#i got a bit carried away with this fic. it is like 6000 words | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pinkipeachiikeen · 2 years

Text

Galaxy Boy (Yamaguchi x Fem!Reader)

Hurt/comfort oneshot

Word count: 6230

Summary: Yamaguchi overhears Y/n talking about how much she hates her *‘freckles’ so Yamaguchi wants her to give him a makeover- but gets a whole lot more than he bargained for

childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, anxious yams, lots of fluff

Authors Note: I really went all out in this fic- a lot more than expected. I just relate to Yamaguchi a lot anxiety wise which took this fic from a cute little scenerio type thing to a whole 6000+ story and honestly? I’m not ashamed. I hope this can provide some comfort to others that suffer with anxiety as well

Also even though it says reader has freckles- reader is not of specific race and their was no skin tone set in mind and does not have to have freckles

Content warnings: VERY anxious Yams. and VERY brief mentions of self harm? (Yams mentions picking freckles off)

Likes, reblogs and comments are much apprecited! Tell me what you liked in the story! How it made you feel! Every comment and such is motivation for me to write more

“I look DISEASED!”

“Girl, you look fine.”

“Do you not see them! I’m hideous!

“Y/n, it’s not even that bad! Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic!” she claims as she slams her locker, causing a metallic ring through the deserted hallway, making both her and the boy peeking around the corner flinch. “Okay, Maybe I was being the slightest bit dramatic.” The girl admits, fidgeting with her fingers as she looks away sheepishly. God she’s so cute. Yamaguchi sighs. And so out of my league. The said object of the boy's affection turns her head around to almost catch his eye, but he dives behind the corner at lightning speed, holding his breath. “What are you looking at?” Her friend asks. “Nothing, I just thought I heard something.”

Yamaguchi can feel his heart almost beating out of his chest. What am I even doing here? He was just walking back from the bathroom and he heard his friend's voice and wanted to say hi, but didn’t wanna interrupt the conversation she was having. So naturally, he ends up hiding because talking to the other sex is scary, even if it’s just Y/N, someone he’s known for ages.

And someone who had a crush on them for almost as long.

Yamaguchi never meant to fall for her, it just kind of happened, like most cases of young love. Y/n is just so- How can Yamaguchi even explain it? She’s just so ethereal to him. Like a fairy, brightening up everyone's world, and pulling them out of their dark, dim shell. She speaks her mind and stands her ground, something that is so foriegn to him, theat he tends to forget she struggles with her own troubles from time to time as well. Yamaguchi finds himself feeling lucky he got to see her become much more outgoing and comfortable in her skin over the years, but almost gets whiplash from seeing her stumble on her words and hide behind her hair with him, then biting back with playful- but harsh- jabs with Tsukishima.

He remembers the day he met her almost like it was yesterday. Back then he had no idea that she’d change his life forever, he just liked her drawing of her pet dog. She’d always been an artist, and he remembers watching her trying out different mediums every week. She’d show up to school with her bag stuffed to the brim with different pencils, markers and even paints. She had to learn to carry all her supplies in a separate bag after one tube burst open all over the contents of her bag. After that she had bags on bags on bags filled with all the materials she planned to use throughout the day and they only got more complex over the years. Yamaguchi recalls the day she ran into their shared classroom and announced that your new canvas of choice would be skin, as she wanted to experiment with makeup. Soon after the bags of art supplies dwindled down to her makeup case and bag of moisturizer she used and tried to convince him and Tsuhishima to invest in, which had little avail. Much like the times where she’d ask him and Tsukishima to pose as models in her pieces, she would ask them to be the models or ‘test subjects' for her makeup looks. Well not exactly. She never asks Yamaguchi to model.

He has to pretend that doesn’t hurt each time.

Yamaguchi shakes his head, banishing those thoughts away from his mind, once again. He doesn’t need that right now. “I’m serious though!” Her voice draws him back to reality, and back to the conversation. How does she look diseased? He asks himself. He thinks she’s the most gorgeous being alive, but he’s just a bit biased.

“Anyway, I stay in the sun too long ONCE and get all these freaking blemishes on my face. Once!” She complains, pointing to her face. Wait- is she pointing at- Her friend shakes her head. “It’s not even that bad! Can’t you use a cream or something to get rid of them?” Y/n shakes her head. “I tried everything! At this point i’m considering picking them off.” What?! Her friend sighs. “You really are dumber than I thought. How would you get to practice makeup with big old gashes on your skin? And you know they would probably just come back.” her friend reasons. Y/n flutters her lips as she adjusts her bag. “Yeah, I know. I'm just tired of looking at them And using so much makeup to cover them up all the damn time. I’m almost out of concealer. Again.” Y/n said something else as her and her friend walked back to their classroom, but they were too far out of earshot at that point and Yamaguchi couldn’t seem to care. His heart was plagued with her words.

“Diseased.”

“Hideous.”

Yamaguchi felt sick. The only thing on her face that was even relatively new that she could be talking about was her freckles. Like the ones completely decorating his face. Y/N never had freckles growing up, but she did always complain about having sensitive skin and could’ve easily gotten them from the sun like she mentioned earlier. Her words keep running through his head with no end in sight. She’d rather harm herself than have freckles? Harm herself in stead of looking like me? He’s aware that she was probably being dramatic, but logic has no place in the mind of an anxious teen. If she thinks that way about herself and her few freckles, what does she think of me? Yamaguchi takes a deep breath in and adjusts his clothing that was wrinkled against the lockers. He knows what he has to do.

“What are you even talking about?” Tsukkisima asks, while adjusting his headphones. “Whatever, it’s nothing,” Yamaguchi sighs and fiddles with the pencil in his hand. “What’s the answer to number six?” Tsukishima grasps Yamaguchi’s twiddling pencil. “Stop that shit. What’s up?” Yamaguchi bites his lip and mutters something incomprehensible. “Huh? Speak up.” “Why doesn’t Y/n ask me to model for her!?” Yamaguchi shouts, bursting out of his seat and slamming his hands down on the table garnering stares from everyone else in the library. Tsukishima’s eyes widen at his friend's outburst as Yamaguchi’s flushed face only gets redder. “Sorry.” he apologizes, settling back down in his chair.. “You really wanna be Y/ns test subject?” Tsukishima side eyes Yamaguchi. “Well I- uh- I mean.” he bites his lip. “I don’t necessarily not want to…y’know.” Yamaguchi tries to avoid Tsukishima's annoyed gaze. “It would be nice to be thought of?” Yamaguchi states trying to convince Tsukishima that any normal friend would want to be a makeup ‘test subject’, regardless of any romantic feelings involved.

“Dude.”

“Yes?”

“You’re freaking whipped. It’s pathetic.”

Damn, so much for that attempt. “I’m not…” Yamaguchi meets Tsukishima's gaze, already calling his bluff. “Okay maybe a little bit. But is that so bad?” Yamaguchi signs and clunks his head to the table. “ This shit has been going on for way too long. I’m starting to believe it’s a fucking kink or something since no one would actively draw this awkward pining shit out.” Yamaguchi rolls his eyes. It’s not like he would understand. He likes to bat off any and all feelings with a 5 foot pole. “I didn’t consent to observe this over the past.. .” He numbers off his fingers. “How long has it been? Four years?” Yamaguchi mutters something into the table. “Were you talking to the table or?” Tsukishima questions. “I said,'' Yamaguchi picks his head up so his chin rests on his folded arms “five years.” A moment of silence passes. “Five fucking years? Do you not realize that means you spent a whole third of your life simping over this girl. A third! Can you imagine what you could’ve done with all that emotional turmoil instead?” “Do you not think I ask myself that question everyday?” Yamaguchi snaps, as Tsukishima's eyes widen. Yamaguchi exhales. Calm down, Tadashi. He’s just trying to help. Yamguchi rubs his eyes trying to cast away the exhaustion creepy in. Whether it be physical or emotional, he couldn’t tell. “Look, i’m trying to work on it, ok?”

“Work on what?”

Yamaguchi swears he jumped at least a foot in his seat and his heart stopped beating, every ounce of fatigue is zapped out of him with Y/n’s subtle and friendly shoulder touch. Yamaguchi didn’t necessarily hate her touch, not in the slightest, even though her hand recoiled after his full body reaction to it, assuming he did. He loves the subtle touches she gives to her friends, even if they make him panic internally- whether he and Tsukishima were talking about her before then or not.

“I’m sorry!” She apologized. “ I didn’t mean to startle you!”

“It’s fine!” He breathed, clutching his chest and heaving. “I’m fine!”

He was not fine but he quickly gathered his senses anyway to come up with a cover story because ‘Oh we were talking about my everlasting and undeniable love and attraction for you and how it’s crippling me inside! Nothing important! Just boy things.’ isn’t something Yamaguchi just felt fine confessing; that was the root of the problem after all.

“Tsukki here,” Yamaguchi starts, pointing a friendly thumb to the visibly annoyed Tsukishima “won’t stop teasing me about my English homework, and I was telling him to buzz off about it.” he gives a little chuckle and wonders if he’s visibly sweating. Y/n furrows her eyebrows, finding it hard to believe that he told anyone to buzz off at all, and even more hard to believe that he said that to Tsukishima, the salt king himself. She recalled a time where he offered to tutor her in the same subject he’s now struggling in when she fell behind after a few sick days, but she doesn’t press the matter and moves on with an awkward ‘Okaaaay?'' She turns to Tsukishima. “So Tsukishima!”- “No, I'm not gonna be your test subject. You could never pay me enough.” Tsukishima interrupts. “Damn.” she sighs. “Worth a shot!” Then Tsukishima does something so traitorous it may startle the very foundation of their extensive, and once unbreakable friendship.

“Ask Yamaguchi, he’d love to be your dress-up dolly for the night.”

Yamaguchi pales Tsukishima Kei what the hell are you doing?!?! He casts the traitor a wide eyed look and attemps to kick him in the shin, but misses and kicks the table leg. Y/n takes note of poor Yamaguchi’s immense panic (and now, pain) and quickly retorts in what she believes to be his defense. “Tsuki, don’t sign him up for things like that, it’s mean!”

Wait.

Does she not think I'm good enough?

Is it because of my freckles?

Say something, you freak!

So in a moment of immense self-pressure, he states, albeit a bit too loud (once again),

“I- I can do it!”

All three of their eyes widen in disbelief. Tsukishimas in astonishment and a bit of pride for Yamaguchi finally doing something, anything to advance his relationship and end the horrid pining, Yamaguchi in fear and surprise of his own actions and the repercussions of them and Y/n in something Yamaguchi can’t yet decipher.

“What?” Y/n asks. “Um- I- Uh..” Yamaguchi gathers himself, clears his throat and sits up straight, almost regretting when he meets Y/n’s eyes. “I can help you with your makeup- as a m-model of course.” He specifies. Y/n’s eyes widen and he mouth hangs agape. “You really don’t have to!” she blurts. Yamaguchi’s heart sinks. Of course. Why would she me to model of all people. Theres as reason she hasn’t asked you, idiot. “Not because I wouldn’t want you to!” she corrects after seeing him deflate in his seat. “I- I just don’t want you to feel pressured into doing something you don’t want to! Thats- uh- that’s why I haven’t asked you before because you are always so nice and helpful! And I- I didn’t want you to feel pressured to do anything you didn’t want to for my sake!” she clarifies with her hand fiddling with the bottom of her uniform. “Then why do you ask me all the time?” Tsukishima chimes in. Y/n’s head and personality does a 180 as she whips her head to face him. “Beacause, you are an asshole and it’s fun to annoy you, duh.” She states like it’s obvious before she turns back to Yamaguchi. “I would love to have you as my model, if you would have me of course.” Yamaguchi gulps and nods his head, trying to ignore what other meanings ‘if you would have me’ could have out of context. Damn, Tsukki was right. I am whipped. “Yay!” she says with a little hand clap. “I’m so excited! Text me when you can come over! I’m free most days!” Wait. Shit. Shit, shit shit! Yamaguchi, in all his newfound confidence (and pressure from his best friend) forgot that he most likely would be modeling at a house. Probably hers and most likely alone. What the hell did I get myself into?

Yamaguchi never thought a door would be so intimidating. Just knock! He tells himself. It’s not hard! He gulps. Welp. Here goes everything, I guess. He slowly raises his shaking fist to the door, just for it to swing open and make Yamaguchi jump in the air like a scared cat from a cartoon. “Hey Yams! Come on in!” She ushers, not noticing, or caring about his skittish reaction as she grabs his hand and takes him to her room.

Before he has time to really panic that ‘y/n is holding my hand, oh my freaking god! What if it’s gross? What if im sweaty? Whatifwhatifwhatif-’ He’s already in her room- which bring in a whole new set of worries. Holy shit I'm in a girls room. Holt shit. I’m in Y/N’s room. I”M IN Y/N’s ROOM. It’s not like he hasn’t been in her room before. As kids, the trio of Tsukishima, Y/n and Yamaguchi, would fight over the correct names of dinosaurs and who got to be the pterodactyl when playing with Tsukishima’s toy dinos between these four walls. The four walls, which now were painted and decorated with anime posters and pictures of her favorite idols along with some of her most treasured art works you made over the years instead of the many, many, many scribbles from half baked drawings in crayon and marker that she hid from her parents with the pictures she drew in class. He remembers you bursting into class one day a few years ago, excited to tell them that even though her parents knew of the childish scribbles you made on the wall in bouts of ‘artistic genius’ they offered to help you redecorate and paint over it .

It makes him realize how long it has been since you really spent time together.

Has it really been that long?

How far has he really drifted from you?

“Earth to Yamaguchi?” Yamaguchi snaps his head to Y/n’s voice. Shit. How long has she been talking? “There you are!” she giggles. “Oh, i’m sorry!” he apologizes as he rubs the back of his neck. “ I just got distracted by…yknow,” he gestures to the ‘new’ redecortaed room. “All of this. It’s kind of hard to recognize without the big lion drawing on that wall.” he points. “It was a superhero!” she corrects as he chuckles. “I can’t tell you which one it was supposed to be though.” she admits meekly. “Now come on!’ she encourages as she plops down on her rug. “Sit right here.” she points to the spot right in front of her. “O-Okay.” he gulps and obeys, trying not to relish in the fact that he’s barely a foot away from his crush, in a house that’s empty but the two of them. “So, I was wondering if you had any restrictions before we start?” Y/n aks as she begins to lay out her products. “Restrictions?” he asks. “Y’know, things you really don’t feel comfortable with. Like I won’t give you clown makeup or anything!” she promises. “But I do have a more extravagant out-of-this-world idea when it comes to you.” Out of this world? Yamguchi questions. “Oh! And I want it to be a surprise! Not because of anything bad I just really wanna see you reaction to your final look! I understand if you aren’t comfortable with that of course!” her voice starts to speed up, much like his when he feels like his is rambling on and on. “I am really grateful for you being here and letting me do this and i certainly don’t-” “Hey.” Yamaguchi places his hand on hers, out of pure instinct, but draws it back after both pairs of eyes drifted down to them. “I- I really don’t mind either way! To be honest!” Yamaguchi reveals with a large, friendly grin as Y/n’s shoulders relax and a soft smile reaches her face. “Okay, got it!” She says cheerfully as she pulls out a few more products from her makeup bag.

“And Yamaguchi?” She turns to face him.

“Hmm?”

Her eyes meet his as she softly speaks.

“Thank you for being here. It really means a lot to me.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I..really miss you, y’know?”

Yamaguchi swears he’s never seen something as ethereal as she is right now, her figure doused by the sunset peeking through the window on her left, a sheepish, shy smile complimenting her relaxed and welcoming body.

His lips move on their own as he opens them to say “Y/n, i-”

“Oh this is just your shade!” she announces. “Don’t you think?” she asks as she puts a dollop of what Yamaguchi believes to be foundation on his wrist and rubs it in. “It fits perfectly!” She exclaims. oh. “Yeah, it does.” He agrees, with a pitch of sadness in his voice that he hopes isn’t recognizable.

As Y/n starts working on his face Yamaguchi can’t help but to slip into those deprecating thoughts that follow him around like a shadow and take him by force into the darkness. Especially in times like this.

She doesn’t like you like that! It’s very obvious, even an idiot like you should be able to see that!

She doesn’t even want you here! She’s just being polite!

She thinks you are HIDEOUS, remember? DISEASED!

Yamaguchi does what he can to combat the demons in his head and the subtle stinging in his eyes.

“And just a few drops of concealer!” she states as she blends the creamy liquid under his eyes. “But-” Yamaguchi starts. Y/n lets out a slight “hmm?” as she looks through her makeup for a specific item. “I-I don’t think that would be enough.” He stammers as her eyes meet his figure once again. “To y’know,” he gulps. “cover all of this” he motions to his cheeks. “What do you mean?” she asks. He bites his lip as a woeful look crept over her face. “Yamaguchi..” she utters in a sorrowful tone, like she’s comforting a child. He can’t stand to look at her when she uses this voice, he already feels on the verge of tears

. “Is that why you wanted me to do your makeup? To cover your freckles?” He nods into his shoulders. “I-” she sighs. “I’m sorry, Yams. I can’t do that. It’s not right.” Yamaguchi quickly meets her eyes. “W-what? Why?” she shakes her head. “Your freckles are a part of you Yamaguchi. You’ve had them all your life and they are what makes you you. I’m not gonna hide them. I thought you told me you stopped worrying about your freckles in middle school.”

I did, for the most part. But it’s different when the love of your life basically calls you ugly.

He opens his mouth to say something, but bites his lip in shame.

She starts to put her makeup into her bag. “You can ask someone else, but I can’t do that. I just can’t.” Yamaguchi is being pulled every which way by his emotions .Confusion, anger, hurt, guilt. So much so he blurts out half baked words;

“Do you think I'm hideous and disgusting?”

Y/n whips her head around from the makeup she was placing away. “What?! No! Of course not! Where did you get that id-”

“I heard you!”

“I-in the hallway near the lockers. I wasn’t- I really wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, I just wanted to say hi!” he looks away, at the floor, at the ceiling- at the abundance of plushies on her bed, anywhere but the disappointed face he expects to see “But you were talking to your friend about your freckles and how you try so hard to cover them and get rid of them and how they are disgusting, and shitty!” He’s facing her now but he can only focus on how much it hurts.The words piling and piling out, red hot from years and years of painful silence- stabbing him, branding him with the fear and self hatred he already harbored since he was young. “And you- you only have a handful of them while- while i have a freaking constellation on my face! And I-” he wipes his face, now aware of the outgoing tears. “I can’t get rid of them! No matter how many times I try to hide them, no matter how many times I try to pick them off they- they always return! And I can’t change that! No matter how many times I try! And I do try, so so fucking hard So if you- the most beautiful person thinks that they are ugly in any way shape or form, then what does that make me?!” The tears are blurring his vision now, blinding him from the horrified look on Y/n’s face, eyes wide with her own tears starting to simmer- but Yamaguchi can’t find himself to care. “I- just want to be-” he chokes as he gasps for air. “I just want to be enough for you!” he wails. “That’s all I ever wanted to be! And- and you are just so perfect in every way! How can i?” he sniffles and hiccups, calming down where he can only see her tear stricken face.

“How can I ever be enough for you?”

And suddenly, it was never about his freckles.

No, it was about a boy, a boy locked away in the tower of his own head, beaten black and blue by his demons wanting love- wanting to just be enough for someone. For anyone.

For her

For himself.

And he just opened the floodgates

What have I done?

Yamaguchi barely recognizes her touch embracing him at first, as reality settles in fast and hard, grounding him and shattering him. Shattering all the resolve he’s built up for years and years leaving him defenseless in her arms. What have I done? Oh my god.

What have I done?

“I’m so- so sorry!” She cries into his arms, but he sits still paralyzed by fear, regret and everything he doesn’t know. About her. About him. About the two of them. What have I done? “Tadashi!” she calls “Tadashi, please.” He shakes his head, trying to self medicate and take himself out of his trance. “I’m so sorry.” he whispers into the air, avoiding her eyes. She shakes her head. “Tadashi please.” she sobs. “Look at me.” she begs as he lifts his head a little bit. She holds his chin lightly and looks into his eyes. “Tadashi please, listen to me.” His eyes finally meet hers and she can see him coming through. “Tadashi, you have always been enough. Always have been and always will be.” she sniffles. “God, I'm so fucking in love with you.”

What?

“I- I know, I know it’s crazy but I loved you since the day we met, Tadashi. I remember feeling so alone- and i was so freaking awkward- sitting under that tree, drawing. I was watching all the other kids play and I felt so alone, but then like a ray of sunshine, you walked over and told me you liked the picture I was drawing of my dog. I just was so enamored of the little boy with big eyes and the cutest freckles. I might not have known it then, but I've known for a little while that I'm head over heels for you. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.” she reveals as she wipes her eyes on her shirt. Her eyes locked on his, he could barely register anything she said past “I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“I’m so fucking in love with you.”

