#[and questions of honour raise questions about whether he deserves to be here]

[halfdeadsacrifice]

[tournament arc in the knight au....]

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[ttttaehyungie]

home; bday | kth x reader

home; bday | kim taehyung x reader

genre | CEO!taehyung, dad!taehyung, established relationship, fluff summary | Feelings of home can be found anywhere, he often tells himself. But there’s really only one home. rating | PG13 word count | 1.5k words warnings | none a/n | bcos our taehyungie deserves the softest, warmest, loveliest birthday ever 😌🌻

There’s many things that feel like home to Taehyung. The creases between rumpled sheets, the gentle warmth of the rays of the afternoon sun, even the way all hotel bathrooms seem to look the same till they all blend into a monolith of shiny mirrors and cool marble top counters.

Frequent travel was to be expected with his job, given his position as the CEO. It had taken some getting used to at first, but by now he's well adjusted to the hustle and bustle of airports and the flurry that accompanies cumulatively spending a good quarter of his year living out of a suitcase. The sights and smells and entirely different cultures packed into the numerous cities he’s had to visit no longer daunts him. Not when he began to find little things that always remained the same. Home could be found stashed away in little pockets of the universe, like in the consistent offering of scrambled eggs at hotel breakfast buffets all over the world. Comfort could always be found in even the tiniest of things.

But not today.

Today, the tie around his neck – a blue tie with the signature Gucci snake that he’s normally excited to wear – is mildly suffocating, the stiff collar of his button-down like the looming threat of a chokehold. Sat at the meeting room table as someone drones on, he stares through the immaculately spotless glass of the table to watch his feet as they tap anxiously in his glossy black dress shoes. Somewhere at the back of his mind, a little voice chides him for not paying attention. The presentation is for him after all. But the meeting has spilled fifteen minutes overtime now and it doesn’t seem to be coming to an end any time soon.

Normally, he doesn’t mind. Normally, he recognizes the amount of time and labour that goes into each presentation, and would love to honour that by giving his employees his fullest attention. Normally, he’s anticipating hearing the innovative ideas that they’ve curated for him, more than eager to discuss them and offer his own insights.

But this isn’t a normal day. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have scheduled a midday flight on the day of an important meeting, wouldn’t be checking for the time every two minutes, and most definitely would not do what he’s about to do.

Raising a hand, his velvety baritone cuts across the presenter’s rushed monologue, “I’m really sorry. I know it’s really rude of me to do this, but is it possible for us to wrap this up in the next five minutes?”

“Ah,” the presenter stutters, fiddling with the cuffs of his pressed shirt nervously, “I, um, I have one more component to share on. Just one, and it’s the crucial centrepiece to this idea.”

“Will you be able to cover it in five minutes?” Taehyung asks, skimming through the printout of the deck he’d been given at the start of the meeting.

“Ah, um, no, but-”

Taehyung nods, and returns his gaze to the presenter, all fidgety from being caught off-guard. In his periphery, he watches as a figure saunters down the corridor towards the glass door of their meeting room, the unhurried yet purposeful footsteps so distinctly Stella. Perfect. Right on cue as she always is.

Three knocks sound on the door quietly but confidently. The door swings open and the executive assistant pops her head in, winged eyeliner and red lipstick flawless. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, addressing the room. Then, she turns to him. “Mr. Kim, your flight timing is steadily approaching and you need to leave very soon. Would you like me to call the driver now?”

“Dependable as ever, Stella,” he says with a smile. “That would be most ideal. This meeting will conclude in three minutes, yes?”

His question is met with docile nods and murmurs of agreement. No one can fight the CEO’s word after all, no matter how benevolent and understanding he normally is.

“Alright, thank you everyone for your time and your effort,” he says, gathering his handouts and slotting the folder into the sleek leather of his hand-carry. He stands, dusting himself off and collecting his belongings. “Not just for this morning’s meeting, but for all that went into the preparation for it as well. I know that we weren’t able to complete our agenda for today, but I will look over the deck in my own time and we can take this conversation online over the next few days.”

From there, it’s a mad rush to the car, hastily swapping his blazer and tie for a plaid trench coat and scarf to combat the winter chill. Stella aids in rolling his luggage across the polished floors of the office, the sharp clacking of her stilettos accenting against the steady thrum of the luggage wheels.

When the luggage’s hauled into the boot of the car, and Taehyung’s strapped in, ready to leave, Stella pauses with a hand on the open door.

“Have a safe flight home, Mr. Kim,” she says, then flashes a tiny smile. “And happy birthday.”

Taehyung laughs. Of course Stella would know. No detail is too small that it would escape her eagle-eyed attention.

“Thank you, Stella.”

“Ok, now go before you miss your plane.”

The car zips off and carries him closer to the only thing that’s been on his mind all day.

It’s a one hour ride to the airport and then a flurry of check-ins and security clearances and then it’s the bit that he hates the most – waiting. The emptiness in waiting – for boarding to begin, for the plane to take off, for the flight to end and the plane to land and the worst by far is waiting in line for the passengers to clear out – it’s agonizing to him. Nothing, not even the clogged ears from the altitude changes, can compare to this awful feeling of having to rush to wait and wait to rush. Especially when it’s compounded with the building anticipation that accompanies the closing of the distance between him and what he really wants.

And so when the cab finally pulls up on the street he loves the most out of all the thousands of streets his work has taken him to see, his heart leaps and he can’t help the grin that spread across his face. The white orbs of the streetlamps cast the shoveled snow on the sidewalk into a luminescent glow amidst the nighttime darkness. Climbing the steps to the front door carefully – how anticlimactic would it be if he were to slip and fall here after the long journey he’s taken to finally now be at the cusp of arriving at his destination – he unlocks the door and crosses the threshold, his footsteps slow and heavy and breaking the sleepy silence that’s blanketed itself like the snow atop the roof of the house.

Shrugging off his winter wear, he hears light footsteps pad their way towards him.

“Daddy?” a sleep-addled and tiny voice calls out.

“It’s me,” he replies softly. “Daddy’s back.”

His daughter gasps and the little footsteps quicken as they run off, and he follows after his 4-year-old into the living room.

“Mummy, mummy,” he hears her sharp whispers. “Quick! Daddy’s home!”

“Wha-?” comes a sleepy voice.

Taehyung enters the living room, toasty and warm from the heater, to find his daughter attempting to shake you awake where you lie bundled up in blankets.

“____,” he murmurs, kneeling next to you. “I’m here.”

In an echo of your daughter’s earlier gasp – you truly were mother and daughter after all – you jolt upright and kick off your blankets. “No! No, no, no, we had something planned for you!”

Hurrying into the kitchen and flicking on the lights as you go, you dash to the fridge. Taehyung can’t help but notice the mixing bowl in the sink and the piping bags left abandoned on the island counter, conspicuous amongst the otherwise spotless kitchen. You weren’t normally this messy, but the unkempt state of both you and the kitchen pointed to some plans going awry. When he looks up to find you, you’re setting a cake on the table. It’s rustic looking, definitely home baked, and the icing is patchy in places. The words Happy Birthday Taehyung are scrawled shakily across the top, and the copious amounts of sprinkles is surely his daughter’s handiwork.

There’s a tug on his pant leg, and he looks down to find his four-year-old gazing up at him. “Do you like it?” she asks. “Mummy and I made it for you! But then we got tired and went to take a nap for too long.”

He holds back tears as he bends to pick her up into his arms. She squeals and squirms against him as he places kisses all over her forehead and little chubby cheeks. “Of course I do,” he says, moving over to wrap you up in a hug with his other arm, giving you a kiss of your own on the lips that he’s been missing for the past week. “I love everything you two do, whether it goes according to plan or not.”

You laugh, burrowing your head into him. “Welcome home,” you say, your warm breath puffing into his neck.

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I’m home.” And he really is, no longer scrounging for bits of it, but taking it in in its entirety.

[silenceofthecookies]

Vivi x reader (F): What changed?

What? An enrty for @some-piece​‘s sapphic challenge that’s not at the very end of the month? Boy, this heat must really be getting to me. This time it’s for Vivi, my absolute favourite one piece girl. Enjoy! 

Warnings: insecure reader

Nefertari Vivi was a remarkable woman, there was no doubt of that. She was strong, she was kind and her main concern was her people, not herself. Vivi was exactly what a good ruler needed to be, which is why you respected her so. At a young age you started working as a maid in the royal palace, making money to make ends meet at home. You fully expected the royal family to treat you like shit, like you weren’t even worth the dirt under their shoes, but you were pleasantly surprised at how nice they were. The king smiled at you, said thanks and please, treated you like a person. And the princess herself? She loved playing with you. She might have been out playing with Koza a lot, but most of her time in was spent playing with you. Not long after you started working there, Vivi claimed you to be her best friend. It was a title you started wearing with honour.

But now, king Kobra was getting old and Vivi was taking up more and more responsibilities as she aged. The time when the two of you played as young girls was long gone now and though you and her still talked on friendly terms, she was often too busy to stick around for long. Crocodile had hit the country hard and Vivi had her mind set on restoring order as fast as she could. Koza often came by the palace as well to help her. Whenever he came by, you couldn’t help but feel your heart grow heavy.

You were afraid she loved him.

Koza and her had always been close and had always shared a special bond. Whether if was platonic or not, you did not know. What you did know is that the thought of them together both warmed and froze your heart. You wanted Vivi to be happy, she deserved the world and more, but you couldn’t help but want it to be you. It had taken you a few years to realise that your feelings towards her were more than just adoration and respect for your princess and friend, but the realisation had hit you hard and you were unsure of what to do with these feelings.

You loved her.

How you wished she returned your feelings but you felt like the chances were slim. She was a princess after all, and you were but a maid. She could get many other people, much better matches than you. She probably should as well, for the sake of Alabasta. So, you kept your feelings to yourself, happy to just be in the same palace and to share a pleasant conversation with her every now and again. You resigned yourself that your feelings would go unanswered and tried your best to stop these feelings, but brain had no say over what the heart wanted.

Vivi had noticed your change in behaviour though. At first, she thought it was a bad day. When she noticed it lasted longer, she tried to take some extra time out of her say to talk with you to distract you, but that changed nothing. After she came back from a long trip, she was shocked to see you greet her with such a sad smile. Something was very wrong with you, and she was going to find out what. After she settled into her room, she requested for you specifically to bring her afternoon tea, in her room.

The request shocked you a little. Usually, Vivi would have tea with her father when she came back from anything. Or with Koza, if he happened to be around. And to request for you specifically? You could only wonder what brought that up. Figuring that all would make sense eventually, you prepared the tea and brought it up to her room.

“Princess Vivi? It’s Y/N. I’ve brought your tea.” “Ah, Y/N! Come in!”

You balanced the tray with the tea on one hand as you used the other to open the door. Vivi sat at the table that was in the middle of her room. Carefully, you placed the tray on the table and started pouring Vivi her tea.

“Thank you, Y/N. Please, have a seat.” Vivi said as she gestured at the chair across her. “Thank you.” You said before sitting down. Your hands were getting sweaty and you were relieved the tea had already been poured. “Are you alright, Y/N?” Vivi asked. “Yes, of course, your highness.” “Y/N.” “Yes?” “Why did you start calling me that?” “Call you what?” “Princess. Your highness. When it was just the two of us, it has always just been Vivi. What changed?”

You felt your blood run cold. It was something you had started doing in your head, hoping that the emotional distance of addressing her with her title instead of her name would help stop these feelings. It had become such a habit that you had forgotten to stop doing it when Vivi was here.

“I… figured it was more appropriate.” “Appropriate? Y/N, we’re friends! Calling me by my name is appropriate.” “But it is not!” you burst out before you could think about it. You clasped your hands in front of your mouth and apologised profusely for raising your voice. “Why is it not, Y/N?” Vivi answered, unfazed by your little outburst. “Because… you’re the princess. I’m but a maid working here. You should not be spoken to so freely by someone like me.” “Someone like you? Y/N, do you have any idea how much you mean to me?” You did not answer her question, afraid of the answer. A small part of you wanted to believe you meant as much to her as she meant to you, but it couldn’t be, right? “You’re the most special person in my life, Y/N. I love you.” “What?” Your head shot up, unable to believe the words Vivi just spoke. “I love you. This is not how I wanted to tell you but… I feel like you’re slipping away and that if I don’t say it now, I’ll never get to say it. You’ve always been such a special person to me. I just… I was waiting for the right moment to say it? But with all that’s happened lately because of Crocodile, and how busy it’s been… I just… never got to it?”

You sat quietly, unable to speak. Your feelings were returned? Was this a dream? You pinched yourself and winced at the feeling. Vivi laughed at the action.

“But what about Koza?” “What about him?" “I thought you two were... you know...” “Me? And Koza? Ha! He's a great friend, but I think we'd strangle each other if we were together.” “So you're not in love with him?” “Absolutely not.” “Oh.”

You looked down, feeling your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. It had all been in your head. You were the one who caused your own negativity, and who was about to stap back from the woman you fell in love with without confirming if your suspicions were true. You felt so stupid, realising that you could've spared yourself from all of this if you had just talked to her.

“That didn't have to do anything with your behaviour, did it?” Vivi asked, slightly shocked at the realisation when she saw you slump down. “It... did. I... have had a crush on you for a good while now, but I thought you an Koza... well, instead of asking, I acted like an idiot.” “You know you can always ask me anything, right?” “Yes, I do. I just... was afraid of the answer, I guess.” “Well, you've got it now. So, what will you do?” You looked up to see Vivi grinning at you. “What do you mean?” “Well, you know how I feel. You just told me how you felt. What will you do now?” “I... I'd like to go on a date with you.” “Great. Tomorrow afternoon, we meet up at the front gate of the palace. Dress nicely.”

[athys-obelia]

hey hey hey.

so like i had a thought?

au where felix notices how down diana is about her pregnancy and approaches her. she confides in him - she's afraid for her child, any complications with their health, their future, everything. the chance she is betting on is a good life for her child with their father, but...she cannot foresee the future, after all. diana has worries as any new mother would.

(under cut for length)

and after pondering on it, felix proposes an idea: what if he could garuntee this child's safety? diana had already expressed her will to make him their godfather, shouldn't he rise to the occasion? you should run away, he tells her, and spend the rest of your pregnancy at one of my father's estates.

she agrees, albeit hesitantly. he's been distancing himself from her - claude - ever since the pregnancy, but she visits him on her last night at the palace. it is a horrible night - all goodbyes are - and claude seems to sense something. he asks of her to spend the night, and diana can't find it within herself to reject the request. she'll just have to slip during at night, she thinks.

she spends her final trimester on robane lands, under the care and knowledge of felix's father as the knight spearheads the quiet search for the emperor's favorite concubine. she feels strangely at peace.

the search intensifies as her due date nears, and the week of athanasia's birth, everything...stops. duke robane explains the emperor cannot make the loss of an heir public knowledge, and has ordered the destruction of ruby palace. the concubines have been dismissed.

diana receives a special visit a few hours before going into labour - before her is a beautiful brunette with determined eyes. diana's body grows weaker by the day, she has been bedridden for the past few days, but she feels content. her child will be fine. so will her lover. claude may think her selfish after this, though she supposes if it can garuntee her baby's smile, she will accept it. she can be selfish if needed.

the obelian skies mirror the chaotic silence within the imperial palace. the young emperor has not made an appearance in the audience hall for days. his tailor has not received any orders for the usual military attire lately - rather, the instructions detail a simplistic, pure white fabric, as if...almost as if he were in mourning. the eerie calm seems to foreshow a storm.

and amidst the rain and thunder roaring across the empire, under the gaze of an ever loyal knight and a young lady, a princess is born quiet. her declining breaths reflect her mother's. "she has your eyes, my lady," says lilian york, "her father's beautiful colouring, but the strength is from you. the strength you have given her. she will live with power."

"and love?" the new mother asks weakly.

"lots," the knight swears. "a child borne of love deserves nothing less."

she is safe, my daughter - my daughter is...

Xx

by the end of the week, the imperial directory is edited at the command of his majesty, the emperor. a new name is added.

athanasia de alger obelia.

lilian york sighs at the babe in her arms. "the undying...what a cruel joke. his majesty can't possibly know whether lady diana or the little princess are still alive."

"no - it is the name lady diana expressed her partiality for," felix says with a slight smile, "it is a dare."

little athanasia groans.

Xx

athanasia de alger obelia - or, more commonly, athanasia robane - has seen many families. lilian does not what to say when the princess wonders why she cannot call her 'mother'. why she cannot address the men she believes to be her father and grandfather as such, why her grandfather refers to her as 'my lady'.

at the age of four, athanasia has stopped asking such questions. lilian cannot help but marvel at the way she avoids the topic with an intelligence that should realistically be far beyond her years.

athanasia's grandfather has made habit of asking her the same question as he tucks her in every night. "are you happy, my lady?"

she nods every time - it is such an obvious answer, after all. "athy is so happy, grandpapa! thiiiiis much!! why do you always ask that?"

her grandfather smiles. athy loves that her grandfather smiles so much. "i come from a family of knights, my lady. we are taught to honour our promises first and foremost."

"did you promise someone you would keep me happy, grandpapa?"

duke robane raises an amused eyebrow. "aren't you chatty today? get some sleep, sweet one. i will be here in the morning."

he always is.

xx

duke robane tends to frequent the palace often. today, however, is a special day.

"were you on your way to the hall?" the emperor inquires, running into the red haired noble on his walk.

he bows in greeting. "i was not. i did not wish to bother you today, your majesty. i know you do not like to be disturbed during this time of year."

claude rather likes duke robane. he is relatively tolerable, like an older, wiser version of felix. "then what are doing outside the palace?"

"i was on my way to town, your majesty, with a... family member. her birthday is arriving soon, you see, but she was quite taken with your beautiful gardens, so i let her wander outside - i wouldn't dare allow her inside without your majesty's approval, of course."

claude raises an eyebrow. "a family member?"

"my granddaughter, sire."

claude glances at felix curiously. "i was not aware of this... development. how many children are you fathering when you're not bothering me?"

felix snorts.

"er...a foster granddaughter, your majesty."

"i do not see her here. i assume she is felix's current heir, is she not? i should be offended you have not introduced us."

"she is playing a game, sire," duke robane explains, "she has gone to hide and i am to find her. it is called hide and seek, as i am told."

he winces at the familiar voice calling out, "grandpapa!! look at this shiny flowe-"

little athanasia's face pales.

"my lady, meet his majesty, the emperor of the Obelian empire."

the blonde princess clutches her grandfather's sleeve. "from... from athy's books?"

felix cannot tear his gaze away from the emperor's face - or rather, the jewelled eyes that stare at his goddaughter.

claude could laugh. that face, even with her eyes matching the prominent robane silvery eyes...felix must really take him for an idiot, he thinks. really, he should be offended. he remembers putting felix in charge of the search years ago... lying to the emperor? disguising a member of the imperial family to pass off as their own? in what land would this not be a crime?

still, this...this 'athy' looks happy. or looked happy, before she saw him. only a fool would grow to be jovial in the palace, so claude wonders whether thank you may be in order for keeping his child so cheery.

then again, this said under the assumption that he would've kept the child alive in the first place.

claude glances at duke robane - the man is usually so poised, he thinks he'll have some fun while this little charade is up.

"what is your name?" he asks blankly.

the duke interjects, "we call her athy, sire. the name athena truly fits her - she is a very bright child."

ah, interesting...felix's father seems to both be smarter and care for the girl more than claude initially credited him.

"hide and seek," claude muses, barely making an effort to hide his smirk, "so, you've finally decided to come out of hiding."

Xx

"i was on my way to the lake. get ready to join me."

duke robane glances at five year old athanasia - she had been called to the palace for tea with the emperor once, after which their little tea parties became something of a common occurrence. he had faced hell and beyond trying to keep it under wraps - at least felix's position as the emperor's guard was a comfort.

"your majesty, forgive me, but the lady hasn't learnt to swim. i fear it may be dangerous."

athanasia shoots him a look - don't argue with the emperor, grandpapa!

"what's there to worry about when she's with me?" claude asks, eyebrow quirked, "besides. the three of you should be quite used to playing dangerous games by now."

felix sputters. "your, your majesty?"

yes, dealing with house robane is much more entertaining than roger alpheus could hope to be...

"what was it? hide and seek. your daughter could get lost, isn't that sort of thing very dangerous?"

athanasia raises an eyebrow at him, unimpressed, as felix flushes red. claude finds himself wondering - not for the first time - what goes inside her head? it's not uncommon for this child of five to react with the maturity of an adult, intriguingly.

"lets go, uncle!" she exclaims, offering him her hand as he's seen the duke and felix hold it often. she interwined her fingers with his once he accepts her hand. so small, it is. small and soft, as if he could crush her with the littlest force.

claude stares at her platinum blonde hair, a hint of a smile playing on his features. "robane has gotten quite daring lately. of course, a bold house will raise a bold child."

Xx

"grandpapa?"

duke robane glances at the blonde in his doorway - how out of place her bright hair had once looked, bouncing around in contrast to the rich, deep browns and reds of the robane mansion. the estate seems to lose life whenever his foster granddaughter visits the palace, now. as per their little custom, she visits him in his study at her return. "my lady. come."

"i have to greet lily soon or she'll get mad. she hates when i meet you without being dressed for it. but i really wanted to see grandpapa." she grins brightly, and he thinks her smile is the gods compensating for the moon's quiet glow. the princess takes her place on his lap. "what are you doing, grandpapa?"

"there's some trouble at the border. i'm only looking over our damages, i'll be done soon."

athanasia's grandpapa has never once dismissed her questions claiming she's too young. he's never withheld knowledge she's asked for. sure, he makes it so the terms are easier for her to understand, but she's never been out of the loop. "how has the emperor been to you, sweet one?"

"i almost called him daddy today," she admits, feeling her grandfather's hand on her shoulder tighten.

"oh?"

athanasia chuckles. "well, that's a lie. i did call him that. but...he seemed okay with it."

"truly?"

"yeah! he's so odd. he even told me i should stop wearing so much red and black."

"what did you say to that?" the duke asks.

"i told him they were my house colours, obviously. i can't just stop wearing my house colours! he said purple suits me better. i mean, if i was his daughter or something i could wear a lot of purple. it's the imperial family's colour, isn't it?"

he clears his throat. "...you were at the palace for the entire day, my dear, weren't you bored?"

"not really. oh! i met a magician today too."

"a magician?"

"mhm! everyone at the palace is so weird, honestly. apparently he's been sleeping there ever since emperor aeternitas? i don't know, he was really strange."

"emperor aeternitas? from nearly two hundred years ago? what else do you remember about this mage, my lady?"

she presses her finger to her chin. "to tell you the truth, grandpapa, he was very pretty. like...really pretty."

athanasia's grandfather gives her a smile she has learnt to be vary of. "are you interested in this magician, my child? i don't mind extending an invitation for the pair of you to become better acquainted."

"grandpapa! when will you stop trying to become a matchmaker?"

duke robane sighs playfully. "i'm only thinking of your future, my lady. your debutante is not too far - you will need an escort to dance the night away with."

she pouts. "i can dance with you, grandpapa."

he chuckles, and the silence stretches until athanasia breaks it once more, murmuring a soft, "no."

"no?" her grandfather echoes, confused.

"that's a 7," she says, pointing towards the document he's been working on. "not 3, that was last time. grandpapa told me the border towns have a larger population now, so that needs to be factored in, doesn't it?"

duke robane studies the calculation, the surprise evident in his sharp features. "hm?...you're right, thank you."

she grins. "i've been working on my sums lately! aren't you proud of me, grandpapa?"

"always, sweet one. you're very smart to be at this level so young."

athanasia beams. "i mean, you taught me everything so it's almost like you're praising yourself, you know?" her grandfather laughs at that, the sound deep and familiar. "anyway, are these real gold? they're very pretty." she gestures towards a box of earrings resting on her grandfather's desk.

