#because I actually prefer to kick from my left side a bit but use whichever leg makes more sense

[tj-crochets]

Thinking about my neurology appointment again, I have another weird question for y'all! My neurologist was surprised and said it was weird I was right handed, which I am assuming is because of the reflex and grip tests she did, not because I give off a left-handed kind of vibe Wait I was going to ask if it was weird that I, a non-ambidextrous person, hit and kick evenly with both right and left sides, open doorknobs with whichever hand is closer, and use the foot pedal for the sewing machine with whichever foot it ends up nearer but can't write with my left hand But I just tried it and I can write with my left hand??? Like, not as neatly or as quickly as with my right, but it's clearly legible and not difficult to do. Have I been ambidextrous this entire time??

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

Never Mess With a School Teacher

Fandom: The Mandalorian

Collection/Series: Western AU- Putting Down Roots

Pairing: Sheriff Din Djarin x Female Teacher Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: M 

Warnings: Violence, oh my god, the violence. Also swearing, derogatory language. Threat of violence towards kids, but no actual violence, all violence is actually centred on the adults. 

Summary: He curses himself for getting so complacent, soft, it shouldn’t be this hard to chase down a thief. The thief should never even have made it to the steps of the schoolhouse, let alone inside. Luckily for your kids, an angry school teacher is worse than a pissed off sheriff. 

Notes: Someone said they wanted angst...well, I have delivered angst and fluff, hurt and comfort in one piece. 

Archiveofourown

Generally speaking Din’s job as sheriff had been pretty quiet and tame. An easy job. Navarro did not get a lot of crime and generally speaking the only people in his cells were the few regulars at the saloon who always got a little bit too indulgent with their alcohol and then started fighting over whichever girl they’d both decided they wanted that night. He hadn’t dealt with a murder, rape or assault his whole time here. He hadn’t dealt with major crime, not even horse theft. His life had become relatively...domestic and safe, compared to his previous. He’d gone from hunting down some of the most dangerous criminals around to simply wrangling a couple of drunks on a night and the occasional robber who tried his hand at a petty crime. 

He liked to think he was a competent sheriff, that part of the reason for the quiet was that he was just that good, the truth was in a small mining town nothing much happened. So he’d never had to worry, not about Grogu or about you or about the little ones you taught or any member of town. You were as safe as you could be. Navarro was probably one of the safest places around, it made his job as sheriff a damn sight easier that’s for sure. 

“Osik! Kolar! Get over here!” Which is why he’s feeling a little more winded than he used to when he runs through the centre of town after a lousy thief waving a gun in one hand and a bag of stolen credits from the mayor’s office in the other. He can feel a stitch pulling in his side and his knees don’t feel like they used to. 

He hasn’t had to run like this in a couple months, not since moving into town and perhaps he should have been going on daily runs because he’s feeling his age all of sudden. It shouldn’t be this hard to catch up to the guy, he’s not even that fast and he runs like a donkey’s shebs, all arms flailing about and no sense of his own centre of gravity. If he could just reach him then he’d be easy to tackle to the ground. Din was at least twice his size and even with that damn cattleman revolver being waved about he’d be easy to take on. But, of course Din’s getting old and of course he’s been complacent, not been working himself as hard as he should have been. Of course he feels like he’s about to bust a lung just from running for 5 minutes. He feels older than his years all of a sudden and can’t understand how he used to chance criminals down all the time with success.

He pushes his legs even harder when he realises the direction the thief is going in, “Haar’chak!” He hasn’t sworn this much in months, but he recognises the path towards the school and it’s the middle of the day. School is in session and he wants to just grab the guy before he causes more trouble. He has images of you standing at the front of class, radiant and warm, turning to fear as the man storms in. The thought makes him try harder.

“Get you’re fucking no good ass back here! Boy, don’t make me shoot you!” He’s reaching for his gun at about the same time as the schoolhouse comes into view and Din can feel all the blood draining from his face, fear gripping his heart tighter than any lasso at the thought that you’re in there, the little ones are in there and this di’kut is about to go storming in with a goddamn gun.

“I said don’t make me shoot you!” He’s got the gun out now, his trusty pistol, not his preferred rifle, but he’d left that in the sheriff’s office in a rush after hearing yelling and a commotion he wasn’t used to. He’s never leaving it behind again he decides, this has been a wake-up call, he’s gotten lazy, complacent, too soft. This town has damn near domesticated him. He needs to keep himself in shape and his wits about him if he wants to be a decent sheriff. Maybe he’ll telegram Cara, get her to come back him up as deputy or Paz, whichever wants the quiet town life more. 

He hesitates because of his recent domestication, his increased softness of heart...because if he shoots he’ll put a bullet in your schoolhouse and he knows it could go straight through, could hit one of you inside. But, mostly because he knows how much you care about that damn schoolhouse and he can’t bring it in him to damage it knowing you’d be devastated. Paz would laugh at him if he saw him now, tell him he needed to pull his trousers up and get on with the job. He’s never been very good at that. He curses kicking a rock nearby as the thief runs straight through the schoolhouse door with you inside. 

He’s panicking, he can feel it well in his chest, clutching at his throat and he’s not sure what to do. If he storms in it’ll be a mess, little kids and you, all at risk, but if he stays outside he can’t do a damned thing. He can’t begin to imagine how you’re feeling in there, probably panicking, the kids are probably scared, that’s soon confirmed by the terrified little screams he can hear. There’s a panic inside and it just swells his own until he feels like he’s choking. 

“Come out! Leave them the hell alone, boy! Do not test me!” They’re empty words because he can’t do a damned thing, but if that thief lays a hand on any of you he isn’t going to bring him in warm, he’ll be in a jail cell, cold, waiting for the coroner to come and collect him. That he’s certain of, a single hair out of place, a single bruise or mark and that man won’t be breathing for much longer. 

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

“It’s a well known fact that we’re all acted upon by a force we call gravity! Now gravity-” The door to the school slams open with a supreme force that shocks you so hard that you jump from your place at the front of the class, chalk falling from your hand in a perfect demonstration of the force you’d been discussing. The children react in an instant, jumping from their feet then all clamour towards you like a stampede of panicked animals and it is all you can do in that moment to grab the yardstick you use in mathematics and occasionally in science and hide it behind you. 

He’s wild looking, the man who storms into your school. Bulging big eyes roaming over the lot of you with a snarl, almost foaming at the mouth with aggressive energy, gun clenched tightly in one hand. He’s red in the face, huffing and puffing from running from god knows where. You can hear Din outside, he’s cursing and blinding, you can hear the panic, you can taste your own on the back of your tongue like a sour candy, like cough candy, the ones your father used to love and you used to hate so desperately. 

“Now, sir, I-”

“Shut up!” It’s in this moment you realise that you cannot deescalate this situation, this man is like a wild dog, he is ready to bite at the slightest sound or provocation and the children are your main concern.

Panic gives way to anger, that bitter resolve, that feeling of indignation at this man’s brazen act. That he felt he could come into your domain, your space, that he could threaten you and your children. That he could point a gun in their direction. It’s the gun that angers you the most, it’s not pointed at you, like any sane person would do, it’s not pointed at the one adult in the room, but at Jerome who is shaking so hard you can hear his teeth clattering together. He’s barely a boy of fourteen, not a threat in the slightest. 

You wait, wait as he takes steps closer and closer, drown out the sound of Din’s panic outside, drown out the sounds of your own children, the adrenaline making you feel like your skin is buzzing, like you’ve touched an electric circuit, but there’s no electricity in the schoolhouse at all. You’re shaking, that’s just how much energy is buzzing within you, you’re shaking like a leaf on a windy November day and you can’t physically contain it, stop it. 

When he’s mere feet from you, you lift your chin defiant and angry, mouth opening in a tirade of angry words, as you rush forward in what you’re sure would be a stupid act if you weren’t so desperate for him to ignore the children and focus on you. 

“How dare you come into my school and threaten my children!” It’s almost a scream, you’re so angry, so scared, that you don’t even think when you pull the yardstick from behind your back and swing with both hands for the hand holding the gun. It connects and for a moment he fumbles, you’re sure the gun will fall from his hands, but he catches it at the last second.

His hand comes up, “You bitch!” and clocks you across the face with the butt of his gun. One hit, hard enough for your ears to start ringing. You can feel blood drip from your lip which stings as it splits itself open, your teeth clatter together and by some miracle you stay on your feet, swaying back and forth. The children have begun to cry behind you and you can hear the sounds of roaring anger from outside. Din’s voice, clamouring louder than you’ve ever heard it. 

“You lay a hand on her and you’ll wish you never came to this town!” It’s too late for that you think, he’s already laid that hand and if Din doesn’t get to him first you’re determined to deal your own blows. 

The yardstick is ripped from your palms and you’re sure for a moment that he’ll simply throw it away, out of reach but he doesn’t. Whatever anger he is feeling boils over and the slab of wood hits you in the stomach, the ribs, the back. A hit to the face has your nose bleeding, your jaw feels like it might be broken and your only thought is ‘stay up, stay standing’. Your only relief is that the attention is on you now and not the children. 

“Nar’sheb!” You spit it out, the pronunciation is awful, but the one insult that Din had taught you tumbles from your lips, hoping to keep his attention on you, hoping the provocation gives Din some time to think, to plan. Even, if you feel like he might actually kill you, like he’s capable of it. 

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” 

“I said shove it, you filthy nerfherder!” It’s enough of a push for him to grab you by the front of your blouse and pull you forward, one arm coming underneath your neck, hand gripping your jaw painfully tight, especially with how broken it already feels, no doubt his fingers are going to leave bruises, while the gun is pressed to your temple. 

The fear comes back in full force this time as you hear the children crying louder at seeing you being abused, seeing a gun to your head. But you know you have to be strong because they are your children and you have to protect them, that’s your job, it’s your duty. So you’re almost relieved when he spits at you.

“Let’s go see that sheriff of yours, huh? He seems mighty concerned for you.” It relieves you because you’re beginning to move inch by inch towards the door and you know the older kids will take the younger ones out the back door, usher them quietly out of the schoolhouse and to somewhere safe. You can breathe easy because even if you die today those children are going to be safe, you’ll have done your job. The most important one. Keeping them safe. 

He sees you first, you’re blinded by the light blinking at the midday sun, but, Din? He can see you clear and bright and he has never been so angry in all his life. Your lip is busted open, blood running down your chin, staining your white blouse, there are bruises over your jaw, your nose is leaking more red and he can see by the way you carry yourself that your ribs hurt. The thief’s dirty hands are on you, one clutching your jaw so tight that he can see the indentations his fingers make even from a distance away, the other holding that damn cattleman revolver to your head. It makes him want to beat the guy black and blue, forgoing guns, just give him his bare hands and he’ll ring the guy's neck. Just let him go absolutely feral on the man, let him tear him apart. Din clenches his hand tighter around his gun, the other tightening into a fist, he widens his stance. If it is to be a fight then that’s fine, so long as you’re not in the middle of it. 

He looks scared. That’s the first thing you think when you see Din. He looks scared and angry, his gun is pointed but you know he won’t trust himself to shoot it, his brow furrowed, wet eyes, and teeth biting into his lip hard enough to bleed. He looks raging and scared and wild. This is a side of Din you have never seen, you are so used to the calm, the quiet, gentle Din. But, this Din doesn’t scare you, it fuels your fire again, that this man would make Din feel like that, that he would make this kind man scared and angry. You can feel that rage welling up, shaking you physically. He thinks you’re scared, you can tell by the laugh and little comment ‘oh don’t be scared now’, that he whispers into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, making you shy away in disgust. It crawls over your skin in a most unpleasant way. 

“Now, Sheriff, i’m going to make you an offer that I wouldn’t refuse, not if you want this pretty little thing to come out in one piece that is.” That name angers you even more, how dare he condescend you, how dare he call you that, it’s worse than being called a bitch or a cunt or any other number of derogatory names. 

You don’t even give him the chance to make his offer. You slam the pointed heel of your boot into his foot, hard as you can, before bringing an elbow back into his stomach and using what little you know about the centre of gravity to off balance him and shift him over your head and in front of you. The gun goes flying and your hands reach for the heavy metal pail you keep in front of the school house for collecting water, thanking God that you’d decided a cast iron one would do better than tin as you heft it over your head and across his face with a ringing smash and a crunch of bones. 

You stand over him, chest heaving, “You come near my children again and I will kill you, do you hear me! I’ll show you what a pretty little thing like me can do, sir!” For good measure your swing the pail down again, the man groans and far from being disgusted with your show of violence, you feel better than you have all week at knowing the threat has been dealt with.

You look up breathing heavy, blood dripping from your lip to see the children had made it outside, watching you with wide eyes, almost as wide as Din’s, but not quite. The gun is slack in his hand and he is watching you with a heat you’ve never seen before, it makes you swallow hard.

Din’s sure he’s in love. That’s what he thinks it feels like as he watches you, your chest heaving in anger, your features twisted from their usual soft and delicate countenance. This is love, this feeling like you’ve reached into his chest and grabbed his heart in your bare hand. You are the picture of a mother bear protecting her cubs and that part of him that is deeply Mandalorian cries out for you, cries out to grab you and hold you close. You are in that moment more Mandalorian than he is, mandokarla in every sense of the word. You have the spirit of a true mandalorian, the spirit of a mother, strong, brave, prepared to do what needs to be done. Undefeated. The man beneath your feet groans and it spurs him to action. 

Pulling handcuffs from the back of his belt, Din closes the gap between himself and the thief. He’s rough as he rolls the man onto his front, pulling his arms far behind his back and locking them together. He knows he’s rougher than he needs to be, but the man’s lucky. Lucky that he can’t bring himself to hurt him more with you stood there. 

“You’re lucky I don’t put a bullet in your head right now, osi’kovid. I should kill you for what you’ve done.” He means it too, he wants to just do it, but he knows it’s not right. Not when the man is incapacitated, unable to defend himself. Not when the little ones are watching on, many of their parents having made their way through town at the sound of the disturbance, clutching at the little ones with relief and shock. 

“Then why don’t you, big bad sheriff?” Din hauls him to his feet roughly, presses his mouth close to the thief’s ear not wanting the others to hear him.

“The only thing keeping you alive right now is the woman standing in front of you. If she wasn’t here I'd tear you limb from limb. You’re lucky she’s there.” He means it too. He won’t hurt him, not like this, because he knows you wouldn’t approve, because he knows no matter how angry you are you’d never be okay with him hurting an unarmed, handcuffed man. But, god if he isn’t close to snapping. All that panic has turned into anger, anger which he focuses on the man as he roughly drags him towards the cells. 

You think you weren’t supposed to hear it, the threat, but you did and it is both scary to see him like this and a mite attractive.  Your gentle sheriff is showing a harsher side than you’ve ever seen and it should shake you to your core, make you distance yourself, but it doesn’t. Did you not just show the exact same side of you? Did you not just consider beating the man to a pulp yourself? All because you loved your children, wanted them safe. You think this anger from Din is a reflection on how much he cares for you and the children, how scared he had been and it warms something inside of you. Your chest aches with a longing that you don’t understand as you watch him roughly walk the man away. 

“Are you alright, Miss!” It’s Mr Hewitt, concerned for your welfare, but you just wave him off and make your way to the children, hand clutching at your ribs. 

“I’m perfectly alright, Mr Hewitt, don’t you worry about me!” The children, for the most part are with their parents, all of whom have congregated after commotion drew their attention and word spread quickly through town. They’re crying into their mother’s skirts and their father’s trouser legs and it breaks your heart. They should never have had to witness or experience that, it should never have happened. 

“Children!” Their heads snap up instantly, ever attentive to your teacher's voice; they watch you with focused eyes even while they hiccup and sniffle. “I think we’ve earned the rest of the day off, don’t you? Go home, rest, play and I shall see you bright and early tomorrow morning!” 

Truth is you need to sit down. You can’t even begin to think about teaching right now. So sending them home seems your only option. 

Parents smile at you, wish you well, tell you to look after yourself as they escort their children home. The only little one left is Grogu who runs towards you with panicked eyes, and despite the pain you kneel on the ground in front of him. The little one wraps his arms tight around your neck before pulling back, little hands patting over your cheeks and hair, as if imitating an adult checking your injuries. It brings tears to your eye because in that moment you’re reminded of what could have happened, what could have been lost. It’s not fear for your own life that has tears falling, but fear for him, for all the little ones and their youthful innocence. 

“Cabur...cabur” It’s said to you, little hands framing your face, big brown eyes serious as he looks up at you. It isn’t a word you know, mando’a you are sure, and it’s not a word you’ve ever heard leave his lips before. A quiet child he had only recently begun to start talking and often in one or two words only. 

That’s how Din finds the two of you. You’re kneeling in the dirt, skirt stained probably beyond repair, blouse bloody, face bruised and cut. Grogu is in your lap, your arms wrapped around his little chubby body, his hands cupping your face as he says it over and over again. ‘Cabur’. Guardian. Protector. It warms him from the inside out, that his ad, his son sees you as such, that his son cares about you so much and that you care about him just the same. He has no doubt that you were prepared to die for those children and it scares him and warms him in equal measure. 

You hear his footfalls, dirt and gravel crunching under well worn boots, spurs clinking lightly as he comes to crouch next to you. Warm fingers reach out to gently graze your jaw, taking in the dark mottled bruising and deep swelling.

“What does it mean?” Wide eyes turn on him and he can’t help but smile softly at you, moustache twisting upwards at your curious nature, always so eager to learn, always wanting to engage more with the world around you. 

“Protector, guardian, cabur’ika.” You wince slightly when he presses around your nose, checking to feel if it is broken. It’s not, but it will swell and bruise along with most of your face. The blood has stood spilling from it and that reassures him that it isn't too serious. It still hurts to see you like this, to see you hurt in any way. 

“Ika?”

“Little.” He can already see your brows furrowing, lips setting into an offended scowl as you glare up at him. At the diminutive suffix, not fully understanding the nuances of mando’a yet.

“Little!”

He laughs at your offence, not because it’s funny because it does not mean what you think it means, “It’s a...a familiar term. It’s not because you’re little.” He hopes he makes sense. He doesn't call you a little protector to make fun of you or tease you, but because it shows familiarity, closeness. You are becoming part of his clan without realising it and the familiarity feels good to show. Just as when he calls Grogu, Gro’ika. 

“Oh.” The annoyance metals from your features as quickly as it came and he continues his prodding of your skin, carefully assessing your injuries. Your jaw isn’t broken, he tells you, but it is badly bruised and he tells you to talk less in class, although he gives you a look that says he understands that is unlikely to happen. A gentle finger pulls your lower lip from between your teeth, you hiss, but he’s gentle as can be when looking at the split lip. Badly split and still bleeding red over your chin and blouse. 

Din rises to his feet, offering you a hand, “Let’s get you clean up, cabur’ika”. He helps you stand, Grogu letting go and sliding from your lap to instead hold your skirt hem as the three of you walk. 

Din wraps a strong arm around your waist to help you walk, your pace is slow, careful and it takes longer than it really should to get across town to your small house. It’s not much, just 2 rooms; the main living area with your kitchen, wash basin, tub and a bedroom separated from the rest. But it is home. Cosy, he thinks, like you. It screams home, lived in, a place to live, not just rest your head. 

He eases you onto your settee, propping up pillows behind your back as he urges you to lay down. He even plumps a few in his hands like a mother hen, clucking around you as he unlaces your boots and gently pulls them off to make you more comfortable, grabbing a throw and tucking it around you. He’s filling a washbowl with water from your tap, the one luxury you have, being a plumbed-in kitchen sink. 

“Din...you don’t have to do this.” He should be dealing with paperwork, probably writing a telegraph for someone from a local prison to come and collect the man currently in the jailhouse. He shouldn’t be here with you, he has better things to do. 

“Yes. I do. Someone needs to look after you, cabur’ika.” You watch him grab salt from the side mixing it in with the water, just enough to help keep your wounds clean. Watch him decide which cloth on your countertop is the best to use. He feels the fabrics, which is too abrasive, which is softest, gentlest, before deciding on one and dropping it into the washbowl. 

Grogu is sat by your fireplace watching as his buir shifts you slightly so he can sit on the edge of the settee, washbowl placed on the ground. His fingers are gentle as they rest underneath your chin and urge you to look up at him, calloused but soft on your skin, careful of any pressure that might hurt you. 

The salt water stings, but the cloth is soft and he hushes you quietly at every hiss or groan of discomfort you make. Carefully cleaning your wounds, wiping the dirt, sweat and blood from your skin. 

“It’s okay, Cyar’ika. I’m sorry….i’m sorry.” It’s more than just a sorry for the temporary pain of cleaning your wounds, it’s more than just sorry that I am causing your wounds to sting. There is a deep pain in his voice that strikes you to your core and you shift, hands wrapping around his wrist as you sit yourself up despite the pain in your ribs. 

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Din. Listen to me,” you tug on the wrist, pull it towards you and hold him to your chest, urge him to look you in the eye. You can feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves, “You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s not your fault.”

“You wouldn’t be like this if I was better at my job...I got complacent, lazy, I should have been able to catch him before he even got near the schoolhouse! You shouldn’t have ever been put in that position, you and the little ones…” It’s the break in his voice, the tears welling in deep brown eyes that has you wrapping your arms around his head and pulling him to rest his cheek on your chest. Rubbing circles in the back of his neck, twisting dark curls between your fingers. 

“You did everything you could. You are not at fault and I will not have you blame yourself for something you had no control over. You are a good sheriff, Din. You are so good. Please don’t blame yourself for this, darling.” You scratch careful circles into his scalp with your nails, rub soothing lines over his neck and under his jaw, whisper gentle reminders that he is the best thing to happen to this town. That he provided you with a school. That he has made this town safe. That he is not at fault for this. But, you know, deep inside you that he will carry this moment with him, that he will not forget what happened and what could have happened. This guilt will weigh heavily on him, and will follow him.

“You could have been killed. The little ones could have been hurt.” He has always been a man of emotions, quiet emotions, but emotions nonetheless. You’d known from the start that he had a protective streak, that that extended especially towards children. That the mandalorian in him, his upbringing, urged him to keep them safe as much as your own duties did.

“But they weren’t. Keeping them safe is my job, Din. Don’t add it to your worries.” But, they weren’t his responsibility. When they were in your schoolhouse they were yours. The last thing you wanted was him to take that responsibility onto his shoulders when he already had so much, that guilt. It was your responsibility to protect them and while scared and shocked, none of them had a hair out of place or a scratch on them. They were okay. 

“You could have died, cabur’ika. You could have died.” 

“I know. I know,” It hits you. Like being trampled under horse hooves and the wheels of a carriage, like the yardstick to your ribs, full force and winding as you finally understand. You could have died. You could have died. 

It is your turn to cry as your breathing becomes uneven and your mind tries to make sense of the fact you nearly died today, just doing your job, just in your schoolhouse. That there is so much you have not achieved, so little you’ve seen or done and you could have lost the chance to ever do. “Din…” You’re clutching at him, fingers digging in his back as he pulls you tighter to him. 

There is a moment where he worries that you cannot breathe, that the force of your tears will choke you in his arms and so he holds you tighter, barricades you in his arms. Walls shielding you from the world. He brings a hand to the base of your neck cupping it to tilt your head up as he presses his forehead to your own. A comforting gesture, a keldabe kiss, he wants you to feel safe again. Wants to impress upon you your importance in his life even if he is not ready to say it yet.

He can feel your breath evening out with the gesture, your lungs relaxing as his presence comforts you. It pleases him to know he can calm you. He is the only thing present in that moment, not what happened, not the wild eyes of your assailant, not the fear, not the kids, not the room around you. Just him. His warm forehead pressed into yours, gentle, but firm enough to ground you. Large hand cupping the back of your neck, the other arm wrapped entirely around you to keep you close. 

It is a little movement behind your back and two small arms wrapping around your back, unable to truly wrap around you fully that bring you back into the present. 

It’s a little voice saying ‘Cabur’ into the fabric of your blouse, little hands gripping at you, trying to soothe you that makes your heart ache in an entirely different way. You pull back from Din, enough so that you can reach around you and pull Grogu into your lap, between the two of you, shielded by you both. It should scare you, how it feels like you have your entire world on your settee, how it feels like family. It should scare you what you would do for Din, for Grogu. What you would do to keep them safe, happy, healthy. Instead it warms you, to know that you’ve found somewhere to belong that isn’t just a schoolhouse and a classroom. 

“It’s okay, Ad’ika. I’m okay. I promise.” You run a hand through his dark curls, boop him on the nose to make him smile and feel a true smile creeping on your face even if it hurts. You’re not lying either. You’re okay. You will be okay. With this little child who cares for you deeply, with his father who is always there to look after you, you know you are okay and will be okay. 

“Ori'haat,” Din says to you, lifting your eyes back to him and the soft little smile playing at the corners of his mouth, “I swear. You said you wanted to learn more.”

“Or-e-haht?” You are back to your little game. The one where he tells you a new word and you try to pronounce it, but the unfamiliar words twist wrong in your mouth, coming out butchered to his amusement. He enjoys it, you know he does. It is easy to see because his eyes always twinkle with humour and his face softens, some of the harsh lines fading away. 

“Oh-ree-haht.”

“Oh-e-haht?” You always concentrate hard and it is this fact that makes your mispronunciations cute, copikla, rather than frustrating. He does not mind you making mistakes because you try earnestly to correct them and always practice the words till you have it right. He enjoys teaching you because he enjoys hearing his language from another person, enjoys the familiarity, the homeliness of it. 

“Oh-ree-haht!” This time it’s Grogu who announciates it, loud and clear with a little grin on his sweet little face as he looks between you and his buir as if waiting for praise. 

“Very good, Gro’ika,” Din ruffles the boy’s curls before turning his eyes back to you. The boy preens under the praise, little grin growing in size as he sits between the two you. How he always manages to get it right on the first try you don’t know, you’re a little envious of the boy's knack for seemingly everything. He is a quick learner in school and out of it. 

“Oh-ree-haht?”

“Jate, good.” You smile proud of your efforts and shift a little in your seat, ribs pulling and causing you to let out a pained breath. It's going to be sometime you think before you are fully back to how you were, without pain or bruises. You have yet to look in a mirror but are sure that you look terrible.