“With me?”

She giggles as she lightly punches his arm. “Yes, you! Who else?” she confirms as he gulps. He didn’t mean to say that out loud. “But why? I’m not-” She makes a buzzer noise and shakes her head. “Yamaguchi, you are the nicest, most hardworking, most outgoing, amazing person I know. I’m lucky to have you in my life.” Yamaguchi feels his face heating up by the second. “You were the one always encouaging me to do my best with my art and supporting me even when I never though I could do it. You are the first one I want to come to when I have good or bad news and the first one I share my art pieces with. It’s you Yamaguchi.”Once again Yamaguchi feels the prickiling of tears in his eyes, but for a different reason this time. she chuckles and leans into an awkward laugh. “Wow, it feels so strange finally saying that out loud after all those years. I thought it was obvious after all the times I was caught staring at you in class, and all the times I suddenly became super clumsy around you. Hell, I was terrified of even being alone with you like this that’s why I never asked you to- Eh? No, please don’t cry!” she begs as Yamaguchi lets out a soft laugh. “I’m just so happy. I loved you for so long, Y/n.” he reveals as he wipes his eyes. Y/n gulps. “Shit.” she utters. “What?” he says alarmed. “This means Tsukishima’s right. We are two pining idiots.” she reveals as Yamaguchi throws back a laugh. “He gave you the talk too?” She groans. “Only like every other day! I’m surprised he never spilled to either of us. No wonder why he was always so annoyed.” she giggled. Y/n clears her throat, sits straight and pushes up her imaginary glasses. “I’ve watched you simp for way too long, any longer i’m going to demand compensation. 500 yen every time I see you staring at him, 1000 for every dreamy sigh and fluttering of the eyelashes and 1500 for every time you complain about ‘how it’s illegal to be that cute.” she mimic in her best Tsukishima voice. Yamaguchi cackles “No, no no,” he corrects between breaths of laughter. “It’s like..” he clears his throat as he preforms a slightly better Tsukishima impersonation. “All this endless pining has to be a kink or some shit- and I didn’t fucking consent.” Y/n clutches her sides in laughter as Yamaguchi makes sure he processes every second of this moment, one he’s deemed to replay time and time again. Just the two of them acting like fools again, just like they did before- but now without the fear of rejection and being vulnerable. Yamaguchi could never dream of something more beautiful.

She waves her hand in his face as he snaps back to reality. “Huh?” he questions as she laughs. “Yamaguchi, I swear you have the attention span of a goldfish.” she teases as she nudges him. “Yamaguchi.” he repeats slowly as she cocks her head. “Yes? That’s your name?” she states as he shakes his head. “That’s not what you called me earlier.” Her face tints red as a goofy grin takes over her face. “Okay, Tah-da-shi!” she gives his nose a little boop per syllable as the same red tint and goofy grin transfers to him. “What I was trying to ask before you went all space cadet on me was if Tsukishima actually said that.” she asks. “Hmm,” he hums as he taps his pointer finger on his chin. “Depends if the part about you staring at me and sighing dreamily was true.” he questions with a raised eyebrow and a smirk, suddenly confident. Her jaw drops as she stammers.

“Who- who allowed you to smirk like that?”

“Who allowed you to be all cute and flustered?”

“Stoppp!” she whines as she hides her face as he chuckles. “You know what!” she announces. “I did stare at you in class.” she admits as she pokes his chest. “You and all your cute freckles. I always tried counting them but always lost count or felt like a creep for staring. But-” she inches closer to his face. “I couldn’t help it, I've always been a sucker for pretty boys like you.” he gulps. “Y-you think i’m pretty?” he whispers as she hums in agreement. “Well you- you can count them now if- if you’d like.” he offers, hoping to all gods his voice didn’t crack like he thought it just did. “I’d love to.” she mumps and closes the distance and places a kiss on his cheek, and on one of his freckles.

“One.”

Another freckle

“Two.”

Another freckle

“Three.”

Another freckle

“Four-”

Yamaguchi couldn’t take it anymore and leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Time felt like it slowed for him as he savored every moment of her sweet, soft lips on his. It was short and sweet, but left them breathless all the same and left them smiling into each other as they caught their breath.

“Hey Tadashi?”

“Yeah?”

“What did you mean earlier? About the hallway?”

Shit. He forgot about that.

“Uh…” he bites his lip. “It doesn’t really matter, how about we just keep kissing, yeah?” he diverts as she stops him, placing her hand on his chest with a giggle. “Ah-ah-ah. None of that.” he pouts. “So.. what you are saying is you don’t wanna kiss me?” he retorts, biting his lip, holding in a giggle of his own. “I definitely did not say that, Yamaguchi.”

“Tadashi.” he corrects

“Tadashi.” she repeats, playfully rolling her eyes. “I’m serious. I wanna clear it all up right now so there's no more misunderstandings with us, okay?”

Yamaguchi sighs. “Fineeee. But please don’t make a big deal or laugh at me or anything, okay?” She frowns. “Why would I ever laugh at you?” He shrugs and takes a deep breath in.”I might have heard you in the hallway a few days ago talking about how much you hate your freckles and how you think they are shitty, and gross. You said you just use makeup to cover them so I thought you could do that for me? And when you said you wouldn’t it made me feel-” he stops as he sees her covering her mouth in what he only assumes could be an attempt to hold back her laughter. “You said you wouldn’t laugh!” he whines. “I'm not-” she starts, and attempts to act composed, but with little avail as laughter seeps through the cracks and she begins to howl in laughter as Yamaguchi crosses his arms. “I’m sorry- I really am!” she says between gasps of laughter. “But- but you think- you think these are freckles?” she questions, pointing to what Yamaguchi believes is a freckle on her face. He nods dumbly. “Yeah…what else would they be?” “Acne!” she exclaims. “Blackheads, to be exact! Dirt, grease, grime and sweat that crept into my pores and clogged them!”

“What.”

Y/n throws her head back in laughter. “So you were so worried over nothing! This,” she takes a deep breath in to regain composure. “This is why we don’t eavesdrop.” “I wasn’t trying to! I- I just wanted to say hi! I-It’s really not my fault you talk so loud!’ He pouts as he crosses his arms and looks away. “Tadashi, you are so cute. Worrying over what lil ole’ me thinks.” she pinches his cheeks. “I’m not-” he nudges her grabby hand off of him with his shoulder and sits up straight, trying to maintain the smidge of dignity he has left. “I’m not cute, first of all. Second, your ‘lil ole opinions’ mean a lot to me, if you didn’t get that earlier.” he reveals, blushing. “I wasn’t lying when I said that my freckles stopped bothering me in middle school. It's not easy to just forget and get over something I struggled with all my life.” he references to earlier. Hearing you say- or at least thinking I heard you say how much you hate them really hurt me, as much as I hate to admit. I know it’s pathetic-”

“It’s not.” she interrupts.

“It’s really not. We all have our insecurities, we all have our demons, we all have our limits. One thing that those things all have in common is the tendency people have to ignore them or pretend they don't exist.” She explains. “It’s so much easier to do then accept them, because when you finally do,” she looks into his eyes. “You learn to overcome them. It may take ages, and you may never fully get over them. But it’s a sure lot more than what most people are able to do. And you,” she pokes his chest. “Are so much stronger than you believe. Admitting your insecurities, looking them in the eye and accepting that although they may bother you some now, they don’t have half as much of a hold on you than before. It’s amazing, Tadashi. You are amazing.”

In that moment he knew that he may never feel enough for anyone or anything 24/7 and may feel the ups and downs that life will inevitably bring- but he has her and she’ll be around to remind him that he is, and that is all he needs.

“Now that that’s settled, time to finish your look!” she cheers as she claps her hands.

“Wait, what?” he questions. “I thought you didn’t wanna do my makeup anymore after I told you I wanted my freckles covered?” she shakes her head. “Nope.” she says, popping the ‘p’ at the end. “I think it’s more important to do it now than ever!” she exclaims with a smile engulfing her face. How was Yamaguchi supposed to say no to that?

“O-okay!”

Thump

Tsukishima couldn’t sleep. If you’d ask him why, he’d probably say it’s because a headache (even though the he’s bouncing a volleyball against his wall causing loud thumps guaranteed to make any headache immensely worse.) and under no circumstance him worrying for his best friend who, earlier acted like he had a date with death, instead of a date with his crush.

‘it’s not a date! Just two people hanging out and doing makeup! Just friendly activities!” Yaaguchi whined as he closed his locker. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t give a fuck. But if you two don’tt walk into class together holding hands i’m having Shrimpy serve a spike on your fat, dumb head.” he promises and walks away as he hears Yamaguchi complain about not having a fat head and Hinata (who came out of nowhere- as per usual) get all mad about being called Shrimpy even though he was never directly mentioned.

Hmm. Maybe Tsukishima does have a headache. A Yamaguchi sized one.

THWACK

The volleyball he was tossing bounced back past his hands- and onto his face. God damn it. He tosses the ball off of his bed and grabs his phone, in need of a mindless distraction that won’t bruise his face and break his glasses.

Oh? A mention from Yamaguchi? Isn’t he supposed to be with Y/n right now?

He clicks on it and it's the absolute last thing he’d ever expect to see.

A picture of Yamaguchi, shyly looing into the camera with the most bashful smile he’s ever seen on the boy, and a mirage of of pinks, blues and purples decorating his face, with spreckels of silver littering his face with lines connecting them, almost mirroring his freckles-no;

They were stars.

A galaxy

A Constellation.

But the most surprising feat in the photo was Y/n with he arms around his neck, looking into his eyes with nothing but clear admiration and content, with sloppy dots- freckles- across her face that she most likely had Yamaguchi do for her with makeup, ones that almost matched his everyday look. Below the picture was a caption reading;

My Galaxy Boy

With sparkles following and preceding the words. He scoffs and shakes his head playfully. That's so y/n. The he scrolls down to see where Yamaguchi tagged him;

@Tskeishima Is my fat head safe?

He smirks as he types;

@sweetyamagashi For now.

Took yall long enough.

#yamaguchi x reader #haikyuu yamaguchi #Haikyuu x reader #yamaguchi x you

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millenialfanfictionaddiction · 3 years

Text

Go Go Nekoma! Push it, Push it Nekoma! Coaches Chemisty (pt.3 smut)

⚠️THIS FIC IS 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI ⚠️

Warnings: Swearing, male and female oral sex, switch Naoi, switch reader, slight breeding kink, various sex positions, fluff

Word count: 6000+ (split into 3 parts)

The following day you arrive at work bring and early to begin orders. Bella comes in the back as your are finishing up a bouquet for a man whose going to propose to his girlfriend.

"Y/N! Sweetheart we got an emergency order from a gentleman. He needs a gorgeous apology bouquet asap! He says to make it from any flowers of our choice so I suggested leaving it up to you and he agreed" Bella smiled "oh and it needs to be delivered!"

"Oh ok" you say as you finish the bow on your current bouquet "I can drop it off on my way home tonight."

"Thank you dear. I think the address is surprisingly close to your home" Bella smirks as she walks from the back.

You wouldn't suspect a thing Bella thinks to herself as she fills out the card the boys had talked to her earlier about. She was a bit surprised when the entire Nekoma volleyball team turned up outside her shop that morning. The boys explained the situation and Bella immediately knew of the man they spoke. You had mentioned him several times and Bella knew you were hung up on him after your break up. From the sounds of it, so was the man in question. She agreed to the boys idea, even offering to pay for the bouquet.

"Oh ma'am really we can't" Kai says as he puts his hands up.

"Listen here boys. This is true love we are talking about!" She dictates as the boys eyes widen.

"You boys are doing a great service to your coach and Y/N! Remember this when you find your future spouses. Never settle" she speaks as the boys nod thanking her.

You pack up the bouquet you had made for the customer. It was a gorgeous large bouquet with your favorite flowers. It was honestly the most gorgeous bouquet you'd made in a long time. You stuck the card in the bouquet heading out. Bella was closing down the shop today as usually Fridays were bank days. So you packed up and headed out.

You arrived at the apartment building, being let in by a nice older lady. She directed you to the apartment as you prepared to knock.

"Who is it" a deep voice from inside chimed.

"Bellas floral with a delivery sir" you say adjusting your grip on the flowers, making sure they were perfect.

The door opened as you continued to check to flowers.

"Oh hello sir. Here is you-" you say suddenly stopping.

The man in front of you staring at you as your eyes grew wider by the moment.

It was Manabu.

"Y/N?" He stuttered.

"Manabu? I'm so sorry I didn't know you lived here. I was just dropping off this bouquet" you said unable to look away from the man in front of you.

He had gotten taller. Well over 6ft at this point. He looked good, so so good!

"I'm sorry you must have the wrong address Y/N I didn't order flowers" he says as he continues to stare at you.

Fuck you were gorgeous. More gorgeous gorgeous he remembered. Your hair was longer and your body was fuller. You looked spectacular!

"Let me check again" you say looking at the address.

Isn't this "1345 W. Lane apt 405?" You say.

Shit that is me he things unable to form words.

"Yeah that's me. Let me check the card" he says as he awkwardly grabs in the bouquet, gently brushing your fingers. You blush as he opens the card

"Good luck coach"

Are you fucking kidding me?

He laughes awkwardly "Well it looks like we've been played" he says showing you the card.

Your eyes widen as you can help but laugh.

"I should have known those boys were up to something when they left in a hurry the other night. And Bella was acting strange all morning" you think.

This must have been a set up.

"Umm well this is awkward. I'm really sorry for disturbing you Manabu. It was really nice to see you again" you smile, still holding the flowers as you begin to take your leave.

"Wait Y/N! Please won't you come in? I feel bad my team made you walk all the way here to do this" he says as he rubs the back of ymhis head.

"Oh its really no problem" you say "they really are sweet boys."

Naoi laughs "not sure I'd describe them as 'sweet'. More like pains in the asses." You smile as you laugh.

"Please come in Y/N" he says stepping out, holding the door for for.

You smile "ok" as you enter removing your shoes.

"Here let me take those for you" Naoi says as he grabs the flowers from your hands placing them in a glass.

"Your favorites i see" he says as he fills the vase.

You look up "you remember?"

"I couldn't forgot Y/N. I went every other week to get you fresh ones. I knew how much you loved them" he says as you look down smiling softly.

He places his hand on your lower back as he guides you into the living room the sit in the coach.

His apartment is cozy and neat. Very much "Manabu" you think to yourself.

You sit an awkward silence for a minute before you both begin to speak.

"You-" You say

"I-" Manabu speaks

You both laugh as you look away from each other. You look back into his gorgeous dark eyes.

"You first Y/N" he says as he gestures for you to speak

"Listen Manabu, I understand why you broke up with me all those years ago. We were just starting college and things were going to change. It probably was for the best anyways" you say as you trail off "I just wanted to let you know I don't any hard feelings towards you."

Manabu stares at you and sighs. He reaches for your hand as he lightly strokes it.

"Y/N, I was wrong. All those years ago, I was wrong" he speaks almost whispering as not to start crying.

"W-what" you say as you fail to understand what he's say.

"Y/N- listen, I was so stupid back then. I was scared. You are the literal love of my life and I was scared of that. You were my first for everything and I love you so much. I broke up with you because I was afraid I wasn't good enough for you. You got into such an amazing school and I couldn't dream of interfering with that. I wanted you to be happy and I stupidly thought letting you go would make you happy. Turns out making you happy made me miserable" he sighs

"You-" you start to speak only to be cut off.

"Y/n" he speaks as be begins to grab your hand "I dont expect you to forgive me but I have to be honest with you.

"O-" you start to say again only to be interjected on once more

"And I know you probably have a husband and kids now but I don't think I could go the rest of my life without telling you" he says as you reach your patience limit.

You grab him by his cheeks, pulling him in for a deep kiss. His eyes are wide as your lips meet. He closes them as his arms grasp tightly around your waist. You lick his lips asking for entrance which he gladly grants. You tease his tongue with the tip of yours as you massage each other's inner muscles. You adjust your hands to his neck as you pull him on kissing him harder. Soon you both seperate as his eyes meet yours.

"You love me?" You say sweetly

"I never stopped" he says as he smiles again going in for yet another mind blowing kiss. This time you skip the formalities going straight in. You gently push him back on the couch as you adjust yourself on top of him, straddling his legs. His hands roam your back, waist and to your ass. He lightly squeezes as you squeal a but letting him force his tongue into your mouth. You can feel your core heating up as you start to grind lightly on his crotch.

It feels so good. He gently helps you create friction by pulling you back and forth against him as you start to feel his erection grow. He breaks the kiss as his mouth starts trailing down your neck to your collarbone. You are completely blissed out. You haven't haven't touched like this in so long and it was happening at the hands of the man you loved.

"Mana" you say groaning his name

"Are you ok Angel? We can stop" he says looking concerned

"Oh no we are definitely not stopping" you say as you giggle. He laughs along with you as he continues to assault your neck.

"I just want-wanted to tell you ughhhh that I- I love you too" you smile as he looks up from your neck.

Without warning, he lifts you up from the couch as he carries you to his room tossing you on the bed before turning around and shutting the door.

He proceeds to take his shirt off as you sit up gently on your elbows.

The man has aged like fine wine. Still sculpted and just as pretty as you remember him.

"Like what you see Angel" he smirks as he proceeds to come over to you leaning over you to kiss him.

You take the opportunity to flip him over, straddling him again. You take off your shirt as he lightly grazes your stomach with his fingers.

"Gorgeous" he whispers as you lean down to kiss him. You trail kisses from his neck down to this stomach he groans at the feeling as you move to his belt. You continue to kiss his stomach as you undo his belt. He watches you in amazement.

*God you were still so perfect*

"Baby you don't have to" he looks at you as you start palming his large erextion thought his boxers.

"Oh I know but I want too" you smirk "I need to show you what you've been missing"

He groans deeply as he watches you pull his jogging pants down as well as his boxers.

Fuck he's big! You remember how much pain you were in your first time but he never failed to make you feel amazing.

"Fuck baby please" he says as he watches you. You start to places small kitten licks on the tip of his cock as your hand travels up to pinch and play with his nipple.

"Fuck love you feel so good. God I never forgot how amazing your mouth was" he leans back as he let's out a loud satisfying groan.

You begin to take him down your throat as you practice breathing through your nose. You can feel your core heating up and your panties becoming soaked. You undo you pants as you sneak down to start rubbing your hardened clit.

"Sit on my face baby. Let me make you feel good" he says as he watches your struggling.

You stand up as you begin to strip the remainder of your clothes. You take your bra, pants and panties off as Manabu strokes his hardened cock. You walk up to to top of the bed, slowly climbing on top of Manabu as he situates his face directly below your drenched cunt.

"Fuck baby. Always the wettest girl. So fucking good baby" he groans as he dives into your cunt mouth first. Fuck it felt amazing

"Oh fuck Mana, baby please fuck" you shout as you watch him stroke his cock as his head is being smothered between your thighs.

You lean over to him as you position yourself over his cock and begin to suck. God you feel so good. You can feel your orgasm approaching as he licks and sucks your clit. He slowly massages your slit with two fingers as he gently and easily guides them into your pussy without complications.

He works his two fingers in and out as you feel your core heat up more. You're sucking faster on his large cock , trying to make him feel as good as you do.

Finally you can feel the cord about the snap as you switch to moving your hand up and down his hard cock.

"Fuck baby fuck I'm going to cum" you scream as you live your hand faster up his cock. His hips meeting your fists thrusts.

"Cum on my face baby. Mark me. I could fucking live in this gorgeous pussy" he says with a growl.

"Oh fuck" you both shout as you both lose your composure. You cumming into his mouth as he cums on his stomach and your hand.

You move off of him as you go to lay down.

"Fuck baby that's was amazing but I gotta admit, I need to be inside this pussy" he says as he reaches to the nightstand.

He grabs a condom out as he places it on his still hardened cock. He lines up with your wet hole and begins to slowly guide himself in.

"Shit baby stop clenching! i-im not gonna last" he says as he tries to concentrate on not blowing his second load.

"I'm trying babe but omg you feel so good. I feel so full" you scream as he starts to fuck your tight wet cunt.

He's thrusting fast and heavy as he pushes his full length in your deep cavern.

"Fuck baby you want me to fuck you in your favorite position huh? You still like that don't you baby?" He growls into your neck.

"Only when you do it Mana. You make it feel so good" you cry.

"Fuck baby grab on" he says as he lifts you up. His cock still buried in your pussy as you kiss him deeply. He's squeezing your round ass as he backs you into his bedroom wall.

"That's it baby. You want me to mark this cunt. Shit baby it's like you've been untouched since high school. You're so fuckinng tight" he growls as he thrusts up into you.

"Mana!" You scream "fuck I'm going to cum again."

"Go ahead baby I got you" he says as he continues to thrust up up your soaking pussy at an inhuman speed.

