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iloveyou3thousand · 4 years

Note

Werewolf AU where an omega from another pack is trying to tempt Tony into mating to the point where the rival keeps warning Peter away from Tony. Peter backs off thinking Tony wants this to strengthen pack alliances, but Tony instead lays claim to Peter.

This is a fantastic idea and it was really fun to write so I hope it’s fun to read too!

Read it on AO3 here! It’s actually sfw so no TWs this time :>

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Peter has been seeing him around a lot lately, and he’s not sure what to think of it.

No one has ever tried to infiltrate their pack in any way before, so it feels odd to suddenly have a member from a different pack around all the time. Or, members, plural, because where James Barnes goes, others of his pack seem to follow.

But it’s not the others that Peter had a problem with. He’s actually come to sort of admire one of their Alphas, Natasha. She’s very intimidating, yes, but in a weirdly maternal kind of way. He doesn’t know what it is about her but she makes him feel both incredibly nervous and also infinitely safe at the same time.

Anyway, so that’s not what bothers him. What bothers him is that Barnes seems to be around with one objective and one objective only, and that is to secure some kind of agreement with their pack leader, Tony. And he’s trying to do it in a way that has Peter on edge.

Ever since the foreign pack arrived, Barnes has been parading around like he wants Tony to notice him, and Tony, being the unbonded but undeniably handsome and charismatic and wonderfully-smelling Alpha that he is, has noticed. It’s unavoidable, because Barnes is really trying, and even though Peter is an Omega himself and only finds Alpha scents appealing, he can’t deny that there is something about the other Omega’s scent that he sees appeals to Tony.

He hates it.

He’s spent far too much time gradually getting Tony to like him to be totally fine with watching another Omega try and win over a man he’s already had his eyes on for ages. Ever since he first presented, really.

It started out as something pretty mild, with Barnes coming over seemingly to help others of his pack negotiate borders, considering their territories are aligned. Peter was nearby, keeping another pack member’s pup busy, and could glance over to see if everything was going okay every now and then. Back then, when those meetings happened every now and again, it seemed like nothing was going on. Slowly but surely, however, things started to change.

To the point where it is very clear to Peter what Barnes is trying to do. He’s not only trying to steal Tony away from him (because surely he knows, he must have noticed the way that Peter acts around Tony, must have smelled the pheromones he pours out every time the older Alpha comes near him), but he’s also doing it with a ‘good cause’.

Peter isn’t stupid, and he isn’t blind. He knows that if their packs unite with a bond between two members, their territories will merge. It would be highly beneficial for both packs, of course, because more territory means more room to run and explore and enjoy and hunt in during full moons. The Stark pack’s territory isn’t small by any means, but it could be bigger. It would be nice if it were bigger.

It’s clear that that is what’s happening, and Peter isn’t sure what to think of it. Most of all because Tony seems to be responding to it pretty positively, at least from where Peter is standing. He hasn’t rejected Barnes yet, hasn’t shown him that he is not interested in him. Hell, he’s seen him lean into the Omega before when they were standing close, likely to smell him.

It gets Peter’s blood boiling in a way nothing ever has before.

But there is nothing he can do about it.

He tries to amp up his own attempts, tries to show Tony what he could also have if he would just…let go of the thought of expanding their territory. But any attempt he makes at getting closer to Tony feels like it only pushes him farther and farther away from him.

Then again, he’s not the only one driving a wedge between them. It’s Barnes. Of course it’s Barnes. Peter doesn’t think he does it with malicious intent, just for the sake of his pack. He can respect that, as someone who would go certain lengths to protect and nurture his own pack, too, but it stings. It stings that when both he and Barnes are in the room, Tony now only seems to have eyes for the older Omega.

It’s only natural, Peter thinks. Or rather, tries to convince himself. Tony is the oldest Alpha, the wisest, the most experienced. Of course he would go for someone like Barnes, who isn’t the youngest anymore, but neither is he particularly old. He’s in the prime of his life, whereas Peter still has so much learning to do, so many miles to make before he can call himself a real experienced Omega.

Of course experience would seek out experience. But it still hurts, when Peter sees Tony smile at Barnes like that. Sees the way he reacts to him. He wishes that could be him.

For the longest time, Peter and Barnes don’t communicate much at all. They have spoken a few words to each other in passing, exchanged some pleasantries, but it doesn’t go any further than that. Peter was satisfied with that, but Barnes comes up to him one day as Peter is approaching a meeting between the two packs, meaning to join them, and addresses him directly.

“I don’t think you should be here today,” Barnes tells Peter directly, and Peter frowns. He steps aside, trying to get around him, but Barnes steps with him, effectively blocking his path.

“What do you mean? I just want to attend the meeting,” Peter argues.

Barnes shakes his head in warning, and he’s got a look in his eyes that Peter is not sure how to decipher. It feels like it’s trying to tell him something, like Barnes is trying to tell him something, something hidden within the words he’s just said. Why shouldn’t he be here?

“It’s for your own good, Parker,” Barnes says, and while it lacks malice, Peter can’t help but think that the intentions behind it aren’t a hundred percent…pure. “I don’t think you want to be there today.”

The realization dawns on Peter that maybe it’s time for them to discuss a union. Maybe Barnes has noticed Peter’s affections, and is trying to protect him from getting himself hurt. Not that it helps.

They stand there for a few moments, until Barnes seems satisfied that Peter won’t make another attempt at getting past him, and then the older Omega turns and walks down the rest of the path toward where the meeting has been set up. Peter sees Tony sitting at the head of the table, talking to others already seated, and he watches as Barnes enters, and how he brushes a hand over Tony’s shoulders in passing, and how Tony looks up at him and flashes a smile.

Peter turns and walks away, and fails to see how Tony’s head turns expectantly, nor does he see how his expression falls when he notices Peter walking away.

Peter starts avoiding Tony following Barnes’ warning. It’s like he knows, deep down, that whatever battle had been going on, he’s lost it, and there is no way to regain equal ground once more. Barnes is far above him. Peter scolds himself for ever thinking that he stood a chance against him in the first place.

He tells himself that it will be good for both of their packs. If they can join territories then that can be so very beneficial for everyone involved, and who is Peter to stand in the way of that, just because he believes he’s in love?

Avoiding your pack leader isn’t the easiest thing to do, but Peter finds a lot of excuses to get out of situations that would bring him near the other. He even starts hanging out with some of the younger Omegas from the other pack, those that sometimes travel with the rest when they come into town to visit. He gets along well with a boy named Harley, who is only a little bit older than he is, but they soon discover they have the same interests and it gets Peter through days where he has to see Barnes hang around Tony better than anything else can.

Harley seems…interested, in him. In a capacity that feels like it must be something more than just friendship. They’re compatible, Peter has to admit. And Harley’s pretty cute.

But Peter is still stuck on Tony. For the time being, at least. And for as long as there isn’t an announcement of a union, Peter doesn’t want to promise himself to anyone just yet. As if he’s still holding on to some little shrivel of hope. It’s ridiculous, and he knows it – but it’s not as if he can help himself.

Especially not when he hears through the grapevine that Tony had been looking for him. He’s been avoiding him for about a week now, and he had never thought that Tony would ever really miss him enough to come looking for him. They used to spend a lot of time together and seemed quite good friends, if you could call it that, sure. But Peter is still surprised when he hears about it.

Since he isn’t necessarily hiding from Tony, just making sure he doesn’t go anywhere he knows Tony will be, the Alpha inevitably finds him.

Harley is in town when he does, and they’re reading from the same book with Peter tucked under the young Alpha’s arm, although Peter is quick to wriggle out of his hold when he sees Tony. He straightens, something that shouldn’t surprise Harley too much. He knows how to greet his own pack leader, too.

“Alpha,” Peter says politely, and twists around to Harley to suggest that maybe they should go and continue reading somewhere else.

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Tony puts a hand up to stop the two from getting up from their comfortable spot among pillows, something that Harley had said resembled a very nice nest. Peter didn’t nest, not often anyway and certainly not nowadays, but the implication of it was nice.

Tony holds a hand out to Peter in offering, palm up. “Walk with me?”

Cautious but curious, Peter takes the hand and lets Tony pull him to his feet. He excuses himself to Harley, says he’ll be right back, and lets Tony lead him away from their spot to walk down a long, winding path that circles their land and offers privacy. Quite a bit of it, too.

Peter is surprised that he has to be the one to take his hand out of Tony’s, since the Alpha is still holding onto it while they’re walking in silence. Peter tucks his hands under his arms, hiding his fingers from the evening chill as it begins to settle.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Tony confesses after a long few moments. He sounds tired. Peter immediately worries, and hates that he does.

“About what?” he asks, even though he doesn’t want to know. This has to be about Barnes. He’s convinced that Tony is about to tell him they are going to bond, and explain what that means. After all, Peter hasn’t been to any of their pack meetings for a couple of days. He must have missed the announcement.

“Actually,” Tony corrects himself, “I wanted to know your opinion on something. I’ve been…prepositioned.”

And there it is. Peter takes a deep breath and lets it out as slowly as he can. The conversation has barely even really started and he already wants the ground to swallow him up so that he can effectively disappear. He doesn’t want to hear it, whatever Tony has to say about it. And yet, he hums politely, inquiring wordlessly so as to make Tony continue.

“I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. A member of our neighboring pack has suggested an alliance through an arranged bond. It would be…” Tony sighs, “Good. It would be good, for our pack. And I see you’re getting along with Harley.”

Tony looks over his shoulder as if he’s expecting Harley to be following them or something, but there is no one around. Peter makes another non-committal sound and shrugs. Sure, they’ve been getting along. He likes Harley. He really does. Does he see him as his mate? Not really. But you don’t have to be head over heels for someone to be able to live a long and happy life together.

