#but helping out here would mean throwing himself into the role of a trainer and being defined by his battle skills which is like.

[infizero]

his faceeeeee someone get me OUT OF HERE

[takaraphoenix]

The God of Rain & the Son of Zeus

Tags: m/m, fluff, pining, role swap AU

Main Pairing: Hermes/Percy

@polympians-event Prompt: role swap (god!Percy/demigod!Hermes)

This fic on FFNet | This fic on AO3

Summary: Role-swap AU where the demigods are gods and the gods of the second generation are the demigods who fought in the war. Hermes, one of the heroes of the Titan War, has a huge crush on Lord Perseus, god of rain and trainer at Camp Half-Blood. When the wars are over and Hermes starts working as a counselor at camp, he is determined to seduce the god.

--

The God of Rain & the Son of Zeus

Hermes Mercurius wasn't anyone special, really. He was the son of Maia Mercurius, an only child who always got into trouble in school and had caused his mom a lot of grievance over the years (even though she claimed it wasn't trouble and that she loved him). He was kind of a kleptomaniac and he dreamed of traveling the world one day, like probably most kids did, he thought.

All that changed when he was thrown into the word of Greek myths that weren't really myths and more like facts, apparently. Because he was no longer just the son of Maia Mercurius, he was suddenly the son of Zeus. He was claimed by the god, together with many other demigods, when the Titan War loomed, when the gods knew they would need an army. Suddenly, his life was all upside down. Instead of being just a trouble maker, he was the son of the king of gods.

He moved into the Zeus Cabin in Camp Half-Blood and for the first time in his life, he made real friends. A lot of them, the majority from his own cabin – which, shouldn't be a surprise, throughout history, Zeus had so many demigod off-springs, heroes of great wars. But here, in this summer camp, in this cramped cabin, where kids who understood. Understood what it was like to feel so different, and more specifically what it felt like to now suddenly be special, be the off-spring of the arguably most important god in their pantheon. The king of Olympus.

There were the twins, Artemis and Apollo, who were really cool and archers. Even though Artemis was kind of mean to most boys aside from her twin-brother, Hermes absolutely adored Apollo. The two quickly became thick as thieves. Dionysus and Hermes always got intro trouble together for breaking into the liquor cabinet in the Big House and effectively throwing the best parties at camp. He didn't get along as well with Ares, who always started fights and was kind of a bully, but he was their strongest fighter. However, while the best in raw strength, their cabin's – and, honestly, camp's – best strategist was Athena. She was a bit of a book-worm and not the most social, kind of only hanging out with their other half-brother Hephaestus, who was a great inventor.

What had thrown Hermes into this world was the theft of the Lightning Bolt of Zeus. His father went ahead and claimed all those children of his in order to find the thing, and to threaten his brothers. However, somehow, Hermes ended up blamed for it – he did have a history of kleptomania and his sticky-fingers were close to being a godly power.

Together with his half-sister Athena and the satyr Pan, Hermes was sent on a quest.

That was the first of many. The war stretched on for years and the demigods of Camp Half-Blood fought hard, lost many, and won in the end. The euphoria wasn't meant to last for too long, because only months later, they were thrown into the next big war, the Giant War. Once again, Hermes found himself in the middle of it all. Fighting for the gods.

His only real solace among it all, beyond his friends and half-siblings, was Lord Perseus.

Lord Perseus, Olympian god of rain, son of Poseidon, prince of the ocean, companion of Zeus' godly children Thalia, the thunder, and Jason, the lightning. The trio was known as the oncoming storm. They were powerful. And despite that power, Perseus had chosen to become a trainer at Camp Half-Blood, to help Chiron train young heroes.

It wasn't just that he was really powerful, he was also really, really pretty. With deep sea-green eyes that could turn dark like the sea during a storm when the god got angry, his windswept black hair and muscular body, sun-kissed skin and the pinkest, most kissable lips Hermes had ever seen. Now, like power and good looks weren't enough, he was also kind, patient and really funny.

Hermes has had a crush on Percy – which was what Lord Perseus preferred to be called, making camp a more informal place and making him feel much more like just one of them and not one of the most powerful gods out there – pretty much since he had first come to camp at age twelve.

It was impossible not to have a crush on Percy, in Hermes' humble opinion (Artemis liked to loudly disagree on him, but what did an ace lesbian know about hot guys. Hermes elected to ignore her). A lot of campers had crushes on Percy and Percy was already really sweet about it. Ignoring them whenever possible and gently discouraging them, but when a camper got a bit too enthusiastic – love confessions and actual flirting – Percy more firmly let them down. So far, Hermes had effectively avoided being firmly let down, he just pined from a far.

Things changed, again, after the wars. Well, a little later than that even. First, graduation (Athena had nearly bit his head off when he'd said he wanted to drop out of high school. So. He finished it instead of facing her wrath. His mom was very grateful to Athena, claiming her to be a 'good influence' on her son. Hermes would disagree on that). He heeded some time to himself, after the wars. So much had happened, they'd lost so much. Travel had always been something he dreamed of, so after graduation, Hermes made that dream come true. He went backpacking through Europe for a year, wanted to see Athens and Rome and all those other amazing places himself.

It had been good, it had helped him clear his head, get through some of the trauma the wars had left him with and it also let him focus what he wanted from life, now that the wars were over.

He wanted Percy. That was the most prominent thing he could think of. He wasn't a little kid anymore, not just physically but also with the things he had seen and done and been through with the war. He was more than capable of being Percy's equal. Now, how did one go about seducing a god? First step seemed to highlight the 'equal' part more. For that, he went to Chiron and asked if he could work at Camp Half-Blood as a trainer too, help younger demigods. That put him equal to Percy in their position within camp, plus, it let him show off his skills to the god. The best part of it was of course living in the Big House with Percy.

/break\

Percy laughed at Chiron's latest, less than sneaky attempt at cheating, before the centaur sighed and conceded that he had lost this round. As much as Percy loved being a trainer at camp, he really enjoyed those quiet evenings at the Big House. All of this was why he had come here for this job to begin with. Life as a god was quick to get to someone's head, the longer they lived, the more removed from the mortal world they felt. Percy didn't want to be removed from the mortal world, he didn't want to grow as indifferent as many of the older gods had. Here, making real connections with demigods, helping them on their way, it made him feel… human.

"You win. Again," Chiron sighed, sounding miserable. "I think I will call it a night as long as I still have some dignity left. Perhaps you could spend some time with… Hermes."

Percy blinked, looking up at Chiron. The weird pause before Hermes' name and the knowing smile on the wise centaur's face. A blush lit up Percy's cheek. Millennia old god, and he still blushed about a crush. Damn it all to Tartarus. It wasn't his fault! He could still remember adorable, tiny kid that had first arrived at Camp Half-Blood and in the blink of an eye, years passed, Hermes left and when he returned to work at camp, Percy didn't recognize him anymore. No longer that innocent, doe-eyed kid, but a battle-hardened young man and hero.

"Di—id I hear my name? Are you two gossiping about the new guy?"

Percy turned to look at Hermes with a hopelessly smitten smile. The hero of the wars had really proven himself, and he wasn't being arrogant about it ever. He was kind and very funny and sweet. Chiron cleared his throat, giving Percy a last, long look before heading upstairs.

"What was that about?" Hermes frowned, even as he took the now vacant seat. "Hi, Percy."

"Hi," Percy smiled amused. "And it was about nothing. Chiron being a sore loser, as always."

"So—o," Hermes tilted his head, looking Percy over. "If Chiron turned in early, that means I have you all to myself. For, I think, the first time since I started here."

Something about the phrasing made Percy feel flustered. All powerful god and a bit of flirting reduced him to a mess. He heaved a sigh, burying his face in his hands. What a disaster. Sometimes, he felt like Aphrodite had personally cursed him or something. Which just wasn't true, she actually adored him. Hermes made a curious noise, regaining Percy's attention.

"You… okay?" Hermes asked softly. "You seem weirdly distracted. Didn't know a god could get distracted, thought you could like be everywhere all at once."

Percy looked up, raising one eyebrow, not bothering to comment on that. Instead, he reached for the cards and started shuffling them, dealing a new round, for himself and Hermes.

"Did you ever wonder why I do this job?" Percy asked, voice gentle.

Hermes blinked curiously. "Actually, yeah, like, all the time."

"I wasn't born a god, I was born a demigod, a… long, long time ago, and I became a great hero and earned godhood," Percy picked up his cards. "And… the longer I stayed in the godly world, the more I felt myself… slipping into it. I didn't want to lose my humanity, so I chose to come here, to stay in contact with mortals and heroes. But that's why I'm here, because I once was like you, trained by Chiron, used by the gods to fight their battles."

Hermes remained quiet, looking at Percy with so much understanding and something else that Percy couldn't pinpoint. "Did you wonder why I started working here…?"

"To… help the younger generation?" Percy guessed, a little thrown by the question.

"Because I am madly, stupidly, irredeemably in love with you and wanted to prove myself to you."

Percy blinked, and then he blinked some more. "Oh. Uhm. Okay. Huh."

Hermes bit his lips. "So I made a god speechless, that's gotta be worth something."

Percy huffed out a laugh and reached out, practically throwing himself at Hermes as he kissed the hero enthusiastically. Outside, the sound of rain hitting the windows increased more and more the longer their kiss went on. Hermes' arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him onto the demigod's lap. The rain-sound from outside was near deafening, but it was calming to Percy.

"So—o, I take it my excellent seduction skills worked, huh."

His laughter was a near giggle when Percy rested his forehead against Hermes' shoulder. Hermes was unlike any other hero Percy had met over the years. He was a little trickster, a cunning thief, cheated at cards and always made Percy laugh. A scoundrel, in his own right, but so charming.

"I love you," Percy whispered, kissing Hermes' temple. "I love you."

~*~ The End ~*~

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Sygna Suit Emmet

Oh hey, Field with Electric Terrain.  That means the twins don't actually play optimally together for once.  Fascinating.

General Overview Emmet is a Field/Tech pair, which is very sad for him.  Like Ingo, I have no idea where to start.

Honing Hit 9 means he caps his offenses eventually, and without ramping gets there by first sync.  He will trap a foe each hit, and raises the odds of status from moves, which is hopefully to maximum for his sake.  He has a Max Move, and applies Free Moves Next to the team and +2 PMUN to himself when it hits a statused target.  His Buddy move is a carbon copy of Ingo's, but his personal effects are Def -2 when paralyzed, PMUN +1 when the foe is trapped, and lowers target speed by 2 if flinching.  His base move is Thunder Fang, which is embarrassing.  He does have Unova Solidarity for a Circle effect, but I don't respect the circles, and his extension is gated to 10/10 because all this mechanic did was lock previously standard tools behind a higher paywall.  At least Terrain Extension (only 3) is there, I guess.

Emmet's problem is that he's not top Electric meta.  No one needs him, and frankly, no one wants him.  Absolutely nothing is better off than NC Blue/SST Red/Ash.  Nothing.  Even with Ash never coming back, you can likely find better options as your third partner, since Red just ignores the gimmicks he would check anyway.  Even on his own merits I'm not impressed.  All of his status stuff is single-target, and he gets only Aggravation 4, so a 50% shot.  Commons can do better as a flinch bot.  The only interesting thing is his one-use trainer move giving Crit Next, +5 sync moves up next, SEUN, and +2 Ground Rebuff.  But like.  One use.  That's not cutting it for longer stages.  And hilariously, he got slapped with the same poor stats that Ingo got too.  As an electric type!  Come on, man!

EX, Role, and 10/10 If you don't EX him, what was the point?  He's field.  Tech is basically worthless though, I can't recommend it.  10/10 is also pretty mid, depending on exact numbers.  Extension of Circle is less desirable than extension of Terrain, and -2 cooldown is nice but not worth the investment.

Champion Stadium His best mode, which is a damning indictment.  And it's not even for him!  He wants to pop Max Move, apply that TM to an ally, then let them swing.  The Max Move even throws off sync cooldown count toward first sync, and Honing Hit slows his ability to throw it out at all.  I dunno, it's not ideal.  Def -2 doesn't help matters either, you can find that single-target anywhere.  I don't know what Chase does, but I imagine he's the better support, since NC Blue offers nothing to the physical side of things.

Legendary Gauntlet Same issues as Ingo: decent tools for answering gimmicks, but can't answer all of them and doesn't have much staying power.  He might be worse, since the flinch is only 50%.

Damage Challenge I can't say I think he'll do too well here either.  Maybe in single-target.  Maybe.  Flinch with some heavy single-target sync damage is nice, though he lacks the same animation-free turn burning Ingo has.  

Battle Rally He is a Field pair, so that's pretty rare.  Worth consideration there if you're that concerned about it.  I'm not.  I can't even say there's any Field partners I'd consider him well equipped for, you're scrounging around for whatever he can use in the moment.

Ultimate Battle Potential None.  Like are you crazy?  He has to pop Max Move right away to apply Electric Terrain for the Leon fight, and only gets two applications.  Even with Extension that's not enough.  My 1/5 SST Red and 3/5 SS Hau had double extension stacking for those few applications and it also was not enough.  Beyond that, these tend to punish over-reliance on flinch, and have more demands for gimmicks to be checked.  He's not impressing me here either.

Final Thoughts If it feels like I sped through him, it's because I did.  I shifted to F2P entirely when I came back, and it makes me much less positive on pairs that aren't doing anything particularly valuable.  His traits are interesting, but that's no reason to pull in a gacha.  You get SS Emmet because Emmet is one of your favorites, but he offers nothing else.  Sorry dude, this is kinda sad.

[cuttoothed]

Getting this in just under the wire for day 1 of @jonmartinweek prompt “Comfy Jumpers”. I get so much joy from writing these two in s1 and thinking “lol you idiots are going to be in love some day.”

*

Martin knows that Jon doesn’t approve of the way he dresses.

It’s not exactly a surprise. Jon doesn’t approve of much about Martin: his report-writing, his Latin translations, even his very existence seems to irk Jon at times. Frankly, the feeling is mutual. Martin was perfectly happy working in the library, where his boss wasn’t an overbearing perfectionist arsehole, and if he’d been given a choice in the matter he’d still be shelving books and updating the filing systems, not getting glared at for his clothing choices. He’s well aware that Jon never wanted him in the Archives either, but they’re here now, so Mister Head Archivist is just going to have to live with it. They’re both going to have to.

Jon isn’t subtle about his displeasure; it’s difficult to miss his pointed scowls at Martin’s scuffed trainers and graphic-print t-shirts. And considering that Sasha wears jeans and t-shirts some days as well—though admittedly she tends to plain colors or muted prints, rather than retro video game characters—it’s pretty clear that it’s less about the clothes than it is the person wearing them.

Well, Jon can scowl all he wants, because everything Martin wears technically falls within the Institute’s dress code and there’s not a word Jon can say to him.

Martin has always run hot, so as winter closes in and other people are bundling up in heavy coats and jumpers, he throws hoodies over his t-shirts and zips them up only far enough that the bright graphic prints are still clearly visible to Jon’s critical eye.

Yeah, he thinks sometimes when he walks into Jon’s office, get an eyeful of Yoshi and see how you like it.

Jon, for his part, seems determined to outlast the winter in his usual dress shirt and tweed jacket combo. Martin knows that Jon isn’t particularly warm blooded—he’s seen the way the man huddles into his jacket like a tortoise in its shell until the central heating warms the basement up in the mornings—but he still refuses to add so much as an argyle sweater vest to his outfit in deference to the season.

The only concession Jon makes to the weather is a voluminous gray overcoat and a dark purple scarf, which he takes off the moment he gets into the office, regardless of how cold it is before the ancient heating system creaks to life.

And, well, it’s none of Martin’s business if his boss is too much of a pompous arse to dress appropriately for the weather. If he wants to freeze his backside off to maintain his academic dignity, far be it from Martin to intervene. Martin doesn’t feel sorry for him, when he sees Jon blowing on his fingers to warm them up, or briskly rubbing his arms while he waits for the kettle to boil and he thinks nobody else is around. Not in the slightest.

It’s below zero on the day in December when the central heating finally gives up the ghost. Even Martin can feel the chill in the Archives this morning, keeps his hoodie zipped up all the way even when he runs into Jon in the kitchenette. Jon looks miserably cold, his shoulders hunched and his movements stiff as he makes his tea.

“Morning, Jon,” Martin says cheerfully. “Bit nippy, isn’t it?”

“Just a bit,” says Jon sardonically. Somewhere overhead, there’s a metallic clanking as the heating system starts up.

“Finally,” Jon mutters, casting his eyes upward. The pipes creak and clank some more, and there’s an odd whirring sound that Martin’s fairly sure isn’t normal, and then a long, descending groan into silence.

“Oh,” says Martin. “That doesn’t sound good.”

“Bloody hell,” says Jon, and storms off to his office. A while later, he sends an email to inform them all that he’s spoken to Elias and the heating is out for the whole building, and that they should all feel free to work from home for the rest of the day if they choose. Sasha and Tim waste no time packing up, but Martin lingers, agonizing over which notes and references he should take with him. He’s never before had a job where working from home was an option, and he isn’t Tim or Sasha, isn’t someone Jon trusts and actually wanted to work with. Martin needs to make sure he gets it right.

At last he thinks he has everything he needs, but still Martin is hesitating, fiddling with the strap of his satchel. Maybe he should just check in with Jon before he leaves, make sure there isn’t anything else he needs to do. Make sure Jon knows I’m going to be working today, not just skiving off.

The door to Jon’s office is standing ajar; Martin taps on it, and pokes his head in without waiting for a response.

Jon looks up as he walks in, his expression startled. He is wearing a jumper. A chunky knit jumper in a warm maroon color, with a Christmas tree and several reindeer on the front. One of the reindeer has a red bobble for a nose. The jumper is oversized, the ends of the sleeves falling past Jon’s wrists.

It’s...incredibly cute, which is not a term that Martin ever expected to associate with his arsehole boss. Attractive, in a severe, unattainable way, sure, but not cute. Yet somehow, here they are.

“Ah, Martin,” Jon says, looking flustered. “I, uh, I thought you’d left with the others?”

“I was—I just wanted to check in with you first, make sure you didn’t need anything. You should head home too, it’s freezing in here.”

“I—I’m perfectly fine.” Jon plucks at the front of the jumper, looking embarrassed. “This is, ah, I bought this for the Institute Christmas party, but it’s surprisingly warm—and quite comfortable.”

“Oh, that’s, uh, that’s not part of your usual wardrobe then?” Martin hazards a chuckle, and to his relief, Jon huffs an amused breath. He raises a hand to adjust his glasses, but his sleeve gets in the way; he pushes both sleeves up to the elbows, and oh no, that’s even cuter.

“No, not—not usually,” he says. Martin frowns, suddenly remembering.

“You didn’t wear it at the party last week, though?”

“No, it’s—it was from the previous year, when I was in Research. It-it didn’t seem appropriate this year, being in a management role. Fortunately I still had it in a box, though I, uh, I didn’t really expect anyone to see me in it.”

Martin feels a sudden pang of something that might be sympathy. He understands how it feels, the desperate pressure to be professional, to be taken seriously, the constant second guessing of what you’re doing, whether you’re giving away something you shouldn’t. It’s hardly the same, of course: Jon’s not likely to be fired for wearing a silly jumper. But...Martin gets it.

“Actually,” he lies, “I, uh, I have to meet with Sophie up in the library later, so I’m around for the day. I was just going to go out and pick up some early lunch. Thought I’d see if you want anything?”

“Oh, ah, where are you going?” Jon asks tentatively, looking surprised at the offer.

“I was thinking of that cafe just around the corner—maybe get some soup and a sandwich?”

“That would be...very nice, actually. If you’re sure you don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did,” says Martin, and takes the ten pound note Jon offers him.

“Thank you, Martin,” says Jon, and it’s the probably the most sincere thing Martin’s ever heard him say. He finds himself smiling without meaning to.

“Not a problem.”

It’s too early for lunch, really, but Martin knows Jon never eats breakfast and he missed it himself this morning. He gets two portions of steaming tomato and basil soup and toasted cheese sandwiches from the cafe, and when he gets back, Jon’s found a small space heater to plug in, so his office is marginally warmer than the rest of the Archives. They sit on opposite sides of Jon’s desk to eat, talking about the case that Martin’s working on. It’s the first time Martin’s actually had the chance to properly discuss a case, rather than stumbling through his report while Jon watches expectantly; Jon listens, and asks questions, and even offers some helpful suggestions for Martin’s follow up. It’s...oddly nice.

(Jon also continues to look unreasonably cute in his oversized Christmas jumper, but Martin carefully ignores that.)

The heating gets fixed by early afternoon, and the Archives warm up to the point where Martin can unzip his hoodie. When he drops off his finished case report to Jon’s office, Jon is back in his shirt and jacket, the maroon jumper packed away out of sight. He looks perfectly staid and professional once again. I saw you looking cute, though, Martin thinks, and then tries to pretend he didn’t; he is not going down that route.

Jon glances up when Martin comes in, taking in the “Marvin the Martian” t-shirt that’s now visible beneath his hoodie. Instead of a disapproving scowl, however, he gives a small, hesitant smile.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says as he takes the report, and something flutters warm in Martin’s chest.

Oh no, he thinks.

[liberty-barnes]

Just Breathe

Tom Holland x Female!Osterfield!Bisexual!Reader

Summary: Childbirth waits for no one, not even the Oscars.

Warnings: fluuuuuff, pregnant reader, mentions of childbirth, good press articles, BISEXUAL READER WOOOHOOO

Word Count: 1.5k words

Estimated Reading Time: 6 minutes

A/N: heeeeey look @peterspideyy​ @parkersbliss​ that crazy idea i ranted to you about like six months ago finally got done! i can’t believe i did it... this feels too good to be true, is the world gonna end or something?

Masterlist 

"I don't think this is a good idea."

"Me neither."

"Please, just stay here."

You looked up to your brother and husband, frowning as you smoothed your hand over the soft black fabric of your gown.