“Would you like to stay for dinner?” You extend the invitation, knowing you don’t want either of them to go just yet, even though Din probably has things he needs to do and it is selfish to ask him to stay when he has his duties to get on with. 

“You’re not making dinner, cyar’ika. I’ll make it.” He untangles himself from you, grabbing the washbowl to empty in your garden. The view of you with his son cuddled up to you makes his heart warm, even with the mottled bruising and cuts across your features. 

“Din…”

“I will not argue about this with you, i’m taking care of you and you will rest, cabur’ika.” His tone brooks no argument, demanding for the first time, truly, that you listen and do not fight him on this. You should be resting, not standing cooking dinner. You are in too much pain and he would sooner tie you to your bed then let you hurt yourself in an effort to be the hostess. 

With a heavy sigh, you conceded defeat. “Okay, but I’m not happy about it, Din Djarin.”

“I know.” He says with a smile.

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

Mando’a Translations:

Nar'sheb - contemptuous comment, like saying shove it.

K'olar! - get over here!

Cabur - guardian, protector 

Cabur’ika - lit. little guardian/protector, but the ika shows familiarity, making this more of a pet name, friendly term. 

Haar’chak - damn it

Shebs - butt, ass.

Di’kut - idiot.

Mandokarla - having the *right stuff*, showing guts and spirit, the state of being the epitome of Mando virtue

Osi’kovid - shithead

Ori'haat - I swear

Cyar’ika - sweetheart, darling

Jate - good

Copikla - charming, cute, typically not used for women, but for animals and children. But honestly, I think the reader wouldn’t be offended like a typical mandalorian might by being called copikla. 

Ad’ika - Little one.

[where-dreamers-go]

Merlin x Fem!Reader (Soulmate AU) (Text reupload)

(A/N: Yes, I know I already have this up here, but it’s a DeviantArt link and it’s bothering me because it’s an external link. So...can’t take away the link aspect because it won’t let me save it. SOOO...here’s an insert reader from 2017 and my first attempt at a soulmate au.

Warnings: Minor angst?, fluff.

Word Count: 3,773 words)

“I’m telling you, Gaius, I felt something. It has to be magic if I woke up like that,” Merlin stood in front of his room as his older companion prepared breakfast.

“Merlin,” Gaius sighed and turned to the young man, “It could simply be nothing, but.....if you feel so strongly about it we should keep ours eyes open.”

Merlin simply nodded with a minute smile, not informing Gaius that, despite all they’ve been through, he was strangely looking forward to discovering the source of his new curiosity.

The young sorcerer went back into his room to dress for the day and giving the world a hopeful smile as his blue eyes peered down at his golden mark over his heart.

“Someday,” Merlin whispered to himself before pulling on a colored shirt.

* * *

Hide it.

You had to hide it.

The gold, the shape, the details.

A mark that helped bring souls together must be hidden.

Everyone else did since as long as their ancestors could remember. A unique mark appearing on everyone some time after birth, an image that would be perfectly matched to their soul mate. Whether the mark actually resembled something or was a pattern of shapes or swirls. It was said to be a powerful experience to meet one’s other half especially upon realizing who each other truly were.

Regardless of one’s mark, the pair were usually still bound by the laws of whichever kingdom they lived in. A ridiculous notion that you didn’t bother yourself with much. You only pitied those who were unlucky enough to deal with strict kingdoms where it was difficult between soul mates with different statures in life or overall trickier situations.

You were one of those lucky enough to live in Camelot, but even more fortunate to have been granted the opportunity to work in the castle as a servant. It was a drastic change from tending to the farms your family and neighbors grew for many decades.

A newly adjusted life as a castle servant gave you many opportunities during the day to daydream about your possible first encounter with your special someone as you went about your duties.

But how in the world were you suppose to find your soul mate when yours was inconveniently located over your heart?

It wasn’t as if your soul mate was going to display theirs. Well, you certainly hoped not.

You preferred not to tell anyone outside of your family about your golden dragon mark on your chest lest they scrutinize you for having a magical creature as your mark. Some marks weren’t even anything specific as an animal let alone a silhouette of a flying dragon. Your family liked to relish in their hopes of it meaning that your soul mate was a Pendragon, however deep down you knew that wasn’t true. Not just because King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were widely known as soul mates by now, but how the meanings of the marks went much deeper than names or outside appearances. They were symbols of who they were and you were honestly worried for your other half because of living where the majority of kingdoms outlawed magic and if your mark implied as such, you hoped they could take care of themselves enough not to be put to death before you met. If only you knew where to find them because even a peaceful kingdom such as Camelot forbid magic of any sort.

Working in the castle was still a learning experience that involved memorizing directions and scheduled times for cleaning rooms or simply changing sheets on a bed before washing them in a large barrel of water.

Not unlike your current state as you hauled a hefty load of used bedsheets in a basket from more than one bedchamber. This week had brought a number of visitors who sought to greet the new queen of Camelot; although they were a bit late by a few months.

Many of the castle’s servants, like yourself, were scampering around like ants on a daily quest. You had met a few already during your short time there, but remembering their names was more of a challenge than learning where to clean the laundry.

You continued walking with the basket wrapped in your arms as you centered your direction on getting to the lower levels of the castle. Taking a turn, you gingerly made your way down the stairs, being careful to the placement of your feet on each step as your eyes focused on the stone beneath you. The last thing you wanted was to bust a kneecap or make yourself look like a fool if you couldn’t even handle walking down about a dozen steps. More than halfway down the stairs, a patch of skin on your chest prickled and heated into a burn causing you to loose focus on anything else, including the placement of your footing.

“Ah!” You felt the ever fearful sensation of falling ripple through you.

Your body twisted to the left as gravity pulled down on your legs, the basket of dirty sheets leaping from your grasp. Your positioning was quickly leading the fall to surely be on your side in a painful trip instead of toppling headfirst.

(E/C) eyes were trained onto the steps as you closed the distance with hands hardly ready for the impact that was deemed so evident.

It never came.

Well, not from the stairs at least.

A pair of arms were braced under yours before you even registered anyone was near you. Their blue shirt filled your vision as you now felt how your savior was supporting you from even sitting on a single step. Being as your legs were the only part of you touching the cold stone.

“Are you alright?” A strained male voice asked, you figured it was from the position you found yourselves in, but the voice was soothing nonetheless.

“I’m fine,” you answered, not even positive if you were lying or not.

You didn’t fall, which was a plus. Yet your mark was burning into a searing pain with your blood rushing through your veins as rapid as a fleeing rabbit. Too much so for simply almost falling. Your mark had never done that before and you knew that it wasn’t a normal occurrence.

“Thank you,” you said, finally looking up to meet a pair of gleaming ocean blue eyes. A fluttering in your stomach added to the overwhelming feelings that coursed through your body that severely increased in this young man’s presence. One of whom you have never met.

“I’m Merlin,” he smiled as he pulled you to your feet.

The name registered in your mind in a snap, you had heard about him from the other castle servants about how he was the King’s loyal manservant with a name that seemed to stick in your mind.

His hands slid down to your hands before slipping away hesitantly and their comforting warmth they left on you slowly faded.

“I’m (Y/N),” you said, glancing up at him, your hand subconsciously going up to press onto the fabric of your dress that hid your mark underneath. As much as you tried, you couldn’t ease the stinging as it kept your attention.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Merlin asked bringing his hand up to copy your movements. His blue eyes suddenly bouncing between the two of you.

You didn’t reply, you couldn’t, and every part of you was screaming know if he felt it too. The pulling, the aching itch of your bright mark, and the undeniable need to be closer despite only just meeting him.

Was he your match?

Azure eyes bore into your orbs eagerly waiting yours short reply and full of hidden knowledge. His brown jacket moving shakily upon his now heaving chest.

“It burns,” you whispered, hand pausing its movements.

“Your mark?” His voice came out low, tickling your insides into a shudder.

Again you were silent, but you nodded. Oblivious to the by-passers having to walk around the pair of you at the foot of the stairs.

“A golden dragon,” Merlin whispered so quietly that your ears barely caught his three words.

But those words had your eyes widening to saucers and lips parting for what little breath you had.

Merlin took ahold of your free arm, pulling you away from the stairway before almost tripping over the dirty sheets. Using his brown boots to repeatedly kick the scattered fabric and basket aside to be out of the way of others.

Now beside a wall, the two of you stood in front of one another with the fabric mess at your feet.

Brushing aside his red neckerchief, he adjusted his shirt enough to pull the fabric down to his left to reveal a very golden dragon. A shining silhouette of a flying dragon’s profile was imprinted above his heart, an exact copy of your own soul mate mark.

Neither your eyes nor your mind could fully believe it was real. Yet your heart and soul was singing with rejoice at the discovery.

You raised a trembling finger to Merlin’s mark and tentatively touched it. A jolt went up your arm at the skin contact and he let out an uneven breath. Being mesmerized by the sight of it all would be an understatement, what with your shaking knees. Not only did you find a matching mark--your soul mate was seemingly happy and healthy. You would be more than glad to spend a few hours tracing your fingers along the delicate shapes on his warm skin.

An equally heated hand went up to cover your own with the thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your knuckles.

“May I see yours?” Merlin asked, breaking you out of your trance and focusing on his blushing cheeks.

Only now did you realize how close the two of you were standing from each other. Shoes mer centimeters from touching and Merlin’s breath billowing your hair.

Your eyes flickered over to where people were still milling around. Of all places, you and your soul mate, Merlin, had to meet at one of the most used staircases in the entire castle. That being said, you weren’t too keen on anyone seeing you physically disclose the location of your mark. Even if the neckline of your simple dress made the task rather simple.

“It’s okay,” Merlin softly shifted you to have your back to the stairs and effectively blocking your actions from any prying eyes.

Your fingers worked on their own accord, pulling the (F/C) fabric across your skin the short distance to reveal your still stinging mark.

“We are soul mates,” he whispered, “I knew something was different in Camelot.”

Tilting your head at him, you watched as Merlin’s mouth morph into a triumphant smile. You half expected him to touch your mark as you did with his, but he wrapped you in his surprisingly strong arms instead. A most welcome gesture being as you’ve never felt more relieved and happy in your entire life as you hugged your arms firmly around his waist.

There was a lightness in your chest that could have sent you floating to the ceiling as you nuzzled your cheek into your soul mate’s chest. Safety and joy emitted into you like the warmth from a fire. One of Merlin’s hands combing themselves into your hair while his other held you securely to him by the waist.

“I’m so glad I moved to Camelot,” you mumbled into his shirt as you squeezed your arms tighter around him.

You were sure the grin on your face would become permanent with Merlin resting his chin on the top of your head despite the tears threatening to roll down your cheeks.

“MEEERRRRLIIINNN!”

A spark of fear shot through you at the sound of the booming, annoyed voice. Your other half on the other hand didn’t seem fazed by it in the slightest. If anything his grip on you only grew tighter.

“Merlin! There you are,” King Arthur came from around the corner spotting his manservant. “What are you doing?” He pulled a face as his confusion sank in at the sight of his brunette friend embracing a girl.

“I....,” Merlin gazed down at you, “I found her.”

The look in his eyes as you met his again was overflowing with emotion. Ones that made your heartstrings pull and flex if only as a sign to tell you that he already cared so deeply about you.

Arthur’s eyes snapped wide and he pointed between you and Merlin.

Both you and Merlin looked back to the other young man.

You held in a giggle at the King’s lengthy reaction as Merlin nodded in glee with a new shine to his blue eyes.

“Oh.” Arthur peered around in thought before spying the floor. “Pick up your mess and the both of you can have the rest of today off. I’m sure someone else can take care of the laundry,” he looked straight at Merlin. “But I expect you to be on time tomorrow.”

“Really?” You gasped, fingers digging into the back of Merlin’s jacket. “Thank you, sire.”

“You’re welcome,” King Arthur let a smile slip. “If anything, you need luck having Merlin as your soul mate.”

“Ha. Ha,” Merlin looked as if he was suppressing the need to roll his eyes. “Thank you, Arthur.”

The King nodded at the both of you as he went to walk away, but turned to point at the scattered mess.

“Now, Merlin.”

“Right!” Your soul mate released you and spun out of your grasp.

A surprise giggle escaped your lips as you watched Merlin crouch down and rush to gather the almost forgotten mess. Before you knew it he had everything back in the basket and was standing with it ready to go.

“Shall we?”

It wasn’t difficult for Merlin to keep pace with you as the two of you completed your earlier journey to drop off the laundry. Leaving hand in hand after a hurried explanation to a rather confused woman who was already scrubbing away at some clothes.

You sprinted to keep up with Merlin, following his lead through the halls of the castle. Passing some knights as you went who called out to Merlin in a friendly manner to only have Merlin shout over his shoulder in passing.

“I found my soul mate!” Merlin was practically beaming with his wide grin that you equally matched with a short wave to the men.

Cheers and whistles echoed down the halls from the red-caped knights that added fuel to Merlin’s already quick pace.

Sooner than you thought in your adrenaline-rushed state, Merlin had finally stopped long enough to swing open a wooden door.

“Gaius,” Merlin called out, scanning the room as he lead you inside.

“Yes, Merlin. What is it?” An older man, much older in age than the knights, looked up from a much tattered book and adjusted his glasses. He eyed Merlin with suspicion, making you wonder what trouble the young man beside you had gotten into in the past.

“Gaius,” Merlin took a few breaths, “This is (Y/N). She’s my soul mate. (Y/N), this is Gaius the Court Physician.”

If only you would have noticed the physician’s jaw drop, but Merlin’s voice saying your name as if it was a proclamation of love was an easy distraction. Your hand that held his tightened all the more.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N),” Gaius stood from his seat to shake your hand.

“A-and you as well, Gaius,” you briefly shook his aged hand.

“Ah....How did you both meet? Might I ask?” Gaius’ mind was clearly running through a long-winded list of questions and a mixture of emotions at the moment.

It wasn’t everyday that someone you know finds their soul mate.

You and Merlin on the other hand were clearly feeding off of one another’s energies, practically bouncing in place with excitement that only grew.

“When I was heading back to grab Arthur’s armor.....that I forgot, and once I went around the corner to go up the stairs my mark started to burn. But before I could do anything I saw (Y/N) about to fall down the stairs. I mean I didn’t know who she was at the time, but my feet were running after her before I realized what was happening.” Merlin’s fingers easily wound their way between yours. “Then we showed each other our marks just before Arthur showed up and figured out what happened.”

“Not to forget I dropped the laundry basket and made a mess out--.”

“That wasn’t a problem,” Merlin interrupted you and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Let me be very honest with you both,” Gaius started and making you tense, “Soul mates, especially upon first meeting one another can hardly stay away from each other. They are drawn together.”

“Like Arthur and Gwen,” Merlin added in, unfazed by the in progress lecture.

“Yes and you remember how difficult it was for them once they found out. Being together makes soul mates complete and one. So I advise you both to spend your time wisely...and I hope Arthur understands your situation.”

“He gave us both the day off,” Merlin boasted as if he’d never had one, which quite frankly might be the case.

“Today or tomorrow?”

“Just today. You know Arthur can’t function without me,” Merlin glanced down at you with a smirk.

You bumped him lightly with your clasped hands.

“It’s nearly noon, Merlin.”

“I’m sure Arthur has told Gwen and he can survive a few hours without me. Well, hopefully,” Merlin mumbled the last bit, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

Gaius only sighed, looking about his home, and grabbed an empty hand basket.

“I’m....going to the market....for....I’ll be back later,” Gaius excused himself and walked past the pair of you before leaving.

“Is he alright?” You asked, glancing at the now closed door.

“....He might be in shock,” Merlin suggested with a shrug. “He’ll be fine though. I promise.” He reassured you, leading past the table and towards a door on the other side of the room with a couple of small steps leading up to it.

“Alright, but....maybe we should have listened more about what he had to say,” you said, “Just in case.”

“We’ll be fine. I won’t let anything bad happen to you for as long as I live,” he opened the door and gestured you inside. “But we won’t have as much time as we would like to speak to one another. So we can talk in here.”

“Is this your room?” You asked, taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah,” he glanced around the room a bit.

You could sense his overall giddiness, however there was an amount of anxiety now that the two of you were alone.

“To be honest....I was afraid something would have happened to you before we met,” Merlin shut the door behind him, “because of our mark.”

“Afraid? I was worried you’d be locked up for magic or something. It’s a dragon, Merlin!” You gestured to your own mark.

“Er....About that,” he started fidgeting his feet.

“What?” You furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“I have magic.”

Your eyes widened and you were sure your eyebrows met your hairline.

“And I’m the last Dragonlord,” he added, “Which would probably explain our mark.”

“....Dragonlord?.....B-but I....I don’t have magic....a-and you....you have magic,” you tried desperately to have your mind wrap around this information being that it wasn’t theoretical anymore. “But you’re....”

“Arthur’s manservant.” Merlin sat down beside you, his hand finding its way to yours and intertwining with your fingers.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. “How in the world have you not even been caught?”

“It’s a long story.”

“We some have time,” you scooted closer to him with a sweet smile and rested your joined hands on your lap, his hand nicely nestled between yours. “Mister I-can-hide-my-magic-powers.”

“We do,” Merlin leaned closer and lowered his voice, “And I’m pretty sure Arthur will come looking for me before dinner.”

A short snicker shook you before resting your head against his shoulder and peered up into his deep blue eyes.

“I really hope we have more time than that,” you said, watching as he shifted his attention to his free hand that was closed.

“Well as long as nothing decides to attack Camelot today, we should be as good as you make me feel.”

Your eyebrows rose shortly as you breathed out a soft laugh.

“Did you just use a line on me?”

“Yes.....It was bad wasn’t it?”

“No, it was cute,” you smiled, feeling your cheeks get a tad rosy.

“So are you,” Merlin answered back and placed a small rose in your hair.

“Where did--Oh.”

Merlin moved a few stray hairs away from your face before resting his forehead on top of yours. The pair of you closed your eyes, absorbed in the calm moment that resulted from such a fast-paced turn of events.

“Thank you,” you whispered, still keeping your eyes shut and not entirely wanting to break the silence.

“For the flower?” Merlin asked, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair.

“No, for catching me.”

A soft warmth pecked your nose causing you to open your eyes in time to see Merlin kiss the tip of your nose again.

“I’ll never let you fall.”

You couldn’t help biting your lip because the back of your head was hurting from smiling continuously. Something in you told you that he would be the most positive person in your entire life.

“Merlin?”

“Hmm?”

“Did your mark stop burning too?”

“Yeah. I forgot when though.”

“Good,” you snuggled into his side as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