"Oh god!" You screams as you feel the juices roll down your pussy lips and into his thighs.

"Shit baby did you just squirt?" He chokes. He trusts faster into you as his pace quickens. Hes losing control as he feels your pussy clenching on his thick cock.

"Fuck baby, I'm going to cum. You want to make me cum right princess?" He stutters as he begins losing himself in his orgasm.

"Fuck Mana! Please baby. Please fill me up with your cum! I need it so bad baby! Your cock feel so good in my little pussy" you scream

Manabu closes his eyes tightly as he feels himself losing control "Y/N- Y/N fuck I love you! I love you!" He screams as he cums harder than he has in years.

He rests himself against you as his grip on your tightens as he fills the condom full of his seed. He pulls back panting as he smiles, resting his forehead to yours.

"God I fucking love you" he smiles as he closes his eyes.

"I love you too Manabu" you smile as you both come down from your highs.

*1 month later*

"Ok guys! We leave for nationals tomorrow at 8am. Please be on time! We don't need another incident like last time" Manabu says looking at Lev.

"What it wasn't my fault you all left me" he cries as Yaku hits the back of his head.

Everyone laughs as the doors open.

"Ah Y/N so good to see you again" Coach Nekomata smiles as you approach with bento boxes you made for the team.

"Hello Coach Nekomata! It's so good to see you again as well" you smile as you set the boxes down.

"Y/N what is all this?" Manabu says as he walks over to you giving you a hug and a kiss.

"Well I figured you'd need some snacks for the hotel and in between games so I made some bentos for the team!" You smile softly.

"Wow Y/N thank you so much" Kai says as he bows to you.

"I really should be the one thanking you" you smile as you hug Manabu.

"Damn Yaku, Y/N is replacing you as the team mom" Lev laughs as the other side fall silent, waiting for the strong kick that's bound to happen.

Yaku gets up from his seat, walking over to lev. Everyone is expecting him to kick lev into next year.

Instead he just smiles and nods looking over at you and Manabu.

"You're right lev. And I wouldn't want it any other way"

#nekoma cats #nekoma #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyuucoaches #haikyuu #haikyu x reader #justiceforthehaikyuucoachs #naoi manabu

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artemispanthar · 4 years

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Tentative Title: Movie Date Originally written: 09/12/16 Word Count: 3,119 Intended plot: Pearl goes on a movie date with Mystery Girl.

Notes: Extremely self-indulgent Pearl/Mystery Girl ship fic written shortly after “Last One Out of Beach City” aired. I was actually super motivated to finish this one but the fall of 2016 was when I got really, really sick and almost died so it unfortunately fell to the wayside and I never got to pick it back up. This is a pretty good example of how I usually write, though, as I usually end up writing the beginning and end of a story first, write in the scenes I have a clear picture of, and then fill in the spaces inbetween. Since this is unfinished, it kinda just jumps between scenes midsentence, so I’ll indicate the scene changes with a — mark

I’m kinda tempted to finish this one too. It’s self-indulgent to the point of it being embarrassing but that made it really easy to write

Side note: You may or may not recall my big rambly post (here) about a fictional horror series called Helltel from a few years back. Well, it was developed entirely due to this fic and tbh it’s likely none of the information I made up was even going to come up in it, I just got carried away lol

It had been several weeks since the night of the rock show and Pearl had already experienced more of Earth and human interaction in that short time than in the last 6000 years she’d spent on the planet. Sure, it was mostly house parties and bonfires, but it was all so different and new and exciting. Part of her wanted to kick herself for not exploring this side of Earth life before, but another, more rational side told her she could never have experienced this way before now. She certainly wouldn’t have felt so comfortable shamelessly flirting with that mystery girl she’d met at the show, and that was really what made those social outings so enjoyable.

Pearl had seen the girl a total of three times after getting her number. The day after the show, after working up her nerve (and goaded on by Amethyst) she borrowed Steven’s phone and gave the girl a call. They finally exchanged names (hers was Sheena, which Pearl thought was lovely) and compliments. Pearl found her just as captivating on the phone as she was in person. After that initial call, Sheena began sending her texts, which Steven explained as short written messages people exchange on phones. They texted back and forth for a day (mostly idle chatter) before Greg stopped by and gave Pearl a new phone. He had said it was so she didn’t have to keep asking to borrow Steven’s and also “for privacy”, whatever that meant. Pearl had refused at first, but Greg insisted, “We can call it a late payment for when you fixed the van. Besides, what’s the point in having money if you can’t share it?”

—

Pearl was shaken from her musings by someone tapping her in the back. She jolted slightly, startled, and turned to see a short woman with blonde hair. The woman took half a step back, pulling her arm away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just wanted to ask if this was the line for the Splatterday event.”

“Oh, uhm…” Pearl looked around. She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. But there was only the one line, so it had to be, right? “Yes, I think so.”

“Ah, thanks!” The woman said, giving Pearl an appreciative nod and a warm smile. Pearl smiled back. As she went to turn away, the woman spoke again.

“Hey, aren’t you one of Steven’s… uhm, one of the Gems Steven lives with? You're… Pearl, right?”

Oh! That’s why this human looked so familiar, she was a friend of Steven’s! She was one of the donut children from that donut shop Steven liked. She was the nice one, who was always kind to Steven.

“Yes! And you’re from the donut shop, correct?”

“Right! Are you here with Steven? Because I don’t think they’re going to let him in… Or is this a Gem thing? Should we evacuate the theater?” The woman laughed awkwardly, half-joking, half-completely serious.

“Oh, nono, it’s completely safe, especially with me here. And Steven’s at home, I’m actually here with…” Pearl said turning to point out her companion. As if on cue, Sheena was already on her way over. She stopped beside Pearl and handed her a small piece of paper.

“Here’s your ticket. Looks like they’re showing Helltel four and five tonight.”

“Oh dear, would I have had to have seen the first three for it to make sense?”

“Naw, they’re not gonna make sense anyway.” Sheena laughed, putting her hands in her pockets and nodding toward the woman Pearl had been talking to. “Who’s your friend?”

“Oh! Sheena, this is… uhm…” Pearl paused as it suddenly occurred to her she didn’t actually know this woman’s name, and though her knowledge of human social etiquette wasn’t the greatest, she was pretty sure calling her “the Donut Child” would definitely be peculiar.

Mercifully, though, the woman interjected. “Sadie.”

“Yes, right, Sadie! She lives next door to the temple.”

“Well, I don’t live there, I work there. But I’m there so often it does kinda feel like I live there.” The woman, Sadie, laughed. “It’s the Big Donut. I think I’ve seen you in there sometimes, actually.”

“Oh, yeah.” Sheena said, nodding. “Cool place. Decent coffee.”

“Thanks, it comes from a big bag in the backroom.” Sadie said, causing both Sheena and herself to laugh. Pearl didn’t really ‘get it’, but laughed as well.

—

They followed the crowd into a long, narrow room with a large screen. It had an aisle running down the middle toward the screen with about fifteen rows of four seats on either side of the aisle. After looking around for a moment, Sheena led Pearl to a row of seats to the left of the aisle, five rows from the back. Sheena motioned for Pearl to sit first, and she shuffled into the narrow space between the rows to get to her seat. She then paused, perplexed. The seats were very peculiar, they had normal fabric covered backs but the seats of it were strange, narrow columns that didn’t look at all comfortable to sit on. Nothing Pearl couldn’t handle, of course, so she went about trying to perch on the awkward seat, which proved rather difficult as it wobbled terribly. Then she heard a snort to her right as Sheena stifled a laugh.

“You gotta push the seat down and then sit on it. Like this.” To demonstrate, Sheena pushed down on the odd column on the seat closest to the aisle, causing it to fold out into a typical-looking cloth-covered seat. She then sat down on it, settled in, and gestured for Pearl to try. Pearl looked at the seat in front of her and gingerly pushed down on the folded seat. It folded out into a seat just as Sheena’s had. Pearl released her hold on it and it snapped back into its original, folded position. Fascinated, she pushed it down and released it a couple more times. It creaked audibly but otherwise seemed to operate perfectly. Finally, she sat down on it, testing her weight on it.

“Oh, it folds up when not in use to make space and it folds out for use, with one’s weight keeping it down. That’s very clever!” Pearl marveled. It was a simple mechanism, but she was always impressed by what humans were capable of building. Primitive, compared to Gem technology, of course, but humans always seemed to figure out ways to make what they needed or clever ways to engineer something to make it more useful. That was probably her favorite thing about humans. In the beginning they had nothing and they figured out how to make everything they needed, taught themselves how. In this way they kind of reminded her of… well, herself.

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda clever.” Sheena said, amused. She leaned on the armrest between them. “Y’know, you’re really cute when you geek out about this stuff. Makes me think about stuff different than I used to.”

“Oh! Well, I’m happy to hear that

—

The room got louder and louder as more people continued to pour into the theater, taking seats and idly chatting. A human couple squeeze by Pearl and Sheena, murmuring ‘excuse me’s, and took the seats just to Pearl’s left. Pearl’s nerves prickled and she removed her arm from the armrest between her and the stranger, shifting slightly to be closer toward Sheena. She bounced her leg and absently scratched at the worn fabric on the armrest to her right. Pearl didn’t mind the crowds, really, she had expected it and prepared herself for it. But the noise level rising, the heat from all the bodies, the bright fluorescent lights, and the feeling of being boxed in… it was just a bit much all at once. It brought up unpleasant feelings and memories. She shook her head to dispel them, she wasn’t going to dwell on the past and ruin the evening,

“Are people going to be able to hear the movie with all this noise?” Pearl muttered.

“They’ll be quieter once the lights are off. It buggin’ you?”

“Hmm? Oh, no, I’m fine, I’m fine.” Pearl said. After a few seconds, she felt Sheena’s hand rest on her own. She stopped scratching at the armrest and turned her wrist so she could hold Sheena’s hand. It was comforting. She bounced her leg at a slower pace.

“Y’know, we could leave if you’re not feeling it.”

“No, no, I’m alright. I want to do this. I’m just nervous.”

“Hmm. Do you want to switch seats? You could be on the aisle, just get up and go if you need to.”

“Oh,” Pearl looked around. Maybe it would help to have that option. “Could we? If it’s alright with you.”

“Psh, yea, I’m cool wherever.” Sheena said, letting go of Pearl’s hand and standing up. She stepped into the aisle to allow Pearl to move over to her seat, then squeezed by Pearl and sat down.

Pearl sighed. It was such a little change, but it really did make her feel much better. She didn’t feel boxed in anymore, having that free space to her side was doing wonders.

“Thank you, this is much better. Sorry for being a bother.”

“Eh, it’s nothing. Sometimes you just gotta feel like you can go whenever. That’s what I like about my bike, I used to have a car but it always made me feel like I was stuck.”

“Oh? I’ll have to try that out sometime. I used to get that feeling when I’d pilot spaceships but… well I don’t get much opportunity to do that these days.”

Sheena laughed. “Well, I doubt it’s gonna feel like flying a spaceship. But it is pretty cool anyway. I could take you for a ride on in sometime.”

“Oh! That would be lovely. I-” Pearl stopped talking and sat up straighter when the lights suddenly turned off. The large screen lit up and after flickering for a few seconds began running advertisements for the theater.

Sheena leaned over to Pearl and whispered “It’s about to start, so we can’t talk too loud.” Pearl nodded. She did know that much (she got the run down of movie theater etiquette from Steven) but appreciated that Sheena thought to tell her.

The screen turned black and slowly faded into an image of a dilapidated hotel on a hill, shrouded in fog. Rain battered the building in a way that was clearly not actually rain, probably some sort of sprinkler set up. It looked very fake, in Pearl’s opinion. The movie cut to the interior of the building

—

Pearl turned to walk away, then turned back. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Sheena, wait.”

“Yea?” Sheena paused, her helmet partially on her head. She took it back off and hung it on the handle of her motorcycle.

Pearl took a few steps closer, wringing her hands for a moment before clasping them together, to stop herself from fidgeting too much. “I… uhm… I had a very lovely time tonight. Wonderful, in fact. I hope you did as well.”

“I did.” Sheena said, amused.

“Good! Good. And, well, after such a nice night I’ve heard it’s customary to… well, I mean, I’m not an expert on human dating practices by any means, of course, but I thought it would be nice if…”

“Yea?” Sheena closed the distance between them, causing Pearl to need to look up at her.

“What I’m trying to say is,” Pearl took a breath. She could do this. “I would very much like to kiss you, if… if that isn’t too forward. I completely understand if you would prefer not to, of course, I was just thinking…”

Sheena didn’t say anything, instead she brought one hand to rest on Pearl’s cheek, gently guiding Pearl to tilt her head up. She leaned down slightly and Pearl stretched up, their lips met and…

It was amazing. Sure, it wasn’t the bombastic fireworks like the first time she kissed Rose (which was the first time she kissed anyone, ever), after a hard won victory during the Gem War, but it still felt electric. Kissing a human was so much different from kissing a Gem, Pearl found. Gems can simulate the human body in many ways, simulate skin texture, teeth, saliva, all that. But it’s just a simulation, incredible but never quite the same. Humans… humans are cohesive yet imperfect. Always imperfect. There’s just no way to properly replicate the random imperfection of the human body accurately. Her lips were warm and soft, but not uniformly so. Some spots were softer, wetter, warmer. And it changed, very slightly, even over the short time they kissed. And that lip ring! Pearl wasn’t quite sure what that would feel like, in fact it had puzzled her because surely it would just be in the way? But strangely it wasn’t. It was noticeably there, yes, but it didn’t seem out of place. It was a cooler, harder texture comparatively, and interesting in a good way. Everything about this felt… right, imperfect and different yet completely right.

It felt like it lasted ages but it was only a few seconds before they pulled apart. Pearl stared up at Sheena, breathless. Figuratively speaking, of course, as she didn’t really need to breathe and yet felt out of breath all the same. “Wow…”

Sheena laughed, soft and low. “Yeah, wow… Y’know, I gotta tell ya, I’ve been waiting to kiss you for a while now. Not that I mind taking things slow, of course.”

“Oh goodness, I’m sorry! I wasn’t sure how long it’s customary for humans to wait.” Pearl blushed, embarrassed. Everything on Earth moved so fast! It was hard for her to gauge how time worked for humans. Gems, being ageless, didn’t really have need to rush. “I didn’t want to rush into anything or pressure you.”

“Naw, it’s alright, I get it. There’s not any customary way of doing these things, really. It’s just what feels right, I guess. Some people go fast, others go slow. It’s all good.” Sheena paused, thinking, then said “What’s customary where you’re from?”

“Oh, nothing. Gems don’t really… have these sorts of relationships. Not on Homeworld anyway. We weren’t meant to or allowed to. Romantic relationships were completely unheard of. Kissing as a concept doesn’t exist there, or didn’t, I suppose I’m not really up on how things are there now.”

“Damn, really? Wow. That’s… that’s really awful. I’m sorry.”

Pearl hummed in agreement. “It was. I was on Earth for several years before I learned what kissing was. And even more before I ever tried it myself.”

“Oh, you’re really behind, then.”

“Behind?”

“On kissing. You should’ve been kissed way more in your life. But I’ll be more than happy to help you catch up.” Sheena said, leaning in.

“Oh!” It was a line. Cheesy, maybe, but Pearl appreciated it. “Oh, I think I’d like that.” She leaned in as well and they kissed again.

They broke after a moment. Pearl sighed, happily. “You know, in the beginning, I thought the act seemed rather messy and unpleasant.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

“Oh, goodness no.”

“That’s good.” Sheena said, and they kissed again.

“Well,” Pearl started, when they broke for breath (for Sheena, anyway). “I suppose it still is but-” They kissed again. “-with the right people it somehow-” Again. “-feels right and it doesn’t bother me. But-” Again. “-if I think of it in the abstract I suppose-” Again. “-it is still somewhat unpleasant. So-” Again. “-it’s more about the company than the-”

“Pearl?” Sheena sighed, breathless (or perhaps just exasperated).

“Yes?”

“Not that I’m not interested, ‘cause I am, but I think this would go smoother if you stopped talking so much.”

“Oh, right, sorry!”

“S’alright, no need to be sorry. I just think you’d enjoy it more if you lost yourself in the feeling, y’know? Or just try it out, at least.” Sheena said. Pearl nodded. They kissed again.

“I’m just nervous.” Pearl said when they broke again. Sheena hummed sympathetically and they kissed again. “I have a tendency to ramble when I’m nervous.” Again. “I don’t even realize-”

“Pearl.” Oh, right, rambling again. They kissed again. And again.

“… Sorry.” Pearl squeaked out between kisses. She couldn’t help it, she had to! Sheena didn’t respond, but instead continued to kiss Pearl while laughing softly into her mouth. It was a kind laugh, not cruel or mocking, just… amused. It created a pleasant, humming sensation in Pearl’s mouth. It was infectious, too, and she couldn’t help but laugh along with her. After a moment they stopped and just continued kissing, with no further interruptions.

They continued like that for a while, and Pearl had to admit Sheena was right. It was rather nice to just… lose herself in the feeling. To just fall into that rhythm and that pleasant feeling of exploration and just being with someone. It was nice. They pulled apart again and neither felt compelled to continue, just allowing themselves to look at one another in silence, save for the sound of breathing.

“Alright.” Sheena sighed, reluctant. “I really should go now. Got work in the morning.”

“Ah yes, and you humans do need a certain amount of sleep to function properly! I’m sorry if I kept you from it.”

“Naw, it was worth it.” Sheena gave Pearl one last kiss before turning and walking back to her motorcycle. She straddled the seat and put her helmet on, adjusting the strap. “See you Saturday, probably.”

“Yes, with luck! And, uhm, catch you later!”

Sheena laughed. “Should I fall.” She started her motorcycle and drove off.

Pearl watched her drive away until she disappeared behind some buildings and the roar of her motorcycle’s engine could no longer be heard. Then she stood in silence for a moment, just breathing, just being. She was so… proud of herself. She was socializing with humans, she was experiencing Earth. Not for Rose and not even for Steven, but for herself. She went on a real official human date for the first time! She was nervous, but she did it. She felt happy at this moment, genuinely happy. Best of all, she felt little to no guilt about feeling happy. Out of everything, Pearl was probably most proud about that.

With a contented sigh, Pearl finally turned and walked to Greg’s car. The parking lot of the movie theater was mostly empty now and dead silent. She hummed softly, getting into the car and starting the engine. She flicked on the Earth radio, fiddling with the dial until she found a tune that sounded half-way pleasant, and set a course back to the temple.

#steven universe #artie writes #fanfiction #abandoned wip #though I may finish this #mystery pearl #shippy stuff #long post #why did the read more break on this. the longest one?

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eiressofinspirationwrites · 5 years

Text

You Matter

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Word Count: 2831

Requested: Yes; REQUESTS ARE OPEN

WARNING: This fic depicts depression, self-harm, and suicidal thoughts. If any of those things could be potentially triggering to you and your mental health. Please TURN BACK NOW or proceed with extreme caution! I will be using a read more cut but those don’t always work the way they’re supposed to on the mobile app. If you are using the mobile app consider this your warning that you may have to scroll very quickly to bypass this fic.

Description: You’ve been struggling with your depression even more than usual the last few months and after a period where he can’t get ahold of you Crowley finds you in an extremely worrying state. He provides some much-needed love and comfort.

Crowley knew you had depression. He had known pretty much the entire time the two of you had been dating. He also knew that, during a particularly dark time in your life, you had self-harmed.

It had taken years for you to work up the courage to stop hiding the scars underneath long layers of clothing, but in the time you had been together you had never tried to hide them from him.

That’s why he became worried when you started to seem a bit distant and long sleeves became a regular part of your wardrobe. He approached you about it but you just brushed it off and blamed it on the colder weather that had been starting to roll in.

Crowley dropped the issue for a while, that is until you started to lash out at him and Aziraphale. In all the time he had known you, you had hardly ever raised your voice except when the two of you fought and you had never raised your voice with Aziraphale.

Crowley suspected that the changes in your behavior had to do with your depression and he tried to talk to you about it on multiple occasions, but you just pushed him away harder and harder each time. Crowley’s worry only grew as you continued to withdraw and then you stopped answering his calls.

By the time you stopped answering your phone, he hadn’t seen you for several days.

Crowley went from worried to completely panicked. After what seemed like his one-millionth attempt to call you, Crowley said fuck it, hopped in the Bentley and sped to your flat as fast as he could.

He all but flew out of the car the second it was parked, and once he was standing in front of your door, he started pounding on it.

“Angel, please answer the door!” he begged frantically between knocks, “I’m worried sick about you!”

He paused his assault on your door long enough to listen for any sound that may indicate you were inside but failed to hear any.

“ANGEL!” Crowley yelled through the door, “Angel, please open up! I need to know that you’re alright.”

