if his body language is saying anything. I’d make a joke about the conservation of mass being ignored, but since this is Transformers, I can’t really say much. Conservation of mass doesn’t exist for this franchise.

Bumblebee would really like to get this show on the road, and Lennox agrees, quickly formulating a plan to get away from Megatron and taking the AllSpark to Mission City, which is relatively close to their current location, so that they can hide it there.

Lennox, I know this plan is a first draft, and we don’t have a ton of time for revisions, but the whole point of building a whole-ass dam around the Cube™ was because it was very difficult to hide, given its magical MacGuffin powers. Regardless of this flaw, Mr. Secretary agrees. Lennox also asks that the Air Force be involved in this, I guess because the U.S. military wanted more screentime.

Of course, that whole “global blackout” thing is still going on, so we’re going to have to get creative with how we’re going to contact the Air Force. Mr. Secretary and Simmons make a break for the WWII-era radio Sector Seven has, while Lennox and the boys head out to shoot things, and Mikaela and Sam hop into Bumblebee with the Cube™.

This is about the point that Megatron wakes up. The first thing he does is introduce himself, which I thought was very polite of him. Then he breaks out his flail and starts bashing shit around. Not so polite, that.

Over with Bumblebee, we’re shown that the AllSpark, all-powerful object that can create life and is the whole reason this conflict is even happening, is just chillin’ in the back seat by itself. It’s not even buckled up.

Megatron escapes the base, and it’s actually super easy. He just transforms, goes through the tunnel, and he’s free. I feel like we could have at least attempted some security measures for in case the cryo-stasis failed, given that we’ve had this dude in containment for the last 70-something years, but okay.

Starscream comes over to say hi to his boss, not that Megatron gives a shit. He just wants to know where that fucking Cube™ is. When Starscream tells him that the humans have it, Megatron makes a comment about how Starscream has failed him yet again. This is their first interaction in this movie, and Starscream’s been in the story for a grand total of five minutes at this point. I know that this is a reference to their dynamic in just about every installment of the franchise up to this point, but it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest. Even if it’s going to be expanded upon in future sequels, this is a shit-tier way to set their (awful) relationship up.

Not that anyone should ever bank on getting a sequel anyway, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Megatron tells Starscream to retrieve the AllSpark, and then we cut over to the radio plotline. The radio, which is so cobweb-covered I feel like Sector Seven needs to have a serious discussion with their custodial staff, has its nobs and buttons fiddled with by Simmons until it crackles to life. But where are the microphones? Everyone starts looking for the mics, as Simmons pushes Glen into the seat, I guess because hacking modern computers and using Depression-era radio tech are similar enough.

Maddie asks Glen if he can hotwire a 90′s-era computer to transmit a tone through the radio, so that they can send a Morse code message to the Air Force. Which sounds ridiculous to me, but I don’t know enough about radios or computers to know if that sort of thing would be possible. Maybe it’s fine. Or maybe it’s Hollywood bullshit. Who knows?

Back over with Bumblebee, we get a bunch of car commercial shots, of both him and the other Autobots. Aww, the gang’s back together again! Nobody tell Bumblebee that Optimus was completely cool with leaving him to his fate.

Optimus and the gang whip around to join the convoy, and everyone makes their way towards Mission City.

Back at the radio subplot, someone’s bangin’ on the door, trying to get in. The others try to block the intruder, while Glen does his hacking stuff. Mr. Secretary breaks a case and pulls out a gun that’s about as old as he is.

Glen gets the computer working, and Mr. Secretary gives him the Super Secret Military Codewords™ to use to talk to the Air Force. While he does that, Simmons finds a flamethrower and starts burning Frenzy as he attempts to enter the room. The Air Force receives the message for an air strike. Oh, goody.

Over with the convoy, it appears that the Autobots and Lennox’s boys are being pursued by the Decepticons. It’s difficult to tell, seeing as the cameras have gone full Bay-mode, but I’m guessing that’s what’s up. One of the Decepticons flips over a minivan, likely killing a family of five. another causes a multi-car pileup.

Bonecrusher transforms, then Optimus transforms. Bonecrusher iceskates across the highway, slamming into a bus so hard it just straight-up explodes. He is on fire. He tackles Optimus, and they proceed to fall off the side of the raised highway they’re on. Then they beat the shit out of each other, until Optimus decapitates Bonecrusher with his arm-sword.

Yeah, space dad is a little intense in the Bayverse.

Back at Sector Seven, Frenzy’s decided to leave the door alone, and instead is crawling through the ventilation shaft. Mr. Secretary and Simmons fire off shots into the duct above them, as if bullets would do anything against this nasty little pile of needles.

Frenzy bursts through the bottom of the duct and crash-lands into a glass case, taking cover behind a pillar and fires on the humans on the other side of the room. While this shootout is happening, Glen receives a response from the Air Force, just in time for Frenzy to accidentally decapitate himself with one of his own spinning blades of death. This time, he does not survive losing his head.

The Air Force will be sending fighter planes to Mission City, and to establish this, we get several shots of what some might call “military porn.”

Over in the city, the convoy has arrived. Lennox hands several short-wave radios over to Epps, telling him to use them to direct the Air Force when they arrive, so they can take the AllSpark... somewhere, I guess. Above, an F-22 zooms across the sky. It is not one of the Air Force’s F-22s.

Ironhide recognizes Starscream, and gets ready to throw down. Bumblebee grabs a nearby Furby truck and hoists it up to use as a shield. This marginally works, as the missile that hits the truck doesn’t immediately kill him, though it probably did all those Furbies inside.

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

--------------------------

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 25

a/n : so sorry it took so long getting this update out !! i had a disgusting amount of work to do and i really was not doing anything else for a few days -- i really hope you like it!! pls lmk what you think about things now that jimin (and we) know everything! its gonna get,,,, i wanna say messy but messys not even enough to cover how messy its gonna get

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________________________________

Jimin can’t remember the last time he’d closed his eyes for more than a few minutes. Time goes by so fast these days that he’s partially convinced he’s been falling asleep and not realizing it. The hours between class and dinner every day are spent in the library, his headphones shoved into his ears haphazardly while he tunnel visions onto what’s been in the back of his mind since the beginning of the year.

Those spare hours had turned into days and days into weeks -- weekends where he doesn’t even glance at his phone, unaware of the growing concern of his friends. It’s almost May now, the chill of early spring having melted away around him without him realizing. His schoolwork stopped being a priority ages ago, and he knows his grades are really taking the hit for it. He vaguely remembers Namjoon confronting him one night some time ago -- a week? Two weeks ago? -- but he can’t for the life of him recall the contents of that conversation. Something about hating to play the ‘prefect card’, but having no choice. He doesn’t even know if he’s still on the quidditch team. It doesn’t matter -- nothing matters when seeing everything with the perspective he’s got now.

Practically buried in scrolls and books, Jimin could care less about the time and the fact that he’s very obviously breaking curfew right now -- the library’s been empty for hours now, and the light outside the window has well past faded into pitch black darkness. He had to hide from Pince around 10pm, barely managing to catch the click of the librarian’s heels through the music blasting in his headphones to keep him concentrated -- it’s a miracle that she hadn't caught him, really. He’d never be able to focus properly back in his room, not when he’s this close to putting the pieces together.

It’s there, right there, everything scattered in his brain. He knows it’s sitting right in front of him, he can feel himself trying to hyperfocus on anything that can blatantly tell him what he needs to know. Flipping through the pages of a book with one hand and shuffling through scrolls with his other, he glances down at a scrap of paper with his own handwriting, chicken-scratch on a ripped up piece of parchment for him to refer back to every few minutes. There, in black ink, the words ‘vampire’ and ‘veela’ are written and then, later, crossed out. There’s one below it -- ‘maledictus’ -- that remains uncrossed and haunts his every thought.

For the better half of the week, he’d spent his nights scouring the bookshelves for any text he could find on blood malediction -- there isn’t much to show for his efforts. Too rare a condition to have any extensive research done, he could barely manage to put together a few measly scrolls and one book with less than a full chapter on the subject. Sighing heavily, Jimin leans back in his chair, rubbing at his temples while he reconsiders the information for what feels like the hundredth time.

It fits the fact that she has a blood condition… but it’s not right. There’s no mention of a potion or even of regularly experiencing sickness. Y/n is in the Hospital Wing like once a month. There wouldn’t be anything Pomfrey or Hoseok could do to help her if she was a maledictus…

He considers that maybe those things are part of blood malediction and that there just isn’t enough documentation for him to verify it. But there’s something nagging at him, telling him this isn’t right. He thinks back over everything he knows, trying to pull up the major details that could help him finally get some sleep. Ignoring the fact that he very well could doze off, even with his loud ass music, he lets his eyes close so he can think. It takes a few minutes, but eventually he’s sitting up in his seat, eyes wide as he recalls something said to him almost months ago, forgotten amidst everything else on his mind.

“What’s the deal with your roommate, Tae?”

“Who, Stephen?”

“No, not fuckin’ Stephen -- Jungkook!”

“Well, how the hell was I supposed to know?”

“Because Stephen doesn’t look at me like I’m the bane of his existence.”

“Yeah… I don’t know what you did to make Jeon Jungkook hate you, but it must have be serious--”

“Just tell me what you know about him, Tae.”

“I mean… nothing crazy, really -- an only child, comes from old money. Probably as old as the Malfoys or the Potters. His family’s the purest of purebloods. And always Gryffindors, just like the Malfoys are always Slytherins. It’s kind of nuts, having a family history like that.”

Jimin stumbles out of his chair, already making his way down the aisles of bookshelves, almost crazed with concentration.

Purest of purebloods -- there’s not a single pureblood family that isn’t documented in a registry… registry… regis-- aha!

Turning down an aisle designated for family registries dating back centuries, he scans the shelves at a lightening speed, finally coming to a halt in front of a tome titled Gryffindor Legacies. Hauling it from the shelf, he doesn’t even bother returning to his table, taking a seat right there on the floor.

Flipping straight to the back to search for the family name, he locates it easily and heads to appropriate page. Searching the family tree down generations, it takes him several pages of flipping through Jungkook’s ancestors’ lives to finally get to his parents. They’re the most recent entry -- new editions of the book are printed with each new generation, the original, handwritten copy belonging to the respective families. It’s an inefficient system for sure, but Jimin’s not exactly complaining when he’s the one benefiting directly.

Scanning the page, from the birth of his mother -- Jeon Eunha -- to her school days, from her marriage to his father all the way to Jungkook’s birth. Jimin expects the next part to follow the same structure of his mother’s story, recounting his childhood, but it diverges from that almost immediately with some extra lines that he almost feels don’t exist in the original copy at the Jeon family residence.

Not long after the birth of their first and only child, they were met with circumstances leading to the adoption and care of another, the recently orphaned infant girl, Y/n Y/l/n. In her days at Hogwarts, young Eunha had become friends with a female Ravenclaw student, who had a noticeably sickly pallor about her at all times. She was to become her closest lifelong friend. The same night in which Y/l/n was to give birth to her first child, she and her husband met an untimely fate in the form of a violent animal attack in the backyard of their own home. The Jeon family were the first to arrive at the premises, deciding immediately to take in the infant child and raise her alongside their own son. Not much else is known about the girl, only that she and the Jeon heir were to become inseparable.

Jimin stares down at the page, unblinking. There’s a lot of information to process, but the things that stand out most to him are the fact that Y/n’s mother was also apparently afflicted with the same illness as Y/n, and --

‘Violent animal attack’? I knew the car accident thing was bullshit, but… did her mom not even die in childbirth? Why would she not tell me… there’s nothing suspicious about an animal atta--

Almost like his brain has started to short-circuit after the long nights and lack of sleep, Jimin’s thoughts are gone instantly, replaced by the mental image of a book sitting not a even a few aisles away, on a table littered with all of the information he’d ever needed in the first place. He’s completely incapable of registering anything around him as he races back to his table, his mind flipping incomprehensibly between the information in front of him and all of the pieces of his memories, details that make too much sense in this moment to match anything but this one conclusion.

Most Muggles, however, will die from the extent of their injuries… all known instances of Muggle attacks have been portrayed in the media as ‘animal attacks’ so as to preserve the secrecy of the wizarding world…

Given the extent of the available research and data, collected almost entirely from male subjects afflicted with lycanthropy, not much is known about the hereditary components related to a female werewolf. Therefore, it is unknown if a pregnant female werewolf's transformations would affect the ability to carry the pregnancy to term…

Without any humans nearby to attack, or other animals to occupy it, the werewolf will attack itself out of frustration…

“My mom died in childbirth and my dad… just a… just a freak accident you know, no one’s fault or anything…”

Because werewolves only pose a danger to humans, companionship with animals whilst transformed has been known to make the experience more bearable as the werewolf has no-one to harm and will be less willing to harm themselves…

“You want to talk about forbidden, Jeon? Let’s talk about your illegal animagus status-”

The way one must imbibe it is very unique among potions, in that a goblet full of wolfsbane potion must be taken each day for a week preceding the full moon…

“…you know how long it takes me to make a full set of vials for you. I barely have enough to make it last 3 days…”

The monthly transformation of a werewolf is extremely painful if untreated and is usually preceded and succeeded by a few days of pallor and ill health…

“He was lowkey carrying her down the stairs… she looked kinda sick actually…”

Throwing scrolls behind him without care as he searches for the one with the final detail, he pulls his phone out when he finds it -- a book listing all of the recorded moon cycles for over a century. Jamming his thumb down on the icon that’ll take him to his search engine and typing with blind panic, he finds himself yanking out his headphones by the cord with one sharp tug when the answer flashes back at it him on the screen, and he realizes that almost all of the pieces are in place.

The quidditch match against Slytherin -- it was the night before a full moon.

“No, no… no, no, no, this can’t be right. This isn’t happening, this can’t be right, she can’t be--” Jimin remembers the text he’d sent to her almost 8 hours ago, sitting unanswered, and he moves without thinking. Slamming his hands down on either side of the moon cycle record, he flips frantically to the cycle for this current month, April of 1978. What he sees there has his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Next week? It’s next week? But that means she’d have to be feeling the effects of it this wee--” He’s cut off by the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pocket, and he reaches for it almost desperately. It’s Y/n, finally responding to his concerned texts with nothing more than a single line. His blood turns to ice when he reads it.

I’m fine, just feeling under the weather.

--

When Jimin bursts through the door of Dumbledore’s office just past 3am, the headmaster’s already seated at his desk, evidently waiting for him. He’s donning a light blue robe with a matching sleeping cap perched delicately on his head, suggesting to Jimin that he’d somehow woken up knowing he was soon to greet a guest. All of the panic invading Jimin’s body is masked just slightly by guilt, only now realizing how late it is and how intrusive he must seem in this moment.

“Mister Park, you certainly are out quite a bit past curfew, no?” Jimin stands in the doorway cradling all of the scrolls and books he’d been hoarding the last few weeks -- he can’t very well have left a huge pile of evidence back in the library. It would have taken no time at all for someone to look through it and see there were connections everywhere to lycanthropy, even if he himself had been blind to it for so long.

“... Park? Mister Park?” Jimin jumps, lifting his tired eyes to meet Dumbledore’s concerned ones. The man continues once he’s got Jimin’s attention. “Surely, you must need something from me, or you wouldn’t appear so…” He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t need to. Jimin’s aware of the state he’s in -- the dark rings under his eyes, his ruffled clothes and hair, the way he’s holding his books like he needs to protect them with his life. He looks unhinged. He feels unhinged.

Realizing he has absolutely no idea how to approach the subject of a potential werewolf at Hogwarts with the school’s very headmaster, Jimin decides to start by moving toward the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk.

Maybe I just need to sit down and take a deep breath. That should help--

He doesn’t even make it two steps before one of the many books he’s holding crashes to the floor between them, falling open to the page he’d stuck a pencil in to save his spot. The moon cycle for April of 1978 stares back up at him, and when he flicks his gaze up to peer at Dumbledore, he sees the headmaster’s expression has hardened with caution.

“Professor--”

“Have a seat, Mister Park.” Jimin’s heart lodges in his throat at Dumbledore’s tone, never having heard such a sharp edge to the kind man’s voice. He moves to the chair, setting the obnoxious amount of research haphazardly in his lap. His eyes will only go so far as the top of Dumbledore’s desk, unable to bring himself to meet the man’s eyes.

“Sir, I… need to ask you something.” When he isn’t granted a response, he swallows hard, pushing forward. “If there were to be a student at Hogwarts with a… peculiarity of sorts… how would you go about dealing with that?”

“How would I deal with what, Mister Park?”

“That student.”

“I’m not quite sure I know what you mean.” Jimin lifts his eyes then, confused, but he’s met with a deliberately ignorant smile.

“Sir?” Dumbledore’s smile, albeit strained, only widens.

“I think you may be suffering from a lack of sleep, Mister Park. There are no students at Hogwarts with any peculiarities, as you call it.” Jimin stares suspiciously up at him, knowing Dumbledore can tell that Jimin doesn’t for a second believe that claim. Breaking eye contact, he glances down at his lap, trying to figure out how to keep this conversation going. Trying to figure out why he’s even here.

Jimin looks down at himself and the pile of incriminating evidence, cursing his idiocy when he realizes just how bad this situation must look. A student out of bed way past curfew, barging into the headmaster’s office holding weeks of research and making outrageous claims about a potentially dangerous student. And he’s a Ravenclaw no less.

Shit. He probably thought I was some nosy little fucker trying to expose her and get her expelled.

Knowing that he’s risking a lot by being straightforward, he takes a single deep breath and meets Dumbledore’s eyes, his own filled with determination.

“Sir, I know about Y/n Y/l/n, and I know you do, too. I need to know how to take care of her. I need to know how to help her. I need you to tell me what to do because, to be honest with you, I’m freaking out.” The way Dumbledore’s examining him as he speaks tells Jimin that he’s right, but more importantly, it tells Jimin that Dumbledore hadn’t been expecting him to want to help.

“That is a very serious accusation you’re making, Mister Park, especially in this political climate. Very serious.” Jimin doesn’t waver when he responds.

“I know, sir. That’s why you’re the only one I’ve made it to. Because I need your help. Because I know you can help.” Dumbledore narrows his eyes, peering at Jimin over the tops of his half-moon spectacles.