"they were your mother's," the duke tells her, feeling the girl stiffen. "i planned to give them to you at your return."

"they're very...siodonnan," she remarks almost awkwardly. "very pretty."

"she wanted you to have them. apparently they were a gift."

"oh."

he confirms with a slight chuckle, "they are gold, authentic. that fascinates you, doesn't it? you've always been quite taken with shiny things, ever since you were a child. your grandfather was like that too, athanasia."

"you're like that?"

the duke of house robane blinks in surprise once. then twice.

Xx

felix stares at the eleven year old in the emperor's bed. blonde hair spilled all over the pillows, her frail body hidden under the covers. how...?

he hadn't registered the passage of time at all. the emperor's index and middle fingers rest on athanasia's forehead, his own creased in concentration and annoyance. felix can't even help the fury building within himself.

"your majesty," he begins cautiously - claude has been a wild card ever since watching his daughter cough up blood at the breakfast table. the massacre everyone was on edge about eleven years ago at ruby palace would've been inevitable yesterday had athanasia's childhood friend - the mage - not arrived as early as he had. "you should rest."

claude's gaze turns to him dangerously. "do not tell me to rest when-"

the girl stirs uncomfortably, her eyes opening. she glances at felix before tugging on her father's sleeve weakly. "papa...?" tears prick at the corner of the young princess's eyes.

oh, that's right - felix remembers his father having the talk with the princess a few months ago. she had accepted the new information quietly, and rather quickly, to the both robane mens' surprise. the princess had started bringing her father flowers on her visits from then, and as if in return, claude had an entire garden in built where ruby palace would've been.

the emperor's hand returns to his daughter's forehead and she blinks sleepily a few times before drifting right back to sleep. the magic has long worn off - neither father nor daughter had flinched at the sight of her shimmering blue eyes. if anything, felix had seen claude's shoulders relax.

the emperor lets out a small sigh. "i will not be here when she wakes." he traces the soft collar of her purple nightgown. "and should she consent, see to it that athanasia moves into emerald palace by the end of the month. she has been fostered long enough."

oh, his father would definitely not like that.

Xx

"are you mad, papa?" athanasia asks, the sequins of her debutante dress glittering bright u der the lights of the hall..

"why would i be? did someone dare say something to y-"

she latches onto his arm before her father has a chance to finish. "no! nobody could dare offend me on my debut. especially when i have you by my side."

"then you do you ask?"

she plays with the intricate patterns on the arm of his outfit. "because i refused to move in with you? trust me, papa, i didn't mean to hurt you at all...i was only..." scared. it was at the debutante, wasn't it? when you chose jennette over the real athy.

"it was simply your choice," the emperor tells her flatly. "and i seem to recall you delaying it. not refusing."

athanasia laughs sheepishly. "that's right. i don't want to force myself into your life. i really love our time together though, papa."

her breath hitches as claude halts in his step. his hand raises to her jawline, thumb brushing against against her earrings. "where...? where did you..."

"papa? do you need to sit down?"

it does the trick, snapping her father out of whatever trance he had been under.

"won't you dance again? i'll be here," he encourages, and athanasia nods. she's shared one with her godfather, one with ezekiel alpheus...

"what are you doing here, your highness?" duke robane inquires, separating himself from his conversation partners.

"won't you dance with me, grandpapa?"

the duke can't help but smile at the way she addresses him. "you were escorted by his majesty, sweet one. why do you wish to spend your precious time with this lowly servant?"

"grandpapa!"

he sighs with a fond smile. "alright, alright. but even dancing with fathers is out of fashion nowadays, princess. and you're here, asking me?"

she frowns, unimpressed. "i think you don't want to dance because you're so tall. are you calling me unskilled?"

he gives her a charming smile. "how could i dare?"

"don't you remember, grandpapa? in your study?" she extends her hand with a familiar smirk, "i come from a family of knights, my lord. we are taught to honour our promises first and foremost."

and really, when has duke robane ever been able to refuse his granddaughter?

a/n: literally what is this. why is this. when i say i only meant to write a drabble-

but!! duke robane never hesitates in standing up for his granddaughter, even against the emperor! athy and found family!! honestly i love the dukes' conflict here - alpheus with jennette and robane with athy :)

claude and his subtle shade 🙃

lily and the robanes honoring their promise to diana and teaching athy both love and strength <3

the magic explosion thing happened much later, and with slightly different claude/athy dynamics - he certainly can't take her presence for granted, she doesn't doesn't even live with him yet (she wants to!! the insecurities around jennette are just acting up rn)

athy will have support during amnesia arc + ana's antics!!!

[nordleuchten]

La Fayette - an American Citizen?

As promised, @msrandonstuff :-)

The question weather La Fayette was an American citizen had for quite a time been the subject of debates - both during La Fayette’s lifetime as well as long after his death. Not only La Fayette’s own status was up for debate but also the legal status of his descendants.

We start off with the fairly simple, La Fayette had been made an honorary American citizen on August 06, 2002 (that is the date where President George W. Bush signed the resolution, the bill however had been first introduced on April 24, 2001, you can find the timeline of the bill here.)

The Congress of the United States has a very detailed (and research-friendly) free online archive. You can read the wording of the original bill here and here you can see the amendments that were made. The speeches and procedures that accompany the bill the day it was passed in the House of Representatives are to be found here.

Here is the text of the resolution for everybody who has no interest or time to go through my jungle of links :-)

Joint Resolution

Conferring honorary citizenship of the United States posthumously on Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette.

Whereas the United States has conferred honorary citizenship on four other occasions in more than 200 years of its independence, and honorary citizenship is and should remain an extraordinary honor not lightly conferred nor frequently granted;

Whereas Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette or General Lafayette, voluntarily put forth his own money and risked his life for the freedom of Americans;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette, by an Act of Congress, was voted to the rank of Major General;

Whereas, during the Revolutionary War, General Lafayette was wounded at the Battle of Brandywine, demonstrating bravery that forever endeared him to the American soldiers;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette secured the help of France to aid the United States' colonists against Great Britain;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette was conferred the honor of honorary citizenship by the Commonwealth of Virginia and the State of Maryland;

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette was the first foreign dignitary to address Congress, an honor which was accorded to him upon his return to the United States in 1824;

Whereas, upon his death, both the House of Representatives and the Senate draped their chambers in black as a demonstration of respect and gratitude for his contribution to the independence of the United States;

Whereas an American flag has flown over his grave in France since his death and has not been removed, even while France was occupied by Nazi Germany during World War II; and

Whereas the Marquis de Lafayette gave aid to the United States in her time of need and is forever a symbol of freedom: Now, therefore, be it

Resolved by the Senate and House of Representatives of the United States of America in Congress assembled, That Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, the Marquis de Lafayette, is proclaimed posthumously to be an honorary citizen of the United States of America.

Now, this honorary citizenship does only involve La Fayette himself. His heirs have nothing to do with this act. It does however acknowledge that La Fayette had already been made a citizen by the state of Maryland and the Commonwealth of Virginia (they left out the, somewhat questionable, declarations by the State of Connecticut and the State of Massachusetts.) Let us therefor go back to the 18th century and have a look at both of these resolutions. First is Maryland:

The General Assembly of the state of Maryland passed the following resolution on December 28, 1784.

CHAP. XII.

An ACT to naturalize major-general the marquis de la Fayette and his heirs male for ever.

WHEREAS the general assembly of Maryland, anxious to perpetuate a name dear to the state, and to recognize the marquis de la Fayette for one of its citizens, who, at the age of nineteen, left his native country, and risked his life in the late revolution; who, on his joining the American army, after being appointed by congress to the rank of major-general, disinterestedly refused the usual rewards of command, and sought only to deserve what he attained, the character of patriot and soldier; who, when appointed to conduct an incursion into Canada, called forth by his prudence and extraordinary discretion the approbation of congress; who, at the head of an army in Virginia, baffled the manœuvres of a distinguished general, and excited the admiration of the oldest commanders; who early attracted the notice and obtained the friendship of the illustrious general Washington; and who laboured and succeeded in raising the honour and the name of the United States of America: Therefore,

II. Be it enacted, by the general assembly of Maryland, That the marquis de la Fayette, and his heirs male for ever, shall be, and they and each of them are hereby deemed, adjudged, and taken to be, natural born citizens of this state, and shall henceforth be entitled to all the immunities, rights and privileges, of natural born citizens thereof, they and every of them conforming to the constitution and laws of this state, in the enjoyment and exercise of such immunities, rights and privileges.

Interesting piece of legislature, we are now not only talking about La Fayette but also about “his male heirs forever” - keep that in mind for later. On to Virginia:

The Journal of the House of Delegates of the Commonwealth of Virginia, yr. 1781-1786 states for Thursday, December 16, 1784:

Ordered, That leave be given to bring in a bill “for the naturalisation of the Marquis De la Fayette;” and that Messr. Henry Lee, and Turberville, do prepare and bring in the same.

We can read for Monday, October 31, 1785:

Mr. Henry Lee presented, according to order, a bill, “for the naturalisation of the Marquis De la Fayette;” and the same was received and read a first time, and ordered to be read a second time.

We can further read on that day that:

A bill, "for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" was read the second time, and ordered to be com- mitted to a committee of the whole House immediately. The House, accordingly, resolved itself into a committee of the whole House, on the said bill ; and after some time spent therein, Mr. Speaker resumed the chair, and Mr. Braxton reported, that the committee had, according to order, had the said bill under their consideration, and had gone through the same, and made several amendments thereto, which he read in his place, and afterwards delivered in at the clerk's table, where the same were again twice read, and agreed to by the House.

The next day, on Tuesday, November 1, 1785, we can read in the Journal:

An engrossed bill. “for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" was read the third time.

Resolved, That the bill do pass; and that the title be, "an act, for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette.'”

Ordered, That Mr. Henry Lee do carry the bill to the Senate, and desire their concurrence.

On Friday, November 11, 1785 we can read:

A message from the Senate by Mr. Harrison

Mr. Speaker, — The Senate have agreed to the bill (…) “for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette;" (…) And then he withdrew

And finally on Saturday, January 7, 1786 we can read:

The Speaker signed the following enrolled bills: (…) “An act, for the naturalization of the Marquis de la Fayette."

At this point now we have two citizenships, one of them including his male heirs - so why was there any need for the honorary citizenship of 2002? I let Mr. Sensenbrenner, from the Committee on the Judiciary, who also submitted the amendments to the 2002 bill, explain it:

The Marquis de Lafayette was granted citizenship by the States of Maryland and Virginia before the Constitution was adopted. In 1935, a State Department letter addressed the question of whether the citizenship conferred by these States could be interpreted to have ultimately resulted in the Marquis de Lafayette being a United States citizen. Their determination was that it did not. The State Department provided an excerpt from the Journals of the Continental Congress in 1784 which stated in the Congress' farewell to the Marquis that ``as his uniform and unceasing attachment to this country has resembled that of a patriotic citizen of the United States . . . [emphasis added]'' as proof that the citizenship was not considered to have translated to a Federal level.

Simply speaking, a “state citizenship” does not equal a “real American citizenship”. Nevertheless, two decadents of La Fayette tried to obtain an American citizenship by using the Maryland resolution. Count René de Chambrun in 1932 and Count Edward Perrone di San Martino a few years later – I think the years was 1935 and he was the reason the State Department wrote their letter. As you all can very well imagine, both men were denied. Beside the rather obvious reason for their denial, the descendants were faced with even more legal obstacles. They had to rely solely on the Maryland resolution. That resolution was passed in 1784 under the Articles of Confederation. This set of laws was replaced on March 4, 1789 by the United States Constitution. Some people argue that La Fayette and all his male heirs born up until March 4, 1784 were made US citizens by the Maryland resolution but new citizenships could not be granted to any male heirs born after the Constitution became effective, because the Maryland resolution was passed under the Articles of Confederation and not under the Constitution. Some people argue however, that the Constitution still provides the same legal margin for a citizenships according to the Maryland resolution.

It furthermore has to be taken into consideration, that the term “and his heirs male forever” generally implies that there has to be an uninterrupted line of male decadents and heirs. From father to son to grand-son, great-grandson and so on and so forth. The problem is, that the male line of the La Fayette’s died out quite some time ago. La Fayette himself had one son, Georges Washington Louis Gilbert de La Fayette. He in turn had two sons of his own. Oscar Gilbert Lafayette and Edmond de La Fayette. None of them had any surviving male children of their own.

But these two incidents were not the only times that trouble and uncertainty arose from the States grant of citizenship - far from it. When La Fayette was arrested during the French Revolution by the Austrian troops, he tried to avoid imprisonment by declaring himself an American citizen. Neither the Austrians nor the Prussians bought into that and the Americans were also a bit uneasy about La Fayette’s claim. Later, when Adrienne send her son Georges Washington de La Fayette over to America, she wrote a very “subtle” letter, reminding the American people that her son was included in the resolution from Maryland. Meanwhile, James Monroe, the American ambassador to France at the time, had obtained passports for Adrienne and her two daughters to travel to America as well. The papers were for “Mrs. Motier of Hartford, Connecticut”. Here is the catch; the town of Hartford in Connecticut (not the state itself, only that single town) had declared La Fayette and his entire family as citizen. The passports were made on a very shaky legal ground and Monroe was fully aware of that - but he simple did not care, nor did anybody else. They wanted to help the family and if questionable passports were the way to go, so be it.

So there you have it. La Fayette was made a citizen of the United States only once, but he was made twice the citizen of different States.

[sometimesiwrite]

Steady As She Goes

Part 1

Fandom: The Witcher

Characters: Essi Daven/Lambert

Summary: Lambert begrudgingly insists on escorting Essi through Velen on her way to Novigrad. On their three days' journey, an unexpected bond is formed as the unlikely traveling companions encounter one another in new light. But will they get through unscathed?

Warnings: Lambert-typical language; pragmatic killing of a small animal (not a pet, for food); sexual assault (groping, not Lambert); reference to gore, head trauma; lethal self-defence; shock/trauma response, adrenaline crash; cliffhanger

A/N: A little while ago, I wrote a little letter to Lambert (you can read it here if you’re so inclined—mind the TW). I wanted to thank him, but more importantly, I wanted to offer him a place in my heart and my brain along with his brothers. This story started from a small prompt and has since turned into a 12+k proper-ass Story. This is part 1. Please join me in joyfully welcoming Lambert to the ranks with a wordcount he deserves with a character who has also become very dear to me. 

MASTERLIST

@morethangeraskier

Essi eyed the back of her travelling companion with curiosity as they rode North toward Crow’s Perch: the tight swing of his hips still keeping tempo with his horse’s cadence; the sharp alertness at the nape of his neck as his eyes scanned their surroundings; the subtle forward tuck of his shoulders; and every muscle in his body fine-tuned and ready for action in the blink of an eye. Even his silence seemed to radiate a low buzz that tingled the air around him and made Essi wonder how many thoughts and calculations were crammed inside his head at once. She’d found it charming rather than off-putting how irritatedly he’d suggested accompanying her through Velen. There was a genuineness about his prickly outward demeanor—she felt like a detail worthy of practical consideration rather than a damsel on the road and she appreciated it. Better than most alternatives.

The fact was, Lambert had insisted. Not because she was attractive (yeah, yeah, big blue eyes, blonde hair, yadda-yadda, who cares), not because she seemed helpless (there was something keen behind those big blue eyes, and he’d known better than to ignore it), but because it seemed like the right thing to do. She’d explained she was an experienced traveller, knew the roads well, had good relationships with the innkeepers along the way. She would be fine, and didn’t want to take him out of his way. 

“Sorry. Not happening. I’m coming with you.” Why? “Bandits.” 

He would know. He’d spent the last few days doing nothing but clearing out Nekker nests and trashing bandit camps all over Velen, and the last thing he needed was the innocent blood of some wide-eyed woman-bard on his hands. “Back to fucking Novigrad,” he’d grumbled, turning his horse back North. He sighed heavily and waited for Essi to catch up, “Fuck me, I need a drink—alright, stay close on my tail for the next little while. We’re taking a shortcut.” As they rode, Lambert gave his new companion a rundown of “ The Rules”.

“No chit-chat, I’ve gotta keep focused, plus I don’t like excess noise. If I say ‘duck’ you duck. And I mean get the fuck down and stay silent. If I say run, run and don’t look back. I’ll find you later. Do your best not to panic or freeze up on me, I need you to listen carefully and do exactly as I say.”

Essi nodded earnestly beside him, her big blue eye fixed on his lips, taking in every word. He wasn’t used to actually being listened to. It was nice. A little off-putting the way she stared, but it was... nice. 

On that topic, “One last thing,” he said, turning away to watch the road and check their sides, “Don’t get any ideas. I’m only doing this because no one deserves to die at the hands of heartless assholes except other heartless assholes. I am not Prince Charming, I am not a knight in shining armour, and I absolutely have no intentions of sweeping anyone off their feet. Capisce, bard?”  

Essi smiled elusively, turning her own eyes back to the road. “Good. I’m no princess or damsel, and I’m hardly looking to be swept off my feet. As far as I’m concerned, we’re merely travelling in the same direction at the same pace.” 

An agreeable grunt from Lambert signalled the end of the conversation and the beginning of “quiet time” which Essi did her best to honour. It was difficult at first. The poet was accustomed to conversation with strangers she met on the road—where they were headed, where they were coming from, how their journey had been. But Lambert was a witcher. Her usual litany of questions were either already answered or were none of her business to be asking in the first place. She was more or less quite content to travel in silence on an average day. But this was not an average day and her mind was bursting with curiosity, which made for a restless start to their journey. 

“What’s your horse’s name?” Essi finally asked as they stopped briefly at a stream for water. She decided it was an innocent enough question with a short enough answer to risk breaking the rules. 

Lambert gave her a disapproving look, a scolding reminder about ‘no chit-chat’ perched on the tip of his tongue. To her credit, she'd surpassed Lambert’s expectations for what he’d learned to expect from bards in the category of Not Talking. She’d only hummed a little and only then when she was lost in thought, large blue eye staring into the distance. She was an odd one, this woman, with her deep eyes that blinked too slowly sometimes. But his medallion was still and he didn’t have that gut feeling that usually told him when something was off. It was a harmless enough question, anyway… 

“Royal,” he said, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. “Never met a noble that wasn’t a horse’s ass.” 

Essi let out snicker, flashing her pearly teeth with an open grin. He was abrasive, sure, this witcher, but he was quickly proving himself to be animated and clever. She also believed him to be kind, despite his best efforts to prove otherwise. Whether or not Essi would earn a glimpse of his full capacity remained to be seen, but regardless she found his particular brand of panache refreshing. 

"Yours?" he asked with a nod back at the small Icelandic gelding currently occupied with nibbling at some honeysuckle.

"Ginger," Essi replied, kneeling to take her turn at the stream, refilling her waterskin and drinking from her cupped hands. She stared at her saddlebag. “Wait here,” she said, striding to her horse and extracting a bundle of fabric.

“Whoa, hey, where’re you going?”

“It’s alright, I’ll only be a minute,” she assured him as she headed for a thicket.

“Nuh-uh, can’t let you just wander off and get yourself killed before we even reach the first signpost. What’s the plan, Goldilocks?”

“I’m just…”

“Just…?” Lambert gestured impatiently.

Essi squared her shoulders to him, “Going to change my dress. It’s too hot, and I would like to feel Just Right.” 

Her sharp-witted comeback earned her a raised eyebrow. It was rather warm, the witcher had to admit. Early summer’s heat glared down with the midday sun, tempered only by an occasional cool breeze from the West. Lambert himself had pulled off his gauntlets, opened his jerkin, and tied a damp kerchief around his neck—witchers were less susceptible to heat stroke or hypothermia, but they were no less vulnerable to discomfort. It was only fair to allot his companion the same opportunity.

Lambert did a quick sweep of the area. Looks fine, sounds fine, smells fine… “Fine. Three minutes.”

He stood guard in front of the only gap in the dense bushes and waited for the sounds of rustling fabric to subside. After two and a half minutes, Essi emerged, hitching up her linen sleeves. She returned her former dress to her saddlebag and extracted two slender, ornately-carved whale bone sticks which she used to scoop her long, thick hair off the back of her neck and secure it in a twist. 

Essi squatted back down beside the little brook and let the cool water trace over the tender undersides of her wrists, cooling her veins and refreshing her as the breeze fluttered the light fabric against her skin. Much better, she thought, glancing up at Lambert. This new garment was more loosely-fitting, he noticed, save for the cinch that tied around her waist. 

She looked nice—comfortable. She looked comfortable. The dress looked comfortable. 

Essi smiled up at Lambert as she stood, pressing her damp hands to the sides of her neck and ooooh it felt nice. She thought she caught the smallest hint of a smile as the breeze wafted a bit of honeysuckle their way. He still looked tired, but he seemed lighter. Something new had come into his rugged, sun-tanned face. Boyish, maybe?

“Better?” Lambert asked. He barely waited for her to answer before he continued, “Let’s get moving, I want to make tracks before we lose our light.” Essi mounted without protest and they were on their way again, quietly riding single-file until they reached an acceptable spot to settle down for the night. Lambert left the travelling poet to make camp while he hunted for some dinner. Essi went about setting things up. She dug a small fire pit with a trowel she kept on hand, gathered kindling, and stacked it neatly to the side where it could be easily reached. Finally, she dragged two logs from the underbrush and placed them on either side of the small hole. It was, perhaps, a little domestic, but the witcher still seemed tired, and he was going out of his way to give her a safe escort through dangerous territory. She’d wondered earlier about offering him some coin for his trouble, especially seeing as he was doubling back and wouldn’t have any opportunity for new contracts. Then again, she’d thought, perhaps that might insult him, make him feel like a hired bodyguard. In the end, the very least she could do was help make the experience a little nicer. She could ask about payment when they arrived in Novigrad. 

A loud whistle caught Essi’s attention and she turned to find Lambert approaching with what looked like a squirming ball of fur. Upon closer inspection, it was a rather fat grey squirrel. “Dinner,” Lambert announced, looking pleased with himself. He held the creature toward her, “Care to do the honours?” He waggled his eyebrows facetiously. The witcher had always prided himself on his capacity to read people, to pick up on the little things that others might miss, second-guess, or excuse away. So far, after nearly five hours on the road with Essi Daven, Lambert still couldn’t get a clear read on her, and he decided (for whatever reason) the quickest way was to hand her a small animal. 

Essi looked down at the wriggling creature cupped in Lambert’s hand, her eyes devoid of any specific expression. The poet could have been feeling anything: shock and horror, stony rage, remorse, awe… casual hesitation. In fact, the only feeling that wasn’t in the running was glee, and while Lambert hadn’t expected it in the first place, it was still a relief to know he wasn’t sharing his camp with a psychopath.  But what was she going to do with it, this wide-eyed, innocent-faced, prim young traveler? Probably some tree-hugger shit like let it go. 

Essi lowered her eyes to the wriggling rodent. It had been a while since she’d had to procure a live meal. She could have declined, easily, graciously, and her witcher companion would probably have shrugged and thought ‘no surprise there’. But she knew a schoolboy’s smart-assery when she saw it—the audacious victory behind his bright citrine eyes told her everything she needed to know about what he was expecting from this brief-but-loaded exchange. A shriek, a gasp in horror, perhaps a distressed stomp of her feet and fitful shake of her gilded head? 

Essi reached a slow, dainty hand towards the squirrel, enveloping the soft, furry body as Lambert mentally prepared himself to go set another snare. There was no way this bard  would ever be the type to—

Crunch.

—Lambert’s face went slack as the now-very-limp squirrel was handed back to him. 

“I wouldn’t’ve thought a witcher would be so squeamish,” Essi remarked, casually wiping her hands on her skirt. Lambert said nothing but stared at her with a look of defeated befuddlement. She fired again, her sweet, melodic voice dripping with offhanded superiority, “Was that all? Or do you need me to clean it, too?” She blinked blankly once again as Lambert gaped, even less sure what to make of the young woman who had just snapped a rodent’s neck.

