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whats-rambled-rambled · 4 years

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Stuck in reverse - pt 8 - finale

Neil x Reader

Chapter 8: Never let me go

(see Chapter 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1)

summary:

//And it’s over and I’m going under But I’m not giving up I’m just giving in//

warnings: language.

author’s note: There it is, folks. Thank you for staying with me until the end, for every kind word and all the support you showed me along the way.

—

“…Neil?”

You sat up on the bed, rubbing your eyes. Yawning, you looked around the room. You noticed his things were gone.

Why would he-…

The sudden anxiety spike wiped all the remaining sleepiness from your brain. You quickly put on your clothes, grabbed your phone and went outside.

You tried Neil’s number, looking at the sun rising over the horizon. No response.

Maybe he put it on silent. Maybe he was in the canteen.

You almost slipped on the wet stairs.

He wasn’t there.

Instead, you found Ives and Wheeler. He was leaning against the wall with a mug in his hand, she was sitting at the table, clenching her cup of coffee so hard that her knuckles were white.

“Hey guys, where’s Neil?”

They didn’t even look at you.

“…hello, have you seen-”

Wheeler’s face went pale, she looked as if she was about to pass out. Her eyes darted at Ives.

“I can’t-”

“Y/N, sit down,” he sighed, pointing at a chair in front of Wheeler.

A cold shiver ran down your spine. You crossed your arms and inhaled slowly. That was not happening.

“Just tell me.”

“Neil went back.”

You blinked twice and furrowed your brows. It didn’t make any sense.

“…he what?”

Ives put down his mug and gazed at you. “Neil went back to Stalsk,” he said slowly.

“But-”

“Look,“ - Ives groaned in frustration - “there was a fucking lock down there, he went back to open it for us.”

Your heart sank in your chest.

The pain in Neil’s eyes when he came back.

You dug your fingers into your arms, trying to stop your mind from racing. “Okay, but he should have gone back with yesterday’s squads anyway-”

“Y/N, he stayed there.”

Neil’s face when he was watching the waves.

You were fighting for every breath. You looked at Wheeler, but she was just sitting there with her face hidden in her palms.

“What do you mean he-”

Ives shook his head. “He didn’t make it.”

You gasped at the sudden realization. Your eyes widened, the pulse was pounding in your ears.

Neil’s sharp chuckle when you talked about your possible future together after quitting the organization.

The pit in your chest was slowly being filled with rising anger. You pinched the bridge of your nose and closed your eyes.

“…No.”

You felt a touch on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” said Ives quietly.

You brushed off his hand. “No,” you repeated through gritted teeth. “Tell me what happened.”

Ives glared at you, taken aback by your reaction.

“He got shot.”

You exhaled slowly, locking away a rising panic and all unnecessary emotions. You left out the anger, though.

“So?” - you shrugged - “You sent a medic team for him, right?”

Ives frowned and looked away. “There was no point,” he sighed.

“The fuck do you mean-…” you huffed in disbelief. “It’s not a fucking movie, Ives, it doesn’t mean-” you hesitated as you noticed Ives and Wheeler exchanging looks. “Wheeler?” - your eyes narrowed - “Say something, damn it!”

Silence.

“Fuck you both. I’m going there,” you scoffed as you slowly backed away.

“You’re not going anywhere-” Ives raised his voice, but you were already on your way out.

“Watch me.”

“Goddammit, Y/N, he got shot in the fucking head!”

You stopped and clenched your fists.

“…so?”

“Are you fucking serious-”

“No, are you fucking serious,” - you snapped and turned around, pointing your finger at Ives - “you just wanna give up on him without even trying-…”

Ives looked like he was about to punch you. “What does Neil always say?” he yelled. “What’s happend’s happened! Do you even realize I should have shot him right after the mission?! And Priya-…”

But you stormed out of the canteen and couldn’t hear him anymore.

___

You rolled out the maps of Stalsk-12 and the Hypocenter. With your hands gripped on the edge of the table, you let out a shaky breath. You didn’t know how much longer you could keep yourself together, but for now, you were riding on adrenaline rush, slowly slipping into your mission mode.

Someone entered the room. You looked over the shoulder and saw Wheeler walking up to you.

She glanced over the maps and nodded slowly.

“Listen, I can’t just-” you began, but the words got stuck in your throat. Your mind went blank as a result of your brain’s desperate attempts to prevent you from breaking down.

Wheeler looked you in the eyes and a faint smile appeared on her face. “I know. You can’t go in there alone. I’m coming with you.”

A wave of relief almost swept you from your feet.

“But Ives-”

“Oh you know him, he fumed something about some cowboy shit and both of you being bloody perfect for each other,” Wheeler chuckled lightly. “He went to wake up few guys from the trauma team. Now come on,” - she patted you on the arm - “let’s crack this out.”

___

The team’s footsteps clanked against the metal crate on the floor. You tightened your hold on the rifle as you peaked around the corner, but the corridor looked clear. How did they overlook that entrance in the first place?

You rushed to take cover behind a collapsed wall, Wheeler and two medics ducking right behind you. Then you just had to wait.

You couldn’t understand Ives and The Protagonist yelling on the balcony below you. A gunshot echoed through the corridor, followed closely by the second one.

The thing about being inverted was that you rarely paid attention to the chain of events going both ways simultaneously, you had to focus on your own mission. You couldn’t overthink it, you had to feel it to be as effective on the field as possible.

After the third gunshot rang in your ears, you heard the sound of a body hitting the floor.

You winced and bit your lip to stifle any sound that would escape your mouth. You knew what that order meant. It took all your willpower to stay in your place instead of running down those bloody stairs to put a bullet through Volkov’s head. You wrapped your fingers around the teal string on your wrist. Breathe.

Every second felt like an eternity. You could see Wheeler’s hands shaking slightly on her weapon.

Another body hit the floor, then you heard the fourth gunshot. Just a little while longer. You watched Volkov going backwards up the stairs and down the corridor. You gritted your teeth, your body tensed and you were ready to move the second he vanished around the corner.

You jumped at your feet and sprinted to the metal staircase.

There he was.

You fell on your knees right next to Neil and tossed your rifle to the side. You fixed your eyes on his face, covered in blood underneath the mask.

“Neil?” you grabbed his hand and pulled it to your chest, squeezing his fingers.

God, no, no, no, don’t do this to me.

“Neil, sweetie, can you hear me?” your voice was strained as you held your breath, stroking his palm with your thumbs. “We’re getting you out of here, all right?”

The whole world was collapsing on your head, you could barely hear your teammates barking commands at each other. “Please, please, love, don’t-”

Neil gasped quietly and looked at you, his eyes widened in shock and terror.

The fight wasn’t over yet.

You moved away to make room for the medics, not letting go of Neil’s hand.

___

The flight back to the base was excruciatingly long. The trauma team stabilized Neil the best as they could on the way there, but he had to get on the operating table as soon as possible. He was slipping in and out of consciousness, despite your best efforts to keep him awake. When the helicopter touched down on the hospital ship, the medical staff was already waiting for you at the LZ. You didn’t leave Neil’s side all the way to the surgery wing, where you got ushered away by the nurses.

You watched as the door closed behind him.

You leaned against the cold wall and your legs just gave in. All the emotions, bottled up long enough for you to survive that whole mission, got released at once. You sat down on the floor and hid your face in your palms, gasping frantically for air, your chest painfully clenched, your whole body shaking from violent sobs.

…Please, please, love, don’t leave me.

___

“…You look like shit.”

“Thanks, I feel like one,” you scoffed as you closed the door behind you, glaring at Ives.

He shot you a concerned look. “Mate, seriously, have you eaten anything since you got back? Don’t make me send Seb over here to feed you with a spoon, eh?” the corner of his lips quirked into a smile.

You mused at that idea for a moment and shook your head. “I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Ives sighed and pointed at the door.

“How is he?”

“The doctors said he got lucky, the bullet missed the vital parts of the brain, but for now it’s hard to say how big the damage is. The next few days are going to be critical, we have to wait to see if-…” you choked on the last word, your eyes welled up slowly.

“Hey, hey, hey, no, come here,” Ives reached out his arm pulled you into a hug. “No ifs, you hear me?”

You let out a shaky breath as you pressed your forehead to his shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, Y/N, I’m a fucking idiot, I’m sorry.”

You pulled back and squeezed his arm, smiling sadly. You looked in his eyes. There were no more words needed, both of you just nodded.

As you reached for the knob, you hesitated.

“Ives, I quit.”

He scoffed, “Don’t say it too loud or I’ll be forced to throw you overboard, ey?”

You rolled your eyes and you went back to Neil’s room.

___

You didn’t know how much time had passed. All days blended into one, filled with the steady beeping of various machines, the nauseating smell of disinfectants, frequent medical check-ups, and the agonizing waiting. Wheeler popped in few times to make sure you were holding in there, but even though you were glad to see a friendly face, sometimes you caught her staring at you with a silent question in her eyes, the same question you saw in the eyes of every person who came into that room.

Was it worth it?

No one dared to ask it aloud, though.

Because of that question, you preferred the moments you were left alone, sitting at the bedside.

You waited.

You thought it would get easier once they unplugged the respirator, because that meant Neil was well enough to breathe on his own, but it didn’t get any easier, not really. It was still hard to say how long it would take him to regain consciousness.

So you held his hand and you waited.

You couldn’t rest, every time you closed your eyes you were haunted by the image of Neil’s face covered in blood, by the panic in his eyes. At some nights, when the pain and loneliness became unbearable, you curled next to him on the hospital bed, trying to find a bit of comfort in being close to him, in feeling his warmth. In Neil’s heartbeat, reminding you that he was still there with you, as you cried yourself to sleep.

At other nights, you just leaned from your chair and rested your cheek on his palm as your mind drifted off into a nightmare filled abyss

One night, you felt a soft touch on your forehead.

That was just a dream. And if it was, you didn’t want to wake up. You squinted your eyes, swallowing a tear with every gentle stroke on your hair.

“Hey you,” Neil’s voice was hoarse and quiet.

You looked at his face and a sob escaped your mouth.

Neil’s blue eyes were fixed on you, his lips curled into a half-smile.

“What did I miss?”

___

“…and two frappés, please. Thank you,” - you smiled, handing your menu back to the waiter.

“It never gets old, doesn’t it?”

You leaned back and giggled. Neil was staring at you with those playful sparks in his eyes again, a big grin brightening his tanned face.

“Nope,” you smacked your lips and smirked. You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment. The scent of a nearby paperflower bush was mixing with salty wind blowing from the sea.

You looked at the dark clouds on the horizon.

“How much time do you think we have before it starts raining?”

Neil’s eyes followed your gaze. “I think-…” he hesitated. His shoulders tensed, a hint of frustration tainted his face. You took his hand and laced your fingers together. He sighed and relaxed, shooting you a thankful look. “….optimistically I’d say four to five hours.”

You nodded slowly and smiled. “Maybe we could stop by the beach before we find a place for tonight then?”

Neil pulled your hand closer and placed a small kiss on your fingers.

“I think we should.”

You looked over your shoulder at the waiter coming back to your table with two big plates of pasta.

You chuckled.

Life was good.

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil x reader #tenet #robert pattinson #neil tenet fanfic #tenet fanfic #stuck in reverse

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ayma-nidiot · 3 years

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“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fic Chapter 10

This chapter on AO3 can be found here.

Chapter 10 - For Real?!

~06 June 2005, mid-morning~

The next voice he heard would erase all of his doubts. “What gives, dino brain?” spoke Weevil. “We’re in a hospital - and no, that doesn’t mean we’re at a taco stand.”

“What are you on about, Weevil?” That voice sounded like Amber’s. “Is that supposed to be an inside joke?”

At last, Rex decided he had enough of the annoying squabbling, and fully awakened. “All right, guys. If you want my attention, well now you have it. Hmm?” Rex looked to his right, and noticed that a giant I.V. line flowed into his right arm. “Whoa! What happened to me? Does it have anything to do with the nausea?”

“Y-Yeah…” Rex could tell from Weevil’s voice that he knew the full story - and already, it didn’t sound good. “After you passed out on the graduation stage, you got this really awful fever, and the principal called for an ambulance. Not only did you throw up multiple times on the ambulance ride, but also while the doctors were treating you.”

“All while you were unconscious, if I might add,” Amber added. “You got so dehydrated that the doctors had to give you fluids, nutrients, and strong antiemetics through I.V.”

“Oh, shit… Well, someone’s gotta let Mom and Mama know! You did call them too, right?”

“...” Weevil and Amber both said nothing as the doctor and a few nurses came in.

“Hey, Doc! What happened? Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Mr. Raptor…”

“I am gonna die, aren’t I?” Rex shrieked as the nurses tried to calm him down. “Aaaaah! Tell Mom and Mama that I love them very much! A-And Weeves, you get my deck-”

“Mr. Raptor, please calm down. You’re going to be fine.” These words from the doctor finally got Rex to calm down. “However, you will need to spend about two months in this hospital because of… what happened.”

“And what is this ‘thing’ that happened? Do tell.”

As professional as this doctor was, he found it hard to break the news of Rex’s condition to him. “You don’t seem to have a medical history, so we did find it odd that you developed a severe illness out of nowhere. We performed an ultrasound and a few blood tests on you… and, well…”

“Aww, come on!” Rex’s mood lightened significantly when he found out he would live. Still, he didn’t like how the doctor seemed hesitant to tell him what was going on. “You’re acting like a doctor about to tell a woman she’s pregnant! Haha, you really had me there for a…”

Rex stopped laughing when he noticed the serious look on the doctor’s face. “No… No way… For real?”

“Yes, Mr. Raptor. The ultrasound not only revealed that you have both reproductive systems, but also that you are carrying a child. You’re nine weeks along, to be precise.”

“Are… you… serious…” Rex looked to the man who was obviously the father of his child. “Did you know about this, Weeves?”

“No, I swear I didn’t!”

“I just hope Mom and Mama never find out.”

“Funny you say that, because I called your parents as soon as I called the ambulance,” Amber cut in. “You can guess at how panicky they were.”

“This… can’t be happening…” Rex receded even further into his hospital bed.

Weevil allowed a few more seconds of silence to pass before saying, “...You’re mad, aren’t you?”

“Why would I be mad at something that isn’t your fault? I mean, even though it technically is… Ah, forget it.”

“So does that mean you want to keep the baby?”

“Yes.”

“In that case, you’re going to need intensive care,” spoke the doctor. “You are suffering hyperemesis gravidarum, an extreme form of morning sickness that causes severe dehydration and weight loss. That’s why we need you to stay hospitalized until about the start of your second trimester, which is when morning sickness normally stops on its own. However, since you do not have a vulva, it cannot be determined at this time how labour will happen. If push comes to shove, you may need a C-section. ...By your leave.”

And with that, the doctors and nurses left the room, leaving Amber, Rex, and Weevil by themselves.

“So it wasn’t just the takoyaki…” Rex slowly lifted his free arm.

“I… I…” Weevil had no words as he approached his boyfriend.

