#AU WHERE THE SORCERERS ALL LIVE IN THE SAME APARTMENT COMPLEX

[somnas-writes]

Merlin au where all the sorcerers are friends

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.�� just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[hiccanna-tidbits]

The RotBTD+ Gang Plays DnD! (Feat. my ships, sorry not sorry XD)

So highkey I’ve actually been wanting to do a “The Gang Plays DnD” type post for AGES now, but then I saw @hobie-brown and @ohlooksheswriting-wips do DnD AU posts for RotBTD, and then I was like “Ah shit, I really should finish mine, eh?” So thank you to both of you for inspiring me to get off my ass and actually write the post!!!

Hiccup DMs. He comes up with this super complex plot revolving around dragons (because of course) where the party has to dismantle this society ruled by evil knights who want to genocide all of the dragons. Imagine his chagrin when the party wants to do nothing but fuck around in towns and aggravate NPCs 90% of the time.

They usually end up playing at Jack’s apartment, mainly because Hiccup’s dad doesn’t really want a bunch of loud nerds yelling about 20-sided dice in his household while he’s trying to work, if he can at all help it. Jack’s sister regularly barges into their living room and roasts the fuck out of Jack and his friends for being such damn nerds and eats all of their DnD snacks they’ve set out. If they’re in the middle of a combat session, she always gleefully proclaims that they’re all going to die. While Jack is annoyed by this, the rest of the party finds it deeply hilarious.

Jack Overland plays the absolute mayhem warlock Jack Frost, who got his powers through making a deal with the archfey Prince of Frost and has absolutely no qualms about being an evil god’s mortal Sower of Chaos. He spends the vast majority of the campaign doing such useful things as creating ice slicks under annoying NPCs and freezing people’s drinks. He also plays a Tiefling because absolutely no one can talk this boy out of playing the creepy demon race.

Rapunzel plays a woodland nymph druid who is also the party healer (because of course she is). Her name is probably Sunlily or something else suitably hippie-esque. Whenever there’s downtime (or whenever the rest of the party is also dicking around, and she can get away with it), Rapunzel likes to go into the nearest forest and pick the best berries and nuts for the rest of the party. She also loves baking fruit pies and cooking the best nymph food for her companions when given the chance. Definitely the party Cinnamon Roll (every party has one!). She often will turn into cute animals to distract the guards while the party infiltrates a building.

Merida’s character is the party archer and general ranged weapon master, as well as a raging lesbian. Hiccup learns very quickly that any male NPC who tries to flirt with her will very quickly get impaled with an arrow. She can’t ever decide if she wants to be a ranger or a rogue, so she multiclasses in both for flare. She also plays a Tiefling, and continually insists that her character is both scarier and sexier than Jack’s. In combat, she either Leeroy Jenkins her way in with a sword and just starts slashing every which way, or just shoots 90% of the enemies with arrows before the fight even starts. There’s really no in between. She can get away with this because she’s highkey one of the party tanks, and consistently deals a shitton of damage.

Anna plays a human bard, basically having read over the class options and going “Wait, in this one I get to make stylish medieval music??? And wear dramatic and garish outfits and a dumb hat??? And cast wacky illusion spells??? And do silly little magic tricks??? And INSPIRE EVERYONE??? Hell yeah, I’m in!!!” She mostly uses magic attacks in combat (definitely favors Tasha’s Hideous Laughter), but occasionally when she’s out of spell slots she’ll just take to slamming enemies in the face with her lute. She also has WAY too much fun with Vicious Mockery, let’s be real.

Elsa, upon hearing Jack’s character concept, rolls her eyes so far up in her head she can see her damn brain, and vows to play his concept, but serious–solely out of spite. She rolls up a super OP elf Chaos Sorcerer, filled with lots of brooding angst about how uncontrollable her winter powers can get if she isn’t careful. She combines it a bit with Storm Sorcerer so she can create literal blizzards, and Hiccup ends up allowing it just because he thinks it’s cool. Although Elsa’s character is undoubtedly aggravated by the rest of the party’s antics, she starts becoming grudgingly protective of these idiots and can deal some pretty crazy damage when her companions are threatened. She also contains one of the party’s only brain cells.

Eugene of course plays dashing rogue master thief Flynn Rider. Although his high deception and lockpicking skills certainly come in handy, he’s the most chaotic neutral fucker you’ve ever met and will take any excuse to rob NPCs blind or cheat them out of every cent they have in a tavern card game. It’s nigh impossible to get him to cooperate with the rest of the party much of the time, and often Elsa’s character has to either bribe him with some of her family’s gold or threaten to freeze him to stop him backstabbing one or more party members. Eugene’s character forces Hiccup to add in many more heist plotlines than he originally intended. This delights Eugene immensely, and sometimes he goes a bit crazy planning elaborate heists.

Moana plays a sorcerer water genasi. She can control any body of water, but she has a special affinity for controlling saltwater (i.e. the ocean lol). She also requests an animal handling bonus, but only with marine animals, solely because she thought it would be funny. She’s also an ex-pirate who robbed a lot of wealthy merchant ships and freed their slaves back in the day, which Merida thinks is incredibly badass. Moana tends to get bored and unengaged when there are no bodies of water to play around with, so Hiccup ends up having to add a lot more lakes, rivers, and oceans to the campaign than he originally planned on. Moana also takes a sailing skill, and thus the party often ends up traveling by boat. Typically Eugene and Rapunzel will infiltrate and hijack it, and Moana will sail it. Moana probably contains the party’s only other brain cell.

Astrid plays a gigantic berserker orc barbarian who is never without his trusty axe. Astrid is hands down the party’s top tank, and unquestionably deals the most damage every combat session. Much like Merida’s character, Astrid’s character is absolutely a shameless power fantasy. Hiccup pretty easily picks up on this, but is too polite to say anything about it. Jack also picks up on this, but is hardly as courteous as their DM, and teases Astrid mercilessly. Astrid is not amused.

Rapunzel requests that her weapon of choice be a frying pan, her justification being that her character found a discarded one at the edge of a human village outside her woods and mistaked it for a highly-dangerous human weapon. Hiccup is like “…you know what? Fuck it” and rolls up stats for a goddamn frying pan. Jack has nigh-endless admiration for Rapunzel for choosing such a goddamn memey, absurd, yet oddly effective weapon and it definitely makes the poor boy even more smitten with her than he already is.

Eugene and Merida have a bet going on who can sleep with more sexy barmaids. Merida is currently winning, much to Eugene’s chagrin. She’s not even inherently better at seducing NPCs, she and Eugene have the same charisma stat–she just consistently rolls better than Eugene. Eugene is incredibly salty about this.

Anna and Elsa want to be sisters in-game as well, but neither want to change their race–so Anna decides her character was adopted. Hiccup and the rest of the party go along with it, mainly because there’s something deeply hilarious about a regular human bard being adopted and raised by a family of high-powered elf ice mages.

Astrid is absolutely the sort of player who tends to get bored and restless outside of fights, and tends to fidget and twiddle her thumbs waiting for the next combat session. Jack picks up on this, and purposely does more roleplay for longer just to piss her off. He’s also just a very dramatic fucker and highkey loves roleplay.

When she’s not causing mayhem around the town or sleeping with hot women, Merida tries to entertain Astrid between combat sessions by offering to spar with her. Unfortunately, this does not usually end well for poor Merida, as even the most hardcore and badass of tieflings is prone to getting dumpstered by an 8-foot-tall barbarian orc with an axe. Astrid is, nonetheless, grateful to have someone to fight.

Rapunzel, Elsa, and Moana will humor Hiccup and attempt to actually play the main plot. Meanwhile, Jack, Merida, and Eugene are a DM’s worst nightmare. They constantly derail the damn campaign to fuck around, cause mayhem, and do inane shenanigans in every. Damn. Town. They go to. Anna is kind of a wildcard–she’ll typically go with whatever group looks like they’re going to be doing something more interesting. Astrid will go along with whichever group is more likely to get into a fight–which, often as not, is Jack and his posse of terrible Chaotic Neutrals (who have definitely pissed off a number of NPCs into attacking them).

As the campaign goes on, Elsa and Eugene become the beleaguered Party Mom and Dad. Both are quite aggravated by this–especially poor Eugene, who just wanted to play a morally-gray charming rogue who stole everything and got away with it and then accidentally ended up caring about these idiots he got stuck with.