“Have you considered the fact that just you knowing this information at all has placed Miss Y/l/n in more danger than she’s already in?” As soon as the words leave Dumbledore’s mouth, Jimin’s heart is stopping in his chest. All the times that Hoseok and Jungkook had told him to mind his business come rushing back, and he feels himself becoming sick to his stomach. Of course it’s more dangerous for her now that he knows -- he’d been too selfish to even think it through, too nosy for his own good. He had done all this to try to understand her, to try to be a better friend who can help when she needs it, but it’s all bullshit. Everything he thought he had done for her sake had actually been for his. For him and his stupid curiosity.

Lifting his head as a thought comes to mind, Jimin doesn’t even think twice before speaking.

“Can you erase my memories?” The headmaster’s eyebrows fly to his hairline, his expression becoming amused as Jimin continues rambling. “Can’t you obliviate me or something? Wouldn’t that be the best way for me to help her? Wait… but do you have to erase everything I know about her -- will I still know her? Can you make sure I still know her? I really like her! I don’t like Hoseok or Jungkook very much -- they kind of scare me -- but I like her! I don’t want to forget her, but also if me knowing that she’s a werewolf is only going to cause her more trouble, then I really think you should make me forget--” Dumbledore lifts his hand calmly, effectively silencing a frantic Jimin.

“Have you always had such a one-track mind, Mister Park?” Jimin smiles weakly, offering a half-joking response.

“It’s my only redeeming Ravenclaw quality…” Dumbledore chuckles before scratching at his forehead with a heavy sigh.

“Unfortunately -- and I do truly mean that -- I cannot erase a student’s memories. So, you and I will need to continue this difficult conversation.” Jimin considers the man’s words, knowing that it really would be better for everyone if he had his mind wiped clean and hating that he’d unknowingly put Y/n even more in harm’s way. He looks up when Dumbledore sighs again.

“Mister Park, you do understand that you are strictly forbidden from informing anyone else of this situation, yes?” When Jimin nods immediately, opening his mouth to assure the man that he wouldn’t say a word, Dumbledore only shakes his head. “No, Mister Park, I’m not sure you really understand. This situation is infinitely more complicated than you could ever imagine, so it is absolutely imperative that you keep this information to yourself.” Jimin blinks, unsure what’s meant by ‘infinitely more complicated’, but he nods again.

“I’ve put her in enough danger just by being here, Sir -- I’m not breathing a word of this to anyone.” Dumbledore examines him a moment longer, essentially staring into Jimin’s soul to gauge his trustworthiness. Eventually he nods, leaning back in his chair.

“What advice would you like me to give you, Mister Park?” Jimin stays silent, thinking hard about any way that he can make Y/n’s life easier, especially after all the trouble he’s caused up to now. His mind flashes back to the conversation he’d overheard in the library. He opens his mouth slowly, choosing his words with care.

“Sir… how does a student that isn’t even taking Potions know how to brew the wolfsbane potion? Isn’t it nearly impossible?” Jimin sees Dumbledore’s eyes flicker with recognition, and the headmaster responds cautiously.

“…If that student isn’t taking any kind of Potions course at all, they’d need to already be an expert from having dedicated all their studies to the art of potionmaking. They would also need an immense amount of private mentoring, even if they are taking Potions. We do not teach the wolfsbane potion in the curriculum. As I’m sure you can imagine, it wouldn’t fare well in these times…” Jimin squints, putting the pieces together quickly in his mind.

“And where would a student like that find this kind of… private mentoring?” The headmaster hums at Jimin’s question, peering down at him with knowing eyes.

“Well, Mister Park, if you wish to receive mentoring on much… safer forms of potionmaking, I’m sure Professor Slughorn would be happy to help you. However, if you are asking me about Mister Jung Hoseok of Slytherin House, and if you are wondering just how he became capable of caring for Miss Y/l/n at the young age of 13, well… you’re looking at his mentor.”

--

When Jimin leaves Dumbledore’s office almost an hour later, he feels like his head is going to explode. The nights of sleeplessness seem to also have come rushing back to him at once, and he’s not sure if he’s going to collapse first from the exhaustion or from the weight of everything he knows now. For a moment, he considers that maybe he really should ask someone to erase his memories -- Jungkook or Hoseok, perhaps.

Yeah, I’m sure they’d absolutely love to do me that favor.

Dragging his feet as he trudges down the corridor in the direction of Ravenclaw tower, Jimin stops short at a window when movement down by the Black Lake catches his eye. Almost as if thinking about them has caused them to materialize before him, Jimin watches the silhouette of Jung Hoseok stroll casually down by the shoreline, followed not long after by Jeon Jungkook racing toward him, a body perched precariously on his back. It’s not hard to see that Y/n’s clinging weakly to him as he runs, her arms wrapped around his shoulders as he keeps his hands hooked under her knees. Jimin can see that she’s got a gown on from the Hospital Wing, and it’s obvious that Jungkook and Hoseok have snuck her out from under Madam Pomfrey’s stern supervision.

They head for the Forbidden Forest, Y/n reaching back for Hoseok when Jungkook passes him. She beckons him forward, and Jimin watches as the three of them disappear together into the trees. He sighs deeply when he can no longer see them, muttering to himself under his breath as he makes his way to his room, overcome with extreme guilt at the entire situation.

“You’ve really gone and done it now, you fucking idiot.”

[egcdeath]

strangers again

summary: “hiiii sweetie!! can i request a steve x reader where he left yn for peggy. but he always felt guilty and missed yn. he would always stare at her pic. when he came back he bumped into yn while she was dropping a kid to daycare. and steve realized it was his son. kinda sad but fluff at the end pls!!!! and oh i super love your works!!! tysm 🌼🥺💕”

pairing: steve rogers x reader

warnings: decent angst, brief mention of a depressive episode, abandonment, somewhat unrealistic behavior

word count: 3.8k

author’s note:  i really hope that this lives up to your expectations but it is a little cheesy. i’d also like to warn that i have not interacted with a child in several years, so.. sorry. (there’s also a lot of exposition so double sorry if that’s not your thing!)

You’d never forget the moment Steve left to return the stones, with the promise to be back in only a matter of moments.

Maybe your definition of a matter of moments was different from his.

You seemed to be the only one without a clue of what Steve truly planned to do, with Bucky only telling you after the matter that Steve was leaving for the past and for Peggy, and probably not coming back.

After finding out, something deep within you broke. You could barely leave your bed for days, you struggled to eat, sleep, even drink water. Every task that used to seem like muscle memory, began to feel like it carried the weight of the world behind it. Every hobby that you once enjoyed becoming empty and bleak.

You constantly felt inadequate. How could you love someone so much, and be told you were loved so much while always being second to someone else?

The simple sentiment of it had left you feeling miserable, and sick to your stomach. Literally. Nearly every morning, and occasionally if you smelled something too strong, you found the contents of your stomach emptied.

You attempted to ignore it at first. Meshed with every other unpleasant symptom you were going through, you’d figured that it was just one more bullet point on the list of things that had been plaguing you. But when your friends insisted that you go check up with your doctor, you had a hard time saying no.

Once you received the results from your blood test, you were completely taken aback by the fact that you were pregnant. You couldn't believe that you hadn’t considered the possibility of pregnancy earlier.

Yet,  after a long and hard period of pondering, you managed to surprise yourself once again after you realized you wanted to keep it.

After all, that could be the only piece of Steve you had left.

----

You began to tell yourself that Steve was dead. That was somehow less painful than the idea that he left you for someone that he barely knew, yet had fallen so hard for nearly 70 years ago. You refused to let yourself fall for anyone else romantically, now that you were aware that anyone had the capacity to leave you at any time, no matter how deep you perceived your relationship to be.

You guarded your heart, and made sure to only let in those that you knew you could trust for a fact. For the remainder of your pregnancy, only your closest family members and friends stood by your side.

About 8 months later, you brought a small, but healthy infant into the world. From that moment on, you promised yourself to become the best version of yourself that you could be. No dwelling on the past, and no yearning for what could’ve been. Your only duty now was to provide the best life possible for your offspring.

So you did.

----

You stood in the kitchen, peeling an orange for your son before he bounded into the room. You turned and gave him a big grin, and he grinned back to you.

“Did you get dressed all by yourself?” You asked him excitedly, receiving a nod in return before he ran up to your leg, and hugged it.

“I did, Mommy!” He looked up at you with his soulful eyes, and you couldn’t help but to feel bombarded with emotion.

Even at the tender age of five, Grant seemed to become a bit more like his father every day. The shape of his eyes, the slope of his nose, the sound of his giggle. To the average onlooker, he came across as the same as any other child, but to you, your son was the splitting image of Steve.

“Good work, little man. Now go sit at the table so mommy can finish breakfast, okay?” He didn’t even bother confirming with you before more or less sprinting to the table. You couldn’t help but to ask yourself if your son had obtained all of that energy and speed from his father as well.

Breakfast was over almost as soon as it started, and before you knew it, you were warming up your car after you’d assisted Grant with brushing his teeth.

You were in an oddly nostalgic mood that day, playing music from a time period before you’d even imagined bringing another life into the world. You glanced up at the rearview mirror and watched your son happily bop his head to the beat. You thought in passing about how much of a gift he truly was.

After arriving at his school, you hopped out of the car and over to the furthest seat in the back, where he’d insisted on sitting that day.

“You ready, big guy?” You questioned while reaching out to grab him from the car seat.

“Born ready,” he agreed. You chuckled and shook your head fondly at that while getting him out of the car.

“Who taught you that?”

Grant shrugged, “I came up with it myself.”

“I’m sure. Can you hold my hand while we’re out please?” You reached out for him, and he gladly obliged.

You soon became distracted by a large man across the street, his built figure and light blonde hair making you recall the father of your child. You gave Grant’s hand a light squeeze and continued to approach the door, not being able to help yourself, and glancing over at the man one last time.

Except this time was different. Your eyes locked with the blonde man outside of the coffee shop across the street unexpectedly. Where you once thought casually to yourself that it looked like Steve, you now had confirmation that it was in fact the man who you’d fallen in love with, and found yourself pregnant by.

You audibly gasped, receiving a bit of a questioning look from your child. Your heart dropped as a metric ton of emotions hit you all at once, anger, sadness, confusion. Everything you told yourself you needed to repress, had suddenly come back to you all at once.

Even from a distance, you swore you could see his eyes flit from you to Grant, and the next thing you knew, he was approaching your direction. Looking for an easy out, and a distraction from your rather observant child, you quickly caused a misdirection.

“Grant, is that Stacey over on the playground? You should totally go show her that new version of tag that you were telling me about!”

Your son, ever the speedster, booked it towards the playground, and you let out a sigh of relief. Although, the relief didn’t last long, as just moments later, Steve was almost all the way up to you. As you turned to try to escape, you felt a hand on your arm.

“Y/N?” He asked, almost timidly.

You weren’t even sure what to say. In fact, you didn’t feel like you had control of your own body at this point. “Steve? I-“ You ran a hand through your hair and bit the inside of your lip. “You need to go.” The pain that was rushing through you was too much for you to bare, especially considering the man who caused the hurt had suddenly decided to reappear in your life after giving you a world of self doubt and abandonment issues.

Steve seemed hurt by your statement, but you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand to even look at his face. “Please, Y/N, let me explain,” he begged.

“No, Steve. You don’t get that luxury. You left me for someone else, and I guess you got to live a nice, long life with her. You don’t get to just show back up in my life when you get bored, okay? I can’t afford to play those types of games anymore. Now if you’d let me go-“ You attempted to get to your car, but Steve side stepped you.

“It wasn’t like that. You know it isn’t like that.”

“Just fucking leave! You have no idea what this has all been like for me. You had your opportunity to leave, and you gladly took it. Stay the fuck out of my life, and the hell away from my son.” You grabbed the handle of your car door and got in, reeling as you watched a dejected Steve walk away.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you rested your head against the steering wheel. You were feeling way too many emotions to pinpoint exactly how you felt, but you knew that this couldn’t be good.

——

You put a brave face on for your son that day, picking him up from school in a daze, and only half listening to whatever it was that he was telling you.

You felt bad for only being able to nod along to whatever he was saying, and did he just ask you if he could get a dog? Did you just say yes?

You felt like a stranger watching yourself from the outside in. The ghost of the person you’d developed into over the years watching the past version of yourself slip right back into your body, and take over your daily routine through the next few days of your life.

You had an obscene amount of anger that soon dissolved into a deep sadness, and that sadness shorty developed into a morbid curiosity.

You spent an unreasonable, and certainly unhealthy amount of time searching your old lover’s name on tabloid websites and social media, just to see if he’d given a statement on his whereabouts, or a statement about anything at all.

After about day three of your minor internet stalking, you’d had an epiphany while sitting in your office.

You still have Steve’s number saved on your phone.

That was, of course, if it hadn’t changed between now and the years that he’d been off living in the past.

Something about knowing that you were just one text away from him made your heart race with a mixture of nerves and interest. Just one impulsive decision, and you could change the whole trajectory of the rest of your life.

If you got back in contact with Steve, you might not ever be willing to leave him. You refused to make that mistake again.

Until you did.

After reading Grant his nightly bedtime story, then wrapping him tightly in his little bed, you’d decided to treat yourself to a glass of Chardonnay.

It’d been a weird past couple of days. Your time traveling ex had randomly appeared back into your life, your coworkers seemed to get on your nerves a little more every moment you were around them, and Grant had a temper tantrum in the grocery store that afternoon over a chocolate bar, which gained judging stares from customers, and may have made you feel the slightest bit inadequate.

At least that’s what you told yourself as you filled your glass again, because two glasses can’t hurt, and again, since I kinda deserve this extra one, don’t I? The next thing you knew, the bottle was empty, and you were texting Steve for the first time in years.

Y: Is this Steve?

You watched as three white dots hovered on your screen for a moment, disappeared, then came back once again.

S: Is this Y/N?

Y: Yes.

Y: We should tlak

Y: *talk

S: I agree.

Y: So lets

Y: talk

S: I don’t think this is a conversation for texts.

Y: Then call me???????????????????

S: We should talk in person.

Y: Im not gonna do that sober

S: You’re not sober?

Y: do you think id text u sober u big fuckni asshole

S: I guess you’re right

S: So are we gonna talk?

Y: no ur gonna meet me at b cup cafe tomorrow at 10

S: AM or PM?

Y: AM I’m off

S: Are you sure you want to do this?

Y: Say yes before i change my mind

S: I’ll see you there

Y: Bye babydaddy

S: ????

You promptly deleted the messages, tossed your phone somewhere on the sofa, and sunk into the seat. Even in your not-completely-sober state, you already felt the all too familiar sense regret. You dragged the blanket that hung over the top of the sofa over your exhausted body, and closed your eyes, wishing that this was somehow all a dream.

----

It was not all just a dream.

You woke up with dried drool on your chin, and a deep pit of bad feelings and regret in your chest. Of course, you ignored the bad feelings and got ready, business as usual. You successfully dropped Grant off at school with little complications, and found yourself perking up a bit more.

Yet, something still felt slightly off. You reached into the passenger seat for your phone, and as you looked down on it, saw the familiar notification of a calendar event.  

10:00 AM b cup coff w Steeb

You groaned out loud at this. There was no obligation for you to go meet with him, but perhaps going and talking to Steve would bring you some sort of closure. Maybe then you could move on with your life, get with a nice guy who would mean it when he tells you he won't leave you, who loves Grant like he’s his own biological offspring, and to take care of the both of you through thick and thin.

You gladly daydreamed of this fantasy man while driving to the shop, but you couldn’t help but to see Steve’s face doing all of the aforementioned things. Before you even fell pregnant, that’s what you’d truly wanted with Steve. To be a family. To have your definition of home be with your people, rather than a place.

Entering the coffee shop, you briefly ordered your drink before looking around and find Steve sitting alone in a booth, mindlessly stirring around the liquid in his cup.

Timidly, you approached the booth, before setting your purse down and sitting across from him.

“You... you came?” He looked up to you with almost watery eyes.

“Of course I did,” you tried to hold yourself back from mentioning something about following through on your word. You wanted this to be as civil as possible. To build bridges rather than burn them.

“I just didn’t expect to see you in person again. And, you know, you were running a little late,” he added.

“Well, you try waking a five year old up and getting him ready for school every day,” you expelled a humorless chuckle to deflect from the slight agitation you were feeling.

“While you’re hungover?” Steve asked with a bit of a smirk, trying to lighten up the mood.

“While you’re hungover,” You confirmed, genuinely laughing now. It felt good, natural even. You’d kind of forgotten just how pleasant things used to be with Steve.

“Did you mean it last night?” he interrupted the laughter with a serious look.

“I honestly cannot remember anything I said last night. Elaborate, please?”

“That he’s mine. Your son.” He watched you silently nod, then began to speak again, “Wow, I just didn’t realize… How did that happen?” He looked down into his drink nervously.

“Well, it’s kind of hard to recall the exact details, but when a mommy and a daddy love each other very much...” You trailed off, and looked up as a barista called a butchered version of your name.

You were glad to have an excuse to get up and leave for a moment. Adrenaline was racing through your body, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure before you erupted into tears, or had some sort of angry outburst.

Bringing your cup back to the booth, you sat down and took a sip of the scalding drink, “Where did we leave off?”

“I believe you were giving me the birds and the bees?”

“Right! Well, I think you know the rest. I’ll tell you more about Grant later. Right now, I want to know why you left and suddenly decided to come back.” You genuinely felt proud of your delivery. This was the moment you’d practiced in front of the mirror for years, and you didn’t even butcher it.

Steve shook his head and looked into his drink once again. It was so hard to look at you, let alone make eye contact with you, when he knew that he’d been the one to give you an ocean of grief. Yet, he was somewhat intrigued by hearing that his son’s name was his middle name.  

“It’s kind of a long story,” Steve began.

“Good thing we have time,” you crossed your arms as you spoke.

“Well, waking up in a whole new time period isn’t exactly the easiest thing ever. You and me both know I missed it there, and it’s always been more than just nostalgia for me. I truly believed that I belonged back there.”

Of course, you had an idea of this, but hearing Steve confirm what you’d already thought made your insides twist.

“But I was so wrong. More than anything, I guess I was in love with a romanticized version of the past. Of Peggy.”

Hearing her name, especially from Steve, made you bristle. You wanted to interrupt him at this point, but it wouldn’t do you or him any good to become hostile while he explained himself.

“By the time I realized, it was too late. I figured you’d already moved on and found someone else to take care of you, and the world, this world, didn’t really need me anymore. But something possessed me to come back.”