“Weeves…” Rex laced his fingers with Weevil’s and placed their hands on his belly. “I can’t believe it either. I’m… carrying our child.”

All of a sudden, Amber began to feel sad, and quietly left the boyfriends alone. But they wouldn’t stay alone for much longer, because as soon as she left the hospital room, Ptera and Tricera came in.

“Oh… Hi, Mom.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop with the ‘Hi, Mom?’” Ptera didn’t even sound angry, just worried, as she and Tricera hugged their son while crying. “Oh, my sweet, sweet child…”

When his parents finally stopped crying, Rex spoke, “Speaking of children, there’s something I have to tell you guys. Mom… Mama… I’m pregnant, and Weevil is the father.”

“You… are?” Ptera sounded surprised, which Rex expected.

“Yup. Apparently, I’ve got a womb I didn’t even know about. In fewer than 7 months, you’re going to be a grandma.”

“Oh, I knew that you have both reproductive systems… I’m just surprised you can actually get pregnant.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You see, I remember my 20-week ultrasound very well. The doctor told me back then, but assured me that you would only be capable of producing sperm. ...What a quack he was.”

Tricera already knew what Rex wanted to say, and stopped him. “No, Rex, we’re not mad at you. We’re going to help you raise that baby, just like your mom and I started raising you almost 19 years ago.”

“I’m actually really excited that I’m going to be a grandma,” Ptera cooed. “And to think, you’ll be drinking the same tea that helped me through my own morning sickness.”

Before Rex could make a comment on how adorable he thought that was, he noticed a weird man with shaggy brown hair and beard staring at them through the crack in the door. “Huh? What do you want, you creep?”

Ptera immediately shut and locked the door without getting a good look at the mystery man. “Pardon me, I forgot to lock the door. And don’t worry about that guy; I’m sure security will drag his sorry ass out of here.”

“We’ve got more important things to worry about,” Weevil spoke up while holding both of Rex’s hands. “Rex, honey, I’m going to help take care of the both of you, no matter what my father says.”

#yugioh #ygo #shrimpshipping #ryuhaga #mpreg #I love mpreg uwu #I really like Rex's reaction to finding out he's pregnant

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nofeartina · 5 years

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Your presence still lingers here - Part 7

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6]

“You’re leaving, aren’t you.”

It’s not really a question, no matter how much Even would like it to be. Isak just sounds tired and resigned, doesn’t even look at Even as he says it.

Even wishes Isak would look at him while doing this, would ask him instead of already being so sure. No matter how right he is.

“I wish with everything I have that I didn’t have to.”

Isak scoffs, glances at Even briefly before his eyes settle on whatever is outside the window. Maybe it’s the trees, Isak did always like looking at the life just outside their apartment.

“Nobody is forcing you. You don’t have to leave me, you’re choosing to.”

Even takes a step closer, wants to reach out and touch Isak, feel his warmth and the comfort that he brings. Wants to put his arms around him and offer some comfort back, but he understands that Isak wouldn’t appreciate him doing that right now. Even almost can’t see Isak’s face, covered in shadow from the street lights outside. Their apartment cold and dark, like Isak has been standing like this for hours waiting for Even to come home.

“I wish I could stay with you forever.”

Isak finally turns towards him, arms crossed, face contorted with anger making Even take a step back with the force of it.

“You’ve always kept me at bay, never let me in. And now you’re leaving me and you won’t even do me the courtesy of telling me why; you just give me these empty words like you think they will actually mean something to me.” Isak’s heavy breathing is the only thing breaking the silence in the apartment. “Tell me why, goddammit! I deserve to know, Even!”

Even’s heart is breaking, his ribcage imploding. There’s no room inside him, everything is shattering and he puts his arms around himself like he’s trying to hold it all in place.

“I wish I could, Isak.”

But that only seems to rile Isak up further. “Fuck off, of course you can. Is it-- you can just tell me if it’s something I did. Or I don’t know, something I didn’t do.” Isak’s voice breaks as he talks, his anger petering out with every word until his body slumps and he looks on the verge of crying instead. “Am I not enough?”

Even reaches out but Isak shies away from him and it’s like a physical ache to not be able to touch Isak. But he understands, knows that he just has to get used to that now - not being able to touch Isak. He’s not really his to touch anymore.

“It’s never been about you, you’re perfect--”

“Don’t give me that ‘It’s not you, it’s me’-crap. I don’t buy it.” Isak steps close, puts his hands on Even’s upper arms and shakes him a bit in desperation. “Just tell me!”

“I can’t--”

“Is it because you still look exactly the same as you did when we met?”

Even freezes. His mouth is open but no sounds escape him, no words form in his brain.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t care about that, I don’t want you to use it as an excuse to leave me.”

Even finally manages to make his mouth work. “It’s not an excuse, it’s a reason.”

“What are you?”

“Old.”

“What do you mean? How old?”

Even shakes his head and Isak groans in annoyance. “You’re so…” He turns away from Even, hands fisted at his sides, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I can’t believe, that even now, even when you’re on the verge of leaving me, you still won’t give me any answers. I should be happy that you’re leaving, that I’ll be able to find someone where I don’t have to go digging for answers I’ll never get. Someone who’ll maybe let me in and let me be part of them and their lives and their families. Someone who’ll talk to me.” The last few words are sobbed, forced out like they’re pulled from Isak’s chest carrying his pain and Even can’t stand that he’s doing this to Isak. That he’s causing him so much grief.

He should’ve never let himself begin this. He really is the most selfish person in the world.

He puts his arms around Isak, holds him close, ignores how Isak keeps his arms between them instead of hugging Even back as he cries.

“I’m sorry.”

Isak sniffs and pulls away from Even’s arms, away from Even. He looks at him, straight in the eyes, not wavering even once. He’s formidable, so beautiful and perfect and brave.

“I don’t believe you,” he says.

Every word feels like a knife cutting deep, turning and twisting in his heart and his gut, ripping him from inside.

Destroying him.

“If you’re gonna leave, then leave.” Isak’s chin is held high even as he says those words, the way he looks at Even with disdain, like he’s daring him to. Like he’s expecting him to, but hoping he won’t.

Even looks at him for a few long seconds, words drifting through his mind, carrying the meaning of everything he wants to say, everything he wishes he could share with Isak. Committing this Isak to his memory; his tears and his anger and his pain.

Even did this. Even deserves this.

He needs to remember so he’ll never make the same mistake again. So he’ll know never to love again.

He steps away from Isak, into their bedroom, not terribly surprised to find the bag he packed earlier on the bed. With a heavy heart, he picks it up.

He stops when he’s at the front door, hand on the handle. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I really am sorry.” His eyes are fixed on the wood in front of him, he can’t turn around and look at Isak crying. “I love you, Isak.”

Isak doesn’t answer but Even can feel his eyes on his back as he opens the door and leaves.

#your presence still lingers here #part 7 #warning for angst my friends #sorry but this had to happen #</3 #but this isn't the last part!#I wouldn't leave them like this #Thank you cola for betaing #you're amazing and the way you love this story makes it easier for me to write <3 #you're free to shout at me (a little bit) if you want #hahah #immortal!Even au #nofeartina writes

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quinnybee-writes · 4 years

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Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 6/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 6 Summary: Favor number two tests the patience of one and the mettle of another, leaving uncertainty about both in its wake.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 5 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 6 on AO3

I swear to god if if I have to sit through one more meeting where I get voluntold to pick up another department’s slack in the same sentence as management trying to cut my intern’s hours I’m going to chug a two-liter of Surge and burp so loud I bring this whole mfer down with me.

Shouta stared at his phone, his sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of whether Yamada meant the text as a threat or not. He’d been catching a quick power nap in the back of his truck during his lunch hour and had been most of the way asleep when the rattle of his phone on the metal floor jolted him awake again. Not helping his attempt to dissect the meaningless hyperbole was Yamada’s follow up text of lmao it u along with a gif of a cat trying to jump from a bed to a dresser and falling halfway with the caption “parkour!”. He wouldn’t put it past Yamada to be the type to threaten in one breath and quote a meme in the next, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around why Yamada would be sending him incriminating evidence via text message during work hours.

Two new messages came in quick succession as Shouta was trying to puzzle things out.

Oh my god

Those were supposed to go to my sister holy shit

So not an admission or a threat, just an idiot with a cell phone. Shouta groaned, eyes rolling back in his head in disgust at how much energy he had wasted on taking Yamada seriously yet again.

forget it Shouta sent back.

Cute cat pic for ur trouble? Yamada replied along with a picture of a gangly black cat with bright yellow eyes. The cat was sprawled on its back in a pile of kibble and the shredded scraps of a cat food bag. Shouta snorted, grinning a little in spite of himself at the self-satisfied look on the cat’s fuzzy little face.

cute he texted, trying to distill as much exhaustion and disinterest into the single word as possible.

That’s Ai-chan. She’s a monster, but she’s my monster <3

So what are you up to? Break from work?

Shouta sighed, rubbing his temples. It was impossible to freeze out someone who was so willing to keep the conversation going without outside input.

trying to catch some sleep before afternoon deliveries Shouta replied as pointedly as he could.

Oof. Busy night?

do you need something? Shouta asked, stabbing the send key a little harder than he really needed to. There was a short, offended pause from Yamada’s end of the line; Shouta could picture him looking down at his phone with that little not-quite-pouting moue he always made when things weren’t going his way.

I guess not.

The curt punctuation seemed to signal Yamada had finally gotten the point, just in time to exhaust the last of Shouta’s free time before he had to get going again. Shouta put his phone into his pocket and made a point to not check it again until he was walking home. Waiting for him was another gif, this time of a pair of hands vigorously shaking a bottle of Surge, followed by a message that just said Oh goddammit. Shouta rolled his eyes and deleted the thread without replying.

The perceived slight only kept Yamada at bay for a short time, however. Now that he’d gotten a taste of the man’s texting habits Shouta had to wonder how Yamada managed to get anything done. No matter when his breaks were during the day it seemed like Yamada always had some new meme or gif or general workplace complaint to gift him with in the meantime, whether it was before dawn or after dark or occasionally both.

do you actually have a job or do they just pay you to bother me? Shouta finally asked as he waited at an interminable red light several days later. Yamada had been on a spree that morning, flooding his inbox with an illustrated play-by-play of Ai-chan’s newest misdoings while Shouta had four straight hours of back-to-back deliveries.

Excuse you, Yamada texted back loftily, I am an integral part of station management! Who occasionally may or may not take extra long bathroom breaks to avoid getting roped into being more integral than I already am.

my bad. clearly you’re just doing your part to prevent asahi radio from being razed via belch Shouta replied, snorting out a laugh before he could stop himself. He paused, frowning. That was both new and unwelcome.

Yamada sent back a long line of laugh-crying emojis followed by Look who grew a sense of humor just in time to drag me!

don’t act like you know me.

Yeah, yeah. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anybody you’re actually funny.

Shouta scowled, dropping the phone onto the seat next to him and pulling through the light as it finally turned green. Despite the chilly weather he rolled his window down to get some airflow on his face. He hadn’t turned on the truck’s heater yet but his cheeks already felt way too warm.

Shouta spent his next day off drinking too much coffee at the cat cafe while he tried to reign in the chaos that his computer desktop had become. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and Shouta swiped in the passcode with one hand while the other was dragging a huge load of defunct backup files to his computer’s trash. He’d sooner walk into traffic than admit it to Yamada, but having a passcode on his phone was turning out to be less of an inefficient hassle that he’d always thought it would be and did make him less anxious about putting it places that weren’t his pocket or his hand.

As if waiting for the thought to cue him in, the alert was for yet another of Yamada’s early-morning memes. This time it was a gif of a kitten trying to stay awake before it wobbled and flopped out of frame. Yamada’s accompanying caption read That midweek feeling hitting hard today along with an emoji of a sleeping face with a snot bubble.

it’s monday Shouta texted back.

When you work 24/7 it’s always midweek, Yamada replied.

implying you work at all. still not convinced.

I resent that, Aizawa. It takes a lot of skill and determination to shovel this much shit and still have spare time to be a full-time pain in the ass.

Shouta almost allowed himself a laugh at that, but the air caught in his throat at Yamada’s next question.

So, do you do all of your important hero research on the public wifi at kitty cafes, or is today a special occasion?

What do you mean? Shouta asked warily.

Behind you.

Shouta turned slowly, dreading what he knew he was about to see. Yamada was standing on the sidewalk outside, grinning at him over the top of his cell phone. He gave Shouta a little wave before sauntering in and up to the counter. He chatted amiably with the baristas as they made his order. Shouta frowned to himself, trying to work out the quickest way to pack up his belongings while disturbing as few sleeping cats as possible. The moment came and went too quickly, however, as Yamada came over with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Black with one sugar, right?” Yamada said. He slid one of the steaming mugs in front of Shouta. “That’s what they said anyway,” he added, nodding up towards the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asked coolly. Yamada frowned at him.

“I was on my way to the post office to mail a couple things and empty the station P.O. box and saw you in the window,” Yamada said. “I figured we could sit and chat since we both have a minute.”

“You just kind of assume you’re welcome wherever you decide to be, don’t you?” Shouta said.

Yamada snorted. “If that’s the worst thing someone tells me about myself today, I’ll count it as a win,” he replied, toasting Shouta with his coffee cup. He invited himself to sit down in the only chair not currently occupied by cats. “Wait, is that a spreadsheet with my name on it?” he added with sudden interest, arching his neck around to peek at Shouta’s screen. Shouta slammed the lid of his laptop shut, feeling his face heating.

“Do you need something?” Shouta asked, trying to redirect the conversation and get Yamada back on his way as quickly as possible.

“Just caffeine and conversation,” Yamada shrugged. “Is it illegal to ask someone about their day?”

“Implying you care about whether or not you’re doing something illegal,” Shouta replied curtly. To his annoyance Yamada just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, you’ve got me there,” he said. “So, what are you working on?” Yamada added, lowering his tone just slightly.

“Catching up on some things,” Shouta said, intentionally vague. “Organizing research. It takes longer when you’re doing it on your own.”

“I bet,” Yamada agreed. “Would probably save you some time and effort to have a permanent back door into places you’re not supposed to be, huh?” He said it with a too-even speculation that set Shouta instantly on edge.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Shouta said.

“I know people who know things,” Yamada said with a broad, conspiratorial grin over his coffee mug. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a lot easier when you can tell which is which.”

Shouta felt a frisson of discomfort run up his spine at the implication of where Yamada considered him to be on that spectrum. “I think I liked it better when you were threatening me,” he muttered. “Don’t make more of that than there is,” he added quickly as Yamada’s smile grew cheeky and he opened his mouth to comment. Yamada did his annoying little not-quite-pouting pout and let out a quiet “hmph” at his joke being preempted.

“In any case, you probably don’t need me to tell you how to crack a secure password,” Yamada said. “Even when they’re clever they’re usually related to either the one who sets them or the thing they’re locking up, or they’re something pseudo-random cooked up by a number generator. Sometimes they get stupid-clever and try to do all three.”