You looked forward to your future together even if you didn’t quit know it would involve more magic and adventure than you had ever experienced. Merlin would show you more of his magic and entrust you with knowledge of his destiny. No matter what was to come, you would be more than glad to help him in any way you could, even if that meant making sure he remembered to rest and eat.

~~~

Part Two 💖

[cobaltusami]

Friendship

Hey hi hello! I'm finally back at It with another t word fic! I had so much trouble getting into the groove of this one, but regardless I had fun writing it! I think this will be the last installment In this mini series, I feel like I'm at a good stopping point. That being said, Obviously I will eventually write more for these three beans.

Part One: That's what Friends are for

Part Two: Intimidating

Characters: Lee!Kazuichi, Lee!Gundham, Ler!Sonia, Ler!Hajime, Ler!Chiaki, Fuyuhiko

Pairing: Platonic!Sonsoudam (Though you could construe It as romantic, Whichever you prefer--)

Word count: 3430

The Ultimate Princess scoured the island In search of The Pink haired mechanic after leaving the dining hall, Normally he was easy to find since he was always so eager to talk to her but today was different.

Walking with her was Hajime, Who had volunteered to help her find Kazuichi. “Are you sure It was a good Idea to leave Gundham sleeping In the dining hall? I feel as though we should have woken him up.” Sonia asked.

“It’s better for him to get some sleep.” Hajime responded. “Besides, It’s not like we left him alone, We left him with Chiaki.”

“I suppose you’re right but… I feel bad for not waking him up and sending him to his room.” She frowned.

Hajime smiled a bit, A knowing look on his face. “You really do worry about him a lot…”

“Of course I do, He Is my friend.” Sonia responded. “I worry about all of my friends.”

Hajime was about to open his mouth to respond but he changed gears upon catching sight of the pink haired Mechanic. “There he Is. What’s he doing?”

“It appears as though he is working on something.” Sonia said quietly, the pair silently approached Kazuichi where he sat on the ground tinkering with something.

He was humming quietly while he worked, he seemed as though he was In good spirits so that couldn’t be the reason why he was ignoring Gundham.

“Just put this here and…”

“YO!” Hajime said suddenly, stepping In front of Sonia. “KAZUICHI!”

Kazuichi screamed, launching his screwdriver into the air in surprise. He spun around In his spot on the ground and let out a breath of relief. “Oh. It’s just you. Jeez man, Don’t scare me like that! What the hell Is wrong with you!?”

Sonia stepped out from behind Hajime, her arms folded. “Kazuichi--”

Kazuichi’s face turned pink as he quickly got to his feet, throwing a tarp back over his project. “M-Miss Sonia!”

“Kazuichi,” she started, frowning. “I wish to know why you are avoiding Gundham.”

“W-What? I’m not--”

“Yeah, You are.” Hajime interrupted. “He tried to talk to you the other day and you made up an excuse and practically ran away.”

“What Is going on? You two were getting along so well at the party.” Sonia stepped closer to the mechanic. “Please, Tell me the truth.”

The pinkette frowned, looking away from his crush awkwardly. His eyes fell upon his tarp covered project as he thought about It in silence.

Kazuichi had blown Gundham off because he didn’t want to accidentally blab about the surprise he was working on for him, Soda was creating a brand new play area for The Four Devas as a peace offering, to prove to him that he wasn’t just trying to get along with him for Sonia’s sake.

He always had trouble admitting how he felt with words, usually stumbling over them or saying something stupid. He preferred gestures over words.

The truth was this... He had a lot of fun at the party, as much as he initially hated spending time with Gundham, he actually started to have fun. Kazuichi didn’t have many friends either, he’d always been picked on as a kid and didn’t have much free time due to helping his dad out with the bike shop.

That day, even If for just a little while, It felt like he had friends. And he wanted to make sure Gundham knew he was genuinely thankful for that.

But he knew he was a horrible liar and Gundham would eventually figure out what he was doing, so he was avoiding the Breeder so as not to spoil the surprise.

“I… I can’t.” Kazuichi said, realizing he hadn’t answered yet. “I-I mean, not yet anyway!”

Sonia sighed softly. “I did not want It to come to this, but I promised Gundham I would get to the bottom of this.”

Kazuichi gave a confused look in response. “What are you talking abohohout-- H-Hey!” He yelped, chuckling a bit as he jumped backwards at the sudden pokes to his midsection.

“If you will not tell me what Is going on, I will tickle you until you do.” She smiled, sending chills down the mechanic’s spine.

“Y-You wouldn’t dare...” He smiled nervously, backing away from the blonde princess.

“I would dare.” She insisted.

Kazuichi felt his fight or flight instincts kick In, and he chose the latter. He went to run away from her but he ran into Hajime, who he just now realized had been eerily silent.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, smirking as he grabbed a hold of his arms. “I didn’t just tag along to help her find you, Y’know.”

“I thought you might try to run away, So I asked Hajime If he would help me just in case.”

“L-Let go! This Isn’t fair!” Soda whined, struggling in Hajime’s surprisingly strong grasp.

“Life’s not fair.” The tsundere sighed in reply, spinning him around to face Sonia and holding his arms up over his head.

“Kazuichi, Last chance. Tell me why you are avoiding Gundham or else…” She threatened, a determined glimmer in her pale blue eyes.

The pinkette shook his head, already resisting the urge to giggle anxiously. “N-No. I can’t.”

Sonia nodded, unzipping part of his yellow jumper and shoving her hands under the white shirt underneath. Her nails began gliding across his sides. “Very well then.”

Soda tried not to laugh or show any reaction, but he ended up laughing after a few seconds of holding back. “Wahahahait! M-Mihihihiss Soniahaha! Dohohohn’t!” He whined between laughs.

“I am sorry, Kazuichi. But I must get to the bottom of this.” Sonia smiled at the sound of his laughter. “Gundham Is upset and I do not wish to see my friends upset.”

Really? Gundham’s upset by Kazuichi not talking to him…? Does that mean he considers him a friend too? “I cahahahan’t tehehehell you!”

“I am sorry, but I must know.” Sonia reiterated, digging her fingers into his stomach.

He yelped and crumbled back against Hajime, laughing harder as he tugged at his arms. “Nohohohoho! Ahahahahaha!”

“Does this tickle~? I am willing to wager that It does~” She cooed, his fingers wiggling into the muscle beneath his skin.

“Sohohohonia stahahahap! Hahahahaha!” he blushed at the teasing words, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting of a Princess but It sure as hell wasn’t this.

“No~” she sang. “I’m not going to stop until I get what I want. Even If I have to tickle you for hours.”

To emphasize her point her fingers sped up as they traversed upwards, brushing teasingly against his sides and wiggling like wild spiders against his ribs.

Kazuichi screamed and threw his head back, knocking Hajime In the face as he did. “SHIHIHIHIT! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!” He shrieked helplessly.

Hajime yelped In pain and readjusted his grip on the Mechanic, now holding both of his wrists in place with one hand. He used the other to tenderly rub his chin. “Jeez, Kazuichi. Watch where you’re throwing that thing.”

“YOUHUHUHU DEHEHEHESERVED IT!” Kazuichi laughed heartily, still attempting to pull his wrists free. Though thanks to Sonia’s merciless tickling he was much weaker.

Hajime huffed. “Oh yeah? Well, I think you deserve this.” He wormed his free hand into Kazi’s jumpsuit and began scribbling his nails against the back of his ribs over his white tee.

When I tell you the boy screamed.

“AAAAH! NONONONONO!” He screamed, His body jerking violently to the side, trying to shield the sensitive spot.

“Ooh, Hajime, It looks like you found a really ticklish spot~” She grinned, her fingers darting around to the back of his ribcage to join the Tsundere In torturing their friend. “What do you think Kazi? Is this a bad spot?”

“Yeah Kazi,” Hajime grinned. “Does this tiiiiiickle~?”

Kazuichi couldn’t even form sentences, he was laughing way too hard to focus on anything else. His laughter was borderline going silent from the intensity, as evidenced by his constant wheezing.

“Just tell us~” Sonia hummed, her fingers tickling the sensitive spots between the ribs now.

“You gonna tell us?” Hajime asked.

Kazuichi nodded frantically, tears streaking down his pink cheeks from laughing too hard.

Sonia and Hajime relented, though Hajime kept a grip on his wrists, evidently not trusting the pink haired boy. “Why have you been avoiding Gundham?” She asked again.

Kazuichi coughed as he gulped down air, clearly not used to being tickled. “I… Didn’t want to spoil the surprise… for him…” He panted.

“The…” she trailed off.

“Surprise?” Hajime and Sonia exchanged confused looks. “What are you talking about?”

Kazuichi nodded his head towards the tarp covered project. “Check… For yourselves…”

Curiously, Hajime released the Mechanic and went over to the tarp. He pulled It off to reveal what Soda had been working on, A play area made out of pvc pipes, A fish tank, and a wide assortment of metal and plastic items.

“Huh?” He was confused, but Sonia recognized what It was intended to be instantly.

Her face lit up at the sight of It. “Oh my! You’re building a pen for the Four Dark Devas of Destruction!” She twirled around to face Kazuichi, who had just finished zipping his jumpsuit back up.

He chuckled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his head, blushing as he glanced away from the bright girl. “Y-Yeah. I wanted to show Gundham I really consider him a friend, So I was doing It the best way I knew how…”

“By building something for him.” Hajime finished, smiling at the dork. “That’s really thoughtful of you. I’m impressed.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?? I’m always thoughtful!” He shot back, flustered.

Sonia giggled and hugged the pink haired boy suddenly. “You’re so sweet. Gundham and I are lucky to have a friend like you.” she praised.

Just when he thought his face couldn’t get any redder… It was close to matching Mahiru’s shade of hair now. “F-Friend?” He stuttered, asking for confirmation If what he heard was what she just said.

“Of course! We’re friends.” She beamed up at the embarrassed tinkerer.

He smiled warmly back at her and hugged her back. “Thank you.” he whispered almost silently, not even sure If she had heard him or not.

But she did.

After another minute or so they both pulled back. “I should get back to work on this. I don’t wanna make Gundham upset by not talking to him.” Soda announced nonchalantly, sitting down in front of the project again.

“Would you like some help? I am not very mechanically inclined, but I can be taught.” Sonia volunteered, sitting down next to him.

“Sure! I would love some help!” He smiled at the blonde.

“Is there anything I can do?” Hajime asked.

“Can you go check on Gundham? I am worried about him.”

“Sonia, We’ve been over this. We left him with Chiaki at the hotel, I’m sure he’s doing fine.”

“You left him with Chiaki?” Kazuichi repeated, looking at Hajime for confirmation.

“Yeah… What, Why are you looking at me like that--”

“In the hotel, Where there’s video games?”

Hajime stared blankly at him for a minute before cursing and running off towards the hotel.

Apparently reaching the same conclusion Kazuichi had, That Chiaki would most likely be sidetracked by the video games and not check on the Breeder.

He burst through the doors but didn’t see Chiaki anywhere near the video games units. He did, however, hear Gundham scream from upstairs. “Gundham??” He called out, confused.

Hajime bolted up the stairs into the dining room, and froze at the sight before him. Gundham was on the floor, trying to curl up Into a ball, and Chiaki was on top of him, tickling the life out of the Dark Prince.

“Uhhh, Chiaki? What are you doing?” Hajime asked, leaning against the doorway.

Chiaki looked up at him and offered a smile. “Oh, Hey Hajime. I’m tickling Gundham.” She responded bluntly.

“GEHEHEHET THIHIS FIHIHIHIHIEND OFF OF MEHEHE!” Gundham laughed helplessly.

“I can see that.�� Hajime laughed, Ignoring Gundham’s plea. “The question Is, Why?”

“I promised I would keep an eye on him, But that got too boring. So I’m entertaining myself.” She answered, skittering her fingers across his neck.

There was something about the thought of being on the receiving end of Chiaki’s tickles that scared Hajime, It could be how merciless she was being, Or maybe how nonchalant she was, Or both.

Gundham squealed uncharacteristically and covered his face. “STAHAHAHAHAP! I AHAHAHAM AWAHAHAHAHAKE NOW! I DOHOHOHN’T NEEHEHEED WAHAHATCHED!”

Hajime smirked, approaching the two. He sat down next to Chiaki. “I dunno, I think you still need supervision.” he said playfully.

“I agree.” Chiaki smiled mischievously.

“NOHOHOHOHOHO! I DOHOHOHOHON’T!”

“I think another hour should do it, Don’t you, Chiaki?” Hajime asked, winking at the pink haired girl.

She giggled. “I think so too. That way we can make sure he’s going to stay awake.”

“AHAHAHAN HOUR?!? SUHUHUHURELY YOU JEST!” Gundham whimpered at the thought, considering adding Chiaki Nanami to the small list of people he finds intimidating.

“No, I’m quite serious.” She replied with a determined glimmer in her eyes. Her fingertips lightly dancing across his neck and collarbone.

“I think she means It, Gundham.” Hajime chuckled, unable to resist the urge to help her any longer. He began teasingly poking at random exposed spots on his midsection. “And who am I to stop her? I think I should help her If anything.”

“I WIHIHIHILL DEHEHEHEHESTROY YOU BOHOHOHOTH!” Gundham threw out an empty threat.

“It doesn’t scare me when Fuyu threatens me, And It doesn’t scare me when you threaten me.” Hajime snickered.

“Oh, I don’t scare you huh?” Hiko’s voice was suddenly right at Hajime’s ear. “You sure about that?”

Hajime yelped in surprise, whipping around to look at his friend. “F-Fuyu! Jeez! Don’t scare me like that.” Hajime sighed, holding his chest to steady his rapid heartbeat.

Fuyuhiko grinned triumphantly. “What are you two dipshits doing, Anyway?”

“Tickling Gundham.” Chiaki answered.

“O...kay. Well you think maybe you should… I dunno… Let him breathe?” Fuyu asked, having noticed how much the Breeder was gasping.

Chiaki paused what she was doing, allowing the dark prince to breathe. “Oh… Right. Air, He needs that.”

“Hey Fuyu.” Hajime motioned for the Yakuza to come closer, he hesitantly did so. He whispered something to the small blond so Gundham couldn’t hear.

Hiko rolled his eyes, making a show of huffing as he threw his hands up. “I GUESS.” Although he had a smile on his face as he did so, negating the annoyed response he was going for. He sauntered off, leaving Gundham at the mercy of Hajime and Chiaki once more.

Fuyuhiko made It to the area where Sonia and Kazuichi were, curiously peering over their heads at the project they were working on. “Uh, What are you two doing?”

Kazuichi yelped in surprise, nearly throwing his screwdriver for a second time.

Sonia giggled and turned to look at the Yakuza. “Hello, Fuyuhiko! Kazuichi Is building a play pen for the Devas and I am helping.”

Ahh, now It makes sense why Hajime and Chiaki were wrecking poor Gundham… They were trying to keep him from finding out what was going on. “Ah, Gotcha. Uh, Hajime sent me to tell you both that Gundham Is awake but uh… He’s being distracted by him and Chiaki.”

Sonia and Kazi exchanged confused looks. “What are those two doing to him?”

“I walked In on them…” Hiko paused, blushing. Fuck, of all times to be unable to say that word why did it have to be right now?! “U-Um. They were sort of destroying him.”

“D-Destroying!?” Sonia asked, alarmed.

“N-Not literally!” Hiko quickly corrected. “They’re uh…”

“Ohhh… I get It.” Kazuichi laughed. “I think what Fuyuhiko Is trying to say Is that they’re tickling him. Right?”

“Yeah, That.” he nodded, still blushing.

“Oh. Why didn’t you just say that? You scared me for a minute there. Not that I believe they would hurt him, But still…”

“Uh… Well… I…”

“Some people have trouble saying the word ‘tickle’.” Kazuichi explained casually, tightening a bolt on the play area. “Usually people who are super ticklish themselves.”

The pinkette grinned as he winked at Fuyu, who seemed to turn pinker at that. Though he would vehemently deny such a thing.

“H-Hey! I am NOT! I just… Think the word Is stupid and childish!” Fuyuhiko pouted, crossing his arms childishly.

“It Is okay, Fuyuhiko. I understand.” She smiled sympathetically. “Though I am not nearly as ticklish as Kazuichi or Gundham, I see how It would be difficult for one to say.”

“Hey! Whose side are you on??” Kazuichi blushed, nudging her side.

She giggled and recoiled.

“So…” Fuyuhiko cleared his throat, trying desperately to change the subject. “How much longer until you two are done? I’m not sure how much longer Gundham will last.”

“Actually,” Kazuichi tightened another screw, then set his screwdriver down. He looked It over one last time then smiled. “It’s done.”

“It looks wonderful, Kazuichi! You did great!” She beamed, standing up and dusting her dress off.

“Thanks…” He chuckled sheepishly, standing up too. “Hey Hiko, Can you help me carry this?”

Fuyuhiko looked at it, skeptical. “I’ll try, but If you drop It on me, I will kill you.” he threatened.

The two lifted it up and began carrying It towards the hotel. It wasn’t as heavy as Kazi expected It to be, much to the relief of the petite Yakuza.

They brought It up Into the diner and quickly covered It with a tarp, luckily Gundham hadn’t noticed them thanks to Hajime and Chiaki both smothering him with tickles.

Hajime looked up and saw the three students, smiling he withdrew his hands and motioned for Chiaki to do the same.

Though she relented much more halfheartedly, pouting as she pulled back.

Sonia and Kazuichi both approached the recovering Supreme overlord of Ice and sat down on either side of him. “Gundham, I found Kazuichi and made him explain to me why he was avoiding you.” Sonia explained, helping him sit up.

He tiredly looked at Sonia, then over at Kazuichi who was trying not to laugh at how disheveled he looked. “I-Is that so? Then why…?”

“Uh, Listen man…” Kazuichi started, reaching over and fixing Gundham’s hair. “I wasn’t avoiding you because I didn’t want to talk to you. I just didn’t want to spoil my surprise for you.”

Gundham tilted his head in confusion. “Surprise…?”

“Yeah. I wanted to show you that I really consider you a friend, And that I’m thankful to consider you a friend so I… was doing It the only way I know how.” Soda blushed, looking over at Hiko and Hajime as if to cue them.

They pulled the tarp off, revealing the playpen for the hamsters. Chiaki, wanting to be included, motioned to It like she was on a gameshow showing off a prize. This drew a laugh from Hajime and Fuyu.

Gundham’s expression softened, his face turning red. “Y-You… built that? F-For… Me?”

“Yeah. I’m not so great with words, But I am great with building things.” Kazuichi smiled. “Do you like It??”

Gundham bit his lip, he went to pull his scarf over his face to hide his blush but quickly realized his scarf was still chilling on the table from earlier. “Y-Yes…” Gundham turned to Kazuichi, smiling a little at the way his eyes sparkled with happiness. “Thank you, Friend.”

Kazuichi squealed happily and pulled him Into a hug without giving it a second thought.

Gundham flinched, but eventually returned the hug. Sonia smiled at her two dorks, happy they were getting along. She got up and retrieved the Devas from the table, putting Gundham’s scarf on again.

“Fiends! We must seek not the approval of the Dark Prince, But the Four Dark Devas of Destruction and Tickles!” Sonia mimicked Gundham again.

“The… what?” Kazuichi asked, totally confused as he pulled back.

“She renamed them.” Gundham explained. “But she Is right. Their opinion is what truly matters.”

Sonia set them down In the fish tank, And they began happily scurrying around through the different pipes and segments. They seemed to enjoy It.

Gundham smiled as he watched his pets having fun. “They like It.” He confirmed to his friends.

Though their friendship may not be typical, and It may be confusing at times. I have a feeling that this friendship will be one that’ll last. And Who knows? Maybe down the road, It’ll turn Into something more…?

[urmomsstuntdouble]

89 for the writing promp game? 👀👀 whichever characters u feel like it fits

oof this took a while. wasn’t sure who to write it about, and i didnt use those exact words, but. yeah. here it is! 

(3rd person pov, lithuania x romano)

.

Nobody enjoyed world meetings. It was a known fact, and one regular humans would probably assume without knowing what transpired at such meetings- Which wasn’t much, in all honesty. And while they weren’t fun, they weren’t always bad. Sometimes they’d be in a nice city, and flights would line up with those of friends, and so forth- Today was not one of those days. 

Tolvydas had stumbled off their train at three o’clock in the morning, and into their hotel bed two hours later. Their body now ran on two hours of sleep, and the conditions of the meeting didn't do much to help them stay awake. Jackets and ties were folded over the backs of several chairs, and some of the other nations held small wooden fans in death grips. Some were slumped over, and others stayed at attention. Of the other Baltic states, Estonia had removed his glasses and Latvia was clearly more focussed on his smartphone than the presentation. Tolvydas couldn’t blame them. The heat of the room seemed a cage, pressing in on them and making sweat drip down their back. 

Why did the meeting have to be in Southern Europe? Tolvydas could handle the heat, but being trapped inside for an entire day- On which nothing tainted the pure azure of the sky- was a lot. A glance around told them they weren’t alone, as nearly every forehead shone with sweat. Every now and then, Tolvydas’ head touched their chest and they jerked back to attention. Their efforts were futile, though, and they’d yet to catch a single word of Paraguay’s speech. 

Someone tapped their shoulder- Feliks, sitting at their left. Tolvydas looked down at them, where they’d rested their head on crossed arms. 

“So bored,” they mouthed, and Tolvydas nodded. They shifted their notepad into Feliks’ line of sight and gouged the word TIRED into the paper. Feliks nodded with pink cheeks and drooping eyelids, and swiped the pen away from Tolvydas. Wish there was air conditioning. LORENZO DOESN’T BELIEVE IN AIR CONDITIONING. 

Feliks giggled at that, attracting the glares of some nearby nations. Pink cheeks turned red, and they sank down a bit in their seat, folding their arms. Tolvydas sighed, and rested their head in their hands. Would it be a good idea to tape their eyes open? No, and they didn’t have any tape…shame. Tolvydas tilted their head around, looking for the host nation. Lorenzo. Romano, or Italy- They hardly ever spoke of things related to their nationhood. In fact, they only spoke as a result of social happenstance, that being Feliciano’s friendship with Feliks, and the Italy brothers shared a car, and that Tolvydas had spent much of the 90s on Feliks’ couch. A coincidence Tolvydas was fond of, actually. It was rare that nations befriended each other purely for social reasons. Even Feliks came into their life for the sake of politics. 

Tolvydas looked around the room yet again, this time searching for Lorenzo. Would he be drowning in sweat too, they wondered? The answer seemed to be yes, and they bit back a smile upon seeing him. He sat hunched over the desk, with his suit jacket resting on the back of his chair. Dark circles lined both his armpits and eyes. As if cued by their staring, Lorenzo opened his water bottle and took four hearty gulps, then returned it, empty, to the desk. Tolvydas blinked, and wiped some sweat from their forehead. When they returned to their hotel room, they would get rid of all these clothes and lay on the bed with the windows open until they fell asleep. 

They shuffled their papers about, searching for the weekend’s itinerary. They gave their speech the day before, but about a hundred nations still had to take their turns…According to the schedule, today’s last presenter would be Qatar. So the meeting would be over by…seven, maybe? Tolvydas pushed some air through their lips and picked at a loose thread in their shirt sleeve. 

It wasn’t until about seven thirty that Qatar gave her presentation, and closing the meeting took another half hour. Once that was done, the nations milled about and spoke, as per their custom. Rare was it that they were allowed to be people- Tolvydas would never understand how people could say they ‘didn’t pay attention to politics.’ Paying attention to politics was all they could ever do. Then again, they were Lithuania, not a person. 

Fortunately, many of the nations elected to move outside after the meeting ended. They fit right in with the students, bustling around the university campus. Nations fragmented here, splitting off with friends or returning to their hotels. Most importantly, though, they were stopped by people asking to take selfies. Tolvydas smiled and laughed when required, and let themself be dragged around with the other EU members. 

“Where are we going?” Asked Feliks at their side, and they nodded, glancing around. Tolvydas wasn’t sure they recognized this city- They’d been to so many, it was hard to remember, and European cities started to look the same after a while. 

“Not sure,” said somebody- Hungary. “I think Vene said something about a bar? I wasn’t really paying attention.” She snorted like it was punctuation, and Feliks laughed. 

“Oh, Erzsi! Hey, I didn’t see you there!” Feliks launched himself at her, and was lucky that she reacted fast enough to catch him. 

“Hi, Erzsebet,” Tolvydas said, suppressing a laugh. 

“Hey, losers,” She said, arms clenched around Feliks’ waist. “Glad to see you here, that meeting was stuffy as hell.” 

“Ugh, I know, right?” Feliks said. They righted themself, walking independent of Erzsebet again. “I was practically dying of the heatstroke.” 

“I don’t think you can get heatstroke if you’re not in the sun,” Tolvydas said. 

“You can,” a voice chimed in- Spain. “Trust me, summers are brutal at my place. Hey, can I ask you a question, Lithuania?” Tolvydas glanced over their shoulder, as if there was some other Lithuania he could be talking to. 

“Uh, yes,” They said. 

“Do you have nude beaches in your country?” Tolvydas choked on their own spit, and let out a strangled chuckle. 

“Y-Yes,” They laughed, “Sorry, I didn’t expect you to ask something like that-”

“I was thinking about all the ways I’ve gotten heat stroke before,” Spain told them, holding his hands in front of his chest like a T-Rex.

“And one was at a nude beach?” 

“Well, yes…” He narrowed his eyes. “More than one, actually. I don’t like nude beaches, Lithuania, because if you’re not careful you can get sunburned…I mean, you can on a regular beach, but it’s so awkward to be, like, in front of your people and putting sunscreen on your entire body, you know? And I’m a country, so it’s a lot of attention, and all that…You know?” 

“Well,” Tolvydas said, “Not really, because I don’t get a lot of sun, but yeah, sort of.” They bit their lip- Since they’d been talking to Spain, they had totally lost track of where they were in the city. The university was out of sight, and Feliks was now absorbed into a conversation with Hungary and the other EU Slavs. 

“Hm. You are pretty pale.” Tolvydas tucked some hair behind their ear. 

“Yeah,” They said, not sure what else to say. 

“Yeah,” Spain murmured, eyes darting about the street. “Where are you taking us, Feli?” 

“What?!” Asked Italy. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, causing Finland to crash into him. “Oh, crap! I’m sorry, Finland.” Finland gave him a smile and assured him it was no problem. 

“I said, where are you taking us?” Spain shouted, “I don’t recognize this street.” 

“Umm, I actually forget?” Italy laughed, “My brother has a bar he likes that’s near here, but I don’t like it so I don’t remember what it’s called? And he’s busy now, so- Yeah. Oh, hi Lithuania! I didn't see you there, how’re you doing today?” Tolvydas started, eyes widening. 

“Hi,” They said, “I’m tired, but it’s alright. You have a lovely home.” 

“Thanks,” Italy said, “Though it’s really my brother’s, I…I don’t really like it that much down here, to be honest. Don’t tell him I said that. But it is nice to visit!” 

“Excuse you, it’s lovely here!” Spain said, “I’m telling on you, Feli.” 

“Don't!” Italy shrieked, “Please?” He turned to Spain with wide eyes. Even Tolvydas would have to oblige, and they had plenty of experience saying no to cute people. Well. Cute dogs. And Raivis. And Feliks, and Russia. Maybe they did have experience saying no to cute people after all. 

“I’m only joking,” Spain said, “Besides, Lithuania here agrees with me, don’t you?” 

“Uh,” Tolvydas said, “I do, yes. It’s- It’s a very nice climate you have here. And I like this street- Very, uh, very nice cobblestones.” Italy snorted, his hair falling into his eyes.

“Thanks, I’m glad you like them,” He said, though they weren’t his. Tolvydas hummed, and took a moment to really look at the street they were on. Buildings kept the sun from reaching them, but not the warmth. Storefronts beckoned here and there, with parked motorcycles at intersections and window boxes at second floor windows. Every so often they passed some graffiti, though most of it was nonsensical to Tolvydas. Not once did they see a street sign. If it weren’t for Lorenzo’s lead, Tolvydas would be completely lost. 

Finally, the group made it to the bar. It was a nice, quiet place- Tolvydas felt bad for the staff. They hoped nobody would get kicked out, though it was unlikely. Who was a nation, really, if they’d never been asked to leave a bar before? 

Tolvydas wound up sitting beside Spain, with Lorenzo on their other side. Neither spoke to them- Spain was discussing the art of bartending with Italy, and Lorenzo preferred glaring into his cocktail. Tolvydas wondered if they should talk to him- They’d only spoken a brief hello today, after all, and that was a formality. But he seemed annoyed, with his furrowed brow and crossed arms…And now he was looking at them. 

“Why are you looking at me?” Tolvydas sat a little straighter.

“Um. I, uh, I was wondering if it would be okay for me to talk to you,” They said, mouth dry. Lorenzo bit the corner of his lip, eyebrows raised. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“I don’t know, you looked, like, a bit irritated,” Tolvydas said, “S-Sorry.” 

“You’re right, I am,” Lorenzo said, “Fuckin’ hate hosting world meetings. There’s so many people who are just in my space, you know? And I didn’t even realize there were so many people following me when we were on the way here.” He lifted his cocktail. Black salt rimmed the glass, and Lorenzo licked some away. “Was talking to Belgium, got distracted. But she left to go back to her hotel, so. Anyway.” He hung his head between his shoulders. “That’s a bit much, I know.” 

“No,” Tolvydas said, “World meetings suck, whether you’re hosting or not…I don’t hate it but also there’s that invasion-y feeling.”

“Invasion-y feeling, yeah,” Lorenzo murmured, and licked more salt from the rim of his glass. “‘M tired.” 

“Me too,” Tolvydas said. “I need to bring hair ties tomorrow.” 

“That sounds useful,” Lorenzo mumbled. He took a slow drink of his cocktail, wincing at the end. “You don’t have anything to drink.” Tolvydas glanced down at the bar in front of them, and no, they didn’t. Huh, they hadn’t noticed. 

“I don't,” They said, and glanced over at the bartender. A young man with veiny forearms, chatting as he shook up a new drink. His hair was greased back into a pseudo helmet. 