Crowley waited for another few moments before he continued but when he spoke his voice cracked, “Please, love, I won’t stay long if you don’t want me to but I need to at least see you.”

There wasn’t a reply.

Unwilling to give up yet, Crowley tried the doorknob and was shocked to find that it was unlocked, which only worried him more. You were borderline obsessive about making sure to lock the door whenever you were home.

Cautiously Crowley crept into the darkness that permeated your flat and when he flipped on the light switch he was stunned to find that your normally spotless home was cluttered beyond belief.

Countless take out boxes littered the coffee tables, dirty clothes dotted the floor, and blankets obscured the couch.

“Angel?” Crowley whispered as he lifted the blankets but he was disappointed to find the couch empty.

Crowley took a deep breath and forged ahead to look for you in the bedroom and that’s exactly where he found you.

“Angel,” Crowley breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you curled up on your bed, but his relief was short-lived when he realized what kind of state you were in.

Your hair was a matted and greasy mess that looked as though it hadn’t been washed or brushed in over a week. There were dark circles under your eyes and you had yet to acknowledged his presence. You just stared off into nothing as he approached you.

Slowly, Crowley crossed the dim room and knelt beside you, “Angel? Talk to me please.”

“What are you doing here?” you blinked at him, but your voice was devoid of most emotion.

“You stopped answering my calls, love,” Crowley said gently, “I was worried sick.”

“Why?” you asked.

“Why?” Crowley repeated the question back to you, astounded that he needed to explain why he was worried, “Angel, you’ve been out of sorts for months now and I haven’t seen you in days. Of course, I’m going to be worried when you stop answering my calls.”

“You shouldn’t worry about me,” you ordered as you rolled over and burrowed deeper into the blankets so that all Crowley could see was the top of your head, “You should just leave me alone. I’ll ruin you just like I’ve ruined everything else in my life lately.”

“You won’t ruin me,” Crowley promised, “I’m a demon, love, there’s not much else you can do to me.”

“Just go away, Crowley,” your muffled voice growled from beneath the blankets.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Crowley said stubbornly, “Not while you’re in this state.”

“I said GO AWAY!” you roared as you shot up in the bed.

Now that you were sitting up in the bed rather than laying down, your arms were no longer hidden under the blanket and the short sleeves of your t-shirt gave Crowley the first look he’s had at your bare arms in months.

Crowley’s eyes widened in shock when they landed on the angry red cuts that marred your skin, “Oh, Angel, I had no idea that things had gotten this bad.”

Suddenly aware that you’d exposed yourself, you quickly tried to cover yourself again, but Crowley placed a gentle hand on yours.

“Can I please take a look at those?” he asked tentatively, worried that he may upset you further.

“I’m fine,” you muttered while avoiding eye contact.

“No, love, you’re not okay,” Crowley said as he pulled himself up off the floor and placed himself on the edge of the bed beside you, “but that’s nothing to be ashamed of. You just need a bit of help to back on track to being okay.”

“I don’t want to ask for help,” you whispered, still avoiding eye contact.

“Then, it’s a good thing that I’m not waiting for you to ask,” Crowley gave you a small smile, “I’m asking you if you’ll allow me to take a look at those cuts. They look rather painful.”

You considered for a few moments before hesitantly holding out one arm to him.

“May I heal them for you?” Crowley asked after examining both arms.

“Can you actually do that?” you asked skeptically.

“Of course, I can,” Crowley nodded, “Angels don’t hold the rights to healing miracles.”

“You can if you want to,” you said quietly, “but don’t feel like you have to.”

“Of course, I want to, love,” Crowley said as he gently took your left wrist into his hand and gently turned it so that the underside of your arm was facing up.

Using his other hand, he hovered it just centimeters above your arm and then slowly moved it up the length of your arm.

You fidgeted slightly as your skin started to knit itself back together, not because it hurt. It was more of an itching sensation.

After healing your other arm, and the cuts you admitted to having on our legs, Crowley looked up at you and asked, “How does a bath sound?”

“You don’t have to –,” Crowley cut your protest off.

“How does a bath sound?” Crowley repeated.

“Kinda nice?” you said, almost questioningly, “I haven’t had the energy to bathe in a while.”

“Wait here,” Crowley pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

A few seconds after he disappeared into your bathroom, you heard the sound of running water as Crowley filled the tub. It didn’t take long before you heard the tap shut off and Crowley reappeared in your room.

“Alright, it’s ready,” he announced as he crossed the room and swept you up into his arms.

“Crowley!” you yelped in surprise, “I could have walked.”

“I know,” he shrugged as he carried you into the bathroom.

Once inside, he put you down and said, “I’ll, uh, just leave you to it I guess.”

“Wait,” you squeaked, when he stopped and turned back around you asked, “Don’t leave. I… I don’t want to be alone.”

Crowley didn’t say anything, instead, he nodded and gave you a warm smile. He turned back around for a moment to allow you to slip out of the nightshirt you were wearing and once he heard you sink into the tub he turned to face you once again.

“Is it warm enough?” he asked.

“It’s perfect,” you sighed as you closed your eyes and felt the warm water to relieve some of the tension in your muscles.

The two of you sat in silence for quite some time before you heard Crowley say, “I’m going to wash your hair if that’s alright.”

You didn’t say anything, instead, you slid down in the tub just enough to soak your hair before you slid back up so that Crowley could get to work.

You heard the soft click when Crowley opened the shampoo bottle so that he could squeeze a generous amount into his hand.

You couldn’t believe how great it felt when he started to massage the shampoo into your scalp. You could tell that he was trying so hard not to snag his fingers in the knotted mess your hair had become and for the most part he succeeded.

Once, he finished working the shampoo into a lather he gently cradled your head and guided it back into the water so that he could rinse your hair.

“That feels better already,” you hummed.

“Good,” Crowley said and you could hear the smile in his voice, “I’m going to put the conditioner in it now.”

“You might have to let that sit for a few minutes,” you suggested.

“I can do that,” Crowley replied as he wrung out your hair a bit before he started working in copious amounts of conditioner.

Once he finished with that task, you asked, “Crowley, can you tell me a story?”

“What would you like to hear?” he replied, “I’ve got about 6000 years’ worth of stories I could tell.”

“How did you and Aziraphale become friends?” you asked, “I’ve never heard the whole story.”

“Ah, well that’s a rather long story,” Crowley said, “Are you sure you want to hear that?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Alright,” Crowley shrugged before he began regaling the chronicle of how an angel and a demon became unlikely friends. Somewhere around five minutes into the story, Crowley made sure to rinse the conditioner out of your hair.

After that, you both became so engrossed in the tale that by the end of it you hadn’t even registered when the water grew cold.

“Oh,” you laughed just a little, “The water got cold.”

“I can fix that,” Crowley snapped his fingers and the water quickly returned to the perfect temperature.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” you said as you sank further into the warm water.

“You’re even more amazing,” Crowley pressed a tender kiss to your temple.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you sighed.

“I won’t pretend to understand what you’re experiencing right now, Angel,” Crowley said, “I’ve lived for more than 6000 years now and still struggle to grasp the intricacies of human behavior, but I need you to know that I’m here for you no matter what.”

“I know you are,” you promised, “It’s just really hard for me to ask for help.”

“I know,” Crowley sighed, “and I’m not expecting you to suddenly get better at it but maybe we can start with baby steps, yeah?”

“I can try,” you said.

“That’s all I’m asking,” Crowley breathed a sigh of relief, “I just don’t want a repeat of today. I was terrified of what I would find when I got here. When you stopped answering your phone, I was terrified that I would find you dead.”

“I’m not going to lie to you, Crowley,” you said, your voice suddenly much smaller, “The last couple of days, I’ve seriously been considering ending it all.”

Crowley’s breathing hitched a bit when you dropped that bombshell, “C-can I ask why?”

“The last few months, it’s felt like I’ve ruined everything that I touch,” you admitted, “I’ve felt trapped in this constant downward spiral with no way out and there wasn’t any one thing that was making me feel this way. It’s been dozens of small things that just keep adding onto each other and I’ve been so horrible to you and Aziraphale lately… I was starting to think it would be better for everyone if I just removed myself from the picture.”

“Angel,” Crowley said mournfully as he moved from his position behind you and placed himself next to the tub so that he could look into your eyes, “You have so many friends and family that would miss you if you were gone and I can’t even begin to tell you how much losing you would have devasted me and Aziraphale. That silly angel absolutely adores you. You’re probably the only human I’ve ever met that he actually wants to share his books with. I’ve never seen him light up more than when you two are babbling on about some old book from the 19th century. He loves having someone to share his love of books with and he loves you like the sister he never had. He would go to the ends of the world to protect you.”

Crowley paused for a moment to allow that to sink in a bit and when he continued his voice was a bit choked up, “and as for me. I don’t care how mean you are to me, love, you could never make me hate you. I love you more than I have loved anything in my ridiculously long existence. I would die before I let anything happen to you. You are my everything, Angel. You matter so, so much to me. Anything you need, I’m here for you. All you have to do is say the words.”

By the end of his little speech, tears were running down both yours and Crowley’s faces.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed.

“Don’t apologize, Angel,” Crowley said as he pressed a hand against your cheek, “Why don’t we get you out of the tub and dried off? You’re starting to get all wrinkly.”

“Okay,” you hiccupped and pulled yourself up out of the water. Once you stepped out of the tub and onto the small rug beside the tub, Crowley wrapped the biggest, softest towel you had around your body.

“Wait here,” Crowley said before he vanished into the bedroom.

When he returned, he was carrying a fresh pair of underwear and a soft set of pajamas.

“Here you are,” Crowley handed you the stack of clothes, “Get dressed and meet me in the bedroom so I can comb out your hair.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

Satisfied with your answer, Crowley swept back out of the room and shut the door with a soft click. Once you were dressed, you padded out into your bedroom and were shocked to find it completely clean and the bed was freshly made with a new set of bedding.

“How did you have time to do this?” your mothed dropped open, “and where did you get this bedding?”

“A little demonic miracle,” Crowley shrugged, “I couldn’t have you getting into a dirty bed after we just got you cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” you said getting a little teary-eyed and when the tears started to roll you apologized.

“Hey,” Crowley wrapped you in a warm embrace, “You don’t have to apologize. It’s okay to cry, you’ve been through a lot.”

Once you composed yourself just a bit and Crowley released you from his arms, he climbed onto the bed and leaned back against the headboard and patted the mattress between his legs, “Take a seat, Angel, I’ll comb your hair for you.”

After you got situated between his legs, Crowley grabbed the comb off of your nightstand and started to work away at the tangles. He gently worked his way up from the bottom, humming your favorite song the entire time he combed your hair.

By the time he finished you were exhausted again, “Crowley, I’m tired.”

“That’s okay, love,” Crowley said, “Just lean back into me. I’ll be your pillow.”

It didn’t take much to convince you to follow his suggestion. You closed your eyes and leaned back into him, but you quickly realized a flaw in his plan, “I’m cold.”

“I can fix that,” Crowley leaned forward just a bit and a second later you heard a soft whoosh and when you opened your eyes Crowley had wrapped his soft black wings around you. Encased in the warm darkness his wings provided, you quickly fell asleep.

Crowley took a bit longer to fall asleep. He laid awake for quite some time thinking about the long road you had a head of you, but he knew without a doubt in his mind that you are strong enough to overcome any challenge that gets thrown your way.

I hope this was okay, @famouslastlove! Thank you so much for sending in a request and if you, or anyone else for that matter, need someone to talk to my inbox will ALWAYS be open. Never forget that you matter.

Hugs and all the love, ~M

#good omens #good omens fanfic #fanfic #crowley x reader #crowley #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #depression #suicide #self harm #trigger warning #comfort #content warning #gender neutral reader #good omens reader insert #reader insert

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remys-lucky-franc · 4 years

Text

Tick, Tick, Tick... A Queen of Thieves Fic - Jett x MC (Daisy)

This fic is to fulfil a request sent to my friend by @simpsonjenna1 - the request was for a route that @wrath-gutierrez hadn't read, so I've picked it up instead :)

The last chapter of Jett's route left off when he and MC were interrupted during an intimate moment by a bunch of masked intruders. Jett, was unable to stop them kidnapping his girl as he was cuffed to the bed. Oh and also, there's a bomb ticking somewhere in the penthouse!! Eek!!

The request was: CAN YOU WRITE A FIC OF WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WHEN JETT AND THE POPPY TRY TO RESCUE MC? AND SHE ENDS UP IN A COMA AFTER BEING TORTURED BY THE KIDNAPPERS?

I've changed one part of your request a little and I really hope that's ok, but this plot lent itself to it... Also, it's slightly canon-divergent, as I have the rest of the Poppy still in Hong Kong, rather than having headed onto Barcelona already. I hope you (and anyone else reading!) enjoy this! I've never actually written for Jett before, so fingers crossed I've did him justice! I've used my MC's name when I wrote it, but let me know if you'd like to read it with a different name and I'll edit it in for you :)

Rating: probably mature due to bad language and mild sex references - nothing very explicit. There's obviously an element of fear and terror you'd expect when someone's been kidnapped, so please keep that in mind if you think it would adversely affect you. It got a bit long AF at ~6000 words - oops!

Jett roars after the shadowy figures that bodily lift her up and carry her like a ragdoll out of his bedroom,

"NOOOOOO!!! YOU BASTARDS!!! DAISY!!! DAISY!!!"

He thrashes against the cuffs, arching his back, kicking wildly as his swinging bed rocks back and forth uncontrollably. He's in a cold sweat, a panic has risen in his chest from the realisation that there is literally nothing that he can do to stop what's happening...

Tick, tick, tick...

He looks around, frantic: the key is somewhere on the floor, somewhere he can't reach because of these bloody cuffs... Is there anything he could use to pick the lock on them? Anything on the bed, anything that he could reach with his feet even...?? Desperation sets in as he realises one of the men is standing in the doorway holding a mobile phone...

Jett eyes widen like saucers as he screams until his throat hurts as the man dramatically directs his finger towards a button on the phone. Jett feels like his heart is stopping as the martyr makes contact with the button: he braces himself for the explosion that'll end it all, one person on his mind.

'What will happen to Daisy...? Will the Poppy ever find her?'

But nothing comes. There's no searing heat, no blinding light, no ear-splitting shatter of glass and tearing of plaster or brick... Nothing. Nothing at all. Except a callous snort as the masked man standing there watching Jett's confusion unfurl across his face as he realises the ticking noise has stopped...

"You son of a bitch!! Sound effects?!"

The man in black turns on his heel and walks out of the room, leaving a naked Jett bucking and straining against the cuffs, despite knowing his best attempts are futile. As he and Daisy had stumbled to his room in a tangle of limbs, their jackets and phones had been discarded in the common room... There's no way of alerting the gang... There's no other option than to lie here waiting for them to return...

---

Daisy feels her stomach lurch and her head throbs as the room spins, struggling to open her blurry eyes, suddenly she jolts upright, her last memories flooding back to her. The bomb... And Jett's horrified face, arms pinned tightly above his head, crying out her name as she struggled to get free of her captors before they forced that handkerchief over her nose. She looks down at her tightly-bound hands: her usually pretty polished nails are chipped and broken from trying to wrench it away before that sweet, cloying smell filled her nostrils and everything faded to black, her arms becoming to heavy to keep resisting... Sucking in a deep, shaky breath she scans her surroundings, trying to clear her head:

'I need to get the fuck out of here, and fast!'

It's a non-descript room, rectangular: maybe 15 feet long by 10 feet wide? She's sitting on a single mattress. There are vertical blinds on a small window - closed of course. There's nothing else distinct about the room: ceiling tiles, a dark tattered-looking carpet, plain walls. Nothing to give her a clue as to her whereabouts... She can't get to the window to see if she can pinpoint any sights because her ankles are also bound.

Shifting back against the wall, Daisy drops her head onto her knees. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, overwhelmed by the thoughts racing through her mind,

'Where am I?' 'Why did they bring me here?' 'Where is Jett???' 'Did they bring him here too, or did they leave him?' 'If they left him, did he get away before the bomb...?'

She feels herself get lightheaded as she begins to hyperventilate, anxiety crashing over her like a wave, sucking her downwards, suffocating her...

'What if he's dead???' 'Fuckkkkk what do they want??' 'What are they planning on to do to me??'

Daisy struggles against the ropes binding her wrists rigidly. Her skin burns below the fibres as she desperately tries to shift them, to no avail.

'Surely they brought us both? He must be worth more to them than I am?'

She shouts,

"Jett!! Jett?? Can you hear me?? Jett!!"

No response comes and Daisy sighs, sounding defeated. She huddles herself together for comfort realising she's all alone, until she hears it. The sound of footsteps outside of the room, slow and measured, like a jailer walking through the hallway beyond her cell... Suddenly Daisy seriously begins to regret her decision to yell for Jett...

---

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, an exhausted Jett hears the key turn in the front door of the penthouse, the jovial sound of Remy's laughter peals through the corridor. Jett starts to shout,

"REMY!! REMY!! HELP!! IN HERE!!"

Within moments, the door bursts open and Remy lays eyes on a Jett, bound to the bed, naked save for a tangled sheet he's managed to strategically kick over his waist. He's closely followed by Leon whose eyes almost pop out of his head at the site of his friend's predicament. Remy races towards Jett,

"Mon ami! What has happened?! Are you ok??"

Jett sounds delirious as he shouts,

"I'm fine - never bloody mind me!! They've taken her! They broke in, they took her! They tricked me into believing there was a bomb, and they've kidnapped Daisy! The key, Remy!! The key is on the floor, get me out of these fucking cuffs! We need to find her!!"

Remy scrambles around on the floor searching for the key, kicked under the bed as Daisy resisted her captors, while Leon is already on the phone to Nikolai, alerting the rest of the group,

"Yes Nikolai, she's gone... They've taken Daisy. Jett's fine, just shaken up: they stripped him and cuffed him to the bed..."

Remy stops his search, looking up at Leon from the floor, a smirk spreading across his face,

"Leon... Mon couer, please, never change..."

Leon stops in his tracks, silent, eyes flitting between Remy and Jett, his cheeks colouring vividly as he suddenly realises that it would indeed have been quite strange and unorthodox for the intruders to leave the Poppy's resident explosives expert in such a compromising position...

Jett clears his throat, muttering,

"Jesus, Remy, hurry up will you?"

Remy locates the key and releases Jett, who quickly springs to his feet, pulling on a pair of pants. Remy pats Leon's shoulder twice, nodding to the phone,

"May I?"

Leon bobs his head as though to say, 'All yours!'. Remy takes the handset and quickly fills Nikolai in on what he and Leon came home to find, and what Jett's told them.

Jett's pacing like a big cat stalking it's prey while Leon looks around the room, recapping every detail he can remember as they search for any clues as to who could possibly have taken Daisy.

---

A feeling of intense dread bubbles in the pit of Daisy's stomach as a key turns over in the lock. She's shaking as a masked man appears in the doorframe, learning against the wood, head tipped to the side, watching her silently, curious. She curses at him, trying to look brave and ballsy, but as he starts to approach she wants to disappear, she can feel herself shrinking into the wall despite herself, despite her best efforts. She's vulnerable and she's helpless... She can't defend herself no matter what he wants to do to her... Her pulse thunders inside her ears as a myriad of possibilities whizz through her head - is he going to beat her, or assault her? She feels sick at the thought... Will he kills her? What if this is it? What if this is how she dies? Scared and alone in some grubby room? What if no one ever finds her... He's closing in on her, he's right at the edge of the bed and there's nothing she can do... Abruptly Daisy makes a noise like a strangled animal before spitting directly into his eye! On instinct, the act jolts him as he makes a disgusted noise and mutters,

"Jesus Christ!!"

As he wipes the saliva away with his sleeved forearm Daisy's jaw drops.

'That voice. I know that voice... I. KNOW. THAT. VOICE.'

Daisy feels like her heart may leap free from her chest as she chokes on the whisper,

"Geoff?'

Her masked captor starts away from her. Knowing that she's onto something she shouts louder,

"Geoff?! You bastard?! That is you, isn't it?!"

Another masked man, slightly shorter, of a more muscular build appears in the room, muttering,

"Jesus Geoff! I thought the whole point of the masks was so that she didn't work out who we were??"

Geoff snaps at the mystery man,

"Great work!! You've just confirmed to her that it actually is me!!"

He pulls the mask off his face and tosses it onto the bed beside Daisy and gives her a slightly bashful lopsided smile,

"Hey."

Daisy's dark eyebrows knit together as she glares at him,

"Hey?? HEY?? What did you do Geoff?! Where is Jett?? The bomb?! You retired?! You were going to Majorca with your dream man?!"

Geoff reaches out to touch her arm gently but she thrashes away from him,

"Don't you dare touch me!!"

Geoff sighs, as though today has been a massive chore and he's regretting not just taking his retirement...