“Mmn?” As bored as he was trying to sound, Shouta couldn’t help taking mental notes on what Yamada was saying. Yamada was a flippant trouble-maker from the word go but there were moments where he displayed actual talent for the things he claimed to be an expert in.

“Oh yeah,” Yamada said. “They’re trying for layers of security, but too many moving parts makes passwords way easier to out-think. Codes are only as smart as the people who write them, y’know?”

“And you know how smart they are?” Shouta asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he goaded Yamada into staying on a roll. Yamada caught his drift a little too well, however, and the sharp, meaningful grin came out again.

“I know people who know things,” he said again. “I’d be willing to let you in on a few trade secrets for the low, low price of a certain five-letter word beginning with ‘f’.”

Shouta snorted. “Hard pass.”

“Well, I tried,” Yamada said, shrugging. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “That’s about my lot, I’m afraid. Gotta get back before the world ends.” He stood and stretched with a groan. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe talk less shop.” The offer seemed oddly genuine and Shouta wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

He tried to get back to work after Yamada left, but his concentration had been thoroughly broken. He bought another coffee and turned on some neutral background music; his brain, however, was no longer in the mood to stare at a screen and try to riddle out what his new sub-folders should be called. Finally Shouta dislodged the many cats who had taken up residence in and around his lap and packed up his laptop to see if fresh air on the walk home and a change of venue might help get him back on task.

Shouta nudged his apartment door closed with his heel, scooping the mess of envelopes out of his mail bin. It was mostly the normal jumble of junk and bills, but amongst the shuffle was a thin white payroll envelope with his name and address on the front in too-familiar spidery handwriting. Just going to empty the station mailbox indeed, Shouta thought with a groan. Yamada was way too fond of theatrics. He tossed the envelope onto his sofa without opening it and delayed paying it any attention until he’d put everything away, showered, and had a lengthy play session with his cats. If it was unimportant enough for Yamada to not just hand it over when they were in the same room together, Shouta told himself, then there was no need for him to bend over backwards to pay attention to it the instant he got home.

Finally his excuses ran out and he tore the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper folded separately into sharp thirds. The first was a handwritten note on Asahi Radio letterhead that read:

Aizawa-

I need a favor. I have a line on something but doing it alone might be tricky. You’ll just be the go-between, nothing dire. Meet me Friday, 9pm sharp.

-M

Also included was another of Yamada’s meticulously notated hand-drawn maps, at the other end of which was a complex of storage units bordered on all sides by a spike-topped chain link fence. Shouta peered into the dark, abandoned-looking guard booth, wondering if the first step to tonight’s goings-on was having to find his own way inside.

“Hey, you made it!”

Shouta turned to see a dark-haired man slouching up towards him from the other end of the sidewalk. He eyed the man warily, about to say he had the wrong person, but stopped as he stepped into the light and raised his sunglasses with a smirk. Yamada had stuffed all of his hair under a short, spiky black wig and a black and green snapback, slicked down his mustache and covered it in a thin layer of skin-colored makeup to blend it in with his face, and buried himself in baggy jeans and a jacket that made him look both heavier-set and a few inches shorter than he actually was. The only things that gave him away were his sharp too-green eyes and his unmistakable grin, full of crafty smugness at Shouta’s open surprise at his appearance. Yamada did a full turnaround of the odd costume, ending the twirl with a dramatic pose.

“Not a bad look for me, huh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shouta snorted. “You look like a washed-up pop star who’s trying to pretend he still has to avoid the paparazzi,” he replied flatly.

To his surprise Yamada let out a burst of full-throated laughter at the remark. Shouta wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yamada laugh in genuine amusement before now, only the occasional mocking chuckle or triumphant snicker. He had a loud, whinnying kind of laugh that tapered off into short bursts of wheezy, hyena-like giggles behind his hand as he remembered himself and tried to tamp it down.

“Okay, cynical,” Yamada said, still coughing through the last of his laughing fit. “Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes and gave a flourishy “well, what are you gonna do” kind of shrug. Shouta scowled at him.

“What are we doing here?” Shouta asked, doing his best to ignore Yamada’s grandstanding despite the growing burn of annoyance creeping up his face.

“Just a quick jaunt into my evil lair,” Yamada said cheerfully. He punched an entry code into the number pad next to the guard house, then pressed his thumb to the scanner underneath. The keypad flashed green and beeped an affirmative, and a small portion of the gate swung inward. “C’mon,” Yamada said. He motioned for Shouta to follow him as he led the way through the rows of squat cinder block units to one in the very back left corner of the lot.

“People with money can afford secret basements and underground boltholes wherever they need them,” Yamada said over his shoulder as he bent down to unlock the door of the unit, “but the rest of us have to make do with what we’ve got.” He lifted the door just high enough for himself and Shouta to duck under, then set it back down with a clatter. The unit was pitch-black and humid inside and smelled like a mixture of burnt-out electrical parts, solder, and partially cured epoxy glue. “I’ll get the lights, one sec,” Yamada said. Shouta heard him scrabbling along the wall to find the light switch, then a click. A fluorescent shop light flickered and buzzed to life above them, flooding the unit in intense blue-white light. Yamada turned to Shouta and spread his hands wide. “Taa-daa! Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

It looked more like a high school shop room that had sublet space to a thrift store. The left wall had been covered in a cluster of flat-pack bookshelves, their shelves bowing under a jumble of storage boxes labeled things like “radio parts-LIVE”, “speaker wire”, “tape--sticky”, and “tape--magnetic”. The back wall was one long anchored shelf divided into slots that held overstuffed file folders bundled together with rubber bands and binder clips. The only wall not covered in shelving or projects was taken up with a butcher block work table and a cork board with scribbled notes and schematics pinned to it.

“Kind of rinky-dink, but it gets the job done,” Yamada said fondly. “Anyway. First things first, did you happen to wear the stab vest I gave you?” he asked over his shoulder as he ducked under the work table and retrieved a box marked with today’s date.

“Yeah.” The assurance that his part in tonight would be “nothing dire” had put Shouta on high enough alert that he’d forced himself to put pride aside and opt for personal safety instead.

“Thank god. So, basically what I need is for you to be my stand in while things get underway tonight,” Yamada said. “I’d go on my own, but the meeting place is kind of a...no-go area for me right now due to certain people who frequent it.”

“And you’d rather send me in looking like you instead?” Shouta asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Yamada stared at Shouta like he’d started speaking French.

“What? God, no, what gave you that idea?”

Shouta sighed, silently counting to ten in his head as his patience frayed. “You just said I’m supposed to be your stand in.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, poor choice of words. Think stunt double, not body double,” Yamada explained. “I just need you to be a good-faith warm body, I’ll be handling the rest with this.” He reached into the box and pulled out something that looked like a cold weather mask had been extruded into a large funnel shape at the bottom edge. Shouta looked from it to Yamada, who was beaming in obvious self-pride.

“Which is…?” Shouta prompted.

“Which is your half of a two-way radio with a built in broadcasting speaker,” Yamada said, turning the top edge inside out to show Shouta the wiring and speakers sewn into it. “At first I thought maybe I could just have you memorize a script and I’d step in if things got too off-book, but you’re not very good at lying under pressure so I wasn’t sure that would fly,” he continued. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “So instead, we have this to work with. I can use this--” Yamada pulled up his sleeve to show a tiny microphone taped to the inside of his wrist-- “to talk to you or talk as you, depending, as long as I stay within ten or twelve feet of you at all times.” The last part he said in one of his uncomfortably accurate impressions of Shouta’s voice.

“And that’s why you’re dressed like that?” Shouta said.

“Exactly. I’ll have to be close enough to you that the receiver can pick up the signal, and it’ll be way easier to read the room if I’m, y’know, in the room.”

“If you were going to put on a costume and go anyway, why didn’t you just do that and go on your own?” Shouta asked.

Yamada frowned and waved a finger at him like he was scolding a child. “Eh-eh-eh. No questions asked, remember? You know as much as you need to know, and you don’t need to know any more than that. Now stand still so I can get you wired up.”

Shouta grudgingly stood with his arms straight out from his body as Yamada turned him into a human switchboard. With a combination of strategic placement and gaffer tape Yamada ran a long wire with an audio jack on one end and a battery connection on the other from Shouta’s waist up his left side to just under his collar bone. Another wire ran the length of his inner arm from shoulder to wrist and ended in a loop with a switch on it that fit over the first knuckle of his thumb. All he had to do, Yamada said as he taped it all down, was press the switch when he needed to talk to Yamada and let it go when he was finished. “Y’know,” Yamada said, “like those cheap walkie-talkies you used to play with as a kid.”

“I ended up making this a lot bigger at the bottom so that we can hide all of our crimes under it,” Yamada muttered as he slipped the mask over Shouta’s head. He was back in the extreme focus mode Shouta had seen him slip into before, attention laser-focused and the corner of his mouth between his teeth as he connected all the wires and power sources underneath. He pulled an earpiece up under the mask by its wire and stuck it in Shouta’s ear before reaching up to fuss with Shouta’s hair and make sure it was hiding everything sticking above the mask. Shouta shivered involuntarily at the touch, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “With the right top layer all of this should be more or less invisible,” Yamada went on, frowning appraisingly as he took a step back to examine his handiwork. He rummaged through a few things in the box and surfaced with a heavy black zippered jacket. “I had to guess sizes, but I think this one should be close enough.”

Yamada unzipped the jacket and held it out so that Shouta could shrug into it. Shouta eased the jacket on, trying not to disturb the network of wires all over him. Yamada zipped it up almost to the top, open enough to seem casual but still high enough to cover all but the face portion of the mask and its contents. It wasn’t a terrible fit other than being slightly short in the sleeves and restrictive around the shoulders. Shouta bent and twisted his arms, trying to stretch it out without doing damage to the electronic infrastructure. Yamada untied the audiojack end of the main wire from Shouta’s belt loop and stuck it into a small cheap-looking disposable cell phone.

“This should have enough battery to keep a recording of the whole thing,” Yamada said. “Can you give me a quick mic check to make sure everything’s hooked up?”

“Uh. Testing,” Shouta said.

Yamada seemed to like what he saw in the waveforms on the phone’s screen. He smiled in satisfaction before stretching a piece of tape around the back of the phone and carefully taping it into place in Shouta’s pocket. “If we head out right now we should get there early enough to do a few on-site checks,” Yamada said, checking the time. “Shall we?”

The two of them walked a few blocks from the storage unit to a cramped, dim little pub. Yamada walked at tailing distance behind Shouta the whole way, testing the range on the homemade gear by giving Shouta directions to where they were going. The audio was relatively clear if they stayed within Yamada’s estimation of ten or so feet; after they hit closer to the twelve-foot mark it got fainter and fainter until dropping out completely as they reached about fifteen feet. Again Shouta had to wonder why, if they were essentially going to be handcuffed to one another anyway, Yamada couldn’t have just gone undercover by himself.

“Grab a drink at the bar and go sit at one of the high-top tables,” Yamada said as Shouta opened the bar’s door and made his way in. “That’s where he’ll be expecting you.”

“Any advice on how to recognize whoever I’m supposed to be meeting?” Shouta muttered back under his breath.

“No idea, he said he would find you. That’s pretty standard for a meeting like this,” Yamada added before Shouta could protest. “Nobody wants to get jumped outside before negotiations even get underway. Think of it as a blind date, but nefarious.”

Shouta sighed loudly, making sure he hit the switch so that Yamada would hear him. Yamada’s never-ending supply of bad metaphors was the last thing he needed right now.

“Calm down, Aizawa,” Yamada said. “Remember, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, I’ll handle the talking.” There was a short fizzle of static as Yamada entered the pub and made his way to a secluded booth in the back corner. “Still read me?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer? Wine? Shot of whiskey to settle your nerves?”

“You really want alcohol anywhere near all this equipment?” Shouta asked, bewildered.

“It’s just for show, who goes into a bar and doesn’t order anything? You shouldn’t drink anything they serve here anyway, their bartending is a bad joke,” Yamada said dismissively. “I just need to test the audio output and make sure we’re good to go before the main event.”

“Then just do it,” Shouta said shortly. “Didn’t you just say you were going to handle all the talking?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Yamada muttered again. His usual flippant chill had gained an undertone of cranky tenseness that was less than reassuring. “Can I get a bottle of Sapporo?” Yamada said aloud in Shouta’s voice. Shouta just managed to turn toward the bartender in time for the question to seem natural. The bartender, a smirking woman with long brown hair held back in a red ribbon, gave him an appraising once-over. She seemed to be unimpressed with what she saw.

“Sure,” the bartender said. She reached into a cooler under the counter and came back with the bottle of beer, popping the lid off before placing it on the bar in front of Shouta.

“Thanks,” Yamada said, far more cheerfully than Shouta had ever said the word. Shouta nodded his own thanks and went to go sit at one of the high tables in a cluster near the front. He drummed his heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool. The bar was basically empty and silent other than the bartender’s phone playing lo-fi swing music from a speaker dock behind the bar. Otherwise it was just Shouta and his undrinkable beer killing time.

“Ohshit.” The words came out as a single noise hissed violently in Shouta’s ear, making him jump.

“What?” he hissed back, avoiding the curious look the bartender was giving him.

“Remember how I said there were some people who made this place a no-go area because they want to kill me?” Yamada said, sounding like he was talking through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“That’s them coming in. Don’t look at them! Have you never been undercover in your life?” Yamada whisper-shouted as Shouta turned to look over his shoulder at the door. Almost immediately he snapped his head back around, trying to be as casual as possible about pulling the jacket’s hood over his head as he saw Takeshiro and his wife coming in and sitting a few tables away.

“You know them?” Shouta asked, hopelessly hoping Yamada actually meant someone else who was still outside.

“Ye-ep,” Yamada said, distaste drawing the word out several syllables longer than it needed to be. “They’re still kind of sore about a certain scene in a certain alley you might be familiar with.” He scoffed, then hissed, “Wait, you know them?” as Shouta’s tone dawned on him.

The alleyway. Shapes in the dark played back in Shouta’s head, fuzzy from time and panic but falling into clearer place with the new context. A short, stringy figure barking orders and bailing when things got complicated; the other taller and stocky and silent with a plant-based Quirk protecting him. Shouta gritted his teeth, annoyed by how clear the connection seemed now that it was right in front of him.

“Takeshiro works on the night crew in package processing. Takes a lot of sick days now that I think of it. I’ve never actually spoken to his wife but I’ve seen her at office parties before,” he said quietly.

“His wife? Ew,” Yamada said.

“You’re telling me they’re villains?” Shouta asked, ignoring him. Yamada snorted.

“So-called. They work for an egomaniac middleman called Seguchi. Hebiko is Seguchi’s left hand, and Takeshiro’s hers.”

“What did you do to make them want to kill you?”

“Their boss did something stupid with information that wasn’t his and got busted. I had nothing to do with it,” Yamada retorted tartly.

“Right, sure,” Shouta said. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Yamada said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “This is why I planned things this way. No reason to bail out before anything happens.” Shouta was about to protest that it made a lot more sense to leave before there was a problem rather than scrambling when they were in trouble, but Yamada spoke first. “Heads up, you’ve got company.”