"I am not missing the Oscars, Tom. I've still got two weeks until I'm due, it'll be fine."

You sat down on the bed and looked dejectedly at your shoes, then proceeded to throw puppy dog eyes your brother's way until Harrison had no choice but to kneel and help you put on your comfortable trainers. There's no way you're putting on your heels at 37 weeks of pregnancy.

"But what if Baby decides to come sooner? You could go into labour at any moment!"

You rolled your eyes and only raised your arms so they could help you out of bed.

"You guys are being over-dramatic. Nothing's gonna happen. We're just going to the Oscars, we'll have a good time, and hopefully, I'll leave with a little statue under my arm."

With that, you waddled out of your hotel room, ready to get into the limo.

---

"(Y/n)! It's so good to see you! You look radiant as always!"

You smiled at Kaitlyn, an interviewer you knew and trusted and rubbed your belly comfortingly. 

"Thank you, I feel like a whale, but Baby'll be here soon so it's worth it."

She smiled and asked you a bunch of questions about your movie and how you were feeling about being nominated for Best Actress.

"But anyway, how far along are you now?"

"I'm a little over 37 weeks, they should be coming soon. Tom and Haz were actually really apprehensive about me coming here since I'm so close to my due date."

She smiled and looked over at the two men, obviously on edge.

"Well, I wish you all the best and I sincerely hope you win."

You hugged her goodbye and posed for a few more pictures before being led inside by your husband.

---

"And now, for the moment you've all been waiting for..."

Everyone watched with bated breath as Brie Larson, last year's winner, got ready to announce who would take home the trophy.

"This year's winner, and taking home the Oscar for best actress in a leading role..."

Tom took your hand and you squeezed it tight, ready to applaud one of the other amazing actresses on their win.

"(Y/n) Holland, for her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin!"

You felt like your heart was gonna beat out of your chest, run to that stage, kiss Brie, then promptly burst to flames out of sheer, unadulterated enthusiasm. Tom was hugging you and whispering how much you deserved it while your brother gently guided you to the podium. None of them would ever allow you to go up there on your own. Always one in front of you in case you trip forward and one behind you to catch you if you fall back.

Overprotective much?

As soon as you reached Brie, you hugged her tight (or as tight as you could with a human baby house separating you), taking the award while the two boys hugged her too.

"Holy Louis Tomlinson in a crop top."

The audience laughed, most of them already familiar with your strange One Direction inspired expressions.

"Wow, I didn't actually think I was gonna win this, everyone had such amazing performances. I-It's an honour, really. Two Sides of the Same Coin was a project very near and dear to my heart, so I'd like to thank the amazing Drew Barrymore, who wrote and directed the movie."

The room erupted in cheers and the woman smiled at you from her place on the front row.

"Bisexual representation is something we don't get very often, and when we do, it's always misjudged. So thank you for showing the world what bisexuality really is, and for giving me a chance to live out my dreams of kissing lots of people. This idiot tied me down too soon."

You pointed behind you at Tom, hearing his appalled squeak along with Harrison's guffaw of a laugh. 

In other news, the baby was starting to inconvenience you slightly. Baby had been going crazy since last night (not that you'd tell the boys) and the Braxton-Hicks were killing you, but it only got worse now.

"I'd also like to thank my amazing costars, Zendaya, Bella Thorne, and Owen Patrick Joyner, it was awesome to make out with you all..."

The crowd laughed while you felt something trickle down your legs.

Oh.

OH.

You'll never live this down, that's for sure.

"Uh, before I finish can one of you idiots call the car and get them to come to the exit please and thank you? Now as I was saying-"

"Wait, why?"

You turned to your brother and smiled innocently.

"Oh, my water just broke."

The crowd cheered.

Tom screamed.

Harrison fell to the floor, unconscious.

You sighed.

"New plan, can anyone try to wake my brother while my hus-" 

You looked at Tom, frantically doing small back and forths between you and his best friend, unsure of what to do. 

"-While someone else calls the car because both of them are apparently useless."

"We need to get you to the hospital!"

His terrified scream could be heard all through the room, even with no mic.

"What? No! I need to finish my acceptance speech, then go back to the hotel to shower and maybe take a little nap and then go to the hospital. My water just broke, Thomas, we have time, calm your tits."

You turned back fully to the mic, facing the hysteric faces of the crowd, very entertained by the exchange.

"Now as I was saying, I want to thank the amazing team that worked on this movie, you're all amazing and it was such a good experience. I'd also like to thank my family for always being there for me and supporting me and Haz in our acting careers. Thank you to my brother, even if he's unconscious right now, he'll just watch it on Youtube later, for literally forcing me to go to the audition. And lastly, I'd like to thank my wonderful husband, who hopefully hasn't passed out yet, for always supporting me and being my biggest rock through everything. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff."

---

An Oscar in hand and another... down her legs?

(Y/n) Holland sure gave the Oscars something to be entertained by on this last Saturday. The wife of fellow actor Tom Holland looked radiant in her custom-made Valentino dress, looking ready for a night of fun.

(Y/n) was nominated for this year's Best Actress in a Leading Role award, alongside Meryl Streep, Margot Robbie, Cate Blanchett, and Tessa Thompson, but the Oscar went to her from her brilliant performance in Two Sides of the Same Coin. But it was during her acceptance speech that things got... slippery.

At 37 weeks of pregnancy, the Holland baby was ready to come at any minute, but apparently, theatrics run in the family. The actress was in the middle of her speech when she felt her water break, pausing in her talking to request a car be called.

You'd think her husband, Tom, and brother Harrison Osterfield, overprotective as they are, would be fully prepared! Unfortunately for them, and fortunately for our entertainment, they were not. Harrison went unconscious after hearing the news, dropping to the floor and earning himself a minor concussion, much to his sister's amusement

[image1-harrison-ice-pack.png]

@ynholland: "Don't worry, when you go into labour, I'll be with you every step of the way." Said Harrison Osterfield, then proceeded to pass out, get a minor concussion, and miss the whole delivery.😂 Good job, little bro👍

And just when you thought she couldn't get any better, she finishes her acceptance speech with: "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to deliver a baby, you know, just normal Saturday night stuff." We have no choice but to stan this iconic queen!

But for the news you've all been waiting for, Oscar Robert Holland (yes, the middle name is a homage to Robert Downey Jr. himself, we're not crying, you are!) was born just twelve hours later. Tom let know through a beautiful Instagram picture that he is in fact "perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already".

[image2-tom-and-oscar.png]

@tomholland2013: I present to you, my best creation to this date: Oscar Robert Holland. Thank you all for your prayers and kind messages, our boy is perfectly healthy and loved by everyone already❤️

But of course, Uncle Haz wouldn't stay behind.

[image3-haz-and-oscar.png]

@hazosterfield: Since I know you've all been worried sick and desperate to know how the baby is... I'm doing just fine, it's just a minor concussion :) Oh and my godson's great too.

And just to prove that the Osterfields are indeed the royal family of comedy, we leave with this wonderful picture posted to the happy mum's very own Instagram.

[image4-yn-and-oscars.png]

@ynholland: Guess I was so good they gave two Oscars instead of one ;)

-Written by Kaitlyn Storm

so anyway, Two Sides of the Same Coin is a movie idea i got a while ago and should maybe try to write one of these days but oh well or something. anyway, i’m not gonna rant about it here cause it’d be too long but i hope you enjoyed this and don’t forget to like/comment/reblog if you feel like it!

-Love, Miah

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────» 

Taglists: (if your name is striked through it means for some reason tumblr wouldn’t let me tag you) 

PERMA TAG 

@adriannajackson123​ @theamazingtomholland​ @inlovewithmobtom​ @andycanbeemotional​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @lost-in-the-stars03​ @jeezkiddo​ @a-singleboat​ @wunder-13 @highlydisfunctional1​ @ellyseveronica​ @inthecornerchair​ @harishaanne​ @anjalika03​ @lozzypoz321​ @mendes-marvel​ @sovereignparker​ @bubbles-the-powerpuffgurl 

 MARVEL ACTORS 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @frustratingpaperclip​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

HOLLAND & CO. 

@sarcasticallywitty15​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @onelovesr​ @agentnataliahofferson​ @zeusmyster​ @parkerpetertingle​ @juliebean247​ @joyleenl​ @quaksonhehe​ @clara-licht​ @frustratingpaperclip​  @tutuabby28​ @tacobacoyeet​ 

LGBTQ+ 

@quaksonhehe​ 

[maybe-seggy-will-be-our-always]

How is Leon the most and least humble person at the same time? Learn more about it in this very lengthy and very much not really requested translated transcript of the newest NHL interview starring Leon Draisaitl, Tim Stütze and Marco Sturm. Please don't be mean I tried best.

Christian Rupp: Servus [sorry but it’s just a form of greeting I don’t want to translate] to our German NHL call today with three first round picks who have all been drafted in the first round [I know this is repetitive but I thought it was funny]. I am excited for this great group! Leon Draisaitl of the Edmonton Oilers, Tim Stützle of the Ottawa Senators and Marco Sturm, Assistant Coach of the LA Kings. Thank you for agreeing to this format and thank you for being here. First question, of course, Leon: You broke Marco Sturm’s record and are now sole German top scorer in the NHL. Since this has been a few days ago now did you get the chance to fully realize/internalize this fact?

Leon Draisaitl: Yeah, I think that the media and you are maybe making a bigger deal out of it than I myself to be honest. No question, of course this means a lot to me but as I have said enough times already I have way too much respect for Sturmi and all the other outstanding German hockey players we’ve had in the NHL. So I don’t want to make a thing out of it that it isn’t.

C. R.: It’s always „Dream Big“ – have big plans as a young player and dream big. Is that something you can even dream of, being the best German player in the NHL?

L.D.: Yes, I mean dreaming of something like that is always nice, that was probably no different for Sturmi and now for Timmi as well. We all dream of something that big playing in the streets as small kids. Coming out on top is of course super special to me, that is out of question. But as I said, there’s always something to work on and to improve and that is what I am trying to do here.

C.R.: Marco, your record had been standing for a long time. Leon now broke it at the young age of 25. Is he a worthy successor?

M.S.: By all means, yes! It took me 15 years to reach that point and Leon did it in only four. That beats everything! But [I didn’t catch what he said here but I guess something along the lines of an elaborate form of „that“] was only a matter of time. Leon won’t be the first and last one. Tim will be the next one, also only a matter of time. I am happy about this and am gladly passing on that title to Leon. He is completely different and plays in an entirely different league than I did. It’s only the beginning for him, I am sure there are many more points to come.

C.P.: And with Tim Stützle, the next one is already on his way. He’s diligently collecting points in his rookie year. Regardless, Tim, for you. What’s it like for you seeing the/your count written out especially now that you got to know how hard it is to score and collect points in the NHL. How bis is this number for you?

Tim Stützle: Yes, I will have to be honest and say I noticed that every time we played Leon. Especially in the defensive zone it isn’t the easiest thing but mostly it was incredibly fun playing against the best players in the world every day. And again, especially in our league [I think he’s talking about the Canadian division here], playing against Edmonton with Leon and Connor who, which is no secret, belong to the two best players in the league and the world and particularly with Marco, who has collected many, many points. It’s supercool seeing German hockey getting better and better.

C.P.: I’ll throw this question back at Leon. You played against him a few times now this season. What did you notice about Tim Stützle’s game, what did you like about it?

L.D.: Everything! I mean, playing in the league already at his age and so to say helping your team win or playing a big role on the power play right away, that isn’t quite that easy. I think we all know this. Timmi is probably experiencing that himself right now, that the league can be hard [on you] and is quick to bring you back down to earth. Plainly, because it is the best league there is with the best players there are but I’m gonna say, playing this continuously good in his first year as an 18 year old is an impressive achievement.

T.S.: *laughs* Thank you!

L.D.: *grinning* Of course!

C.P.: I can spot a shelf in the background. Leon, did you already receive your trophies? You did win a few in the pre-season, did they arrive already? Do they have a spot already?

L.D.: Nah, I don’t have the real ones here yet. I haven’t even seen them yet to be honest. I got smaller ones, how do you call them in German, replica trophies. Yeah, it is pretty cool. They are downstairs and I guess are functioning as chewing toys for my dog right now. But the real ones, as I said, I haven’t even seen yet.

C.P.: Marco! Of course we want to talk a bit about you as well. You are assistant coach of the LA Kings. How are you looking back on the season?

M.S.: Yeah well, as everyone knows we are in the midst of a rebuild right now. We are right at the start which is never easy. Patience is the most important feat in this phase. Many older players are now gone, a few still remain. The youngest players aren’t quite there yet, that’s why we still need to exercise patience and work hard. Particularly with the younger players. Then, hopefully, we’ll be able to take the next step next season or in the summer and maybe we’ll receive some new players. A player or maybe multiple players who will help us.

C.P.: We have all been anxiously watching/awaiting the 2020 Draft. LA Kings with Marco Sturm, I am sure Tim Stützle would have been a good fit there as well. Now, to be frank, with Tim in the room. How often did you regret not selecting Tim Stützle?

M.S.: I don’t have any influence on this process but I had my hopes, of course. Regrettably, nobody heard me, that’s how it goes and I only learned we were picking Byfield the day of the draft. But Byfield, I’ll have to say, he played the last 5 games up here and he will, too, become an outstanding player in the league. Maybe a bit different to Tim but personally I had hopes Tim would end up playing for/with us.

C.P.: Tim, it keeps getting better for your team, you are on a streak right now. Are you sad the season will be over already for you?

T.S.: In the beginning, of course, we weren’t quite that good. But we are in the middle of a rebuild as well and we have a lot of young players. But the last games it clicked for us and I think we won seven out of nine games. We feel comfortable and have a lot of fun playing together and as a young team we savor every day.

C.P.: What are the plans for the upcoming weeks? Has Toni Söderholm called?

T.S.: Yeah, I will have to see. There will be talks with trainers and management about what is best for me. There are still some remaining problems with my hand and I will have to get another surgery. That’s why we will have to wait and see.

C.P.: Marco you lay the foundation for players wanting and enjoying to play for Team Germany, at worlds for example, again. What is your stance on [I again did not catch what he was saying] of German hockey?

M.S.: Generally I think we caught up nicely in the past years. As you mentioned already, if you want players, especially the ones playing in the NHL to [here probably something along the line of „to come play for Team Germany“] you it has to be fun. It is a long season for the boys and if they then go on and play another tournament on top of that, that is not easy and because of that it has to be fun and that was what I had been trying to achieve back in my days. German hockey needs the [NHL] boys to get ahead. And as I said, back in my day, the boys always liked playing here [Team Germany] and we always were successful.

C.P.: The list of German NHL players speaks for itself here, it is quite long and with Leon at the head, how do you rank the German national team, especially if all NHL players were to join. Particularly with the Olympics on the table as well. What are Germany’s chances of keeping up with the top nations?

L.D.: Yes, I think we do have a pretty decent team. Of course it’s always important to stay realistic if it’ll be enough going up against the USA or Canada. That is something we will have to see but I believe we have a lot of players that have the ability to compete on that level and that a few NHL players will be present as well, hopefully all of them. I think we have a very very good team.

C.P.: Sadly, we have almost reached the end of our Zoom call today. I will making my rounds one last time. Tim, what are your summer plans?

T.S.: I think I will most definitely spend my summer in Mannheim. I will practice with the [„Fitnesstrainer“ so I guess just coaches/trainers] and some Adler players. I think it will be a good summer for me because I want to work on a lot of things and grow stronger [generally, just improve is meant here I think]. I think it will be best for me to be there [Mannheim].

C.P.: And you Marco? Will you stay in Landshut and then later, will you be returning to the LA Kings?

M.S.: After the first few meetings it is, I think, clear that I will stay here for the upcoming years. I like it here and working together with [the bosses], it is fun. But then for me it is the same as it is for Tim and Leon. I will most probably stay with family and friends in Landshut for a few months before it is time to get back to business again.

C.P.: I don’t think I have to ask about your goal, Leon. I would describe it as a quite big and silver thing [I don’t have a good translation here, the expression was „etwas größerer Silberling“].

L.D.: Yeah of course! I hope we’ll remain in the game for as long as possible and come out at the very top in the end. That is the dream and the goal of course. Then, as the other two have already said, I  will spend the summer mainly in Europe and will prepare for the next season there.

C.P.: So for you this, so to say, means Köln is calling in the summer even if it is a shortened one?

L.D.: [In my opinion this was said hesitantly] Yeah, mostly in Köln.

C.P.: I wish you all the best for your athletic projects, stay healthy  and thank you for joining this exclusive NHL.com.de [he said that so I dunno] Zoom call.

*Everyone says their goodbyes*

[druddigoon]

bede and gloria; late night confessions

[it’s been a while since i worked on this, i tried to finish this to something ao3-worthy but the muse is just not comin ;_; didn’t quite get to the meat of your prompt tho it’s still at 1.5k words and full of drunk shenanigans!]

Bede doesn’t know how he got here. 

There’s something digging into his side, uncomfortable and wet (a log, some part of him helpfully supplies, before his thoughts sink into oblivion) as he half-squats, half-slumps onto the peat. Bioluminescent mushrooms pulse like strings of faerie lights at the edges of his periphery; he closes his eyes and feels the pleasant hum of television static against his bones, loose-limbed and sluggish. 

“Bede. Hey.” Someone’s standing him, shaking him. Glor-Gloria? What’s the champion doing here? She’d had more pressing obligations to take care of than visiting him, right? Unless she was…

He sits bolt upright. “Training.” 

“Hey. Bede no, you’re in no state to train.” She’s grabbing his shoulders, so irritably he shrugs her hands off. “Okay, fine. Haterenne, help me please?” 

“Hissssss.” 

“I know, it’s my fault, you can hate me for this later. Could you teleport him to Opal before he pukes on me?”

“I won’t puke on you.” He attempts to stand up, wobbles, and relocates onto the log, looking up at her like he only intended to shift his seat all along. “Just...don’t say a word of this to Opal, she doesn’t know I’m rende...rendezvu...meeting you for training at night.” 

Gloria makes a face like a goldeen, open-mouthed and slack-faced, before reeling herself in, blowing her bangs out of the way in exasperation. “What’re we going to do then?” 

“Train.” The log is awfully comfortable. 

She throws her hands up, stalking a ways away into the undergrowth. “Fine, you win. Hatterene, he’s yours now.” 

“Rene.” 

“This’ll wear off,” he insists after her. “Besides, we still have an entire night. It’s only--”

                                                                                     --Three in the morning. 

He knows this because it’s a routine ingrained into his internal body clock, reinforced by Sylveon sitting at his bedside and repeatedly probing him in the cheek. She dodges the togekiss sleep mask he flings at her, mewling incessantly from her safe space behind his rarely-used study desk as he fumbles the blanket off himself. 

Check surroundings. Judging by the iron klefki wards she hung in front of her door every night, Opal’s asleep across the hall; woman can sure sleep like the dead when she wants to. It’s quiet, empty. The portobellos growing on the kitchen walls ebb with the faint chartreuse of early morning. He pulls on his gear as quickly and quietly as possible, recalling Sylveon into her ball before climbing out his bedroom window. 

Despite most of the Ballonlea population being asleep, the Glimwood Tangle is teeming with activity: impidimps chittering from the trees, the echoing croons of hatterene in the distance, a male indeedee wandering around collecting swathes of amanita--most likely for some courtship ritual. He’s been gym leader for nearing six months now, and they no longer saw him as an intruder on their turf. The oranguru that always meditates underneath a wisteria-choked tree barely gives him the side eye as he passes. 

At the edge of the faerie ring, in their designated meeting location, he finds the Champion resting between the boughs of a tree. 

She’s already noticed him, of course--squirrelly, quick-eyed and observant, Challenger Bede had scribbled in his league-issue notepad, where he kept track of rivals and how to counter them--and he watched out of the corner of his eye as she made her way down, landing like it’s all she’s known, to fall and pick herself up. 

“The usual?” He prompts. 

“Nope.” Something clinks in her tired leather bag as she straightens herself. “I was thinking of having a battle today. Haven’t had one outside a boring league stadium in weeks.”

He makes a noise at the back of his throat reserved for when the region’s champion calls million-dollar, painstakingly designed entertainment buildings “boring”. Then again, Gloria never cared much for the stark geometry of commercial buildings. 

“But first. I brought something.” After rifling through her bag, she produces a jar of clear fluid with more flourish than she ever showed in her league battles, handing it to him. 

He unscrews the lid for a whiff and immediately regrets it. “Don’t tell me you smuggled alcohol all the way from Wyndon.” 

“Aren't you legal?” 

“Yes, I am. You aren’t.” Hatterene take him if Opal caught him in a hangover the next morning. At least Gloria had her own condo. 

“It’s only illegal if they catch you.” She replies, and Bede would agree wholeheartedly on any other day, if not for his desperate need to retain the vestiges of self-control slipping through his fingertips. Before he could protest, she takes the jar, tips it back to take a sip, then returns it to him.

He supposes he’s not a stranger to alcohol. While Rose never greeted him in-person, Bede had attended fancy meet-ups with potential patrons on behalf of the man (Galar loves a good rags-to-riches story, Oleana always told him) and let himself enjoy a flute or two of champagne on corporate dime. 

One sip. Surely nothing would come of one sip. 

“Alright,” he relents, “I suppose it’ll take more than a--

                                                                                    --Couple swallows in and he’s starting to feel lightheaded, the tips of his fingers strangely numb like that one time he accidentally stuck them into Gardevoir’s moonblast. Damn Opal and her “fairy boot camp”, he could bet on his favorite soap opera that no other trainer got their leg tied to their pokemon and forced to three-leg a batt--

“Drink.” Gloria orders, pushing the empty mason jar she refilled with water up to his lips. It tasted slightly viscous when he drank and...how did she get this anyways? Was it from her golisopod? Was he drinking bug spit?

“Bede. About your. Uh.” 