“No,” he answered petulantly. “I can do it.” He pulled his buck knife from its sheath on his thigh and went about his business. He was quiet and brief with her for the rest of the evening, and she was beginning to feel her own irritation mount. She had half a mind to bite back the next time he snapped at her for asking a simple question. Though, she admitted, he didn’t seem the type to back down easily. If she prodded at him, he might decide to leave her, and they were on a different route, completely unfamiliar to her. She’d be as good bear food without his directions.

No, she decided, it was best not to go digging and let whatever it was that was eating at him subside on its own. With no assurance of peaceful conversation and nothing but the crackling of their small fire to drown out the distant howls of wolves, Essi asked if she could play quietly on her lute—not too loudly, she promised, remembering what all she knew about a witcher’s senses, how sensitive they are. She’d asked in her usual straightforward way, her big blue eyes blinking slowly at him from across the fire. A simple request, and one that he couldn’t very well deny at the risk of being a Grade A Jackass. 

Ordinarily, he would have jumped at the opportunity to claim that title, but Essi didn’t deserve that. Stranger or no, she’d been quiet and courteous, and had shown herself to be witty and good-humoured to boot, laughing at even his crassest jokes. So what could he do but bob his head from side to side and relent, reserving the right to end it if he deemed it necessary. He’d met enough bards in his time to know that his and their definitions of “quietly” were rarely on the same page of the dictionary.

But Essi kept her word, and took up a slow, gentle melody that drifted airily through the fading twilight. The witcher might even have called it pleasant, as the dusky grey shifted to darker and darker shades of nighttime. Lambert took out his whetstone and, after a few strokes along his dulled steel blade, found his mind wandering. The poet’s voice was captivating without demanding attention—sometimes clear and bright, but never piercing or imposing; occasionally breathy, but always expressive. His eye drifted to the instrument in her hands, no longer content to merely hear the music, but wanting to watch its creation. The taut catgut strings pressed divots into thick calluses on her left hand as she fingered the fretboard, her hands flexing no differently than if she were playing at full volume. But how was she strumming so quietly? Shit, gotta keep focused. Stay on task. The whetstone once again returned to steel as Lambert pulled his mind back from its daze. 

It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of him and he glanced back to the instrument cradled against the musician’s midriff. It looked delicate. Like something that could shatter if he held it wrong. Glancing to the hand nearest him, he could now see she was using the soft pad of her thumb to strum rather than her fingernails, which were long and carefully-shaped; well-honed in that sense, Lambert mused. He’d never paid attention to a musician this closely. They always drew crowds in the cities and experience had taught him that performers on the road were just as likely to pick a man’s pocket as they were to put on a show. But this was different. Essi wasn’t performing—on the contrary, she almost seemed to be in some kind of trance. She wasn’t even looking at her hands most of the time, and from the lyrics, Lambert began to wonder whether she was making it up as she went along. It was impressive, the way she knew her instrument so well. Despite his previous feelings of irritation at having had his ass handed to him, he couldn’t deny skill when he saw it, and Essi was clearly a master of her craft. 

The whetstone had been silent for close to a full verse when Essi looked up, wondering if perhaps the witcher was growing tired of the noise. She found Lambert closely examining the hone of his blade, and so, thinking nothing of it, went back to her playing.  It took him longer than usual to sharpen his swords. Longer still to replenish his potions and oils. He should’ve made quick work of it. Would have, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that he found the music so… pleasant. It was difficult to meditate. Not because he couldn’t relax, but because he didn’t want to stop listening. He just—there was something about… It didn’t matter. It wasn’t important. Get the shit together for tomorrow, go to bed, get up, and hope you don’t have any trouble on the road. 

Lambert laid out his bed roll and the music silenced abruptly. “Oh, are you turning in? I’ll stop now,” Essi gently lay down her lute next to her saddle bags and started to get her own sleeping mat. It was thin, Lambert noticed, as he watched her set up. His long, tired body stretched out, hands beneath his head, as he stared up through the dense oak canopy above them. 

“Thank you,” Essi said, now standing by his head. 

Lambert craned his neck to try and see her properly and resorted to propping up on an elbow. “Yeah? What for?”

“For finding us food and for letting me play a little,” she said with that same matter-of-factness that made Lambert feel both comfortable and uneasy. 

“Yeah, well,” Lambert flopped back down on his bedroll, “Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep, we gotta keep moving in the morning. I don’t want to be out here longer than we have to.” He waved a dismissive hand in Essi’s direction, and she took that as her cue to leave him alone and be quiet. 

“Goodnight, Lambert,” she murmured softly before turning and crossing back to the other side of the fire. She settled under her blankets and, after some drawn-out negotiations with a few poorly-located lumps in the ground, she was able to lie still and close her eyes. The insides of her eyelids flickered orange with the fire as it danced beside her. Before sleep took her, she heard a muffled voice from across the flames. 

“G’night, Essi.”  ---- Essi rose early, but not early enough for her travelling companion. The fire had already been doused and buried, and Lambert’s things were all neatly packed away and ready to be loaded onto Royal. Both horses were still hitched, and sleepily nibbling on some dewy crabgrass as the grey mists of early morning lingered. The sun hadn’t risen high enough yet to burn away the moisture, and Essi bundled her blanket around her shoulders against the chill. Lambert, she presumed, was off doing something witcher-y—taking a leak more like, she wagered as her own bladder complained. The moment he returned, Essi shot up from her log and headed into the trees. 

“Just where do you think yo—”

“I have to piss!” she called back over her shoulder as she traipsed into the dense wood. 

“Heh, good morning to you, too!” Lambert scrubbed his hand through his scruffy brown hair and ambled back to the fireside to begin packing and saddling the horse. When he arrived, he saw Essi’s things were also neatly packed away and stacked by her own mount. He offered a brief nod of approval before stowing his things, making quick work of the well-practiced process. By the time Essi returned, not only was Royal fully-prepared and Lambert armed and armoured, but Ginger was also mostly packed with the exception of one bag and the lute, which was cradled in the witcher’s hands as he crouched near the ground. She paused a little distance away and waited, observing as she listened to the faint sound of strings being delicately plucked.

Lambert looked up, embarrassed. “I uh… sorry.”

“What for?” 

Lambert stood carefully as Essi approached and dropped his gaze, holding out the fragile instrument for it to be angrily snatched back. The musician paused for a moment, observing this gesture of cowed humility. It was a habit, she suspected, born from decades of harsh punishment without explanation, frivolous harm without justification. Essi could sense the shame as it rolled off his shoulders, the prickly-heat of defense building under his skin. She took the lute and a swell of sadness washed through at the stark evidence of the world’s cruelty—that a man should be ashamed for a little harmless curiosity only told one story: pleasure’s not for you. 

Lambert looked up to find Essi still standing there, staring at the lute in her hands. “Did… did I…?” he pointed to the instrument.

“No,” she smiled softly, “not at all. And I’m not bothered that you looked at it. If you like, you can look at it again. I can even show you a chord or two?”

“Ah,” the witcher scratched the top of his head, “that’s okay. It’s, uh… I mean it seems like it’s good—well-made. Never seen one up-close like that.” There was a lull in conversation as Lambert ran out of things to say. But Essi just stood where she was, smiling her little enigmatic smile and blinking at him. He turned back to the horses, and motioned for Essi to do the same, “I, um, packed up your stuff, well most of it.”

Essi took the hint and followed suit, strapping the few remaining things to Ginger before mounting. After a brief survey of the area to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, the two were off, Essi following behind as Lambert continued on his shortcut through what mainly seemed to be wilderness for the first several miles. They finally emerged at a small footpath, though, and Essi finally got her bearings. They were back in familiar territory, at least for the time being, and it was proving to be a beautiful morning. Even Lambert seemed to be in a better mood, offering her things to eat along the way, and even starting his own little snippets of conversation. 

It was an hour or so after midday that Lambert’s ears pricked at the sound of hooves in the distance. Could be soldiers, could be travellers… could be bandits. After a few minutes, they seemed to fade, and the witcher relaxed a little as the path took them into a wooded area by yet another stream, though this one was deep and flowing quickly. Better keep my ears sharp, Lambert thought as they rode along. Water’s too loud. Can’t hear for shit. They stopped next to the water to stretch their legs and replenish their drinking vessels again. The rest of the journey would take them mostly through high ground without much shade, and swampland. Any water they wanted to have with them, it was now or never until they reached Novigrad the next day. 

Lambert relieved himself against a nearby tree while Essi washed her face and, having determined the coast was clear, gave her the go-ahead to have a squat in the underbrush. He was still on the alert. It wasn’t a high-traffic area, so in theory bandits would be less interested in diverting from the main road. On the other hand, a less-trafficked area meant less chance of a hideout being discovered. But it smelled okay, although the wind was coming across the water. And it sounded okay, although the water was so damn loud. And things looked okay, aside from the fact that there was only so far even a witcher could see without trees getting in the way. 

A twig snapped in the woods behind him and the hairs on the back of his neck bristled, his hand mechanically finding the grip of his steel sword. He chanced a glance back into the woods—Fuck it, what’s the point of modesty if you’re dead? Another twig, this time from another location beyond the line of trees. There was a flash of golden hair as Essi finished her business and stood up, straightening her skirt. She turned to Lambert, ready to scold him for looking until she saw his hand on his sword. Somewhere in the near-distance, a horse whickered. The witcher lifted his finger to his lips and the poet stood stock-still, her hand slowly reaching for the small dagger at her waist as her heart beat heavily in her chest. Something rustled to Lambert’s left, and he turned, stepping quietly as he stalked in the general direction of the sound.  It wasn’t wolves or Endregas, they were too high for Drowners, too woodsy for Nekkers. 

Essi watched with interest as the witcher’s body went on full alert, his senses sharpening, his posture shifting, muscles coiling to accommodate any number of reflexes. She scanned the trees in front of them then looked back out to the road, marking the location of her horse in the event Lambert told her to run. A large horse came to a standstill beyond the edge of the woods somewhere and Lambert froze, listening carefully for sounds of footfalls or rustling clothing.The gears started to click a little faster as Lambert entertained the possibility they were being surrounded. He flicked his left hand at Essi in the direction of the road: get out of the woods. Quietly. Without a second thought, she began to carefully make her way back to the road as silently as she could, Lambert following, his eyes still searching. 

Just as Essi’s feet met the smooth dirt path, a beefy arm wrapped tightly around her waist. But the brute was foolish enough not to cover her mouth first, and Essi let loose a loud, powerful scream that a witcher would have heard at least a mile away. Lambert abandoned his methodical retreat from the woods and came crashing onto the path, fixing his eye dangerously on his target as he circled his sword around his wrist. The witcher felt a rush of angry heat flare under his skin at the sight of Essi kicking and clawing in the bandit’s sweaty grip. He was large, reeked of booze and the funk of cured meat. Essi fought the urge to gag at the stench of his clothes as she did her best to keep her mind sharp, or else risk becoming collateral damage. Her best bet: keep her eyes on Lambert.

“Hands off the bard and you might keep your head,” the witcher barked as he approached. “Can’t make any promises about your other appendages, though.” He wanted to lunge, run him through, gut him and leave him to the wargs... but it was too risky. He was holding Essi too tightly, and there was no guarantee he wouldn’t snap her neck if Lambert took a wrong step. To make matters worse, the trees were full of footsteps. Eight, maybe ten men. Hmmm. 

“Oh-ho-ho, look what we got, lads!” the bandit called to his approaching comrades as they began to filter out from the woods. “Your plaything still any good, witcher? Or have you ruined the fun for the rest of us?” The man grasped roughly at Essi’s breasts and Lambert felt his stomach drop as her eyes met his. He knew the look that was waiting for him behind those eyes, that broken terrified look of “I trusted you.” But the look never came. Those big beautiful blue eyes were steely and determined in spite of the fear he knew was churning in the background and he felt a thrill of triumph. Essi was still with him in whatever this was about to turn into. Not only that, she was thinking something, devising a plan. Lambert hoped to Gods it wasn’t something stupid. What is it, Essi? What are you thinking?

As if in answer to his question, Essi tilted her head, seductively baring her neck to her aggressor as Lambert’s options quickly decreased, the other bandits starting to close in, clearly in no rush, confident that they could easily take one man even if he did have two swords on his back and eyes like a cat. Sure boys, that’s going to go real well for you. He did a quick circle, taking stock of their exact locations before turning back to Essi, watching carefully as her hand traced up the outside of the bandit’s right leg. Yes, Essi, come on, come on, come on… 

The man rasped something foul in her ear, but all she could hear was the sound of her ears ringing and her own heart beating out of her chest as she did her best to focus on the task at hand. She barely knew what she was doing, but the witcher was watching her every move intently, and that somehow made whatever she was about to do feel possible. She felt her thumb brush the cool handle of her dagger, and Lambert nodded almost imperceptibly. Do it. 

With a swift, fluid movement, she plunged the short blade into the man’s side and he roared in pain as his compatriots mulled around in confusion, their fisstech-addled minds still catching up. Lambert took the opportunity and sliced through the three nearest him with swift, clean strokes, focusing back in on Essi just in time to see her take a right hook to the face. She fell to the ground and blinked heavily, her vision blurry and head spinning. Her fingers found a large rock as a pair of meaty hands grabbed her legs, pulling her across the rough dirt road. She scrambled and turned, bringing the heavy rock squarely to the side of the man’s head with a sickening crack. He fell limply to the ground as the poet found her way to shaky legs, the makeshift weapon falling limply from her hand. 

From out of the chaos of grunts and screams and clanging weapons, Essi heard her name, “GET OUT, GO, GO!” It was Lambert. Without a second thought she stumbled the short distance to Ginger and mounted, bolting across the river and holding on for dear life. She rode until the horse slowed, until she wasn’t sure where she was or whether the river she’d stopped beside was the same river or a different one. Essi dismounted and only then noticed that her hands were shaking. Interesting, she thought, as she was overcome with trembling and heaving sobs. I suppose this is what they mean when they say ‘fear catches us later’. She sat on a boulder and listened to the clear water, waiting for Lambert to find her.

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 39

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Drinking, mentions of pain

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Much faster this time, huh? For only the second time in the story...enjoy Hoseok’s POV! I hope you enjoy it and please reblog if you do so others can read <3 let me know your thoughts in a comment or ask! :D

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Everyone, take a shot,” Jimin says loudly, thrusting the tray holding a dozen or so filled shot glasses around the table. “Good, good. Now, let’s drink to Hoseok defying all our expectations and getting married!”

The younger man is already half-drunk, never being one to go slow or take it easy when there’s plenty of alcohol around. Hoseok isn’t particularly surprised, not when the group had already visited three bars by this point. It was his bachelor party tonight, only two weeks before his wedding and his friends were determined to give him a good time.

He’d been adamant that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with any strippers or anything that could be accidentally misconstrued. The last thing he needed was you thinking he’d cheated only weeks before the big day. Plus, he just wasn’t into that anymore.

Instead, he’d asked Jungkook to try and plan something that would avoid stuff like that. Hoseok just wanted to have a good time with his friends, not potentially cause a scandal. Thankfully, his best man had agreed happily and had instead planned the night to be a series of bar hops around the city. The day had involved everyone driving an hour to a place that let them drive quad bikes, do archery, have some paintball matches and loads more.

He was hurting from the paintballs, particularly the awful gauntlet they’d made him run at the end in which everyone had formed a tunnel for him to run through while shooting the shit out of his ass, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it. Now, he was just comfortably buzzed while some of his friends were well on their way to drunk. 

Namjoon, who was currently suffering from his toddler’s inability to let him sleep past 5 am lately, looked half asleep across the table from him. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, jaw slightly dropped as he tried to focus on the glass in front of him. Jungkook had placed it there about ten minutes ago, full of water. 

All of the guys were here today, having made sure to block out the time to celebrate with him and he felt a little shy at all the attention surprisingly. You didn’t have any other male friends, which meant his friends were all he had in his groom’s party. Six groomsmen for him and five bridesmaids for you.

You’d had to diplomatically pick between Chungha and Soyeon for your maid-of-honour, ending up with Chungha being chosen. Hoseok was forever amazed at how strong the friendship was between you all. Decades of media had taught Hoseok was women saw each other as rivals in everything and he’d been beyond worried about the fact you had to pick between your two best friends.

Reality had been a good slap in the face though, and he’d learnt over the four years of being with you that he should firmly ignore everything the media said. Your best friends had been gracious with each other, both trying to encourage the other to take on the role before Soyeon had given Chungha her full support. It amazed him but also made him happy that you had such a good friendship with them both.

The final space in your bridesmaid lineup wasn’t filled, and Yoongi was going to be walking alone at the end. You’d kept the space free to symbolise his sister, letting her be a part of the ceremony even if she couldn’t be there physically.

That had gotten him a little choked up when you’d told him your plans, but it had made his parents cry when he’d, in turn, told them. Any lingering concern that his parents might not actually like you had vanished then. Your sweet insistence of making sure she was a part of the day and not forgotten cementing your place in his family.

He’s brought back into the moment by Jungkook slapping his back hard, causing him to wince and almost spill the entire shot out of the glass. Glaring at him, Hoseok pushes him back before swallowing what was left of the shot. It makes him cringe, the taste of the straight vodka, not his favourite.

“Man,” Jimin sighs, flopping back into his seat before running his fingers through his hair. “Can you believe it? Jung Hoseok. Getting married. If you’d have said that in college, I would’ve laughed hysterically at the thought. The only thing I thought you’d marry was your dick into any available pussy.”

His words make Hoseok’s nose wrinkle, even if he couldn’t deny what he’d said. It was still amazing even to him that he’d finally found someone that he genuinely loved and who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. For his friends, it was probably even more fascinating. Yet here he was.

Loving every moment of it.

“You know, I’d have thought after four years that you all would have come to terms with this. It’s not exactly a surprise anymore.” Hoseok was pleased that he hadn’t drunk enough to have his words be slurred. The last time he’d been truly wasted had been when he’d decided to introduce you to the lovely male concept of a dickcopter. Not his best moment.

Perhaps one of his funniest though.

“We have come to terms with it. Still a surprise though.” This comes from Namjoon, causing Hoseok to give him a betrayed expression. Of all his friends, he’d have thought that Namjoon would’ve been the one who understood how his life had changed upon meeting you. While Jimin had married Eden since Hoseok had met you, everyone had known that Jimin was one of those guys who wanted to have a loving, monogamous relationship.

He was the one in their group that had fantasised about marriage even in college. Meeting Eden had been the icing on his cake, even if neither of them was too sure whether they wanted kids or not.

But Namjoon had been much like Hoseok during the first years of college. Something which had certainly surprised you when you’d found out. Despite how diligent he’d been at his studies, Namjoon had discovered that he was attractive to women. Combined with the help of his friends to make sure he presented himself to highlight all his best points, such as his tall and broad physique which only looked better with a few workouts or how glasses seemed to make the girls swoon, he’d been in his element.

And then he’d met Amelia in his final year, falling hard and defying everyone’s expectations. There had been many heartbroken women, and men, around campus upon finding out that Kim Namjoon had finally succumbed to love.

They’d consoled themselves in Hoseok’s bed instead, for years afterwards as well.

Images of all the girls he’d entertained throughout his life ran through his mind like lightning. Girls of all skin colours, heights and backgrounds had graced his bed, or him theirs. All of them beautiful and worthy of a fun night, or at least ten minutes of his time.

He’d used to be one of those guys who was proud of his sexual prowess, safe in the knowledge that he could probably get any woman he wanted with some effort. It made him cringe now. Hoseok had never been one of those asshole guys who’d bragged and boasted about his body count, but he’d not exactly been subtle either. 

Throughout those years, he’d been adamant that he didn’t want a proper relationship. Hoseok had been more than fine with one-night-stands and short-term relationships that were probably better as being categorised as friends-with-benefits. He hadn’t thought he could monogamy. The thought of reducing himself to one woman and denying all the delights that life had to give him was dissatisfying.

The Hoseok from back then was a fucking idiot, he thought now. A self-centred, dick-centric idiot. The very idea of what he’d been was embarrassing to him now, making him more than thankful that you’d never met him back then. You’d deserved way better than whatever he’d had to offer.

Hoseok knew that he couldn’t go back in time to change things. But he also knew that if he was given the chance, he probably wouldn’t either. Because as humiliating as his old self had been, he knew that it had formed the person he was today. And if he’d been open to a serious relationship for all those years, then he probably wouldn’t have met you.

So, yeah, he wasn’t proud of his past. But he wouldn’t change it. Not when he knew that he’d finally grown up in time to find you. You’d shown him that relationships weren’t something to roll his eyes at or be afraid of, that love was something he was deserving of and was also capable of giving.

And here he was now, frowning at the glass in front of him on the table and being a sappy idiot. The way he kept drifting away from conversations made him wonder if he was a little more than buzzed, but he found that he didn’t care. He was enjoying himself, even if he kept having these more serious thoughts.

It was a good job none of the guys could hear his thoughts now. They already gave him enough grief for going googly-eyed over you, as they called it.

Shifting back into the conversation, he realises that everyone is now talking about who they think will be next to get engaged. Hoseok is a little surprised at how quickly the topic had moved on, but given his friends, he’s also wondering how long it’ll take until it changes once more to how many farts a human can hold or something dumb.

Still, it’s his bachelor party and he feels the need to get involved. So he throws an arm over Jungkook and gives him a smirk, raising his brows in expectation.

“I bet our little Jungkookie here is going to be next. Got any plans on popping the question to Soyeon?” He grins broadly, taking in Jungkook’s expression with pure amusement. The younger man looks remarkably like a deer caught in headlights with his expressive eyes wide and sparkling with their usual youthful exuberance alongside more than a little alcohol.

“I-er,” He stutters, his cheeks turning a rosy pink even in the lowlight of the bar that makes everyone snort with laughter. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Bullshit!” Jimin’s small fist slams down on the table hard, causing the multitude of glasses to shudder and some of them to clink together. It also causes most of the guys around to almost clawing the ceiling with how hard they all jump. Eyes squinting at Jungkook, Jimin points one finger at him in an accusatory manner that seems a little out of proportion for the question.

“You’ve been together...a while now,” Hoseok’s shoulders jerk as he tries to hold in the snort at Jimin’s lack of numeracy skills suddenly. “There’s no way you haven’t thought of it. Women think we don’t think about that kinda shit but we do! And you’re the biggest fucking romantic on the table, Jeon Jungkook!”

His words are more than a little forceful and Hoseok has to bite his lip to stop from laughing, particularly when he glances at Jungkook’s shellshocked face. Alongside those impossibly large and wide eyes, his jaw has now dropped open and he’s staring at his friend in disbelief. Taehyung has an equally surprised look but Yoongi is nodding along in agreement, nursing his glass of whiskey that he’s had for at least half-an-hour now.

“He’s right, you are. I mean...you cried at Hercules when Meg died, remember?” Everyone goes quiet as they try to recall the incident from long ago. Even Hoseok is trying to remember it, his head tilted before giving up. There have been so many incidents of Jungkook crying at films that the Hercules one doesn’t even leave a mark.

“Sorry I have emotions, unlike you lot.” Jungkook is pouting now, crossing his arms over his chest. On another man, it’d probably look a little intimidating given the way his biceps bulged in the black dress shirt he’d put on or the way the buttons strained a little from his shoulders and chest. But Jungkook’s face negates that with his lower lip pushed out almost comically and his cheeks full.

Hoseok can’t help but reach over and cup them, squishing them until everyone laughs at the sight and making cooing noises to him. It’s with resignation that Jungkook lets him, his deep sigh brushing past Hoseok’s fingers while his shoulders slump. 

Almost immediately, Hoseok is reminded of how you call Jungkook the baby of his friendship group. It’s with a grin that he realises it’s true. He’s their baby, despite the fact he’s bigger than most of them all and can probably kill them just by squeezing their head between his arms.