It’s quiet between them for a few moments, until Tony speaks again. Peter doesn’t want to say anything for fear of saying something that he knows he’s going to regret, so he’s leaving the talking up to the Alpha.

“I wanted to ask your opinion. On the union. Do you think it’s a good idea? I’ve always trusted your intuition.”

Unfortunately, this time around, Peter is forced to speak. He already hates what he’s about to say before it even leaves his mouth. But he knows that Tony is just looking for affirmation. He just wants other people to tell him he’s making the right decision. Peter doesn’t think about why he would do such a thing, he just knows that’s what he’s doing.

“I’m sure Barnes will make a great Omega,” Peter says quietly, avoiding Tony’s gaze. He slows to a stop and looks up at Tony, “I’d like to get back to reading now. Harley and I want to finish the chapter before sundown.”

Tony nods, but seems troubled, like what Peter told him isn’t what he wanted to hear. Nevertheless, Peter bids him goodnight, and returns to where they came from, where Harley is still waiting for him. At least Harley’s only ever had eyes for him. Or so he thinks.

Another few days later, Peter is barely awake from his full moon shift the night before, still lazing about in his bed around noon, when someone practically bursts into his tent.

“It’s Tony,” Rhodey says before Peter can even blink the sleep out of his eyes properly, “C’mon, kiddo, get out of bed. He needs you. Hurry up.”

“Wha—” A yawn cuts off Peter’s question, and his pants hit him in the face the very next moment. Peter pulls the article of clothing away just in time to see Rhodey already exiting his sleeping quarters, but not before he throws another few words over his shoulder that has Peter out of bed instantly.

“You better move, Peter. He just went into rut.”

He can smell it immediately when he exits his house, and even if he hadn’t been able to, he could have followed the sound of growling and snarling and snapping further toward the town’s square. Peter hurries there, not even questioning why Tony would be needing him, especially when he’s like this. He must be in a bad way. And it shows, when Peter approaches the scene.

Even before he reaches the epicenter of the chaos, Omegas are being guided away left and right, Betas helping them home, to safety, while the pack’s Alphas are gathered around an obviously rut-crazed Tony.

Off to the right, a small group from the neighboring pack surrounds Barnes, tending to his split lip and bleeding nose, while on the left more Betas fend themselves over injured Alphas.

Peter pauses, clearly in shock. It’s never been this bad. He’s seen Tony go through rut before, has seen him fight his way through several of their strongest Alphas before the craze ends and he finally calms down, or they manage to pin and subdue him.

Now, it doesn’t seem like subduing him is even an option.

Another Alpha wails following the loud, sickening sound of a bone snapping, and Peter’s heart surges. Before he knows what he’s doing, he’s moving forward, toward the mess of Alphas, focused only on pouring out the most calming pheromones he can muster at the moment.

“Stop!” He calls, but his first cry doesn’t reach over the sound of growling, “I said stop!”

Suddenly, an eerie quiet falls over them. It even startles Peter. Normally, only an Alpha can command a pack like that, get them to fall silent like that, listen, and obey. Peter needs only a moment to recover, knowing that time is of the essence, and he continues forward. The silence feels very temporary, and he just wants to get to Tony.

Which he quickly does.

It stinks of aggressiveness and anxious nerves that the Alphas surrounding him are putting into the air, but Tony doesn’t smell like that. Tony smells needy, and confused, and helpless. Peter’s body responds with more calming pheromones, and while he cautiously approaches the wide-eyed pack Alpha, he can see the recognition in his eyes, and see his shoulders relax, if only just a touch.

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just a rut,” Peter says calmly, hands up in surrender so that he can communicate through body language that he means no harm.

Tony’s chest is heaving, and his heart beats fast as Peter puts a gentle hand on his chest. He can feel it thrumming beneath his fingertips.

Peter has no time to ask himself why Tony would react to him so calmly, if he even delivered his soon-to-be mate a black eye. He’s just grateful that Tony seems to be listening. If he’s listening, then there is an opportunity for Peter to get him away from everyone else, and to get him to calm down. But he has to take the chance. And he has to face the consequences.

“Shh. There you go. Just relax. I’m here now,” Peter whispers, “Let me take care of you.”

Slowly, when Peter gives them a look, the Alphas still holding onto Tony let go and back away, leaving Tony to stare at Peter. And Peter, he moves in, wrapping his arms around Tony’s stiff body until he feels him relax into the embrace, and possessively wrap his arms around the Omega in return and tuck his nose into the crook of his neck.

“That’s it. That’s better. Don’t think about all those other Alphas and Omegas. It’s just you and me.”

“P-Peter,” Tony manages, and tightens his hold on the younger Omega.

“That’s right. It’s Peter. Let’s get out of here.”

Tony doesn’t need to be told twice, evidently, as he quickly scoops Peter up bridal style and carries him away. Peter keeps his arms wrapped around the Alpha’s neck, making sure that he doesn’t see or smell anyone else, just him. And it works.

Tony carries Peter to his bedroom and lays him down on the bed with surprising gentleness. He immediately begins tearing at both their clothes, and while Tony’s eagerness combined with his intoxicating scent thrills Peter to no end, he does realize that if what is about to happen, happens, he might be the cause of the alliance falling through, and that’s the last thing he wants.

He stops Tony with a calm hand on the man’s chest, which immediately gets his attention.

“What about the union?” he breathes urgently.

Tony shakes his head.

“No union is worth losing you over,” he growls lowly, and pulls Peter closer.

The whole town knows of the news before it has even been made official, spreading from mouth to mouth like a wildfire, but it’s the inevitable howl coming from the pack Alpha’s home that really confirms the news.

The union is off.

And Peter Parker is the pack Omega now.

#starker #tony stark x peter parker #peter parker/tony stark #starker fanfic #ironspider #abo #omegaverse #werewolf au #aus #omega peter #alpha tony #minor harley/peter #minor bucky/tony #my writing #my fanfic #mutual pining #misunderstandings #Anonymous

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writtenonreceipts · 4 years

Text

four thousand words later and another random fic is done.

A companion to this fic. Can be read separately but some stuff might make more sense if you read the other first. Based on characters from the “Throne of Glass” World.

The Boys are Back in Town

Modern AU In which Rowan and Lorcan are up to their hijinks and where Lorcan ponders murder, his feelings, and food allergies. Warnings: None, just slight language.

“I made a mistake.” Elide leaned against the kitchen counter--nose scrunched and fingers knit together beneath her chin.

Lorcan narrowed his eyes confused. Elide Lochan rarely, if ever, made mistakes. Lowering his cup of coffee from his lips he shook his head.

“I find that hard to believe,” he said. He sat across the counter from her on one of the absurdly uncomfortable stools. Lorcan suspected the only reason Elide and Aelin had bought it was because it was on sale.

Elide’s lips puckered into a pout. “It’s true and you are going to hate me.”

That was impossible, but Lorcan didn’t say that. He’d only just barely managed to tell Elide that he really, really liked her. In reality, he was head over heels in love with her, but telling her that meant actually saying the words and admitting the feelings. Not to mention the storm Aelin Galathynius would rain down on him after Elide was sure to tell her.

“Lorcan,” Elide said again. She slipped around the counter until she came to his side. She leaned into him until her chin rested on his shoulder and her lips nearly grazed his cheek.

It would be so easy to take her mouth with his. So easy to let his hands trail over her body, through her hair. Aelin wasn’t home so they had the apartment to themselves for a long while.

“Elide,” he said, his voice low. He turned his face and their noses grazed. He found her dark eyes bright with humor boring into his.

“Aelin and I are having girls night,” Elide said. Her mouth quirked to one side. “She went to pick up Lysandra and Manon.”

And just like that, Lorcan’s mood went to hell. Sighing, he looked away from his girlfriend and stood.

It had been a while since the two of them had had time alone together. Between her going to school and his job--he felt like they were ships in the night that kept passing by with little more than dim lights acknowledging the other’s existence.

“Hey,” Elide said, she snatched a hand out and cupped his cheek bringing his attention back to her. Her expression softened. “I know. I know what you’re thinking. But if you want someone to blame, blame Rowan.”

“Rowan?” Lorcan scowled. “Why?”

“He said you all needed a boys night.” Now Elide was full out grinning. She chuckled as Lorcan’s confusion and small bit of anger. Slipping onto her toes she brushed her lips against his and sighed. “He sounded desperate. Aelin’s been giving Fleetfoot more attention than him. I think he’s jealous.”

As if summoned, the demon puppy flopped into the kitchen whining softly. Elide laughed and stepped away from Lorcan to dote on the dog. He frowned at the creature. While Aelin was the one who ended up getting the dog and not Elide, Lorcan knew it was only a matter of time before Elide made goot on her promise and got an animal of some sort.

Just then the front door burst open.

“Y’all better be fully clothed,” Aelin announced as she marched into the apartment. Behind her came Lysandra and Manon. None of the women looked ready for a girls night. In fact, everyone was in their pajamas.

“That was one time,” Elide said. She glared at her roommate, hands on her hips. “And we weren’t even doing anything.”

Aelin shook a single finger in Lorcan’s direction. “Mm-hmm.”

Lorcan held his hands up in a silent surrender, not wanting to say anything that would make him the topic of discussion for girls night.

Rowan waited outside the apartment, leaning against the door jam. “Let’s go Salvaterre. Dorian and Aedion are meeting us at the bar.”

“Have fun!” Elide said. She reached up to give Lorcan another sift kiss before she exclaimed the need to find her pajamas.

Lorcan shook his head and grabbed his jacket hanging over the side of the couch. He, for once, offered a small wave to Manon and Lysandra. The latter was the only one to acknowledge him.

One outside and away from the door, Lorcan punched Rowan. “This was my first Friday off in weeks and I was planning on spending it with my girlfriend.”

Rowan ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I made a mistake.”

Unlike Elide, Lorcan was fully convinced Rowan was quite capable of making mistakes.