“We’ve disgus...discussed this to death already. I didn’t mean. Anything with the finalist speech. It was the heat of the moment, I was focused, and you were all that was on my mind--” 

“--So you were thinking about me then?”

“What?”

“What?”

“Anyways,” she continues uneasily, “Could you recall Hatterene? She looks like she wants to tear me to shreds with her mind.” 

“Oh.” He glances back and, sure enough, Hatterene is right behind him, every strand of hair bristling with psychic energy. “Hattie, behave. You’re better than this.” 

Hatterene trains the brunt of her attention to him, and there’s the low before a tidal wave, thrumming in his skull like a shotgun blast before she presses her pokeball and enters it with a huff. 

He hears an audible exhale from Gloria in the ensuing silence. “I haven’t heard you call her ‘Hattie’ in a long time.” 

“Old habit.” She’s long outgrown it now, but he still remembers her as a hatenna small enough to fit within the cradle of his arms, the outlier of the batch Macro Cosmos had donated to his orphanage. Most likely a breeding reject--too smart for her own good, too ill-behaved and unruly to be championship material--because nobody liked a pawn that didn’t follow orders. He knew how it went. “My younger self’s nicknaming skills left much to be desired.” 

They’ve come a long way since then.

“That’s sweet,” she says, and normally Bede would bristle at a challenge to his dignity, but today his limbs are sluggish and the bottomless pit of hatred he’d often found himself visiting seemed strangely empty.

"You were friends since you were young," Gloria clarifies, "And she obviously cares for you a lot--I've heard most hatterenes are as misanthropic as psychics come. It's nice that you've managed to keep it strong through your gym challenge."

"Gloria..."

"What's done is done though. I'm Champion, he's a researcher, and you're drunk out of your mind." When Bede sputters in response, she tips the jar of water in his general direction. He's forced to catch it so she doesn't spill the entirety of the contents on his clothes.

Definitely bug spit. But if this is the fix to the pressure building behind his eyes then he may as well take it. Even if that damn taste--

                                                                                    --is not at all what he expected: medicine-grade and overpowering, a hyper beam to his sinuses so powerful it forces him to tears. If this thing is safe to drink, the only reason would be because no bacteria would bear to live in it. He manages to swallow purely by willpower, refusing to spit it out in front of Gloria; whatever face he saves is instantly destroyed when she bursts out laughing at his expression. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, not sorry at all. Bede stares intensely at a cluster of mushrooms metres away and prays it’s too dark to catch the blood rushing to his face. “I thought-I thought you’d take it better. Maybe I overestimated you.” 

“And should I be under the assumption you’re a heavyweight drinker?” 

Gloria shrugs in lieu of an answer. “Leon always brought some kind of new wine or liquor when he visited home, and shared some of it with Hop. Hop shared some of it with me.” 

Unbelievable. And to think Leon was lauded as a children’s role model. Bede resists the urge to rub away a phantom headache. 

[dc41896]

Save Room for Us

Hey guys☺️! So this is inspired by the songs “Save Room for Us” by Tinashe and “Should’ve Been Us” by Tori Kelly (idk if that’s a thing for an imagine to be inspired by two songs that but here we are lol). Also I feel like it’s a bit lengthy so sorry about that and hope you guys like it!

Pairing: Chris EvansxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst but mostly fluff💕!

“Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon? Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins? Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain? Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?,” you sing along with Pocahontas on the television screen while your 10 month old daughter, Ameera, sat in your lap as you finished securing the bow on her last puff.

Babbling as she gazes at the movie, the chime of the security alarm from the front door opening draws her attention as she crawls towards the armrest. “Looks like your favorite uncle is here,” you smile hearing her excitedly squeal seeing Chris walk into the room.

“I’m coming sweetheart just let me wash my hands first.”

Having stayed with him in his Boston home throughout the entirety of quarantine so far, Ameera had become attached to her new playmate. When he wasn’t being interviewed or working with Mark, you’d find the both of them laughing on the floor on top of one of his throws playing peek a boo or with one of her many toys.

Sometimes they’d even watch Disney movies together with Chris being the reason for her current obsession with Pocahontas. Both sat with eyes glued to the screen wrapped in a blanket eating a snack, you couldn’t help but secretly take a picture trying to hide your laughter at the adorable site.

“Hi meemo,” Chris smiles picking up the already giggling little girl and kissing her cheek before sitting on the couch beside you. “What have you been doing since I’ve been gone huh?”

“The usual. Eating, playing, fussing when she wants to watch her new favorite movie.”

“Sounds like you had a busy day,” he chuckles tickling under her chin. “And what about you? Still packing your stuff?”

“Yea I uh packed some of her toys earlier but that’s it.”

“You know, you don’t have to go. I don’t have a problem with you guys staying as long as you want. Even ma told me to tell you her place is open too,” he adds looking at you while your daughter plays with the pendant on his necklace.

Being your best friend, you knew he’d try to do whatever he could for you both, but that still didn’t take away the guilt you felt from the situation. You didn’t want to inconvenience him in any way with Ameera’s crying or her, at times, crazy sleep schedule especially since he was still working. He assured you that wouldn’t be the case though when he suggested you come stay with him during an impromptu venting session on your part.

Your parents wanted you to stay with them instead of being on your own in the apartment, but with five people living in a three bedroom house you knew things would eventually feel cramped. You were already stressed enough with everything going on and doing your best to take care of your baby. You didn’t feel like your family being on top of you would help.

And so here you were these past four months and counting living with your best friend from high school.

“I know, but my parents have been on my back talking about how they wish they could see Ameera in person and how I should be spending time with them, so I think it’s time we leave. Plus I’m sure you’re ready to get rid of us,” you laugh propping your elbow on the back of the couch.

“Never, if you guys wanted to live here forever I wouldn’t mind,” he smiles as Ameera taps his eyebrows with her small palms trying to get some words out but only releasing grunts making him laugh.

“Hey now, be gentle.”

“It’s ok, I know what she wants.” Raising his eyebrows and making a stern face, she wildly squeals showing her one tooth while grinning and bouncing up and down.

“Listen here small person, if you think you’re the most adorable one here you’re in for a rude awakening,” he speaks in a low voice further prompting her giggles.

“Why have you been doing Lucas Lee in front of my child?,” you laugh as he turns to you returning to his normal expression.

“Well she was fussy one day we were waiting for you to get out the shower so I did it making a funny face and she loved it. I guess it’s been our thing since.”

“Oh boy, I don’t think you know what you’ve created meera.”

“What? Everybody loves Lucas Lee,” he ruggedly speaks getting back into character. “That’s been proven from my numerous fan voted awards,” he winks making you lean forward in laughter and him join in soon after.

“Da-da!” Both of you snapping your heads to your daughter, you watch her giggle with hands on his chest as she presses her lips against his cheek trying to give him a kiss but leaving a slobbery mess instead.

“Da-da!”

“Meemo that’s your first word! Do it again, say da da!”

“Or how about we try uncle? Say un-cle!,” you smile playing with her hand.

“Dada,” she giggles again lying her head in the crook of his neck before letting out a soft yawn and making him aw as he gently sways her side to side.

“I can put her to sleep if you want?”

“No it’s okay I got her. Come on Ameera it’s nap time.”

Taking her from his hands, she pokes out her bottom lip as she begins to fuss not wanting to leave her uncle.

“It’s okay, I’ll be here when you wake up,” he tries to soothe only to be met with tears while you walk her to the guest room. Smiling to himself he hears you quietly sing the familiar melody over the baby monitor on the table eventually getting her to settle. Whenever he heard it, whether from your mouth or somewhere else, he was always brought back to visiting you in the hospital shortly after Ameera was born.

Tip toeing in the room behind your mom to surprise you, he found you alone with a content smile sitting in bed as you gently swaddled the tiny infant lying in front of you.

“My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for, how I wish that you were mine,” you sung carefully picking her up to cradle in your arms.

“I picked something up for you while I was out,” your mom smiled moving aside to reveal a slightly crouched Chris holding two large pink gift bags designed with cartoon storks.

“I thought you were away filming?!”

“Well, I heard it was someone’s birthday today so I’m here for the party!,” he answers kissing your temple as he gently hugs you with his free arm trying not to wake the currently sleeping bundle. “Welcome to the world Ameera.”

“Say thank you uncle Chris! You really didn’t have to get more gifts though, you’ve already done enough. And that especially goes for if there’s anything Patriots in there, you might as well throw it out now.”

“No there’s nothing Patriots in here now, but give it a couple years I’m gonna have her own jersey made.”

“You better not,” you both laugh startling Ameera as she begins to squirm and whine in your arms. Consoling her while you apologize, a soft smile forms on his lips as his gaze lingers on you.

Curls tied on the top of your head wearing your light blue ‘granny pajamas’, as you called them, and your glasses perched on your nose he knew you probably didn’t feel it but in this moment it was as if you were the most beautiful being he’d laid eyes on.

He always did think you were beautiful though from the first time you met, and now with the remnants of your pregnancy glow mixing with the one you already had from your natural beauty, he never wanted to look away.

“Hey, sorry about that,” you shyly speak interrupting his thoughts as you return to your seat next to him.

“About what the crying? Y/N I think I’m pretty used to that by now,” he chuckles while you shake your head.

“No, about her calling you dada. I promise we haven’t been practicing that or anything I was just as shocked as you.”

“Oh that, you don’t have to apologize,” he responds waving you off. “I mean she’s seen me everyday for four months, it’s understandable how it would happen. Plus I don’t mind if she wants to call me dad.”

“That’s very sweet, but what happens when you get a girlfriend? You don’t think that’ll seem weird to them your best friend’s kid calling you dad?”

“Well if after I explain why Ameera calls me dad they have a problem, then they’re not for me,” he shrugs.

“And what about when you have kids?”

“Then they’ll have an older sister. Like I said though Y/N if you’re not okay with it-,”

“It’s not that I’m not it’s just...,” you begin, sighing as you look down at the cushion below you trying to figure out your feelings. Of course it warmed your heart how he’d gladly fulfil that role for Ameera, but at the same time she wasn’t his responsibility. You didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to do anything just because you were friends.

“Chris be honest, do you feel guilty because of what happened with me and Josh?”

Hearing that name instantly made him clench his jaw as he vividly remembered the night you confessed everything that was going on in your seemingly happy relationship. He just called to check on you and Ameera since it had been a while you two last spoke with him back working. You tried to stand strong saying how both of you were fine and updating him on how much she had grown, but being your friend for so long even through the phone he knew something was off.

That’s when you broke down explaining how Josh, your then fiancé, was feeling “stressed” from the pressures of marriage and fatherhood, and how he found comfort in, Kyla, one of the trainers at the gym he frequented.

He’d never consider himself a violent man, but it took every atom and particle in him not to pay a little visit to Josh to take care of him himself.

“Because if you are, you don’t need to be. Meera is mine and his responsibility and if he doesn’t want to step up then-.” Lightly shaking his head, he grabs your hands scooting closer to peer deeper into your brown eyes that were nearly on the verge of tears.

“No no no no Y/N listen to me, what I do for you and for meemo is because I care so much for both of you that I will do any and everything I can. That’s how I’ve felt since we were younger, since you told me you were pregnant, and how I’ll always feel. If anything, the thing I feel guilty about is not saving you from that heartache.”

“Chris don’t do that to yourself, how could you have saved me? You didn’t know that was gonna happen.”

“No I didn’t, but maybe if I would’ve told you earlier what I’ve always wanted to tell you then...things would be different,” he responds seemingly nervous as he releases a breath and eyes look as if he’s trying to carefully choose his next words.

“Our junior year I realized I liked you as more than a friend and I wanted to tell you before I left, but I got scared. So, I figured by the time I saw you again I’d have built up the courage to tell you how I felt but that wasn’t until your graduation where I found out you were going away for college. I didn’t want to be something that potentially added stress or held you back so again I left it alone. Missed chance after missed chance and eventually you met Josh and once you got engaged I knew that was it. I had no more chances. Looking back though I wish I would’ve said something sooner and then you wouldn’t have to had go through all of that and-and...”

Becoming silent, he sighs raking his hand through his dark brown strands looking towards the wooden beams on the ceiling.

“...and Ameera would be our daughter and not just mine,” you finish as he slowly nods with hands covering his face.

“I know, I’m a terrible person for thinking that.” Removing his hands to reveal his reddened face, a small smile rests on your lips as you lift his eyelids open so he could look at you.

“You’re not a terrible person for wondering what could have happened if you did something differently, everyone’s done it in some way. And as far as saving me goes, yea it would’ve been nice but in my opinion, sometimes the things we go through serve as lessons to help us in the future somehow. So take failed relationships for example, those are lessons we learn that help build us to be who we’re supposed to be. And when we finally find our person, yea that’ll come with its own lessons too, but again it’s part of the building process and what we’ve already learned will help us in that relationship with them.”

Light eyes staring into yours, you feel a bit insecure as you sit back turning your attention to the tv as you grab the remote. “Then again that probably made no sense and sounded dumb and naive and-,”

Before you could come up with more adjectives, you feel warm lips and prickling hair tap the corner of your mouth making you instinctively touch the same spot as you look at Chris.

“I-I’m sorry I shouldn’t have tried to kiss you. It’s just what you said earlier definitely wasn’t dumb and-honestly figures I missed because I didn’t ask you first and you didn’t even say how you felt-,” he rambles before your hand covers his mouth.

“Christopher Dork Evans shut up. Would it have been nice of you to ask me first? Yes, and you’re right you shouldn’t have tried to kiss me....especially when my lips were turned in another direction.”

Looking at you slightly confused as you remove your hand, you shift your gaze to his lips as you inch closer until he meets you halfway to connect with yours. Slow and passionate, your lips move together as if they had plenty of practice doing this before. Feeling your body being shifted to his lap, your arms join around his neck as his hands keep you secured to his body holding your back and creeping down until...

“What? What happened?,” he lightly chuckles after you giggle against his lips breaking the intimate moment.

“You weren’t lying when you said that’s your preference.” Quickly removing his hands from your butt the heat returns to neck and face as he nervously laughs.

“Sorry, force of habit. I mean not that every girl I kiss I instantly grab it, and not that I make out with a lot of girls-,”

“It’s okay dork, I don’t mind,” you giggle leaning back in to return to where you left off. Centimeters apart, you both look towards the table once you hear the beginning of a light cry from the baby monitor signaling Ameera had woken up from her nap.

“She’s probably wet,” you both speak at the same time making you both laugh.

“You relax, I got her.” Quickly pecking your lips, you move over so he can stand up to make his way to her room. Face pressed against the pillow held against your chest, you couldn’t get rid of the giddy smile on your lips as his words and everything that followed really sink in.

“Hey meemo! Have a good nap?,” you hear him ask through the baby monitor.

“Da da,” she replies sounding a mix of sad and tired as she holds up her arms to be freed from her crib.

“I know you weren’t ready to wake up yet were you? The nasty wet diaper made you wake up?”

Silently giggling to yourself with their back and forth exchange as he changes her diaper, you soon hear footsteps returning as you sit up to see her lying on his shoulder while he carefully sits down.

“It’s a little weird, but I’m gonna miss seeing drool spots on my shirts when you guys leave,” he chuckles softly rubbing her back.

“Well I was just thinking that maybe staying with my parents doesn’t have to be long term. Like maybe we could be there for a week or two then come back and do that every now and then. If it’s okay with you that is.”

“Yea of course I’d be fine with that,” he smiles. “What made you change your mind?”

“Meera’s really comfortable here and I don’t want to possibly disrupt that you know? Plus I’d probably have to FaceTime you every day and night or else she’d be upset,” you laugh lightly grazing your thumb back and forth against her tiny hand.

“And it’s just Meera feeling that way?”

“Okay, maybe that’s how we both feel,” you smile leaning up to kiss his cheek.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @themyscxiras @lady-olive-oil @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @renfrewscorner @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @jojolu @secretmysteriousperson @plokyu23

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for, or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[bonjour-rainycity]

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 2

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/629921660092514304/odins-ward-chapter-1

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word count: 2545

Warnings: None

Y/n: 8 // Loki: 10 // Thor: 14

Loki’s POV

“Come now, brother, surely you can do better than that!” Thor laughs and swings his sword in my direction.

I roll my eyes and parry, taking a few steps backwards as I do so. “You know well that this area of fighting is not my forte.”

“And it is my job as your older brother to remedy that.”

I swing towards him this time, a blow he blocks easily. “Then why do we pay the trainers so generously?”

Thor chuckles. “It shall be one of the first things I fix when I am king.”

My grip on the sword tightens. “Perhaps Father will choose me as his successor.”

Thor laughs heartily, as though the idea is preposterous. To him, it surely is. “Brother, you must understand. Father has every intention of picking me. I am the firstborn, I am known as the golden son, and I am the strongest of the two of us. I mean no offense, but surely you must see how I am the clear choice.”

Despite the lack of malice in his voice, I cannot stop the anger that rushes through me. I reset my stance and prepare to attack again with the sword.

“Forgive me for interrupting, Your Majesties, but I am afraid I am growing quite hungry. When do you propose we return indoors to take lunch?”

There’s a silence as Thor and I stare each other down, neither quite willing to give up on the coming fight. However, Lady Y/n is waiting for an answer and we both know it would be terribly rude to ignore her.

It’s so nice out, and I very much dislike the idea of wasting the day inside. So I suggest that we have our meal brought to us and eat here.

Having grown much more comfortable with us over the past months, Lady Y/n openly protests. “Here? Your Majesty, we are on the training grounds. Surely soldiers will come here soon to practice.”

I take her words into consideration and realize that she’s right. I think through an updated plan. “Very well, then. I know of a better place. Thor, Lady Y/n, return to your rooms and change into clothing suitable for a ride. Meet back here as soon as you can. I’ll take care of the preparations necessary for lunch.”

Thor grumbles at taking orders from his little brother, but Lady Y/n’s eyes sparkle with excitement. She turns and skips back inside. Thor follows with a little less enthusiasm.

{***}

About half an hour later, everything is set. The traveling party is bigger than I would have liked, but I suppose it is necessary to correctly adhere to protocol. Our party is made up of two kitchen servants, two guards, Nanny Idsol to attend to Lady Y/n, and Nanny Freydis for me. Thor was recently fortunate enough to graduate to a manservant (who is also accompanying us), but I must continue to put up with my insufferable nanny. Hopefully soon I will be rid of her. The thought makes me smile.

Each of us is to ride on a horse, with the exception of Lady Y/n and the nannies, who have a carriage. Upon hearing this, Lady Y/n frowns. “Your Graces, would it be possible for me to ride? I was used to doing so at home, and am sufficiently skilled.”

“Don’t argue with the princes,” Nanny Idsol intervenes.

“She’s not arguing.” Although I’m young, I know well how to infuse my voice and presence with authority. Nanny Idsol backs off immediately. “If you feel comfortable,” I continue, addressing only Lady Y/n, “you may certainly ride to our destination.”

She beams and curtsies her thanks. Thor sends his manservant to the stables to procure an additional horse, and soon we are on our way.

We traverse through the city and allow the people to praise us as we go. Lady Y/n looks a little uncomfortable with the attention, maybe even frightened, and I notice Thor ride closer to her, probably offering his protection. Lady Y/n frowns a little, straightens, and seems to force herself to seem more at ease. Interesting.

After about twenty minutes, we reach the edge of the main city which allows us access to the forest.

“Oh, Your Grace, what a wonderful idea,” Lady Y/n exclaims, and Thor nods in agreement. My heart soars at their approval.

Soon, we find the spot I had hoped for—a flat space nestled in the trees on the bank of a river—and the servants set up our picnic. When we eat, they give us our space, taking up residence a few hundred feet back. The guards, however, stay close to our sides. Can’t have the three most important children in the world be killed all at once, now can we?

“Lady Y/n, forgive my curiosity,” Thor starts during the second course, “but I seem to have forgotten the name and title of your father. Could you remind me?”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. They told us this ten months ago when she arrived. Was he not paying attention?

Lady Y/n’s answer is polite, but I can tell she is tired of recounting this information. Truly, at least once a week, someone questions the reasoning for her presence. “He is Yoldstadt, former diplomat to Alfheim and now rules as Alfheim’s regent in your father’s absence.”

Thor’s gaze sets, and I can tell he his about to say something rash. “Lady Y/n, are you sure there is not something more you can remember? I am unable to see what conditions are strong enough to assure you a spot nearly equal to Asgardian royalty.”

I literally stop breathing.

I try to communicate with my eyes how much Mother will scold him for his comment should she find out. And I’ll make sure she finds out. How fun this will be for me!

Lady Y/n’s face contorts in what I presume to be embarrassment. Quickly though, I realize it’s in anger.

“I am sorry, Your Highness, that I am not important enough to share your environment. Please, give me the resources necessary and I will quickly remedy the issue. It would be silly to ignore the significant role excessive wealth plays in your upbringing. As far as the royalty part goes, while I may not have the blood, I can learn all I need from you! Where shall I start first? Consuming an entire boar by myself? Or expanding my muscles to rival the size of my head? No, I think I’ll start with cultivating an obscenely arrogant attitude! That should make me worthy of this life. Thank you, Your Majesty, for your invaluable council.” With that, she stands up to her full height of possibly four and a half feet, shakes out the skirt of her dress, and stomps to her horse.

Thor’s face turns a lovely shade of purple and makes into all sorts of fun shapes. I grin widely and can’t help but bounce in my place.

Thor speaks through gritted teeth. “That girl—”

“—is fantastic,” I finish, getting up and running after her. “Lady Y/n, would you allow me to accompany you back to the castle?”

She purses her lips, thinking. Finally, she nods, and I offer her my arm.

Y/n: 10 // Loki: 12 // Thor: 16

Y/n’s POV

“Lady Y/n, what are you reading?” Prince Loki’s voice travels to reach me from the other corner of the room. Deep in my book, I decide to answer him after I finish the paragraph. Without warning, I hold only air in my hands. The book begins to float!

“Hey!” I stand to reach for it, but it’s climbing higher and higher, until finally, it hits the ceiling.

