#I swear you will be so much happier and leave fandom a much happier place if you do

[petalouda85]

Forever (in my Mind)

Fandom: Blades of Light and Shadow 2

Pairings: Tyril x f!human!MC (Kassandra)

Word count: 3.1k

Concept: the follow-up to Promise. TW: character death

Tags: @liviusofpella, @megas-choices, @starlight-starfury, @dutifullynuttywitch, @thosehallowedhalls, @choicesficwriterscreations

AO3 link: x

A/N: this was… an emotional rollercoaster. The amount of times I cried is unreal; this was harder and more heartbreaking to write than Promise despite an arguably happier ending. I swear, this is going to be the last sad fic I’ll write in a while. The song in this fic: “Forever (in my Mind)” by Malinda. Another song that played a large role in this fic: “Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story” from Hamilton.

When Tyril had asked for a doctor, Adrina knew the time had come.

The last year had been a slow and steady decline for him; he began the year standing upright but was soon reliant on a cane, his movement still getting slower by the day despite his restrained use of the Light. A few days ago, he’d retreated to his chambers and asked to be left alone so he could rest, abandoning his gilded cane for the comfort of his bed. But after days of rest, his energy never returned. He’d stubbornly denied requests for a doctor but after some pleading and no improvement, he’d finally asked for one.

The doctor had come quickly and shut the door behind him, leaving Adrina to pace in the hall, her daughter keeping her company. No words were exchanged between the two. They knew the end was near, but Adrina’s heart sank at the mere thought that her beloved brother was nearing that end.

After a long and painful wait, the door opened, and she immediately ran to the doctor as he exited the room. He simply looked at her and shook his head.

“There’s nothing more I can do. Best we can do is make him comfortable.” Her face broke only for a moment before she regained her composure, Lady Starfury speaking as she addressed the doctor.

“Thank you.” The elf bowed and left, Adrina and her daughter rushing into the room.

Her brother had always been a driven man. Serious and driven. Nothing could stop him the moment he set his mind to something. Every setback, once mourned, only served to spur him onward, a hunter slowly and steadily pursuing prey.

She had only ever seen him stagnate once, after the battle against the Ash Empress. But his grief, his promise had pushed him forward. Always forward.

Life threw much at him, but he continued, visiting libraries, traveling to the far reaches of Morella and beyond, coming back to Undermount with stories and scars. During his short intermittent stays in Undermount, he could often be found in his study, writing feverishly into thick book after thick book, writing like he was running out of time.

He kept going, even when everything he cared for began to disappear. His friends had been gone for a long time. Imtura went first, the sea reclaiming its warrior. Mal followed not long after; the shadow desired to claim him once more but he breathed his last in the light. Nia had held on for much longer, her work never done, but she too eventually returned to the Light. And Kade read his last book a decade later.

Tyril had kept going through it all, his unrelenting drive pushing him forward. Spurred by his grief, his promise or perhaps a death wish, Adrina did not know but now, 200 years later, he lay fragile in bed, a face and body worn down by quests and time.

Slowly, she approached the bed, sitting down in the chair that had been placed next to it as her daughter remained by the door, too overcome with emotion to approach. The siblings didn’t say anything to each other for some time, the atmosphere heavy enough to choke down all words. Slowly, Tyril reached for the side table and grabbed a thick piece of folded paper, sealed with wax.

“My will. It has instructions and my final wishes.” He said softly, holding the paper out. Slowly, Adrina took it, holding it tightly in her hand. “I’ve ensured that the funds for the orphanage will continue. Can you make sure they’re used properly? I do not wish the children to suffer because of greed. I want them to have a good life, even when I’m gone.” She nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek.

“I’ll make sure of it. They’ll want for nothing.” Briefly, he managed to smile, before letting out a long, exhausted breath, the silence permeating the room.

“200 years…” he muttered after some time, “it’s not enough. There’s so much I could still do.” He took a shallow breath, a tear escaping his eye. “But I’m so tired, Adrina.” Another tear rolled down her cheek and she reached for his hand; it felt cold in hers.

“Then sleep, Tyril.” She managed a weak smile despite the tears in her eyes. “You’ve pushed for so long, done so much. You kept your promise. It’s okay to rest now.”

“But you, Amara…”

“We’ll be fine.” Adrina beckoned her daughter closer, the young elf struggling to hold back her tears.

“Uncle.” He smiled lightly at her voice.

“Amara.” The young elf approached, settling herself next to her mother, the old elf turning to look at her. He simply stared at her before whispering, “the chest.” He pointed towards a small chest that stood unassumingly at the foot of the bed. Amara nodded and brought it closer. “Open it.” She did and pulled out one of several thick, leather-bound books, tied shut.

Carefully, she untied the leather laces and opened the thick tome, opening to a page showcasing a masterfully illustrated image of Tyril and his friends at the Ancestral Masquerade, facing Duchess Xenia, the page next to it filled with words. As the book fell fully open, magic beamed in the brush strokes and the image began to move slightly, bringing the painting further to life. “My adventures… my friends’ adventures, it’s all written in these books. Kade and I… we wanted the truth preserved somewhere before we were relegated to the myths we once chased. He helped me compile much of it and I kept going when he couldn’t anymore.” Adrina couldn’t help but stare at the pages in awe.

“This is incredible. We’ll keep them safe, brother.” She assured. Amara tried to shut the book, but Tyril stopped her. He stared at the image, a bittersweet tear running down his cheek. He continued staring, running his fingers tenderly over the painted images of his friends. When he eventually pulled his hand away, Amara shut the book and placed it back into the safe confines of the chest.

They fell silent, the seconds ticking by slowly, Adrina’s keen eyes watching her brother as he continued to fade, his eyes partially shut, wishing to sleep but a part of him still stubbornly hanging on.

She could hear him mumbling but it was hard to make out what he was saying. She leaned closer, her heart twisting when she heard that it was a name.

“Kassandra.” He muttered breathlessly. A tear rolled down her cheek, as she recalled something he told her a few years back, in one of the few conversations he ever mentioned her.

You want to know the horrible truth? I barely remember what she looked like. She was the only one I ever wanted. She was taken from me, and 200 years of living couldn’t fill the hole she left behind.

“Kassandra.” He muttered again. Adrina leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead.

“Go be with her, brother.” She whispered, her voice shaking. “Go fill the hole in your heart. We’ll be alright.” Briefly, she spied a smile on his face before a weak puff of air escaped his lips, his chest going still and his hand loosening under hers.

—

When Tyril opened his eyes, he was no longer in his bed. Rather, he stood next it. It was a strange sensation to see his own aged body still lying in it, his sister and niece weeping over it. He looked and examined his ghostly hands, finding them to be in a state of youth again. Examining his hair had similar results - gone were the grays and whites, the strands returned to their youthful black.

Carefully, he moved around the bed and tried to place his hand on Amara’s shoulder, only for it to go through her, his niece not reacting to his attempted touch. He felt a stab in his chest, but he shed no tears as it confirmed what he knew to be true.

He was dead.

He took a moment to mourn with them, though they mourned different things. As he knelt with his sister and niece, he tried to recall the final moments. His recollection had been hazy, his vision and mind unclear as he teetered between the realm of the living and the dead.

If he’d recalled correctly, a specter had come to him only moments before the darkness came. He focused on that vague memory, trying to push past the fog.

It had begun as a mysterious shape, no rhyme or reason in his failing eyes. It had eventually morphed into something, the shape becoming less and less transparent the longer it hovered above him. It had smiled at him as the shape became even clearer.

A woman. Human, dark skinned, dark braided hair, and brown eyes.

He had whispered her name and she had kissed his forehead.

Find me on the mountain.

“Mountain.” He whispered, looking above him, piercing his gaze beyond the limits of the ceiling.

He headed for the door, stopping in the frame to glance once more at his family. A tear rolled out as he looked; how he would miss them.

He wandered down the hallway in his ghostly form, servants unintentionally passing through him, whispering the news of his death among themselves; no doubt the rest of Undermount would know within the hour.

He continued to wander the halls, struck by a desire to see every nook and cranny of the vast estate before he would eventually say goodbye to it. He wandered through the library, the kitchen, the dining hall, even the servants’ quarters, trying to memorize every detail. Eventually, he found himself in the wide expanse of the ballroom, the curtains drawn but the magical orbs floating above providing just enough light to prevent total darkness in the room.

Many an evening he had spent here, helping his sister host masquerades. He’d been glad for the masks, if only to hide how much he didn’t want to be there. He mingled and chatted as expected but rarely danced, his sister and niece being the only dance partners he could bear to have; it was impossible to dance with the one he truly wished to.

The thought of her brought back the memory of the specter and the words she had whispered before the end.

“Find me on the mountain.” He whispered to himself once more, his sight falling onto a staircase, it hidden away in the far reaches of the room and partially hidden in the shadows. He knew it led up to the outside. He made his way to them, freezing when he heard a sound in the stairwell. It echoed yet it was beautiful, a gentle voice singing words he was too far away to understand. There was a pang of emotion when he listened more carefully, stepping further into the stairwell. The words he still couldn’t make out, even with his keen elven senses, but for a moment, the voice sounded familiar, dredging up painful memories of a time long ago.

In a burst, he began running up the stairs, two steps at a time, the words of the song becoming clearer as he climbed higher and higher, forcing tears down.

Like the moon, you pull me closer

Bathe my body in your lavender skies

Like a sound, you slip away

Leave a shadow of a day gone by

And I’ll love you forever in my mind.

And I’ll love you until the day I die.

He burst out of the stairwell onto the mountainside, quickly looking at his surroundings, trying to deduce the direction of the voice. The echoes of the words were carried in the breeze, guiding him in the right direction. He ran in pursuit but came to an abrupt stop when he noticed a ghostly figure ahead, standing near the edge of a sheer drop off the mountain, facing the sun. Her back was turned to him, but his stomach twisted in knots when he recognized her, disbelief and doubt overwhelming him.

And I’ll love you forever in my mind.

And I’ll love you until the day I die.

She sang softly, the wind carrying the melody of her voice to him. Slowly, she turned to face him.

It was her.

Tyril stood still as a statue, staring, emotion choking him. He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. He tried to take a step forward, but his legs collapsed under him, his tears finally breaking past the dam of his own control. In seconds, he felt a touch and soon he was enveloped in an embrace, the touch of her hands a sensation he had forgotten long ago. He grasped onto her tightly, burying his face in her neck, weeping louder when he breathed in her scent, another thing he’d forgotten.

“You’re here.” Tyril said softly, his voice shaking. He felt her tighten her grip on him.

“I never left.” Kassandra responded, her voice shaking too. They held onto each other tightly, neither wishing to let go. Eventually, Tyril pulled away, desperate to see her face.

She looked exactly as he remembered. Still as beautiful and radiant as the day she was taken from him. He reached up to cup her face, his hand faltering for a moment. He choked back a sob when his hands didn’t go through her and immediately planted kiss after kiss on her lips, the taste so sweet but salty too. He kept planting more kisses, as if intent to give her every kiss he’d wished to give her over the last two centuries.

Far too soon, he pulled away, resting his forehead against hers.

“I missed you. So much. You have no idea…” The words were lost in his throat, drowned by another sob. “I kept my promise.”

“And you have no idea how thankful I am that you did.” She pulled back and cupped his face in her hands, brushing away his tears. “A man like you, wasting his life on tears, unable to dig himself out of the pits of grief, surviving but not living. What a tragedy that would’ve been.” Gently, he took her hands and held them tenderly, staring at them as more tears appeared. He lifted them and placed a kiss on each of her hands.

“It was not easy.” He admitted, his voice trembling. “Living a life with a fractured heart wears down even the most resolute of men. 200 years and somehow, I feel as though I’ve not done enough to live by my promise and your wish.” She smiled at him through her own tears and squeezed his hands.

“You did everything I asked and so much more. You’ve lived not only by my wish but by the wishes of our friends. Mal was so grateful for what you’ve done for the orphanage.”

“Mal? The others? They’re here?” He looked around them, seeing only the wide empty breadth of the mountainside.

“They’re in Elhalas.” Anger suddenly bubbled in him, already thinking of a few choice words for the gods.

“Did they deny you entry?” She quickly shook her head.

“I refused to enter Elhalas without you. I told the gods to go screw themselves and came back here, to wait for you.”

“You waited for me?” He asked in a small voice.

“I’d wait an eternity for you.” She leaned forward and gave him another kiss. “It hurt to wait so long, just watching and unable to touch you or help you. Years of the sweetest words you couldn’t hear. But the wait is over now. Now, we have an eternity.” Gently, she pulled away and rose to her feet, taking a few steps. She looked over the expanse of the mountainside, taking in the details. After a moment, she turned around and walked back to him, holding out her hand. “You ready?”

With a soft smile, he reached out and took her hand. Once standing, he intertwined his fingers with hers.

“Yes.” She lifted her hand and moved it in a familiar motion, a portal of ethereal light appearing before them. “Show off.” Kassandra chuckled and moved through the portal, pulling him through too.

In an instance, the mountain had disappeared. Instead, before them, was an open field, wide and expansive, the otherworldly beauty nearly causing a tear to roll down his cheek. A glistening city stood in the distance, the structures and the stones they were made of unlike anything he’d ever seen, even in the hall of visions in Undermount. It put the vast beauty of Valen to shame. A gentle wind blew around them, the air carrying with it a potent and divine energy.

“Welcome to Elhalas.”

“It’s beautiful.” He looked over the area once more, finding it hard to take in all the magnificence. His gaze fell to a hill in the distance, a single, stunning oak tree resting at the top. The leaves and branches swayed gently with the breeze when he noticed some figures sitting and standing around the trunk, the shade and the distance hiding their identities.

He could see four figures. Three seemed to be of similar stature, two seated by the trunk and the third leaning against it. The fourth was seated on the grass nearby. The leaning figure moved away from the trunk and moved to the one sitting in the grass; within in a moment, the standing figure dashed around the trunk, the sitting figure jumping up to give chase, revealing a much larger stature. As they came around the trunk, the hulking figure grabbed and tripped their assailant, Tyril seeing rather than hearing the laughter of the others as they tumbled to the grass, a wrestling match ensuing. He continued to watch them, his stomach churning with a whirlwind of emotions he found difficult to decipher.

Kassandra squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Come on.” He let her gently pull him along, moving closer towards the hill. As they began to walk up, the figures became so much clearer, and he choked back a gasp.

Kade and Nia sitting by the tree, Kade playing a gentle tune on his lute as Nia tapped her hand and seemed to hum along to the song. Nearby, their typical childish wrestling match over, were Imtura and Mal, also listening to the songs played.

Nia saw him first.

The priestess stood up as they made eye contact, the others following her gaze and standing up too as he and Kassandra reached the top of the hill. All stood frozen for some time, only staring as countless emotions and thoughts swirled between them all. Then, with a sob, Nia ran to him and embraced him tightly, Tyril’s own tears flowing once more as he embraced her back. Quickly, more arms embraced him, and more sniffles joined.

“Took your damn time.” Imtura scolded, making the elf and the others chuckle. He embraced his friends tighter, feeling the last heavy weights that lingered in his heart finally lift, leaving behind a sense of peace.

“My apologies. I had a promise to keep.”

#tyril starfury #tyril x mc #adrina starfury #tyril x kassandra #my writing #blades of light and shadow #blades of light and shadow 2 #bolas 2 #playchoices

[writing-and-wondering]

Happier

Pairing: Rooster x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Alcohol, swearing

Request: Yes! From the lovely @multiple-fandoms-girl (find it here) :D

Word Count: 2.5k

Synopsis: Based off of the song “Happier” by Ed Sheeran. You’re with Rooster but seeing Hangman again brings up memories from the past. 

A/n: Hello! This was fun to write and I definitely didn’t do this instead of homework aha. Enjoy!

Sitting at a booth in the Hard Deck, you fail at holding back a laugh as Rooster makes yet another flirtatious remark. You sip your drink, making a mental note that the alcohol probably isn’t helping you keep your composure, but the smile that Rooster sends you makes you realize you don’t really care. 

You lean back against the leather seat, “You’re such a flirt.”

His mouth falls open as he stares at you, “Oh, forgive me for wanting to tell my girlfriend how beautiful she is.” He reaches across the table, a grin sneaking its way onto his face, “And for wanting to hold her hand...” 

He takes your hand in his own, his voice dipping low, “And for wanting to take her home and-”

“Okay, okay!” You laugh, stopping him before he says something that you don’t want onlookers to hear. Rooster squeezes your hand and chuckles, “Wow, after all this time and I can still make you flustered.” 

“Shut up.” You shake your head as you fix him with a playful glare. He raises an eyebrow at you, “Make me.”

“Make you?” You repeat, a couple of ideas popping into your head. He leans his arms on the table, “You heard me.”

You mirror him, being so close now that you can smell his cologne, “Mhm, I sure did.” 

A chuckle makes its way out of his throat before he closes the small gap between the two of you and kisses you deeply. You reach up and place your hand on the back of his neck, your fingers twirling in his hair. As you part, your hand trails along his skin, tracing over the scars on his chin that lead down to his neck. 

He takes your hand and places a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours. You smile at him before your eyes flick down to your drink, “Looking a little low there, soldier.” You tell him. 

His eyes widen playfully as he stares at the drinks, “Oh, really?” 

“Yessir.” You state, leaning back in your seat as he picks up the cups, his head shaking from side to side. Once standing, he leans over and kisses the top of your head. 

“Oh, and extra cherries if you would!” You say to him as he’s walking towards the bar. He turns to look at you and shrugs, “It’s not a matter of if I would, Honey. That’s up to Penny.” 

“Well then tell her it’s for me, she loves me.” You say simply, your arms crossing. 

Rooster makes a face at you, “Not as much as I do!” And with that he’s turning on his heel and heading to the bar. 

“Different type of love, Roo!” You call after him, a laugh adding a slight shake to your voice. Once he’s out of view from you, you allow your eyes to drift over the bar. 

You recognize the familiar faces of Rooster’s friends, which are now your own. You wave as you catch their eyes, all of them waving back excitedly. You're standing to go say hi just as your gaze flicks to the back deck. 

You feel your heart skip a beat as you lock eyes with none other than Jake “Hangman” Seresin. The smallest smile creeps its way onto your face, your hand coming up to offer him a little wave. 

He returns the gesture, his smile matching yours. Before you know it, your feet are moving you towards the deck and you’re met with the cool night air. 

“Hey.” You say as you walk up next to him. 

“Hey.” He returns, leaning against his arm on the railing, a drink in his hand. 

You place your forearms on the wood, your head turned towards him, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been okay.” He responds simply. 

You can’t help but frown, “Just okay?” 

“I’m... getting better.” He corrects, taking a sip of his drink. You nod, “That’s good.” 

There’s a beat of awkward silence that fills the air. 

“So... did you come here alone or...?” You ask at an attempt to fill the quietness that took over faster than you expected. 

He shakes his head, “Nah, I’m with them.” He motions inside to the others that you saw a moment ago. You nod, duh, you think. 

“Got a little loud in there, huh?” You ask, noting that the Hard Deck was always blasting hits from the 80′s.

“Yeah.” He agrees.

“And hot.” You add. 

He chuckles, “Yes, very.” He takes another drink from his cup and you eye the dark liquor. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask once more, turning so that you’re fully facing him. 

“Why do you care so much?” He responds, his voice tired. You let out a deep breath and shake your head, “Dunno. It’s just what I do I guess. I care. I’m a care...er.” 

That gets a bit of a laugh out of him, “Mhm, that you are.”

You laugh too, shaking your head. Hangman breathes out a sigh, his gaze dropping to the glass in his hand, “I... I didn’t come out here because it was too loud in there.” He says suddenly. 

You look over to him and he meets your eye, a pained expression on his face, “I came out here because... I couldn’t handle looking at you... with him,” He glances over his shoulder at the window leading into the bar, “With Bradshaw.”

Shaking your head, you fix him with a look, “I don’t understand.”

He turns back to you, his gaze questioning. 

“You were the one who ending things.” You remind him, fidgeting with your hands. Hangman nods, “I know... I know.” 

He turns and looks off at the ocean, “It’s been over a year... I don’t have a right to act like this.” He mutters. 

“Well, something is clearly bothering you.” You say gently, stepping closer to him as you speak. 

He frowns, still not looking back at you, “I just... you look so happy... with him.” 

Your confused silence urges him to continue, “You look happier.” 

The sadness to his voice wasn’t something you were expecting. In fact, this entire exchange was at the end of the list of things that you expected, if it even made the list in the first place. 

“Look at me.” You say, your voice stern. He slowly turns his head towards you. 

“You... you left.” You tell him, “Just one night- that’s all it took- you up and ended everything. We were together for years, Jake.” There’s an anger that sneaks its way into your voice, “Now you’re here, what, moping over seeing me with someone else? Seeing me happy?” 

Your breathing is heavy as you finish, your hands shaking ever so slightly. You wait for him to say something, anything, but he won’t. So you keep going, unleashing all of the anger and hurt that he put upon you. 

“You’re right. You don’t get to act like this. Not after you left and broke my heart. Do you even know how long I spent wondering what the hell I did wrong?” You practically yell, your voice shaking so bad that it almost sounds like you’re crying. You curse your inability to keep it together as you turn away from him, focusing your gaze on the horizon as you try to breathe.

Silence fills the air in between you two. Just as you’re thinking of going back inside, you feel his eyes on you. You turn, ready for a fight, but instead are met with his tear-filled eyes. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice so uncharacteristically small that it pulls at your heart. You stare at him in shock, your anger leaving you as quickly as it came, “...why?” 

“I just-” He starts but you cut him off, “No. Tell me why you left.”

And does he ever just look at you. You can see him searching for the right words as he slowly inhales before letting it out slowly, “I was scared.”

“What?” You ask, your brain almost short circuiting from your surprise of his answer. 

“I was scared.” He repeats, his face scrunching up, “You know my job. Every time I go up in the sky, there’s no promise that I’ll make it back. My life isn’t a guarantee.” 

You don’t speak. You can’t. Tears unwillingly fill your eyes as you listen to him finally just talk to you. 

“I couldn’t do that to you,” He says, his voice breaking, “I couldn’t say goodbye... and then never say hello again.” 

Without hesitation, you reach over and wipe off the tears falling down his face, the naturalness of the action surprising you the smallest amount. 

“So I left,” He whispers. He clears his throat and sniffs, “You deserved someone better than me.” 

As he finishes, you take a hold of his hands and hold them tightly, “Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him, your voice almost desperate as you relive memories from the past, “Why did you just go without a word?” 

“I was ashamed.” His gaze falls down to your hands still held together, “I knew I was hurting you but thought... I thought it would be better this way.”

He looks up and smiles at you, causing another tear to fall, “And it is. You’re happier.” 

“Jake,” You thumb away the tear, “I was happy with you.” 

“But not like how you are with him.” He states, his head nodding towards the inside of the bar where you know Rooster is waiting for you. You want to object, tell him he’s wrong, but a part of you knows too well that it’s true. 

“When I look at the two of you,” Hangman continues, his voice quiet, “It’s like... I’ve never seen two people more perfect for each other.” He looks back at your hands, as if he’s scared to meet your eye, “I’m sorry... I’m just so sorry-”

His voice cuts off with a sob and you can do nothing but pull him into a hug. You feel him cling onto you, and it pulls dangerously at your heart. You hug him tighter, “I forgive you...” You say softly, your voice muffled by his shoulder. 

He shakes his head, “You don’t have to-” You pull back quickly, getting him to look at you as you speak, “But I do. I really do.” 

There’s disbelief in his eyes.

“You’re my friend, Jake... and I still love you, just in a different way now.” You smile softly as you wipe away the rest of his tears, “And I do care. Quite a bit.” 

A small smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

“But you did break my heart and I will forever hold that over you.” You state. 

He chuckles, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “I wouldn’t expect anything different.”

You lean back on the railing, “You are a good guy, Jake.”

He shrugs, “I’m trying to be better.” You reach over and squeeze his hand, “It’s working.”

He squeezes back. Your gaze softens, “You deserve to be happy too, y’know.” 

Hangman makes a face and looks down at his drink, swirling his cup a little. 

“You do!” You push at his shoulder, “You’re going to make someone feel like the luckiest person around, just you wait.” 

He chuckles as he takes a drink, “You think so?” 

“Oh, I know so.” You nod in confirmation, “One day you’ll feel it too.” 

He smiles at you before finishing off the rest of his drink.

You cock your head at him, “Wanna head back inside?” 

“You go ahead... I’m gonna stay out here for a bit.” He tells you, leaning back against the railing as his head turns towards the ocean. 

Letting out a hum, you lean forward and place a kiss to his cheek, patting his shoulder, “I was serious, Jake. You deserve to be happy.”

He turns to you and in the close proximity between you two you can see all of the love he has for you in his eyes. His voice is impossibly gentle as he speaks, “Thank you, Y/n.” 

You give him one last smile before heading inside. Running a hand through your hair, you let your feet lead you back to your booth as your brain moves a mile a minute. 

The second your eyes land on Rooster however, it seems as though it finally stops to catch its breath since your exchange with Hangman. You smile widely at him, then your eyes flick down to the table and you take note of three cups. 