It had only been a month ago when he and Rowan were running for their lives through an impound lot. Giant dobermans had been very close to eating them and Lorcan had decided then and there that he would never get into another one of Rowan’s antics. Granted, that night he’d also been helping Elide by reducing a pair of Manon’s shoes from an impounded car...but still. It was Rowan’s fault because it had been Aelin who first insisted on needed help.

It was a convoluted mess.

Now, Lorcan had been hoping that night was long gone and would only be a distant memory that Rowan and Lorcan would never, ever, bring up to anyone.

Oh what a fool he had been.

“No,” Lorcan said.

“Lorcan,” Rowan began.

“No.”

“But.”

“Hell Rowan, after last time?”

“This will be nothing like last time.”

“I don’t believe you. Nor do I trust you.” Loran ran a hand through his hair, loosely contained in a low bun. He’d been meaning to cut his hair for a while now, but Elide had insisted he keep it long. So he had.

“It won’t be that bad,” Rowan insisted.

They stood in the alleyway behind Rowan’s apartment staring at the sickly green dumpster where tenants put anything, and everything. It stank like ten different somethings had died back here and had ten different somethings growing on them. Not to mention it was the prime of summer and the nights stayed unbearably hot more often than not.

“I’m not dumpster diving,” Lorcan said.

“The bag shouldn’t be down that far,” Rowan said. “I had to hide something from Aelin, so I put it in the trash. How was I supposed to know she’d take the bag out while I was in the shower?”

“What kind of boyfriend hides stuff from his girlfriend?” Lorcan shot back.

“A stupid one.”

“Obviously.”

Lorcan ran a hand down his face. “Where are Aedion and Dorian? We can just chuck them in the dumpster for us.”

“Ah, well, they are maintaining our cover at the bar,” Rowan said.

Yes. It was official. Lorcan hated Rowan. And Aelin. Of course she was behind this.

Cursing, Lorcan sighed. “You could have at least warned me.” He gestured down to his clothes, nice jeans and an expensive button up Elide had gifted him for their two-month anniversary.

Rowan brightened. “Oh, I actually came prepared.”

Not five minutes later Rowan was throwing a thick blue jumpsuit at him, complete with rubber gloves.

“Fenrys might have committed a felony to help me out,” Rowan explained.

Lorcan zipped up his jumpsuit over his clothes and sighed. He really didn’t want to do this. He glanced to the dumpster then at Rowan.

“You know I’m allergic to peanuts, right? What happens if someone just left a giant tub of peanut butter in there? My throat closes up and everything.”

Rowan rolled his eyes and muttered a few curses under his breath, completely ignoring Lorcan.

“Do you want to give me mouth to mouth in that sort of situation?” Lorcan added. “Hell no.”

“Lorcan,” Rowan said.

“Hell no,” Lorcan repeated.

“Get in the dumpster or I tell Elide how you really feel about her.”

Several vicious curses flew out of Lorcan’s mouth. “Mother-loving blackmail. Dammit Whitethorn.”

“Get in the dumpster lover boy.”

“It had better be one impressive ring,” Lorcan muttered and he approached the dumpster. Sending prayers up to whatever gods were listening, he launched himself into the trash pile.

It was worse than he’d imagined.

At least Rowan had also had the foresight to bring back up shoes. But Lorcan could have lived without feeling his socks getting soaked by some mystery liquid.

“Oh I hate you,” Lorcan muttered. He tossed another garbage sack out of the way. They all looked the same and Rowan had no idea what brand of garbage sacks he used.

The cheap ones, he’d said.

Sure, because having a 401k and benefits meant you had to skimp on things like decent garbage bags.

“It’s not like you can get the plastic embroidered with your name,” Rowan added as they still had no luck finding the right bag.

“What kind of stuff are we looking for?” Lorcan asked.

“Mail,” Rowan shrugged. He tore open a black bag and gagged. “This was not my smartest idea.”

“No? Really?” Lorcan snorted in derision.

Of all the things he’d done, Lorcan was sure this was the most disgusting. Even worse than trudging through a pig farm with his foster brother while trying to run away from home when they were ten.

“What were you even hiding from Aelin anyways?” Lorcan finally asked.

Rowan tucked his nose in the collar of his shirt a moment and looked way. If Lorcan wasn’t mistaken he was sure he saw a flush rise on his friends cheeks.

“Rowan?”

“It..I...you wouldn’t understand,” Rowan finally said.

Lorcan’s brows shot up. “I wouldn’t understand? Then why am I out here digging through trash with you? Why not bring Aedion or Dorian and leave me at the bar?”

“That’s not,” Rowan began. He paused. It was the first time in a very long time that Lorcan had seen the silver haired man flustered. “I got a ring.”

A banana peel smooshed in Lorcan’s grasp. He shook it off with a curse and stared at Rowan. “You got a what?”

“A ring,” Rowan repeated. “I got Aelin an engagement ring.”

“You don’t even live together,” Lorcan said.

“We practically do,” Rowan said. “Seriously. My closet is full of more of her close than mine. Not to mention how often I find her underwear lying around.”

“Stop,” Lorcan demanded. He was tempted to find the moldy cup-noodle he’d just passed over and toss it at Rowan’s face.

The two stilled. Distant sounds of the city passed around them. Occasionally a siren shrilled or voices shouted back and forth. A car backfired.

Lorcan finally found what he wanted to say. “You’re serious? You guys have only been dating a year.”

“I love her.” Rowan’s words were so genuine and sincere that Lorcan found himself sneering.

Love. What did any of them know about it?

Rowan could tease him about being in love with Elide all he wanted, but was he? Really? Lorcan had no idea. Every time he thought he was he found himself doubting everything.

His only experience with love had been an elusive relationship spanning four hundred miles and eight months with Essar. They’d met every other weekend spending barely a day together with phone calls few and far between. And Lorcan had thought...well he had thought that had been pretty damn great until Essar had called it off saying she found someone in her neighborhood. Two months later she was engaged.

Not that Lorcan was mad or hung up about it. Not really. Because, he supposed, he’d only had surface feelings about Essar. But with Elide...there was nothing surface or superficial about the way he felt about her.

But was it love? Lorcan had no idea.

“Come on,” Rowan said after Lorcan had remained quiet for too long. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel the same way about Elide.”

Lorcan shrugged. “We’ve been together five months.”

“And?”

“And what, Whitethorn?” Lorcan held a bag of trash in either hand. “How am I supposed to feel? It’s Elide. You know her. You know what she’s been through. And you know me. I’m the worst possible person for her. Hell, for anyone.”

Rowan nodded silently along, pursing his lips. “You’re an idiot.”

“A bigger idiot than the man who threw out an engagement ring?”

“I wanted it to be romantic,” Rowan said defensively. He opened his mouth to speak again when he stilled. “Oh hell.”

Lorcan glared. “If I hear a single dog start barking, I am going to murder you.”

“It’s Aelin,” Rowan hissed. He flapped a hand trying to get Lorcan to shut up.

“How could you possibly know that?” Lorcan asked, but then he heard the very definite sound of Aelin’s laughter.

The two men looked at each other for a split second before dropping down into the piles of trash.

“Rowan, I swear,” Lorcan snarled.

“Shut up.”

The two stilled and listened as Aelin’s voice came closer.

“I can’t believe you left your laptop here.” Lysandra, by the sounds of it, was not pleased. “Do you really need it?”

“Yes,” Aelin replied. “And I can’t have Rowan bring it, after what happened with my car at the impound lot.”

“Did you ever get the full story about that?” Lysandra asked. “It sounds like some weird stuff happened.”

“Apparently Rowan and Lorcan have a secret society,” Aelin said.

Their voices disappeared. Neither man moved for several moments.

“What do we do?” Lorcan asked. His face was pressed entirely too close to some old chinese food.

“I’m not leaving without that ring,” Rowan said.

“I’m telling Aelin you threw her ring in the dumpster, just so you know,” Lorcan said.

Rowan grunted. He was probably just grateful Lorcan had stopped calling Aeling “fire-breathing bitch queen.”

They hurriedly began sifting through more trash.

“I think I found it,” Rowan practically yelled. He hauled up a white trash bag and grinned at it.

“Well find the damned ring and--” Lorcan began, but he cut himself off when Lysandra’s voice rang out.

Cursing, the men dropped back into the trash.

“I’m telling you, you’re reading too much into it,” Lysandra said.

“He’s been acting so weird,” Aelin replied. “It’s the second weekend in a row he’s been busy or made plans or whatever that haven’t been date night.”

“Aelin,” Lysandra groaned. They came to a stop just beside the dumpster. “You literally sound just like Elide, I’m going to slap you.”

“I’m serious,” Aelin said. “He only got like this when he gave me a key to his place. And then when he got that new job. He’s going to break-up with me.”

“No he’s not,” Lysandra nearly shouted. “Just breath. Every couple has their off weeks.”

Aelin let out a sigh.

“Come on,” Lysandra said, “or else Elide and Manon will have drunk all the margaritas without us.”

Silence again.

“You’re an idiot Rowan,” Lorcan said.

“Shut up.”

They found the ring.

Which was a good thing because Lorcan had also found an abandoned wrench at the bottom of the dumpster that would make a very good weapon of mass destruction to use against Rowan, if necessary.

After hauling themself out of the trash, they sat next to the dumpster for a long while. They’d long become accustomed to the stench that would likely be a perpetual stain on their skin.

“Why would Aelin think I’m going to break-up with her?” Rowan asked suddenly.

“What?” Lorcan glanced over at his friend. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard her and Lys talking, she thinks I’m breaking up with her,” Rowan said. “Why would she think that unless it’s something already in her head.”

Lorcan groaned. He did not want to deal with this. This was Aedion territory. Dorian territory. Hell even Chaol had gotten good at this sort of advice giving crap.

“Lorcan I’m serious.”