I glare at a chuckling Prince Loki. “It’s rude to take other people’s things.”

He grins haughtily. “It’s rude to ignore your prince. What are you reading?”

I continue to glare at him. “I was reading a history novel, but now it’s on the ceiling.”

“Hmmm, I suppose it is.” He doesn’t try very hard to sound concerned.

“Your Highness—” my teeth clench in an attempt to restrain my anger. He’s only teasing, after all. Reacting badly would make me into the rude one, and I mostly know better.

A shield hits the ceiling strategically and knocks my book to the ground.

“There.” Lady Sif had paused her sparring match with Prince Thor to cause my book to fall back to me. I curtsy and smile gratefully, then rush to grab my book.

“Thank you, Lady Sif!”

“A-ha-ha!” Prince Thor’s booming laugh fills the room, and I can’t help but smile myself. “Brother, your magic has been thwarted by Lady Sif!”

Prince Loki rolls his eyes but otherwise ignores the jab. He begins to walk away. “Enjoy your book, Lady Y/n.”

“Although he showed it indelicately, Loki does have a point, Lady Y/n.” Thor ends his sparring match with a quick nod to Lady Sif. “It would do you well to move around a bit. In fact, come over here, I could use some help with my exercises.”

I know better than to argue with Prince Thor, but I find myself stifling a groan. I don’t want to help him with his exercises. I shuffle towards the center of the playroom.

“Got you!”

I shriek in surprise as Prince Thor picks me up and holds me high above his head, beginning to run around the room. My scream quickly turns to a laugh as delight runs through me. It’s like I’m flying! Lady Sif and Prince Loki cheer us on as Prince Thor continues his course, holding me above his head as he goes. I gain courage and extend my arms to the side as if I was a bird. I gasp and a yelp escapes me as the prince takes it upon himself to throw me high into the air. He catches me with ease, and I relax, once again enjoying myself. The cheers from my friends increase as Prince Thor continues the game. Soon, I’m laughing so hard that tears come into my eyes. I’ve never had this much fun!

As if sniffing out the impropriety, Nanny Idsol stalks into the room. “Children,” she scolds. “What is all this commotion about?”

My laughter dies as do the cheers as Prince Thor carefully puts me down.

I gulp and step forward. “Nanny Idsol, we were just playing—”

“Do not interrupt me, young miss,” she snaps, fury flying into her eyes. I look at the ground, properly embarrassed. “You know much better than to behave like this!”

“If I may, Nanny Idsol, the fault lies with me,” Prince Thor comes to my defense. “I began the game. Lady Y/n was truly just going along.”

Nanny Idsol’s face softens as she looks upon Asgard’s golden boy. “My dear prince, do not feel as if you must defend this insolent girl.” Her gaze snaps sharply to me before turning sweetly back to Prince Thor, though her voice remains hard. “I have taught her better, I am sure.”

“Evidently not,” Prince Loki scoffs under his breath. Everyone chooses to ignore him.

“As for you, young lady,” Nanny Idsol sneers, “it is time you learn to act as a young lady should. Beginning tomorrow, you will spend your mornings learning the art of embroidery.” She looks incredibly pleased with herself for having conjured up this new idea.

I do not look up from the ground. “Yes, Nanny Idsol.”

“Now, to your chambers! I think you have had quite enough excitement for this day.”

I don’t look back as I leave the room, but I can feel the eyes of my friends on me. How embarrassing.

{***}

An hour or so after the playroom incident, I hear a quiet knock at my door. Quickly drying my tears, I shuffle to open it. Prince Loki stands before me, an impish grin on his face.

“Your Highness, what—”

“Shh!” He cuts me off, grinning. “May I come in?”

Mutely, I step back and allow him to enter.

He assesses my chambers, still devoid of decoration besides the standard Asgardian design. “Lovely room. Could do with a bit more personality though.”

Still stunned by his presence here, I answer automatically. “I don’t have many personal items since my father sent me away so quickly.”

“Ah,” is his only response. Once he’s done glancing around my living space, he turns to look at me. Upon focusing on my face, he leans in and furrows his brow. “Have you been crying?”

“No,” I answer defiantly, loathe to admit to my tears.

He straightens and nods sharply. “Good. That dreadful woman isn’t worth crying over. I don’t know why Mother and Father continue to employ her. She’s just so unpleasant.”

“She is,” I agree emphatically before reminding myself that it is rude to speak badly of others. Even if they are mean old ladies.

Prince Loki takes a seat at one of the tables in my room and I’m drawn back to the situation at hand. “Your Highness, might I ask…how are you here? There are guards in the halls at all times and Nanny Idsol would be horrified to know that we are in each other’s presence unaccompanied.”

He grins, his eyes alight with mischief. “Don’t worry, Lady Y/n, no one will find out.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “I slipped by the guards quite easily due to this new teleportation spell I’m learning.”

“Teleportation?!” My eyes shoot open and I plop into the chair across from him, my excitement effectively erasing any notions of following protocol.

His expression turns smug. “Yep. I’ve been working on it for a few months, but it wasn’t ready to show you. But now…” His eyes light up again. “Would you like to see?”

“Absolutely!”

His smile widens and he grabs my hand, pulling me to the center of my room. He takes a place about three feet in front of me. “Ready? Don’t close your eyes.”

I nod and work hard to keep from blinking. He squeezes his own eyes shut, mutters something unintelligible, and within the next second, he’s gone. There’s a tap on my shoulder. I whirl around to find him standing nowhere near where he was a second ago, arms spread out wide as if saying ‘ta-da!’

“Oh, wow!” A delighted laugh bubbles from my mouth.

He walks back to the sitting portion of my room and I follow dutifully. “I can’t do it too often because it makes me tired,” he explains, slumping into a chair. “I just thought you ought to get to see it.”

I beam. “I’m so glad you decided to show me.”

“Mother says that as I get older and become better at magic, I won’t get as tired and I’ll be able to just think the spell rather than saying it aloud.” A wistful look crosses his face. “I can’t wait for then.”

I cross my arms over my knees, wanting to reassure my friend. “You’re going to be amazing, Prince Loki.”

Surprise colors his features. “What makes you say that?”

I shrug. “I just know.”

A/n Here’s chapter 2! Let me know what you think and if you would like to be added to the tag list :) I also have another Loki x Reader up called The Queen. You can find it on my page or on my masterlist! 

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/630010330649706496/odins-ward-chapter-3

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 

[samwrights]

Barista!AU

Hiyoooo~ so this special request here is from @sippn-the-tae and I specifically wanted to do this one since I return to work with Starbucks tomorrow, 5.4! I’ve missed the siren, but I’ll definitely miss you guys. I’m still going to keep writing, I’ve got about 20 req in my inbox rn and I’m working on 3 different series. Enjoy some hcs!

Karasuno;

With them being more suburban/country-esque, I picture them being a drive-thru/cafe store.

Sugawara is store manager—no ifs, ands, or but’s about it. 10/10, would work for Suga.

He takes no shit but is as sweet as sugar.

Daichi, Ennoshita, and Kiyoko are the shift supervisors. They’d be the most proficient in leading the team and have the most knowledge on all positions.

Tanaka and Noya are definitely the barista trainers—they have the energy and thirst to learn and teach.

Asahi’s best position is oven; nobody is faster than him. However, he’s notorious for accidentally setting parchment paper on fire for leaving a cookie in the oven two seconds too long.

Tadashi and Hinata are the drive thru dream team. Tadashi mans the window and Hinata is such a people person that he just knows how to up-sell, all day. “So you’re getting a venti today, right?”

Plus, the two of them planted in drive-thru = less disasters around the store. Tadashi is the type of person who freezes, and Hinata is never aware of what people are carrying.

These two are regularly responsible for broken milk gallons.

Kageyama is the main bar person. He’s fast and proficient and can make your drink in exactly 19 seconds from start to finish while starting three others.

Nishinoya is the secondary bar person. He handles the overflow, cafe orders, and online orders and he’s good at it. 9 drink order? No problem, we’ll have it out in 7 minutes. 23 drink order? Will be done in 17 minutes.

Tsukishima is best at customer support. This person is in charge of restocking cups, lids, sauces, syrups, and ice. Also in charge of getting all the store cleaning tasks done—Tsukki strikes me as a “go fast, don’t suck” kind of person.

Tsuki isn’t allowed to be near the register or interact with customers unless absolutely necessarily. His customer service voice is entirely too sarcastic and it gets him in trouble.

Tanaka flirts with every customer. Even the married ones. Especially the married ones.

If Tanaka is working the drive-thru window, he’s the one who rakes in the most tips. Bills only, no change.

Even though Hinata and Kags work very close together, they’re never allowed to bar together. You can bet these two have flung mocha at each other on more than one occasion.

For some reason, I picture Daichi attracting the Sunday crowd of church going, middle-aged moms because they all wanna see a strong, handsome young man flex his arms while writing their names on their cups.

Aoba Johsai;

Oddly enough, I picture these boys thriving in a corner lot store that boasts plenty of space and has specialty offerings unique to their location and store type. We call them reserve bars.

Iwaizumi is the store manager and, no, you can’t change my mind.

Yahaba, Mattsun, Makki, and Watari are the shift supervisors. Yahaba and Watari for their work ethic, and the meme team landed the gig because Iwaizumi literally doesn’t trust anyone else in the store.

Oikawa only works the reserve side. This particular role specializes in making drinks with manual espresso machines, as opposed to automatic. They use specially curated blends and mixes—they are showman.

They also get to hang out and talk to everyone without being pressured to work faster. Not that anyone rushes Oikawa anyway, they come to sit and hang out with him.

Yahaba does have to help him out if he gets too swamped down there though.

Kunimi kills it on oven. Because he’s not always a necessary position, but when he’s needed he is on it.

Kindaichi is the main bar person besides Oikawa. Since they’re not nearly as fast paced as the Karasuno store, Kindaichi is able to usually hold down the fort by himself.

If not, Kunimi’s there to ease some of the stress.

If they are super busy, being a downtown location and all, Watari usually comes in to save the day.

The meme team is in charge of overnight cleaning days—Iwaizumi knows that they turn it into a party every night. He doesn’t care, as long as the store doesn’t get any health code violations.

Makki definitely blasts garbage hip-hop over the store speakers while Mattsun sneaks in beer. Iwa’s definitely found empty bottles in his garbage cans.

Kyoutani is customer support and oddly enough, he’s fckn good at it. Sometimes, restocking really just means throw shit where it belongs.

He’s also really fast at it.

Overall this store has a classy appeal to it with an even classier staff. Well, the latter is debatable.

Makki has definitely exploded a chemex brewer.

Mad Dog has thrown a drink that was returned at Oikawa’s head. However, said senior dodged and the drink hit a customer.

Iwaizumi definitely wrote them both up.

Speaking of write ups, Kyoutani is on his final. No surprise there.

Oikawa is on his second because, while it’s totally fine to flirt with your customers, it’s not okay to abandon your job post to go hook up in a bathroom. Shame, Oikawa.

[concussed-to-pieces]

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Six

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

“General!” 

  The unfamiliar voice roused Danse from his staring match with the coffee pot and he lunged to his feet, Righteous Authority at the ready.

  “At ease, Paladin. It's one of my friends.” Backhand soothed him, waving at the young man striding through the tatos towards them. “Preston! What brings you to this corner of the wilderness?” 

  Preston was on the taller side, well-built and wearing a strange combination of period clothing that Danse quickly identified as a higher-ranking Minuteman’s uniform. A scar hugged the brown skin on his left cheek, its path similar to Maxson's (though not as deep). His eyes, while kind, were haunted even in the bright light of morning.

  “We got the radio set back up in The Castle, and then we tuned into a repeating distress signal from a weird short-range frequency. Figured it was worth checking out.” The Minuteman touched the large brim of his odd hat while speaking to Backhand, almost like he was deferring to her. "You might have sent a message warning us that a Brotherhood research contingent was on their way. I'm not sayin' we would have left the queen untouched , but...well, you know how much folks around here like their seafood."

  Preston Garvey ( head lieutenant of the Commonwealth Minutemen ) didn't appear to have a malicious bone in his body, his handshake for Danse firm when Backhand introduced him. Danse found himself pinned by those intense brown eyes, the paladin squirming inwardly while the dark-skinned man studied him. 

  “You Brotherhood boys are bad news for the Commonwealth, but we can't exactly afford to be picky,” Preston stated bluntly with a disarming smile. “So, welcome aboard!”

  Danse felt his face go hot at the insinuation, opening his mouth to say... something , he wasn't sure what, but Preston was already refocusing on Knight Vega. Or should he say General Vega? This was the second time someone had referred to her as ‘General’. 

  Danse wasn't used to being so simply dismissed. He was, after all, a paladin . An overgrown specimen of a man in or out of his armor, with a carefully-crafted demeanor of stern authority. Preston didn't seem particularly rude though, mostly just exhausted. He had propped himself up with his laser musket as Backhand explained their mission of the day. Mainly, reacquire Danse's armor and mop up any remaining threats in Weston. 

  Danse realized he had no control in this operation as he was sans-armor and he almost laughed aloud at the role reversal in the field. Playing the damsel was definitely a novel sensation for the hulking paladin and he said as much, prompting Backhand into a fit of giggles.

  “Pretty sure I was the damsel at first, this guy has a hell of a throwing arm!” She informed Preston, thumbing the reinforced strapping of her combat armor. “Tossed me like I was a skipping rock!”

  “You threw the General?!” Preston sputtered.

  “It was a reflex .” Danse stressed the word, flustered. 

  “Yeah but you threw a whole human being? ” The Minuteman asked incredulously. “I mean, damn, what do they feed you guys?”

  “To be fair, the power armor enhances-”

  “Oh yeah, and he can move his armor even when the core's blown.” Backhand tacked on like she was a proud parent. Preston looked at Danse a little sideways, as though he suspected Knight Vega was talking him up. 

  But the Minuteman simply shrugged after a moment, adjusting his hat. “So what's the plan, General? I'm going to assume it's his armor that was pinging the distress signal.”

  Danse's breath hitched as it dawned on him that yes , that was exactly what was happening. The severe damage would have activated the emergency beacon, just like with Brandis’ team. And if some haphazard, ramshackle radio at Fort Independence could pick it up…

  If it's been going off since last night ...

  Their beacons carried their call tags. The Prydwen would have known it was his armor specifically. They had vertibirds to spare, despite Maxon's posturing when they had departed. Surely there had to be some logical reason as to why no one from the Brotherhood had come to investigate the signal. Danse couldn't think of anything at the moment, but surely …

  …

  The armor was exactly where it had been yesterday, a protective shell resting on a leg and three-quarters. Seeing the damage up close was sobering for Backhand, and judging from Danse's stony expression he was in the same boat. 

  “At least it was super mutants. If it had been raiders or, God forbid, gunners …” Preston trailed off, touching the brim of his hat. His hand shook a little.

  “I know, trust me. We would have been in for a really terrible time.” Backhand muttered.

  Danse, who had been essentially silent, abruptly began speaking. “Back in the Capital Wasteland, I once took an Enclave bullet to the leg. Hit a rust patch just right. Penetrated my armor and shredded my calf. I learned then that our equipment is not infallible by any stretch of the imagination.” Danse's fists were tight at his sides. “It's... distressing when a soldier jettisons his gear in combat, but I'll be fine.”

  "You think you can get it working again?"

  Danse scoffed at Preston's query, a grin quirking his lips as he tugged a fresh core out of one of his utility pouches. "Give me an hour. I'm no proctor, but I know a thing or two about my own armor." 

  The paladin muscled his armor onto its back, looking for all the world like he was slowly grappling with the empty suit. Backhand fought the urge to snort, shifting her attention back to Preston instead. "So how's Independence coming, hot shot?" She jibed, making him give her a tentative, self-conscious smile.

  "Really well, I'd say. Crops are planted, we have 'round the clock radio coverage and old Minutemen are showing up to get their transponders re-tuned for our new frequency!" Preston replied excitedly. "We gotta' get yours fixed up too, General."

  "You're still accepting the deserters?" Backhand wasn't exactly surprised , but it was a little strange to see how enthused Preston was about welcoming old Minutemen back into the fold. 

  "W-Well, new recruits are coming in too! We needed more trainers and-" Preston hurried to justify himself and Backhand jostled his shoulder.

  " Relax , tight lace, I'm only teasing. It's any port in a storm. No matter what you've done, you know I'm proud of you." She said softly. Preston's cheeks darkened further with a ruddy flush, the young man coughing and tugging bashfully at the brim of his hat. 

  "That's...real kind of you to say, General." He muttered after a second. 

  "I try to only speak the truth with my friends." Backhand gestured vaguely towards the paladin who was straightening out the plating on the torso of his armor. "Sometimes they're a little... hardheaded , but I know it'll get through to them eventually." Her statement was pointed enough that Preston raised an eyebrow. "He's a decent man. Something is fucked up between him and their leader, Maxson. I'm not quite sure what ." She continued in an undertone.

  "Careful about how deep you're digging the hole, General." Preston warned. "Brotherhood's got a fanaticism that's borderline religious."

  "Garvey, I was in the original . If there's one thing I'm familiar with, it's military maniacs."

  "Fair enough I suppose." Preston fanned himself with his hat, idly watching Danse beat his armor back into shape. "He's good looking, I'll give him that. Penchant for a type, General Vega?" He teased with a smile.

  "I can neither confirm nor deny!" Backhand laughed, "you're nosier than a pre-war tabloid journalist, Garvey. Planning on taking up with Piper?"

  "If it helps spread the word about the Minutemen, absolutely!" 

  The two of them lapsed into a companionable silence for several minutes. Danse abruptly glanced up, the lack of conversation seeming to penetrate his single-minded focus. "Am I being too loud?" He asked awkwardly. "I can try to be quieter." 

  "Nah, keep doing what you were doing." Garvey gave him a wave that was almost lazy. "I'm just taking in the scenery." 

  …

  The plan that Knight Vega proposed was ludicrously simple. 

  She had found a metal bucket in one of the trailers beside the water treatment plant. She would put her Pip Boy into it, turn on the radio and set the volume to max. Hopefully the racket would lure any remaining mutants out of the facility, wherein the all too eager trio would fall upon them with gusto.

  Preston was game for it as well, already cranking up the power in his laser musket as Backhand settled the bucket on its side by the front doors. 

  The usual vein of music issued from the Pip Boy, echoing a little in the bucket. Blaring brass overpowered any of the more delicate parts of the tune and Backhand laughed, playfully extending a hand to Preston. "Dance with me, LT? I'm sure we've got a few minutes."

  To Danse's utter dismay, the Minuteman did just that. Surely, this was some breach of protocol? The young man referred to her as his superior officer! Regardless of how lax their standards were, this couldn't possibly be proper. This…

  This was the most precious thing he had ever seen.

  Danse would be eternally grateful for the rigorous self control that enabled him to school his face into a neutral expression. Preston wasn't a half-bad dancer but Backhand was terrible , just downright uncoordinated. 

  The two of them were laughing like they had forgotten the issue at hand and for one blissful second, Danse found himself strangely at peace. Just watching both individuals fumble through some semblance of a dance he would never know, grinning and poking fun, entirely unconcerned about the world around them. 

  Danse was used to being watched. Scrutinized. Held to a higher standard than anyone else around him due to rank or simple expectation. Knight Vega...he should say something. Tell her to shape up. This behavior was unacceptable . Maxson could have her stripped of her probationary knight rank for this. Maxson could…

  Maxson . 

  The paladin gritted his teeth. 

  Elder Maxson could do a lot of things. The intensity of the depression that followed the thought startled even Danse. It was like a wet blanket wrapping itself around his entire body. Maxson could do a lot of things. He could have ended this before it even started. He could have mounted the assault when Brandis' team vanished. He could have-

  The doors to the complex swung wide open, four super mutants sprinting out. Danse's heart leaped into his throat. 

  Backhand and Preston-!  

  His body moved without thought, the armored paladin placing himself between the threat and the two who were now scrambling to prepare themselves. Danse cracked his knuckles in his gauntlets, bullets whipping through the air by his head. Three of the mutants were only armed with boards and sledgehammers, but the largest one carried a rifle of some kind. 

  A musket shot boomed from behind the paladin, pulping the head of one of the mutants. Danse surmised coldly that it must have been Preston's kill. Danse wasn't unarmed, but the enemy also wasn't inclined to give him the time to sling his laser rifle back around, and so it was with his armored fists that he rushed the trigger-happy mutant.

  …

  "Gotcha'!" Backhand's shotgun sounded off, the loud report muffled by the way she had rammed the barrel into the mutant's chest. Beside her, Preston kept winding up his musket to power his next shot. That first shot had been just what the doctor ordered, quickly putting the odds more in their favor. 

  There was a loud, angry grunt and Backhand looked up to see a super mutant go sailing past her and slam through the side of one of the trailers. Preston gaped at the sight, ceasing to crank his musket momentarily. 

  A roar of " abomination! " echoed through the courtyard, the sheer volume of it enough to give Backhand pause. The paladin had gotten too close to the mutant with the gun for the creature to continue to use it effectively and Danse pressed his advantage. Backhand watched slightly dumbfounded while the large man went toe to toe with the massive mutant. 

  The mutant yammered at Danse, nonsensical rambling about cracking him open and the paladin repaid those threats with his metal-plated fists. "Should we…?" Preston queried. Apparently neither of them needed to worry as Danse proceeded to shoulder check the mutant, forcing it backwards through the doors into the building.

  "It's probably therapeutic for him. He really, really hates muties." Backhand couldn't help but still feel slightly concerned and she sighed. "C'mon, let's make sure he's not getting devoured."

  …

  Danse manhandled the beast through two walls until he found one sturdy enough for him to pin the mutant against. It squirmed and struggled against the iron grip he had on its throat, choking out more insane nonsense. "This is for Cutler, you freak ." Danse's voice cracked as he drew his fist back.