Two of them are yours and Rooster’s drinks, but the other seems to be filled to the brim and even overflowing slightly with cherries. You look back at Rooster, your mouth open in surprise. 

He’s grinning back at you like an idiot, which just makes your heart flutter like it’s back to your first date.

 “What did you do?” You laugh as you walk over to him with your hands on your hips. 

He looks at you innocently, “I may have... snagged all of the cherries when Penny’s back was turned.” 

Your hand comes up to your mouth in shock, “Well I hope you paid for them!”

Nodding his head at you, he leans against the booth with his arms draped across the back, “That I did, darlin’.”

Your face hurts from smiling so much as you move forward and sit yourself in the booth next to him. You grab a hold of the collar of his shirt and pull him in for a kiss. A hard one. Your arms snake around his neck as he brings you closer, his hands on your waist. 

He breaks off with a laugh, “Well damn, if I knew that cherries would get you to kiss me like that then I would’ve gotten them a whole lot sooner.” 

You just laugh and kiss him again before speaking, “You know you make me insanely happy, right?” 

He looks back at you, a little confused, “Well, I’d hope so.” 

“I’m serious.” You lean back a bit, your hand on his chest, “I’ve never felt like this... with anyone. So-” You pause to search for the right words, “So care-free, and comfortable, a-and just happy.” You breathe out, nothing but pure joy radiating through your body. 

You watch as his features soften, a smile spreading across his face as he reaches up and cups your cheek, presenting you with a slow, deep kiss. You lean into it, your arms wrapping around him. 

“I’ve never been so happy than when I’m with you, Honey.” He says against your lips, his voice low and soft. 

 You break off, “That’s so good to hear. That’s the best thing-” 

“Even better than the cherries?” He questions, his eyes flicking between you and the cups on the table. You eye the drinks before looking towards him, “Hmm, they’re a close second, but I’d choose you over them any day.” 

He hums, “Well, consider me flattered.” He’s barely finished speaking before he’s wrapping his arms around you and pulling you towards him for another kiss. You smile against his lips, your heart full. 

“I love you, Roo.” You say into the kiss. 

“I love you, Honey.” 

#rooster x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun rooster #top gun #top gun maveric #top gun: maverick #reader insert #milano writes a story #fic request #milano loves the readers <3

[gallavictorious]

Gallavich Week Day 2: Fantasy AU

Summary: Prince Ian is offered up as a sacrifice to appease one of the dragons that haunt his father’s kingdom. Rather than being burned alive or eaten he is inexplicably left to wander the dragon’s lair in peace, as long as he never tries to leave and never enters the mysterious tower chamber. Then he meets fellow prisoner Mikhailo and starts to wonder if maybe this whole sacrificial gig isn’t such a bad deal after all.

Or, Ian Gallagher tells a bedtime story, and Mickey Milkovich is himself.

Fair Warning 1: There’s some Mickey-typical homophobic language in this one.

Fair Warning 2: I wrote all ridiculous 5K of this today (work? what work?) and it’s a little bit of a curious mess. Like, the sort of curious mess you get if you take Lip’s Hall of Shame, @gardenerian’s lovely bedtime stories, the novel “Dealing with Dragons” by Patricia Wrede, the Swedish picture book “Bröllop i Marsipanien” by Lena Karlin, the Greek myth of Andromeda, a bunch of folk tales about shapeshifting lovers, and the questionable old practice of MSTing fics, and then you stuff them all into a Kee and shake her around for a bit and then you pour it out into the shape of a 12 hour long and highly inadvisable speedwriting session.

Read it at your own risk, below or on AO3.

Very Important Note: I make fun of fic writing in this fic. Please note that I’m only making fun of myself and general tropes; any and all allusions to actual fic in the fandom is entirely coincidental.

---

Lest They Say, Here Be Dragons

Hush now, child; settle down. Close your eyes – yes, just like that – and listen:

Once upon a time and elsewhere, there was a kingdom. The people there were no happier than people anywhere else, and poorer than most, but they made do and lived and danced and grieved and died as people have always done.

Jesus, that’s gay.

That is, until the dragons came.

Okay, now you’re talking.

Like a plague they swept the land, winged beasts with fire for breath and ice in their hearts. Every night the fields burned, and the villages burned, and the cattle burned and was eaten. Many a brave people took up arms and went to confront the monsters, and then they burned too.

Heart-broken and terrified, the people went to the king to plead for aid. “Send an emissary to the dragons,” they said. “Reason with them and strike a bargain, or else we are sure to perish.”

What a bunch of pussies. What they should do is, they should use a bunch a cow shit to build a bomb and nuke the hell out of those dragons. Problem fucking solved.

Now, this king was a scoundrel and a drunk and the queen had an unfortunate habit of turning herself into a bird and flying off to more interesting lands whenever the mood took her. They had six children but rarely paid them any mind and fair Princess Fiona, eldest of the six, was left to raise her younger siblings as best she could. False King Francis would have been perfectly content to turn his desperate subjects away if it weren’t for the fact the dragons unchecked rampage threatened the production of the spirits the king so enjoyed. So, donning a mask of compassionate concern, for he was a skilled liar, he promised the people that he would help them. But as soon as they had left, comforted, he turned the task over to his children.

The second oldest child, foxy Prince Philip—

Foxy Prince Philip?

Yeah, you know. Foxy. Like clever.

Why not just say clever then?

‘Cause it’s not alliterative.

Alliter—

Starts with the same sound. Foxy – Philip. Fair – Fiona.

Oh, I get it. Like, Ian – idiot. Ow!

Foxy Prince Philip was known far and wide for being the cleverest in all the land, and by using all his cunning he managed to strike a deal with the leader of the dragons.

“By using all his cunning.” Skimming over the details a bit there, huh?

You really want me to turn this into a Prince Philip story? Hear me go on and on about what a genius he is?

…

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

It was agreed that the dragons would spread out over the kingdom, each one building their own place to live near a village, and that the villagers would bring them food and drink. In turn, the dragons would refrain from casual pyromancy and protect the villagers from harm.

Protection racket, huh. Classic. Starting to like these dragons, man.

In addition, the cruel leader of the dragons demanded that each dragon be offered a child of the land in sacrifice. No matter how Prince Philip bargained he could not change the dragon’s cold heart on this—

Guess he wasn’t so clever after all.

—and so, with heavy hearts and much lamenting, each village drew lots to determine which poor child would be sent as an offering to their new resident dragon. However, in the village nearest to the castle the people grew angry when the beloved blacksmith’s only child, a small girl of just four, was selected, and they went to the king and they said:

“It isn’t fair that some people are asked to give up their only child to appease the dragons while you, who have six children, are exempt from the lottery.”

King Francis, fearing an uprising as much as he feared the dragons (since each was as likely as the other to leave him without a drink), quickly nodded.

“That’s true,” he said. “And fairness must ever be the true monarchs first and most important concern. Though it breaks my heart, I can’t in good conscience watch my people sacrifice their own children without offering up my own. You may take Prince Ian and give him to the dragon.”

At this, the other princes and princesses raised their voices in furious protest, for they loved their brother even if their father did not. But industrious Prince Ian—

Industrious? That really the best you can come up with?

—stepped forward and declared that he’d be happy to give up his life, so that the child of the blacksmith might be spared. And so, as the sunt set, he was taken away to the lair of the dragon that had made its home near the castle.

So let me get this straight… The king is happy to toss Prince Ian to the wolves ‘cause he hates him, and his siblings are all sad and shit but they still let him go off to get fucking eaten by dragons?

Yes.

Uh-huh.

What?

…

Oh, fuck you. It’s just a story.

Totally.

Stepping into the lair, with heart a-hammering but on stubbornly steady legs, Prince Ian set eyes upon the beast that was to be his destiny. He was momentarily relieved to see it was not the terrible leader of the dragons, as he had feared, but a smaller monster he did not recognize. Black was its hide, its eyes a cold sparkling blue—

Gallagher, I swear to god, if you turn me into some lame ass henchman dragon—

Keep interrupting, asshole, and it’ll be a pink fucking unicorn. And hang on, you’ll show up in a little bit.

Setting his jaw, Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death—

‘Course he did, the stupid motherfucker. Hey, if Prince Philip was so fucking smart, and if he gave a shit about his brother, shouldn’t he have given him, I dunno, a knife or something?

Prince Ian prepared to die a heroic death, because unlike some other people he was not a selfish prick and he actually cared about the people of the kingdom, but much to his surprise the dragon did not burn him. Instead, it just stared at him for a good long while, until suddenly it declared:

“You must never leave the lair, and you must never set foot inside the tower chamber. Abide by these rules and you may live. Break these rules and I’ll rip your heart out and eat it while you watch, and then I’ll burn the castle down with your beloved siblings inside.”   

You tell him, dragon.

With that the dragon took flight and disappeared, leaving Prince Ian to stand alone in the great hall of the lair, confused but alive. The young prince remained where he was for a few minutes, thinking that the dragon might come back, but when it did not he set out to explore his new home. It was big, with endless rooms and nooks and crannies, but it was badly kept, with strange bits and pieces cluttering up the hallways and chambers. Prince Ian found some old blankets and he used those to set up a pallet in one of the nicer rooms, one that had a view over a small, overgrown garden. And then, because it was very late and he was not dead, he went to sleep.

The next day he continued his explorations and managed to find the kitchen. It was full with the meat that the villagers brought the dragon once a month, and remembering that the beast had only forbidden him from leaving the lair and going into the tower chamber, Prince Ian helped himself to a piece of pork that he cooked over a small fire.

Hang on, was there a fridge in the kitchen?

No. This was the olden days.

But the villagers came once a month with the meat? How did the dragon keep from rotting?

That’s not really—

Was it dried? Like a Slim Jim?

… sure. It was dried.

As he was eating, Prince Ian heard a sudden scraping noise behind him.

The hell did he cook it over a fire for then, if it was dried?

He looked up and spied another young man standing in the doorway.

I’m just saying, it doesn’t make any fucking sense, man. Wait, is this me?

Prince Ian frowned. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you a prisoner of the dragon too?”

The boy shrugged. “Uh, yeah. I guess. I mean, I do some work around here. Clean up and shit, in exchange for not getting eaten. Name’s Mikhailo.”

About fucking time. Only, how is it fair that you get to be prince and I’m a fucking cleaner?

Prince Ian tactfully did not mention how the lair was impressively dirty for a place with a fulltime cleaner but invited Mikhailo to share his meal. As they ate, Prince Ian studied his new acquaintance. He was the same age as but shorter than the prince, with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, and hair as black as ebony.

Hair as black as— The hell was that?

Nothing.

Yeah, okay, then why are you smiling? Eh, fuck you. Prince Ian’s fucking thirsty for Mikhailo, I get it.

Though his manner was somewhat brusque and uncouth, Prince Ian could not help but feel himself drawn to Mikhailo. The boy was funny and easy to talk to, even if he seemed reluctant to say too much about himself or where he came from. Prince Ian tried asking him about the dragon, but despite apparently having lived there ever since the dragon moved in, Mikhailo couldn’t tell him much.

“Hardly ever even see it, man. At dusk and dawn mostly, so I guess it spends the night flying around with the other dragons, terrorizing the peasants or whatever. During the day it holes up in the tower chamber. Guess dragons must sleep too, huh? Don’t fucking go up there,” he added sternly. “It ain’t fucking kidding about killing you if you do.”

Having found a friend, Prince Ian found that life at the dragon’s lair wasn’t all that bad. He missed his siblings and being outdoors and practicing with the soldiers at the castle, and he resented the loss of his freedom, but he enjoyed the peace and quiet, and enjoyed spending time with Mikhailo. However, one thing he soon grew very tired of was eating nothing but meat. The dragon didn’t seem to require anything else, for it was the only thing the villagers ever delivered, and Mikhailo – whose tasks included receiving the monthly tribute – just gave Prince Ian a weird look when Ian suggested he ask the people to bring some vegetables next month.

“That ain’t the deal they’ve got with the dragon,” he told Ian. “Ain’t nobody gonna listen to me if I go trying to change it.”

Yeah, real Prince Charming there, wanting Mikhailo to risk his life so Ian can stuff his face with fucking cucumber.

Undeterred by Mikhailo’s lack of enthusiasm and courage—

Fuck you.

—Prince Ian decided to take it up with the dragon himself. In the weeks since he arrived at the lair, he hadn’t met the creature again, not even once; he’d just heard the powerful swoosh of its wings when it came and went at dusk and dawn. Now he went up the stairs to the tower chamber and there he waited until night had fallen and he noted the scraping of claws against stone inside the room. Then he knocked at the door.

There was a long silence. Then the door slammed open with enough force to nearly undo it from its hinges.

“What are you doing here?!” the dragon roared, terrible in its fury. “I’ve told you to never come here!”

“You’ve told me to never set foot inside the room,” Ian reasoned, fighting to keep his voice calm. “And I’m not. I just wanted to ask if I may have the use of the small garden just outside the lair. I miss being outdoors and I could grow vegetables for Mikhailo and me.”

Jesus Christ, man, again with gardening? Thought you were over it.

“You may never leave the lair,” the dragon, a garden-hating meanie, snarled, and then he closed the door in Prince Ian’s face.

As he fucking should.

“Probably worried one of the villagers will spot you and, I dunno, mount a rescue,” Mikhailo said shortly the next morning when Prince Ian told him of his failed attempt. “Anyway, you’re a fucking idiot for going up there like that. You get it won’t hesitate to kill you, right?”

“Right,” Ian agreed. “But,” he added with a frown, “why hasn’t it yet?”

“You fucking complaining?” Mikhailo snapped, and then he stalked away, and Ian didn’t see him again for three days.

Listen, you get that I get that Mikhailo is the dragon, right? You’re not fooling anyone, Gallagher.

Then, one day, fed up with the dragon being a really annoying prick, Prince Ian grabbed a huge sword he conveniently found lying around in a cupboard, because the lair was a fucking pigsty, suitable for a pig like the dragon, and he went up the stairs and kicked in the door and he cut the dragon’s throat while it slept, and then he went off and found himself a nice prince to marry.

…

…

That’s not how the story ends.

…

Hey, where are you going? Come back- Jesus, I’m sorry, okay? Gallagher, I’m sorry. Just come back here. Tell me what really happened.

Prince Ian woke with a start on his pallet in the lair. He’d had the most vivid dream about killing the dragon—

A dream? That’s the lamest fucking— Ah, fuck. Sorry.

—but for some reason it hadn’t felt as satisfying as he had thought it would. For all that Prince Ian often fantasized about strangling the beast, it seemed he didn’t actually wish to see it dead. With that disconcerting realization in mind, Prince Ian went to break his fast, resigned to doing so on meat and yet more meat. But in the kitchen he found Mikhailo, and on the table in front of him was a pile of cabbage and carrots and onions. 

“Guess the dragon must have talked to the villagers after all,” Mikhailo muttered, refusing to look at the prince. “And, uh, there was this thing I wanted to show you.”

Without waiting for a response, he spun around on his heel and walked out the door. Curious, Prince Ian followed, through doors and up and down stairs he never knew existed. Eventually, he found himself standing in what appeared to be an inner courtyard. It was small and the walls surrounding it very high, but up above the sky was blue. Prince Ian turned his face towards it and for the first time since he came to live at the dragon’s lair he felt sunlight on his face.

“It’s a shithole,” Mikhailo said. For some reason he sounded a little nervous. “But if you wanna go outside, you can come here. And there’s dirt in those bins, so I guess you could grow stuff in them? Just gotta wear this hat. Anyone sees you, they’ll just think it’s me.”

Privately, Prince Ian wondered who’d ever be able to see him behind walls that high, but he wasn’t going to argue. Wearing an ugly had was a small price to pay for being able to go outside, and to have a garden.

He gave Mikhailo a small smile; Mikhailo smiled back.

“Mikhailo smiled back.” Yeah, you bet he was laughing his ass off, ‘cause he thought Prince Ian was a huge fucking dork.

Things were good for a long while after that. Prince Ian spent his days in the garden and in Mikhailo’s company, and though he still resented being locked away from the world it was easy to ignore that when he had something to do and when his plants started to grow and when he was with Mikhailo. The two young men became closer and closer with each passing week, and soon it seemed to Prince Ian as if they had always known each other. He could no longer imagine a life without his friend.

He suspected that Mikhailo felt the same. It was there in the way he laughed at Prince Ian’s jokes; the way he sought him out to do nothing but talk; the way his gaze sometimes lingered on the prince, the look in his eyes unreadable.

Prince Ian suspected that Mikhailo too wondered what it would be like to press their lips together and hold each other tight. Sleep together; map every inch of each other’s bodies.

Hang on a minute, you’re telling me they haven’t fucked yet? The hell they’ve been doing?

I told you. Hanging out. Talking. Laughing.

Jesus Christ, that’s so fucking gay.

Two men not fucking each other is gay? Yeah, that makes a lot of sense. One day we really need to talk about all your internalized homophobia.

My interna-what? Ah, shut the fuck up. Continue with the story. All these interruptions ain’t doing much for the flow, you know.

Really? I hadn’t noticed.

Prince Ian became determined to find out if Mikhailo felt the same way as he did. He realized that he needed to be careful, however, and not push too hard, lest he spook the other boy. Even though he was almost sure he could see longing in Mikhailo’s eyes, there seemed to be some invisible hand holding him back. Every time Prince Ian was convinced they were finally getting somewhere, Mikhailo would suddenly pull back, as if stung.

Or as if remembering something. Himself, maybe.

Bu then came a cold, clear autumn day almost exactly one year after Prince Ian had been taken to the dragon’s lair.

Whoa, wait, now you’re telling me they’ve been hanging out for one fucking year and they still haven’t banged?

What can I say? Mikhailo’s a pussy.

Whatever. This story is unrealistic as fuck.

Prince Ian and Mikhailo had spent the afternoon together in the garden, as they almost always did whenever Mikhailo wasn’t busy with any of his mysterious chores (which he still refused to tell Prince Ian much about, but which sometimes took him away from the lair for days at a time). Once it started getting dark they went inside and dined on chicken and potatoes from Prince Ian’s patch, and as so often happened they started bickering and play fighting.

If that’s something that happens a lot you might have mentioned it earlier. Established it or whatever. Those mysterious chores too. What’s that all about?

Oh, my bad. Maybe I should start over? Once upon and time—

Nah, man, you’re good. Just a suggestion for next time.

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

They were chasing each other around the kitchen when Mikhailo tripped over the muddy shoes he’d lazily left there the night before and fell to the floor.

You know these meaningful little comments ain’t actually clever, right? They don’t actually add anything to the story.

I like them.

Prince Ian, ever chivalrous, grabbed hold of his friend’s arm to break his fall, but ended up going down with him instead, pinning Mikhailo to the floor with his big, strong body.

Fucking finally.

Their eyes met and Prince Ian felt his heart starting to beat faster. He could see a faint blush spreading over Mikhailo’s face. Neither of them spoke; neither of them moved. Then, slowly, slowly, Prince Ian leaned in to brush his lips over Mikhailo’s. Mikhailo lifted his head to meet him in a kiss to end all other kisses, a kiss to inspire a thousand love songs.

Uh-huh, and then…

And then they went to Prince Ian’s room and had sex all night long. But when Prince Ian woke the next morning—

Wait, wait, what? That’s it? “They had sex all night long.” How about some fucking detail, man?

Fine.

After having great sex using lots of good lube all night long, Prince Ian woke up alone in his bed.

I hate you.

He went in search of Mikhailo but couldn’t find his friend anywhere. He looked in the garden and in the kitchen and he went to the sad little cellar chamber Mikhailo called his room even though Prince Ian had never actually seen him sleep there.

Because he’s the dragon and sleeps in the tower chamber. Great hint, Gallagher. Real subtle.

Fuck off.

A week passed and Prince Ian was starting to suspect that Mikhailo was gone for good this time. Perhaps the dragon had found out about their tryst and had sent him away? Or maybe Mikhailo was disgusted with what had happened and wanted nothing more to do with the prince? Prince Ian wondered and worried and feared, and when finally Mikhailo returned, stepping into the kitchen like nothing had happened, Prince Ian was so exhausted with terror and regret that his relief immediately transformed into fury.

He yelled at Mikhailo, called him names and demanded to know where he’d been. He named him a coward and—

…

Hey, what’s the matter? You okay?

Yeah. Yeah, man, I’m fine.

You don’t look— Listen, Prince Ian’s just being an asshole, okay? He saying a bunch of stupid shit ‘cause he’s sick and tired of not knowing if he means as much to Mikhailo as Mickhailo means to him. He doesn’t mean it.

…

Mick?

I mean… He probably means it a little. He’s not wrong.

No, he’s— Fine. He means it a little right then. But he is wrong, okay? He doesn’t really understand what’s going on with Mikhailo, but he’ll get it later. He’ll know he wasn’t being really fair.

… yeah?

Yeah. Okay?

Okay.

Great. Maybe we should speed this bit up a little—

Once Prince Ian had finished shouting, Mikhailo just stared at him for a long moment.

“You have no fucking idea what you’re talking about,” he spat, and then he spun around and disappeared through the door.

Prince Ian was immediately overcome with regret, yet he was still too angry and hurt and stubborn to run after the other. He went about his day in a very foul mood and when he went to bed that night Mikhailo was still gone. Prince Ian slept fitfully and in the middle of the night he woke to a loud crash, soon followed by several more. He realized it must have come form the tower chamber and after a moment of hesitation he grabbed his nightgown and rushed up the stairs.

So, he brought a nightgown with him when he thought the dragon was going to kill him?

Of course not. He found it in one of the rooms.

Yeah, okay, but why are there so many rooms in this fucking lair anyway? What’s with all the old stuff there? Didn’t the dragon build the place to live in like right before Prince Ian was sent there?

Mickey. It’s getting late and I’d really love to wrap this up and go to bed. It doesn’t really matter about the rooms. Can I just continue with the story?

Whatever, man. Just thought you should know there’s a bunch of plot holes in your little fairy tale.

 Once he reached the door to the forbidden room, the crashing noises had stopped. Instead, Prince Ian heard whimpers and moaning, as if from someone in great pain. It could only be the dragon – something must be wrong with it.

Yeah, ya think, Sherlock?

Prince Ian knocked on the door. There was no reply, other than more whimpers and moans. Steeling himself, he tried the handle. The door was unlocked.

That’s awfully convenient.

Stepping inside, Prince Ian found the dragon on the floor. It was clearly hurt, for there was dark blood pooling underneath it. As Prince Ian entered, the great beast lifted its head but said nothing and made no move to attack him. It seemed it was too badly hurt to pose any threat.

It occurred to Prince Ian that he could kill the dragon. He could go down to the kitchen and fetch the biggest knife there and then he’d be free and he could go back to the castle and his siblings and—

The dragon made a low, pained sound and let its head fall back to the floor, closing its eyes.

Prince Ian went down the stairs, but he didn’t fetch a knife, he fetched bandages instead. Though part of him cursed himself for a fool, he knew he couldn’t bring himself to kill the dragon, monster or not, and couldn’t bring himself to let it bleed to death either.

That’s a huge fucking mistake. Maybe the dragon never hurt him but it still kept him imprisoned. Prince Ian should be getting the hell out of there when he has the chance.

Hmm, yeah. Choosing to be locked up just to be the person you love does sound like a pretty insane thing to do.

Oh, fuck off. That’s totally different.

Sure, Mick.

By the time Prince Ian returned to the tower the dragon had lost consciousness. The prince set to cleaning and bandaging his wounds, having learned the art of it while training with a medical witch who lived at the castle. It took a great long while; the dragon was large and heavy and the cuts in its side long, if shallow. But Prince Ian was nothing if not determined and eventually he had the beast wrapped up.

As Ian moved to rise, the dragon stirred.

“The hell are you doing?” it muttered, blinking up at Ian. Then it spotted the bandages, and the ice blue eyes widened. “What the— Are you fucking insane? This is a... is a… real bad fucking idea… ”

It sounded… strange, and not just from the pain and blood loss, Prince Ian thought. Sounded not just slurred but softer somehow, in spite of the uncharacteristic cursing; sounded almost familiar; sounded like—

“Mikhailo,” Prince Ian whispered.

Ooooh, big surprise! I’m so shocked right now!

You know there are other uses for plot twists than to shock the reader, right? Or actually, I guess you don’t know, but if you picked up a book once in a while—

Yeah, yeah, whatever. What happened after this great and totally unexpected reveal?

The dragon lost consciousness again so Prince Ian went to bed and slept soundly and when he woke the next day he spotted Mikhailo leaning against the wall of his room, looking tired ad unhappy. He was even paler than usually and there was a stiffness to his posture that suggested quite a bit of pain, but other than that he seemed well enough.

“So,” Prince Ian said, trying for casualness as he sat up on his pallet. “You’re a dragon.”

Mikhailo shrugged. “Seems like it.”

“But only by night.”

“Yeah… We turn when the sun sets, and turn back again when it rises.”

“I didn’t know that about dragons.”

“No one around here fucking does. People realize how helpless we are during the day, they’d kill us in a heartbeat. My dad says— “

“Your dad?”