“So you’re telling me that if you stopped being an idiot that just assumes things, we could’ve worked this out before? That you could’ve been an active participant in your son’s life?”

“I guess that’s a good way to interpret that story. I know I haven’t been in his life, but is there any way that I can still meet him?” Steve asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course. He’s just like,” you sighed a bit to yourself. “He’s like a carbon copy of you. Especially his personality, but like, down to his mannerisms. I always struggled to understand how he could be so much like his dad, and never even had met him. You’ll love him.”

“Even if I didn't like him, I’d still love him.”

“How do you still manage to be such a cheeseball all the damn time? You think you’d be able to make it to dinner tonight?”

----

At exactly 6:30 on the dot, your doorbell rang, and before you even had the chance to think about opening it, Grant already was at the door, and opening it. You cringed on the inside, and made a mental note to have another conversation about stranger danger with him.

“Do I know you? Who are you?” you heard your child question from the other room as you set down the last of the plates in your dining room.  

“I’m Steve, your mom’s friend... and…” Steve nearly spilled the beans to his son, but didn’t want to cause any more damage than he’d already done. “Her friend.”

“That’s so cool! I have friends too, like Nick, and Stacey, and,” you’d rushed up to the door and wiped your brow, internally hoping that you hadn’t just smudged the makeup you’d put on for the occasion.

“Hi, Steve, come on in,” You beckoned him in, and pulled Grant to the side, quietly scolding him before leading Steve into the dining room. “Grant! This is the last time I’m telling you about opening doors, okay?” He nodded obediently, then followed you and Steve.

“Can I sit next to your friend, Mommy?”

“Is that alright with you, Steve?”

“More than fine.”

Grant sat down next to him, and scooted a bit closer than necessary, while you sat across from the two of them.

“I have to in… enter a gate you now. Because Mommy never brings any over her friends over. I didn’t know she had any friends.”

You blushed a bit at this, at your son’s overdramatic behavior, and his admission that you’d become a bit of a loner.

“Go ahead, pal,” Steve chuckled heartily.

“When did you meet my mom?”

“Before you were even born.”

“Wow! That’s a long time. You’re really old. What’s your favorite dinosaur?”

“I’ve heard T-Rexes are pretty cool.”

“Have you met any?”

You nearly spat out your drink at this. If only your son had known.

“Nope, never. Have you?”

“Hmm, not yet. But they’re my favorite dino too. Now your ‘gating is over.”

You couldn’t help but to burst out into laughter at the bizarre exchange, but you were glad that your son and Steve were getting along so well.

The rest of dinner went pretty similarly, with Grant bantering with Steve, and Steve indulging him. You could tell that the relationship between the two of them was something that came both naturally and easily. You couldn’t help but to grin as Grant began to ramble about how cool Steve was, and how he swore he was better friends with Steve than you were.

“Mommy, isn’t Steve the best? You guys should totally get married so he can have dinner with us every day!” he swooned. “He even kinda looks like me, right?!”

That’s why you couldn’t help what came out of your mouth next.

“Grant, Steve is… He’s your dad,” you said quietly.

Grant nodded, then slurped up a noodle, “That’s why he’s so cool! He gets it from me, right Mom?”

“That sounds right to me,” You glanced up at Steve, and noticed his surprised expression. You mouthed something along the lines to ‘He’ll process it later,’ and waved a dismissive hand, before going in for another bite of food.

----

After putting Grant to bed, You and Steve stood at your kitchen sink, bumping elbows occasionally as the two of you silently worked together to wash and dry dishes.

The domesticity and familiarity of the action brought you an obscene amount of comfort. You remembered how you once believed that this is what your future would look like. Your thoughts were interrupted by Steve beginning to talk.

“Doesn’t this remind you of life after the first snap?” He asked, breaking the silence.

“Kind of. You’re not off the hook yet, by the way. You still have plenty of explaining and proving you’ve changed to do.” You set the last cup in the cupboard, then dried your hands off.

“I know, I know,” Steve began.

“We don’t even know if you’re ready for fatherhood. But right now, I kinda don’t care. I really just want you to kiss me.” You reached up to Steve’s cheek, and he pulled you in for a soft and chaste kiss.

You’d never felt more at home.

——

me with this fic:

[scarlet-streak-fanfics]

Three Sorcerers and a Baby, Pt. 3 (2.3k Words)

Sorry for the lack of x reader content--I’m kinda trying to find some new inspiration for something with a little more plot/length to it. Headcanons don’t really feel fun for me right now, so that’s why I’m focusing on this little story. I do have an idea for a fic in this universe that’s specifically the Demon Brothers x Reader, though!

A loud crash and the sound of arguing demons shake the House of Lamentation, startling Seraphina from soft fussing back into insistent screams of discomfort. Nathaniel wants to bury his head in the pillows of the large bed in their guest room, hiding from the infant’s distress in the luxurious bedding, but he knows he can’t abandon Ezekial. Centurion has never been good at the nighttime routine, so he’s currently sitting in the chair he’d dragged over from the simple desk that had been pushed against the wall, staring into the flames of the small fireplace. The room was comfortable but a little snug for two grown men and a baby. It was obviously designed for one, maybe two people maximum. However, after weeks of sleeping on the ground and in cheap motels, the bed and couch are incredibly inviting. MC had even managed to procure a cradle for Seraphina, meaning they’d finally be able to give her her own bed to sleep in.

“Come on, Phi-phi, please stop crying? You need the sleep.” Nathaniel shoots a glare at Ezekial. “We all do, Zed. It just so happens that we can’t sleep until ‘Phina does.”

The necromancer’s shoulders sag as he continues wandering around the room with their baby in his arms. “Maybe I should take her out on a walk. It’d get her away from all this noise and give you and Centurion a chance to rest.”

“If it comes to that, I will take her. You both require more rest than I do.” Centurion’s offer surprises Nathaniel–he usually doesn’t offer to take Seraphina alone unless absolutely necessary. Before he can make the same offer–after all, he won’t be outdone by a grumpy Roman soldier with a superiority complex–there’s a knock at the door to their room. “Come in!”

MC opens the door after Ezekial’s words, Beelzebub close behind them. “How are you four settling in? I see that Seraphina still hasn’t gone to bed.” Nathaniel decides to answer for the harried Ezekial. “The room’s great, no complaints there, but ‘Phina can’t sleep with all the racket downstairs. Makes me wish I’d put time into learnin’ a soundproofin’ charm.”

His companions murmur in agreement with his statement as Seraphina screeches loudly in time with another crash from downstairs. MC’s welcoming smile gains an almost dangerous edge to it as they turn to the Avatar of Gluttony. “Beel, would you be a dear and go get the rest of your brothers for me? I’m sure Lucifer will be happy to help wrangle them.” The massive demon nods, leaning down to kiss their forehead. “Sure, sweetheart, I’m on it.”

Nathaniel notes the physical affection and endearment with fascination. Of all the demon pacts he’s heard about, he’d never seen one that seemed to form any relationship beyond friendship. However, at least two of MC’s pactmates seem also to be romantically involved with them. It makes him glad that he hasn’t made a pact so far–if this is part of the expectations of a pact, he’s not ready for that. True to his word, Beelzebub returns with his brothers, Levi and Mammon being dragged by Lucifer, much to the latter’s irritation. “Oi, Lucifer, let go, that hurts! I haven’t even done anythin’!”

MC taps their foot impatiently, glaring daggers at Mammon, and the second oldest of the seven lords falls silent so they can speak. “In case you’ve forgotten, we have guests right now,” they walk to Ezekial, holding out their arms to take Seraphina. Once the baby is situated, they carry her back to the seven demons. “You see this adorable baby, right?”

They all nod silently, and MC smiles. “Good. Does she look happy to you?”

There’s a hiccuping sob from the baby as the brothers shake their heads. “That’s because she can’t get to sleep because some demons can’t keep the noise down to a reasonable level. So, if you can’t be quiet and well-behaved so our guests can get some much-needed rest, I’ll have to make you be quiet. Lucifer, you’d be happy to help with that, wouldn’t you?”

The Avatar of Pride smiles, obviously amused by MC's saccharine tone and the shiver of fear it brings from several of his brothers. “Of course, my love.”

“Good! Alright, off you go.” MC gives Seraphina back to Ezekial before shooing the demons off to their respective rooms. Ezekial closes the door behind them, slightly shell-shocked as he bounces Seraphina in his arms. “Mo, did you understand any of what just happened?”

“Well, Zed, I think we just watched a human successfully intimidate the seven lords of Hell.” Ezekial nods, still looking incredibly confused. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

“I think we shouldn’t question it. If it works, we can get ‘Phina to sleep.” The house remains almost eerily silent, with the quiet only being broken by the occasional cry from Seraphina as she calms down, exhaustion starting to wash over her tiny body. It takes only a few minutes for her to stop completely, resting her head on Ezekial’s shoulder. He continues walking around until he’s sure she’s asleep, placing her in the cradle they’d dragged near Centurion’s seat. When he speaks, it’s in a hushed tone. “Who’s taking first watch?”

Centurion raises his hand, and Nathaniel nods vehemently, already making a beeline towards the bed to claim the left side, kicking off his shoes in the process. Ezekial sinks down onto the right side with a sigh of contentment, tapping the naturomancer’s arm twice, a silent method of asking Nathaniel to take the second shift. He gives Ezekial a thumbs up–after all, Ezekial was the one who most often sacrificed an unbroken night’s sleep for Seraphina’s sake–before turning his back to the other sorcerer, eyelids already heavy and drifting closed.

His dreams are chaotic, balancing on the boundary of mundane and nightmare. Lush, green fields and peaceful streams melt into rivers of blood and the kiss of cold, sharp steel against skin. One moment he’s leaning against a tree in the cool forest near the Sorcerers’ Society, the next he’s holding a broken body in his arms as he screams. Whether it’s Seraphina’s, Centurion’s, or Ezekial’s doesn’t matter to him, which he knows is something he should probably dedicate thought to when he wakes up. However, that would require realizing  there’s people close enough to hurt him, and he hasn’t allowed that since he was young.

“Morrison, wake up.” Nathaniel wakes up, eyes blinking and bleary as he focuses on Centurion’s armored form, one of his gloved hands on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “It is your turn with Seraphina.”

Nathaniel grunts and tries to get up, but he finds himself trapped in Ezekial’s sleeping death grip. “Little help here, Centurion?”

Centurion gently pries away Ezekial’s arms, leaving enough room for Nathaniel’s escape. The Necromancer curls in on himself, expression tightening as his breath becomes uneven–he relaxes when Centurion places a hand on his shoulder, the weight allowing Ezekial’s body to return to peaceful sleep. Neither of them fully understood what happened in his brain when he was asleep, but they’d eventually fallen into a routine of physical contact–or at least tolerating contact from the sleeping man–to help Ezekial rest. 

Nathaniel creeps over to the chair by the fire, praying that none of the floorboards will squeak and wake up the baby, who’s still fast asleep. The room is silent except for the crackling of burning logs and soft snores from Ezekial. Then he hears a gentle cooing from cradle, and one of Seraphina’s hands rises into the air, grasping at nothing. He scrambles over to pick her up–Seraphina would usually give them about five seconds to get to her before she’d start crying. Tiny hands grasp his shirt as the infant rests her head against his shoulder and he whispers, “Hey, ‘Phina. Sleep time’s over, huh?”

Of course, she doesn’t reply, just drools onto his shirt before gumming on the fabric. “Hungry? I dunno if they have anything for you here, but let’s go check.”

After retrieving one of Seraphina’s bottles from Ezekial’s bag, he opens the door as quietly as possible, socks padding his footfalls against the wooden floors as he tries to remember where the kitchen is. MC had taken them on a tour, of course, but all he’d been thinking of was finally getting to sleep in a real bed again. As Nathaniel reaches the ground floor, he hears the clinking and opening of cabinets. This finally leads him to the kitchen, where he comes face to face with the Avatar of Greed who seems to be attempting to fit an entire cake into his mouth.

They just stare at each other for a moment, before Nathaniel breaks the awkward silence. “Do you know if there’s any formula? ‘Phina woke up hungry.”

Beelzebub points to one of the cabinets, and Nathaniel shifts the baby to his hip as he opens it and pulls out a fairly normal-looking box of baby formula. The slight clang of metal on metal draws his attention back to the demon he’s sharing the kitchen with. Beelzebub has put a pot of water on the stove–he looks guilty when he notices Nathaniel’s eyes on him. “It needs to be boiled first, right?”

“Yeah, and vanilla, if you have it.” Now that he’s aware of Ezekial’s secret, he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. He takes over the pot of water, standing awkwardly to keep Seraphina’s curious baby hands away from the hot stove. Beel awkwardly hovers nearby for a few moments after delivering a small bottle of vanilla extract before he clears his throat. “Do you want me to hold her while you’re making the bottle?”

“Oh, uh…” He really doesn’t, but he also knows that this demon has offered to protect his baby, so they might as well get acquainted. “Sure.”

Beel takes the baby from him with the careful restraint of someone picking up a priceless glass vase. He seems almost afraid to be holding her, quickly walking to sit on one of the stools lined up near the counter and putting Seraphina on his lap. He keeps one massive hand against her back, supporting her neck and keeping her upright as he just stares at the tiny being in his lap. Once Nathaniel is sure that the infant isn’t in any danger, he focuses on preparing the formula properly, turning off the fire once it’s boiled for a bit and setting the pot aside to allow it return to room temperature. Once it’s cool enough, he mixes in the formula, adds a few drops of vanilla, and pours a small amount into the bottle he’d brought with him. After he lets it cool down to a good temperature, the bottle is ready.

He hesitates as he approaches Beelzebub. “Do you want to try feeding her?” The demon nods, and Nathaniel reluctantly hands over the bottle. Seraphina gulps down the lukewarm formula greedily, finishing it quickly. When she realizes there’s nothing left, her little lower lip sticks out slightly, and Beel looks at Nathaniel. “She’s still hungry.”

“That makes sense. We haven’t been able to get a bigger bottle, so she takes two of these to get her fill.” Nathaniel takes the bottle, refilling it with the now slightly cooler formula and returning it to a delighted Seraphina.

Beelzebub looks fascinated by the baby. “She just drinks this? No other food?”

“Well, she’s old enough to start on solids, but we could never get anything baby-safe while we were on the run, y’know?” He still feels guilty about that. However, Beel’s expression lights up. “What counts as baby-safe? We might have something for her to try!”

Nathaniel wracks his brain, wishing he’d learned more about what foods would be good for Seraphina when Ezekial was explaining it. “Got any fruit? Human world fruit, I mean.”

“Sure, we’ve started keeping some for MC. We’ve got apples, oranges, bananas–” 

“Bananas would be perfect.” He remembers enough to know that he wouldn’t have to cook banana, just mash it up. He instructs Beel on this, watching as the demon diligently turns a banana into a bowl of mush. As Beelzebub goes to offer the first spoonful of banana mush to the baby, Nathaniel realizes something. “Shi– I mean, shoot, Centurion and Zed’ll kill me if we do this without them. Stay right here, I’ll go get ‘em.”

Nathaniel runs up the stairs, not caring for the noise he makes on his way to the room. He flings open the door, and the sound of it crashing against the door wakes up both Centurion and Ezekial, both of whom go into defensive mode. Nathaniel founds himself flung out into the hall by a gust of wind–he probably deserved that. Ezekial hurries to help him up, “Christ, Mo, what was that for? Just because you had to wake up doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t get to sleep.”

“Zed, ‘Phina’s about to try her first solids!” Ezekial’s eyes light up. “Well, what are we waiting for? Come on!”

That’s how the three men find themselves gathered around Beelzebub, waiting with baited breath as the demon offers a spoonful of banana to the baby. She accepts it skeptically, but her eyes widen at the sweet taste. She swallows it quickly and looks at the rest of the bowl expectantly–Beel is absolutely ecstatic. “She likes it! Is there anything else she can eat?”

Ezekial is already digging through the fridge, giving instructions to Centurion on what he’ll need to prepare other baby foods for Seraphina to try. Nathaniel opts for taking a seat next to Beelzebub, reaching over to tickle the baby’s stomach. The action draws a giggle from her before her focus is drawn away by another spoonful of banana. He finds himself smiling as he watches his two companions, one of whom is in full armor, bustle around the kitchen to prepare more mushy foods. It’s the first normal thing they’ve been able to do for their baby and he’s going to enjoy every second of it.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Self Indulgent Shigaraki Nonsense Part 5

Tomura Shigaraki x pregnant!reader

A/N: Oh wow part 5 and I'm still not done with this.

Warnings: Emotions? Cursing?

You tossed and turned in your sleep, groaning and moaning in frustration. Your joint ached, and fatigue plagued your body. You tried everything you could to get to sleep but nothing was working and on top of your aching body, the nearly fully developed fetus in you thought now was the perfect time for exercise.

Tomura laid beside you, having fallen asleep hours ago. But your movement and sounds of anguish gently woke him up. Groggy and a little frustrated he looked over his shoulder to see your upset form shift back and forth.

"Is it the baby?" He asked in a low, hoarse voice. You huffed.

"Everything hurts and they keep moving around and I'm exhausted but I can't fall asleep!" You cried. You felt silly crying like this to Tomura, you felt like a little kid throwing a tantrum. Weren't you supposed to be the mild mannered, mature and wise mother?

Tomura turned over to face you, his gloved hand reaching out and planting firmly on your enlarged belly. He gently ran circles around it, trying to sooth the mysterious being inside. He had grown used to this routine, grown used to the idea of you being pregnant. But the idea of being father and actually having a baby was still out of his reach. For now, he was content to have you tucked away and all to himself where he knew you would be safe.

"My fucking BONES hurt." You complained as you rubbed circles into your eyes. He chuckled at your declaration for a moment before wrenching himself from the bed and shuffling into the kitchen where you could hear him rustling about. You laid there and closed your eyes, trying to emulate the soothing sensation of rubbing circles across your belly. They clearly liked it better when Tomura did it. You didn't even know how they knew the difference.

"Here." Tomura entered the room with a hot cup of tea in hand. He sat it down on your bedside table as you struggled to sit up properly. You laid against the head board and slowly took the mug. "Careful. It's still hot." He noted, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Thank you."

"Mhm." He watched you blow and sip on the tea, running his gloved hand up and down your calf.

"This is new." You scoffed.

"What?"

"You taking care of me." You smiled.