"I'm not going to hurt you, Daisy. Not if you promise to be a good girl. I'll even untie you. I'll explain everything, but any shit, any shit AT ALL, and the restraints go back on, ok? I mean it, so don't try anything clever."

Daisy reluctantly agrees, and as Geoff releases her ankles she scowls at him in disgust. She's deep inside her own head,

'Who knew Geoff had this in him? He's so handsome, so fun, so friendly?!'

She turns to stare Geoff down, her big dark eyes burning into him,

"Where's Jamie then? I'm guessing he's in on this too?"

Geoff shakes his head slowly,

"No, actually. I was planning to cut him in on the idea, but the soft git only went and fell in love with you... There's no way he'd ever have agreed to this ... This heist is all mine."

Daisy shakes her head, visibly shocked,

"But... I-I thought we were friends, Geoff? How could you do this to me? To Jett?"

Shrugging as he speaks, Geoff offers,

"It's nothing personal, darling. This is just business..."

Daisy chokes out a harsh-sounding, hollow laugh, as she scowls at him,

"Yeah, nothing personal, Geoff. Where is Jett? Did you bring him here too?? Please, please, Geoff, I need to know you didn't leave him in the penthouse with that time-bomb??"

Geoff chuckles heartily, like The J-Team are trading anecdotes over a drink,

"Oh, please! Girl, I don't fuck with explosives..."

Whipping his phone from his pocket, Geoff presses a button and the 'TICK, TICK, TICK' sound echoes around the bare room.

Daisy balls her fists wishing she could lash out and wipe that smile off Geoff's stupid face!!!

"YOU TOTAL BASTARD!!"

Geoff rolls his eyes theatrically,

"Oh come one. It was a good distraction, love. You have to give me that...?"

Daisy's voice starts to crack with relief that Jett hasn't been blown to kingdom come,

"So you just, left him there?"

Geoff smirks ,

"Yeah... I'd hired a couple of reinforcements, because I was under the impression that we'd need to overpower you both... Little did I that you'd have did half of the work for me already by the time we arrived, you naughty girl..."

Geoff winks at Daisy and she feels a blush flood her neck and cheeks as she thinks about the intimate position that she and Jett were so rudely interrupted in... Geoff wiggles his eyebrows at her,

"You never know what goes on behind closed doors, huh Daisy? Anyway, your man is fine. He's exactly where you left him."

Daisy shakes her head angrily,

"Not cool Geoff. Really, seriously uncool."

Daisy can't decide if she's more relived about Jett being ok, or more pissed off about the situation in general, and Geoff continues as though she never spoke,

"Anyway. You just need to stay here with us for a few days until your beloved Gilded Poppy agree to our demands, Then we'll get you home and you can pick back up where you left off with lover-boy... K?"

Daisy's spitting feathers,

"What demands are you making exactly?? How long have you been planning this you asshole??"

Geoff pouts,

"Only their art collection. I've been high-key pissed at your boyfriend and his cronies ever since he ditched The J-Team and they double-crossed us... I just never saw an opportunity to do anything about it, until now..."

Daisy can't stop her jaw dropping at Geoff's confession,

"What?! I thought it was Jamie who held the grudge?? Why agree to do the Bank Job with us??"

Geoff shrugs, looking somewhat bored,

"The Bank Job was Jamie's gig. And it got us enough cash to set up in Spain permanently... But God knows, I've wanted to get back at him for a long time... And the rest of that bloody Poppy..."

The man still wearing the mask clears his throat, sounding very nervous,

"Uh, Geoff, you're telling her an awful lot..."

Geoff scoffs,

"Steven, babe, it's not like the Gilded Poppy won't work it out... Anyway, moving on from all this chatter... Daisy, are you hungry, do you want something to drink?"

Daisy nods hesitantly: her throat feels like sandpaper... Steven scuttles off to get supplies as Geoff moves closer to smooth a stray lock of hair away from her face, making her flinch. He sighs,

"Daisy, I have no intentions of hurting you, but you need to play nice, ok? You're much more valuable to me, alive. Listen I'm going to untie you, but then I need to go. Stevie will be back with food and water soon, ok? I'll come back to check on you later, so just sit pretty for now. Be good and this will all be over before you know it."

Forcing a tight smile, Daisy inhales deeply as Geoff set her hands free. Deep red welts stand out on her wrists from where she's struggled against the ropes, her skin angry and bruised... She grunts a goodbye at Geoff. He gives her an almost apologetic smile as he exits, locking her in the room behind him. Geoff's no sooner out of the room than Daisy's on her feet looking for anything to identify where she is and any escape routes she can find. Quickly establishing she's on the first floor of the building, Daisy groans, noticing the grills on the windows that'll stop her being able to climb to freedom. She can see the skyscrapers of Hong Kong's skyline in the distance. It looks like they're in some sort of disused business park on the outskirts of the city; she can see warehousing, empty parking bays, and small office blocks. The common areas look overgrown and unkempt, and there's not another person in sight as far as the eye can see. Realising there's no way out of the room, except for through the locked door, Daisy decides that she will need to somehow overpower Steven when he comes back with food, or Geoff when he returns later, then run like her life depends on it.

---

Steven took around an hour to return with a bottle of water and ramen noodle pot, but it felt like much longer than that... Daisy nods, accepting the bowl. She's been reading his body language since before he left the room earlier... And she's sure that he's nervous... He isn’t a criminal... She doesn't even believe that he's ever committed an offence before, much less kidnapped someone and held them hostage... Smoothing her rumpled white sundress over her knees sitting on the mattress, she hugs them close to her, her breathing erratic as fat tears roll down her face, ruining her makeup - she's doing everything she can to make herself look small and vulnerable. It seems like Steven's in over his head here, and if she gets him flustered, he might make mistakes that Geoff wouldn't make...

Daisy's hunch is correct - she manages to make Steven feel so uncomfortable that he will barely look at her and can't wait to get back out of her 'cell', meaning she manages to pocket the fork he'd given her to eat her noodles with, from right under his nose without him noticing. Daisy stops sobbing the instant he leaves the room, one eyebrow arching as she smiles to herself,

'Now I have a weapon... I just need to bide my time...'

---

At Gilded Poppy HQ, Jett's pacing the floor, cursing and making threats about what he'll do when he finds the kidnappers, while Leon and Vivienne try to talk him down, calm him and turn his ranting into something more constructive. Remy's out meeting underworld contacts in an attempt to glean any information about the break in or the possible location of one Poppy member... Nikolai is in his bedroom, pacing across the room, stopping frequently to scribble notes and add detail to diagrams trying to establish how the intruders got into the Poppy's HQ to begin with, muttering to himself all the while. Zoe is also holed up in her bedroom, scanning CCTV footage from all of the cameras in the three blocks surrounding the penthouse... So far, she's managed to pick up the black vehicle and track it to the edge of the city, but then the trail goes cold, probably due to the lack of video surveillance in rural areas... She's hacked the police database of vehicle registrations, but it's clear they've been smart enough to run on false plates... Again, a dead end. As the hours pass, it'll become increasingly difficult to locate Daisy if the kidnappers are still on the move...

Several hours later, there is finally some progress.

"Nikolai!! Nikolai!! They've made contact!!"

Jett is waving his mobile phone frantically as he bursts into the Thief Lord's bedroom. Nikolai calls for Zoe and they review the text message that has arrived from an unknown number, advising that Daisy will be handed over safe and sound if their demands are met. Nikolai curses, his piercing blue eyes meeting Jett's,

"They are relieving us of our art collection, in exchange for Daisy."

Jett makes a face as he sucks in a deep breath, when Zoe shakes her head as she hands Jett's phoned back to him,

"They aren't amateurs... That message came from a burner. And it's already gone. Off the grid..."

He mutters,

"Damn it. Nikolai, what are you thinking? We need to get her back, mate?? Please..."

Nikolai tuts as he shakes his head looking exasperated,

"Daisy is a member of the Gilded Poppy. OF COURSE we're getting her back. But there's absolutely no way these degenerates are going to fleece us out of hard-earned and much-deserved art collection..."

Jett quirks an eyebrow, Nikolai has that confident glint in his eye: the same one that he has whenever he's masterminded some of their most impossible heists,

"What do you suggest?"

Nikolai moves towards the door,

"Come on, let's all go through this together."

Minutes later, Nikolai sips tea from his ornate glass mug, leaning back in his chair, running his fingers through Elizabeth's dense fur like a Bond Villain as he grins at the rest of the Gilded Poppy,

"We meet their demands and conduct the hand-off on Friday night. The art in exchange for Daisy."

Remy shifts his feet, glancing at Vivienne who looks a little surprised,

"Nikolai, I didn't expect you just to fulfil their request, darling?"

A wicked smile adorns Nikolai's pale features,

"We will fulfil their request, dearest Vivienne... But our 'friends' won't be keeping the art collection... First we rescue Daisy, then we rescue our collection..."

Remy punches the air, wrapping his free arm around Jett,

"Let's bring our Daisy home, mon ami!"

---

She's been waiting for what's felt like an eternity, patiently. She's spent her time, working on controlling her breathing, clearing her mind, steadying her nerves... Getting up the gall to pull off her own escape. No Gilded Poppy, no explosives, no master plan, no comms, no getaway car... Only herself to rely on... It's a sobering thought, that's for certain. Daisy's heart leaps into her throat as she hears the lock begin to turn over in the barrel... She's sitting on the edge of the mattress, fork tucked into her hand, concealed by her forearm... As Geoff enters the room, Daisy fakes a small smile at him and stands, moving towards him, looking up at him innocently from under dark lashes, she mumbles,

"You know Geoff, I just want this to be over. I won't give you any trouble."

Geoff looks surprised as he quirks an eyebrow at her,

"That's... Good. I'm glad, Daisy. I like you a lot. If we can keep this as amicable as possible, I'd be really happy about that."

Daisy takes another couple of steps closer, doe eyes staring up at him, charming him, disarming him, flattering his ego...

"You know, I've had a lot of time to think about it while I've been sitting here, Geoff. This is a pretty clever heist. Ambitious. The J-Team underestimated you. You should have been in charge of the planning, your vision could have made them legendary, instead of Jamie... Only interested in the routine of a bank job, never anything outside the box... I didn't know you had this side to you..."

Geoff beams at Daisy, a genuine an bright smile lights up his handsome face as he laps up the attention and the compliments, stepping closer as he starts to enthuse about how Jamie and Jock never truly valued his input... He's caught up in the moment as Daisy shifts position, moving herself from being directly opposite the door, to a ninety degree angle, putting her on level footing to the exit, distance-wise... And with the element of surprise, she stands a damn good chance... He's becoming increasing animated as Daisy decides that now is the time to put her plan into motion. Rapidly she jerks the fork into the air and slams it down with all of her might into Geoff's arm before he has time to realise what she's doing! He lets out a roar of surprise, but she's already out of the door, running through the dingy, deserted corridors, never stopping to look back! She can hear Geoff yelling for Steven and she barrels past him as he emerges from a room to her right! She can see the glass double front doors of the office block, leading outside to a carpark and concrete jungle, they're ajar! She can't believe her luck! She psyches herself for the inevitable game of hide and seek she'll have to play with her captors as she reaches the top of the staircase. Steven's racing behind her and he's making ground... Her feet are like lightning as she takes the staircase as quickly as she can - freedom is just within her reach! She's made it! She's done! Until on the bottom step, the high heel of her sandal catches on the loose carpet, twisting wildly as she tries to catch her balance, and lands awkwardly, whacking the back of her head hard on the handrail she was grabbing for.

Steven stands at the top of the stairs shell-shocked, releasing a sharp cry of 'Fuckkkkkk!' as he hears the dull thud of Daisy's head against the rail and watches her limp frame collapse onto the floor of the disused reception area, a tangle of limbs and dark curls. Geoff catches up to him, still clutching at the fork wound, stopping dead in his tracks for a moment, staring at the scene unfolded on the ground level,

"Shit!!!"

He tears down the flight of stairs to the bottom as Steven remains as still as a statue, his hands clutching his temples, hyperventilating as he screams at Geoff,

"Is she dead?! Oh my God!!! Is she dead, Geoff?! What the fuck are we going to do?! I didn't sign up for this?! They'll say it was deliberate - they'll say I pushed her!! I can't go to jail for killing a girl, oh my God!! What are we going to do?!"

Geoff's on the floor beside Daisy, his fingers probing the side of her neck, cursing under his breath,

"You stupid, stupid girl! I told you no one was going to hurt you, why did you have to pull a stunt like this?!"

He lifts his head to yell to Steven,

"She's alive, she has a good pulse! She's knocked herself out."

Geoff slides one hand under Daisy's head to try to shift her into a less awkward pose, the colour draining from his face, as he retracts his hand to looks at the warm, wet substance covering it,

"Oh fukkkkkk... This wasn't supposed to go down like this!! Steven, get the keys!! Help me get her in the car!!"

Steven's eyes widen as he looks at Geoff,

"The car??"

Geoff shakes his head, incredulous, "I'm not going to let her die, Steven!! I'm a bloody thief, not a monster: I do not want a dead body on my hands!! We need to get her to a hospital: keys, masks, now!!

---

"HEY!! HEY!!! GET BACK HERE, YOU COWARD!!!"

The tall, blonde paramedic screams after the rapidly retreating black saloon car that's just off-loaded a semi-unconscious young woman in a blood-smeared white sundress onto the ground in front of the main hospital doors. He rushes to crouch by her side, she groaning and trying to curl into a ball as he scoops her into his strong arms, with one final look of disgust in the direction the car went, he speaks softly, heading purposely through the automatic doors.

"You're ok sweetie, I've got you, you're going to be ok."

---

Steven paces back and forth, agitation showing on his face as stares at Geoff,

"What do we do? What if she doesn't pull through, Geoff? It's all been for nothing. Nothing!! We've lost the art collection... Your revenge... Our new life in Majorca..."

Geoff rakes his fingers back through his glossy hair as he watches Steven,

"Unless... Unless we move up the handover..."

Steven stops dead, bewilderment marring his features,

"What do you mean 'move up the handover'? We don't have what they want us to handover any more?!"

Geoff stands taller, captivated by his own idea,

"No, no, no... They want her back, and we'll take them to her, they still get the girl in exchange for the collection. My revenge is complete, we still get to go off and live our best lives in Majorca, love... We'll send another message to the Poppy, the handover has to be tonight. We can't wait ‘til Friday, if she dies, the whole jig is up..."

---

When the message pinged onto Jett's phone from yet another burner phone, the Poppy went into overdrive coordinating their double rescue bid. They have gone from having two days to arrange their attack, to merely a few hours.

Jett swallows uneasily as Remy pats his hand, trying to calm his nerves,

"Why are they pulling the exchange in, Remy? There must be a reason. I don't like this, mate... Not one bit."

Remy scoffs, trying to lighten the mood,

"If Daisy's being difficult, they probably just want this to be over. You know how she gets when she isn't pleased...."

Remy tries to lighten the mood by pulling his best scowl and adopting an American accent, impersonating his dear friend,

"The Gilded Poppy will find you and kick your damn ass, you bastards!!"

Jett lets out a half-laugh, that catches in his throat and turns into a sob. Remy wraps one arm around his shoulder,

"Mon ami, come! She will be ok, we will see our Daisy again soon..."

Jett shudders, scrubbing his face with his balled fisted, amber eyes glistening with unspilled tears,

"She was so scared Remy. I've never seen her look like that... And there wasn't a single thing I could do. They just... Took her. What if I never see her again? I-I love her, and I never told her..."

Remy's face softens as he pulls Jett closer to hug him properly, patting his back soothingly,

"Alors... You can tell her when she comes home."

---

As agreed, Steven send a message with the location of the meet, thirty minutes prior to the handover time, detailing the location as the Kwong Wah Hospital carpark. He and Geoff wait in the vehicle, until they see the headlights on a muscle car flash twice at them. They get out of the car, and walk towards the Gilded Poppy who have also exited their vehicle. As the factions approach each other, Jett notices Geoff. The betrayal hits him like a grenade as a rage erupts inside of him he screeches,

"YOU?!?! Geoff, how could you do this?!?!"

He lunges towards Geoff, only to be pulled back and held firmly by Leon until his blind fury begins to subside, muttering to himself as much as Leon,

"J-Team Geoff... I can't believe this bullshit... He was always my favourite..."

Geoff winks at Nikolai and extends his hand, which Nikolai ignores, staring him down like shit on his shoe. Nikolai requests crisply,

"The girl?"

Geoff shrugs his shoulders, mimicking Nikolai's haughty tone,

"The art?"

The pair stand there, their stares burning into each other. Minutes pass with not another word spoken, until Vivienne steps forward, purring,

"Gentlemen, we're not getting anywhere. You want the collection? We want our associate. How can we... Expedite this process?"

Geoff's breaks eye contact with Nikolai to stare at Vivienne's slender arm on Nikolai's shoulder, he clears his throat,

"Daisy is here. Give me the collection and I'll tell you the exact location."

Jett yells, full of vitriol,

"You let us see her, then you get the collection, you wanker!"

Geoff scoffs,

"No can do, Slater. Put the collection in the car, then you get your little dominatrix back, ok?"

Leon grips Jett's biceps again to stop him killing Geoff stone-dead, he mutters,

"Let it go, Jett, he's just trying to get a rise out of you..."

Nikolai sighs, a prickly, irritated sound,

"Fine. It seems like there isn't much option; we appear to have reached an impasse. Remy, Zoe, please handover the collection?"

Zoe nods her head solemnly, lifting a small canvas from the car and moving towards Geoff's vehicle. She glares at a visibly nervous Steven as she places the artwork inside. Remy moves behind her, doing the same. Over and over, until the entire art collection from the Gilded Poppy's Hong Kong penthouse lays across the back seat of a black Mercedes.

Nikolai's voice peals out, commanding in it's tone,

"You have the art. Now. The girl."

Geoff nods,

"A deal is a deal. She's inside."

Steven scarpers for the car as Jett breaks free of Leon's grip,

"Inside?? What did you do to her?!"

Geoff back towards the car as Jett's fist makes contact with his cheekbone,

"Arrrghhh! Get off of me, Slater!! I never touched her!! We dropped her off her a couple of hours ago after she slipped and hit her head trying to escape!"

Geoff lets out a groan as Jett lands a solid right hook and a swift jab to follow it up before Leon pulls him back.

Leon cracks his knuckles and stretches out his neck as he approaches, looming head and shoulders above the other men and twice as broad,

"Jett, go and find Daisy, leave this piece of shit to me..."

Geoff's eyes bug out as he assesses Leon's stature and bulk,

"Hey! Hey! She's fine!! There's no need for this!!"

A small smiles tugs at Leon's lips,

"But that's no way to treat a lady, Geoff... You don't just leave her at A&E... You wait with her, maybe get her a magazine, a hot chocolate... It's only polite. I think you and I should take a little walk and talk about manners..."

Leon's giant arm dwarves Geoff as he grips him firmly, marching him away from the rest of the Poppy.

Suddenly the black Mercedes roars to life, tyres squealing on the tarmac as Steven tries his best to make a sharp exit.

Remy rolls his eyes,

"Merde! Zoe??"

Zoe taps at a few buttons on her tablet, and seconds later confirms with a sly grin,

"Gates are closing... Right... About... Now..."

A loud bang and the sound of a car horn echoes across the car park. The black Mercedes has driven straight into the closing electronic gates and Steven looks shell-shocked as he stares back at the Poppy observing him with distain...

Nikolai dusts a particle of imaginary lint from his shoulder and sniffs,

"Zoe we appear to have wasted your time on that GPS tracking... Remy, Jett, can you load the collection back in Leon's car?"

Jett protests,

"Not a bloody chance, I'm going in there to find Daisy!!"

Nikolai closes his eyes, letting his head drop backwards for a moment, looking exasperated, before reasoning with the excitable Englishman,

"No you aren't. Look at your knuckles. No one is going to give you any information about a girl who was dropped off at hospital with a head injury, if you go in there looking like that... "

Nikolai gestures towards the front of Jett's checked shirt that's covered in blood spatter from the right hook he landed on Geoff. Reluctantly Jett concedes and watches anxiously as Nikolai and Vivienne enter the hospital to locate his girl...

---

The art is all back in Leon's vehicle, Remy, Jett, Zoe and Leon sit inside, in agitated silence. Leon's not saying what exactly he did to Geoff, only that the Poppy have acquired a nice five-bedroom villa in Majorca where they can have a couple of weeks of downtime to recover from this fiasco... Steven's vanished, but Leon's happy to that he's no real threat anyway... If he has any sense, he’ll get rid of Geoff and find a better boyfriend... Remy squeezes a worried Jett's knee in the back seat, a gesture of solidarity and a reassurance that Daisy will be fine... Zoe interrupts the silence as a call comes through and she puts Vivienne on speaker...