“The leader of the dragons. The really big, white one? This whole terror and extortion thing was his idea, once he realized that no one in this kingdom has a clue about dragons.”

“Oh.”

“He hates humans. Thinks they’re useless and weak. If he knew I kept you around instead of killing you, he’d have murdered us both.”

Jesus fucking Christ, laying it on a bit thick with the metaphysical shit there, don’t ya think?

You mean metaphorical?

I mean it’s fucking stupid, that’s what I mean.

Might be closer to allegory anyway.

Uh-huh. Nobody fucking cares, Shakespeare.

“So, anyway,” Mikhailo continued, “you should probably try to go as far away from here as possible. Find a ship and go across the sea or something.”

Prince Ian blinked. “What?”

“Yeah, man, you won’t be able to go back to your castle. No way to stay hidden there. I know this guy up in Dikno, he might—”

He fell silent as Prince Ian jumped up from the bed and crossed the space between them in two long strides, and then he gasped loudly as the prince’s lips found his.

It was another one to inspire love songs.

“You idiot,” Prince Ian said fondly when eventually they broke apart. “Of course I’m not going anywhere. Unless,” he added, suddenly shy, “you want me to.”

Mikhailo made a face. “No, you fucking moron, I don’t want you to go,” he finally said. “But my dad—”

“We’ll find a way to deal with him. We’ll figure out how to sort it out and set things right between humans and dragons. We’ll find a way, together. Okay?”

And Mikhailo the dragon looked at his prince for a long moment and then he smiled. “Okay.”

At his prince, huh. Surprised you got room for all those big words in your head when your ego’s taking up so much space. All right, then what happened?

They organized a rebellion against the leader of the dragons, I guess. I don’t really know. That’s another story.

What do you mean, another story? Is this it? You spend all that time setting it up but when you get to the good part with the fighting you just stop?

Yeah, it’s getting really late. Kid’s asleep anyway.

Kid’s been out cold since, like, before the dragons even showed up, man, don’t fucking pretend this story was for her. … you really not gonna continue?

Nah, I’ll continue. But for the next scene I figured we might try a little show, don’t tell…

Oh, really? What’s the next scene?

Make-up sex. Prince Ian fucking Mikhailo’s brains out. And hey, spoiler alert: Mikhailo comes four times.

Four times, huh.

Yeah. So… wanna know how it happens?

Okay.

Okay. It starts like this—

---

So, yeah. There we have it. The things we write for Gallavich Week… XD

I am halfway outraged that this is the longest fic I’ve ever written for Gallavich, but I’m rather pleased I managed to write something for this theme! Guess I’ll go to bed both proud and embarrassed and dead tired tonight. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Where I am, we’re half an hour past midnight, but seeing as it’s still Monday somewhere, I have decided that I’m posting on time. Yay me! @gallavichthings

#gallavich #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021 #fic #what have i done #my stuff

[krabmeat]

𝟷𝟶𝟶 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚜? 𝚝𝚘𝚍𝚊𝚢? 𝚊𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚔? 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚎𝚊𝚛?

HELL YEAH FELLAS YOU HEARD THAT RIGHT!! FIRST MAJOR MILESTONE BAYBEEEE LETS GOOOOOO!!

guys, i really dont think you see how insanely mental this is. like what?!?! i joined here cause a friend of mine was gushing about a writer here and eventually convinced me to get tumblr. they called me their "noob reading friend /affectionate" and now look at me!! not even a year in and ive gained a crowd? thats so damn cool to think about!! to think that this many people are willing to put aside time in their day to read some fics made by me, im floored man!! all in all though, i have no one to thank but my wonderful mutuals and followers who have helped floor and construct the fantastic beginnings of this blog. which is why im here to bring you all this event that i sincerely hope you guys enjoy!

🦑KRABS KAN MAKE WRITING EVENTS WOW!!🦑

ALRIGHT FELLAS, IM DOING A WRITING EVENT!! HERES THE RULES AND PROMPTS NOW BOSSMEN!

~rules~

only 2 people per prompt

despite me not writing romantic fics yet, all participants are absolutely welcome to!

no smut/nsfw, im not that kind of blog and i do plan on reading entries so please dont submit anything related!!

any and all fics glorifying and supporting bigoted or misogynistic ideals will not be tolerated or respected. this is non-negotioable but if the fic has any of this that results in the putting down of or generally recognizing these ideals as negative then that is completely fine!

you are to use the quote prompts in your fic (im gonna be loose on this though so dw!! :DD)

you can use as many different prompts as youd like!!

please keep submissions in mcyt territory as thats who i write for most. but this doesnt confine to just mcyts in the dsmp! go wild dudes, hermitcraft, third life, pop off!!

keep all fics for minors platonic and platonic ONLY

generally know and respect the boundaries for ccs

when asking for a prompt, please put who you will be writing for!!

TAG ME IN YOUR FICS!! I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH PLEASE ID ADORE IT IF YOU TAGGED ME SO I CAN READ YOUR WONDERFUL WORK!!

you can use and interpret the prompts any way you want! doesnt matter if its in the angst section, you see fluff potential? go for it, vice versa!!

~prompts~

~fluff~

"I swear, if you make us late one more time I'll tape a clock to your wrist." "Isnt that a watch-?" "Shut it!"

"Look! I think it likes me!" (@ohworm-writes with cc!beeduo)

"Man, how did I catch such a good person?"

"Yknow, your parents really did something great when they made you."

"WELL HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN?!" "THERE ARE WARNING LABELS RIGHT THERE!"

"Take a picture, itll last longer~" "Okay!" "Wait you actually did that-?"

"That does NOT fit you." "Yeah it does! Just gotta roll it up a bit!"

"You aren't 'built different', you're just stupid." (@ohworm-writes with cc!tommy @jschllatt with cc!sapnap

"If it ever happens again, tell me. You know i adore you."

"Well..they dont even deserve you anyways! Just look at you- gorgeous!!"

~angst~

"KEEP F*CKING WALKING, THEN! CANT EVEN FACE YOUR OWN DAMN PARTNER! (or friend! :])"

"No, youre amazing!" "Then why arent i treated like it?"

"Do it again, see if i care."

"Guys..? GUYS! THEY ARENT MOVING!"

"Put the damn drink down and talk to me!"

"Its about time you get whats due, you know."

"So not only do you think im stupid, but you also think im still naive?"

"Just take me seriously for once in your damn life!"

"You'd better start running in the next 5 seconds."

"What do you take me for, a joke?!" "Wasnt that obvious?"

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

now that thats done, heres the ask game part of the event!!! send me the corresponding emoji in my ask box and ill respond!

👽~ ill tell you a weird or memorable occurance that has happened on tumblr between friends and moots!

😳~ ill kin assign you and try to guess who you kin! (friends and moots only)

🍒~ ill rate your blog aesthetic on a scale of 1-10

🥀~ ill give you a bunch of emojis that remind me of you! (friends and moots only)

😎~ ill tell you obscure things i think are very neat!

🌺~ ill tell you a random interesting fact i know!

🦑~ if you send me a description of yourself, personality etc then ill write you a short ship fic with a mcyt!! specify if you want it to be platonic or romantic and if you want it to be c! or cc!(this is to work on my romantic writing!! friends and moots only)

💃~ ill tell you songs that remind me of you! (friends and moots only)

📕~ ill tell you something small or obscure i secretly think about you! (friends and moots only)

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

now...onto the final part- HONOURABLE MENTIONS!!!

@myceliummenace ~ these guys got me into tumblr, some of my closest friends and theyve been supporting me since day one. i couldnt be happier to breathe the same air as these guys, they all deserve a crown and if you disagree i will chomp your hand

@niceimafan ~ an absolute saint!! i came across inks former writing blog and fell in love with both them and their wonderful work /p!!!! theyve helped me through some hellish times and are all around so damn open and accepting

@jschllatt ~ istfg this lady is just-- SOOOO BEAUTIFUL INSIDE AND OUT??? nat is incredibly talented and has encouraged me throughout my time here and i couldnt be happier with how weve grown as friends!! and i know, despite how wholesome and soft nat seems to be i promise you she knows how to keep a bit going like no other. an amazing moot, stay funky :]

@im-an-ungodly-mess ~ okay look,, i know i havent interacted with these guys for a lot buttt...CAN YOU REALLY BLAME ME??!!? LIKE CMON THEYRE ALL JUST SO COOL!!! the moment i met them i knew our chaotic energies would merge and boy did they merge alright. also theyre just insanely nice and super willing to endulge with me in my random interest which is always a sexy trait to have. 10 out of 10, these guys are neato

@ohworm-writes ~ ahhh wormmm, delightful all around and just a sweetheart....BUT THEYVE GOT SHENANIGANS- as well as being extremely skilled as well like, dayummm!!! i live for our bond over fandoms outside of the mcyt fandom and i feel blessed to have you be a moot! much love, dear!

@marcooze ~ bro....whyd you have to do me like that dude? being so gosh damn kind and accepting like that like sheesh all the stuff you reblog is gold!!! it can be the most cracked out post or the most serious and informational one. idgaf that youre a reblog blog, you mean the world to me and i shall place a supple kiss on your hand as bros do <3

@ramzawrites ~ THE FIRST WRITERS BLOG IVE EVER FOLLOWED!!! ramza dear, if no one has ever told you how iconic you are then PLEASE LET ME BE THE FIRST!!! everything you do leaves me in awe and despite your talent, you still have miles and miles of kindness and generosity? you are one in a million, ramza. you deserve everything and please know how much you mean to me. thank you for supporting me so much for so long, and i hope your days are filled with really cool rocks :]]

#krabs kommunicating #krabs has 100 wow!! #mcyt x reader #mcyt x platonic reader #mcyt x you #mcyt x y/n #dsmp x platonic reader #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp requests #dsmp x y/n #writing event

[theonceoverthinker]

500. As this daily series of mine comes to an end, I just want to reflect on all the MARRY time writing Fair Game HCs has brought me!

I’m freezing up as I’m trying to write even just this intro. I don’t feel ready. After a year and a half, how can I feel anything else? This series is now a part of me and ending it is like losing a piece of my soul. I have so many emotions -- too many emotions -- it doesn’t feel wrong to end the series here (The 500 milestone makes sense), but it hurts all the same.

Let me start with thank you to everyone whose read these. Seriously, I know I thank you occasionally, but I can’t do it enough. Knowing that there are people interested in what I write and think about these two and enjoy the happier life I’m paining them in the absence of canon just makes me feel so much less alone than usual. It means the world to me so please believe me when I say that I wouldn’t have gotten to 500 without each and every one of you, whether you were here from the beginning or just joined in whenever. 

I’m so happy to have finally reached this moment, but simultaneously so torn up about what that means.

Will I never do another Fair Game HC again? HECK NO! While the regular daily episodes are ending, if I find another topic that I want to Fair Game-i-fy, I will definitely make more episodes, and hopefully, before long, I will! I just need to take a break from the daily updates. I’ve hit burnout several times over the past year and a half and it’s not fun, so while I still have some energy to spare, I want to end the daily series on a high note!

Also, forgive me because I’m gonna cheat this as a submission for @fairgameweek2021 while I’m at it (If it’s not cool, then my apologies). The theme today is Charms/Dreams and while neither of these come up in the HC itself, this wedding and this series as a whole I think acts as a reflection of the dreams much of the Fair Game fandom had for this ship. 

When I say this, I don’t mean it in the sense of I’d be upset if not each and every one of these didn’t come true -- that’s never been what my love for Fair Game was about, nor that each and every Fair Game fan subscribes to these HCs (Good GOD, no -- not even close). Like many fans, I just wanted these two characters who deserved happiness (Especially Qrow given his almost unreal amount of trauma and hardships) and seemed like they’d finally found it with each other to get exactly that. So in the absence of canon, I hope people were able to take solace in this space and live in the daydreams I created for them here.

So here we are at long last: The Fair Game Wedding. If you want to follow the story thus far, you can check out my HC compilation page. I’ve highlighted all of the wedding HCs in green, and have fully caught up the HC list!

That said, if you don’t feel like reading all of them and just want to check out this last one, here’s the tldr for what you need to know: The wedding is taking place in the Amity communications tower (This HC series only follows canon until 7X11 for those who didn’t know because I only choose to acknowledge good writing (especially for Qrow and Clover) here), Tai is Qrow’s Best Man, Marrow is Clover’s Best Man, Robyn is officiating, Ruby’s walking Qrow down the aisle, Yang’s walking Clover down the aisle, Clover got Qrow a silver ring with four tiny encrusted emeralds, Qrow got Clover a dark ring with four tiny encrusted rubies, Qrow’s wearing an onyx tux with a white undershirt and a crimson bowtie and handkerchief, and Clover’s wearing a black tux with a white undershirt and a dark green bowtie and handkerchief. 

Okay! We’re good to go!

Well, for the last regularly-scheduled time, let’s get to it!

HC under the cut!

“Uncle Qrow! Help! We can’t find your shoes!”

Ruby’s cry is what wakes Qrow up.

What a way to start the day. He hasn’t even had coffee or breakfast yet and he’s already been tasked with finding his wedding shoes. Give him a break.

It then comes to attention that this is his wedding day. By the time he goes to bed, he and Clover will be married. 

His crankiness at being woken up and put to work so quickly doesn’t fully evaporate, but a lot of it does all the same. 

And as Qrow starts searching his temporary room to find his shoes, he can’t help but take note of the bubbling happiness under him.

()()()()()()()()()()()

It feels so weird to Clover to wake up in the Ace Ops’ suite. He’s stopped by from time to time since leaving the Atlesian Army, especially as he’s been planning his wedding, but staying over feels simultaneously nostalgic and bizarre. 

Mostly though, the odd feeling is one that stems from not waking up beside Qrow. It’s not that they haven’t slept apart, but whenever they have outside of their bachelor parties, it’s been for a mission.

Well, in all fairness, today’s at once a party and a mission, and by the end of it, he and Qrow will be back sleeping right beside each other.

Clover can just barely stand the wait.

()()()()()()()()()()

The alter is beautiful. The whites and browns and red and greens come together so nicely. 

In an interesting surprise touch, Harbinger in its scythe form and Kingfisher in its rod form are tastefully placed right next to Tai and Marrow respectively. And on top of their handles, Qrow and Clover’s respective rings rest safely on each of their handles.

They’re both impressed, more so that their weapons were somehow sneak out and brought all the way to the communications tower without either’s knowledge.

Clover’s the first to arrive at Amity Tower. Tai and Marrow organized how Qrow and Clover would check in on things so they wouldn’t see each other until the ceremony. Though Clover found the superstition banal, he decides not to make a fuss about it today, not when there are more important things going on.

The sweet smell of flowers greets his nose. They’re all laid out so nicely, and possibly even more so in the reception hall. Clover looks to his and Qrow’s table, and then to his pants.

Marrow gave him back his phone this morning, and with Marrow temporarily busy in the bathroom, Clover sends Qrow a quick text before he returns.

Clover: Everything looks perfect up here, but I bet you’ll look even better. See you soon. ;) 

Qrow arrives a bit later than expected...which for him was anything but unexpected. Between finding his shoes, Tai insisting on ironing his suit (”I swear, there was a wrinkle on it this morning!), making sure he got a good meal in him, cramming everyone into Tai’s car, and dealing with traffic, it’s amazing they got there when they did.

By the time Qrow gets there, the caterers are starting to arrive and their cake is on its way over, too!

Though Qrow initially felt his scroll buzz in the car, he’s unable to look at it until now. He sees Clover’s text in between the tons of congratulations messages, and smiles.

He’s such a dork.

But he’s Qrow’s dork.

Qrow: You know it. ;) See you soon.

Far too much time is spent for either of their taste’s getting into their suits and going over their entrances and everything (Though given how their rehearsal went, neither can be too annoyed).

Both meet their respective halves of the wedding party and soon enough...it’s time.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Robyn’s the first to enter. She has a basic script in her hand, but everyone knows she’s gonna do some ad-libbing and are excited for it.

Qrow walks down the aisle first with Ruby. The whole time, he can’t but hold his breath behind his smile, worried he might trip. Ruby, who can now fully tell how her uncle operates, holds his arm tighter and more supportively. Qrow would be lying if he said it didn’t help. Upon reaching the front, Ruby gives Qrow a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before leaving his side.

After he arrives, the two sets of groomsmen enter side-by-side: Marrow and Tai, Elm and Port, Vine and Oobleck, and Harriet and Theodore (Yeah, I know basically nothing about Theodore, but I realized my numbers for Qrow’s groomsmen didn’t add up to Clover’s, and I hear the two of them got along, so we’re doing this!).

Once they’re in position, Clover enters with Yang. Clover, like Yang, holds his breath, but for a different reason. Qrow looks so impossibly good in his suit, and he can tell Qrow really likes how he looks, too. Like Ruby with Qrow, before leaving to join her sister, Yang gives Clover a hug and cheek kiss, but also a nice pat on the shoulder and a wish for “good luck.” Clover loves the sensation.

Clover whispers under his breath that Qrow looks amazing. Qrow thanks him, throwing a wink at Clover. Clover looks as stunned by it as Qrow did when he did it the first time.

Ceremony stuff happens, and then we get to the vows!

Robyn signals for Qrow to go first. He nods at her and begins.

“Clover,” Qrow says. “I want to say something to you, something that I never thought I would, especially here of all places, but something that feels like it should be said all the same. ...Here it goes. Clover, we don’t have to get married.” 

There’s a pause as everyone watching gasps. Clover is the only one who doesn’t, though he does raise and eyebrow. Qrow maintains eye contact with him and continues.

“It’s true,” he says. “We know we’re going to be together for the rest of our lives. I’m not leaving you, you’re not leaving me, and once this is all over, we’re going to go right back to the same home we’ve spent years building together to build even more of it for as long as we can. We’ll get up, make breakfast and coffee, work, come home, watch TV, and go to bed. Maybe we’ll do different things on the weekends with Tai and the kids, or maybe we’ll just relax on the couch with a movie. So no, we don’t need to get married...but that’s exactly why I want to.”

The sighs of relief are close to deafening, and expecting that, Qrow takes another pause. Clover’s smile is beautiful, not beaming of exceedingly large, but radiant as it has ever been. Qrow hopes that whoever their planner organized to record their wedding captures it because it’s a smiles Qrow imagines he’ll want to look at over and over again.

“It’s exactly because we don’t need to throw a ceremony or a big party to show the world we love each other that makes me want to do just that,” Qrow continues. “A love like what we have, one that’s special because of all the things that don’t make it special just as much as all of the things that do, well to me, that’s a love worth celebrating. I love you, Clover, and I love the fact that being here with you gives me another chance to celebrate how we feel, how far we’ve come, and how much further we’ll go.”

There are tears in the corners of Clover’s eyes threatening to fall any second. Qrow feels that his own are on the verge of doing the same.

Clover pull him in for a hug. They know it’s not what they’re supposed to do, but it feels right and that’s all that matters. It lasts for ten seconds before they finally pull back.

Robyn’s looking at them jokingly. 

“You know you’re not supposed to do that yet, right?”

“Eh,” Qrow says, shrugging with a smirk on his face. “We’re unconventional.”

“Except when we’re not,” Clover chimes in, winking at Qrow over the joke.

Robyn, smiling all the while, rolls her eyes.

“Clover, it’s your turn,” she says. The two exchange nods and then Clover turns to Qrow. 

“Qrow,” he starts, “I definitely saw my life differently before I met you. I was an Atlesian Military Captain of the kingdom’s strongest group of Huntsmen, likely to stay just where I was until I retired or died in combat. That’s what I saw for myself, and that’s all I saw for myself. In that life, I didn’t see a home, I didn’t see a family, and I never saw someone I loved so much that I’d leave everything I thought I knew behind just to stand by his side. But once I met you and the kids, I began to see all sorts of things that I’d never considered for myself before -- all of those things I just listed and more. That’s the life we’ve had together so far -- deep, kind, strange, fun, sometimes a bit mundane but also beautiful because of it. I’ve got to tell you, Qrow, I can’t think of anything luckier happening to me in my entire life than finding you.”

Qrow snorts. It’s not an interruption, but Clover can’t help but comment on it. 

“I guess you saw that coming?” Clover jokes. 

“Maybe a bit.”

“Fair enough. Well, I don’t need to tell you that with semblances like ours, luck’s always been a special thing between us. Misfortune and Good Fortune just have a way of being part of our lives, no matter what we think or plan or want. We’ve talked before about how they counter each other or why one might be more powerful than the other on any given day, but while luck might have been what brought us together as partners initially and it certainly is part of us, it’s not all of us. Luck has some interesting perks, both good and bad alike -- it can make a day or even week better or worse -- but it can’t get either of us what we have together nor take it away. Luck doesn’t earn me the sight of that gleam in your eyes when I bring you a bowl of noodles just the way you like or that smile of yours when I tell you tell you a joke. Luck helps us live our lives, but we do the rest, and I think we do a pretty good job living it together, and I can’t wait to keep on doing it with you for the rest of our lives.”

A good number of the attendants make an “awwww” sound at the end of Clover’s vows. Qrow’s tempted to make fun of it, but abstains.

Robyn nods at the conclusion of her vows. Tai and Marrow collect the rings for Qrow and Clover from off of the weapons and bring them to them. Robyn then turns to Clover.

“Clover Ebi,” she says. “Do you take this man, Qrow Branwen, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Clover’s smile is present. It doesn’t get bigger, but it gets deeper. 

“I do,” he says. Qrow takes Clover’s ring and slides it easily onto Clover’s finger.

Robyn turns to Qrow.

“And Qrow Branwen,” she continues. “Do you take this man, Clover Ebi, to be your lawfully-wedded husband -- to love, cherish, and grow with him in sickness and in health and for better or worse as long as you both shall live?”

Qrow’s smile stays the same -- relaxed, easy, and so utterly content. Despite seeing it hundreds of times by now, it still looks so beautiful to Clover...especially when he says the next two words.

“I do.”

Qrow extends out his hand, and Clover, with the ring he got him, slides it down Qrow’s flawless finger effortlessly.

Robyn’s smile grows.

“Then by the power vested in me by the Kingdom of Solitas and the land of Remnant, I now declare you husbands. You may now kiss.”

Qrow and Clover have kissed more times than they can possibly count.

But by the time Robyn declares them married, they’re starving to feel each other’s kisses again. Cupping each other’s cheeks, Qrow and Clover share their first kiss as a married couple.

Everyone cheers. A quarter of the room cheers through their tears.

Finally, they’re married.

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Qrow and Clover get a small break to themselves before they enter the reception. They spend much of it standing and sitting close together, kissing, telling the Qrow and Clover equivalent of sweet nothings to each other, and talking about what their previous night and this morning were like. It’s kind, relaxed, and happy -- so, so happy.

The reception’s amazing. Between awesome food, “the world’s best cocktail hour” (Qrow and Clover’s words, not mine), a good DJ, heartwarming (and a little embarrassing) speeches, gorgeous decorations, cool party favors, and a beautiful and loving first dance, everyone has an amazing time.

At some point, Qrow and Clover find themselves able to sneak out of their own reception for a break (Qrow especially needs one, but Clover’s not about to pretend he’s not at least a little tired either). There’s a small empty balcony right in front of the moon. Clover loops his arm around Qrow’s shoulders and settles it on the left one.

Clover takes a deep breath through his nose and Qrow can feel his hairs bounce up and down with it.

“Smell something you like?” Qrow teases.

“More like someone. And I can’t wait to keep smelling him.”

They relax in the quiet for a bit. Qrow snuggles into Clover’s side as the gentle wind embraces their forms wherever it can.

“We’re married,” Clover finally says, said as if he’s just realized it for the first time. 

It must be the tenth time today he’s done so since the ceremony.

Qrow hasn’t gotten even remotely sick of hearing it.

“We’re married,” he repeats. 

Clover releases a rumbling chuckle, then kisses Qrow’s upper right temple. Qrow presses his lips to Clover’s hand. It’s not a kiss, per se, but it lingers delicately on his hand.

They stay for a couple more minutes before deciding that they should probably return to their party.

The rest of the party is so nice. Friends and family party and dance the night away with the gorgeous night sky all around them for hours.

The cleanup is exhausting and despite loving their wedding planner from the moment they hired her, Qrow and Clover have never been more grateful for her services than where she says they can head out and that she would finish up the rest of the work and text them (”Tomorrow afternoon. You guys are gonna need some shut eye.”).

It takes Qrow and Clover about an hour to get home. Clover drives once they’re on solid ground again. In the car, neither talk much, content to sit and enjoy the drive home in a comfortable quiet, save for the occasional joke and “We’re married” statement.

When they’re finally home, they stop at the door. After all, who’s going to carry who over the threshold? 

They compromise. Kissing each other’s face all the way, Qrow carries Clover through their front door, and Clover carries Qrow through their bedroom door onto a...very fun wedding night (Which I’m gonna let you all imagine for yourself because I have literally been writing this all day and writing about sex is kind of tough for me when I’m at my best).