"What are you talking about? I've taken care of you before. Remember Jaku?"

"Ugh, I don't want to." You cringed. A particularly rough battle had left you broken and beaten black and blue. If it wasn't for Tomura, you would have been dead. But that was before you knew he loved you. Before you knew you loved him. "You're right you have taken care of me. But not like this before." Your smiled made him blush.

"This is a different situation." He explained. You chuckled.

"I know." You finished your tea and he took it from you to put the mug in the kitchen sink. But before he left the room you called to him. "Hey...Tomura?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Sure."

"No. Really. Thank you. For everything." He watched you for a moment, engraving that sweet smile of yours into his brain forever. Before nodding and walking back to the kitchen. You adjusted yourself, laying back down and watching him come back in and lay in bed. You watched him, your hand reaching up to gently scratch down his bare back. A comforting gesture he loves but will never out right ask for. It put him to sleep quick, and soon you followed him.

When you woke up the next morning, you found yourself alone in bed. You struggled to get up to use the bathroom and wash your face before waddling into the kitchen. A note had been placed over wads of cash on the kitchen counter. The note read:

I'm sorry there was an emergency and I had to leave early this morning. I left money on the counter for breakfast. Take it easy. I'll see you soon. I love you.

- Tomura

Money for breakfast? You looked down at the wads of 20 dollar bills and giggled. Tomura still had very little grasp when it came to money. He just never had to really worry about it. It's not that he wasn't good at budgeting or math, but, this was enough to pay the mortgage and groceries for the rest of the month. Some breakfast you'd be having. You took the cash and put it away where the rest of it went. You were to pay for everything in cash. The mortgage, the car payments, groceries, furniture, absolutely everything. As if that didn't make you look suspicious enough. But Tomura insisted on it because it wouldn't leave a paper trail to your name.

Your new name would have no debt no credit, nothing. It had to be perfect and unremarkable.

You fed, washed, and clothed yourself which took all morning now but finally you made up your mind to take a short walk to the local grocery store and do some shopping. Normal house wife shit, right?

So you waddled your fat ass out the door to take a leisurely stroll all the way to the super market. You looked up and watched grey clouds gently float above, bringing a cool breeze and the faint smell of rain in the air. You made it to the store before it started to sprinkle. The bright and fresh atmosphere of the store made you uneasy. Public spaces still made you feel out of place. Suspicious. Like you still had to hide.

You paused in the middle of an aisle, sudden movement stopping you dead in your tracks. The baby had been moving less, and the false contractions had started. Your midwife had taught you that this was normal, you still weren't due for a while longer, there was no need to worry. But they were a big pain in the ass.

You held your belly and took a deep breath. It soon passed and you went back to searching for your grocery list.

"First one?" A voice asked. You turned and found a young woman standing there pushing a stroller. She gave a friendly smile.

"Oh, yes."

"How exciting. I had a lot of false contractions with my first too. How far along are you?"

"I guess about, eight months. Give or take a week or two."

"You sure look it. I'm kim by the way, nice to meet you." She held out a hand and you shook it. Her bright smile and relaxed attitude bring comfort and warmth. You looked down to the stroller, an infant cradled towards Kim, and an absent-minded toddler glaring at the floor sat in the front. He angrily pouted at the ground, before his gaze slowly came up to you.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Y/-...." fuck! What was your new name again? You almost blew your cover. "Ota." You remembered. Thank God.

"Your the new family down the road aren't you?" Kim nodded in recognition.

"Yeah, yeah. How long have you lived here?" You tried to make conversation.

"Oh I've lived here all my life."

"Wow."

"Yeah my husband and I met in high school here and been together ever since. He travels for work now though, so,"

"My husband travels too." You told her. Shit. Was that the right thing to say? Could you really call Shigaraki your, husband? What would he think about that? He'd probably be irritated you even bothered to socialize at all.

"Oh really? What does he do?" You paused.

"Uh, he works closely with heroes." You croaked.

"Oh like management er' whatever?" She was so nonchalant.

"Yeah, yeah. Real boring stuff." You agreed. 'Er' whatever' what a great way to put it.

"Yeah mine's a lawyer for cities suffering from 'big hero blow-outs' they call em'. He works with cities about destruction of public property and what not. I don't really know the details or anything but hey, maybe our guys have crossed paths a couple times! What did you say his name was?" Shit. Shit. Shit.

"Uh, Ota. Ota Kurai." You lied.

"Kurai...huh..." Kim thought for a moment, taking in a deep breath and sighing. "Well, that doesn't ring any bells. How long have you been together." Was this something you were supposed to lie about?

"Five years now, I think." You pondered.

"You think?" She chuckled at you.

"Yeah, it's hard to remember sometimes. All of a sudden we went from friends to more. Its difficult to explain." She smiled.

"Yeah, I understand. Well, I better be off. The boys need a nap before lunch. It was lovely meeting you, Ota."

"Likewise!" You smiled back.

"See you around."

"See ya." And with you that you went on shopping, a successful venture. You were lucky you were able to purchase an umbrella in the store, it was really coming down now. You waddled along the sidewalk, making your way back to the stretch of suburbs you occupied. As you walked the final stretch to your home, the wind began to pick up. Violently wrenching the umbrella out of your hand and throwing it behind you. You turned, panicked and now vulnerable to the heavy rain. It came down fast and hard, the droplets almost painful on your skin.

You turned around to find your umbrella flying through the air, tumbling over to a distant figure. A young man, no, a teenager. The kid snapped to attention, jogging for the object from under his own umbrella and quickly making his way back to you. You tensed up, the weight of your groceries, the rain, your condition. Clearly you were in distress. You cursed yourself. You were once a feared villain. You fought the greatest heroes Japan had to offer and lived to tell the tale. You were an activist, pioneer, warrior, leader. You had the scars to prove it. And now look at you. A helpless, pregnant house wife.

"Here miss!" The boy called. You sniffed and reached for it as he handed it to you.

"Thanks!" You barked, trying to shuffled off without anymore talk.

"Let me help you with that!" He insisted, taking your groceries from you and shielding you from anymore rain. You were soaked by now. You couldn't argue, he insisted and you had to admit that the help was nice. He walked you home, standing and waiting at your house's gate as you took back your bags from him.

"Thank you for your help." You tried to be polite.

"Sure thing miss. No trouble. Are you sure you got it?"

"Yes. Thank you." You insisted, turning back to disappear into your home. Only to find the front door open. You let out a startled gasp. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, dark eyes glaring at the boy behind you. Your eyes shuffled back and forth between him and the boy. Shigaraki wore a painfully mediocre disguise. A face mask, and a black wig. From far away he easily blended into a crowd. He was always good at hiding himself in a strange way. He was an oddly good actor.

"Sara. You should be more careful." He barked your fake name in a fake tone. Like he was a concerned husband.

"Sorry Kurai, I didn't think the storm would get this bad." You chuckled in a panic. He approached you, averting his gaze from the boy. Hiding his face and taking the bags from you. You turned back to the boy who's eye shifted from Shigaraki then back to you. "Thank you for your help. Here." You shuffled around in your purse before handing him a few hundred yen.

"Oh no Mrs, really it's fine."

"No. I insist." You huffed with a smile.

"Thank you. My names Sato by the way, I live just down the road."

"Nice meeting you Sato." You smiled and closed the gate before waddling back inside. You closed the door behind you, panting as you recovered from your adventure.

You watched Tomura remove his disguise in a frustrated huff before putting the groceries away. You leaned against the wall after shuffling into the kitchen, leaving water to fall from you and pool on the wood floor. Soon he turned to look back at you.

"I thought there was an emergency."

"False alarm." He muttered.

"Are you mad at me?" You asked. He paused and gave a frustrated huff.

"...I told you not to get friendly with people. That puts you in danger." You scoffed. "You're soaking wet, you better shower off before you catch a cold."

"I didn't have a choice, okay? It's not like I sought out his help! He was just there, he insisted he help! And yknow what, I can't say I didn't need it. Because I'm incapable of doing anything apparently!" You shouted. Oh shit. He angered you. You could see it in his eyes. He hates it when you get angry, it makes him uneasy. "And I'm a walking beacon of chit chat too! Everyone wants to talk to the new pregnant lady. Last week, I had fend off like four old ladies from touching my belly. And the week before that, the clerk at the bookstore kept trying to sell me these weirdly religious parenting books. And- And today even! Today some other mom stopped me to talk about my false contractions at the store and I almost forgot our names and I- I-" You're crying now. He hates seeing you crying more than he hates seeing you angry. He slowly approached you, watching as you sniffled and sobbed and wipped away your tears.

"Come on, let's get you comfortable." He guided you to the bathroom to help bathe you in a warm bath to calm your nerves and ease your aching body. You shuffled out into the living room, the warmth of your pajamas easing your tense feelings.

"She wasn't that bad." You mumbled.

"Hm?"

"The other mom at the grocery store today. She was actually nice. She has two boys. She was really chill."

"Mh."

"I told her you worked in management with heroes and you travel a lot." You chuckled to yourself. "Her husband works as a lawyer for cities regarding damage from heroes. She said you might have crossed paths." Tomura pause and flashed a goofy smile.

"You never know. Maybe we have." He joked. You laughed for a moment before finishing your bath and getting changed.

"How come you came back?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well usually you stay away. But you've been here so long I figured you'd have left by now so you don't take any chances getting caught. Why'd you come back?" Tomura starred at your stomach and placed his gloved hand over it before looking up at you.

"I'm just finishing a few preparations. But I've made plans so that I'll be able to stay longer than I usually do." He didn't answer your question.

"Plans? Like what?"

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't tell me you put Dabi in charge." He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Toga? No!... Spinner!?"

"Y/N. Please." He begged.

"Sorry. But you never leave someone else in charge."

"Well now I have a reason. I'm...I'm taking a few months."

"What? But what about your work?"

"I'm not quiting. I'm still the true ruler. It's just a small...vacation. I can go back at any time if an emergency occurs. But for now, I'm staying here."

"You really miss me, don't you?" He pulled his hand away and rolled his eyes one more time before strolling away.

"Of course I miss you." He said it like it was a well known fact. "I miss you every second. I miss working with you. It's so frustrating without you. You understand, you got it. You always knew what needed to be done, what I was trying to do. Now it's like herding cats to get the simplest of tasks done sometimes. I mean you- you were always one step ahead. Half the time I didn't even need to ask you to do something you were already there. You were so smart and cunning and strong."

"And now I'm just a housewife..." He slowly turned to look at you. "I'm just the knocked up mistress you gotta hide."

"No. You know that's not what I meant."

"It's how you make me feel."

"Y/N..."

"I miss it too, y'know. Working with you, with everyone. I miss doing something that actually matters. I miss the planning, and the training, and the fighting. I miss it all. And now look at me. I couldn't even fucking walk home from the grocery store without needing to be rescued. It sucks, it really sucks. I know I chose this life. I know I chose...." Your hand hovered over you belly. "But I just...I just..." You're crying again.

Tomura places a hand on your back and hold you close and the other to stroke your hair in an attempt to calm you again. You clung to him, rocking the two of you back and forth.

"I know. I know." He whispered.

"I just wanted...wanted to be happy. Like how- normal people are happy." You cried.

"I know."

"And I am- I am happy I just... I miss working so much. And I miss seeing everyone and seeing you and fighting heroes and just...I even miss negotiations!" You sobbed. Tomura couldn't help but flash a smile.

"I know. I'm sorry." Your crying started to subside for a moment. Giving him the opportunity to plant a kiss on your cheek.

"Tomura?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

"I love you." He nodded and placed his hand on your belly once more.

"So you'll be here for it?"

"Yes I'll be here." You smiled.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me. It's the bare minimum."

[amor-immortalem]

Everything Undesired chapter 8

chapter 7

After a nice night out together with the baby and Asmo tagging along, the pair finally made it home. They hadn’t been gone long- maybe two hours at most- Arella gave Cyrus a bath, fed him, and put him to bed for a few hours. The little guy was exhausted from all the new sensory input, this being the first time he’d left the House of Lamentation for an extended period of time. She grabbed one of the baby monitors and went out to the common room to join Mammon, Asmo, and the rest of the brothers for a short movie night- something they hadn’t done for quite some time.

As she joined them on the couch, she curled up into her boyfriend’s side as she had always done at prior movie nights. He covered them up with a blanket he’d brought from his room as the lights dimmed and the movie began. None of them would be prepared for what they would see in the film- a slasher flick.

About half way through film a very graphic sexual assault occurred with the female lead as the victim. As Levi scrambled for the remote to shut it off, Mammon got up and bolted from the room- the scene far too much for him to handle. Arella followed after the white-haired demon to make sure he didn’t manage to harm himself in his panicked state. Once the tv was off, the brothers looked between each other with horrified expressions.

“The reviews never said anything about that.” Levi said as he pulled the DVD out and returned it to its case. “I should have reviewed it before suggesting it for movie night.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The worst part about dating the fasted demon in the Devildom is that Arella can never keep up with him. She searched the house for Mammon, having lost track of him almost immediately after exiting the common room. It wasn’t until she finally heard a wretching sound that she was able to find hi, currently voiding his stomach of its contents. She reached out to place her hand on his back to let him know she was there- a nearly fatal mistake.

The Avatar of Greed swiped at her in a manner which- had she not had the reflexes of a cat and jumped back in time- would have struck her in the stomach, disemboweling her. Arella was lucky that he only caught her shirt with his claws. She could see the look of panic in his eyes as his demon form appeared, the sweat coating his face, the rapid, heavy breathing, the shaking as he let out a feral growl.

“It’s just me, Love. It’s okay. You’re safe,” Her voice was soft as she tried to bring him back to the present while also managing not to get herself killed in the process. “No one’s going to hurt you... I promise.” She got down to his level, moving forward on shaking limbs. She moved slowly, trying to show the demon she wasn’t a threat to him. “I need you to come back to me, Dear. The threat is gone. You’re not in danger. You’re okay.” She was trying to avoid phrases like ‘you need calm down’, knowing that that was the last thing that should be said to someone having a panic attack.

Mammon’s whole body was tense, she could see it in the way he carried his wings, slightly raised to make himself more intimidating. Slowly, inch by inch, Arella got closer to him until she was able to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug, thinking the pressure might help him regain presence of mind and draw him out of the flashback he was experiencing.

“Take deep breaths with me, okay?” Arella says with trembling words. As close as she is to him, Mammon could do anything right now to harm her and she would be vulnerable to his attack. It’s a risk she knew she needed to take right now. “Breath in... one... two... three... four... out... one... two... three... four... hold... one... two... three... four... You’re doing good. Keep going, Honey.” They repeated the actions over and over, all the while Arella whispered words of praise and positive affirmations.

Eventually she was able to get him back to a state where his demon form dissipated and his breathing was more even. She could still feel his heart beating at a frantic pace, his body still shaking with each breath before he broke down in tears. Arella only rubbed his back and shushed him. She reached over flushed the toilet before helping him up, allowing him to lean against her as they made their way back to his bedroom.

Mammon immediately went to go brush his teeth and rinse his mouth out, the taste of bile still stuck on his tongue. Arella left to go check on Cyrus and collect the forgotten baby monitor from the common room. When she entered her room, she saw Asmodeus holding the child and rocking him in their arms.

“How’s Mammon doing?” their tone was a hushed whisper when they looked up their jaw dropped at seeing the tears in Arella’s shirt. “What happened to your shirt?!”

“He’s doing better now. I just sent him to bed after he gets done brushing his teeth. As far as the shirt goes, I startled your brother by mistake and he took a swing at me with his claws.” Arella sighed as she pulled the shirt off and swapped it for an older one she often used as sleepwear. “How’s the baby doing?”

“He needed a diaper change but I already took care of that for you. He might need another feeding though. My brothers- mainly Levi- are searching the house for Mammon. I’ll let them know he’s safe. That was scary. We had no idea that the movie had that type of scene in it.”

“I believe you, Asmo.” Arella said as she ran a hand through her hair. “I can’t believe they would put a scene that graphic in a movie regardless of its rating. I’ll take him now.”

Asmo only nodded as he handed the infant off to her before pulling their D.D.D. and texting the group chat while Arella sat down on the bed and made herself comfortable while she nursed Cyrus.

“I’m really worried about him, you know?”

Yeah, I am too.” She yawned. “Let this be a reminder to us all that we’re far from out of the woods with your brother. I knew he wasn’t completely over his trauma yet, but I never expected he would have a panic attack tonight.”

The Avatar of Lust would only nod. “Would you mind if I kept Cyrus tonight so you can focus on my brother? I have one of those foldable cribs that we used to use for Satan if we were out and weren’t going to make it back in time for his bed time.”

“That would be lovely, thank you, Asmo. I’ll pump some milk for him after he’s done. You’ll just have to come down and get a bottle when he needs it.”

“Alright I’ll go get things all situated then.” And with that the strawberry blonde demon was off.

Next

Masterlist 2

[svnflowervol666]

Crisp Trepidation (Harry Styles x fem!Reader)

Word Count: 5.2k

Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy

Author’s Note: Here she is! The promised “Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready” fic. I ended up liking this a lot more than I thought I would, so I hope you all do as well! Take care and TPWK. 

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.

“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.

“I don’t, actually. I’m being honest when I tell you she is the cutest baby I have ever seen in my life. Those curls! Are you kidding me?”

She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers. 

“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”

The doctor, Lisa, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it correctly into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.

“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”

She lovingly squeezed the extra chub around her thighs.

“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.

“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, but it’s even better to breastfeed when you can. Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?”

“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.

“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Harry’s giant head, though, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”

Lisa laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, knowing good and well what Y/N meant. She scribbled notes onto the file attached to her clipboard, checking off the baby’s progress and coinciding what the nurse that came in before her documented about her length and weight.

“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”

Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.

“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”

“When I can. Harry’s really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.

“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”

Lisa re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.

“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”

She could see the wheels in Lisa’s head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.

“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”

Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.

“Have you and Harry been intimate since she was born?”

She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Lisa was going with this or why it was relevant.

“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”

A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, she thought, but kept to herself.

“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”

Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Lisa was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.

“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”

Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.

“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”

Lisa’s face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.

“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a test? That way we’ll know for sure?”

//

Harry came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the curry that she’d been oh-so so excited about earlier in the week and swaying along to the playlist they’d curated together as she stirred a pot filled with vegetables was. Their grocery store had been out of coconut milk for several weeks and she’d nearly tackled him to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with it the night before, so he found it awfully strange that she’d yet to start cooking it. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.