“Giulio!” Lorenzo shouted, catching his attention. Giulio paused in his drink-making and glanced back, then nodded and went on with his business. “He’ll get you in a second.”

“Thanks,” Tolvydas murmured, “I could’ve waited.” 

“Yeah, but you’re talking to me right now,” Lorenzo said. He sipped his drink again. “And I don’t want to talk to you when I’m drinking and you’re not. Then it’s not equal.” 

“Fair enough,” Tolvydas said, “I can just shut up if you want me to-”

“No, we’re talking now,” Lorenzo said, “I want to talk. And it’s my country, so…yeah.” He took a drink. 

“I think it’s nice here,” Tolvydas said, “Very warm.” Lorenzo hummed, then glanced up- Giulio stood at the ready, finished with his previous drink. He exchanged some words with Lorenzo, who turned to Tolvydas after a moment. 

“What do you want?” 

“Um- Could I please have a krambambula?” Lorenzo relayed the message, and Giulio was up to drink-mixing. 

“What’s a krambambula?” Lorenzo mused, peering over the bar. 

“Wine and vodka,” Tolvydas responded, “Belarus’ favorite.” Lorenzo hummed.

“Didn’t you used to be married to her or something?” Tolvydas bowed their head, letting hair fall in front of their eyes. “So you did, huh?” 

“Y-Yes,” Tolvydas stammered, “Briefly, a hundred years ago-”

“She good in bed?” 

“What?” Their cheeks grew warm, too warm for it to simply be the heat. “No- I mean- I don’t know, see-” 

“Hey, calm down, I’m just making conversation.” Lorenzo waved a hand, “It’s none of my business, I know.” 

“We, um. Never slept together,” Tolvydas said, “She doesn’t like me very much, actually.” 

“Oh. That’s a shame,” Lorenzo said, and Tolvydas nodded, though they weren't sure what the shame actually was. A shame they never slept together? Maybe- Since she didn’t reciprocate their feelings, it was hard to really fantasize. They could daydream about kissing her all they wanted, but they’d still know that acting on it would be assault. So their feelings were in the process of fading away. A shame she didn’t like them very much? Eh, they would get over it. Eventually, maybe. They had time. 

Giulio returned with their drink. 

“Can I have a taste?” Lorenzo asked, “Never tried that before.” 

“Of course,” Tolvydas said, and handed him the glass. He took a sip, and struggled to keep his face from contorting in disgust. “You don't like vodka?” Tolvydas asked, taking a swig.  

“Shit’s nasty,” Lorenzo said, “Tastes like sadness. And like, we’ve all got issues or whatever, but mine aren’t so bad I need to drink vodka.” Tolvydas snorted. 

“Okay. Lightweight.” 

“Lightweight?!” 

“Yeah, vodka’s like 95% alcohol volume.” 

“Psh, whatever.” Lorenzo scoffed, and Tolvydas giggled at the sheer nonsense of it. “Why are you laughing at me?” He asked, leaning forward in his chair. 

“Psh, whatever?” They repeated, “That doesn’t even make sense.” 

“It does so,” He said, “You’re too small-brained to get it.” That stung a bit, but Tolvydas didn't mind. They understood it was a joke, though they didn’t appreciate it any more for understanding. 

“Whatever,” They said, looking away. Their eyes naturally picked Feliks out of the group- He sat on the bar, legs crossed, with a glass of wine held in both hands. He’d unbuttoned his shirt to the third button. Tolvydas shook their head- It wouldn’t be very long before they were completely drunk. 

“I hope Feliks doesn’t overdo it,” They thought. 

“Probably will. They look like they’d be wasted after two glasses of wine,” Lorenzo commented. Tolvydas jolted- They hadn't realized they were speaking aloud. 

“They’re- Yeah,” Tolvydas said, “They like parties, always have, but they get drunk too fast to enjoy it.” 

“Maybe that’s why they like parties so much. ‘Cause they don’t remember what one’s like, from all the drinking,” Lorenzo said, “Toni’s like that, sort of.” Tolvydas hummed, and swirled their drink around in the glass. 

“I don’t think such heavy drinking is a sign that one likes parties,” They murmured, “After all, if you like doing something, wouldn’t you want to experience as much of it as you can?” Lorenzo scoffed, and they turned their head to look at him. His arm was thrown around the back of his chair, with his chest out and facing them. Sweat still clung to his forehead- It was less oppressively hot in this bar than the meeting room, but only just. 

“Part of the allure of drinking is that it can make you forget about things,” He said, “Happy people don’t develop alcohol issues. And, you know, for people like us, it’s different, seeing as how we can’t fucking die.” Tolvydas shrugged in response. They shifted in their seat, feeling the cheap leather through their pants, and took another sip of their drink. Lorenzo was correct in that one liked to drink to forget. For people like them, there were virtually no downsides, save whatever you did while you were drinking. Once, Tolvydas had set a cow on fire and didn’t find out until the next morning when, in the clutches of a hangover, they were arrested. 

“I guess,” They said. Then, mind caught on the cow-arson, “What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done while drunk?” Lorenzo sucked air in through his teeth. 

“Done too much stupid shit to tell you off the top of my head,” He admitted, “But, uh, this one time, I drank up a town’s entire supply of wine. Bad move. Had to regrow my kidney.” Tolvydas winced, a bit less inclined to finish their drink. 

“That sounds painful.”

“Yeah,” Lorenzo said, “Much like hosting the fucking world meetings.” Hosting the world meetings was terrible- It was a constant headache to have so many other nations around you, especially if it was in your capital city. Tolvydas had never had maggots in a wound before, but they imagined that was what it felt like. 

“Oh, I know,” They said. It was a good thing they all shared the burden of hosting the meetings. Locations cycled through nations, such that Lithuania wouldn’t be the host country for another ten years- They’d still have to do smaller meetings, of course, like the EU and UN and such, but at least it wasn’t a world meeting. Over two hundred nations in the same city could make even the humans feel a bit off. 

“I’d be better if all you people hadn’t- hadn’t fucking followed me here. I mean- I didn’t want my idiot brother to invite the entire goddamn continent.”

“I’m sorry,” Tolvydas said, “I was just going with everyone else-”

“I don’t- You know, actually, I need to continue this conversation outside,” Lorenzo said, and stood up. He said a few words to Giulio and turned around, making for the door. Tolvydas’ skin pricked- What had they done wrong? It was just a simple conversation- But of course they’d manage to screw it up. They remained on the edge of their seat, with their eyes fixed on Lorenzo, as he walked out of the bar. As he got to the door, they stood. Should they apologise? Or- Or did Lorenzo want to fight them now? They pushed away the idea, knowing it was all probably fine. 

Tolvydas pulled out their wallet, and left a few euros beside their drink. They followed Lorenzo outside, stumbling when they left the bar. The moon had risen while they were in the bar. He stood in the middle of the sidewalk, bathed in silver light save the faint glow of a lit cigarette. Tolvydas swallowed. While it was dark outside, the heat from the day had yet to evaporate. Tolvydas speculated that if they were to touch Lorenzo’s skin, he’d be as warm as if he were sunbathing. Right, Lorenzo- They were not here to stare at him. 

“Are you okay?” Lorenzo jumped, turning around with wide eyes. His shoulders sagged when he saw them.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, “Just fuckin’ tired. Want to go home.” 

“Oh,” Tolydas said, “Sorry then, I’ll- I’ll fuck off now.” They turned away, poised to return to the bar. 

“No,” Lorenzo said, then bit his lips. “I mean-” He put his cigarette between his lips and took a long drag. He looked hollow for a moment before he turned his head and blew a ring with the smoke. “You smoke?”

“Uh, no, not really…not anymore.” 

Lorenzo hummed. “Shame. I could teach you how to blow rings, if you did.” 

“You still can,” Tolvydas said, voice paper-thin, “If you want. And if I could borrow a cigarette. World meetings are hard on the rest of us too.” Lorenzo raised an eyebrow, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out from his back pocket. 

“Ah, but you’re not the host, Lithuania. And you represent your entire country.” 

“You can call me Tolvydas,” They said, “I mean, if you’re comfortable with that.” 

“I just offered to teach you how to blow smoke rings. I don’t do that with everyone you know,” Lorenzo said, “Maybe I’m still fucked up from the meeting…But okay, sure. Tolvydas.” 

“Thanks,” They muttered, “Also yeah, sorry about your. Brother.” Lorenzo shrugged, and took another drag. 

“I don't want to think about him right now…No, I want to go home…” He bit his lip, and swayed from side to side. Was he alright? Tolvydas ran through a list of all the little things they knew to do if a nation was sick. Lorenzo coughed, and they twitched, hands reaching out for him. Instead of falling or even stumbling, Lorenzo put his cigarette to his lips another time. His cheeks shone in the orange glow. When he was done, he ground the butt under his heel. Three smoke rings floated away from his mouth. 

“I’m gonna go get drunk at home now…You can come if you want.” He turned on his heel, reducing the cigarette butt into a stain of ash. He had a nice gait, Tolvydas thought. A medium sized stride, and they couldn't help but notice the sway of his hips…

Several short and fast steps later, Tolvydas was by his side. 

song lyric asks

[whatcouldgowrong-ohthat]

It Starts With a Sentence

Request: If you're still taking requests would it be okay to request either a Steve or Bucky x Reader (whichever you'd prefer!) Where the reader wants to start journaling but has no idea where or how to start so they go to Bucky/Steve for help?

I am always taking requests, hun. When I get around to them is always another conversation, but yeah - anytime an idea pops in your head, send it my way. I would love to take a crack at it.

So, since I’ve been on a bit of a Steve kick as of late, this is a Steve x Reader. Hope you don’t mind! :)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Y/N’s therapist has recommended she start journaling to work through the constant anxiety in her mind. However...part of Y/N’s anxiety is feeling like she isn’t doing it right. So, she seeks out a super soldier for help.

Warnings: Cussing. Guys, it’s me. And there’s an anxious reader. But it’s mostly fluff, I swear. :)

Word Count: 1078 words (because we all know that I don’t know how to write drabbles)

-.-.-

“I want you to try journaling. It’s super simple. Just jot down any thoughts or feelings that come to mind. If you want, we can review them in your sessions. Or we don’t. But I think taking that time to slow your mind and see it on paper will really help your anxiety.”

But where does a person start when it comes to journaling? Are you supposed to focus on one emotion for every page? Every day? Do you have to write every day? Or is it a random thing where you only write if it strikes you? What if you don’t know what words to use? Or what emotion it is?

What if you manage to fuck up something as simple as identifying the thoughts in your head?

“Y/N?”

You look up, tuffs of irritating hair falling in your face. They kept doing that. No matter how many times you ran a hand through your hair, they never stopped. But you tried again. Your therapist said it was an anxious habit.

So what if she was right?

Shaking your head, you force yourself out of your head and back into the room. Steve. He had said your name.

“You okay?”

No. “Yeah. Always am.” It’s the always that calls you out on your lie, but Steve knows better than to comment. Normally, if you wanted to talk about it you would. “Sorry, did you need something?”

Another habit – constantly apologizing.

“I was more worried for your notebook,” he teased, pointing at the small thing your therapist had given you. “It looked like you were ready to burn a hole in it.”

I was. “Wow, thanks.” You snort and he hands you a mug filled with coffee. You had forgotten when the two of you started noticing each other’s preferences, but you didn’t mind. It was nice looking out for each other. Taking a sip of the warm liquid, you knew the caffeine wasn’t good for you, but that knowledge (and perhaps care) seemed to fly out the window. It was so warm. And comforting. Like a hug.

“Want to talk about it?”

You rest your lips against the mug’s rim, watching as Steve takes a seat at the corner next to you. He knew about your anxiety like you knew about his pain. It was the sort of knowledge the two of you refused to share with the rest of the team, but left you confiding in one another. Like many things in the world, it couldn’t be helped. Setting the mug down, you pick up the pen and doodle an odd sort of smiley face into the cover. “I’m supposed to start journaling.”

“And you have a thing against the written word?” He laughs as you chuck the pen at him, ducking before it can hit him square in the forehead. “Okay, that’s a no.” Steve spared a glance at where the pen had flown, now lost to the chaos that was laundry day in the commons.

There would be no getting that pen back.

Shifting in his seat, he gave you his undivided attention. “What’s got you freaking out about it?”

Everything. “Nothing.”

“Liar.” He reached across the table, squeezing your hand and rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Those calloused fingers were warm, comforting. “You know I don’t mind listening.”

It was then that you let your shoulders slump. Gnawing at your lip, your gaze shifted back to the empty book. “I’m supposed to journal. My therapist said to write down any thoughts or feelings when they come to me and see if word-vomiting helps.”

Steve chuckled at the phrase ‘word-vomit’, letting it slide. It wasn’t often that you became so frustrated with what your therapist had to say, so he knew this was eating you up inside. But he was curious. Why? “What makes it seem so hard?” A shrug. It’s stiff and controlled, but at least it’s an answer. “I’m not fluent in Grumpy Y/N. Can I get a translation?”

There’s a long moment of silence. It’s awkward and heavy. Part of you just wants to bolt because that silence is unnerving. It makes your skin crawl in the worst sort of way. Picking at the sleeve of your jacket, you finally admit, “I don’t want to write the wrong thing.” Steve doesn’t say anything and knowing that pisses you off. You look at him, scowling. A snappy, “What?” follows and you regret it. That wasn’t going to help anything.

“Nothing. I just remember thinking the same thing when my guy told me to try it.”

Steve had journaled before? She knew about his lists. They were endless and sometimes ridiculous, but journaling? Why hadn’t she known? Not only that, how did Steve struggle with something like that? “I don’t think I would have pegged you as a writer.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s because I’m not. I kept that book for four days. I didn’t know what to write or where to start.”

“So what happened?”

“Bucky actually.”

You raised a brow. Bucky. No, you couldn’t bring yourself to be surprised. Bucky and Steve were two sides of the same coin. It only made sense that he was able to help. “What’d he say?”

Steve smiled as he glanced down at the journal. Pulling it out from under your arms, he flipped it to the first page and grabbed a spare pen that had been at the end of the table. He tilted the book up, forcing you to patiently wait as he scribbled whatever it was. Closing it again, he set it down and rose to his feet. “Buck, Sam, and I are going to the movies later. Want to come with?”

You smile. “Always.”

He grinned and gave your hand one last squeeze. “We’re meeting back here at seven. See you then.”

Then he was gone…

And you were left with the journal.

Looking back at it, your curiosity easily gets the better of you. Your fingers brush the cover and flip it open to that first page. There, scribbled in Steve’s handwriting, are the words – It starts with a sentence.

Just one. Just a single sentence.

Okay. That wasn’t so bad.

The more you read those five words, the more comfort they gave. It wasn’t a requirement to fill up the whole page. Hell, you didn’t even have to fill up the whole book.

But you had to start with a sentence.

So you did.

[dravenxivuk]

Can you please tell those of us who don't know much about Lily a little about her? I've always been curious from seeing her in your games!

Enthuse at length about my Witcher OC? sure xD 

Race: Demon Gender: Female Immediate family: None Sexuality: Bisexual disaster Occupation:  Witcheress, explorer 

Lily is thought to be around 400 years old, but she doesn’t actually know, and stopped paying attention at least three centuries ago. She shows no physical signs of aging.

Demeanour: Laid back and cheerful most of the time, but mess with those she cares about and she will hurt you. Maybe not now, but one day she will come back to you because she has all the time in the world. Less concerned about slights to herself, probably won’t even notice them. Will tease those she likes, but will tone it down if they’re getting uncomfortable. Does have a soft side but you have to earn her trust before she’ll show it.

Likes: Shiny things (especially if they’re sharp and pointy), learning, travelling & exploring, dancing, reading, red wine, having her head scratched at the base of her horns (very few people know this).

Languages: Can read and speak most languages of the Northern Realms fluently, has reasonable knowledge of other languages from her travels.

Preternaturally Strong: Lily’s strength is on par with a higher vampire.

Regeneration: Lily regenerates incredibly quickly – as fast, if not faster than, a higher vampire.

Always sober: Can’t get drunk due to how fast she heals, but keeps trying anyway!

Soul-free: Doesn’t have a soul.

Long Witcher 3 verse background under the cut (basically her about from the sideblog where I RP her @simplly-lilly ).  She has other verses - modern, Nioh 2 based, a couple of ‘old’ verses set 50-ish years after Witcher 3, but this is her main one.

Lily ended up in the Northern Realms because she investigated an interesting shiny disc she found in her own world. She appeared in an intricately drawn circle in a mage’s lab which was very pretty but she was far more interested in the shiny baubles he had hanging around so wandered over for a closer look. Master Bertrand, the mage, got quite upset that she just ambled out of his summoning circle, he wasn’t aiming for a horned woman but as she’d shown up she should at least have the decency to follow the rules.

Bertrand wrote a work, Master Bertrand’s Treatise on Summoning & Containing Demonic Entities, based on his summoning of Lily that made him infamous among goetia magic users, mostly because none were ever able to replicate his work and summon their own demon. Lily maintains this is because he only summoned her by accident because she went to look at the shiny disc.

Nonetheless it is possible to summon her, something that has so far been managed accidentally by one scholar in Oxenfurt and a group of witchers messing about in Kaer Morhen. Being summoned is disconcerting and makes her hungry, as such her standard advice for anyone trying to summon a demon is to dispense with the theatrics and make sure you have snacks on hand for when they get there because they’ll be grumpy. If she trusts someone enough she’ll give them her sigil so they can call her whenever they want.

Master Bertrand periodically subjected Lily to horrific experiments and she is heavily scarred as a result, but most people never notice as she heals so quickly her scars are barely visible. Those who do look closely might notice that a lot of them look medical, almost vivisection-like as the mage wanted to find out if demons were the same on the inside as people, among other things. Lily doesn’t like to talk about it and as those who do notice the scarring tend to put it down to fighting she generally doesn’t have to.

Lily ended up staying with Master Bertrand for about a century. He taught her various languages of the Northern Realms and how to read, which he regretted doing as soon as she found the library and started disappearing for weeks at a time. Lily stayed with the Bertrand as long as she did despite the hideous experiments he conducted on her, because it never occurred to her that she could leave.

There were protective wards around the house, and strong magical barriers controlling where she could go. The Mage experimented with magical implants for a while as a way to track and control her, but her accelerated healing powers just pushed them out almost immediately. When he needed to restrain her for an experiment he would have to use massive amounts of magic that would leave him drained for days. As she’s concerned dimeritium is just another shiny metal, it is no more or less effective at restraining her than anything else, and she’s very fond of silver.

Master Bertrand had an ongoing contract with a Cat witcher who brought him interesting bits of monsters for potions and occasional live specimens if requested. For one set of experiments Bertrand hired Cat to spar with Lily, he wanted to see how her speed and strength compared to a witcher having already established she was stronger than humans. Cat won easily and told Bertrand that if he wanted accurate measurements she would need to be trained otherwise the results would always be skewed, so Bertrand hired Cat to do just that.

Cat not only taught Lily hand-to-hand combat and sword play but how to use a whole range of blades, and how to hide them to pass the most thorough searches. Her witcher training would be obvious to any witcher who sparred or fought her, probably down to which school. She can fight very well, although she’s not quite as fast as most witchers, but she can also get reckless because it’s only pain and she heals. She’s very protective of her friends and while most of them are fast healing witchers, she regenerates faster so will put herself between them and peril if the need arises.

Cat also taught Lily how to make witcher potions and an exciting array of poisons, much to Master Bertrand’s annoyance as Cat (and later Lily) refused to share this knowledge with him. Cat tried to teach her to use witcher signs but abandoned it after she blew up half the lab trying to igni a candle.

Cat and Lily were a couple for almost 70 years. Cat made her promise that when he died she’d return his medallion to his school, however he didn’t set a time limit on doing it so she now wears it as her own. Cat also made her promise to look after his blades and put them to good use, most of the blades secreted around her person used to belong to Cat and they have all seen a lot of use. She’ll talk about Cat if pushed, but won’t bring him up voluntarily.

Cat died after being betrayed by Bertrand. Until Cat died she respected the magical barriers around the house, but the pain and fury over his death tapped into her demon nature more fully than any experiment and the barriers came apart as she forced through them. The ensuing fight with Bertrand was when they both discovered how distorted and warped magic can really get around her when she goes full demon. It was the last thing he ever discovered as shortly afterwards she ripped his heart out.

She also destroyed a lot of the darker corners of his lab, but she left the library and house intact. Much as she hates the place it’s always handy to have somewhere to go back to if absolutely necessary. She has an interesting collection of magical knickknacks courtesy of inheriting Bertrand’s collection, most she keeps because they’re shiny but a couple are actually useful.

She likes witchers and vastly prefers their company to humans, mostly because they’ve travelled a lot and seen a lot of shit so always have an interesting story to tell. They also know what it’s like to mostly pass as human until people get up close. When very bored she has been known to put up a contract on herself. Occasionally it works.

She will break her horns off herself if she’s travel through somewhere sensitive (looking at you Novigrad) but she doesn’t like doing it because they itch when they grow back, particularly when they’re going through the velvet shedding phase. Her horns usually grow a bit quicker than her hair, but if she takes a massive amount of damage they’ll grow back more quickly as her body kicks into healing mode.

Lily is a firm believer in hugs, and gets particular joy from hugging tetchy witchers as she’s sure they’d enjoy hugs too with a little practice. She just ignores it when they’re a bit awkward as it’s often been a while since whichever witcher she’s tackle hugged this time last had any friendly contact.

[killjoy-loveit]

Reality is Twofold- Pt. 1

A/N: I would like to clarify that everything written in this story is complete fiction and isn’t to be taken as a true portrayal of reality. Honestly... I love this request! It really pulled me in and was like ‘this is how you’re going to write it!’ It’s going to be separated into two parts because I prefer my pieces to be easy to scroll through (also I enjoy cliffhangers).

Request: Yes, hello. I'm coming on anon for this request merely because I'm too shy, but I'd like to request a one shot or scenario - whichever you prefer, please :') Female reader, any POV that you prefer, with Winner's Mino, and for the trope - angst/smut, annnnnnnnd a mafia au if you're okay with that, please and thank you. I'm so sorry if this is a lot; I don't ever request fics, but I love your writing too much uwu

Word Count: 2,945

Genre: Angst, Mafia AU

*****WARNINGS: Violence, Blood, Mentions of Death*****

     This has been the only life I’ve ever known. Death lurking around every corner, reaching out its claws for its next victim. I never knew who I was going to lose next, which is why it’s better to not get attached to anyone. All of the death I’ve witnessed outnumbers the average person’s by a long shot. At this point I’m used to it, or at least that’s what I try to convince myself of. That because I can accept the harsh reality of mortality, it shouldn’t hurt as much when someone else kicks the bucket.

      Growing up as the child of a mafia hitman made me tough in ways that most couldn’t imagine. I learned to take apart and reassemble guns before I had a full grasp on my times-tables. While other kids went to the park to play catch with their fathers, I was learning how to disarm someone and shoot accurately. When other kids were working on schoolwork, I was focused on learning weak spots on the human body. As my peers went to countless parties, I attended funerals. And when they were focusing on applications and finding the best university to chase their dreams, I was about to take on my first hit.

      I did attend university, but only to get a degree that would be useful for the family. At the end of it all, I ended up with an accounting degree to help with the books. For me, there is no way out. Not that I even want a way out at this point. After living like this for so long I can’t imagine going to some normal, plain Jane lifestyle. Besides, all my family is in the mafia- cutting ties and trying to get out would only disconnect me from them. Which is something I don’t want.

     “Hey, are you here?” Juwon shouted.

     “Yeah, just finishing up a quick review of this week’s accounts!” I shout back.

     A few minutes later Juwon appeared at the doorway of the office. He leaned against it, cocking his head as he stared me down. “Yo, we gotta go. There’s this party with another group or whatever, I think the boss is wanting to make peace with them.”

     I rolled my eyes. “Doubtful. He only likes to stir up trouble in the name of peace talks,” Sighing, I set the paper I was looking at down. “Just let me have a few more minutes and I’ll be done.”

     “Fine, it’s your funeral if they notice we’re late.”

      True to my word I finished the work quickly and by the time we arrived the party was already in full swing. The house was packed with bodies, making it almost too difficult to maneuver. But it wasn’t impossible, and I ended up shoving past numerous people until I found the food table. At these kinds of events, it's best to stay off to the side and not interact too much. Getting involved can cause problems and end badly, I’ve seen too many of these parties end in bloodshed over some stupid interaction.

     I turn to face Juwon after grabbing a piece of celery from a tray on the table. “With this many people, how could they even notice we were late?”

     “You know how this works, someone’s always watching at one of these events.” He groans, rubbing his face. “We’re totally gonna get in trouble for this.”

     “You worry too much. No one’s going to realize we got here late.” I respond, pursing my lips at his whining.

     “Why were you guys late?” A voice questions from your side.

     I whip my head to the side, eyes widening as they land on the guy beside me. “I had to finish my work and Juwon was my ride here. Can you not tell your dad we were late, Mino?”

     “No problem, I just need a favor in return.” He says, a mischievous smile appearing on his face.

     “What kind of favor?” I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes on him.

     “I need you to pretend to be with me, like my girlfriend. There’s this chick, Jia, from the other group who keeps trying to get with me, she’s getting a bit handsy and annoying.”

     My eyebrows furrow. “Why don’t you just tell her to piss off?”

     Mino sighs, running a hand through his hair. “If I could do that I would, but I was specifically told not to cause trouble and she’s the daughter of a higher up in the other group.”

     “Fine. Fine, whatever, I’ll do it.”

      “Thank you!”

      Conversation flowed comfortably between the three of us over the next hour. Honestly, I had expected an appearance from the girl who’d been fawning all over Mino to come at any time. But it hadn’t come yet, so I relaxed in the conversation, almost forgetting about it. Which wasn’t the smartest move, if we’re being realistic. Juwon was recounting a story of training one of the newer recruits, the one that apparently didn’t know how to hold a gun properly. We were about halfway through this story when Mino suddenly wrapped his arm around my waist, deftly pulling me into his side. I was about to snap at him when I spotted a girl with a determined look on her face, heading right for the two of us.

      Jia came to a full stop once she stood right in front of us. I quickly noted that she appeared to be the type who only wanted to climb the ranks, despite her already high position. She was wearing a dark red halter top that cut off at her midriff, a pair of ripped high-waisted skinny jeans, and gold sparkly heels that were easily six inches. If something were to go down tonight, she wouldn’t be able to make it out fast enough. Not with those monstrosities on her feet. She huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder as she looked at us.

     “Who’s that?” Jia asked in a high nasally voice, pointing at me.

     “She’s my girl. You know, the one I told you about?” Mino responded raising an eyebrow.

     I extended my free hand to her. “Hi, a little birdie told me you were being really good to my man earlier.”

      “Yeah, I was being good to him. Didn’t think he actually had a girl though.” She muttered, obviously annoyed.

     “Why would I lie?” Mino cut in, fingers digging deeper into the fabric at my hip.

     “Well, she wasn’t with you so I figured you were lying.”

      I narrowed my eyes on her. “What? Am I supposed to be glued to his side just because we’re together? I have my own shit to do, he’s a grown-ass man- he can handle himself.”

      “Well, yeah, but who’s to stop someone else from trying to steal him away when you aren’t there?” Jia crossed her arms.

     “If I have to be around 24/7 to fend off girls, that means something’s wrong with our relationship. Obviously there’s nothing wrong with us because I know he can fend them off himself.”

     “Or it means you don’t care.”