When they’re at last ready to go to sleep, Qrow and Clover cuddle close and give each other a final loving look before falling asleep in each other’s arms, blissfully together tonight and for decades worth of them to come, just as they deserve. I don’t even know what to say now that we’re here at the end. I think I said it here earlier, but it bears repeating: I love you all and thank you so much for following these Fair Game HCs.

Tagging @skybird13 @whipped4qrow @mooksie01 @luck-of-the-caw @xwildangel @solitude-of-stars-deactivated20 @vastnessofthespiral @o0nashipear0o @unfairgamey @doctorrwby @clover-and-co @megan-atthedisco @wash-my-brain @bisexualdisasterqrow @thursdayseraph @doubledexterity @rwby-things-i-guess @atlas-heartthrob @the-answer-was-bi-klance @compoterie @thuskindlyiboop @oceansquid @transdemion @deltastream21 @mimiori @xya-hunter @dinosaurs-last-day @roman-torchtwink @subatomictealeaves @drbtinglecannon @saphiralunaris @pretentiouskneecaps @amxngsthxmans @ayomez13 @carbonated-table-spices @darkestsiren @chaosgameingkoi @collectingsparechangemadeeasy @michaels-daughter2005 @youmaywanttoduck @lovethewitchofendor @victorious1956 @spence0112 @madamoisellesica @ju-ka-mc-24

Want to be tagged in future Fair Game HC’s (Or untagged, I understand) and be the first to catch all of the romance, fluff, drama, and puns (Sometimes all at the same time)? Send me a reply, PM, or ask, and it shall be done!

Would you also like to check out my old Fair Game HC’s? Who wouldn’t? Well, here’s a link to my Fair Game HC archives!!!!

#fair game #qrow branwen #clover ebi #rwby #lucky charms #luckbirds #luck birds #fairgame #qrow x clover #qrover #fair game hcs #500

[a-simple-imagine]

The Smarter Witch pt.2

Requested by anonymous: “Maybe later that same year or the next one where the reader finally admits her feelings and tries making it a big special (but private) thing? Maybe in the astronomy tower or something but Malfoy messes it up and there is a fight? Her and mione end up together in the end?”

Pairing: Hermione Granger x fem!reader

Words: 6k

A/N - I’m arguably prouder of this part than the first!! As always comments and reblogs are appreciated. I’m very much loving my time in the Harry Potter fandom atm. credit to @euphoriainhell​ for checking this over!!

Warnings - Threats of violence, prejudice, bullying and swearing. I think that is it.

Part 1

The whistle of the Hogwarts express signaled the official end of summer as you made your way onto the platform. Family forgotten as you scan the tidal wave of students for any familiar face but they would likely be on the train already; you were running late after all. Dropping off your luggage, you're about to board when you spot a flash of platinum blonde in the corner of your eye. 

"Draco," It's hard to hear over the busy train platform as you weave through the crowd to reach him. Picking up speed as you get closer, you launch yourself onto his back. "If it isn't one of my favourite Snakes." 

"Get off me," He shakes his body in an attempt to throw you off so you loosen your grip. Dropping back down to the ground. 

"Aren’t you happy to see me?" 

"Just get on the train," His hand slaps against your back, pushing you forward onto the train.  

"Do anything exciting this summer?" You ask him as you walk through the train carriage, slipping past people as they got in your way. Checking each booth as you pass for your fellow Slytherin. They had to be on here somewhere but it was a big train. 

"Not really. You?" 

"Visited New York. Family had business at the American ministry." You glance back to make sure he was still walking behind. Finally, you spot Parkinson, sat in the corner by herself. It takes her a moment but when she finally sees you two, a wicked grin spreads over her lips. "It was fun though. Did some sightseeing- typical touristy shit." 

"Took you two long enough, I thought you were  gonna miss the train." 

"Aww she was worried about us Draco," you tease, nudging him slightly as you plop down next to her. Draco sits across from you, taking the window seat. 

"where's Blaise?" 

Her shoulders rose a little in response to Draco's question. "He said he forgot something and then ran off." 

"I hope the train leaves without him," you jest, glancing out the window. It was beginning to calm down as the last few students boarded the train. All that was left were parents biding their final farewells. You can't imagine crying over sending your child off to school but still, you spotted tears among some. 

"Without who?" Pulling your attention back, Blaise had finally shown up. He takes the space next to Draco, looking rather uninterested. Finally, the main gang was back together; not including Crabbe or Goyle. 

"Definitely not my awesome friend Blaise, that's for sure," You flash a playful smile; slumping down against the seat. It was gonna be a long journey. 

"You're as chipper as ever," Zabini comments, kicking your leg gently with his foot. "Not sure if that's a good thing." 

"I'm just happy to be back," And you were for the most part anyway. As dull as school could be, you were excited to be going back. Not to mention you'd finally get to see Hermione again; you found yourself often wondering what she may be up to. The child of two muggles must spend her time differently, or so you assumed. You kind of missed seeing her every week; perhaps even more than you missed Draco and the others. You liked to think you don't know why but deep down there was a part of you that knew exactly why. 

The conversation drifted between talks of summer plans and future endeavours. Past assignments and what was yet to be learnt. Pansy, once again, hadn't finished her summer work but that was a surprise to nobody. And after what felt like forever without interruption from the lady with the trolley, you decide you're gonna have to go search for it yourself. There was a chocolate frog calling your name right now. 

"I'm gonna go get something from the trolley. Do you guys want anything?" It's a polite gesture but you kind of hoped nobody would say yes. 

"I'll take a liquorice wand," Blaise requests and you nod a little. 

"Draco?" His head shakes so you grab Pansy's arm and pull her along with you. It was a lot easier to navigate now that everyone was pretty much in their seats. The familiar sweet question hits your ears so you know you are close. 

“Anything from the trolley?”

"You know how you finished all the homework-" 

"Yes you can copy," You should have expected this when she didn't protest to bringing her along. "Just don't make it obvious because I'm not taking the fall for it. I will definitely blame you." 

As you approach Honeydukes Express, the older witch is serving what seems to be a couple of Ravenclaw students. You wait for them to finish up, examining the contents as she turns to you. "Can I get.... some liquorice wands, a chocolate frog, a packet of Roasted Chimera Crisps and, do you want anything?" 

Pansy takes a moment to think about it. You shift uncomfortably as a few students wait their turn behind you. "Chocolate." 

"And a chocolate bar please?" You hand over the money in exchange for your sweets but the world washes away when you spot none other than Harry Potter in the booth beside you. You quickly spy Ron beside him with Hermione sat opposite. You felt the flutter of butterflies in your stomach as she laughs at something you're unaware of. 

"What are you doing?" Pansy shoves you back into reality and you hit the door to the booth. All eyes fall to you and you want nothing more than to sink into the ground. Hermione smiles ever so softly and your heart leaps out of your chest. Reaching past you to collect the items you paid for, your fellow Slytherin pulls you away completely oblivious. 

"What took so long?" Blaise wonders. Pansy hands over your items and tosses him his wands. You slide your chocolate frog into your pocket as you sit back down. Pulling open the crisp packet.

"Ask her, she just froze all of a sudden. It was really weird." 

You absentmindedly place a crisp in your mouth, crushing it between your teeth. 

"You okay?" Draco asks. 

You nod a little, flashing them a tight smile that fades as you turn back to the window. It was easier to deny when you were apart but it was time to admit to yourself that you have a crush on a certain Gryffindor. Fuck. 

Dumbledore stands on the podium at the front of the great hall, starting the term with his normal announcement as well as an introduction for the first years. It was an utterly boring speech that had your stomach growling in anticipation for dinner. Leaning down against the table, your head rests in the palm of your hand as you stare through the gaps between students at the Gryffindor table. You wonder where Hermione is sat; zoning out of the assembly entirely. There were moments you wished that Hogwarts didn't always have you split by houses. Of course, they weren't entirely strict policies but you'd get some strange looks if you had sat at the Gryffindor table for the first feast of the year rather than the Slytherin table. Perhaps you should care more about the first years getting assigned their houses but you felt yourself almost drifting off as you waited for dinner. 

"You reckon we can swap out Millicent for one of the first years?" Pansy's voice is quiet in your ear as the table finally fills with all kinds of food. You've never been happier for a speech to be over. 

"Don't be mean," An amused smile pulls at your lips but the reason behind it was unclear. You shovel food onto your plate as if it was going to disappear again if you didn't. 

"What? I'm just saying" Pansy reaches over you to grab an ear of corn on the cob to add to her plate. 

"What's your problem with her?" 

"Nothing really. I just think we could do better, she's no fun." You'd love to know what Pansy's idea of fun was. 

"I've hardly even spoken to her, to be honest," you shrug, tucking into a bread roll. "So I'd happily give her up for a first-year." 

"I'm not sure how you can miss her," Your friend adds snidely. "Pathetic excuse for a Slytherin." 

"You do realise she's sitting right over there," You nod your head in her direction. She's a little further down the table but not enough that she couldn't hear your conversation if she wanted to. It's very clear Pansy doesn't care though as she looks towards the girl who’s currently eating a chicken wing. 

"Things would be very different if I was in charge here," 

"I dread the thought," You comment, taking a long sip of water from your goblet. 

"Pansy's right," Draco interjects, you didn't even realise he was paying attention to the two of you. "This place has gone to the dogs. They let just about anyone in." 

This again? It was like listening to a broken record with Pansy and Draco. Always looking down on people for not being of pure blood. "If they only let in purebloods, there'd hardly be anyone here." 

"that’s right we forgot you're the resident mudblood lover." Pansy mocked, turning her attention to behind her. "Where is Granger anyway?" 

"You shouldn't call people that,” It was such a foul word anyway, even when it wasn't directed at Hermione. "And how should I know? I've been with you guys since we got back." 

"I don't know." The girl turns back to you. "You're the one obsessed with her." 

You're about to reply but Blaise interjects first. "Leave her alone," 

"Thank you, Blaise," you're a little surprised to find him defending you regarding the matter. He tended to sit on the sidelines when it came to discussions of muggle-borns; partly because you're convinced he thinks he's just better than most people. Pureblood or otherwise. He was a very talented young wizard and very handsome. You can't help the smug expression that takes over. 

"She can't help having no taste." 

"I'm not even obsessed with her," you fire back defensively; a little too defensively and they all snicker. "Stop bullying me for having friends other than you guys. Just because nobody else likes you three." 

"What did I do?" Draco questions, his brows knitting together. "I didn't say anything about her." 

"I know but you were probably thinking it," You huff. "And you laughed." 

"You can't punish me for thinking things," 

With a roll of your eyes, you stand up and leave the table. You could only deal with so much negativity at any given moment so you take a detour into the lion's den. Too many Weasley's to pick Ron out from the crowd so you keep an eye out for Potter; who for some annoying reason was sat all the way at the other side of the great hall. You push in beside him and a brand new first-year earning yourself the odd stares. Sadly, Hermione is nowhere to be seen. 

"Oh great you're here," You didn't appreciate Ron's tone. You shoot him a sharp glare, he was definitely someone you hadn't missed over summer. "Draco sent you?"

"Why would Draco send me?" Like Draco would even trust you as a spy. "He doesn't care about you all that much... at least not you Ron." You flash him a tight-lipped smile. "I came to see Hermione actually, I thought she'd be with you two." 

"She already went back to the dorms, said she wasn't feeling well." 

You can always count on Harry not to make a snarky comment, you thank him before heading back to your friends. Pansy was the first to tease you about running off to play with the lions but you didn't really care. You'd grown used to it by now. 

Your robe hangs off your shoulder and you almost drop the textbook you have tucked under your arm as you power walk through the corridors of Hogwarts. It was your first class of the semester and you were late. McGonagall was not going to be happy. As you burst through the door, there is a split second you're relieved that you don't see your professor only to remember she was an Animagus. Once a cat now morphed into one of your favourite professors right before your eyes. "You should know your way around the castle by now," 

"I woke up late," 

"See that it doesn't happen again, now take your seat." 

The only space left was conveniently right next to the girl who was on your mind more often than not. You swallow hard as you trudge to the second desk on the middle row. Your heart thumps in your chest and you wonder if she can hear it too. Knowing Hermione the way you did, you wouldn't be surprised if she could. 

"Never expected you to be late," The familiar whisper of her voice tickles your ear. "Finally stopped trying to prove you're better than me?" 

"I overslept but that doesn't make me a bad student," The dropping of your textbook sounds so much louder in the silence. "It was Pansy's fault anyway." 

"Your mistakes are your own," She says thoughtfully. Continuing to scribble notes down onto her parchment paper. 

"Since we’re back, I think we should continue our tradition of playing chess on Fridays." You open your new textbook, sneaking a glance at Hermione's to figure out what page you're supposed to be on. 

"Can this conversation wait," 

She started it but you don't express that; instead, you nudge her knee with yours under the desk. "It's a simple yes or no." 

"I know it's exciting to be back but that's no excuse to distract other students. Please leave Miss Granger to her studies." 

Again, she started it so why were you getting the blame? You look down to your textbook with a defeated sigh. "Sorry, professor." 

"You'll have plenty of time to catch up later." She taps the pages of your textbook with some rolled up paper in her hand before walking away. When the coast is clear, you nudge the girl next to you again. 

"So Friday then." You note the smile on her lips but she doesn't reply. In fact, she gives you the silent treatment for the rest of the class. 

Come lunchtime, you're very awkwardly sitting at the Gryffindor table waiting for Hermione and her friends. The spots of green that adorns your robe stands out among all the red and you can't help but feel unwanted. Slytherin had such a bad reputation despite actually having some great witches and wizards. "I think you're at the wrong table, Slytherin is over there." 

A sigh of relief slips into the air and you look up to her. She stood directly behind you, clutching her books like they were the most precious things on earth. There was a cocky grin on full display that filled your entire body with a gloriously warm feeling. 

"Didn't anyone tell you I'm a Gryffindor now?" You announce as she takes up space next to you. Harry sits the other side of her, greeting you with a small hello while Ron is on the opposite side of the table completely ignoring your existence. 

"Is that why you're still wearing Slytherin's colours?" 

"Honourary member?" You shrug a little. "Besides I still need an answer." 

"About what?" She places her books neatly on the table before her, exchanging them for a plate. Ron has already got his mouth full of god only knows what. 

"Friday? Chess? Or we can do something else, I honestly don't mind." 

"Sure," Hermione nods in agreement. "I'm still free at the usual time. I haven't practised much over Summer though at least not the wizard-kind." 

"Then it's a date," you wink playfully trying to keep up your confident persona but in reality, your stomach was doing somersaults. She never used to have an effect on you or more accurately not to this degree. It's as they say absence makes the heart grow fonder. "You two are free to join if you like," you glance between the boys as best you can. "I assure you my fellow Slytherin friends aren't invited; they wouldn't be caught dead hanging around Granger."

"Charming," 

"They're very particular about the company they keep" You play it off as a harmless joke.

"I think what you meant to say was that they're awful people," Ron mumbles through a full mouth. He was right but you don't appreciate it when he says it; they're still your friends. 

"Careful how you talk about my friends, Weasley," You warn, keeping your eyes on him for a moment before softening. "So how was your summer, Hermione?" 

"You really want to know?" 

You nod eagerly. "I would like nothing more. Your parents are muggles so it's like going back to a different world for you." 

Like a child listening to a bedtime story, you're sat there enjoying your lunch as Hermione tells tales of her summer. There was a beautiful light behind her eyes as she spoke of her parents; you could tell she was proud of them even though they weren't wizards. You also listened to Harry and Ron talk about theirs and how they all came together with the other Weasleys at 'The Burrow'. You didn't ask for an explanation because frankly, you didn't care. 

It was almost weird how quickly everything fell back into place at Hogwarts; it truly felt like you had never left. How you had missed endangering your fellow students by doing unauthorised magic outside of class. As well as the evenings spent in the Slytherin common room with your friends. As much as you hated boring classes, you even missed showing off to Hermione. She still managed to beat you in the likes of History of Magic but Potions was where you truly excelled.

With the day free, you had decided to spend it with Parkinson wandering around Hogsmeade.  It was a fine day for it and you could both do with some time away from the boys. The sun was shining bright in the sky and so the little village was relatively busy. You're on the way to Honeydukes when you notice her walking alone; at least you think it's her. "Granger?" You call out and she turns to you; as well as some other shoppers. Your expression brightens only for Pansy to elbow you sharply in the side. "What did you do that for?" You bite back a foul word, shoving your friend away and walking towards Hermione. 

"Don't look too happy to see me. Where's Potter and Weasley?" 

"I'm not sure," She admits, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "I didn't come with them." 

"Don't have any other friends, Granger," Pansy snickering to herself. Hermione simply rolls her eyes as do you. "That's a little sad." 

"You can join us if you like?" You suggest. 

"What?" Pansy was clearly surprised by your offer and rightly so but you weren't going to miss out on an opportunity to hang out with Hermione. 

"It's alright," You can't deny her rejection had you feeling a little disappointed. "I'm fine being alone." 

"Are you sure?" 

"You don't have to pity her," Pansy comments bitterly, tugging on your arm impatiently. "Can we go?" 

"Go on ahead and I'll catch up." You sigh

"Fine," She spins on her heel and marches away. "Don't take forever." 

"Sorry about her. She's incapable of saying nice things." 

"It's alright," If you weren't mistaken her smile brightened just a little. "I've grown used to the company you choose to keep." 

"I really did want you to join us," You tell her sadly. "I understand if you don't want to though. Next time we should come together."

"I don't think Pansy would appreciate my company," Hermione shifts her weight a little, dropping her gaze. "But yeah maybe another time." 

"Tell you what, how about we do something later- If you're not busy of course? I know how you are about studying." 

"What do you want to do?" She asks quietly. 

"Uhhh..." you had no idea what you wanted to do, you just needed to talk to her. Maybe if you tell her how you feel, she'll become easier to navigate. Plus you weren't exactly one to shy away from expressing yourself for too long. "Meet me in the astronomy tower okay?" 

"Why?" 

"Just do it, Granger." With a wave of your hand, you go running off after Pansy. Walking through the door of the famous sweet shop, she's not too hard to spot. Stood before a display of Acid lollipops, her attention is drawn by the bell announcing your arrival. 

"Where's the mudblood?" The raven-haired girl turns back to the array of sweets. 

"You didn't want her to come with us," you argue, walking up beside her. You pick up an acid lollipop that was snot green in colour; amused by the idea of gifting it to Draco or something but ultimately you place it back. 

"You never normally listen to me about her." She comments, picking up a pack of cauldron cakes. 

"I wasn't gonna force her to join us when you hate her," It wouldn't be fun for anyone. "I'm meeting her later anyway- so it's fine." 

"Oooh going on a date," Pansy teased. "I didn't know you swung that way." 

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not at all," Pansy shook her head. "A mudblood on the other hand..." 

"Not homophobic just prejudice, interesting." You chuckle. Pansy pays for her cakes but not without you adding a chocolate frog to the price; a treat for being such a git you told her. Grabbing her hand, you lead her out so you can continue the rest of your day. 

You hear your name as you stroll through the courtyard on your way to meet Hermione in the astronomy tower. You'd be lying if you said you were not nervous. A quiet groan escapes as you see Draco. "Heard you got yourself a date with Granger." 

"Who told you that?" You knew the answer already. 

"Parkinson." 

"Of course she did," you reply with an exasperated sigh. 

"Didn't know you liked girls." 

"It's not a date anyway," you explain. "Mind your own business." 

"No offence but dating Granger of all people? I mean, I thought you at least had some standards." 

"Leave me alone, Draco." You spit back. 

"Someone's grumpy," His arm snakes around your shoulders, pulling you into his side. "Where are we heading?" 

"I don't know where you are going," Struggling out of his grip, you push him away from you. The last thing you needed was Malfoy coming along with you. "I'm going to see Hermione." 

"Fine, I'll leave you to your little date." 

Your middle finger shoots up at him as you strut away. Thankfully, he seems to keep his word and doesn't follow you any longer. Ascending the steps of the astronomy tower, a shiver spills through your body as you reach the top. Hermione looks so lonely on the platform, staring out over the grounds. 

"Sorry I'm late, Draco wouldn't leave me alone," You announce, the floorboards creaking a little with each step. 

"I thought you weren't coming for a moment," Her voice is so light and sweet; you can practically hear the beautifully gentle smile behind it. "Why did you want to come up here anyway? It's awfully windy." 

As if summoned by her voice a gust of wind attacked the two of you with its brisk bite. "I like it up here," You muse, scanning your surroundings as you walk up alongside her. Leaning down against the railing. The rolling hills of Scotland really were something to behold. "It's peaceful and pretty, not to mention far away from the dungeons." 

"It is a great view." Hermione agrees, shuffling a little closer to you. 

"And I wanted to talk to you." With the way your stomach sank, you were sure you'd pass out if the metal railing wasn't there. 

"About?" 

You hesitate, taking a deep breath as if it would somehow bring along with it some courage. You've never been this nervous in your life. "Did... you finish the... uh, Herbology homework?" 

"You brought me up here to ask that?" You couldn't look at her confused face for too long. Definitely not the reason you brought her up here but you panicked and those were the words that came out. "Of course I have," She declares matter of factually. "It's due on Monday. Have you?" 

You shake your head a little.

"I can help you if you like? I still have the books checked out from the library." 

"I don't need help from the likes of you," You tease but your heart’s not really in it. 

"Are you okay?"

"Mhmm," You nod your head, forcing yourself to look upon the girl you have grown so fond of. She makes you want to throw up but in a good way. 

"Are you sure?" She looks so adorably confused. "You're acting weird." 

"I'm just nervous," You admit. You spin around so you back is against the world and you can only focus on what's in this very room. 

"Nervous?" She repeats although it's posed like a question. A gust of wind flows through her hair lifting it ever so slightly before it settles again. "Why do I make you nervous? We've spent hours together before." 

"It's just... you're the most spectacular witch in our year and-" 

"Well now I know there is definitely something wrong," She places her soft hand against your forehead and heat rushes to your face. You were now painfully aware of how close she was; she smelt... flowery with the sweetest hint of something sugary. "Such high praise- are you sick? Maybe we should take you to the hospital wing?" 

You delicately remove her hand, lowering it but never letting go. You take another deep breath, long and slow. It was now or never. "I like you." 

"I like you too," You meet the stars that twinkle so elegantly in her eyes. You had to get back to the dorms soon or you were both going to end up in detention. 

"I like you... a lot." You gently squeeze her hand, eyes dropping to the floor out of sheer embarrassment. This wasn't how you expected things to go. 

"Okay..."

"As in more than friends a lot." Your voice is but a whisper laced with the howls of the wind. 

"Oh," Was all she said. You waited for more but it never came. You were scared to look at her; too scared to let go. A distant chuckle grows closer and panic spills through your veins. Hermione's hand slips through yours as you both turn to see Draco Malfoy. He clapped slowly as one by one some fellow snakes slithered behind their leader. Parkinson, Zabini and Goyle; the only one missing was Crabbe. Not that you wanted him here, in fact, why were any of them here? 

"I can't believe you," Pansy starts with a bark of a laugh. You imagine Hermione must be very confused because even you have no clue where this was going? You rightfully regret telling Pansy about your plans tonight though along with Draco. They come up behind you and the Gryffindor steps away. 

"Good going," Draco continues, slinging both arms around you. He wears the widest of grins as he congratulates you. Wow, maybe he was just happy that you managed to go admit your feelings. Perhaps they were just being good but nosey friends. "Didn't think you'd actually go through with it." 

"Thanks," You smile warmly, embracing his touch. 

"So should I tell Granger or would you like to?" 

"Ooooh, can I do it?" Pansy practically jumps up and down where she stands; eager to please the alpha. You had a bad feeling about this. 

"Tell me what?" 

Your friends all snigger and you can feel Draco's grip around you tighten. 

"That this was nothing but a dare," The lie drips from her tongue with such ease, it could be considered impressive. "We wanted to see if you'd actually believe someone could like someone like you." 

"We didn't think she'd actually do it though. She's a little soft this one," Draco gently taps your chest. "Doesn't usually have the heart for it." 

"Guess she finally realised she can do better than a filthy little mudblood." 

You know you should say something; at the very least you should be denying what they were saying but you found yourself completely frozen. 

"How pathetic can you be," Pansy stepped into view but not before you saw a single tear spill down Hermione's cheek. 

"Hermione," Your voice disappears below your friends’ phoney words and bitter laughter. The Gryffindor calmly exited the tower leaving you alone with them. Red hot rage filled your body as you broke free of Draco. Each of them wore Cheshire Cat smiles except Blaise who seemed out of place among the rest. Whipping out your wand, you aim at Draco pushing him back until he reaches the banister. There was nowhere else for the snake to run. The tip of your wand pressed against the pale skin of his neck. 

"What - the actual - fuck?" You growl through gritted teeth. The funny thing about Malfoy is that he may seem like an alpha but confront him and he turns into a baby. Whimpering at the mere threat of a jinx or curse. Would your friends go against you to save the leader? It didn't seem like it. 

"We're just trying to save you from yourself," His Adam's Apple bobbed as he swallowed. 

"Can't have you slumming around with witches like that," Pansy jumped to his defense but it only made you angrier. A hand fell onto your shoulder, whose you couldn't be sure but you'd make an educated guess and say it belonged to the girl herself. 