He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Her coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Baby?”

Nothing.

His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times. 

And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Harry could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff that was teetering on the line of becoming a full blown beard to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.

She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. Or maybe she was keeping to herself peacefully somewhere else in the house and she was being so quiet that he just couldn’t hear her.

Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the wooden door tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife. 

Good. She was sleeping. 

He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings about his tour schedule that forced him to dress nicely. 

All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects about his everyday life with his family like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Or maybe it was the understanding that by this time next year, he’d be halfway across the globe and physically unable to hold her in his arms. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.

His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his rings into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quite yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.

“Honey? ‘S that you?” Harry peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door. 

He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.

“Ye’ sick? Can hear ye’ snifflin’.”

Nothing.

Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.

“Hey,” Harry cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”

And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.

“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.

“Tell me what’s going on.”

She was emotionless when he saw her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Harry tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.

“Y/N,” he called for her again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk t’ me.”

She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Harry could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so. 

After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.

“I went to the doctor today.” 

“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Harry asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib.

“‘S she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.

“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Harry worry.

“I was telling Lisa about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.

“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”

Now it was Harry’s turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list. 

“And?” he asked after a solid sixty seconds of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.

“Ten weeks.”

Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.

“How,” Harry whispered, moreso to himself than to her.

“I think you know how babies are made, H,” Y/N quipped.

“‘S not what I meant,” Harry fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”

He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many curly-headed babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present was going to be the gift of being a big sister. 

It was all too sudden.

“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”

“Hey, hey now. None of tha’,” Harry shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.

He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her shoulders tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of joy and celebration and relief after having tried for what felt like years. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.

Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled blouse, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.

“I can’t do this.”

“Wha’ do yeh mean, pretty? Of course yeh can. I’ll move some things around and we’ll make it work. We’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her back in attempt to soothe her.

“That’s the problem, Harry.”

He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.

“What?”

“You have to move everything around. You’ve already been gone for almost two years. This sets you back at least another. You can’t keep pushing shit back.”

“Erm,” Harry paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Yes I can? I couldn’t care less about tour...Did yeh think I was gonna leave yeh here on your own with a fuckin’ newborn?”

“No. I didn’t think you were just going to leave,” she almost sounded annoyed, which didn’t sit quite right with Harry.

“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”

His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.

“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there t’ do? Tour can wait.”

“People are counting on you, Harry. Millions of them. We’re not the only ones that matter in this situation.”

“Will you please tell me what yeh gettin’ at, because I’m starting t’ get upset.” 

Harry’s lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this? 

“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."

“And yeh think I’m not? ‘M tryin’ my best to keep it together for your sake if yeh haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending how the words rolled off his tongue.

“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.

“Didn’t realize you were the one carrying our fucking child. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to push a football-sized human out of your vagina and just lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides. Didn’t realize you-”

“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Harry was yelling now.

“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting tha’ it was. ‘M not sure what it is that yeh want me t’ say though. I’m sorry? ‘S that it? Sorry for gettin’ yeh pregnant? Sorry for havin’ a job that were well fuckin’ aware of when yeh met me? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fuckin’ planet happy?”

“You’re being an asshole, Harry,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.

“And you’re not makin’ any fuckin’ sense! Are yeh tellin’ me yeh don’t want t’ keep it? ‘Cos I never fuckin’ said that yeh have to.”

The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.

She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.

“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands. 

“I just-,” and then she broke.

Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Harry’s hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.

“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe f’ me. It’s alri-”

His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Harry peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just encountered had stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.

Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Harry’s hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.

“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”

“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”

She shrugged Harry’s hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Harry the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.

//

Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with chocolate brown curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Harry’s. Her nose? A perfect, narrow line down her face that led to a button-shaped tip akin to Harry’s. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of bubblegum pink as Harry’s. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother were the color of her eyes, which was funny considering that was the one thing she’d wanted Harry to pass down to their daughter; Y/N had always hated hers.

She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Harry before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.

Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. He had changed out of his dress clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of joggers that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistant on not throwing them out.

“Can I come in?”

His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.

He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it, nothing sexual or erotic whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Harry loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Harry’s continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.

“‘M sorry for yelling at yeh,” Harry started.

“It was uncalled for.”

Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.

“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”

She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.

“’S not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one havin’ the baby. It’s you that’s got t’ do all the hard stuff. Should’ve listened to you more.”

He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.

The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.

“Can I hold you? Please?”

Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.

Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Harry could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his. 

“I love you so much. Yeh know that? I know it’s difficult always having t’ think about everyone else, but you’re what’s important t’ me. I’d drop everything for you if I had to. End it all today.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.

“I wouldn’t let you.”

“Well, just know that I would if yeh wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want t’ be here f’ you. For her. Don’t want t’ miss anything. I finally got my shot at bein’ normal when I met you and I hate myself for even thinkin’ about going back on the road and leavin’ yeh.”

“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Harry’s cheek.

“You’re a good person, Harry. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”

She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Harry’s chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Lisa to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”

This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his jumper against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face. 

“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Harry jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.

After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Harry spoke again.

“Two babies,” he huffed.

“Two babies,” she repeated.

His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She clearly wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known she was pregnant up until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.

“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have t’ have one birthday party ‘cos they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go t’ the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”

“Based on the fact that you’ve already picked out the outfit this one is wearing on her first birthday that’s still six months away, I highly doubt you’ll stay keen on them sharing a party.”

Harry pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the garment he’d spotted during one his fittings with Gucci that he vowed to have for his daughter.

“Guess you’re right about tha’.”

Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Harry could feel throughout his entire body.

“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”

“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.

“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”

Harry’s heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together, but it’s possible that the topic might not have even come up if he had been in the room with her and the pediatrician.

“Found coconut milk at the store the other day, remember? Want me t’ make that curry for yeh?”

“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately purked up at the thought of warm spices and rice.

“Starting to wonder if curry was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?”

Harry giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.

“Thought tha’ was a bit weird that yeh wanted it so badly, but I didn’t dwell on it too much.”

“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.

“‘Ve got it, mama” Harry quickly refuted.

“Take a bath or somethin’ and I’ll bring it up t’ yeh when it’s done.”

“Okay.”

Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Harry used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.

When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now. 

Of course, she wanted more children with Harry. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did. 

With two babies.

[harryhandstan]

I am so excited to finally be posting this for y’all! Thank you so much for all the hype and support it is very much appreciated. :) this is my piece for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge! my prompt was the song “Do You Want to Build a Snowman?” from the movie Frozen and I hope you all enjoy how I’ve incorporated it into my Dad!Harry series. You don’t necessarily have to read the other parts to understand this one, but I’ll link them below in case you want to re-visit them. 

I Want Your Belly ❄ Wonderful and Warm ❄ Washed Away in You 

Thank you to @tbslenthusiast​ and @heartbreakweatherharry​ for reading over this for me and giving me such amazing feedback! 

Word count: 2.3k

You still couldn’t believe the little wonder that had been created by you and Harry existed to be yours. Things hadn’t been perfect, far from it, but it was definitely a new and fun adventure you were both eager and terrified of.

The first challenge presented was finding a name perfect enough to fit your son. He was alive for 24 hours before you discovered one you and Harry were absolutely sure of. Even seeing it written on his birth certificate made your heart swell with pride.

It’s your mother who asks first, “Well, are you two gonna make a formal announcement to the press before us grandparents get to know the name of our grandson?”

“Think we’ve made them wait long enough, Harry.”

He smiles at you from across the hospital room where he sits in a chair, the baby resting peacefully on his chest. You’re propped up in the bed, wrapped in the soft pink robe given to you by him just a few days ago. Anne sits nearby, a proud grin on her face at the sight of her baby with his.

His eyes dart from the baby to you, “You wanna tell them or shall I?”

“You tell them. You’re the one that found it, been bragging about it all day too.”

“Alright then,” He gently lifts the baby, turning him to where the whole room can see him, your son’s face now scrunched up by the light from the window shining on him, “Ladies, meet your grandson, Sterling Edward Styles.”

“Oh, you didn’t,” Anne giggles, reaching over to pat your leg, “You’ll never hear the end of it, love, letting him name the baby after himself.”

“Hey! S’her idea to give him my middle name. I picked the first,” His features switch from temporarily offended back to beaming, “Wanna tell ‘em what it means, darlin’?”

“Sterling means ‘starling’, or as Harry likes to call him..”

“Our little star.” 

5 weeks later, your son certainly lives up to his name, charming everyone he meets. Sweet smiles and coos at strangers from his carrier when you’re at the grocery store or falling asleep in Auntie Gemma’s arms when she comes to visit. You were not surprised he already had his father’s charismatic ability to make everyone fall for him so quickly.

With Harry’s schedule as busy as it had been, it hadn’t been easy to adjust to life together as new parents. As much as he had tried to push things back or reschedule to have more time off with you, there was only so much that he was in control of and he was away from you and Sterling more than he liked.

So it’s no surprise when he comes home one evening and the space you share is mostly already decorated for the winter holidays. He smiles warmly to himself when he hears you singing along to the movie playing from the tv, peeks around the corner to see Sterling tucked away in his swing, his eyes open and bright. Your back is turned so you don’t hear Harry approaching, continuing to sing aloud as you work.

“We only have each other, it’s just you and me, what are we gonna dooooooo?” You spin around, expecting to only see Sterling watching you, yelping when you find Harry, giggling at the shock on your face.

He bends to look out the window, “Could be wrong, but I think you have to have snow to build a snowman, yeah?”

“You’re early! I wanted to surprise you,” You weave your way around boxes to greet him, “Left the tree for the 3 of us to do together though.”

“S’nice of you.” His hands remain in his pockets as you move closer, tired eyes looking down at you, lazy smile as you work your arms around his waist. He doesn’t make you wait long, freeing his hands from his pockets to wrap around you. 

He buries his face in your neck, “Missed you today.”

“We missed you too, H.”

He pulls back, turning to look down at Sterling, his arm still holding you close to his side, “He’s growing too fast. Can’t believe he’s already 5 weeks.”

“5 weeks and 3 days,” You remind him, “All the mommy blogs say we have an infant now.”

“S’that s’pose to mean? ‘Course he’s an infant.”

“Just means he’s growing out of his tiny baby stage.”

He directs his attention back to the movie playing, laughing as he teases you, “Least y’could’ve done is found a proper Christmas movie t’play while you put up decorations.”

You shrug, “It’s close enough to count. Plus he LOVES it. Think Elsa might be his favorite.”

He can’t resist anymore. As comfortable as his son may be swaying back and forth in his swing, he bends to scoop him up, one hand cradling behind his head and the other behind his back to easily support him. Sterling clearly doesn’t mind, a grin developing when he realizes who it is disturbing him.

“Don’t care what anyone says, bub. Y’ll always be daddy’s baby.”

You never doubted Harry’s capacity to love his son, but you definitely questioned his expertise and knowledge of the basics of caring for a child. He had become somewhat experienced now, tackling late night diaper changes and early morning feedings or anything else in between without complaint when he could. 

Though he had done great, you were never too far away that you couldn’t offer assistance when he needed it. So when he gets a rare day off and suggests you let him stay home with the baby while you run errands, you’re hesitant.  

“Do ya not trust me?”

“Of course I do. You know I do. I just don’t want you to get overwhelmed.”

“S’just for a few hours, right? You can write out a list of his schedule if it makes y’feel better.”

Sterling’s stretched across your lap, dozing off while you try to finish the last of your breakfast. Harry stands at the counter, drinking coffee out of a bright pink mug. You look between your almost sleeping son and then back up to Harry, chewing a bite of toast as you contemplate the idea.

He doesn’t take offense to your hesitation, quite the opposite actually. He adores the sight of you, Sterling’s face squished against your chest; one of his hands tucked under his chin, the other wrapped around your side, his little fist holding tight to your t-shirt. It’s the purest form of love in his eyes, to see the bond between mother and son grow and deepen with each day. Makes him reminiscent of his connection with his own mother, fills his heart with so much joy knowing he had chosen someone that would give his son the same sweet upbringing he had.

He makes his way back around the counter to you, a hand resting on the top of Sterling’s head as he bends down to kiss the top of yours. He moves his hand, repeating the act of affection to the top of the baby’s head. 

“Really proud of you, y’know that right, baby? Been so amazing watching you take care of yourself and our little boy, never doubted for a second you were meant for this, but it’s been more incredible than I could’ve ever imagined.”

“Proud of you too, H. Know you’ve had a lot of guilt about being gone, but Sterling and I love you so much. He already lights up at the sound of your voice when you FaceTime us from set, and I see the way he grins at you before he falls asleep when you’re here to tuck him in at night.” 

His eyes meet yours, sees the moment you make your decision to say yes, deep exhale of warm breath trapped between the two of you, “You have to promise to call if anything happens, if you need anything at all. Don’t care how small it is.” He nods firmly, further setting your mind at ease, “He should sleep most of the time I’m gone, but I’ll prepare another bottle just in case I can’t get back in time.”

You feel silly for feeling so protective, and you were thankful to have Harry as your partner on this journey. His patience and support had been more than generous, covering you and Sterling in more love and adoration than you’d ever known could exist from one person. He kisses you again, on your lips this time, a hand cupping one side of your face before gently lifting Sterling from your arms, shushing and bouncing him a bit when he starts to whimper from the sudden change in his comfortable position.

“S’okay, bubs. Daddy’s got you, g’nna have us a lil’ boys day while mumma’s gone.” 

You rush through whatever tasks you had scheduled that seemed so important that morning. Suddenly the groceries you needed and last minute presents you were dropping off at the post office to mail to out of town family didn’t matter, nothing did but getting back home to your boys.

It’s quiet when you shut the door behind you, almost too quiet. As much as you always prayed he would, Sterling never slept through his morning nap, so you’re surprised at the possibility of him still sleeping peacefully. Not that he was old enough to make too much noise yet, but still the silence worries you enough that you don’t even take the time to put away the groceries. You set the bags on the kitchen counter, making your way through the house to the living room first.

All your concern fades at the sight of Harry on the couch, Sterling snuggled in his arms with his back pressed against Harry’s front, his little body covered in a red and white striped onesie with a reindeer on the front, matching pair of green socks on his tiny feet. It’s such a comforting image, you once again question why you had any doubt at the thought of leaving the two of them alone. Harry hasn’t noticed your presence yet, or if he has he hasn’t said anything, and you’re content to keep it that way for a few more minutes to observe the vision set before you.

You notice the movie that’s playing, it’s the same one from a few nights ago that Harry teased you for. You cross your arms, quirking one eyebrow upwards before you repeat Harry’s words from that night out loud, “Boys day, huh? Could’ve at least found a proper Christmas movie to watch while I was gone.”

“I’ve decided you’re right, it does count. I can see why he loves it so much.” He looks up at you from where you lean over back of the couch now, a soft “hi” falling from his lips, tilting his head up to accept the kiss you offer. Sterling coos, and when you look down, he’s looking up at you too. 

“Mommy missed you too, baby boy.”

“Come sit with us, lovie, watch the rest of the movie.”

“Gimme a minute to put the groceries away and I will.”

“I’ll pause it and come help.”

“No, stay,” You run your hand through his hair, pushing the curls away from his face, “There’s not that much, I got it.”

You work swiftly to put everything away, taking a minute to change back into your pajamas before you rejoin them, curling yourself against Harry’s side under his free arm. Sterling’s dozing again, most likely falling into a milk coma from the bottle he had just finished, but it doesn’t stop the two of you from continuing to watch the same movie together. You offer to take Sterling or put him in his swing, but he just shakes his head no, clinging tighter to him and you.

“S’my favorite part, this song.”

“What? It’s the saddest one. Elsa and Anna’s parents die in this one.” 

He shrugs, careful not to shuffle Sterling and disturb his sleep, “Maybe, but s’catchy, gets stuck in my head more than the others.” 

He begins humming along to the intro music, nudging you softly to persuade you to start singing along with the character on the screen. You sit up, dramatically clearing your throat before you do. Harry knows more of the words than he cares to admit, but would rather hear the lyrics sung by you. He giggles at you as you even change your voice to mimic the silly parts.

“It gets a little lonely. All these empty rooms. Just watching the hours tick by…”

Harry provides the tick-tock part, clicking his tongue off-tune to the ones playing in the song. That’s enough to make you laugh out loud, temporarily forgetting the sleeping baby now resting on Harry’s chest. He shushes you playfully, his body shaking through his own laughter thankfully soothing Sterling enough that he doesn’t wake up.

You compose yourself as the song turns slow and mournful, tucking yourself back to Harry’s side again. His hand works around to cup your waist, squeezing lightly to pull you closer, the vibrations of him humming along again a comforting rumble against your body. His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper as he sings the last notes of the song.

“We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna doooooo?”

Your eyes scan the whole of the room. Your boys nestled together next to you, the tree in the corner of the room the 3 of you had decorated together a few days before, the pile of presents that had already accumulated underneath it. You spot your favorite ornament, a silver star with Sterling’s full name engraved on the front, “Baby’s First Christmas” etched on the back. Sterling’s first present from your family sent from home. Well, what used to be your home for the holidays. A smile spreads across your face at the simple happiness and realization that this is your home now. 

Harry, Sterling, and you; sun, moon, and star, spending your first holiday together.

 //

Thank you all for reading! As always likes/rbs/and comments are more than welcome. Tell me what you think here!

tag list: @taintedwonder​, @cock-a-doodely-doo

[toomanyrobins]

a little bird told me pt. 5

Summary: Y/N “Birdie” Parker left New York and her family three years ago in the middle of the night. Now, a call for help to her best friend brings her back into the fold of the Three Families and their “business”

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Parker!Reader

Content warning: physical abuse, miscarriage, allusions to fertility issues, cursing, mentions of forced marriage

Word Count: 2k

Notes: Surprise! It’s a boy!

Series masterlist // next part

The first day Y/N felt like herself and the injuries had mostly healed, Pepper insisted on them going into the city and shopping. With the holidays coming up, they had a lot of events they would be required to attend and Y/n didn’t think that her old style suited her very well. Before going to meet her mom, she stopped by the Ivory to drop off a coffee to Tony and Peter. The former had tried to convince her to bring some guards with her, but she rolled her eyes at his overprotectiveness. She was outside the office texting Pepper, when she heard squeaking. When she looked up there was nothing there. She heard the noises again and followed it into the hallway. Y/N knelt down and stared into the blue eyes of a diapered baby. “Well, hello. Who do you belong to?” she lifted him out and settled him on her hip. As she shook the toy, he babbled at her.