“So you’re Null.”

Shouta turned to see a lanky man with brownish hair and a narrow, rattish face standing slouched behind him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grubby jeans.

“Potentially,” Yamada replied. “You’re Raimaru?�� His impression of Shouta’s voice was dead-on, which was bad enough on its own, but there was something just slightly off about his intonation that made Shouta’s skin crawl.

“That’s what they call me,” the man said. ”Getcha a refill while we talk?” he added, nodding at Shouta’s obviously untouched beer.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shouta fiddled with the neck of the bottle to make it seem less like a static prop on the table in front of him. Even if Yamada had been against the idea of giving him a script to follow, some guidance on what to do in general might have been nice. He felt stiff and awkward, like a puppet whose puppeteer only had a vague idea of how natural movements worked.

“Suit yourself,” Raimaru shrugged. He ambled off to talk to the bartender, seeming to be doing his best to chat her up as she mixed his drink.

“‘Null’?” Shouta muttered to Yamada.

“Short for ‘nullify’, like your Quirk. Get it?” When Shouta just sighed in reply, Yamada added defensively, “Well, I had to call you something, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“What did you want me to say, ‘oh by the by you’ll be meeting my friend Shouta Aizawa, he’s thirty, single, a Scorpio, and lives in a single-occupancy uptown with three cats’?” Yamada retorted.

He technically had a point and Shouta hated that the most out of all the things he hated about this evening so far. Yamada had no time to gloat over the win, however, as Raimaru came back and dropped onto the stool across from Shouta.

“Kind of a hassle, having to be the face of cleaning up all of your boss’s bad behavior, huh? From what I’ve heard he’s got plenty to go around,” Raimaru said. Shouta privately agreed with the sentiment, but Yamada snorted instead.

“I get paid to go where I’m told, not to pass judgements,” Yamada replied stiffly. Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the defensive bluster. Raimaru laughed for him.

“I dunno about that. There’s plenty of judgement to go around if you want some,” Raimaru said. “Seems like the only books he can get into these days are peoples’ bad ones.”

“You think he gives a damn about anyone’s books other than his own?”

“I’m just saying I know a glorywhore when I see one. He spends all of his time making deals and playing nice and then suddenly people higher than him start going to jail,” Raimaru said. “Happened to Fukawa, happened to Seguchi, happened to Iwata. Hell, everyone knows he snitched and got Hanajima back in the day but Hanajima got shanked in prison and all his men scattered so nobody talks about him anymore.”

Shouta squirrelled the names away to research later, though other than those names Raimaru had said precious little to convince him that he knew much of anything besides Yamada’s surface reputation. So far his assertions had been vague at best and his “work, am I right?” tone was suspiciously chummy, like he was trying to nudge “Null” into letting something incriminating slip out.

“Why is any of this relevant?” Yamada asked. He sounded equally short on patience with Raimaru’s unsubtle attempts at currying favor. Raimaru gave a slightly passive-aggressive shrug.

“There’s a storm coming. A big one, one that’s gonna hit hard and rewrite a lot of rules about who’s in charge and who’s got a boot on their necks. You’re not gonna be in a great spot if you’re working for the Bird, so I thought you’d wanna know there’s better options,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like he actually knew what he was talking about and it was not a reassuring change. Yamada, however, seemed unfazed.

“What, some new jumped-up ‘super’ villain with big plans for a criminal utopia?” Yamada said, unimpressed. “Seen ‘em come, seen ‘em go, nothing of value was lost. You asked me to come here because you had something valuable you wanted to trade. Is that still the case, or should I head out and stick you with the tab for wasting my time?”

“So, that’s a ‘no’ from you?” Raimaru asked, still grinning like someone had wired the corners of his mouth behind his ears.

“I didn’t hear a question being asked, but…” All of a sudden Yamada’s voice trailed off in a fizzle of static. Shouta tensed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Yamada, who met his eye with a look that was not quite panic but was very, very close to it. Yamada tapped his ear questioningly. Shouta twitched his head to the side in a negative. He saw Yamada mouth “Shit!” before his attention snapped back to the problem in front of him as Raimaru let out a short chuckle.

“Never a good idea to use radio signals around me,” Raimaru said smugly. “They usually end up a little...dead.” He casually brought the hand that had been under the table to rest on its surface. It was holding a large pocket knife, which he casually flicked open and closed as he spoke. All of the plastic had been stripped off of the knife, leaving behind just the blades and metal guts holding them together. As Shouta eyed it, the blade began to glow a smokey orange around Raimaru’s fingertips.

“I think we’re done here,” Shouta said, trying to match the off-cadence way Yamada had been using his voice all night.

This only seemed to egg Raimaru on, however, as he cranked his Quirk up another notch. Shouta felt a static prickling like the kind before a huge lightning strike setting the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end. A tinny shrilling feedback noise whined through his earpiece, making him jolt and hiss in sudden pain. Shouta gritted his teeth and set his own Quirk on Raimaru instead. A hasty decision, it turned out, as a sudden crash of noise hit him all at once. Yamada’s voice half-shouting in his ear was interlaced with loud snaps of static as the equipment reconnected. Shouta winced at the onslaught, clapping a hand to his ear before he could stop himself. The moment of distraction was all Raimaru needed.

“So the Bird’s doggy wants to bark, huh?” In one fluid motion Raimaru threw what was left in his glass in Shouta’s eyes and hooked a foot under the bottom rung of Shouta’s stool, yanking it from under him. Shouta toppled to the floor, landing hard on his ass and elbows as he futilely tried to catch himself as he fell. He blinked hard, tears streaming as his eyes burned with whatever had been in that glass. Raimaru grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him partially upright.

“Things could have gone better for you, but it looks like the Bird just likes making things difficult,” Raimaru said.

Shouta dug his fingers into Raimaru’s wrist, trying to wrestle himself free. Raimaru smirked, a violent shock sparking off of his skin and into Shouta’s arm. Shouta let out a bark of agony as his entire arm below the shoulder seized and went numb. Someone else’s hand, large and thick-fingered, ripped his back by the forearm, twisting his hand back and up between his shoulder blades. Shouta stiffened. He hadn’t heard Takeshiro or his wife approaching during the scuffle but it was obvious now they had him surrounded. He thought of the alley and the way they had closed ranks around Yamada, accounting for every avenue of escape except for a one-in-a-million outside intervention. Shouta darted a look over to Yamada. Their eyes met for a split second that lasted an eon. Yamada’s eyes were wide and his face had gone deathly pale as he took in the scene in front of him. He was frozen half in motion, caught between breaking cover to come help and his desire to steer clear of Takeshiro and Hebiko. Shouta’s stomach sank as Yamada dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself and pulling his hat down farther to hide his face.

“Last chance, doggy,” Raimaru said. “That signal was too weak to come from very far away. Point us in the right direction and we’ll let you go, no hard feelings. Otherwise we send you back to your master in pieces.”

He leaned in as he threatened, and Shouta took the opportunity to show him how close was too close. Shouta reared back, then rammed his forehead into Raimaru’s nose at full force. As Raimaru reeled back, Shouta slammed himself back into Takeshiro, sending the man spine-first into the edge of a table. Takeshiro grunted in pain and Shouta twisted away from his grasp as Takeshiro tried to catch himself. Raimaru sank his fist into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but Shouta managed to activate his Quirk again before Raimaru could shock him. Shouta retaliated with a sharp hook, jamming his fist into Raimaru’s solar plexus with as much force as he could muster. As Raimaru doubled over Shouta grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him face-first into the table.

“All right, ENOUGH!” the bartender yelled. She was floating above the bar with a warning look on her face, a thin metal pipe leveled at Shouta’s head. Shouta looked from her to Takeshiro and Hebiko, who had backed off behind their table again, to Raimaru, who was staring up from under his hand with undisguised disgust as he bled onto the table. Shouta took a moment to catch his breath, then released Raimaru. Not bothering to see if Yamada would follow, Shouta took the moment of peace to walk out of the bar.

The night air was cold and made his face feel closed in and sticky under the mask. Shouta jerked it down under his chin, sucking in a hard breath. The adrenaline in his veins felt like a cloying, choking compulsion to just run, escape, flee as fast as he could in any direction that would count as away. His lungs burned nearly as badly as his eyes, every new breath feeling like a sharp stab in the chest. A strange itching slightly farther down his abdomen joined the pain in his chest as he half-sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouta looked down and froze mid-step. The bare metal handle of Raimaru’s knife stuck out of his stomach at an almost perfect perpendicular angle, jammed in so far that the tip was pressing the rough kevlar of his stab vest against his flesh.

“Ho-ly shit that was a whole bunch of something.” Shouta didn’t look up from the knife almost in his gut as Yamada’s voice crowed out behind him. He felt Yamada digging in his pocket and retrieving the cell phone. “Could have gone better for sure, but also could have gone worse.” Yamada gave Shouta a cheery smack on the shoulder. “You and I make a pretty good team, huh? C’mon, let’s go find a nicer place to grab a bite and hang out until things die down.”

He paused like he fully expected Shouta to agree and follow after him, but Shouta was barely listening. His mind was still trying to process the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. The night “could have gone worse”? Raimaru had almost made good on the threat to send Shouta home in pieces while Yamada cowered in a corner booth, more worried about being seen than being helpful, and Yamada was congratulating himself for a job well done.

“Aizawa? Earth to Aizawa? Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.” There was a note of real concern in Yamada’s voice as he reached out a hand to steady the trembling in Shouta’s body.

The idea of Yamada making any kind of physical contact snapped the last bit of sane civility Shouta had left in him. True fury, hot and fast and scraped raw by everything that was running through Shouta’s head, boiled over in his chest. He swung wildly at Yamada, hoping to make contact but hoping more just to fend him off as violently as possible. Yamada yelped and jumped backwards, hands coming up to protect himself.

“Whoa! What the hell--?” Yamada began, but Shouta was already swinging again. He wanted to make Yamada bleed, make him feel even half as agonized and afraid as he did right now. Yamada stumbled away from him, eyes wide in shock and confusion. His back hit the brick wall of a building and Shouta got right up in his face, Quirk blazing and teeth bared in a hateful snarl as he spoke.

“Let me be clear with this, so maybe you’ll hear it over the sound of your own voice,” Shouta said between clenched teeth. “We are not partners. We do not make a good team. We are sure as fuck not friends who hang out. You are a problem in my life that I am trying to solve. Get that through your thick skull and stop acting like we’re in this together.” He pulled the knife out and threw it violently at Yamada’s feet before turning on his heel and striding away as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he staggered into his apartment and secured every lock and deadbolt on his door Shouta stripped down, dumping everything he’d been wearing in a heap in the entryway. Ignoring his cats’ cries for attention, Shouta went straight to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. He could feel himself shaking now, the dregs of adrenaline making his legs weak rather than holding him up any longer. He sat down in his tub with the scalding water beating against his back, arms wrapped around himself. He looked down and saw a long irritated scratch rising on his stomach where the knife had dragged against him through the vest. Shouta let out a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. He’d been a vigilante for long enough to know that it meant going without any kind of help when things went from bad to worse to potentially lethal; until now not even his worst cases had shaken him like this. But those times he’d known the risk going in and taking it on had been his choice, which made all the difference. Yamada had known, though. Yamada had known they should have bailed as soon as their worst case scenario walked in the pub’s doors and he’d used Shouta as a human shield to try to get what he wanted anyway. Shouta gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as his hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like Yamada.

Never again, Shouta thought as he roughly toweled off. Yamada could keep his favors and his trade secrets and all the rest of it. He’d need all the help he could get, because as far as Shouta was concerned Yamada was on his own from this moment on.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #eraserhead bnha #eraserhead mha #present mic #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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t-i-n-y-d-i-n-o · 6 years

Text

Broken Promises Pt. 3

I hope this part is good, I worked pretty hard on it. Let me know what you think!

Warnings: some swear words, mentions of a panic attack.

Shawn has gone back to the studio, but making sure he’s going after he’s dropped Stella off at school and back in time for dinner every night. Your relationship has become better, actually using words instead of icy glares. And Spencer...well he’s just a happy baby boy.

~6 1/2 weeks later~

“Do you need anything? I’m heading to the store, I’ve got a list started.” Shawn says as he comes into your shared bedroom. Spencer laying on your chest as you feed him, the baby fighting his nap.

Blanket tucked around him while he tries to play peekaboo with you, even as you adjust the blanket again. Looking down at him with a slightly stern expression, letting him know that now is not play time.

“Mm I think I need tampons.” You respond, he nods a bit and goes to the bathroom. Opening the cupboard and seeing the unopened box. Furrowing his eyebrows he grabs the box while trying to remember when you had last complained of cramps.

“Honey...when did you buy these?” Shawn asks coming out with the box, you look up. Eyebrows scrunching in confusion as you look at the small box in his hands.

“Uh...a month and a half ago.” You mumble, sharing a look with your fiancé. A slight sense of panic arising in your chest as you think of all of the possibilities.

“I’ll be back.” He tells you, heading out of the door without another word. While your brain is left to catch up with what he’s said and his actions.

“Well buddy...your daddy is gonna lose his mind...again.” You say softly, your son kicking his legs slightly. Gently touching his cheek which results in him pushing closer to you.

Eyes fighting to stay open, you adjust his body a little more snuggly against your chest. Kissing his forehead gently, you sigh softly and look at your phone. Smiling as you see the picture of Shawn, yourself and the kids on the beach.

~20 minutes later~

“Okay, I’m back. I got two different kinds.” Shawn says carrying the pharmacy bag in his hands. Cheeks slightly rosy like he ran all the way there and back, what with as much energy as he seemed to have, you wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

“Well...I don’t think I can generate that much pee, but sure let me try.” You respond with a slight sass to your tone, he rolls his eyes slightly and sits on the bed next to the sleeping 10 1/2 month old.

Resting his hand on his belly and feeling his chest rise and fall. Sighing softly as you stand in the bathroom opening the boxes. Pulling out all four tests and staring at them, feeling your heart do a stutter.

“Baby? Are you okay?” Shawn asks after almost 15 minutes of you being locked away. Looking down at your son and biting his lip before sliding pillows around his body to keep him from rolling off of the couch.

“I uh...yea I’m good.” You respond, he slowly opens the door to see you standing by the sink. Adjusting your leggings and running a hand through your hair. He sits on the side of the tub, gently pulling you to sit on his thigh.

“What are you thinking about?” Shawn murmurs, resting his chin on your shoulder. His slight scruff that he deems a beard rubbing against the delicate skin of your neck.

“How young Spencer is...how he won’t really get to be a baby...” You say honestly, he wraps his arm around your waist tighter. His body seeming to nuzzle farther into yours.

“Sweetheart...he’s still gonna be a baby. He’s gonna be one in a month and a half. It’ll be okay.”

“Shawn...you go on tour again in 7 weeks. And this tour is lasting for almost 8 months with only 3 actual breaks. I would have the baby while you’re on tour.” You state, a soft frown on your face. He smooths his thumb between your eyebrows, rubbing gently.

