#almost FOUR YEARS of him keeping this a secret at any cost

[tangledinink]

I can imagine the first cycle after moving. Probably Leo because Donnie likely has internal scarring, so leo goes through the process of laying his eggs, panics, his brother can't help, and finally, *finally* they ask for help. It's not willingly. It's not for fun. It's purely necessity. It's purely because there's *literally noone else* and the idea of telling anyone at all is so scary that the way they do so is in a note. Splinter sits them down and basically walks them through "You're safe, you're fine. We can handle this however you feel most comfortable, including getting you both on blockers if you prefer" and they just.... sigh. For the first time, there's *someone else* in their circle, and it's willing and it's warm, and it's *safe*. There will be tears.

Yes, except I'm not convinced that either of them could stand to tell anyone. Even if it was literally life or death (which it has been before,) I'm not sure if either of them could bear to give up that information. Donnie is finally, finally away from the people who hurt him when he got found out last time, and even though logically, he knows that it's different here, he's absolutely petrified of the thought that the same thing will happen again and it won't be over anymore. He's still horrified by the idea of anyone else knowing about Leo when he's gone to such lengths for so long to protect him, and Leo is likewise terrified in the same way. They've spent years with this being their more closely guarded secret, and that's going to be really difficult to give up.

But it's really not a secret they'll be able to keep for long.

They're in a completely different environment, with far less space and privacy. They're both stressed as hell and Donnie WAS on birth control and taking all sorts of vitamins and supplements to make sure he didn't eggbind again and now he's suddenly not and it's not only messing with his body, it's fucking scary. It literally keeps them both up at night. Neither of them know how to wash blood out of clothes or sheets. There's no private en suite bathroom they can sequester themselves away in. They're both literally making themselves sick with anxiety trying to deal with this, and they're used to handling this on their own, this is routine for them, but they're not used to all of this.

They'd probably metaphorically limp through a few cycles before their family puts it together and gently confronts them.

Venus probably figures it out first. She's pretty smart, and incredibly observant, and after all-- she quite literally experiences the exact same thing. April may not lay eggs, but I think she'd be able to get the idea after a bit as well. And while I think Splinter would realize something was wrong pretty quickly, Draxum would probably realize what was wrong first. Splinter has April, so he has a little bit of experience in this realm, but Draxum has Venus and so he has far more experience.

And so when they do sit them down and talk with them, it's going to be really scary at first. And then they get to, "you're safe, you're fine, we can handle this however you feel the most comfortable. It will be okay. No one will hurt you."

And then there's finally other people in the know, in the circle, people who will actually help them. And yes-- there will definitely be tears.

[sunlightmurdock]

Operation Apollo | 2.1 | Jake Seresin x Reader au

previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

synopsis: After a threat is made against her life, the President’s grown up daughter gets her security tripled. Her long term detail is about to retire and needs replacing, only — she isn’t the easiest to work with. Ex-Navy and current Secret Service, Jake Seresin is devoted to being the best at everything he does. He isn’t going to let a bratty little girl cost him this job.

warnings: age gap, power imbalance, enemies to lovers, danger and angst, mentions of sex, mentions of plotted kidnapping, dark themes to follow, arguing, lack of communication on both sides. Smut (pinv) briefly at the end. 4k words

…

Awake long enough to see the full range of the sky’s gradient, an almost grey Steele colour to a powder blue brightened by the morning sun, Jake rubs a hand tiredly over his aching eyes. They hurt when he closes them, so he tries not to.

“I’m a busy man, Seresin, I can’t keep having this conversation with you.”

Matthew’s voice is stern on the line, there’s a monotony to it, like he’s already bored of speaking about this. They have had this conversation before, four times already actually. But Jake hasn’t grown bored of it. In fact, he can’t think of anything else.

Sleep-deprived and out of sorts, Jake’s heart aches in his chest.

“There’s just — there has to be another way,” Jake says gently.

Fiddling with a pen, taking it’s intricate insides apart and piecing it back together, Matthew stifles a sigh. He rubs a hand over his eyes and shoots a look towards his assistant, then shakes his head. The pause tells Jake what he needs to know.

“She’s never going to trust any of us again.” Jake insists, his voice quieter now than it had been before. Matthew barely notices, frowning as the pen bursts and ink spills out onto his fingertips.

“She’ll trust who I tell her to trust,” Matthew answers back, discarding the pen with little thought to the damage that it causes. Black ink seeping out onto hundred year old wood. Caring more for the mess on his hand, he reaches for a tissue and swipes the ink from his fingers. “Now, if you don’t mind, kid — I’ve got an important meeting to get to.”

The line clicks dead before Jake’s got an opportunity to respond. You hum softly and press closer to him, your cheek smushed into his abdomen and your arms draped loosely around his hips. He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he soaks in the image of you like this, sleeping so peacefully against him.

He follows the curve of your back as his fingers trail, featherlight, along the length of your spine. Ten days of knowing what he knows.

At first, he tried to take it in his stride. There’s no certainty in missions like these, there is almost always another way. Options exhausted and the gala fast approaching, he can barely bring himself to look you in the eye these days.

This is easier. Just this moment. Your bare chest lying against his front, sheets just covering your bottom half.

He knows that you’re on to him. He hasn’t exactly been subtle about his withdrawal. Yet, you’ve come sneaking into his bed for the last ten days straight without fail. Even if he hasn’t touched you since you left San Diego.

Almost certainly, that’s what last night’s display was about. Him standing by the balcony door, letting the fresh air soothe the strain in his chest, when you pulled open your balcony door. Wearing nothing but a skimpy pair of underwear, you had strolled right past him, looking him dead in the eye, and then slipped into his bed without a word.

Still nothing. Jake had stepped out onto the balcony to continue his conversation without fear of you hearing. When he had returned, you were already asleep. He can’t pretend that he wasn’t glad that you were.

His lips quirk softly as you hike your leg around his, shifting closer. He smooths his hand over the subtle v-shape your underwear makes, stretched out over your hips when you lie like this. It’s cute that you need his affection the way that you do. He likes giving it to you.

It just doesn’t feel right now. It won’t again until he knows that he has done everything in his power to keep you safe. As many options as he has exhausted, he can’t stop trying just yet. Two more days until he’s supposed to take you to the airport and let you attend that gala.

Jake smooths the backs of his fingers across your cheek softly. The action tickles your skin and makes you stir. Still deep in sleep, sprawled out across white sheets, one of your hands presses to his stomach like you’re checking that he’s still there. He exhales slowly, finding peace in watching you sleep.

He wishes he could join you, the two of you tangled peacefully in pleasant dreams. He hasn’t been sleeping much lately. Too busy trying to fix it. Hundreds of phone calls, emails, freedom of information requests and accessing confidential documents. And still, the man at the top says that his plan is the best.

Jake remembers starting this job and knowing that the danger you were in was so grave that it had to be kept from you. He remembers reading the letter that was on your pillow, his stomach churning at the lines and lines of detailed threats.

Reaching for fabric to unconsciously tug him closer, your fingers extend against the ridges on his stomach and your brows furrow slightly. Never one to deny you, even when you’re not awake to make the request, he knows you well enough to know what you want. Shifting down the bed slightly, he presses himself against your side and drapes an arm around you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

As you settle into this new position, Jake holds you a little closer, resting his cheek against the top of your head. Your heart beats steadily against his, the soothing rhythm almost enough to drag him into the sleep that he has been fighting. Still fighting now, he keeps himself awake by massaging your back, gently kneading and stroking your skin under his warm palm.

“Mm, feels nice.” You hum softly into his chest.

He damn near flinches at the sudden sound of your voice, even with its half-awake cadence and muffled start. Eyes widening, he pulls back to find you smiling sleepily with your eyes still closed. You scrunch your features, preparing for the morning light, beginning with a few soft blinks to adjust before you really look at him.

“Morning.” You smile, stretching your arms above your head. With Jake’s sudden change in attitude this past week, this affection is a welcome surprise. Almost ten days of downright glacial treatment from the blonde haired agent. He’s been working hard so you’ve given him a pass.

You’re not too sure with what but the elections are picking up speed now and things always get a little tricky around this time. That, and you’re going to be back in classes from next month.

“Morning.” Jake says quietly, like he’s ashamed to have been caught being so affectionate. The look on his face is hard to ignore. He has already withdrawn from this exchange before he moves to get up from the bed. You reach out and catch his dog tags, knowing that he won’t pull back hard enough to risk you breaking them.

He turns his head, glancing down at your fingers curled around the metal, slowly lifting his gaze to look at your face again.

“Stay in bed.” It’s neither a request or an order. It’s the first thing you’ve asked of him in a while. Releasing the metal, you smooth your fingers along the inside of his arm. Trailing along each inch of warm skin, following the veins on his forearm down until you can entwine your fingers with his and give a gentle tug.

“I’ve got a phone call to make.” Jake answers, giving a soft shake of his head. He squeezes your hand and moves to drop it. Pushing yourself up and supporting your weight against your palms, your face doesn’t give much away about what you’re wanting to say to him. But he knows anyway.

“Jake,” It’s quiet, almost like a warning — the look in your eyes tells him that it’s more of a plea. “Just stay for a little bit longer.”

His eyes trail downwards, his shoulder casting a shadow across the morning glow that has managed to soak the rest of your body. Wearing nothing but a white cotton thong, giving the excuse of last night’s lingering heat even with the sound of the air conditioning in the room muffling your words. The manufactured chill covers your body even now, his absence making it all the worse. Your nipples perked and goosebumps covering your arms. Jake trails his fingers over them, feeling your eyes on him. Waiting for his decision.

“This… it’s an important call.” He offers you no other consolation, no excuse, as he pushes himself up from the bed and turns his back on you. He can’t bring himself to touch you with such a weight on his mind. Until he has fixed this, he doesn’t deserve to.

“Jake.” You repeat. He doesn’t look at you, grabbing some shorts from beside the bed and pulling them up his legs. He has been showering in the downstairs gym so that there’s no chance of him bumping into you while you’re still laying in his bed. Exhaling heavily, he grabs his phone and moves for the door.

“Jake, if you don’t look at me right now, I swear to god, I’m going to start screaming.” Right back where you started, fighting fire with fire. It works and you’re met with an endearingly serious jade-coloured gaze. A silent warning from the man at the foot of the bed. He stares back at you. The almost naked girl in his bed with his heart in the palm of her hand.

Exhausted and already at his whit’s end with the careless decisions that your family seem prone to making, he shakes his head.

“Do what you want, honey.” Jake replies, tone calm and calculated. Knowing that you care for him too much follow through with your threat. He slips his phone into the pocket of his gym shorts and cranes his neck to the left. He’s wound so tight these days that it feels like his head might roll right off of his shoulders if he dares to stretch further.

Your gaze burns into his back as he curls his fingers around the door handle and tugs it open.

“What is the matter with you, you fucking asshole?”

Jake goes to ignore you. It’s his every intention. It’s even in motion, the door swinging shut behind him as he starts down the hallway. It’s only when he hears it bump into the wall as you swing it back open that he can’t call your bluff any further.

“I’m talking to you!” You insist.

Jake spins, green eyes blown exceptionally wide at the sight of you in the doorway. Two steps forward and you’ll be in the frame of the hallway camera.

“Don’t you dare.” Jake warns, squinting as he takes a step back in your direction. Immediately, he knows this was the wrong thing to do. There’s a glint in your eye that tells him he just played right into your hands. Either he comes to you or you go to him. “Put some fucking clothes on or something, anyone could—“

“I don’t care if the entire secret service sees! I said: I’m talking to you. Don’t walk away from me!” Your voice carries and the open-planned house doesn’t do much to stifle the noise.

Jake walks forwards so swiftly that instinct carries you a couple of steps back. Far enough into the room for him to slam the door shut and corner you against his dresser.

“Keep your fucking voice down.” He warns you, deadly serious now.

“I’ll let this whole neighborhood know what a dick you’re being if you don’t start giving me answers, Seresin.” You poke a finger into his chest and square your shoulders. Even with him hulking over you, there’s not a chance that you’re going to budge on this.

“It’s not my job to give you answers.” Jake answers back. The words spill from the inside of his mouth, cold and sharp. You squint at him.

“I don’t think it’s in your job description to fuck me either, and yet here we are.”

He inhales slowly and exhales even slower. You study his face, trying to find the answers you need between the furrows and creases in his features.

“Something happened in San Diego, and you’re going to tell me what it was.” You insist, standing up straighter so that he has no choice but to take a step back and give you room.

“I don’t take orders from you.” Jake replies swiftly, green eyes on yours without faltering in the slightest.

“If you want me to go over your head on this, Jake, then—“

He scoffs and pulls back, pinching the bridge of his nose. The idea is almost laughable, he truly has to stop himself from laughing at you. Something seethes through him, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides as he paces back. “Try it. Be my fucking guest. Call your dad.”

At least then it’ll be on him to explain this fucked up bet he has made, with you as the wager. In fact, Jake would enjoy that. The plan would fall through, you’d realise everything that Jake has been doing to keep you safe and he’d be able to start sleeping again.

Seeing him almost laugh at you changes the tone of the conversation entirely. You’ve been here before, and this feeling certainly isn’t unfamiliar. The only one who doesn’t know.

Such a bright girl. So clever. Such a bright future. Beautiful and smart. All of those compliments, all of those good grades — and there’s always still a man standing in front of you, trying not to laugh.

“Maybe I will call him,” You bite back, straightening up again like something will change and suddenly you’ll be the one towering over him. It sure feels that way with this anger surging through you. “I’m sure it would do wonders for your career if I were to speak to my dad today.”

“Did you just threaten me?” Jake’s brows knit together and he presses forwards. Your back bumps into his dresser before you even realize that you’ve stepped back. He gives you a quick glance up and down, then steps out of your space. “Put some fucking clothes on. Keep yourself busy today, I don’t want you bugging me for anything.”

This time when he goes for the door, you let him. You let it slam shut behind you and pretend that it doesn’t make you flinch.

Jake pretends that he doesn’t hear you screaming ‘asshole’ as he continues downstairs. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, several eyes are on him.

“Don’t you idiots have something you should be doing?” Jake bites, shaking his head as he continues past the living room and towards the gym. He spends the rest of the morning carefully maneuvering the house, making sure there’s not a chance that he’s going to run into you.

“I was surprised that you called! — it’s been forever.” Blake’s face is turned towards the sun as her long, slender legs sprawl along the lounger. Her martini glass rests against her stomach, droplets of condensation trailing along the stem and onto her fair, freckled skin.

Your posture attempts to mimic hers. Only, your fingers drum against the side of your hi-ball glass and the inside of your cheek has gone numb from all of the nervous chewing. It’s a while afternoon by this point, the sun is high and there’s a breeze soft enough to make the heat deceptively mild.

“Mm, well, I missed you.” You reply gently.

She doesn’t move, squaring her shoulders and adjusting her tanning position just slightly, “I missed you too. But you sounded kind of upset on the phone.”

Closing your eyes for a moment, your thankful that your sunglasses mask the realisation. All of those years of media training and your runway model friend can see right through it. You’re letting your guard slip. Your brows scrunch softly at the pain in your head.

“Just kind of a crappy week, nothing big. How’ve you been anyway?”

“I just got back from Italy actually,” “You know, the girls and I are going to Belize at the end of the month. You should come. I was going to invite you, but you’re kind of hard to reach sometimes.”

“I don’t think that would fly.” You shake your head quickly, shooting a quick glance to the rookie sitting up on the deck. He might as well have a pair of binoculars for how intently he’s watching the two of you.

“I’m sure you could strike up a deal with one of the men in black, right? — Get them to pull some strings for you?” She pulls her sunglasses down and winks. It’s just a lighthearted joke, she doesn’t mean anything by it. Until she sees the look on your face.

You have had classes on this since you were a kid. Someone stepping on a nerve and you not flinching in the slightest. Yet, she barely even nudges the cover of your secret and your demeanor changes.

Turning your head, your gaze focuses on the pool as you shift. Pretending that it’s just to find a comfier spot rather than fidgeting with nerves.

“Oh my god,” Blake turns, setting her glass down on the table between the two of you, then propping herself up on her palm. Every fibre of her attention is on you — which is a rare occurrence from Blake. “Are you fucking one of them?”

The intrigue in her voice should be a dead giveaway. On a day where your head was a little clearer, you would’ve taken time to analyze exactly what it was about her tone that didn’t feel quite right.

Today, you’re alone and you’re wounded, and she’s looking at you waiting for her answer.

“Jake.” You nod quietly.

“The one who came to my party?”

You nod sheepishly at her, lifting your sunglasses off of your face so that you can study her reaction a little more closely. She grins wolfishly and leans forwards. Up close, it appears as intrigue.

“Girl, tell me everything.” She sounds giddy as she smiles across at you, reaching for her glass again. And the floodgates open. You start from the beginning and it’s hard to slow down from there. The first gala, the party, the break-in, and then Texas.

“This is the best posting I’ve ever had,” The voice is hushed just the slightest amount, no real effort is being made to. A couple of chuckles follow it. “God, look at that. God bless America.” More chuckles follow.

Jake rounds the corner, fresh off of a phone call with the head of security at the White House and not in the mood to be fucked with. Three of the rookies standing around the kitchen, staring out of the window, focused on the pool. They take no notice of Jake as he strolls past them to check the view.

You’re lying on your stomach, in a black bikini that’s more strings and ties than it is real fabric. Standing from where he is, he’s got just about the perfect view. The swell of your ass covered by the skimpy black material and the curve of your breast peeking out from the side of the top, too deep in conversation to notice that you’re being watched.

“God, I’d fuck her into the next century, man.”

Jake turns his head slowly and his gaze locks on the kid who just made the mistake of speaking. He stares calmly. He’s a little too still, just watching in a way that’s unnerving enough to have the young man fidgeting on his feet.

“What? — Like you wouldn’t?” The boy tries, swallowing and glancing around to the others for help. Jake’s lips quirk softly. He glances back towards the pool and the girl that he loves, and back at the shithead that was drooling over her.

“I catch you doing that again, and I’ll drown you in that pool.” Jake warns calmly. He takes his time to look between the young agents and nods, just to confirm that he meant what he said. “Now, move.”

They scuttle away like bugs. Jake sighs softly, leaning against the kitchen island and resting his head in his hands. His temples throb when he closes his eyes, that can’t mean anything good.

“Have you heard those little perverts?”

Not a moment’s peace, Jake lifts his head as Manny strolls into the kitchen. He hums a tired agreement. Manny rolls his eyes at their behavior and leans against the other side of the island.

“So?”

“So, what?” Jake mumbles, rubbing softly at his eyes, hoping that it’ll make the pain stop long enough for him to keep his eyes going.

“So what’s up with you and Apollo?”

Jake looks up, struggling through the pain behind his eyes, brows furrowed. He waits for Manny to elaborate before he dares to attempt at an explanation.