“Jamie? Jamie!” Frantic male voices were heard calling through halls.

“If Jamie is a baby, you’ll find him in here with me!” Steve came flying around the corner, a wild look in his eyes. He lifted Jamie from her arms and hugged him to his chest, kissing his forehead. 

Y/n was surprised to see so much open affection from the blond. She tilted her head and stared, “So… who’s is he?”

“Mine,” his eyes never left the baby.

“You have a kid?” Y/N felt a twinge in her heart. Another thing she had missed because of her selfishness.

“You’d know about all of this if you had stuck around.” she winced at the harsh comment and before Steve could apologize, Bucky and Sam came running around the corner, “JAMIE!” They both ran over and quickly checked on the baby as well. The diapered infant just babbled at the three men and shook his toy, basking in the attention.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how did he end up in the hallway in just a diaper?”

Steve glared at his two friends, “I made the mistake of leaving him in the care of these idiots. I have meetings for George all day.”

“He just got away from us while we were having a discussion about what outfit to put him in,” Bucky at least had the decency to look ashamed about losing his nephew.

Sam turned to him and pointed a finger, “You know the whales are much more stylish, Barnes.”

Y/N looked at the men and shook her head, “I can help watch him. We could call it part of my amends.”

“Birdie, you don’t---” She gave him a don’t mess with me look and Steve sighed, “Would you, really? That would be a huge help. He just started crawling and it’s been an adjustment. Obviously.”

“I was going to go shopping with Pepper. I’ll just bring him along.”

“You’re bringing some men with you, right?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “No, I hadn’t planned on it. Tony tried the same thing.” A mischievous grin spread across her face, “But, since they already had their day cleared to watch Jamie, I’m sure Bucky and Sam will be up to the task.”

“I thought if you would take the kid, I could get some other stuff done.”

“You thought wrong, Buckaroo. Boys, pack your bags. We leave in an hour.” Steve and Y/N walked away, talking about Jamie’s routine. The other two men were left glaring at each other, still bitter about their argument earlier. The duo walked into Steve’s office and were greeted with a baby explosion. 

The blond cursed under his breath, “I swear this room was organized when I left an hour ago.”

“I believe you, big guy.” She patted his arm, before turning to Jamie and picking him up, “Okay, little man, let’s get you dressed.” Y/N made quick work and blew a raspberry on his stomach when she was done. A huge smile grew across her face when she heard the baby giggles. She looked up and saw a strange look on Steve’s face, “What? Is there something on my face?”

“It’s just so strange to see you again.”

“Stevie…”

“I’m not saying this to make you feel bad. I’m glad you’re back. I’d forgotten what life was like with you around.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean let’s face it, Birdie, you have the nickname for a reason. You never stayed in one place long enough and it was exhausting the amount of energy you had.”

“Am I still that same person in your eyes?”

“Some of it is the same. It was always hard to imagine you settling down. But, the minute you are around kids, it’s an entirely different story. If you ever decide to settle down, you will be an amazing parent.”

Y/N’s heart clenched at the thought of her secret. She felt herself starting to get emotional and busied herself by going through the diaper bag. Once she had herself back under control, she smiled up at him, “Well, you made a damn cute kid, Stevie.”

“Don’t I know it,” he smiled down at his son. Y/N couldn’t help but laugh to herself at the imagery of the large man holding such a small child. “Okay, Jamie, be good for Birdie. I’ll see you later. Oh, and here’s a key to my truck and the apartment in case you’re done before I am.” 

“I’ll text you plenty of photos.”

“Thank you for this,” Steve leaned down to kiss her cheek and whispered in her ear, “I missed you more than you know.” He had left her breathless with that last comment and she moved robotically as she put Jamie into the car and headed to meet Pepper. Her mother had raised her eyebrow at her showing up with the baby, Sam, and Bucky, but laughed when she heard the whole story. 

While her mother enjoyed shopping, the activity was the bane of Y/N’s existence. They moved quickly through the stores, grabbing what she needed and trying things on. Jamie was on his best behavior, even clapping a few times when Y/N had come out of the dressing room. Despite the fact that they all knew it didn’t mean anything, anything the baby reacted to was purchased. By the time they had finished, everyone was dead on their feet and the baby was knocked out in his stroller. 

Y/N decided to let Pepper take all of the clothes back to the house and she went back to Steve’s apartment to put Jamie down for a proper nap. Walking through the door was like entering a time capsule. The only difference was the addition of baby things. She walked through the hallway and looked at the pictures and framed sketches on the wall. Y/N stopped in front of a picture of them from Tony’s infamous Christmas party four years ago. Steve had been her guard for over a year at that point and the two of them had spent practically every day together. It was hard to believe how much the two people in that photo had changed. As she moved further down, the sketches she had stolen and framed for him still had pride of place. Her musings were interrupted by her phone chirping:

Steve: I’m sorry, but meetings are running longer than planned. Are you okay with Jamie? You can bring him to Becca if you have plans.

Y/N: No plans. I’m happy to stay. You focus on work. Little man and I got this.

She walked into the kitchen and found a drawer of takeaway menus and the cabinets only filled with food for Jamie. When he woke up from his nap, she pulled her shoes on, “This won’t do, little man. We are going to the grocery store." Y/N strapped Jamie to her chest and walked to the nearest store. They made quick work at the shop, filling the cart with essentials. Once she got back to the apartment, she put the baby in his high chair with a snack. Music filled the kitchen as she danced around. 

Steve came home and followed the delicious smells and music playing. He found Y/N in the kitchen, dancing with Jamie in her arms. He leaned on the door frame, watching her hips sway as she switched her focus between what was on the pan in front of her and his son. Birdie Stark was definitely not a teenager anymore. He walked into the kitchen and put his hand on her waist, making her jump. “Jesus!”

He chuckled and took Jamie from her, “Nope, just me, sweetheart.”

“You scared the crap out of me.”

He apologized, but didn’t sound that sorry. He stared down at her, thinking how the flush on her cheeks from the heat suited her. “Are you making dinner?”

Y/N suddenly looked nervous. “I’m not overstepping, am I? You said you’d be working late and I thought I’d help out,” she looked up at him and smirked, "Plus, I saw the takeaway drawer.”

“It’ll be a cold day in hell when I’m mad at a home cooked meal. But from what I remember, you once set fire to a pot of water.”

She threw her head back and laughed, “That was almost five years ago, I will have you know. My skills have vastly improved. Y/N realized how close she and Steve were standing. She pulled away and felt his hand slip away from where it had been resting comfortably on her waist. He cleared his throat and turned his attention to Jamie who was babbling at him. 

Y/N dished up two plates and got Jamie’s bottle ready. “Birdie, you don’t have to do that. I can feed him and eat after.”

“You’ve been at work all day, Steve, and I know for a fact you forget to eat. I don’t mind, really.” She settled herself on the couch with Jamie in her arms and her plate on the arm. . He held his own bottle and she ate a few bites while staring at the baby in her arms. She was entirely unaware of Steve watching her, 

He rubbed his eyes and took a pull from his beer, “I can’t believe it’s only 7. I feel like today will never end.”

“Did you say 7? Shit!” Y/N looked worried, “I need to go.” She had forgotten that she had made an appointment with a doctor to make sure that she wasn’t pregnant. Her paranoia had taken over and she had to be sure. 

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Birdie, you’ve been going all day. Just reschedule.”

“I can’t, Steve.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t tell you.” They sat in awkward silence, the only noise coming from Jamie and he hungrily sucked at the bottle. She kept her eyes on the baby and whispered, “Are you mad at me?”

Steve sighed and came to kneel down in front of her, “Why would I be mad at you, sweetheart?”

She ran a finger over Jamie’s cheek, biding her time, “Because I’m keeping secrets. That tends to make others angry.”

“God, Birdie, no. I’m not angry. I’m disappointed that you think you aren’t safe to share, but i never want you to be scared of me.” Y/N nodded sadly. Steve wanted herto tell him everything, “Want to help me put Jamie to bed? 

She shook her head and passed the baby to him, “I should go. It’s late.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll just call for a driver. You haven’t seen Jamie all day, you should spend some time together.” Y/N grabbed her bag and jacket, and leaned over to kiss the wiggling child.

“I have tomorrow afternoon off, want to go for lunch?” Steve tilted her head up to meet her eyes, “We can go to Galletti’s.”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Y/N got on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, “Night, Stevie.”

He grinned, “What have I told you about calling me that?”

“Follow through on your threat and I might actually take you seriously.” 

[bagadew]

The Great Ace Attorney Playthrough: The Adventure of the Great Departure (Part 3)

Last Time: We finally found Miss Brett, the English woman who’s present had been erased from the scene of the crime, and dragged her ass to court only to discover that she was a Massively Racist Bitch in a swan hat. After a lot of back and forth it became clear that Dr Watson Wilson actually died of poisoning, and that Miss Brett took advantage of the fact Japan currently doesn’t do autopsy reports to shoot his corpse in the chest and frame me (Ryunosuke) for the murder. Fortunately for us Hosonaga took the bottle from the crime scene, and after needlessly translating Miss Brett for the last hour (and presumably filtering out a lot of questionable content) was only to happy to produce it for the court. Unfortunately for us the poison wasn’t in the bottle, so it’s up to a lady in pink to save the day!

I’m going to roundhouse kick Auchi

I’m liking how everyone else in this room is just as done with Auchi as I am

Our saviour Ryunosuke, that’s who

Oh, that’s not a glass

Is it about poisons?

It is!

Ok so I’m pretty sure that Curare is incredibly powerful and fast acting poison (which lines up with what we know). Unfortunately I think it needs to be injected but I might be mixing it up with something else.

Susato’s actually given me the report now, which is probably a much more sensible way of getting information (rather than me trying to remember what I’ve picked up from Agatha Christie novels), and unfortunately it looks like I remembered correctly about it needing to be injected.

(Side note: how alarming is it that I’ve retained this much knowledge on poisons? I feel the need to explain that I’ve been reading and listening to audio dramatisation of Agatha Christie novels since I was about three, but I feel like that makes it worse)

What is curious though is it’s potential use as an anaesthetic. Given that Dr Wilson had just had a tooth removed with anaesthetic I wonder if there’s a connection there?

I’m not sure what it could be though, unless it turns out Miss Brett Weekend at Berniesed his corpse all the over way from the clinic.

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

Actually wait...

GET HER ASS JUDGE!!!

Auchi if we were to run this courtroom on things you know about we’d be running a kindergarten.

Auchi, you’d never even heard of Curare until I told you about it, be quiet while the grownups are talking.

Yeah, Curare is not a nice poison.

I’m not going to post the full explanation here, but wow, Kazuma’s really going all out with his description!

Also it looks like I misunderstood about it needing to be injected. Everyone’s saying that it can just be swallowed, which I guess that makes sense given how deadly it is.

Miss Brett’s being a bitch again (but what else is new) and Kazuma’s taking none of your shit and telling her that the feeling’s mutual. (Something I would have screenshot, but I was too busy calling Kazuma a legend to press the little square button.)

I knew it, it was only in the glass.

Yeah, now try it again from the glass you took.

Don’t worry Ryunosuke, I got this!

It’s ok Kazuma! Believe in me (Ryunosuke) and our beautiful friendship!

It astounds me too Kazuma, but for once I’m on to something!

Kazuma, please stop saying foreboding things, I need you to survive the next case and you’re already not being helped by the fact that you’re so much better than me. You’re so good you kind of render me, the protagonist, a little bit obsolete in fact.

PENALISED!

I guess I was wrong then! That bottle does somehow contain poison.

Yes Kuzuma, because I’m going to be penalised otherwise!

OH FUCK I’VE GOT IT!!!

I UNDERSTOOD CORRECTLY THE FIRST TIME!!!

IT DOES NEED TO BE PUT INTO THE BLOODSTREAM!!!

AND THE DOCTOR HAD A GAPING WOUND IN HIS MOUTH!!!

WHICH MISS JEZAILLE BRETT ADMITTED SHE KNEW ABOUT!!!

It’s finally time!

Let’s get her!

He’s got it!

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!

She’s cracking!

Is it hatred Ryunosuke?

Ah no, my mistake - it’s lawyer rage conviction!

I know I’ve said this a lot but...

GET HER ASS RYUNOSUKE!!!!!!!!!!

HE DID THE THING!!!!!!!!

WE’RE USING HER OWN WORDS AGAINST HER

AND IT FEELS SO GOOD!

Oh good... she’s started laughing

Oh no. We’ve set things into motion haven’t we.

Kazuma, I can’t stress enough how important it is for you to take care of yourself in the case to come.

SHE’S DESTROYING THE EVIDENCE!

You can’t do that!

Oh who am I kidding, this lady’s been dancing on privilege since she walked in.

Oh Ryunosuke I think she might have done...

I knew she felt like an end of game villain!

Auchi’s about to catch these hands!

Kazuma’s telling us to step into our mind palace.

‘Is Kazuma right’, he thinks, as he remembers the blood on the plate.

I don’t know Ryunosuke? Is water wet?

You got it Kazuma!

I mean to be fair it did only just happen.

DID HE STEAL THE PLATE?!?

YES HOSONAGA!!!

YOU BEAUTIFUL GENIUS!!!

I do genuinely love these moments in Ace Attorney though. When everyone works as one to get some untouchable big fry. There’s something very rewarding about the whole thing.

Shit... she swapped it out...

Fortunately my man Hosonaga has everyone’s plates though!

Cheer up Ryunosuke, look, we have steak blood at least. And I’m sure Hosonaga’ll bring us the rest of the plates if we ask nicely. Especially after Miss Brett broke his bottle.

Miss Brett’s now making racist statements again.

But at least I’ve been given the steak to examine!

Bless you Kazuma

Ryunosuke what short of cats have you been looking at!

Get his ass (affectionately) Kazuma!

THE STOLEN COIN!!!

I KNEW SHE SWAPPED THEM!!!

(Also it looks like I was right about it being stolen by Nosa)

Didn’t know that was there, did you Miss Brett?

Now, dig your own grave with your words!

Now it’s time to dob Nosa in it. Sorry Nosa but you were kind of a jerk. Look on the bright side though, now’s your chance to redeem yourself in my eyes, like Hosonaga has!

Old man Korekuna’s armed and pissed!

Nosa I’m sorry. It’s best to throw yourself on his mercy now before I rile him up more. Use your baby to calm him if you must.

NICE CATCH NOSA!

I take everything back, Nosa your complete safe, old man Korekuna has no idea how to use that thing.

Ah, I forgot he was proficient in vase!

(Which I forgot to screenshot)

Never mind Nosa, you’re still screwed!

That is the right face to pull (Nosa not Hosonaga):

Look at him in the corner there. I feel bad now.

It was theft wasn’t it?

...oh Nosa what have you done?

(Kept food on his kids plate probably, given how he can’t afford childcare)

Nosa’s now accusing his infant son of being the mastermind... Sure Nosa, everyone’s bying that.

Either accusing a baby is a panic response, or I don’t need to feel so bad anymore.

Hosonaga how did you not immediately catch this guy?

HE SLIPPED THE COIN UNDER THE STEAK SO IT WOULDN’T BE FOUND WHEN HE WAS SEARCHED!

MISS BRETT’S TRYING TO WEASLE HER WAY OUT TO LUNCH AGAIN!

Oh thank god!

I thought for one terrible second we were letting her go.

(I’ve say it before and I’ll probably say it again, this is an intense first case)

Yes! ‘Her’ steak had a big bite mark in it!

But I thought and English Lady like yourself wouldn’t eat steak that way Miss Brett?

Of course, there’s a difference between the two photos.

I knew I could see the glass in the first one, which means it was taken before Miss Brett rearranged the table!

Oh, now Nosa’s saying that he switched the plates.

I must admit I didn’t expect that, I thought it was something Miss Brett did to remove the bloody evidence.

She’s cracking!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

YEEEEAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!

IT WAS ALIVE!!!

BABIES!!!

BABIES EVERYWHERE!

Oh god... what’s she planning.

Your honour, she’s already poisoned one person, do you want to be next?

Kiss my ass Miss Brett

Get used to it Auchi.

HAHA!

DAMN KAZUMA

(Editor Note: I am very upset by how poorly my screenshots conveyed Kazuma destroying Auchi’s hairdo with his sword)

Also, were you always hot Kazuma?

Wait no - I can’t be thinking that. The bar for fictional men I like is the floor and if I want Kazuma to continue to live a long, happy, non morally ambiguous life, I need him to not fall into the category of ‘fictional men I find hot’.

For some reason, I picture it being blue and spiky your honour

Wait what’s this about Kazuma having a mission?

Oh fucking hell, I’ve doomed you to moral ambiguity haven’t I Kazuma?

Thank you for the backhanded compliment your honour!

Ooh, petals rather than confetti, that’s a nice touch!

We did it!!!

And most importantly of all, we’re being praised by Kazuma!

Susato! Our saviour! Has turned up, along with her father: the innocent Professor Mikotoba, who I would like to thank and to reiterate that he could never kill anyone!

Seriously though, what was the relationship between him an Dr Wilson?

Ah ok, I simply just had to click on to find out.

So apparently the two of them worked together in the same hospital in London for a while.

OH MY GOD KAZUMA’S TAKING THE SWORD WITH HIM TO GREAT BRITAIN!!!

YES KAZUMA! F THEM UP!!!

(Also if your journey tragically ends in the customs office there’s a non-dead-Kazuma reason for me to go in your place.)

Oh fuck, she got off didn’t she...

I knew it

Of fucking course...

So basically she’s going to get off with a slap on the wrist. That’s what I’m getting from all of this.

Yep

Ah, but what you’ve failed to understand Kazuma is that the British Government and 99% of those people in power, are hypocritical dirtbags who will change the rules to suit them.

OK TEAM LETS GO GET HER ASS!!!

FINAL BOSS! FINAL BOSS!

Now on to the party with Kazuma!

And also Hosonaga apparently. Who is clinging onto his waiter job even though the case he was investigating is solved. Look like Ryunosuke was right about money being tight.

Hosonaga, do you not have a job anymore?

Were your superiors upset when you said ‘fuck the government’ and bought Miss Brett to us? Or was it your one man forensics team shtick that upsets them?