  "You okay in here, Paladin?" Backhand's voice distracted him momentarily and the paladin paused. " Danse? "

  His fist crushed the mutant's skull, sending bone and brain flying. Danse released the now-dead mutant, shaking his gauntlet and hissing at the pain. Inadvertently punching a wall was assuredly not his finest moment. "Yes, Knight Vega?" He called.

  She carefully picked her way over the two piles of rubble that had previously been walls, her shotgun ready. Behind her came Preston, sweeping corners in a practiced manner. "Just making sure nothing happened. You know we're supposed to be sticking together." Her tone was playfully chiding, even though her eyes betrayed a startling level of concern.

  "Figured I should grab the opportunity by the throat." Danse answered after a moment of silent contemplation. 

  To his credit, Preston did attempt to keep his laughter under control. Vega grinned at her snickering lieutenant, patting his shoulder and then squinting at Danse. "You better watch it, Paladin. I'll have you written up for bullheaded heroics or something."

  "A fate worse than death." Danse replied dryly. "Though I'm afraid your report would fall on deaf ears."

  "Too true. You would probably be promoted to...double paladin, or whatever the next rank is for you." 

  "Knight sergeant."

  "What?! But paladin sounds way cooler!" Backhand protested indignantly while Preston started laughing all over again. "The whole point of moving up in the chain of command is to get a better name! Even I know that." She teased.

  Danse felt like he was back on the Prydwen attempting to educate a mess hall full of squires. "Well, I could be promoted to star paladin. But that's very unlikely." He explained. "They are exceptionally rare, akin to sentinels."

  " Star paladin?" Backhand looked like she was about to burst with curiosity. 

  "Yes. They are paladins who have been specially recognized for their dedication or ferocity in battle." 

  "Uh General, not to cut this short, but-" Preston began hurriedly, rechecking the levels on his undoubtedly finicky musket. 

  "Right, yeah, job to do." 

  Danse finally swung his rifle around, doing a quick run-through of all the switches before he turned on the tact-light, beautifully illuminating the dust his demolition-style entry had stirred up. 

  He proceeded deeper into the facility, purposely taking point despite his unarmored head. Preston flanked him on the left while Backhand walked drag, their footsteps all but silent in the wake of the larger man's sabatons. "Remain vigilant." Danse cautioned.

  "D'you think there's anything else in here?" Preston whispered, "I feel like they would have come for us."

  "I've actually been in here before, last time the basement was flooded and there were mirelurks," Backhand muttered. "I was doing a favor for those 'bots at Graygarden."

  "No rest for the wicked when it comes to you, eh General?" Preston quipped.

  "Listen, I feel like making friends with the agriculturally-inclined robots is definitely a good strategy." She reasoned. "After all, they can work around the clock and everything!"

  Danse hushed the two of them, leading with the barrel of his rifle. The tact-light flickered as he continued their sweep, ears open for any signs of hostiles. 

  ...

  Backhand tapped at the compass of her Pip Boy, scrolling the compass display a full three hundred and sixty degrees. Her scroll jerked to a halt when two red ticks appeared, ahead and to the right.

  "Bogey at two o'clock." She whispered. Danse nodded grimly and Preston flipped the crank over to prime his musket. 

  Now Backhand could actually hear sounds, an odd snuffling and scraping noise. A hound, maybe?

  Danse clearly heard it as well, the man advancing into the next room and sweeping the corners with his rail-mounted flashlight.

  Something skittered by just outside the light, vanishing into a gap in the crumbling wall. Danse wordlessly stormed forward and with one brutal motion he rammed his gauntlet through the plaster and heaved out--

  A child?

  The paladin froze, one large metal hand wrapped around the leg of the waif he had just forcibly extracted. The little boy screamed and flailed in Danse's hold, tiny fists beating a tattoo on the gauntlet that suspended him upside down in midair. He was filthy , clad in a dingy pair of overalls. He had a cut over his right eye, possibly from Danse's speedy removal.

  For the barest, heartbreaking second, Backhand thought that it was Shaun. But no, no, she was imagining things. 

  "Whoa, easy there." She breathed, trying to get her heart to stop hammering. Danse still hadn't moved. "Hey, hey hey, look at me." She caught one of the child's arms, easily dodging the bite he aimed at her hand. " Easy big fella', we aren't going to hurt you." Backhand soothed, "you're okay. Were you hiding from the muties?"

  "Big d-d-dog tried t-to eat m-m-me." The little boy hiccupped, changing his tune instantly and clinging to her arm as Danse carefully, carefully set him down. "H-Hid in the wall. M-My mama, she told me not t-to wander off, b-b-but it got dark and I g-got lost." he sobbed, rubbing his eyes. 

  Backhand reached into her satchel and pulled out Sergeant Cathan's 'lucky' bandanna. With gentle precision she wrapped it around the little boy's hand, knotting it at his wrist. "I need you to do me a favor, okay?" She asked seriously. "I need you to hold onto this bandanna for me. It's lucky, but only if you're holding it super tight. Can you make sure we stay lucky?"

  The child frowned after a moment, sniffling and then gripping down on the bandanna. Backhand heaved a mental sigh of relief, thankful that the distraction tactic had worked. Sometimes she couldn't get her target to buy into the grift; it was always a gamble. Sergeant Cathan had taught her (long ago and far away now) the benefits of implication, suggestion and placebo effects on survivors. She had carried the 'lucky' bandanna since her honorable discharge, it being one of the few possessions she had refused to relinquish even while being sealed in cryogenic stasis. It made her feel a little warm inside to be able to use it's so-called powers for good once more.

  " It doesn't have to be real. It doesn't have to be lucky, or important, or special in any way ." The sergeant had informed her when he explained the trick of distraction. " All it needs is belief, Backhand. That's it. If you can get them to believe in it, the hard part is already over ." 

  "Okay kiddo, how about we bring you back outside?" Preston cajoled gently with a smile. "You want something to eat?" The little boy nodded furiously, his eyes wide in the glow of Danse's rail-light. "Alright, take my hand. You're gonna' be just fine." 

  A loud howl echoed down the hallway and Danse jerked to attention, his rifle snapping upwards. "Go, get out!" He demanded Preston, "pick up the child and go! Knight Vega, on my six, now! " He barked.

  Backhand thanked God that Preston was the type to help first and ask questions later, the young man easily scooping the little boy up in his arms and ducking out in the direction of the foyer. Danse shone his light back down the hallway, illuminating a hound so old its green skin had gone gunmetal gray. It sampled the air and bayed hoarsely, milky eyes staring ahead. It was ancient, obviously blind, possibly deaf-

  Danse pulled his trigger once, and then a second time for good measure. Backhand noticed that his hands were shaking as he straightened up. He strode forward to the end of the hall, shoving the dog's body aside without so much as looking at it.

  Backhand looked down at her compass, scrolling it this way and that. But it was empty, no signatures reading on it whatsoever. "Paladin, I think that's it." She said, holding her arm up so he could see her use the compass.

  Danse nodded in an absent manner, still looking down the hall and running his light over the walls around him. 

  "We should get back outside. Make sure Preston and that kiddo are okay." Backhand suggested gently.

  "I could have killed that child."

  Ah . Backhand understood why his hands were trembling now. She let him carry on with his double-check, giving him the time he needed to decide whether he would say more.

  "I...I could have…" Backhand heard him swallow, the noise loud in the silence. " Christ , Vega. I'm not setting a very good example for you, am I. We were almost killed by a behemoth due to my own inattention, I had to jettison my power armor, my helmet is unsalvageable , and I very nearly slaughtered a lost child."

  "It's been a hell of a shakedown campaign." Backhand agreed, pushing the glasses up on her nose. "Imagine the trouble we could get into if we keep sticking together." 

  Danse's laughter was a grim bark of a noise, the paladin nodding his head ruefully. "Just imagine. If I keep up my trajectory, the Commonwealth will be in flames by tomorrow morning."

  Backhand placed a wary hand on his gauntlet, fingers grazing the worn red-orange paint that denoted his rank. " Or it'll be a better place." She reasoned, patting his arm and turning on her heel. "Now, c'mon. We've got a little one to return to his parents." She urged, waving the paladin on.

  Preston had made it safely outside, the man still cradling the child as Backhand emerged from the double doors onto the front steps of the establishment. He raised his brows in question. 

  "There was an old hound, probably too old to hunt anymore. Blind." Backhand explained, sliding her satchel around and digging through it until her fingers brushed the plastic-wrapped snack. "Ah, here we go. You must be hungry, right slugger?" She asked the little boy, extracting the snack cake from her bag and waving it to catch his attention. "How about you munch on this until we get back to Oberland, and then my friend Preston will see about finding your parents. That sound good to you?"

  The boy nodded, still sniffling but eagerly accepting the pre-war confection. 

  "You still got that bandanna? I know you must have held onto it real tight, because that hound didn't even know we were there!" Backhand praised with a grin, thrilled when the child gave her a weak smile in return.

  Danse emerged from the building, towering over the trio in his armor. "It seems that beast was the last holdout." He said finally, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Have you checked the child for injuries?"

  The cut over the little boy's eye had already stopped bleeding, and aside from a few minor scrapes and bruises he appeared to be fine. Obviously his largest issues were being lost and hungry. Preston continued to hold the child while Backhand cleaned the dried blood off his forehead, well aware of the eyes trained on her. "There. You'll be just fine." She assured the boy, barely resisting the urge to kiss the bandage and instead kissing her fingertips to press against the bandage. After all, she wasn't this kid's mom. 

  "A-Are you the Minutemen?" The little boy asked after a moment of hesitation. "My papa said you guys help people."

  "We are! Good guess." Preston praised, adjusting his hold on the kid so he could tip his hat. " There at a minute's notice , or that's the idea anyway." 

  "Let's move out. The sooner we get to Oberland, the sooner you can broadcast your APB on him." Vega adjusted her satchel and began carefully picking her way back through the flooded area, boots sloshing in the water. "What's your name, wall boy?"

  "Matt." The child replied through a mouthful of cake. "Mat'ew Amadeus O'Brian."

  Backhand blinked, a little stunned at the elaborate name that the kid had rattled off. "Well, Matthew Amadeus O'Brian , my name is Elizabeth Backhand Vega, and the nice man being your legs right now is Preston Garvey." She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, indicating the silent paladin who was bringing up the rear of their little party. "The big one is Paladin Danse."

  "He's big," Matt repeated, watching the paladin narrowly before tacking on, "An' scary ."

  "He's not really scary, but it's easy to think that." Backhand could almost feel Danse growing more and more tense. "He's sorry for surprising you earlier, I promise!" 

  Matt's eyes stayed suspiciously squinted at the paladin, the little boy continuing to inhale the snack cake. "Are you sure? " He asked in a stage whisper. "'Cuz he looks angry. Like how my papa looks when he says I'm bein' too os'servant ."

  Preston snickered at that. "You must be real observant then, if your folks are scolding you for it."

  Matt puffed out his chest a bit, stating proudly that, "My mama says I've got good eyes and nothin' between them. Then, she laughs."

  Danse made a choking noise, the large man obviously attempting to stifle his mirth. "Your mother sounds immensely charitable." He remarked, a faint smile playing across his mouth.

  The little boy looked befuddled for a moment, pursing his lips. "I 'unno what that means, but I love my mama. So that better not be somethin' nasty." Clearly, the child had recovered some of his original pep, no doubt aided by the copious amounts of sugar in that snack cake. "Otherwise I'll kick your butt." 

  "Whoa now, language." Preston chided gently.

  "He started it!" Matthew protested, "callin' my mama some...carrot, carrotible ."

  " Charitable . It means good, kind. Even when you don't have to be." Backhand laughed as she explained, watching the realization dawn on the kid.

  "Oh. Okay then. That's fine." The child allowed, "as long as it's nothin' bad."

  ...

  Danse wiped the sweat from his brow, hammering the last nail into place. There . With the metal scrap and lumber they had salvaged from the area surrounding the station, Danse actually managed to cobble together a half perimeter fence that was a bit more fortified than the old chain link lining the once-uniform garden. It wasn't anything incredible , but it wouldn't fall over at the next stiff breeze. 

  Upon their arrival, Knight Vega had sat Matt down by the old pump out front of the station and carefully scrubbed the rest of the child's face clean. The boy somehow managed to keep up a constant stream of chatter even as he was being scoured to within an inch of his life. Danse knew he ought to find it irritating, as his entire military career he had been taught that squires should be seen and not heard, but instead he found it oddly endearing. 

  Preston had eventually managed to raise the Castle (or rather, Fort Independence), the Minuteman relaying the information that they had acquired a precocious young man by the name of Matthew Amadeus O'Brian. 

  Preston and Backhand had kept busy in the aforementioned garden for most of the day, tearing up weeds and tilling the soil. The two had an easy rapport, going back and forth on a variety of topics. Matt occasionally chimed in around a mouthful of almost gone-by tato, the child more than eager to assist in the stripping and demolishing of the plants.

  Danse had half-listened to their chatter while he engaged wholeheartedly in building the defenses up as best as he could, wanting desperately to make himself useful even as he soaked up the conversation. Agriculture had never been his strong suit. Coming from the Capital Wasteland, he was incredibly leery of any produce borne of the radiation-rich soil. He certainly didn't eat any of it without properly preparing it. This led to less adventurous but also less dangerous meals, the vegetables usually gray and tasteless from their time in the pot of his mess kit.

  Danse took a step back to admire his handiwork. It had been too long since he was able to actually devote the time to a task that it required, instead of just smashing resources together and hoping they held. He knew it was technically a fence made out of the refuse of the area, nothing to be proud of, but he relished the opportunity to craft something useful.

  He heard a low whistle from behind him and realized that Preston was looking up at the fortifications, a massive grin on his face. "Damn, we could have used you at the Castle!" The Minuteman commented, clapping a hand on Danse's shoulder. "You got the place squared away in half the time, color me impressed."

  "Being able to find or create a defensible position is a necessary skill for field ops. You never know when you may need to bivouac in less than hospitable territory." Danse knew he must sound unbearably stiff, and he grimaced inwardly at his casual usage of the word bivouac . That had been something from Cutler's verbiage. "This wall should function optimally, but it can always be improved upon."

  "I appreciate it. The Minutemen thank you for your assistance." Preston said warmly, his hand squeezing Danse's shoulder gently before he turned back towards the garden. "General, we should probably break for dinner! I know you two will be leavin' early tomorrow, wouldn't want you to be overtired." He called to Backhand, who tossed him a thumbs-up.

  Danse opened his mouth, hesitated, and then carefully stated, "if we stay another day, I may be able to erect something for the lower side of the hill. It won't be as tall as this, but as it's the lower hillside, inhabitants will have a better chance of spotting the enemy and preparing."

  Preston's eyebrows shot up. "You'd do that for us? I'd be incredibly grateful, I'll be honest. We're spread so thin, I'm probably only going to have one armed individual to assign to this outpost. Whatever help you can give-"

  "Only one?" Danse looked at the copious tilled soil, his brow furrowed in thought. "You may have too many resources here for you to defend them with just one gun and a wall of scrap, Lieutenant Garvey."

  "At the moment, the only resource is the water pump. I'm hopin' by the time the crops pop, we'll be a little fatter in our ranks. If not, well, I'm always up for extra field duty." Preston drew a finger along the brim of his large hat, sighing. "Nobody said it would be easy, y'know?"

  Danse nodded. He knew overwell the disproportionate work load that a commander must shoulder in exchange for the safety and stability of their regiment.

  After a hearty supper of some of the remaining tatos (safely over-stewed to within an inch of their lives), canned beans and fresh-last-week bread that Preston had brought with him, Danse took up his post along the defenses he had built. His armor creaked a little louder than normal, but he supposed that was to be expected after the beating it had taken.

  Backhand had been quiet during their dinner. He assumed she was simply tired. He could hardly blame her; it had been a very eventful few days. 

  Danse bit his lip. He knew he ought to be rushing back to the Prydwen, but he felt an odd sense of responsibility for this new development. After all , he reasoned, what better way to win hearts and minds for the Brotherhood? Showing that they were benevolent, willing to work with existing factions regardless of their differences…

  Well, at least Danse was at any rate. And with a little luck, his obviously-high rank would convince the battered survivors of post-apocalyptic New England that the whole of the Brotherhood was here to help.

  Possibly in spite of Maxson's lofty aspirations for wiping out the Institute. What good was it to remove the proverbial boogeyman of the Commonwealth if the Brotherhood's resources were stripped from the campaign? The more prudent option would be to gain the trust of the locals, and then press them for support should the need arise. 

  That was all he was doing. Gaining the trust of the locals.

  He glanced up at the light that wavered in the window of the towering station. He could imagine Knight Vega tucking the little boy in, maybe pressing a kiss to his forehead…

  Danse's heart ached. She had lost her son, he recalled, though she hadn't said how . He couldn't even begin to imagine the agony of losing a child. Losing Cutler was devastating enough.

  When Vega came out to relieve him at two hundred hours, Danse noted that she still looked worn. Her eyes were puffy, like she had been crying. "Tell me about what happened to your son, Knight." He requested quietly. 

  "That's...it's kind of a long story, Paladin." She tried to brush him off, fiddling with her combat armor straps. "You should sleep."

  "That's an order, Knight."

  Vega hiccupped, her sob rattling Danse's composure. "The Institute. They...they ripped him right out of my arms in the Vault." She whispered. "The stasis was put on hold, somehow , and they just...they took him. The next thing I knew, I was waking up alone." She stared at the ground. "I know it was the Institute. I know there's a way in. But I don't know...God, Danse, what if he's dead? " She asked helplessly.

  Even though he hadn’t known, Danse still felt like a bastard for making her relive that horror. She had been so sure before, so certain that her child was alive. But now for whatever reason, she was entertaining the alternative and Danse was lost . What the hell could he even say?

  "You didn't let me give up on Paladin Brandis." He pointed out. "So I'm not letting you give up on your son."

  "Is that an order, sir?"

  "A promise , Knight, not an order." Danse saluted her sharply, his gauntlet clattering on his breastplate. "As a Brotherhood of Steel paladin, I swear to you that I will do all I can to help uncover the truth of what happened to your son. And for as long as feasibly possible, we will operate under the assumption that he is alive and well. If we give in to despair, then they've already won."

  Backhand looked up at him, her expression distraught. Danse didn't expect her to wrap her arms around his armor, the woman barely able to reach past his sides due to the bulky frame. She tucked her face against the handles on his breastplate and Danse was terrified of making the wrong move. So he stayed still, one massive gauntlet eventually moving forward to cautiously rest on her back. 

  "We will find him." He assured her softly. "I promise."

Part Seven

[risingsouls]

Conversations: 4

[Part 4! With a hint of shameful(less?) fanservice because the idea popped into my head and it was amusing because these two give zero fucks. A little less heavy than the last few so there’s that? I dunno we’re moving toward something here.]

Nabooru sank into the near scalding and fragrant bath she drew with an extended sigh, her tense muscles and bruises relenting in the pain they caused. Her body like jelly, she reclined back and rested her head on the lip, eyes closing and arms draped haphazardly over the side. 

She needed this last night when she dragged herself back home, but when her heavy eyes landed on her bed on the way, she failed to convince her legs to carry her further. Her head hit the pillow and she was out, exhaustion superseding the pain of her training session with Vegeta. She admired his willingness to push her, upping the difficulty level when he deemed her ready. But yesterday's spar felt more outright aggressive than a measured rise of difficulty. _She_ didn't particularly _mind_, exactly. He had offered her a proper challenge after all. But her sore body when she woke up cursed his name, and the more she thought about it, she wondered at the cause. It didn't help that she had to put this moment on hold to help Nappa out when a trainer didn't show up. Putting the fighters through their paces wasn't difficult. Painful at times due to her pre-established soreness. The trouble was keeping them focused on something other than her damn body and thinking of ways to ask her out for the millionth time.

She hadn't heard from Vegeta yet, and though that didn't mean much when he wasn't reliable with warning her when he planned to show up, she didn't sense him nearby or on the move. She took advantage of the moment of free time to relax before more training, with or without him. She smoothed the loose strands of hair she missed when she tossed it up into a messy bun on top of her head up to her scalp. She hoped she could enjoy this for a while. Maybe squeeze in a quick nap or some relaxing stretches before forcing herself into more strenuous training…

Gold eyes popped open, a groan leaving her lips as her senses picked up Vegeta’s ki signature barreling in her direction all too soon. She willed him to fly passed, head off into the wastes or further north for training on his own to give her that few hours of spoiling herself, but his power faded right at her doorstep. She winced at the bang of the front door slamming the wall and sank further into the tub, feet hanging over the end. 

“Nabooru!”

Nose scrunched, she shouted back, “I’m in the bathroom!” She muttered a few select Gerudo insults into the bubbles. She wasn’t about to abandon her bath; he could wait for her if he was so desperate as to bust into her house like a maniac to begin their training.

Silence relaxed her tensed muscles once more, content with the idea that he either left in a huff or was waiting as patiently as a man like Vegeta could manage. Just as her eyelids lowered, the crunch of footsteps on the carpet heading in her direction snapped them back open. She glanced to the cracked door after ensuring water and suds had her covered. Surely he wouldn’t just walk in would he?

He would.

Vegeta had never ventured past her living room, but following her voice and the self-explanatory layout of what he had come to expect of an Earth home, he traipsed straight through her bedroom to the master bathroom and kicked the door open none too gently. He returned her glare in kind, unbothered by her state of undress or the activity she wasted her time with. The cloyingly sweet, floral scent of whatever substances she threw into her soak only deepened his scowl.

“You know. Telling you I was in the bathroom wasn’t an invitation.”

He ignored her. “Get out. It’s time to train.”

“First of all, I’m not getting out of this tub with you standing there. You haven’t earned that view yet.” She shifted back to a comfortable position and closed her eyes to reinforce her next point. “Second, I’m finishing my bath, so you can either wait or get lost and I’ll come find you when I’m ready.”