“It’ll be okay honey.” You pull his watch up to check the time. Both of you standing up, picking up all four tests to flip them at the same time. Turning the sticks over you see either one line or a negative symbol. Your heart skipping beats as you try to focus your vision on the little window on them all.

Letting out a quiet breath you rest your palms on the marble of the counter top. Stomach slowly unknotting itself while you breathe a little easier. Shawn stares at the tests, a sinking feeling of disappointment in his stomach. You turn to look at the tall curly haired boy, seeing the look on his face

“Shawn...you can’t be telling me you want another baby already...” You say, suddenly feeling trapped by his arms and body. He doesn’t say anything, before pushing away from you slightly. Trying not to be offended by his sudden need to put space between you two.

“I’m um I’m gonna head to the studio for a bit...I’ll be back later.” He murmurs, dropping a kiss to your forehead before walking out of the room and doing the same to Spencer’s.

“I...Shawn what are you?” You rush to get out, following him to the door. You look back at your sleeping boy, then at the retreating form of your lover. Once again your brain trying to catch up with all of the activity.

“Goddammit.” You whisper to yourself, picking up your phone and sending Haley a text. Asking her to pick up your little munchkin from school at 12:30. Sitting back by the sleeping boy on your bed, you feel your heart sinking.

~2:30 pm~

“So he just left?” Haley asks as she looks at you from across the table. Both of the kids down for a nap, the baby monitor sitting next to you. Crackling every now and then as one of the kids move in the living room.

“Yea I don’t know what his problem was...it’s like he wanted me to be pregnant again. He knows that wouldn’t be good right now, I mean for God’s sake our youngest isn’t even a year yet.” You groan, burying your head in your hands. Mussing up your glasses and for sure smudging your mascara.

“Well I mean...maybe he’s going through some shit. You said yourself he’s been amazing the past few months. Maybe there is something eating away at him, I’m sure he’ll come talk to you. He usually does.” The blonde reasons as she looks at you worriedly.

“This is why you’re my best friend.” You say, looking up at the blonde. She smiles widely at you, before taking a serious face.

“Bitch...we’re sisters by now.” Haley states causing both of you to laugh quietly. While you nod in agreement with her statement, thinking of all of the things you’ve done in your 8 years of friendship.

“Mama? Can I have a drink? I’m thirsty.” Stella murmurs as she comes into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes cutely. You smile and stand from the table, heading for the cabinet. Grabbing her small camelback, filling it with some ice and water. You sit back down across from Haley, accepting your oldest into your lap.

“Is daddy comin home soon?” She asks sleepily, you bite on your lower lip. Heartache starting to fill your chest again, not wanting to upset the little girl.

“I’m sure he’ll be home in time for dinner.” You tell her, she nods a bit and yawns again. Curling her body into yours more, her bunny tucked under her arm. You rest your chin on her head and sigh softly, looking across and seeing your best friend. A slightly sad smile on her face while she looks at you both.

~11:45 pm~

You jump slightly as keys get tossed onto the small table by the front door. The door being caught before it can slam shut, instead gently being clicked and locked. Rousing from your spot on the couch, yawning quietly you look up to see your fiancé.

“Do you not want more kids with me?” He asks in a soft voice, sounding dejected and hurt. Eyes slightly red rimmed, and cheeks a light pink color like he’s been crying off and on.

“Come sit?” He takes the cushion next to yours, not looking up to meet your soft gaze. Not trusting himself to not start crying again or worse not letting you talk the way you always let him.

“Of course I want more kids with you S, I just don’t know if now is the right time. I mean think about it eh? Spencer is only going to be turning 1 in a few short weeks here. And tour is gonna start.”

“Don’t use my tour as an excuse, because we’ve made it work with both Stella and Spencer.” Shawn interrupts looking at you with anger bubbling up in his honey eyes. You sigh softly, biting down on your bottom lip. Mulling over your words carefully, trying not to sound cold hearted.

“I don’t want anymore kids until Spencer is at least 2...maybe even 3. It’s hard on me Shawn, to chase after them both when you’re gone. It’s hard because I know how much you hate being away from them...could you imagine if there were four of us you’d have to leave? It would kill you...and maybe I’m being selfish. But it’s my body and I decide what happens with it.” You tell him softly, he looks away from you and takes a deep breath. You stare down at your hands, sucking on your cheek.

Shawn sits and ponders your words for a second, letting them sink in while he thinks of his own sentences and feelings. Feeling his chest tighten slightly as more emotion comes and hits him.

“I was so excited about the thought of you being pregnant again...but then those negative tests showed and it reminded me of trying with Spencer. I’m scared that we’ll never be able to have more kids and I know you want a house full of them. I want to give that to you but what if I can’t?” Shawn whispers, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes. You scoot closer to him, taking his face in your hands.

“If we only have our two perfect babies then what bad could that be? It’s okay...I don’t blame you at all. It’s okay honey.” You say before he breaks down, tears staining his face now. Arms wrapping around you tightly and tugging you as close as he can. You ‘shh’ him softly, kissing his curls and squeezing around his shoulders.

“I love you...love you so much.” Shawn murmurs, hiccuping quietly and nuzzling into your throat. You smile softly and run a hand through his hair gently. Feeling him press closer to you, like he wants to be under your skin.

“I love you too S.” He sniffles quietly and takes a deep shuddering breath. His breath catching in his throat as he looks at the custom watch you and the kids bought him for his birthday last year.

“Oh fuck...I missed dinner.” He says pulling away from you with wide, worried eyes. Heart cracking as he pictures Stella’s upset glare, and your frazzled state of anger.

“It’s okay, we had pizza with Hales and then read a chapter from Harry Potter. They’ve been in bed for awhile now.” You tell him, he looks at you before leaning in and kissing you.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you...but I am so fucking lucky.” He whispers before kissing you again softly. Both of you rising from the couch, heading for the stairs.

“I’ll meet you in there honey.” Shawn murmurs, squeezing your hip gently. Before walking down the hallway, stopping at his daughter’s room. Smiling softly as he sees her sprawled across the purple sheets.

Mouth slightly ajar and letting out the smallest of snores. He tucks the blanket around her a little tighter, tucking her bunny under her arm. He kisses her forehead softly, and brushes her curls back.

“I love you my little bunny.” Shawn whispers, before going to leave the room. He heads down the hall for his son’s room, biting his lip. Looking at the pictures of your small family lining the walls.

He smiles as Spencer lays in his crib, pacifier stuck in his mouth and blanket gripped in his hand tightly. The father steps over to press his lips to his cheek. Taking in his Aveeno baby wash, smiling at the memory of you insisting that that be the only baby wash you ever use because you had read an article about the others.

“I love you bubba.” He murmurs, before standing tall and smiling down at the little boy. Spencer letting out a quiet sound as he stretches and turns his face towards his father.

Shawn slowly leaves his room, going farther down the hall for your shared room. Stopping outside of the doorway and seeing you already crawled into bed. Hair in a messy pony tail, blankets pulled up to your rib cage.

“Are you asleep yet?” He whispers as he crawls into bed, dressed in his pajamas. Teeth brushed and curls fresh of their normal paste. His body slightly chilled from not being under the covers with you for so long.

“Mm what’s wrong?” You ask sleepily, blinking your eyes open slightly. Turning your head towards him more, your body slowly following.

“I love you...thank you for giving me a beautiful family.” He leans down and kisses your lips gently, nuzzling closer to you. Breathing in your familiar pineapple body wash, something he always misses when he’s away.

“I love you too bubs, and you helped make them. So thank you too.” You respond, stretching your legs slightly. Before Shawn moves to his back, tugging you into his side. Your knee coming up onto his thigh, arm slinging across his stomach.

“G’night sweetheart.”

“G’night honey.”

~Spencer’s party~

“Where are gifts going?” Brian asks as he comes into the kitchen. A medium sized bag with Paw Patrol on it, blue and green tissue paper sticking out of the top.

“There’s a table out there...or there should be.” You respond, finishing filling the tray of fresh fruits. Moving the watermelon over to fit more strawberries and blackberries on it.

“Oh yea, I see them now. Need help?” He asks you, slinging the bag around his arm. You look up to meet the ginger’s kind gaze, smiling at him softly.

“Can you grab the mini plates and silverware?” You ask nodding at the stacks of said items. He nods grabbing both before shrugging the door open for you. Following you out into the expanse of your back yard.

“He’s gotten so big!” Aaliyah cries as she holds Spencer, the baby smiling at people passing by. The birthday boy bouncing on her legs happily while chewing on a teething ring.

“That’s what happens when you feed them.” Shawn says with a slight sass in his tone as he brings more chairs out. Making a sweet face at his little boy that earns him a happy squeal.

“Oh shut it. I’m excited to see my nephew.” She retorts, kissing Spencer’s cheek and making him giggle. You smile as you set the tray down, looking around at the kids running and playing.

Stella giggling as Geoff runs around with her, lifting her above his head. Spencer squeals excitedly when he sees you, making grabby hands. You gently lift him up, brushing some grass from his pants.

“When am I getting another niece? I feel like we’re out numbered here.” Aaliyah says as she stands up, brushing her own pants off. Standing close to you as she pulls off the baby’s sock for him. The other one in Shawn’s pocket already, as Spencer had kicked it off earlier.

“Uh well.”

“Not for awhile.” Shawn interrupts you, before turning to help Ian bring out another table.

“What the fuck is his problem?” The teenager mutters, scowling at her older brother. Arms crossing over her chest as she does the signature Aaliyah annoyed look as you had dubbed it.

“First of all, language, just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean I approve. And second I have no clue.” You murmur the ending, looking over at the tall boy. Confusion filling your chest, before feeling your son tug at your necklace filled with all three of their birthstones.

You gently take it from his slobbery grasp, not missing the disgusted look from your soon to be sister-in-law. Smiling at her sweetly you gently hand Spencer a mini soccer ball to play with instead.

“Grandparents are here!” Manny calls as he and Karen come out, a few gift bags in their hands. Wide smiles on their faces as they survey the festivities getting ready to take place.

“Vovô!” Stella calls excitedly as she sees Manny, squirming from Geoff’s hold to run for him. Brown curls blowing in the wind that she is causing as she runs as fast as her little legs will carry her.

“Hi bunny! Look at you!” He says catching her and smiling at her choice of a fairy costume. Karen dropping a kiss to her head and smiling at her first born grandchild. Before making her way over to you and Aaliyah.

“Hi honey.” Karen says smiling as she hugs you, before hugging her daughter. Looking around at the familiar faces in the yard, smiling at some of Shawn’s friends, before Spencer lets out a squeal at the lack of attention.

“Oh you’re such a big man aren’t you?” She coos at Spencer, he giggles and reaches for her. You hand him off before heading after your fiancé as he disappears into the kitchen.

“Shawn? Will you wait up?” You ask huffing quietly as you try to catch up with him. The boy seeming to use his long muscular legs to his advantage, something you usually admire now an enemy.

“I’m just grabbing more drinks for the cooler.” He replies turning to look down at you, you tuck your hair behind you ear. You take a deep breath, playing with the ends of your hair gently.

“You kind of snapped at Liyah...don’t you think? She was just asking a question.”

“Well it’s none of her business.” You sigh softly and look at him with a scowl on your lips. Anger bubbling in your chest momentarily, wanting nothing more than to tell him off.

“Stop being an asshole, she doesn’t know and yes she doesn’t need to know. But she doesn’t deserve to be treated like that by you.” You tell him before turning to walk to the counter. Picking up a bowl of cookie dip and graham crackers.

Shawn groans softly as he watches you step through the sliding door. Grabbing some wine coolers and beers, slipping a box of juice pouches under his arm. Following you out the door, sliding it close with his foot, watching you make your way across the yard.

“I think everyone is almost here.” Haley says as she helps you rearrange presents. Your bodies hip to hip and arm to arm, both of you agreeing that boxes should go on the ground.

“Just waiting on my parents and Brian and Matt to come back from the store.” You respond nodding your head, looking over at the kids running around your yard. Bubbles flying and different sets of giggles being heard from afar.

Catching sight of Shawn holding Spencer, the baby playing with his chain. Slobbering on it, his father seeming to be none the wiser as he talks with his mother. The baby looking content with the cool metal against his gums.

“Papa!” Stella calls, seeing your parents coming through the sliding glass doors. Running across the yard yet again for her next set of grandparents, a wide toothy grin on her face.

“Hi princess!” Hank says smiling as he lifts her onto his hip. Balancing the gift box under his other arm. Your mother coming towards you with the cake.

“Hi mama, oh my god it’s perfect.” You say smiling widely as you see the two cakes. The smaller ‘smash cake’ having dinosaurs designed in frosting on it and the bigger filled with toy dinosaurs for each child.

“I thought so too, hi big boy.” She says smiling as Shawn comes over with Spencer. The baby kicking his legs as he looks around at all of the people bumbling about in his backyard.

“Hi mama Nora.” Shawn murmurs, smiling softly at the cake. The baby in his arms squealing excitedly. You look over as Brian and Matt come back, bags of ice in their hands as they head for the coolers.

“Well everyone is here now...lets get this show on the road.” You say clapping your hands, heading over to the bigger group. Helping your mom with the cakes, Haley and her deep in conversation about the blonde’s new business.

~few hours later~

“Well I think it’s safe to say he likes it.” Haley laughs as she films Spencer smashing his cake even more. Frosting covering his face and hands, some dropping onto his chest.

“At least he didn’t cry like Stella.” Geoff says chuckling as he looks at the little girl in her Vovô’s lap. Rambling on about her newest adventure at her preschool, while he nods enthusiastically.

“Hey she was scared, everyone was staring at her.” You defend, gently scooping some of Spencer’s cake into his mouth. Letting him suck it off of your finger, holding in your grimace and replacing it with a smile instead.

“She wasn’t born with the star gene like Shawn was.” Brian sighs dramatically, making the adults laugh softly. Your boyfriend smiling at his friend before looking down the table as his daughter.

“Speaking of, Shawn when do you leave again?” Nora asks as she looks down the table at the curly haired man sitting on the other side of Spencer. His body tenses slightly, while wiping his suddenly sweating hands on his jeans.

“Uh next Wednesday is my last full day at home.” He murmurs, you keep your face neutral the best you can while feeding your son. Trying to ignore the tugging feeling at your heart strings.

“How long are you gone? Are you gonna be back for Y/N’s birthday?” Hank questions looking at him. Looking over questioningly, a slight protective streak coming up in your father.

“I uh...I come back a few weeks after.”

“And he’s taking us away for the week he’s home.” You say with a hint of finality to your voice, giving your parents a pointed look. Both of them sending you apologetic looks as they realize how their ‘grilling’ questions must have come across.

“I’m gonna grab more napkins.” Shawn mutters getting up to go to the kitchen. Karen sets her fork down and gets up to follow him. His head hanging low as he disappears into the house.

“Sweetheart? Oh honey what’s wrong?” The mother asks as she finds her son leaning against the wall of the living room. Head tipped back slightly, mouth open as he tries to catch his breath.