     My eyebrows shot up. This girl really doesn’t care, she’s trying her damndest to go after him even after learning he has a girlfriend. Albeit a fake one, but she doesn’t know that. The conversation was beginning to upset me, not because I was attached to him, but rather that she couldn’t take no for an answer. And she was determined to try and make it seem like a girlfriend was supposed to be mindlessly jealous and be around her significant other at all times. I removed Mino’s arm from my waist as I stepped forward, getting into her personal space.

      “Excuse me?”

      “You heard me.” She snapped.

     “Heh, alright. You need to back off right now. Before I make you.”

      Right as I was about to actually get up in this girl’s face, I got pulled back. I turned my head to glare at the person who’d pulled me back, but it was Mino and the look on his face told me to drop it. I huffed and curled my lip in a show of annoyance, reluctantly backing down.

     “That’s enough, there’s not supposed to be any fighting tonight.”

      Juwon spoke up, stepping forward, in between us and Jia. “Yeah, ladies, there’s no fighting tonight. So how about everybody just chill out?”

     “Juwon, you may be my brother and all, but I swear if you ever tell me to chill out again I will cause you bodily harm.” I say through gritted teeth.

     He raises his hands in defense. “Sorry, sorry. It won’t happen again.”

      Jia stands there for a second, taking in the situation, makes an annoyed sound, and proceeds to stalk off. Even though she’d left, I still felt rather annoyed and tense due to the conflict. It took a few minutes for the tension in my shoulders begin to ease off. I couldn’t even listen to the conversation that Juwon and Mino were having. Once I relaxed a bit more, I noticed his arm was wrapped around my waist again, something I hadn’t even noticed when it happened.

     “Remove your arm.” I murmur in his ear, trying not to interrupt the story Juwon was telling.

     “What if she comes back?” Mino whispers.

     “Fine, keep it there if you’re so scared.”

     For the rest of the night he doesn’t stray from my side. Not when I went to the bathroom, he waited outside. Not when I went outside for a breather. Not when he got called over to our fathers, in fact his arm tightened around me in front of them. Not even when people slowly started filing out and Jia was nowhere in sight. Eventually I’d had enough, and pulled myself away from him. I explained that I needed to leave so that I could be up in time for an appointment I had in the morning. That was a lie, but I just needed to get out of there.

      There were times when I found Mino to be attractive, and found myself wanting to get closer to him. Tonight had unexpectedly become one of those times. However, I knew that getting close to him would only lead me onto a path filled with pain. He’s the boss’ son, the heir apparent, the one who’s going to take over when his old man croaks. It’s bad enough that my family is high enough up on the food chain with significant targets on their backs, but Mino? The target on him is the largest by far. Meaning if I get involved with him, or even slightly more attached than normal, the risk of getting hurt if he dies is increased tenfold. Catching feelings for him is something I cannot allow myself to do.

     Though with the events of the next week it seemed pretty impossible to avoid. Every time I went to the warehouse, Mino seemed to appear. Always hanging around, never actually appearing to be anything in particular. He was there under the guise of learning the workings of the business we run to clean the money made by illicit means. But it was clear that wasn’t what he was doing, no sirree. He appeared in my little office almost every day, claiming to need to hear the rundown of what I do- over and over again. When I called him out on it, saying that he should know what my job is by now, he played dumb. Like he couldn’t possibly be asked to remember what I do, and that’s why he always questioned me on it. Forget who his father is, I swore the next time he asked about it I was going to punch him.

      One particular night, when the sky had long since gone dark and the stars made their presence known, I was completely alone in the warehouse for once. Being alone in such a big building might tend to creep people out, as it can get a tad scary at night, but to me it’s become a comfort. I love being alone in the warehouse, I feel like it’s an opportunity for me to be free for a few hours. Not that I do anything crazy, it’s just nice to have moments when I’m not being observed. My music was blaring through the speakers, I was humming along to the soft tune while adding up all the accounts receivable.

     At least I thought I was alone. Allowing my guard to be down by believing myself to be safe is what ultimately failed me. I should’ve known by now that I should never let my guard drop. It happened so fast. One second I was fully entranced by the gentle harmonic melody of the piano, doing my calculations, and the next I felt the cool metal of a gun pressed to my temple. The blood in my veins went cold, my hand halting on the number I was writing down. My eyes flicked up to try and see who it was, but they were angled enough that I couldn’t make out any definitive facial features.

      “Stand up.” The voice was harsh, with a slight grumbling undertone. Almost like they spent all their time yelling.

      Cautiously, I rose to my feet. I refrained from turning my head in an attempt to better gauge the situation. When someone has a gun to your head it’s best to comply until you figure out the best course of action, if there even is one.

     “Where is he?” My captor’s voice broke halfway through the question, pain shining through their facade. The gun shook lightly on my temple, the person was obviously shaking.

     Taking a deep breath, I managed to keep my voice calm. “Where’s who? I need a name.”

     “Your boss! The one who runs this operation! Who orders people to be killed!” Upon the raising of their voice it became apparent it was a man that had a gun on me. His voice cut through the gentle swells of the music playing, creating a stark contrast.

     “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know where he is currently. He could be at any number of locations right now.”

      The man’s voice turned frantic, almost frenzied. “No! No- you… You must know where he is! How else are you meant to keep up with him?” He paused for a second, his brain probably trying to piece things together, and as he did the gun strayed from my temple. “You’re lying! Tell me where he is!”

      The second he jerked the gun back to my temple, I took a chance. I jerked my head back, cracking it against the man’s face, there was a brief snap from the cartilage of his nose breaking. My hand shot up and grabbed a hold of the gun, twisting it away from myself and yanking. Once the gun was firmly in my hand, I spun around and leveled the gun at the man’s head. There was blood covering half of his face, dripping down onto his clothes, and covering the hand trying to keep his nose in place.

      “You made a mistake by assuming that since I’m a woman I’d be easier to go after.” I snarl, glaring at him.

     “I-I thought…”

      “Well you thought wrong. What exactly were you trying to accomplish by pulling this stunt? Are you asking to be killed? Or are you just an idiot?”

      The man dropped to his knees, voice trembling. “I just wanted- I wanted to make him regret killing my brother,” He looks up at me, eyes wide and plainly showing his fear. “P-please don’t kill me.”

      “Did you seriously think your plan would work? I understand that you must be grieving the loss of your brother, but unless you were hoping that your stupid idea would help you meet him sooner- you just made the worst mistake of your life.”

     Tears began to trickle down his cheeks, mixing with the blood on his lower face. “I just miss him so much. Do you know what it’s like to lose the person closest to you? It’s like I don’t know how to function.” The man’s words came out strangled, little hiccups interrupting him every so often.

     Despite the sympathy I could feel rising in me, I was aware that I couldn’t let him go- his story was sad, but very common. If we let those who were seeking revenge free, they would just come back again and again until they felt they had achieved some sense of justice. Many people have gotten killed because they got too deep and either screwed up a job resulting in their death, or they realized they shouldn’t have gotten involved in the first place and tried to get out by going to the cops.

      I was reaching for my phone with my free hand when the music went dead. Once again I was put on edge. Tonight just refuses to go smoothly. If I have to fight on more people, I’m not gonna take it easy on them.

     “Hey, are you still here? Your brother said you hadn’t come home yet!” Mino’s voice echoed throughout the building.

     I sighed, relieved- now I don’t have to call and report this, which would end up with me waiting an eternity for someone else to get here and deal with the man. “I’m in the office!”

      A minute later, Mino showed up in the doorway, a look of annoyance on his face. “It’s almost two in the morning, why aren’t you-,” He cut himself off, his expression turning into one of anger. “What the fuck is going on?” 

[shewolfofficial]

Could you possibly do headcannons/imagines (whichever u prefer) about levi and reader growing up together and her knowing kenny and all that, and when kenny attacks levi he recognises reader and harms her in some way, and levi goes ballistic?

Warning: Cursing, Violence

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had been side by side with Levi for all your life, even though he was four years older than you-you didn’t care, you trusted the Ackerman with your life and he was the same when it came to you. After a few years of being side by side with Levi, you had formed an attraction to him.

A romantic Attraction.

You were no stranger to Kenny and Levi’s past, you helped the raven-haired man out whenever you could. Of course you were with Levi when the Survey Corps took you in, at first you hated the regiment but having Farlan and Isabel taken away from you-you didn’t really have a choice anymore. Especially since Levi decided to join Erwin.

And now the Scouts were wanted, Erwin has already been arrested and so have a few scouts that were in the interior when that happened. The plan now was to escort Eren and Historia while Armin and Jean dressed up as them to trick the bastards that are after the actual two, Levi wanted you to go with him so of course you agreed and tagged along.

Kneeling on the rooftop, you had your hood down looking down to the cart which Erena and Historia were in, Levi was at the other side of the roof with his hood up leaning against the chimney. ‘’Y/N you remember Kenny?’’ he asked taking a swift glimpse to you, giving him a confusing nod you motioned for him to continue. ‘’I think he may be apart of all of this..’’ Levi muttered, raising an eyebrow to Levi you shrugged ‘’he’s probably dead by now… Since we’re telling each other juicy secrets and theories I got something to tell you too Levi’’ you chirped as he turned to you. Giving him a teasing smirk you sent a playful wink to him ‘’come find me when we get back from this later on and then I’ll probably tell you’’ you add as he rolled his eyes at your childish antics.

Silence fell between you two, a few seconds passed. Levi heard a little creak come from behind you ‘’Y/N!’’ Levi spun to you immediately watching you swiftly dodge the shot Kenny fired at you. ‘’What the fu-!’’ you were about to lash out until your eyes widened. ‘’Y/n get out of here!’’ Levi screeched, giving him a weary nod you shoot off in a different direction.

// Time Skip - Levi’s P.O.V  \

Sitting behind the bar counter, the barman shakes from fear letting out little whimpers here and there as Kenny stands by the entrance of the little restaurant. ‘’Oh come on! You here or not!’’ Kenny yells making me scowl, sitting down against the bottom of the counter ‘’right here Kenny, it’s been a while I’d really thought you’d be dead by now, well with all the MP’s you were butchering…. now you’re great friends huh?’’ I ask turning around slightly to the shivering bartender, seeing a shotgun I silently pick it up. 

‘’Yeah well adults do plenty of things kids like you can’t understand.. Oh right, my mistake you’re supposed to be an adult now but you’re still such a runt it’s hard to tell… Then again, I see Y/N has grown quite a bit, surprised to see she’s still stuck to you like she was when she was younger’’ Kenny hisses making me frown at his words.

‘‘Always hoped that I’d get to see you in action someday, I can’t say I’m disappointed either seems you still remember every trick I taught ya’‘ he continues as I quietly load the shotgun, leaning forward slightly I listen to him. ‘‘But didn’t I ever tell you what happens to a cornered rat? Cause if I had you’d know wherever you’ll run you’d find a bullet waiting… Especially for Y/N, the way you told her to get away the second you saw me.. Trying to protect her like aways’‘ he chuckles as I look blankly down to the shotgun thinking back to what happened just minutes ago.

‘‘Hey Levi?’‘ the second those words left Kenny’s mouth a chair slammed against the wall smashing bottles of wine and beer, the drinks slowly pouring along the ground as glass shards fly everywhere. ‘‘You must have become a Scout for a reason and I think I know what that is… We were forced to survive in that little hell hole, giving everything we had just to stay alive.. So when we found out just how big the world really was you could bet it hurt like hell’‘ I hear Kenny pick up another chair as I flicking my orbs upwards towards the few remaining bottles on the shelf.

‘‘But you know what saved us? We found something we enjoyed doing, it’s just that simple! Every man needs himself a hobby, maybe the only source of fulfilling he’ll ever find in this wretched world’‘ Kenny’s rambling didn’t seem like it was going to stop making me internally groan. ‘‘Oh I see.. Is that why you tried to kill Y/N right in front of me then? Because it’s fulfilling?’‘ I ask, venom dripping from my voice as I slightly turn a wine glass showing Kenny’s reflection. ‘‘Yep! To achieve my grand goal I’ll kill as many as getting my way and you’re no different you kill too when it benefits you’‘ Kenny rose the chair ready to throw it again. ‘’Yeah..’’ I mutter quickly sending the barrel of the shotgun over the counter I shot at Kenny sending him back onto the street.

// Your PO.V - 5 minutes later \

I met up with Mikasa and the others, quickly flying through the air we met up with Levi. I trailed a bit behind the group as we all chased the wagon, my heart was thumping loudly and every nerve in my body was going haywire, nervously biting down on my lower lip I noticed a shadow coming from behind me. Turning around I came face to face with a smirking Kenny aiming his gun at me, Jean looked back to me and his eyes widened. ‘’Kenny-!’’ I was cut off instantly when a searing pain shot through my shoulder, screaming in pain everyone in the group spun back watching me fall to the ground, tumbling over and having my wires wrap around my now unconscious form as I lay on the ground.

Levi paled seeing you drop to the ground, growling he bulleted up towards, merely missing cutting open his stomach as Kenny suddenly zipped ahead of the group laughing. ‘’You bastard!’’ Levi roared, darting after Kenny he furiously sliced and killed anyone who got in his way. Another troop flew towards Levi only to have Levi’s blade slide across their neck killing them instantly.

Kenny, his troops and the wagon managed to escape with Erena and Historia. Sasha and Jean immediately ran back to me, crouching down by my unconscious body a small pool of blood encircled my tied up form. Soon enough Armin landed not too far away from the two and ran over. Sasha had managed to pull me to of the small pool of blood and started to put pressure on the bullet wound while Jean began to try to untie my 3DM Gear wires from around my bruised body. ‘’She’ll need to get stitches, we have to hurry back or else she’ll end up losing a lot of blood’’ Sahsa informed the two boys who knelt before her, nodding swiftly Jean finished unwrapping you from your wires and had taken off your gear. 

// Time Skip \

Groaning I opened my eyes, seeing a fire flicker inside a little holder and dance in front of me I winced from the pain in my shoulder and collar bone. ‘’Finally awake, how are you Y/N?’’ I recognize the voice as Mikasa’s coming from next to me, lifting my head ever to see the raven-haired female I offer a small smile ‘’I’m fine.. I’m sore but I’ll be fine..’’ I mumble glancing back to the ceiling of the warehouse, noticing Levi sitting on a crate at the other side of me as I lay on the floor on a cloak. Memories flooded back in my mind as I frown in anger, Levi seemed to notice my foul mood change ‘’what’s wrong? Your shoulder hurting?’’ he asked looking down to me. 

Shaking my head I scowl and sit up glaring to the fire as if it were Kenny ‘’Fucking Kenny is a bastard for doing this shit, next time I see him I swear I’m going to strangle him and fucking shoot him in the balls… Tsk someones never going to have children’’ I grumble as Jean raises an eyebrow. ‘’That’s a low move Y/N, shooting off his privates..’’ he muttered as I flicked my gaze to him ‘’not the first time I hit a guy down there..’’ I state plain-faced as Jean gulps nodding slightly.

‘‘Your main motive when going against a man is to kick him in the balls.. Are you trying to scar him for life?’‘ Levi commented as I nod my head ‘‘as long as I win I will’‘ I send a playful wink to him as he clicks his tongue. Standing up he takes a sip of his drink before putting it back down on the crate he sat on, raising an eyebrow at Levi he motioned for me to follow. Sighing I get up wincing from the pain that shot through me, choosing to ignore it I follow Levi into a separate part of the warehouse we stayed in. 

Strolling in I watched Levi turn to me wearing his usual bored expression ‘’earlier today, you said you wanted to tell me something when we get back, well we’re here so what did you want to say?’’ he asks as I instantly remember our conversation from earlier, a tint of pink ghosts my cheeks as I avert my orbs to the ground. ‘’E-eh I change my mind, it’s not that important.. heh..’’ I force a snicker as Levi squints his eyes at me ‘’you’re lying, I can tell easily when you lie Y/N’’ he says as I gulp. 

‘‘Levi you don’t want to know, you probably would wish I didn’t tell you even if I did’‘ I say trying to pry his mind off from finding out what I wanted to say earlier. But boy was this man stubborn. ‘‘Y/N tell me now.’‘ he growled, sighing I scratch the back of my neck. ‘‘Alright..’‘ I mutter ‘‘IHaveLikedYouForALongTimeNowLeviI’mSorry!’‘ I blurt out suddenly seeing him look at me in surprise ‘‘what the fuck did just come out of your mouth? English please’‘ he says rolling his eyes. ‘‘Fine.. fucker..’‘ I whine as he sends me a quick scowl. ‘‘I. Have. Feelings. For. You. Meaning. I. Like. You!’‘ I drone out regretting every word as they leave my mouth. ‘Great.. I better be prepared to have ruined a childhood friendship and made it awkward between me and Levi..’ I mentally note as Levi looks to be lost in thought for a few seconds.

‘‘Well, I like you too dumbo’‘ he replies as I go wide-eyed. ‘‘Really?’‘ I pipe smiling a little.

‘‘Yes, really’‘

[uraniumwriting]

Hey Look at What I’ve Been Doing

This is a scene (totally unedited whoops) from Between the Lines, in which a demonstration just got interrupted by the asshole himself, and a few new assassin friends (because they were getting paid)

taglist: @soul-write @horsepowerred (i don’t think there was anyone else, sorry if I forgot!)

The anger the crowd had soon turned to fear as the flames soared above their heads. Some pushed past Roopal and into the alleyway, seeing me, but ignoring me.

 I couldn’t help but let out a laugh as I watched them all run past me. It was funny, watching how quickly they turned from the predators to the prey. I slipped through them, trying to get to Roopal.

 It’s not like this guy is actually scary or anything, I thought, pushing my earlier fears aside. He’s just a joke.

 That’s what I told myself, until I looked up at the apartment roofs, and saw the devil incarnate himself. Agnidev.

 Even though he may look ridiculous on television, I had to admit, he was terrifying, despite being many yards away from me.

 “What are you doing here?” I looked at Roopal as he finally noticed me, giving him as small shrug.

 “I wanted to stop the demonstrators from hurting people,’ I said, before looking bak at Agnidev. “Do you think he’s going to try anything?”

 “He’s an entitled whit—I mean, he knows we’re here, so he likely will.” Roopal looked up at Angidev with me. Agnidev wasn’t moving for that second, and I couldn’t really see his face, but I knew he was staring down at the two of us. Like he was better than us.

 Then, a wall of flame shot at us.

 I moved before I could even think, pressing myself against the wall of the alleyway and shutting my eyes. The hot flames stabbed at me like knives, making the air around me feel oppressive as it rushed past me. It left almost as soon as it came, but the heat stuck by me as I slowly opened my eyes, forcing my body to relax. My heart was beating too hard and too fast for my liking, and my lungs just wouldn’t work right. But, I wasn’t immediately incinerated, which was probably a good thing.

 “Kid, you should probably go inside.” Roopal stepped in front of me, keeping an eye on Angidev the whole time.

 “You sound like my dad. I’m fine, and I want to help.”

 “It’s almost like your dad came to me, the guy with three kids older than you, for parenting advice.” Roopal pushed me back more, looking at me for just a second before focusing on Agnidev again. “And, it’s not your job to help. It’s your job to feel safe.”

 “Well, I’d feel safer if I could help get this guy in jail!” I wondered if Agnidev had any clue what our conversation was like at that moment, or if he just though we were insane. Don’t know which one of those options I would prefer.

 Then, someone across the street caught my eye. More specifically, two people. There was the one person that I saw before, which I could recognize because of their outfit, but there was now someone else, dressed in obnoxious neon colors. And the two of them were fighting in hand to hand combat, which I soon recognized as some form of martial arts. It was very similar to the one my dad taught at his studio, it seemed.

 “I don’t think he’s alone,” I said to Roopal, right before another person in bright neon jumped in front of us.

 The police sirens were still there, but they didn’t seem to get any closer. Or any farther.

 “Great, the Konda triplets. Keep an eye out for the third one,” Roopal answered, though the question I had never posed had already been answered for me. I turned around towards the other side of the alley, staying close to Roopal as he pulled out his plants.

 I had never met the Konda triplets, but I had heard a lot about them from my dad. Two of them, Heidi and Angie, were identical twins, and they both were born with the ability to produce an extremely deadly venom. The third one, Emily, didn’t have that ability, but she was really, really good at chemistry. And exactly how to kill people in the most painful ways. If they had lived normal lives, the three would be in college now, but their parents died at some point, and they decided to basically become assassins.

 I heard Roopal grunt behind me, and I just hoped he didn’t get hit.

 “Hello, sweetie.” I jumped as I saw a figure walk out from behind the dumpster, clad in all black. That was Emily. She walked up to me slowly, as if she wasn’t trying to startle me. Well, it was too late for that, as I felt my arms tingling. “I don’t think you remember me. I used to watch you all the time when you were little.”

 “Uh, that’s cool, but your sister’s trying to kill the guy that’s basically my adopted uncle so, uh, that’s a problem.” So, so graceful.

 “Don’t worry, it’s not you’d have much time to mourn him, anyway,” Emily said in a calm tone, taking something out of her pocket. I didn’t wait at that point, and neither did my reflexes. I felt the aura around my arms, but it didn’t make me panic like at school. Probably because I was panicking about something else at the moment.

 “No you don’t!” I yelled in a totally cool fashion, before running to close the gap between Emily and I, my fist ready for a punch, which I didn’t even know how to do properly. I pushed my weight forward as I got to her, ignoring the fact she could stab something in my arm and immediately kill me. For some odd reason, I aimed for her shoulder, instead of her nose, which I could’ve broke. The punch connected, though, and I looked away as I saw the aura grow sharp, piercing through her skin.

I pulled away quickly, taking a few steps back as I watched Emily recoil from the pain. I almost felt a bit bad, but then I felt proud, because I just landed a hit on a trained assassin. Then, I felt bad again, because there was no reason why she should’ve had to become a trained assassin in order to survive.

 Giovanna, please stop feeling bad for people that are literally trying to kill you, I thought. After all, it’s kind of important to your well-being that you’re alive.

 “Well, that’s rude. And here I was, going to give you something not so painful, because you’re just a kid.” Emily stood up as straight as she could, despite the pain. “And then you just go ahead and stab me.”

 “Well, I’d appreciate it more if that first part was just not killing me.” I kept my fists up, though the sight of blood make me want to barf all over the ground. It was, odd, to say the least. After all, I’ve seen blood plenty of times, once a month at the very least. Why would I get nauseous because I hurt somebody that was literally trying to kill me?

 “Sorry, sweetie, but in this economy, we need the money that we’ll get from killing you.” Emily dropped the thing she had taken out of her pocket onto the ground, taking something else out of her pocket instead. “How would some Ethylene glycol feel for you?”

 “I’m guessing uh, painful?”

 “Very painful. You’ll die in around seventy-two hours, with your organs slowly shutting down, one by one. At least you’d have time to say goodbye to your loved ones first.” Emily started to advance towards me again, though this time, the gap was much smaller.

 “Uh, well, would me being alive even change anything? Like, you know, it’s not like I’ve done anything. My head probably doesn’t fetch that too high of a price.” I took as many steps back as I could, now being back to back with Roopal. Emily stopped, squinting at me.

 “You are too humble. Almost a shame,” she said, before lunging at me. All my body told me to do was duck, which was what I did, not thinking about the fact that there was someone behind me that was also a potential target for Emily.

 The sirens started to get closer.

 Emily stayed above me, aiming her syringe for Roopal now. I opened my mouth to yell something, something to warn him, but even if something came out, it was immediately drowned out by a different siren. Fire department. He somehow knew, though, sending a dense vine up right where Emily was aiming, as if he actually practiced this kind of stuff. Oh yeah, he did. I was like, the only Superhuman that didn’t.

 Emily hit the vine with her syringe, getting stuck for just a moment. I took that opportunity, doing something actually smart, and tackled her legs while she was off balance. She fell backwards, hitting the shoulder that I had already injured onto the floor.  

 “Giovanna, kid, get back inside now. If anyone finds you, they’ll start questioning.” I scrambled back up as Roopal spoke, still parrying the attacks from whichever Konda triplet was there. The sirens from the firetruck were loud, and they weren’t moving.

 “But—“

 “No buts this time. Just go back.” I wanted to explain my reasoning as to why I’d be fine, but it seemed like I wasn’t going to be allowed to talk. So, I simply kicked Emily the ribs one time, for good measure, before sprinting back over the fire escape and climbing up.

I hopped into my father’s room, walked back into the living room, and didn’t say a word to Mrs. Greenstein.

 Maybe Nadia was right. Maybe I did need to train.

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku Part 1

Alright you fuckin gremlins yall have been waiting months for this and so was I, so without further ado, heres new isntallment of demise!au fic

NOTE: THIS FIC TAKES PLACE ABOUT 9 MONTHS AFTER THE EVENTS OF ORIGINAL DEMISE FIC

you can also find it on ao3 under the same title

The interrogation room at Musutafu’s police station has long become a familiar sight for Izuku. Whether or not it was a good thing was a completely different issue. Let’s just say that the past 9 months of Izuku’s hospital free life were just an extended shitshow of t-posing at the legal system.

And in the middle of it all sat the boy himself, handcuffed to the table for probably a 100th time (‘kinky’ he said to the officer who cuffed him, and the man fled the room looking more uncomfortable than Kacchan during the ‘Bakugou shitshow’). With his mom sitting on a chair next to him, looking far too bored for a woman whose son gets arrested on a weekly basis and Trash Bandit occupying the rest of the table Izuku looks to his left, eyes meeting his own reflection in the two way mirror.

He might be handcuffed, but that’s not going to stop him from flipping off whichever officer was currently standing behind that mirror. And if he happened to be checking himself out while at it then, well it’s not really anybody’s business. Izuku’s green hair has grown out quite a lot over the past months, now reaching his shoulders and being even more unkept than usual. The brown coat from the hospital’s lost-and-found box became his second skin, and definitely needed a wash. All in all the boy would describe his look as ‘straight-outta-trash’, which also happens to be the only type of straight he is.

Izuku’s musings got interrupted as the door to the interrogation room slammed open, the sound being followed by what can only be described as a middle aged sigh of resignation and disappointment.

“Well fuck me if it isn’t my favourite detective! What’s up Tsukauchi, did you miss me?” asked Izuku with a shit eating grin.

“Didn’t have the time to, since I literally saw you yesterday. Would it kill you to stay at home and not get yourself in trouble?” asked the detective in the same exasperated tone Izuku often hears Shin use on him. Huh, they would get along.

“Honestly detective, you and your unrealistic expectations. No wonder you’re still single” replied Izuku in only a half-joking manner.

Tsukauchi opened his mouth as if to retaliate, then looked down at the sheep standing on the table and back at Izuku. He closed his mouth promptly, his face morphing into a very accurate expression of ‘I don’t get paid enough for this’.

‘They would really get along’ thought Izuku.

The detective sat down on the chair on the opposite side of the table. He took out the evidence file and laid it down on the table, which wasn’t his smartest move given the sheep that occupied most of the surface. Izuku scoffed at the offending file. Upon noticing his owner’s reaction, Trash Bandit started to chew on the papers while looking Tsukauchi dead in the eye as the man tried to pry the evidence from the sheep’s mouth.

“Do we really have to go through this every single time?” asked Izuku, motioning to his handcuffs to make a point “It’s always the same old drill, I go and do my shit, you guys arrest me, the law doesn’t account for me being quirkless, you let me go. Honestly why do you even bother at this point?”

“Because-” stated Tsukauchi as he waved around a half eaten photograph from the evidence folder “-you really outdone yourself this time!”

“I did the right thing and YOU KNOW IT!” shouted Izuku as he stood up from his seat, the handcuffs being the only thing holding him back.