Vegeta snarled, and considered grabbing her by the arm and yanking her out anyway. His patience had already thinned closer to nonexistence than usual with annoyance after annoyance derailing his morning routine. Finding Nabooru less than ready to fight him only further perturbed him, but she hadn’t outright refused. With a grunt, he perched himself on the toilet, arms folded and his face set in an impatient scowl.

Nabooru opened one eye. In her haste and concern with keeping herself covered with his unanticipated trespass of her bathroom, she only just noticed his still torn battle suit and cracked armor, a chunk missing from the right side of his chest. She stretched her legs. “Any reason you didn’t change your armor? Or are you going for a new look?”

“Why do you think?” he growled, leather crunching as his hands curled into fists. "Tch, nevermind. Don't answer that. It's because Bulma has refused to repair any of it since I refused to go to some stupid party with her. She also sabotaged the gravity chamber to try and prevent me from training."

The Gerudo couldn't help but snort, both eyes now open and trained on the perturbed Saiyan. Who knew a lover's spat would have him in such a tizzy. "Seems a little far for a grudge over a party, but I guess I can see why she's mad. She probably wants to spend time with her husband."

"I'm _not_ her husband." 

The vehemence of his insistence made her blink, eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Okay, lover, boyfriend, whatever. My point still stands."

Vegeta swept his fingers through his hair. Why the hell had he brought this up? "Look, she's not any of those things to me either, nor am I to her, got it?"

She understood, but his words conflicted with the information she had picked up from other sources. Turning on her side, she folded her arms on the lip of the tub and rested her chin on them. "Everyone else seems to think you two are married. I'm not dumb enough to assume that having a kid together makes you automatically married, so what's the deal, then? 

"That's exactly it: a deal." One he made without considering the consequences or all the implications and during one of the lowest points of his life. He hadn't really cared as long as he could continue going through the motions of his miserable existence in relatively the same pattern as he had been. But now it seemed Bulma had decided to raise his rent, so to speak, pressing fatherly and spousely expectations more insistently on him despite every outright refusal, typically at the cost of his sanity or one of the comforts he had grown used to. "I agreed to let her call me her husband for the sake of her reputation and to make things easier on Trunks while I got to live and train there. There is no formal marriage between us."

"Ah." While a silly concept of the culture, she knew that many women here were looked down upon for having children out of wedlock, just as those in Hyrule had been. And a woman of Bulma's status would face the scrutiny of far more than just her peers. It was a smart tactic and beneficial to both parties and the child they apparently mistakenly made. But, if what Vegeta said was true, she seemed as though she wanted more from their "marriage" than he was willing to give, hence the friction between them and the resulting refusal to supply him with the niceties she had previously. "What changed then? Do you know?"

The urge to snap again rose to the surface, her line of questioning as pointless as ever in his mind. He switched his crossed legs and, fists releasing, he tapped his fingers on his biceps. He didn't want to meet her gaze, but the only other viable option that didn't make that glaringly obvious was to stare straight forward in the long mirror that spanned most of the wall behind the sink and its counter. At his own disgruntled reflection. The view into the bathtub she wasn't _trying_ to offer him. He grunted and swept a hand over his face as heat filled his cheeks. Did he really think sitting here was going to make her finish up quicker?

"I don't know. How could I possibly know that? I barely talk to her if I can help it." He opted on twisting on the toilet seat a half turn, enough to keep his eyes from the mirror and more easily maintain eye contact should he choose as proper conversational decorum dictated. His fingers paused their tapping as he fully considered the question, his own response. Had it always been that way? Not long ago, he had made himself--quite literally forced himself--to be more available to her and Trunks. To awkwardly wedge himself into the role of father and husband with the convoluted idea that it would make him stronger like he surmised Kakarot's family had for him. A theory he didn't think was totally unfounded but he realized had not and could not work for him. His forcing the act aside, he had to find what worked for _him_ instead of focusing and obsessing over how Kakarot reached new and unfathomable heights of power while he remained in the dust.

"I don't know," he said again, tone gruff but softer this time. "Maybe I did...tch, forget it, you wouldn't understand."

"As you said to me a few weeks ago," Nabooru responded with a raised brow, "try me." She shifted back to her previous position, head reclined and eyes closed. "You've already said this much. Might as well get it out of your system."

Vegeta stared at the bottle with light pink liquid perched on the counter's edge, studying the cluster of flowers printed on the label. That explained the fragrance. "In my pursuit of surpassing Kakarot and his brat despite the clown’s death, I made the foolish assumption that throwing myself into the roles of father and husband and learning to care about the two of them would help me get stronger like I assumed his family helped him. _Perhaps_ that is how she has come to the assumption that I want to play the part she so desperately wants me to." His foot tapped the air again, dark brows lowering. “It’s asinine. I can’t go a single day without her nagging.”

“At least you halfway admitted you brought it upon yourself.” The corner of her lips tugged upward in a smirk in the face of his glare. As much as she wanted to berate him for faking a relationship and leading Bulma on, she knew that he didn’t respond well to lecturing and it would be a moot point. He admitted to understanding he made a mistake, even if the reasoning was more selfish than her concern over Bulma’s feelings, too. He had wasted her time, after all. If a true, fairy tale marriage was really what she wanted and he wasn’t willing to give it and didn’t want to, he should have cut ties so she could seek that out. At the same time, she wasn’t completely blameless; prince though he may be, he did not hide the fact that he didn’t fit the bill of the traditional ones the stories described. And if a deal is what it took to pretend they had it all together, she seemed to have missed a fair amount of red flags signaling he didn't want much more to do with her than benefitted him.

The task of “making it” was easier said than done, that she could contend from both her knowledge of his experience and her own. They both had nothing more than the clothes on their backs when they started their lives here, not a cent to their names to start any kind of life on a planet that relied heavily on currency and its technology for real comfort. She and the Gerudo lived in a cave for months, surviving off the land while they found ways to make enough zeni to start their lives or, as they decided, build their community and stick together. For a while they could only purchase a single capsule house at a time and shared the spaces. Their task was far easier as a group working toward the same goal and helping each other. Vegeta was utterly alone, and she could hardly blame him for taking Bulma up on her offer to house him. As far as their strange deal, she could only conjecture why he wouldn't straight up tell her he wanted nothing to do with it anymore outside of simply being unsure of where to go or how to move forward. Vegeta wasn't one to mince words, after all.

“I don’t know if you’re looking for my help here, but...do_ you care about her?” She trailed her fingers along the lip of the tub. “Or is there some other reason you haven’t told her that participating in things you don’t want to do wasn’t part of the deal necessarily?”

The easy answer was comfort. Complacency in the amenities he had become used to. The difficult answer was that he _had_ amounted an inkling of care for Bulma and Trunks. Not in a romantic capacity for the former as she would like. His interest in her was purely physical and, though she tried to fool herself, he knew the same followed for her, too. She showed no interest in him outside of the rare bedroom meetings, and he very typically showed next to no interest in her life either. They had so little in common from their histories to their interests he didn't see how anyone but him seemed to find the sham of a marriage comical.

She tried to act tough since the tournament in the face of the lives he so callously and selfishly took, looking past the countless murders he committed without an ounce of remorse on his part, likely due to their ability to revive them at the near snap of their fingers. Or perhaps she refused to believe he was in control when he had done it, that Babidi instead had of him fully under his spell and orchestrated the attacks through him. Whatever the case, he had seen fear in her eyes on more than one occasion, when he lashed out or his temper got the better of him. Still, her delusions of him and her desire for the perfect family life made her cling to him.

A part of him wanted to protect Bulma and Trunks, but that's as far as his emotional attachment went.

"Complacency. Ease. Comfort." He left it at that; his omission would serve as answer enough to the inquiry concerning his feelings about Bulma. "I...I just didn't care after the Cell Games. I vowed off fighting for nearly a year before I realized it was all that kept me feeling alive. Had I a fortune to give her, my throne, an empire, I would have handed it over without a second thought or any negotiation. I wanted what was easy, so I returned to the life I had become used to."

She stared at him, eyes once more wide with surprise. After another second, he glanced at her, mirroring her expression and apparently just as shocked at the words that tumbled from his lips. The way he stiffened, she expected him to bolt without little more than a "hurry up" and a slam of the bathroom door behind him. She waited, a minute, maybe two. Partially for his benefit in case he did decide to escape the suddenly heavy weight that settled between them and partly for her own benefit. Pain erupted in her chest like a thin blade dragged downward and her lungs felt squeezed and she struggled to find the words to follow that up. To feel that low and with such pride that normally flooded him...she didn't have to imagine it; she had lived it herself. A warrior like him swearing off fighting...

When he didn't move and he sat so still she thought he might have died sitting on top of her toilet, she swallowed and said, "And now you're thinking a little more clearly. Or as clearly as you can manage." Relief flooded her when his focus snapped back to reality from whatever dimension his soul had escaped to, his lip curling up and sharp canines bared in warning. The soft, too high breath of a laugh she released in response attested to her relief. "You realize now that you want...well, what do you want? To be on your own or something? Do things differently and your own way?"

He grunted. He hated to admit he was lost. Clueless of how to move forward and ambitionless. "I don't know what I want, but it's not what I've got."

Nabooru hummed, tapping her nails on porcelain. She studied him, mulling over the possibilities. Only one suggestion stuck.

"Again, I'm not sure you want my advice but hear me out. I think you need the space to figure that out, you know? Staying where you are, you're only going to feel pressured to continue as you have and push yourself into a box you don't want to be in. That perhaps you don't fit in." When he didn't object to her analysis, his sideways glance urging her to continue, she forged on. 

"That said...you can have the guest room here if you want it. I know it's not as roomy or luxurious as Capsule Corporation, but it's comfortable." A pause; she had to choose her words carefully. To ensure he understood she was not offering charity or trying something underhanded. "You don't even have to tell me if you want it or when you plan to stay. You don't even have to interact with me if you don't want. It's not permanent either. I _like_ my own space after being crammed in with the others until we could afford more housing, so I'd rather it stay temporary. I want to give you a comfortable space to help you figure things out away from what you think you don't want. A few months or so should be fine and then we can go from there."

She caught his grimace and added, "No, I'm not trying to trap you or use this to exploit you later. Outside of a sparring partner and decent company, you have nothing I want." Sinking further into the tub, she folded her arms beneath the bubbles. "Besides, you might decide after a couple months away you miss your old life and want to be a husband and father."

"Hmpt. Doubtful." While she spoke, he watched her closely, searching for deceit, a motive. Her neutral expression revealed little, and his natural inclination toward suspicion waned. Still, he couldn't stop himself from asking, "Why?"

"Why offer this? The short answer is you're going to be a whole lot more effective as a sparring partner if you're not chronically irritated about your home life, and it will probably help your own growth, too." Another impatient grunt was all the response she received and she shrugged a shoulder in return. "Otherwise, It's the same answer as last time: I understand what it's like to be where you were, wanting to give up everything you were and worked toward."

Vegeta opened his mouth to press her, but she cut him off. "I'll explain another time, promise. It's another long story, and I'm getting wrinkly." She lifted her hand from the water and swept it toward the door. "Go on so I can get dressed. I won't take long and we can go have our spar."

"You'd best not." The Saiyan stood and headed for the door. He slowed at the threshold and glanced back at her, hand on the knob. Gratitude hung from his lips but he kept the words lodged in his throat. Instead he offered a simple nod and left, closing the door behind him.

[macybeckham7]

Army Medic - Eric Dier

Part Five

It had been a long stressful day trying to help out at the hospital with the kids who were at the school and to try and calm down the families. Then going round attending everyone who needed it and would accept help from the British flag.

It was getting dark and Imogen and YN reformed and made their way back to camp, knowing it wasn’t safe to be out alone when the sun goes down. The two medics talked amongst themselves, learning that they were completely opposite from eachother.

‘Let me guess you prefer The Wanted over One Direction’ Imogen joked making them both laugh.

‘An Arsenal fan, how do the troops trust you with their lives’ you joke playfully nudging her.

Suddenly a young girl appeared, looking concerned and out of breath from running.

‘My sister, she’s giving birth’ she states.

The two medics look at eachother and nod before following the young girl.

As they get to the hut the man is stood blocking the door and shaking his head speaking to his daughter. YN heard the women’s groans getting louder as she was close to give burst. Imogen tried to negotiate while YN just barged in, she froze as she found the young women with her mother putting a wet cloth on her forehead.

‘Oh god, you’re here’ the women said in a strong accent. ‘I wanted you and not the other one, you have a kind face’ she says softly.

YN gets pulled closer to the women who was close to become a mother. She placed her bag down as the middle aged women spoke again.

‘Being a mother is a joy, it’s a precious thing because only a select few can take the role’ she beams. ‘How far along are you?’ She asked as her hand goes to her stomach.

She pulled away from her as if she just stroked her with an iron.

‘I’m not..’ she says but stops as the women lets out another cry.

Imogen runs in saying they have got a green light with the man, but they had to get out as soon as the baby has been delivered. YN felt semi conscious under the women’s watchful eye.

‘What do we do?’ Imogen whispers.

YN clears her throat. ‘She’s in the driving seat, we just ease the pain’ she says smiling at the women, who couldn’t speak a word of English.

The two girls both give the women their full attention, them both having a weird connection they not really not having to talk but they knew what the other wanted needed.

Imogen gave YN a look before looking over at the soon to be grandfather. He watch looking pretty on edge as he looked up and down of the lane as if he was expecting someone. YN looked at the women who noticed the two of you as she had her daughter close to her.

Imogen gave her a nod, which meant they were both on point. YN knelt down to get a better view.

The two managed to safely delivery the baby, when som guys on a motorbike and quad bikes appeared and started to shout. The two medics grabbed their bags and congratulated the family, knowing that it would bad for everyone if they found two British army medics in their home. The took YN’s hand before she could leave.

‘She wants to know your name...’ the mother smiled. ‘She wants to name her daughter after you’ she smiles.

‘Imogen’ she smiled, before saying goodbye and pulling away.

.....

Eric walked off the bus and into Wembley stadium where the friendlies were being held. Dele and John were either side of him as they walked into the dressing room.

‘Have you spoke to YN?’ John asked as they took their seats.

Eric nods. ‘Briefly yesterday, she said she’d going to be watching tonight and then we are calling again tomorrow’ he explains.

‘Better look your best then mate’ Dele winks.

‘Do you guys have FaceTime sex?’ John questioned, looking concerned, making both the North London footballers just roll their eyes and get ready for the task at hand.

Eric finds himself standing looking down at his black trainers, which had YN’s name on it with a shamrock. Everyone knew about you two dating, and knew how much Eric was a big supporter and often worked alongside charities.

As it was soon Remembrance Sunday they did a minute silence/applaud before the game started. Eric stood in with his teammates as they all thought about the people who fought and continue to fight for their country. Eric mainly praying like every night that the love of his life is safe and will be back with him soon. The cameras stayed alittle longer on him as he had pure emotion on his face, as his head was lowered.

.....

Animal watched Eric who was definitely missing his girl, he looked over at the door hoping that smudge would be here soon to watch her man. He knew that she would never miss the games, she was always the main one who got everyone involved in games. Always the one jumping around when her team scored and swearing when the opponent scored.

Sergeant and Captain Henry stood looking at Imogen and YN.

‘Imogen you can go’ C.Henry said but not taking his eyes off the more experienced medic.

‘But-‘ she started but the look Sergeant gave her cut her off. She saluted them and stomped before giving YN a soft look before walking off.

‘I didn’t mean to-‘ YN stayed but instantly got stopped when Captain shouted in her face.

‘Are you just going against everything I tell you guys?’ He asked. ‘I gave you all the curfew for YOUR safety!’ He snapped. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck if you don’t like me YLN. YOU need to respect me because I’m the captain, and if I tell you to jump you say how fucking high’ he mocked.

YN stayed quiet but she didn’t stand down from her intense glare.

‘You are a good medic, you have good potential but you will get yourself or someone else killed’

Sergeant saw her eyes soften.

‘Go to bed, you have tomorrow off’ Henry says. He shakes his head when she was about to speak. ‘That was an order medic’ he snaps.

She looks at Sergeant who doesn’t say anything, even though it means a lot to her to watch the game.

She straightens up and salutes them with tears threatening to run down her face. And walks out slamming the door behind her.

Imogen and Jason walk into the bunker to find YN sat on her bed doodling, they both ask where she was tonight, she tells them before bursting into tears. Jason instantly pulling her into him and hugging her.

Animal walks in and instantly goes to his friend.

‘Henry has it out for her, we did a good thing this evening’ Imogen explains.

Animal instantly grabs her hand and pulls her towards his bed. He grabs his tablet and tells her to ring Eric and they’ll cover for her. Knowing she’ll only have ten minutes, she pecks a kiss on his cheek before instantly dialling Eric’s contact.

‘Eric, Hi’ her face softens as he appears on her screen.

A big goofy smirk appeared on his face as he sees her face and hears her voice. He could see her was messy which was different from her normal well put braids. He could tell that she has been crying, but he knew that these calls shouldn’t make you bring up everything.

‘Did you see my goal’ he smiles.

Her face winces alittle, before she shakes her head. ‘No, I um missed the game..’ she grimaces. ‘I’m so sorry’ she whispers.

‘It’s alright, I’m sure you’ve got more important things to do than watching a stupid game’ he shrugs.

From outside she could hear the guys laugh.

‘I love you’ she gushes. ‘I miss you’ she whispers.

‘I love you too darling’

The two talk alittle longer, Eric telling her how the England camp is, mentioning both of their parents and them babying him to make sure he was alright. Dele and Harry popping their head into shot, and wishing her well. A small giggle escaped her mouth as he told her funny story, she saw Imogen popped her head round the door. She said goodbye to Eric, with them both expressing their love for each other.

....

‘Smudge!’ Sergeant waved towards the two medics and Animal.

She said a quick goodbye to them and good luck for their training, before she made a getaway the one of two people she is trying to avoid.

‘Smudge, Captain wants you in the gym’ he says.

She glares at him. ‘The gym? That’s bullshit! I’m being punished for not following his rules? If I did and something happened to that family he’d be wanting my head’ she snapped, her eyes finding the captain. ‘He doesn’t like I’ve got my own mind, and I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him’ she mutters before storming off.

YN went to the gym for around five minutes showed her face and then ran out. She walked out of the base, wearing a headscarf and making a beeline towards the hospital.

She found the doctor she met when they came in with the casualties from the score.

‘Asal!’ She calls, she instantly recognising her.

‘YN?’ She asks as she takes her hand, looking at her outfit.

‘I need help, I need a pregnancy test’ she mutters.

Asal raises her brows at her. ‘It’s for a young girl in the village, she won’t come her but she’ll let me take her blood, so will you help me, so I can help her’

She nods and tells her to follow her, YN looks around before follow her hot on her tail.

....

YN managed to get the blood test from Doctor Asal, she went back and got an American medic to do it for her, before she sneaked off back to the hospital. Telling Asal to ring her with the results, and telling her to try and push it forward if she could.

Henry found these medic in the canteen to tell her that she had a doctor on the phone.

‘The test is positive’ Asal mutters.

YN’s breathed hitched. ‘Are you 100% sure?’ She whispered.

‘Yes, these tests are very accurate’ Asal replies. ‘This girl, does she know how far along she is?’

She clears her throat. ‘No’

‘Will she keep it?’

YN nods as her hand goes to her stomach. ‘Yeah’

[mattzerella-sticks]

Reflection, a Buddie fic, jealous!Eddie, 3.8k

Eddie Diaz knew a few things. His wife, Shannon, was no longer with them. While he will always love her, it was time for him to move on. Surprisingly, his heart already did without his notice. It set up camp in the hands of his best friend, Buck. And he was too late to do anything about it.

Because Buck has a personal trainer. Buck has a crush on his personal trainer.

If Eddie ever meets the man, he might dip back into his 'phase'. But knowing how that might hurt Buck, he hopes they never run into each other. At a party in Buck's apartment, there's a high chance their paths will cross. Only what happens when Eddie meets Buck's personal trainer?

Eddie stands in a corner, scanning the crowd for a particular face. Shoulders tense, expression smooth like the marble of Buck’s kitchen counters, he broadcasts a very clear message - stay away. Appropriate behavior if Eddie were back at his station overseas and not at a party. A party celebrating a very important person in his life.

He catches Buck’s eyes in the crowd, the other man in the middle of a conversation. Buck lights up, waving him over. Eddie declines, darting away to sip at his beer. Too slow to miss him deflate at the snub.

His heart stutters over itself. A low growl rumbles through his mind, sharp teeth chewing him out for causing Buck’s smile to dim by ten percent. Barks at him to push off from the wall and join him, even at the risk. Slide in close and interrupt Buck while he works through his fifth tangent. Because Eddie knows his friend loses the plot easier than a loose contact and everyone around him looks antsier than soldiers during a surprise mine sweep.  Eddie would then reel him towards an ending, helping lighten the social traffic.

It’s exactly what he wants to do. But a phantom hold keeps him from following through on the fantasy. The fear that, if he were to go over and enjoy himself, the very person he wasted already too much time searching for would surprise him and ruin his fun.

If there’s no fun had there’s none to ruin.

“You doing okay there Eddie?”

Hen and Chimney double team him, fencing him in and blocking his view of the entire party from his post. Any chance of escape stolen by Hen bracing her arm against the wall and Chimney spreading his legs in an awkward way that he finds comfortable. “So I’m not shifting around all the time.”

“But it’s a tripping hazard!”

Chimney smirked, “Too bad.”

Eddie frowns, carefully constructed mask slipping to expose his raw nerves. It rights itself in the next moment. Only the damage was done.

“What’s wrong?” Hen asks, “This is supposed to be a party! Why are you the treating it like a funeral?”

“I’m not -”

“Eddie’s not imagining himself at a funeral, Hen,” Chim interrupts, “no, no, it’s like he’s surveying a fire for any stragglers.” They snicker into their drinks, Eddie rolling his eyes at their antics.