Anna initially joins the campaign because she has a planet-size crush on Hiccup, and inevitably is the one who dragged Elsa into it too. Being the hopeless romantic that she is, Anna writes a love interest into her backstory. Hiccup eventually has the party run into said love interest, and Anna is overjoyed. He starts flirting with her as the love interest, and it’s easily the best 30 minutes of Anna’s life.

Moana and Elsa also give Hiccup pretty detailed backstories, and he works in little subplots for them. Moana gets to bring water back to a dying part of the jungle in the middle of a draught, while Elsa gets to go on a whole sidequest to explore her family history and how they came to be sorcerers.

Jack, Merida, and Eugene also give Hiccup fairly elaborate backstories, but Jack’s and Merida’s are like 99% memes and Dumb Shit. Hiccup tries to give all of them backstory-related plot hooks, but inevitably any hooks he provides are either stabbed, robbed, or frozen. Honestly any plot hook offered to these 3 will be all but spat in the face of and tossed off a cliff.

The one relevant part of Eugene’s backstory is that he and Rapunzel decide they used to be partners in crime before the campaign started. Rapunzel would infiltrate and scout out places he wanted to rob as small, unobtrusive animals (her preferred Wild Shape is a chameleon) and later distract the guards as a bunny or kitten while he went in and took every gold coin in sight. In return, Flynn Rider would bribe builders to not develop into Sunlily’s forest. Rapunzel and Eugene partly came up with this For Funsies, but also it was Rapunzel’s sneaky way of tricking Eugene into having prior connections in the party so he’d be less likely to betray them. It works pretty well–although the entire party is protective of Cinnamon Roll Sunlily, Flynn is certainly especially protective of her.

Astrid does the absolute bare minimum as far as backstories go. She is literally just here to smash stuff, slice people, and beat some fuckers up.

Rapunzel has a backstory, but she’s typically so invested in the main plot and the other party members that Hiccup rarely needs to bring it in to keep her engaged. She’s highkey the party emotional rock, and probably the only one keeping them all together.

On that note, Rapunzel’s character is the ONLY one who can get Jack’s character to take the plot even REMOTELY seriously. Like he’ll be dicking around in the nearest tavern challenging the nearest orc to a drinking game, and Rapunzel will come in and ask him to help them on a Main Plot Quest. And he’ll be like “come onnnnn I’m having funnn” and she’ll be like “Jack pleeeeeease?” and you just. Can’t resist Sunlily’s puppy dog eyes. At all. Also, whenever Sunlily is genuinely threatened, any silliness immediately goes out the window and Jack Frost is OUT FOR BLOOD.

For better or for worse, Rapunzel is not immune to being looped into Jack’s shenanigans. Occasionally if either Merida or Eugene have a particularly hare-brained scheme she’ll go along with it, but by and large Jack is the most successful in convincing her to temporarily abandon the plot and cause mild mischief with him. They once wasted half a session creating an elaborate “ice theme park” for some squirrels in the forest.

Hiccup tries to get Merida to play the main plot by eventually having there be no more sexy female NPCs to seduce in the towns they go to. Unfortunately, this backfires–Merida just hooks up with Moana’s character instead. When asked to roll for how good the lay is, Merida gets a nat 20–and thus her character and Moana’s character end up hooking up regularly throughout the rest of the campaign.

Hiccup introduces a few Wise Old Mentor-type NPCs to guide the party throughout the campaign. While Rapunzel, Elsa, Moana, and Anna actually try to listen to them and take their advice, Merida, Jack, and Eugene absolutely refuse to take them seriously and mercilessly play pranks on them.

At one point, Hiccup gives the party the option to attempt to tame a group of wild dragons and use them as mounts. They all have to make animal handling checks. Anna, Rapunzel, Elsa, and Moana pass. The rest of the party fails, with Jack and Eugene crit-failing. Hilarity ensues.

Hiccup ends up bringing back Anna’s backstory love interest as an NPC regular. Anna thinks he’s just being a good friend and a good DM and trying to incorporate her backstory as much as he can, but really, he just wants an excuse to regularly flirt with her. He hardly has the balls to out-of-game.

Merida comes out as gay toward the end of the campaign. Everyone in the group is extremely supportive, of course, but everyone is also like “Merida…with the amount of barmaids you’ve banged…and the amount of times you and Moana’s character hooked up…this isn’t exactly surprising.”

Hiccup actually finds a way to use Jack and Elsa’s same-concept-opposite-execution characters to the plot’s advantage. He decides one of the main villains will have a prophecy saying he’ll be taken down by a powerful ice mage. The party manages to fool this guy into thinking this ice mage is Jack, and sends Jack to fight him. As soon as the villain sees Jack, he’s like “WHAT??? THIS clown???” (word has absolutely spread throughout the land of Jack not using his ice powers for anything besides mildly annoying trolling). Naturally, the bad guy lets his guard down after thinking he’s going to fight this literal joke, and then Elsa crashes in from the side and absolutely dumpsters him.

Jack tries to defeat the final boss by just annoying him so much that he leaves. Unfortunately, he just annoys him so much that he attacks Rapunzel’s character. Jack’s just like “oh HELL no” and attacks with absolutely nothing held back. Turns out he’s pretty terrifying when he’s not using his magic for Dumb Antics.

During the final boss of the campaign, the Big Bad tries to one-shot Moana’s character, and Merida’s character super theatrically jumps in front of her to take the blow instead. Rapunzel just barely manages to heal Merida’s character, but it’s a really close call. During all this, Merida is like “ah shit...maybe I’m NOT just in this to get fantasy-laid.” After the fight’s over, her and Moana’s characters have a big dramatic love confession and share a Big Damn Kiss in front of everyone. It’s pretty epic.

After the final session of the campaign, Merida drags Moana outside Jack’s apartment and sputters and trips over her words for a solid minute before she finally gets out that through all this nonsense...well...maybe it’s not just in the game that she thinks Moana is hot. Moana just gets this HUGE grin on her face and says “c’mere, Leeroy Jenkins” and just pulls Merida in and kisses her. Cue the rest of the party barging in on them. Merida and Moana freeze, and there’s a moment of terrified silence...and then the entire party starts cheering them on like “took you long enough!”

The entire rest of the party could detect the sexual tension. Literally all of them.

But Eugene is like “HA, THIS MEANS IF WE DO A SEQUEL CAMPAIGN I’M WINNING THAT BET! BECAUSE YOU’RE GONNA BE DATING MO’S CHAR AND THUS NOT ABLE TO SLEEP WITH ANY MORE BARMAIDS!”

By the epilogue session, Jack and Rapunzel are dating. Merida and Moana are also dating. Hiccup and Anna STILL haven’t figured out why they’re so prone to spending half the session flirting when Anna’s love interest shows up, and Hiccup STILL hasn’t figured out why he likes to have Anna’s love interest show up so often. Bless their souls. Maybe they’ll figure it out next campaign...?

Damn I actually really like this...maybe if people like it I’ll do some incorrect quotes or a drabble or something??? Or maybe some HCs from next campaign???

[paulieshore]

Obey Me / SCM Au Series

Warnings: conflict of interest, triggers, drama

Words 2741

I do not own the rights to these characters, characters belong to:

·         Obey me! Shall we date

·         Star crossed myth - Voltage

 Chapter 8: Find Her!

 The House of Gods

 Karno grabbed Scorpio by the shoulders, shouting “WHERE IS SHE SCORPIO, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

Karno who was kind, considerate and calm, furious with Scorpio. Gods one by one, slowly appearing in the common room. Leon was permitted to return in aid of the search, and had to pull Karno off of Scorpio.

(Even though he would have loved watching his vice minister kick his ass)

“She’s not in her room!” Ichthys says

“Nor any of the rooms for that matter...” Dui says with his head down, sad.

Leon clicks his tongue, “Well down Vice Minister Dickhead, you made the goldfish run away. Making more work for all of us.”

“SHUT UP! ARE YOU ANY BETTER!” Scorpio steps towards him.

“ENOUGH!”

Zyglavis enters, with a grimace look.

“Scorpio you had one job. Just one today, is it so hard to show even the slightest compassion towards humans. Or have you forgotten you were one, once?” Zyglavis raised voice causes most in the room to stiffen.

Scorpio’s face twisted into one of shock, clicking his tongue. He remains silent, and turns his head down.

“They’re will be punishments for this.” Looking around to everyone in the room “First, we must find the girl. She can’t have gone far!”

…

All twelve went looking and reconvened back in the common room.

Hue points out, “She wasn’t at her own apartment…” Holding his chin in thought. “We couldn’t even see her in the pools….”