“Man,” Lorcan said. He banged his head against the dumpster once. “How the hell should I know? You both love each other right? You spend every waking hour around each other.”

“We don’t live together,” Rowan said. “What if this is moving too fast. She’s been through a lot in the boyfriend arena.”

“Rowan,” Lorcan said, reaching out to punch his friend roughly in the shoulder. “You’ve been happier in the last year with Aelin than I have ever seen you been before. You said it yourself, she makes you want to do better and be better. Or whatever Hallmark crap it was you spat out.”

Rowan snorted, shaking his head. “I see why Elide keeps you around.”

The night continued around them. Cars on the street passed by in a flurry despite the late hour. Lorcan barely paid it any attention, grateful they were tucked back in the alley.

“I think Aelin is just scared of losing you,” Lorcan said quietly. Rowan shifted giving Lorcan an incredulous look. “I'm serious. They way she looks at you, man. The both of you are happier around each other and losing that happiness would terrify anyone.”

“And here I was thinking you were hoping she and I would break up.”

Lorcan rolled his eyes. Maybe a part of him had wanted that, in the early days. Bit that was back when life had been screwing him over time and time again. Back when he'd known Aelin as the competitive piano player, the girl who never took no for an answer, who seemingly had no soul when it came to dealing with problems.

Lorcan was convinced all of those things we're still true and forever would be, but he'd also seen how Aelin used those personality traits to help others. Elide in particular.

“Yeah well,” Lorcan finally said, “Aelin owes me fifty bucks from poker last week so until she pays me back she can stick around.”

Rowan’s phone gave a buzz and he reached over to look at it. He swore lightly. “Aedion and Dorian are wasted.”

After Rowan lent Lorcan a change of clothes, they went to pick up Dorian and Aedion from the bar. The two were indeed wasted.

“Just so you know,” Rowan said as they drove back to Elide and Aelin’s, “you should tell Elide how you feel.”

“Why do you guys smell like you spent the night in a dumpster?” Dorian complained. He rolled down the window of Rowan’s car and stuck his head out.

Aedion muttered something incomprehensible as he flopped over into Dorians lap.

The two sober men ignored them.

“I’ve decided to never take advice from you,” Lorcan told Rowan. “And this is the last time I help you with anything.”

“I’m going to need help setting up how I’m going to ask Aelin,” Rowan said. He glanced in the back to see that Dorian and Aedion were completely passed out.

“No dogs and no dumpsters,” Lorcan said. “You’ll be fine.”

Rowan barked out a laugh and shook his head. Grinning, Lorcan shot Elide a text telling her they were on their way, two drunk men in tow.

As they passed through the city, Lorcan pondered what would happen if he did admit how deep his feelings for Elide ran. Maybe he would turn out like Rowan--giddy and happy to the point he was literally walking on water. Lorcan wouldn’t mind feeling like that all the time.

So as he glanced at the ring box Rowan tucked in the drink holder between the front seats he decided that both he and Elide deserved to be disgustingly in love. Even if it meant Elide would insist on getting a dog.

115 notes · View notes

haiky-u-lously · 3 years

Text

King Kuroo and the Red Knights (13)

Summary: A Camelot AU where King Arthur is Kuroo Tetsuro, and the Knights of the Roundtable of characters from seasons 1-4 of the HQ anime. Eventual Kuroo X Reader.

Themes: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Eventual Romance

Warnings: Mentions of stalking and abuse of power, Language, Angst in feelings, Eventual gore and fighting

Word Count: For Chapter: ~4000words

Questions/Comments/Concerns/Ideas welcome as always. Enjoy! –Admin Red

Chapter 13: Round 1C

“Do you have many tournaments in your home?” The King questioned you as he took his seat while the arena was cleared of the fallen trash from the stands surrounding it.

Shaking your head in the negative, you also moved to take a seat.

“Generally we hold them in celebrations, or as contests for some big prize.” He said, smiling while you presumed he reminisced about past memories. “When my father got sick and I had more responsibilities placed on me, I ended up planning almost one a month to give me a reason to expel some of my stress. The men, they just went right along with my whims.” His eyes took a fond look over them as he paused in his spiel, “But the month he died, I didn’t feel like doing much of anything. It took much effort on all of their parts to get me to do regular duties, let alone plan and prepare tournaments. Yuurei too had more burdens to bear from my lack of control over my own state. She had to do a lot more that one month than any Queen in Camelot’s history.” Kuroo shook his head, before bringing a small smile back to his face. “Sorry about that, kind of went off there for a bit didn’t I?” He seemed to try and laugh away the serious atmosphere he’d created, but you knew there was more in his head.

Unfortunately, now wasn’t the time to press him further, but let him get away with shaking off his own concerns.

He faced you with a wide grin, “So, is Sugawara a good fighter?”

You nodded, thinking to yourself about memories past. Your cousin was one of the youngest men to be granted the title of Red Knight. He was exceptional when it came to forming strategies, and using things and those around him to win battles. His fighting skill, while not being the top of the order, was nothing to laugh at.

“Have you fought him yourself?” Kuroo asked you, and you thought you heard a teasing tone in his questioning, but you just smiled to yourself before nodding. “Interesting, interesting. I’d ask deeper questions,” He laughed and then added, “But I know you won’t answer out loud, so I won’t press the matters. But, just know I do want to ask more than simple yes and no questions.”

Nodding once more, you accepted the King’s explanation for what it was, as just a way for him to express himself.

“Hey, hey hey!” Bokuto called from behind your sitting pair, approaching the side of Kuroo’s chair happily, “Did you see my win? Pretty great, wasn’t it!” He shouted, excitedly pumping his fists in the air before taking what had been Suga’s seat. “Sorry I missed your fight, Red Knight. But, now we get to face one another, that’ll be great!” He smiled to you, leaning far forward to see you around the other side of the King’s sitting form.

Bobbing your head in response, you grinned behind your mask. This knight in particular was overly excitable, and that was something you could use as a tactic in your fight against him.

Your vision was caught by movement from the tunnels into the heart of the stadium. Two knights walked in, side-by-side from either entrance. By the lack of marks on his borrowed uniform, you could tell which was your cousin, and noted that he walked in next to a knight marked in dark teal. By the way the two seemed to interact, you pieced together that he was entering the field with Futakuchi. Which meant the pair of knights entering the arena opposite were Semi and Yamagata, both marked with purple boxes. They were distinguished by one box having a vertical white stripe on the left half and the other bearing a horizontal white stripe on the top half.

Though in the moment it was hard to tell which knight was which, you knew you’d find out as soon as they split up for their fight.

Seeing Suga being friendly with the magician of Camelot made you happy that you’d switched places with him, and though not for the first time that you found more pleasure in it than just as a selfish reason.

You watched as the two men high-hived before your friend continued forward to his side of the makeshift battlefield. And despite yourself, you wondered what they’d been discussing.

Shaking your head to rid yourself the thoughts swirling in your mind, and ultimately deciding that you should trust Suga’s words that he’d win his fight and that you should watch Futakuchi’s.

Before Kuroo could begin the bout, you were finally able to distinguish between the two knights marked in purple and white. The horizontal striped one apparently was Yamagata as he stood with Suga, while the vertical striped one still approached Futakuchi’s side.

____________________________

Suga spun your blades against his palms, flashing the pristine shine against the sunlight to catch his opponent’s eyes. The pause in his spinning wrist, told the makeshift squire that he’d achieved the desired effect.

“These blades belong to the royal family of the Order. Passed down from generations since they are made from what is now an extinct substance.” He smiled behind the chainmail sticking out from under his borrowed helmet.

The giant metal ball hanging from the chain of Yamagata’s flail swung back and forth with the after force from the swing coming to a succinct halt.

“Are those really an alexandrite and painite pair of blades?” While unable to see the knight’s face, the heavy tone of shock and awe in his voice told the visiting fighter that the knight in front of him was primed for their battle.

When the King of Camelot shouted for the bout to begin, Suga took the brief time of his opponent's confusion to lung forward.

He elbowed Yamagata in his vambrace, knocking the fighter’s shield out of the way, and let the flail wrap itself around the alexandrite stiletto. However, to his surprise, pulling back on the blade didn’t pull the weapon from Semi’s hand.

The knight of Camelot must have regained his focus as he gritted his teeth, tightened his hold on his weapon of choice and twisted his shield wielding arm around to Suga’s breast plate and pushed him away.

Suga managed to untwist his blade from Yamagata’s flail before being shoved back, but had to quickly adjust to defending as his opponent went on the attack.

Spinning, the ball of metal kept Suga’s focus and he was forced to think solely on defense instead of how to attack. It was definitely a well practiced tactic, and in his mind, the silver-haired fighter applauded his counterpart. Unfortunately, he couldn’t break his word to the Princess of his home, he couldn’t break his promise to his cousin, his best friend. He had to find a way to counter the attack, not only defend.

Busy with his thoughts, the unmarked knight lost his footing and fell back against the hard ground.

Yamagata took note and moved fast as his flail flung over his shoulder , into the air and began rushing towards the cuirass protecting Suga’s upper chest. In the brief time that the resistance of the air between them gave him, your friend rolled to his side and the metal round hit the near solid earth.

Without really thinking, Sugawara rolled back to his original fell position--trapping his opponent’s weapon between the earth and the rear of his pauldron. The purple marked knight struggled as the chain attached to his wooden stick resisted his pull. Behind his helmet, his face contorted as he tried to manipulate the angle of the pull as the unmarked knight furthered the trap by squeezing his arm against his side, keeping the chain locked and the ball stuck where it fell.

Suga took the moment to try and think of an attack strategy. He realized that his opposite had at some point let go of his shield, and that he was using both hands in an attempt to tear back his weapon. Blinking slowly, he recalled a move he’d seen you do against some of the others back when you were still allowed to train and not sneaking behind the King’s orders to do so.