“Izuku that’s not up to you to decide-”

“Don’t! I get that you work in law enforcement, but if your sense of right and wrong is dictated by the legal system then you have a moral spine of a chocolate eclair!”

“Says the troublemaker who plays a hero-wannabe in his spare time” replied Tsukauchi.

Izuku scoffed at the man and sat down once again. He turned towards his mother who rather predictably had a worried look on her face at the mention of ‘heroes’. It was still a bit of a sore topic for Izuku, even after all these months and she knew it better than anyone else. The fact that it was Tsukauchi who rubbed at the wound only made it worse.

“A hero?! If you were any good of a detective you’d know that this statement couldn’t be further from the truth” sneered Izuku.

“Then HELP me get the truth. All I know is what they showed in the news and we both know that it’s not worth much, so why don’t you tell me what actually happened?”

Well, Izuku doesn’t really have much of a choice in that matter since this IS an interrogation and all of you noisy fuckers reading this are probably wondering how he got here in the first place.

The day started out rather peacefully. Now that Izuku was homeschooled he had a lot of free time, which was definitely not a good thing and led to a boredom driven shenanigans, but more on that later. Now all the teenager wanted was to get something to eat. Preferably at a place that won’t kick him out for going in with a sheep, but well, you can’t have everything.

Izuku was currently walking through the town centre with Shin, the doctor moving almost like a zombie after his night shift at the hospital. They agreed to meet up in the morning and have a breakfast together before the morning rush began. The two were heading to a cat cafe ‘ Nyanny ’, one of the very few establishments in the city that he’s yet to be kicked out of, mainly because the cats there got really attached to Trash Bandit. Afterwards Izuku plans on hanging around UA since a friend of his will be taking the entrance exam and Izuku, being a semi-decent friend that he was, wanted to be there for emotional support.

“Can you not?” asked Shin as he pulled a cigarette out of Izuku’s mouth, who in turn looked over dramatically “Don’t look at me like this! As your doctor I can’t let you ruin your health like this in my presence!”

“You’re my psychiatrist, you’re supposed to be fixing my mental problems, leave my physical problems out of this.”

“A single cigarette can take away a day off your life, is this what you want?”

The teenager looks at the doctor with a face expression that can only be described as ‘fuck yeah’ as he opens up his backpack, retreats a pack of cigarettes, takes all of them out of the box, puts them in his mouth and lights all of them while looking Shin dead in the eye to establish dominance.

The doctor sighed in resignation “I expected nothing and was still let down” he said.

“To be fair letting people down is like my main skill” is what Izuku would’ve said if it wasn’t for the 20 cigarettes in his mouth, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

The doctor eventually gave up on lecturing the teen and the two continued their walk. As they neared the intersection leading up to the train station the streets got much more crowded, although that is to be expected. What was unexpected however was the commotion that seemed to be taking place there. With the amount of people gathered at the street you’d think Beyonce is in town and she challenged All Might to a rap battle, and Izuku would pay good money to see that shit.

Unfortunately there was no Beyonce in sight, only a fuck ton of people blocking Izuku’s way and half a dozen of police cars.

“Hey Shin, wanna check it out?”

“I’m literally on a brink of exhaustion, but sure, why not”

As the two - or three if you count Trash Bandit - made their way through the crowd, Izuku realized that whatever was happening was far more serious than he originally thought. Heroes and police alike were scattered across the whole area, civilians were screaming and something was definitely on fire. He also noticed a camera crew trying to get good scope of the whole action. All in all it was Izuku’s dreams come true.

“I’m betting you all my money that it’s another villain attack”

“First of all, you have no money. Second of all, please don’t do anything rash” begs Shin.

“I would never” says Izuku as he pulls out an axe out of his backpack.

Events like these aren’t uncommon, Izuku has seen plenty of public hero displays as they detained villains on the streets and obnoxiously gained the favour of the public eye. He’d know, he used to be one of the morons staring at them in amazement. What was unusual however was that none of the heroes were closing in on the source of this whole chaos. From where he was standing the boy couldn’t even see the villain in question, but just form people’s reactions he could tell the damage was bad. The fire prevented most of them from getting close and Death Arms was trying to keep civilians away from the area. Mt. Lady couldn’t enter the area and she got stuck the narrow road due to her size and the rest of the heroes didn’t even attempt to get closer. Cowards, was what they were, running around like a bunch of mindless lemmings.

As Izuku pushed past the crowd, dragging his doctor along he finally saw what, or rather who was causing all the havoc.

It was a person captured by what Izuku thinks is a sludge villain. Boy does that give him some late night ideas-

“Get your mind out of the gutter, you weirdo!” exclaimed Shin.

- oh, he said it out loud, haven’t he?

“Kinda hard to do when this thing looks like it crawled straight out of the gutter itself” retorted Izuku.

He then separated from Shin to try and find a police officer and get a better idea of the whole situation. Although his relationship with the cops wa far from great, they were far too busy trying to contain the situation to argue with Izuku and so he managed to find out that the villain was originally captured by All Might last year and he escaped from jail seeking chaos and revenge. The entire situation was just as cliché as it sounded.

He went back to find Shin who was currently sheep sitting for him in this entire madness and using his height to get a better look than him “I know I haven’t been up to date with all the hero stuff, but I think even I would’ve heard of this sludge” he said to the doctor.

“I remember when they were reporting it on the news” he replied “It was the day you were admitted to the ward.”

“Oh”

“Izuku”

“What?”

“I think the sludge has Bakugou”

“WHAT?”

The bespectacled man pointed towards the sludge and as Izuku looked closer, sure enough, it was definitely Bakugou thrashing around and using his quirk to try and blow himself away from the villain with little success so far.

“Huh, so that’s where all the fire came from” mused Shin.

Izuku looked down at his axe and back up at Bakugou, whose eyes were screaming for help. He had a choice to make.

“Well this has just gotten personal” states Izuku.

As he moved forward through the remainder of the crowd, he realised once again that the choice has made itself without his brain’s input, but what else is new. His mind was blank as he ran past the police tape, evaded Death Arms and went straight into the fire.

He realised how ridiculous the situation was. Here he was; a quirkless loser running head first towards the danger with nothing but an axe like an IDIOT, because a bunch of pro heroes won’t do their fuckin job. This is absurd!

Keep running!

There’s so many people around who are much more qualified to save Bakugou-

Keep running!

And they’re doing NOTHING!-

KEEP RUNNING!

“KACCHAN!”

“DEKU, what the fuck are you doing? GET AWAY!”

“FUCK THAT!” screamed Izuku as he threw his backpack at the sludge, temporarily distracting the villain “Today’s the entrance exam! I’m getting your ass out of this, whether you like it or not!”

Bakugou fought against the sludge trying to suffocate him as he took shallow breaths in between his pleas for Izuku to get away. Izuku tried clawing at the sludge without much success and the villain laughed at his incompetence.

“Silly boy~ Your efforts are useless, you might as well say goodbye to your friend now!” sneered the sludge “Look around you, all these heroes at the scene and none of them willing to get close enough to save you. Face it boy-”

Oh, shut the fuck up!

“-you’re going to die soon”

Suddenly, Izuku stopped fighting altogether. The screams of the crowd, the fire, the heroes and the cops surrounding him; they became nothing but a background noise. He stood eerily still and for a second, both the villain and Bakugou thought that he sobered up and decided that the fight wasn’t worth it, until they saw his hand; the one holding the axe shaking uncontrollably.

“You think you’re the one who gets to kill me?” asked Izuku, in a strangely calm voice laced with a drop of sarcasm.

Without any warning the boy held his axe high in the air, ready to strike. Although he looked like an embodiment of madness, his mind couldn’t have been clearer. He knew that he couldn’t inflict any damage to the sludge itself, but everyone had a weakness and Izuku was staring it right in the eye.

“You think YOU are strong enough to kill ME? Don’t kid yourself you slimefucker!!!” screamed Izuku as he swung his axe down right into the villain’s eye. The villain let out an ear-splitting screech and completely let go of Bakugou, who fell to the ground like a ragdoll trying to catch his breath. The heroes were speechless and the police was already calling for an ambulance, while the civilians screamed in surprise. Amongst the crowd stood a tall figure, who has seen more than enough and decided to step in.

As Izuku pulled his weapon out, his movements were followed by a sickening sound of wet flesh, blending in with the noises made by the movement of the sludge. He took another swing at the villain.

“Listen up you you gooey pile of shit!-”

STAB

“-If a fall from a four story building couldn’t kill me-”

STAB

“-NOTHING WILL!”

Before Izuku could take another swing he was stopped by a gust of wind so strong that the villain went flying into the sky. Izuku lost his balance and promptly fell on his ass next to Bakugou. The attack was so powerful that the sludge started to fall down like rain, putting out any remaining fire in the area. It seemed like the whole atmosphere cooled down in an instant. Both teenagers were shocked beyond belief to say the least as they looked up to see the source of the powerful blast.

Lo and fuckin behold, it was All Might himself and the whole crowd clapped. Izuku was brought out of his shocked state as the Number 1 Hero leaned down and picked the boys up as if they weighted no more than a couple of grapes.

“My boy, what you did was certainly brave, but ought to be more careful in the-”

“Zip it He Man, I don’t have time for lectures” spat Izuku, with far more venom than he anticipated. Meeting a man who used to be his idol and a symbol of his long dead dreams was not as easy as Izuku would’ve thought. It’s been months since the hospital days, but it looks like time does not heal all the wounds, at least not the emotional ones.

As Izuku became fully aware of his surroundings he realised that how much of an uproar his arrival at the scene has caused. While most of the civilians were too busy admiring All Might, the police looked like they wanted nothing more than arrest him at the spot like usual. Bakugou was strangely quiet, though Izuku brushed it off as still being in the “I almost died” shock. Izuku knew something about that.

Since the fire was put out people could move more freely and soon enough Izuku was cornered by a reporter and her camera crew. As much as he hated being put on the spot like this and he was a bit short on time, Izuku couldn't help but think bitterly about how this whole situation wasn’t HIS fault at all. He wouldn’t have to intervene if these so called pros actually did their jobs. The fact that he couldn’t see Shin anywhere in the crowd only added to his irritation. In the corner of his eye he could see the police approaching, he needed to move fast. Although looking at the reporter, Izuku thinks he might have a little fun before their race to the UA began.

He grabbed the reporter’s microphone and faced the cameras, putting on his best shit eating grin.

“You people want some news? Well here it is! You see these fuckers over there?” he asks while waving his axe in the direction of the pro heroes “They’re full of shit. They call themselves heroes, yet they stood and did nothing when my friend needed to be saved. Is this what it means to be a hero? To stand around fighting small fries, but the moment something serious happens, unwilling to step in and help those who need it? Wake up people, because this is what your tax money pays for!”

Te reporter tried to pry the microphone from Izuku’s hands and the police was coming closer, he had to hurry it up.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku, a quirkless nobody and you are watching the NHK News!” he finished off before handing the microphone back to the distressed reporter.

He grabbed Bakugou’s hand, looking around in panic for any way to leave the area quickly enough. The villain attack was close to the train station, so he wouldn’t be surprised if the trains were temporarily down. There were people everywhere and the police officers looked like they were itching to arrest him. They were running out of time, he had to get Bakugou to the exam on time. Think, a way out. Quick, no time. No path, no way-

Suddenly, the crowd parted like the red fuckin sea itself, except instead of Moses a car drove through like it was speeding to get to the mall on a Black Friday. It made a sudden turn and stopped with a loud screech right in front of Izuku and Bakugou. Izuku should probably be surprised at this point, he really should, but life was already so goddamn weird, it might as well happen. The car’s windows rolled down and Bandit’s head poked out of the vehicle.

“Baaaa”

“Holy shit, Bandit did you steal a car?”

“Don’t be ridiculous” shouted Shin, who as Izuku just noticed sat in the driver’s seat “Hurry up and get in, you two caused quite a scene!”

Izuku and Bakugou looked at each other, then back at the car. Well, they literally had nothing to lose…

“Except our dignity” said Bakugou, because Izuku still hasn’t managed to get his shit together and fix his muttering problem.

“Bold of you to assume I have dignity” he answered instead.

The two teenagers entered the back of the car as quickly as possible, with Shin flooring the gas pedal before they even managed to get the door closed.

The car made a sharp turn as they drove away from the scene like a bunch of criminals on the run.

“I’m gonna be honest with you boys, I‘m not quite sure what just happened” exclaimed Shin as he drove past a red light like it was his second nature, although it was more likely due to his sleep deprivation.

“We’re in deep shit, that’s what happened” said Bakugou.

“What else is new?” said Izuku, before turning back to Shin “Anyway, less thinking, more driving, we have to be at UA in like 10 minutes if we want Kacchan to still have a chance at the entrance exam!”

“Deku are you crazy?!” shouted Bakugou “There’s no way we can get to UA on time! We barely escaped a villain attack just now, which by the way you should’ve stayed out of-”

“IF I STAYED OUT OF THIS YOU WOULD BE DEAD!” screamed Izuku.

“WHY DO YOU EVEN CARE?!”

“BECAUSE YOU MADE A FUCKIN PROMISE!!!”

The car fell silent as Shin tried to focus on not falling asleep behind the wheel, completely blocking out the teenage drama in the backseat. Bandit was having a time of their life sticking the head out of through the window, feeling the wind in the wool, completely oblivious to the tension. The two teenagers meanwhile were busy having a stare down.

“For fucks sake Deku, is this what it’s all about? Some fuckin promise I had my arm twisted into making because you dragged my ass in front of my parents?”

“The Kacchan I know is a rude, overambitious, self-centered bastard-”

“Are you looking for a fight!-”

“-a bastard that never breaks a promise!” exclaimed Izuku “That day at the hospital...you said you would get into UA and become ‘Number 1 Hero’ regardless of what I said.”

“And you said that I’m not a hero material...” pointed Bakugou “...but those heroes at the scene were pretty useless…”

“They sure were” mumbled Izuku.

“Maybe you were right” sneers Bakugou, humourlessly “maybe being hero isn’t worth shit if a quirkless ass like you can do a better job than them!”

“That’s like the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me, Thanks Kacchan!” relied Izuku in the most sarcastic tone he could utter.

Their little ‘moment’ was however quickly interrupted by the sudden turn that had them flying across their seats, which could’ve been avoided if they wore seatbelts has it not been for Izuku’s life philosophy of ‘No safety measures, we die like men’. The teenagers turned around to see what caused the sudden turn and noticed that they’re currently being chased by two police cars. And it’s not even noon yet! That’s a new accomplishment for Izuku.

At that point Shin just rolled down the window and started to flip off the police “I’M NOT GOING BACK TO JAIL!” he shouted while speeding past other cars on the road. There was something almost poetic about seeing your psychiatrist - the person whose job is to make you into a sane and functional human being- screaming at cops and accidentally admitting that he was in jail at some point in his life. The doctor then turns around and says “Don’t worry, I haven’t killed anyone” as if it was supposed to be reassuring to his patients in the middle of a police chase.

“Huh, at this point we might actually make it to UA on time” said Izuku in a rather nonchalant fashion, leaving Bakugou scandalised to say the least.

“THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE WORRIED ABOUT?! WE’RE BEING CHASED BY THE FUCKIN POLICE!”

“Well how’s that any different than my usual day?”

“HOW WOULD I KNOW? I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU IN MONTHS!”

“Can you two shut up? I’m trying to drive here!”

And with that, the car was overtaken by silence, the only thing interrupting it being the police sirens heard from the behind. For a situation as bizarre as this, Izuku felt strangely calm about the whole thing. It was almost nostalgic, getting to spend time with Kacchan in a civil manner, or as civil as they could get considering the circumstances and having Shin’s support in the strangest way possible. ‘I wouldn’t mind it if all my days were like this’ he thought while reluctantly putting on his seatbelt.

Soon enough they reached the gates of UA just as they were about to be closed. In a moment of panic, Izuku reached into the pocket of his jumper and pulled out a flask, unscrewing the cap and quickly handing it to Bakugou.

“Look we’re a bit short on time, so drink this and go kick some asses, you can process your near death experience trauma after the exam is over.”

“What is this?” asked Bakugou, rightfully suspicious of the mysterious flask that Izuku seems to casually carry around.

“The quil”

“What qui-” unfortunately Bakugou didn’t get to finish the sentence as Izuku forced the flask into his mouth and tilted his head back, making Bakugou drink all of the liquid.

“Ok, so this shit will make you see through time, but that’s normal, you can do it!” shouted Izuku as he clapped the blond on the back and pushed him out of the car.

Both Izuku and Shin watched him run up to the gate right before it closed and they simultaneously sighed in relief.

“You did the right thing” commented the doctor “Your method was questionable at best, but you did the right thing in the end. Not many people would have the strength to help someone like Bakugou.”

“I know”

“What you did was very heroic”

“Oh, fuck off!”

“...so after we parked the police cars caught up with us and they arrested us. Well, me for whatever the fuck that was and Shin for breaking some traffic laws” said Izuku as he recalled the events of this chaotic morning.

“What’s going to happen to him now detective?” asked Inko, because although she might not look like it, she was very much worried about her son, despite knowing that he wasn’t in the wrong for doing what he did.

The atmosphere in the interrogation room became tense as the Midoriyas stared at detective Tsukauchi expectedly. The man looked down at his notes, the evidence folder and sighed in defeat. They’ve been here for hours and it became clear that even the detective didn’t want to be a part of this.

“You’re a lucky kid Izuku” exclaimed Tsukauchi “The only thing we could technically charge you with would be a possession of a fixed blade longer than three inches, but even then it was used in defence of a civilian, and you better thank God that no one has bothered to fix the legal loopholes for the quirkless under the Citizen’s arrest law.”

“Does that mean I can just go?”

“Fortunately yes”

“Nice~” said Izuku “Alright then kinky bastards, uncuff me!”

Right after he said that the door to the interrogation room opened, followed by the entrance of Ignenium himself. Although the appearance of the hero was unexpected, it was definitely appreciated. You see, while Izuku does have a problem with heroes in general, Ignenium, both as a hero and the man behind the mask was one of the most kind and righteous people the boy has ever met and could never bring himself to dislike. And sure the way they met wasn’t the most favourable one, but that’s a story for another time.

“Tensei! What are you doing here?” asked Izuku excitedly.

“I came in here a while ago after making an arrest and an officer told me you got caught doing something stupid again. I couldn’t help my curiosity so I sat and listened to your story” explained the man as he pointed to the one-way mirror. He then closed in on the table and unlocked Izuku’s handcuffs from the surface “Alright let’s get you out of here.”

As Tensei took still handcuffed Izuku out of the room, Inko stayed behind to sign some paperwork that Tsukauchi tried and failed to stop the sheep from chewing on.

The hero and the teenager made their way into the main lobby where they had to wait for the keys to the handcuffs. As they stood around, Izuku with his hands behind his back they were approached by another teenager who looked vaguely familiar and very attractive, as in hot, beefy nerd with dark hair and square glasses that would help you with homework and carry you on his shoulders type of attractive. He stood tall with posture and confidence that the old Izuku could never dream of having, and one that the current Izuku had wet dreams about.

“Nii-san! Mother has informed me that you were at the station, so I came here to tell you about the entrance exam!” exclaimed the boy in the sheer volume of a person with ‘no inside voice’ while moving his hands in an almost robotic way.

“You sure look excited! Alright Tenya, tell me everything!” said Tensei and that’s when it dawned on Izuku…

“TENSEI WHAT THE HELL! Why didn’t you tell me you had a hot brother?!” he whined before quickly turning back to clearly confused Tenya.

“What’s up stud? You dropped something~” said Izuku in a clearly flirty tone as he checked the other one out.

Nevertheless Tenya still looked down in confusion at Izuku’s words, choosing to ignore the way he said it.

“What did I drop?” he asked.

“Your standards. Hi, I’m Izuku~” exclaimed the freckled boy with a shit eating grin as he brought his right hand forward that still had a pair of handcuffs hanging from it, awaiting a handshake.

The other was flustered beyond belief, while Tensei just groaned out in second hand embarrassment from watching awkward teenage flirting with his younger brother on the receiving side.

Wait a minute…

“HOW DID YOU GET OUT OF THE HANDCUFFS?”

[whatroughbeast-blog1]

chatzy thread #2 -- loose lips

Date: April 26th, night of Shibah’s event Location: En route, inside of Satan’s car Featuring: @whatroughbeast & @motherofabominations

It was a short drive to Gloria West, Satan kicking out the driver of the car to take the wheel himself for once. The promise of time spent with Babylon never came with a clear time constraint and the last thing he was interested in was a hapless human tagging along on what was beginning to look like a vastly more interesting evening than anticipated. Parking in front of Babylon's building, Satan pulled out his phone and shot off one more text -- 'Afuera'.

The ding of her phone brought Babylon out of her reverie, makeup brush clanging loudly as it was dropped onto the vanity. She knew the sender was one of two people but still she couldn’t help the small smile that graced her face at the name flashing on her screen. Tossing her phone in her bag without bothering to reply, she exited the apartment and slid into the passenger seat of Satan’s car only minutes later before cheekily giving him an appraising look. “Not bad but you’re still no Antonio Banderas.”

Satan gave her the same brisk once-over, expressionless until he turned to pull out from the building, a small smirk then quirking at the edge of his lips. "I always knew you'd clean up well," he quipped back, glib, "Not bad yourself, Babylon." A severe underestimation. “You don’t look the part for ‘art therapy’, though. Is Crowley really convincing enough for you to lower yourself to this little shindig of Shibah’s?”

“I cannot believe I’m actually saying this to a man, but never underestimate the allure of a beautiful woman. And Crowley…” Babylon paused for effect, letting her words trail off before continuing once more. “I find her to be quite beautiful.” The admission was an easy one to make, even if she was playing up her relationship with the female demon quite a bit – the two were hardly the best of friends. “If I truly didn’t want to go, I wouldn’t. But as long as we skip the sharing our feelings with strangers portion of the night I don’t think it'll be that bad.”

Satan snorted derisively, all but rolled his eyes at the mention of Crowley – juvenile, unimpressive, just like the majority of the rest of Lucifer’s demons. Well... he glanced sideways at Babylon perched in the passenger’s seat, as beautiful as he knew her to be deadly. There were few exceptions. “Please, where’s the gain in it?” Satan replied disdainfully, the event already filed away along with everything else he dismissed for lack of personal benefit, “We’re on the verge of a monumental shakeup of the very fabric of our universe and Shibah is setting out artisanal cheese platters.” The fingers of his left hand had set to drumming at the steering wheel, hovering behind another car before swerving into the next lane with a sharp jerk and little care for the driver slamming on the brakes behind them.

Even when they seemed to be unable to agree on anything, Babylon wouldn’t have preferred any other companion in that moment. Instead of defending the younger demon, she rolled her eyes in kind at Satan’s antics; there was little point in trying to change the mind of the pig-headed man. “Those artisanal cheese platters are going to win her the love of the crowd. I’m not sure how helpful it will be to have a few extra humans on her side but if her tactic is to kiss ass all the way to Heaven then I say let her waste her time and watch from the sidelines as she crashes and burns.” – As the car jerked slightly, Babylon spared the cars around them only a brief second of concern before the feeling was washed away, exhilaration taking over. Had anyone else been in his seat, the loss of control she felt at the reckless move would have been enough to send her spiraling into a horrible mood, but knowing it was Satan instead made it feel almost like a game. “Speaking of crashing and burning, try not to kill us before I get my hands on whatever fancy ass-kissing alcohol Shibah managed to serve tonight.”

“I intend to.” Satan couldn’t help the grim sort of smile that settled at his mouth at the thought of Shibah’s inevitable fall. There was an irony to it all -- he had no doubt Raziel would be more competent on the throne (perhaps even a familiar brand of cruel, if he was intelligent enough to recognize what the position truly demanded), but Satan didn’t want competence from whichever angel managed to claw their way to Ascension. He wanted an easy kill. Getting rid of Shibah, even as a God, would be far from a challenge. “Either of them would’ve taken their spot already if they were capable of it.” The demons may have been sent to LA to delay the Ascension but Raziel and Shibah’s combined impotence seemed to have done the job for them. “Their throne is not what I’m concerned with.” Babylon’s last comment turned the smile to a toothy grin. “But don’t worry,” Satan soothed, the affect rather spoiled by his steady increase in pressure on the gas, “I’ll get you to your therapy session in one piece.”

“I hope there will be popcorn to set the scene.” Her smile, while not as pitiless as Satan’s, held no less amusement. “Raziel does know what is needed to perform the ascension; capable or not it can’t be much longer until he makes his move. Of course I’d be just as happy if the role remained open.” She had already chosen which Angel she'd give her support, but the last God had left a bitter taste in her mouth; one which five hundred years later still remained. Babylon didn’t bother to hide her emotions unless she wanted to be more discreet whereas her companion was much more akin to a steel wall. She never truly knew what was going through his head, could only rely on her skills at reading people to help her guess and even then there were times she didn’t even come close. She wanted to focus on the speed of the car, of the recklessness of the driver paying far less attention to the road than he should be, of the grin of said driver. But she couldn’t, not when she had a riddle to crack, to find out the meaning behind his words. “Perhaps we should be talking less about them and more about what you plan to do. Lucifer is no idiota, he knows no one can do your job as well as you. He just… needs to be reminded of that.”

Satan’s lip curled at the idea of the throne left empty; candidates incompetent or not, the idea was unnatural. Then again, he thought with a flash of familiar invigorating bitterness -- it never should have been vacated to begin with. “Sooner rather than later.” He shot back, fingers tightening around the steering wheel, “The angels have spent enough time twiddling their thumbs, waiting around for the end of the world.” Her next words were the ones that actually stalled Satan for one long, curious moment. She was there in LA for a reason, because of his choosing her and it had not been choice without a purpose. But he wasn’t a fool either. Babylon would always be tainted by Lucifer’s patronage no matter how their relationship had changed into something closer; he wouldn’t fool himself into believing she had had a sudden change of heart where the usurper was concerned, her sympathy not withstanding. Still, Babylon’s choice of words appealed to that deadly confidence of his, that certainty that the past few weeks had only solidified -- a reminder was exactly what Lucifer was going to get. “Does he know that?” There was no questioning lilt at the end of that sentence, she didn’t need to answer, “I think there’s many, many things Lucifer doesn’t know.”

She took note of his tightening grip on the steering wheel, arms being pulled taut in the process. A classic move of someone tensing up – had she struck a nerve? “It’s hard to believe we originally came to Los Angeles to prolong the very thing that’s almost here.” At his next words she found herself huffing in response – an eye roll accompanying the gesture. If you asked her, it didn’t feel like there was much of anything being done by either side in regards to stopping the ‘end of the world’. “They’re like lost little sheep without their leader, I almost want to take them home with me and adopt them all.” And given the opportunity, she would. For all her bad-mouthing, she didn’t despise the Saints, just what they stood for and who they used to serve. Besides, as useless as she found them at the moment – she was smart enough to know that it was temporary as they gathered their bearings. “Of course he knows.” Rhetoric the question may have been, she was compelled to answer anyway, the need to defend the one person in her life who had never let her down flaring up. “Why would you say that? Lucifer knows what he needs to know, anything else is inconsequential.” She turned in her seat, body now facing him, locking her pleading gaze onto his. It was her turn to ask a question that needed no answer. “He’s a good man, the best I’ve ever known. Why do you always question him?”