“Do you think those demons have Goldie?” Teorus asks

Zyglavis shakes his head, “No, we would have still seen her in the reflecting pool. Karno, was she at this friend of hers?”

Karno shook his head extremely frustrated, “No, I went to Solomon’s and couldn’t detect Y/N’s presence. He claims, he hasn’t spoken to her recently…”

“This Solomon though is a sorcerer, no? He could be hiding her.” Partheno adds with a look of curiosity.

“But we can see him in the reflecting pool, so we should see her then. Besides, a mere wizard able to hide something from a god.” Krioff speaks out loud his trail of thoughts.

Partheno taps his chin, “Interesting, seems our Goldie is Houdini now too…”

Krioff whispers to Partheno to knock it off, casting pitiful eyes over to Karno.

…

He looks at Scorpio “I have watched over her, her whole life. If anything happens to her because of you… I will be the one to punish you, regardless of who I am. Hear me well, Scorpio.” then storms out of the room.

Everyone gawks at him, Karno is clearly; emotionally distraught.

“I have an idea” Leon pushing himself off the wall, with a smug smile.

.

.

 Human Realm: Solomon’s Apartment

…

You hid in the bedroom closet for safe measure, Karno had unexpectedly shown up at Solomon’s door.

Well, you had a feeling he would, luckily Solomon’s spell worked. He played it off cool, pretending at first not knowing who Karno was, then pretending to remember

‘oh yes, your Y/N’s friend from the other day, would you like to come in?’. Offered Karno tea and all…

He even said he’d call you infront of him, aiding the act that he hadn’t seen or spoken to you. It was blood pumping, and risky but somehow pulled off.

Solomon was a mystery to you, but at this moment he was your life line.

…

“Y/N if we’re caught, just know I’m throwing you under the bus for having me lie to a god.“ He says laughing.

Night fell

“Here you can borrow a pair of my pyjamas, why don’t you get some sleep after you shower?” He comes back into the living room and passes you a set of clothes.  

“I’m sorry for troubling you Solomon, I’m indebted. I’ll sleep on the couch if that’s alright.”

“Oh no, no, no. I can’t have a lady sleeping on the couch, I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman.” Giving you a coy smile.

After a bit of negotiating with him, you both ended up sharing his bed.

However, you couldn’t sleep; mind racing.

You two slept back to back; but Solomon tossed a lot. He turned over and you could feel his breath on the back of your neck.

Even more nerve racking.

You were processing today’s events in your mind, guilt creeping in for running off. They weren’t all terrible, just terrible attitudes. You had put up with a lot with the brothers, and yet you couldn’t give the same compromise back to those gods. You tried; you really did… A few of them were just rather difficult.

How you missed how life was before all this.

Suddenly, Solomon started shifting again and threw an arm over you. Pulling you into his shirtless chest.

You don’t remember him going to bed without a shirt on?!?

Nuzzling his nose into your hair and inhaling deeply, “Oh, Y/N… I’ll save you.” He mumbles in his sleep.

!!!!

Your breathing hitched and your brain blew up at this point….

.

.

 The House of Gods

Leon summoned Simeon, obviously Luke trailed along.

“Chief, you summoned us?” Simeon sits down.

Leon’s hands were clamped together, index fingers up and tapping, thinking.

“Sir?” Simeon calls again

“You requested to personally watch over Solomon, yes?”

Luke barks out, “Yes sir, we both did sir.”

Leon’s eyes dart straight to Luke, who stood in terror (not that he’d admit too it).

“You’ve got your wish. I will allow it, under one circumstance…”

“Which is, sir?”

“We’ve run into a little problem. That punishment prick scared off the goldfish.”

“Goldfish, sir?”

“THE GIRL!”

Luke and Simeon seemed genuinely surprised by the news.

“This has to stay quiet; we don’t need all of the heavens knowing. One mortal girl managed to evade not one, but twelve gods.”

Simeon “Can you not just view her where abouts in the pool? “

“We’ve been looking, I suspect the girl is hiding under that wizard’s protection. I plan to go myself and sniff her out… I want you to watch who this ‘Solomon’ interacts with.” What Leon doesn’t say out loud, is the fact this wizard is wielding black magic.

Where there is darkness such as that, there’s bound to be sources, evil sources.

.

.

 Devildom

Mammon decided to slip out from class, he texted Asmo to meet near the cafeteria. Waiting around hiding, if Lucifer caught him, he’d be strung up!

…

“Pst, hey!”

!!!

Mammon just about squeals like a girl. “Man don’t go sneaking around like that!”

Asmo frowns, “You’re also sneaking around, what do you want?”

“Tell me where Solomon lives.”

Asmo’s eyes widen, “You’re going to see Y/N, aren’t you?!”

“Just tell me quickly before Lucifer figures out that we’re not in class!”

Asmo pouts and shakes his head.

“Give me your phone then!”

“No and no, if you want to see her then you’ll have to just follow me!”

Mammon was momentarily confused, realising his brother’s intent to lead him there.

“Fine, fine, but we better leave, like now!”

The two of them manage to slip out of the school grounds and straight into the city. Asmo didn’t inform Solomon of their plan, wanting to surprise you. So, without his help; they were going to need a witch to help them get to the human world, luckily Mammon knew a few. Taking the main portals would definitely trigger Lucifer in knowing, what they were up too. Leading them to using secretive ones, that was their best option.

Desperate times call for desperate measures, Asmo and Mammon agreed for the first time ever to set aside differences for one common goal. Even if it meant Lucifer was going to kill them both, they kept low profiles; not to be seen.

…

What they were unaware of, was Crow; in the shadows watching their every move.

.

.

 Solomon’s Apartment (Morning)

It was evident on your face you didn’t sleep a wink.

Solomon practically spooned you all night, occasionally whimpering your name. Sometimes he’d cuss Asmo out, or mumble weird chants. When the sun was up and Solomon’s grip loosened, you slipped out of bed.

.

Outside of Solomon’s apartment was Leon and Karno, dressed in casuals.

“What exactly are we doing Leon?”

“Watching for our very own eyes…”

“I was here yesterday; I couldn’t find traces of her here.”

“Karno, when looking into the pool did you not notice how the images reflecting were foggier than images shown anywhere else?”

Karno thinks for a moment, “Yes, but even you, yourself; know that sometimes the spikes of pollution can cause the pools to dirty.”

“Oh, so it only happens when peering upon his complex then, none of the others seemed to have had the same fog? Think hard Karno, your emotions for the girl are also clouding your divine judgment.”

Karno thinks… Then it hits him. Magic, not any kind of magic either, black magic. He turns his attention back up to Solomon’s balcony.

.

Not far from Solomon’s, Asmo and Mammon are fleeting closer.

“We almost there?”

“Yup! It’s super early so they may still be sleeping.”

Mammon stops, then Asmo stops, “What’s the matter, don’t you wanna see Y/N? Come on or I’ll leave you.”

“How many bedrooms is Solomon’s apartment?” Mammon asks.

“Hmm, just one. Why?”

Mammon’s face drops and he begins to scramble on ahead.

“Hey wait for me, you don’t even know where you’re going!” Asmo picks up the pace.

…

Leon and Karno were sitting on a bench across the street, when they heard two voices approaching.

Leon’s eyes squint and he growls low “Well, well…”

Neither of them moved, hoping to go unnoticed. They watched the two demons enter the building and their eyes darted straight up to the balcony.

.

“Come on man, hurry.” Mammon was pushing Asmo faster.

“Relax, so what if they do anything, oooh maybe we can join them!!” His eyes fill with excitement.

“NO! No one is touching Y/N!”

The elevator ride couldn’t go fast enough. They reached a floor and Asmo trotted on towards one of the doors, knocking on it.

.

You were brewing a pot of coffee when a knock at the door startled you. You ran to wake Solomon up, who was very moody upon being woken.

He stomped his way to the door and peaked...

“Oh, it’s you, come in”

.

You heard Solomon welcome someone in, so you quietly tiptoed towards the closet.

When, Mammon came bursting into the room, “Y/N!!!!!!” Scooping you up into a hug.

Everything happened so fast, you were robbed of your breath.

“Mammon, I can’t breathe!!!”

He let go quickly, face beaming red. “S-sorry, I’ll have you know THE Great Mammon doesn’t go out of his w-way to visit just anyone!”

Asmo comes skipping in, “Goooood-morning dear!”

Even though you were exhausted from a sleepless night, seeing these two before gave you a charge of energy. Throwing your arms around both of them, bringing them in for a group hug.

.