"I didn't ask any of you for help,"  Your grip tightens around your wand. There were so many things you could do to him; some mild and nice, others... not so much. And for once in your life, you find yourself inspired by your least favourite person. Ronald Weasley. Who could forget the time he tried to curse Draco Malfoy and it ultimately backfired which was hilarious in its own right. With a flick of your wand, you back away slowly. "I never expected any of you to be so cruel- not to me anyway. I genuinely liked her and you had to go and fuck it up." 

Draco opened his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, he gave an almighty belch and a fat slug dribbled out of his mouth and straight onto the floor. Had the situation been different you'd probably have laughed but you just stormed off back to the common room and straight to bed. It wasn't like you would have had much time to search for her anyway. 

You're up bright and early the next day. Desperate to leave the common room as quickly and quietly as possible. Pansy had tried to talk to you when they got back but you blanked her. As you step through the doors to the great hall, you search for Hermione along the length of the Gryffindor table. If you could just explain yourself maybe you wouldn't feel so bad? Maybe your chest wouldn't hurt so much. Without much of an explanation, you charge towards her and grab her wrist to pull her away from her breakfast. Thankfully she willingly let you guide her. "Where are we going?" 

You didn't really have a particular destination in mind just a place far enough away from the great hall that nobody would interrupt. You don't stray too far before finding an empty corridor. 

"About yesterday-" 

"It's okay," She interrupts, surprisingly calmly. Had roles been reversed you'd probably be furious at her. "Your friends put you up to it. It's not a big deal." 

"Hermione..." Her eyes fell anywhere but on your own as you watched her. 

"I don't think we should hang out anymore. It's clear you're only doing it to amuse yourself and your god awful friends." 

"That's not..." Your expression softens. "true." 

"Maybe you're more like your friends than you think," That hit you straight in the heart and what made it worse is that she was right. As much as you liked to deny it, you wouldn't hang out with them if you weren't. But you genuinely enjoyed their company when they weren't being massive gits.

"I meant what I said." As quiet as your voice was, Hermione stopped walking away. "I really did. It wasn't a dare." 

"Then... why?" The brunette turned back to you looking like she was about to burst into tears. Stepping closer, she stepped back. 

"Because I'm an arsehole with shitty friends," A pitiful laugh at the excuse. "They got it in their heads that they were saving me or something by making it seem like a joke. I should have said something in the moment but I was just... surprised. I really do like you and I'm sorry about what happened. I won't bother you again." Better to cut your losses than expect forgiveness. You hadn't exactly denounced your friends other than the silly little curse you placed on Draco. As you glide past, Hermione catches your hand. Every moment of embarrassment once again filled your cheeks. "What are you..." you trail off as you look at her. Soft eyes paired with a tender smile. 

"We're gonna miss breakfast." 

"I'm sorry?" Now she was confusing you. 

"You're not responsible for your friends actions," Her fingers interlace with yours. "And while I don't like the company you keep, I don't think you're anything like them." 

"You don't have to do this," You express; part of you expecting this to turn out as a joke. Although Hermione would never do something so cruel. 

"I know but I want to." This time Hermione is the one to lead the way. 

"Can I sit with you?" It was an unusual ask considering everything that just happened but you couldn't face your fellow Slytherins right now. "I'm kind of icing out my friends so I'd rather not have to sit with them." 

"Of course," She gently squeezes your hand. "You're an honourary Gryffindor after all." 

Somehow you feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders only for more to be piled back on. Sure you told Hermione how you felt but you still weren't sure quite where the two of you stood. Not to mention you couldn't avoid Draco and the others forever. You grow more hesitant with each step back to the great hall. Pulling her back just as you reach the entrance. Hermione stumbles against you, clearly, you had caught her off guard. Utterly amused, you help her steady herself. 

"Can I kiss you?" 

The world melts away as she nods ever so slightly. The fluttering of wings deep in your stomach now grew fierce as you slowly reached up to grace her ruby red cheek with the palm of your hand; she felt silky smooth to the touch. Your heart skipped a beat as your lips connected in an unsure but heavenly embrace. Hermione tasted like spearmint toothpaste and you just couldn't get enough. But it was short-lived. Uncertainty morphed into that of admiration as you watched her mouth curl up into a smile. 

"Ladies," You feel her jump a little, as do you at the sound of Fred Weasley's voice. Had he been there the whole time? Judging by the shit-eating grin as he disappeared into the great hall, he had witnessed the whole thing. 

And with a matching expression his twin brother, walks just a few paces behind. A playful wink in your direction as he passes by. "Fine morning isn't it?"

#Hermione Granger x reader #hermione granger #harry potter #Hermione x reader #harry potter fanfiction

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Five

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

Din watched Baast with growing concern. She'd withdrawn after Nevarro, spending the majority of her time with Grogu or in the sleeping hammock she'd strung between the walls of the Razor Crest. She refused to take his bunk, wouldn't even hear of it. When she slept - which he knew wasn't often as he could hear her prowling quietly around his ship - she did so in fits and starts and bad dreams. 

By the time they arrived at the Tribe's new home, he was genuinely worried. He didn't know enough about Zentari biology to be able to say if this was normal or not, but with how worried Grogu seemed, he was going to go with not. 

But Din couldn't focus on Baast as he navigated the high winds and icy blizzard of the Tribe's new home. The planet was damn near inhospitable, but that was why they liked it. 

This was his first visit since the massacre on Nevarro, and he was both excited to see who remained and dreading it. There had been far too many Foundling helmets in the Armourer's pile. An old outpost carved into the rock served as a place to land ships and keep them from being snowed in. Blast doors slid open, appearing to welcome him home. Mandalorians waved him forward, and he recognized the armour of Paz Vizsla.

"That kriffing bastard would live," he muttered as he maneuvered the Razor Crest around and set it down. The blast doors were already closing, not that those who worked on their ships appeared to care either way. 

Descending into the belly of his ship, he found Baast growling at her hair and tsked when he snaked the comb from her fingers. "You're making matters worse," he huffed, quickly separating the tangle. He twisted the mass into a long tail, then wrapped it into a knot at the base of her skull, where he tucked two long sticks he'd picked up in the market on Nevarro. They were made of hardened steel, sharpened to a deadly point, and would make a handy weapon if she ever needed one. She kept her eyes down and didn't look at him when he helped her into her cloak. 

While they'd been on Nevarro, he'd been careful to pick out clothing she could layer for cold weather rather than buying winter gear. He had no desire to lead the Tribe's enemies to them again and made damn sure they weren't followed. The one thing he couldn't avoid buying were boots, but Dune came through on that one. 

After Baast damn near killed her, they spent a mostly pleasant few hours with Dune while she'd cooed over Grogu and listened intently as Din told of his run-in with the Jedi. They said nothing of Baast's origins and wouldn't. What Cara didn't know couldn't get her killed. Of course, the ex-shock trooper would attempt to kick his ass if he said that out loud, so Din hadn't, remaining silent as Dune fumed for being "out of the loop."

Before he drew up Baast's hood, he lifted her chin with gloved fingers. "Baast, everything will be alright."

She gave him a wane smile, her vibrant eyes too dull for his liking. "As you say, Mando."

He gritted his teeth. That, too, had changed. She no longer called him by his name when they were alone. He was back to Mando. It was the first time in his life that he hated hearing anyone utter that word. 

"Baast, we need to talk-" He cut himself off when loud pounding came at the ramp and flipped her hood over her head. "We're not finished," he warned, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. 

She picked Grogu up but said nothing. There was no defiance, no strength, no beskar spine left to her. 

He clenched his fists and headed for the ramp, where he punched the release with more exuberance than was needed. It lowered to reveal Paz and another, weapons trained on the doorway. 

"Nice greeting," Din grumbled.

"You've too many bodies on your ship."

He held out his hand, and Baast joined him, her hand sliding up his arm to his elbow. "We seek the Alor."

Weapons slowly lowered, but he could tell they remained suspicious.

"This way." Paz turned and headed across the hanger. 

Din didn't bother to hurry. Paz would wait because they'd piqued his curiosity. He would remain once they reached the Alor to see just what Din was up to. Suspicion followed them like a red wave as they made their way through the rock corridors. The deeper they went, the warmer the air grew, indicating the Tribe had found lava flow or hot springs heated the base.

It was good, secure. Hopefully, they could remain here for some time.

Paz stopped at an open doorway and indicated inside. "Leave the child with the other Foundlings."

"Nu draar," Baast growled, her stance defensive as she rolled onto the balls of her feet. 

"He will be safe and happy with the others," Din encouraged. Looking inside, his heart plummeted. Where once there were thirty or more Foundlings, now fewer than fifteen remained. "Is this all?"

"Sabine has the older ones. They train." 

"This is The Way," Din murmured. 

"This is The Way," Paz agreed. "Leave the child."

Baast hissed at him, and Din stepped between them before things escalated. Already he could tell Paz wasn't impressed.

"Baast, udesii," he murmured, laying his hands over hers on Grogu. "He will be safe and far happier with the Foundlings. No one will touch him, I swear it."

She held onto him as if her very life resided in the little green menace, and leaving him behind was allowing a part of herself to be torn apart, but with gentle coaxing, he managed to remove Grogu from her hands and set him down to join the others children. Grogu cooed happily and toddled off to play while Din urged Baast onward after Paz. 

The giant warrior peered at Baast for a long moment before continuing away from the Foundling Nursery. 

Finally, after more twists and turns and stares from other Mandalorians, they arrived at the Foundry where the Alor waited in her golden helmet. She didn't bother to look up as she worked on polishing a pauldron. 

"You dare to bring an aruetyc here?"

At any other time, he might have flinched at such a reprimand coming from her, but not this time. "She is not an outsider. She is Baast'mal, last of the Zentari."

The pauldron slipped and clanged against the forge before she caught it and set it carefully aside. "The Zentari are no more."

"She knows The Way," Din insisted. "We completed the greeting."

The Alor turned then to face them as Baast pushed back her hood. The sharp intake of breath Paz took did not escape him. 

"I am Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du and Lin'talia of Zentarus." She tilted her head. "Great Alor, I greet thee. Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta." 

Din had never seen the Armourer show surprise in her body language before. "I greet thee, Zentari of the Bright Star, though it saddens me to learn you are the last. Can you be certain of this?"

"I felt the only other of my kind die three years past," Baast murmured. 

The Alor bowed her head. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” 

Din knew how she felt. It was like a gut punch without warning to know they'd lost something so damn special. 

"Be welcome, Baast'mal. Perhaps among our Tribe, you will find the one you seek." 

Baast said nothing, looking away as if in shame, and Din reached for her elbow before remembering they were no longer alone on his ship where he could take such liberties. Now, she would be courted by every able-bodied male of the Tribe to see if they proved worthy to be her riduur.

"Leave us," the Alor commanded. 

Din hesitated, but when Baast didn't look at him, he stepped back and walked away.

***

"Shut the door, Vizsla," she commanded as the big one followed Din out.

Used to Din's t-shaped visor, the Alor's eye slits were almost disconcerting, but Baast didn't allow it to show.

"You are of a great lineage, Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du. The Tribe will see this as a great omen, a reason to rejoice when we have so little."

"Not so great," Baast sighed. "I cannot be what I was born to be. I am no riduur. My fated mate will never complete the bond."

She tilted her head. "Oh?" Then motioned toward a table next to the forge. "Sit. Tell me your story, Baast'mal."

Baast, knowing her future depended on her honesty, spoke the truth. She told the Alor of her kidnapping as a child, her brutal years as an experiment, and the wretched way the Empire forced bonds with the Sand Cat and Manka. She showed off her Snake Tooth and admitted how broken she felt knowing she would never have the one thing she yearned for. 

"I was bred to grow warriors, but I will remain barren," she whispered, unashamed of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The woman across from her tilted her head, having remained silent through her entire recitation. "They took you from Zentarus too young. There are… things missing from your education, knowledge you have yet to acquire."

"There is?" Baast was surprised and yet not completely. She had been very young when they ripped her from her family.

"There is. I can teach you, but it will take time."

"I am not sure Di- Mando will be alright with a delay. I promised I would help him find a Jedi for Grogu."

If she was surprised Baast knew Din's name, she didn't show it. "Hm, for the child you took as your own. You will find parting with him to be like death. I do not envy you the position you have placed yourself in."

"I know," Baast whispered. "But he may be my only chance at a child."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." She stood and motioned for Baast to follow her to the forge. "For now, you will sleep. Rest, Baast'mal. You are safe here, and I can see you have not been sleeping."

"Not because I felt unsafe," she snapped. "Mando is not to blame."

"Isn't he?" 

She stared, but Baast refused to look away. She would give the Alor no reason to doubt Din. 

She chuckled and turned to the forge, her hands busy out of Baast's view. "I have long considered Djarin one of our finest warriors. I am pleased to see him living up to his potential."

When she turned back, the mark of the mudhorn was in her hand, dangling from a leather thong. The Alor stepped forward and tied the cord around Baast's neck, settling the shiny bit of beskar against Baast's chest.

"There. Now, none who see you will challenge that you belong. I will have one of the others deposit you in a family suite so you may remain close to your Mandalorian with your child."

"He is not my Mandalorian."

She looked at Baast, and Baast swore she could feel the amusement rolling off the woman. "Isn't he?" she asked before going and opening the door. "Vizsla. Retrieve the child and take her to the home set aside for Djarin."

"Respectfully, no." The one called Paz crossed his arms, radiating defiance. "If she is Zentari, she should not be living with him. She should be available to all to choose."

Baast was too tired and too stressed to deal with his macho bullshit any longer and walked into the corridor with long smooth strides. She let her cloak fall behind her as she stalked the male keeping her from her child. 

"And do you think you are worthy?" she asked, soft, cold, and deadly.

"Baast," Din warned.

She could feel him now, more and more; even with the beskar, his emotions were starting to bleed through. Being with him was agony; her soul cried out for his, but being apart would likely be even worse.  

"I could be," Vizsla snickered.

Baast smiled to show off her fangs, then kicked him down the corridor. "You do not choose!" she roared. "I choose!"

When she made to stalk after him to teach the too proud Mandalorian a lesson he would not soon forget, she found herself captured against Din. 

"He means no disrespect, but he is right. You... you must find your fated mate." The words sounded like they pained him. "You can't stay with me and do that."

Baast felt herself crumble and swayed into him, distraught at causing him such grief. 

"She is clan of your clan as the child is the child of her heart. Baast'mal wears your sigil. Until she says otherwise, she will remain Clan Mudhorn. Collect the child, take her to your home, and return to me, Djarin."

The Alor's command was not one they could ignore. Din bowed his head and pulled Baast away, past Paz, who radiated wary respect. 

The traversed corridors in reverse until they came to one deserted of others, and Din spun her into the wall. "Are you alright?"

She clung to him, clung and shook as every cell and fibre and atom of her body begged for his until she could hardly bear it. "Your Alor has information for me. My knowledge is incomplete. I must stay until it is no longer this way."

"Then we stay."

The easy acceptance shocked her into searching the t-visor for his unseen eyes. "But, Grogu. The Jedi."

"It can wait."

"Mando," she sighed.

"Din," he growled low, pressing his body closer. "You will use my name with the Tribe and in private, Baast."

She closed her eyes, the pain growing. 

"Are you sick? Do you need a healer?"

His concern broke her a little more. "No. I am fine."

"You're not fine!" he snapped. "You're fading! I can see how much something is hurting you, Baast. What is going on?"

She dredged up every ounce of self-preservation she had left to stare him cooly in the visor. "That is not your concern."

He stepped away as if she'd hit him. "Fine. Use my home. I will find somewhere else to sleep."

She watched him walk away, her heart cracking with each step until he turned the corner, and it shattered. 

Baast landed hard on her knees, unable to catch her breath, gasping and dry heaving, tears spilling freely down her face. When the hands came, they were gentle, but she would not have cared if they brought pain. Nothing hurt as much as Din walking away. 

"I'm Sabine. Allow me to offer aid, Zentari."

Baast could only nod as she allowed the female to help her up and lead her away.

***

He stalked back to the forge with angry strides but a heavy heart. Baast was breaking down, and her continued refusal to let him help would drive him insane.

Paz nodded as he went by and shut the door to the forge as he left.

"So, you have brought us a Zentari. This is well done of you."

He said nothing, knowing she needed no response.

The Armourer held up the pauldron of earlier and discarded it. "But she is soul-sick."

"Soul-sick?" He'd never heard of it before.

"She believes she is damaged. Too long was she with the Empire. Too long has she battled the mind games of the demagolka. They could not break her spirit, so they poisoned her mind. This poison sickens her soul. She needs mirjahaal."

"Demagolka…" Din whispered, horror filling him. The Demagol was the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, a real-life monster and war criminal. He was known for his experiments on children and was hated by all Mandalorians for his perversions. Children were to be cherished, never tortured. "Are you sure?"

She looked at him. "What else would you call one who experiments on children?"

He felt foolish for not seeing it himself and tilted his head in apology.

She hummed and returned to the forge. "You will help her find mirjahaal."

"She doesn't want my help."

"But she needs it. You will do this. I have spoken."

He sighed but made sure the sound didn't leave his helmet and drew the ingot of beskar from his pocket. "For the Foundlings."

The Alor hummed. "This is The Way."

"This is The Way." Din turned and left, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. 

He stormed out but only made it as far as the turn to the first hall, where he stopped to sigh and closed his eyes. How could he help Baast find mirjahaal when she didn't want anything to do with him anymore?  

How could he help her find healing and peace of mind when he no longer felt it himself?

***

Nu draar - no way/ not on your life

Udesii - calm

Aruetyc - traitor/outsider

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not gone, merely marching far away.

Mirjahaal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after trauma or bereavement. 

***

Next Chapter coming soon

#star-crossed:bound by blood #the mandalorian #au #din djarin

[s-creations]

I Saw Uncle Under the Mistletoe

During the holiday celebration, José and Panchito arrive to the McDuck manor as a surprise to Donald. During their visit, the kids come across their uncle being more than a little friendly with the other two birds. Now the holidays have become a little more stressful when the triplets believe the person that's cared for them their entire lives is going to leave them behind.  

Fandom: Ducktales (2017), The Three Caballeros.   Rating: General Audience   Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles  Other Tags: Secrete Relationship, Misunderstandings, Angest with a Happy Ending, Christmas Themed, Use of Google Translate, Long One Shot.

It was a small request for the holiday season. But there was a hope that this year would be somewhat quiet for the McDuck/Duck family. Sure, there was still the annual ‘Set up the traps to keep Santa away’ day. It was more of the thought of not having to deal with evil plans or ne'er-do-wells that would rain terror down on them. No on breaking down their door. No one trying to steal from the McDuck fortune. No one being kidnapped and held for ransom.

 So, it was a bit worrisome when a large box, wrapped in shiny red wrapping paper with a white bow resting on top suddenly appeared in the foyer. The only person who seemed unconcerned with this was Scrooge. Which, at the moment, no one could really tell if that was a good or a bad thing. It wasn’t going to be a surprise created by some enemy, which was the original worry. But there was a curious thought as to what could be inside and what Scrooge could possibly be planning.

 “Are we...going to approach it?” Louie asked, trying to sound casual as he eyed his great-uncle.

 “It might be best if we look for a tag.” Scrooge helpfully suggested.

 Dewey instantly sprang into action. With a call of “I’m on it!” he was scrambling around the wrapped box. The necessary discovery made at the very top. “It says it’s for Uncle Donald! Oh, and that he needs to open it immediately.”

 Said duck was confused by this. Going over in his head what he could have possibly bought recently to need this kind of fanfare. Or even what else someone could have bought for him. Apparently Dewey wasn’t going to wait for his uncle’s confusion to take up further time. The duckling pulled Donald forward, the older unable to do more than to unwrap the large present.

 There was a collective outcry of surprise when the present bursted open. Two familiar birds jumping out and tackling Donald onto the polished floor.

 “José? Panchito?” Donald voiced in absolute shock.

 “¡Hola amigo!” The red rooster beamed pulling the baffled duck into a tight hug.

 “What- but how?”

 José could only chuckle, placing a hand on Donald’s shoulder, “Blame your uncle. He arranged all of this.”

 “Merely an early Christmas present,” Scrooge quickly intervened, “I know how much you’ve missed them. So, they’re my- ah, your guests until the new year. As long as they stay in line.”

 Neither José or Panchito were worried about the soul crushing glare the multi-millionaire duck was given them. The green parrot even letting out another chuckle as he greeted Scrooge properly. “It is wonderful to see you again  Senhor Scrooge.”

 “You really paid to fly two people to Duckberg? Two people from two different parts of the world.” Louie casually commented to Scrooge as both watched Donald be pulled up from the floor and pulled into a proper group hug.

 “Don’t be daft. I had Launchpad pick them up.” Scrooge scoffed, ruffling the top of the duckling’s head.

 The triplets were not quite sure what they thought of the flashy birds. After all, the last time they were in their lives, they were liars and were talking about taking Donald away. So the ducklings were cautious around José and Panchito. Even with each bird making their personality known and clearly trying to no longer be strangers in the younger’s lives.

 José was the calmest of the two, that was for sure. More than not, you could find him sleeping the day away in different parts of the mansion. Mainly in areas that had the sun beating down. Huey was a little shocked to find the green parrot bundled up one afternoon and resting poolside. José only seemed ‘awake’ in the evening and into the night. Pulling whomever was near into a quick dance, which Dewey happily participated in, until dinner was ready. Then he would happily regale stories of his travels and the numerous people he’d met along the way. Webby taking full advantage of this and asking as many questions as she could.

 Panchito was...loud. And overly energetic. He was up before anyone else and was the last to settle down for the evening. He seemed to sing wherever he went, no matter what activity he was doing. It would be accompanied with some random song that just popped into his head. It was rare to see him sitting still, which didn’t happen until dinner was ready to eat and he seemed to finally relax. The triplets also learned that the rooster was one for physical affection. Louie swears his back had broken and was then put back together after two different morning hugs he’d received from Panchito.

 Both birds seemed okay, but the triplets were still reserved about the entire situation. Even if Webby was chattering about how great they were. But, despite their reserve, it was clear their uncle was thrilled to have his friends there. Constantly smiling, constantly laughing, tossing stories around as easily as the other two.

 Seeing this caused Huey to worry. Which he voiced one evening before dinner to the small group.

 “Do you think Uncle Donald regrets taking us in?”

 “What?” Dewey sat up quickly. Almost banging his head on the bunk bed above him. His eyes narrowed on Huey, who winced. “Why in the world would you say that?”

 “Because he’s so happy right now.”

 “We’ve seen him happy before.” Louie casually argued back.

 “But not like this. He’s been happy for us. I’ve never seen him happy for himself.”

 “Okay, so, why are you blaming us for this?”

 “Because when he took us in, he pushed everyone away. Even close friends. So maybe...if he hadn’t taken us…”

 “He would be happier?” The duckling dressed in green voiced weakly. Now looking as worried as Huey.

 Dewey let out a snort, however, and waved his hand. “Okay, before we panic too much over this, why don’t we just ask Uncle Donald. Easy solution.”

 “He’s just going to lie,” Huey argued, “He’s going to do everything he can to keep us happy.”

 “Well it’s a better idea than just moping around about it. If you’re both so worried, I’ll go ask.”

 “I’ll come!’ Webby bounced up, “I’ve been meaning to test my ‘lie detecting’ skills.”

 “Perfect. Sit tight you two. We’ll be back with information.” Dewey took Webby’s wrist and they raced from the room.

 They already knew that they should start with the kitchen first. Panchito and Mrs. Beakley had agreed to trade off on evening cooking duty while the rooster was visiting. Panchito saying he wanted to share his family favorites with his growing family. Mrs. Beakley happily passed those nights over, enjoying her evenings off as an early gift to herself.

 This was Panchito’s evening, so there was a chance that Donald was with him. And in fact, he was. Both ducklings paused to peek around the corner. Peering into the kitchen from the hallway doorway.

 Panchito was moving around the kitchen at ease. The stove on full force as he worked on the large meal. Donald was sitting on the nearby countertop, his legs slowly swaying as he watched on. They were talking quietly. Dewey eventually realized they were speaking Spanish.

 “I didn’t know Uncle Donald could speak Spanish… Weird. Oh well, let’s go talk to him.” The duckling in blue was quickly pulled back into place by Webby. Dewey released a choked quack as it happened.

 “Hey-”

 “Shush.”

 “But-”

 “Shush! I’m listening.”

 “You know Spanish?”

 “Yes, now hush.”

 Dewey huffed but kept quiet and watched. He wasn’t sure what Webby was waiting for. They just seemed to be chatting about random things. Like what he and his brothers did when Donald would cook on the boathouse. Except it was just old friends catching up, so nothing that should keep Webby’s interest like this. He was about to complain once more when Panchito turned to face his solo audience. Boldly stating something that caused Donald to turn red and Webby to gasp softly.

 “What happened?” Dewey asked. All he got in response was a pat on his face and another “Shush!”.