“Girls dig that. Soyeon likes it, right?” Taehyung comments, brow rising from where he was sitting. His arm was resting on the back of the seat, body looking long and lean with his legs spread. He hadn’t been lucky enough to be in the booth itself and had had to grab a chair from another table.

There’d been more than a few hungry looks given to him from other patrons in the bar but Taehyung had remained oblivious, his long black hair ruffled from the day's activities and tiredness on his face. Although part of his obliviousness may also be because he was both asexual and aromantic, so it may be more than he’s purposefully not paying attention to it.

“Let’s not generalise women,” Seokjin interrupted, reaching out to gesture wildly with his bottle of Asahi beer. “It’s rude and they get angry when people do that.”

Everyone pauses to look at him with eyebrows raised, wondering where that came from. But no one questioned it, instead shrugging or nodding in acknowledgement to avoid him going on a rant. Not that there was anyone who didn’t agree, but the last thing Hoseok wanted was to listen to a bunch of drunk guys debate that.

“Anyway, I think she finds it more amusing. Like...sweet but...mostly funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Soyeon cry at a film yet. Maybe I just haven’t found the right film or genre yet.” Jungkook has a thoughtful look on his face, his gaze distant and Hoseok realises that he’s probably too tipsy for this kind of conversation.

From personal experience with Jungkook, Hoseok did not doubt that he would spend far too long having internal conversations, arguments and debates without even realising other people were talking to him. If anyone thought Jungkook was introverted normally then they hadn’t seen anything until he was drunk.

“Keep looking,” Hoseok says cheerfully, taking another shot and trying to clean his tongue with his teeth to remove the flavour. “You’ll find it eventually. I discovered that Meeps doesn’t cry at most things but she will cry at videos of cats that have been nursed back after being hurt.”

“Well...duh.” That comes from Taehyung, who’s giving Hoseok a serious ‘wtf’ look right now. It makes him feel a little self-conscious and so he grabs one of the random beers on the tables before taking a swig.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t cry at that? What the hell.” Placing a hand on the table, Yoongi looks at them all with a serious expression that could almost sober a person. It causes him to start ranting on about animal rights for the next five minutes, no one feeling brave enough to interrupt him. When Yoongi got going, everyone had long since realised that it was better to just let him get on with it.

By the time he finally stops, sitting back with a triumphant expression on his face before swallowing the last of his whiskey, everyone else has already finished another bottle of beer. Almost like they were trying to get themselves drunk as fast as possible to cope with Yoongi’s insistence that people who hurt animals should receive the same injuries back to them.

While Hoseok agreed, he didn’t quite like hearing about some of the incidents that Yoongi was talking passionately about. It made him think of Kasumi and Ciri, which made his chest hurt. 

He was a bit of a baby when it came to his furbabies.

Suddenly though, he’s overwhelmed with the intense desire to go home. To see his dog and stroke his cat and cuddle with you. Blinking slowly, he stares at the bottle before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. The bright light as he unlocks it causes him to squint, trying to avoid being blinded before he realises with a shock that it’s after one in the morning.

His day had started at 10 am when he’d met up with all the guys at Jungkook’s place. They’d then made their way to the place for the day’s activities, having spent until 4 pm there before heading back to Jungkook’s to change into some clean clothes for their drinking time. Soyeon had been amused as she’d watched them all emerge almost like a new man, clean from the quick showers they’d taken and ready to get wasted.

But now he was tired. And holy fuck, he hurt. Hoseok had avoided trying to get up whenever possible. Which meant he fucking needed to piss right now, but moving hurt. His joints ached like fuck from all the activities while his body hurt so bad from the paintballing.

Licking his lips, he finished the last of his beer before sighing deeply. It caught the attention of the others, despite the music and noise. Upon seeing everyone’s gaze on him, he smiles at them.

“Okay guys, this has been a pretty great day. Thank you Jungkook for organising it and thank you to everyone for coming. It means a lot to me. Now, before I get too sappy...I’m going to head home.” He’s already organising for an Uber on his phone, ignoring the outraged noises that start from everyone.

It’s Jimin that’s loudest though, his voice rising in pitch and yet simultaneously getting deeper as his accent gets a little stronger.

“What? It’s not even late! We’ve still got plenty of drinking to do.” Now he’s the one pouting and Hoseok notes in amusement that Seokjin and Namjoon are nodding in agreement. Taehyung doesn’t seem to give two fucks, either way, giving him a lazy shrug before taking a drink of what Hoseok realises is a glass of water while Jungkook remains quiet.

“Guys, it’s one in the morning. I know that I’m flaking out early, but you guys can keep drinking. I’m okay with it, honestly. I just...I’m really tired. A little drunk too, probably not as much as you’d all like but enough for me. Also, I have a bruise on my ass that’s probably the size of Ireland from all the fucking paintballs you fired at me. I hurt.” He whines out the word, wanting to wiggle almost like a child but the pain that shoots up from his asscheek causes him to inhale quickly and still.

“Shit, does it hurt?” The question comes from Jungkook, who’s scanning Hoseok up and down as best he can. It’s not a good attempt given he’s had a little too many drinks and he doesn’t seem to be able to lift his head properly once it’s gone down too far, causing Hoseok to snort.

It doesn’t stop him from giving the younger man a droll stare, which he can only see when Hoseok forcefully lifts his chin back up. “Yes, it fucking does. Why do you think I’ve barely moved all evening?”

“Sorry.” Jungkook’s face is scrunched up and Hoseok knows why he looks so awkward. He’s pretty sure he may as well have Jungkook’s name imprinted on his back in bruises from how many times he’d been hit by him. The guy was far too fucking good at paintball, something Hoseok had regretted agreeing to within five minutes of being in the arena.

“It’s okay. But I’m done for the night. I’m going to go home and sleep so fucking hard. Meeps might think I’ve died in the morning or something.”

“Morbid.” Yoongi chuckles, tipping his new glass of whiskey towards him before grinning.

“Yep. Really glad that I asked for this to be done two weeks before the wedding. I’d have been like an old man if I’d agreed to do it the day before.” The very thought of having to hobble up the aisle made him cringe.

A notification on his phone distracted him though, the Uber app telling him that his ride is here. He feels a surprising amount of relief at being able to go home, the thought of his bed almost like a siren call that was too tantalising to resist.

“And with that, my Uber is here. Thank you for today, really,” Hoseok lets out a yelp of pain as he stands, gingerly holding his ass and causing everyone to simultaneously laugh and look concerned. “I appreciate it. It was fun and I enjoyed it all.”

It takes him another few minutes to finally get out of the bar; hugs being given out repeatedly to the guys while he accepts all their praise and well wishes. The Uber was idling by the side of the road and he wished that he could slump inside but instead, he had to gingerly get in and position himself with the least amount of pain. 

To make it even worse, he had to explain to the very sober driver that he wasn’t shitfaced but was actually in pain from the earlier paintballing. That had led to a whole conversation that Hoseok hadn’t anticipated, lasting the whole trip as he’d discussed where they’d gone and the activities they’d done. The guy seemed to be very interested in it and had given him many congratulations when he’d found out that Hoseok was at his bachelor’s party.

It never failed to amuse Hoseok how easily people wish congratulations upon finding out as if they felt obliged. What he didn’t quite appreciate was the guy's remarks about marriage, which were more than a little derogatory. Hoseok didn’t know why anyone would think it was a good idea to disparage marriage to someone who was only weeks away from marriage.

As he was leaving the car, he put on a polite smile and thanked the driver for the trip. Once he was out though, he resolved to not leave a good review. Maybe he sounded a little harsh, but having to listen to how he should ringfence all his finances to avoid them being leeched by his soon-to-be wife for whenever she inevitably cheated or left him had been more than he could handle.

If Hoseok hadn’t been tired before, he sure was now. 

Opening the front door, he kicks off his shoes with a heavy sigh before heading into the living room in darkness. Ciri is in her cage, fast asleep until Hoseok unlatches the door and calls her out. She’s slow to react, her little body tired until he opens up the backdoor and lets her out. He figures that you can both have a nice lie in if he lets Ciri out now. 

Closing the door once she’s out, he heads into the bathroom and brushes his teeth while peeing before washing his wash. He gets to see how badly bruised he is in the mirror for the first time and winces at the sight of the already black and blue flesh, knowing he’s going to be in even more pain tomorrow.

Sighing, he towel dries his face before heading out and letting Ciri back in. He’d love to have a little cuddle with her but he’s too tired, so he just puts a treat into her cage to coax her back in before giving her an attentive stroke and locking it. She’s too busy eating her chew eagerly to notice him. 

Heading to the bedroom, he pulls off his clothes in the dark before fumbling around to find his pyjamas. He’d go to bed in just his boxers but he wants to try and give a little bit of coverage to his poor body for tonight. Which is why he doesn’t even know if he’s put them on the right way around or not. Hoseok doesn’t even care, he already feels asleep.

There’s a little light when he gets over to the bed from your clock, the numbers glowing brightly in the night and highlighting your face as you sleep. Kasumi is curled up against your stomach on top of the covers, her eyes blinking slowly at Hoseok as he leans over to give her a stroke as well. She gives a quiet chirp of appreciation and he smiles softly at how her body vibrates as she purrs, her paws flexing and closing as she pads at your covered thigh.

And through it all, you don’t even stir. Your breathing is slow and steady while your body is completely relaxed, unaware he’s even arrived home. Hoseok doesn’t even realise he’s smiling until he lets out a soft laugh, knowing that you probably won’t wake up at all. Once you’ve fallen asleep then you’re truly out like a light until the early hours of the morning so he has no fear of waking you up.

Carefully, he climbs into bed and throws the cover over himself with a quiet groan as his limbs feel so heavy. He can’t even remember the last time he hurt this badly. It takes way more effort than he’d like to admit to not wake you up and have you coddle him. Mainly because you’re grumpy when you’ve been woken up.

What he does do though, is shift onto his side that doesn’t have the most bruises before carefully shuffling closer to you. A soft mewl of pain leaves him as he does so but he doubts he could get in any position without some level of discomfort right now. So he’ll be damned if he denies himself some comfort in cuddling your sleeping form.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he moulds himself to your back as gently as he can before letting out the deepest sigh he’s done in a while. His whole body relaxes, causing him to almost whimper as the pain he hadn’t realised he had is exacerbated by his now lax muscles. Fuck, that’s the last time he paintballs with Jungkook.

Pressing his nose to your back, he inhales deeply. You haven’t even moved, despite all the jostling he’s done behind you and there’s no change to your breathing. Taking in the comforting scent of you, he recalls his earlier thought process about his past. Feeling you solid and warm in his arms provides him with a sense of peace that he’s never found with anyone else, causing him to feel content despite his discomfort.

Yeah, he wouldn’t change a thing if it meant he ended up with you. And he doesn’t care how cheesy it sounds. In only two weeks, he’d be marrying you. He was allowed to be as sappy as he wanted, whether it was internally or externally.

You deserved to be praised and shouted about and goddammit, Jung Hoseok was going to worship you.

[kazaarb]

13 for the drabble thingie <3 also your art is MWAH chefs kiss <3

AWH thank you sm!!! Also I’m gunna assume this is for bkdk so sorry if you wanted smth else!! Also a little longer than planned but I had fun with it! Enjoy!!! 

Also sorry for grammar mistakes! It’s almost midnight and I don't wanna bother my beta rn ^-^

13: "Kiss me" Established relationship BKDK (Pro Heroes)

Rated T for language (1,181 words)

Izuku was pissed.

Not his run of the mill, misplaced keys or stain on his favourite shirt kind of angry. Izuku rarely got angry in the first place, so these were rare occurrences, but today was something different.

Being a part time tutor at UA and fighting for the spot of number one hero (against two of his best friends nonetheless), he had the time for nearly nothing. It had been months since he had gone out alone, let alone with his boyfriend of four years. 

Boyfriend of four years, who was very quickly going to be demoted to ex if he didn't show up to this restaurant soon god dammit-

They had booked a table for Izukus favourite restaurant weeks, no, it was months ago now. 

Of course your favourite place to eat is some high end expensive shit. Why don’t you wanna go eat somewhere cheap as shit and easy to book? Katsuki had whined.

It was his favourite place too.

Combined, they had been to this specific restaurant at least 120 times over the course of their 8 year relationship. 

So it was only reasonable they visited for their anniversary. 

Well. One of them would visit alone, it seemed.

Izuku was aware, very aware of his hero partner and boyfriends... complicated relationship with being on time. He was either 20 minutes early or 35 minutes late, absolutely no in-between, and had been chewed out by his PR time more times than he would care to admit for being so late to so many different live interviews.

But this? This was absurd.

Izuku, once neatly pressed suit now crumpled as he slouched in his seat, sipped on his fifth cup of red wine and moped. Izuku didn't even like wine, let alone red. 

He had been sat there, alone, in a bustling restaurant, for fifty minutes.

Fifty fucking minutes.

Unbelievable.

A waitress, meek and short, stumbled over. “W-Would you like to order some food sir? You’ve been here for quite a while. Unless you want another drink I could grab that for yo-”

“No he’s fine, we’ll call you over when we want something.” Snapped a harsh voice. Izuku raised his head from where it leant on his arm to see the waitress scurry off into the backroom, practically bowing on her way.

Slowly, he pulled his head up to meet his boyfriends eyes.

Katsuki stood tall, suit the most neatly pressed Izuku had ever seen on him. He never looked as neat at this, even at his own friends weddings.

A blazing glare met Katsukis. The grin he once sported dropped.

“Nice of you to show up, Katsuki.” Words driving with laced sarcasm. Wow. He really was pissed.

“Really, Deku? I’m fuckin’ here, aren't I?”

“I don’t want to argue here. Let’s just leave.” Izuku retorted, not even wanting to entertain Katsuki, who was definitely enjoying seeing his boyfriend so wound up. Izuku stood to grab his suit jacket, thrown over the back of the chair and fished his wallet out to pay his tab. Katsuki’s hand slapped over the card he had placed on the table.

“No. Not yet, don’t leave.” He breathed out, head dropping. “Let me explain myself, please.”

He looked regretful. This was an unusually look on Katsuki. Izuku sat back down and Katsuki pulled the chair across from him to seat himself. It scratched against the floor uncomfortably loudly.

The bustle of the restaurant likely drowned the screech out. Still, it rang through the tense air between the two men.

“I can explain.” Katsuki started, immediately fidgeting. Izuku internally smirked at how uncomfortable this was clearly making Katsuki. Good. He deserved this for humiliating him for so long. Asshole.

“Marry me.”

“What?” 

Izuku hadn't planned on interrupting his boyfriend, instead opting to hear him grovel with no indication whether Izuku would accept it or not. But this? This was unexpected.

“Fuck. Wait I didn’t mean to ask like that. I mean I was gonna- fuck let me start again. Shit. Sorry.” He bumbled over his words. His hand shot out to grasp at Izukus, who pulled away.

“Kacchan that’s not funny. None of this is fu-”

“No please, Izuku. Let me explain.” His eyes were sincere, bubbling and swirling with emotions like a bath about to overflow.

“I’m sorry I was late. I should’ve texted you first but I... fuck I didn't want to let you onto this. I guess. Um.” Their eyes met, green and red, quizzing each other. Izuku nodded for him to keep talking. Katsuki’s lungs pulled in a breath.

“I was late because I was run-in’ round tryna find the right ring, okay? The first shop had the right one in the wrong size and the second place was like a twenty minute walk but I thought if I ran I could make it before it closed but I was too la-” Izuku’s hand shot out and grabbed at where Katsuki’s rested on the table, thumb stroking his own.

“I was too late. The shop fuckin’ shut before I got there. I’ve been so busy I couldn’t find one any other time. It had to be tonight and...” He paused, sighing regretfully. “I failed. ‘M sorry ‘Zuku...” He mumbled over the last line.

“Oh Kacchan... It’s okay...” He said, slipping his free hand off the table.

“No it’s not. I fucked this whole fuckin’ night up. I embarrassed you. I’m so fucking sorry Izuku.”

“You absolutely did embarrass me. But,” Izuku started, then slipped off the chair he was perched on.

“I’m about to embarrass you even more...”

And in one motion, slipped down onto one knee.

With a ring box in his hand.

If it could, Katsuki was sure his jaw would have hit the floor so hard the tiling would have dented.

“Nerd?”

“This is why I was so upset. I thought the one day I had to do this was being ruined by you and your disastrous time management.”

“Well technically it was but...”

“Yea well. I guess we were on the same page about this then?” Izuku chuckled, motioning the velvet box in his hand. He flipped it open with a finger and presented it towards the blond man in the chair.

“Kacchan will you do me the honour of- woah!” 

Katsuki moved to grab the front of Izuku's suit, green tie and all, and pulled the shorter man up from his knees.

“Kiss me.” He huffed. “Then pop the question, idiot.”

Izuku giggled. “That’s definitely not how it works. I thought the kissing came after.”

“Whatever, nerd. Kiss me, right now, or I return the ring and you to the store.”

Sighing, Izuku smiled. Acutely aware of the crowd of restaurant goers now gawking at them, ready to clap when one of them eventually said ‘yes’ but not quite finding it in him to care, Izuku pulled himself toward Katsuki and planted a firm kiss against his warm lips. 

As the pair melted against one another, Katsuki mumbled something only Izuku could hear through the rasp in his voice.

“Yea, I’ll be your husband...”

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars CXXVII (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This is one of my favourite chapters uwu -Danny

Words: 4,172

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Listen to: ‘I Wanna Be OK’ -by Caleb James

Chapter Twenty-Five: Reaching Out.

She never would've thought that one of Pansy's friends was... decent. 

Yes, Erick had some pretty nasty friends, but he was lovely, however, he'd never considered them close. Daphne was different, she didn't have a problem with her friends, but she had a restless curiosity and a set of very good eyes, same eyes that helped her realize Erick was acting strange.

"She's been following me for months," Erick scowled at the girl. "I didn't know it was her, but I was careful not to do anything suspicious as soon as I felt it... I'm used to being alone, Daphne, which means I can tell when I'm not."

"Didn't hurt to try," Daphne shrugged, sitting down. "You can stop staring at me like that, I'm not here to kill you."

"What do you want?"

"I already asked her," Erick sat down next to the girl and gestured for Mel to sit in front of them. "I know you don't like her, but if you trust me then you'll listen to what she has to say."

Mel hesitated, if this would've happened a year ago she would've agreed right away, there was nothing to lose and one more friend to gain, but now it wasn't just some silly study sessions to learn about the muggle world, it was the Order, secrets plans to win a war that was yet to start...

"Erick has explained to me that you and Granger taught him a lot about the muggle world and that you've also done a few things off-record... I want to learn, I don't care whether if You-Know-Who's back or not, but I care about myself and my sister. I want to be prepared if it turns out you're not crazy."

"I don't understand," Mel sat down. "You believe us?"

"I don't know what to believe," Daphne made a face. "I know that if the Ministry sent Umbridge here they must see Dumbledore as a real threat, and that's something."

"Why asking me, though?"

"I would rather get my information from someone who's lived around muggles instead of that nonsense pureblood families say all the time. They heard it from their parents, and the parents heard it from their parents... I'm not excited about spending time with you and Granger," She sneered. "But I don't have a choice."

"How do I know you're not trying to trick us?"

Daphne raised a brow in amusement. 

"Why do you need to trust me to have a silly study session from time to time?"

"Answer the question, Daphne," Erick pressed.

The girl turned to look at him, she examined his and Mel's face and her interest increased.

"What are really doing here?"

"Listen, you either answer me, or we're done," Mel insisted. "I have things to—"

"Umbridge wants to make her own little team of rats," Daphne said. "Pansy was telling us about it yesterday, she said Umbridge was writing to the Minister the other day after class, and that she managed to read a bit — said it was something about recruiting students to be her eyes and ears."

"So?" 

"I could join along with Erick and we could help you. I know you and your friends are up to something, you've been too friendly with students from other houses and that didn't use to happen, we can trick Umbridge so she follows the wrong clues."

Mel couldn't help but think about Kingsley and Tonks helping the Order by lying about Sirius' whereabouts, it was tempting. Hadn't she promised to find a way to beat Umbridge in her own game? Maybe this was it. Umbridge would never suspect two of the best Slytherins being the ones passing information to Mel. 

"If that's true," She started carefully. "Then I'd consider teaching you, if you promise to keep your mouth shut."

"Okay," Daphne stood up. "We have a deal?"

Mel faced the girl in front of her, she still couldn't believe this was happening.

"Greengrass, if this is a trick... you'll regret it."

"I know."

She told Hermione about it because throwing Daphne into the mix was a dangerous move. She figured Harry would be okay since it really didn't have to do with him and what they were doing, he would get anxious no doubt, but he would understand. 

Since she had promised to help him with Occlumency, Mel decided to inform him about it during their first study session. Harry was just as confused as her.

"What is it about you," He asked in incredulity, "that attracts Slytherins so much?"

"Dunno," Mel smiled. "Maybe it's, you know, that I don't judge the book by its cover?"

"Shut up," Harry snorted. "I've never seen you pick a book with an ugly cover. Don't lie to me."

"Are you admitting that I was right, though? Slytherins and Gryffindors can get along."

"Have your first meeting with two Slytherins at once," He raised a brow. "Then we'll talk."

It was a known fact that Umbridge was starting to lose it, with every new decree she was stepping further into a higher position, making her even more dislikeable than before. It was also known, that there was a war going on between the woman and Mel Dumbledore.

She was, to say it simply, mayhem. Mel hung a target on those bullies that would openly talk against the muggle-borns, making their lives a living hell -with the twins' help, obviously- and the best part was that Umbridge was unable to catch her every single time.

Umbridge was a threat to the school, she could feel her breathing on her neck. The funny thing was that even though Umbridge considered her the biggest issue on her list, she was underestimating Mel at an abysmal level.

For instance, the woman couldn't phantom the plausibility of Mel doing wandless magic, even knowing she was a Dumbledore, a gifted one at that, Umbridge's blind trust in Fudge seemed to weigh more on her mind than anything else.

Being the student defending the muggle-borns honour regardless of their house gave her the protection she'd been lacking for years. The witnesses would blatantly deny her participation in any incidents, it didn't matter if Umbridge threatened them with detention, Mel had created such a strong community that it was now acting without her having to move a finger. 

While Harry was doing everything in his power to teach what the woman was censoring in her classes, Mel kept destroying every false fear Umbridge had been placing inside the students' heads; but the work wasn't done after the first week, it had to be constant and she had to be careful about the battles she'd pick. 

Her lessons with Dumbledore were a great help for that, learning how to clear her mind and compartmentalize her emotions turned out to be brilliant for her plans. She was unstoppable.

Unfortunately, there was a consequence to this: Mel was turning into a prepotent git. She'd started to publicly mess with the bullies, and in some cases, students that were younger than her. One afternoon, Erick caught her while hexing a thirteen-year-old.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" He hissed at her. "You have no right to punish him — You can't allow this to get over your head!"

"Oh, it's way over my head by now," Mel snorted. "I spent four years trying to convince everyone that I was worthy — four bloody years where I got nothing in return. I'm done with that, I'll let it get over my head as much as I want. I deserve it. I deserve the attention and I deserve the bloody power. Umbridge is nothing compared to me."

"You forget you're not the ruler of the school — Even if others treat you like it," He warned her.

"Then stop me," She smiled innocently, though her tone was definitely mocking. "You'll have a hard time trying, Prince."

Erick straightened in his place and spoke out loud:

"Detention, Miss Dumbledore. You'll report to Professor McGonagall tonight — Oh! And thirty points from Gryffindor will be taken away."

Mel's eyes flashed dangerously. "You can't do that."

Erick leaned closer. 

"Then stop me," He looked around the hall and yelled. "What are you looking at? Go to class!"

Most of the students glared at the boy and mumbled about taking care of him later, but Erick didn't care, after all, he'd never been afraid of her, let alone of her admirers.

Neville had found his motivation in the shape of Bellatrix Lestrange. There was something dark but certain in the way he would practice, and there was something pleasant but worrying about the fact that he'd become the best student.