“You two screaming at each other this morning?” Manny prompts. Jake closes his eyes again and stifles a sigh. It’s hard to care about keeping a low profile when someone knows how to step on his nerves like you do.

“Told her to put some damn clothes on. She can’t keep walking around here half naked.”

“Yeah, not with those little vultures hanging around. Her dad’s gonna kill us if she winds up sleeping with one of them, you know that, right?” Manny breathed out, shaking his head softly as he checks out of the window to make sure you’re still where you’re meant to be.

Jake hums and pinches the bridge of his nose. He isn’t trying to avoid you that afternoon. Not like he was this morning. It just so happens that you don’t run into him again until the evening.

He closes the door to his room and almost frowns when he sees that you aren’t in his bed. Before he has time, he registers the sound of the water running. Locking his bedroom door behind him, he gently twists the bathroom door handle and lets himself inside.

You’re silent, aware of his presence but not looking at him. You lather soap over your legs as he rids himself wordlessly of his clothes. Your breath catches in your throat as his chest presses into your back.

Jake drapes one arm around your waist and pulls you back against him. He turns his face into the crook of your neck and leaves soft kisses against your damp skin.

“I love you.” He reminds you, working a string of kisses along the ridge of your shoulder. You lean back into his touch, silent. He wouldn’t be saying that if he knew.

Telling Blake had never been part of the plan. You hadn’t realised quite how much you had been holding in until you had started to let it out. It had felt so good to finally talk about it, to finally say it out loud. Such a relief, each word truly a weight off of your chest.

Now, a new weight presses heavy on you. Knowing that it’s only a matter of time. That you could’ve screwed it all up. That he’ll never trust you again. You whimper softly as he nips at the column of your throat. He snakes both arms around your torso and squeezes you tight in his arms.

Options exhausted, every box checked and each one of them a dud, there’s nothing that Jake can do but revel in the time he has left where you’ll believe in him.

You lean forwards and arch your back away from his chest as he sucks softly at your throat, squeezing his arms around your middle. Catching hold of his thigh for leverage, a small whimper slips your lips as you grind back.

Jake’s hand nudges between your legs, mouth working expertly against your neck. After ten days without his touch, you’re soaking his fingers in a matter of minutes, shivering against his hold even under the steamy water.

“You want it?” Jake breathes out as you grind yourself back against him. He kisses every part of skin that he can reach, keeping you pressed into his chest. You nod feverishly, humming a quick please that’s lost somewhere between the running stream of water and the soft groan that vibrates from his lips and onto your neck.

You gasp softly as he withdraws his fingers and presses the tip of his cock into you, a contented moan falling from your lips. Jake exhales slowly against your skin as he sinks in deeper until he’s buried in you completely.

“Missed you.” You breathe out quietly, trying to rock your hips. Jake presses a palm into the wall in front of you and grabs your hip with the other, nodding as he settles his forehead against the back of your shoulder.

“Missed you too, darlin’.” He murmurs.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[ofmoonlitmagic]

[ rudy pankow | he/him ] Another face is seeking safety in New Orleans. Make sure to welcome BRIGGS MIKAELSON to the home of the resilient. Rumor has it that they are an 24 year old HYBRID (WITCH/WEREWOLF), who is one of the SACRIFICED but we’ll keep that a secret. They are said to be IMPULSIVE, but that’s all a façade to cover up their LOYAL nature. We’ve heard that they can be found listening to FAR FROM HOME by FIVE FINGER DEATH PUNCH, which sums them up pretty well. Let’s hope that they can find a way to survive this harsh new world.

PINTEREST. WANTED. (template cred.)

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄:

𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: briggs mikaelson 𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: b, bri (but mostly just briggs) 𝐀𝐆𝐄: twenty four 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: september 23rd 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐖𝐍: new orleans 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄: new orleans 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: account holder at the bank called mikaelson, occasional pickpocket 𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: chaotic neutral, but trying to be good 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓: tbd.

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂: backwards caps, cloudy moonlit nights, torn pages from old books, combat boots and cargo shorts, closed doors, foggy windows, the smell of burning wood and sage.

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: death tw, child abuse tw, fire tw, murder tw

𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐘:

Briggs lost his mother at a young age, left with very few memories of her and a father who had no control of his temper. The violence escalating as signs of his mother's magic made themselves known, fueled by the emotions rising in the helplessness of his situation. Anger most of all. He is strongest when he's angry, but it makes him volatile...susceptible to repeating the patterns set by his father. Every fight leaving him right at the edge of giving into the urge to take that final victory: the opponent's very life. Both terrifying and invigorating.

One fateful night, the latest rise of his power set the family home ablaze...his chance for escape. Whether his father survived, he still doesn't know nor does he care. He was free.

But he was alone. On the streets of New Orleans, he learned to fend for himself. With untrained powers and a gene pleading to be triggered, Briggs kept often to the shadows. Surviving off what he could take from others without their notice, it wasn't much of a life, but at least he was alive.

Then came Freya and Keelin, taking the teenager into their care. From them, he was able to finally learn more about his witch and werewolf sides and how to control both. At long last, he had solid parental figures.

The last seven years have been his happiest and healthiest, however, it almost made him too trusting. Tricked by a member of a New Orleans's coven who convinced him she would help him save his sister, Gemma, who had been sacrificed three years ago, he was then captured himself, sacrificed, sent to a prison world. His rage stoked anew, he was determined to return to his mothers, his family. Cost was unimportant. Once again, the consequences of his actions have gone without a care to the aftermath.

He is loyal to the Mikaelsons more than any other, especially now. They are the only people he can trust, and there's nothing he won't do for them.

𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍'𝐒: ⭒ He is suspicious that it was his father who killed his mother, the accusation of the crime led to the fight that fateful evening ⭒ Incredibly hot-tempered and careless, his ability to reign in the wolf begging to be released has diminished after his capture ⭒ Even though he was 17 at the time of being taken into Freya and Keelin's care, he won't be told he's not a Mikaelson. He speaks very, very little (if at all) about his biological parents ⭒ One of the "lucky" ones in that he was one of the last captured and sacrificed, losing only about a month, but the betrayal took some of the last scraps of his trust. ⭒ more tbd.

𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

parents: freya mikaelson (adoptive mother), keelin malraux mikaelson (adoptive mother), gideon vaughn (biological father - status unknown), waverley vaughn (biological mother - deceased) relationships: riley shaw (best friend/platonic soulmate), more tbd siblings: nik mikaelson (adoptive brother), ella mikaelson (adoptive sister), gemma mikaelson (adoptive sister), erin mikaelson (adoptive sister) extended family: elijah mikaelson, rebekah mikaelson, klaus mikaelson, kol mikaelson, hope mikaelson, hayley marshall, luna mikaelson, artemis azarov mikaelson wanted: found here

[independentzaun]

Hey Silco, you say your goal is to make Zaun a better place, but it seems like people just know you as the drug lord of Shimmer, what are some things you do to help better Zaun that people wouldn’t really think of? It’s no secret that place is very polluted, do you do anything to help with that, like try and keep pollutants from your factories to a minimum?

((I was working on drafts but I saw this, and had to respond. Content warnings for murder, police brutality, and anti piltover sentiment))

Looking down at the person who had just accosted him on the street Silco let out a long soft sigh. “You must be from Piltover because it’s only you people that only know me as either the Industrialist Silco, or now after the new Sheriff’s interference the drug lord.” For a long moment he stared at the other person considering what to do before nodding. “Walk with me.” This one single time he would indulge someone’s curiosity about the matter.

It was about a block before he spoke, and nodded towards a teenager running down the street with a prosthetic leg from the knee down that had a glow of shimmer running along it. “Scratch, he’s called that because for the first four months with that leg he was constantly scratching at the healing spot. Leaving aside the simple fact that Piltover doesn’t have any technology that can allow him to walk so easily once more do you know why he has it?” Glancing down for a moment Silco raised an eye than shook his head.

“I didn’t think so. There was a protest a few years ago. Piltover refusing to allow us more trade opportunities, or the opportunity to enlarge our Airship dock. He was twelve perhaps. Wasn’t actually in the protest at all, but he was curious and watching from an open window. An enforcer for one reason or another fired what they claimed to be a “less-lethal round”, I won’t dignify those things with the term nonlethal towards his building. It destroyed his knee, and his parents had to make a choice. A child that would never again be comfortable, and able to move around decently which is important here in Zaun or a prosthetic leg. They chose the leg that is powered by shimmer, and helps it connect with his nerves. He’s not high, or even particularly affected by the shimmer other than it helps make his leg actually his.”

Turning down a side street Silco continued walking, and nodded towards a line of street vendors. “There was a time when that would have been nearly unthinkable. Enforcers shoving stalls over, and demanding bribes and chasing away Zaunites that wanted to offer goods at a decent price so they could let some Uptowner come down and sell things at twice the cost. I keep the vendors, and merchants able to ply their trade with a minimum of fuss. I don’t even make them pay “protection money” or any such thing. Instead there’s an insurance fund for when a stall burns down, or a family member dies or other similar problems arise that for the record I don’t touch. They took the idea from the old mining guilds, and unions. All I do is ensure that the area they work in is kept free of interference, and them having more money means more money comes into the Last Drop or other businesses I have an interest in.”

Spotting a particular person with a mask that was almost full face Silco motioned towards them. “They have a lung disorder. Just the mask alone on a shipping trip from what I was told however would have left them incapacitated for three days, and they barely managed to make enough money to get by. There’s a warming tonic now that uses a bit of shimmer as an ingredient. Not a lot, but a bit. Helps with blood flow and something about that gets them more oxygen? I’m no doctor, but it works. Now they go shopping with little issue, and can still do other things afterwards. Would you like to know what they do?”

Not waiting for an answer Silco turned off the side street heading towards the docks. “They tell stories. To children, from books. It’s something I can respect. Fighting against your own body as it tries to prevent you from getting enough air to speak, and doing what you want anyways. Entertaining the sons and daughters of Zaun.” Eyes flickering towards the person with them Silco offered a mirthless smile.

“Ah, I forgot. Merely a drug lord. Yes? Regardless of how the product is used, or anything else I do? How fascinating to be demonized as just a drug lord. I wonder if that has anything to do with the fact that they consider Zaunites animals, and only ever use the Shimmer I sell them for entertainment refusing to acknowledge anything else about it. Perhaps one day you might consider how many medications in Piltover when taken in a different way, or a higher dose would be just for entertainment but no one regards the makers and sellers of those so poorly. Besides even if they were just for entertainment what would be the harm in that? Why does your society so poorly regard a persons ability to make themselves happy for a short while? That’s not even beginning to speak of the issues caused by how many people feel utterly hopeless due to circumstances beyond their control, and how Piltover’s greed and tyranny stomping down on Zaun’s throat over and over again have only made that worse.”

Guiding them down to the docks Silco waved at the water, and the fishers plying their trade. Nets, harpoons, boats going out and coming back in with a steady bustle of activity. “This is how Zaun feeds itself mostly. We use other things as additives of course, but a large portion of our diet comes from the water. I also ensure there’s a steady import of rice, beans, sausage, and cheap spices so that there can be a bit more variety. Alas I can’t arrange much in the way of steaks and the like because most people here couldn’t afford it, but I do ensure a certain degree of food is present. Giving credit where credit is do Vander tried reaching out to people to arrange a similar deal, but he simply didn’t have the money to buy in bulk sufficient to accomplish much. I do, and so Zaun’s population has grown a bit and although there are a few more addicts with various issues as a result most people are better fed.”

Waving for them to follow him Silco continued off the docks and down slowly towards the river itself. “So you see Piltover knows me as the Industrialist Silco. One of the very few Zaunites with enough money that they acknowledge me in any way although they inevitably reduce me down to a simple concept. Industrialist. Drug dealer. Monster. It doesn’t matter that shimmer, which you have no idea how it’s produced so I’m not going to bother answering your question about pollution, is as much a life saving medication as anything else, or that with me Zaun is more stable than it has been in decades, or that food is coming in, or that trade has been slowly but steadily increasing. What matters…” Getting to the river itself Silco tilted his head, and reached out placing a hand on the person’s shoulder. “Is that they refuse to see anything good about Zaun, or coming from Zaun. Because if there was anything good from here that’d mean they had done something bad, and they can’t accept that. So instead they fear us, and since right now I am one of the most well known ones that fear is pushed onto me.”

Looking out onto the water Silco took a deep breath. “They made me, and they made Zaun. They fear what they’ve created because they can only imagine one thing. That we want retribution as that’s what they would desire, and that limitation of imagination ensures they will never understand us. You see we just want the opportunity to prosper without Piltover’s constant interference. We have docks out to the water, we have an airship dock that if widened would provide us with a full size space to export goods to another city-state or country, and we have goods to sell be it medicine or prosthetic’s or any other manner of things… and I’m here to ensure that some day that will happen. Some day everything I’ve done will come together, and create something more magnificent than anything Piltover could ever imagine. Some day we will be what Piltover fears most of all. Independent, and prosperous proving them wrong that we are just animals to be crushed down into the darkness and left like mushrooms squatting on decay and refuge.” Patting at the persons shoulder Silco stepped around them.

“Of course since all they understand is fear, and punishment that’s all I can offer them. Even Jayce for all his vaunted “kindness and understanding” strolled into our city and killed one of our children and then afterwards told me we’d loose a war. Imagine that. Telling me that we’d loose after such a magnificent feat. He wasn’t content with killing one, but wanted to imprison another. My daughter, Jinx. I offered myself in her place, and he said no. He didn’t ask for chem-barons with power, and influence. He asked for a child who had defended her home. That is what Piltover is, and so despite the good I do in this city all they will ever see is darkness and monsters because that is what they are deep in their own souls. So I’ll reflect that, and teach them what fear is. Of course…” A deep breath came from Silco. “That means none of them can ever know any of this, friend.” Suddenly his hand moved and a knife was between the ribs of the person who he had explained so much to. A soft quiet gasp, and a shiver of a body feeling vital organs ruined with an expertly placed stab before a splash was heard of that same body falling face down into the water. Sniffing Silco wiped off his blade, and sheathed it. A cigarette lit, and he waved towards the body. “Good talk.” Turning Silco headed back up into Zaun humming softly to himself as he went.

“I believe that we'll conceive To make in hell for us a heaven A brave new world A promised land A fortitude of hearts and minds Until I see this kingdom is mine I'll turn the darkness into light I'll guide the blind My will be done until the day I see this kingdom has been won No more the servants of the weak.”

[motocross4ulimited]

Purchase Revvi children's electric bicycle

It's no secret that most motorcyclists would like their kids to emulate their example with regards to a passion for bikes. All things considered, perhaps not all, but I realize I do! I also know that my four-year-old little girl, Bella, is as remarkable a bike fan as any of my fully developed biker friends.

So, whenever the opportunity arose to test Revvi's electric bike, we both seized the opportunity. We have had the bike for around 90 days now, and at whatever point the weather conditions are great, it's her first-decision thing to play with, whether we're in the nursery or making the rounds.

Assembly

The Revvi comes in an almost ready-to-run state in the container. All tools are included to assemble the bike (I figured out how to twist the spanner!) and the instructions are refreshingly clear and easy to understand. The form required about 30 minutes, and afterward, the bike was all set. The battery was almost full, so in the event that you purchased this as a present for your kid, they could assist you with building it and riding it straight away.

Power and force

The Revvi is fueled by a 250-watt DC engine. The engine is bounty strong enough for Bella and took some getting used as well. To start, she would open the choke as far as possible, sending him down the nursery. It required two or three hours for her to gain proficiency with the dim specialty of choke control, and she can now move the bike more precisely than I can!

Speed Control

The Revvi has two speeds: high, which is around 12 mph (or a quick run if you're trying to keep up!). and low, which is around 5 mph and means you can easily keep pace while strolling briskly. To modify the speed, you need to hang the bike over and find the small opening on the underside of the bike. Assuming you put your finger inside, you will feel a small switch that changes the speed. It's truly a fiddle to get at, which is great because it means that Bella can't inadvertently adjust the speed herself.

Taking care of, suspension, chassis and weight

One way Revvi has kept the cost of this bike down is through its chassis and fork set-up. The Revvi is a "solid edge," meaning it doesn't have convoluted suspension parts and swingarms, which add weight and cost. That said, the Revvi does not seem to have a financial plan. I have had a decent look around underneath the panels and found the nature of the relative multitude of parts used, from the edge to the electrics, to be exceptionally high.

For More Info:-

Revvi electric balance bike for sale

New Ray Eli Tomac toy model bike

[kirain]

Your healthcare isn't free you stupid fucking canuck! You pay for it with your taxes! We don't! 🇺🇸

I don't know why so many Americans throw this out there like it's some big secret we aren't aware of. We know it's funded by our taxes. When we say "free", we mean we don't have to worry about walking out of the hospital with a $900,000 bill after giving birth or paying $40 to hold our newborn after a c-section. It's "free" in the sense that anyone and everyone is entitled to good healthcare and can visit the hospital whenever they need to.

That said, I'm not going to pretend I know everything about American taxation, but I do know you pay for your healthcare via insurance. Meaning if someone doesn't have a good plan or make decent money, they're screwed. In Canada, that doesn't happen. For example, when my dad was diagnosed with cancer, he needed multiple treatments and surgeries for four long years. Want to know how much those treatments cost him? $0. The only thing any of us had to pay for was the $7 parking fee when we went to visit him at the hospital.

In contrast, I personally know Americans who have, sadly, had to file for bankruptcy because of their cancer treatments. I know an American construction worker who lost three of his fingers on a job, but because his insurance didn't cover the full cost of reattaching all of them, the doctors actually made him choose which one to save. Imagine having to do that. In the end, he chose to save his middle finger and lose his ring and pinky finger. I know an American who got stuck with a $50,000 hospital bill because he had a heart attack. I know Americans who have tried to ration their INSULIN because they were worried about their next payment.

I remember when this made the news, everyone was acting like it was "cute". It's not fucking cute, it's dystopian as hell! A seven-year-old American girl who needed brain surgery raised her own money and relied on donations because her mother's insurance didn't cover the cost. Are you insane? This isn't "cute". This shouldn't be celebrated. She shouldn't have had to worry about this. She is a child who was dying.

I also don't understand why so many Americans seem to think our taxes are astronomical, when in reality you actually pay more taxes than we do. From what I understand, the max tax in America is 37%. For us, the max is 33%. That max also only applies if you make over $200,000 a year. Most people pay between 15-20.5% in taxes. I certainly don't pay 33%. I don't know anybody who does. So you pay taxes plus insurance. Granted you can claim more at the end of the year, but honestly ... so? America spends more on healthcare as a share of the economy (nearly twice as much as the average OECD country) yet it has the lowest life expectancy and highest suicide rates among the eleven nations. You also have the highest chronic disease burden and an obesity rate that is two times higher than the OECD average. Thanks, but I don't mind claiming less on my taxes.