 His argument died on his throat when Donald, still flushed, pushed at the rooster’s lower back with a foot. Panchito, in turn, grabbed the extended ankle. Easily pulling at it to bring Donald right to the edge of the counter and stepping between the duck’s legs with a raised brow. Hands resting on Donald’s hips and bending forward. Donald, on his part, took it all with ease. A smirk on his own bill as he draped his arms over the rooster’s shoulders. There was a small mutter of something. Nothing that either duckling was able to catch but could tell it wasn’t malicious. It was almost (Dewey panicked slightly) loving. But, whatever was said, was enough to fluster Donald once more before he pulled Panchito into a kiss.

 Dewey’s mouth dropped in absolute shock. Webby had to clamp her bill shut to keep the squeal of absolute joy from escaping. But she did let out a small noise as she was forcefully pulled away. Dewey leading the way back to the bedroom. Eyes wide and frantic.

 “Whoa, what happened?”

 Dewey jumped at Huey’s voice, not realizing they had arrived back. His mouth opened and loaded a few times. But nothing came out. He was still in too much shock to properly explain what happened.

 “Dude, just spit it out.” Louis huffed.

 “Your uncle and Panchito are secret lovers!” Webby answered, ending with a  small scream of glee.

 “What!” Huey exclaimed, Louie dropping out of his bed and onto the floor in shock.

 “They’re...in the kitchen,” Dewey voiced weakly, “and they just…”

 He created ‘mouths’ with his hands to press them together. Huey and Louie both let out small noises of distress.

 “You can’t be serious.” The duckling clad in red voiced weakly.

 “I just saw it happen! It’s burned into my retinas and my memory. I wouldn’t make this up.”

 “Wait, wait,” Louis recovered, “Was this just a recent development?”

 “I mean, based on everyone’s reactions, I would say no one else knew.”

 “No! I mean, did they just start ‘dating’ or have they always been in a relationship? And if they have been together all this time, why would Uncle Donald hide something like this from us?”

 “We could just ask him?” Webby offered.

 Dewey shook his head. “I’m not going to back down until the food is ready and I can focus on that.”

 “Plus, if this is a secret relationship, calling it out could be damaging. We know Uncle Scrooge isn’t...too wild about them. He might not like Uncle Donald dating. We’ll need to talk to Uncle Donald alone some time.”

 “Which won’t be happening anytime soon,” Louie huffed, “He’s always with those two until he goes to bed.”

 Webby shuffled her foot nervously before she quietly added. “Unless Panchito shares the bed.”

 The outburst of disgust was almost defining.

 ___________________

 As the days passed, the four were still unable to figure out how they were going to approach Donald. It was getting closer to Christmas and there were still a multitude of tasks to accomplish. Baking, shopping, wrapping, decorating, setting traps; the kids were too exhausted at the end of the day to worry about anything else. That doesn’t mean the issue ever really left their mind.

 It was in the middle of a decorating day when the next surprise was dropped.

 Huey and Louie were traveling through the one of the last few undecorated hallways. The duckling in red going down a list of the remaining decorations. Discussing, more to himself as Louie was barely paying attention, about what should go where and why. Eventually reaching the dead end, Louie leaned against the wall as he continued to slowly nurse a can of Pep. Lazily watching as Huey wrote down a few more notes.

 “So, that’s the tentative plan,” Huey concluded as he closed the guidebook with a snap, “What do you think?”

 “Yep, sounds good.”

 “...Were you even paying attention.”

 “Oh sure.”

 Huey glared at Louie, who only smiled innocently back. “Well, no matter. We can start setting up when Uncle Donald and José get here.”

 “They are taking their sweet time.” Louie grumbled.

 “Do you think something happened?”

 “Don’t stress, we would have heard something.” As if on cue, there was a loud ‘thump!’. Which was followed by a loud and familiar quack that was undoubtedly their uncle. “There they are.”

 “Let’s go see if they need help.” Huey ignored the small noise of complaint that Louie gave as he rushed by.

 He was about to turn the corner to confront the new arrivals. But faltered hearing an accented voice softly say, “You need to be careful meu amor.”

 That caught his attention.

 Huey instantly pressed himself against the well. Pulling Louie close and covering his bill before he could let out a noise of surprise. His glare didn’t deter Huey, who merely replied with a shake of his head and a pointed look to the corner.

 After an understanding to remain quiet, they peered around cautiously. They found Donald leaning against the wall, holding his no doubt injured foot to check it over for any damage. José was running his thumb over the slowly reddening area. The boxes of decorations laying nearby.

 “I really wish Scrooge would move that Grandfather Clock,” Donald grumbled, “It’s too close to the corner.”

 “Or you could remember that it is there and not hit it.” José offered with a smile.

 “Hush. You’re not the one with the throbbing foot.”

 “Oh, pobrezinho. Would a kiss make it better?”

 Donald merely rolled his eyes, but didn’t resist as he was pulled close. Both duckling’s mouths dropped as the adults shared a kiss. One that went on longer than either Huey or Louie were comfortable with.

 “Wait, wait,” Donald laughed softly as José moved to nip at his neck, “The kids are nearby.”

 “Is your foot feeling better?”

 “If I say yes, will you let me go?”

 José sighed dramatically. “If I must.”

 “You must. Let’s get the boxes delivered before the kids start to worry.”

 Huey began to panic. Knowing he and Louie couldn’t just abandon the hallway without a good reason and they couldn’t flee fast enough. But he really didn’t want to face his uncle after that. He also really wanted to talk to Dewey and Webby about what happened because this was getting crazy!

 Huey turned to whisper frantically to Louie, with a plea for help.

 Only to be sucker punched in the gut by the youngest triplet.

 It wasn’t a hard enough hit for Huey to blackout. But he doubled over in pain, having difficult breathing as Louie gave him support on his weak knees. The duckling in red let out a weak groan of pain just as Donald and José entered the hallway.

 Rightly so, Donald panicked. “Huey? What happened?”

 “Oh gee Uncle Donald, I think Huey has a little stomach ache. I think all this Christmas excitement is a bit overwhelming. I was going to take him back to our room to rest.” Louie laid it on thick, making sure to wrap one of Huey’s arms around his shoulders.

 José frowned, placing his box down quickly. “Do you want some help? I can carry him.”

 “No, no, you two carry on with the merriment. I can get Huey to bed easily. Don’t you worry.” Louie didn’t drop the act until they were a few hallways away. He leaned his brother against the wall, the older triplet glaring at him. Huey holding his stomach in some way of comfort.

 “You...couldn’t...have warned me?”     

 “I panicked. Now hurry up and catch your breath so we can report back to the others.”

 ___________________

 “So, wait, is Uncle Donald dating both?” Dewey asked weakly.

 “Apparently? It’s the only explanation I can think of for why José was so...lovey dovey.” Louie choked out with Huey letting out an agreement groan from his bed. Dewey was not showing the same discomfort. In fact, he looked more frantically worried than anything.

 “Is he...cheating-”

  “Whoa, whoa, let’s take a step back,” Webby instantly took control over the situation. The triplets now held the same level of concern from the single word Dewey almost uttered. “Now, I’m  one to always offer ‘the sneak way’ to find information. But that’s normally used against the enemy. This is your uncle. Why don’t we just go talk to him?”

 Huey and Dewey looked nervous about the possible confrontation. Louie, however, stood up, appearing angry and agitated.

 “You know, I want to talk to those two. We know next to nothing about them. Maybe they’re playing some game with Uncle Donald.”

 Webby frowned. “Do you really think that...low of them?”

 “I don’t know what to think of them because I don’t know them! But we know Uncle Donald and he wouldn’t pull this kind of stunt. Those two however…” Louie didn’t finish that sentence. Instead, he stuffs his hands into his hoodie pocket and stomped his way towards the door.

 The other three had no choice but to quickly follow after. They made their way down to the backyard pool. Knowing the green parrot, he was out by the poolside soaking up some sunlight. Even with snow laying on the ground, the cold didn’t really seem to bother José.

 Louie was first out the back door and marched his way over to where the parrot was currently resting. Only to falter when the boathouse opened and Panchito stepped out. The rooster shivering from the cold, even with a heavy coat on. Louie was quickly pulled into the bushes by Webby. Huey and Dewey already hiding back there.

 “How can you just lay out in the cold? ¡Está helando!” Panchito exclaimed.

 José barely cracked open an eye to regard the shivering bird. “I have been to colder areas. This is actually rather mild.”

 “Pavonearse.”

 “Is Donald still tinkering away at the heater?”

 “Si. I had to get out of the way or else I would have become an unfortunate victim.”

 “No heater and you are standing in such freezing temperatures? Venha aqui, let me warm you up.” José opened his arms and they were quickly filled with a shivering rooster. The parrot merely laughed, gently preening the red feathers he could reach. “If you are so cold, why don’t you just go into the mansion?”

 “Because being in there alone is so unwelcoming.”

 “...Scrooge invited us.”

 “I know.”

 “But years of animosity does not just go away.”

 “...Si.” Panchito let out a small noise as he was moved to sit up. But he didn’t complain when José kissed him softly.

 “It will be fine… We will be fine. And soon we will not have to worry about leaving Donald ever again.” José laughed as Panchito’s mood instantly rose.

 “Do you think the papers will arrive on time?”

 “Oh, I doubt it. But we will just think of it as a late present.”

 Both fell quiet when the boathouse door opened once more, Donald walking out. Wearing an old, plain white shirt that was stained from numerous years of use. Spots of oil could be seen clumping his feathers.

 “It’s fixed,” Donald announced, “It’ll be a bit until the entire boat is warm again. But it’s going to be better than out here.”

 Panchito let out a cheer and raced up the ramp, pulling the duck into a quick kiss. “You know where to find me!”

 And down into the boat the rooster went.

 José quietly strolled up the same ramp, clearly in no hurry to leave the sun. “Have I ever told you I am quite enamored with the working man?”

 “Every time I fix something.” Donald rolled his eyes, but his feathers ruffled in embarrassment.

 “Then you know it is true.”

 “Would you just get in here. I need to shower before my feathers are stained black.”

 “Would you like to save on water?”

 “Just get in!”

 José was not offended by the sudden outburst as Donald’s feathers puffed out further. The parrot claimed his own kiss before he entered the boat, pullin the flustered duck in as well.

 As soon as the area was clear, Louie quickly stood. Heading back into the mansion. Not looking back to see if the rest were following. Huey was up next, not bothered when Dewey quickly reached out and grabbed his hand. Both pressing close as they followed the younger triplet. Webby brought up the rear. Realizing something was weighing heavily over them, but not fully sure for what reason.

 “So...we know no one’s cheating on anyone.” She offered weakly, giving a small smile. Which slipped away when she didn’t receive a reply. “Guys?”

 “He’s still lying to us.” Louie muttered darkly. He’d taken residents on the window seat, hood up and curled in on himself.

 “Why didn’t Uncle Donald tell us?” Dewey asked weakly. He and Huey had claimed the lowest bunk, clinging to each other.

 “Maybe to not hurt us,” Huey offered, “Maybe he had to break it off when he took us in. He couldn’t raise three kids and maintain a long distance relationship.”

 “So it’s our fault.” Louie snapped.

 “Hang on guys. You’re still just jumping to wild conclusions,” Webby interjected, “He loves you guys. He wanted to take you in.”

 “Do we know that? Every story we’ve heard, it was a sudden reaction. He just took us. Maybe it was his way to improperly grieve.” Huey argued back.

 “Maybe he just took us in so he could be close to mom in some way.” added Dewey.

 “You don’t know that. Come on, we’re going back down there to talk to Donald. Let’s go do that.” Webby waved her hand, a gesture for the trio to follow.

 “Are they going to take Uncle Donald away?” Dewey asked.

 Huey swallowed weakly. “That’s what it sounds like.”

 “What a perfect Christmas present,” Louie huffed, “Gets to run off with his lovers while he leaves the troublesome nephews. How romantic.”

 Dewey let out a small whimper, hiding himself away in his older brother. That seemed to snap Louie out of the fog he was in and he rushed over to the bed. Quickly clamoring up and joining in the small huddle. Webby could only watch. Frozen in spot as her mind raced with how she was supposed to help.

 ___________________

 Donald was close to having an episode. Because something was wrong with his boys and he had no idea what it was. He’d been so focused on José and Panchito he hadn’t really given time to his own kids. Now it was a spiraling descent of feeling guilty for his actions, but knowing he had a right to be with his own boyfriends.

  “I know that look.”

 Donald looked up from the well worn table as José and Panchito slid in on either side of him. “What do you mean?”

 “It may have been a few years. But that is a look of forlorn. One you have when you have started berating yourself.” José continued.

 “What’s wrong mi amor?” Panchito asked, cutting right to the chase.

 Donald huffed, ruffling his feathers. “The kids have been acting...strange, and I can’t figure out why. Now I’m worried I haven’t been paying attention to a problem that shouldn’t be one. And the boys won’t talk to me. They just hover nearby and run when I get too close.”

 “José and I could talk to them?”

 The green parrot frowned. “Except they have been avoiding us as well. I am afraid we are not going to be much help.”

 “What about la niña pequeña, Webby? We could ask her?” The rooster offered.

 “I have barely seen her as of late as well.”

 “Uh...Scrooge and Beakley?”   

 “Trust me, if they knew, they would have already ‘talked’ to me about it.” Donald grumbled.

 José pulled the duck closer, smiling softly as he eagerly shuffled closer. “It is Christmas, we are all a little stressed. Let us just get past all of this craziness. Then we will sit down with the kids and talk.”

 Donald really hated that was their best plan. But he also knew there was very little else they could do.

 Christmas day arrived with rather subdued fanfare. The kids were clearly excited to finally open the pile of presents that were under the large pine tree. But Donald was also aware of the numerous, nervous glaces thrown his way. Some rather hard ones given out when José or Panchito was nearby. It was worrisome to think the kids were angry with his lovers. Granted, secret lovers, but the point still remained.

 ...Did they find out and silently didn’t approve? If this was true, why wouldn’t they just talk to him? He could explain, he could talk to them and hopefully ease their worries.

 Donald jumped back to reality feeling a hand placed on his shoulder. He looked up to find Panchito giving him a worried look. He attempted to smile back, but it was clear it wasn’t comforting.

 The pile of presents slowly depleted throughout the morning. Donald’s nerves soothed slightly hearing the triplet’s calls of glee with each new gift they unwrapped. Even seeming content with what José and Panchito had given them.

 He raised a brow when Scrooge walked over to the couch he, José, and Panchito were sitting on. The older duck cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the other two before holding out an envelope for each.

 “Happy Christmas.”

 Donald watched as the two birds took an envelope, opening it cautiously. Panchito was the first to fully open his, pulling out a piece of paper and reading it over quickly. He let out such a yell of absolute joy that Donald was worried it would shatter the nearby windows. The rooster leapt up and pulled Scrooge into a tight hug just as José read over his own paper. The parrot’s beak dropped in surprise, wide eyes traveling to Donald as he passed the paper over.

 Curious, Donald accepted it. As his eyes traveled down, his own excitement grew, a wide smile breaking out. “...You’re both…”

 “We are officially legal!” Panchito cheered, finally releasing Scrooge. Who subtly rubbed his lower back when the rooster turned away. “We are now citizens!”

 “We were not expecting these papers so soon.” José mumbled weakly.

 Scrooge gave a small chuckle, giving a knowing smirk when all eyes were back on him. “You can get things moving fairly quickly when you have enough money.”

 He winced as Panchito pulled him into another quick, but still bone crushing hug. “There is not enough thanks in the world!”

 Donald could only laugh as he and José were pulled off the couch by the rooster. “We can stay, we can finally be close to each other. We can buy a home and-”

 The joyous moment was quickly cut short when a loud ‘thud’ interrupted the event. Louie had stood, the present given to him by the two colorful birds had been tossed to the side. Donald would have berated the duckling, if he wasn’t stunned by the look on the triplet’s face.

 Anger.

 Absolute anger.

 Before anyone could speak, Louie left the room, hood flipped up and hand shoved into his pocket. Shoulders up to make himself small as he stormed away.

 Shockingly, José followed.

 Confused and hoping for some answers, Donald turned to the remaining two. Only for Dewey to rush out next. With hands pressed to his beak and (Donal’s heart jolted) tears threatening to spill out. Panchito followed the duckling close behind. That left Huey with Donald. The duckling, the smallest Donald had ever seen him. No one commented as Donald picked Huey up and carried him out of the room.

 ___________________

 Louie was fast when he wanted to be. José was thankful that the duckling was heavy footed. Because there was no other way he would have found the duckling in this maze of a building. Louie had taken up residents by a large window, far away from everyone else. Hood still up and knees pulled close, glaring at the outside estate. José approached cautiously, clearing his throat to announce his arrival. The duckling didn’t move.

 “May I join you?”

 There was still no reply. José didn’t mind, taking a seat and turning so he could view the outside world as well. “I will admit, I never thought I would be one for snow. I grew up in such warm climates. I believed when I experienced sheer cold, I would hate it. But, when I gave it a chance, I found it to be wondrous. True I do have to bundle up in order to enjoy it. It is still such a thrill to see though.”

 “I’m not accepting you.” Louie replied shortly.

 “But you have not even gotten to know me. It is unfair for you to jump so quickly to such a conclusion.”

 “Well, you never got to know me. You spent all your time with Uncle Donald.”

 José let out a slow sigh and nods. “That is true. And I hope you will understand why. I have not seen your uncle in such a long time. At least in a way that I have had so much time to spend with him. Not just a day or a few hours. It has been wonderful...and I may have gotten a little carried away at keeping your uncle’s attention.”

 “Because you’re dating.” Louie stated, staring the parrot down.

 José blinked in surprise, but did not dispute it. “Yes we...we were.”

 “Were? My brothers and I have seen you and the rooster hanging off of Uncle Donald! You are dating.”

 “Were. We broke it off a short time after you three were hatched. Your uncle wanted to focus on you and we were unable to stay.”

 “And now you can. Now you’re legally able to. Now you can take Uncle Donald away from us.”

 “Ai meu deus, Louie. Where did you get that idea?”

 “Just now! With Panchito saying ‘we’ and how you all were going to buy a house!”

 “I… the ‘we’ was Panchito and I. We would only ask Donald to move in if all four of you would have agreed.”

 That caused Louie’s glare to soften. “...Four?”

 “We, that being Panchito and I, would love to have all of you live with us. I am sorry to make you and your brothers think we would not welcome you properly into our lives. I suppose a proper start would be necessary.”

 José cleared his throat and held out a hand, one that Louie gingerly took. “Hello Louie. I am José Carioca, an old relation to your Uncle Donald. It is wonderful to see you.”

 “...Louie Duck. Nephew of Donald Duck...and CEO of Louie Inc.”

 The parrot laughed jovially at that. “So young and already a businessman. Tell me Louie, have you been to Bahia?”

 “I don’t think so.”

 “Well, if you have time, allow me to regale you a few tales.”

 ___________________

 “Dewey! Dewey, please stop!” Panchito grumbled when the duckling sped up instead. Mentally berating himself knowing that wouldn’t have worked. The rooster picked up his own speed when Dewey darted into the triplet’s bedroom. Just fast enough to stop the door from closing with his foot. He only entered when he heard Dewey settle down on a bed.

 Letting out a slow breath, Panchito walked in. He cautiously stepped over the chaotic mess as he approached the beds. Dewey was lying on the second bed, covered by the blue blanket, small sniffs heard from within. Slowly climbing up the bedside ladder, Panchito leaned over and rested his upper body on the bed proper.

 “You are a speedy little guy. Kind of shocked I was able to keep up.” Panchito laughed softly. He frowned when Dewey didn’t reply.

 “...I know the want to just run away from your troubles. I have a big, big family. Seems like the only way to avoid fights was to run away. Run far and fast. So that is what I did. When I could not just smile any longer, I would run.”

 He fell quiet when Dewey shuffled, the lump under the blanket moving closer to the rooster. Panchito smiled gently as the duckling’s face appeared. Eyes red with the feathers around them damp. “Hola.”

 “...Hi…”

 “Why did you run?”

 Dewey didn’t reply. He instead sat up and asked his own question. “Is that what you did when we hatched and Uncle Donald started to raise us? That we were a problem you didn’t want, so you ran?”

 “What? No, no niño, no. José and I weren’t able to stay. We were young, had no income, no way to get citizenship. We really, truly wanted to stay… But even your Uncle Donald knew how impossible it would be for us.”

 “So you broke up?”

 Panchito coughed weakly, suddenly feeling flustered. “I, well, w-why would you say that?”

 “We’ve seen you, José, and Uncle Donald together.”

 “Ah...suppose we were not that sneaky. But, yes, we did break up. We did not want to...but our options were low or impossible to get.”

 Taking a bit of a risk, Panchito reached out to gently dry off the damp feathers. Dewey didn’t protest. He even smiled weakly, shoulders relaxing.

 “I fell in love with you three the moment you hatched. And I know José feels the same. You had such big eyes and were covered with fluffy, yellow feathers. Oh, dios mío you boys were so adorable. I am sure my heart burst with happiness.”

 “Really?”

 “Of course. I wanted to hold you all and never let go. And you clung to me, you would giggle and I would just melt every time.”

 Dewey laughed weakly at that. He inched closer until he could wrap his arms around Panchito. The rooster instantly pulled the duckling closer, beaming.

 “I am not running away. Not now, not ever.”

 ___________________

 Donald knew when Huey was upset, he needed to let the duckling lead. Don’t question, don’t prod, don’t poke. When Huey wanted to talk, he would talk. So Donald waited, holding the duckling’s hands and gently running his thumbs along the back of them. Huey was staring at the ground. The quiet was broken when a small sniff or hiccup escaped him. Other than that, it was silent between them.

 It remained this way for a few minutes until Huey weakly squeezed Donald’s hands. A non-verbal indication that he had calmed and was ready to talk. Even then, it took awhile for Huey to find his voice.

 “I’m sorry.”

 Donald shook his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I don’t even know what’s wrong.”

 “We know you, José, and Panchito are...together. In a relationship.”

 “Okay. Well, I suppose that’s something I should be apologizing for. I was going to tell you three. Should have done that a lot sooner. But you don’t need to apologize for finding out.”

 Huey shook his head but didn’t say anything. Donald was at a complete loss.

 “Huey...I can’t help you if I don’t know what the issue is.”

 “Do you hate us?”

 He felt as if he had been punched in the gut. It took a few seconds for Donald to compose himself before he could speak again. “No, why would you think that?”

 “You love them, but you never mention them. Never talk about them. You had to give up your life with the people you love because we… Because we were dumped into your lap. You didn’t get a choice and you had to give up so much. Because of us. How could you not hate us?”

 “Huey, Huey, I need you to slow your breathing.” Donald quickly took back control, hand slowly rising and falling for Huey to follow. He waited for the duckling to calm again before asking, “Do you want me to take your hands again?”

 That was answered with a short nod and Donald complied. “Now I want to make something perfectly clear. I am, in no way in any shape of form, angry at you or your brothers. You weren’t dumped into my lap. I willingly took you in and I don’t regret it at all. I loved raising you three and I love you three now.”

 “But...you left them.”

 “Because they couldn’t stay here. And I didn’t want them to feel as if they had to put a pause on their lives for me. I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if they had spent years trying to return here to live here. We were wild when we were younger, them more so than I. They would never admit it, but it would have driven them crazy if they had to stay here. I wanted them to experience the world they had always talked about. To experience what I had when I was growing with Uncle Scrooge.”

 “How come you never talked about them?”

 “I’m not sure. If I really think about it, I think I would have broken down. I love them so much...and I didn’t want you three to worry when I began to blubber over people you’d never met.”

 “Are we going to move in with them?”

 “How about we live through this and then we’ll discuss that. All of us.”

 Huey hummed softly and nodded. “Okay.”

 “Feeling better?”

 “...Yeah. Yeah, I am,” Huey looked up with a small smile, “Thanks Uncle Donald.”

 Donald smiled back, he pulled the younger into a tight hug. “I love you and I love your brothers. Never doubt that. Now, how about we go find everyone?”

 Huey nodded once more and didn’t argue when he was picked up again. As they neared the crossroads, they unintentionally came across the missing party members. José holding Louie’s hand as the older was leading the way. Dewey was riding on Panchito’s shoulders, wearing the large sombrero that was slowly slipping down to cover his eyes.

 They all shared quick glances before Donald laughed softly. “I’ll take it, we’ve all talked and are feeling better?”

 All parties nodded, sharing calm smiles. Panchito stepped forward and pulled all into a tight hug. None complained about how crushing it was, the triplets finding it comforting.