______________________

“(Y/N)!” he’d yelled out as he helplessly watched your body be flung into the ground. Your opponent was much larger than most of the knights in training. He knew the King had the instructors set this line-up to try and convince you to make the decision yourself to withdraw from this line of work.

You had barely caught your breath before the towering, older trainee hovered above you. Your lying form pulled up by the collar of your shirts, you were swinging at the forearm of your current sparring partner. A tight frown took over your features and your cousin watched as the man sneered at you, “Stupid royals, thinking you’re such tough pits. This ought to teach you why those idiots died so easily.”

He pulled back his dominant arm, preparing a full fledged power punch. And Suga saw as you half attitude-half fearful demeanor turned into pure rage. Your eye color flashed between a myriad of hues before settling on your natural shade, your lower half swung through the air, trapping your opponent’s arm and neck between your thighs right before you started to squeeze. The fighter’s shoulder blade must have been pressured against his airways as his face began to darken and everyone watching saw as his group loosened on your clothes. Your legs tighten their hold further as you cross your ankles and swing the lower half of your body to replicate a handstand before continuing the flip. Forcing the opposer to his backside and screaming through clenched teeth until he passed out and the adults in charge rushed to try and pry you off the other trainee.

________________________

The memories of other times you’d accomplished similar feets rushed through his mind and Suga’s mind locked onto one path to victory.

His legs spun over Yamagata’s head, his upper body keeping the flail trapped in its place as he brought his opponent face first into the dirt beneath him. His legs hooked under the dark haired knight’s arms as he practically sat on his backside.

With the weapon no longer in anyone’s hands, it fell limp between Suga’s arm and side. Grabbing it with three fingers while holding the painite sai with the other two, he flung it across the field and out of reach.

Yamagata’s head sat on its side, as he huffed in anger about how easily he’d been caught and disarmed. He knew he shouldn’t have changed weapons with Satori, but his friend just had to match Terushima for his fight. Guiding his breath back to a normal pace, the dark haired fighted thought about what his next play could be. Knowing his opponent helf two blades, even small ones like a sai and stiletto, was a troubling factor as he had nothing left but his armour. If he could only get the flail back...bucking his hips, he caused Suga to slightly waver in his solid position, Yamagata dropped to a lying flat position before lifting his upper body up by his arms and sliding Suga so far down his backside he could pull his legs up to his chest and bounce to a standing position. Spinning as soon as he did to face the visiting fighter for hand to hand combat.

Suga saw the stance and thought how he wished to proceed, to showcase your blades or disarm himself to fight with his body alone.

“COME ON THEN!” He heard Camelot’s King shouting, and a quick glance over his shoulder allowed him to see that King Kuroo was watching his fight with a look of pure joy across his features. While he couldn’t see your face, your body language told him you weren’t even watching his battle. Taking this to mean you expected a proper outcome from him, he held the painite sai such that all three tips stuck between the fingers of his gloves. The stiletto held by his fist.

Yamagate rushed Suga’s form, your cousin slightly jumping as the Camelot knight went low for a better hold of his missed target. Swimming the stiletto back, the tip rested against the chainmail beneath the purple marked knight’s helmet.

“Yield.” Suga warned, putting enough force into the blade that it could not be further ignored.

To his favor, the dark haired knight could sense the bloodlust in that single word. His fist slammed into the ground in anger as he realized he was out of options. Mentally he tallied that it's two losses for his team within the knights, making half of them out of the tournament. He felt like he’d let everyone down by becoming the fiftieth percent.

The unmarked knight pulled back the alexandrite stiletto enough for Yamagata to rest back on his greaves.

“Good fight Sugawara,” He commented, taking his helmet off before resting his hands on his knees, leveling out his breath before trying to move.

Taking off his own head protector, your friend smiled down at the man he’d just faced. “You as well Hayato, but I’m guessing you don’t regularly use a flail as your main weapon.” He laughed out at the face flung towards his sneer of a comment. “Gotta admit, had I not accidentally trapped it beneath my shoulder, not sure I would have figured out a quick way out.”

“Don’t try sugar-coating it, it's not helpful having the person who’d just made a complete fool of you tell you it was just luck.” The brown haired knight scowled, looking at his tightly held fists in annoyance.

Suga scoffed before taking a seat next to him, “Every fight has a shred of luck in it, and despite the attitude I believe you know that to be true. It's not that I won solely because of luck, it was that luck allowed me the slight chance to utilize skills I’ve developed through training and hard work. Just as past battles have allowed you. I am sorry if you feel I was...what did she always call it...badgering you about your loss, truly.”

Yamagata looked at him fully, recognizing the honesty and sincerity in his voice. “Badgering, huh? Guess that is as good a way to say you were picking on me as any. Can’t say I’ve heard it before. Who exactly said it always?” Half joking, half really wondering, Hayato pushed his thought forward, “Your princess cousin?”

“Yes.” Suga answered bluntly, spinning the stiletto against his open palm and watching the light alexandrite blade sparkle in the sun’s rays.

“Oh.” Was all he could respond with before glancing away from the man beside him. Thinking it must be hard to be away from someone you were so close with, without knowing when you’d see them again.

The pair stood at the same time, shook hands and then walked off the field.

_________________________

“Are you not watching your friend fight?” The King sat beside you had asked at the very beginning.

Shaking your head in the negative, you fully turned your body away from the pair in question facing the King’s magician.

“Ouch, guess he must have upset you in some manner. Well, as he is the only one to speak with you I am sure you’ll have to talk to him soon enough. But if you ever need an escape I am sure any of the knights would be willing to tour you around the main city.”

Smiling to yourself at his kindness, you considered using your powers to send him your thoughts as you did with Suga. However, you thought better of it before taking action. It had only been a week, these people couldn’t even tell what your cousin could do, let alone yourself. If you shared too much too soon, it could spell disastrous. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath you focused on watching the match before you.

__________________________

It seemed odd that Futakuchi held a two pronged weapon to you. One end matching Aone’s mace while the other looked to be a bill. The hook coming off the sharp tip protruding in a way that made you tilt your head in wonder of what his power play would be.

The attendant held the weapon with both hands, either end facing the sides rather than forward towards his opponent.

Semi however stood in front of the magician, head free from the protection offered by a helmet, nor chainmail set against his cranium hiding his hair. The dark-gray strands cadging his face in a light that reminded you of Suga whenever he scowled at you as teens. Attached to his back was the sheath for a machete, which he seemed to be reaching for as he seemingly moved in slow motion. You noted a couple other sheaths attached to his armour with other weapons ready to be drawn.

In an instant, you nearly missed as his hand wrapped around the handle of his main blade and he flung it straight at Futakuchi before it was completely pulled from its carrying place. The opponent also barely catching on to the fighter’s plan as his magic, or a very dulled down version of it in any case stopped the thick piece from hitting his own protective headgear right between the eye slits.

Before you could blink, Semi was in front of Futakuchi’s barely balanced form with a tanto fisted with the thumb on the flat rear. The sharp tip of the blade striking from its hold against the magician as he tried to put space between his attacker and self to utilize his own choice weapon.

He must have determined the big thing as obstructive as his grip loosened enough to pull Semi’s attention slightly, allowing the attendant a split brief in which he pulled a miniature dagger from seemingly nowhere. Pushing it against the tanto and forcing both weapons a safe distance away from the weaker points of his armour.

Semi smiled, as his arm swung back to its original position from a lower angle then how it was ushered away. The magician sneering to himself behind his helmet as he realized Semi had been practicing for such an occasion to face him.

“You can’t beat me every time, Futa.” He whispered into the side of his opponent’s obstructed face. “I’m a knight of Camelot, and as respected and appreciated as you are, to the people you are still meant to be a servant.”

The call from Kuroo towards the fight on the other side of the arena caused you a slip in focus and you weren’t sure how but suddenly Futakuchi was without his large weapon, barely fending off from Semi’s swings of his tanto and a dirk that had made an appearance.

The men battled it out and you were sure that Futakuchi was only using his powers to make a protective layer of energy around himself so as to not feel the brunt of force from the swings connecting with his armour. It stood to reason with his power hold that he should be defeating the knight without issue, and you wondered to yourself if he held similar standards as your troupe. If he did not want to utilize his powers if unnecessary or if he was more inclined to follow your own beliefs. It was a toss up as either would have fit the bill of not using powers against a friend in a mock-battle or training match, but it left a lot of room for questions as well.

Dooking it out some more, you felt a draw to look over at Suga, turning your head, you saw him jump aside from Yamagata’s rush and figured it was your imagination playing tricks on you. Focusing back on the pair you were determined to watch, you saw a glint of gold flash from behind Futakuchi’s helmet. Semi’s tanto swinging arm stopped midair, Futakuchi ducked beneath it and rushed to get behind his opponent before releasing the appendage and letting the swing complete its path.

Unfortunately, the short lived victory was...short lived. The gray-haired knight spun a one-eighty and right-hooked Futakuchi’s chin into the air. Knocking his helmet off and sending it flying as well as forcing the magician to shoot enough inches into the air that his own body flung back.

Thumbing his chin, still practically lying on the ground, the attendant grumbled to the knight, “Nutting toff! I give, happy?”

Smiling down at the brown haired man, Semi smiled with a killer grin, “Seeing me win does indeed make me happy.” He winked at Camelot’s magician, and you heard as many of the girls in the stands screamed at his apparent beauty.

Holding a hand out to help him up, the knight relinquished whatever pride he’d been fighting with. Taking it, Futakuchi showed he held no malice towards his counter. The two made way to pick up their discarded weapons and left the battlefield without another word spoken in front of any prying eyes.

“Good fight?” The King asked you, seeing as both battles were now finished.

Nodding your head, you thought about what could have been the reason behind such an easy defeat on the magician’s part. Recalling that he was pressed to beat the men, and that many thought Camelot’s magician would face your own in Suga. Now with that not as an option, you couldn’t help but question yourself as to why.