“Real funny, you two,” he sighs, “Look, sorry if I’m being a little bit of a buzzkill but I’m not in the mood to party.” “Then why’d you come?”

He answers with a soft gaze towards the apartment’s entertainment section, Christopher sitting wedged between Denny and Harry playing with Denny’s Switch. Two more controllers added since his birthday, so they can all play Mario Party. Christopher shakes the controller madly to win whatever mini-game randomly chosen, laughing when Harry knocks into him.

“Hurry up dad!” Christopher urged Eddie. He waited by the front door, bouncing with excitement. Eddie shrugged on his jacket, telling him to be patient. “But I want to see Buck!” he said, grinning, “Don’t… don’t you want to?”

Eddie did, but he wasn’t alone. There’s another person here that probably feels the same flutter in his stomach whenever Buck’s form crosses their gaze. Except they can act on it, whereas Eddie has to wait for his stomach acid to digest those damned butterflies.

“That’s sweet,” Hen says, cup over her heart. “But that’s not explaining the stiff upper lip thing your face is doing.”

Chimney nods, “You’re no Brad Pitt but you have a better poker face than this, man.”

His lips thin further, and Eddie wishes a tornado would sweep through the room and suck him out of the apartment. It’s the only natural disaster he feels his family aren’t equipped to handle, meaning they’re less likely to rescue him from death. Although Eddie believes, even if a tornado found a way to travel across the Midwest and to Los Angeles without dissipating, his Texan blood would keep him alive for the fallout. “Maybe I would perk up a little if people stopped harassing me about why I’m not the life of the party?”

“Hey, don’t make us out to be the bad guys,” Chimney says, “we’re first responders.”

“We’re just doing our jobs,” Hen adds. Her finger pokes his chest three times, on the fourth Eddie waving it away.

Chimney steps closer, voice lowering to a whisper. “Really though,” he says, Eddie straining to hear him over the background chatter, “are you okay? You can tell us?”

“Was it therapy?” Hen asks, “I saw you leaving in a huff. Completely ignored me by the way…”

Eddie winces, unaware Hen saw him storm out of their therapist’s office. “My bad,” he winces, scratching his neck, “I would’ve said ‘hi’ if I saw you.”

“I know,” she says, “I could tell you weren’t paying attention. You had this intense glare in your eye like you had before we showed up.”

“Is that what it is?” Chimney arches a brow, “Something your therapist said that rubbed you the wrong way? A breakthrough you weren’t ready to hear?”

Chimney throws darts blindly and lands one close to the bull’s-eye without thought. Eddie bristles at how closely his friend’s guesses were. Although there are a few facts he has wrong.

Like the breakthrough Chimney thinks Eddie wasn’t ready to hear? Not true. Eddie understood his newfound feelings for Buck almost immediately. Already experienced the blinding, gasping fear that came with the development. Scared how things might change, to be around Buck, and what would happen if his affection went unanswered. Especially since he couldn’t hide his heart as easily as he thought. Frank sniffed them out at their session after Eddie’s revelation.

“Why did you shut down just then?” he asked, leaning forward in his wheelchair, “When you were talking about Buck.”

“I didn’t shut down,” Eddie said, crossing his arms. “I finished with the story… not much else to talk about.” Frank chuckled, rubbing at his eye. “What’s so funny?”

“Usually when it comes to the topic of your… friend , Buck, I have trouble getting you to move off the topic.” Shifting, he brings his pen to the notepad and scribbles a few words. “Has there been another rough patch in your relationship?”

Eddie scowled. “I wouldn’t say that. We’re fine.”

“Fine?”

“ Dandy. ” If falling in love with your best friend and coworker could be boiled down to a word, it wouldn’t be that. But did Frank expect Eddie to tell him the truth?

He did. They spent half the session verbally sparring about Buck, Eddie drawing his line in the sand and making sure Frank wouldn’t wheel across it.

“I thought you didn’t like talking about Buck?” Eddie growled. Squeezed the arms of the chair in an effort to keep his cool. “Why are you making this such a big deal?”

“Because you’re making it one.” Frank lost any pretense of entertaining Eddie’s efforts then, laying into the other man. “You think I’m being annoying with this? Imagine what might happen after you leave this room. How are you going to react when your mood shifts when talking to friends or family - or Buck? When you spend time with Buck will you shut down like you did earlier? I assure you that will only draw more suspicion your way.”

Eddie sunk into his seat. “I can handle myself…”

“Or,” Frank continued, “why don’t you let me help you through whatever you’re working through in this safe space. Where, I promise, there is no judgement.”

He mulled it over for a minute, giving Frank the benefit of actually considering his offer. A scene played through his mind, Eddie in the same room with Buck. Neither doing anything important than existing next to each other. In the sequence Buck turned to him and grinned, little birthmark rising slightly and eyes squinting like he stared up at the sun.

Eddie hoped his cheeks didn’t burn like they were in his head, in that room with Buck.

“Okay,” he started, thumb brushing back and forth across his knee, “if you want the truth…” It spilled forth rapidly, Eddie accidentally twisting the knob on his faucet off and unable to stop it. Went over how, after Shannon, Eddie didn’t know if the hole in his chest would ever be filled. That the pain from losing her once hurt so long, and this time her exit was more permanent.

But, without his notice, someone grabbed a shovel and set to work. Slowly Buck stepped into a new role. Went above and beyond what a friend normally did. Especially given his own condition, dealing with the possibility that his career and life were forever over. At first Eddie thought Buck used his time with him and Christopher as a distraction. To numb the terror of not being able to return to the firehouse. Except the cast came off, and Buck stuck by their side. Became even bigger parts of their lives. Sometimes he picked up Christopher from friend’s houses when Eddie or Carla was busy. Or joined them in grocery shopping. Stayed late into the night, helping Christopher to bed and chatting with Eddie until it was one in the morning. No matter how hard Eddie begged, though, Buck would return to his apartment. Eddie watching him hop into his Uber and waiting until he received a text from Buck to go to sleep.

“God,” Eddie scrubbed his face, “I had it bad for him this whole time and I didn’t notice?”

“You wouldn’t be the first,” Frank comforted him, smiling, “When we go through trauma, it’s easy for things to fade into the background while you heal. Things change, around you and inside, that you might not notice for awhile because the immediate pain takes up all your attention.”

“I guess you’re right,” he sighed, “I spent so long being glad that I had Buck… I didn’t examine those feelings too closely because I was just happy that the pain from missing Shannon wasn’t there.”

“And when Buck abandoned you, as you mentioned in a previous session…” Eddie shifted in his seat at Frank’s choice of words. “How did you feel? Really feel? Looking back on it with the clarity you have now?”

“I… I don’t know,” Eddie said, “I guess it… pushed me over the edge. Two people I loved choosing to walk out on me and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Felt like I was letting Christopher down because I couldn’t give him a stable home… was more like a hotel with one of those revolving doors. It made me mad. And I wanted to hurt people, because maybe then I wouldn’t be hurting inside... God,” he wiped his eyes, laughing, “Buck was right. He was part of the reason I had my… phase . If he found out… his ego was insufferable before.”

“Your confession is safe with me,” Frank told him, “I’m glad we could work through this in today’s time. If you held out a bit longer I was afraid we’d be cut off in the middle and it’d be forever to get you to where we’re ending today.”

“Thanks, Frank,” Eddie said, standing, “I… I needed this.”

He scheduled another session the following week, proactively dealing with his issues. While they covered many things in the hour there were still more to discuss. When his next appointment arrived Eddie wasted no time dumping the remaining worries at Frank’s feet. Like a man dangling off the edge of a skyscraper begging for someone to help him away from the edge.

Frank hauled him onto solid ground with sound logic. “If Buck is all that you say he is,” he explained, “than in the possibility where he didn’t return your feelings occurred, he wouldn’t call it quits like that. You need to have a little faith that things can turn out good.”

“It’s hard, though. When every time I have that faith it all goes sour on my end.”

“Well maybe this time things will turn out differently.”

Eddie took Frank’s advice, deciding that the next moment alone with Buck he would hand him his heart and pray he kept it.

However he could never be alone with Buck.

In the following weeks, any chance where they were the only two in the room was spoiled by a third party joining almost immediately. From fellow firefighters to random strangers. Christopher, when Eddie tried sneaking out to meet Buck. Caught and forced to bring him along since he cannot say no to his son. While at the park, watching his son play, he thought about telling him there. But then Athena walked in, apparently on patrol. So desperate Eddie considered faking an emergency so he could claim the ambulance for him and Buck and confessing on the way.

Eddie was desperate.

Instead of risking a felony, Eddie went with an even riskier option.

“Buck,” he sidled up to his friend, swinging an arm over his shoulders, “You good to join me in the gym for a little one-on-one?” Not the safest place given how accessible their gym was in the open floor plan. If he timed the barbell lifts right, Eddie could give them some protection.

Buck deflated, stepping away from Eddie’s hug. “Sorry, Eddie… no can do.”

“What? Why?”

He frowned, tilting his head in confusion. “Really? You know why…” At Eddie’s silence, Buck continued. “Ever since the accident I… I can’t work out like I used to. I had to switch up how I do things and… find new ways.”

“Oh,” Eddie mirrored his expression, “How, uh… how have you been exercising then? Because - I mean - you’re still looking fit and everything and you had to keep up your strength when going through training of course…”

Buck smiled, ducking his gaze to hide a blush. The sight of flushed skin sent chills racing down Eddie’s spine. “Been doing some classes, got a personal trainer… who I really like. He’s - uh, he’s cool. Derek, I… it’s been different, but uh - uh new. In a good way.”

A good way. Said to the floor yet Eddie still bears the brunt of the blow. Repeatedly suffering with each mention of ‘Derek’. Especially since, after first finding out about him, he becomes a recurrence in his life.

“There’s this really cool trick Derek showed me that’ll cut cramp recovery in half the time.”

“Derek, he had this really funny story he was telling in the middle of our planks…”

“I didn’t think yoga was that effective, but after one class with Derek I can see why people do it.”

Derek. Derek. Derek. He took his place in Buck’s life as his exercise partner without him knowing. The longer he waits the better chance he has of graduating from ‘trainer’ to ‘boyfriend’.

But Derek keeps him at bay. The specter of him shadows every conversation they have. Eddie imagining telling Buck his feelings only to be shot down because some random guy swooped in and struck the scalding iron while Eddie didn’t even know the metal was hot. As more time passed, Eddie sparingly saw his friend.

“It could be nothing,” Frank said. Eddie ignored him, pacing the room. “If you talked to him -”

“I mean it’s perfect,” Eddie spiraled, “being a trainer means that he can get close without there being any questions. Touch Buck’s muscles or - or press his chest to Buck’s back while showing him how to do a move or whatever.”

“If he does then that’s harassment, Eddie. Buck pays him to be his trainer and nothing more.”

“But it could be something,” Eddie turned to him, “The way he talks about Derek… there’s this stupid smile on his face that he gets when he has it bad for someone. Had it when he told me about Abby, when he was with Ally... “

“Did he ever have it when he was with you?” Eddie stayed firm in his silence, refusing to answer him. Frank continued, undeterred. “You’re jumping to conclusions without all the facts. If you talked to him -”

“It wouldn’t make a difference! He’s already gone on some other lucky jerk.”

“And is that so bad?”

He stiffened. “What do you mean? Of course it’s bad!”

“I don’t believe you think that,” Frank said, “To me, it sounds like you’re using this Derek as an excuse to back out of confessing your feelings to Buck. You’re afraid Buck might say no. Having Derek there is the perfect option because if he’s in Buck’s life than you don’t have to tell him.”

Eddie imploded. Glared at Frank, biting down every bit of bile he wanted to spew at his therapist. Swallowed it all and stormed from the room before he did something he regretted. Carried that dark cloud with him from the parking lot to Buck’s apartment where they surprised him with another party. Celebrating him being off blood thinners and hopefully not have it end like last time.

“What happens in therapy stays in therapy,” Eddie mumbles, pushing off the wall, “now if you’ll excuse me.” He escapes them, squeezing through the sewing needle loop between Hen and Chimney.

They follow, matching his hurried pace. Trying to carry the conversation even though Eddie keeps dropping it.

Luckily he sees a distraction by the mirror. Christopher stares at himself, smiling. Eddie walks over and crouches down next to him. “Hey, buddie, what are you looking at?”

“Denny said I had a piece of spinach stuck in my teeth,” Christopher says, “but I… can’t see it.”

Eddie studies his son’s teeth, aware of the figures standing behind him. “I don’t see it either.”

“Denny probably did that so he could cheat,” Hen sighs, “boy is the sorest of losers.”

“You should get back to your game, then, before you end up in last place.” Eddie squeezes Christopher’s shoulders, resigned to losing his shield against the circling vultures. He reaches forward and places a hand on the mirror’s frame, using it to steady his ascent.

At full height, Eddie notices his reflection fading somewhat. Suddenly a figure pops up, smiling and sweating, frozen in mid stretch.

“Whoa, whoa, hey,” Buck rushes over, smile twitching with nerves, “what, uh… what’s everybody doing?”

Chimney jerks his thumb at the scene. “Wondering why there’s a man trapped in your mirror?”

“There is?” Buck feigns surprise, eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. “I don’t - I don’t know how he got there?”

“What? Of course you do, Buck,” Maddie says, joining the conversation, “I helped you set him up and everything.”

“Maddie -”

“Maddie,” Chimney cuts Buck off, “you know what’s going on?”

She nods, pointing to the man in the mirror with her cup. “Being Buck’s sister I was the only one who was forced to listen to him complain about how he was going to lose everything he worked so hard for. Just because he couldn’t work out like he used to because of the accident. One day while listening to him go on and on about it this ad popped up for mirrors that double as personal trainers.” A string snaps in Eddie’s mind, the sound echoing madly. He looks over to Buck, the other man watching his feet while his ears burn. “Anyway I said I would personally buy this mirror for him if it would get him to shut up. He agreed, but only if he liked it. Day after it arrived Buck wasn’t complaining anymore. Best paycheck I ever spent…”

“Wait,” Hen glances between Maddie and the mirror, “so this is a personal trainer?”

“Yeah,” Maddie leans over to tap the glass, despite Buck’s attempts to stop her. The screen shifts and an array of faces smile at them. Derek’s larger than the rest, head enlarged and name clearly labeled below it.

There he was. Derek .

“You can pick from a whole array of trainers depending on what classes you want. It’s really interesting, and Buck seems to like it.”

“Maddie -”

“I figured you all knew about it since he’s replaced complaining with praising his trainer Derek,” she chuckles, elbowing her brother. “Little teacher’s pet.”

“ Maddie .”

Their small crowd thins after that. Christopher returns to his game, and Chimney leads Maddie towards the kitchen to steal some more food. Eddie stares at Derek, a mixture of confusion and relief churning in his stomach.

Hen sidles up to him. “You wanna know something?”

“What?”

“That Derek guy kind of looks like you.”

Eddie whips around in shock, ready to fire a denial. She dips before he can pull the trigger, safe by her wife’s side. Loaded and nowhere to go, Eddie looks at Derek. Sees how, in a certain light, they could be reflections of each other. However Derek’s hair is much longer than his, pulled tight in a bun, And there’s a mole under his nose that draws the eye to it without trying.

Derek disappears, the mirror returning to normal. It’s his face gazing back at him now, Eddie’s a few inches to his side.

“So,” he says, “you’ve met Derek.”

“Yeah. I did.” Eddie turns to him, “Why didn’t you tell me he was in your mirror? I’ve been here how many times, used this mirror, and it had a double life?”

“I… I guess I was embarrassed,” Buck tells him, wringing his hands, “of…”

He guesses, “Of him being in a mirror.”

“Well, that,” Buck says, eyes bouncing around the room, unable to meet Eddie’s stare, “and, because…” His words dissolve into dust.

Eddie understands. Finally sees what he needs. An emotion reflected in his own eyes, not distorted by doubt or fear.

“Y’know,” he starts, running a hand across the mirror’s surface, “this is pretty cool.”

“...It is.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, smiling at Buck’s face in the mirror, “think you could invite me over the next time you use this?”

Buck frowns, “Why? You already got a good routine going.”

“I’ve been in the mood to shake things up,” Eddie tells him, “and besides… I missed working out with you.”

“You did?” Mood shifting rapidly, Eddie swoons at the dizzying grin lighting up Buck’s face.

“Of course…” Eddie’s hand runs across Buck’s reflection, petting his chest, “there’s a lot of time I have to make up for. We can start with exercise and… go from there.”

Buck nods enthusiastically. “I’d like that.”

The party goes on without them, both men are lost in their own world. Eddie feels the darkness that ate at his heart fade, replaced by the warm embrace of understanding. In lieu of talking Eddie prepares for his exercise date. Stretches the words in his mind so they’ll be ready for the day. Imagines how it will go. And, when successful, Eddie kisses Buck. Derek long gone from the mirror. Only them captured inside it.

[adoredontour]

every fic that left a lasting impression with me this year. sorted in order of when i read them!! 

buckle up lads, it’s a long one

nicotine by krisstylinson 32k

"We're two different types of people, Liam. He likes sex and drugs, I like theater and tea. Trust me, we'd never date." Except they would, they do, and neither of them plans on letting go anytime soon.

"Just because you can get me hard doesn't mean I like you," Louis whispered. The fact was, he didn't like Harry right now, not at all. Not even a bit.

"Yeah, yeah," Harry murmured, his breath fanning over Louis' cock as he spoke. "You done telling me how much you hate me so I can suck you off?"

like candy in my veins by littlelouishiccups 31k @littlelouishiccups

Basically the A/B/O, enemies to lovers, fake relationship, Christmas AU that nobody asked for

worth dying for by whoknows

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Louis says, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. In the center of the table, a set of three glossy photos stares up at him, mocking him.

“A security detail is non-negotiable, Louis, you know this,” his mum reminds him, tapping the middle photo with two fingers.

Louis doesn’t look back down at the pictures, gesturing towards them wildly, over-dramatically. “This is not a security detail!” he protests. “This is a lanky college student. In what world do you hire someone like this kid to protect me?”

damn your love, damn your lies by ifthat

“Of course you’d use your free time to go to the gym.”

“Your idea of the best way to spend your free time is annoying your neighbors,” he laughs, dimples carved into his cheeks like marble.

No, Louis likes to annoy Harry. Everyone else on this floor is just an unfortunate casualty.

“No one has complained except for you,” Louis informs him smartly. Which is actually a good thing. If someone other than Harry had complained to him long ago, he would have unfortunately had to stop.

you came into my life by disgruntledkittenface @disgruntledkittenface

When the Queer Eye cast and crew sweep into Louis’ small town and fire station to make over his best friend and coworker Liam, Louis’ carefully constructed walls start to fall down and he has to face his fears – and the only guy he’s ever been able to see a future with.

a thousand miles from comfort by littlelouishiccups 

In which Louis is a closeted gay actor and a recovering addict with a troubled past. Harry is the personal trainer who helps him get his life back in shape.

smaller than me by checkthemargins 

Harry's just finished his first year of uni on his way to becoming Dr. Harry Styles, Neurosurgeon. He's young, he has endless potential, three amazing best mates, a new love and the world at his fingertips. The fact that his new boyfriend may or may not be a sex-worker, of course, throws a wrench into the works. But it's not true. Really.

Probably.

It most definitely might not be entirely true. And that's all Harry needs to know.

escapade (i was late to the game shut up) by dolce_piccante

In the grand scheme of things, finding a date for a wedding should be no problem for Louis Tomlinson. He's rich. He's handsome. He's reasonably well behaved. But when the wedding is for his lifelong best friend (and former boyfriend), and is happening in under a month, finding a date for the ceremony and accompanying festivities becomes more of an adventure than he ever could have planned for.

soft hands, fast feet, can’t lose by dolce_piccante

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

oh glory by alivingfire @alivingfire

Harry Styles is Team Great Britain's newest swimmer, and has spent his whole life training for this moment, a chance at the gold medal in the Rio 2016 Olympics. All his training, hard work, and dedication to no distractions is tested when he's assigned to the same Rio apartment as Louis Tomlinson, British gymnast and Harry's childhood crush.

it’s all brand new because of you by supernope

AKA, Louis starts a new job as a summer camp counselor at the local aquarium and Harry is a biologist who really likes teaching people about the ocean.

this wicked game by cherrystreet @cherrystreet

An AU in which The Bachelor is gay, Louis is a contestant, Harry is the bachelor, everyone drinks a lot of champagne, the entire world gets to watch them fall in love, and no one plays by the rules.

do not go gentle by afirethatcannotdie @afirethatcannotdie

When Harry Styles starts his first day as a surgical intern, he expects a lot of things: to treat patients, to observe a surgery, to feel a bit overwhelmed. What he definitely doesn't expect, however, is that the handsome guy he kicked out of his bed this morning is also an intern.

A Grey’s Anatomy AU where tensions are high, Harry and Louis are hooking up in secret, and no one has time for love. Or do they?

to brim with fright by hereforlou @hereforlou

The only reason he’s here is because it’s tradition. And also, Harry said it’d be fun to make Liam wet himself in fear and Louis agreed. It’ll be hilarious. He’s not an insecure new transfer anymore, thank you very much. It took him no more than a week to insert himself into a group, to get invited to his first party, and to start crushing on someone—he’s not what anyone would call socially impaired. He doesn’t need validation.

have you coming back again by whoknows

It’s five o’clock in the morning. Louis has a lecture at half eight. He could be using this time to study or to do his readings or to go to the gym, but - well. He doesn’t have any exams coming up, he’s not going to his seminar today anyway and he hates the gym.

Instead he’s using this time to fuck with Harry Styles’ poor little brain.

Louis jogs across the street and jabs the key into the car door. It opens easily, not that he was expecting anything else. He copied the key for a reason, after all.