#ducktales #the three caballeros #s-creations #one shot #fanfiction #scrooge mcduck #donald duck #huey duck #dewey duck #louie duck #webby vanderquack #jose carioca #panchito pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchio pistoles #jose x panchito x donald #three gay caballeros

[writingbakery]

“what’s new, pussycat?”

this work is my absolute pride & joy, one that i hold very near & dear to my heart! it was previously written for a different fandom, & ive reworked it to fit here. i hope you love it as much as i do, & yes - there will be more parts to this story! ✨taglist; @katsukisprincess @secondhand-trash @redbeanteax @monst @shinhoetoshi @shinsouzone @togasknifes

[pairing; panther familiar! hitoshi shinso x green witch gn! reader]

[warnings; fluff, meet-cutes, magical au, bitchy witches, soft words, strangers to lovers]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

for a green witch in a relatively small town, you’ve got a pretty good life.

you’re not the most powerful witch around; your talents are more centered around healing, crafting potions & spells, but you don’t mind. you like helping people, whisking away their problems & leaving them happier than when they walked into your little shop.

your shop is perfectly situated right at the forest line at the end of town, making it easy for you to restock your supply. you don’t get many customers, but you treat everyone like they’re most important, focusing on what they need & providing them with just what they’ve asked for. you don’t have many friends, most of the other witches not thinking much of your talents or your profession - they were all more modern witches, using electricity & technology to help others - but the ones you do have treat you nothing but kindly.

you’ve got everything you need in your little shop; a tiny apartment just above it, a loyal customer base, & the forest to soothe your worries.

the only thing you don’t have is a familiar.

you turned twenty six months ago, the age at which every witch receives their familiar. sometimes, it happens sooner, sometimes it takes a little longer. you’re just a hint impatient.

you’ve been ready for your familiar since your powers emerged at six years old, little flowers & vines bursting from chubby fingers & small palms. your friends even had a betting pool set up, sero swearing that you would get a kitty cat, & kirishima insisting it would be a rabbit.

you don’t care what your familiar is. you just want to meet them.

you’ve nagged your mother more than enough over the years, whining & complaining at your lack of a companion - both the animal aspect of them, & the human. familiars often became their witches’ best friends, & on most occasions, have fallen in love with them.

it’s a romantic concept, really. two magical beings, tied together forever by their shared powers, falling in love.

you’ve had dreams about it. kaminari makes fun of you for it whenever he can.

still, you don’t need to fall in love with your familiar. you love them already for supporting & adding to your magic, even if you haven’t met yet. you just know you’re going to be the best of friends.

you also side with sero. you’re definitely hoping for a kitty.

you alway tell your friends you don’t mind being patient, but secretly, you wish your familiar would speed things up a bit.

the other witches in town don’t tease you outright, a bit more poised than that, but you’ve heard more than enough whispered giggles of “bet it’s a fly, & it just can’t find them” & “maybe [y/n]’s just too weak for one”. you know they consider you a joke, a laughingstock, but you do your best to ignore them, burying your head in your spellbooks & inventing new potion strains.

you’re good at what you do, & that’s all that matters. but with a familiar, at least you’d fit in. you’re not expecting anything huge, not like the wolf inasa got, or the pheonix momo was gifted. you just want something that’ll care for you, help with your little tasks & fill the hole in your heart.

you even have a little side room set up in your shop for them, complete with a small fluffy bed & lots of pillows. kaminari had wrinkled his nose at the setup. “what if they don’t like all the fluff?” he’d asked - his familiar, an overexcited ring tailed lemur named mina, had absolutely destroyed the setup kaminari made for her, choosing to snuggle the taller witch in her human form every night. you had a separate betting pool with kirishima & bakugou about when those two would finally start dating.

mostly, you just hope your familiar won’t be disappointed with you. you aren’t the fastest on a broomstick, or the smartest with spells. your potions are good, but they take you a while to brew, & you don’t get that many customers. you’re definitely not the best witch in town, but you try your best, & you hope that counts for something.

it ends up counting for a lot, even if you don’t realize.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you’re looking through your little vials & plants one day, crafting a rejuvenation potion for mrs. parks - she’s got a garden to maintain if she wants to win first place in the landscaping competition next week, & at 85 it doesn’t always come naturally - when you realize you’re clean out of starflower. the pretty little orange & yellow foliage always added an extra boost to your energy potions, & you chance a glance out of your shop windows. it’s a nice day, sunny but not too hot, & you easily tug on your jacket & basket to gather some from the forest.

the air is warm, floaty with the smell of spring & you bask in the pleasant heat of the sun as you walk. the forest is unusually quiet, a sort of energetic thrum hovering just under the surface & normally, you would be concerned. but the day is so lovely, the warmth seeping into your bones & you brush it off as a slight imbalance in the woods.

you find the right clearing relatively quickly, sitting cross legged amidst the flowers & beginning to pluck them. you coo to the brightly colored petals gently, asking them to feel safe, protected. you wouldn’t hurt them, nor waste them unnecessarily. they were headed to a good purpose, & you reassure them as such as they make their way into your basket.

the already quiet air stills suddenly, birds silent in the trees & leaves pausing their ruffling. you shut your eyes & soaks up the sudden silence, an odd sense of calm settling over your body before you open them again.

a pair of amethyst violet eyes stare back at you, barely ten feet away from your face.

you open your mouth to scream, but let out nothing but air; your breath seems caught in your throat, lodged painfully deep. the creature in front of you is still, black fur gleaming glossy in the afternoon sun - a panther, twice the size of any normal big cat, sharp fangs glinting in its large mouth. you just stare, frozen & wide eyed.

the panther tilts its head at you inquisitively, letting out a sharp exhale through its velvety - almost cute? - black nose. you do scream this time, a barely there squeak that youd defend to your dying day as a very aggressive yell.

& then you pass clean out, slumping to the cool forest floor.

above you, the panther simply snorts, rolling bright purple eyes in mild annoyance as it curls its lithe form around your unconscious body, settling in for a nap.

it protects you from harm, patiently waiting for you to wake up.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

you wake up confused & a little dizzy.

you’ve only been out about an hour, but already the sun sits lower in the sky, a chill sweeping through the quiet wood. you’re disoriented, taking a few moments to remember where you are, & why. youre warm despite the cool forest air, body swathed in silky softness. you burrow deeper into the warmth, sighing softly as you toe the line between sleep & awake.

then you remember the panther.

shooting straight up from the dirt, you look around wildly, all traces of sleepiness gone as you take in your surroundings.

the panther lays curled around you like a warm blanket, keeping you tucked up against its shoulder with massive black paws crossed in front of your legs. it’s fast asleep, not even stirring as you shift a little to study its face.

gold runes run from the tips of each large, silky ear, trailing down either side of its face to its long whiskers. each rune matches one on your own arms, elegantly winding down your smooth skin. a little flutter settles in your chest.

this is your familiar.

you run one slim finger down the sides of the panther’s sleeping face, gentle & light as you trace over the marks that mirror the ones you’ve had since birth. it’s a little nerve wracking, a little unreal.

you’re so awestruck you don’t feel a pair of sharp violet eyes tracking your every move, looking just a little fond.

you start a little when the panther stretches, long heavy limbs arcing out into the air as it yawns. you get a good eyeful of sharp, gleaming white fangs & an impossibly cute pink tongue before the panther is staring at you again, seemingly waiting for your next move.

oh right.

hastily clambering to your feet, you stand in front of the lying animal, just about level with its head. you swallow a little nervously, shifting from foot to foot as you look up into bright, curious eyes.

“a-are you my familiar?” you ask, immediately cursing yourself for stammering & asking stupid questions. you’re supposed to have your shit together, you’re the witch here.

the panther seems unfazed, if not a little amused, as it nods once, then twice, eyes twinkling in the sunlight. your own eye twitches.

you’ve got a familiar. a panther familiar. you, [y/n l/n], who can’t fly a broomstick straight & nearly burnt down your shop crafting a potion last week.

suddenly everything seems a whole lot less simple than it was before.

bracing your hands against your knees to catch your breath, you let your mind go wild, running through a million thoughts at once. what would the other witches say? what would your friends say? how the fuck was this panther going to fit inside your house?

you don’t have a single answer for any of them that won’t send you into a panic.

your stomach ends up deciding for you, the low rumble of it breaking the tense silence. the panther actually does roll its eyes at you this time, standing to its full - very, very tall height & moving to kneel at your side. it motions towards its back a little impatiently, & you scramble to climb on.

you can feel lean, powerful muscle underneath you as the panther begins to walk through the forest, quickly shifting through the underbrush towards town.

it’s much quicker than you walking on your own, & you appreciate that.

you know you’re going to get plenty of stares once you hit town, & you’ve already got a plan set: make it through quickly, avoid questions, & once you’ve got the both of you locked up in your shop, the panther can shift to its human form & introduce themselves. simple.

the second you step foot - & paw - into the town, you know you’re screwed.

all of the townsfolk are staring wide eyed, giving the pair of you a very wide berth as the panther trots along the street. hushed whispers are already circulating, & you can feel endless sets of eyes digging into your back.

just a couple more feet, a few more moments. then we’ll be safe, you think as your shop comes into view, breathing a quiet sigh of relief. you slide down off the panthers back to unlock the door & usher it in, locking it behind you both with another relieved sigh. you relax too soon.

there, in your kitchen, sit sero & kirishima, both gaping as they stare at the massive panther in your foyer. sero’s got a teapot in one hand, the other cupping the air - a shattered mug at his feet.

“we came for tea,” kirishima squeaks. sero is dumbfounded where he stands. the panther huffs unamused, tail flicking & breaking one of the china plates along the wall.

you sink to the floor in despair.

what the fuck, is all you can think, burying your head in your hands.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

your friends take it all in surprisingly well. sero sweeps up the shattered mug & dish, kirishima makes them all tea, & you have a mild panic attack.

the panther simply curls up in a corner of the shop, avoiding everything delicate as it takes up a good chunk of the space. kirishima can’t stop staring at it, eyes blown wide as he takes in every inch of the creature.

“it’s really yours? your familiar?” he’d asked, voice hushed. you swatted at his arm with a scowl, glancing over at the uninterested panther. “stop talking about it like it’s not here! you know it can hear you.”

truthfully, however, you don’t even think the panther is listening. it has an air of disinterest clouded around it, lazily examining its paws & twitching its whiskers every so often.

sero maintains that he won the bet, much to your chagrin. “it’s just a really big cat!” he insists. kirishima simply rolls his eyes & tells him to take it up with bakugou.

it takes an hour or two, but eventually you manage to shoo your friends out of your shop, a headache building at their incessant questioning - “so what's its name? boy or girl? did it try to eat you? why is it looking at me like that?” - & all you want to do is sleep.

you lead the panther to the small side room you’d dolled up, albeit for a much smaller animal, wincing at the judgemental look you receive in return. “right, that won’t work. i mean, you could stay in my bed? it’s really big, just a bunch of cushions & blankets on a floor mattress?” you offer, twisting your fingers in your shirt a little shyly. the panther pauses, then nods again, squeezing its massive frame through the narrow staircase to follow you upstairs.

your bed - a custom made mattress that spanned nearly across the entirety of your bedroom floor - seemed to accommodate the panther just fine, and it paced around once, twice, before settling in one corner of it. its lithe form took up a good two thirds of the mess of blankets, & you can’t help but coo at the sight. it really was just a big kitty cat, although you’d probably never say it to the creature’s face.

you busy yourself with getting ready for bed, washing your face, brushing your teeth & changing into your baggy blue silk pajamas - they’ve got little yellow crescent moons sewn into them, & you swear the panther laughs at you in them - before settling between the sheets.

“goodnight, mr. panther,” you mumble sleepily, silently hoping that things would be easier to fix in the morning before drifting off to dreams.

above you, the panther huffs a little fondly, nuzzling your soft little cheek before falling asleep as well.

—

the next few days aren’t any easier.

for one, you’re swamped with customers for the first time ever, people crowding into the tiny shop to catch a glimpse of the enormous panther curled up in the corner. normally you wouldn’t allow it, but the panther doesn’t seem to mind, & everyone who walks in leaves with something - you’re making a killing.

another little problem: the arrival of your - rather powerful - familiar means your own abilities have gotten a much needed boost. everything you make is soaked in energy, & your plants are shooting towards the ceiling every other hour.

in short, you’re probably the most powerful nature witch in the country, let alone the county.

you appreciate the fact that you’re better at what you do, but it tires you out quicker, & you’re twice as busy now that you can do so much.

all of this would be reasonably manageable, if your familiar wasn’t still stuck in its animal form.

the panther’s refused to shift for the entirety of the time you’ve known it, staying in its animal form in the corner of the shop. it simply watches & observes, occasionally nudging the right vial or plant closer to you with its large black nose. it’s a cute sight, the little nature witch bustling around the shop in your emerald green robes, a huge black panther tracking your every move with a fond expression. you’ve started to get comfortable around it as well, but you would like to get to know it eventually, & you enlist kirishima’s help.

the more experienced witch drops by with an old history book one afternoon when you aren’t as busy, the pair of you sitting at the table to read up on familiars.

“it says here familiars usually shift within the first day of meeting their witch,” kiri reads from the book, squinting at the tiny text. you had shooed the panther into the garden so you could talk uninterrupted, & you watch as the large creature nips at the butterflies circling its head. it makes you smile, heart a little fond at the sight.

“it’s been almost a week, kiri,” you pout, looking up at the witch in concern. maybe it's not comfortable with me yet, you add in your head. your stomach twists uncomfortably at the thought.

kirishima, seemingly sensing your worry, ruffles a hand through your hair, a reassuring smile on his face.

“don’t worry, [y/n]. i’m sure they’re still getting used to being here with you,” the taller comforts you. “just give it a little time.”

watching as your familiar tramples your hydrangeas, looking up at the window with a guilty expression on its face, you can only sigh.

“i hope you’re right.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

nearly two months later, you’re starting to doubt kirishima’s advice.

your familiar still hasn’t shifted in front of you, although you’ve got a sneaking suspicion it does while you’re asleep, a smattering of all black clothes hidden in random corners of his shop.

you still know absolutely nothing about them, every question you throw at the panther met with unblinking silence. but the panther knows all about you.

it knows which tea you prefer in the morning & evening, nudging out the right canisters with one massive paw. it knows every plant in your shop & garden, delicately ripping out whichever ones you need with sharp fangs. it knows to growl when a potion is boiling over, or huff when a customer is at the door. it even ran off a few thieves a week ago, snarling with its hackles raised at the foot of the stairs as they screamed & ran. you had given it an hour long head massage, complete with ear scratches, as a thank you.

the panther has settled itself in your shop & your life almost perfectly, a constant presence that you’ve grown fond of. but it doesn’t change the fact that they still haven’t revealed themselves to you. you feel like this relationship is ridiculously imbalanced; the panther knows you inside & out. you don’t even know their name.

still, you push down any doubt or insecurities you’re feeling, determined to let the panther come to you in your own time.

the mayor’s birthday changes all of that.

the mayor always requests a grand celebration, complete with magical fireworks, charmed balloons, singing lilies, & a three tier magical cake. normally, he only requests singing lilies & roses from you.

this year, you get a golden invoice for everything.

the mayor wants you to craft the cake, enchant the balloons & streamers, gather the singing flowers, and charm the fireworks, all in less than two days. you immediately break into a sweat.

you can’t ask your friends for help, as they’re tied up in their own town’s festivities. your only choice is to get the other witches’ in town; surely they’d help with the mayor’s birthday celebration.

surely not. they laugh you away from their shops the moment you ask, a pleading expression on your face.

“you shouldn’t need help, little dirt witch. you’ve got that powerful familiar of yours, don’t you? unless you can’t handle it,” they mock you, & your fists clench unwillingly; you force yourself to breathe.

you don’t need their help, or their disdain. you’re going to do it all by yourself.

you start with the flowers, collecting the brightest & loudest singers from your garden & placing them in charmed rainwater to keep them pristine. the panther helps where it can, delicately holding them between its fangs.

enchanting the streamers & balloons takes the better part of the day, & you’re up late into the night crafting the fireworks the right way. you fall asleep in a spellbook, the cake left forgotten till the morning. the panther simply rests its head next to yours on the table, the pair of you fast asleep until the next day.

when you wake up, the birds are chirping steadily outside, sunlight filtering in through the windows. it’s calm & soothing, & for a moment you’re at peace.

then you see the time, panic immediately setting in.

“wake up! wake up! i have to have the cake ready in four hours! it’s going to take me three just to mix the batter!” you’re running around the shop in a flurry of robes & quick spells, arms full of supplies. the panther just watches from its position on the floor, eyebrow quirked.

you’re halfway through mixing the batter when you realize you won’t finish in time.

you can’t focus on charming all three tiers at once as he mixes, but if you do them one by one you won’t finish in time. you pause, turning desperate eyes onto the panther.

“i know you’re not ready, & i didn’t want to push, but please. i need your help,” you plead. hands clasped in front of you & flour in your hair. the panther continues to stare, unmoving, as though immune to your begging.

it’s too much all at once, stress & anxiety building until you snap.

“why not! why! i get it! i understand you’re disappointed! i’m not some high tech witch in a big city, i’m not powerful! i’m weak & i suck & i can’t brew potions fast without blowing them up & i fell off my broomstick in the garden & you saw, i know! i just need help, for god’s sake! just help me, & you don’t ever have to talk to me again!” you promise, eyes watery as you burst into tears.

dropping your head into your hands to muffle your sobs, you barely register the faint whirling of air in front of you.

hands suddenly flutter over your crying form, hovering just above touching you as a low, rough voice pulls you from your misery.

“please stop crying, shit, please, i’m sorry, i swear i didn’t mean to make you cry, fuck,” you hear, & you tilt your head up, rubbing tears from your eyes.

there’s a man standing in front of you, wearing all black. he’s got messy purple hair sticking up from all sides & dark eyes, a hint of violet flashing through them in the light. there’s circles as dark as his clothes under his eyes, a familiar look on his face - like you’d seen it every morning waking up.

this ridiculously handsome man, looking slightly panicked, is your familiar. every time you’d called him a “pretty kitty” suddenly flashes through your mind.

fuck.

pushing all those thoughts to the back of your mind, you straighten up, hastily wiping your eyes on your robe sleeves. “can you stir the second pot, please? i’ll worry about the other ones,” you ask meekly, a little embarrassed now. you ignore the familiar’s prying gaze, simply muttering spells under your breath as you stir the first mixture.

the pair of you don’t speak unless it’s instructions, racing around the tiny shop to craft the magical cake. flour & sugar & icing cover every available surface as you wave your hands, whisking it all over the towering cake. you struggle a little to reach the very top, on your tiptoes as you attempt to frost the highest tier. warm, strong hands grip your waist & lift you right off the ground, holding you up to help; you blush furiously as you quickly finish.

you’re just putting the final smattering of glitter onto the cake when the mayor’s party attendants arrive to collect it. you can finally breathe as you watch them carry off everything you both had made, shoulders sagging in relief.

your familiar leans against the counter, wiping down the tables with a rag as he watches you. now that everything’s been finished, there’s no avoiding it.

“i’m hitoshi. that’s my name,” the panther - hitoshi - offers, presumably sensing your nerves. “& for the record, i think you’re a great witch. youre powerful all on your own, even without me.”

you can’t help your smile at that, a little flush to your cheeks as you sit at the table. “then.. then why didn’t you shift?” you ask softly. up close, you can see tiny freckles in place of hitoshi’s whiskers, the glossiness of his hair reminiscent of his panther fur.

the familiar shrugs, cheeks going a bit pink themselves as he stares at the table. “at first, i was just a little shy. it’s nerve wracking, meeting your witch. & then you just… passed out, you know? i was worried about how you’d react, so i decided to give you time.” you can understand that, listening closely.

“you were so nice to me, you weren’t scared at all. you scratched behind my ears & made me cleansing potions. & you let me stay in your bed, so easily. you were just…. nicer than i expected. and…. and prettier.” the familiar’s cheeks are a rosy red now, bright in contrast to his soft skin & prominent dark circles. you think it’s adorable.

“i just didn’t want you to think any different of me, you know? you liked panther me a lot, even though i kept breaking stuff, &.... i wanted you to keep liking me.” you outright coo at that, ignoring your familiar’s protests as you dissolve into giggles.

“really? of course i’d still like you, silly! i let you cuddle me! i called you mr whiskers for a solid month! oh god, i called you mr whiskers,” you whine, pouting a little. you’d called hitoshi a bunch of silly nicknames before he’d shifted, from pretty kitty to mr whiskers to sugarpaws. you’d been trying to compensate, in your defense, & hitoshi had seemed to like them.

hitoshi’s the one laughing now, smile bright as he gives you that same fond look. “it was cute. you were trying really hard,” he admits, head cocked to the side as he watches you.

you sit in a comfortable sort of silence then, simply taking in each other’s presence a moment.

“so, you thought i was pretty, huh?” you tease, breaking the silence as you move to stand in front of hitoshi. you giggle more at the flush that follows, ignoring hitoshi’s mumbling rant about “soft little witches” & “green robes & moon pajamas, that's ridiculous”, your smile growing ever wider.

you tap a finger against hitoshi’s nose, the familiar protesting in flustered panic. standing on tiptoe, you press a light kiss to the cranberry stained cheek, watching hitoshi absolutely melt.

“i thought you were cute too, pretty kitty,” you smile, turning to tidy up the pots & spellbooks & leaving an awestruck hitoshi at the table, hand frozen where you had pressed your lips.

i could get used to that, you think, giggling as hitoshi trips over himself to squish you against the counter, covering your face in kisses.

just you, your shop, & one pretty kitty.

#bnha shinsou #bnha hitoshi #hitoshi shinsou #shinsou x y/n #shinsou x you #shinsou x reader #bnha x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x reader #shinso x reader #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #bnha fic #boku no hero fluff #bnha fluff #evywrites

[iam93percentstardust]

hey! i hope you’re having an amazing day. this is just me popping in your inbox to say that’s youre one of my favourite writers and you got me really interested in winteriron (honestly one of the cutest ships) are there any fics/authors ii could reccomend?

Hi there! Thank you so much! I love this ship so much, they’ve got such potential for both fluff and angst. They really are one of my favorite ships to write and I’m glad I was able to write so much for them this year. I certainly do have plenty of recs for you, starting with my favorite authors:

@riotwritesthings: started writing last year, I highly recommend just about everything Riot writes but especially Road Hazards, Melt into Me (Your Words are My Own), and When is a bed not a bed? (When you’re not in it)

@hddnone: so many stories and all so good! Has nearly 100 Winteriron works on ao3 and you will not regret reading any of them, though fair warning that some of them are Team Cap Critical. Especially recommend Honey Pot, You’ve Got Mail, and A Bit(e) of Danger

@monobuu: mostly an artist but sometimes writes stories as well. i recommend Ravioli, Invincible Summer, and Meet the Fam

@tisfan and @27dragons: can’t make a Winteriron rec list without including the both of them. They work together a lot but you should definitely take a look at their own stuff as well. I recommend Safe and (the) Sound, Kiss Me Thru the Phone, and Stark, Naked

@ad1thi: currently taking a bit of a hiatus and working on non-Marvel works but I love everything Adi writes, particularly her entire Bollywood but Make it Gay series, which isn’t always Winteriron but wonderful nonetheless. I recommend the Greek Gods AU, 1000 Lives (For You), and we’re connected

@the-winter-writer: lots of smut and all absolutely fantastic! I like Precious Treasure, Winter Wings, and Instinct

@rayshippouuchiha: definitely an iconic writer for this fandom. Really great if you’re looking for genderbends. Writes a lot of absolutely incredible fics and not just for Winteriron but my personal favorites are The (Not So) Great Pretender, Fearful Symmetry, and The Mistletoe Kiss Polka

Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar): once again very iconic. you’ve probably read at least one of their works even if didn’t know. I recommend Shameless, Today’s Forecast, and Practice Makes Perfect

@lovelyirony: mostly writes ficlets here on tumblr and a multishipper (I don’t know why I’m saying that like it’s a bad thing, I’m a multishipper), also a fan of Sharon Carter and that’s the thing that made me follow her so you know

@amethystinawrites: I only recently started working their works but I’m loving everything I’ve come across so far. I recommend Tech Support and I Won’t Hold My Breath

AvocadoLove: also writes a lot of Stony and Stuckony, which I love a lot, but for their Winteriron works, I recommend Amalgam and Dead Man’s Switch

Dracusfyre: another one I’m new to. I literally just started reading their works today so I don’t have any recs for them yet but one of my friends loves them so I’m going to go with you should definitely take a look at their works

Eirlyssa: has some anti-Team Cap works so keep an eye out for that if that’s not your thing but writes very good Winteriron. I recommend Guide Me Home (Guide My Heart) and Always (I’ll Be There)

@imposter-human: one of the first MCU blogs I ever followed! I recommend childhood memories, speak my language, and lost in translation

As for specific works I like:

Four Strings and Second Chances by Vashoth

It was reluctance to let one of his finest inventions ever out of his grasp that made him take a couple days over a week to send the arm to Pepper’s office. But all things considered, Tony figured that sending finest prosthetic that had ever come into existence--literally grasping an olive branch--was one of the classiest gifts he’d ever given. He’d included a note and everything. ‘Barnes,

Can help with installation. Or not. Up to you. --Stark'

Who is the Mechanic? by @akira-of-the-twilight

The Asset watched as his handlers brought in a stranger—a man with a metal object stuck to his chest that was hooked to a car battery.

The handlers shoved the man onto the stool where many who had operated on the Asset’s arm in the past had sat before.

“Asset,” one handler said, “meet the Mechanic. He will be responsible for the upkeep of your arm. Should anything malfunction, kill him.”