So now the argument is, "Why should I have to pay for someone else's healthcare?!" I hear this one a lot once we reach this point. Putting aside the fact that you can barely pay for your own, it's a benefit for the country as a whole. There's nothing wrong with being individualistic, but no country is truly individualistic. We all rely on each other to keep the country afloat. Not only that, but what's wrong with helping your fellow man? And if you really are that selfish, just remember that free healthcare benefits YOU as well. Like when my dad got cancer, like when my sister almost died from a childhood fever, like when I came out backwards and jaundiced when I was born and had to be incubated for several days. The money pooled from all of our taxes makes sure we're all taken care of.

The other argument I hear at this point is wait times. I admit that for a while I believed this one, but as it turns out American and Canadian wait times are almost exactly the same. The average ER wait time in America is anywhere from 40 minutes to 4 hours. In Canada, it's anywhere from one hour to 6 hours. Not that much of a discrepancy, and I've personally never had to wait anywhere near 6 hours. I think the most I ever waited was four hours when I dislocated my toe. As for the claim that Canadians run to America en masse for specialists? Well, that's quite simply a myth. While there are indeed some Canadians who do that, it's mostly the wealthy who feel justified in skipping the line. We also have those services here, where those who are better off can pay out of pocket for private healthcare.

Now to throw a big monkey wrench into the works, probably the most shocking statistic is that Americans actually flock to Canada for affordable Healthcare. In 2014 (which is the most up-to-date data), roughly 52,000 Canadians went to the US seeking medical care; mostly prescriptions. In contrast, over one million Americans came to Canada. That number doesn't even include how many Americans went to these countries:

Anything you may have heard about Canadian healthcare is just a lie perpetuated by your government because they don't want you to see the benefits of a universal healthcare system. And not even just Canadian healthcare--the same system is used in the UK, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Switzerland, France, Norway, Denmark, Japan, the Netherlands, Iceland, New Zealand, etc. I'm not saying it's flawless, there are certainly aspects that can be improved, but I'll take it any day over the mess you have going on. 🇨🇦

No. In all honesty, this isn't about what country is "better". I have many American friends that I love and care about, and I would very much like to see them have access to free, sufficient healthcare.

[buckybarnesdiaries]

longing, rusted, seventeen, daybreak, furnace, nine, benign, homecoming, one, freight car

© mine.

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Bucky is kidnapped by Hydra to reactivate the Winter Soldier.

word count: 2.924 words. it worth it, i promise!!!

warnings/tags: none. angst as hell mostly. but it has a happy ending.

author notes: i don't speak russian, but i haven't used google translate either, so no worries. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

join the tag list NEW!!! here.

No. It couldn't be possible. It had to be part of a terrible nightmare. Bucky couldn't have been kidnapped by Hydra again.

You didn't know what to expect in the ship flying to the secret location of the organization. For Stark, it didn't take more than a couple of minutes to track the arm down, since Shuri put a small monitor on it when the soldier stayed in Wakanda. She never told it, wanting to use it in some kind of circumstance like the one you all were going through now. And you couldn't be more grateful, but it didn't help to make you feel better.

You were sitting close to the back hatch. Back rested against the metallic wall and legs curled to your chest. Nothing inside your head more than the hallucination of a pair of blue eyes staring at you. Blaming yourself was something you couldn't avoid. You should have been with him, by his side, protecting him as many times you promised him. But in fact, you just failed him. You failed his trust, his love. You let them take him. Only God knew which torture Hydra was putting him under, while you were there, lamenting.

You didn't even notice Steve's presence squatting next to you until he placed a hand on your shoulder. Then, you raised your face towards him. He was suffering too. In the end, Bucky was his long-life friend, his big brother. He lost him once and felt like he was going to lose him twice. Although this time was different. You were carrying the dispositive that could put to sleep back the winter soldier, but, at what cost?

“Buck got you now. Everything is gonn—”. He spoke in plural, referring to your last night's talk.

“How could you be so calm, Steve? How do you do it?” You whispered through your trembling lips, about to break in crying.

“Because he needs us focused, not distracted”.

He was wise. Captain America was wiser than anyone in that ship. He curled the left corner of his lips up, trying to make you feel good, trying to transmit you the encouragement you needed to not give up. And he did, more or less. You had to fight harder than ever. For Bucky, and only for Bucky. That's why you didn't hesitate on jumping out from the ship when it landed on the cold hard ground, as the freezing weather hit you on the face.

Following the plan, you ran quietly to the back door hidden under a huge layer of snow. Shaking part of it with the palm of your hand, you placed the device with technology from Wakanda on the locker. Not later than fifteen seconds, it deciphered the code to open the hatch. Once in position, the Avengers followed you downstairs. The passage was empty and silent. The only sound that broke it was a couple of rats running away from your presence. You all had studied the plans of the building, mostly underground, remembering exactly where you had to go.

The coast was clear, that was the reason why you all were so confused. You were expecting to find more than a dozen of agents, but when T'Challa enunciated through your earwigs that he only located two heat spots, you couldn't believe it. How only one man kidnapped the most fearless assassin up to now? Tortuous and bitter screams dragged you back to reality, causing your brain to react to make your legs run faster than ever in your whole damn life. You knew by heart that voice beneath all the pain.

Your skin bristled when your gaze landed on that chair of horrors, connected to an enormous power source. Bucky was sitting there against his want.

“... добросердечный… возвращение на родину… один…”

“STOP IT”. Steve yelled.

Huge mistake. You were aware of it when —yes— that man stopped reciting the Russian words to re-activate the Winter Soldier, but only enough time to push a red button near to him and close the heavy door in front of you. Everything happened in the blink of an eye. At the moment you glimpsed Steve’s shield sliding above the floor, straight to the inside of the room where Bucky was being tortured, you followed the same way. Never in your life, you were this fast. Like a lightning bolt, you snaked yourself under the small distance between the door and the ground before being closed. Now, it was you, that man and the soldier.

“You’re late…” He mocked with an awful American accent, under James crying out loud in pain. “грузовой ваг—”.

Your left hand moved quickly to unholster your gun and shoot him. One… Two… Three… Four bullets right to his head. The man fell dead before he couldn’t complete the command. You didn’t lose time, running to the controls to try to turn that machine off. But it was impossible. Even if you knew Tony could do it, there wasn’t signal inside those large and wide walls made of steel reinforced. You were in one of those abandoned soviet bunkers, that could save you from Armageddon. You were inhaling and exhaling so fast that your lungs never got really full, trying to focus, trying to shut every single noise around up. Trying to think of a plan b. But it was your heart who pushed you to act and not your brain. Grabbing Steve’s shield, you aimed for the energy source before tossing it like a damn frisbee.

That thing blew up, turning off any kind of light and dispositive around, as the sparks and the cables decorated your surroundings. Just like the fire that started to burn down a pile of boxes with different documents of Hydra. But that wasn't why you were impatient. Catching the shield when it came back to you, your legs moved immediately to Bucky, still stirring on his seat for a few seconds else. Then, he simply stopped shaking. Her eyes were wide opened. Reddened, in tears. His chest rose and fell violently. His heart was racing. And you could see the trauma taking control over his body in holy silence.

You didn't doubt removing the protection from his mouth along the restraints keeping him on the chair. Your fingers trembled like never before, not having any more time to lose. Probably, the Avengers would be trying to open the door when the emergency red lights illuminated the bunker, producing a loud alarm sound to indicate that something was going wrong inside the facilities.

“C'mon, Buck… C'mon, we have to leave”. You told him, trying to help him to stand up.

But as soon as your hand was about to land on his arm of vibranium, the five cold digits got closed around your throat. Soon, the lack of air for you was more than evident. He got up on his own, not needing you to do it. The ocean blue in his eyes turned into a dark storm. There wasn't any gesture on his face, more than his jaw clenching, pressing his teeth together. That wasn't Bucky —your Bucky—, but the unstable trained assassin Hydra turned him in. You could barely gulp saliva, gripping his metallic wrist with both of your hands to try to stop him from murdering you.

He couldn't. He couldn't kill you. His strength was suffocating you with no mercy, though.

For a moment, you felt too weak to fight, seeing everything around you getting blurred and darker. Blacking out. But there was something inside you, a sweet tone of voice calling your name. A male voice. Your eyelids rolled down bit by bit, wanting to concentrate on that honeyed sound being closer and closer.

“любить”.

The sore whisper left your lips. Love. The first time Bucky told you about love came to your mind. He told you about his family. George, Winnifred, Rebecca. He told you how much he desired to have a family of his own. To be loved.

“новый”.

Your almost dead fingers traced the form of his new arm made in Wakanda when you felt him lifting you from the floor, being suspended on air.

“сороковых годов”.

Trying to keep a firm tone of voice as much as the pressure let you, the Russian words were spat to the confused soldier, who wasn't understanding what you were doing. The forties changed his life. He was sent to war and, lately, captured by HYDRA. It was something he'd never forget, part of his DNA.

“заката”.

You didn't know what the hell your subconscious was doing either till that precise instant. You were reprogramming him. You were using his own memories to reset his wiped brain from them. Dusk. The first night he spent in Wakanda, Bucky was terrified. But you stayed with him. You comforted him by saying that everything was going to be okay, that his life would be different. That he was safe. That he was at home.

“лето”.

His last night of summer in that kingdom, Bucky took you to his favorite place between the woods, wanting to show you the fireflies fluttering in the middle of the gloom. He used to walk there whenever he woke up from a nightmare. Those small insects used to make him feel better for some reason he didn't comprehend. Until he saw their light reflecting on your amazed orbs. Bucky knew then he was in love with you. Besides his long-life friend, the only person who never judged him, who never ran away from him. The same person that now was dying under his fingers.

“шесть”

Six years took him to be Bucky, after his last war, after the last effort, after the last jump. He was a new man. You made him a new man. A good one. You guided him through the right way. You helped him to get used to the twenty-one century. You accompanied him to therapy and stayed in the waiting room every single session until he finished.

“заткнуться”.

The soldier ordered you to shut up, earning quite the opposite when you knew it was sorting some kind of effect on him, as soon as you felt some relief by the grip loosening around your throat and your tiptoes touching the ground. Little by little, you opened your eyes again, gluing them on the blue ones fixed on you.

“боец”.

He wasn't a super soldier, he was a fighter. He spent the last six years of his life fighting for it, fighting for ruling his existence, fighting for being pardoned for crimes he didn't want to commit, fighting for your love. Bucky furrowed swallowing, allowing you to place your feet on the floor.

“Бруклин”.

And when he demonstrated to the world that he was no longer the Winter Soldier, but James Bucky Barnes, he moved to his birthplace. Brooklyn. You and he rented an apartment together when you both learned that you couldn't live apart. That you were made for each other.

“Отец…”

A tear ran down your cheek, slowly moving your left hand to his free one. A shiver toured his backbone when he felt your warm touch holding his hand and, even if his cold fingers were still around your throat, the soldier bowed his head to follow the connection between the two of you. His flesh hand landed on your stomach, pressing it under yours, trying to transmit to him the news about your pregnancy status. Bucky was going to be a father. You were going to build a family as he always wished.

“Свобода”.

As the sob escaped your soul, his hand made of vibranium released your neck. Freedom was what he got after all those years.

Bucky was free.

His hold was the only thing that kept you on your feet, pining to the cold hard ground, as well as you trying to fill your lungs with the heavy air around you because of the dense smoke coming from the flames burning down that damn place. You watched Bucky picking the shield close to you, probably believing it could be easier to kill you with it than with his own hands. Your arms automatically wrapped your abdomen, as if you could protect your unborn child from that horror, crying James' name to remember you.

“James… James…”

You weren't able to stop whining, feeling a heavy sorrow under your chest, covering your vitals organs. The noisy sound from the bunker was suddenly turned into a constant beep, beep, beep that caused you to frown yet keeping your eyes closed. You called him once and again until a warm hand laced his fingers with you. Peace invaded you eventually, after a fond squeeze around your skin followed by a pair of rough lips pressed on your forehead. You let yourself go, not finding any strength inside your heart to continue awake.

The next time you opened your eyes, you needed a moment to adjust your gaze to the sunlight. Purring feeling more comfortable than before, you rolled on your stomach, sinking your nose into the large pillow. Bucky's scent was like a punch of reality. Your eyes snapped open as your pulse increased, starting to panic. Sitting up, your orbs moved quickly all around the room you recognized instantly. It was your dorm in the Compound, the one you used to share with your boyfriend —and the father of your child. It was empty. No trace of James anywhere. You tossed away the oxygen mask and the sheets covering your stiff anatomy, getting up from the bed. Another huge mistake.

Everything spun around you, feeling strong dizziness hitting your head, having to sit down for a second. But as soon as you felt recovered, you stood up again walking straight to the main door to step out. The hallway was deserted, hearing some voices coming from the meeting room. You followed them slowly, finding balance with your palm against the walls. Sam was the first one noticing your presence, coming faster to help you.

“James… James…” You mumbled, not really sure about when you started to sob again, whilst your muscles got tense with every syllable.

“He's okay, he's okay, take it easy, girl”. He tried to calm you as Steve reached you to bring you to the closest chair.

“We don't know what you did… but even if that man introduced the commands again… you turned it off”. Natasha spoke this time.

“I re— I repro— reprogramed him”.

The confusion was more than evident between the Avengers present in the room. But no one of them had the need to ask how. The spy taught you Russian in your free time, you weren't a fluent speaker, but it was enough to have a chat. Even so, you weren't going to say the words you used. You weren't going to make Bucky go through another wipe. If they worked, you'd make sure that he'd hear them when the occasion required it.

“I wan— wanna see him… please”. You cried covering your face with both hands, desolated after the hell of the situation you had to live.

“He's resting”. Steve informed you, squatting close and placing a hand on your right thigh to gently caress it. “And you should do the same. For your baby”.

“There's no way you're gonna stop me from seeing him”. You replied, raising your head and looking at him through your eyelids. Silently pleading.

He snorted, convinced that you wouldn't change your mind. Nodding two times with his head, he stood up and offered you a hand to hold it and help you to walk. Steve guided you through upstairs, following your pace step by step —he could have carried you onto his arms, but he wasn't sure if he could hurt you accidentally. You were too weak, barely breathing properly because of all the smoke you swollen inside the bunker. Although you started to feel somewhat erratic and excited as you were coming to Bucky's old dorm.

Steve opened the door for you, letting you walk inside before closing it behind your back. Your boyfriend was peacefully sleeping under the sheets. There were some scars on his face, already healed but yet seeming painful. The only explanation you found to be there was that Bucky used the shield to open the door and take you out of the bunker. A theory that made more sense when you noticed that he hadn't his prosthesis and his shoulder was covered by a thin black microfiber.

You headed to the bed, tucking in to wrap his warm and heavy body between your arms. At the moment he felt you, he embraced you as better as he could, not opening his eyes but shedding a tear. His lips started to tremble as you pecked them, previous to hiding his face into your neck.

“I'm so sorry…” Bucky sobbed, causing your whole anatomy to shudder because of the sorrow in his voice.

“We're gonna be okay, my love… You, me, our baby… Our family”.

His crying increased after those two words, caressing his back slowly to comfort him somehow. You knew that this recovery would be hard and painful, being conscious of how close he had been to end with your life. He didn't want to do it, nobody could deny it. You were everything he had, everything he always wished for deep inside his soul and heart. And the acknowledgment of having a baby with you only provoked him to feel guiltier.

But as you said so, everything was going to be okay.

feedback is appreciated, please, leave a comment to let me know if you liked it.

and REBLOG!!!

support the writers 🤍

tag list: @whatrambles @cleopatra12345 @phoenixhalliwell @homesicam @marvel-diaries @amelia-song-pond @heartbeats-wildly @met4no1a @weenersoldierr @petlaufeyson @sillygamingartghost @wildflowergubler @isnt-it-loverly @zealouspursecowboydeputy @rvgrsbrns @artisancowbells @plagooey @tinylumpiaa @hemsbucky @bxmaaa @quxxnxfhxll @soldierstucky @knowyourworth-sellyoursoul @hateinthemorning @asemistablehundredyearoldman @purpleelfwizard @twinerd14 @meg4n_hughe5 @nikkixostan @stolenxkissess @wintersfilm @whoreforsamwilson @thatcrackheadsadbitchtm @shinynewboots @baconmuffins1216 @28cnn @hxlyhoax

** the @ crossed out is because tumblr doesn't let me tag you, but you can activate notifications for when i post any writing!

[dreamescapeswriting]

Unrequited Love ~ HHJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

PAIRING: Hyunjin x GN!Reader (If there are any mistakes please tell me so I can change them 🥰♥)

Terms: Mx - Used as a replacement for Mr/Mrs/Sir/Ma’am

GENRE: AU, Hanahkai AU, friends to lovers, angst, fluffy, pining, 

A/N: You guys know how much I love AU’s so I had so much fun with this!! 

Hanahkai Disease: This is a fictional disease where the victim coughs up flower petals when they’re in one-sided love. It ends when the love returns (Can’t be a strong friendship, only romantic feelings) or the victim will die. The disease can be surgically removed but the feelings for the crush will be gone.

Unrequited love. Something that had been written about in all forms for almost 5500 years. There were always the stories of the person finally getting the one they truly wanted. Beating the Unrequited love and overcoming everything to be with the one you loved. This would be fine and dandy if you had a normal crush on someone and weren't like Hyunjin.

Hyunjin had something different about him, something that he'd never heard about until he'd been online researching for hours. Hanahkai Disease. Besides all of the troll accounts talking about how the disease wasn't "real" there were so many other articles and medical documents to back it up. The one thing that stuck out to Hyunjin the most about it all was that it could kill him. From anywhere from 2-3 weeks or 18 months. Being told you had anywhere between 2-3 weeks and 18 months to live was never anything good.

All of this because he had a stupid crush on somebody. His lungs were filled with roses that would gradually get bigger until they rendered his breathing useless. All he could do whenever he thought about his crush or even spoke to her for too long was cough up flowers into his hands or if he could make it, a bathroom.

"What's on your mind? You've got that weird look in your eyes." Your voice broke Hyunjin out of his daydream and he turned to look at you. Blushing a little as he realises he was spacing out in the middle of your study date. 

The two of you were sitting in the back of the college library trying to cram for an upcoming test but his mind was elsewhere. What was the point in studying when he knew he was going to die? There was no way Sooyoung was going to like him back. 

Waving your hand in front of his face again he looked at you nervously. There was clearly something bothering him and it wasn't the study material. Hyunjin could take this test four times over in his sleep if he really wanted to.

"I want to tell you something but you have to promise me that you won't laugh." Putting your pen down on the table you looked at him. 

Whatever it was, was clearly serious. Hyunjin had never been so serious about something before and you'd known him almost your whole life. 

The pair of you had been best friends since you moved to his neighbourhood when you were six. Growing up together, going to the same schools until you both attended the same college.