Almost here, Satan snorted, his expression mirroring Babylon’s own derision for entirely different reasons, the two of them a matching set for just a moment. “I’ll believe in ‘almost here’ when it actually happens. Until then - ” Another sharp turn, away from the congested main roads, “- we’re not relying on darling Raz to make things happen.” The next red light he actually stopped for, frustration in broad strokes across his face when he caught Babylon’s eye again -- rigid and front facing in contrast to her body language as she made her appeal. “Why would you defend him?” He demanded from her, low and seething with frustration, “Because he’s so good? Now, that’s the trait we all look for in our Devils, isn’t it?” The light flickered to green again and their car did not move, Satan matching her pleading gaze with his own heavy unforgiving one, heated by an anger that bypassed her entirely. “Lucifer stays squirreled away in LA playing at doing my job; the only thing he’s ever done for you is elevate you long enough to die with the rest of us as long as he’s allowed to keep up the charade. There’s your goodness.” There was a moment of furious silence before Satan faced forwards, punching the gas once more as he pressed his lips into a taunt smile, nearly a grimace. “Lucifer doesn’t know anything. Do you think I’m the only one who sees through him?”

How long had they been driving? With Satan’s penchant for speeding, it felt like they should have arrived long ago – or was the heaviness of the conversation making time seem to drag on? In any case, she was ready to get out of the damn car. She ignored the comment about Raziel for now, not interested in opening that particular can of worms just yet. She had mused that Satan was a steel wall but that wasn’t entirely true; while his intentions were mostly a mystery to her, he did little to hide his negative emotions – perhaps, she thought to herself, he just didn’t care to hide those. Car stopped, gazes locked, it felt like the two were in the midst of a standoff. “If it weren’t for him I’d be in hell, powerless and at your mercy. And we both know you don’t have much of that” A honk from the car behind them stopped her pre-rant and she took it as a sign to finish talking before she said anything she would regret. “…You’re an ass.” And it would have worked, had he not uttered his next words, her mind immediately going to the bane of her existence. “Are you talking about Belial? His loyalty is to himself. If he claims to see fault in Lucifer where there is none, it is only because he wants the throne for himself”

“I raised humans too, Babylon. Once upon a time, the few who earned it.” The serrated edge of his words seemed to lessen just a little bit -- it was far from an olive branch, but almost in the neighborhood of what could have been an insinuation of Babylon’s fate not being altogether different if Lucifer indeed had never fallen. But Satan would not come out and say it clearly now. He was too busy laughing at himself, looking back on how improbable it was that they had made it so far in their relationship without butting into this argument. Babylon had made her position clear. Exception or not, Satan would not give an inch of himself to appease her and the insult was a dull blow he barely felt. At her immediate invocation of Belial (though she had been correct), the obvious irritation in her voice, Satan tsked. “Oh, but we’re lecturing me on personal prejudices, are we?” In another place, another situation, it would have been a tease. The light of the streetlamps glinted off Satan’s glasses as they passed underneath, hiding his gaze but little else when it came to the stubborn set of his jaw. Though his eyes never left the road, he barely saw the pavement. In the moment he thought inexplicably of the disappointment of Samyaza and Satan’s next words came out cold, unplanned, “If Belial was a worry at all, it wouldn’t be Lucifer who should be looking out for him. And it wouldn’t be you either.”

"I'd like to think I would have passed the test but we both know I was nothing as a human. You'd wouldn't have looked at me long enough to see my potential-" She wanted to believe it was possible;  the naive part of herself that still believed in hope. His words seemed to hint that maybe she was wrong, perhaps he could have been her savior after all. But there was no guarantee, no way to actually know what would have happened had he been the one on the throne when she was brutally murdered for her crimes. But still, that small hopeful part of her did believe it and it was enough to ease her anger - if only just a bit. "-And I wouldn't have blamed you. But I am happy to be here with you now, no matter how it happened." The hypocrisy of her words being thrown in her face brought about a rather surprising reaction; her anger melted away to be replaced by a full-sized grin, lips pursed to keep the smile from getting any bigger. "It seems we both have issues with authority." The conversation, while having taken a rather hostile turn, was one she rather enjoyed. She wasn't prying for information exactly, but was getting far more from Satan than usual. "Tell me then, who should be?"

It took only a second for the tension in the car to dissolve all over again, at least on Babylon’s side; she actually sounded genuine in her change.The event hall appeared down the road, Satan swerving to turn into the parking lot with just as little care as he’d exhibited the entirety of the drive. His hackles had slowly gone down at the sudden twist in tone but that flush of anger still hadn’t dissipated quite yet. “It seems we both do,” was the only response Babylon got as they pulled up to the curb. There was a short pause, short enough to think, not long enough for a return of what common sense was left. “I think..” Satan began, finally turning his head enough to capture her gaze again, near conspiratorial, “.. you might find that position you’re after opening up sooner than you think. Belial has set his sights higher.” Theirs would not a combined effort; this was not another attempt side by side with [i]Samael[/i]. Belial had said it himself, that partnership was what had condemned Satan to failure the first time and set him underneath Leviathan’s blade. He didn’t plan on making the same mistake. “After all, there’s more than one fallen angel holding court where they don’t belong.” 

Though they had arrived at their destination, Babylon made no move to get out of the vehicle. She wasn’t sure if the conversation would continue once they left the bubble of enmity that had been created – mostly on Satan’s part, he was much more prone to feelings of anger and annoyance than her. And she found this was a conversation she wasn’t keen on leaving just yet. “Are you a apart of this little usurp of his?” She wasn’t sure what to think of his words, of just how high he meant Belial wanted to rise; after all going after a Prince’s job was a far cry from going after their King’s and she didn’t want to raise alarm where it wasn’t needed. The question however, came from more than a loyal servant trying to garner information, it came from a true and genuine concern. She had heard the stories of the last time the former King of Hell had attempted a coup and what had become of at least one of the parties involved. Satan had been lucky to not share the same fate as Samyaza, but she feared that luck would only protect him so many times, especially since he was hardly in Lucifer’s favor at the moment. Her mind preoccupied with assuring his well-being, she hardly wanted to take the time to decipher his final words. Fallen Angels didn’t come in spades but there was a fair amount – enough that she couldn’t definitively pinpoint whom he was talking about had he not mentioned the word ‘court’. It was enough to point her in the right direction – at least she hoped so. “Is that his grand plan? Go after Lucifer’s second in command? I should have known Belial didn’t have the testículos to go directly after him.”

“What if I am?” It was almost a genuine question. Babylon straddled a precarious line; if her concern was genuine rather than some artfully crafted front, it flew in the face of the loyalty to Lucifer she demonstrated at every turn. What game was Babylon playing at? Satan found he almost didn’t care -- just like the rest of them, she would have no say in what would inevitably come to pass but he was curious all the same as to what she would say to him when her ‘father’ was ripped from the throne that was rightfully his, when Satan finally took back what had been owed him all these centuries of gritting his teeth and taking out his frustrations on the mortals who passed under his cruel hand in Hell. If she rebelled underneath him when Hell was his once more, Satan would not hesitate a second to scrub her out of existence as well. The tenuous tie between them would not withhold such strain. “Would you tattle on me, Babylon?” This time his body angled towards hers as well, deceptively open, certain that her answer wouldn’t matter either way, “I wouldn’t make the mistake of asking for your alliance if I was. I learned a long time ago how useless those promises are.” And there was the final wall between them, the one that would never be eroded away. Satan’s eyes were fixed on her face, expression dead enough to give her nothing else but his words to draw a conclusion from, “Who among us knows why Belial does what he does? I certainly never claimed to.” Somewhat a lie, but he’d been critically wrong with his creation before. There could be no partnership this time. The only one Satan would have was himself. 

What if I am? And therein lied the question that Babylon was hesitant to answer even to herself. Oh, she knew exactly what the answer was but her loyalty to the one who had given her everything weighed heavily against her chest in a way it never had before. Her feelings towards Satan were but a drop of water compared to the roaring ocean that was her devotion to Lucifer but this was the weakness that had often been thrown in her face; those whom she cared about she cared about fiercely and with little restraint. Don’t give me anything to tell him, she wanted to beg, the words at the tip of her tongue but remaining unspilled. She needed to know what he knew and was prepared to get the information by any means necessary. “Alliances are only as powerful as those in them. Putting your trust in the wrong people will get you killed – I am not wrong people.” She paused before continuing, the reprieve much needed to gather her thoughts. “Belial talks a big game but he is lazy and lacks the commitment to follow through. If he does have some half-concocted plan that’s all it will be – a fantasy. Hardly information worth bothering our boss over.”

A dry smile tugged at his lips at the certainty of her words; how easy it was for Babylon to condemn Belial and then place Satan by his side. Alliance would be a strange word for what they were. No matter how far he fell, Belial could never be his equal in Satan’s eyes. “No commitment? And yet he comes asking for me to place the right weapon in his hands, not even twenty-four hours ago.” Satan cocked his head to the side, still studying her, cataloging every twitch in her expression that might betray her inner thoughts. For now, all he saw was confliction. “I told you when you first announced to me that you wanted to boot Belial off his throne that I wouldn’t interfere one way or the other. If Belial can’t defend his title, he doesn’t deserve it. But he is still my creation and you would be a clever little schemer not to forget that fact, lest you make the mistake of underestimating him.”  

“Looks like I’m due for that promotion after all.” The smugness of the words couldn’t have been hidden had she tried. If Satan were telling the truth – and she’d bet that he was, this was exactly the sort of thing she had been waiting for. It was irony at its finest that Satan would be the one to hand it to her on a silver platter. She didn’t know what he hoped to gain from giving her such information, if this was some sort of trap and she was falling directly into it; if it were about any Demon other than Belial she would take the time to investigate, but her animosity towards him ran deep enough to cloud her judgement. If that would be her eventual downfall, so be it… As long as he went down with her. “I find it interesting that you can be so callous towards him while defending him in the same breath.” The advice however, she would take to heart. If Dominic’s beating hadn’t been a reminder of whom she was dealing with, Satan’s warning was enough to bring up a memory from when Belial had first taken her under his wings, back when she found out exactly what he was capable of. She’d never forgiven him for it – and she never would.

“You’d have to earn it too.” Satan’s attention was already diverted, picking apart the figures crossing the parking lot, growing steadily more disdainful which each familiar face mounting the stairs. “I find it interesting how invested you are in Belial and I’s relationship.” There was no menace in the statement, for once. He was sliding back again, away from the concern that kept him cautious; Satan took Babylon’s claim for the title of ‘Prince’ as seriously as he had taken Renee’s warning to play nice at the Centennial. But he tried, for the moment, to imagine her in Belial’s place. The thought was entirely foreign, it was too new. There was only one change in Hell’s hierarchy that signaled a change in the right direction and Babylon was still Lucifer’s Hell; Belial, no matter how far he strayed, had seen the beginning of the Earth right at Satan’s side. Irritated by the conflicting images, he immediately dismissed them. “You’re going to be late your therapy session,” Satan said suddenly, yanking the key from the ignition and turning most of his attention back to the demon in his passenger seat, her dark eyes glowing in the semi-dark, “Flirt with Crowley, get that booze you promised me. We’ll make a better night of it once you’re done finger painting.” 

“I intend to.” The words were a mirror of his own from earlier in the conversation but held their own brand of ruthlessness; the kind that made up Babylon. “I just don’t understand what you see in him.” She felt as if she could visibly feel his disinterest begin to form – his indifference towards their conversation, perhaps even towards her. If she was such a bore, then what purpose was there to entertain her probing questions the entire ride over? Irritation marred his face for the span of a second but just as quickly his features had returned to cold neutrality. She felt like a bothersome child with whom he was done dealing with for the time being, cemented by the fact that in the next moment the car was finally turned off and he had all but excused her from his presence. Irritated by his dismissal, she stopped herself before she could once again insist that she had no real interest in the therapy part of the night - that there had been enough of it in the car anyway. “I do not need to flirt with Crowley to get the alcohol – that part will just be for fun.” Gathering her bag, she made her way out of the car, slamming the car door behind her without bothering to say goodbye; she knew he wasn’t likely to give her one anyway. In any case, their early parting was for the best since she had a text to send that was best done with a semblance of privacy.

[jordan202]

My Boys Drabbles - Lucas (Part Four - Final)

Hey guys, here comes the final part. I hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thank you @jia911 for your help proofreading!

Links to previous chapters can be found HERE.

My Boys Drabbles – Lucas (Part Four) 

Owen was putting his white coat and stethoscope back in his cubby at the attendings’ lounge when he felt a pair of soft arms swiftly wrapping his chest from behind. Unable to stop a wide smile from growing on his face, Owen gently placed his left hand on the top of his wife’s arms while he finished organizing his things.

“Are you ready to go home?” He asked, feeling the gentle touch of Amelia’s chest against his back.

“Yes,” Amelia replied with a whisper and a very seductive grin. He instantly knew she was up to something. “Are you in a good mood tonight? Because I thought maybe you could cook pasta with that garlic sauce?” Amelia sneakily rubbed her hands across his chest all the way to his stomach as her lips approached his ear. “Please?”

Owen heard her nearly whispering the words and turned around, keeping her inside his embrace. He smiled when her fairly noticeable 20 week pregnancy belly filled the entire gap between their bodies.

“Am I allowed to say no?” He jokingly asked.

“Of course not,” Amelia replied with a mischievous grin, looking into his eyes with fierce devotion. Owen noticed the brightness stamped on those gorgeous blue globes and smiled back at her, kissing her lips quickly before holding her hand so they could walk to the parking lot together.

“Then the answer is yes.”

Later that evening, after he’d already cooked, Owen was distractedly sitting on the couch, watching the news on the TV when he heard his wife coming from the kitchen. Amelia made herself comfortable by his side before asking with distinct brightness in her eyes:

“So, should we start picking out names?”

Owen smiled as Amelia snuggled next to him, looking like she was eagerly waiting for his reply. Just the week before, Amelia had flown to Los Angeles and spent a weekend there to have a consult with Addison. Owen hadn’t been able to come because of work and unbeknownst to them, Addison had set up an ultrasound so she could examine the baby herself. When asked if she wanted to find out the baby’s gender, Amelia hadn’t been able to control her curiosity and the first thing she’d done after going back to Seattle was to announce that they were having a boy.

Owen had been so absolutely enchanted with the news that he’d had no time to process the fact that she’d found out without him. He would have loved to have been present to see the exam, but all that mattered was that the baby was healthy, growing and gaining weight as expected. And Owen couldn’t wait to meet his son.

“Have you considered any?” He asked with good mood, excited about the subject. “I mean, I guess I’ve always kind of assumed that if we had a son, you’d want to name him after your brother.”

“Really?” Amelia frowned at her husband, confused with that new information.

“Yeah,” Owen shrugged, surprised with her confusion. “I know how much you loved him and looked up to him. I figured it would be an obvious choice but maybe it isn’t that obvious?” He half affirmed, half asked, seeing Amelia clearly hadn’t thought about that suggestion.

“I don’t know…” Amelia admitted, processing that information for the first time. “Of course I love my brother and I know he would be honored but we are starting a whole new chapter in our lives, you know? If we named him Derek it would mean a lot to me, but I think maybe it would be more meaningful to us if we chose a name we both like?” She kindly proposed.

He held her chin delicately between his fingers and brought her face closer, giving her a kiss on the tip of her nose before smiling back at her.

“That’s a great idea,” Owen agreed, wrapping one arm around her shoulder. “Ok, so what do you have in mind?”

“Nothing too unusual, I don’t want our kid to be bullied in school because he has a stuck up name,” Amelia straightforwardly decided, making Owen chuckle with her spontaneity. “Something short and strong, that leaves an impact.”

“Are we both going to give him our last names?” Owen asked, content with whichever choice she decided to make regarding that.

“Well, I have your name now and it could stay our family name,” Amelia’s eyes glowed as she looked deeply into his, proud to have made that choice a few months before. “And then maybe his middle name could be Derek? It’s a nice compromise. I get to honor my brother, you give the last name and we both choose a first name we like.”

“That sounds perfect,” Owen agreed, tilting his head to look into her eyes. Amelia’s eyes sparkling with happiness because of their child had become his favorite thing to watch. And Owen didn’t really mind much. As long as it wasn’t any atrocious name, and he doubted Amelia’s taste would differ much from his, she could narrow down the names of her preference and Owen would help her choose from the few selected ones.

“Okay, so I have an idea,” Amelia turned around on the couch and folded her legs, looking at him like an eager child on school break. “We can both make a list of our favorites. And if the same name appears on both lists, that’s the one.”

“Okay,” Owen agreed, still smiling at her. At that moment, he felt like he would never get enough of his wife. He was happy beyond words to see his dream of being a father coming true, but seeing how happy and excited Amelia was too made his heart ache with pride and love.

Amelia opened her mouth to resume talking but she was silenced by the sweet touch of Owen’s lips when they covered her own. She smiled against him, welcoming his gentle touch at the same time her husband lay on his back against the couch, bringing her down on his top.

“I thought we were working on that list,” Amelia let out a happy giggle when his hands quickly imprisoned her upper thighs.

“We are working on it, don’t worry,” Owen provoked her as he captured the skin of her neck between his lips. “This is the inspiration to help my creative side to arise.”

“It has arisen already,” Amelia joked with a dirty smile as she pressed her body against his, eager to find out what would happen next.

.

Over the course of the following weeks, Amelia got to experience again little details in the pregnancy that she had forgotten about it, probably because back then, she’d had no one to share them with. But now, Owen was absolutely interested in being a part of everything and Amelia would never forget the look on his face when she placed his hand on her belly, allowing him to feel their baby moving for the first time.

Soon after, it became increasingly harder for Amelia to maintain a sex life with her husband. When she reached the third trimester, it felt like her bump was growing exponentially. Frequent consults with her obstetrician and ultrasound scans showed that her baby boy was not only healthy and amazingly active, he was also a bit oversized compared to her first son.

Amelia knew that it had probably more to do with Owen’s genes than her own. Addison had assured her that she would arrive in Seattle in the first days of July, hanging around for a couple of weeks so she could assist with the delivery. Amelia was deeply grateful for that, not only because she trusted Addison’s skills above everyone else’s but also because it was comforting to have a familiar face that knew her so well, especially considering Addison had been present at Amelia’s first delivery.

When Amelia was around thirty five weeks along, Addison showed concern when they found out that the baby’s estimated weight was already at nearly 7 pounds. If Amelia’s belly kept growing at that rate and they all knew that on the few weeks before delivery, babies usually put up a lot of weight, a natural delivery would prove to be a challenge, considering Amelia’s small size and narrow hips.

“I was on facetime with Addison again today,” Amelia shared late at night, trying to make her back comfortable against the pillows. “She arrives in two weeks but Henry and Jake are staying there.” At nearly thirty six weeks, it was very hard to find a position she would be comfortable in. Even though Amelia hadn’t gained much weight in terms of fat, her body was retaining more liquid, as it was expected, and her oversized baby bump made it hard to expand her lungs if she lay down too horizontally. “Oh God, tell your child to stop kicking my diaphragm,” Amelia snapped at Owen, feeling the baby stomping against her insides.

Owen smiled with sympathy and placed his hand on the curve of her belly, gently stroking it.

“He is anxious to get out,” Owen celebrated, realizing it wouldn’t be long until they met their son.

“One more week and we’re on full term,” Amelia repeated that as a mantra, trying to console herself.  

“Has Addison said anything else about the birth?” Owen asked carefully, knowing how the subject brought anxiety to his wife.

“She said she can’t make a decision until she comes over and examines me,” Amelia replied, letting out a sigh of distress. “That makes sense, if she is worried about CPD, there’s no way to diagnose it until labor actually progresses.”

Owen knew Addison Montgomery was worried about a condition called Cephalopelvic disproportion, when the baby was too oversized compared to the mom’s pelvis to allow childbirth to happen. True CPD was a rare condition, but considering his wife’s small size and the images of their son they’d seen on the ultrasound, he wasn’t surprised that Addison considered that as a diagnosis. In case the CPD really confirmed, the safest course plan was a C-section, but Owen knew Amelia was dreading the idea. With her opioid addiction history, getting anesthesia for a surgical procedure, even knowing that it was only a regional blockage and not a general one, was driving Amelia over the edge with anxiety.

“I know you don’t want a C-section,” Owen rubbed her arm affectionately. “But if any of your lives is at stake, we’re not going to risk it, okay?” He looked deeply into her eyes, hoping with everything he had to convince her.

“Okay,” Amelia replied with a conformed expression, but Owen knew how uncomfortable the idea of surgery made her.

“You’ll be fine,” Owen assured her, giving her a kiss on the forehead while he pulled her closer inside his embrace. “You both will.” The trauma surgeon reinforced, absolutely rejecting any other possibility.

“When I asked you to put a baby inside me,” Amelia mirthfully said, trying to lighten up the atmosphere, “It could have been a normal sized one.” She teased him.

“I was born at 10 and a half pounds,” Owen said with an adorable embarrassed smile. It wasn’t his fault that their baby was that big but at the same time it was.

“Oh my God, poor Evelyn!” Amelia gasped, swallowing hard. She seriously hoped that wouldn’t be her fate.

“Well, she is fine, as you can see,” Owen said, trying to sound encouraging.

“Yeah, because that’s a relief,” Amelia said ironically, looking up to look at him. When their eyes met, she couldn’t help laughing and gladly rested her head on his shoulder, silently asking her son that he be ready to come out as soon as possible.

.

Addison arrived in Seattle when Amelia was in her 38th week. The neurosurgeon was in no condition to work anymore and Addison stayed at Amelia’s house monitoring her closely, knowing that her friend could go into labor at any moment.

One week later, Amelia started to have contractions on a Saturday night, and when her water broke, she was taken to the hospital. Owen tried to control his anxiety when he watched from a distance as Addison once again examined his wife.

“What is it?” He asked when he noticed the grim expression on the obstetrician’s face, giving up trying to seem like he was calm and controlled about the situation. “What’s wrong?!”

Addison took a deep breath, staying at the top of the situation as usual. Treating family was never easy because of emotional involvement but she would never turn her back to Amelia when she knew the neurosurgeon needed her the most. She looked from her friend to the anxious husband:

“Here is the thing, guys, your baby is too large,” Addison put it simply, rolling her eyes while cursing the heavens. They had been mentally prepared for any number of things that could have gone wrong in Amelia’s pregnancy, but a macrosomic baby hadn’t crossed her mind. Amelia’s first newborn had been average size but she shouldn’t be surprised that Owen’s son would be bigger. “The head will pass judging by what I’ve seen but his wide fat shoulders might not,” Addison tried to put it simply, worried about that. “Amelia, we might have to do a C-section.” She looked at her friend, trying her hardest to convince her. “You’re going to be in a lot of pain and…”

“Addie,” Amelia begged. She would do whatever it took for her baby to be fine but if possible, she would avoid surgery at any cost, even if it meant going through a lot of pain. “Please. If you think there is chance, if you think…Ah!” Amelia twitched in pain when another contraction started. “Please,” She begged once again, trying to breathe through the pain.

Addison looked from her friend to Owen, trying to read his mind.

“We’ll give it a try but if I think it can’t be done,” Addison looked at Amelia with the most serious face she had. “I won’t think twice before converting it to a C-section.”

“Okay,” Amelia agreed, letting out a sigh of relief at the same time her hand reached for Owen’s.

“Okay,” Addison nodded her head, satisfied that Amelia understood the importance of that. “But we’re doing this in the OR.”

“What?” The neurosurgeon frowned, obviously not enjoying the idea.

“I don’t want to take any chances, Amelia,” Addison explained. “If things go south, I won’t risk letting your baby be deprived of oxygen. It would compromise his neurological status and you know how minutes can make a difference. I wouldn’t risk wasting precious time transporting you from the delivery room to the OR.” The obstetrician added very seriously. “We’ll do this my way or we don’t do it at all.”

Without any choice other than agreeing, Amelia watched as Addison gave out orders. She received a surgical gown and a scrub cap while Addison and Owen scrubbed in. The ob team placed monitors all around them, keeping up with Amelia’s vitals and the baby’s heart rate. Soon after, the contractions started to be closer together and what it felt like hours later, Addison finally gave Amelia the okay to push, seeing the baby’s vitality seemed fine and her patient’s cervix was fully dilated.

“Are you ready for this?” Addison asked, completely focused.

“No,” Amelia said with a rebellious grin, trying to keep her spirits high. She turned her head and saw Owen by her side. In his eyes, she could distinguish every feeling of concern and hope. His hand gently made it to the back of her neck, giving her support as Amelia’s face became an ugly scowl, translating the shattering pain when another contraction assaulted her.

“You can push now,” Addison decided, encouraging Amelia. “I can see his head, Amelia, he has rotated his body… your baby is doing his part very well…” The obstetrician commented, trying to stay positive. Seeing Amelia’s body was getting ready for another wave of contractions, she commanded with a firm voice. “Now it’s up to you…Come on, you can do this, push… now!”

Amelia did as told, feeling the worst pain she had ever felt in her life as her entire body contracted with such urgency that she found it hard to breathe. When she thought she was going to faint from the pain, it suddenly stopped as her muscles relaxed, allowing Amelia to finally catch her breath again.

The cycle repeated for excruciating minutes and it didn’t take long for Amelia to think she hadn’t made the best decision. Exhaustion was starting to consume her and she doubted she could take that further any longer.

“Addison…” Her voice was a weak whisper. “Addison, how is he?”

“Don’t talk,” Addison advised, determined that Amelia saved all her energy. “He is fine. His head is nearly here, Amelia. You’re going to do this now, okay?” Addison tried to keep calm, watching the baby monitor one more time. Over the past few minutes, the fetus’ heart rate had decreased a little but it was still within a safe limit. She waited a few seconds and when Amelia’s belly contracted again, she ordered, “Push!”