“I I can’t breathe.” He gets out, she gently leads him to the couch. Holding him against her chest, kissing his head softly. Trying to console her son as best as she can, nothing having dealt with this as much as you have.

“Breathe with me sweetheart, it’s okay.” She tells him, he blinks tears away, trying to focus on her rising and falling chest. Karen rubs his back gently, kissing his hair softly.

“What’s wrong? Talk to me, you’ve been off all day. You should be happy, it’s a happy day. You survived another year with a new baby.” She says the ending jokingly, hoping to get a smile on his usually bright face.

“I I don’t know. It feels harder to leave them than it has in the past. I feel like I’m deserting them and leaving Y/N all alone.” He says in a barley there voice, staring at your hard wood floor. Rubbing the toe of his Chelsea boot against it slightly.

“Have you talked to her about this? I’m sure she’d love to know what’s going through that big brain of yours.” He shakes his head a bit and groans into his hands. Resting his elbows on his knees and taking another deep breath.

“She’s already mad at me. I snapped at Aaliyah earlier and I’ve been a dick all day.” He mutters, Karen pinches his ear slightly. Making his head pull towards her more.

“Ow! Mom!” Shawn whines holding the side of his head, pressing his ear against it. She sits back away from him, a scowl on her lips. Arms crossing over her chest, much like her daughter’s had earlier that afternoon.

“You plan on marrying her yeah? Then you need to open up and tell her about your issues, things don’t get resolved when you’re both fighting your own battles Shawn. You know that, you two are a team. And even if you’re across the world she knows she can call you and vent. Even if you can’t be there to help her, she knows you’re still there to listen. And she does the same thing for you, it’s hard on her too for you to leave. But she knows how much you love your fans and performing for them. You two have been through so much already, do not blow it because you’re clamping that big mouth shut.” She says to him, he laughs softly and smiles at her.

“I love you mom.” He murmurs, hugging her tightly and accepting a kiss to his forehead. Feeling her shake her head slightly at his antics, before she squeezes him tighter.

“I love you too you crazy child of mine.” She responds, sighing softly and hugging him back. They both make their way back out to the party, Shawn taking his seat across from you.

Your eyes looking up to his, worrying behind the soft orbs that he has fallen in love with more and more over the years. He picks up his fork, spearing a piece of his green frosted cake.

He slides his boot covered foot over and gently touches yours, smiling at you shyly. You smile back at him, hooking your ankle around his. People talking and kids giggling around you, none of that seeming to faze either of you.

Your minds trapped in the world you’ve had since you were 19. ‘I love you.’ Shawn mouths at you, biting his lower lip. ‘I love you too.’ You mouth back, rubbing your foot against the side of his leg gently.

#shawn mendes #shawn peter raul mendes #fluff #slight angst

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yuki-d-raizel-blog · 7 years

Text

Believe Me

Chapter 7/??

Relationship: Rin x Reader (Your/Name) , (Full/Name)

Summit: Inside the class there was the same confusion of always, Rin and Bon were fighting over something stupid, Shima and Konekomaru were trying to stop them while Shiemi and Izumo were laughing for the scene. Everything was as always. Until the bell rang. The Exwires notice that the professor was late, but nobody knew why. When the door opened… A new student arrived to the True Cross Academy. She’s smart and strong, still a quiet and solitary person. Moved by a strange feeling, Rin would like to know her, help her if he can but nobody would think that that student was someone so… special.

---

Everyone is out but a strong tremor shakes the ground violently, throwing all down. Turning to the building, Yukio sees you and Rin falling. He runs towards you, but quickly stops due to another explosion. Reacting immediately, you extract one sword and stick it into the wall, lacerate it. Surrounded by sparks, the fall stops. Now, you’re hold up to the sword with a hand, and the another one is bearing your partner’s weight.

“Goddammit it hurts!” <<Yukio!>> the girl shouts his name, <<Get everyone out of here!>>

<<What abou->>

<<Go already!>> you look at Rin with worries eyes, but there’s a smile on your face, <<Ready to run?>>

<<….>> he can say clearly; you’re at the edge, with that wound you’re holding the weight of two persons…

<<Where are you, my little dear?>> the man looks outside the hole in the building, <<Found you.>>

Pervaded by a thrill of terror, you let the hold and think where to escape. You need it, now. Once you touch the ground, you adapt the impact with a somersault and start running right away while Yukio is shooting at the enemy. Suddenly, you grab his arm and take one of his guns. In a second, you aimed and shoot an entire magazine in the same point, opening literally a hole on the man’s head. Keeping to aim at him, a disgusting sound is in the air…

<<We need to hide…>> the student gives back the gun and starts to think intensely, <<Think faster fuckin’ brain!>> she is so frightened, what happened to her?

<<Our house is near.>> Rin says, hoping to relax you, <<We can go there.>>

<<Where? Where is this place?>>

<<After the center.>> Yukio responds, and that word make you more anxious.

<<That’s not fucking near! Not one fucking bit!>>

<<C…o…m…e….>>

Again. That enormous fear is trapping your body. You grab the brothers and start to run as quickly as possible. The men can’t reach your speed, you’re so fast!

<<C’mon!>> you scream dragging them along, <<Use more your legs!>>

You escaped from the woods but is not far enough. Holding your own arm and trying to catch your breath, you're looking for someone or something that can help you.

<<The wound is getting worse (Y/N)-san.>> Yukio says checked it through the cut on the shirt, <<You need to rest or the blood won’t stop. You’ll die!>>

<<Shut up for a second… I’m thinking…>> your skin is so pale, and there are dark circles under the eyes.

<<Nii-san, tell her something! She’s gonna die for real!>>

<<….(Y/N), please listen to->>

<<Found it!>> you run towards a parking lot, kneel next to a motorcycle and with a dagger cut some circuities. The Okumuras are watching you with shocked faces.

<<You’re not stealing it, right (Y/N)-san?>>

<<I'll give it back later.>> you manage to turn on the engine with the dagger and some patience, <<Yes!>> you remove the kickstand and get into the saddle, <<Get on!>> giving some gas shots, you keep the engine warm.

<<We can’t both come in, there isn’t enough space.>>

<<Rin you come here, Okumura-sensei cover our backs.>> with a nod, Rin sits at amazon style between your legs and keeps an arm around your neck for a better adherence, while Yukio sits on the back. With a powerful hasten, the trio leave the woods and go in the streets. The Exwire is leading the way and the professor checks if someone is chasing you.

The wind is strong. How fast are you going right now? You’re almost touching the cars! Are you crazy?! Now the road is straight and you’re accelerate again.

<<We’re arrived after that bridge- Wait (Y/N), slow down!>> the demon sees the lights are all on.

<<If I do that, we’re not gonna make it. Trust me, I did this other times.>>

Curious, Yukio looks at you and then the lights…

<<(Y/N)-san that’s a drawbridge!>>

<<That’s why I’m gonna so fast.>>

<<Do you want to jump to the other side?! Are you fuckin’ insane?>> this is the first time you have heard him swearing, maybe he’s scared.

<<Hold on tight guys!>> the bike is climbing the bridge at very high speed and the moment the wheel flys, Rin manage to says the last indication: the first cross turn to the left.

<<OH MY FUCKING GOD!!>> Yukio is holding very tight on your shoulders, forgetting that you’re hurt.

Tilting backwards the bike, you manage to maintain the right balance for the impact with the cement. When the first wheel touched the road, you could hold the handlebars well, avoiding a crash with cars. Moving to the other side of the road, you start to feel dizzy.

“Crap not now!” the girl keeps the eyes on the street and at the first cross she turns to the left, finding a little church circa 500 metros far. She reduces the speed and stops the bike in front the gate.

The brothers are greeted by black dressed men, but you can’t hear anything. Turning off the engine, you get off the saddle and look up at the sky. You don’t feel your arm anymore, your body is so heavy, your eyes are closing… Everything turns black.

---

The student opens her heavy eyes and everything is blurry. Why? She didn’t drink so it’s impossible she were drunk. What happened? She’s so cold but something is keeping her warm… What is it? Moving slowly her gaze, she finds Rin. He’s holding her even if he’s asleep, his heartbeat is so fast. Is he okay?

“He looks so stressful…” you don’t have the strength to speak or move your body.

<<(Y/N)…?>> the demon felt the bed moving, so he opened an eye to check on you, <<(Y/N)! Thank god!>> now he is fully awake, <<How are you? Are you thirsty? Do you need something?>> he bombards you with questions like a machinegun, <<Geez…. You scared me…>>

<<R-Rin…>> you found a super tired voice to use, but it’s better than nothing, <<H-hold me…>>

<<E-eh?!>>

<<I-I’m cold… your body is warm…>>

Moving under the covers, the young boy puts one arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him, praying that you would feel better soon. Feeling protected, you nuzzle your head in the crock of his neck.

<<I’m so tired…>>

<<That’s because you lost a lot of blood.>> he says whispering, he doesn’t want to break the quiet ambiance, <<Sleep a bit more.>>

<<I… don’t… wanna…>> your body began to shake again, <<I… don’t…>>

<<You need to rest.>>

<<No… I’m scared… of… my dreams…>> unconstitutionally, you rest your head in his chest, <<Every time… I fall... asleep… nightmares… come for… me…>>

<<I’ll protect you.>> he hugs you tighter and kiss your forehead, <<Trust me. I’ll never let those dreams touch you. I’m the son of Satan, I’m scarier than them.>> stroking gently your hair, he managed to relax you and finally, you fall aspleep again, <<Goodnight, my love.>>

A bright sunlight is lighting the room. A fresh and kind wind wakes you up. After a while, you realized that Rin is here in the same bed, holding you near his warm body.

“I’ve slept? I didn’t dream about… He did that?” you’re staring at him and touch his cheeks. “When I’m around him I feel safe. I can show that I’m vulnerable without any worries… I want to protect him even with my life, I don’t want to lose Rin...” it’s not as if you don’t know what’s happening to yourself. You have been in denial for a long time now, but you aren’t stupid to not realize that you have fallen for him.

<<Mmh… (Y/N)…?>>

<<’Morning, bed head.>> you giggle at the vision of his hair and face, <<You can sleep more if you want, I’ll make breakfast today.>>

<<’kay… Thanks…>> he rolls on the other side and pulls up the covers, then he realizes something, <<No!>>

<<E-eh?>> he scared you, <<W-what?>>

<<Lay down stupid!>> he grabs your wrist and makes you lay in the bed again, <<Kuro, please call Yukio!>>

[Ok!]

<<….W-what’s so sudden?>> you obey to him, he looks so scared and worried, <<Ehm… can I sit?>>

<<I’ll help you!>> he really did everything, he supported your weight, adjusting all the pillows and slowly sat you down.

A knock at the door. The demon gets up for open it, Yukio and Kuro come in. The little cat jumps on the bed and comes near you for some cuddles.

<<(Y/N)-san are you able to stand up?>>

<<Yes.>> you obey and get off the bed, standing still.

<<Are you dizzy?>>

<<No.>>

<<Do you feel heavy when you move?>>

<<Not anymore.>>

The teacher checks heartbeat, breath, blood pressure, everything. You stay quiet and let him do what he is doing, he’s a doctor after all. Rin and the men are so impatient to know. Are you ok? Or not? Which one?

<<Everything is fine.>> says Yukio with a smile, <<You’re fast to recover (Y/N)-san. The wound was very deep and you lost a lot of blood. I thought it would take a month to heal at least, but it did in two days…>>

<<Haha, the war has make me strong.>> you crack a joke with a relaxed smile, <<I won’t die so easily.>>

<<Thank god!>> Rin hugs you and moves his tail so dynamically that you thought it would tear apart soon, <<I’m so happy!>>

<<Hehe, Rin it tickles!>> you ruffle those blue hairs.

<<Nii-san!>> the glasses twin grabs his brother by the collar and drags him away from you.

<<Rin, behave yourself.>> the black men are scolding him, <<She’s a girl, you can’t do what you want.>>

<<I’ll make breakfast. (Y/N)-san, do you have any preference?>> a chubby man is talking to you.

<<Ehm… If I don’t ask too much… I would like some orange juice and some toasts.>>

<<Eh? Just that?>> a blonde man tries to encourage you to eat more, <<You don’t need to restrain yourself!>>

<<I never had breakfast before, but it seemed rude to refuse your offer.>> you add smiling, <<Right now I’m not hungry, but I thought that eating something after two days without food, it’s healthier.>>

<<Are you an angel?>> the three men are moved by tears by a person so kind, selfless, and that smile.

<<Pardon?>> you heard them whisper something, but didn’t understand one word.

Avoiding to disturb any further, the men excuse themselves to the kitchen. You thought that everyone is so strange; in a good way obviously.

<<(Y/N)-san, do you remember what happened?>>

<<Oi Yukio, don’t stress her!>>

<<I must write a report for Lord Pheles, I need to know everything she knows.>> he approaches you and ask again, <<Do you known the man who attacked us?>>

<<...I did what I’ve done because I was scared. I don’t even know why, my body moved without my consent.>>

<<What do you mean?>>

<<I’m sure I met that guy in the past somewhere, but I don’t remember. He was like…>> you touch your eyes for focus better on your memories, <<Like…>>

<<Like what?>>

A memory shows up. You open wide your eyes and start to shake. Shutting your mouth with both hands, you run to the bathroom. The brothers run after you and the demon holds your hair backwards while you’re throwing up.

<<Impossible… He’s dead…>> your breath speed up very fast, make difficult even talk, <<It’s not him…>>

<<It’s alright (Y/N).>> Rin caresses your back with circular movements to calm you down, <<Yukio, you crappy four-eyes, stop treat her like this! She doesn’t want to remember, don’t push her into it!>>

<<(Y/N)-san, I’m sorry but I need to know. What you remembered?>>

<<Did you fucking hear what I’ve said?!>>

<<Two days ago, a person came to visit you and pick your swords… He had messy, light pink hair and purple eyes. He wore a black jacket with a blue and yellow shirt. His name was… Shion?>>

<<!! Shion?! He’s here?>> you grab Yukio’s jacket and repeat, <<Where is he?>>

<<H-He’s gone after->> you jump in your feet and run again in your room. Searching in your clothes, you find your phone and see some texts and missed calls.

<<Be safe!>> unlocking it while putting some clothes on, <<Shion? Where are you now?>>

<<Why she is so in a hurry?>> the teacher is staring at you with a curious face, <<Who is that guy?>>

<<At home? Thank goodness! Why did you go out alone?>> closing the zip of your shorts, you stop, <<What? Yatsufsa was with you?>>

<<Yat-what?>>

<<Okumura-sensei, did you see a big white wolf with him?>> you ask staying still, <<Or outside the gate?>>

<<N-no I didn’t...>>

<<Don’t fucking lie to me Shion!>> you grab all your stuff and greets the brothers, <<I’m coming home, ok? Wait for me!>> ended the call, you ate your breakfast quickly, <<I apologize for my rudeness but I must go! Thank you very much for the meal and the medicines! I’ll pay you back soon!>> with a deep bow, you leave the church and your peers behind with puzzled faces.