By the end of January, after a long talk with Erick, Harry, Hermione and Ron, Mel decided to mention the D.A. to Daphne. It wasn't surprising at all when she decided to join.

Mel was working at the speed of light: Quidditch practice, O.W.L.s lessons and Dumbledore's along with her little vigilante acts. She was missing meals several times a week, something that her friends were noticing, which caused the sudden appearance of snacks in her bag and pockets.

She was so enraptured on herself that she couldn't even feel Harry's discomfort. She knew he was having a hard time thanks to their weekly Occlumency sessions, he still couldn't clear his head, and although she would try her best she would stop at the slightest hint of an argument about to burst between them. She didn't have the time to fight.

The day finally arrived when Daphne would have her very first D.A. meeting. She was welcomed with open arms, and it wasn't because of Mel's warnings, the students were genuinely excited about having a Slytherin there, and Mel couldn't help but share their sentiment.

She woke up on the morning of Valentine's day having no clue that it was Valentine's day. She had fallen asleep right after a soothing warm bath, her hair turned all frizzy overnight and it hadn't dried completely, so she was sort of grumpy.

An owl landed in front of Hermione during breakfast, holding out a letter for her. Thinking it was maybe Krum's reply Mel didn't give much thought to it while she ate, Ron sat down beside her and nudge her side.

"You're okay?"

"Hmm?" Mel asked, shoving a spoonful of cereal in her mouth. 

"I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls today, aren't you excited?" 

Mel blinked, swallowing her food and frowning slightly. 

"About what?"

Ron stared at her. 

"Your date?"

The girl dropped her spoon.

"It's Valentine's day?!"

"Are you sure you're sleeping enough?" He asked worryingly. 

"Mum's birthday!" She said in horror. "I have to send her a present — I have to hurry —"

"About time!" Hermione said abruptly. "If it hadn't come today..." 

"What's that?" asked Mel anxiously. 

"Listen, guys," Hermione looked up at her and Harry. "This is really important... Do you think you could meet me in the Three Broomsticks around midday?"

"Well... I dunno," Harry shrugged. "Cho might be expecting me to spend the whole day with her. We never said what we were going to do." 

"Fred wouldn't mind about me leaving early," Mel responded. "Why?"

"Well, Harry, bring her along if you must," said Hermione with impatience. "But will you come?"

"Well... all right, but why?"

"I haven't got time to tell you now, I've got to answer this quickly —" Hermione left right away.

 "You know what? I reckon I hate it when she does that too," Mel groaned.

"Are you coming?" Harry asked Ron, he shook his head miserably.

"I can't come into Hogsmeade at all, Angelina wants a full day's training. Like it's going to help — we're the worst team I've ever seen." 

"How come you're not staying?" Harry asked her.

"I trained yesterday with Jack so I could go to Hogsmeade with Fred," Mel said, suddenly remembering why she was so tired. "I can't believe I woke up and didn't remember! I've been planning this for days..."

"Mel's alright," Ron sulked. "She's got a good broom and her aim is decent, but we're still struggling... I dunno why Angelina won't just let me resign..."

"It's because you're good when you're on form, that's why," said Harry with exasperation, then he turned to Mel. "And you should consider taking a time off, you can go a week without being Umbridge's nightmare."

"You're sounding like Hermione," Mel said, gathering her hair in a ponytail to get it out of the way. "I got this, okay?"

"Lady!" Fred happily approached. "Ready for the best day of your life?"

"You really need to be humbled," Mel replied, pushing her hair back and standing up, waving goodbye to the boys as she left the Great Hall with Fred. 

"You're one to talk, your majesty," Fred mocked.

"Can we go to the owlery first? I forgot to send Mum's present..."

"George and I sent it last Wednesday!" 

"Why are you sending presents to my mum?" She frowned

"Because we like her," Fred raised a brow, "And I should be nice to my mother-in-law, shouldn't I? — Oof!"

"You're coming, or not?" Mel said.   

"Yeah, sure — Merlin, you're getting stronger..." He rubbed his arm. "All that practice is paying off..."

"Hermione wants to meet in the three broomsticks later on the day," She ignored his comment. "You could come with me but you don't have to..."

Fred shrugged. 

"George, Lee and I were planning to buy stuff anyway," He smirked. "We've run out of almost everything. You really are taking this war against Umbridge quite seriously, aren't you?"

"Well, Sirius did ask me to have fun," She grinned.

"You think it's a good idea to visit Madam Puddifoot's shop?" He asked loudly as they ran away from the rain.

"Oh god, no," Mel grimaced. "That place reminds me of Umbridge's office, so cheesy..."

"You used to like cheesy!" He shook his head. "Just thought I should mention it, that's where the couples go..."

"We shouldn't go anywhere we don't like," Mel responded. "I mean, not that we're following rules anyway..."

"Not that we're a real couple either," Fred snorted.

The whole day had been like any other, the only difference being that it was just the two of them, and they were having fun. Although maybe there was one thing she'd been trying to ignore for a while.

Things were moving forward at an alarming speed in other aspects of her life: Harry and she still weren't the friends they used to be and she certainly didn't feel comfortable enough to talk about her love life in front of him, but it was time to talk about it with someone, it was driving her mad.

Fred was extrovert and funny, but he knew when Mel needed to have a serious conversation and how to support her. Mel could stop him from doing really wild things, she was still the only girl the twins listened to. They had lots of fun together... but they weren't in love.

She'd expected to fall for Fred, even if she was the first to claim it was out of the question. Part of her secretly hoped for the day when she would look into his eyes and realize she was head over heels, but that moment was yet to arrive. 

Maybe she could talk about it with Erick, though they had promised not to bring up the romantic side of their lives during their study sessions because it was making Erick rather grumpy lately, and she didn't want to fight with him. Either way, Mel needed to talk about her situation with Fred soon. She knew this whole thing didn't have a future, and she was done pretending.

"You're awfully quiet," Fred mentioned as they walked into the three broomsticks, emptying his pockets of the wrappers of sweets they had shared during the day. "Something on your mind?"

"No," She lied. "Just... I'm comfortable with my life right now, you know?"

If she could, she'd keep this situation going for the rest of her school years, but it wasn't fair to Fred and it wasn't fair to her either. Nevertheless, there would be better days to bring that up than on Valentine's day.

"Glad to hear you're the happiest girl on earth since you kissed me," He joked.

"That's debatable."

"Don't ruin our moment, Lady."

"Anyway..." She grinned. "Thank you for the date, I'll see you around..."

"No problem," Fred winked. "If you end your thing with Hermione before it's time to go back, feel free to join us."

"Alright," She nodded. 

When Fred left, she ran into the strangest scene she'd ever seen in her life: 

Hermione, Luna, Harry and Rita Skeeter, all seated at the same table. Mel wondered if maybe she was dreaming, but once she was standing right in front of the group, she realized not even her could come up with such a strange thing.

"This is by far the weirdest view of the day, and I walked past Madam Puddifoot's a few minutes ago," She said jokingly. 

"Where's Fred?" Hermione asked her. 

"Had plans with George and Lee, didn't want to hold him back since I didn't know how long this would take... And it looks like it's going to take a while."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. 

"Doesn't matter," Mel shrugged, untying her hair and feeling it splash freezing cold water on her back. "Merlin, I need a haircut..."

She sat down between Harry and Hermione and smiled at the woman in front of her. 

"Rita," She greeted. "You look awful."

"Dumbledore girl," Skeeter said in the same tone. "Are those dark circles under your eyes meant to match your mental state?"

"Nah, I wear them for fun," Mel raised her eyebrows. "Whenever I feel like looking crazy I hex people, would you like to be my victim for the day?"

"That's enough," Hermione scolded them. "We're not here to have a go at each other."

"Why are we here, then?"

"Little Miss Perfect was just about to tell me when you arrived," said Rita. "I suppose I'm allowed to talk to them, am I?" 

"Yes, I suppose you are," said Hermione. "But don't call Mel crazy again, you know that's not true."

"Where's Cho?" Mel asked, noticing Harry was alone.

"I... er— She didn't want to come," He replied awkwardly.

"Pretty girl, is she, Harry?" Rita questioned, then she added. "And you're dating some Fred, are you, Mel? Weren't you two together?"

"One more word about their love life and the deal's off and that's a promise," Hermione snapped.

"What deal? You haven't mentioned a deal yet, Miss Prissy, you just told me to turn up. Oh, one of these days..." 

"Yes, yes, one of these days you'll write more horrible stories about Harry and Mel, and me. Find someone who cares, why don't you?" 

"They've run plenty of horrible stories about these two this year without my help— How has that made you feel, Harry? Betrayed? Distraught? Misunderstood? What about you, Mel?" 

"They feel angry, of course. Because Harry's told the Minister of Magic the truth and the Minister's too much of an idiot to believe him, and Mel has done nothing to gain that awful reputation," Hermione replied.

"Well, dunno 'Mione, some classmates might disagree," Mel said in a low, playful tone.

"So you actually stick to it, do you, that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is back? You stand by all this garbage Dumbledore's been telling everybody about You-Know-Who returning and you being the sole witness — ?"

"What my uncle said isn't garbage," The girl argued. "It's the truth."

"And I wasn't the sole witness," Harry said roughly. "There were a dozen-odd Death Eaters there as well. Want their names?"

"I'd love them," Rita opened her bag once more and this time Hermione didn't stop her. "A great bold headline: 'Potter Accuses...' A subheading: 'Harry Potter Names Death Eaters Still Among Us.' And then, beneath a nice big photograph of you: 'Disturbed teenage survivor of You-Know- Who's attack, Harry Potter, 15, caused outrage yesterday by accusing respectable and prominent members of the Wizarding community of being Death Eaters...' "

"I doubt any of them will be respectable after this," Mel muttered.

Rita stopped abruptly, her smile fading.

"Of course... Little Miss Perfect wouldn't want that story out there, would she?"

"As a matter of fact," said Hermione, smiling at Rita, "that's exactly what Little Miss Perfect does want."

Rita, Mel and Harry stared at her. Luna hummed quietly without caring about the little discussion happening, her eyes glued to her drink.

"You want me to report what he says about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?" Rita breathed.

"Yes, I do. The true story. All the facts. Exactly as Harry reports them. He'll give you all the details, he'll tell you the names of the undiscovered Death Eaters he saw there, he'll tell you what Voldemort looks like now — oh, get a grip on yourself!" The girl exclaimed after Rita accidentally spilt firewhiskey on her lap at the mention of the wizard. "Mel will tell you all about Barty Crouch Jr. and how Fudge ruined any chances of being a decent Minister, and how Umbridge is doing awful things to the school."

"The Prophet wouldn't print it. In case you haven't noticed, nobody believes their cock-and-bull story. Everyone thinks they're delusional," Skeeter pointed out. "Now, if you let me write the story from that angle —"

"We don't need another story about how Harry and Mel lost their marbles! We've had plenty of those already, thank you! I want them given the opportunity to tell the truth!"

"There's no market for a story like that."

"You mean the Prophet won't print it because Fudge won't let them."

"All right, Fudge is leaning on the Prophet, but it comes to the same thing. They won't print a story that shows Harry and the Dumbledores in a good light. Nobody wants to read it. It's against the public mood. This last Azkaban breakout has got people quite worried enough. People just don't want to believe You-Know-Who's back."

"So the Daily Prophet exists to tell people what they want to hear, does it?" 

"The Prophet exists to sell itself, you silly girl."

"My dad thinks it's an awful paper," Luna finally intervened. "He publishes important stories that he thinks the public needs to know. He doesn't care about making money."

"I'm guessing your father runs some stupid little village newsletter? 'Twenty-five Ways to Mingle with Muggles' and the dates of the next Bring-and-Fly Sale?"

"No, he's the editor of The Quibbler."

Rita snorted. 

"Important stories he thinks the public needs to know'? I could manure my garden with the contents of that rag!" 

"Well, this is your chance to raise the tone of it a bit, isn't it?" said Hermione. "Luna says her father's quite happy to take Harry's interview. That's who'll be publishing it."

"The Quibbler!" Rita chortled. "You think people will take them seriously if they're published in The Quibbler?"

"Some people won't, but the Daily Prophet's version of the Azkaban breakout had some gaping holes in it. I think a lot of people will be wondering whether there isn't a better explanation of what happened, and if there's an alternative story available, even if it is published in a... in a — well, an unusual magazine — I think they might be rather keen to read it."

"Can't say it's not a good idea," Mel shrugged. "The Ministry'll be stuck. If they act against it people will notice it, if they ignore it people will read it anyway. They don't get to win."

"All right, let's say for a moment I'll do it," Rita said. "What kind of fee am I going to get?" 

"I don't think Daddy exactly pays people to write for the magazine," said Luna. "They do it because it's an honor, and, of course, to see their names in print."

"I'm supposed to do this for free?" Rita asked in outrage.

"Well, yes. Otherwise, as you very well know, I will inform the authorities that you are an unregistered Animagus. Of course, the Prophet might give you rather a lot for an insider's account of life in Azkaban..."

"And you kind of owe it to us, Rita," Mel smiled sweetly. "After all the shit you pulled last year."

"I don't suppose I've got any choice, have I?" She spat, leaving her parchment on the table and preparing her quill. 

"Daddy will be pleased," said Luna happily.

"Okay, guys?" said Hermione, turning to them. "Ready to tell the public the truth?"

Mel and Harry looked at each other.

"My uncle will be pissed," She said. 

But after a second, they realized they didn't care what Dumbledore had to say. They had been acting in the shadows for far too long, it was time to reach out. Harry smiled a little, looking back at Hermione.

"We're ready," said Harry.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @21bruhs @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @dielgonacoffee

[iwriteforthetincanman]

Mandoctober Day 16: Tatooine

ALT TITLE: Stardust, The Force and one big beautiful mess

A/N: at first I wanted to continue the sandcrawler scavenger reader I did (which I will do eventually with or without Mandoctober to guide me) but I went through some personal stuff so I more or less wanted to base this around family and where your roots are from rather than Tatooine itself, which in its essence is that one scene with Luke skywalker standing outside his home with the twin suns and later on down the line, his final resting place along with his twin sister Leia. 

Someone dear to me passed away almost ten years ago now. The anniversary is the day Season two comes out. Which is essentially why I’m so committed to this fandom now. But I also wanted to write something just to get the remaining grief out of my system. 

Mum, this one is for you.

Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Buir.

Poe Dameron x reader, Nameless!Mother (or Mother Figure) x Din Djarin

(FOR CLARIFICATION DIN DJARIN IS THE READER’S FATHER IN THIS ONE)

also somehow I wrote 5K in two hours none stop...am I Alexander Hamilton? 

It had been so long since I had been home. It hurt to think of the place where I came from. Hatred had leaked into my very belief system, my culture...even my family. 

I felt like they hated me for leaving... but I was scared that they’d never miss me. That I had only been a ghost in their lives. There for 18 years and then poof! I was gone. 

My father, Din Djarin, the Mandalorian saved my mother from slavery when she was quite young. Around my age to be precise. He had no idea at the time because she had been living with an Ugnaught named Kuill. That’s why my middle name is Kuill. I owe that fateful Ugnaught my existence for freeing my own mother from slavery when she was barely even a woman. 

She had nowhere else to go...and instead of keeping her grounded and sheltered away from the rest of the world. He let her live. 

Growing up you hear stories of people dying all around you, neighbours, friends and yes, even pets. It hurts so much you can’t even comprehend it. You become numb and barren to the pains of the world.

It feels like you don’t care anymore.

It got to a point where I was making things up in my head out of anger. How I would’ve handled things differently, what I wanted to do with my life, where I wanted to go.

But my father had only one strict rule.

Once we set down roots...we can never leave.

I never questioned it after the first time he told me why. 

My mother...on the day I decided to leave, knew that something was wrong.

Lately I had been restless, agitated and easy to anger. 

At first she thought I had fallen pregnant. Something that had made us both laugh at the time. It was a hollow memory to me now. I had no idea if she was dead or alive. 

It hurt. The unknown. Death, life. It didn’t matter. 

What mattered was the fight to live. To help others thrive.

You were raised to be everything the First Order was against. 

So of course you wanted to join the resistance at the first chance you got.

---

“NO.”

“But-”

“No means no! Do you have any idea what your mother and I went through to bring you this life, so you could live in the peace that the universe scarcely gives? Do you have any idea how lucky you are?!”

“That’s exactly why I have to go! Don’t you understand that! I love living here. But some people aren’t as lucky. You know that more than anyone in this village buir. Mum knows it too.”

It went deadly quiet for a moment. 

“I did not bring you this life...risked everything with my culture, my creed, just so you could selfishly throw it away...I don’t want you to die like my parents did Ad’ika.”

I didn’t say it then but...that was another reason you needed to go. To make your ancestors and those Mandalorians who came before your father proud. 

It was the one time Din Djarin had let his guard down.

You crept away into the night, leaving only a kiss on your little (in size) brother’s brow and a note next to your mother’s tools.

It was the best way you could’ve said goodbye. 

“I am one with the force and the force is with me...This is the way.” 

---

Two whole weeks later I found yourself on a planet that was the polar opposite of what I was used to. So much technology that I didn’t know the names of, ships, speeders, weapons and people. 

It was strange how seeing so many people made you euphoric at the time. I was only a rookie, and I had never left home before. Of course I was nervous. 

There was so much to learn! Keeping up with the resistance is what scared you, what if they threw you out? You had trained under your mother’s mechanical know how just to get here but what if-

“Djarin! Y/N!”

“HERE!” You hadn’t realised how loud you had been until all the people turned to look at you funny. Whispers and giggles followed. Maker, this was embarrassing. 

“Good to know you’re here. I’m Poe Dameron by the way. Noticed you weren’t paying attention. You nervous?” Making eye contact with the most gorgeous man you had ever seen was the last thing you had expected. He was a hot shot pilot apparently. You heard a girl giggle behind your head as she winked at him. Oh, give me a break. 

“...A little.”

“Okay well don’t be. You recruited for a reason and according to where you’ve been registered you’re the best mechanic we’ve seen in a long while. Which is why you’ve been assigned to my X-Wing.” 

Jealousy dripped in ugly green buckets. You were quite fond of the colour, with it being the colour of your little brother’s skin. But...it hurt nonetheless. 

“Yes sir.” You whimpered pathetically.

You were doing this for them. Not for some pilot you had only just met. Well...him too. 

---

Crashing into General Leia Organa with heaps of your paperwork was not how you planned your first day ending.

“Kriffing Bantha fodder! Why don’t you watch where you’re-Oh my god you’re Princess Leia.” 

To say you had been absolutely obsessed with her when you were younger was an understatement. 

She reminded you of your mother in so many ways it hurt to look at her.

Which is why you were so confused when she touched your cheek only to find yourself crying at just the sight of her. 

---

“So...you left on bad terms with not only your father, but your family in general. Even if your mother never found out?”

“I’m worried that it’ll put a strain on my parents relationship with each other more than anything...I can’t contact them or write. It’s too risky.”

“Your father taught you well.” 

“Wait...you know who my father is?”

“Many people have heard of the Mandalorian that killed Moff Gideon with the dark saber. Some have speculated that it was a myth...now I can see that it wasn’t since you are living proof of what Mandalorians can create.”

“My mother was never a Mandalorian. She was a Mechanic through and through...she just happened to be thrown into motherhood twice along the way.” you joked bitterly.

Your parents had told you the tales of Moff Gideon. It was a fairytale that had been shrouded in mystery. Something you weren’t expecting to hear from the two people you admired the most. 

“I love my family. That’s all Mandalorians care about. Their clan and their people as a whole. I’ve neglected that part of myself for far too long. We had to hide to be safe. It made me angry. I told my dad I was going to leave the night before I did. He said no...I went anyway. It doesn’t matter what he thinks...not right now. I have to put what matters to me in this universe first.”

“Hmm...you sound a lot like a young jedi knight i used to know.” 

“Are you talking about Master Luke Skywalker?” You were getting excited now. 

“No...one of his students he took for a very brief period. You see the child was the same species as Master Yoda but he was already fifty years old. A relationship where a padawan is already older than their teacher? That...now that is strange.” Leia giggled to herself. 

Everytime you glanced at her all you could see were fragments of your own mother. You understood why everyone here adored her. Why she was in command whilst others who thought they deserved it, weren’t.

She was a mother through and through. Whether to her own child or not, you knew she didn’t realise this one fact alone. 

“You remind me of my buir. She has many similar features...not the same just, similar.” 

“I’m honoured you think of me that way Djarin. But I believe that there is an anxious pilot waiting for you in the hangar.” 

“Kriff! Thank you for the Caff General. It's a lot different to what I’m used to but it’s a welcome change.” Getting this out in one breath you bowed somewhat awkwardly before running out of the canteen. 

---

“Y’know you’re strange right?”

“Kriff!” Banging your head on the bottom of Poe’s X-Wing was not how you wanted this to pan out. 

“You’re annoying, did you know that?”

Watching his face was like observing a painting, depending on your interpretation and the angle the motions you saw were just-

“Mesh’la.”

“What...is that some weird curse word or somethin’?” 

“Uh! No, I mean, yes! I mean...maybe.” scratching the back of your neck, you attempted to soothe the bump that was forming there. That was going to be a little ray of sunshine to wake up to tomorrow morning. 

“Hey, let me take a look at that.” Turning around somewhat hesitantly. You let Poe take a look at your ‘wound’. 

“Yikes, looks like a lot of blood.” 

“What!” 

“I’m kidding. It was a joke to get you less stressed out...obviously it didn’t work.”

“Sorry...I’m just anxious, I guess.” 

“Wanna talk about it? My X-wing is in great shape right now by the way, my old mech checked her out before you shipped in. He was a great guy but...he was one of a handful we lost.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Hey it’s okay. Death is a part of life, unfortunately I learnt that at a tender young age.”

“What happened? ...if you don’t  mind me asking that is.” 

“...My mother, she was a pilot just like me. She fought for what she believed in and yet, she died anyway. It hurts but...I fight because of what my parents did.”

“No way! Me too! My parents took a back seat compared to what the resistance did back in the day but my Dad was a total badass and my mum...well, my mum was a slave.” 

The look of shock you saw on Poe’s face was something you mistook for awkwardness. 

“I’m sorry if I overstepped Captain Dameron.” 

“Nah, you did the complete opposite actually...we’re gonna spend a lot of time together for god knows how long so it’s good that we get the emotional baggage out of the way first.”

The smile he gave you made your knees turn to jelly. 

You didn’t know then how taken Poe already was with you, He thought you were cute, but he underestimated how much of a badass you really were. The knowledge of your parents though...he tucked that away for safe keeping right next to the ring that sat against his heart. 

Little did he know then how much emotional baggage you really had...

---

-3 YEARS LATER-

“DJARIN WE NEED YOU IN MEDICAL STAT!” 

“DON’T YELL AT ME LIKE I’M ONE OF YOUR NURSES MCLAGGEN! I CAN HANDLE IT!”

“I KNOW THAT, THAT’S WHY WE NEED YOU!”

Although you admired your crew mates sometimes you wanted to rip off their kriffin’ heads. 

Everyone was stressed lately. All three of the golden trio had vanished, out of sight, out of mind. And to make matters worse, Leia was just as worried as you were. 

“Commander Djarin!”

“Poe!” Running to your best friend in the whole freaking universe, you wrapped him in the biggest hug you could muster. You had been so worried about him. 

“I missed you! I was so worried...I didn’t know what to think…” Shame and guilt crept into your very being as Poe stood before you, he was carrying a very solemn aura. Something bad had just happened. You could feel it all around you now. People were sobbing in the courtyard. 

Everyone was upset...but that could only mean-

“No...No, don’t you dare tell me she’s gone.”

“Y/N I’m sorry.” Poe was a mess, just like you.

He held you in his arms as you screamed in agony until nightfall. 

---

“I’m never gonna be good enough for this. Not like she was.” 