Owen gave out his hand for Amelia to hold and she squeezed it with such force that he felt that it would break, but Owen didn’t pull away. He was scared enough, seeing his wife’s flushed sweaty face scowling in agony at the same time one of the monitors started to beep as the baby’s heart rate dropped below 100.

“Now, Amelia!” Addison nearly yelled, cursing herself for not insisting Amelia to have the C-section.

The sound of the alarming monitor brought out an intense fear in Amelia and she was able to channel all that fear into strength, giving one final push that hurt so much she briefly lost her conscience. Owen looked from his wife’s face to where Addison was sitting. He couldn’t see much from the angle he was in, but in that moment, Owen had the first vision of his son’s perfect little face as Addison held it with care, waiting for Amelia to recover so she could push again.

“The head is out,” Addison tried to sound encouraging at the same time she knew the trickiest part would come next. “I’m rotating his body to make it easier, Amelia, but you have to push,” Addison informed, taking deep breaths to remain calm and focus. “Owen, help me flex her thighs up higher like this,” The obstetrician demanded, knowing that would help as well. “Now, push!” Addison gave the order, knowing the dangerous situation they were in.

The baby’s head had passed but if the shoulders were stuck, the baby could die within minutes depending on the circumstances. As an experienced obstetrician, Addison had dealt with the situation countless times before and there was no way she would leave Amelia out of her long list of successful outcomes. Using a simple maneuver that often helped, Addison was able to successfully disimpact the shoulders and in a matter of seconds the baby’s entire body came out.

Owen noticed Amelia’s muscles losing its tone, completely giving in to exhaustion at the same time Addison handed the baby to the pediatrician in the room, carefully cutting the chord to allow the baby to get proper care. Owen’s heart constricted when he found himself unsure of what to do, seeing as both his wife and son needed medical aid. That was the worst position he’d been in and Owen begged to the universe that they both made it through. He couldn’t risk losing any of them because Owen knew he would never recover from it.

“Go be with him, don’t worry about me, go see the baby,” Amelia asked her husband with a faint voice. She didn’t care if something happened to her, as long as she knew her son was fine.

At the same time Owen let go of her hand, the room was involved in a sharp noise as the baby’s screams echoed loudly throughout the room. Owen approached the bed and before he could even blink, the pediatrician held out a chubby pink baby with a blue hat on his head, fully wrapped in a white blanket. The OR room was cold and Owen knew the baby needed to stay warm until they could put him in contact with his mother’s skin.

Excitedly turning around to show their son to his wife, Owen’s wide smile immediately fainted when he saw the enormous pool of blood right beneath Addison’s arms.

“What’s happening?” Owen panicked, going around the OR table with the baby in his arms, only to see a descending river of blood coming out of his wife. “Addison!”

“Get out of here!” Addison ordered, knowing Owen would be a distraction and she couldn’t afford to lose focus at that moment. Not when she had Amelia’s life in her hands.

“What’s going on? Fix it!” Owen insisted, taking one step closer as he went around the table to see Amelia’s face. She looked pale as a ghost and was drifting in and out of conscience. “Amelia, look at me,” Owen held the baby with one arm as his free hand made its way to cup his wife’s face. “Amelia?” Owen cried out loud in panic, after hearing no response.

Addison quickly worked, trying to reverse the situation. After the placenta had come out, following the baby, Amelia’s uterus hadn’t contracted the way it should have, probably because it had been too overdistended due to the baby’s size and later on pushed to the limit during the contractions.

“What is it?” Owen panicked, seeing Addison’s skilful hands moving in fast paces. “What?!” He shouted, completely freaking out.

“Uterine Atony,” Addison replied, letting out a heavy sigh at the same time she commanded the nurse to hang a bag of saline to make up for Amelia’s loss of blood volume. “It’s getting better,” She added with hopeful relief, watching as the bleeding slowly subsided.

“What are you waiting for, push in some oxytocin!” Owen yelled, referring to the hormone that made the uterus contract.

“Shut up!” Addison shouted back, focusing on saving her friend’s life. The baby’s loud screams and Owen’s nervousness weren’t helping at all. She had given Amelia a simple uterine massage and seeing it was working, Addison patiently waited while the condition was reversed. “The bleeding has stopped,” Addison crashed against the stool she’d been sitting on, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Amelia,” Owen only realized he’d been holding his breath when his wife’s name came out of his mouth. “Baby, please, talk to me,” He begged, looking from the monitors to her face. Her vitals seemed fine but she looked numb.

“It hurts,” Amelia’s eyes opened and closed again, as she fought hard to stay alert.

“I am sorry,” Owen teared up, rubbing her face with his thumb. “Tell me what you need and I’ll t…”

“Owen, get out of here,” Addison demanded and this time she meant it. “Take the baby with you and wait outside. Get out!”

Owen barely had any time to protest as one of the nurses guided him outside. Firmly holding his son wrapped in the blanket, Owen made it the scrub room adjoined to the OR, watching through the glass as his wife was assessed by Addison and the rest of the medical team. Minutes after, Addison came back, looking exhausted as she removed her scrub cap before standing in front of Owen with one hand on her hips.

“She is fine,” Addison announced, finally allowing Owen to calm down. “We’ll take her to the ICU for close monitoring but she is fine. Everything is okay now.”

Owen’s expression show how relieved he felt. It wasn’t until seconds later that Addison noticed he was getting worked up again.

“She hasn’t seen the baby yet,” Owen looked from Addison to his son and then back to the obstetrician. “Amelia hasn’t met our son,” He added in confusion, completely devastated by the events of that morning, even though his heart was beating with relief at the notion that both his wife and baby were going to be fine. “I have to show him to her.”

“She is asleep,” Addison informed him. “I gave her a mild sedative so she could rest and two kinds of pain meds, but don’t worry, I didn’t add any opioid,” The obstetrician added, seeing how the information had startled Owen. “We’re taking her for recovery and if she’s fine when she wakes up, I’ll bring her to a ward room and you can keep an eye on her.”

“But…” Owen frowned, trying his best to process all the information and still recover from the shock of seeing his wife nearly bleeding out to death. “What about him?” He asked, looking at the baby with a marveled face.

“He is yours,” Addison replied as if it was obvious. “He stays with you, of course.”

Owen looked up in confusion, oblivious to every medical knowledge he’d ever possessed. At that moment, he couldn’t think as a doctor, only as a father and even though he wanted very much to be with the baby full time, he had no idea what to do next. He had prepared himself for taking care of Amelia while she attended to their son’s needs. Never in his dreams had he pictured being fully in charge of the baby, all by himself.

“He is adorable,” Addison stole a peek, seeing the baby’s chubby cheeks moving as he tried to suckle the blanket. The image of the healthy newborn was heartwarming and despite the big scare they’d been through, Addison was completely happy for Amelia and her husband. “I am sorry I yelled at you, Owen.” The surgeon added embarrassingly. She didn’t know the man very well, but judging by what little she’d seen and heard, he genuinely loved her friend and was fully devoted to the family they’d built. Addison had a lot of respect for him.

“I would have done the same thing,” Owen admitted, accepting her apology. He couldn’t put in words how grateful he felt, knowing deep down that if it hadn’t been Addison there, his wife and baby might not have come out of that situation alive and well. “Thank you.”

.

“Hey little man,” Owen smiled widely in the ward room when his son opened his eyes. “Nine pounds, huh? You’re a big boy.” The surgeon added, studying his son’s delightful baby shape. One of the nurses of the floor had supervised him clothe and feed the newborn, instructing him on minor details. Now father and son waited, knowing the woman they both eagerly waited for would arrive at any moment. “Mom is coming to meet you. You have to be a good boy and behave, okay? We love her very, very much and she needs us to take care of her right now.”

Owen was sitting on the couch inside the room, his son comfortably lying on his legs while his head rested on Owen’s opened palms. The baby had been calmly sleeping for the past two hours but now his eyes were wide open and Owen supposed he would cry to be fed soon.

“Don’t look at me like that, stop judging. I know I should have put you in your bassinet while you were sleeping but how can I just leave you there all alone?” Owen talked to the baby as if his son could understand what he was saying. “I’m glad you woke up because they just called to let us know they’re bringing mommy here,” Owen smiled, completely in love, seeing his son frowning his forehead at the sound of his voice. “Do you know how much dad loves you?” He brought the baby closer and breathed him in, feeling the amazing smell of the newborn. “That’s right, too much…”

Owen’s moment with his son was interrupted by a gentle knock on the door and before he could answer it, Addison walked in, followed by two hospital employees who helped bring Amelia’s gurney.

“Look who’s here,” Addison announced with a grin, seeing the wide smile that grew on Owen’s face at the sight of his wife looking back at him, fully awake.

Owen quickly put his son back in the bassinet as he stepped up to help move Amelia to the bed, kissing her forehead with preoccupied tension as he heard Addison speaking:

“I was going to keep her in the ICU but I trust she can be well monitored from here,” Addison announced with a proud smile, watching as Owen gently struck Amelia’s hair, asking how his wife was feeling. She also knew the staff of the entire floor would be sure to keep an eye on that very special patient.

“Thank you so much, Addison,” Owen replied with a grateful smile, watching as the obstetrician stole another peek at the baby before giving Amelia a gentle hand squeeze and leaving at once to give the couple some privacy.

“How are you feeling?” Owen gave his wife his full attention, seeing that she looked a little better, despite her face being paler than usual.

“Let me see him,” Amelia asked with excitement, even though she still felt really weak. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do,” Owen smiled and kissed her head before leaving her side and crossing the room to go get the baby. “Here he is…”

Amelia gathered all the energy she had left to stretch out her neck and see her baby’s face for the first time, feeling her heart fluttering by what she saw. Her baby was even more adorable than he’d been in her dreams and she hadn’t considered that to be possible.

“He is gorgeous,” Amelia smiled, looking up to meet Owen’s agreeing eyes. She studied the newborn’s delicate features, noticing his thick strawberry blonde locks beneath the baby hat. “He has your hair…” She smiled at Owen, feeling tears gathering in her eyes.

Her baby was the most perfect child she’d ever seen and when his eyes opened and met hers, Amelia felt her entire world changing in a fraction of a second. And for the better.

“I want to hold him,” She added, even though she felt weak and tired. Her lower abdomen still hurt from the birth and she knew it was probably getting worse in the following hours. “Will you give him to me?”

“Of course,” Owen couldn’t stop smiling at how emotional and in love Amelia seemed to be. He understood it very well, because that’s exactly how he felt about their son.

Gently, Owen handed her the baby over the bed rail, expecting Amelia to stretch out her arms to receive the newborn. But when she silently started to cry, he realized she didn’t have enough strength to support the baby’s weight.

“It’s okay, shh, it’s okay,” Owen tried to console her, holding their son in one arm while gently stroking her hair. “You’ve been through so much, your body is still recovering, Amelia. Don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll hold him soon.”

“I can’t even hold my own child,” Amelia let out a weak cry, feeling like a failure. “I have to breastfeed him, he needs me,” She felt a tear rolling down her cheek, unable to take her eyes off the amazing littlle boy. Much too soon, terrifying thoughts occupied her mind. “What if I drop him?” She freaked out, looking up to Owen with fear stamped on her eyes.

Owen noticed how worked up and anxious she was getting and without a second thought, he placed the baby safely between her legs on the bed, knowing the rails wouldn’t allow the baby to fall. Before Amelia could process what he was doing, Owen took off his shoes and sweater, staying only in the navy scrubs he’d been wearing since the delivery. With one gentle motion, he lowered the bed frame, getting behind Amelia with one leg on each side of her body. Slowly, he shifted to make her back rest against his chest at the same time he picked up their newborn son, holding him close to Amelia’s chest while supporting her arms so she could firmly hold the baby.

“Now you’re holding your baby,” Owen informed her with a patient smile, touching the side of his face to her cheek as he looked down over her shoulder, adoringly gazing at their son the same way Amelia was.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Amelia felt a wave of tears assaulting her and her voice was shaking when her chest felt like it was going to burst from so much love. “Hi, Lucas.”

The baby fussed in her arms and at the sound of her voice and smell of her body, dug his face into her chest, instinctively looking for her breast.  Amelia smiled as she lowered her gown, feeling better already. Her first baby hadn’t been able to suck so this was an entirely new and welcomed experience for her.

“Ouch, he is so strong,” She giggled, turning her head to meet Owen’s happy gaze. “I thought newborns weren’t this active on their first day?” Amelia couldn’t help looking back at her son.

“He clearly has a talent to stir up trouble,” Owen joked, gently caressing the baby’s head while the newborn stayed fiercely attached to his mother’s breast. Over the following years, Owen would find out just how true his last sentence would turn out to be.

Moments later, after Lucas was done breastfeeding, Amelia started to feel drained again. She knew the medication they’d given her wouldn’t affect her child through lactation, but they still made her a bit drowsy.

“If I fall asleep, will you hold him?” Amelia sheepishly asked her husband.

“Of course I will,” Owen kissed her head as he felt her snuggling against his chest, making herself comfortable while he kept his arms wrapped around hers and their baby. “Close your eyes and rest now, babe. You don’t have to worry about anything,” Owen added, giving her another kiss on the temple before Amelia finally closed her eyes, giving in to exhaustion. “I got you.”

Amelia smiled at the sound of his words, knowing the depth of their meaning. Even though her body still protested with a bit of pain, everything was fine now. Her baby was healthy and comfortably sleeping in her arms while she was wrapped in the arms of the only person who could fully understand and share that amazing experience with her. Resting her head against his shoulder, Amelia relaxed, knowing that in Owen’s arms she had just found the safest place in the world.

.

Amelia finished dressing up Lucas, smiling at how adorable he looked in the pastel green clothes. Truth was her son was so gorgeous he looked good in anything. It had been over a month since that July 9th that had started out so scary and ended up so well.

“Grandma is going to love seeing you in the clothes she gave you, I have to send her a photo later,” Amelia talked to the baby, seeing Lucas’s eyes were moving following the sound of her voice. “Yeah, are you excited that you’re one month old today? I am too!” Amelia smiled at the infant on her bed, playing with his hands as he grabbed her finger.

Over the past thirty days, a lot had changed in the house and despite the late hours, sleep deprivation and busy routine, she didn’t regret one bit the decision they’d made. Her baby boy had come in the most perfect time, adding a lot of joy and love to their household. Owen had taken a couple of weeks from work but ever since he came back, all he wanted to do was spend time with his son.

They’d brought him from the hospital two days after birth and Addison had stayed with them during Lucas’ first week at home. Before she went back to Los Angeles, Owen and Amelia surprised her by telling her they both would be thrilled if she agreed to be their baby’s godmother, which she excitedly accepted. Over the following weeks, some close friends and family members had also come over for quick visits and everyone agreed that Amelia’s baby boy was the cutest little thing.

“Do you think dad is going to like his gift?” Amelia asked with excitement. The minute she picked up Lucas he moved his head, making it clear what he wanted. “Why do you need to eat every hour? You’re hungry all the time…” She playfully complained, sitting down on the living room couch with Lucas while he breastfed.

When Owen made it home later that day, as usual he took care of dinner all the while keeping an eye on his son. Now that he was a month old, Lucas was sleeping for nearly five hours every evening, which provided Amelia with at least some rest during the night.

“Are you going to bed?” Owen asked his wife after she’d put their baby down in his crib. They were keeping it inside their room for the time being, since Amelia still had to wake up a few times to feed Lucas during the night.

“I will soon, but first I need to show you something,” Amelia replied with an excited smile, turning on the baby monitor while she signaled Owen that he should follow her to the living room.

Owen imagined his wife would show him a video or picture of their son. She knew he liked to see everything, since he couldn’t be with them full time. So, Owen was very surprised when Amelia handed him a small black box.

“Before you open it,” Amelia took his hand on hers and made him sit down on the couch in front her. “I want you to know what this means to me,” She explained, referring to giving him a gift. “When I told you I was pregnant, you gave me this ring as a promise,” She smiled widely, looking from his eyes to the sparkling diamond on her finger. “Well, this is kind of a promise too,” She explained.

“How so?” Owen smiled widely, touched by the unexpected gift.

“I want you to know that I am here for you too,” She smiled, excited about his reaction. “Go on, open it!”

Amelia went around him and put her right knee on the couch, wrapping both arms around her husband’s shoulders from behind as he carefully opened the box. Owen’s entire face lit up when he noticed the silver watch inside of it. It was obviously a very meaningful and expensive gift and he wondered what had motivated Amelia to get it for him.

“My mom saved up for months to give my dad a watch once and it meant a lot to him,” She said with a sad smile, holding Owen closer as she watched him put the present on his wrist. “It’s the only thing I have of him now and every time I look at it, I smile because I think of how amazing my dad was,” She confessed with total honesty. “I didn’t get to spend much time with him but that bit I remember.” She explained.

Amelia had thought about giving her dad’s watch to her husband but she’d done something similar in the past, ultimately to be reminded of all of her failures. During her time in rehab while still in Los Angeles, every time she felt like her world was falling apart, she would look for strength in that watch. And slowly, Amelia had found a connection with her dad that she hadn’t known was there.

One day, after stumbling against the watch while going through her things, Amelia had a great idea. The same day, she'd gone out and bought a new watch, one of the same brand as her father's.  Her dad’s watch would always remind her of the past, while Owen’s watch would represent an entire new future. 

Seeing as Owen turned his head to meet her eyes, she tightened her grip around him and she felt her husband gently moving on the couch, bringing her to sit on his legs.

“I thought that maybe,” Amelia touched her forehead to his, every day more enchanted by his presence and his love, “Maybe one day when we’re older and our son is a grown man you might want to pass this watch on to him, so he can look at it and, just like me, use it to think about the amazing dad he has.”

Owen pulled apart gently, looking into her eyes with a mix of adoration and gratitude. He was left speechless by the significance of her present. Not only had Amelia sneakily said she thought he was an amazing dad, which was already enough to make Owen feel proud, she had also expressed how much she liked the idea of Owen being as close to their son as possible. Whenever he thought he couldn’t love Amelia more, she found a way to surprise him.

“I love you,” Owen held her face between his hands, capturing her lips with violent tenderness. Amelia smiled as she parted her mouth, allowing full access to his.

When Owen finally broke their kiss apart, he hugged her tightly. Amelia knew that whenever Owen was deeply silent like that, with his eyes he could say a thousand words and she smiled back, profoundly in love with the man who’d given her everything.

“This is so special,” Owen said, looking from her face to the wonderful watch he now had on his wrist. “Thank you.”

“Well, I had to give you a present worthy of the one you’ve given me. Our son is very special,” Amelia gave him a sneaky smile, teasing her husband with gentle bites and kisses on his lips. “He is so amazing.”

“He is,” Owen agreed, unable to let go of her. Even though Amelia wasn’t fully cleared to resume sexual activity, it didn’t mean he desired her any less. “I can’t wait to have you again,” Owen looked deeply into her eyes, letting her know how true his sentence was.

“I know, me too,” Amelia confessed nudging her nose to his. “Soon,” She consoled him, caressing the hair on the back of his head.

Owen answered by stealing another breathtaking kiss from her lips, while his hand swiftly made its way beneath her shirt, splaying on the warm skin of her back. In about an hour, Lucas would wake up to be breastfed but until then, they could enjoy the little time they had for themselves.

Everything Owen had ever dreamed of was right there, in his house, within his reach. He had married the woman he loved, she’d given him the most adorable little boy and Lucas had given Owen a reason to believe in love at first sight. Every day, he fell more in love with his son. Life was the best it had ever been and not a day went by when Owen didn’t feel grateful for everything he’d gotten. He had wished for those things all his life and even though now he was finally getting to experience all of them, the life and the family Owen had built with Amelia didn’t feel at all like a happy ending.

Instead, it felt like an amazing happy beginning.

  —

Thank you everyone for the incredible support !

[vocatharsis]

Cogs’ TS2 Apocalypse Run (I)

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A little before uni started back up this year, I was overcome by a massive wave of nostalgia for The Sims 2. I’d been playing TS4 a bit and - won’t go into a rant here, to each their own - it just wasn’t cutting it for me. Rather than go back to TS3 (a great game, but one I’d already pretty much fully explored), I looked into the full digital version of 2 and managed to get ahold of it. 

After some mucking about with the old families (of which I mentioned a smattering in the prologue post) I stumbled upon Phaenoh’s mod-assisted Apocalypse Run ruleset. I decided to give it a go - and failed badly. So I’ve resolved to reattempt it, more carefully this time. 

This series of posts documents my struggle against a world in which food and water are scarce, snow is omnipresent, and chess is one of the few fragments of civilisation left. The first post (linked above) covered the college years of founder Shelmerdine Smith, who studied everything, dug holes, and made a surprise shift in majors from biology to visual arts after meeting someone who already owned a hospital. This’ll be the first covering the apocalypse proper. 

(This post involves an image-based recap and will be kinda long, so I’ve put the rest below the cut. If you like Sims, challenge runs, and/or antics, feel free to read on!)

THE SMITHS’ FREE STATE, PART 1 - FREEZING, BURNING, RISING, FEASTING, LEARNING

Welcome to the neighbourhood, now get out of the car -- Three Days a Scrounger -- so much for heirlooms -- the first & second strikes against hopelessness -- ジョン・スミス -- a Cat called Kim.

Picking up where the prologue post left off, young Shelmerdine Smith took a taxi from Sand University La Fiesta Tech back to, hm, let’s call it ‘Whichever State’. I imagine the driver forced her out in front of the nearest abandoned-looking building, before going off to see if his own friends and/or family were still alive. 

Welcome to the Smiths’ Free State. I decided that “free state” is scavenger slang in this apocalypse for a wide area with little left to claim, but little stopping anyone from claiming it -- that is, a state free from laws, free from consequences, free for the taking. 

The lone inhabited lot you see is the Smith Residence - where the determined family makes its stand. I pre-built it for Shel to move into, as the challenge permits; to meet all the restrictions, everything had to be within an 8x8 square, covered, and raised above ground (using either a foundation or stilts). The elevation limit is: ‘ground’-floor, 1st-floor, 2nd-floor, flat roof (with an awning), and (optionally) a garage or basement. Going by my previous run, I’ll benefit from the extra space more than I will from a car. Basement it is. 

So, here’s Shelmerdine, newly playable in this world of endless winter (perpetual blanket of winter snow pending). I’m so glad her adult outfit looks okay; it’s randomised upon age-up and---you guessed it---I’m not allowed to change people’s outfits. For her three inventory items, she brought her Arts diploma (mandatory), a violin (to build creativity - will be explained later), and that picture of Ibuki from SDR2 (for the hell of it). I put these things in the attic for later and walked her off to get her first (perhaps only) job. 

In this apocalypse, the Military restriction initially forbids leaving the home lot. However, for the first-tier careers (Culinary, Medicine, and Military + Security Pet) you need to visit a corresponding community lot to enlist in each, so you’re allowed one outing per week in which the whole family must go. Simple enough for now. 

The Culinary community lot is a kind of emergency bunker/rations depot, which the Extrastate Military are doing their best to hold down. Shelmerdine signed starting at Restauranteur (level 9). My thoughts were, ‘excellent, she’ll have it lifted in no time and we can have Kent married in by Wednesday’. Unfortunately, I forgot something from my previous run, which started the same basic way: Restauranteur has Mondays through Wednesdays off. So, for three full days, I had to cope with all the run’s restrictions. (Apologies in advance for the scarcity of pictures from this part - I hadn’t quite decided to log this in post form at the time.)

It was tough. Medicine rules forbid showers/bathtubs, making a sink in the bathroom my only means to ensure a clean Shelmerdine. This is where another lesson-learned from last time kicks in, as having 2/10 neatness means that Shelmerdine will strip down at the sink and sponge herself if she gets dirty enough. On the Culinary side, you’re only allowed to bring out one food serving per in-game day (single, group serving, pet food, whatever) and you’re restricted to the worst grill for cooking. 

The first plate of hamburgers she tried to serve up, caught fire. Yes: the first attempt at warm food by the Sim destined to reinvent the Edible Food ended with a hygiene hit and a plate of scorched roadkill. She stuck to just normal sandwiches for the rest of the three days, which worked out alright enough. I blame the grill. 

Unfortunately, it seems custom painting data is tied to the neighbourhood in which it was painted, so the delightful portrait I’d brought along from college got replaced with... this. I mean, I guess we could say it’d be hard to carry a canvas through the wasteland without it sustaining a lot of damage, but it’ll certainly represent something different to what I intended. An artwork created by the settlement’s founder, but so damaged that nobody knows what she hoped to portray. (Sidenote: again, sorry about the grainy pictures; I’ve since located the setting that lets you increase snapshot quality.)

After three days of anxiously trying to keep Shelmerdine’s mood high, she went off for her first day of work. Surprise surprise, she got promoted that night! 

So now we can feed pets, store leftovers, and move that grill up to the roof/garbage dump where it belongs. Hello shiny new oven. And hello Kent!

I invited him over as soon as Shel got home from work, and married them on the spot. And with that, Culinary and Medicine, the most pressing of the first-tier restrictions, have been lifted!.

Smiths two, ground zero. 

That same night, time being of the essence, I set the two of them to the challenging business of continuing the bloodline. Good thing the celebrity chef job’s last work day of the week is Thursday...

I let Kent go off to work on Friday; between him and Shel one of them is going to have to quit their job to stay at home all the time, and Shel’s position pays slightly better, so... yeah. He quit after that. Weirdly enough, his lifetime wish was to become Chief of Staff; since he started with the job, however, it appears he never actually registered becoming one. He also doesn’t have the Medicine career reward unlocked, which is a bit annoying. Oh well. We still have Shel’s chocolate machine, so Kent won’t go crazy sitting at home all the time.

A few days later, the first child was born. He’s named John, because of course he is. I don’t have any good pictures of his infancy/toddlerhood, either, but here’s a picture of him on the day he reached childhood.

His actual face will be clearer in pics I’ve reserved for the next post, but in short he has Shel’s eyebrows/cheekbones and Kent’s mouth/ears. Makes him look kinda severe, but then, he is supposed to lift Military. 

While he was a baby, a cat called Kim came by the house, and I sent Shelmerdine out to befriend & adopt her. Now we can work on getting Security Pet lifted!

I find cats preferable to dogs in this apocalypse for two reasons: first, cats clean themselves, whereas dogs need Sims to bathe them, which can end with them bolting and leaves a puddle anyway; second, cats can be taught to use the toilet or litterbox, while the best dogs can do is go outside, which also leaves a puddle. Plus, right now I can’t sell items once I’ve bought them (especially if they’re bigger than 1x1) so it’s better to not have to buy equipment for two types of animal. 

I reckon that’s enough material for this post, so it looks I’ll be playing catch-up with Chapter 2 as well. So yeah, this was the first update on the run with all its rules in place! Looking pretty good so far, with only one fire and no firings; I’ll be dealing with several of the other major obstacles within the challenge next time, so stay tuned. Picture quality will also substantially increase from here on out.

Thanks for reading!