“Can I overshare again?” Kuroo seemed hesitant to ask. Nodding simply, you turned to face him, giving the King the full attention he seemed to desire at the moment. “I can’t remember the last time I fought with someone sitting in this box. Yuurei always seems to be caught up or sick or not around, Daishou either is fighting or not around. The knights never feel like they can be here long--even Bokuto does as before where he drops in, says his piece and leaves without saying a word. I’ve always felt like if I am here, everyone can feel me watching them and they can get a sense of strength from that, but whenever I really think about how this box is empty when I fight...it’s not a good feeling to say the least.”

You caught yourself from pitying him, he was a King, and while yes he was currently spilling a deep thought of his to you, you knew it was more because you wouldn’t be able to tell anyone more so than him wanting to actually talk to you. This was something he as a person needed to get off his chest so that he could continue being the royal his people needed, and being a royal yourself you understood that better than anyone else.So, you would let him get it out.

“I like the tournaments despite that though, because it brings such joy to the citizens and the men. I’d go through it every day if it could help even one more person. And I’m sure you’d agree to that sentiment since you seem to have such a strong sense of justice.”

Wait, what? His comment caught you off guard.

“It’s not so much as I think we are kindred spirits, but I am pretty sure you are the offspring of the Order’s King as your friend stated that first night. And, should that case be truth, I feel you would understand where I am coming from.” He smiled at you directly, and it took more willpower than you would ever admit to not move under the blinding features. “Thanks again for participating in the tourney, and for the heavy assist last week during the raid on the castle. From one royal to another, I truly appreciate having been able to meet your acquaintance.”

With his comments apparent to be done, the King strode out of the viewing box without another word.

You sat back, dumbstruck and frozen in the time it took Suga to return and lose his mind at your unresponsiveness. Staying mostly ignorant of your surroundings until Futakuchi came into the large stall and said something you didn’t really catch.

_______________________________________________

Author’s message: So, anyone shocked? No? Hmmm... Guess I’ll have to try harder on ROUND 1D.

_______________________________________________ Table of contents:

Chapter 12 Chapter 14

16 notes · View notes

dracoqueen22 · 3 years

Note

Hi! For flash fic weekend, how do you feel about Consort AU, Bluestreak reacting to someone calling Prowl a whore (or whatever Cybertronian equivalent you want to use)? It could be set very soon after Prowl's departure, when it's still a chock to Blue to hear something like that, or at some later point as we discussed on Twitter. Either a confrontation or just Blue's inner turmoil, whichever appeals more to you. =)

Out of Spite

It was hard growing up in Prowl’s shadow, but no one’s expectations for Bluestreak were higher than Bluestreak’s expectations for himself. He wanted to make Prowl proud, and while he knew Prowl was proud of him regardless, he wanted to prove it.

Unfortunately, scoring in the eightieth percentile wasn’t going to do.

Bluestreak frowned as he stood in front of the scoreboard, reading his results with all the rest of his fellow students, milling around to see who had passed and who would have to repeat the semester. The air was one of joviality and relief and disappointment.

Bluestreak’s sensory panels drooped.

He’d passed, but he hadn’t scored as highly as he wanted, and certainly nowhere near Prowl’s marks. He continued to give a subpar performance in the law curriculum which was so stupid. It was memorization and recitation. How could he keep making the same mistakes?

He had to work harder.

“Huh. Wouldja look at that. Top scorer again!”

Bluestreak stepped to the side as a larger mech bustled in beside him, grinning as he peered at the scoreboard. Spire was always doing that, pushing other mechs around, and now was no different.

“Looks like no matter what you do you’re always going to be trailing behind,” Spire said as he turned his attention to Bluestreak, clapping a hand down on Bluestreak’s shoulder.

Bluestreak shrugged out from under it, his armor crawling. “Congratulations,” he said, planting a bland smile on his lips. “Your hard work is paying off,” he lied.

Spire was as dumb as a sack of bricks, but his caretaker was high up the chain here in Praxus, and all it took was a little nepotism for their instructors to nudge Spire’s marks to the top.

“Too bad yours isn’t,” Spire said, pushing back into Bluestreak’s space. “Maybe you can get that shareware brother of yours to come down and fix it for you.”

It took too long for Spire’s words to make sense to Bluestreak, mostly because he was too shocked that someone would say them aloud, and directly to him, rather than whisper it behind his back, and titter to themselves as he passed.

Bluestreak stilled, an icy clamp winding around his spark. “What did you say?”

“Or maybe you’re the kind that likes to take care of things for yourself?” Spire said with a leer, looking Bluestreak up and down, pushing forward again, forcing Bluestreak to take another step back, out of the crowd gathered around the scoreboard. “Bet you suck spike as good as your brother does.”

For a moment, Bluestreak imagined what it would feel like to strike Spire. His hands balled into fists, and it would only take a single blow to lay the larger mech out. Spire only passed his self-defense classes because of his connections. He barely participated, and had something of a glass jaw.

Bluestreak knew he could take Spire down.

Just as much as he knew he shouldn’t.

So he lifted his chin and he glared at Spire, hoping to be even half as effective as Prowl could be. “My brother is Consort to the Prime, one of the highest positions of power in all of Cybertron,” Bluestreak said, pretending his voice didn’t tremble and that they hadn’t started attracting attention. “You wish you could be in his place. Don’t talk to me again.”

Bluestreak spun on a heelstrut and walked away, perhaps too quickly to pretend he was unaffected, but if he lingered, it would only be worse. Spire laughed behind him, braying and obnoxious, and the toadies eager for a taste of his political connections laughed with him.

“Your brother’s position is on his knees with a spike in his mouth,” Spire called after him. “Someday, that’ll be you, too.”

Bluestreak didn’t dignify that with a response. Heat burned at the back of his optics, and he pushed further and further away, very nearly a run, the anger rising up like acid at the back of his intake.

He was proud of Prowl, so proud. He knew that the position of Consort had lost some of its luster over the millennia, just as well he knew that if there was anyone who wouldn’t bow to the whims of a Prime, it was his brother.

Bluestreak worried enough without slaggers like Spire adding fuel to the flame. Worse that he knew Spire wasn’t the only one holding that kind of opinion. He was just the only one shameless enough to say it to Bluestreak’s face.

He emerged from the main building, dragging in a heavy vent from the open air, but it did nothing to make his vents feel less labored. Prowl was gone, and Bluestreak couldn’t go to him for comfort. Prowl was off on his honeymoon, enduring only Primus knew what, and Bluestreak was here, with the stares and the whispers from mechs too stupid to know better.

Bluestreak turned toward home on automatic, to the empty apartment he once shared with his brother, for lack of a better option. He would have to handle this on his own. He didn’t have Prowl anymore, and if he wanted to make Prowl proud, he would figure it out. He couldn’t let Spire bother him. He couldn’t let the whispers get to him. He had to succeed in spite of them.

It was the only way to win.

****

#Bluestreak #series: Consortium #series: The Prime's Consort #Transformers #Transformers AU #flash fiction fills #open mic night answers #raw unedited fic #sunnysidesofblue

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newstfionline · 3 years

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Tuesday, September 21, 2021

UN chief warns China, US to avoid Cold War (AP) Warning of a potential new Cold War, the head of the United Nations implored China and the United States to repair their “completely dysfunctional” relationship before problems between the two large and deeply influential countries spill over even further into the rest of the planet. U.N. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres spoke to The Associated Press this weekend ahead of this week’s annual United Nations gathering of world leaders. Guterres said the world’s two major economic powers should be cooperating on climate and negotiating more robustly on trade and technology even given persisting political fissures about human rights, economics, online security and sovereignty in the South China Sea. “Unfortunately, today we only have confrontation,” Guterres said.

Canada votes in pandemic election that could cost Trudeau (AP) Prime Minister Justin Trudeau gambled on an early election in a bid to win a majority of seats in Parliament, but now faces the threat of being knocked from power in Canada’s election on Monday. Polls indicate Trudeau’s Liberal Party is in a tight race with the rival Conservatives: It will likely win the most seats in Parliament, but still fail to get a majority, forcing it to rely on an opposition party to pass legislation. “Trudeau made an incredibly stupid error in judgement,” said Robert Bothwell, a professor of Canadian history and international relations at the University of Toronto. Trudeau entered the election leading a stable minority government that wasn’t under threat of being toppled.

Biden easing foreign travel restrictions, requiring vaccines (AP) President Joe Biden will ease foreign travel restrictions into the U.S. beginning in November, when his administration will require all foreign nationals flying into the country to be fully vaccinated. All foreign travelers flying to the U.S. will need to demonstrate proof of vaccination before boarding, as well as proof of a negative COVID-19 test taken within three days of flight, said White House COVID-19 coordinator Jeff Zients, who announced the new policy on Monday. Biden will also tighten testing rules for unvaccinated American citizens, who will need to be tested within a day before returning to the U.S., as well as after they arrive home. Fully vaccinated passengers will not be required to quarantine, Zeints said. The new policy replaces a patchwork of travel restrictions first instituted by President Donald Trump last year and tightened by Biden earlier this year that restrict travel by non-citizens who have in the prior 14 days been in the United Kingdom, European Union, China, India, Iran, Republic of Ireland, Brazil and South Africa.

Recall vote highlights California’s geopolitical divisions (AP) The California recall election was a blowout win for Gov. Gavin Newsom that reinforced the state’s political divisions: The Democratic governor won big support in coastal areas and urban centers, while the rural north and agricultural inland, with far fewer voters, largely wanted him gone. “It’s almost like two states,” Menlo College political scientist Melissa Michelson said. Though California is a liberal stronghold where Democrats hold every statewide office and have two-thirds majorities in the Legislature, it is also home to deeply conservative areas. Those residents have long felt alienated from Sacramento, where Democrats have been in full control for more than a decade. A conservative movement in far Northern California has for years sought to break away and create its own state to better reflect the area’s political sensitivities.