"What is it?" You questioned softly as he looked at you. The idea of telling you about the disease toying in his head. The fact that he had been dealing with this alone for the last three months was beginning to bother him and he knew he could tell you anything.

There wasn't a single thing in the world that you would ever judge him for. You were the one person he knew he could count on for anything and the same was for you with him.

"Have you heard of Hanahkai disesase?" The name rang a bell and you began to think about it.

"I think-"

"The rare disease that some people get when they're in one-sided love?" You nodded at him. You'd heard about it a lot. Super rare, hardly heard of really. Doctors had done all of the research that they could on it. It could be surgically removed but it all risked permanent damage to the lungs and it would cost forgetting the person you were in love with altogether,

"I have it," The world seemed to stop spinning as you stared at your best friend. Laughing a little you shook your head, there was no way he had it. 

"What do you mean you have it?" You questioned a little harshly as you stared at him. All thoughts of studying going out of your head as you stared at your best friend.

"I mean, I have it. What else could that mean?" He snapped a little angrily at you, you leant back against the chair shaking your head. Letting it sink in that he had this disease as well as was in love with someone and hadn't told you about it. 

The two of you told each other everything.

Or so you thought. Why hadn’t he told you he was in love with someone? Or that he suffered from this in the first place? When did the two of you begin to keep secrets from one another?

"You can't...I mean who do you have a crush on?" Racking your brain you tried to think of someone Hyunjin had mentioned even briefly but there was nothing. Nothing and no one that you could think of that he would have a crush on.

"Sooyoung," 

"Sooyoung?" You looked behind him down a couple of tables to see her sitting there. 

Sitting at one of the rounded tables as she did nothing but brush her hair and look pretty. There was no denying that she was gorgeous but you never thought Hyunjin would go for someone like her.

Someone so perfect.

Jet black hair perfectly straight, wearing designer clothes and always had boys surrounded her. Waiting on her hands and knees as if she was some kind of queen. The whole college seemed to fall in love with her. 

"Sooyoung?" You questioned again, a little more unimpressed this time. Hyunjin could already tell you hated the fact that it was Sooyoung of all people and so did he. It wasn't as if he wanted to feel this way about her.

"I'm telling you because I want your help," Help? What did he want you to do? Go up and tell her that if she didn't love him back your best friend was going to die?

"What am I meant to do?" You questioned leaning forward a little to see what his plan was for all of this.

"You're good at this, tell me what girls like." You blinked at him

"What on earth makes you think I'm good at this? I know what girls like but Sooyoung isn't like every other girl...She's a different breed." The woman had exquisite taste and clearly liked things differently from those around her.

"Will you help me at least get her attention," Smirking at him you nodded. Getting her attention was going to be easy enough.

"Sure." Picking up the rubber from the table you launched it across the room hitting one of the boys in the head before it dropped down in front of Sooyoung. 

Gasping a little she looked down at it and then around the room to figure out who had thrown it but you'd already turned to Hyunjin.

"Fetch." You mumbled to him watching as he glared at you. 

Oh if looks could kill. 

"Sorry, my friend is stressed." He whispered as he bent down in front of Sooyoung. Their eyes locking as she giggled at him, reaching down to touch his long dark-brown hair. It was always the hair that people fell in love with first. Smirking a little you were glad you had french-braided one side and put it into a ponytail.  

"Cute," She whispered as she twirled a strand of his hair around her delicate fingers. Instantly Hyunjin felt his throat beginning to clog up with petals so he smiled before calmly walking to the door. Frowning as you watched him you waited to see what he was doing. Before you could even get up he was racing down the corridors to find the nearest bathroom.

"Sorry, he's a little shy...Here," You scrambled to write down his number on a random post-it and gave it to Sooyoung. Her eyes were wide as she looked from you to the door, 

"Shy? Around me?" You nodded gently ignoring the weird looks you were gaining from the boys around her. 

"I'll text him," She whispered as she began punching the numbers into her phone.

Hurrying after Hyunjin you stood outside the bathroom looking at him as you held your bag and his. The colour had drained from his face as he stood there. Hair messy and petals were strewn about all over the place.

"Here," You reached up to take a petal out of his hair and smiled sadly at him. The last thing you ever wanted was for Hyunjin to be in pain. You knew how badly this thing could be. 

"I'll help you...She has your number," You nudged him softly and he began to blush a little as he looked at you. He was thankful he had you to help him through all of this.

"Thank you," He breathed out bringing you into a tight hug as you whined that he was hurting you. 

"We can go to my dorm, I'll do your hair and we can begin planning how to get the girl to love you back." You promised him as he wrapped his arm around your shoulder beginning to walk with you towards the exit of the campus.

"First things first you're going to have to talk to her without...Coughing up flowers in front of her..." Turning to look at him from the other side of your dorm room you raised an eyebrow. You didn't know the ins and outs of how it all worked so you were going to need his help with it all.

"Is there a way you can control it?" He shrugged his shoulders as he sat on the floor against your bed. There wasn't much he knew about it either. He'd never tried to control it, all he knew was when he was around her his lungs filled with rose petals until he coughed them up. Even when he thought about her too hard it could sometimes bring some flowers up.

"I'm not sure," He whispered playing with the teddy he'd gotten you for your birthday while you began writing down on a large whiteboard on your wall. 

Learn to control coughing up. You were going to treat this as though it was some kind of study material. Have all of the facts laid out in front of you before you tried to find a solution to it.

"We need to learn what her favourite flowers are, what snacks she likes, then you're going to slowly woo her." Hyunjin stared up at you with a raised eyebrow. Not believing for one second that he had just heard you use the term "woo her".

"Woo her? What are we? 91?" He mumbled sarcastically only for a chocolate button to be thrown against his head. Your aim was impeccable. 

"Did you or did you not want my help?" You questioned as you stared over at him. Hand resting on your hip as you tilted your head to the side.

"Yes, Mx!" He fake saluted watching as you began to write her name, getting ready to list things she did and didn't like underneath it. Hyunjin thought back on all of the times he'd seen her getting gifts from people. Remembering the way she reacted to each of them.

"She likes sunflowers and roses together, I've seen her get them from one of the jocks before a game." He looked up at you.

"Sunflowers and roses," You mumbled as you wrote them on the board in green ink.

"We can get some from the store tomorrow morning." You told him as you turned to look at him. The thought of losing your best friend to something like this was eating you up inside but you were going to be strong for him. 

The look on his face made you feel bad about teasing him earlier in the day. All he wanted to do was get help and you had been a little mean about it.

"I promise I'll do everything I can Hyunjin." You said sweetly as you walked over to the bed, sitting behind him on the bed as he sat on the floor. You ran your fingers through his hair and began to braid it. Something he found extremely relaxing whenever he was stressing too much over something.

"I don't deserve you Y/n." He hummed as you began to french-braid the sides once again before joining them together in a ponytail at the back of his head. Just as it had been that morning when he came to get it done.

"I don't know how I can repay you," He added on as he looked at your whiteboard of information. If anyone came in now it would look as though you were stalking Sooyoung but of course that wasn't what you were doing.

"With food, comics and helping me cram for tests." You told him as you smirked, patting the top of his head as you got up from the bed.

"I'll go and order some pizza...We can talk pick-up lines and dates while we eat." He nodded watching as you left the room leaving him to overthink everything. Groaning when he felt the pressure of the petals begin to build as his thoughts went to Sooyoung.

As time began to progress the only thing that seemed to be happening was Hyunjin was getting worse. It seemed as though no matter what happened with Sooyoung nothing was going to happen. The flower petals began to grow in size and he felt sick almost all of the time.

"Maybe she'll never love me back," He said to you as you sat in a small cafe together. Sharing a plate of chips as you spoke about his date with Sooyoung that he had just gotten back from. He'd taken her ice skating since it was one of her favourite things to do but nothing else happened. They held hands around the ice skating rink and that was all.  

"It can take time," You reminded him, waving a chip in front of his mouth until he took it from you. 

"It's been three months...I have six months to make her fall in love with me." The never-ending ticking time bomb.

"Do-able." You were trying to remain as positive about all of this as possible. You never wanted to lose your best friend. 

"She has too many guys after her. There's no way I can do this Y/n." He put his head down onto the table and you reached around to run your fingers through his hair. Tears beginning to build up in your eyes at the thought of him giving up on this so easily. It wasn't like Hyunjin to just give up on anything.

"Give it a chance Hyunjin...Please." It came out as a beg but you didn't care. There was no way you were going to let your best friend give up on this and accept that some kind of disease was going to kill him. The plea didn't go unnoticed as he looked up at you, eyes bloodshot as he was on the verge of tears. 

He'd been researching the surgery without telling you. Deciding that it was probably easier for him to go through that than try and force somebody into loving him. It was dangerous and irreversible.

"One more month," He mumbled sitting up and back against the booth seat. Laying his head against the wall and looking at you.

"Want to practice date talk?" You questioned. He nodded at you and you smiled before going back into your dating impersonation. The two of you had been doing this whenever you went out to eat or ate at the dorm so that he could get used to it. 

"Come and sit next to me, whenever we eat together she sits beside me." You nodding sliding out of your side of the booth and into his. His arm wrapped around your waist and you seemed to freeze. A weird tightness began to grow in your chest and stomach but you ignored it. Turning to him and feeding him a chip while looking at him. Hyunjin leant down and bit into the chip slowly. It was the first thing he'd eaten all day and he was thankful you were with him to eat with. 

"Talk to me as if I was Sooyoung," You grumbled at him as you looked down at the plate. Suddenly losing all sense of appetite the longer you stared at it. 

One month came and went as though it was on fast-forward. You barely remembered anything that Hyunjin had planned for his time with Sooyoung. All you knew was that he was giving up. Telling you that all of this had been a waste of time for him.

"Hyunjin you can't do this," Your voice heightened as you looked at him. Reaching your hands out to touch him as he began packing up clothes into his bag. The moment he told you that he was going through with the surgery you panicked. There were so many horror stories surrounding the procedure.

"I've already booked it," He mumbled at you, moving away from your grasp to collect more clothes from his wardrobe. 

The two of you were in his dorm room that night when he decided to drop the bomb on you that he was going to have the surgery. 

"It's experimental! Something could go wrong," You whimpered as you stood in front of his wardrobe. Blocking him from getting inside. There was no way you were going to let him go through with something so idiotic that could kill him or leave him with no memories.

"It's worth it to not feel like this! To not die!" He yelled at you as you moved out of the way. Watching him as he began to shove clothes into a bag instead of folding them. There was no way you were going to be able to change his mind but you were going to try. 

"So you're just going to leave? What about exams?" You questioned as you tried not to bring the focus on why you needed him to stay around.

"I don't see a reason for staying, I'll get the surgery and be back in time for exams." He grumbled not looking at you as he reached into the back of his wardrobe for shoes.

"Hyunjin you have five months-" 

"She's in love with someone else! She's dating someone else so there is no help for me. Don't you get that!?" He yelled as he cut you off. Turning to face you, he was red in the fact of anger and his eyes were tearing up. 

Pushing past you he walked towards his bed, putting his bag down as he began to pack his study material up. If he was going to be stuck in a hospital he might as well make the time useful. 

"You think that you're the only person in the world that has that disease?!" You yelled back at him. Not meaning to snap and sound as angry as you did but you had enough.

"I'm not going to sit around and wait for the flowers to kill me." He grumbled keeping his back to you. 

"I'm not saying that! I'm saying give it time...M-maybe you'll fall in love with someone else." You were grasping at straws and he knew that as well as you did.

"You sound pathetic. There is no one else Y/n. There will never be someone else." He said in hushed tones as he flicked through some of his notebooks. Debating to take them with him or not. 

"Never?"

"No. Never," He mumbled at you.

"But I love you," Your chest swelled and you could feel yourself beginning to sweat as you finally told him. 

The months you had been helping him with Sooyoung you had begun to fall more and more in love with him. The fake dates you would have didn't help as you only fell harder for someone you knew would never like you back.

"Yeah but friendship love isn't enough to cure it!" He yelled slamming his book down onto his desk. Taking in deep breathes as he tried to calm himself down. He knew you were trying to help but nothing you had done was working. 

"You asked for my help-"

"Now I'm telling you to back off." He came across so cold you felt as though ice began to run down your back. Your chest burnt as you put off the cough that was itching to come out. Holding your hand over your mouth you let out a tiny cough. Wincing as you felt the petals fall down into your hands. Three white-budding roses sitting in your hand, large enough that you knew you didn't have much time left. Hyunjin didn't even notice you coughing as he rushed to put everything away into a bag.

"Call me when you've decided to get over this." You mumbled as you left his room. Dropping the petals into the bin by his front door before you left.

As Hyunjin was about to leave the dorms he went to through away his rubbish when he saw the flowers. They weren't his since his seemed to be a little more than two petals at the moment. These looked as though they were just beginning to grow larger. None of the boys was home which only meant that they could have been yours,. 

"Y/n." He breathed out as he looked at his phone. Hitting your name to call you but there was no answer. It just rang and rang. 

You stared at the phone while it lit up. There was no use talking to him when he was going to go through with the surgery no matter what.

"Call me when you get this, I need to talk to you." The message rang out as you deleted it. Walking to the kitchen to get something to eat but nothing seemed good to you. Everything you thought about eating made your stomach churn. Nothing had seemed appealing to you for months.

After a few days of staying in your dorm and ignoring Hyunjin, you began to feel the need for fresh air. There was no use in hauling yourself up inside of the dorms all day. You had no idea how much time you had left so you needed to do something with it.

Swinging the door open you almost screamed seeing Hyunjin standing. His hand raised as if he was about to knock on the door right before you answered it. 

"Did you get the surgery?" You questioned harshly as he stared at you. His eyes fixed on your face as he said nothing in response to you.

"Hyunjin?" Instead of responding he grabbed you close to him and kissed you roughly. The breath felt as though it was knocked right out of your chest as you collided with him. Your hands pushing into his long hair as he pushed you into the apartment. Holding you close to him as he ran his fingers up and down your back. Needing to feel every inch of you as close to him as possible. Tears rolled down your cheeks until you both could taste them. 

"H-Hyunjin." You breathed out as you both pulled away only to rest your foreheads on one another. Neither of you wanted to be apart for any longer than you had to be.

"I love you," He breathed out as he held your hand in his, squeezing them softly. 

"I love you too," You hiccuped through the tears, sniffling as little as he pulled you into his chest. Resting his chin on your head as you both stood there together.

 Another month passed both of you scared that the flowers would begin to come up again but they hadn't. Not once had you coughed up a petal, bud or a whole flower. Your appetite had come back and Hyunjin was feeling better than he ever had. The two of you had beaten the Unrequited love and overcoming everything to be with one another. 

Tagline: @minholuvs @taestannie @sw33tnight @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa​ @justbangtanthingz​ @stillwithlix​

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[nmikaelsonimagines]

Just My Type: A Klaus Mikaelson Imagine

Another case of “I’ve had this blog for almost four years and I haven’t written an imagine based on a song by one of my favourite bands.” This time it’s by The Vamps! Hope this is okay for you lovelies, and enjoy x 

Want to hear the song? Find a link to it just below:

Just My Type

M-m-m-m-m-my... more than meets the eye To tell the truth would be a lie I saw her out on Friday night, misunderstood

It was so easy to lose oneself in a kiss, to focus solely on the movement of the person whose lips are against yours, two pieces of a jigsaw finally meeting. 

For Klaus, it was easy to lose himself in the kiss that Y/N gave him, the fabric of her shirt moving under his hand as he trailed it up her body, the way her fingers danced across his jaw line, before sliding into his hair, tugging on his curls, letting him forget the world for just a moment. 

It wasn’t his first kiss, nor would it be his last. But there was something about her, about the electricity that sparked through his veins, the flames on his skin spreading to his heart, that had him seeing things differently. 

To so many, she was nothing more than a pretty face. To him, she was so much more than that, his secret weapon that he knew would be turned on him eventually, that would destroy him just like he knew he would destroy her. 

And yet, he couldn’t run from her, couldn’t bear to let her go. He was waiting for the moment that would inevitably come, the moment when he would snuff out her light forever, the moment that would do the same to him. 

He parted from her, and studied her beauty as she looked at him, breathless.

She's falling for a guy That cigarette, it needs a light Pluck up the courage and invite her nowhere good

Y/N made to kiss him again, playing absentmindedly with his hair. Klaus stepped back, missing the contact as he lost her touch, whispering maybe later as a promise that he knew he would keep. He felt as if he were a fire dwindling out, needing her touch to relight every part of him. 

He would have to wait, knowing that there were more important things at hand. Although, how anything could be more important than Y/N, he still didn’t understand. 

He grabbed her hand, bringing it up to his mouth and brushing his lips against her knuckles. She smiled at him, and it was at that moment Klaus was reminded that she loved him. He hated himself for that, hated that he had let her fall for him, a man that was no good for her. 

He hated that she had made him weak, knowing that he would never survive if she left him now. He remembered that night when he had first met her, feeling nervous for the first time, telling himself over and over that it would be nothing but a single night of passion, wanting it to be so much more. 

A year on, it was more than his promise to himself, but he had still dragged her into a world full of darkness. Y/N was his only light, but he knew that one day she would fade. 

The best thing to do would be to end it before it was too late, something he thought in his saddest moments.

'Cause I need this more than just a one night stand Need that honey when she hold my hand Times like this they call for true romance But she's not ready for that

Klaus made the attempt to push down his thoughts of Y/N, the scenes that plagued him every time he allowed himself to think in such a way. Being in love was a double-edged sword: to want to free her, to save her, but to want her to stay with him, was a battle only he could end. 

He knew what she thought of it all, could still feel her lips against his after she spoke words of staying by his side, of loving him no matter what. 

But still he doubted that he would be able to protect her, feared that he was the difference between bad boys and bad guys, one she hadn’t figured out yet. 

He pushed down those deadly thoughts, wanting nothing more than to intertwine his fingers with hers and take her home. But she was his secret weapon, and tonight, she was needed. The face of Klaus Mikaelson the monster resurfaced as they located their target, the young gentleman who had been bothering her friends. 

Klaus sat, arms folded, as he watched Y/N approach the waste of space that viewed women as nothing more than objects, but not before she threw one last smile his way. He smiled back, knowing he had taught her well but knowing there were things she wasn’t ready for yet.

He wasn’t sure he ever wanted her to be ready for such bloodshed.

She lets me down Then gets me high Oh I don't know why She's just my type

Klaus didn’t let himself get jealous, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew it didn’t mean anything, knew that the sight of Y/N touching that man’s chest was just that, even if the man in question thought it meant he was getting lucky. 

Klaus could hear Y/N’s words, the offer of taking him back to her place sounding appealing. Of course, the man would accept. Klaus had been there, ensnared by such a woman multiple times, captivated by Y/N standing in the doorway of his bedroom, a suggestive smirk on her face. 