He’s got Harry’s schedule memorized, more because the guy keeps following him around than anything, so he doesn’t bother looking around before climbing behind the wheel and setting his bag on the passenger seat. It’s a Monday, which means that Harry doesn’t even get out of bed before noon unless he’s planning on harassing Louis.

i put a spell on you by bethaboo @bethaboolou

A BBC/Secret Santa mashup featuring Captain Niall, our intrepid weatherman/amateur matchmaker, rather clueless sports reporter Liam, charming political analyst Zayn, and cheeky entertainment reporter Louis. Harry is the new fashion correspondent who prefers to dress like a flamingo. And pining. There’s a lot of pining.

naked & proud by kiwikero 

In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

take me under the blue by objectlesson

Louis hasn’t even seen his legs yet. He doesn’t know how they work or how long they’ll be. Maybe they won’t suit the rest of Harry at all, and he’ll have to grow into them or something. It doesn’t matter; Louis has loved Harry for a year with scales, so he can’t imagine wonky legs putting a damper on his attraction.

He supposes he’ll just have to find out. In the meantime, he wonders how the fuck he got here, in his squelching wellies about to save the love of his life from the sea and take him to bed and bang him for the very first time.

It’s sort of a long story.

paint the sky with stars by kiwikero

the historically accurate Titanic AU with a happy ending.

truth be told i never was yours by justfortommo

(or the one where Louis and Harry have a complicated past, Louis is getting married to someone that’s not Harry, and the universe has decided to have a laugh and make Harry the wedding planner.) 

into the badlands

Louis is Q. Harry is a double-oh agent who thinks that making knock-knock jokes around foreign embassy delegates mid-mission is a good idea.

swim in the smoke by whoknows

“What about this, Captain?” Liam asks, nudging the boy kneeling between their feet with the toe of his boot. The boy hisses and swipes at him, slurring out something unintelligible around the makeshift gag Niall had to stuff in his mouth. He misses by a mile and tries again, just as ineffectively.

Harry looks down at him, at the way the sun streams over his face and shoulders, at the way the gag stretches his mouth, lips pink and chapped. He’s lithe and pretty, smudged all over with dirt. They had found him tied up below deck, mostly unconscious, next to a barrel full of gold. He’s clearly a prisoner, but there’s something familiar about him, something that niggles at Harry’s brain. Something he can’t quite put his finger on.

“Put him in my cabin,” Harry decides, turning back to deal with the rest of the loot. The boys screams out jumbled curse words at Harry’s back, muffled by the gag, and Harry can’t understand any of it.

resist everything except temptation by domesticharry @domestic-harry

The one where Louis is the commodore's son who is forced to become a part of Harry's crew when he is captured.

pray till i go blind by el_em_en_oh_pee 

Louis is (kind of) a preacher. Harry is (probably) a demon. Of course, nothing's as simple as that.

This is not a love story.

(your heartbeat) rang true inside my bones by flimsy @flimsi

Harry goes as Louis' date for a weekend wedding. He ends up taking the role a bit too seriously.

i love your demons (like devils can) by ariadne_odair

Harry didn’t plan to join the football team. She didn’t plan to sleep with the captain of the football team. She definitely didn’t plan to sleep with the closeted captain of the football team, who promptly acted as if nothing happened and left Harry a pathetic, pining mess.

alien roadtrip! by helloamhere @helloamhere

roadtrip with desert feelings, too much snack food, and empty motels. Harry is definitely absolutely not an alien. That would be ridiculous.

treat mothman with kindness by flowercrownfemme @lesbianiconharrystyles

In which Louis, Liam, Niall and Zayn are amateur cryptozoologists and Harry is the creature they find in the woods of a small north-western town. ft. lots of glitter and shrieking and a whole shed full of lesbian cats.

just me, you, and this box of matches by tomlinsunshine

Louis is fairly sure that his new neighbour is going to destroy him. And also their apartment building, and the dumpsters outside, and all the forests within a thirty mile radius. But. Mostly him.

close to nowhere by angelichl @angelichl

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting. 

magical soup by gloria_andrews

Slytherin prefect Louis Tomlinson's seventh year at Hogwarts takes an immediate turn for the worse when he's made to be potions partners with Harry Styles, Hufflepuff's resident heartthrob and class clown. Louis has always considered Styles to be a terrible show-off who coasts by on his charm and good looks, but the more they work together, the more he questions that idea. As term goes on, will Louis be able to admit to himself that he might actually like Harry Styles after all... and maybe, just maybe, as more than a friend?

sainted taints and velvet vices by toomanytears

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

run like the devil by benzos

Supernatural AU. Louis hunts demons; Harry's the strangest demon he's ever met, and he keeps fucking meeting him.

be with me so happily by briamaria

[aka Louis is the director of the Styles Elephant Sanctuary and really doesn't want to babysit his funder's spoiled lay-about son for two months]

come together by bottomlinsons @bottomlinsons

Harry and Louis slept together three weeks ago, and haven't talked.

Their coming group project is gonna change that.

what this world is about by isntrio @bloubird

An eighties American high school AU; there are first times, football games, and feelings.

Alternatively titled: the beginning.

once upon a dream by thedeathchamber

Louis is psychic and gets caught in the middle of a murder investigation led by FBI Special Agent Harry Styles.

aka. the Medium/Criminal Minds-inspired AU no one ever asked for.

led by your beating heart by missandrogyny @missandrogyny

(Or: AU where Harry's in One Direction, Louis isn't, and they reconnect over a game of 'Call or Delete'.)

forever and always by jacaranda_bloom @jacaranda-bloom (again, thank you!!!!!!!)

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

sail your sea, meet your storm by kiwikero

The strangers to enemies to friends to pining to lovers fic where Louis is cynical, Harry is charming, and they have seven days to get their shit together.

tangled up in you by missandrogyny

Harry blinks once. And blinks again. And says, his voice dangerous: “Niall, did you get me a mail-order bride?”

Because what the actual fuck. It kind of looks like Niall’s just purchased a person. For Harry.

Niall blinks back at him for a few moments, before throwing his head back and howling with laughter. Harry throws a pillow at him. Hard. “No, what the fuck, Harry.”

“A prostitute then?” Harry also doesn't want a prostitute.

“Of course not!”

“A stripper?”

“No!”

Damn, he’s running out of ideas. He settles for launching another pillow at Niall’s head. Niall bats it away easily, still laughing. “Stop!”

“What did you get me, then?!” Niall must hear the tinge of hysteria in his voice, because he’s pulling himself together, trying to stop himself from laughing.

There’s still a big grin on his face, though, when he says, “I got you a professional cuddler.”

A professional…what. “What?”

i’d burn this city down to show you the light by you_explode 

Harry's a sheltered rich kid and Louis's a punk with a heart of gold. They meet when Louis breaks into Harry's house, Harry obtains an instant and all-encompassing crush, and they spend the summer falling into a whirlwind romance.

sail your sea, meet your storm by kiwikero

Louis is thirty, single, and a bit of a workaholic. He's happy with his life, but then his mother decides to buy him tickets for a Singles Cruise. Appalled that his family thinks he can't handle his own love life, he steps aboard the ship determined to have a terrible time.

That is, of course, until a persistent brunet keeps offering him drinks.

The strangers to enemies to friends to pining to lovers fic where Louis is cynical, Harry is charming, and they have seven days to get their shit together.

bring out feelings in me i never show

“I really think you should stop reading,” Liam says, having moved to hover behind Louis’ back at some point. “I can already see the cogs turning in your head, Louis, and I don’t like this.”

“Shut up,” Louis waves him off and continues reading.

I can do these things, at your request: openly hit on other female guests while you act like you don’t notice; start instigative discussions about politics and/or religion; propose to you in front of everyone; pretend to be really drunk as the evening goes on (sorry I don’t drink, but I used to); start an actual, physical fight with a family member, either inside or on the front lawn for all the neighbors to see.

remember you well by fondleeds @fondleeds

“Um,” Harry starts. He looks out of place. Louis can’t really believe he’s seeing Harry like this, so unsettled, so unlike himself. He holds out his hands. “Should we–. Should I, um. Did you wanna, like, cuff me to the bed or something?”

Louis raises his eyebrows. “I don’t know. Do I need to?”

i love you most by stylinsoncity

friends with benefits has always been enough for louis. until, of course, it isn't.

ready to fall by whoknows

“Ninety and rising,” Nick says triumphantly, as though making Harry’s heartbeat pick up by thrusting an obscenely attractive person in front of his face is any kind of success. “Louis Tomlinson has just walked into our control room and suddenly our dear Harry Styles has lost all ability to speak. Could this be some kind of strange coincidence?”

“I hate you,” Harry hisses, forcing his eyes back into Nick’s direction, uncaring that the mic must have picked it up. “I thought we agreed that you were going to play fair.”

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Nick denies, except he’s holding up a picture of Louis’ face now, sharp cheekbones prominent, soft lashes nearly sweeping against his cheeks as he looks down, and his fucking mouth –

“A hundred and two!” Nick crows, all but clapping his hands together in glee. “The highest it’s ever been!”

“To be fair, I did bend over the desk on purpose,” Louis’ voice comes crackling in the headphones. Harry practically breaks his neck whipping his head around at the sound of it, gaping at him through the glass panel. “You can’t really blame him for getting a little excited about that, can you?”

[knightowl725]

Healing in a Graveyard, Ch. 6

Fandom: Critical Role

A continuation of my work for Fjorclay Week 2020′s modern au prompt. It’s official. Jester is the one making the chapter title cards. I have no part in this.

In this chapter: Fjord and Caduceus deal with intruders. Intruders? In my graveyard? 

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828932/chapters/57491902

Caduceus looked around the kitchen, then pointed to the stove. A few pans and the pot used for soup were still there. The pot had a decent amount left. Fjord nodded, and they moved cautiously over to the stove. Each with an improvised weapon in hand, they eased back until they stood on either side of the curtained doorway.

“Found his room!” called the second person from upstairs.

“Grab his laptop, his books, all that crap.”

The first man lifted the curtain and stepped through as he spoke, distracted.

Fjord moved first, flinging the pot’s contents towards the man with a little prayer to the Wildmother.

He cried out in pain as the hot soup seared his neck and arms. Not his face, like Fjord had planned, but close enough.

With a single swing of a still-hot pan, Caduceus brought The Champion to the floor. The resounding clang of its impact echoed through the house.

“What was that?” called the man upstairs. Fjord dropped the pot and dragged the unconscious Champion into the kitchen. Still breathing, but definitely out cold. Caduceus strode into the entry room.

“Cad--!” Fjord bit off the word, dropping the man and hurrying after him. Drawing back the curtain, Fjord saw Caduceus drop his pan to take up the shovel leaning against the stairs. He glanced at Fjord and put out a hand to stop him. He mouthed, “Trust me.”

Fjord stepped back into the kitchen as footsteps came down the stairs, ripping his phone from his back pocket. His hands shook as he typed in his password.

“Who-who the fuck are you?” the other Champion asked.

“I’m the gravekeeper,” Caduceus said, his voice lower and darker than it’d gone before.

“Wh-Where’s Daniel?”

“Daniel isn’t with us anymore.”

“You kill--” The Champion stopped himself. “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I was just told to come here and pick up a guy that pissed off my boss.”

“Did Daniel have a surname? I’ll need it for the stone.”

He just stuttered a reply.

“Why don’t you give me your name, while we’re at it,” Caduceus drawled. “I have a couple of nice plots I’ve been meaning to fill. What better fodder for my garden than trespassers?”

Several soft thuds followed as The Champion ran for the door. When he yanked it open, he screamed.

“I believe the man asked for your name, champion,” came Yasha’s voice.

“Fjord, bring out the body,” Caduceus called. Fjord complied, dragging the unconscious Champion by his upper body. “Now, Yasha. Let’s have the nice man take his companion and tell all his friends not to tread on the Wildmother’s domain again, including our dear friend Fjord. Well, not unless they’re ready to be laid to rest.”

The man tried to flee, but Yasha did not move. “Take your friend.”

Slowly, awkwardly, the standing Champion dragged his friend out the door and down the path out of the Blooming Grove.

The rest of the Nein were on their way, jogging until they saw the man. Fjord couldn’t hear what they said, but he heard the laughter as his friends parted around the shamed Champion.

“I’m so sorry,” Fjord said.

Caduceus looked at him, confused. “What for?”

“I left the door unlocked. They came here because of me. This is my--”

“We all leave the door unlocked,” Yasha said, finally coming inside.

“This wasn’t your fault Fjord,” Caduceus said. “And this wasn’t the first time someone tried to cross these lands unwelcome. We have ways of dealing with them. Usually more hostile than what I tried today.”

Smiling, Caduceus said, “I think I did a rather good job, looking intimidating.”

“Yeah, you were fucking terrifying,” Yasha agreed.

“You both nearly sent me running, and I know you,” Fjord told them.

The three laughed, breaking the tension and fear that hovered over Fjord. His hands still shook, but he did that well.

“We’re so sorry Fjord,” Jester said as the rest of the Nein caught up. “We all wanted to run to help, but we were carrying your things, so Yasha went ahead.”

“Fjord texted us,” Yasha explained to Caduceus.

“Thank you,” Fjord said.

“We got your stuff, though!” Nott exclaimed. “You were right. They were all out doing some cult shit. Except for those two, I guess.”

“Isn’t it funny?” Jester giggled. “They came here to try and steal Fjord or something while we had just stolen his stuff back.”

“Most of it, I think,” Caleb said. “We did our best.”

“Thank you all, really,” Fjord said. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“Shut up,” Beau said.

One by one the Nein headed up the stairs to dump what they’d collected in Fjord’s room.

“Is my laptop still up there?” Fjord called. “And my books?”

“Yeah?” Beau called back.

“That’s good,” Caduceus said. “But, uh, Fjord. Why’d they go and pick up your things?”

“I’m sorry Caduceus,” he said for the second time. “I meant to ask earlier, but I wanted to make sure I had a chance to afford it. And I forgot you weren’t there when we talked about it this morning.”

“Are you going to stay, Fjord?”

His heart started beating again, but for a different kind of fear. “I...hoped to.”

Caduceus smiled. His face lit up, pink eyes suddenly several shades lighter. Everything around him seemed to glow a little more vibrantly, and the countless plants in the room seemed to lean a little towards him.

“You did all that cooking for me to leave,” Fjord muttered.

“I was happy to do it,” Caduceus said, stepping closer to Fjord. “It’s still yours. I know finals are in a few weeks, so they might help still.”

“Of course.”

“Honestly, Fjord, I’ve been struggling all day thinking about you leaving and going back to that place,” he confessed. “Look at how I reacted to them. Well, it was obvious they weren’t here to walk you back, but still.”

He went on, “But I know better than most that you can’t force someone to stay, even if it’s good for them. So I wanted to send you off with a smile.”

“And a shitton of food.”

He laughed. “That was the idea.”

“Thank you,” Fjord said, and he wondered if he would ever stop thanking Caduceus. Every day that passed, and he only fell deeper into an unspoken debt to this man. But it was a debt he was glad to repay. Whatever was needed.

~~

Fjord spent most of the evening putting away his things. There were items missing, including his favorite band t-shirt, but it was a small price to pay. They’d managed to find the little wood carving Vandren had taught him to make in his early days as a sailor. Even if Vandren was not the man Fjord had believed for so long, it was still something irreplaceable. At least he had that

He set it on the dresser next to books and the houseplant.

Caduceus flitted by constantly, helping Fjord fold shirts or making notes about furniture he’d need, now that he was staying. Just generally fussing, practically throwing out little flowers in his joy. Every time he disappeared back downstairs to do some work, Fjord felt a familiar warmth in his face.

Okay, so he had a little crush on Caduceus. Maybe. But it made sense, didn’t it? Caduceus had been a pillar this past week, at a time in Fjord’s like when a week felt like a year. And he had literally saved him that day. An innocent little admiration crush was fine. Natural, even. It would pass, and he could go back to enjoying Caduceus’s company platonically. Even moreso, now that they’d grown closer.

He looked up, thinking of the Wildmother, and sighed.

~~

He accepted the job at the Arbor Exemplar by the end of the night, promising to come in that week for training with Reani.

Over the next few weeks, he devoted his time to study, class, and his new job. He took an early start to his day, waking up in time to join Caduceus and Beau for morning meditation. Caduceus began changing up his guided, nature-based meditations to include ocean themes now and then, which did nothing for Fjord’s crush.

Sometimes there was time after for him and Caduceus to meditate on the Wildmother, to commune under the large tree to seek Her wisdom and guidance. Then, it was off to work for a few hours. Fjord opened the gym, greeted by groggy patrons often trying to guzzle some caffeine before their barely-after-sunrise workout.

Reani took over just in time for him to make it to his classes. He had about an hour to study and work on assignments before returning to the gym a few days a week. Sometimes, he spent that time actually at the gym, working out rather than studying. While the gym was often busy, during the week there were plenty of opportunities for him to do schoolwork and study. Far more than at the cafe.

He had days off here and there, and he and Reani agreed to split the weekends so each of them always had one day off. Some of the trainers, and occasionally Calliope herself, filled in their gaps.

And in the evenings, he spent time with his friends and neighbors. Caduceus trusted him enough to let him help cook. On the nights Caduceus didn’t cook, they ordered food or ate leftovers, or someone else in the Nein gave cooking a try.

When he’d lived with The Champions, Fjord had spent every spare moment studying. For all the good it did him. He’d been constantly distracted, pulled away, put to work for a last-minute need at the cafe or a sudden meeting or event. For all the hours he poured into school, it meant nothing.

But now, he had dedicated times in his schedule purely for study. No one at the Xhorhaus gave him shit if he spent “too long” at the library. The gym was another opportunity to get in some work. Even if there were more distractions and interruptions, he could finish most of his schoolwork in the gaps. And being surrounded by another sort of temple to the Wildmother felt right. Inspiring, in a sense.

By the time Fjord made it home, he could spend those precious few hours relaxing. Cleaning up his room, playing boards games with his friends, watching some ridiculous detective film with Nott and Jester, helping Caleb attempt some experiment he didn’t understand, playing wingman to Beau when she needed to pretend like she didn’t have her own crush to deal with, chatting with Yasha, and drinking tea on the porch with Caduceus.

Finals came, and with them, significantly less panic than he was accustomed to. The entire house fell into an almost dormant state as the students focused, Nott and Caduceus happily watching on with no remorse. Nott’s maternal energy, compiled across months of chaos, seemed to unleash around midterms and finals. Between her and Caduceus, no one was ever hungry long enough to notice.

The night before Fjord’s last final, the one he needed to do well on the most to keep his grades and scholarship alive, he took some time before bed to sit beneath the large tree. The pink flowers were long gone, and their petals with them, but the memory remained crystal-sharp in his mind’s eye.

He meditated. It’d become more natural to him as he practiced each morning. Now, even if he was in the middle of the day, he found himself running through some of those techniques to calm his nerves or keep his focus.

He slipped into the calm state after a few moments, and he spoke to Her.

Thank you for your guidance, he began. Thank you for the focus you granted me this week. Thank you for the home you welcomed me into, and this life that you made more. I hope that you can continue to offer me guidance with my last test. I am open to your wisdom, and I am honored to serve.

It was a Caduceus-style prayer, but Fjord had not yet felt confident enough to create his own structure. He hadn’t had the most success with outright asking questions either. The confidence his firbolg guide had in interpreting the wind, the leaves, the sudden scent in the air, was one he lacked. But he could get there, someday.

When he came out of his meditation, he noticed a body beside him. Tall and familiar, folded into his own meditation, was Caduceus. He opened his eyes shortly after Fjord and smiled.

“Hello Caduceus.”

“Did you speak to Her?” he asked.

Fjord nodded. “Just a little. I thanked Her, and I asked for Her help tomorrow. It’s my last test of the week. I really need to do well to keep that grade up. My scholarship depends on it.”

He let out a shaky breath, and Caduceus reached out to put a comforting hand on his knee. “She would not have guided you this far to abandon you now. Trust in the outcome. Trust in Her.”

Fjord took a deep breath, then nodded. “Thank you, Caduceus.”

“Of course.”

“No, really,” he insisted. “I owe so much to you. You’ve been a wonderful friend and ally and mentor at a time when I needed it most.”

There was a long pause as Caduceus glanced away, distantly looking at the house.

“I am your sign from the Wildmother,” he said simply. “You called for help, and I appeared. Someday someone else will pray for a miracle, and you will appear.”

Fjord searched his face in the darkness, lit only by the light from the house and the moon overhead. Caduceus looked contemplative, calm. “Did someone appear when you needed a miracle? At some point?”

Caduceus met his eyes, slowly smiling. “Yes.”

He wanted to ask, but Caduceus would have told him if he were prepared to share. Instead, Fjord nodded. He turned the words over his mind, imagining. Someday, he might be the miracle someone needed. The idea that he could be to someone what Caduceus was to him, even if just for a moment, was overwhelming in its warmth and humility.

Well, maybe he didn’t want to be exactly what Caduceus was to him to someone else, but that was different.

Caduceus pulled back his hand, content to sit in silence while Fjord tried not to blush and give himself away.

“I think I should get to bed,” Fjord said suddenly, when it was clear he was losing that battle. “Up early and all that.”

“Of course.”

Fjord stood, and seeing Caduceus start to get up offered his hand. He helped lift the firbolg to his feet, enjoying the closeness for just a moment. Just a quick breath. Then, they were off into the house.

Fjord climbed the steps, then went to his door. He looked back to see Caduceus continue to the third floor. He hoped this crush might end soon. He understood now why Beau was so dramatic about her own feelings, on the rare occasion when she would confide in Fjord. There was something about having feelings for a friend that was different. Deeper, warmer, and also more frightening. A greater risk. A deeper hurt.

He tried to shake the thoughts from his mind as he readied for bed. He had one, last test tomorrow. Then it would be summer, and he would have two uninterrupted months without school. Which meant more time for work, if he wanted to save money, or more time to work on his bond with the Wildmother.

Or more time to hang around the house with Caduceus. Which was not in the plan at all, and had no bearing on his expectations for the next two months.

With a deep sigh and a little prayer to the Wildmother, Fjord tried to avoid his problems with sleep.