Oh yeah, we never did find that out did we?

Kazuma Asogi I forbid you from charging me with looking after your sister, of for that matter anything, incase something happens to you!

Fortunatly for us Hosonaga is here! Diving in-front of that Kazuma shaped plot bullet with promises of food!

Ryunosuke over here, taking the cases final moments to roast Hosonaga.

I think we’re even now Satoru, my second favorite character.

I don’t want to click to the next text box.

OH FUCK!

Oh wait, false alarm everyone!

I genuinely thought that the case was going to end with something like: but little did I realize that he never would.

Anyway that’s enough worrying about Kazuma! For now let’s enjoy the fact we’ve finished this bastard hard first case!

We’re moving on to Episode 2: The Adventure of the Unbreakable Speckled Band next!

[mythicamagic]

The Colour of Love: Sesskag oneshot

This oneshot is dedicated to @chierafied​ as thanks for all her hard work and organisation in the sesskag community, particularly on tumblr for sesskag week and monthly prompts. She's also a wonderful sesskag author and always offers advice or a kind word ^^

Rated T

Summary: Shippo puts a spell on Kagome that allows her to see emotions in colour. It's fun to test out on her friends, but why is she seeing an awful lot of magenta around Sesshoumaru whenever she comes near? Sesskag oneshot

The Colour of Love

"I just need to test it on someone. You'll help, won't you?"

Kagome eyed the ominous glowing beverage in the fox's hands dubiously. She winced and picked up a basket, walking away with every intention of weaselling out of the conversation.

"Shippo, no offence, but the last time you tested something on me for class, horns sprouted out of my head and green pimples covered my face for an entire week. I'm not super keen on being your guinea pig this time, buddy."

His tail twitched and lowered, but her words did little to deter Shippo. He followed the miko as she attended to her chores; freeing swaying sheets from where they'd been hanging out to dry and folding them neatly into a basket.

"Oh pleeassee, Kagome! Sensei oversaw my casting process this time- there's no danger, honest! It's not even that cool of a spell."

Kagome arched a brow, lifting off another sheet and smoothing the cool creases. That was odd, Shippo always preferred the flashier spells. "What does it do?"

"It would let you see everyone's emotions in colour."

She tilted her head, "in colour? How would that work?"

Shippo grinned mischievously, holding up his cup and shaking it gently. "Wouldn't you like to find out?"

Giggling, she thought for a moment, biting her bottom lip. "I guess it sounds pretty harmless. And this is for a grade?"

"Yes!" he nodded rapidly, eyes widening as his tone became pleading. "Sensei already graded all the other kids! I'm the only one who hasn't passed yet, and everyone else in the village refuses to help me! I'd owe you big time, Kagome. Please?"

Giving a large, put-upon sigh and folding the last of the sheets, Kagome squatted down before him. "Alright, alright. I just have to drink it?"

Green eyes brightened, and he handed the cup over eagerly, the contents nearly spilling. "Mhm! The effects should only last for a few days~!"

The glowing blue shimmer within her cup didn't exactly fill Kagome with confidence, but she didn't want to stifle his progress. It was wonderful that Shippo could advance in his magic at a kitsune school. Secretly, she felt somewhat guilty about the subject. She hadn't been able to witness his growth for three years after being stuck in the future.

Steeling herself and deciding to support him, Kagome downed the foul-tasting concoction. Coughing and blinking away thick tears that stung her lashes, her tongue roved around in her mouth as though trying to escape the taste of sour candy mixed with spices and mint leaves. What an odd combination. Shaking herself and noticing Shippo watching her worriedly, blue eyes widened as a faint shade of grey coiled and moved around the outline of his body like a shining aura.

"I-I think I see it?" Kagome gasped, reaching out and trying to touch the thing, though it had no solid form.

"Really?" Shippo lit up, the colour immediately becoming a tentative yellow, which only shone brighter into a canary hue when she nodded.

Giving a happy cheer, Shippo asked her about any side effects, which were none as far as she could tell.

They then decided to walk around Kaede's village together, Kagome noting any people they passed by and the colour of their current emotions. Shippo hurriedly took notes.

"There's Miroku meditating-" Kagome pointed to the quiet meadow they passed where the monk sat calmly, having gained two pupils to teach. Monks in training. Inuyasha had voiced his doubts that it would last long once the monks witnessed Miroku's less than savoury habits.

"His aura thingy is lavender and seems controlled," she observed in a hushed tone.

The little kitsune made a noise of affirmation, writing that down on a trailing scroll. "I think purple must be linked with spirituality then? This is great info!"

Giggling, she nodded, noticing how faint the pupil's auras were. She wondered if her own focus on spirituality would be strong or weak.

Moving on, noticed Sango outside her hut, who seemed absorbed in rocking her infant son while he dozed. Her twins were playing with some spinning tops that Shippo had given them.

"What do ya see, Kagome?" he tugged at her pant leg.

She hummed, gaze gentling. "Sango is radiating a kind of baby pink glow. The twins are like yours earlier- yellow and excited."

"So I guess love is pink," Shippo nodded.

Noticing something, Kagome waved a hand slightly. "Hold on-"

"Hm?"

Kaede and Rin were walking towards them, engaged in conversation. The little girl chirped on about something or other, while Kaede nodded indulgently.

"Kaede and Rin have pink auras too, but it's different. It's a pale pink, more like a pearl."

Shippo tapped his small chin with a pen Kagome had lent him. "Hmm…"

"I guess it makes sense since there are different types of love, don't you think?" gently prodding him, she smiled.

"Oh! So like they're feeling something kinda similar to Sango, but different."

"Right," Kagome grinned wider, proud of him. "Familial love for Sango, and platonic, friendly love for Kaede and Rin."

The old miko and her charge stopped to greet them on the path. "What are ye both up to today?" Kaede's single eye slid down to the scroll questioningly.

Kagome waved it off. "Just some schooling."

"Yeah, but it's fun! We're testing magic!"

Rin gaped at Shippo, aura turning green. "Aww, can I help them?" she turned to Kaede with a pout, clasping both hands and making big brown eyes even wider.

"Ye have your own training to attend to, Rin. Come along," the old woman kept walking with a dusty chuckle.

Whining good-naturedly with a now agitated orange glow about her, Rin trudged after her guardian, giving a despondent farewell to Shippo.

At that moment, foul cursing filled the air. The loud, booming swear caused nesting birds to take flight from their trees near the village.

The miko and kit shared a dry look.

"Inuyasha," they sighed in unison.

Needless to say, their former travelling companion's emotions glowed a vibrant red- outshining even the robe of the fire rat. He held his sore thumb, having accidentally hammered it while fixing a neighbour's chicken coop. Kagome wisely hid her laughter, feeling a plume of affection for him, since he'd taken it upon himself to help a neighbour.

I wonder what colour surrounds me when I look at Inuyasha, she wondered, fishing out a small mirror. Unfortunately, she couldn't see the colour. Though they'd broken up after a couple of weeks of dating, that candle of first love between them wouldn't be snuffed out completely. Since she couldn't coax that flame any higher than a tiny, nostalgic flame, she wagered it to be a kind of pastel pink colour.

After a few hours, Shippo looked down at the list of emotions they'd observed. "I think I got most of em' for now. We did great today, Kagome! Thanks so much!"

She giggled and ruffled his hair. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. I need to collect some herbs now, so if I see some new ones while I'm out, I'll let you know," Kagome grinned, leaning a basket against her hip. "I'll be able to see these emotions for a few more days, so no sense in turning in your test results early."

Shippo gave her a brief hug, before racing off to go organise his notes. Beaming with pride, Kagome walked out of the village and up a hill towards Inuyasha Forest with a small skip in her step. She'd helped! And luckily there'd been no side effects or worries of any kind.

Maybe I should help him out more often, she mused, noticing a certain Daiyoukai step out from beneath the shade of trees, powder blue shifting around his aura calmly. Smiling amiably, Kagome lifted a hand in greeting as their gazes met- before freezing.

Sesshoumaru's expression didn't change from its usual combo of placid, haughty and stoic. However, the energy surrounding him immediately dyed a deep, vibrant colour.

Kagome's breath hitched, eyes widening.

It plunged into a bold magenta hue, becoming a solid outline that coiled and thrummed.

She did not understand what it meant, but that she could elicit a change in emotion from him at all felt startling.

He stared at her, unblinking. As he drew closer and closer, Kagome tried to make sense of what he could be feeling, but his guarded eyes refused to risk any secrets being revealed.

"Miko," he acknowledged in his usual crisp, silky baritone. His way of a greeting.

"Sesshoumaru," she said, muscles tensing as he passed by, the silk of his billowing sleeve brushing the hypersensitive skin of her arm. Kagome blinked rapidly, reeling.

Shifting to watch him leave surreptitiously, she watched the magenta remain long after they'd parted ways, spying him duck into Kaede's hut to pay Rin a visit.

What the heck was that about?

Maybe it wasn't anything worth noting. Surely, just like anyone else, the Daiyouki had various emotions linked to things. People elicited different feelings from him; that was perfectly normal. But his mood had changed so swiftly upon seeing her that Kagome couldn't help but feel curious. What did magenta mean? Had she offended him? Did he always feel that specific emotion around her, or was it a one-off?

Turning on her heel, Kagome dismissed her task of fetching herbs in favour of seeking Shippo out again.

---

"What does magenta mean to you?"

"To me?"

Kagome nodded seriously.

Thinking for a moment, Shippo hummed and nommed on a lollipop, leaning back on the log he'd perched upon outside. "I dunno, it's a pretty colour but not a favourite. Can't get much use outta it with my crayons."

"No, I mean like - surely there has to be some demon opinion of magenta? Is it associated with a powerful emotion or something?"

Shippo shook his head, consulting the forgotten scroll. "My guess is- since purple is spiritual stuff, Sesshoumaru feels uh...like you remind him of holy things?"

Huffing out a sigh, she flopped down beside him, placing her chin in her hands. "Doubt that. He didn't seem calm," she mumbled, remembering the vivid intensity of his unblinking stare. "Hm, maybe since red- which is anger- and darker blue- which is sadness- has to mix to make the right shade of magenta, that means Sesshoumaru is both angry and sad when he looks at me." Kagome's stomach dropped. "Oh God, do I make him smad?"

Shippo snorted and tossed his lollipop aside to shake her arm, noticing the dazed look of worry glazing her eyes. "You don't make him smad."

Kagome remained unconvinced. The kit groaned, hopping up and grabbing her hand. "You don't! I'm sure it was just a coincidence he was feeling magenta around you. Let's go see!"

The miko stumbled after the exuberant fox, not fully realising where he intended to go until it clicked they were heading toward Kaede's hut. Kagome's heels abruptly dug into the earth, dragging. "Shippo!" she hissed. "He's visiting Rin- I don't want to interrupt."

"You won't be, it looks like they're saying goodbye already."

Blue eyes widened and her attention snapped up from the fox to land on some distant figures up ahead. Even from far away, Kagome could see the pearl pink aura coiling around Sesshoumaru as he lay a gentle hand upon Rin's head of brown hair. The girl beamed, giving off her own warm shine.

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, heedless of her own approach now. She realized then just how personal and vulnerable the emotion spell could be- how rare and revealing it was to witness Sesshoumaru experiencing such a wholesome bond, free from violence. Enemies could potentially use it on each other to find out secret information easily.

The Daiyoukai seemed to inhale- abruptly stiffening and lifting his hand away from Rin as claws twitched, curling into his palm. Kagome witnessed the moment his aura bled darker, slipping from innocent pink into the strong shade of magenta- just as he turned his head in their direction. Golden eyes pinned her in place. Sesshoumaru seemed to grow tense and watchful, showing none of his previous warmth.

Shippo paused when they weren't too far away, glancing up and noticing Kagome's pale expression. "Uh... has it happened again?"

"It's even worse than before," Kagome whispered.

"Kagome, Shippo!" Rin called over to them, waving. "Are you still playing with magic?"

This seemed to catch Sesshoumaru's attention, ripping his heavy gaze away to land on his ward. "Magic?"

"Mhm! They're doing some kitsune homework with a spell," she smiled, seeming to gain a devious expression and hurrying over to grab Kagome's freehand, pulling her the rest of the way towards her lord. "Kagome! You should take a quick break and sit with Lord Sesshoumaru. Share some tea together!"

Horror churned fierce and fast through Kagome's system. She didn't want to make him uncomfortable, and prolonged exposure to her would no doubt suck for him if magenta was an irritated colour.

"That is unnecessary, Rin," Sesshoumaru uttered, confirming Kagome's suspicions. She winced a little anyway, wondering why it stung. "This one was just passing through, I will leave now."

Making a noise of complaint, the girl's grip tightened. "Well then, she should accompany you! W-we need medicinal herbs and you didn't gather any earlier, did you Kagome?"

She willed the earth to swallow her whole. "N-no…"

"Then it's decided! She can walk you to the forest since she's heading that way." Rin poked and prodded them to get moving. In all the confusion, Shippo slipped away to make some notes, giving Kagome a thumbs up- which she returned with a death glare.

Wondering what had come over Rin but being trapped by politeness to refuse, Kagome grimly started walking alongside Sesshoumaru, picking up a basket from Kaede's hut.

I shouldn't feel guilty or weird around him, she thought, trying to ease her worry. If he's getting bent out of shape just from seeing me, that's his problem. I'm pretty confident I haven't insulted him recently.

Kagome nodded silently to herself, endeavouring not to let Sesshoumaru's secret magenta emotion matter so much-

"You appear well."

Jumping, Kagome whipped her head up to the regal demon. "Huh?" she blinked, heat touching her cheeks. "Oh! Thanks!" the magenta outline grew bolder, much to her chagrin. "You look nice too. Aha-! I mean not nice- well, you look handsome- but in a good health way! Not a 'compliment on your looks' way. That's totally what I meant. "

Open mouth, insert foot.

His aura only seemed to fluctuate more, and Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. Kagome inwardly groaned. No doubt he hated her even more now!

She decided an attempt to smooth over everything was in order. "Sesshoumaru," she said, taking a breath. "I know we might not be what you'd consider close, but I'd be totally fine with talking about anything that might be bothering you. Even allies can talk about that stuff."

Sesshoumaru blinked languidly, looking as though she'd blurted out a foreign language. He then faced forward, features becoming tightly controlled. "Nothing unsettles me, miko. It is a foolish, human sentiment that I should be 'bothered' by anything."

Kagome rolled her eyes, mouth twitching. Proud, stubborn guy. She didn't know why she found it kind of endearing.

"Why are you so certain I am troubled?"

Her steps faltered before she strode on, biting her bottom lip. "I have a knack for feeling out these things. A woman's intuition," she grinned, noticing his stare rove lower, south from her eyes.

"Hn," golden eyes lingered. Kagome wondered if she'd gotten something stuck in her teeth. "Your intuition is certainly lacking if you are only just noticing something amiss."

A victorious noise escaped her and she immediately swooped in on the slip-up. Sesshoumaru seemed to wince. "Aha! So something IS wrong!"

"Miko-"

"It's just that you've been dealing with it for such a long time that it's become almost normal to you. That about right?" she grinned.

Kagome took his moody silence as a 'yes.'

"I'm sorry I didn't pick up on it earlier. Shippo's um...spell...has made me extra sensitive to how others are feeling," she revealed a half-truth. "I just can't work out how you're feeling. Heh, you're mysterious even when I've got magic to help me understand you."

"You wish to understand me?"

"Well, yes? You're our ally. As established; I'd like to be your friend too."

"I see."

"Sooo...?" Kagome hedged as they arrived at the border of the trees. The Daiyoukai stopped and turned to her once they were beneath the branches, having stepped under cool shade. Kagome quieted, wondering at the assessing, guarded look he pinned her with. Why should the mighty Lord Sesshoumaru guard himself against her of all people?

Pale lips quirked, and he hummed, giving a haughty, arrogant smirk. "Figure it out yourself."

Her mouth fell open. Ire immediately simmered real and hot beneath her skin. "That's not helpful, Sesshoumaru! The whole point of having friends is to share stuff! You can't expect people to know how you're feeling without you telling them, I'm not a mind reader."

He moved in slightly closer then, leaning down. Kagome swallowed but tensed her legs to keep from bending back, holding her ground and straightening her spine. It proved difficult. Sesshoumaru's cold features had a way of unnerving even the most hardened warriors. It was the lack of empathy or emotion in his animalistic gaze; the terrifying sense that something was missing; humanity.

But...

Kagome's eyes strayed to the magenta aura that only blazed thicker and larger, practically drowning her. The spell revealed, albeit without his consent; that Sesshoumaru was a man of feeling. In fact, whatever emotion plagued him, it roared stronger than any other persons she'd seen that day. Besides all that, she'd witnessed his care of others before. Been on the receiving end of it when he'd saved her a few times.

In the shade's hush, he tipped his head slightly, silver hair falling free from behind a pointed ear. "I am not a being that 'tells' other's information freely. Demons can glean enough from my body language, scent and actions enough to understand my feelings."

"And I appreciate that," Kagome said in a softer tone. "But I'm not a demon."

"Rin-"

"Is a child who has spent a lot of one-on-one time with you. I'd also wager that while she understands a lot of your intentions...she doesn't always understand you either."

Sesshoumaru begrudged her point, though seemed ever unwilling to let his mask slip to reveal anything.

Searching his gaze, she wet her dry lips. "What does the colour magenta mean to you?"

His aura flared, and Sesshoumaru surprised her by leaning back and stepping away. His features became a mix of things, the colours changing for the first time around him- grey, yellow, black, fluctuating on magenta and orange before settling on a particular shade of red that made her squeak.

No way- is he embarrassed?

"Why ask that?" he asked in a removed, steady tone. If she focused though, Kagome could pick up on the faint slip in his voice.

Kagome for once couldn't answer, heart hammering in her ribcage. She wasn't sure what to interpret from his reaction, but the colour obviously meant something to him. Shaking her head, Kagome waved it off.

"Never mind. I'll take your advice and work it out for myself."

He blinked and arched a brow, seeming to recover from his surprise. "Oh?"

Kagome made a noise of affirmation, turning on her heel and taking a few steps away. Pausing, she flashed him a smile over her shoulder. "And if I guess correctly, you agree to start telling me the important stuff. Deal?"

Sesshoumaru's face flashed with intrigue. Slowly, thin lips curved. His expression transformed into something quietly eager, the colour aura deepening into blazing magenta once more.