It was remarkable what she could do to him, how a single look in her eyes could have him forgetting his doubts. In those moments, she was a predator like him, invincible, and it was only then he felt himself transforming into prey, except, as he rid himself of his clothes, he was happy to go to his death. 

But then there would be that moment after, when her bare form was curled up next to him, when he would be reminded of just how delicate she was, how applying the right amount of strength could have him snapping her neck, ending her existence. 

How others could do so just to get to him. 

It was so like him, to fall for innocents like her, but he didn’t let himself think that she winked at him, walking out of the bar with her arm linked through that of the young gentleman.

She's bad advice I don't think twice Oh I don't know why She's what I like

Klaus could see Y/N at the end of the alleyway, could see the man she was with pressed against the wall. She really looked like a demon, he thought, a devil in disguise, so different from the woman she was in those moments when she kissed him, letting him drown his sins in the taste of her. 

He had done this to her, made her into this woman with a crueler nature than most. The twisted part of his soul was proud, the other not so much. But still he didn’t think twice about encouraging her, wanting to give her just what she wanted every day of his life. 

She wanted this man dead, and so Klaus would oblige. He walked towards her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her temple, and told her to move out of the way, the man in question clearly confused. 

He wasn’t much longer, instead screaming as Klaus buried his teeth in his neck. The hybrid was conscious of Y/N watching, and that part of him that loved what she had become made his heart beat a little bit faster. 

She wasn’t afraid of him, like all the others. She loved him for him, and maybe that was why he couldn’t bear to have her leave him. 

She was all that he had been looking for.

But I, I, I love it I, I, I love it Love the way she plays with my head

For all his doubts, for all his fears, Klaus knew deep down that Y/N was made for him. She was his partner in crime, his soulmate, his missing piece. She made him feel loved, made him feel whole, reassured him when he fell into the solemnity that came with being him. 

And that night, as he told her that he didn’t deserve her, told her that she would only end up getting hurt if she stayed, she did so again. She took his face in her hands, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. She told him that she loved him, that there would never be anyone else for her. 

Just like there would never be anyone else for him. 

Klaus guessed that part of being in love was conflict, a war zone that he would have to cross every day. Thoughts of Y/N, contrasting images of her so vibrant and laughing, and her lying dead at his feet, played with his head continuously, and as much as he hated those darker scenes, he knew it only meant one thing. 

That he loved her. 

She was his always, his forever, and he would make sure that she remained so. He let her kiss him again, forgetting all his worries for a moment, focusing only on her.

She lets me down Then gets me high Oh I don't know why She's just my type

It was so easy to lose oneself in a kiss, to focus solely on the movement of the person whose lips are against yours, two pieces of a jigsaw finally meeting. 

For Klaus, it was easy to lose himself in the kiss that Y/N gave him, the feel of her skin under his hand as he trailed it up her body, the way her fingers danced across his jaw line, before sliding into his hair, tugging on his curls, letting him forget the world for just a moment. 

It wasn’t his first kiss, nor would it be his last. But there was something about her, about the electricity that sparked through his veins, the flames on his skin spreading to his heart, that had him seeing things differently. 

To so many, she was nothing more than a pretty face. To him, she was so much more than that, his secret weapon that he knew would protect him at any cost, just as he would protect her, holding onto her for the rest of his days. 

He couldn’t run from her, couldn’t bear to let her go. He was waiting for the moment that would inevitably come, the moment when he would solidify their bond forever, the perfect evening when he could ask the perfect question, her answer making his heart swell instead of break. 

He parted from her, and studied her beauty as she looked at him, breathless. 

Y/N, the woman Klaus loved.

Masterlist

[boy-in-a-flower-crown]

notable people from my seven months of working the graveyard shift

- the regular who came in every day before 5 am to buy at least two lottery tickets and two scratch tickets

   - on one occasion he came in while I was mopping the floor and he couldn't see me and i yelled "hi!" and he responded with "i wish I was"

- the surprisingly well dressed but still very exasperated man who came in at about three am asking for coffee creamer

- the 34 year old 5 foot tall woman who came in wearing hello kitty PJs at 4:45 in the morning and was incredulous that i asked her for ID when she asked to buy cigs

- the man with a smoker's voice who purchased four dollars worth of gas entirely with quarters

- the man who came in without a mask, ordered an extra large coffee, and when I started saying "because you're not wearing a mask i will have to dispense the beverage for you", he cut me off after "mask" and said "oh yeah I'm so sorry dude! i just had the most passionate kiss with someone..." while putting up a bandana. his credit card declined on $2.30 and he then ran away looking for cash. he never came back.

- the man with a heavy russian accent who was very upset that we didn't carry whole coffee beans

- the customer on skip the dishes that ordered five bottles of pepsi, a litre of milk and a bag of wine gums at 1 in the morning

- the person who left a mostly empty tub of Betty Crocker french vanilla frosting open and with a spoon on the counter

- the woman who came in at 1:30am asking to use the bathroom and when I told her no pubic access she said, verbatim, "I'm gonna take his head between my thighs, or what's left of them because I'm a skinny little chicken, and I'm gonna pop it off." no i don't know who "he" is

- the man who came in quite literally strutting at 4:30 am saying "cinnamon buns" over and over

- the kid who told me "have a good evening" at 5:30am

- the woman who asked me for cigs and rolled her eyes when I ID'd her, said "I'm 30 years old", and walked out. that's when I noticed that not only was she in her pyjamas, but she was also wearing slippers. like, in the house with a housecoat, bright pink and fuzzy kind of slippers

- the man who had to be at least in his 40s who was using what appeared to be a spiderman themed velcro clasped wallet

- the man who practically begged me to get the store to order more cinnamon buns

- the man who asked "where's your floss?" at 1:30am

- the absolute chaotic boys who asked me to sell them single cigs

- the Uber driver who told me "bless you and bless your family, you're doing a wonderful job"

- the person who ordered two packs of triple a batteries and nothing else at 1 in the morning

- the very spunky girl who came in at 2 in the morning asking if we sold caramels, and told me "it was a craving i got at 1am and i was like 'yeah let's make this!' and no. it didn't work. toxic sludge from hell." and left.

- the older woman who said "the luckiest married women become mothers, and the luckiest married men become motherfuckers."

- the boys who came in at 11pm and asked if we sold firecrackers

- the guy who straight up asked me if he could steal a taquito

- the people who made popcorn in our microwave at 2 in the morning

- the woman who told me to go masturbate after i ID'd her

- an entirely separate woman who came in wearing different hello kitty PJ pants, asked for cigs, and was incredulous when I ID'd her

- a man with an incredibly thick Irish accent who asked me why i was on the graveyard shift, and after saying "it's a pretty easy shift, especially as an introvert" he said "introversion doesn't exist" then as he was leaving he said, "you're adhd as fuck though, aren't you"

- the person who ordered two bottles of water and three packs of gum at two in the morning

- the woman who, as she was leaving, said "until next time, keep fit, and have fun."

- the man who came in at 4:30 am and told me he just had a really good date with a seagull

- the girl who asked me if her hair gave me a stoner vibe when it actively made me think of an anime girl

- the guy who was driving a bobcat

- the (definitely cis) guy who came in looking for oil and the like at about 4am. when he brought all his stuff to the counter he said, "this shit is getting too expensive" and i responded "this is why I don't drive," to which he said "well if it's got tits or tires it's gonna cause you trouble and it's gonna cost you a lot of money."

- the guy who came in, put two cans of red bull on the counter, then asked if we had twizzlers. upon hearing no, he said "forget it" and walked out without buying the red bulls.

- the man who, to pay for his items, pulled out a jar of coins that included pennies (I'm in Canada, where pennies have been discontinued for almost a decade)

- the man who came in and asked if any sex stores are in the area and open (it was 2 am). after telling him no he tried buying condoms, for which his card declined. he then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to hang out with him when my shift was over.

- the ridiculously drunk man who came in at three in the morning and when I said "hi!" he replied "good"

- the boys in their early twenties who came in at 3am and while waiting for me to grab the slurpee cup i overheard one of them say "look at how good his hair looks, i feel like i should be being fucked looking at it."

- the man who paid for a pack of cigs almost entirely in quarters

- *we'd started doing donations for covid relief in India* the man who after asking if there were sizes for the condoms, during the transaction i asked if he'd like to make a donation and he said "why would I donate to covid?" after his payment went through he said "would you?" and i said "donate to a covid relief fund?" and he said "yeah" and i was like "??? yes???"

- two people asked me if I said the donation was for chlamydia. the first guy said "if it's for chlamydia then I'm not donating" but the second guy said "i mean chlamydia sucks too, I'd donate either way"

- the three very drunk and very considerate girls who were all dressed as flappers

- the guy who asked for four tea bags for his 12oz cup and proceeded to make what I'm assuming was an attempt at a London fog

- the man who came in at about 3:40 after I'd already completed cash counts. he put a jug of chocolate milk on the counter and said "does it bother you that I'm buying this? like, can you keep it a secret just between us?" and i was like "i mean yeah sure" and then i noticed he was holding several rolls of dimes and i told him "i can't take cash right now as I've already completed the counts for shift change" and he was like "not even for gas?" and i was internally like "yeah duh" and then he goes "look man i can go without the gas but i have to have my chocolate milk" and i was like "there's nothing i can do" and then he said "do you drink chocolate milk?" and i said "not frequently, no" and he said "oh, not since you were six?" and i was like "I'm lactose intolerant" which shut him up for about three seconds before he said "you're really not gonna budge?" and then walked out

- the guy who asked for the bathroom and when I said there's no public access he said "what about friends, I've been here twice" and i said "unless you're staff you don't get to use it" and he said "i have a staph infection, does that count" and when my unimpressed look told him no he said "well i tried" and left

- the eighty year old man who was actively using a Bowser snap wallet

- the guy who had to change his tire directly in front of the store at two in the morning

- the guy who punched me in the face with a bottle of iced tea, causing me a concussion and ultimately causing me to quit my job

[anenbylittlepotato]

What are the reactions of the demon brothers to MC's pet bunny who gives bunny kisses to the brothers?

Aww, this is so cute! 🥺

The Demon Bros with MC's Pet Bunny

Lucifer

When he first sees MC's bunny he just groans. He has to take care of a human and a bunny now?! Why doesn't Diavolo tell him these things?!

He just sighs and takes a moment to make peace with the fact that he'll just have to buy bunny food for the next year... Right...?

NOPE. Turns out taking care of a bunny is much more work than it seems, as MC explains to him. Great...

So uh... Yeah, safe to say that he has nothing but burning hatred for this bunny at first. Stop causing him so much more work dammit.

But honestly, who could conceivably stay mad at a bunny for long? They're so round and soft and fluffy and adorable. Even Lucifer, the almighty himself, isn't immune to a bunny's charms.

Eventually, the tiny little thing grows on him. He never lets any of his brothers see, but he'll occasionally slip the bunny a little treat or two, and sometimes he'll set the bunny on his desk while he works so he can reach over and pet her occasionally. And one time when he was sitting on the couch while his brothers were away and he was so stressed out to the point that he was almost tempted to bash his head against a wall, the little thing came up to him and just??? Puts her tiny little paws on his foot??? And looked up at him with those big round eyes, nose twitching and ears perked??? Almost like she was concerned for him??? Oh, he's in love. Now every time he's stressed out like that, he seeks out your bunny for comfort.

But then??? One day??? The bunny??? Gives him little bunny kisses??? Oh, he melts. This man is fucking putty. He's weak.

Please, this man loves your bunny. But of course, he never shows it around his brothers. And he rarely shows it around you. It's just a him and the bunny thing. No one else needs to know.

Mammon

The moment this man sees your bunny for the first time he's in love. Love at first sight is real, my dudes.

But she's just so??? Small??? And round??? And fluffy??? And cute??? How could you NOT love such a thing, honestly?

He still complains when he has to take care of you, but he's still really excited about your bunny.

This man,,, spoils the hell out of your bunny. He's constantly smothering her with love, and he constantly gives her little treats and gives her carrots and lettuce and any little snacks that she likes. And he lets her up on the couch and he holds her in his lap. He's adopted your bunny. That's his bunny now.

And when the bunny gives him little bunny kisses? He's dead. His heart spontaneously combusts right then and there. He didn't think he could love this bunny any more than he did, but then it happened. Please, bunny, you're going to be the death of him.

He definitely doesn't let his brothers see how much he loves this bunny though. He knows they would endlessly hound on him for it.

Leviathan

Honestly? He's definitely not very fond of your bunny when he first sees her. Sorry, but he's much more privy to reptilian and aquatic animals. Land mammals aren't really his thing.

They're just so... Weird to him, honestly. Those big weird eyes, the fact that they're completely covered in fuzz as if they're a moldy piece of food, their weird nails and their weird little noses. They freak him out.

So yeah, definitely not a fan of the bunny. He avoids her at all costs. Every time the bunny comes near him or touches him in any way, he's immediately in his demon form and leaps to the other side of the room, moving faster than anyone's ever seen him move in his life. Get that thing away from him-

His brothers find this so damn amusing. Especially Mammon. Mammon constantly pulls pranks on Levi that involve the bunny (though, of course, bunny-safe pranks, he doesn't want it getting hurt-) and teases him relentlessly about it.

One day you go over to Levi and gently try to convince Levi to at least try to bond with your bunny. It takes a lot of convincing and bribing, but he finally agrees. So you take him over to the bunny and sit down in front of her with him. Levi is shaking like a fucking leaf as you grab his arm and hold it out to the bunny. He jumps and lets out a small yelp as the bunny steps forward to sniff his hand. And he's whimpering and shaking when the bunny moves even closer to him and???? Climbs into his lap??? He's he is frozen with fear at this point. He doesn't know what to do, MC, help him. When you tell him the bunny likes him, he just really shook. It likes him??? A yucky, gross otaku like him???

And then, when it gives him bunny kisses???? MC has to explain what it's doing but when he understands he's just??? In shock.

There's no way he could hate the bunny after that. He finds solidarity with the bunny after that.

Satan

Satan is a cat person, through and through. However, this absolutely does not mean he'll stick up his nose to other furry, four-legged friends. Quite the contrary, he likes them too. Make no mistake, cats are and always will be his go-to, but that he still likes other animals too. He's flexible with his love.

So, safe to say, when he sees your bunny, he gets quite excited. Are you gonna help him annoy Lucifer, little girl? Are you?

He's also really excited to use all of his reading knowledge to help take care of the bunny. He knows exactly what the bunny needs and helps you pick out the things that would be best for her.

Sometimes, when he's reading, your bunny will walk up to him and, without looking up from his book, he'll reach over and gently stroke her ears. Though he has to keep the bunny out of his room because she loves to nibble the books.

He doesn't really care about letting his brothers know he likes the bunny. He's not embarrassed by his love of animals.

Asmodeus

He adores your bunny. She's just so cute! Though don't put her on him, it'll get hair on his new outfit!

This man takes so many Devilgram pics of and with this bunny. His fans love her! And he even gets cute little outfits for her! And he grooms her soft fur and gives her cute little bows! One day he tried to give her a bath, not knowing the dangers. Luckily, MC and Satan managed to stop him before it was too late. Please don't bathe your bunnies in water unless your vet tells you to, it's very bad for them

Seriously tho, this man gives your bunny some little bunny spa days. He pampers your bunny. Asmo, please, she doesn't need her nails painted, she's a bunny. And did... Did you seriously put cucumbers on her eyes??? She's gonna eat them-

But when she gives him bunny kisses? Oh, she's so cute, oh my goodness! He absolutely has to get as many pictures of this moment as he can! It's just too precious not to post all over Devilgram! His fans are going to adore this!! And he was right, too, as it ends up being one of his most popular posts.

And he's never been shy about showing his affections toward you around others why would he be shy about showing affection to your bunny?

Beelzebub

When he first saw her, he may or may not have thought about eating her-

But don't worry, he managed to resist.

Honestly, he doesn't really mind the bunny too much aside from the occasional thought about eating her. He never really pays much attention to her at first except when he's really hungry.

But as he gets closer to you and starts spending more time with her in turn, and he comes to like her. She's really cute. Just like you!

Sometimes she'll come up to him while he's eating and he'll drop her the occasional leaf or carrot piece. And she really likes to crawl into his lap and just peek out at everyone. And he really likes to touch her soft fur. Sometimes the bunny follows him around. I think she feels safest with him out of all of the brothers. Which... Fair enough, honestly.

And when she gave him bunny kisses? Oh, the little large pure boi was so happy and excited. MC, look, she likes him!! Are you looking, MC?

He's never been the most secretive when it comes to his feelings, so he doesn't really mind showing affection to the bunny around his brothers.

Belphegor

Haha, he's in the attic what are you talking about-

Nah, nah, jk, he still sees your bunny after he's out of the attic.

And honestly, he's chill with her. He literally doesn't care that much.

Though he does like how soft her fur is... Do you wanna be one of his nap buddies, little bunny?

Apparently, the answer is yes because whenever Belphie is taking a nap, she hops over and makes herself comfortable beside him. Hey, he's not complaining one bit. She's soft and that's all that matters. Actually, whenever the bunny wants to sleep, she wanders over to Belphie and settles down beside him. She seems to see him as just as much of a good nap buddy as he does to her.

And when she gives him little bunny kisses? Honestly, he's more surprised than anything. He does think it's cute, sure, but he kinda just blinks at her a few times in surprise. Then he chuckles a little and pets her head.

And this man couldn't possibly care less about showing affection towards the bunny around his brothers. He gives zero fucks.

==

That took way longer to write than it should have. It probably would have been done faster if I had the ability to not procrastinate 😔

[youryanderedaddy]

I like your posts, it's always cool. May i ask a yandere concept between an innocent, protected princess and a prince who obsessed with her from the first time they met, and force against her will. Thanks so much, love your writing :3

Thanks, anon, that means a lot <3 If you haven't noticed, I am oBseSSed with royalty stuff so I rlly enjoyed writing this. It's slightly different tho, but the idea is there.

Title: We all fall down

tw: female reader, non - consensual touching, obsessive behavior, coercion, implied forced marriage, war mention, abuse of power

It was cold when you woke up, terribly so. The room was spacious enough, there was bright sunlight coming from all four windows on each wall and you were sure that your sheets were warm and puffy even without looking down at them, yet it still felt freezing. You soon realized the place wasn’t simply cold, it was different too. It looked nothing like your own room back at the Southern Palace with its countless colourful pictures, books shattered all over the ground and a fireplace just across the queen – sized bed. Before you had a chance to sigh in annoyance, a quick glance to the other side reminded you of the bigger problem. Him.

“Good morning, princess.” The man greeted you cheerfully, his voice still deep and husky from the early hour. He was laying against the wooden doorframe, the sly smirk you had grown to hate over the years once again adorning his red lips. You stared at him for a moment, then rubbed your eyes to chase the fatigue away, fruitlessly so. You were too tired and sleep – deprived to play – pretend, which of course didn’t go unnoticed by the nobleman.