US launches mass expulsion of Haitian migrants from Texas (AP) The U.S. is flying Haitians camped in a Texas border town back to their homeland and blocking others from crossing the border from Mexico in a massive show of force that signals the beginning of what could be one of America’s swiftest, large-scale expulsions of migrants or refugees in decades. More than 320 migrants arrived in Port-au-Prince on three flights Sunday, and Haiti said six flights were expected Tuesday. In all, U.S. authorities moved to expel many of the more 12,000 migrants camped around a bridge in Del Rio, Texas, after crossing from Ciudad Acuña, Mexico. The U.S. plans to begin seven expulsion flights daily on Wednesday, four to Port-au-Prince and three to Cap-Haitien, according to a U.S. official who was not authorized to discuss the matter publicly.

Madrid street party (Reuters) Roughly 25,000 Spaniards joined in an illegal mass drinking party on the streets of Madrid on Friday, which took police until 7 a.m. the following day to break up. The huge outdoor parties, known as “macro-botellon,” have been resisted by Spanish authorities for years, and have taken on renewed significance as coronavirus restrictions limit public interactions. Police may find quieter streets next weekend as closing times for Madrid’s bars and clubs are finally extended to 6 a.m. from their previous 2 a.m. limits.

Thousands flee as lava spewing from volcano on Spain’s La Palma island destroys houses (Reuters) Authorities have evacuated about 5,000 people from villages in the Spanish Canary Island of La Palma as lava spews from an erupting volcano, local officials said. The 15-meter high lava flow has already swallowed 20 houses in the village of El Paso and sections of roads, Mayor Sergio Rodriguez told TVE radio station on Monday morning. Since erupting on Sunday afternoon, the volcano has shot lava up hundreds meters into the air and poured flows of molten rock towards the Atlantic Ocean over a sparsely populated area of La Palma, the most northwestern island in the Canaries archipelago. La Palma had been on high alert after more than 22,000 tremors were reported in the space of a week in Cumbre Vieja, which belongs to a chain of volcanoes that last had a major eruption in 1971 and is one of the most active volcanic regions in the Canaries.

Shooting at Russian university leaves at least 6 dead, 24 injured (Washington Post) At least six people were killed and 24 were wounded after a gunman opened fire at a university in the northwestern Russian city of Perm, the government in the region said Monday. President Vladimir Putin called the shooting at Perm State University “a tremendous tragedy, not only for the families who lost their children, but for the entire country.” Such a rampage, which sent students hurling themselves from windows in a bid to escape the gunfire, is extremely rare for Russia, which has little experience of the kind of mass shootings routinely seen in the United States. Russia’s Investigative Committee, a law enforcement agency, said the attacker was a student who had purchased a hunting rifle in May. The agency said he had been apprehended and is in the hospital for treatment of wounds suffered while resisting arrest. Russia has strict laws on civilian gun ownership and requires people to pass psychological exams before obtaining a license for hunting and sport firearms.

Evergrande debts (NYT) Once China’s most prolific property developer, Evergrande has become the country’s most indebted company. It owes money to lenders, suppliers and foreign investors. It owes unfinished apartments to home buyers and has racked up more than $300 billion in unpaid bills. Regulators fear that the collapse of a company Evergrande’s size would send tremors through the entire Chinese financial system. Yet so far, Beijing has not stepped in with a bailout, having promised to teach debt-saddled corporate giants a lesson. Evergrande is on the hook to buyers for nearly 1.6 million apartments, according to one estimate, and it may owe money to tens of thousands of its own workers. As Beijing remains relatively quiet about the company’s future, those who are owed cash say they are growing impatient.

Pacquiao for president? (Foreign Policy) Manny Pacquiao, the former professional boxer and Philippine senator, has said he would run for president in next year’s election, accepting the nomination put forward by a faction of the ruling PDP-Laban party. His decision comes after Christopher “Bong” Go rejected a presidential nomination from a rival PDP-Laban faction earlier this month, although his running mate, President Rodrigo Duterte, accepted the nomination for vice president. If electoral authorities recognize Pacquiao’s nomination, he may still face competition from Sara Duterte-Carpio, the mayor of Davao and daughter of the president. Duterte-Carpio has topped recent opinion polls but has been cagey about her plans for higher office, saying last week that she would run for another term as Davao mayor in 2022.

Talibanning Women From Work (Guardian, BBC) In mid-August, with American troops still present, the Taliban vowed to respect women’s rights, forgive those who fought against them, and ensure that Afghanistan won’t become a haven for terrorists. Zabihullah Mujahid, long-time Taliban spokesman, gave his first ever public news conference, saying leaders had encouraged women to return to work and girls to return to school. He promised women would retain their rights, but qualified that as being “within the framework of Islamic law”—specifically, Sharia law. To no one’s surprise, it was just ‘happy talk’ meant to allay suspicions of world powers and the fears of Afghans. Soon there were ample reports of Taliban soldiers going house to house, searching for “traitors” and executing them. Working women were told to stay home and schools were shut down, although it was labeled a temporary security measure. In Kandahar, women bank tellers were forced out of their jobs at gunpoint. In the next days and weeks the group’s new government issued decrees restricting more rights of girls and women. Female students in middle and high schools were told they couldn’t return to classes, although boys were allowed to. Female university students were informed studies would now take place in gender-segregated settings, and they must abide by a strict Islamic dress code. Other crippling measures from when the Taliban ruled in the 1990s surfaced unofficially, including a requirement that Afghan women have a male guardian accompany them in any public place. On Friday, female employees in Kabul city government were told they couldn’t return to work if their job could be performed by men, meaning almost 1,000 women who were part of the city’s workforce of nearly 3,000 lost their jobs. The Taliban shut down the Women’s Affairs Ministry, replacing it with a ministry for the “propagation of virtue and the prevention of vice” tasked with enforcing Islamic law.

The Taliban vs. ISIS (Washington Post) After years of waging a holy war to overthrow the U.S.-backed government in Afghanistan, Taliban fighters have struggled to adjust to their new day job: the mundane task of securing a city. “All of my men, they love jihad and fighting. So when they came to Kabul they didn’t feel comfortable. There isn’t any fighting here anymore,” Taliban commander Abdulrahman Nifiz told The Post. But the Taliban still faces a violent foe: the Islamic State affiliate in Afghanistan, which claimed responsibility Sunday for a series of blasts over the weekend in the country’s east that reportedly killed several people and injured tens more. The improvised explosive devices were set off Saturday and Sunday around the city of Jalalabad, known as a stronghold for the Islamic State-Khorasan (ISIS-K).

Troll Farms (MIT Technology Review) A report produced by a Facebook employee details the enormous impact troll farms—that is, organized networks designed to spread misinformation—have on the social network. The October 2019 report identified that the most popular pages for Christians and Black Americans were, in fact, operated out of Kosovo and Macedonia. As of October 2019, 15,000 Facebook pages with a predominantly American audience were operated out of those countries, reaching 140 million U.S. users every month. Troll farms operated the fifth-largest women’s page, the second-largest Native American page, 10 of the top 15 African-American interest pages, and every single one of the 15 top pages targeting Christian Americans.

#headlines #news

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artificialqueens · 4 years

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The kind of love you don't believe in (Jan x Jackie) - Pinkgrapefruit

[7337 words]

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

[ divorce lawyer/wedding planner au ]

A/N - i love this fic so much that i’ve tried to prolong it several times to no avail. it’s based off a Tumblr prompt me and jazz saw and ran with and honestly i’d make her a coauthor but she wouldn’t be impressed so instead it’s dedicated to her in the hopes that she’ll actually accept that for all her hard work and amazing comments while writing this. couldn’t have done it without her. i hope you fall as in love with it as i am.

Jan picks at the edges of her french-tipped manicure. It’s peeling. She stares at it for a second, examining the way the shiny polish reflects the sunlight filtering through the half-closed blinds. If she’s got her timings right, Bob will barrel through her office door in a minute or two and tell her to go home. Or to eat something. Or to do both which is the most probable outcome and Jan’s always been good at finding the most probable outcomes.

She’s a lawyer. It’s her job.

She’d started in family court and it was fun. There was a joy to bringing a child back home to their parents or filing adoptions and the kids’ faces would make Jan light up. She’d appealed for name changes and gender assignments and she was good, no one questioned that. One corner of her office had a neon rainbow sign and a comfy armchair and some books and some toys and it was usually occupied by a little kid who shouldn’t have to spend their afternoon in a lawyers office. But if she could look up from some paperwork to see a calm little kid - she could be calm and happy.

Then she started taking divorce claims.

And she’s a little less vibrant.

(The world feels a little less magical when your job is to help people split their lives in two.)

The problem is, she’s good. She’s really good. She hasn’t lost a divorce case and she gets a name for them. She gets recommended divorce cases until she only has a couple of gay kids and adoptions and custody agreements a month. Trixie takes the rest - nice, warm, motherly Trixie who makes everyone a cup of tea and asks them about their day and wears pastel pinks and yellows. Jan’s not bitter, she’s just jaded. She turns up to work in her charcoal pantsuits and her red heels, makes her coffee in her matte black mug, spends the day in her office with the door closed and leaves in silence. She’s happy, she’s just not what she used to be.

She tried to explain as much in the kitchenette the firm shares. There are only four of them; herself, Katya, Trixie and Bob - the boss lady. Bob does corporate, Katya does criminal, Trixie does the pro bono work and most of the kids’ stuff and Jan slogs away on divorces.

“I want to do something that feels meaningful,” she whined, pulling her turtleneck over her mouth as Bob pointed at the crossword question she couldn’t answer.

“Accumulation,” Katya said with a mouthful of apple that she crunched next to Jan’s ear, taking pleasure in the way the blonde scrunched her face up.