“This is all fine and dandy but, could you guys go love each other in the living room. It 5 am, I’d like to go back to bed for another hour or so.” Solomon’s running his hand through his hair, at his bedroom door.

“YOU better not have done anything funny to Y/N, and where is your shirt?” Mammon looked mortified.

.

Outside, Leon and Karno were patiently watching.

“I bet she’s in there...” Leon doesn’t even blink, flicking his head towards the building. “I think we’ve waited enough; we should make our move.”

“What exactly are we going to say or do for the matter Leon?”

Leon who stood up, looked back to Karno who seemed to be stalling.

“Don’t tell me your afraid of two pathetic demons and a wizard, MY vice minister?”

Karno shakes his head and stands up, “No, she’s clearly upset. Both you and Scorpio have played a part to this.” Stating it bluntly. “She won’t want to see you, and she definitely won’t leave with you. She doesn’t handle forced situations well. Trust me, I know her and her temper.”

Leon looks at Karno angrily. Women loved Leon, but this little goldfish was something else.

.

.

 Devildom

School finished; the brothers were called into the dining hall of the home. Lucifer had been pondering over the thought of seeing you, even if it was from a safe distance.

Everyone assembled into the hall, except for two.

“Where’s Mammon and Asmodeus?” Lucifer asks the others.

Nobody seemed to know, after a quick phone call to a few of the professors it becomes clear where they were.

Lucifer was angry, not because they did exactly what he planned to do. He was angry they didn’t include them into their little scheme, without thinking through the consequences.

.

.

 Solomon’s Apartment

You made tea for the boys, and set a timer on the pot of coffee for Solomon.

“Wow Y/N, you’d make a great house wife ya know!” Asmo admires

“It’s just tea and coffee” You shrug your shoulders, not thinking too much on his commentary.

A Knock at the Door

You whip around and whisper to the boys, ‘did you invite others?’ They look at each other and shake their heads. Solomon comes out at this point, unable to sleep due to how loud the demon visitors were.

He signals you to go to the room before doing so, and walks to the door. He peaks through the peep hole…

No one.

“How very strange…”

“Why don’t you open the door and check” Asmo stands up and skips over, with curiosity.

Solomon shakes his head “that would allow entry, my home is safe guarded for reasons.” Giving Asmo the ‘you should know better look’.

Another knock sounding louder than the first

This time it’s coming from the room you’re in, remembering Solomon stated he didn’t have neighbours. You start doing circles on the spot, taking in everything around. Noticing around the windows, a black mist like substance swirling. It didn’t look like dust caught in the breeze; it was like it was seeping from the cracks around the frames. The room begins to feel chillier than it was moments ago.

“Hey, Solomon what’s that?” You call to him, panic in your voice.

Solomon, Mammon and Asmo rush in.

“It seems you boys were indeed followed” Solomon’s face darkens “We’ve got company”

.

Outside

Leon and Karno were still discussing how to go about approaching, when Leon catches from the corner of his eye your head bop up near the window; then other heads too.

“Gotcha” He squints and smiles, his smile drops when both him and Karno notice.

Black swirling mist starts surrounded the building, darkening in the area of one suite, the suite you’re in.

“We need to move, now!”

.

Inside

“Y/N get behind me” Mammon grabs your arm and pulls you.

Solomon begins chanting something, but soon drops to his knees; choking.

“SOLOMON!” you all yell in unison.

A very eerie voice carries throughout the room.

“We’ve been looking in all the wrong areas, found you former goddess!”

Skin begins to crawl, the room dropping to freezing temperatures. Asmo and Mammon both take forms, Asmo picking Solomon up who fell unconscious to the floor.

“Hey- that voice!?” Mammon points out.

A figure then begins to appear from the floor, eyes tearing into you, this feeling; a familiar one. You knew instantly who ‘this one’ served. A body starts to emerge from the swirling mist in the floor, long hair and a black marking on his cheek. Your head started to thump in pain, the more he took form.

“We need to leave now!” Mammon starts pulling you away from your trance.

“No-one’s going anywhere!!!” Crow screeches, the walls cover in black ice, sealing off any attempts to escape.

Asmo and Mammon prepared for assault, the only way out was going to be a forced way out.

As they readied, two more figures appear with a *SNAP* blocking their way.

.

“You again!” Mammon shouts

Karno doesn’t turn, but shouts, “TAKE HER AND LEAVE!”

Snapping his fingers, lights fly through the air, by your heads. Shattering the ice blockading the door, Asmo and Mammon don’t wait a minute before they rush with great speed. Taking you and Solomon from the apartment, leaving Leon and Karno to deal with him.

.

.

  To be Continued

  Thank you to everyone that reads this series, and for your patience!

Like, comment, reblog or follow me for future stories 

mwah xxx

Now found on Ao3

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Vastly Different Worlds

AU-gust Day One: Fantasy AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Chloe Armstrong

Rated: T

Summary: With her father’s kingdom on the brink of war, Princess Chloe turns to the court sorcerer, Master Rush, for solace, frustrated that they must keep their relationship secret.

===

Vastly Different Worlds

“We have the Nakai forces closing in on our northern and eastern borders. We expect that their advance guard will arrive within the week. Whatever secret weapon your sorcerer has been working on, we need it ready to move out now.”

Chloe sighed as the colonels fell to arguing amongst themselves whilst her father considered all of the information that he’d been given. Every war council was much the same these days, just a lot of shouting and no decisions actually being made, before ending by blaming the chief sorcerer for whatever misfortune had befallen their forces this time. This was usually because the chief sorcerer always declined to come to the war councils and as such wasn’t around to defend himself.

Chloe would admit that his continued absence from the war chamber was getting to be somewhat suspicious and if she hadn’t seen him in person around the palace from time to time, she’d think that her father had made up the existence of Master Rush to get the colonels off his back.

She glanced down the table towards Brother Wallace. She had not known Eli long; he had only arrived at the palace to begin his apprenticeship under Master Rush a few months ago, but he had quickly become a firm friend. Since the Nakai insurrection had begun, Eli’s presence in the war chamber was becoming more and more frequent as Rush sent him to represent the magical interests instead of coming himself. 

Chloe mouthed a message to Eli. Where is he?

Eli rolled his eyes. Observatory. Where else?

Chloe smiled to herself. She loved the observatory, but she never had much opportunity to visit it, or its inhabitants. Her mother didn’t approve of her dabbling in sorcery, preferring her to be educated in the arts of diplomacy instead. Chloe had already brokered her first alliance between their own kingdom of Destiny and the Langaran elves in the south, and she could categorically state that whilst she definitely appreciated the importance of good allies, especially against the threat of a horde of invading Nakai, diplomacy was so teeth-clenchingly boring that she never wanted to do it again. Well, at least not whilst her parents, who were infinitely better at it than she was, were still around. 

No, she’d be far happier, and, dare she think it, far more useful, in the observatory learning magic from Eli and Rush and helping their war effort. She did not have the innate talent that the two sworn sorcerers had, but her learned magic was getting quite strong even if she did say so herself. What she lacked in ability, she made up for in tactical application, which was no sorcerer’s strong point.

She glanced over at Eli again. Cover for me?

He gave a theatrical sigh and nodded, his hands moving deftly and quickly, the pulse of magic that shot out of his palm going completely unnoticed by her father and the preoccupied colonels. Chloe slipped out of her seat, the facsimile of her that Eli had created remaining in her chair. No one ever asked her opinion on anything during these councils; she wouldn’t be missed.

She paused by Eli’s chair as she left the room.

“Thanks Eli, I owe you one.”

“You still haven’t paid me back for the last couple of times. You technically owe me three.”

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” She kissed his cheek. “You’re a star.”

She raced out of the room before anyone could notice that there were two of her there, and she made her way through the palace to the observatory, keeping an eye out for anyone who might question her.

Chloe felt the magic of the tower envelop her as she set foot on the first step up to the observatory. She didn’t know what enchantments were in place to protect the spire, but she knew that they recognised her as a friend and let her pass without incident. The generals, she knew, were not welcome in Master Rush’s domain, and she had overheard more than one heated conversation between them about being kept out of the place. She’d never yet been able to see precisely what happened when they attempted to enter, but she had high hopes that it was something amusing. 

The magic surrounding her became more and more intense as she made her way up the stairs, and she breathed it in, feeling it race around her veins. She could quite see the attraction of the power and mystery, and she could tell why so many chose to enter the magical arts, even if far fewer stuck the course.