“You don’t look too well, princess.” He teased with a cheeky grin and walked towards the bed, stopping just before his legs hit the edge of the frame. You puffed softly, but remained quiet just so you wouldn’t have to answer him just yet. “And look at your state, darling…” The heir continued, clicking his tongue in a mocking “tsk, tsk,tsk”. “Your nightgown is a mess, I can see all of your beautiful curves.” The heir paused to lick his lips in a disgusting, suggestive way, and you had to repress the need to vomit all over the beautiful yellow sheets. “In our kingdom such appearance counts as an invitation, did you know that?” He added, smiling sharply, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, satisfied at the way his words made you embarrassed, flustered and jumpy so early in the morning.

“Your Highness, I would like to properly remind you that it was you who forced me to drink and dance all night.” You responded heatedly, all while fixing the straps of your silky dress to at least cover your cleavage. “You wouldn’t let go of my hand for a second. It’s your fault that I look like this.” You remarked, slightly offended by the man’s jokes, despite being used to his terrible humor after all those long years of shared parties and celebrations.

“If that is really so, my lady, please let me make it up to you.” The prince replied in the same smooth, carefree voice of his, the one he used before while talking to the maids and the peasant girls he wanted to bed. It made you sick to think of yourself as just another of his conquests, even though it couldn’t be further from the truth – you couldn’t stand the dark – haired male, his arrogance and absolute ignorance. “Join me for breakfast and I shall have our best cook serve your favorite meal.” The heir announced and winked at you before turning on his heels and finally leaving the room without hearing whether you agreed to his offer or not. You didn’t even have the chance to ask him how he knew what your favorite dish was or why he entered your room without permission, such a lack of manners was unsuited for a soon-to-be king. Perhaps you could use his inconsiderate behavior as an excuse to stay in bed until lunch but deep down you knew it was pointless. The egotistic little bastard knew you had no choice since you two had a lot to discuss.

---

The breakfast, if not anything else, was rich and delicious, each bite tasty and mouth – watering. The sweet aroma of cinnamon tea, vanilla and powdered sugar filled your senses with ease and a little bit of nostalgia for your childhood. The hardest part was yet to come, you wanted to deal with it fast and go home as soon as possible. As for Arthur, it was the first time you saw him serious with his brows arched and his thoughts all over the place. The uneasiness came back with full force.

“I think you know what we want, princess.” The male declared sternly after looking at the map for a while. His eyes were blue and clear, piercing in the way they were focused on you and you alone with no one else in the hall to act as a barrier between you and the monster. You understood why it had to be only you two, but these deals were always an open secret in both kingdoms, so there weren’t many reasons to keep the tradition going. “We want our territory back. We want you to surrender.” The heir hissed eerily under his breath, his pupils fixed on your frame, burning the skin underneath the thick layer of rough fabric.

You didn’t know how to respond to this – the dynasty’s requests had always been ridiculous and far – fetched, but never as impossible as this one. Yes, your land used to belong to the East centuries ago, but after several long, bloody, sacrificial wars where many of your men lost their lives, it was won fair and square. Now all your subjects lived there happily and freely, rightfully so.

“Your Majesty, please don’t dwell on the past. It will never come back.” You responded shortly after, laughing nervously at the end, hoping that would be enough for Arthur to drop the subject. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case.

“Is that so, dearest? You have two weeks then.” The prince said coldly, narrowing his eyes like a fox. You opened your mouth to speak but quickly got cut off. “Prepare your troops, train the soldiers, announce the incoming war to your people.” The man chuckled darkly and threw the map all the way across the room. “You better get ready for a thunderstorm.” He added just to mess with you some more, just to see your face turn white from the shock and the panic.

“You can’t do that!” You shouted out suddenly and stood up from your chair, feeling cornered and suffocated. You hated the prince’s constant teasing and flirty remarks but you would have never guess him to be a cold-blooded conqueror. “This is too cruel even for you!” You screamed, the tears already blooming down your cheeks, hot and wet. Arthur spared you one condescending look before moving closer and trapping your body against the table, towering over you both physically and metaphorically, as if saying “Let’s see who has the stronger mind.”

“I will get what I want no matter the cost and there is little you can do to stop me, princess.” The heir pronounced slowly, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his hard gaze, full of intense yet unreadable emotion. There was nothing left of the sly cheerful boy standing against your doorframe, teasing you about meaningless little things, and you almost missed him now. “But what you can do is stop the needless violence and bloodshed, Y/N.” You despised the way your eyes lit up at his words, but, as always, your duty was above your comfort and happiness. “What can I do?” You uttered quietly, a part of you too scared to hear the answer, the other anticipating it.

“Marry me.” The prince stated in a deep patronizing voice. His eyes were dark and sharp, just like before, and there wasn’t a trace of his usual gleeful smile. He grabbed your wrists in a painful grip and pulled them up, holding them against his broad shoulders. “We can unite the kingdoms and live our Happily Ever After. No one has to die.” The man whispered surprisingly softly, his chest heaving with each passing breath. “I can make you happy, dearest.”

You gasped in shock as soon as the proposal left his lips. Every fiber in your body was frozen still, your whole being shaken up by the unexpected offer.

“Why do you want to marry me?” You asked frantically, squirming to loosen up his grasp on your hands just to feel it tighten up even more. This was going to bruise for sure. “Isn’t it obvious?” The noble exhaled slowly, staring at you, trying desperately to find the compassion and affection he hoped you had grown to hold for him over the years. His heart broke once he realized there wasn’t any, but it didn’t matter. Feelings could change in a matter of minutes.

“I’ve loved you since day one, my princess.” His attention drifted to your open mouth, especially your soft full lips. Oh, how much he dreamt of taking you and relishing in the whines and moans you would surely let out once he decided to claim you as his own. “All I’ve ever wanted is you.” The heir confessed, his face moving closer and closer to your own, forcing you to arch your back more and more until it hit the table. Before you knew it, he was pinning you to the hard wooden surface, caging you in, kissing you violently, furiously. You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t say no.

[stillebesat]

Code: Blanket (part 2)

Sanders Sides: Logan, Remus, Virgil, Janus, Patton Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort Prompt: “If you don’t know where to go, you can always come here.” with Anxceit? (platonic is 100% good for me) Blurb: A friendship doesn’t stop just because one person decides to act like a dick. Especially when said dick is obviously in trouble. Overall Fic Warnings: Homophobia talk, Neglectful/Abusive Parents implication, Capitol Riot references, Injuries Taglist in Reblog

Part 1

“Your son is sneaking out.”

If the weight of his husband settling on top of him in the bed hadn’t been enough to fully wake Logan from sleep, the gleeful tone of Remus’s voice in his ear and the words he spoke were certainly enough to do so.

He tilted his head to the side, squinting up at his husband’s shadowy figure looming over him, ignoring how his heart had jumped into his throat, leaving an aching cavity in his chest. “If our son is sneaking out after dark, Sir Night Owl.” He said, working to sound calmer than he actually felt. “Then that’s obviously your influence at work and your problem.”

Remus gave a low chuckle, kissing his cheek. “Lion Kinging me, Messire Early Bird? Fair enough. I accept.” He shifted to roll off the bed, only to pause as Logan grabbed his hand.

“Virgil’s never snuck out before.” He whispered, flinching as he heard the front door close. Why would his son feel the need to do--sure teenagers were known to be rebellious, but he’d been clear that Virgil could talk to him about anything, anytime. To have him just suddenly leave without a word to them, without any indication that anything was wrong--

Remus squeezed his hand. “I heard him say ‘The offer still stands, D.’ as he walked by our door, sooo~ secret relationship?”

Logan pushed up onto one elbow, breath catching. “You heard him say Dee?” He demanded. “You’re certain?” He hadn’t known the two were still in communication. The end of their lifelong friendship last year had been...volatile. Virgil had been miserable for months afterwards.

“Yes?” His husband tilted his head. “You know them?”

Logan nodded, rolling over so he could grab his glasses from the night stand. “So do you. It’s Janus. Son of the Daemons.”

Remus stiffened, hissing like a broken teapot. “What offer could Virgiepoo possibly make to that horrible family of--”

“They were childhood friends.” Logan interrupted his husband before he went off on yet another long winded swearing spree about the Daemons. “Janus didn’t always approve of his parents...antics.”

Remus snorted, pulling Logan to his feet. “Antics? Those Ultra Christian Karens on Manbaby Cheeto Horse Steroids nearly cost both of us our jobs because they couldn’t stand the thought of their son knowing two gay men.”

Logan smirked, shrugging on a robe, placing his phone in the pocket just in case Virgil called. “And how did that turn out? With them facing the best lawyer in the country?”

Remus leaned in for a kiss. “Not good.” He breathed against his lips.

“Exactly.”

“Soo…” Still clad in only his boxers, Remus entwined his fingers in Logan’s, pulling him out of their bedroom towards the front door. “Son of our Enemy. Virgil sneaking out in the middle of the night to see him. What exactly is this offer that he’s offering to the Villains who aimed to destroy our happily ever after?”

An offer that Logan had believed had been firmly taken off the table over a year ago. “Simply put. Sanctuary.”

Which begged the question. What had happened in the Daemon household to convince Virgil to offer their home, after everything the two families had gone through, to their son once more?

“Sanctuary.” Remus repeated like it was a foreign word. “To one of their spawn? Are you serious?”

Knowing how much of a giving and forgiving heart his son had? Logan pulled open the front door, unsurprised to see the two teens standing frozen on the porch.

He had good timing like that.

“Boys.” Logan greeted, attention drawn immediately to Janus as he tried to hide behind his son only to be stopped by Virgil’s tight grip on his arm.

Janus swallowed, a tremor visibly going through him as met Logan’s eyes. “Mr. L.” He whispered, the porchlight throwing his face, and therefore, the stark purple bruise and cuts by his eye into sharp relief.

Sanctuary. He could now totally understand why Virgil had chosen to reach out.

The crumpled state of the boy’s clothes, the mask -an unusual accessory for the known anti-masker, anti-vaxxer family- the greasy hair, all of the obvious signs of neglect, Logan mentally catalogued as he immediately reached out, drawing the boy closer to him. “Janus.” He breathed, hating how the boy flinched at his movement, how he trembled under his touch even as he leaned into Logan’s hand as he cupped the boy’s uninjured cheek. “What happened?”

“Well, I hope what’s happening is that we’re kidnapping the demon spawn for ranso--” Remus cut off, inhaling sharply as he too caught sight of the facial disfigurement. “Lo, lemme see that.” He demanded, gently pushing him to the side so he could take the boy’s chin into his hands, tilting his head this way and that in the porch light.

Virgil relaxed, even as Janus visibly tensed, trembling under Remus’s scrutiny.

For good reason. The young Daemon had to feel like he was stepping into the Lion’s den by coming here.

“It’s okay, Dee. Remus is a surgeon. The best. You’re in safe hands.” Virgil said softly, keeping a firm grip on his friend’s arm as the boy shifted his feet like he was debating about turning tail and running.

Something he’d never thought Janus would do. The boy took after his parents in being willing to face confrontation head on, no matter the odds.

Something definitely was wrong here.

“What happened?” Logan repeated, unable to hide the concern in his voice.

Janus’s eyes flickered between him and Remus, breath hitching as he opened his mouth. “I--I--”

Remus growled, eyes flashing as he turned to Logan, gesturing wildly with his free hand. “What happened?! He’s lucky the wound isn’t infected, Lo! It’s obvious it’s been untreated. Obvious that he’s been neglected, mistreated, abused!”

Janus flinched at every word. “Yes.” The word ghosted over his lips, barely heard.

Virgil shook his head, eyes burning with quiet fury. “It’s worse.” He slipped his phone out of his pocket, tapping on the screen and flipping it so Logan could see the tweet there. “His parents locked him in their unfinished attic for FOUR months, Dad. And then they left him to go harring off to D.C. to storm the Capitol!”

They…WHAT?!

Logan saw red as Remus swore, his husband pulling Janus into a tight hug, the boy letting out a startled squeak at the action. “I changed my mind, Lo. We’re not kidnapping him, we’re adopting. Surprise, my little rebel. You’re mine now.”

Janus’s eyes went wide, shimmering with unshed tears as he stood stiffly in Remus’s grip, fingers twitching. “Y-yours?” He whispered, in such a small voice that had Logan wrapping an arm around the boy’s shoulders as well. “I--I--but I’m---I’m--”

There’d been a time he’d considered Janus almost like a second son with how often he and Virgil had hung out at their house as kids. Logan wasn’t at all opposed to rediscovering that sentimeint.

“It doesn’t matter.” He whispered in the boy’s ear. “You have a home here, Janus, for as long as you need one.”

The boy shuddered in their hold, breath hitching as he bowed his head, not quite resting it against Remus’s bare chest. “I--I tried to---I couldn’t get out! I tried everything to bre--to break free and then they just….left me. Their SON. They--” He broke off as Remus pulled him closer, a soft sob escaping as his husband carded his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“It’s okay, Janny-boy.” Remus whispered. “You did what you could with what you had.”

Janus shook his head. “I--i should have---sooner. I couldn’t--I didn’t think they’d actually!! My own parents.”

Virgil pressed in on the group hug, gently freeing the face mask from the boy’s ear. “Dee. You couldn’t have known.”

“I SHOULD have though!” He growled, twisting his head to stare at Virgil, cheeks streaked with tears. “We’ve been friends for years, Annie! I KNOW you and Mr. L. and...and…but when things,” His eyes flickered to Remus and back. “Changed. The pandemic and everything---I didn’t...I sided with them and thought they had to be RIGHT this time, but then things...stuff happened and THEY LOCKED ME UP and treated me like I was A NUT CASE when I--I--” His voice dropped to a near whisper. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

Logan exhaled, squeezing the boy’s shoulder as he met his husband’s furious eyes. “I’m sorry, Janus.” He said, keeping his tone soft. “Your parents have had their...good...qualities at times,”

Remus snorted, but kept silent as Logan shot him another look.

“And I know...they’ve only tried to protect you from their perceived evils in the world, but Janus.” He shifted his position so he could cradle the boy’s injured cheek. “What they did to you was wrong. So very wrong.” And bound to be worse when the whole story was told. “It’s monstrous that they chose to treat their own flesh and blood in such an abhorrent and inhumane manner just because you disagreed with them and I will not stand for it. You deserve better and you will be treated much better here than you have been there. I promise you that.”

Janus abruptly twisted in Remus’s arms to cling to Logan, resting his head against Logan’s chest, fingers digging into the folds of his robe, his thin body shaking with sobs. “Don’t make me go back.” He whispered.

Logan shook his head, pressing a firm kiss against the boy’s greasy hair. “Never.”

“I won’t let him.” Remus added, a growl in his voice. “I’ve adopted you, Jan. My word is law. No take backsies.”

Janus looked between the three of them, before focusing on Remus, licking his lips. “But. You...don’t know me--”

“You don’t know me either, kiddo. But no worries. We’ll fix all that.” His husband winked as he gathered both Virgil and Janus under each arm, letting Logan take a careful step back. “But FIRST.” He pointed a finger at the boy’s eye. “I’m getting you clean and stitched up while Logie here makes a little call to his Work Wife to figure things out. With luck, and I am rather lucky, there’ll barely be a scar when I’m done.”

Janus stiffened, glancing over his shoulder to Logan. “Work Wife?!”

Virgil chuckled, twisting Janus’s mask in his fingers. “Not an actual wife, Dee. Dad has a fellow lawyer friend.”

“Rival.” Logan corrected.

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Rival that he constantly works with, so Rem calls him his work wife since he’s usually either with him or us.”

That wasn’t exactly true. He did go to other places and work with other people that weren’t Patton or his family. It just so happened that Patton ended up involved in a lot of the same sort of cases as him and so collaboration made more sense than going it alone.

Logan pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts. “Needless to say. I’ll take care of it, Janus. You can trust me on that.” He smiled to the teen before turning his attention to his son. “Virgil, send me a copy of that tweet as soon as you can. And Remus,” He grimaced as his husband paused, raising an eyebrow. He could see him practically vibrating with the need to stitch the kid up now. “I know you want to treat Janus ASAP, but I need photographic evidence of every single injury and sign of neglect before you do anything.” An unfortunate delay, but he needed the evidence recorded before it vanished. He hit call, placing his phone by his ear. “As soon as you’re done--”

“It’s straight to the shower, JanJan. Or a long hot bubble bath. Either way.” Remus said, ushering the teens towards the door. “We need you to get squeaky clean while Lo here does his thing, and then I can treat those wounds of yours without them getting infected. Okay?”

“I--I---uh...Okay?” Janus asked, sounding half strangled as they vanished inside.

The phone clicked. “Hello?” A sleepy voice asked over the line.

Hopefully Virgil could smooth over any further confusion for Janus until Logan could come back and reign Remus back from going full Mama Bear on the boy. “Hello, Patton.” He said, leaning against the wall, listening as the crickets began chirping again. “It’s Logan.”

“Lo?” He could hear his fellow lawyer and work rival stifling a yawn. “Wassup?”

“My apologies for calling so late, but I need your help with a case. Right now. If you’re able.”

The silence on the other hand wasn’t at all encouraging. But then again. It was late.

“...My help? With a case? Now?”

“Yes.” He’d already said that. Hopefully Patton’s brain would kick into a higher gear sooner rather than later or else this conversation would be lasting ten times longer than necessary. “You remember the Daemons?”

“Mmm….yah? Your fight with them had you fired up for ages with all their nonsense.”

“Exactly.” Logan exhaled. “Their son, Janus, just showed up at my house in an obvious state of neglect. Injured. Possibly abused. More than implied that it was his parents who put him in his current state. And I am, unfortunately, too visibly involved with the Daemons in a negative light to be considered an adequate impartial representative for him, especially if I house him in my home for the duration.”

Patton made a noise of surprise. “House him?”

“Virgil was--is a friend of his and he offered him sanctuary here when he discovered that Janus was in trouble. I’m not refusing him a safe place.”

“Safe? You just said--”

Logan closed his eyes, resting his head against the side of his house. “I know. I’m not on good terms with his parents.” They could go rot in a tar pit for all he cared about them. “But I’ve known the boy since he was six, Patton. He’s been to my house multiple times before. Been friends with my son. I won’t hold a grudge against the child for the actions of his parents.”

“Ha. I doubt his parents would appr--”

“His so-called parents Locked. Him. In. Their. Attic. For. FOUR. Months.” Logan interrupted, unable to hide the fury in his voice.

Patton sharply inhaled. “They WHAT?”