Hearing Poe go through the worst thing he had ever faced once again broke your heart tenfold. More than yours was breaking already. 

“Poe Dameron, you listen to me and listen well okay?” 

Every part of his being was hyper focused on you as you said these next words, it’s like you were commanding them into his brain. 

“Leia loved you. She may have never said it out loud but she said it in the ways any mother would. She was the mother of the resistance sure but she had a real soft spot for you after everything with...Ben.”

Comparing Poe to Kylo Ren was a painful business but everything about grief was painful, it made you focus on the good and the bad. 

“Family is more than blood. That’s what my father’s creed taught me. I will never forget it as long as I live. When this is all over and he’s not going to put a knife through my chest just for leaving I’ll introduce you. Hell, I’d drag you back to my home planet right now if i could...you would love it.” 

“I’m sure I would...Mesh’la.”

“...What did you just call me?”

“I got that right didn’t I? It’s not an insult, it’s a compliment? I thought it meant beautiful I was just guessing off interpretation I didn’t read any mmph-”

You had cut him off by slamming your lips onto his. Sure, it was inappropriate to make out in front of both your mother figure’s corpse but...you knew by now that many times she had told you to tell him how you truly felt when it came to war?

It was now or never. 

She had that with Han Solo and in the blink of an eye he had left. 

But Poe? Poe had been your constant throughout all of this, he loved you in ways you could only imagine and you loved him. Even if the kiss ended up not meaning anything...you knew you would never regret it as long as you live. 

“Ni kar’tayli gar darasuum Poe Dameron.”

“WHA- what, um, ahem, does uh, that mean?” You had flustered him, you felt pride in your very soul for doing that. 

But Damn if his tousled hair didn’t like so fine? Maybe it was the fact you had just clawed your fingers through it like the world was ending...but in a way it kind of was. 

“I will keep you in my heart forever...that’s the Mandalorian way of saying I love you Poe Dameron.” 

“Oh...MANDO’A!” 

You leapt back at this, not the reaction you were hoping for. But it was so ardently Poe you couldn’t help the grin on your face. 

“What about it?”

“That’s your culture! Your language! That’s why you told me your father is such a bad-...ass”

“There a reason you’re just saying ‘ass’ to yourself, General?”

“Oh bantha fodder...I’m gonna have to ask for your father’s blessing to marry you by talking to a Mandalorian?” 

An audible gasp snapped him out of his stupor.

“You...you were gonna propose?”

“Of course.”

The painting had returned. The painting you kept in your heart and sang to every day. The one you comforted when he had nightmares, no matter how close to your body he was, you knew by that point your friendship was long gone. 

You had never put a label on it...but in a way, you had always been each other’s ‘one’.

And now...He was asking you to be his riduur?

“Leia convinced me. She said if I didn’t buckle up and saw what was right in front of me throughout this whole war. I would've killed myself over my love for you.” Confirming that he was in fact, in love with you, was a breath of fresh air. 

Even if the jungle you had been camped out in for months on end had changed your temperament you couldn’t help the tears welling up in not just your eyes but Poe’s as well. 

“Y/N Kuill Djarin. I love you so damn much it hurts to leave you every time I ran to that hangar. I knew everytime I left it could’ve been the last time and it scared me. Because who was I going to be if I never found my forever girl? My mom told me that much before she passed…” 

Shara Bey’s ring. The fact that he had carried the ring of his deceased mother around for years on end just to be close to her made your heart simultaneously sing and cry. 

Not only because the ring was now yours to keep. 

But so was the man who gave it to you. 

That night, before the final battle, your hearts beat as one.

---

You had won.

Everyone had celebrated, you both drank so much that when you woke up in bed together the next day, despite the crippling twin headaches, all the two of you could do was laugh. 

“I mean...if we think about logically it was only a matter of time before one of us pounced on the other?” You offered into the awkward harmony you had both fallen into. 

“Yeah but I just really wanna know...I didn’t hurt you right?” 

You had never told him, but Poe knew just by the way you had gotten up to get some water, despite the fact he was ready for round two almost instantly due to how the sheets bunched and fell from your figure, that you were a virgin. 

But just from the simple process of illumination of what little you had told him of your life before the Resistance or BP he liked to call it (before Poe), you preferred BB (before Beeps), he knew you had never been in a relationship. Not properly anyway. 

Not with him. 

In a way the thought of being your first filled him with joy...but every time he had imagined it he had expected to be a gentleman, rose petals, lilies, gods, any flowers he could’ve found in that blasted rainforest would’ve been perfect! 

What he didn’t understand was how the drink had addled his brain so drastically that he had just pounced like a feral animal on his precious girl. He wanted to take your innocence on your wedding night (Your engagement hadn’t yet been announced to the Resistance as you both wanted to wait for the onslaught of weddings to die down before the wedding of the century was even announced so in a way, your relationship as fiance’s technically still didn't exist). 

And yet...you realised something during the haze and the blur of everything Poe and you last night. 

You had made a new home here, a life for yourself...and it was good. 

You had done exactly what your parents did and more.

So of course you were emotional. I mean, you two hadn’t even used protection!

Although...you didn’t share this with Poe the thought of a little version of you and him growing within you? It set your heart on fire. So when you kissed him with the passion of a thousand thunderstorms, you didn’t hesitate to return the favour of last night...and then some. 

---

Shuffling into the cantina had never felt so awkward in all of your three years here. You were 21 years of age now. People hooked up all the time and it’s not like you broadcasted your virginity to anyone here.

That was until the green bundle of joy himself practically flew into your arms. 

“Ad’ika?!” Your exclamation panicked Poe, his hand immediately going to your waist as he inspected the creature wrapped around your neck. BB8 whirled in Ad’ika’s wake, circling the figure of 8’s around the both of you. 

“What, they did?” Ad’ika looked up at you like you had grown three heads. Sure, he looked like a kid. But he was now roughly 90 years old. He was a fully grown child now. You still blushed like a little girl apparently as he continuously giggled into your neck.

“Not important right now buddy. Where are our buirs?” You muttered tearfully. Today had turned into a whole other kind of day. 

“C’MON GUYS HURRY UP I’VE NEVER SEEN A REAL LIFE MANDALORIAN BEFORE!!” Seeing friends of yours running past only to be met with the vision of your buirs brought you the relief that no bacta patch (or in this one specific case casual sex???) could ever give. 

Your mother was vision as always and Poe confirmed it.

“Y/N...I knew the day I first met you that you were beautiful but the fact that your mother looks almost exactly like you right now scares me.” 

“Poe, whatever you do don’t say anything inappropriate around my Da, he won’t appreciate it, at all.” 

Even though you were smiling like crazy, Poe knew you were being deadly serious. You didn’t want anything to ruin today. 

Besides, there was only one reason your buirs were wearing their armor once more. Your father was wearing all of his Mandalorian armor, scuffed and slightly dusty with age (he had clearly left in a hurry) but your mother was wearing her long forgotten robes. Once she was planning on giving to you one day. You realised she looks a lot like Rey right now. 

The dark saber she carried at her side confirmed it. 

But her eyes meeting yours from across the room as she spotted her daughter reunited with your son, caused both you and Poe to tear up once more as she grabbed her Riduur’s hand. 

“Excuse us.” Polite as always, she waited for no one as she made her way to you and only you as she almost tripped over poor Beeps in the process. 

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

You both laughed a similar laugh that any one around would recognise. It was like Leia had come home but you all knew she was gone...she was never truly gone. She lived on through each and everything the resistance had touched. 

Including you...and Poe.

Din and your mother.

Ad’ika...and Luke Skywalker.

Your mother the day she killed Moff Gideon with a light saber that she did not know she had the untaught skills to possess.

It was like strings were tangling and wrapping and strangling…

Except it was beautiful.

“We missed you so much Ad’ika.”

Looking into the eyes of your buir, his scarred and worn face now riddled with crow’s feet from the happiness you had placed there. 

It was home. 

---

Drums beating. Heart pounding. Numerous friends and family to you and to Poe squabbling over what hairstyle you would wear. 

Today was the big day. Surprisingly you had announced it a week ago. 

After everything that had happened, when your father showed up, Poe asked right on the spot if he could marry you. Not caring that he had to prove himself in the trials of Mandalore. 

In his heart he had become one with your clan. He had become a son in your father’s eyes, another foundling that had just found his way here. 

“I know men aren’t technically allowed to be in the chamber, but I just had to meet my future daughter-in-law before the big day.” Your breath catching in your throat, your eyes met those of a man you recognised.

Although you had never met it’s like you had a scrapbook in your mind or all the stories, all the little details of what Poe’s Dad looked like. 

He was more handsome than you originally thought, but that was a given seeing as it was the exact same as when you met Poe himself. 

“Nervous?”

“Surprisingly...not at all.”

“Poe...wanted me to give you this.”

A glance of the ring gave you a flicker of a moment of self-doubt. He would never have his own Dad break things off...would he? 

“Don’t worry. It’s a family thing you know, for father’s to give away their daughter’s. I asked your mother but I had no idea that she was from the tribe of many mothers.” Giggling to yourself at that line, you realised where you had got your spirit from. 

Leia was here with her own family today, you could feel it in your bones.

“It’s sweet of you to ask at all when we have never even properly met.” 

“Ah, you’re wrong there, in a way we have. Poe told me so much about you I began to cry before the wedding even started. Good thing he told me at the bachelor party.” 

Raising an incredulous brow at him, you wondered a silent question. 

“It was just me and him for most of the night before drinks with his friends. Don’t worry, Poe’s not that kind of man.” Smiling to yourself, you knew he was right. You also knew this meant Poe had a terrible influence of friends. You loved them all. Of course Poe asked Finn to be his best man and you asked Rey to be your maid of honour.

They wanted everything to be perfect. 

Although a week made everyone go a bit stir crazy. Someone even came up with the rule that as long as we were all staying on this damn jungle planet. We might as well have a week in between each one to plan. 

You can’t remember how many bridezillas had attacked you over Poe Dameron in your dreams. 

In reality everyone was happy for you, in their minds, if they thought about it you were the perfect match for Poe in each and every way. 

Wait ‘til they found out how short the actual ceremony was. 

“Anyway, Shara, god's rest her soul, would’ve given you this if she were here, but I’m here to tell the tale so I’m giving it to you to wear on the chain she gave him when he was little.”

Feeling tears well up in sympathy for the father and son duo, you couldn’t help but ask.

“I’m getting married so I need to know. How did you ever learn to cope with the pain of losing someone that close to you?”

“Simple...I didn’t. Poe was angry for years. Not just at the world but at the system. It’s why he felt he had no choice but to become a spice runner. The system wouldn’t let him win and he was exhausted from the guilt and the grief. I couldn’t bring myself to reprimand him.” 

Remembering something your mother said to you long ago...you knew you had to tell your future father in law something that had been on the backburner for the last few days of preparation. 

“There’s one small detail in all of this that you should know Kes.”

“What’s that…”

“...I’m pregnant.”

“Goodness! How? Wait no, I know how what I meant was when?”

“About a month ago now?” It was before my parents' surprise visit and Poe dropped the bomb on everyone that he intended to marry me. 

“Let me guess, he asked for your Dad’s blessing?”

“Well...yeah.”

“Think of them as an early wedding present.”

“Thanks. Although at least this means I can get out of consummating the marriage.” Laughing nervously, Kes was about to say something else when the door creaked open once more. 

“...Wow.” 

“Hi Dad.” 

“Um..sorry but I’m guessing your Poe’s father Kes?” 

“Yeah, Heard a lot 'bout you and your daughter over the years.” 

Smiling to yourself, you let them chat as your Mother crept from behind your father’s ceremonial cape (It had a red inner lining and fur lining the top, don’t ask) She looked just as radiant as you did. 

“My daughter.” 

“Hi Mum.” 

“Did none of your friends fix up your hair?”

“We couldn’t decide on a style…”

Sadly you knew your time to prepare was drawing to a close, you needed to be as ready as you were when repairing the X-Wings.

“How about...I do your hair like my mother did for me?” 

Tearing up at the mention of your grandmother, god's rest her soul, you wished she were here to see this. 

“Please.” ---

Poe was nervous. No doubt. Finn was panicking and Rey wasn’t helping with all the screaming and waving around the chairs and tables she was doing by abusing the force just to get things done quickly. 

Today...was a mess.

But it was the best kind of mess. 

Jokingly, Finn had put a bow tie made for large Loth Cat’s around Beep’s neck. Poe had agreed that he had never looked so dapper. What they didn’t expect was your Dad’s distaste for droids and his dry humor. 

Poe knew why though, so he didn’t get angry or throw a fit like the first time you met BB8 and was scared to shit. 

It was strange that you had never met a proper droid before that day. 

And wow, now he was marrying you. Time flew, so quickly. 

To break the ice Poe had asked Din the story behind Ad’ika. In a quick attempt to get to his daughter before the ceremony took place, people filing in as he talked and avidly listening, he told the story of how he had come across the beauty that was/is your mother, how he met Ad’ika, how he had saved his life. Why Poe had discovered the secret tattoo of a mudhorn on your back. One that you had received from your Auntie Cara Dune you added fondly. 

Who he would be meeting for the first time today. 

The jungle had never looked so beautiful. You had both decided that the wedding would take place around dusk on the last night of summer, when it was not too humid and yet hot enough that the ceremonial wear had to be adapted to the heat. 

Din had graciously warned Poe about Mandolorian traditional wedding dresses and how your mother had worked night and day to make your dress perfect. Poe quickly learned that your mother was a jack of all trades. 

This was his family now. Forever and always. 

A crescendo began as the miscellaneous Mandalorians dotted around the room beat the traditional drums to a high and demanding tune, light glinting off their multi-coloured helms dancing in the setting sunlight. With the Fur pressing against Poe’s throat he had jokingly said he looked like a king. 

When Din answered back saying since he was a clan leader he technically was choked on his own spit. 

Her fiance, the love of his life, had been a princess in disguise this whole freaking time. 

It stuck in the back of his mind as the music grew too demanding, but as gasps filled the room he couldn’t help looking up. 

Your mother was walking you down the aisle, your dresses looking not so similar yet similar enough that anyone and everyone knew you were one and the same, yet different. 

But you, Gods above, you. 

You looked like a princess. 

Beskar cladded your upper arms, two feathers decorated your hair, matching braids flowing down your neck as your squeezed your mother’s arm in excitement upon spotting your future Riduur. 

You had both made it out alive. And happy. 

Not everyone had been so lucky, but you were doing this for them. To keep their memory alive. 

And as Poe attempted to make love to you that night and you jokingly told him that traditionally you can’t touch the bride for another week if she has already fallen pregnant.

Let’s just say he got a matching bruise on his head from the first time you met.

Yeah, it was a mess.

But you were both finally home.

[bloody-britt26]

Could I request Piers falling in love with a single mom reader? Maybe she can have a Drampa who's very protective of her and her son/daughter because it doesn't want them to be hurt by anyone. Drampa love children so I thought it was fitting! Thank you!! ❤

This was so cute and fun to write! I made this into a drabble because I got very inspired for this prompt, and I honestly could have kept going. You guys can let me know if you want more parts to this!

🎸 Piers falling in love with a single mother reader 🎸

“Elias, could you help me unload the cart onto the counter?” You asked your son.

“Okay mummy,” he replied in a sweet tone.

You both set your various food items onto the counter, letting the cashier scan each one of them. You bit your lip nervously as you looked at the price go up with each item. You had bought just enough to make it through the week, now you had to hope that you had made enough money to pay for your groceries.

“I’ll go put the cart back,” Elias said.

You nodded with a smile, he was such a sweet boy, always helping you to the best of his abilities whether you asked or not.

“That’ll be 32,000 Pokémon Dollars, please,” the cashier said.

You nodded, taking your wallet out and rummaging through it. As you counted your money, you felt panic flow through your mind as you noticed that you weren’t going to have enough. 

Oh dear, you only had 27,000. 

You set the money down on the counter, cringing as the cashier gave you a funny look. 

“Ma'am, there’s 5,000 Pokémon Dollars missing,” the cashier said.

‘I know, damn it!’

You forced a nervous laugh. “Sorry, sorry. Let me just- maybe I have a card or coupon…”

Nothing of the sort was found in your wallet. You shook in embarrassment as you felt everyone’s judgmental eyes on you. You pocketed your wallet rather abruptly and opened up your bag.

“H-Hold on… maybe I’ve got something to sell,” you said.

You rummaged through your bag, hoping to find a star piece, a pearl, anything. Of course, you had no valuable items left, except for the golden chain around your neck.

Your heart broke at the thought of parting with it as it was a gift from your grandmother, but you were in a tight spot.

As you were about to unhook the chain from your neck, you felt a light tug at your shirt. Looking down, your son was looking at you with sad eyes.

“But mummy, that necklace is important to you,” he said.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t worry about it,” you said.

Elias was having none of it. He shook his head in protest. “Don’t get rid of it. It’ll make you sad, and I don’t want to see you sad, mummy.”

“Elias…”

“We can put the cookies back. I don’t need them,” he said.

“But I promised you a treat,” you said in a sad tone.

“It’s okay. You’re more important than cookies,” he said as he hugged your arm.

You didn’t even know how to react. You really were blessed with the sweetest boy. He was so mature for his age, though it was probably your fault. The reality of being alone to take care of your home and child hit you hard, and you couldn’t spoil Elias like other parents could, even if you wanted to do so. You sincerely hoped that you weren’t ruining his childhood.

You felt tears well up as you heard other shoppers in line mutter words of disapproval at you.

“Hurry up. We don’t have all day.”

“What a wreck.”

“That child deserves better.”

“Why did she have a kid if she can’t take care of him properly?”

A hand that was gently put atop your shoulder snapped you out of your sorrow. Looking behind you, was a tall and lanky man, seemingly around your age. He was extremely pale, visible bags underneath his green eyes. He had a punk look, from his outfit to his black and white hairstyle. He seemed to be hunched over slightly. He looked like a wreck, but rather attractive if you were being completely honest. You felt like you had seen him somewhere before. On TV, perhaps?

You shook your head, ready to apologize for taking up so much time, but he quickly shushed.

“You ain’t gon’ need to sell your necklace, or put anythin’ back on the shelves,” he said.

He reached into his jacket’s pocket, taking out 5,000 Pokémon Dollars, putting the money atop the counter.

You blinked, not used to being helped by complete strangers. Still, you felt dirty by taking this man’s money.

“I can’t… I can’t accept this,” you said.

He waved you off. “It’s all good, just take it.”

“I- thank you, sir,” you said as the cashier took the money and bagged your items.

Your son looked up at the man, a small twinkle in his eyes. “Thank you very much, mister.”

A very small, barely noticeable smile found its way onto the man’s face. “Don’t mention it, kiddo.”

As the man paid for his very few items, your son picked up one of the grocery bags, while you grabbed the remaining two.

As you were about to walk out, one of the bags was taken out of your arms. It was the same man.

“Here, lemme help with that,” he said.

“No, you’ve done enough. You don’t have to waste your time with me,” you protested.

He ignored your comment. “You’re visibly exhausted.”

Your son chimed in. “She works really, really hard.”

“See? Even your son agrees. Lemme walk you home,” he said.

You bit your lip, truly not used to receiving such kindness from anyone. It felt nice to have someone showing concern over rolling their eyes at your sorry situation.

“I don’t live that far, I’ll be-”

“Doesn’t matter,” he cut you off. “Oh, right. I ain’t got no manners… name’s Piers.”

“Piers… I’m (name), and this is my son, Elias,” you said, relaxing a little as you started to feel more comfortable.

Then, as if everything clicked in your head, you turned to Piers with a questioning look on your face.

“Wait… you wouldn’t happen to be the Spikemuth gym leader and rockstar, right?” You asked.

Piers had a little smirk on his face. “Yeah, that’d be me, but I ain’t the gym leader no more. My lil’ sis is runnin’ it for me now. I’m a full-time musician now.”

Elias looked at Piers with absolute wonder. “So cool…”

“Oh… I am so out of the loop. Really though, you probably have better things to do than walk me home,” you said, embarrassment lacing your voice.

You suddenly felt self-conscious that a celebrity had helped you pay for your groceries.

“Nah, it’s fine. I’m tellin’ you,” he said. “I don’t wanna be nosy or anythin’, but you’re alone, yeah? No boyfriend or husband?”

You nodded, a little embarrassed. You supposed that it was very obvious that you were a single mother.

“You kinda remind me of myself,” he said.

You raised a brow. “How so?”

“Used to be in a similar situation when I was younger, parents were absent an’ I was raisin’ my lil’ sister by myself. Was tough, I remember, an’ nobody ever thought of givin’ a hand to the gutter punk lookin’ guy. Guess I just wanna, I dunno, help out a young woman who’s tryin’ her best, you know?” He explained.

“I- thank you, Piers,” you said with a small blush.

It was nice to talk to someone who could understand you. Most people pointed at you, laughed or disapproved of you. They’d never been in your situation, so they didn’t know just how difficult it could be at times.

“Oh, we’re here,” you said as you came up to your very small house.

You chuckled nervously, that self-conscious feeling resurfacing as you acknowledged the difference between your social status and his. “It’s… I know it’s not very impressive.”

Piers shook his head with a chuckle. “Nah, it looks cozy. You’d be surprised how messy and unimpressive my home is.”

You raised a brow. “Really now?”

“Yeah… Spikemuth really ain’t that impressive, but I love the town anyways.”

“Well, that’s what’s important, huh? Oh, you can drop the bag at my front door, I’ll take it indoors. You too, Elias,” you said as you put your own bag down.

Elias and Piers nodded and did the same. Right afterwards, a friendly growl echoed from your front yard. It was your beloved Drampa, poking his head over the fence.

“Drampy!” Elias exclaimed, running up to the dog-like dragon.

Drampa cooed at your son, nuzzling him affectionately as Elias scratched his nose.

Piers blinked, not expecting you to have a large dragon in your yard. “Is that your Drampa?”

You nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that’s my big boy. He’s my only pokémon, but he’s been with me since I was a child.”

Your son turned to you. “Mummy, can I play with Drampy after I finish my homework?” He asked.

“Of course, sweetheart!” You said, handing your son the key to your home.

Elias smiled and thanked you. As he unlocked the door, he also grabbed a grocery bag to bring it inside.

When Elias was inside, Piers nodded in approval. “Sweet kid. You’ve been raisin’ him well.”

“Thank you, it means a lot,” you said, genuinely happy at the compliment.

You approached your Drampa, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the sight of you. As soon as you were near, he gave you sloppy kisses and nuzzled you as if his life depended on it.

“Drampa!” You said with a giggle.

Piers approached you and Drampa as well, but as soon he did, Drampa’s mood immediately turned sour. Your dragon used his head to push you back, growling at Piers.

Piers chuckled nervously at Drampa’s intimidating change in behaviour. You, on the other hand, were shushing and rubbing Drampa soothingly.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. This is Piers… he helped me, he’s nice,” you said.

Drampa glanced at you, a worried look flashing through his eyes. His growling had diminished, but he kept a firm glare on Piers.

“Sorry, Piers. He’s always been very protective of me, but that doubled ever since my ex left me when I got pregnant. He saw me at my worst, and he doesn’t want anyone to hurt me again,” you explained.

Piers had a small smile as he waved you off. “Don’t worry, I get it.” He turned to Drampa. “Protectin’ your loved ones like that, I get you. It’s honourable, you’re a good pokémon.”

Drampa huffed, blowing a bit of his breath in Piers’ direction, making him stumble back a little.

“Woah. I heard Drampa’s breaths were strong… guess they weren’t kiddin’,” he muttered.

You laughed as Drampa had a little smirk on his face. “He’s tough. We used to battle together a lot a few years back. I don’t have much time for that anymore, unfortunately.”

“You’d make a good trainer, I’m sure,” he said.

You felt your cheeks burn slightly. Piers was just handing you so many compliments, and he sounded absolutely genuine with every single one of them.