“Doesn’t fit the clue. It says impatience.” Bob reminded her, underlining it with her finger just to make a point.

“Anticipation,” Trixie yelled from the counter where she’d perched with her tea. “Jan use it in a sentence!”

“I anticipate going home.” Jan moaned to a cackle from the pink-clad woman. She stood, checking her turtleneck in the microwave door before leaving the kitchenette with a sigh.

So she’s waiting for Bob to come in and tell her to go home. It’s the middle of summer but it’s nearing seven and it’s a Friday. She’s got the weekend off for a wedding. She’d rather be in small claims court if she’s honest.

The idea of love becomes infinitely less appealing when you are surrounded by its decay at every turn. She’d rather just go home to her cat who she knows will always love her and cannot file a legal document saying it’s got irreconcilable differences and wants the house but none of the furniture.

No, Marceline would never.

Jackie opens the shop at six a.m. because she likes the feeling of the streets in the early morning. The sun is already up because it’s the middle of summer but the city still feels barren. It’s so quiet, she can hear her own heart among the calls of the birds. She enters ‘End Of The Aisle Weddings’ with a peppy smile and relaxed confidence and zero caffeine - saving that for her two p.m. pick me up when she and Rock can discuss their clientele over leftover wedding cake and hot drinks served in novelty mugs. It’s her favourite time of the day after opening.

She checks her planner almost immediately, plays her seventeen-ish voicemails while crossing things off the list and tacking on extra items that brides have found in a frenzy. She has one wedding coming up that should be fantastic but is also draining her more than usual with the number of requests the bride has. She gets about three calls a day making amendments and she’s more than happy to agree to them because most of the time she’s just a little drunk on the idea of being in love.

She calls the florist, the caterers and the photographer before Rock will be out of bed, skidding around the backroom’s slick floors in just her socks as she rearranges goodie bags and vases and table decorations organised by date.

Sometimes, she leans on the sage-green wooden table they use for meetings and looks through engagement photoshoots, planning her own. She imagines her hair in pin curls as her fiance dips her - probably in a field.

With their cat.

And some fairy lights.

She’s spent a lot of time hoping and dreaming and praying for her future wife to just walk through the door like they do in the romcoms she’s been born and raised on. She wants her ‘You’ve got Mail’ moment - a book with a rose in it and a woman she thought she hated but also loved. She wants someone to convince her to fall in love. She wants big moments and small gestures and the sweet warmth she sees in so many couples but she’s alone. It’s a cruel irony.

She hadn’t planned to be a wedding planner. She studies interior design and marketing at uni - interning at a wedding planner and never really leaving. She thought she’d do corporate, or events. Turns out, she’s pretty happy where she ended up.

Just a little lonely. Ever so slightly. Sometimes.

She brews another cup of chai and inhales the scent of cardamom pods, watching the business people on their ways to work through the big glass front windows - rain spattering on them like tiny droplets of light.

Jackie plans good weddings. She knows it’s not particularly objective but she knows she’s good at her job. By this point in the planning, she’s known the couple for close to a year so she’s pretty comfortable just to chill at the reception. She puts out fires where she’s needed in her white shirt and tailored black trousers - it’s typical attire for her - a black blazer hung on a hook somewhere, waiting for her exit. She’s comfortable, mobile and most importantly, she has pockets.

She knows she plans a good wedding which is why she’s just a little surprised to see (an objectively gorgeous) blonde woman sat at the bar, holding a tumbler of scotch. She’s in an off-the-shoulder yellow dress but somehow the summery look feels a little off-kilter when faced with her expression. It’s like it doesn’t fit her even though it fits her perfectly (objectively of course).

She scowls at the scotch before taking another sip and Jackie decides to approach as even though she’s terminally delightful she is not someone who enjoys the conga and it’s coming dangerously close.

She sidles up to the blonde girl, ordering a ‘sex on the beach’ with a smile to the bartender who she’s known for years. Jaida just winks, sliding over the drink and walking as far away as she can.

Jackie just sips her drink and watches for a minute or so until the girl flips her curls over her shoulder and stares her dead in the eyes. Her eyes are blue. A soul-piercing blue. But they look lost.

“Jan,” she announces, nonchalantly and Jackie has to blink a few times before she realises that the girl - Jan - is saying her name. She gives a frankly stupid little wave before she replies, voice full of amusement at her own stupidity.

“I’m Jackie. It’s lovely to meet you Jan,” she smiles, sipping her drink through the tiny straw Jaida always gives her after she spilt a particularly colourful cosmo down her old favourite shirt.

Jan nods towards her drink, “ Sex on the beach? All I’m getting from this wedding is a handshake in the garden.” She almost manages to maintain her slightly stormy demeanour but she cracks at the last second, blinding white teeth sparkling as Jackie has to hold onto the bar to stop herself falling off her chair in laughter.

“Not a wedding person?” Jackie asks, once she’s settled herself again and Jan tilts her head like she’s wondering why Jackie is bothering.

“I’m alone drinking expensive scotch at a bar,” Jan responds dryly. “I’m a divorce lawyer, I’m not exactly primed for this sort of thing. There is too much hope in this gazebo.”

Jackie feels the twinge of a smile at her cheeks and forces herself to look down for a second. “Fair enough, how do you know Rose and Nicky?”

Jan waves Jaida down and slips a tenner across the counter in exchange for another tumbler. She takes a long sniff and then a sip before she responds. “Rose - Rosé as we’ve called her ever since she chugged a bottle in uni - she was in my Law program - or at least the social work modules.” Jackie hums in approval and also a sort of understanding. She’s very good at putting the pieces together.

“You never planned to do divorces huh?” She asks but this time Jan’s the one to avert her gaze, staring ahead at the bottles of alcohol as Jackie rolls up the sleeves of her shirt - it’s a warm day and the gazebo holding the bar and the dancefloor isn’t particularly well vented, she’ll bring it up with the company when she gets back to the office.

“Damn Sherlock.” Jan chuckles when she finally comes up with her response, tugging her dress back off the shoulders from where it’s risen up to. “No, I’m trained for family court - name changes, adoptions, custody - the sort of thing with happy children and good, fulfilling life changes. I’m just naturally good at homewrecking.”

“It’s not homewrecking if they ask for it,” Jackie points out, tilting her glass in a way that makes her look a little bit drunker than she is but then again she’s been on the champagne since ten when Rose forced a glass into her hand and the caterers are so well trained they just top you up.

She stands up, wobbling a bit on her heels and the uneven grass. “Wait,” she mutters, Jan placing a guiding hand on her lower back for stability. “You don’t believe in love do you?” It makes Jan snort in a very unladylike way but Jackie is deadly serious. “I’m a wedding planner. I love love. But you don’t.”

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” Jan sighs dejectedly, helping Jackie back onto her stool and ordering her another drink, handing out tenners like they’re coins. “I just think it’s underwhelming and disappointing and never ends well. Women will disappoint me. My cat won’t.”

“You’ve never sounded gayer.” Jackie deadpans.

They look at each other inquisitively. Eyes drifting, searching.

“Only one of us wore a suit to a wedding.” Jan points out and they both burst into raucous laughter that makes the conga line (somehow still going) look at them a little strangely.

Jackie takes a deep breath and slams her empty glass on the table triumphantly.

“I’m going to make you believe in love.” She says with such conviction it’s impossible not to believe her. Her eyes twinkle. Jan wonders if this might be easier than either of them think.

“Okay.”

19:14

Janet are you busy?

19:18

Why.

19:21

I’m taking you to Karaoke.

Jan is pleasantly surprised to see Jackie in a mini dress but she’s also not mad about it. The dress is emerald green, hits just above her mid-thigh and is dangerously strappy and the heels Jackie paired with it make her legs look impossibly long. Jan also dressed up - but her purple mini dress feels more normal - less of a statement.

“Janet!” Jackie shouts from the entrance, clearly already tipsy even though it’s barely gone half-nine. She’s waving rather frantically and it takes willpower for Jan to move towards it instead of away but she reaches the girl who is warm and happy and she feels the stress in her shoulders melt away.

“Hi Jackie,” she sighs begrudgingly, holding the door for the brunette who practically skips into the bar that isn’t that empty. It’s a friday night. She should have expected it.

Jackie spins on her heels when they get inside and she gives Jan a once over with her eyes. “You’re not allowed whisky,” she decides after a little thought and Jan just stands there a little shellshocked as Jackie orders their drinks, winking at the bartender to get them quicker.

When she comes back to the high table Jan picked for them, she’s holding a glass of red wine and something that smells fruity which she sets in front of the blonde. Jan looks at it in disgust.

“What is that?” She asks, hoping she will like the answer.

“Pomegranate Mojito,” Jackie responds, looking smug and not at all phased by Jan’s death glare. “Drink up,” She says in a faux high-pitched tone and Jan mocks her as she sips the unnervingly pink drink.

She makes a face which makes Jackie almost spit out the wine she’d been drinking.

After about half an hour of watching drunk girls from the city university sing Taylor Swift off-key, Jackie decides they’re going to go up.

“I’m picking the song.” She demands and Jan raises an eyebrow, bemused.

“Okay Princess,” she responds because her drink is full again and it clearly had more alcohol than she’d been expecting. She’s a little disappointed that her whisky tolerance didn’t carry over into her weird cocktail tolerance - standing and immediately wishing she’d been sat down again.

Jackie once again leaves and returns smug, pushing the mojito towards Jan in a motion for the woman to down it which she does so dutifully - feeling it slide down immediately - smoother than the vodka shots she’d do in law school but still not quite her favourite scotch.

Bring it fucking on.

The first notes of ‘Nobody But You’ by Blake Shelton and Gwen Stefani play and all Jan feels is regret.

She should never have let Jackie on her Spotify. That was a secret.

She is, however, pleasantly surprised to hear Jackie nail Blake Shelton.