Exactly. It was good to hear his work rival taking the same tone. Patton had a soft spot for kids. “They locked him up and then abandoned him, Pat. I don’t know the exact circumstances just yet on why they felt that this was justifiable behavior, but no child should be treated like a prisoner by their family and no so-called parent’s opinion on where or who their son stays with should hold any weight if they’ve failed to provide decent care for their child in the first place!” Logan took a breath, forcing himself to relax his fingers on his phone before he cracked the screen. “Regardless, if the boy wishes to go elsewhere I won’t fight it. But he needed a safe place to go to and he chose to come here. That has to mean something considering the history between our two families.”

“It--I’d have to look into it.” Patton whispered. “This isn’t--the circumstances--”

“Are abnormal. I understand.” Logan nodded, staring off into the night. “Will you come?”

Patton huffed a laugh. “It’s not every day--ah night--you say you need me, Lo.”

That was true. They were more often rivals in the courtroom than collaborators these days. But still, he wouldn’t want any other lawyer to represent the boy if he couldn’t do it himself. “I need you, Pat.”

The sound of keys jangled in his ear. “Be right there.” Patton promised as the line went dead.

[armenelols]

There isn't enough appreciation for Elrond's and Isildur's friendship.

I think much of this comes from the movies, where our only image of Isildur is his 'no' and Elrond yelling 'Isildur!', and then we see him die because he dives into the river while running away from a battle because the One Ring falls from his finger. Sure, there is some scroll Gandalf reads, but it only makes Isildur seem even more obsessed with the Ring than he already seemed. Add to that Aragorn's rambling about how he and Isildur share blood and weakness and you've got the perfect receipt for evil Isildur and 'cast it into the fire' memes.

Movie!Elrond's 'men are weak' really isn't helping.

So to start with, I think it is necessary to say that I am talking about book!Elrond and book!Isildur here, and while I don't recall either of them calling the other friend, it's a headcanon I have and it is to some extent supported by the books.

In the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields in Unfinished Tales, Isildur shares a few exchanges with his son, Elendur, that I would like to show here.

Elendur went to his father, who was standing dark and alone, as if lost in thought. 'Atarinya,' he said, 'what of the power that would cow these foul creatures and command them to obey you? Is it then of no avail?'

'Alas, it is not, senya. I can not use it. I dread the pain of touching it. And I have not yet found the strength to bend it to my will. It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen. It should go to the Keepers of the Three.'

And later in the chapter:

'My king,' said Elendur, 'Ciryon is dead and Aratan is dying. Your last counsellor must advise, nay command you, as you commanded Ohtar. Go! Take your burden, and at all cost bring it to the Keepers: even at the cost of abandoning your men and me!'

'King's son,' said Isildur, 'I knew that I must do so; but I feared the pain. Nor could I go without your leave. Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.'

Earlier in the chapter, we also get this passage talking about Isildur:

When he at last felt free to return to his own realm he was in haste, and he wished to go first to Imladris; for he had left his wife and youngest son there, and he had moreover and urgent need for the counsel of Elrond.

Nearer to the end of the chapter, when talking about Isildur's death, Tolkien writes this:

There suddenly he knew that the Ring had gone. By chance, or chance well used, it had left his hand and gone where he could never hope to find it again. At first so overwhelming was his sense of loss that he struggled no more, and would have sunk and drowned. But swift as it had come the mood passed. The pain had left him. A great burden had been taken away. There he rose up out of the water: only a mortal man, a small creature lost and abandoned in the wilds of Middle-Earth. But to the night-eyed Orcs that lurked there on the watch he loomed up, a monstrous shadow of fear, with a piercing eye like a star. They loosed their poisoned arrows at it, and fled.

And last from this chapter, this bit about the Ring itself:

It was little more than two years since it had left his [Sauron's] hand, and though it was swiftly cooling it was still heavy with his evil will, and seeking all means to return to its lord.

So what does this tell us? And in addition, where was I coming to with Elrond & Isildur friendship?

1. For all of Isildur's refusal to give up the Ring after the war ended here:

'Alas! yes,' said Elrond. 'Isildur took it, as should not have been. It should have been cast then into Orodruin's fire nigh at hand where it was made. But few marked what Isildur did. He alone stood by his father in that last mortal contest; and by Gil-galad only Círdan stood, and I. But Isildur would not listen to our counsel.

' "This I will have as weregild for my father, and my brother," he said; and therefore whether we would or no, he took it to treasure it.

- The Council of Elrond, Fellowship of the Ring

Isildur realized he was wrong. The Ring was still at its most evil, and it wanted to corrupt him, it wanted to go back to Sauron, yet Isildur resisted enough to be able to almost give up the Ring willingly or at least consider it.

When he was slain, he was already taking the Ring to Elrond. Whether he would have the strength to do it later, he resisted the Ring enough to at least consider it. How many would be able to do so? Of course, there was the factor of the very touch of the Ring paining him, but compared with the Ring's will, that's hardly enough to convince a man to give it up.

And at last, when the Ring slipped from his finger, he did not dive after it. He gave it up, and swam away; and even as the orcs killed him, they killed him a free man.

2. He was bringing the Ring to Elrond. At the very beginning I said this post is about Elrond's and Isildur's friendship, and finally, I am talking about it.

It should go to the Keepers of the Three, Isildur says of the Ring - and for that, he would have to know who the Keepers are, or at least know of someone who knows. And it is said repeatedly that he seeks Elrond's counsel, that he goes to Imladris; did he know Elrond has Vilya?

The location of the Three is one of the greatest secrets kept from Sauron, and it is said many times that almost no one knew of it. Did Isildur know, suspect? In addition to this, Elendur seems to have the same knowledge, which, as he is repeatedly called Isildur's greatest confidant, isn't much of a wonder.

All in all, Isildur either connected the dots well enough to realize that out of all high elven lords, it is Elrond bears a ring of power (and Isildur is clever, this is a possibility); or Elrond was not careful enough and Isildur figured it out from his missteps (which, considering Elrond's experience with cursed jewellery isn't very likely); or Elrond gave him hints on purpose; or he just. Straight up told him.

The last two options seem to be most likely to me, which brings me to Elrond trusting Isildur enough to reveal such a secret to him, which leads me to my Elrond and Isildur are friends agenda.

Should the first option be true, props to Isildur for figuring it out by himself without any clues from Elrond other than him being important. Should Isildur be bringing the Ring to Elrond in hopes that Elrond knows who the Keepers of the Three are, without knowing Elrond is one of them, it still shows Isildur trusted Elrond enough to bring him the Ring even for temporary keeping.

(there is also the matter of whether Isildur knows the other Keepers of the Three, as he mentions them a few times, but never enough to indicate if he knows who they are)

3. Parallels. It is said that Elendil and Gil-galad, the two high kings of their people are friends. Is it really so unlikely that Elrond, Gil-galad's herald (and possibly heir, even though he took no crown), and most trusted advisor besides Círdan; and Isildur, the heir of Elendil the Tall and his second in command, would strike a friendship?

The Isildur we are presented with is both bold and wise - he saves the fruit of the White Tree of Númenor alone because it needs to be done, and then he does it again, and he does it because it's the best for his people. He takes the Ring, and tries to make it listen to him, and realizes he made a mistake; he tries to fix it, and wants to bring it to Elrond.

The Isildur we are presented with has courage, and wisdom, and hope.

Do you know what does this remind me of?

Edain. Their ideals. The reasons why they got the gift of Númenor, greater wisdom, longer lives.

They resisted the evil, no matter how strong; they were loyal, true to their beliefs, brave and courageous.

Elros was chosen as the king of the Edain and really, I highly doubt Edain would choose him as a king just because of his heritage, or because someone told them to do so. Sure, someone could have pointed out Elros to them and say 'hey, look at this dude, he could be a nice king, what do you think?' but in the end, while they might start following Elros because someone else told them, I doubt they would let themselves be led by someone who wasn't the best representation of them. In Athrabeth Finrod ah Andreth, Andreth does not shy away from telling Finrod her beliefs, the beliefs of her people. And I don't think that changed with time.

What am I trying to say? I think Elros and Isildur were both similar in many ways, in ways that made them the leaders they were - and that in a way, Elrond saw Elros in Isildur, as well as himself; for Elrond still connected strongly with his mortal kin, and as I mentioned earlier, their political positions were similar.

And while Isildur was his own person and had done things neither Elros or Elrond would have done, and had his own good and bad qualities, it doesn't erase the similarities.

4. Aragorn was raised in Rivendell, by his mother and Elrond and his people. Of all the people there, it is easy to see which ones would influence him the most: Gilraen, Elrond, Elladan, Elrohir. It is repeatedly shown how close he was to them. To some extent we may include Glorfindel, for they were friends, but not as much as the above mentioned four.

Now, as Estel, he wasn't aware of his heritage. He is shown to be proud of his heritage, of his descend from Isildur; and yes, this could be a simple pride in one's ancestors. It could have been that he simply liked Isildur as a historical legendary figure and it became greater after he learnt of his descend from him. Or it could have been that he was told many tales of Isildur, of his deeds and personality, and his family, and decided I want to be like him, and like Elendil, even without knowing he was in any way related to them.

And really, when it comes to the above-mentioned people, who would be the most likely to tell him stories of Isildur? Gilraen who only knew him from stories, or Glorfindel who was never mentioned around Isildur in the books, or Elladan and Elrohir, born after Isildur's death, who could have any number of first-hand stories about hundreds of Aragorn's cool ancestors but not Isildur himself?

All I am saying is there is a potential for Elrond to be telling stories of his old friend Isildur and Elendil and Gil-galad to Estel, and Estel loving them.

There is also the fact that in the chapter The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, Elendur, Isildur's son, is said to be very similar to Aragorn. And I love the idea of Elrond's and Isildur's sons paralleling each other, in a strange way, thousands of years apart.

5. In the books themselves, we do no see Elrond speaking about Isildur much. (I checked almost every mention of Isildur in most of my Tolkien books. So yeah.) On the Council of Elrond, Elrond talks about Isildur the most, but it is mainly in historical manner and 'the Ring should have been destroyed that day' manner, as you can see in the passage from the book I mentioned above in point 1.

This doesn't tell us much about their relationship, much less their friendship - and thus as a source for my image of them as friends, I give the place to The Disaster of the Gladden Fields, thinking they would make a good duo, and the potential of how Isildur's death may have had affected Elrond.

Isildur's death was unexpected. No one expected the road not to be safe - there is a reason why Isildur and his men were unprepared for a battle. They were simply journeying on a familiar road, to Rivendell and then Arnor. Not even the Orcs that ambushed them knew of the Ring. In Rivendell, they learnt of what happened only thanks to Ohtar, Isildur's squire who survived; and even then, the specific circumstances of his death were not revealed until Aragorn found Elendilmir and the chain which bore the Ring among Saruman's things.

In all honesty, I don't think even Elrond knew Isildur planned on giving him the Ring. I do not doubt he expected him, for his wife and youngest son were in Imladris - but I found no reason as to why he might know of Isildur's plans with the Ring.

That could give him a reason to speak ill of Isildur, couldn't it? Yet when he speaks of him, he only speaks of facts and what should have been done - he doesn't call Isildur too weak to give up the ring, or power-hungry, or proud - and by the latter, Isildur calls himself several times (as can be seen here, in the passages I used above)

It needs one greater than I know myself to be. My pride has fallen.

And here:

Forgive me, and my pride that has brought you to this doom.

And yes, it was a formal Council - Elrond had no reason to speak of his personal feelings towards Isildur. Yet I think the little he said reflects his thoughts well. He might have felt some bitterness towards him, especially as he later learnt what the Ring's nature truly was; and especially as he had no knowledge of Isildur being willing to give the Ring to him, for better or worse, whether he would find the strength to do so or not.

Still, once Elrond learnt of the Ring's Nature, I think he might have understood Isildur better - especially as he himself did not dare to even touch the Ring.

[someonestolemyshoes]

So at risk of stepping out of line here are some prompts of many genres for you! I dont know if any of these tickle your fancy.

Hange Survives the rumbling

Magic AU (specifically what would they be skilled or not skilled in. I always picture Hange as being good at illusions and Levi being good at combat magic but best at house hold charms for example)

Zombie apocalypse AU (Levi was a little disgruntled at first to have a tag along but warms up to her pretty quickly and mostly against his better judgement. He is forced to concede having someone to watch his back is nice after she saves his life though )

The exact moment other characters realized Levi had feelings for Hange.

Hange and Levi pranking Erwin in increasingly elaborate ways while keeping their identity a secret. As he gets more and more frustrated.

Just straight up angst with a capitol A

Ive honestly thoroughly enjoyed everything you've written and look forward to seeing more. I dont know etiquette for offering prompts and hope I didnt offer too many. I just thought they sounded cool.

I have saved all of these because there are so many good ideas BUT on this occasion I have decided to write the following: The exact moment other characters realized Levi had feelings for Hange. This was also inspired in part by something @glassesandswords said earlier regarding Levihan and ballroom dancing. There is no (real) dancing, but there is a ballroom.....does that count? 

They were greeted politely at the doors, and led through a huge, carved entryway, intricate pillars stretching from the shiny marble floor to the high, mural ceiling. It was a beautiful architectural feat, but the effect was wasted on Erwin's small group, who observed the space with contempt, or else in Hange's case, stared only at the floor where their reflections shimmered in the polished surface.

Sweet music played through a closed set of double doors up ahead, carrying with it the hum of many voices interspersed now and then with a raucous laugh, or the clink of cutlery on expensive ceramic dishes. Two men, dressed in matching uniform, bowed politely and pulled the doors open, and the sound from within spilled into the entryway, echoing into the vast space.

The ballroom was beautiful.

** 

The carriage pulled up in a stone-paved courtyard outside one of the most extravagant buildings Erwin had ever seen. Much like everything else in Sina, money had been thrown about without restraint, to create halls and mansions and castles each bigger and more gaudy than the last. They functioned almost exclusively as a show of wealth, save for the occasional ball or banquet where the space was welcome, and the rich were more than happy to showcase their spoils.

Tonight, this particular hall had the honour of hosting the Benefactors Ball. It was an opportunity for the military factions to rub shoulders with nobility, and garner themselves some additional funding—politicking disguised as polite conversation over glasses of champagne, each one likely costing more than the monthly budget allocated for the Survey Corps as a whole.

Erwin stepped down from the carriage and took in the space. The building was tall, all white stone and huge, arched windows, polished until they shone, reflecting the evening sky. A wide staircase led to a set of great oak doors, thrown open and exposing a glimpse of the entrance hall within. The interior was full of buildings like this, large enough to hold hundreds, but vacant for most of the year, while the people within Wall Rose lived like cattle, penned into cramped houses with one room for a whole family.

Behind him, the carriage creaked as Levi climbed down. He stopped beside Erwin and stared up at the lavish building with his lip curled, his distaste evident. He made no efforts to hide his disgust at the gaudy display of luxury, and did not bother lowering his voice when he said, "stinks like pig shit. Filthy rich bastards can't pay someone to wipe their asses properly?"

Erwin cleared his throat, swallowing the urge to laugh. He perfectly understood Levi's disdain, for the sentiment was widely shared, both throughout the Corps and much of the land outside of the interior. People lived in poverty, struggling to make ends meet and fighting for rations while the rich ate decadent banquets full of more food than they could ever hope to consume, growing fat and idle in their comfort.

To his left, Mike had alighted from the carriage and was busy straightening his suit. He showed less restraint than Erwin, snorting and garnering some scathing looks from the passing attendees. Erwin fixed his face into a pleasant, appeasing smile, and spoke through the side of his mouth. "Better not to insult our company if you want to eat over the winter."

"We're already eating scraps like dogs," Levi protested with a sharp click of his tongue.

"And you'll be eating less than that if they cut our funding. Behave, please."

Mike shrugged a shoulder, unbothered by Erwin's scolding. Levi shot him a scowl, but did not argue and instead turned to talk over his shoulder, barking out. "Oi, four-eyes. The hell is taking so long?"

There was some shuffling inside the carriage. Erwin could hear Hange grumbling to themself inside it, and then their voice called out, somewhat petulantly, "I feel ridiculous."

"We're running late," Erwin said. "Come on."

Hange swore quietly, then sighed. More shuffling  and Erwin heard the carriage stairs creak as Hange climbed their way carefully down them, manoeuvring awkwardly with all the loose fabric around their legs. They stood stiffly beside Levi, adjusting the thin, silk shawl across their shoulders and pulling it over their chest. The neckline of their dress cut too low for their comfort, which Hange had complained about endlessly on the ride here, and the midnight blue fabric fell to brush the tops of their feet, where they had been forced into a pair of flat, thin-soled shoes that were already rubbing the skin of their heels raw.

The dress was very pretty, and in truth, Hange looked very pretty in it, but their discomfort showed painfully in their high, drawn shoulders and slouched posture, curved over themself to make their long, thin frame appear as small as possible.

"I don't see why I couldn't wear a suit like everybody else," Hange said, huffing to blow their fringe out of their face. Nanaba had fixed their hair in a delicate half-up do, a pretty, intricate bun fastened at the back of their head while the rest of their hair fell in loose curls just past their shoulders. Already, they seemed annoyed with it, constantly pushing it away from their face and neck. Mike turned to examine the view and Levi, who had been watching Hange slyly from the corner of his eye, slid his gaze forward and away. Erwin cleared his throat, but made no comment. The organisers had been clear about their dress code requirements—no military decoration, suits for the men and dresses for the women. Hange's military record had decided their fate for the evening, and no amount of arguing or pleading could change that.

After a pregnant pause, Erwin politely held out an arm for Hange, and gave them a somewhat apologetic smile. "Shall we?"

Hange kept their hands to themself. They shook their head and made a vague gesture for Erwin to walk ahead, following closely behind him and Mike, whose combined height and bulk blocked them from view. Erwin felt a little guilty, for forcing Hange to come, and for refusing their multiple requests to dress in something they felt more relaxed in. But Erwin understood well how the benefactors operated, knew that a pretty face in a nice dress had sway where stoic men in suits did not. Hange's frosty attitude towards him was enough to convince him that they understood, too.

They were greeted politely at the doors, and led through a huge, carved entryway, intricate pillars stretching from the shiny marble floor to the high, mural ceiling. It was a beautiful architectural feat, but the effect was wasted on Erwin's small group, who observed the space with contempt, or else in Hange's case, stared only at the floor where their reflections shimmered in the polished surface.

Sweet music played through a closed set of double doors up ahead, carrying with it the hum of many voices interspersed now and then with a raucous laugh, or the clink of cutlery on expensive ceramic dishes. Two men, dressed in matching uniform, bowed politely and pulled the doors open, and the sound from within spilled into the entryway, echoing into the vast space.