The observatory was its usual mess of potions and parchment, chalk dust and incantations everywhere. At first glance, Master Rush was nowhere to be seen, but she could hear the scratching of chalk against wood and she knew that he had to be here somewhere. 

Looking around the large room, she saw something that had not been there on her last visit, a complex spell scrawled around the wall. Master Rush was not a man to let a lack of parchment get in the way of an idea, and it was a very good job that he and Eli had the magic to clean up after themselves or the entire palace would be covered in strange, half-built spells that no one knew precisely what they were for, including the man who had written them in the first place.

She followed the spell around the room, knowing that Rush would likely be at the end of it, and she found him in the shadows behind a bookcase, scraps of parchment in one hand and chalk in the other, worn down almost to a stub. His arms were covered in dust and there were so many smears of it on his glasses that she wondered how on earth he could see. 

“Master Rush?”

“Go away, I’m busy.”

“I can see that. Can I hold something for you, maybe?” It certainly looked like he was about to drop one of his many pieces of paper and she’d hate for them to get muddled up in case it resulted in the observatory blowing up. Such an occurrence had not happened yet in Master Rush’s time as chief sorcerer, but there was a first time for everything. “You look like you could use some more chalk.”

Rush stopped his scribbling and looked at his chalk stub, pushing his glasses back up his nose and transferring more white powder to the lenses, and to his face. He looked so focussed on what he was doing that it was almost alarming in its intensity. 

“Yes,” he said eventually. “More chalk.”

Chloe left him behind the bookcase and went to source a new stick. “What’s this latest masterpiece?” she asked as she hunted. It looked as if the search might be in vain, there was that much junk lying around. “How do you and Eli ever find anything in here?”

“We have a system. Don’t move anything or you’ll mess it up. And I’m not entirely sure what this new masterpiece is yet, but it will tell me when its ready. With any luck, it’ll be the cloaking spell that everyone’s been so anxious to get their hands on.”

At length, Chloe found a fresh stick of chalk - well, one that was marginally longer than his current one at any rate - and brought it over. 

“Yes, the colonels are champing at the bit slightly,” she said, standing next to him as he continued to work. She traced her fingers over the spell lightly without making contact, privately impressed with how many of the symbols she was able to read and translate into magic in her head, even if she didn’t have the nous to cast them yet. “This is light magic isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Rush paused in his scribblings, turning to her. He sounded impressed as well. “The way to make something invisible is to change the way that light refracts around it. This spell, hopefully, will do just that. You’re a quick learner, Your Highness.”

“Thank you, Master Rush.”

He took the new chalk from her, his fingers brushing against hers for a brief moment and transferring a coating of dust. Chloe could still feel the warmth of his skin against her hand, burning there.

She lived for these precious minutes when it was just the two of them. They happened so rarely, commitments by necessity keeping them apart, but neither of them could deny the intensity in the atmosphere when they were together. Despite taking the chalk, Rush didn’t start to write again, just staring at Chloe’s fingers and the dust his own had left. 

Finally, he turned away, his movements abrupt and jerky, pulling himself out of whatever reflections he had been caught in. 

“You’ll be missed, Your Highness,” he said gruffly. “Eli’s illusions are masterful, but he can’t keep them up forever.”

“Please call me Chloe.”

He turned back to her. There was something haunted in his eyes that Chloe hated to see there. She knew a little of his past, although only from the snippets that she had picked up through Eli. She knew that there was a wife who had died, and she knew that Rush blamed himself, spending so much time on trying to find the magic that would save her and not enough time by her side in her final moments. Perhaps that was why he worked himself up into such a fervour now, barely resting in his attempts to discover everything that the magical world had to offer. 

“Please call me Chloe,” she repeated softly. Rush shook his head with a little snort. 

“I don’t think that your parents would approve.”

No, they wouldn’t approve. Chloe was a princess and heir to the throne of an influential kingdom, and ever since she had been born, her parents had been grooming her to marry someone influential in a purely political alliance to strengthen their kingdom. She knew that her mother was secretly hoping for a union with one of the Elven kingdoms to introduce some longevity into the bloodline. 

But despite their plans for her, Chloe couldn’t help being her own person and wanting what her heart wanted, rather than going along with what was wanted for her. And what her heart wanted was Rush. 

“I don’t care.” She reached out to touch Rush’s shoulder, leaving another smear of chalk dust there in among all the others on his robes. 

“Your Highness.”

“Chloe.”

“Chloe…” Rush sighed. “Do you know what you’re getting into here?”

Chloe nodded firmly. “I’ve known ever since I first snuck in here and you started teaching me magic.”

She wasn’t going to back down so easily. If this was something that they both wanted, then she wanted them to at least try and make something of it. The only challenge now was to make sure that she and Rush were both on the same page, and this really was something that they both wanted.

“I want this, Nicholas,” she said. Maybe using his first name would convince him of her intent. “I want you, not whatever match my parents happen to have picked out for me because it’s the most advantageous to Destiny. You understand me in a way no one else does. We understand each other. If you don’t feel the same way, then that’s another thing, but don’t try to push me away by saying it’s something I don’t want if really, it’s something that you don’t want.”

Rush’s fingers closed over her own on his shoulders. “I do want this,” he said softly. “I want it far more than I should, but I’ve accepted that it can never be, Chloe. For all we live in close quarters, we inhabit vastly different worlds.”

“I know we do at the moment, but I don’t see why we should have to forever.”

“There are some elements of the status quo that we can’t change. Maybe it’s for the best.”

Chloe sighed. “How can it be, when we both want something and we’re denying ourselves this thing that we want based on a sense of politics and propriety that’s centuries out of date? Why can’t we just take this chance to be happy whilst we have it?”

“What happens when we no longer have it?” Rush asked quietly. “What will happen when it ends?”

Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, Chloe thought, but she knew better than to voice the sentiments to Rush. It made sense that he was scared of beginning something new after everything that had happened, and she understood that. She just wished that she could get him to open up to her and be truthful about his fears with her. Rush had been so guarded for so long out of necessity that sometimes she thought he hid the truth even from himself. 

“Maybe it won’t end,” she said eventually. “Maybe everything will work out well if we just have a little faith. Life doesn’t always have to be a constant cycle of preparing for the worst. Please, Nicholas, won’t you take a chance with me?”

For a long moment, he didn’t speak. He didn’t move, his dark eyes impenetrable as he gazed at her. Chloe was on the verge of giving it up and leaving him alone with his spells; she had done all she could to convince him and it was not to be, so she would have to accept that. 

Then his hand was on her face, chalk dust smearing on her cheek as he leaned in to press a chaste, tentative kiss to her lips. The ghost of a smile passed across his face as he broke away, and Chloe returned it. 

“Maybe a chance isn’t such a bad thing,” he murmured. 

Chloe kissed him again, going in with far more energy than he had given her, but he made no move to pull away, accepting her readily as she slipped her arms around his middle. It felt right, here in the observatory with just the two of them, where they had spent so many precious moments together uncovering the secrets of the most mystical magic and working out its applications. Chloe had no doubt that there would be any more of those precious moments to come, but for now, she was content to enjoy this one. However long this thing between them lasted, and however it might end, she knew that this was something she could never regret.

[tk-duveraun]

The Same Moonlight 1/?

Title: The Same Moonlight Fandom: SWTOR Rating: T Genre: Romance & Drama Summary: Cakara’s life has been a combination of bad luck and bad choices. She’s on her second fresh start, but maybe this one isn’t as fresh as she thought it would be. Notes:

I’ve made a lot of personal headcanons for echani because there is so little in canon. So don’t try to look stuff up.

Mandalorians in this time are officially allied with the Empire and, according to the Empire, this makes it illegal for them to have Force users in their ranks. They see it as a capital offense and will punish it as such regardless of the fact that Mandalorians are their own state and not actually subject to Imperial Law.

Mandalorians by tradition also don’t allow Forcers in their ranks regardless because of something terrible that happened in the past.

yaim = clan home/camp

alor = clan leader (more literally clan mother/father)

aliit = clan/family

cin’vhetin = the Mandalorian phrase meaning that your past is irrelevant and wiped clean.

beskar = Mandalorian iron, also shorthand for armor.

This is in the continuity of the Morning Comes AU wherein Rathi and Fox both live.

Meshurok’s yaim is in the middle of a thick forest. It’s not too different from Tiyaar’s. The wood making up the temporary defenses is less green and the twisting, creeping ivy is further up the ramshackle walls, but it’s not a complex with roots deep in the ground. The camp guards wear their armor as bright and polished as any other Mandalorian’s, though Meshurok’s grey gemstone sigil is more prominent than most clan symbols.