'We posed as her brother and sister-in-law, eventually a young nurse took pity on us... Daisy was brought in as a Jane Doe by a paramedic when that 'monster' dumped her outside... She has a nasty head injury, and they had to operate...

Jett almost levitates as he shouts.

"Operate? WHAT?!"

Vivienne's smooth voice soothes him,

"Jett, darling, it's ok. They relieved any pressure off her brain and are very happy with how things went. But..."

Jett's voice is panicked and high as the others sit in stony silence,

"But what??? Bloody tell me Vivienne???"

Vivienne breathes deeply before answering him,

"They put her in a medically-induced coma to let her recover properly. Jett, I'm so sorry."

Jett's hands are over his eyes, he whispers to himself,

"No. No... No, no, no, no..."

Remy shifts in his seat, unbuttoning his shirt as Zoe raises an eyebrow at him. He shimmies until he's naked from the waist up, tossing his clothing at Jett,

"Here. Keep your hands in the pockets. Go to Daisy, Jett. Vivienne, he's coming in, ma cherie..."`

Jett's mouth opens and closes a couple of times before he pulls Remy into a bear-hug then jumps out of the car, wrestles his shirt off and throws Remy's clothes on. He tosses his blood-stained shirt to Remy, who shrugs, then flexes his biceps,

"Non, it's ok, I think Leon and Zoe are enjoying the view..."

Jett snorts a laugh as he takes off towards the doors of the hospital, greeted by Vivienne as he does. She exclaims, as she leads him swiftly by the arm towards Daisy's room,

"Darling, what took you so long?? Quickly, this way!"

Vivienne smiles gratefully at the young nurse standing by the desk...

As they enter the room, the mechanical whirr and ping of machines makes Jett's breath catch. There she is, his Daisy, connected to a dozen tubes and monitors, her dark hair cascading across the pillow over a white dressing. Dressed in a hospital gown with dried blood on the side of her neck, she looks frail, and so small. He barges past Nikolai and falls to his knees by the side of the hospital bed, tears streaming down his cheeks as he clutches her hand in his,

"God, Daisy?"

He turns to Vivienne and Nikolai who stand against the wall,

"Can she hear me?"

Vivienne takes Nikolai's arm as she answers him,

"Yes, she might not remember when she's back with us, but they say that she can hear. Jett, Nik and I are going to give you some privacy. Call us if you need us, we'll come straight back."

Jett nods at Vivienne, all his words reserved for the sleeping girl before him,

"Daisy, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry... I didn't protect you... I love you and I..."

Vivienne closes the door behind she and Nikolai, biting her lip as she looks up at him. He places his hand over hers comfortingly as he leads her back to the car.

---

Three days have passed before the doctors are satisfied that Daisy's injury has had a chance to optimise it's healing process during her sedation, Jett's barely moved from her side. The other have come and gone in shifts to visit their girl and to bring supplies to Jett while he keeps vigil by her side. After the sedative IV is removed, he sits by her side, stroking her hand, waiting for what seems like another three days before her fingers twitch against his hand. He lifts her fingers, pressing soft kisses against them as tear threaten to blind him, praying,

'Come on Daisy, come back to me, please...'

Doctors rush in as the machines connected to Daisy alert them that she's conscious, they want to check and assess her reactions and reflexes. Jett stands outside as he waits for them to finish, his eyes locked firmly with Daisy's as he smiles through the glass at her, watching her cheeks flush and her eyes as he touches his heart and mouths,

"I love you."

End <3

#lovestruck fic #lovestruck requests #qot fic #queen of thieves fic #jett x mc

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fireflyquill · 6 years

Note

Hey :) Any opinions or tips on a good fic chapter length?

Hi anon!

I can tell you how I decide on chapter length, but am sure that other writers do things differently to equal or greater success :)

Short answer: I usually aim for between 4000-6000 words for a chapter, but there are always exceptions, of course!

Long answer below!

My main criteria for breaking up chapters is based on narrative: does this chapter stand somewhat well alone? Is this a logical place to end this piece of the story arc? This doesn’t necessarily mean all chapters end on cliffhangers, however! It could just seem like the right place to leave it emotionally as well. With Empire of Dirt, for instance, the last chapter was almost the same length as the rest of the fic combined. I did feel as though that made it a bit unbalanced, but had wanted to break up the chapters by plot. With To Make an Honest Man, the prologue doesn’t even hit 1000 words, but that seemed to work as a good teaser narratively and emotionally speaking.

Secondly, I try to think about reader expectations. In a longer story, readers will expect longer chapters. That’s not to say that you can’t stick in a shorter one for flavour, but in general, they will want to be more immersed in your world for a longer period of time since they are committed to your long fic. I tend to write novella/short story length fics (and that’s also what I tend to read), which is why I try to stick to my 4k-6k rule. It’s not that I don’t read and love longer chapters and stories: but I often only have time during the day to read things of this length (on the bus, between working, etc.), and anything longer, I save for the evenings or weekends (which is totally okay too!) This is also why when I have a fic that’s technically a one-shot (like Come Around), but is over 10k, I split it into two chapters for easier reading. It’s hard for a reader to decide where to stop reading within a chapter (and they might have to do so very reluctantly), so I try to break it up for them.

Lastly, really, just whatever feels right! You probably have a sense of the ebb and flow of your story, and also what you want to do with it. I try to treat chapters like I would a paragraph in a long essay: what do I want to accomplish by the end of this section? What do I want my reader to take away, and where do I want to leave them (usually not in tears, but sometimes… ;-;)? Those are good questions to ask too!

…I’m sorry I got a bit carried away there! This was a fun question to think about, and I hope that my answer helped you, anon! Thanks for asking :)

#firefly rambles #firefly answers #this was a really good question and I really enjoyed thinking about it!#thank you anon!

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sherlockmonkeesstartrek · 6 years

Note

Hi there! Read your post, and GOD! After years of reading fanfiction about any fandom but The Hollies, you are like a dream come true! But sadly, I'm the least creative person, and I wouldn't know what to ask! Yep, my fav is Tony, and I love the second and third lineup (Tony, Allan and Bobby with Bern, Graham or Terry). If I imagine some smut, it would be some angry sex between Tony and Graham, even though they never clashed that much in RL. (1/2)

Hiii! I’ve seen your blog before and can I just say how much I love it

Anyways, I am totally digging that Tony/Graham hate fuck, so I wrote a little (6000 word) fic about them. I kinda got carried away, sorry XD So yeah, I haven’t read over it and I’ve never really written all that much about Tony before, so I just keep that in mine. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy;

“Did you just,” Graham laughed, turning to look at the other boys in the studio as though for back up despite being well aware before even regarding their disapproving expressions that he was looking to the wrong people for help. Really, these comments were only to make light of the situation for himself, “Did you just see that? My god.” He turned back to where he’d just watched one of his bandmates storm out and sighed. “Tony Hicks. Who knew?”

Well, it seemed they all knew. They knew from the moment Tony started raising his voice, a odd spectacle for such a quiet young man, that he was capable of as much of a dramatic and aggressive exit as any one of the boys had managed before. Just because he stayed out of fights, stayed away from drama, didn’t mean he was totally incapable of getting involved. And the thing was, this wasn’t his fault. He hadn’t got into a fight, he didn’t instigate it. If anything, he was being patient for a good time longer than the other boys could. And when he did eventually snap, everyone agreed that he was totally valid in doing so.

Even the guy who started it, the very man who marvelled at the reaction in its aftermath. Graham had to admit he kind of went over the top on that one. He didn’t mean to start an argument. He just seemed to spark them by accident, and he wasn’t the type to back down on anything, even if it was better off if he did for his own benefit.

Still, he’d fucked up, what could he do now?

He shrugged off the negativity in the atmosphere and turned his attentions to finding his guitar. Where had he put it down?

“Guys, have you seen my pick?”

Not a peep sounded from his remaining bandmates. Casually, the rhythm guitarist looked up. He’d practically forgotten the fight in about two seconds of distraction. Apparently, it wasn’t so easy for the others, mostly because they had no interest in forgetting.

“What was all that about?” Allan was first to speak. He’d clashed with Graham many a time throughout the years, so wasn’t afraid to do so now. In fact, he felt inclined to do so to defend his mate and let his discontent be known to the perpetrator.

“What? Oh, the thing… nothing.” Graham muttered. He was outnumbered. Even he wasn’t on his own side about this. That was why he was so quick to try and ignore it. He’d done wrong. Something pretty fucking wrong. There was no reason to go off of Tony like that, yet he’d done it and… well… the not backing down thing, the trait that would get him killed if he wasn’t careful. He could see the headlines ‘English musician mauled by bandmates.’ What a way to go.

“Sure sounded like nothing.”

“Well, it was. He overreacted.” Ok, he didn’t even believe what he was saying, never mind whether Allan did, or Bobby or Bern. Basically, he was losing a war he’d inadvertently started with that minor battle, and that was pissing him off.

“Yeah?” Allan stepped forward, challengingly.

Graham ground his teeth, standing up to the challenge, “Well what do you want me to do about it now? Hu? Go and kiss him and make up so we can play some shit on another record we didn’t write. Oh sure.”

Apparently, kissing was a bit too much, but making up was exactly what Allan wanted. Graham sighed, frustrated as he turned to the door. He felt like a kid being told off by his parents, made to go and apologise to an annoying brother for aggravating him. Since when had Allan been so damn uptight? Oh yeah, since forever. Since he’d settled down with Jen. Even before that, in fact. He was suddenly so worried about what kind of music the band should be making or how much work they were all putting in or bullshit like that. Making music often isn’t something you can plan. It should be fun and exciting and…

…this had nothing to do with the argument. It seemed like Tony wasn’t the only one with a lot of pent up frustration. Graham rationalised that perhaps the guitarist should be thanking him. After all, it's not good for people to keep things bottled up without letting it out once in a while. And Tony constantly seemed so cool and calm, either he was getting it all out with some great sex every night, or he wasn’t getting it out at all. If the former was true, at least he was saving Tony’s chick from having a right good fucking tonight.

Actually, that was regrettable, depending on how you look at it. And as Graham wandered down the corridors, trying to find his bandmate, he found himself considering it from every angle. If he was Tony’s girl, he’d be a bit put out if she wasn’t getting anything out of him. He was handsome guy. It was the eyes, the slightly hooded, striking blue eyes. That was the first thing Graham thought of when he thought of Tony, the first thing he could imagine girls noticed. It was the first thing he noticed when he met the boy way back when. Though he may’ve grown into his ever youthful looks, his ears now were the right size for the rest of his face- or at least covered by a thick mass of fair hair curling down his neck- and he’d ditched the overly skinny look for a little more filled out and muscular, his eyes remained very much the same, as stunning and bright as they always had been.

What was Graham doing thinking like this of his mate? He laughed at himself, shaking the thought from his mind. He only had to apologize to the guy to get him back in the studio so they could finish a recording, not flatter him with complements of his eyes. Not only would that be really weird, but it wouldn’t work. Either Tony would think Graham was taking the piss or he’d get all shy. It was strange that such a handsome, sought-after boy like Tony was not used to receiving compliments.

He was doing it again, thinking about him like that. It would make it damned hard for him to face the boy if his mind was in other places.

Well not too hard. As soon as he caught sight of Tony in the loos, a cheekiness came over him, the same one that had persuaded him to go over the top on the little disagreement not ten minutes ago. He sauntered into the room and leant up against the wall by the door, arms crossed over his chest, one foot balancing on its toes beside the other, an expectant smile gazing at the guitarist who was washing his hands quite quietly. There was a bit of aggression in his actions. Graham didn’t think he’d ever seen Tony quite like this, letting something bother him to the point that his actions were affected. He wrung his hands beneath the water hard enough to turn his slightly tanned skin red and pressed the soap dispenser violently, causing the clear liquid to shot out and spray half on his cupped palm, half on the sink beside him. He then, after rinsing, pulled way too much tissue from the dispenser and threw the scrunched up, soggy ball in the bin with such force it popped back out, settling on the floor.

“Didn’t your mum ever tell you you should pick up after yourself?” Graham laughed, gesturing to the bin as Tony pivoted on his heels. He did not seem at all startled by the rhythm guitarist’s presence. In fact, perhaps he did already know that he was in there, hence the aggression in his actions and the casual way he regarded Graham as he leant back against the sink, his lips pressed into a hard, white line. He didn’t even bother to acknowledge Graham’s little comment. He just stood there, glaring.

“Come on, are you really going to be mad at me over this?” Graham sighed, bored of this already. He was also really starting to get bored of the silence treatment. It grated on him. He waited for a reply. None came.

His voice took a more impatient tone when he opened his mouth again. “Look, I’m meant to apologise to you, so let’s just forget about this shit so we can keep recording and you can hate me afterwards, ok?”

The expression on Tony’s face changed, which Graham saw as a positive. At the very least it might be an indication that he might start talking and he was right.. It just wasn’t the response Graham had been hoping for.

“No, fuck you. You always seem to just bypass apologising, like you’ve done nothing wrong.”

Graham swore he didn’t mean to, but habitually rolled his eyes, which Tony obviously didn’t take well. He didn’t get angrier as such. He, if anything, looked disappointed. He had that ‘why do I bother’ look in his eyes, while which, in turn, irritated Graham to the point that had he been considering a proper apology, it was now definitely off the table.

“Mate, are you serious? All I did was disagree with you.” He said, any friendly tone now dropped completely.

“You fucking disagree with everyone.” Tony retorted.

“So you shouldn’t be taking it so fucking personally.”

“I’m not. I’m mad for everyone. I don’t know what the hell has got into you, whether it's fame or something, but you’re bloody unbearable at the moment, and the other guys can sit back and take it, but I’m not going to.”

“No?” Graham was now laughing at the younger man, amused by the determination to stand up to him. He thought it cute, and knew that would annoy Tony.

That, coupled with patronising him, and Graham knew he was heading to a breaking point. He wanted to see how far he could push his mate, since he was already in so deep.

“What are you going to do?”

Tony glared at his so-called friend intensely. His blood boiled in his veins, mostly those in his clenched fists that longed to slug the rhythm guitarist in the jaw. Oh, but he couldn’t, could he? It would make for bad press, unease in the group, which was the last thing they needed. Then again, there was a chance the fight would be settled with that one swing. Graham would know not to mess with Tony, he might learn a lesson or two about irritating the rest of the band and Tony would get out all the anger on his bandmate. When he thought like that, it was just too damn tempting. Not to mention that Graham, as he looked down and saw Tony’s skilled fingers curled into fists, practically asked for it.

“Are you going to punch me? Oh that I have to see!”

Well, he didn’t want to disappoint. Allowing all the anger he usually let go of build up, he jolted violently up, stalked towards the older man standing by the door and let the knuckles of his powerful right hand make contact with Graham’s cheek. Immediately, the rhythm guitarist stumbled sideways, one hand reaching to stop himself from falling, the other grasping his bruised cheekbone. When he steadied, he shot a wild look up at Tony, planning his revenge.

While Tony did feel pretty sorry, he wasn’t going to say it. It wasn’t he who owed an apology. The only reason he was considering it in that moment was because he didn’t really want to get into a fist fight, which seemed the way this was going, judging by the look in Graham’s pale blue eyes. Still, he stood his ground, waiting for Graham’s move.

Which turned out to be an attack, heading straight for the boy’s wrists. He wasn’t interested in hurting Tony. No, he was going to pin him down, make him beg for an apology. Once he had hold of one of Tony’s wrists, he spun him around, bending the arm up his back, applying enough pressure to have him totally under his control, then guided him to the sink area where he bent the kid over. A short hiss escaped Tony’s mouth as he pushed against Graham, writhed under his control. Graham wasn’t that much stronger than him, he just had the upper hand at that moment, in a position that made it near enough impossible to fight against.

This was also quite a compromising position. Even Graham had to admit he didn’t really want to be caught by anyone like this. For all the strength he possessed in that moment, his crotch was pressed against Tony’s butt, he had the boy literally bent over under him. No wonder why Tony struggled. But Graham was not going to let him up, not for anything.

He laughed evilly, “What’s the matter down there?”

“Get off!!! Graham, get the fuck off me!!!”

God, this gave Graham such a rush of power. He ignored how weird the moment looked in favour of bending right over and hovering his lips over Tony’s ear.

He caught a quick glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sinks. The oddest feeling waved through him that he refused to address. He shook his mind clean for a moment to say, “Is there something you want?”

“Get the fuck off me!!!” Tony yelled. It echoed around the room, followed by a low chuckle from Graham’s throat that had the younger boy struggling once more in anger.

“I thought you wanted an apology.” Graham teased, “You can’t be greedy and have both.”

“FUCK OFF!”

Tony lifted his head slightly, enough to also see the mirror. He looked so stupidly helpless under the weight of his friend, now baring down on his back. He met Graham’s gaze, gave him a filthy look until he noticed something. He saw a flicker of something in his pale blue irises. He’d seen it a few times before, most notably the time they’d all gone to that club with that belly dancer, the one they all had a crush on. Well, a crush was putting it nicely. They all wanted to fuck her. Graham was looking at him with a glare that would’ve been quite threatening and annoying- due to the cheeky smile on his lips- had he not also got that sparkle, that wanting gaze.

Did Graham want to fuck him?

“Oh my god…” Tony chuckled, turning his head downwards towards the space between sinks that thankfully wasn’t wet or dirty. Graham had been kind in where he’d pinned him down.

“What?” Graham demanded. He didn’t much like the feeling of loss of power that Tony’s laughter provided him.

Still giggling, Tony peered up a little.

“Are you turned on right now?”

“The fuck? Of course not!”

“I think you are, you fucking creep.”

Graham felt his cheeks flush. No way he was turned on. No way. Not even if he’d already kind of seen the excitement when he’d glimpsed the mirror. Nope. He’d deny it. He’d keep on denying it.

And he certainly wasn’t going to let Tony see the sudden colour in his cheeks. When the guitarist attempted to look in the mirror again, Graham snaked his fingers around his neck and twisted his head back to one side, resting on the surface.

“Listen, you’re the creep for even thinking that. Now, you wanted something, didn’t you?” He tried to regain the atmosphere from before. Both the boys were mad, and Graham was in control. He had Tony right where he wanted him and… ok so it might’ve turned him on a little bit, but at least in that moment Tony didn’t know.

He heard Tony make a breathy gasp. The position for him was awkward, but he was in no way screaming for oxygen. He barely even fought anymore. The smile on his lips, though, had faded in favour of a more frustrated expression.

“Yeah,” The boy said through gritted teeth, “I wanted you to get the fuck up, because you’re enjoying yourself too much.”

Graham ignored the indication of his pleasure in the position.

“Why don’t you ask me nicely?” He suggested.

Tony hid a smirk.

“And here I was thinking you were going to make me beg for it.”

Something, the same thing that had lit Graham’s eyes and coloured his cheeks, stirred within him again. He stared down at Tony, wondering what his next move should be.

He decided not to give the boy the satisfaction of knowing he was right. Or at least, he wasn’t going to get defensive. He wasn’t going to deny anything anymore, not outright.

“Alright, that seems like a good idea. Beg for me to get off you.”

Oh yes. That had Tony hesitating. It was a moment before he piped up.

“Are you serious?” He laughed.

In a low voice, Graham replied, “Deadly.”

“Fuck off.”

“I don’t hear any begging. I guess you like this, you like being bent over, do you?”

Fuck! Tony struggled once more, annoyed that Graham had somehow flipped this situation on its head, yet again. Not only did he have full power over his body, keeping him firmly against the sink, but he also had power because there was no way Tony was going to beg. He wasn’t a dog or a child and he certainly did not take orders from someone like Graham.

But what choice did he have?

“You can’t be fucking serious!”

“I told you, I am.” Graham chuckled. He decided he was going to have all the fun he wanted in that moment, letting loose a lodged phrase he’d been wanting to say as he waited for Tony to retort. “And since I am actually enjoying this, I might as well take advantage of it.”

Tony... didn’t get it. He was totally confused, thrown off by Graham’s admission. He really didn’t know how to reply. He really didn’t know how he felt about the whole situation anymore. He just knew that his neck was starting to hurt like this.

He tried to arch it away from the sink, only to have Graham push him back down, smothering him further into the countertop.

“Plea-“ Tony gasped. For a moment, he was about to beg. And in that moment, after hearing a small chuckle escape Graham’s lips, the fingers around his neck loosened. He was given a little leeway to move. Humiliated, he shut his eyes. Could he really do this? Could he really beg his friend for anything, a guy who he was still mad at, who he would happily kick in the balls if his legs weren’t pressed up against the back of his thighs? No, no he couldn’t.

Graham was beginning to enjoy the power again. Perhaps a little too much. But he’d half admitted as much, so he didn’t really care. He ignored the distinct feeling of swelling down south- he didn’t press himself too hard into Tony in case he could feel it- and instead directed his energies to thinking of something to say next, something evil, something that would really piss Tony off. Because it got him off, for some reason. Just the idea of the kid so helpless under him, conflicted as to whether he should humiliate himself or not, allow the older man to manipulate him or not.