The ballroom was beautiful. Long tables lined the walls, piled high with more food than they had ever seen in their lives, steaming joints of meat, fresh and tender, and fish, vegetables steamed or roasted and coated in unfamiliar herbs and spices. The combined smell was mouthwatering. Beside him, Mike breathed long and deep through his nose. There was a huge, open floor in the centre of the room where the attendees were mingling, the men dressed in sharp, well-fitted suits and the women draped in elegant dresses, fine jewelry studding their fingers and wrapping their wrists, pearls and gems hanging from their necks. A great, ornate chandelier hung overhead, lit with what felt like hundreds of candles, the firelight ducking and weaving, shimmering from the hanging crystals and casting pretty, shifting shadows on the floor below. On one wall, huge windows ran from ceiling to floor and displayed a well-groomed garden flushed pink in the setting sun, dotted carefully with trimmed bushes and pruned flowers, a great stone fountain set in the centre,

The four of them stood in a line in the open doorway. Erwin observed quickly, efficiently. Many faces were already blushing a little red, from the heat and their full stomachs and the champagne, ferried around the room by waiters carrying trays, darting about the space with choreographed ease. He spotted a few of the key benefactors, those with the fattest wallets, and took note of the drinks in their hands—tumblers of amber liquid, whiskey or brandy from the bar, or else goblets of deep red wine that stained their lips and teeth. A glass or two more and enough sweet, sickly compliments, and Erwin felt confident they could come to some financial agreements.

He turned to look at the others. Mike's expression was neutral, eyes masked by his long fringe, but his posture was relaxed, his hands hanging loosely at his sides. Levi's eyes had once again roved to one side, where Hange stood, taking in the room with one arm covering their chest, their nails scratching absently at the skin of their neck. Levi clicked his tongue at them and reached up, flicking their knuckles.

"Stop doing that, idiot," Levi said. "You look diseased."

Hange's neck had indeed turned a deep shade of red where their nails had raked at the skin, swelling in thin, raised welts that threatened to split open with much more abuse. Hange pulled the shawl tighter around themself.

"I have a few people I need to speak to," Erwin said. He shot them each a look in turn. "Mingle, but please, stay out of trouble."

Mike nodded. Levi shrugged a shoulder. Hange glared at him, the candlelight catching and glinting off their glasses. Erwin trusted the group, but not completely. Mike had a penchant for dry sarcasm, and Erwin had observed of late that Hange and Levi could make an explosive pair when left to their own devices, equally as volatile whether they were conspiring together or else at each other's throats. Collateral damage within the Corps was easy enough to iron out—traumatised recruits were simple to deal with. Offended benefactors and interior personnel were a whole other matter. Smoothing out Survey Corps relations with their funding parties was a headache Erwin didn't need, if he could help it.

Hange, though, looked ill-equipped for mischief. Erwin couldn't recall a time he had ever heard them seem quiet, or seen them so tense. Of all the soldiers Erwin had ever known, Hange was the most loose, relaxed, with little regard for military hierarchy, no sense of personal space, and a lack of shame so absolute it bordered on admirable. He had never seen Hange so subdued, before. He might have found the reprieve from their usual exuberance peaceful, if not for the itch of guilt that came with it.

But he didn't have time to dwell on it. There were more important matters to attend to, and Erwin took his leave from the group with a stern nod, leaving to greet Pixis and Nile where they were talking politely with some bloated, red-faced nobles.

The evening passed in endless addresses. Erwin flattered his way around the room, speaking humbly with innumerable men, smiling and taking their backhanded compliments with grace while pushing another drink into their greedy hands.

Over the shoulders of one stout man with yellow teeth and breath like tobacco, Erwin caught sight of Mike, dutifully nodding his head as a gaggle of older women flocked around him. He panned his gaze around, searching for his two missing soldiers, until his eyes landed on Hange where they stood near a corner of the room, engaged in awkward looking conversation with a lanky man who seemed to share Hange's usual sentiments about personal space. He was taller than Hange, but had stooped until their faces were close, and in both of his hands he held one of Hange's, stroking over their knuckles as he talked. Hange had a forced smile on their face, but even from this distance Erwin could see the strain in their neck, the tightness in their face, their free hand white-knuckling a fist full of their dress at their side.

Erwin had known Hange long enough to understand the concentrated effort with which they were holding back. He would have to thank them later, for not causing a scene, but he could have hardly blamed them if they had. As he watched, the man brought one hand up to Hange's hair, following a loose curl from the crown of their head, past their cheek, and to their shoulder, where his fingertips danced lightly at their collar. Hange's face was pale in their anger, and Erwin was mentally preparing the kind of speeches he'd have to give to excuse Hange's indiscretion, when a figure appeared at their side offering a glass of champagne. Erwin's brows rose.

Levi had come out of nowhere. He pressed the glass insistently at Hange, who quickly pulled both of their hands free to take it. Their admirer looked sufficiently displeased by the interruption, straightening to his full height and looking down his nose at Levi. Levi stared back impassively, gaze unwavering as Hange spoke, gesturing towards Levi, and Erwin watched with some smug satisfaction as introductions were made, and the sleazy old man realised exactly who had joined their conversation.

He stuck around for only a moment, before taking his leave. Hange watched him go, then visibly sagged in place, taking a long gulp from the delicate flute and bringing their hand up to their throat. Levi said something that made Hange laugh. Their smile was small and the shake of their shoulders was slight, but it was genuine. Levi slapped weakly at Hange's hand—they had been scratching again, the skin of their neck red and irritated. He took the champagne flute from their hand and drank the rest, depositing the empty glass on a nearby table and pulling a face, running his tongue over his teeth. Hange laughed again, a little brighter this time, some delight reflected in their face as they watched Levi's twisted expression, and when Levi said something that looked suspiciously like piss off, they laughed loud enough that Erwin could just hear it. Levi nudged at Hange's ribs with his elbow and Hange grabbed onto his arm, wriggling away. When Levi stopped his prodding, Hange didn't let go of him. And then the crowd shifted, a throng of men heading towards the bar, obscuring Levi and Hange from his view.

Huh.

That was interesting.

Levi had been with them for just over two years now. He had opened up very little in that time, remained almost as stoic and distant as he had been when he had first been recruited. He spoke little, and what conversation he did make was always rude and often perfunctory, coaxed into short, one-word answers or non-committal grunts. He dealt with Erwin because he had to. He tolerated Mike due to proximity alone—where Erwin went, Mike was never far behind.

His forbearance of Hange was more confusing.

There was no real need for them to spend much time together. Outside of meetings and events like these, compulsory gatherings where Erwin preferred to bring his most trusted subordinates, the pair of them were never required to be in each other's company. He'd had no doubt that Hange would be pushy; they were fascinated by Levi and had been since the beginning, keen to observe as much as they could, to understand and employ whatever technique it was that allowed Levi to move so quickly, to fight so efficiently. He had been unsurprised to see Hange hovering around Levi shortly after their first mission together—"like a fly on horse shit," Levi had said—and it had been no shock to him at all that Levi's dismissal had fallen on deaf ears.

But time had passed, and despite Levi's constant grumbles and complaints, seeing the two of them together had become an increasingly familiar sight.

Things weren't always amiable. There was a lot of bickering, loud disagreements where Hange would whinge and push and prod and Levi's anger would build until he was steaming, and there had on one occasion been a physical fight, the kind of feral scuffling in the dirt usually reserved for children. Erwin had broken that up himself after battling to the centre of a watching crowd, and the pair of them had sat down across from him at his desk, their faces resolutely turned in opposite directions, their hair and clothes coated in dusty, dry soil, with  swelling bruises on their cheeks and split skin on their knuckles. They pointed fingers, each laying the blame squarely on the other, and neither had admitted the root cause. Erwin eventually dismissed them with a headache, and demanded that whatever their issue was, they resolve it—civilly. He had wholly expected another scrap, but had been pleasantly surprised at finding the pair of them sitting together in the mess hall that evening—they were arguing about Hange's ludicrous notion to capture a titan when he had passed them, Levi jabbing his fork at Hange's hand when they slyly reached for his bread, but there was a familiar light in Hange's eyes, one that told him this argument, at least for now, was not serious.

Erwin had been pleasantly surprised to see a similar expression reflected on Levi's usually flat, stoic face. He had ripped his bread loaf in two, and dropped half of it silently onto Hange's plate as he told them, "for the last damn time, no."

Levi afforded Hange for more leniency than he did to anybody else. He would pull a face when Hange threw an arm around his shoulder, but he never pushed them away anymore. He'd grumble if Hange dropped next to him on Erwin's sofa and wriggled their does under his thighs for warmth, curse them for putting their dirty feet on the furniture, but it had been a long time now since Levi had knocked their feet back to the floor. He would badger them relentlessly about their greasy hair or the dirt under their nails, and in the same breath he would tug on their ponytail, his fingers sinking easily into the knotted, unkempt hair.

And now, this—Levi barely tolerated using communal utensils, opting often to clean his own cutlery before eating. To drink directly from the same glass as anyone, let alone Hange, who Levi notoriously butted heads with over their personal hygiene, was unimaginable. And yet.

Erwin was pulled from his thoughts by the sound of his name, and turned back to his companion, falling easily into conversation once more.

The evening dragged on. The sky outside the great windows was full dark, the stone fountain pale in the moonlight. The water shimmered, dark and spotted with the light from the stars. Erwin's throat was dry and sore from talking, but he felt satisfied—he had secured plenty of meetings to negotiate funding, enough that he wasn't all too worried that they would inevitably lose a few offers when the alcohol wore off.

He found Mike near the bar, finally alone. Erwin crossed to him and greeted him with a nod, ordering a drink and leaning against the bar beside Mike to enjoy it.

"Calling it a success?" Mike asked. Erwin hummed.

"I think so. I'll wait until we are safely back at the barracks before I say for certain."

Mike snorted quietly into his glass. He was sipping from a glass of fragrant whiskey, something deep and smoky. Erwin took another mouthful from his water.

"And you?" Erwin asked. "Would you call it a successful evening?"

Mike reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. "A very lovely lady left me her address. She insisted I write to her."

Erwin's lip quirked. He hid it behind his glass. "Will you?"

Mike shrugged. "Maybe. I figure she might leave me a big fat inheritance if I do."

Erwin chuckled, and looked about the room.

The crowd had thinned some, and those who remained spoke in loud, slurred voices that sounded over the lazy music played by the band. They stood around in small clusters, picking at the plentiful food and chugging down their drinks, bellies swollen behind shirts bursting at the seams. Pigs ready for slaughter, if it weren't for the work of people like them, who put their lives on the line for humanity every time they set foot into titan territory.

Mike elbowed him. Erwin hummed, and Mike nodded his head towards a corner of the room. "How's that for a success?"

Many of the candles in the chandelier had gone out, leaving the room with a smoky haze and the lights lower than before, a warm orange glow that barely reached the corners. Hange had sat themself on the corner of one of the tables, their feet dangling a little way off the floor as they drank from another glass of champagne. Their shawl had been replaced with Levi's jacket, buttoned just over their chest to cover them, and they had kicked off their shoes, bare feet swinging back and forth as they drank. Their hair had been thrown up into its customary ponytail, messy and shaggy at the back of their head. They looked much more like Hange, more relaxed, more comfortable.

Levi stood close beside them, his hip cocked against the table edge, Hange's shawl folded neatly and draped over his arm. The pair of them were talking between themselves, observing the room—Hange kept snickering, and Levi kept hiding his own smile with his champagne glass. Both of their cheeks were flushed pink, noticeable even with the distance. Hange twisted their head to look at Levi, still laughing, and reached up idly to fuss with his hair. Levi continued talking to Hange as though they hadn't touched him, his eyes glued to their face as they broke into a loud, tinkling laugh, the kind that carried like windchimes over the rest of the noise. Levi's eyes were a little wide, brows relaxed out of his customary frown, and his lips were a little parted as he stared openly at Hange.

"You think he knows he looks at Hange like they put the sun in the sky?" Mike said. Erwin laughed and shook his head.

Whatever Hange said next must have been teasing. Their lips spread in a sly smile, showing teeth, and their eyes pinched behind their glasses. They leaned a little further into Levi's space, and Erwin noticed Hange's leg drift sideways, their toes brushing against Levi's calf. Whatever Hange said made Levi grimace, but he put no distance between them. One of his hands settled on Hange's knee as he leaned even closer, and the other came up between their faces to pinch at Hange's nose. He shook their face back and forth until Hange brought their hands up and wrapped them around Levi's wrist. Levi relinquished his hold, and Hange lowered their hands down into their lap, playing with Levi's fingers as they fell back into conversation.

Levi put no distance between them. Erwin and Mike watched the pair of them, watched as Levi swayed even further into Hange's space, his fringe brushing against Hange's brow. Hange was watching him curiously, their head tipped a little to one side—Levi initiating any kind of proximity must have been new, even to Hange, but they didn't seem at all bothered by his closeness.

Mike let out a low whistle. "Little street rat has a soft spot."

Erwin gave Mike a warning look, and Mike raised his hand in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Just surprised to see the captain has feelings, is all."

"It's that hard to believe?" Erwin said. "He cared a lot about his friends, too. He has a heart."

"Somewhere."

Erwin rolled his eyes. Levi and Hange were still standing close, and Levi looked very much like he was debating something in his head. His eyes flicked over Hange's face, and his fingers curled slowly around Hange's, gripping one of their hands in his. Erwin found himself holding his breath, watching them, waiting with a childishly eager anticipation. As their superior, Erwin certainly shouldn't encourage interpersonal relationships between his soldiers—but they were his friends, too. If they could afford themselves a moment of happiness in this hellish world, Erwin wouldn't stop them. Not for one night.

And then Hange's eyes flicked their way. They grinned widely, turning their face and lifting a hand to wave enthusiastically across the room. Unthinking of their attire, Hange bent a knee up and braced one of their heels on the table edge, exposing entirely too much skin to the remaining patrons in the room.

Erwin waved calmly back. Mike raised his glass. Levi stepped out of Hange's space, pausing only to pull a face and silently drape Hange's shawl over their lap, to cover them where the dress had ridden up their leg. He slipped his hand out of Hange's and jammed it instead into his pocket, and shook his fringe over his eyes, looking at Erwin and Mike through it. His scowl was back in place, but the colour in his cheeks had intensified.

Hange spoke to Levi, then hopped off the table grabbed his hand again, turning backwards to keep a hold of his hand as he bunched up their shawl and scooped to pick up Hange's shoes, dangling them from his fingers as Hange dragged him barefoot across the ballroom floor. Levi followed behind, caught helplessly in Hange's wake. In the middle of the floor Hange paused, and turned to him so quickly the hem of their dress rose, twirling around their legs. Whatever they said made Levi shake his head, and then shake it again, more firmly, but Hange laughed that bright, tinkling laughter and held the skirt of their dress in their spare hand, dipping into an exaggerated curtsey. Erwin wasn't sure what had done it, whether it was the alcohol or the jacket covering them up, or perhaps it was simply the presence of good company, but Hange was behaving more like themself again, bubbly and alive, and Levi was as ever their hopeless victim, cringing when Hange spun themself down the length of his arm, paused briefly with their body pressed tight against his chest, and then back out again, teetering on their toes to keep their balance. 

They tried valiantly to coax Levi into a few off-beat steps, moving to a rhythm Erwin couldn’t identify. They smile was bright, their face pleasantly read, and they were wholly unbothered by Levi’s lack of commitment. Levi looked at them sternly, but the threat of it was lost in the bright red flush of his cheeks.

"You're no fun, Levi!" They whined, close enough now that Erwin could hear them. Levi clicked his tongue.

"You're acting like an idiot."

"I'm having fun," Hange said, tugging on Levi's hand. "You should try it! You might like it."

"Brat."

Hange grinned as though he had complimented them. Levi's lips twitched, but he held back any urge to smile and curled his lip in a snarl instead, hitting Hange's leg lightly with their shoes and urging them to start walking again. Hange saluted him and together they crossed the rest of the distance and stopped before Erwin and Mike. Hange kept a casual hold on Levi's hand and Levi made no move to part from them, but he glared at Mike and Erwin as though daring them to say something. Mike smirked, and Levi flushed deeper, but his grip tightened around Hange's fingers.

"Are we done?" Hange asked. Erwin nodded. "Good. My feet are killing me—who the hell designed shoes like? And I’m tired of creepy old men—which reminds me,” Hange reached into the top of their dress and pulled out a handful of napkins, which they handed over to Erwin. “These perverts seemed pretty eager to spare a pretty penny for a nice young lady like myself.” Hange pulled a face as they said it. “I can't wait to get this dress off."

Erwin noted with interest the way Levi's eyes slid to Hange, roving down the length of their body and up again.

Mike downed the last of his drink. "Finally," he said, stretching and following as Erwin led them towards the door.

"Tired after wagging your tail for all those grandma's?"

Hange snickered, and Levi's mouth pulled into half a smile. Mike, unaffected by the jab, only grinned.

"Exhausted. What about you, though? Eager to head back and pop some pain killers?"

"Hah?"

Mike's grin widened. He leaned closer to Levi, and Erwin had to strain his ears to hear him.

"I heard being whipped hurts."

This time, Levi did let go of Hange's hand. Quickly.

There was a carriage waiting for them outside. Erwin took the stairs quickly, eager to sit and rest for the duration of the journey back to the barracks. He opened the door and turned, waiting to let the others in, but only Mike was behind him. Levi and Hange were still at the top of the stairs, Hange holding Levi's shoulders for balance as they slipped back into their shoes. Their face was curled in a pained grimace as they descended the stairs and Levi was watching them closely, one of his hands hovering at their back. Mike looked delighted as they approached, and took great pleasure in offering Hange his hand to help them into the carriage before Levi could. He climbed in and sat beside Hange, leaving Levi to take the seat opposite them. Once they were seated, Erwin knocked on the box, and the driver urged the horses on.

Hange sighed loudly. They kicked off their shoes again, and dumped their feet into Levi's lap.

"Oi," Levi said, though there was no malice behind it. Hange wiggled their toes until Levi closed his hand around Hange's foot, thumb digging into the arch with practiced ease. Hange sighed happily and slumped in their seat.

Mike made a show of sniffing the air, and pulled a face. "Smells weird in here."

"Like what?" Hange asked sluggishly. They had let their eyes drift closed as Levi worked absently on their foot, the buzz from the champagne mellowing in the darkness of the cab.

Mike sniffed again. "Horny teenagers."

Levi's ministrations paused briefly, thumb and fingers stilling until Hange made an impatient sound and lifted their foot, shaking it in his face.

"Fuck off," he hissed, but continued. Hange poked out their tongue and gave him a satisfied grin, then rolled their head towards Mike.

"I think your nose is broken," Hange said. "'S probably just my feet."

"They do reek," Levi added. Hange sunk right the way down in their seat and pushed both feet at Levi's face this time, dodging his grabbing hands and wrestling with him when he caught ahold of them, until he slammed both of their feet back into his lap, victorious, and pinned them down by the ankles. Hange's face was a little flushed from the exertion and their laughter was breathless. Levi looked a little triumphant, eyes alight with something like humour.

Levi was having fun.

Erwin tipped his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes.

"I don't know, Hange," he said, smiling. "I think Mike might be onto something."