---Continue...

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

#rin okumura #yukio okumura #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #scenarios #fanfictions #anime #manga

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funny-relatable · 7 years

Conversation

Flip Phones Are Making a Comeback 🤙

iPhone User: How can you even stand it?

Android User: Stand what?

iPhone User: Your phone's crappy camera. Every picture looks like it was printed from a gameboy.

Android User: At least mine isn't an overpriced piece of junk that bends if you put in your pocket.

iPhone User: Excuse me? I think all of that extra price goes to making sure our phone DON'T EXPLODE!

Android User: It's only the Note 7 that explodes. You don't know anything.

Flip Phone: *rings* Hello, Moto.

*both phone users glance at it momentarily until it stops ringing*

Android User: Uhh, anyway. At least our phones aren't made in sweatshops.

iPhone User: You didn't need to take this conversation in that direction, but your phone is probably made in a sweatshop too.

Android User: Our sweatshops are 100% more humane than Apple's gulags.

Flip Phone: *rings* Hello, Moto.

iPhone User: Is that piece of junk yours?

Android User: No, who uses a flip phone in 20XX. I thought it was yours.

iPhone User: *picks up flip phone* It's so old, but it seems familiar.

Android User: Are you going to answer it?

iPhone User: No. You answer it.

Android User: Hell no! You picked it up. Why don't you answer it?

iPhone User: I don't know. Something doesn't seem right about it. I'm going home.

Android User: Don't forget to take your flip phone with you.

iPhone User: You keep it, as an android user, you're used to cheap pieces of junk.

Android User: Low blow!

*at night*

Android User: *tossing and turning in bed*

Flip Phone: *ringing grows progressively louder* HELLO, MOTO!

Android User: *picks up flip phone* Piece of garbage. Why do you keep ringing. I should just answer it.

Android User: *gets nervous* Why don't I want to answer it? Jesus, I just need to get rid of this thing.

Android User: *tosses flip phone out of the window* That's better.

Android User: *attempts to go back to sleep but ringing starts again* Fucking no! Is this some sort of nightmare!?

Android User: *notices their own phone ringing on their drawer* Oh. *answers it*

Android User: Whom am I speaking to?

iPhone User: Hey, it's me.

Android User: It's late, what do you want?

iPhone User: You know how it's just the two of us that hang out.

Android User: Yeah, what about it?

iPhone User: Didn't it used to be three of us that hung out?

Android User: No, it's been just the two of us since we were kids.

iPhone User: We had a third friend that we hung out with everyday. I know this sounds crazy, but somehow both of us forgot about her.

Android User: I have no clue what you're talking about.

iPhone User: That's the point! Like, she did everything with us, but I can't remember anything specifically about her. It's like someone took an eraser to my mind, but for some reason I have all these faint memories about her coming back to me and I'm freaking out.

Android User: Man, I think you just need some sleep. You sound crazy right now.

iPhone User: I'm afraid. I'm afraid that if I got to sleep when I wake up I won't remember you. I think something bad is going to happen to you.

Android User: I'm fine. My dad owns a gun. If someone tries to break into our house or something, they'll get their heads blown off. I guess we might have to deal with vengeful ghosts, but those usually take a few years to develop. Get some sleep, please.

iPhone User: Okay, goodnight... I love you.

Android User: Uhh, the feeling's mutual... I guess. *hangs up*

Android User: Overemotional, I swear. *attempts to sleep*

*loud knock at the door*

Android User: Goddammit! Dad'll get it.

*banging persists and only gets louder*

Android User: Okay, I guess I have to answer it again. *grabs one of their dad's guns and answer the door*

Android User: *aims gun into the dark night* Who's out there!? Who was knocking on my door!? ...No one. Fucking neighbor kids, I swear.

Flip Phone: *rings* Hello, moto!

Android User: Of fucking course. *screams into the night* I guess some PARANORMAL FORCE just magically put the flip phone on my porch. How about I just BLAST IT TO PIECES!

The Night: *stays silent*

Android User: *sighs* This has to be a stupid fucking prank. I bet that iPhone using "friend" of mine is doing this to set me up.

Android User: *notices the caller ID on the flip phone* Rebecca? Why is that name so familiar?

Android User: *answers phone* Hello?

Rebecca: Look below your porch. Look below your porch. Look below your porch. Look below your porch.

Android User: Fuck off. *hangs up* If someone really is below my porch, you can crawl out! I'll be sure to blast your brains out! I'm not afraid!

Android User: I'm a fucking idiot for this. *peers below the porch* There's nothing. This really is all some prank. *stands up*

*the front door is closed*

Android User: *checks the door* It's locked! Fuck! Okay, this is actually getting weird, but I'm armed. If anyone tries to mess with me I'll fucking shoot them.

Android User: *checks self* Where the fuck did I put that phone?

Flip Phone: *rings from the back of the house* ...hello, moto.

Android User: *sweats nervously* Okay, stay calm. Remember, you're armed. This is all a prank and they'll feel like fucking idiots when they realize they nearly got themselves shot over this. *walks to the back of the house*

*the next morning*

iPhone User: *frantically scrolling through phone*

Grandmother: What's wrong, honey?

iPhone User: I don't know. I'm looking for someone in my phone contacts, but they're not there!

Grandmother: Who?

iPhone User: I don't know! Ugh!

Grandmother: Calm down, honey. I'm sure you'll find them.

iPhone User: Grandma, did I used to hang out with anyone? Like, I regularly had friends over, right?

Grandmother: Well, I'm going to be honest with you. You've always been a bit of an introvert. But as long as you keep up with your schoolwork, it's no bother to me.

iPhone User: No, I had two friends, didn't I? Don't you remember them? You knew both of them by name. They were my childhood friends.

Grandmother: I'm not sure. You liked being by yourself as a child. H-Have you been using drugs?

iPhone User: No, grandma! It's just... I don't know. I'm lonely and stressed out and I don't know why.

Grandmother: It must be your schoolwork, honey. You're such a hard worker and you hardly ever give yourself a break. Remember, you have to take out some time for yourself to relax too. Studying is important, but so is your mental health

iPhone User: You're right. Finals are coming up. I guess I've been letting it all go to my head.

Flip Phone: *rings* Hello, Moto.

Grandmother: *takes phone out of pocket* Hello? Hello? Is anyone there? *hangs up* Strange.

iPhone User: Where did you get that phone?

Grandmother: I've had it for a while now. Is there something wrong with it?

iPhone User: No... not anything that I remember.

#funny #relatable

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junker-town · 7 years

Text

NFL Dad: 6 hours of RedZone with 2 kids under the age of 3

Football’s back! But the kids are still around. One dad’s diary of the enervating journey to heartbreak and bedtime.

Killing time until 1:00 p.m. Eastern during football season used to feel like an eternity. Wake up at 11, eat a breakfast sandwich, set fantasy lineups, and then ... wait. Maybe go to a bar? Yes, I would go to a bar and watch dozens of TVs at once and drink all the beer I wanted for three or 7 hours.

That was another lifetime. Today, I spend my morning at a 3-year-old’s birthday with my wife, daughter (almost 3), and son (16 months). The party, which is three miles from our home, requires us to pack enough provisions for an Arctic expedition, yet I eat no breakfast and pack no food for myself; I am too preoccupied with the high-wire act of keeping two toddlers happy and entertained without resorting to bribery.

Because the kids’ naps (and my job) start at 1:00, my wife and I vow to leave the party at EXACTLY noon. We leave at 12:15. My son falls asleep in the stroller, practically guaranteeing he won’t take his usual 2-hour nap. But that doesn’t mean we won’t TRY to get him to sleep. We arrive home at 1:00. I take off my son’s shoes and dunk him in his crib like Shawn Kemp cleaning up the glass.

I turn on the TV, and Scott Hanson’s handsome visage fills the screen. I instantly have the same feeling that people used to have for news anchors: here is a steady voice to guide me through the coming storm.

EARLY GAMES, FIRST HALF

— The Titans, hosting the Raiders, begin their season with an onside kick attempt; it fails, and Derek Carr will start at midfield. The Browns begin their season by getting a punt blocked, which the Steelers recover for a touchdown. Marshawn Lynch rumbles through traffic for a gain of 14 on his first carry as a Raider. Matt Stafford throws a pick-6. Amari Cooper catches a touchdown. The Jets intercept a Tyrod Taylor pass in the end zone, but fumble the ball back during the return? I can’t be sure about that last part, because I’m reading to my daughter before her nap. Mr. Plumbean has a big orange splot of paint on his roof, and the neighborhood association is PISSED.

On third-and-12, Carson Wentz evades most of the Washington defense and hucks it downfield to a wide-open Nelson Agholor, who races in for a 58-yard score. I have now seen multiple touchdowns scored on offense, plus defensive and special teams scores, AND I’ve read a children’s book. It has been 15 minutes since I turned the TV on.

— At 1:20, with both kids in bed and Marcus Mariota scoring on a zone-read keeper, my wife leaves to run some errands. “Is that my son making noise?” I think to myself as she closes the door. Surely not!

1:22 — He is definitely awake. I go to check his diaper; it’s dry. I sing him a song and put him back down.

1:26 — I leave my son’s room to the sound of my daughter calling me. She needs a diaper change. I sing her a song and put her back down.

1:31 — I leave my daughter’s room to the sound of my son crying. The Ravens intercept Andy Dalton as I pour a bottle of milk. SLEEP, YOU ADORABLE VAMPIRES.

— In Nashville, the Raiders go for it on fourth-and-1 inside the Titans’ 5. Marshawn Lynch sidesteps an unblocked defender in the backfield, then fights two more defenders to move the chains. Now facing first-and-goal from the 2, the Raiders proceed to:

throw incomplete to Amari Cooper on first down,

throw incomplete to Amari Cooper on second down, and

throw incomplete to Amari Cooper on third down.

Goddammit, Raiders! You indefensible slugwits. Did Super Bowl XLIX teach you nothing? THE SEAHAWKS DIED SO THAT YOU MAY LIVE.

And well well well, looky here. It’s Derek Carr taking shots at the Seahawks’ play calling back in June.

"There's no we'll be on the 1 yard line and I won't give it to Marshawn, I'll throw it." http://pic.twitter.com/0yhqrWEFWT

— NBCS Raiders News (@NBCSRaiders) June 23, 2017

ENJOY REGRESSING TO THE MEAN, FRESNO BOY.

— My son is making noise in his crib, but he isn’t crying. He’s probably having fun by himself in the dark room, right? I leave him be. As Andy Dalton throws another interception, I text my wife and beg her to come help. She’s nearby! Parenting: successfully dodged.

— Jordan Howard scores for the Bears to tie Atlanta 10-10 just before halftime. There’s a ton of Twitter chatter about Tarik Cohen, a player I have definitely heard about before today, because I am a fantasy football savant and professional NFL commentator. Like, who doesn’t know that Cohen, uh ... (*opens new tab*)

I only went to this page to add information to it!

... is an American football running back? And that he played the same position for North Caroline A&T? Common knowledge for even the most common fan, says this dedicated NFL expert.

— Chris Thompson scores an incredible touchdown for Washington:

6? 7? 8? More? Let’s count how many defenders Chris Thompson made miss on this CRAZY @redskins TD. #HTTR http://pic.twitter.com/iHnmjE4nnG

— NFL (@NFL) September 10, 2017

Yes, it was pitiful tackling from the Eagles, but credit Thompson for staying on his feet through the contact. Kind of unfair that Kirk Cousins gets credit for throwing that touchdown.

— In Houston, where J.J. Watt received a hero’s welcome when he stepped on the field, the Texans are getting worked by the Jaguars. Tom Savage fumbles, resulting in a scoop-and-score for the Jags, but it’s overturned on review — his arm was moving forward before he lost the ball. The telecast barely has time to show that Calais Campbell has 3.5 sacks in the first half when Savage is sacked and fumbles AGAIN, resulting in another defensive score. For a moment, I thought I was watching a replay of the previous fumble return touchdown, but no: this is a different play, and this time it counts. The Jags go into halftime up 19-0; Tom Savage has been sacked six times while leading Houston to 52 yards of offense.

— Through 100 minutes of RedZone, I have seen one offensive play from the Jets: a 1-yard pass. Granted, I missed some time while parenting, but RedZone knows what the people want: not the Jets, dear God, anything but the Jets.

EARLY GAMES, SECOND HALF

— DeShaun Watson makes his Texans debut; Bill O’Brien has benched Tom Savage. And say what you will about O’Brien’s complete inability to evaluate quarterback talent, at least he’s quick to pull the hook when he chooses the wrong guy, which is usually. Watson completes his first three passes in what is already the Texans’ longest drive of the day — not that the bar was high.

The drive ends in a touchdown pass to DeAndre Hopkins, and I cannot understate the glaring and obvious difference between Savage and Watson. Savage’s movement in the first half resembled the first time in Ratatouille that Remy remote-controlled his blindfolded human friend by yanking his hair. Watson, conversely, looks like a natural biped. I am convinced Bill O’Brien has brain parasites.

— Hey, a Jets touchdown! I saw precisely zero of the plays that led to it. The ensuing 2-point conversion is intercepted, and I believe all the way down to my marrow that every Jets TD this season should come with a pick on a 2-point attempt. I want to look at the final score every week and have reason to doubt that they scored a touchdown.

— T.J. Watt earns a personal foul penalty, and then immediately intercepts DeShone Kizer. He’s got two sacks and a pick in his debut for a storied NFL franchise. I’m going to enjoy this moment right now: it’s the last one before I am shown T.J. Watt’s face repeatedly every week. But at this second? I couldn’t pick T.J. Watt out of a crowd of large, muscular people. It’s nice.

— Matt Ryan finds Austin Hooper wide open for an 88-yard touchdown. “Wait,” you’re saying, “how does a tight end run the length of the field without getting caught?”

Well, my friends, he does it buy putting Quintin Demps into the ground.

RIP, Quintin Demps, conveniently already buried in the grass of Solider Field.

— Quick story from the kids’ birthday party. One of the dads there had a thick orange cast on his hand. He was a bookish guy: slim, glasses, graying hair and gray beard neatly trimmed — a Brooklyn Dad like many other Brooklyn Dads. One of the other dads signaled to his cast and said, “What happened?”

He sighed. “I smashed it pretty bad at Burning Man.” A long pause, and none of us interrupted it. He added: “... as one does.”

— Tony Romo breaks down Seth Roberts’ touchdown, pointing out the Air Raid staple Four Verts. It’s maybe 10 seconds of analysis, but it’s like breathing pure oxygen after YEARS of Phil Simms leaking carbon monoxide into my home. It’s also only one game, and we haven’t had time to get tired of his vocal tics, but Tony Romo is already legitimately great in the booth.

Thank you for retiring, Tony. This is so much better than you making the Broncos good.

— HOLY ADOREE’ JACKSON:

He jumped at the 26-yard line and landed at the 33: approximately 21 feet in the air, in football gear, as three different players tried to stop his forward movement. It’s no surprise he almost went to the Olympics in the long jump.