He cleared his throat, a barely noticeable blush making its way onto his cheeks as he reached into his pockets, pulling out what seemed to be two tickets.

“Here. I’ve got a show this weekend in Spikemuth, an’ I’d like to see you an’ your son there…” he paused, scratching the back of his head nervously, “…it might also be an excuse to get to see you so I can get to know you better, ‘cause you’re cute an’ sweet an’ all.”

You couldn’t help the dorky laugh that escaped you as you gratefully accepted the tickets.

“I’d like that. Thank you for everything, Piers,” you said.

He smiled, blush getting deeper as he shrugged. “It’s no prob. I’ll see you there?”

You nodded with a smile as you waved goodbye to him before he headed in the opposite direction of your home.

Your Drampa gave you a questioning look, as if he was saying, “Are you really considering this?” To which you nodded, giving a reassuring pat to the concerned dragon.

Maybe, you finally had a shot at a better life, after all of the hardships that had been thrown at you.

[sparrow-flies-south]

I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) 3

Title: I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) Pairings: Romantic Thomceit Warnings: More murder attempts, stabbing, references to child abduction and abuse, references to torture, and a character who, while not actually suicidal, is prepared to sacrifice his life. Summary: Deceit is one of the best assassins in the business. So assassinating Thomas Sanders should not be difficult - except Thomas seems to have the amazing ability to happen to escape from death. And the longer it takes Deceit to kill Thomas, the less sure he is that he even wants to.

My Masterpost   Read on AO3  Part one  Part two  Fic tag

The agency has safe houses dotted across the country, but it’s only the new members who rely on them. Over time, assassins fain their own network of safe houses and bolt holes; some that belong to them, others that another agent will let them use.

Deceit can’t use any of the agency’s safe houses. He can’t use any belonging to his allies, either, though there were only ever a handful of them. He inherited some of his own safe houses from the Dragon, which leaves only a few that he can go to. Fortunately, one of these is in Florida.

The owner of the building the flat is in gets paid handsomely to not ask too many questions. The other residents believe Deceit is a rich man who spends most of his time travelling the world. There are a number of ways out of the building for if it does get discovered, and it’s located close to the main road out of town.

It’s long past midnight when Deceit arrives, meaning he has officially failed his mission. Officially abandoned his mission, which is worse. If he’d just failed, his reputation would be ruined, and he’d have to fight to repair it, but he’d still be welcomed back.

There’s only one case that he knows of where someone abandoned their mission, when it had turned out the target could pay better than the agency did. Deceit had tracked the agent down in Budapest.

“What the fuck would you know about anything?” she’d snarled at him, back pressed against the wall and bleeding from her side. “You’re brainwashed by the agency!”

He hadn’t taken offence to her insults. Everyone knows that it wasn’t exactly his choice to become what he is today. People wondered why the Dragon had shown up after a mission with a freshly orphaned child, why she’d sunk her time and resources into training him, but everyone agreed that it had worked.

It hadn’t been a violent process, the remaking of him, but a gentle one. A band wrapped around his old self, so that as he grew, that part of him died and rotted away. Before long, the only name he’d gone by had been the one the Dragon had given him.

He’d buried the traitor by the side of the road; one last sign of respect that she didn’t deserve. The greatest honour any assassin could have is to go unremembered.

Janus should be dead and gone like she is, but Deceit dug him up when he’d told Thomas his name, and now he’s Deceits own spectre.

He doesn’t even know why he told Thomas that. A name makes no difference when he won’t see Thomas again.

And he won’t see Thomas again. Going back is too risky, it’s the first place the agency will look for him. And Deceit doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t even know what he is anymore, but he knows he doesn’t want the agency to find him, not yet.

A day passes, two, and Deceit stays in the safe house as much as possible. He destroyed his phone after fleeing Thomas’ house, so he buys a new one when he has to stock up on supplies. He could call Thomas – he has Thomas’ number memorised. Then he can tell Thomas that he isn’t going to kill him, and Thomas will know he doesn’t have to even think about Deceit anymore.

He doesn’t call.

And then, on the third day, someone calls him.

Deceit answers it solely out of curiosity. It isn’t hard to recognise the high pitched, nasally voice on the other end.

“Sup, Deedee,” the Duke says. “Heard you fucked up.”

Out of everyone in the agency, Remus is the closest thing Deceit has ever had to a partner. They’re both the best at their job, though they have very different methods, and Deceit is one of the few people who tolerates the Duke’s antics. So when two people are needed for a mission, they end up paired together. And when a job is outside one’s realm of expertise, the other gets called it.

Deceit has been asked to clean up after Remus many times.

“How did you find this number?” Deceit asks.

The Duke laughs. “Figure it out! Unless you’re getting too rusty. Heard you’ve been having trouble getting it up – and by ‘getting it up’ I mean killing people. So now I get to come out to play instead!”

“You’ve been given the Thomas job,” he realises. It’s not much of a surprise; the agency doesn’t leave their targets alive just because one of their members fails.

“Ooh, first name basis. What’d he do, suck your dick? Or did he turn out to have secret ninja training or something?”

“Remus-”

“Sorry, Dee, can’t talk, got a plane to catch. See you when I’m done with him!”

The Duke hangs up before Deceit can say anything. Deceit stares down at the phone. He’d known something like this would happen, he just hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, though that’s hardly an excuse for getting sloppy.

The Duke is going to kill Thomas. That’s without question. He might kill Virgil, too, but that hardly matters, since Deceit isn’t the one doing it. And Thomas knows he’s going to die, has been given time to make peace with it. Deceit has granted him that kindness.

Remus is among the best. Even if Thomas and Virgil get lucky again, they won’t be able to stop him for good. Only an assassin would be able to do that.

Deceit groans and buries his face in his hands. It’s one thing to fail, it’s even one thing to desert. But it’s a completely different thing to turn traitor, and that’s what he’ll be if he tries to intervene. And then he’ll be killed horribly, and Thomas will die as well, and none of it will have mattered.

Is Thomas worth such a pointless, suicidal mission?

Deceit curses, then storms out of his apartment.

*

He finally finds Thomas and Virgil and the mall, between Hot Topic and Pandora. Virgil is on his phone, and Thomas is talking to him. Thomas looks up, spots Deceit coming towards them, and smiles, face relaxing with relief as he raises a hand to wave.

Before Deceit can get there, Virgil is in front of him, putting himself between Deceit and Thomas.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Virgil snarls. His hands are clenched into fists, but Deceit can still see that he’s shaking.

Clearly, Virgil must have the sense that Thomas is lacking; he’s hostile and suspicious, and Deceit won’t be able to change that any time soon. It would be good to see, if it wasn’t getting in Deceit’s way right now.

“We need to get out of here,” Deceit says to Thomas.

“Yeah, no,” Virgil snaps. “I’m not letting you take Thomas somewhere to murder him.”

“As opposed to murdering him right here?” Deceit asks. “Or when he gets home? You know, for people with assassins after you, you’re not taking many precautions.”

“Deceit, buddy, you’re not really helping your case,” Thomas sighs. Some sense of urgency must show on Deceit’s face, though, because Thomas goes serious and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in danger,” Deceit says. “Quite possibly very immediate danger.”

“Pretty sure the danger is standing right in front of us,” Virgil mutters.

“The danger is that you’re standing here talking when you should be moving,” Deceit hisses. “Or did you actually think ignoring the problem would make it go away?”

“Okay.” Thomas pushes between them. “Deceit, I am very confused. Could you please just explains what’s going on? And where have you been?”

Deceit forces him to take a slow breath in and out. Is helping people always like this? It’s exhausting.

“I’m not the only assassin out there,” Deceit explains. “The Duke is looking for you, and believe me, you do not want him to find you. So we need to leave now.”

Thomas goes pale. Virgil tenses up.

“No fucking way,” Virgil says, at the same time as Thomas says, “Okay, let’s go.”

Virgil stares at Thomas incredulously. Deceit feels the same way, but he’s not about to question it now that things are finally doing his way. Virgil has no such qualms.

“What the fuck?” he snaps. “You’re seriously trusting him right now? His name is Deceit.”

Thomas shrugs sheepishly. “He hasn’t killed me yet.”

“That cannot be where the bar is.”

“If you’re quite done,” Deceit says, and Virgil turns all the venom in his gaze back to him. “We really should be going.”

Thomas nods, takes a step forward. “Virgil, I know you don’t trust him, but trust me. I’ll be fine, okay?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Fine,” he snaps, “But I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Thomas says immediately, and the intensity startles both Deciet and Virgil. “I’ve already put you in danger, I’m not putting you in any more.”

Deceit scans the mall. They really do not have time for this.

“Please,” Virgil says. “You’d be dead five times over by now if it wasn’t for me, Sanders. Someone has to watch your back.”

“Wonderful, we’re all going,” Deceit says. “Can we just get a move on?”

Thomas and Virgil seem to have a conversation with just their eyes, and then Thomas nods. “Okay,” he says. “You, uh, you do have somewhere to go, right?”

Deceit rolls his eyes, already leading the way out of the mall. He hears Thomas and Virgil hurry to keep up with him. “No, I barged in here without a plan,” he answers. “Honestly, Thomas, what do you take me for?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Thomas roll his eyes fondly, even as Virgil grumbles.

*

They don’t go far. Deceit takes them to an empty shop close to the mall, and ushers them upstairs, into what used to be an office room. Virgil hovers close to Thomas the whole time. Deceit leaves them there, and goes downstairs to check the perimeter.

There are a lot of places the Duke could enter – the main door, a back door, the large windows at the front of the shop which are boarded up but not boarded up well, and the windows upstairs. It’ll have to do for now, though, as Deceit doesn’t want to risk taking Thomas and Virgil across town until he knows where Remus is.

So he gets to work making it as safe as he can; he blocks off the front door first, as that’s the most obvious point of entry, and then switches to the back. There’s not a lot he can actually use – he was able to move some furniture still left in the front to block off that door, and he finds some wood and nails, presumably from boarding up the windows.

He’s only just set to work when someone moves behind him. He spins, already pulling out a knife and preparing to throw it when he realises who it is; Thomas, hands raised and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Thomas says. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Be glad I’m too well trained to have thrown that,” Deceit answers, and Thomas’ lips quirk up even more into a smile, as if Deceit isn’t talking about killing him.

“If I’m not back upstairs in ten minutes, Virgil’s going to come down,” Thomas says, grimacing. “He made me say that.”

“Okay.” Virgil’s suspicions is equal parts refreshing and grating, though he’s not sure what Virgil thinks it can possibly accomplish.

“What happened?” Thomas blurts, and it’s clear he’s wanted to say this for a while. “You show up at my house having a panic attack, and then you just disappear. Where have you been?”

“A safe house,” Deceit answers.

“Yeah, that narrows it down,” Thomas says. “Janus-”

Deceit goes perfectly still when Thomas says that name, and Thomas trails off, looking uncertain.

“I just- are you okay?” Thomas finishes.

“Clearly,” Deceit says. He’s here, isn’t he?

“That’s not what I mean,” Thomas says. He places a hand on Deceit’s arm, and Deceit’s brain short circuits. “Look, if you- want to talk or something, I’m here, okay?”

Deceit stares at Thomas’ hand. His touch is gentle yet solid. “You won’t like what I have to talk about.”

Thomas shrugs. “I can deal with it.”

“I’m fine.”

Thomas doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it.  Instead, he asks, “Who’s the Duke?”

“An assassin who works for the same people as me,” Deceit explains. “Since they aren’t happy with my progress, he’s been given the job.”

“And now he’s trying to kill me,” Thomas finishes, and Deceit nods.

Deceit gives Thomas a moment to process this before continuing, “The Duke is one of the best. Dealing with him will be difficult.”

“You said you work together. Is he your friend?”

An absurd thought. “I don’t have friends.”

“Except for me,” Thomas says.

That= Deceit doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s ridiculous – he and Thomas can’t be friends, even if Thomas is still touching him. He’s tried to kill Thomas multiple times, and Thomas kidnapped him (technically), and now Thomas is worried about Deceit’s mental state, and Deceit is risking his life to protect Thomas.

Deceit is about to explain all of this, when upstairs Virgil cries out, “Thomas!”

The panic in Virgil’s voice is clear, and the shout Is cut off at the end. Thomas takes off running first, but Deceit quickly overtakes him, so he is the first one to enter the room.

Virgil is still alive. The Duke stands behind him, one arm wrapped around Virgil’s neck, keeping him still. The other hand holds that ridiculous morning star that he likes so much. Somehow, Virgil manages to look both scared and pissed off all at once.

“Hi, Deede,” Remus says cheerfully. “Didn’t expect you to be such a sore loser. I got this job fair and square, you know.”

Deceit can tell the minute Thomas catches up, because Virgil’s eyes fly to someone in the doorway, and Thomas himself lets out a strangled noise. Deceit takes a smooth step back, so he’s standing next to Thomas.

“Funny,” Deceit says. “I didn’t expect you to get the wrong person.” He wraps his fingers around Thomas’ arm, and pulls him towards himself. Thomas stumbles as he moves, clearly not expecting Deceit to betray him.

Deceit pulls Thomas in front of him, and wraps one arm around Thomas’ chest. With their bodies pressed so close together, Deceit can feel Thomas’ breath speed up. Across the room, Virgil snarls and struggles, only to go still when Remus tightens his grip. Remus tilts his head, looking rather like a dog that just wandered in from the street.

“Why haven’t you killed him yet?” Remus asks, and Thomas’ breath stutters.

Deceit shrugs, watching for any sign of movement. “I’m having fun.”

“You fucking bastard,” Virgil snarls, kicking at Remus. Remus just holds onto him and whoops with laughter.

“Careful,” Remus says. “There’ll be time for you, too.”

Remus might very well kill Virgil here and now – the only reason he hasn’t is probably so he doesn’t get distracted.

“Why wait?” Deceit asks. “Consider him the consolation prize.”

Remus’ grin turns feral, which means he recognises the challenge. That ends up being the only warning Deceit gets before Remus in launching himself across the room, Virgil thrown to the side like a discarded doll.

Deceit flings himself and Thomas to the floor, dodging the swing of Remus’ mace. He leaves Thomas there and moves to meet Remus. He’s fast enough to grab Remus’ arm and twist it, forcing Remus to drop the mace.

Remus grabs Deceit’s wrist where he’s still holding Remus’ hand, and tries to flip him to the ground. Deceit is able to break free of the hold, and he aims a kick at Remus’ legs. It makes Remus stumble, and Deceit uses that to knock Remus to the ground, and pin him in place.

He can’t see Thomas or Virgil. He hopes this means that they’re smart enough to get the hell out of here while they still have a chance-

The knife slides into Deceit’s abdomen, and the surprise is enough for Remus to be able to throw him off.  Deceit gasps in pain, tries to pull himself upright, but Remus is already there, pushing him back down again.

“Eh, don’t feel too bad,” Remus says, patting Deceit on the cheek. “Better luck next time, right?”

“Remus, don’t,” Deceit begs, but Remus ignores him and picks up the morning star.

“C’mon, I won unfair and square,” Remus says.

Deceit is able to push himself to his feet, though he knows fighting Remus won’t do much good. Thomas and Virgil are standing in the doorway, which means he hasn’t even managed to give them a head start.

He lunges forward, grabs Remus by the arm, desperately trying to stop him, but Remus shakes Deceit off with a snarl. Deceit is already off-balance from the wound, and now Remus throws him to the ground. The air is forced out of his lungs, and he can only stare up at Remus, standing over him.

“Please,” Deceit is able to gasp out.

Remus tilts his head. “It’s only a job,” he says, a bit reproachful.

Deceit shakes his head. He wants to tell Remus it’s not, but he can’t, and someone is running across the room towards them.

“Stop,” Thomas cries, and Remus swivels to look at him. “Look, let him and Virgil go, and- and you can kill me. I won’t try to fight you.”

Remus glances between Thomas and Deceit, and then shrugs. “Kind of a weird thing to say, but I’ll take it.”

“No,” Deceit snarls. He tries to push himself upright, but is unable to.

“Deceit, don’t,” Thomas says. “It’s okay. You did everything you could.”

“Hang on,” Remus says, lowering his mace. “He knows you name?”

“Well,” Thomas says shakily, “It’d be kind of weird if I kept calling him Mr Assassin.”

 “Okay,” Remus says. “Can one of you tell me what in the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Deceit opens his mouth to explain, but before he can Virgil is at his side, one hand gingerly touching near the wound on Deceit’s abdomen.

“What the fuck, you just got stabbed,” Virgil hisses, which Deceit thinks should be fairly obvious by this point.

Virgil shrugs out of his hoodie and presses it against the wound, stemming the bleeding. Thomas crouches down on Deceit’s other side.

“Is he going to be okay?” Thomas asks.

“How the fuck should I know?” Virgil snaps. “I’m not a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine,” Deceit says. “I just need to close it.”

“What if it hit something important?” Virgil asks.

“Oh, please,” Remus says. “I’m not an amateur.”

Virgil and Thomas both startle at the reminder that Remus is here. Deceit sighs.

“If you find me something to stitch this with, I’ll tell you everything,” he says to Remus.

Remus hurries out of the room, and Deceit stumbles to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asks.

Deceit staggers to a chair, pushed against the side of the wall, and sits down in it. Virgil hurries over to press the hoodie against the wound again.

“It’ll be easier to stitch it like this,” Deceit says.

“Stitch it, right.” Thomas sounds faint. “Because that’s what we’re doing.”

“It’s what I’m doing,” Deceit corrects, waving Virgil away. “I don’t trust you with a needle.”

Virgil is reluctant to let go of the hoodie, until Deceit begins to peel his shirt off. He drops his shirt to the floor, next to Virgil’s blood soaked hoodie – he’ll have to help Virgil get the stains out of it later. When he looks up again, Thomas and Virgil are staring at him in horror.

“What happened to you?” Thomas asks.

Deceit glances down at his chest, and then shrugs. Most of the wounds he’s received are from accidents, or training, or times when the target decided to fight back. Those are the smaller scars, though, and Deceit has a feeling Thomas and Virgil are looking at the big ones. The ones that only happen when someone knows what they’re doing and wants to make it hurt.

“Business,” Deceit says.

“That’s a shit explanation,” Virgil points out.

“DeeDee got caught a few years back,” Remus says from the doorway, where he is now standing. He’s found a needle and thread somewhere – most likely something he brought with him.

“And they did that to you?” Thomas asks, choked.

Deceit glances at Remus, who shrugs, looking as confused as Deceit feels. “It was a long time ago.”

That doesn’t seem to make Thomas or Virgil feel any better, so Deceit takes the needle and thread from Remus and busies himself with stitching his wound. Thomas makes a strange, choked noise, but Deceit chooses to ignore it.

Remus is able to keep quiet until Deceit is almost done, when he blurts out, “Okay, seriously, what the fuck? You guys know he wants to kill you, right?”

It’s a fair point. Deceit looks up at Thomas and Virgil to see what they have to say to it.

“We got that after the first couple of assassination attempts,” Virgil mutters.

“But he hasn’t,” Thomas says. “And I don’t think he really wants to.”

“I don’t,” Deceit agrees. He finishes the last couple of stitches and ties it off.

“What, did you suck his dick or something? Cause if so, you must have been really good.”

Thomas turns bright red at that. Deceit avoids making eye contact with him.

“It’s not like that,” Deceit says quickly. “It’s-” Deceit hesitates, uncertain what it is like. “He’s my friend,” he finishes, though that doesn’t quite fit.

Remus pulls a face. “Gross.”

“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Thomas asks. “I mean, even if you decide not to kill me, they’re just going to keep sending more people, right?”

“Then we go into hiding or something,” Virgil says, glancing at Deceit desperately.

“It would be difficult,” Deceit says slowly, “But not impossible.”

“And what happens to you two?” Thomas snaps, gesturing at Remus. Deceit doesn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Maybe we should just- get on with it.”

“Absolutely not,” Deceit snarls.

“You just got stabbed. He could have killed you! He could have killed Virgil! I’m not- I can’t just let you guys get hurt for me.”

“Too bad,” Virgil hisses. “Because we’re not leaving.”

“Um,” Remus says, “Do I get to make a suggestion?”

“No,” everyone snaps.

“Alright, fine. I mean, I was gonna suggest we stop the contract, but sure, don’t listen to me.”

Wait.

“Stop the contract?” Virgil echoes. “As in- make it so there isn’t a price on Thomas’ head anymore?”

“The Agency doesn’t just stop contracts,” Deceit points out.

“Unless the client cancels it,” Remus corrects. “Honestly, Dee, were you even paying attention to how things work?”

“Hey, that- that actually sounds like an idea,” Thomas says.

“Barely,” Deceit says. “You’re suggesting that we find the client – something which is kept secret – and then somehow persuade them into not having Thomas killed, all without the agency finding out what we’re doing and killing us.”

“Okay, well, when you put it like that,” Remus mutters.

“Do we have any better ideas, though?” Thomas asks. “Because, no offence, but the idea of spending the rest of my life on the run isn’t very appealing.”

And the thing is, Deceit doesn’t have any better ideas. In fact, he’s pretty sure he could figure out who the client is, though the Dragon would almost certainly find out about it.

“Actually, Remus might be on to something,” Deceit says.

“You just listed all the reasons why it’s a terrible idea,” Virgil complained.

“Well, yes,” Deceit says. “There’s no way of getting to the client without the Dragon finding out. But we’re not going after the client.”

“Then who are we going after?” Thomas asks.

Deceit smiles. There’s a rush of energy through his body, the same as he gets before a particularly difficult mission. “We’re going after the Dragon.”

[ourardenoliver]

Second Chances | | A + Julian

WHEN: late 2018

LOCATION: Octavia restaurant and other locations, California

NB: after having been at Monarch University for a few months, Arden agrees to a blind date that’s organised by one of her classmates. the date itself is a disaster and as she goes to leave for the night, she runs into her high school ex-boyfriend @juliantaylor. It’s the first time that she’s seen him since their breakup. note: this is an ongoing chatzy and will be updated as we go.

Arden was still fairly new at Monarch University and had allowed one of her classmates to set her up on a blind date. She had high hopes at the start of the evening, especially as her date had booked them a table at Octavia, however the night had just gone downhill from there. The man had drunk too much, had political opinions that Arden strongly disagreed with, and some of his attitudes towards women were slightly archaic. Arden had politely declined his offer of a ride home, not wanting to spend another minute with him, and was now waiting outside the restaurant for her Uber to arrive.

Julian hated to admit it, but he spent quite some time thinking about his ex-girlfriend, for years now. The girl continued to occupy his mind, even way after the fact of their breakup; she was the only one to have that effect on him. And although he was certain she didn't keep tabs on him, he kept tabs on her. There were still a few mutual classmates from high school that followed her on social media, classmates that he was still fairly acquainted with -- which is why it wasn't so hard for him to find the girl. He had been in California for training that week, but made it a point to ask his trainer to find a gym in San Diego, so he can be close by. It was only merely a coincidence that the two had been in Octavia at the same time. Him being there for a professional dinner with his trainers and agent, and her being there for what was obviously a date. And a bad one, at that. She didn't notice him, but he sure as hell noticed her...which is why he subtly excused himself from the table before following her out of the restaurant. "That dick didn't say anything to you, right?" He asked, not even bothering to greet her.

Arden would recognise that voice anywhere, no matter how much time had passed since she had last seen him. Julian was her first love and her first heartbreak -- and as much as she wished that it wasn't the case, he still had a hold on her. It was surprising that she hadn't noticed him in the restaurant but as she turned to face him, she realised that was probably a good thing. He looked amazing right now and if she had seen him inside the venue, she wouldn't have been able to keep her attention on her date. "No, he didn't. If you must know, we're just not a match. He couldn't handle his liquor, his political ideologies clash with mine, and he thinks that women belong in the kitchen, not the court room", Arden informed him. "You can head back to whatever you were doing, you don't have to defend my honour". It said a lot about their dynamic that she wasn't even surprised that he was there, used to Julian showing up at the most bizarre of times.