He leant down again, hovering his mouth over Tony’s ear, the soft, fair hairs whispering against the curve of cartilage tickling his lips. Tony could feel his hot breath hit his skin. He cringed as he felt Graham laugh.

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.” Tony muttered.

“I think you did.” Graham laughed, “Go on, you can do it and I’ll let you up.”

Not a peep escaped Tony’s throat for a whole minute as they stood in that position, so Graham decided to make it worse for him.

Since he’d first bent down and whispered in the guitarist’s ear, he’d got the urge to do it. The back of his ear looked so enticing. It was stupid and weird, but it wasn’t the only thing in the situation that fitted that description. There was a small sensation of this being a step further, but Graham had lost the ability to really stop himself, just as he had in the argument. He succumbed to the temptation and stuck out his tongue.

Tony felt a more humid breath against his skin, following a wet slap that sounded almost like a kiss being broken. Having no idea what was going on, his mind drew blanks until he felt it; Graham’s tongue dragged against the back of his ear, right at the tip of it.

And Tony found himself sighing involuntarily. He caught himself, eyes shooting open, body tensing, but the damage was done, Graham had heard it. If he could not tell by the way the rhythm guitarist abruptly paused, then he could by the chuckle rumbling low in Graham’s chest.

The older man, after his hesitation, completed the lick before closing his mouth and reopening it again. Suddenly, he had plenty of things to say.

“Now, if I didn’t know any better, I would say you enjoyed that.”

Tony had no reply.

“And you called me the creep.”

The younger man let his jaw fall slack, ready to reply, but the older man beat him to it.

“You’re a very bad boy, Tony Hicks.”

“Don’t say things like that!” He snapped back. His vigour, however, was beaten by the chuckles vibrating through his bandmate’s body. Did he ever stop laughing? Boy did Graham know how to piss people off. Tony wouldn’t be surprised to learn if that was the first thing Graham looked for when he met people, a way to really get right on their nerves.

“Well, you shouldn’t have moaned.” Graham warned, letting his lips fall a little closer to Tony’s skin, rather than his tongue this time, “Would you like me to do it again?”

And this time, even though given an option, Tony could not think up an answer. He should’ve said a definitive ‘no.’

That is, if that was what he wanted.

Suddenly, the conflict in the boy’s mind was still fixated on whether he should submit to his bandmate, only in a very different way, and with a very different answer he found himself reaching.

Without a reply, which Graham found annoying- he really hated being ignored- he let his lips close around Tony’s ear, kissing him this time before running his tongue over the flesh. Tony tried really hard not to enjoy it, but it’s pretty hard when such an act coaxed feelings like the pleasurable shiver rushing directly to his spine. His body tensed, though this time not out of discomfort. It was due to the beginnings of a tight pleasure pooling below his stomach. It seemed that, inside him, his boiling blood and flashes of red behind his eyes were starting to convert into a different kind of frustration than he’d felt previously towards Graham. Instead of the desperate want to punch him in the face, he really wanted to pin him down on the floor and have his way with him.

He’d never thought such a thing about a guy before, but in that moment, gender wasn’t a concern of his, certainly not to the part of his body responsible for his thinking.

Graham seemed to be taken over by the same appendage, as he began kissing down Tony’s neck, moving his hand out the way, and Tony’s hair, to reach the hot, slender parts of his skin. His hands, now free, ran down the boy’s torso until they reached his hips, which they grabbed with considerable force. He dug his nails in tight to the thick layers of fabric Tony was clad in, in hope of feeling his skin, his flesh, his bones beneath.

“Are you sure you want me to get up?” He giggled lightly between kisses. He was not going to give up teasing his bandmate for anything, and that was a fact. He’d gotten off on irritating him, he’d relished his humiliation, why stop now when things were just getting interesting.

Of course, Tony saw it as an annoyance, but that was exactly what Graham wanted it to be.

“Will you just shut up for a minute?”

“Oh, of course not!” He breathed, “I want it known that you got off on me bending you over and…”

Tony realised that Graham had gotten complacent in his pleasure. Despite the grasp he had on Tony’s hips, he no longer had the good positioning that gave him all his strength. In one swift movement, Tony twisted around under him and pushed him towards the wall. As Graham attempted to recover, Tony lurched at him and pushed his whole body up against him. His hands sought out Graham’s, pinning them to the wall either side of his head. Now he could see the light in the older man’s eyes, the desire he’d only glimpsed, the damaged he’d actually done to the left side of his face. It was already bruising. Hmm, they’d have to explain that to the media, those that saw them as good, clean boys, not the types who got into fights.

Tony doubted they’d see them as the types who liked other boys either, so perhaps a black eye was the least of their worries. He suddenly thought of the unlocked bathroom door, the studio that lay beyond it, and the one room where three friends, no doubt concerned about them, were and may not remain. There was any number of people who could walk in at the worst moment and see what they really shouldn’t.

But… if he went to lock the door, he’d lose his power over Graham, and boy had he been waiting pretty much the whole day- if not since he’d met the guy- for a chance like this.

He looked Graham in the twinkling eyes. The rhythm guitarist was waiting, waiting for a next move, aching for it. His stare was challenging, encouraging Tony to do something, anything, so the boy decided to risk everything to keep his position. He glared at Graham, thinking ‘you’ve no idea what we’re risking for this.’

His move, he decided, was to slide both his hands up, with Graham’s in their grasp, and hold them over Graham’s head. He found a way to keep both wrists pinned to the wall in just one hand, so the other could travel down his bandmate’s aching torso, down experimentally towards the waistband of his trousers. He looked so unsure. Graham did too, but his mind was now set on this moment. He needed this, he needed a release for his frustration and believed Tony could benefit from it too.

“I want this.” He whispered encouragingly. Never before had he ever so explicitly given consent, never had he previously had to, but it felt right in this situation, one neither he nor his friend had been in before. It struck a little confidence into Tony, evidenced by the quickening of his movements. He spread his hand over Graham’s hardness and lightly applied pressure. Graham gasped, to which Tony wanted to administer a little of Graham’s own medicine to him. He chuckled.

“Enjoying this, are we?”

Graham’s eyes met his.

“Now you can’t deny that you’re not.”

The younger boy shrugged, slowly removing his hand, much to Graham’s displeasure.

“I’m going to enjoy it a lot more in a minute.”

Curious, the older man watched. He wasn’t sure what part of his friend he should keep his eyes on; his face, his wandering hands, his torso, his… trousers. Eventually, though, the most interesting part was his hands, the one that lingered between both their crotches before turning upwards towards it’s owner’s waistband and those skilled, guitar-playing fingers hooked around the zipper of his trousers. He watched as Tony pulled down his fly and palmed himself through his boxers, straining handsomely against a thick bulge within them. He watched as Tony got off, pleasured himself, leaving Graham practically totally untouched, straining himself under far too many layers of clothing. The older man whimpered.

“This isn’t fair.”

With half shut eyes and a blissful smile on his face, Tony asked, “What isn’t?”

“I was winning. You’re a fucking dick. I had you…”

“Oh, but you wanted me so bad, you just couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

Graham recognised his own tactics. Oh, they were cruel. He smirked to himself, almost as a pat on the back for being so goddamned smart. If only he could just work out a way to tip the tables again in his favour.

In fact, he didn’t care much about being in power, he just wanted not to be left out. He wanted to be touched. He’d happily beg, though he’d never say as much voluntarily.

“Fuck, look at you!” Tony continued. Graham could see more bliss, more pleasure building up tight within the guitarist. It was quite a sight, a view that cause want to simmer below his stomach. He recognised the pleasure that Tony was affording himself and wanted some for himself. “Quiet for the first time today. If it wasn’t so illegal, I’d do this everyday to shut you up.”

Graham’s voice came out as a half strangled moan when he tried to speak.

However, he did managed to say, “You’d do it because you fucking love me, admit it.”

“I love it when you’re not pissing everyone else off.”

“You love me when I’m not pissing everyone off.”

“I like the peace and quiet.”

“I…” He gasped loudly, “…really just want to come. Tony, come on!”

Tony grinned. He stared at Graham, making his own pleasure more obvious with rolls of his blue eyes and bites of his kissable lips. He even took it to the next step, pulling himself totally out of the boxers hanging loose on his hips and tugged hard, in full view of his friend. If a high level of adrenaline, caused by frustration and desire, had not been coursing through his veins, he probably would’ve felt more than a bit embarrassed and self-conscious under Graham’s watchful gaze, but his levels of confidence were soaring. He was coaxed on by Graham’s words too, as humiliating and embarrassing as getting your dick out in front of a mate was.

“Don’t… come on, I’m aching. Tony…”

“If you don’t beg,” Tony wickedly said, “You don’t get.”

To his surprise, it seemed a lot easier for Graham to stoop to that level of indignity than it had been for him.

“Ok, please Tony will you touch me. Or let me touch myself. I don’t fucking care anymore.”

“No?” Tony gasped, now unable to control his tone, “That’s disappointing, I thought you loved me. I though you wanted me.”

“Alright, alright, I want you, you fucker. Please, I want you to touch me.”

“If I move my hand, are you going to overpower me?”

Graham was not lying when he replied, “No.” And Tony could tell. It was probably the most genuine thing he’d said all day. So, if a little gingerly, the guitarist removed his hand from Graham’s wrists and feathered it down his body. Helpfully, Graham’s shot down to his fly and ripped it open. He groaned as Tony’s hand wrapped around him.

Oh, it was way better to have someone else do that rather than his own hand, Graham decided. Just the unfamiliar touch was enough to improve it, but there was so much more going on. Namely, the fact that Tony had an idea of what he was doing. Graham was sure he could make many a joke about that, like that Tony wasn’t really so much of a ladies’ man as he was a ‘right hand’ man, but he wouldn’t dare ruin the mood, by cracking some awful, distasteful and mocking joke unless, like the jokes about loving one another, both of them would know they were merely in good fun. There was also the forbidden aspect that made it all the more exciting. It had not slipped Graham’s mind that the bathroom door was open and he was well aware of all the shit they could get into, least of all the prison sentences they could receive should something like this get out. But, instead of scaring them shitless enough to do something about it or stop, it enticed at least Graham to continue.

And he knew it would not take long. He’d been aching at the most innocent of acts. By the time Tony had his hand pumping at his dick, he was further than half way close to climax.

So, it came of no surprise to him that he was first to come. He spilled over Tony’s hand, moaning with his head tossed back against the wall. He thrust up into Tony’s hand until the shockwaves of pleasure ceased. Then he looked down at the younger man, simpering.

Tony gave him a dirty look back.

“It’s not a fucking race.” He breathlessly snapped, “It’s not good that you were first.”

Graham nodded, “I know. I was actually glad, because now I can do this.”

He reached out and clasped his own, capable fingers around the base of Tony’s dick and followed the boy’s movements until he let him do it on his own. It seemed Tony had the same thought as Graham; it really was better done by someone else. A fact he well knew from all the chicks he’d had, but when directly compared to himself, and faced with someone who knew what they were doing, oh it was perfect. A few short minutes later and he’d dirtied Graham’s hands. Thankfully, as both the boys did check, they’d managed not to get anything on their clothes, save perhaps for some water from the counter and the sinks.

Breathlessly, the two boys regarded one another. They grinned stupidly, disbelievingly, not knowing what to say next. What was the protocol here? There wasn’t even one. All they could do was go back to how they always were. Nothing had changed.

“So…” Tony’s voice echoed around the room. After all that noise, the sudden lull in that bathroom was both too much for the boys, and not enough. They wanted to talk, to fill the empty space, but really didn’t, because it would mean addressing what had just happened.

Graham decided to go about that in an indirect manner by, once he’d tucked himself back into his trousers and zipped himself back up, nipping across the room to the tissue dispenser. He brought two bundles of tissues back with him, one for himself, the other for Tony. With that minor distraction, they found their voices.

“…friends?”

“We always were.” Graham replied, “I know I’m pretty overbearing and all…”

“You can say that again.”

“Fuck off. I’m trying to… apologise.”

“Does that mean we have to go back and record a song now?”

They both looked pretty helplessly towards the door, nodding as though to answer the question for themselves.

“So…” Tony repeated, “Do you want to go first… or… or I can…”

“Nah,” Graham waved that idea away, “We’re mates again. We go back together.”

“Ok…”

Neither made a start to the door for a moment. Tony pretended he was making sure there was no more evidence of their ‘time’ in the bathroom, while Graham chuckled to himself to get over the whole situation. Then, as though they’d agreed, they strode together out of the bathroom, into the corridor of the studio, which remained quiet. They silently made for their studio, keeping their eyes forward, their hands in their pockets, undistinguishable expressions on their slightly flushed faces.

They then walked into the room where their three friends were sitting almost in wait of them. Allan stood up immediately, waiting for a verdict as to whether they’d made up or not.

Tony opened his mouth, “He’s a fucking dick.” He announced, though that was not news to anyone. What was a slight surprise, though, was the smile on his face as he walked off to grab his guitar, and the one stretching Graham’s lips as his watched him.

“Yeah, but you all love me.” He insisted.

2 notes · View notes

notwhelmedyet · 7 years

Text

fic : Slippery Slope

umm yes, hi, I have no explanation for this fic. If you like the premise of Pre-war Rewind ending up ‘working for’ Rung and then them being friends + subverting the system together, you may enjoy this story.

Rated G, 6000 words, weird tonal mix of fluff, crunchy worldbuilding and hurt/comfort. I’ll put up an AO3 link tomorrow.

BEFORE THE WAR

"Froid, what is this?" Rung sent out an irritable memo along with an attached picture of the object that had appeared in his office overnight. It was a dark grey rectangle, maybe two thirds of his mass but less than waist high, with curved red lit panels. Whoever had put it in his office, and he was willing to bet anything it had been Froid, had put it right next to the office console, snugged up against the desk.

There was a short transmission delay, and then Froid wrote back, "I got you some more storage. You're always complaining about not having enough console space for all your patient records. Well, voila! Was stopping by a Functionist center and they had a memory stick up for contract. My treat."

Rung unfolded his chair and sat down, running through a series of measured venting exercises to get his emotions under control. Froid hopefully did not know about his past with the functionists. Froid did not know how much he hated surprises, and also gifts. There was no need to snap at him for not knowing things. "In the future, I'd much prefer if you did not surprise me with such...large presents. I would not have picked up a disposable for my patient records when I could have just hired an assistant, a real assistant, to sort through and clean out my outdated records."

"Well, you can always just drop it back off with the Functionists," Froid wrote back. "It was cheap, don't feel obligated. But either way, I don't want to hear about your data storage problem next time we're at a conference. It was getting tiresome. I'm sorry, I have a client meeting soon, I'll have to let you go."

"Of course. Thank you for the gift," Rung said perfunctorily, breaking off the channel.

He stepped back to look at his new acquisition. He didn't know much about disposables, they didn't come up much in a clinical setting. There were a few of the research scientists who needed extra data storage, so they probably had a few. He knew they were Cybertronians with limited processing abilities, incapable of actual speech or complex thought and sensation. The Functionists minded their care until they could find a citizen willing to take on a disposable's keeping. The Functionists...ugh. He shivered. There was no way he was ever returning this drone to a work center himself. No way.

Given that, he was just going to have to figure out care and keeping and make due without that assistant he'd been wanting until the next university pay raise. It had been a tight budget he'd worked out to afford an assistant's wages along with his own rent, union dues and energon. Ah well, he would simply adapt.

He had a client appointment himself in a few hours but had intended to spend the morning organizing paperwork. Instead, he spent it researching drone handling and communication. A few articles in, he felt comfortable enough to give it a go.

He tapped lightly on the side of the memory stick. "If you can understand me, please transform back into root mode," he said. Drones were supposed to be able to follow simple verbal commands.

There was no response at first and Rung frowned. He had a habit of being overly loquacious, maybe the wording of that command had been too complex? But how would you say that more simply? Then, with the uncomfortable sound of metal scraping on metal, the box began to inch itself apart. The base separated into two legs, which swiveled apart to support the rest of the bot as the arms creaked out of their compressed form, jammed and then slowly squeaked into position. The protective helm casing slid open last and a fairly normal, if very small, helm emerged. Blue optics, red faceplate, white framing. There must have been some dents in the plating to make the transformation sequence that long and drawn out, Rung decided with a frown.

The drone's optics did not appear overly expressive, but his body language, though stiff, was. Maybe if you weren't a therapist with years of experience watching patients cringe away from discussing things it would not have been apparent, but the bearing of the drone's shoulders, the way he kept his chin down all screamed 'uncomfortable, feeling threatened'. Which seemed the sort of emotional response disposables weren't supposed to be able to have.

"Hello," Rung said, in his most reassuring voice. "My name is Rung, of the Pious Pools. We're going to be working together, so we need to figure out a way to communicate. I don't suppose you speak Neo-Cybex?"

The thing trilled out a series of beeps and clicks that did not, to Rung's ear, mean anything. Ah well, it had been worth a shot. He got out two datapads and set the displays such that one was lit and the other was dark, then held them out to the drone.

"Please point to the lit pad for yes and the dark pad for no. Do you understand?"

Hesitantly, the drone lifted its left arm to poke at the lit datapad. Rung felt a thrill. Communication at last.

"Okay. Good. I have an appointment to see to soon, so let's focus on the essentials. Do you need to refuel?"

The drone froze in what Rung would have called terror on any of his normal patients. Then, slowly, it raised its other arm jerkily to point at the dark datapad.

Rung let it go. "I noticed you had trouble transforming earlier. Was that due to some mechanical malfunction?"

No.

"Really. Not some deformed plating?"

No.

"Not a lack of joint lubricant? Not a stuck activator cable?"

No.

Rung frowned. "Are you lying to me? That sort of noise during transformation must have some sort of cause."

The mech reached out and began tapping on the dark datapad, leaving smudges of oil from its dirty fingerprints as it tapped frantically. Rung stepped back, pulling the datapads out of reach.

"Okay. I don't think this conversation is going well. Let's come back to it after my appointment. In the meantime, either sit down or change back into your alt, whichever you prefer."

Apparently it preferred to sit. Rung went back to researching, changing his focus to transformation sequence errors for a bit before realizing it was nearly time for the appointment and then fumbling to find and review his patient notes. The little drone sat very quietly, completely motionless through all of that. It continued to sit that way when the patient arrived and throughout the appointment, then through the next appointment. When it was time for Rung to step out and visit the dispenser for refueling, it was still just sitting there, doing nothing.

It had said it didn't need to refuel, but maybe that would perk it up a bit. At the dispenser he paid for his usual cube and then examined the choices. There must have been someone in the building with a drone, because there were prices listed for drone-specific fuel. He ordered a dram and watched it fill the tiny cube. The color looked odd, a grey-mauve shade instead of normal Energon pink. He dipped his fingertip in the cube and raised it to his lips, setting his chemoreceptors to analyze.

He didn't actually spit it out onto the floor, but it was a near thing. Primus, how did you make anything that was mostly Energon that disgusting? Except, now that he looked at the actual analysis results, it was barely 20% Energon. Most of the rest of it was fillers, and basic hydrocarbon fuel. That was pretty offensive, given its price per standard cube equivalent. He snagged an extra empty dram-cube to carry back with him.

"Hello! I don't know if you needed to refuel yet, but I brought some anyway," he said breezily as he stepped back inside. The drone looked over at him passively, but its eyes locked on the two cubes in his hands. "I wasn't sure, this is my first time...encountering someone of your frame type. So I've brought you two fuel choices."

He set the drone fuel cube down on the floor, then poured off a tiny bit of his own cube into the empty and set it along side. "Take whichever you prefer, there's no wrong answer." He rifled through his desk and found a straw for the little thing, then leaned back to drink and watch.

It handled the straw curiously, feeling out the curves and bends, then peering through each end. With one hand, it pushed the drone fuel's cube further away. Then it opened up it's faceplate, just a crack so he could see the narrow intake behind it. With a shaking hand, it slid one end of the straw into its intake and then lowered its whole body down to the tiny cube instead of picking it up, wrapping itself protectively around the cube of standard fuel so he couldn't actually see it drink.

There was a short slurping sound of liquid under pressure and then a wordless hum of pleasure. The drone sat up sharply, straw still handling from it's intake, and stared at Rung. Absently, it removed the straw and snapped its faceplate closed, still staring. The cube, he noted, was already empty.

He didn't know what to do with the staring, so he went back to his article. It was explaining that Disposables lacked the sensory comprehension to know their own needs or to detect if they were injured. It was a tidy story, he thought, and it explained the little drone's confusion with his questions earlier. But anything the Functionists put out, he was liable to question, and, well, the little thing didn't look like it didn't know it was hurt. It looked scared to tell him.