— Tarik Cohen scores a touchdown on what looked like a wheel route (my attention is not always fully invested in Mike Glennon’s work), and the Bears are giving the Falcons all they can handle. Remember that name: Tarik Cohen. I certainly will and always have, dating back to his youth in Bunn, North Carolina.

— On third-and-6 in the red zone with his team trailing, Kirk Cousins makes a terrible throw that gets intercepted at the goal line. The next time RedZone clicks over to the Washington-Eagles game, Brandon Graham is pulverizing Cousins just as he’s about to throw, leading to a fumble that Fletcher Cox takes into the end zone to ice the game. The replay looks like it could be ruled an incomplete pass, but the refs are like, “Nah, let’s go home,” and I respect that.

— With the Bears trailing by 6, Mike Glennon leads a hopeful but doomed last-gasp drive into the red zone. He gets sacked on fourth-and-10 to end the game, and the Bears all lift him onto their shoulders to celebrate covering the 7-point spread. They’re gonna be the best damn 5-win team you’ve ever seen.

— The Jaguars are up 29-7 with two minutes remaining, and they now have nine sacks. But hey, at least the Texans found their quarterback! He was hidden in the first round of the draft! Who would think to look there?

— The Lions and Cardinals are taking their sweet damn time finishing up their game. Kenny Golladay scores on a deep bomb, his second touchdown of the day, and I rue each of my three fantasy drafts in which I gave him serious consideration but ultimately passed. With the Lions up 28-17, Carson Palmer throws a pick-6. Ballgame.

LATE GAMES, FIRST HALF

— Ugh, Colts-Rams on RedZone. I’d rather watch truck commercials. I grab the remote, because I’m choosing Seahawks-Packers and commercials over the barren puntscape of the RedZone channel during the late games. I try to click over, and nothing happens. Am I in hell? No: I removed the batteries when I gave the remote to my son. Kid loves anything with buttons. Give him a room filled with fans, clocks, and buttons to push, and the only thing I’d ever have to do is change diapers and toss food in a couple times a day.

But before I can change the channel, Scott Tolzien throws a touchdown, but to the defense. The Rams are up 10-0 barely three minutes into the game.

And hey, Colts? Y’all know Colin Kaepernick is free to sign, right? You don’t have to ship your former first-round draft pick to the NFL’s reigning dynasty for their third-string quarterback.

— You and I, we’re friends, right? We’ve gotten this far in this football LiveJournal together, and so it’s time you knew the truth: I am a Seahawks fan, and for the next 3 hours the TV will be on this game. If you are a Panthers fan who wants to read about the 49ers game, you should leave this page now before you get even more disappointed.

— The first quarter is bad, both from my perspective as a Seahawks fan, and for anyone who enjoys fun things. Seahawks defensive tackle Nazair Jones, who has one of the most uplifting stories in this year’s rookie class, intercepts Aaron Rodgers point-blank and rumbles the length of the field for an incredibly rare and joyous Fat Guy Pick-6.

The Seahawks, though, pick up two flags on the play: Cliff Avril had a glancing swipe of Rodgers’ shoulder pads that was ruled a block in the back, and cornerback Jeremy Lane — who was dragged to the ground by Davante Adams grabbing his facemask — was ejected for a retaliatory forearm shiver. The touchdown is wiped off the board.

In #SEAvsGB they missed the initial foul on Adams. And that was a block in the back on Rodgers? I don't think the play was well-officiated.

— Mike Pereira (@MikePereira) September 10, 2017

I do not yell. I do not swear. The person that my children see in this moment is, essentially, the same gentle father who guides them through every morning and every night. Perhaps I say, “Gosh darn it,” which my daughter parrots, which makes me smile even though my blood is BOILING. I calmly pour myself a glass of gin in a mug. The game, somehow, stays scoreless through the quarter.

— My daughter has a habit of repeating the same question over and over; it’s how she sponges up language, hearing the same words repeated until she gets everything in full context. But ohhhhh, sweetie, my daughter, light of my life: If you ask me “What is the yellow man doing?” again, I will lock you out in the hallway. His name is Aaron Rodgers, and he’s screwing us, mmkay?

— Five minutes into the second quarter, the Seahawks get their first first down. BUST OUT THE CONFETTI. But on 3rd-and-7, Russell Wilson — under pressure from Mike Daniels — overthrows an open Tyler Lockett downfield on what would have been a touchdown.

— How have the Packers not scored yet? Aaron Rodgers seems to have two or three miracle 3rd-down conversions every drive before the Seahawks defense can force a punt. The only reason Green Bay hasn’t kicked a field goal yet is Jon Ryan, the finest ginger Canadian punter in the NFL, who pins the Pack deep repeatedly.

— I’m still mad about Naz Jones’ touchdown being called back, and I’m still mad about Jeremy Lane’s ejection. But time and gin are helping.

— My daughter asks if I took any photos of her at the birthday party today. Are you kidding? All I do is photograph my kids. So she crawls up onto the couch and I swipe through pictures of her blowing bubbles and pushing a giant beach ball as the Seahawks only rush 3 on 3rd-and-16 and OF COURSE Rodgers converts! UGH. NEVER RUSH THREE. YOU IDIOT COWARDS.

I don’t say any of that, of course. I am sharing a moment with my firstborn, trying to focus on the sheer joy that she got from blowing some bubbles on a sunny day in the park. That’s the life, man. Just blowing bubbles. Sports are for dopes.

— With a minute left in the half, the Seahawks get the ball on their own 11. With three straight running plays, it’s clear Pete Carroll wants to kill the clock and head into the halftime with the score knotted at zero. But the Packers — anticipating a chance for one last drive — call their final two timeouts before the Seahawks, seemingly by accident, pick up a first down. NOW they call a timeout and try to score.

The next two plays are a 34-yard pass to Doug Baldwin and a Russell Wilson scramble to the Packers 15-yard line. It is incomprehensible to watch after almost a full half of three-and-out drudgery.

So, with two timeouts and the ball on the 15, the Seahawks are forced to kick a field goal on third down, lest the clock expire without getting any points — all because they wasted half their time trying to burn clock at the other end of the field. This team is bad and winning and I hate them.

LATE GAMES, SECOND HALF

— Let’s check in on the action in Los Angeles and Santa Clara.

Tickets for Colts vs. Rams were $6 and still nobody showed up. http://pic.twitter.com/RND1DmDOof

— Jordan Heck (@JordanHeckFF) September 10, 2017

Second half kickoff http://pic.twitter.com/sEQgbtfJIq

— Ann Killion (@annkillion) September 10, 2017

See? I’m not ignoring the 49ers and Rams games! I’m merely giving them the same enthusiasm they got from local fans.

— With the Seahawks facing third down deep in their own territory, I think, “Oh God, Russell’s going to throw an interception here, isn’t he?” But no, I’m wrong. He fumbles instead. Packers get the ball on the 5.

Watching the replay, Troy Aikman blames Wilson for not protecting the ball better. And yes, that is technically factual, but it also ignores the reality of Packers linemen streaming through Seahawks-colored turnstiles on every play.

Just how Tom Cable drew it up. http://pic.twitter.com/RKNMH276QD

— Keith Myers (@MyersNFL) September 10, 2017

Hey, Dr. Aikman, maybe we can talk about the sickness instead of blaming the symptoms? (LIFEHACK: Never go to a doctor named “Troy.”)

Ty Montgomery punches it into the end zone. Packers up 7-3. Crap.

— Jimmy Graham gets mugged in the end zone, and the refs don’t call pass interference. The announcers find it questionable. Mike Pereira says it’s a bad call. I yell, “P. I.!” My daughter yells, “P. I.! P. I.!” because she knows more about football than these refs. Seahawks Twitter ... well, I will spare you the things that Seahawks Twitter said, but this unrelated image sums it up:

MARSHAWN LYNCH http://pic.twitter.com/q5eG5nlvVN

— SB Nation GIF (@SBNationGIF) September 10, 2017

Deep breath. Here is my rational take: it’s the kind of call you don’t get when you’re the away team and it’s not your day, and this is most definitely not the Seahawks’ day.

I close my laptop. I pause the game. When I come back to watch it, after my kids are in bed, I will watch most of the 4th quarter on fast-forward. The frames that click by will look like repeats of each other: Rodgers knocked to the ground, but a Packer with the ball crossing the yellow line anyway. The final 6 minutes-plus of game time will pass that way, the ending so unremarkable I zip past the final: Packers 17, Seahawks 9.

But for now, with sports frozen in time, I read books to my kids. I sing them lullabies. I hug them and kiss them, and their hair is fine and soft like fresh corn silk as I put them to bed.

It is immeasurable how much better this is than football. Even when my team wins.

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ayma-nidiot · 3 years

Text

“Don’t Speak Their Names” - Shrimpshipping fic Chapter 10

This fic on AO3 can be found here.

Author’s Note: I think I did soooo much of a better job expanding upon Rex’s and Weevil’s reaction to Rex’s pregnancy, and at the idea of becoming parents!

Chapter 10 - For Real?

~06 June 2005, mid-morning~

“Goddammit, Wheeler, Red-Eyes is mine!” Rex spoke in his sleep. He had no idea where he actually was; for all he knew, he was in San Francisco again, dueling Joey Wheeler in a battle for their souls. He vigorously swiped at the air, hoping that his former ace card would somehow come back to him.

The next voice he heard would erase all of his doubts. “What gives, dino brain?” spoke Weevil. “We’re in a hospital - and no, that doesn’t mean we’re at a taco stand.”

“What are you on about, Weevil?” That voice sounded like Amber’s. “Is that supposed to be an inside joke?”

At last, Rex decided he had enough of the annoying squabbling, and fully awakened. “All right, guys. If you want my attention, well now you have it. Hmm?” Rex looked to his right, and noticed that a giant I.V. line flowed into his right arm. Right next to it were several vital monitors, and the sound of his EKG lingered awkwardly in the air before he said anything. “Whoa! What happened to me? Does it have anything to do with the nausea?”

“All while you were unconscious, if I might add,” Amber added. “You got so dehydrated that the doctors had to give you fluids, nutrients, and strong antiemetics through I.V.”

“Oh, shit… Well, someone’s gotta let Mom and Mama know! You did call them too, right?”

“...” Weevil and Amber both said nothing as the doctor and a few nurses came in.

“Hey, Doc! What happened? Am… Am I gonna die?”

“Mr. Raptor…”

“I am gonna die, aren’t I?” Rex shrieked as the nurses tried to calm him down. “Aaaaah! Tell Mom and Mama that I love them very much! A-And Weeves, you get my deck-”

“And what is this ‘thing’ that happened? Do tell.”

Rex stopped laughing when he noticed the serious look on the doctor’s face. “No… No way… For real? Are you trying to tell me that I’m actually pregnant? Me, a dude?! ”

“Yes, Mr. Raptor. The ultrasound not only revealed that you have both reproductive systems, but also that you are carrying a child. You’re ten weeks along, to be precise.”

The doctor gave Rex a few black-and-white photos. Sure enough, when Rex squinted at them, he could see what looked to be a form of life, complete with tiny little limbs and a head. “Are… you… serious…” Rex looked to the man who was obviously the father of his child. “Did you know about this, Weeves?”

“No, I swear I didn’t!”

“I just hope Mom and Mama never find out.”

“Funny you say that, because I called your parents as soon as I called the ambulance,” Amber cut in. “You can guess at how panicky they were.”

“This… can’t be happening…” Rex receded even further into his hospital bed. He cursed Mai to hell and back again for being indirectly responsible for his unnecessary suffering the past couple of weeks. And he had just graduated high school; he knew he didn’t have the financial nor emotional means to go through a pregnancy and raise a child. No way would Ptera and Tricera agree to having yet another mouth to feed. Not to mention the excruciating process of childbirth itself… Being slashed to ribbons by Joey’s Red-Eyes Black Dragon Sword would definitely pale in comparison.

Weevil allowed a few more seconds of silence to pass before interrupting Rex’s whirlwind of thoughts with, “...You’re mad, aren’t you?”

Weevil sounded so pathetic that any frustration Rex had faded almost instantly. “Why would I be mad at something that isn’t your fault? I mean, even though it technically is… Ah, forget it.”

“So does that mean you want to keep the baby?”

Rex took a deep breath and stared at Weevil sincerely. He figured that as long as he had his boyfriend by his side, he could endure anything, and wanted to give the life growing inside him a chance. “Yes.”

“A C-section, eh? Then I guess I’ll be fine. Sounds much less painful than squeezing out a tiny human being through an even tinier hole, that’s for sure.”

“Then… by your leave.”

And with that, the doctors and nurses left the room, leaving Amber, Rex, and Weevil by themselves.

“So the takoyaki cravings weren’t for nothing…” Rex slowly lifted his free arm.

“I… I…” Weevil had no words as he approached his boyfriend. It still hadn’t sunk in that he was going to be a father - at his age! He stared at Rex’s belly as he reached out with a shaky hand to touch it.

“Weeves…” Rex laced his fingers with Weevil’s and placed their hands on his belly. “I can’t believe it either. I’m carrying our child.”

“I’m… going to be a dad…” Weevil spoke to the unborn child underneath. “ Your dad. I hope you don’t mind having a well-hated duelist as your father.”

“Our kid’s going to have me as a mom! That’s more than enough to compensate for certain bug boys that shall remain nameless.”

“Oh, can it, dino brain.” Weevil would have given Rex a traditional head-bop if the dinosaur duelist wasn’t currently hospital-bound.

All of a sudden, Amber began to feel sad. “That’s… That’s cute. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Rex’s smile faded when he noticed Amber’s sorrowful expression. “Amber? Are you okay?”

“I… think I should leave you two lovebirds alone.” With that, Amber made way for the door, and left boyfriends alone.

“Is she… okay?” Rex blinked at the door. “She sounded jealous, if you ask me.”

“You’re reading too much into it.”

Rex and Weevil wouldn’t stay alone for much longer, because nearly as soon as Amber left the hospital room, Ptera and Tricera came in.

“Oh… Hi, Mom.”

When his parents finally stopped crying, Rex spoke, “Speaking of children, there’s something I have to tell you guys. Mom… Mama… I’m pregnant, and Weevil is the father.”

“You… are?” Ptera sounded surprised, which Rex expected.

“Yup. Apparently, I’ve got a womb I didn’t even know about. In fewer than 7 months, you’re going to be a grandma.”

“Oh, I knew that you have both reproductive systems… I’m just surprised you can actually get pregnant.”

“What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You see, I remember my 20-week ultrasound very well. The doctor told me back then, but assured me that you would only be capable of producing sperm. ...What a quack he was.”

“I’m actually really excited that I’m going to be a grandma,” Ptera cooed. “And to think, you’ll be drinking the same tea that helped me through my own morning sickness.”

#yugioh #shrimpshipping #mpreg #fanfiction #ygo #ryuhaga #rex raptor #weevil underwood #dinosaur ryuzaki #insector haga

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