Seeing Arden in the flesh for the first time in god knowns how long...well, lets just say it felt surreal to the man. It hadn't been the first time the two saw each other after their breakup, and yet every single time he knew that there was still something between them. Whether she wanted to admit it, or not, he knew he still had /some/ effect on her. He buttoned up his dress jacket, chuckling softly as she went on to explain what exactly went wrong with her date. "I don't know, you never had a problem being in the kitchen when I was around." He said cheekily, recalling one of the many moments they had together in high school. "So you're not going to question how we both ended up here at the same time, after all these years?"

Arden groaned and rolled her eyes at the cheeky comment. "Well, I made a lot of mistakes with you", Arden retorted. "You seem to have this uncanny ability of showing up unexpectedly, Julian. It's like you have this sixth sense for whenever I might finally be moving on so you show up to try and reel me back in. I don't know if you've realised this but even when you don't want me, you hate the idea of other people wanting me", she pointed out. "Since my Uber isn't here yet, I'll bite. What are you doing here? How have we both ended up here at the same time, after all these years?"

Julian raised a brow at her argument, shaking his head in amusement. "Now, I wouldn't ever really categorize orgasms as being mistakes." He argued back. As much as she hated it, he /loved/ going back and forth with her like this. It was like it gave him a high that drugs couldn't. Her next statement hit close to home, because she was right. He /hated/ seeing her with other people, just the thought of it alone made him sick. But he didn't want her, not in /that/ way, not in the way she needed or wanted. So he simply just ignored the statement. If he didn't respond, did they really speak about it? His eyes trailed down her body once more, taking in her curves in that dress. "I'm here for you." He said softly, the words rolling off the tip of his tongue naturally. He took a few steps closer to her, his eyes remaining fixed on her at all times. "I was hoping we can talk. I miss you, babe."

"Continually going back to you, despite the fact that you were happily giving orgasms to anyone that you found attractive, was the mistake", Arden responded. She always told herself that she wouldn't waste time arguing with Julian as it never got them anywhere, yet he knew how to push her buttons better than anyone else. "Besides, you aren't the only person that's capable of getting me off", she added. It was technically a lie -- Julian remained the only person that she had slept with but he didn't need to know that. Her pulse started to race as he stepped closer to her, even as she told herself not to believe it; not to buy into what he was saying. "I'm assuming that you drove yourself here, right? You can drive me home and you can have the duration of said car ride to talk, not a minute more".

Julian let out a deep sigh in response to her words. "It wasn't like that..." He trailed off, giving himself some time to come up with a good enough response for her. This was always the argument they got into - probably the only thing they ever did argue about. "Maybe not. But I'd bet money that I'm the only one who can make you feel certain things others can't." He whispered, his eyes slowly flickering back and forth between her lips and her eyes. The man knew this was bold of him, and that this probably wasn't the time to be attempting to get at her - and yet, he didn't care. He took a moment to consider her offer. It wasn't what he wanted in that moment, but at this moment he would take anything he can get. He knew how to wisely pick his battles. Pushing his hand into his pocket, he pulled out a set of keys to the rental he had for that weekend. "Start the car. I just have to say goodbye to a few people." He said as he handed her the keys, all before turning on his heels and walking back into the restaurant.

“It doesn't matter anymore. It's in the past and we're not together so it's not like it's going to happen again", Arden said simply. Her breath hitched slightly and her cheeks flushed a light pink in response to his words, making it impossible to deny the truth in what he was saying. "I... I wouldn't know. I haven't actually gotten that far with anyone since you", she quietly admitted, glancing away in embarrassment. She was surprised when he gave her the car keys without any further argument before disappearing back into the restaurant to say goodbye to whoever he was with. Julian was usually the one that called the shots within their relationship so it was surprising that hadn't argued with her; still, she made her way over to the car and waited for him in the passenger seat.

"Mhm." Julian simply hummed in response to her words. He came to see her one last time, to see what she had been up to lately. But more importantly, although he would never admit it to both himself and to her, he was there to make sure that nobody had replaced him. That /he/ remained her one and only. Because at the end of the day, there was a part of him that loved being loved by her - and there was a part of him that missed being loved by her. He gently stroked his hand down her cheek, turning her head so that she would look up at him. His efforts were matched with some resistance as she glanced away from him. "Why?" He asked curiously. Arden was a beautiful girl, and even he knew that she had the ability to get anyone if she put herself out there. Julian walked back into the resturant to say his goodbyes to his trainers, granting them a quick two minute discussion about when, where, and what time they would be meeting the following morning, and throughout the duration of his stay in California. After saying his goodbyes, he made his way back to the car. He unbuttoned his dress jacket and took it off before climbing into the drivers seat of the black bmw, making himself comfortable as the gently tossed the piece of material towards the backseat. "Where am I taking you?" He asked simply as he put on his seat belt, putting the car in reverse and beginning to pull out of the big parking lot.

Arden knew that Julian didn't love her in the way that she needed, nor the way that she deserved. He loved her in the same way that her father loved her -- she was a possession, a prize. It wasn't authentic and she knew that, yet he still had this power over her and they both knew it. Whilst she wanted to avoid his gaze, she reluctantly allowed him to guide her face so that she was looking up at him. "Sex means something to me. I lost my virginity to you because I was in love with you. I haven't met anyone that I've really cared about since then, nor someone that I find so ridiculously attractive that I'm willing to try the one night stand thing with". It didn't take long for Julian to join her in the car. "I'm living in the Theta Phi Kappa house".

Julian release a soft sigh, simply nodding his head in response. "Sex with /you/ meant something to me, too." He said in the gentlest tone, showing some emotion without making himself appear too vulnerable. The man turned on the radio so that light music was playing in the background, providing each of them a small distraction so that they didn't sit in the agony silence. He simply just drove anywhere, but specifically to the one place he can somewhat recall direction to -- his hotel. "I have no idea where that is. I think you're forgetting that I'm not from around here." He said with a light chuckle, there being no heat behind his words. "Why don't we go back to the hotel? It'll be more private there, and it'll actually put my money to use." He softly laughed once more.

“Just not enough”, Arden said quietly, more to herself than anything else. She knew Julian well enough to know that he’d side-step the uncomfortable topic. She sang softly along with the radio before laughing when he pointed out that she had forgotten that he wasn’t from here. “Right, of course. I’ve done a terrible job at navigating”, she conceded, having given absolutely no directions. She paused for a moment, considering his suggestion before nodding her head. “Fine but I’m not staying and we’re definitely not sleeping together. I’ll catch an Uber home once we’ve finished talking”.

[myusualnerdyself]

After the Sun sets (Ethan x F!Mc)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: None

Song recommendation: ‘Crowded Room’ by Selena Gomez

A/n: It’s just a little idea that popped into my head after watching the ‘Before’ trilogy. Needless to say, it’s inspired by it. It’s my first fic so I am really nervous about it. Let me know how you guys like it. Please enjoy!

Ethan Ramsey hated the yearly doctor’s convention, trying to avoid them at all costs. According to him, they were a waste of money and time, precious time that could have been better utilized towards patient care instead of schmoozing with other doctors and pharmaceuticals companies’ executives.

But this year was something different, he was excited about this year’s convention, probably as much as his first convention or maybe more. The reason for his excitement was the keynote speaker, the speaker who had made a path-breaking discovery in the medical world, a discovery which was going to help so many patients around the globe, everyone was gushing about it but nobody more than him. 

She was probably the youngest person to ever give the key address. He was so proud of her, his rookie had finally achieved her life goal, the one she told him about years ago in this very same hotel. How fitting for the event to be held here tonight, he thought.

Even after eight years, he remembered that night very vividly, and why not, something about that night had changed him, made him feel things with such passion that he was blown away by the intensity of it all.

Time is a funny concept, sometimes things that happened a month back felt like a lifetime ago and sometimes things that happened years ago felt like they happened yesterday. And looking at her now, making her appearance, he felt like that fateful night in Miami happened only hours ago because he was yet again blown away by the force of his feelings for her, the feelings that had resurfaced with full might after actually seeing her in person after four years. She looked spectacular as usual, the dark green off-shoulder dress complimenting her pale skin and emerald eyes perfectly, her red curls were swept back into a side bun for the occasion, leaving her neck and collar bones exposed, the sight was enough to make him weak in the knees.

She was crowded with doctors, everyone wanting a piece of her, he could tell she didn’t like it much, the fake smile on her face and the slightly bored look in her eyes were indications enough. Of course, none of the crowd could tell that, after all none of the crowd knew her as well as he did. Finally their eyes met and his heart started beating a bit faster, he can see in her expression that she was surprised to see him, it was years since he made an appearance in such an event and after seven years of no contact, it was obvious she didn’t expect him to be here when the chances of stumbling into each other were too high. He gave her a tentative smile, hoping to ease some of her tension. He so badly wanted to go and congratulate her and tell her how proud he was of her but he knew it was going to be awkward and he wasn’t ready for it, at least not yet. She returned his smile with a small one of her own, and to Ethan’s relief, it was definitely not fake.

XXXXX

“Dr Valentine.” After having a few drinks at the bar, Ethan finally built the courage to go up to her.

“Dr Ramsey,” Casey said, trying to hide her shock, despite his friendly smile before she wasn’t sure that he would try to talk to her tonight. They hadn’t exactly parted on great terms or any terms for that matter. He had just vanished, leaving her alone without any notice, any contact.

“Congratulations on your research, it’s truly outstanding and for what it’s worth, I am really proud of you.” Ethan said, hoping to convey the sincerity of his words.

“Thank you.” Casey replied, smiling. Those words coming from him meant a lot to her, even after everything that happened between them, he still was her mentor and to make him proud gave her even a higher sense of accomplishment.

“Why are you here tonight, if you don’t mind me asking?” She questioned, it just didn’t make sense to her, him being here after avoiding her for so long.

“Isn’t it evident?” He answered with his eyebrows raised on the inanity of the question.

She waited silently, waiting for him to continue.

He sighed, “I am here for you Rookie…. I mean Dr Valentine, you have achieved something so remarkable, you are finally doing great things, things that I knew you were destined for, obviously I couldn’t miss such an important milestone of your career.”

Before she could reply, they were interrupted by a doctor who wanted to offer her congratulations to her. After she had left, Casey swallowed and looked at him, trying to comprehend the meaning of his words.

“So you came here for me?”

“Yes, and I am so glad I did, because that speech that you gave, it’s been so long that I have enjoyed the keynote address so much. Only a truly dedicated doctor would have the guts to talk about how our flawed medical system has failed to help the masses in an address meant to honour her.” He said.

“Why, thank you, Dr Ramsey, I learned from the best.” She replied.

He cracked a smile at her words. “It is good to see that you still remember all of my teachings.”

“Of course I do, you would think it’s easy to forget your difficult, grumpy and ruthless attending but it’s not.”

He didn’t know whether the words were meant as a joke or an accusation, so he stared at her, trying to decipher the meaning of the statement in her eyes.

“Dr Valentine, Dr Ramsey, the two great minds of medicine together, what a sight.” A doctor chose that very moment to enter the discussion and Ethan was thankful for the distraction. He knew the conversation was bound to take a turn like that but he didn’t think it was going to be so soon.

They talked to the doctor with all the politeness that they could muster, answering all the questions about their recent work patiently but there was an undercurrent of tension in the air now, and they both could feel it.

After they were once again alone, Casey continued, “You know, we’ll keep getting disturbed here. It’s been a long time and I really want us to have a proper conversation.”

“Yeah, I would like that too.”

“Let’s go to my room then, we can sit in the balcony and talk, what say?” There was a purpose in her voice now, she wanted answers, answers that were denied to her for so long, answers that were her right.

“Are you sure? I mean, there are plenty of people here that still want to talk to you.” He was a bit afraid from the determination in her voice, it was as if she was ready to unleash her fury on him, the fury that he fully knew he deserved.

“Yes, those people will be here tomorrow, I’ll meet them then.”

Seeing no out, Ethan gulped, “Well, okay then, lead the way.”

To be continued...

Continue to Part 2.

P.S. This is going to be a part 2 series, I will upload the second part very soon. Let me know if you want to be tagged in it. 

Thanks for reading! Please like, comment and re-blog.

[itsthemoofacewriting]

You’re the only high that I want

Well… it’s been a while, huh? And I’m not even back with something grand, just a silly little thing that would not leave me alone until I wrote it.

Summary: Sanji’s a flirt at the best of times, but after an operation when he’s drugged up? Nami doesn’t know whether her cheeks will ever return to their normal colour. AU. SaNami. Rating: T

This can also be found on FFN and AO3

Enjoy some hilarity.

Everything had happened very quickly.

One minute, Sanji was doing an inventory check at his restaurant and the next he was stooped over as an unbearable pain shot through his abdomen, sweat beading on his forehead. That’s how he was found by his staff as they panicked, rushing around in a flutter as their normally tough, hardy manager was writhing in pain.

Sanji had bragged one too many times to Zoro about never having been sick before and really, when he’d done it that one time when Zoro was sick, this was probably karma coming around to give him a reality check.

“I miss Sanji’s cooking already,” Luffy whined, hanging off the uncomfortable hospital chair next to Sanji’s bed.

“It’s been a day. If you’re hungry go to the café down the hall,” Nami sighed, rolling her eyes from the other side.

“Food sucks,” he muttered like a child being told they can’t have ice cream from the truck. The hospital food wasn’t awful, but Luffy’s problem was that it wasn’t Sanji’s. Nami rolled her eyes.

Usopp and Zoro walk into the room shortly after. They’d all been at work when they’d gotten the call but only Nami and Luffy had been able to leave immediately, she’d swung by to pick him up on the way. Zoro and Usopp had text to say they’d be over as soon as possible. Well, Usopp did. Zoro just grunted when asked if he was going to come. That was confirmation enough for Nami.

“Is he okay?” Usopp asked, handing Luffy a packet of crisps from the vending machine outside. It seemed to be enough to brighten Luffy’s mood and get him to stop sulking.

“Yeah, the operation went well, they’re waiting for him to wake up. Should everything be okay when they check him over, he can be discharged,” Nami informed them but it didn’t stop her worrying.

He was so still and pale. He’d never bragged to her about never being sick, but she knew the fact well, so it never prepared her for when he would eventually get sick. Why couldn’t he just get a cold like the rest of them and be done with it?

A bag of crisps was thrust in her face, blocking her view of Sanji and she blinked. Luffy was leaning over the bed and smiling at her. “It’ll be okay!” He reassured, then looked contemplative for a moment, sparing a glance at Sanji. “Maybe he’ll feel better if he had some.”

That did it.

“As if! Sit down you idiot,” she barked and Luffy laughed. The tension in the room lifting as Usopp and Luffy started loudly chattering. Even Zoro nodded at her. She knew she was being a bit of a worry wart; it was a straightforward appendectomy after all.

The room went silent when Sanji stirred and his eyes slowly started to open. They all stared at him with bated breath as he blinked at each of them, eyes slowly moving around the room, as if trying to piece together what was going on by himself. His gaze finally settled on Nami and he just stared.

Her hand came to rest on his arm. “Sanji, how do you feel?” Admittedly, it was a stupid question, how else would he feel? But he wasn’t saying anything. He was looking at her oddly, almost stupefied.

“Oh beautiful angel, I’m blessed just by being in your overwhelming presence, let alone your concern for me,” Sanji crooned, taking the hand on his arm to clasp in his own.

“Yeah. He’s fine,” Usopp said blandly, unimpressed.

Nami squeezed his hand, relieved but that just appeared to spur him on.

“I’ve never seen someone so gorgeous in all my years. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve having you look upon me, but I won’t curse my good fortune.”

Luffy starts asking him questions in the background, food related of course, but Sanji’s eyes don’t leave her. It appears he’s not even listening. They run from the top of her head and as far down as they can before the bed blocks her and then back up. Did he just check her out?

“It’s like you’re carved from marble, just utterly flawless.” She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick down to her lips and then back up to her eyes. “This is probably a stretch, but considering my good luck already, I have to know, are you single?”

“Uuuh-” Her brain short circuits and she can’t get it to form words at the unexpected question.

“Because if you are, I’d be honoured to take you out,” he said lowly and brings the hand in his grip up to his lips to place a delicate kiss to her knuckles and she almost can’t believe the hot flush working over her face at such an innocent gesture.

“Holy shit, is he hitting on you?” Usopp questions in disbelief and behind him Zoro snorts.

“Course he is, idiot can’t keep it in his pants even when he’s been cut open,” Zoro replies.  

And suddenly it makes sense. The stupefied look he sent her, the heated looks he’s giving her… the ridiculous, over the top words coming from his mouth. Well, the last thing wasn’t too out of character for him, but over the years he’d toned it down. He hasn’t been like that since they met.

But- he’s loopy from the anaesthesia… and is trying to woo her.

Zoro snorts behind her and she directs a glare at him. When she looks back at Sanji, he’s no longer giving her an adoring look but instead looks suspicious. Apparently, she’d been silent for too long and he’d taken it as a negative to his question.

“Who is it?” And Sanji’s glaring at the three men in the room, sizing them up. He disregards Luffy quickly, who looks utterly bored and then eliminates Usopp a second after, who looks confused. Although, Usopp soon looked offended after when he realised he’d been overlooked so quickly.

His eyes settled on Zoro.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” He sneered at Zoro as he said it, and even though he’s the one in the bed, Sanji still somehow managed to look down his nose at the other man. “You could do so much better than him, just look at that nasty face.”

“Oi, I can still kick your arse, operation or not!” Zoro replied angrily, Nami’s laughter no doubt infuriating him further.

“It’s not him,” Nami said, humour thick in her voice.

“Whoever it is, I’m sure they couldn’t look after you as well as I could. You’re a goddess, you deserve to be treated like one,” Sanji babbled, grasping her hand desperately. “Run away with me.”

“Hmm, well…” She pretends to consider his offer and smirks when the grip on her hand tightens slightly and he’s looking up at her with so much hope.

“Would you just tell him already?” Zoro growled, his temper thinning, still not over the previous insult and the idiots prattling was starting to grind on him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Usopp asked, trying to peer around at her face.

When she looked over her shoulder at them, the look she gave them was downright evil. Sanji was a flatterer normally, it wasn’t anything new but to hear him so fervent when he had no clue who she was… well, it was an ego boost to say the least.

But her fun had to come to an end at some point, especially as he was still going on in the background.

“-Grow old with me?”

She paused for a second, considering how she wanted to respond, before shrugging, “Okay.”

“R-really?” Sanji asked, stunned at her simple answer, almost like he wasn’t expecting it. Or at least expecting more of a fight.

“I already promised to do that anyway,” she explained simply and lifted her previously hidden hand from her lap so the ring on her finger could twinkle cheekily at him.

“Me?” Sanji pointed to himself and looked blown away, gobsmacked as he stared at her. All she did was smile back at him and nod.

There was a pause as he took this all in.

“You’re my fiancé?” His voice raised an octave.

“Oh for god- yes, yes! She’s your fiancé!” Usopp snapped, bored and irritated with the show in front of them all.

“But you’re so beautiful?” He said like a question, still in awe.

Nami laughed. “Seems you’re quite lucky, indeed.” And winked at him.

Sanji almost looked like he was going to pass out as she did when the door suddenly opened, and a nurse walked in. Nami looked at Sanji apprehensively, if he was still loopy and couldn’t remember that she was his fiancé, was he going to go back to his old flirting ways? She would hit him, surgery be damned.

“Well, it’s nice a lively in here, that’s always a nice sign,” the nurse said cheerfully.

Sanji eyed the nurse for a second but it seemed Nami’s worries were all for nothing when he looked back at her. “Can you believe this is my fiancé? I still can’t, she’s out of this world. I’m the luckiest man alive.” He beamed and squeezed both of her hands in his.

The nurse laughed in response and Nami could feel her cheeks growing hot. “Ah, the anaesthesia has all sorts of different effects on people, looks like you got the fun one.” She winked at Nami. “I’ll go get the doctor.”

When the young doctor had entered, he’d ushered out Luffy, Zoro and Usopp. Nami told them to go home now that he was awake, and she’d call them later. They’d probably all be invading their home tomorrow anyway.

It didn’t take much more convincing when Usopp said he saw a McDonalds close by. With a whoop, Luffy was out the door and running down the hallways with Usopp and Zoro hot on his heels.

With them now gone, Sanji had been given a quick once over, asked how he felt (“I’m on top of the world with this goddess next to me.” Jesus) and that was it. She was told that he had to take it easy for two weeks and no heavy lifting. That wouldn’t be easy, he struggled to sit still for long periods.

They were left after that, so he could get changed out of his gown and they could leave.

“Can I kiss you?” And he was looking down at her, so earnestly, as his arms slipped into his shirt and she worked on buttoning it up.

This was the second time he’d asked, the first had been with Luffy, Usopp and Zoro in the room. The latter had looked disgusted and she’d quickly denied him out of embarrassment.

But with that look she couldn’t again. “Okay, just a quick one.”

He didn’t hesitate and swooped down to connect their lips. Apparently, he hadn’t heard anything past her ‘okay’, as his lips pressed against hers firmly and his hands grasped her hips to press her up against him. She tried to pull away to reprimand him, but he followed after her to reconnect their lips and when his tongue brushed her bottom lip, she found herself throwing caution to the wind.

When her arms wrapped around his shoulders and she slanted their lips together, he hummed in delight at her enthusiasm. She found herself forgetting where they were when his tongue reached out to caress hers and she wrinkled her nose at the morning (or afternoon?) breath but she found herself not caring. Sanji was before her, well and safe and apparently really getting into this as a moan slipped from his mouth and his hands were groping at her behind.

Okay, that’s more than enough.

She leaned back, turning her head to avoid his lips but he brushed them under her ear instead, nuzzling there afterwards.

“Wow,” he whispered, sending goose bumps down her neck.  

“And that’s all you’re getting, so you better have got your fill.” Her tone still a bit too breathy to be believable but she did push against his shoulders slightly to create a bit of distance.  

“I don’t think I ever will.”

Nami snorted but nonetheless was delighted. “Come on, let’s get you discharged.”

Getting over to the nurse’s station took far longer than it should have, but Sanji kept stopping to inform anyone who passed them that she was his fiancé and wasn’t he the luckiest man alive? She drowned out his babbling and lead him by their connected hands, she was a woman on a mission. She was ready to leave this place.

She signed whatever was put in front of her, asking any questions and listened as the nurse explained everything, occasionally throwing an amused look towards Sanji who would not shut up.

He cut off his own rambling when a thought occurred to him. “Can I kiss you again?!” He asked excitedly, already moving closer.

“Not right now,” She said, cheeks flushed when the nurses nearby started to giggle and smile over at them. This was all incredibly flattering but it was starting to get embarrassing, he had no filter right now. She smacked his hand away when it started to wander lower. She needed to get him home.

“Okay, you’re all set! Any issues, please call your doctor and they’ll advise you,” the nurse informed her.

“Thank you,” Nami said to the nurse and then turned to Sanji, “Let’s go home.”

“You’re taking me home with you?” He asked eagerly, a glint in his eye.  

“Oh my god,” she said, exasperated and started guiding him towards the sliding doors so they could leave.

He let go of her hand to slide it around her waist and murmured into her ear, “You can do whatever you want with me.” His breath is hot against her ear and if he hadn’t just had surgery, she would elbow him so hard right now.

“But I really do want forever with you,” he follows up with and that takes the murderous edge off her face.

“Forever to do whatever you want with me.”

She doesn’t feel bad about elbowing him after that. She just wishes it was on the side they’d made the cut. That’d teach him.

For all his big talk at the hospital and perverted uttering on the car ride home, he passed out on the sofa the moment he sat down.

Perverted he may be, but that was her pervert she thinks as she plays with the ring on her finger.

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

Did some light googling on appendectomy and anaesthesia, but I’m no doctor. So please don’t come at me about details.

As always, please forgive any errors.

Thanks for reading.