Cakara’s sunset orange armor doesn’t have Tiyaar’s mark. They had taken her in when she needed it, but she’d never felt like family. And she never would as long as people flinched at the first sight of her. She removes her helmet as Meshurok’s guards check her credentials, but neither one reacts nor comments. A green laser flashes over her armor, scanning for beskar and then the gate opens and she’s instructed to speak to the alor.

Eyes follow Cakara as she walks through the camp, but the expressions show only mild curiosity and the stares linger more on her weapons than her face. The command tent is impossible to miss, with its two meter tall standards. The grey gemstone is flanked by two smaller standards depicting the silhouette of some animal wearing a crown. It’s completely foreign to Cakara, but it’s no stranger than most symbols, so she doesn’t waste time thinking about it before nodding to the sentinel that lets her enter the tent.

The Hound of Meshurok is a tall, human woman with black hair so thick it fights against the braids keeping it in place, despite her undercut. Her expression is carefully neutral as she looks Cakara up and down. The muscles in her face twitch just the slightest bit, just the smallest movements that only an echani would catch, but aside from signifying that she has some thoughts, they don’t tell Cakara anything.

Cakara gives her new alor a shallow bow. “I’m Cakara. Wat Tiyaar said you’d be expecting me.”

“I was. Sit,” Hound says. Once Cakara is seated, she sits as well, her face still betraying nothing. “He said you were interested in joining our melee corps.”

“There was some tension because of my blood, as well,” Cakara says. Under her black tattoos, her skin is whiter than any sun-bleached bone. Even if the Hound is unfamiliar with echani bone structure and faces, there’s no other subhuman race with white irises like Cakara’s.

“Tiyaar are a hard lot. Good at what they do. Traditional,” Hound says. Her tone is slightly clipped, but not enough to suggest anything other than brusque professionalism.

“They took me in when I needed it. That’s what matters.”

Hound nods at her. “Good. I’ll tell you right now, if you’re looking for glory and constant engagements, you’re in the wrong place. We fight and we do it well, but we’re conservative with what jobs we take and our profits go to the children, not necessarily the newest weapons and the fastest ships.”

“I’m not here for glory. I’m here for…” Cakara hesitates, but finally says, “aliit.”

That puts a smile on Hound’s face, though it’s quickly wiped away. “That’s what I like to hear. I don’t tell newcomers what I’m going to say next, but with your training, you’d notice and it’s best to avoid any unpleasantness.”

It’s only her perfect muscle control that keeps Cakara from reacting. She doesn’t know which of the many things Cakara’s been trained in Hound is referring to. Nor does she have any idea what kind of unpleasantness the clan leader is imagining. She allows herself a single, quick nod.

“We don’t break up families for having gifts. The ideal warrior is one using all of their best abilities. If we don’t have a teacher for whatever they’re good at, we’ll find one. Even if someone has to leave for training, Meshurok will always be their home,” Hound says.

Cakara counts the steady, perfect beats of her heart as she mulls over those statements. There’s some specific talent Hound is referencing. One Cakara would recognize on sight. One she doesn’t want to talk about directly. Cakara fights off the urge to narrow her eyes in thought and leaves her face unchanged as her brain makes suggestions and tosses them aside. Despite her best efforts, an involuntary gasp escapes Cakara when the pieces fall into place. She whispers the word, barely giving it the breath for any sound. “Forcers?”

“No child will be ripped from their family for having a gift,” Hound says.

Cakara feels cold inside her armor, but also clammy and too warm all at once. More than half of her training in her old life had been to counter Thryssian sorcerers. They were evil, corrupted and couldn’t be trusted. She forces her eyes closed and shoves the old thoughts aside. Cin’vhetin. When she opens them again, Cakara meets Hound’s eyes and nods. “I understand.”

“The details aren’t something we discuss openly, even here, but rest assured, Mandalore already knows. That said, should the Empire take exception to our clan, we’re on our own. That’s what’s best for our people. Cerar and D’narr could have a place for you if that’s a problem.”

Wat had offered Cerar and D’narr to her, too. The four clans are close and often send warriors where they fit best. Everyone speaks highly of Meshurok, but the clan has no reputation… by design, clearly. They don’t want word getting back to the Empire that they’re ‘harboring’ Forcers. If the Empire finds out, summary execution is on the docket and Mandalore won’t intervene. It’s a dangerous position, but it could be worth it to find a family that accepts her for what she is and only what she is.

“I’d like to make a home here,” Cakara finally says.

“Excellent. You’ll be bunking with Zali for now. She’ll get you sorted and settled in. If you need more privacy after that, we can discuss it and work something out. I don’t anticipate any interpersonal issues, but should one arise, you are to bring it to my attention immediately so that it can be resolved before a true problem can arise. Arbitration doesn’t favor longevity, so do not hesitate to speak up.”

Meshurok is on the small side for a Mandalorian clan, but even so… “Your attention, personally?”

Hound grins. “Zali will tell you who can speak for the clan. She should be waiting for you outside.”

Cakara nods at the dismissal and stands. Just before she can step out, Hound stops her with a few words.

“One last thing. Welcome home, Cakara.”

“Thank you, alor.”

---

Meshurok’s mess tent is loud. Despite there being empty tables scattered around, the warriors are crowded onto the tables closest to the firepit in the center. The main ruckus seems focused on a red-haired human man that’s gesturing wildly as he tells a story. He has a long, intricate braid just as fancy as Hound’s pulled over his shoulder. Even from the distance, Cakara could easily read his lips and ‘listen’ to the story, but she doesn’t because she’s terrified. She has to imagine that no one else can see what she does, but they’re warriors, surely they should be able to recognize an apex predator.

It’s not that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, because it does, there are even crinkles in the skin around his eyes that prove he smiles a lot. No, it’s the way he sits and how perfectly he moves his arms. Non-Echani shouldn’t have that kind of muscle control, especially not people in full beskar with its limited joints and lagging pneumatics. In order to compensate for those factors, the man would need years of training. Cakara’s been a Mandalorian for three years and she only has base proficiency at what this man does so carelessly.

Something of her fear must make it past her control over her expression because Zali puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay? Do you want to go back to the bunk?”

Cakara can’t take her eyes off the danger, so she doesn’t look at Zali when she speaks. Each word is deliberate and torn from her chest because she’s sure he can hear her, even from the distance, even over the crowd. “That man is-”

“Gorgeous, right?” Zali gives a wistful sigh. “Wherever alor got him, I want one.”

She chokes and feels weak in the knees even though she’s sitting. “Are you out of your mind? He could tear you apart with his bare hands.”

“Fox would never. He and Morathis, that’s the chiss on his left, they’re alor’s partners. They wouldn’t hurt anyone in the clan. You’re fine. Fox is the best person to go to with problems. Alor tries to make it a lesson and ensure we learn from our mistakes, blah blah, but Fox’ll just fix things.”

Zali sounds so confident that Cakara glances at her. “He’s a monster.”

“Well, yes, you met Hound, didn’t you? They’ve gotta be monsters to keep up with her.”

“Are you really not worried?” Cakara ask as she turns back to watch Fox.

Zali shrugs next to her and loudly picks up her plate. “Of course not. He pulled me outta the rubble on Balmorra and brings me food when I’m sick and stuff. Doesn’t matter that I’m not officially adopted, he’s basically my dad now.”

Cakara lets a frown sit on her face. It’s slightly reassuring that he’s apparently affectionate under his terrifying strength, but that’s almost completely negated by the clear devotion on everyone’s faces. Power comes in many forms… “I suppose I just have to trust you.”

[singtotheskiies]

More Than Friends

pairing: hercules mulligan x reader modern au words: 3800 warnings: swearing, probs some HP spoilers, flUfF request by @justcallmecinammon (shortened): reader is best friends with Herc and is his personal model for his designs. little does she know that behind all the best-friend camaraderie, there's a little more going on. with some help from John Laurens and Co., they share their feelings.