"Mm, well, I think I should have ordered a half cube for me today," Rung said, tilting his own cube back and forth. "Don't think I can finish this. I have a research meeting to go to next, but I'll be back in the evening. If you need any fuel, you can finish this up." He set it on the ground. Then he went to the console and unwound the direct link cable. "I wanted an assistant to help me manage my patient records. So sometime while I'm out, hook yourself up to the console and get familiar with the storage topology."

The drone looked between the half cube on the ground and the linkup cable and then nodded to show its understanding.

"Good. I'll see you when I get back, then."

It was dark by the time that research meeting had finished. He was never taking on a project with six collaborators ever again, the mindless nitpicking and conferencing was going to drive him mad. And the whole time he'd spent turning over the problem of the little disposable, becoming increasingly unsure what was fact and what was Functionist propaganda.

When had he first heard of disposables, anyway? They hadn't been around when he was forged, or had they just never entered his social sphere? He hurried back as quick as he could, which was fairly slowly. His joints and transformation seams were acting up again after those long hours sitting. The backpack seemed excruciatingly heavy compared to its normal weight, but he was in public, he reminded himself. It stayed on in public.

When he got back to the office, he realized he'd left the lights out and that in the absence of daylight it had grown dark indeed. In fact, all he could see when he walked in was the glow of the drone's optics and biolights, and the glow of text on the console.

He flicked on the lights and wandered over. On the screen, the words /Hello, Rung. It's a pleasure to meet you./ glowed bright. He followed the linking cable to the port in the drone's helm, where it sat watching him. He looked back and forth between the console and the drone. This was not possible.

"Hello?" He said. "Are you speaking to me through the screen?"

/Yes. I am sorry for the presumption. I have damaged none of your files./

"Oh no, I'm not upset, this is," he struggled for the words, "impossible. But marvelous. You don't speak!"

/My vocoder is not able to make the sounds necessary to communicate in standard Cybertronian./ The text flashed on the screen and then disappeared. /I speak. You do not understand./

As if in demonstration, the drone chirped and clicked softly in a stream of apparently meaningless chatter.

"Oh." Rung said. Not only did it speak, it spoke quite well. "Do you have a designation?"

It did not move and the text did not change for several moments. It reached out and lifted the empty cube Rung had given it earlier that day, looking at him with its head cocked.

Then finally, the text appeared. /I am Rewind, of Lower Petrohex. I am placing myself at your mercy with this information. Please do not send me back to the Functionists for disposal./

Rung recoiled. "Whatever for?"

/We am not what they wish to make of us. Speaking to the higher classes is forbidden. I judged that you were kind. Please./

"I am certainly not going to give anyone to the Functionists for 'disposal', whatever that might mean." It occurred to him that he'd heard of 'disposables' for years and never bothered to wonder how that name had come to be. "I think this conversation should be continued, however, somewhere less public. Come back to my apartment with me?"

It was a slow journey. Rung didn't want to take the auto-car with Rewind with him, so they stuck to the pedestrian walkways. Rung was slow from the pain in his hips and Rewind seemed to have trouble walking, but Rung was unable to ask him why. He made a note to himself to have Rewind teach him a few essentials in that clicking language of his so they could communicate without a monitor. Then he caught himself, already planning for an uncertain future. But eventually they made their way up the stairs to Rung's new apartment. It was a temporary lease - he expected that soon there would be a new ship and he'd have to leave this apartment behind - but he did love the privacy in this neighborhood.

Once they got inside he flopped into the nearest chair, pointing over at the corner console. "If you want to hook up, the console's over there," he said.

Rewind looked at him in obvious concern, then shambled over to the console and sat down on the floor, unspooling the direct link and hooking it up. With his glasses on, Rung could read the text that appeared from across the room.

/ARE YOU OKAY??/

He nodded. "I'm fine, Rewind. I'm just having a bit of a flareup with an old joint problem. You don't have to sit on the floor, the chair's right there. I'm not that much bigger than you, it should be comfortable."

Rewind got up and sat on the very edge of the chair, teetering a bit. /Is there anything I can do to help?/ he asked.

"Oh, no, it's fine. I just need to warm up the oil bath and have a nice soak. There's not much that works for it, honestly. I developed a tolerance to the sensor-blocks years ago and they don't do anything for me anymore," he sighed. "But what about you. I asked you earlier, but are you alright? Medically? You seemed to have trouble on the way over."

/Poor maintenance/ Rewind said. /Nothing important./

"Why do I have the feeling you're still glossing this? Rewind, I'm not going to examine you without your consent, but I want to help."

/I've been in Alt mode a long time/ Rewind said, stretching his fingers out one by one. /I've lost a lot of flexibility. And I probably do need to lubricate my joints./

"How long is a long time?"

/No clue./ Rewind shrugged, the motion catching and jerking. /My chrono broke an even longer time ago./

Rung sat back and thought. There really was no medic he could think to go to. He couldn't remember ever hearing of someone taking a disposable to a medic, maybe to the repairmechs who worked on actual drones? But that felt unclean to even suggest. They were just going to have to do their best alone for now.

"Well, I know a few things about anatomy, spent far too much time around people with medical degrees and no vocal filter. How about we wash down, I'll give you a look over and then we can both soak in that nice oil bath I'm planning for the evening?"

Rewind ran his hand along the cable linking him to the console, back and forth as he thought.

/okay/

"We can't bring the console in there, so we're going to need to think of an alternate communication strategy. What are some things you might need to tell me?"

/Stop./ Rewind held up a hand in a clear indication of 'stop', and gave three low clicks. Rung nodded to signify his understanding. /Yes and no we can cover with nodding./

"Okay. What about something to signify something that isn't important to you and you want me to leave for later, versus something that is very important?"

Rewind thought for a moment, then stretched his arms wide and made a high beep noise, like an alarm going off. /Important./ He brought his hands in front of his body and waved as if he was shooing off a stray turbofox. /Unimportant./

"Okay. Do you want to do this now? It's not as if we're pressed for time. I think I'm going to take tomorrow off work so we have more time to get settled."

/you're in pain. you don't have to wait for me./

"But are you comfortable? We just met. You know nearly nothing about me and I'm asking you to trust me a great deal."

/You're a therapist. Your name is Rung. You're old./ Rung spluttered as the words flashed on the screen and Rewind jerked his head in an unmistakabe silent laugh. /You are! You're even older than me. You must be good at your job, because you've gotten to go to space, multiple times. Your alt mode is...I'm not sure you have one. The thing on your back is not part of you./

"I have an alt mode. It just doesn't do anything," Rung admitted. "The Functionists weren't happy about that."

/So you're one of a kind? Doesn't that make you valuable to them?/

"I'm one of a kind and useless. They sort of cancel each other out," Rung said.

Rewind got up and unplugged from the console, then walked over to Rung. He pointed at Rung, then stretched his arms out wide and beeped. He nodded fiercely, then repeated the gesture.

"I know, Rewind," Rung said, surprised to see his glasses cloud as his optics began to spark. "I know they're wrong. Give me a hand up?"

It wasn't that nice of an apartment, honestly. There was only a single room for the habsuite, only a single recharge berth and the two chairs they were sitting in. It was far too small to entertain in, if he'd had any friends to invite over. The commute was long and the stairs up to the apartment were more numerous than he would have liked. He'd selected the place solely on the basis of it's washroom, which contained a built-in oil bath with a heater. It was luxurious beyond measure.

There was also a plain wash area with a bench, which is where they went first. Rung fetched out his wash bucket and the med kit and the lubricants he kept squirreled away in the various cupboards of the washroom. It, like him, had a goodly number of secret compartments to its name.

He had Rewind lean back to get a good angle for the gentle solvent spray to flush under his plating. It washed black crud and a worrying trace of red rust onto the floor and down the drain. Rung didn't comment on it, moving onto lifting plating around the joints to flush, clean and relubricate around the joints. Rewind made a pleased humming noise when he moved onto straightening and testing tension on the motivator cables. "This okay?" Rung asked, checking in again. Rewind nodded enthusiastically.

Rewind didn't look to be in too bad shape, really. A few dents that were pretty easy to pop back into place. Nothing major, just neglect and lack of maintenance, like he'd said. The cables would hopefully stretch back into the right tension over time as Rewind was more active. But before they could both get into the oil bath that was beginning to steam up the washroom, Rung needed to check over the major systems.

"I need to make sure your chassis is sealed correctly, otherwise we could end up flooding your chest cavity with oil," he explained. Rewind guided him to the right tools to open him up, the chassis not designed for access. Inside, he could see the fragile glow of Rewind's spark, naked to the eye. He shuddered. Some things shouldn't be so accessible. Keeping his eyes to his work, he carefully cleaned around the edge of the casing and wiped down the seal on the chassis itself. He knew that low quality fuel could cause fuel pump malfunctions, but he had no idea how you checked for that sort of thing, so they just put everything back together the way it had come apart.

Rewind got to his feet, perhaps a little easier than he had before, and offered a hand up to Rung, who admitted it had been growing more and more difficult to keep steady on the tools. Rewind led him over to the oil bath, dipping a hand in to test the temperature before guiding Rung down the steps to sit on the little bench within. The nice thing about being smaller, the oil rose up above his shouders when he sat, letting the whole of him soak in the warmth. Rewind followed him in, chittering with obvious delight. He was just a bit shorter than Rung and ended up having to curl up on his lap to keep his chin above the surface of the oil once he sat down. The little mech sat there and listened to Rung talk, mostly about himself. Eventually he ran out of things that were easy to say and drifted into silence. When he looked over, Rewind had slipped off into rechange, head nestled on his shoulder.

He let himself soak for another hour, head full of unanswerable questions. What were they going to do? How much of what he knew about disposables was utter rubbish? Was there some way he could bring Rewind along on his next ship assignment? If not, who could take him? But even a good panic couldn't put off recharge forever. Eventually he had to get out of the oil and wipe them down, Rewind rousing himself a bit to follow him sleepily over to the berth in the other room.

"Do you need anything tonight?" Rung asked quietly, but Rewind shook his head. Rung tried to give Rewind as much space as he could on the berth, sized for a larger mech but still small for two. But Rewind just inched closer and curled up with his back pressed to Rung's side.

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

"I cannot believe you talked me into this. The stairs are very safe, you know," Rung said over his shoulder, looking at the pedestrian slide that loomed in front of him. They'd installed the slides for the upper crust and the messenger bots of Iacon to use years ago, but Rung had never felt tempted to risk life and limb to avoid a bit of walking.

Rewind stood behind him, demurely, pretending he wasn't the subject of conversation. He was in public 'disposables do not engage in banter' mode, which he switched into perpetually in public, even when there was nobody about. He did say something very quietly in clickspeak that sounded suspiciously like, "So you don't care about the systematic inequality in Iacon?"

"Sir, the slides are only for people in approved functional classes," the patrolling officers said, noticing them standing by the entrance. "Your drone would not be permitted inside, regardless of your classification."

"Oh no, officer, I was just admiring the view," Rung said, sweeping an arm out over the bustling metropolis below them. "Short legs, I take a lot of breaks while walking."

The officer nodded. "Well, just a reminder, citizen." He turned and began patrolling back to the other side of the platform.

The moment his back was turned, Rewind reached over and pulled one of the slide-pads off he stack. Rung shook his head at him emphatically. Rewind nodded back and signed back 'frag the police'. A phrase which was clearly understandable with even a passing understanding of hand signs. Also: incredibly vulgar. Rung looked around frantically, but nobody had seen. The officer was still walking the other way.

Rewind sat down on the pad and waved Rung over. He couldn't. What if they got in trouble? But right now it looked like it was all Rewind's idea and that was even worse. What if he got in trouble? He looked again, the officer had reached the other slide and was beginning to turn around.

He sat down behind Rewind and wrapped both arms around him to keep them both on the slide-pad. Rewind used his arms to gently guide them forwards.

"What are you doing? Get back here!" The officer yelled, breaking into a jog. Rewind pushed them forward and they began to slide of their own accord. "You know you're not allowed in there! Don't you dare slide down that slide, get back here!"

They were beginning to pick up speed and the officer's voice was growing quieter. But Rung did his best to respond. "I'm sorry sir! We seem to be sliding already, can't stooooooooooooop-

SEVERAL WEEKS LATER

The apartment was tiny and full of haphazard piles of boxes, which appeared to be full of various body parts, sorted by category and size. The only clear space was the berth used for surgery and the walkway between that and the door.

"You are sure you can do this?" Rung asked, clumsily sounding it out in click. Rewind was teaching him, but it was hard learning a new language at his age. All the sounds caught in his vocalizer and came out wrong.

But the theodolite who ran the operation enforced a 'no Neo-cybex' policy when it came to discussing them breaking the law, which was probably smart. Not very helpful in this case, since Rewind ended up having to correct and repeat everything Rung said.

The theodolite looked over at him, hands on his hips. "I am no doctor. But I would not offer services I could not provide."

"It's fine, Rung," Rewind said, catching his hand and squeezing. "I'll be fine."

Fuel pump failure was very treatable, he reminded himself. Very treatable. Transplants took easily and recovery was quick. He looked around the room at its morbid smorgasborg of body parts. This mech knew what he was doing, he was willing to do this surgery, he was their only choice.

"I am sorry. Please continue," Rung said, kneeling back down to sit by Rewind.

"It is fine. You are nervous," the theodolite, who had refused to give a name, said. "Careful, this will spark."

Rung turned his head away from the glare of the welding tool.

SEVERAL YEARS LATER

"Rewind, I don't think anybody wants me here," Rung said, trailing after his friend as he lead a winding path through the service corridors of the university.

"Nonesense," Rewind said. "You are as much a victim of the functionalists as the rest of us. You deserve a space at the table." He knocked twice on the dumbwaiter entrance, and it opened to reveal the tiny elevator.

Rewind climbed right in but, when he noticed Rung's hesitation, scooted back out to sit on the edge. "I don't want to pressure you," he said, first in click and then in sign to emphasize the point. "I can go by myself, if you don't want to go."

Rung thought about Rewind being caught attending a secret disposables meeting by himself, or about being caught alone on his way back to the apartment with nobody around to make up a cover story for him. "I want to do it," he said. "But I think I'm going to have to take the backpack off to fit in there."

They squeezed inside, backpack held between his knees as they descended. The door slid open again in a small store room, filled with disposables. There were at least six memory sticks, two laser pointers, a floodlight, a theodolite and several mechs he couldn't identify by frametype. They were all shorter than him by at least a head. The chitter of conversation died off as they climbed out.

"Hey everyone," Rewind said. "This was my friend I was telling you about. His name is Rung of the Pious Pools." He signed along with the clicking; he'd explained to Rung that there was one deaf member of the group before they'd come.

"Hello Rung," Several people chorused, looking with curiosity at his backpack as he strapped it back on.

"Welcome to our space of healing," the floodlight said. "I'm Whiteout and I'll be leading our discussion for today. I think that's everyone, so would we like to go around the room and introduce ourselves, say how things have been going these past few cycles? Remember to sign as you speak and make sure Flashpoint can see you."

SOME TIME LATER

"How dare they!" Rewind hissed, stomping over to Rung. "How dare they?" He ghosted his hand over the surgical scar on Rung's hip, frame quivering with anger. Rung reached up to pull him forward into a gentle hug, foreheads touching.

"I'm sorry I couldn't warn you," he said, so tired he switched back to Neo-Cybex halfway through the sentence.

"I was so scared," Rewind said. "You were gone for days. I couldn't leave the apartment and there was no way to find out what was happening."

"They had another idea for what I could be," Rung said. "They were wrong."

"Wait here, I'll get you something to drink," Rewind said with forced lightness, walking over to the store cubboard and pouring out a full cube. Rung thought about what supplies he'd had lying around before the Functionists had grabbed him out of that research meeting. Not enough that there should have been a whole cube left. Rewind met his gaze and glared, daring him to say anything.

Rung didn't, too hungry to care. "I'll go out and get more, right away," he promised.

"You just got back," Rewind said. "You look dead on your feet. Recharge, let me see to that hip, take the day off work for tomorrow and we'll go shopping together. I already sent in an memo using your credentials informing them you would be off for the foreseeable future due to 'a required conference with the functionist council.' I can wait."

Rung let Rewind guide him over to the berth with gentle nudges. This wasn't so bad, really. Two fresh welds and a tension headache brought about by exhaustion was the most whole he'd ever felt walking out of a Functionist 'examination'. And he'd never had someone waiting at the door for him before, or someone to push him to refuel and recharge and to curl up next to him and protectively smooth over his transformation seams like he could push all the bad things out. All in all, this wasn't so bad.

TOO SOON

Rung stared at the memo in horror. In the other room he could hear the spray of solvent as Rewind washed up for the night. They'd planned to watch an education vid on documentary filmmaking, Rewind's latest obsession. This was going to ruin everything.

They'd denied his request. He had orders to board in six cycles, but he'd thought Rewind could...they would have to figure out something. He got out his list of contacts and started reviewing them with renewed scrutiny. This was always a possibility, but the lineup shifted as time went by. Who could he trust to keep Rewind safe? To see him as a peer? Maybe that was too much to ask, but the first one was paramount.

Minimus Ambus had mentioned his older brother had been seeking another memory stick for his scientific work. Minimus had a level head, though he hadn't ever met Dominus himself. And he had a small cohort of disposables, Rewind would need a community if he had access to the support group cut off...

"What are you thinking about, Doc?" Rewind said, shuffling out to peer over his shoulder. "You look sad."

He cut the screen before Rewind could read it. "I am sad. Something has happened and there's nothing I can do to fix it. But I'm going to do everything in my power to do right by you."

"Oh, Rung," Rewind said. "They’re not letting me on the ship, are they?"

MANY (MANY) YEARS LATER

"Well, I think we should be able to fix up the damage in a few hours once we get the repair drones in here," the bulky mech blocking his doorway was explaining. Rung itched to push past him and check on his models, on the patient records, really the only things that mattered. It wasn't as if he was attached to the room for Primus's sake, they just moved in! "What was your name again, for the record? Rong, right?" The mech asked.

Rung sighed and adjusted his glasses. This again.

"It's Rung, actually," someone said from behind him. "I can spell it for you, if you like."

He turned his head and there was Rewind, halfway down the hallway. He gave a little wave when he noticed Rung had seen him.

"Rung, okay, got it. Do you have anything important in the room-"

"Just give us five kliks to box up his stuff, okay?" Rewind said, gesturing for the repairmech to move out of the way.

"And then we'll get out from underfoot," Rung added with his best winning smile.

"Ah, alright. No problem. Rung, alright. I'll be back in a bit to start work. Sorry for the inconvenience." He shuffled off, leaving the pair alone by the pile of scrap that used to be Rung's door and the wreck that was his office.

Rung ignored that for a moment, along with the insistent itch to check on his models. "Rewind! You should have told me you were going to be on the Lost Light!" He pulled the bot in for a hug.

"That goes double for you," Rewind said with a laugh. "I didn't think they'd let you go gallivanting off on this kind of mission. But they got Ratchet somehow or another, so I guess it was a free for all."

"How have you been? Whatever happened to your mech, it was Tumbler, wasn't it?"

"Conjunx now," Rewind said, ducking his head in embarrassment. "And he mostly goes by Chromedome. I meant to send you message but I couldn't find your number in the directory, and then it slipped my mind with everything that happened on Kimia."

"Oh, that's quite alright. I'm just happy for you. Conjunx Endura? You will have to introduce me at some point."

"Come on, we need to box up your stuff before big and clumsy gets back here ready to fix this place up," Rewind said, pulling away from the hug at last. They picked their way over the rubble to the partially collapsing shelves and began rescuing models to fit back in the boxes.

"I should have asked earlier," Rewind said once it was all boxed up. "Are you okay? You did just nearly die."

Rung looked around the room. "Nothing new under the sun. I think I'm okay." He looked down at his hands, then looked back at Rewind. "I should have a talk with the Captain, though. His plan was unacceptably reckless. If it had been a different member of the crew-"

"Aw, come on Rung. We'd gotten through this. Give me the smaller box to carry, we can stash them in my habsuite while you wait. If something is unacceptable if done to somebody else, it's unacceptable if done to you."

Rung paused at the edge of the doorway, hefting the box of data slugs higher so he didn't lose his grip. Rewind stopped too and turned to look at him.

"I missed you," Rung admitted. "I've been a bit...solitary since I was with you."

"Well you're stuck with me now," Rewind said. "Up until the point where Rodimus gets us all killed."

"I'm glad to see that time and love and the end of the war have done nothing to change your morbid sense of humor."

"You think I'm joking? We're going to last a month, tops. We'd better make it worth our while. Do you think we could convince Rodimus to install a slide in the rec room?"

#mtmte fanfiction #my fics #maccadam #rung #rewind #mtmte #mine #gay space car robots: IN SPACE

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