"Hn."

---

After asking near everyone she could think of for their input or ideas, Kagome ran into a brick wall, utterly stumped. That was- until she heard a certain irritatingly high, grating voice.

"But WHERE did Lord Sesshoumaru go?"

"I don't know, he said he was just passing through."

Jaken.

If anyone had insight into Sesshoumaru, it would be the little green imp. Kagome hurried in the direction of the helium sounding voice.

Finding Rin and Jaken by the village well, and struggling to pull a bucketful up together- Kagome quickly lent a hand, hefting the bucket up onto the side. The little girl grinned and thanked her, while Kagome crouched before Jaken, causing him to squeak.

"W-what is it? What do you want?!"

"I need to talk to you," Kagome said seriously. Resting her hands over her knees and leaning forward intently. "Magenta. Tell me your thoughts on that colour."

Bulbous yellow eyes widened. "Hah? Have you lost your senses, strange girl?"

Rin pouted and lifted the heavy bucket down, spilling some water. "Just do it, Master Jaken. If Kagome is asking, it must be important."

Kagome smiled a little, before schooling her features back into complete seriousness.

The imp sighed and squinted, before thinking for a moment. "Hmm, well. I would of course associate it with the most illustrious Lord Sesshoumaru!"

"H-huh? Why?"

"His cheek and wrist stripes are that exact shade! Don't you pay attention to anything?"

Kagome realised he was entirely correct. They matched up perfectly. Excitement built in her chest, feeling like she was FINALLY getting somewhere with the big mystery. "So it's linked with him… I see. What do you think the colour represents?"

"Haven't the faintest idea," he tilted his head back with a haughty sniff. "But since they adorn Lord Sesshoumaru, I can only conclude that it must be a royal, prideful colour."

Her elation fizzled out. Kagome wilted, sighing and standing once more. That didn't fit at all. No way would Sesshoumaru feel pride while looking at her.

Stepping away with the dismal thought that she was back at square one, she paused upon noticing a tugging on her sleeve. Rin clutched the trailing end of it, looking up at her in quiet earnest. She bit her lip and seemed to struggle with something. "I-I'm sure the answer is there if you just try asking more questions, Kagome."

The miko softened and petted her wild hair, smoothing the locks back from her face. "You really think so, kiddo? Because I'm kind of stumped right now."

"Mhm! I don't know what homework you're helping Shippo with, but if its causing you to take an interest in Lord Sesshoumaru, I encourage you to dig deeper!"

Kagome wasn't sure why she felt so strongly about the subject, her smile becoming a little confused. Nonetheless, she decided to take the advice and try again.

The right question…

Grabbing the back of Jaken's robes and tugging him back before he could walk off, Kagome knelt down. She decided to shift her focus. "Those markings on Sesshoumaru's face and wrists- I was wondering if they mean anything."

"Bah! Such things have a multitude of uses! Ahem!" he lifted up a tiny green claw. "Firstly, they are to show that he is poisonous."

Kagome stifled a giggle behind her hand, smiling with her eyes at Rin. "So he's like a flower."

"No! Nothing like a flower! He is deadly!"

"Poisonous flowers exist- but never mind that," she waved off. "What else?"

"Second, the positioning of the markings represents various things. The ones on mi lord's cheeks represent superior jaws, the wrists and ankles represent superior strength in his arms and legs, while the hips represent that he will produce superior offspring."

Kagome turned steadily red, wondering how low those stripes hooked down his hips. She hadn't even known he possessed hip stripes and was now picturing him half-naked. Kagome quickly shook the fantasy away. Rin didn't seem to understand that last part but thankfully remained quiet.

Jaken continued on, bolstered by such a captive audience and happy to talk about his favourite subject. "Lastly, they are to catch the interest of a mate."

"They... are?"

The imp nodded with vigour. "If you were the slightest bit observant, you'd notice that the vibrancy of his markings has emboldened recently. This means he is displaying for a female."

She had noticed that, actually, but Kagome hadn't thought anything of it. She felt close to a conclusion then, so achingly near to the truth. Swallowing to moisten her suddenly dry mouth, Kagome soldiered on.

"I saw that the ones on his cheeks had become bolder. What about his crescent moon?"

Jaken waved a tiny hand, "the moon is just to show which clan he belongs to. In relation to your original question, it is the magenta markings that are paramount. They are intrinsically linked with all that I noted; intimidation signals and mating."

Kagome nodded, inwardly reeling. She mulled this over and thanked him for the valuable insight. Magenta obviously meant more to Sesshoumaru than she'd ever thought.

In light of Jaken's words, Kagome found herself having to observe a certain set of emotions. Since mating was on the list, she reluctantly wandered in search of a known pervert.

Sweat beaded on her forehead as she took Miroku to one side. After explaining the situation in a succinct manner, she took a breath.

"I need you to get horny for your wife."

Miroku stared. He then pushed back his sleeves, clearing his throat and righting his collar. "My time has come."

Kagome's eyes widened and she held up her hands, "wait- I'm not asking to be weird or anything. M-maybe I should explain more."

He lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, patting. "No further explanation necessary, Lady Kagome. If this is in service of deeper understanding between allies, I am more than happy to help. Observe."

Miroku breezily walked away, gravitating towards Sango who had set down their son, attention on the crawling toddler. Kagome groaned and buried her face in her hands- shifting some fingers aside to witness the moment Miroku's calm blue aura darkened.

For a moment, panic leapt down her windpipe as it deepened into purple, hovering over magenta- before the aura settled on a lush hot pink.

The sound of a slap sounded out, Sango moving away from Miroku's groping hand. "I've told you before; not in front of the children!" she hissed.

Her husband laughed airly, stroking his cheek and giving her a fond smile. Kagome's heart warmed slightly, witnessing the hot pink glow into a warm pinkish red.

I think that must be the colour of love.

This, unfortunately, didn't answer any of her questions.

The possible things Sesshoumaru could be feeling toward her made the miko's stomach twist into knots. She went over what to say in her head a dozen or so times- and then a dozen more. It was no easy feat to wait on pins and needles for the demons' return. Inevitably though, word of his return reached her a few days later.

---

Sesshoumaru had been spotted by the trees bordering Inuyasha Forest so she'd set off alone immediately.

Since the sun beat down mercilessly, Kagome was unsurprised to find him by water. Elevated temperatures were likely brutal on those who regularly wore armour- evidenced by the fact that she walked in on him very much without it. Sesshoumaru knelt by a river, eyes closed and hankimono parted- exposing a thin sliver of firm, pale muscle. His head slightly dipped forward, hair held over one shoulder as one hand cupped cool water and splashed it over the back of his neck. Droplets ran down the length of his throat to dip around his collarbone- some sliding down his back. Sesshoumaru massaged the base of his skull, before cupping more water and repeating the process, long fingers running over the back of his glistening neck.

Kagome stared. She'd suddenly never been so thirsty in her life.

His lashes fluttered open to glance at her. His continued silence prompted her to clear her throat and murmur; "I'm not sure if I've got it right."

"Explain."

Kagome felt a blush rise to her cheeks and panic erupted in her chest. She suddenly wasn't ready. She wasn't nearly as ready for this as she needed to be. Approaching the Daiyoukai dressed in a white tank top and dungarees had not been the plan but she'd impulsively sought him out without thinking about it.

His voice turned softer, almost coaxing. "What conclusion did you reach?"

Kagome bit her lip and felt the need to explain her process of elimination. "First off; I feel like I should be honest with you. I can see the colours of people's emotions around them due to a spell Shippo used on me. That's why I was asking about magenta. It's...it's the emotion you keep feeling whenever you see me- I just had no idea what it meant."

Golden eyes cracked a fraction wider, exposing the liquid honey swimming inside, glinting in the afternoon sunlight with interest.

"I asked Jaken about the colour since he has an insight into you more sound than other people. He told me that magenta was linked to your markings- which can represent intimidation signals and m-mating interest."

He arched a brow, something unnamed flickering over his expression. Kagome began pacing back and forth before him. "So! The first thing I did was follow Inuyasha into a fight. There was a weasel youkai bothering a farmer. I noticed Inuyasha's aura turned a brownish, orangey-red during the fight and concluded that was likely aggression! So I figured you weren't feeling defensive around me," she gave a nervous giggle. Why was the sun so damn bright? The humidity only elevated the spike of nerves pricking the back of her neck.

"Next came the... other thing," her voice dimmed and Kagome evaded eye contact. "I noticed Miroku feeling uh...frisky around his wife. His aura turned hot pink- so it wasn't magenta- not that I thought you could ever feel that way about...me," she babbled. "Hell, I've consulted Shippo's scroll a thousand times. I've run through all the emotions we could find and- gah! I couldn't find anything that explained magenta. I guess I failed in figuring out what's bothering you," her shoulders slumped in defeat.

"You went to all that trouble?"

Kagome lifted her gaze to his, loosely holding her arms. "Well, yeah. I kind of realised that I wasn't being fair to you the other day. You shouldn't be expected to verbalise your problems if you're not comfortable doing so. It's a different method than what I'm used to in order to communicate- but if you're happy doing that I won't push you to open up to me."

Since she'd failed to work out his problems, however, Kagome grimly figured there was no hope of them being friends. The thought somewhat bothered her. Sesshoumaru was a solid, assuring presence to have around. It would've been nice to have a deeper insight into the inner mechanisms of his cerebral mind.

Maybe priestesses and demons just can't understand each other.

A shadow fell over her, bathing Kagome in shade. She looked up, finding his curious, burning gaze bearing down on her.

As usual, magenta coiled and expanded around him. So large and encompassing.

Sesshoumaru tilted his head slightly. "Some actions do not require words in order to understand them."

Kagome could only blink, face heating as he hooked a finger beneath her chin and tilted it up- before her heart burst into overdrive in time with lips pressing against hers.

Her squeak came out muffled, hands scrambling uselessly and finding his shoulders, quickly lurching away from the firm muscle to hover uselessly in the air. Sesshoumaru grabbed one of her hands and forced it to his broad shoulder, holding it there as he explored her open mouth.

The miko reeled, dazed eyes picking up the shining magenta aura before her lashes slid shut. Kagome let out a breathy noise as his tongue slid over hers, reciprocating for a moment before her mind caught up with the situation and- WHAT THE HELL WAS SHE DOING?

Kagome's palm pushed against his broad shoulder, ripping her mouth away from his and panting. Sesshoumaru remained close, breath shuddering slightly, gaze hooded.

"That-" she started, having to lick her lips. "That requires MANY words, buster. So many words are needed to explain what the hell just happened."

The Daiyoukai managed to look put out, eyes turning flat. "It seems your ignorance requires a lack of subtlety, but I do not mind. If it is necessary to have you- I will adapt and explain myself."

"To... have me?" Kagome's breath hitched. Somehow magenta was all she could see- his cheek markings so bold and bright.

Sesshoumaru's jaw ticked, eyes squinting and attention shifting away as he seemed to gather his thoughts and construct them onto his tongue.

"Magenta is the colour of love to inuyoukai."

He said it so easily. After all that confusion and so much second-guessing, Kagome was almost angry with him. Almost. The rest of her brain was too focused on processing the unthinkable thing he'd just said and the implications behind it.

"But...your markings…" she croaked.

"Have little to do with it- though Jaken's explanation was not incorrect."

Kagome shook her head, searching his face. "I just...I'm struggling to understand h-how? I mean, you can't feel that way about me."

"Why not?"

"B-because!" she squeaked, cheeks blazing red. "Isn't love a bit of a leap? You barely know me."

Sesshoumaru huffed, placid features shifting to become slightly guarded. He didn't know when it had started happening for he was in the middle before he even knew he had begun, but more and more, he sought her opinions and company. She spoke well and intelligently after all- had destroyed Naraku and the jewel with such power and finesse that had made his instincts stir. "I know enough. This is not something recent. I have watched... and wondered for some time."

"Wondered... what?"

"If it was possible to bridge the gap between us. Perhaps it was foolish to think we could be compatible."

He had a point. Even a spell hadn't helped her understand him any easier. But when Sesshoumaru slowly stepped back, quiet disappointment simmering behind his blank mask yet clear in his eyes- something like panic possessed her. Kagome grabbed his sleeve, blushing harder.

She wasn't sure why alarm had shot through her- but the idea of losing their soft, hopeful flickering flame before they'd even coaxed it brighter to see what heights it could reach felt like something she'd regret forever if she let him go.

Kagome stepped closer. "Not foolish. This is just really unexpected for me."

Golden eyes roved over her face questioningly.

"The colour of love is different for humans, so it never even crossed my mind that THAT was what you've been struggling with. Jaken mentioned you were displaying for a female but- wow," she murmured, gentling. "Thank you... for telling me. No one's ever said that to me before."

Sesshoumaru's expression warmed, just a touch. He inclined his head slightly and Kagome felt an odd flutter in her belly.

"I'm not in the same place as you emotionally but- if- if you'd want to try this human thing called 'dating' we could give it a shot and get to know each other better."

"Hn," Sesshoumaru gave her a considering look, and she almost thought he might decline before the ghost of a smile tilted up his lips. "What is 'dating?'"

Kagome's face burst into a grin, and she took his clawed hand. "You're gonna love it. It involves a lot of talking."

He gave a mock groan, aura glowing brighter.

Naturally, Shippo passed his test with flying colours. His sensei was particularly impressed by his observation of both human and inuyoukai emotions in particular.

He decided to use the spell on himself several months later, laughing and chasing Rin around the village, happy to see the yellow aura dancing around her. Something of note he noticed when rushing by was a certain miko and demon lord practising archery together in a field. As Kagome corrected his large stance, hand guiding his elbow down slightly as he aimed, the warm colours of pinkish red and magenta entwined, lacing like long, seeking fingers gently interlocking.

End

[bootyyy-shaker9000]

Helping Hand

Characters: Rise! Mikey x Gender-neutral! Reader, (appearance) Donnie.

Content + Warnings: Romantic, Humour (an innuendo if you squint), Fluff, 944 words.

MASTERLIST

“So, what happened again?” Donnie questioned, not-so-subtly snooping through your displayed bookshelf.

The genius had been urged by Mikey to come and inspect you once the boy first heard the news of your accident. Though his attention seemed to be drawn literally anywhere else other than your injury. Not for any spiteful reason, he just took a particular interest to your room.

You watched him as you laid sprawled out on your bed, cradling one of your arms to your chest like you would with an infant. “A randomer at school opened a door on me, like, BLAM! Directly onto my wrist. Hurts like hell.”

The orange banded turtle perched beside you, his brows screwed together in worry. “But you’ll be okay, right? There’s nothing really broken, is there?”

You lifted your casted arm, elbow first, giving it a slight wiggle in the air. With an unpleasant frown, you dropped it back down onto your chest with a small ‘flop’.

“It was close, but they said it was only a greenstick fracture, so it’s nothing to worry too much about. I’ve just gotta lay off of the push-ups for a while.” You sent a lopsided grin to your friend, hoping to ease his nerves a little.

Across the room, you received a murmured, “Push-ups, my ass.”

“I’m sorry, what was that, Othello?”

“Pu-precisely!” Donnie’s head whipped around in mocking surprise, then turned his gaze down to his brother. “It’s alright, Mikey. Give it seven or eight weeks, and they’ll be spick and span in no time. Now come on, we better give Y/N their space.”

You pouted at the sudden proposal. “Wha- no, don’t go! What fun am I gonna have on my own if I can’t use my dominant hand?”

“No one needs an incite on what you do in your private time, Y/N.”

“I meant if I wanted to read a book, jackass.”

“Why don’t you just watch a movie?” Donnie argued.

“Pft. What if I wanna eat?”

“Water will be your new best friend.”

“You have an answer for everything, don’t you?”

“Why yes, yes I do-”

“I’ll stay!” Mikey interjected your quarrel enthusiastically, “I can paint your nails or something and help you pick out a movie if you’d like?”

Then he gave you a smile that seemed so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through you.

“That’d be great.” You replied, reflecting his grin. “Thanks, man.”

Mikey flashed a pleading pout over to Donnie in hopes he’d leave him to it, knowing full well that his brother couldn’t say no to him in this state.

The elder brother gave a roll of his eyes before releasing a defeated sigh. “Sure, just text us when you’re on your way back.”

Thus, he said his farewells and made his exit through your bedroom window with ease, leaving you with the youngest turtle of the bunch.

Giddily, he clapped his hands together. “So where do you keep your nail polish?”

Moments had passed since you gave Mikey permission to rifle through your draws of necessities, eventually finding what he desired. He had you propped up against your bed’s headboard, pillows supporting your back while he settled himself in front of you cross-legged.

You watched as Mikey held your hand ever so delicately in his lap, a content smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he glided the small brush over your nails.

You contemplated asking whether or not this was his first attempt at doing this sort of thing, but considering how well he had finished the job you decided against it.

“I like your hands.” Breaking the silence that had gone unnoticed by you - from being so entranced by the subtle contact he was giving you - Mikey kept his regard on your now drying nail beds.

You kept your mouth agape as a warmth rose up your neck, waiting to see if he was going to continue. When it was clear he wasn’t, you shot back, “Why? They’re completely average.”

“That’s the point.” He fiddled with the middle and index finger of your 'good’ hand, flicking his thumb over the smaller knuckles once or twice. “They’re boney, but really soft and squishy at the same time. Kind of like a cushioned chair.”

You snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”

Gosh, you were struggling to ignore the quivering in your breath at every light touch he’d make on your palm. But the sensations from the gentle contact were too great to reject.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” Your reply came across dazed, but Mikey didn’t seem to take notice of it.

“Do you- um.” While he paused his speech, he brought another hand over so his two were holding your own. He didn’t look you in the eye once, instead only watched himself ghost his thumbs over your dorsal. “Could we hang out like this a bit more? Like, with the whole holding thing and uh- ye-yeah.”

While you attempted to piece together an answer, Mikey gaped up at you, eyes bright and uncertain.

“A-am I making you uncomfortable? I’m sorr-” He made way to release his hold on you and inch away but you were quick to react.

“Mikey.” You ceased his worries by setting your hand on the rounded edge of his jaw, your painted thumb caressing his lower cheek in the process.

His eyes were practically forced to meet yours, currently dilated and wide. Primarily from flustered curiosity as the proximity between you both had become seemingly intimate.

“I’d really like to hang out like this a lot more.” Your mouth curved into a smile.

“You promise?”

“The pinkiest.”