Your best friend, Hercules Mulligan, was an aspiring fashion designer who preferred the outdated term "tailor's apprentice." Your best friend was also a broad-chested, dark-skinned man who stood at around six feet tall. Not your typical big guy. He certainly got some heat for it, and every time someone (namely, Aaron Burr) made fun of him and called him names ("sissy" being predominant), you would fly into a rage. "Burr, you better shut up or I'll rip your mouth off your face and stick it up your self-righteous ass," you screamed one day. The two of you had been on a shopping run and had ran into Burr at the grocery store. "Woah, calm down, there, Princess," he said, that ever-present chuckle in his voice irking you. "For the millionth time, don't call me Prin—" "Don't worry about it, (Y/N). He's not worth your time," Herc cut in softly. "But—" "Let's go." He pulled you out of the grocery store and began walking towards the apartment complex the two of you lived in. Your spaces were across the hall from each other. "Herc," you began. "How can you put up with him? You just...stand there. I don't understand." "(Y/N)," he said, still quietly, "I make it a point not to bother with people like Burr. Besides, I'll show them when I finally get my own shop." "Which will be very soon," you said. "I hope so," he said, and a soft smile graced his lips, making you melt. Oh, yeah. There was also the fact that you were completely infatuated with your best friend. You knew it was horribly cliché but couldn't help it. He was always so kind and sweet, and although his career choice was unique, you loved him all the more for it. He would never fail to find a way to make you feel better, and it was impossible not to become more attached than you probably should. You doubted he liked you back; you had been best friends for five years and you had never once seen a sign of him feeling the same way. Therefore, you tried to keep it to yourself and could only hope that it wasn't too obvious. "Any plans for later?" you asked him. "Well, it depends. Do you?" he looked down at you. "Not much. I was just gonna watch the Harry Potter marathon that's on tonight," you replied. "Well, that's what I was thinking as well. But it wouldn't be any fun without my best friend," Herc said, breaking into a grin. "That's true. Your best friend has to agree," you told him. "It starts at five, right? I'll bring the Doritos. And Nutella." "(Y/N)," Herc jokingly protested. "You bring Nutella to everything!" "It's not a party without chocolate spread," you shot back, crossing your arms in mock perturbation. "I can't argue with that," he replied, as the two of you entered the apartment complex. "See you at five?" "You betcha!" you smiled, hugging him tightly before unlocking your door. And as he smelled your scent and felt you pressed close to him, Herc couldn't help but wish as he had countless times before, that you were more than just his best friend. ------ You managed to knock on his door, despite the fact that your arms were full with an assortment of snacks that nearly swamped you. It swung open immediately to reveal a grinning Herc. "Need a little help?" "No," you grunted. "Just hold the door for me like a good boy." "That I shall do," he said, bowing as he stood against the door to keep it from closing. You quickly made your way over to the coffee table by the couch and dumped your things, almost knocking over the two cups of tea that stood steaming on the surface. Herc clapped and you made a mock bow. "Let's see what you brought," he said, as he shut the door and walked over to you. "Oh my god. Four jars of Nutella? Even Laf couldn't eat that much," he said, referencing one of your mutual friends. The Frenchman had a secret soft spot for the chocolate spread and you had caught him more than once with a spoon in your pantry, readying himself to steal from your well-stocked stash of the stuff. "It's always good to be prepared," you said. "Now come sit down. Sorcerer's Stone starts in ten minutes." He plopped down next to you on the soft couch, grabbing a huge quilted blanket in the process. "I thought we could use this," he said, shrugging. "Oh my gosh! A blanket! I love you so much!" you cried, not even noticing him stiffen as you said the last few words. You grabbed a small pouch of Doritos and the movie began. You hummed along to the opening song, and Herc looked at you with a smile in his eyes. "Look at you hitting all the notes," he said, and you rolled your eyes at him before quoting the first five minutes of the movie verbatim. You finally stopped when he raised a pillow threateningly. ------ ​​​​​About halfway through Goblet of Fire, when the two of you had exhausted a jar and a half of Nutella, you began to feel slightly tired and rested your head on Herc's shoulder, where it fit perfectly into the crook of his neck. You tried to repress the slight blush that came over your face despite your best efforts. Herc's eyes widened and he felt his heart beat faster. He was suddenly hyperaware of everything, from the soft scent of your hair to the warmth of your cheek on his shoulder to the brush of your side on his. Was it possible to calm one's heart? he thought. Because you could definitely feel its increased speed. He tried focusing on the movie, ignoring the warmth spreading through his body that wasn't coming from the blanket. Your head stayed there for the rest of the movie. You couldn't help it—Herc was just so warm and comfortable. However, you were jerked out of your haze during Order of the Phoenix. "Oh my god!" the two of your screamed at the same time. The object of your horror was none other than Dolores Umbridge. "Jesus, that laugh," he said, as she cackled. ​​​​​​ "I literally want to burn her," you replied. "What is she even wearing? I wouldn't be caught dead making something like that." "If you did, I would never speak to you again," you deadpanned. "I'm not even kidding." "Well, good thing I won't be making fluffy pink bathrobes anytime soon," Herc said. "Don't wanna lose you." But, oh, how he wished he had you. ------ You had finally given in to your sleepiness around the end of Deathly Hallows: Part 1. Herc knew it wasn't worth it to watch the last movie alone (besides, his ugly sobbing at Fred's death would probably wake you up), so he shut off the TV and quietly placed the remote on the table. He looked down at you, your head tilted back and mouth slightly open. You were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His chest swelled with pride as he watched you breathe gently. How did he ever get a best friend like you?   Every time he thought of you, he couldn't help but wish that you were something more to him than just his best friend; that you felt something more than just friendship for him. However, he dismissed the thought. You were sweet and funny and talented and beautiful and just the slightest bit inflammatory, all of which combined into an intoxicating personality that he couldn't get enough of. He just saw himself as average. He loved sewing and designing clothes, but he sometimes wondered if you found that attractive or just lame. But then he would tell himself, she's your best friend. She would have let you know if she didn't support you one hundred percent. But no matter how hard he tried, you always seemed to ruffle his mentality. Because he loved you. He'd be a fool to deny that. ------ "I'm here!" you sang, as you stepped into the design shop where Herc was an apprentice. A bell on the door jangled behind you as it shut. "Hey!" His voice was muffled and came from the back of the shop. "Gimme a minute." You stood by the counter and looked around at the clothes lining the store. It was a small place and dated back to the 1970s, but it was cozy and inviting and was a popular spot in town. Herc had been working there for three years and was saving up to buy his own shop. As you smiled at the thought of him, he appeared as if by magic. A smile broke over both your faces. "Hi, Herc!" you squealed, giving him a tight hug. "Gee, (Y/N), it's only been like twenty hours," he said, hugging you back. "Well, I missed you," you told him. "Besides, I'm excited for my fitting today." "Ah, can't forget about that," he agreed, tapping a finger to his forehead. "Let's go. I was just setting up." Fittings had become a tradition about two years ago. Herc had asked you if you could be his model for a dress he was making. "For a project," he said. You agreed, of course. You watched his skillful hands as he worked, cutting and sewing and measuring. Surprisingly, you didn't feel strange at all when he measured your waist and such things. His hands were gentle and when they brushed against you, they sent a shudder racing through you that you had to work hard to suppress. You didn't notice him bite his lip and turn slightly pink whenever that happened. The two of you covered up your feelings by chatting happily about whatever came to mind. You were so excited to see the final result and weren't surprised when it fit you perfectly. What you weren't expecting was that he would let you keep the beautiful piece of clothing. "Herc, I can't do this." "Yes, you can." "You spent all this time... Don't waste it on me." "(Y/N), I would keep it if I needed to. I promise, that was a practice one. I won't need it." You narrowed your eyes. "I think you're lying." "Me? Never! (Y/N), please. Just take it." You couldn't resist his pleading eyes. "Fine," you sighed. "It's gorgeous; thank you!" And the tradition began. You always felt a bit guilty, but Herc would always insist, and you weren't about to say no to your best friend, not to mention the man you were in love with. Today, a bolt of bright blue fabric sprinkled with yellow stars was laid out. "Oh, how pretty," you said. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking," he responded. "I thought you'd look nice in it." He grabbed a length of measuring tape and stuck a few pins in the breast pocket of his button-down. "Stand up on the footstool," he said, and you got started. After about twenty minutes of chatting, the bell rang again. "I have to see who it is," Herc said. "I'll be back in a few." He laid down his tape and opened the door to the main shop. You heard familiar voices and grinned. You knew who had come—John, George, and Laf. They were three of your friends whom you had met through Herc. John Laurens was a freckled man who always wore his hair back in a tightly curled ponytail. He was full of fun and never seemed to run out of things to tease you and Herc about. George Washington was older and more serious than anyone in your friend group. He had smooth tea-colored skin and always wore a ballcap of some sort on his head. You could always count on him for advice. Lafayette was a tall, dark man with corkscrews of hair which he always had off his face in a bun. He was born in France and still retained an accent and a love of food. He was fun-loving and never failed to bring levity to any situation, especially the ones where John left you and Herc blushing and stumbling for words after a well-placed comment on your relationship. You could hear the voices getting nearer, and, soon enough, the three men popped into the fitting room. "Hey, guys!" you greeted them. "What's goin' on?" "Not much," John said. "But I see you're busy with Herc." ​​​​​​ "John," you said, already blushing. "It's just another fitting for a project of his." "Oh, sure," he told you, rolling his eyes. "Amie, it is so obvious how he feels about you," Laf said. "Guys! He'll hear!" you cried. ​​​​​​ "Actually, he's still in the shop. Good ol' clumsy Laf knocked over an entire box of ribbons, so he's sorting them again." Laf smiled. "It is true. I am not very graceful." "Why aren't you helping him? I'll do it if you won't!" you exclaimed. "He insisted multiple times that he had it under control," George spoke up. "But back to the real subject," John cut in. "(Y/N), love, why can't you see how much he cares for you?" "He—we're best friends, John. He could never feel the same about me." "But he does," said Laf. "He looks at you as if you were the monde, the world." "It's true, (Y/N)," George said. "It's obvious to all of us. He's clearly head-over-heels for you." "I—I don't know what to say," you said, as you tried to wrap your mind around what they were telling you. "How do you know this?" "Well, ever since you really started getting close, we could tell," George continued. "He started talking about you non-stop and he just seemed like he would drink in every detail of you when you were around him." "Yeah, he would literally talk for ten minutes straight about what you had done the day before with a blush on his face," John said. "He's got it real bad." As he finished those words, Herc came in. "Hey, guys! Why is everyone looking at me?" he asked, confused. "That's a great question," you responded. "Now, shoo, children," you said, making go away motions with your hands. "We have a fitting to finish." John snapped a two-finger salute. "Alrighty, then. Off we go, boys." George waved to the two of you and Laf yelled, "Bye, amis! Don't have too much fun!" The door closed shut rather vehemently and the bell rang as they left the shop. The silence was almost suffocating. "I'm sorry about them," Herc said. "They didn't—tell you anything that made you uncomfortable, did they?" he asked, concerned. "Uh—no, no," you said quickly, while pressing your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. "No, we were just talking about, uh, stuff, you know? Like how the fitting was going, things like that," you said, nodding while cringing at your words. "Oh, I see," Herc said. "Well, let's get going." ​​​​​​ Throughout the whole rest of the fitting, you couldn't help but dwell on the words of your friends. Herc liking you back? Impossible! No matter how hard you tried, you couldn't keep the friendly banter flowing as well as it usually did. When he finished two hours later, you excused yourself rather quickly and drove home as fast as you could without being pulled over. As soon as you got home, you flopped onto your bed and stared at the ceiling as if it would bring any clarity whatsoever to the day's events. About five minutes into your intense dissection of every word that had come out of your friends' mouths, your phone went off. You sat up wearily to see who had texted you. Message from Herc 💗 6:58 p.m. You ok?   Your heart leaped into your chest at the sight of his name. Yeah, just tired is all Message from Herc 💗 6:58 p.m. Anything I can do? You quickly typed a response. No, I'm fine, I promise. I'll probably go to bed before too long haha Message from Herc 💗 6:59 p.m. Please let me know if you need anything. Night xx Thanks, Herc. Message from Herc 💗 6:59 p.m. No problem! You shut off your phone and resumed staring at the ceiling. This was going to be a long, long, night. ------ You couldn't stay away from Herc for long, and you had Aaron Burr to thank for it. One evening, you knocked on Herc's door. "Coming," you heard, and he appeared in sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt that read "King's College." "Oh my–(Y/N), you look awful!" he cried. ​​​​​​ "I know. It's all Burr's fault. Stupid little..." you refrained yourself from cursing. "Your eye..." "I know. Hey, it's okay, I gave him a shiner too." "What happened?" "Well, I was grabbing a few things at the store and he was there again with a few choice words about you. Needless to say, I got 'im good." "Oh, (Y/N)..." "Hey, you woulda been proud of me," you grinned. "I busted his lip, gave him a black eye, and hit him in the—" Herc's eyes widened. "Oh, no. Not there." "Yep!" you said cheerily. "Right where the sun don't shine! And I didn't even get in trouble!" He seemed at a loss for words. "Uh, well, come in. I'll see if I can find something for your eye." You stepped inside, and as you waited, a wave of exhaustion swept over you. You had barely slept for a week, and it was catching up too quickly for your tastes. Herc came back with a bag of ice and helped you put it on. After some of the swelling had gone down, he led you to the couch. "Here, sit down. You need to rest," he said. "It's just a black eye!" you protested. "I don't care. I want you feeling better." With a sigh, you sat down and he followed suit. "You don't need to keep defending me, you know," he told you softly. "Burr will just keep going and going if you let him." "But you're my best friend," you murmured sleepily. "I don't want anyone saying bad things about you." Herc looked at you, tenderness in his eyes. "Aw, c'mere," he said, and drew you into his arms. He smelled like fresh laundry with a hint of cologne. His arms were warm and his muscular body was softened considerably due to his oversized sweatshirt. You had never felt so secure, and you drifted off to sleep before you knew it. You didn't hear the words, whispered under his breath only after he was positive you were asleep, whispered as if they were a deadly secret, the words that would change your life if you knew them.   "I love you." ------ "Are you sure you don't wanna tell her?" "Yes, John! I want you guys to gauge her reaction," Herc told his friend. "Please?" "All right, ami, if you're sure," Laf responded. And with that, he, John, and George entered your apartment. Herc retreated into his own, cracking the door so he could still hear. "Well, if it isn't the Terrible Trio!" (Y/N)'s voice came across the hall to him and he swore his heart skipped a beat. "You know it." John. "We've got good news," George said. "About Herc." "Oh?" (Y/N) asked, sounding wary. "He now has his own shop," Laf said, and was promptly drowned out by the sound of her squealing excitedly. "OH MY GOSH! HE FINALLY DID IT AND I KNEW HE WOULD! YESSS! I LOVE HIM SO MUCH!" Herc couldn't keep a stupid grin from swallowing his face whole, even as his blood froze at her last exclamation. He could practically see her pumping her fist as she jumped up and down, her hair in a whirl. When she finally calmed down, John said something about the three of them having to go somewhere, and they made a quick exit. Herc's phone went off: a text from George.   Went super well. Obviously. You should def do something about your feelings now. He barely had time to process the message before (Y/N) burst into his apartment. "OH MY GOODNESS, HERC, YOU DID IT! I'M SO PROUD OF YOU!" She smothered him with a hug. He wrapped his arms around her and after a while, she pulled back and tilted her head up at him, eyes shining. Now or never. ------ "(Y/N), I have something to tell you," Herc said, dropping his arms and fiddling with one of his sleeves. "You can tell me anything," you told him. "What's up?" "Well, um, there's not really another way to do this, so I'm going to say it outright." He closed his eyes briefly, as if gathering strength. "(Y/N) (L/N), I love you." He opened his eyes and looked down at you, clearly worried. "I'm sorry. I just had to tell you." You were literally frozen in shock. "I—oh my gosh. Do you really mean that?" you asked him, finally finding your voice. "Yeah," he confessed. "Ever since I met you, I've felt this way. I just didn't tell you because you were my best friend and it would have ruined everything. I'm sorry, (Y/N)." "No, Herc, I—I feel the same way." His eyes widened. "Seriously?" "Yeah. All I wanted was for you to feel the same, but since we were best friends, I didn't think you did." "Oh, (Y/N)," he said, taking you into his arms once more, "why do you think I let you keep all those clothes? Why do you think you were my cuddle buddy? I kept trying to show you in little ways, but you wouldn't see." "I do now," you answered. "I just can't believe it." "You should," he said. "In fact, just to convince you, I'm going to ask you something. Will you be mine?" Your eyes welled up. "Yes! Yes! I thought you'd never ask!" He looked down at you, that beautiful smile gracing his features. "Good," he whispered, and kissed you softly. ------ "Y'know, (Y/N), I'm thinking about the next dress I wanna make for you," Herc said a few months later as you were lying against him on the couch once more. "Really? What'll it be like?" "Well, I can't make it quite yet. Maybe in a few years," he said. "Besides, it's a secret." "Aw, I wanna know even more now," you cried, looking up at him. He smiled at you and kissed your forehead. "Well, all I can tell you is that it'll be white."