The Asset eyed the Mechanic. The Mechanic was glassy-eyed and unresponsive.

He’d probably be dead in a week.

The Fix by SleepsWithCoyotes

Right, because Tony...Tony fixes things. He remembers thinking that, not for the first time.

Paths are Made by Walking by @potrix-the-queerschlaeger

The road to recovery is long, winding and a different one for every person walking it. Bucky chooses to help himself the only way he knows how; by doing what he does best.

Or, alternatively; the one in which Tony is a mess and accidentally kick-starts Bucky’s protective mother hen instincts.

The Evidence by StrivingArtist

Didn’t notice. Right. Sure. Two brilliant minds, two super spies, and a god didn’t notice when the chattiest man they knew stopped making sound. They just seemed happier than before. Brighter and more cheerful than before. They just seemed like they were more comfortable with him around when he was stone silent.

Fuck it.

He knew they noticed.

And he knew they liked him better this way.

Shadowed Hearts and Winter Souls by NotEvenCloseToStraight

The mid-1800s and Antonio Carbonell Stark is caught in a scandal with his lover. Desperate for a chance to escape the trouble and his own broken heart, Tony accepts a proposal from a mysterious Russian heiress and flees the country.

Natalia Romanova is in trouble of her own and has enough secrets to make Tony's head spin but somehow they settle into a fake marriage and calm day-to-day together, and everything works... until her half brother comes home and their life is disrupted again.

James is somber and silent, brutal and nearly broken and scarred, a soldier of the resistance. His heart is cold and gaze like ice, but his hands are hot and lips are warm and Tony finds himself ignoring the blood on James's palms and the shadows in his soldier’s eyes, and falling in love.

When danger lands at their doorstep, Natalia and Tony have to pack up and leave, running away in the middle of the night and leaving their men behind.

The distance between Tony and James gets longer every day, and Natalia has been keeping a secret for that can’t be hidden much longer. With no place to call home and a thousand miles between them and the men they love, what are Tony and Natalia supposed to do?

Puppy Love by Reioka

Bucky is learning to become a person again. When some guy starts crying all over Natasha's dog, he decides he's doing better than he originally thought.

Describe Your Perfect Date by ali_aliska

After getting turned down by Bucky, Tony decides it’s time to move on from his massive crush. He tries online dating—Pepper’s idea, not his—but the only thing worse than getting rejected is getting rejected and finding out your soulmate-level match is Clint Barton, all in the same day.

Clint, of course, does not let opportunities like this go to waste, but he’s driving Tony nuts for a good cause, he swears.

Bucky’s just trying to do the right thing and fails spectacularly, but it all works out in the end.

Rocket Science by marsmaywonder and orbingarrow

Sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated, grad student Tony falls asleep in a conveniently empty classroom and wakes up in the middle of Bruce’s Physics 101 course. After seeing a groggy Tony fumble a simple question, actual-student Bucky offers to tutor him. In a moment of “oh no; he’s cute” panic, Tony takes him up on it. Now, in addition to his already complicated life, Tony has to figure out the answer to the incredibly messy question: “How do you look like you’re failing the class, when you literally wrote the book?”

What’s Good for the Goose by Taste_is_Sweet

For this nonny prompt at the Imagine Tony and Bucky comm on Tumblr:

"A soulmate AU where an immortal goose shows up one day to lead you to your soulmate, the challenge is surviving the goose." (Full prompt in notes.)

We all have soulmates, and every soulmate pair shares an animal guide. The Guide is there to lead you to your One True Love, and they represent the aspects of the psyche that you both share. They appear when you're about to meet your soulmate, and often materialize in moments of great personal crisis, offering hope and support. There are stories upon stories about how someone's Guide appeared to lead them to their One True, or how the barest glimpse of their Guide eased their hearts and gave them hope in the midst of despair. The newly-rescued almost always attribute their Guide with giving them the strength and courage to hang on.

Animal Guides are ephemeral, ethereal, and elusive. They are, most often, no more than a warm presence or flicker out of the corner of one's eye. They are incarnate symbols of perseverance, optimism and hope. Foretellers of happiness, and the grand destiny of love.

Except for geese. Geese are assholes.

and so, we unfold by TheKitteh

Senbazuru. Thousand Cranes.

An ancient Japanese legend that promises anyone who folds a thousand origami cranes will be granted a wish by the gods. Some stories believe you are granted happiness and eternal good luck, instead of just one wish, such as long life or recovery from illness or injury.

Bucky’s not big on believing in any legends, not after all that has happened. He just wants to create something for a change, not destroy.

He needs to prove himself that he can be trusted to handle something delicate. He doesn’t need a promise of a wish come true. He just,- needs to do this for himself.

He doesn’t need noticing how sad, tired Stark looks. Doesn’t need to want to do something for the man, when he can barely do anything for himself. --- Tony simply goes through days and motions. He deals with the Avengers, with R&;D, with the rewritten Accords. All of it, it’s nothing new really. He just wants to get things done.

What’s new is seeing Barnes hunched over the coffee table, one step away from ripping a glossy magazine apart in the middle of the night.

And why the hell Barnes keeps looking at him during the days after like he’s a puzzle to be solved?

Welcome to the Winteriron fandom! We’ve got a lot of incredible authors and artists both and this is just the tip of the iceberg!

#alle answers #winteriron #fic recs #have a great day as well! #hold-our-destiny

[mostly-mundane-atla]

@crookedmouth-mountainbones a recurring element in my writing is characters dealing with notions of what a relationship is supposed to be due to the unwritten rules of what kinds of relationships fulfill what roles and what kind of feelings people are supposed to have for people who do this or that for them. I blame French musicals for this, Roméo et Juliette: de la Haine à l'Amour and its version of Tybalt in particular. Then Revolutionary Girl Utena was the final nail in that coffin, if you'll pardon the fandom pun.

Itty bitty Lu Ten gets to stay up late and eat the fancy food for special occasions and show everyone his best clothes because his uncle is getting married. The bride is a beautiful lady he's never seen before decked out to the nines in silks and fine jewelry. In spite of the festivities, something about her is somber, like she belongs to another world where she can't return, and that makes it so he can't stop thinking about her. Who could blame him for having a schoolboy crush?

And through the years, he can't put a word to it, but something is very wrong. She tenses up when his uncle enters the room and tries to stop herself from flinching when he touches her. Nobody reacts to his father that way and he can't remember his grandmother doing that with his grandfather. Perhaps he should have outgrown this infatuation his uncle's wife, but it's bigger than that now. Something in him tells him she must be protected.

And then he starts to understand the whispered accusations he overhears in that beach house on Ember Island. When his uncle grabs the back of his wife's knee on the inner side of her leg because he doesn't think she's telling the truth and she tells him it will bruise and he snaps back at her "Are you afraid someone will see? Who are you showing?" Lu Ten knows what he's implying. When his uncle digs his fingers in until she whimpers and says "Only you," it makes him sick and he almost forgets he shouldn't be looking in their room. At night, when he hears the words "you owe me a better son" followed by her begging her husband to stop and only getting her wish when she promises to agree some other night, it fills him with rage.

Because Lu Ten is the Good Prince. He is everything his father wanted in a son. He knows his place and stays in it. He obeys his elders even when he doesn't want to. He will be Firelord some day, and is kind and charming and honest because that's the leader his people deserve. He strives to set an example for his little cousins of what they ought to try being as royalty. Part of this is protecting those in a position where they can't protect themselves, and Ursa, beautiful Ursa, is among strangers that only consider her worth to be something that hinges on her being the wife of the Firelord's son and the mother of his children. He never asks himself if this is truly the kind of great love poets write about or if it's simply a reaction his duty to protect this innocent lady. He never asks if he cherishes the Princess for who she is or the inner nobility telling him to make her circumstance better. Why shouldn't his obligation also be his will? Isn't that how Princes are supposed to be, what they should aspire to?

He's taller than her now, and she wears a brave face but all that seems to bring her joy is reading scripts of classic dramas. She uses a different voice for every character, something Zuko and Azula especially have picked up from her. It's his favorite thing about her. When she reads the lines where maidens talk about the handsome men they've fallen for, he can feel the warmth of a blush in his cheeks and ears.

As he approaches her he remembers every time Ozai's foul mood could be heard through the walls and in the corridors. He remembers how Ursa's smile seemed painted on and how a tear seemed ready to spill out the second she closed her eyes as she tried to convince him she was okay, really. How she held his hand and walked him back to his father. How he used to have to tilt his head up and now tilts it down to look at her.

She warns him that Azula's giggly friend who has jumped on him before is playing in the courtyard with the others, but he says he says he wanted to talk with her before spending time with the children. He doesn't know how to start and his stomach is in knots. He tells her he's always cared for her and admired her. That since he was just little, since he first saw her, he knew nothing else could touch his heart the way she does. He says that there's talk of attacking Ba Sing Se, that he intends to go with his father and have a hand in it, that he can use the favor his grandfather would happily give him to protect her from her husband.

Her face fills with fear as a pot fills with water and she reminds him that he's speaking of his uncle and the walls have ears. He should listen but he's so indignant at having to silence himself about anything to do with Ozai's wrongs.

"He's a brute and he doesn't deserve you!" he says, keeping his voice down for her. "But I... Zuko and Azula would be safe with me, you know that, and you.... I would never, not like him, not in any way."

She wants to believe she could be wrong about what she thinks he's trying to say, but they both know one of a prince's greatest assets is his marriageability. He doesn't ask if being passed from one prince to another would actually make her any happier. Why shouldn't it? Her husband was clearly just the wrong one.

She's looking away from him now. She doesn't even have a painted on smile. She looks sad and distant like when he first saw her all those years ago. He wants to beg her to understand how much he cares, how much he wants to help, but he can't find the words. She was right to say the walls have ears and this is dangerous for both of them, but he's holding his hand out to her. Why can't she take it? He brushes over her fingers with his own, but she snatches her hand away from him. He wants to grab it, to kiss it, to show her, but he will not. He is the Good Prince. He is not his uncle.

"When I take Ba Sing Se," he whispers to her, "I'll be given a hero's welcome home and the Firelord will grant me a favor. I promise, I swear to you, that you will never have to wake up next to him after that."

She doesn't respond. It seems the polite and respectful thing would be to leave her in peace, and so he does.

#atla #avatar the last airbender #fire nation royal family #i think there's enough subtext with zuko and iroh to suggest Lu Ten didn't have the best sense of self #like struggled developing an identity outside of *heir to the royal family* #but that's another point for another post #anyway watch revolutionary girl utena

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (36)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

Have you already seen an angry bull, charging at full speed, horn forward, ready to pick up the unfortunate one who will be on the road? Yes, I know, this question is a little strange but in the current context... it’s the order of the day. If you've watched one of these American police series at least once in your life, you know how interrogations take place... especially when they are muscular. After a while, the investigator loses patience and becomes a little upset. Well, let’s say that Danny is experiencing this scene and, fortunately for him, he’s not on the other side of the interrogation room. Because if Wilhelm has been able to remain patient so far... He’s currently like that famous angry bull. Without the horns.  

2 days after your... little tasteful evening with Ghostface, Danny found himself at the police station to attend the interrogation of Hoggins who, despite the media and police pressure, remained marble. How, that's the question. There is a lot of evidence that he’s a suspect, even though we know the truth about McKellan's murder. Danny's perfect plan was perfected even more thanks to this fool of rich man who was too stupid to stay in place. The photo, the interrogation of Devon, the phone calls... Everything incriminated him. And yet he remained serene as if all this was only a conspiracy and that he was the light of justice. Poor asshole. At least Danny didn't need to falsify any evidence. Hoggins brought them to him on a silver platter. Even if his "Jed" side regrets it a little, because he saw how much Wilhelm was involved in this case, he was eager to see the reaction of the latter when he’ll discover that from the beginning it was indeed, he, Ghostface, who had committed this crime. And that while he was going after Hoggins, other victims suffered this sad fate.

“I bet you 10 dollars that the boss will turn the table.” said one of the officers.

“I bet you 20 dollars and a restaurant that he will not.” responds another one.  

“What exactly is the point of anger?” asks Danny without looking away from the interrogation room.

“Let's say that we get to the critical stage and that any object in the room, including the table, can suddenly start flying.”

“Oh. Good.” Replied Danny, who feels the two officers look at him strangely.

On the other side, Hoggins did not move, his back straight, proud as usual. As if it was a bad dream and he was just going to wake up in bed. Wilhelm tried to remain calm, but in front of a man like him... it was complicated.

“Mr Hoggins, I don’t know if you realise what situation you are in. There is much, MUCH evidence against you. If you really have nothing to reproach yourself for, if you’re truly innocent, then cooperate.” said Wilhelm, trying to stay calm.  

“I can't help you more than that inspector. As I told you, all this is just lies and plots against me. Coming from whom, I don't know. I have always been an honest man and, although I admit that I had indeed ... had some unwelcome words towards Horace, he was a very good partner and a good friend.” responds Hoggins with a fake smile.  

“We have this photo, the testimony of the man who is on it, your phone records and the text message you exchanged! and you absolutely want to prove me wrong!? Stop taking me for a fool!”

“This man would be able to say anything for money or to have peace. I don’t deny the messages exchanged with Horace. As for the photo... it’s not evidence as it infringes on my privacy. I could file a complaint but I'm not to belittle myself to this kind of... stupidity.”

“The photo was taken in a legal framework, Mr. Hoggins. the journalist who took it was turned away at the entrance of your residence when he had come to write an article about you, long before the scandal broke. He had taken several photos of the place to illustrate his article. The prosecutor confirmed this to me. What about the car that was patrolling around McKellan's house a few days before his murder? We were able to find this vehicle and its owner, and he confirms that he was on the scene at YOUR request. And with the following terms: Watch me this scabby dog. Never leave his eyes. And take the opportunity to see how to enter, without being noticed.”

“... I don’t see what this man is talking about at all.” replied Hoggins with the same fake smile.  

Wilhelm inhaled loudly before leaving the room to join Danny and the two officers who were there. He entered the room by violently slamming the door, ready to destroy everything in his path. An image that made our beautiful murderer smile. Nothing makes him happier than to see Wilhelm on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“I swear to you, that if it were not for the investigation, it would be a long time since I exploded his jaw against the table. Damn, I dream of being able to put this rotten man in jail. I can't get enough of his satisfying little smile, even you Olsen, you are more bearable and less annoying than him!” said Wilhelm trying to regain his calm.

“As you said to me, Hoggins is not a simple man. He’s a big fish. He knows how to play his pawns to win.” responds Danny before whispering to himself: “But he’s nothing than a kid compared to me. I’m a GOD in that category.”

“With everything we have on him he should talk! Even if it is to prove his innocence! But here, I don’t see how he could say that he is not involved in this case! it's all there! I... Damn, I need to hit on something. »

In a sense it was better for Danny that Hoggins defended himself. A man who confesses too quickly is not fun for him. No, Danny is a man who appreciates having strong opponents in front of him. And Hoggins is a prime opponent. Killing him is going to be a pure delight. 3 Days to wait... We will have to find something to deal with between now and then. Fortunately, some sad souls, drunk or drugged, hang out in the streets in the evening... Otherwise his life would be nothing but a mortal boredom.

And then at least... there's you. It's been two days since you and Danny officially lived together, something you celebrated of course. But something was wrong with you. As Jed, he pretended to ignore it, but in reality, he knew very well what you were thinking. He didn't stop thinking about it and he couldn't wait for one thing: to take his place again. How will you react? Several options are possible.

The most unlikely would be that you jump into his arms to kiss him, and just agree to live with a murderer, becoming his accomplice. That would be too good to be true. The second option would be fear and misunderstanding. Knowing that he lied to you all this time.... you would be despaired. But you’ll have no choice but to accept it, permanently tarnishing your relationship. Which will bother Danny a bit. And knowing you, the last possible option is that you fight him and notify the police. In this case he would have no choice but to kill you. It would break his heart, but his secret must remain so above all.  

Hoggins' interrogation lasted a few more minutes until his lawyer arrived. And we can say that he is as stupid as his client. Two head-to-slap for the price of one. He has every interest in not being there when Danny kills Hoggins. otherwise... Well, that will make two murders for the price of one. Christmas before time for our murderer. The two men leave the police station and Wilhelm turned the table in the interrogation room, making one of the officers win the bet. Danny left the interrogation room and crossed Hoggins' gaze in the distance, the latter smiling at him to provoke him. But Danny wasn't an idiot and responded in the same way.

“Hmph. Assholes.” Danny simply said.  

“Well Olsen... sorry for bothering you for that. But at least we are making progress. It may not be proven that it was Hoggins who paid the man who ransacked your girlfriend's coffee... But there is a lot of evidence to suspect him of McKellan's murder. It's a matter of time, I guess.” said Wilhelm.  

“Don't worry about that. He loses nothing to wait. You will eventually have him. His provocative little smile will soon fall. With that, I'll leave you. I still have work ahead of me. And an adorable girlfriend too. See you later, inspector.”

Danny left the police station to return to the apartment, still at work. The newspaper articles are not going to be written on their own. unfortunately. And in addition, he will be alone, given that you work at the café today. normally. He took the opportunity to do some shopping to fill the fridge, life for two, obviously the food goes down faster. Once he arrived, he put away the groceries, put down his belongings, took off his coat to end up in a tank top, and then walked to his office. And even there he locked it, from the inside. We never know in case you have the good idea to make him a surprise attack, when he clearly asked you not to enter this room.

He landed in front of his computer and began to write his articles, or even to finish others that he had already begun. Taking a break from time to time to rest his eyes, even with glasses you have to be careful. Drinking a sip of coffee, which was nothing compared to yours, he rereads what he had written so far. He was proud of it, proud of what he wrote, proud to see his work appreciated. Even if it is not his real name that is at the end of each article. Jed Olsen will always remain as a cover name... but in your eyes it will be Danny Johnson and nothing else. A name he can't wait to hear from you in your future... intimate evening.

He resumed writing his articles for a few more hours before stopping for today. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes and got up, taking his cup of coffee to wash it. He looked at his hunting board, including the photo of hoggins that he circled several times in red, then he left his office and locked it to avoid any intrusion on your part. It's not that he doesn't trust you but... Curiosity is sometimes too strong against reason.

“Well... Everything goes as planned... Hoggins even makes it easy for me. But I'm going to have to be careful. I feel like he wants to drag me along with him in his downfall. If I feel that it is too dangerous over the next 2 days... I wouldn't wait until the evening of the festival to kill him. Sorry honey, but I may have to speed things up.” said Danny to himself.  

Putting the news on TV, Danny started preparing the meal for tonight, when he got a call to say the least... singular. Wilhelm? But what did he want from him at this hour?

“Inspector? A problem?” he asks.

“Tell me Olsen... you lived well in Florida, didn't you? About 4/5 years ago? Does the name Nicolas Pheels tell you anything?” said Wilhelm.  

Danny's heart missed a beat. Obviously, he knew this name... It's the name of the man who destroyed Danny's life forever. The "doctor" who took care of Carla. But why and how did Wilhelm get this name?

“Olsen? Are you still there?”  

“Yeah. Yes, I know him. It was the doctor who took care of Carla until... until the end. Why?"

“My condolences. I did some research on Hoggins...  to learn a little more about this asshole. And it turns out that he lived in his second home in Florida and... he was visibly very friendly with this guy. From what I read, Hoggins financed the hospital run by Pheels. But some doctors said, in exchange for anonymity, that Hoggins was willing to fund a little more for each death. In order to pass this on to a material financial need. Of course... Pheels kept everything to himself.” replied Wilhelm.

“I knew it... What a son of a b**ch!” responds Danny.  

“This guy is dangerous Olsen... a real crazy one. So, pay close attention to you two, ok? He is not the type to be afraid of death.”

“Yes... I hope he will pay for what he has done. And believe me... he will pay dearly.”

Danny hung up, before hitting the worktop with force. Decidedly this little war with Hoggins has been going on for longer.... It's not just Pheels' fault... but also hoggins' fault if Carla had died. Pheels has already paid, Hoggins will pay double. 3 Days.... 3 small days... he couldn't wait. Suddenly he heard the front door open. And all his anger and frustration disappeared when he saw you enter, a cheerful smile on his lips. At least you had a better day than him.

“Hello Honey!” you said cheerfully.  

“Hi, Darling. How was your day?” Danny said with a little smile.  

“Darling? This is the first time I've heard you say that. Would I already be too old for you?”

“Ha ha, for me it's more of a form of politeness than anything else. And then it changes from Honey or Sweetheart, right?”

“Let us keep this expression for when we will be two old madmen in wheelchairs. And to answer your question... my day went very well. We are at the point on the cake for the festival, we are at the point on the festival anyway ... all we have to do is wait for the great event. And we had a lot of people at the café. What about you?”

Danny gently took you by the waist to stick you against him, burying his head in your neck. You hug him in return, rubbing his back to console him. He raised his head slightly, looking down at the front door, bad looking in his face. You know this look that could kill you without you being able to react... That's exactly what Danny looked... And if you weren't there, he would have made his smile the unhealthiest, the craziest of all the smiles he could make. But you are there so he has to stay in his role... All the way.

“So bad this day?” you ask even if you already know the answer.  

“No... let's say I just learned something... which I wish I had never known. I had my doubts... Now it's clear.”

And don't worry... You will also be in confidence.

And even you wouldn't dare to believe it.

***

(It makes an insupportable heat in my house, what a hell. Fortunately, fans exist! I am in the process of developing my fanfic on Re8 village, just to have a coherent scenario. I would like to warn that it will be a kind of... of alternative universe where unfortunately the Winters will be a little or not present at all. But there will be Chris! Since some characters like Lady Dimistrescu were inspired by Count Dracula and Countess Bathory, I decided to go in this spirit. If you dreamed of a lycan Heisenberg, I'll give it to you! (At least I'll try... I am not promising anything.) I hope you’ll like this chapter like the others ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)

#dbd fanfic #dbd #dead by deadlight #ghostface #danny johnson #jed olsen

[order-of-river-phoenix]

I could use a good story. Can i ask for a little nix fic? Maybe one where his gf thinks hes cheating cuz hes been avoiding her but really hes super nervous about proposing to her?

Not According To Plan; Lewis Nixon

Fandom: HBO War; Band of Brothers

A/N: not me coming back from the dead with a 1K+ word imagine oop- anyway... My inspiration to write has been negative lately so I wrote this over the course of a couple weeks, and I’m so sorry this took so long! I hope you like it tho. Also, Y/N/N = your nickname

Warnings: none :) but it gets a lil sketchy on the angst front; FEMALE reader

Taglist: @liebegott @stressedinadress @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @teenmagazines @hbohmygodx @meteora-fc @punkgeekchic @vintagelavenderskies @hoosiers-hoe @mavysnavy @inglourious-imagines @warrior-healer @alienoresimagines @hannahbear1 @easy-company-tradition @wexhappyxfew

(Let me know if you either want to be taken off/added to the taglist; also let me know if you’ve changed your url so that I can be sure I’m tagging you)

__________

"I was thinking dinner," you said into the receiver. "And possibly a walk?"

"I'd love to, Y/N/N..." Lewis started.

You held your breath for the-

"But I'm busy tonight. I've got some things to finish up. How's tomorrow?"

"I've got work tomorrow," you reminded him, hoping he might give in.

"Right." He breathed a curse just barely audible. "I'll make it up to you, alright? Next day you don't work."

You sighed, realizing he was dead set in his own plans for the evening. The romantic urges that had been tugging at your heart began to gain some slack. "Alright. I'll see you then."

The next date was a spontaneous visit to his house with food.

"Y/N," he stammered, surprised by your appearance at his door. He kissed you in greeting before letting you in. "I wasn't expecting you."

"I missed you," you pouted, holding out the bags of food you were carrying. "I brought lunch, so you can't tell me to leave because I know you haven't made anything to eat."

"I knew there was a reason I liked you." He took the bags from you and into the kitchen.

"More than one I hope," you scoffed.

He gave you a sly smirk and was about to say something else just as the phone rang, cutting him off. "I'll be right back." He kissed you before leaving the kitchen to answer the phone in the hall.

Taking the moment of his preoccupation to plate the food, you hummed to yourself as you scooped green beans onto two plates.

"Listen, not now," Lew's voice carried in from the hall. "This isn't a good time. I'll call you back later. Alright, bye."

His tone concerned you, but you weren't going to grill him. If he wanted you to know what it was about, he'd tell you.

Incidentally, he did not want to divulge because when he reappeared in the kitchen, he wore an unreadable expression but made no mention of the short-lived conversation he just had. "Lunch looks great, sweetheart." A smile stretched across his face and you momentarily forgot about what you had heard. "Don't skimp me on those potatoes."

__________

Another cancelled date. It was just supposed to be a night out to the movies, but Lew had called to say he needed to stay late at work.

"Babe, I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It's fine," you assured him, though once again, you felt yourself deflate. "You don't need to apologize for being busy. I get it. Don't work too hard, alright?"

"Next time," he said, "I promise."

"I love you. Be safe getting home."

"I love you too, Y/N/N." He waited for you to hang up before letting out an anxious breath. The idea of lying to you made his skin itch, and he was burning right now. He ran a hand over his face and got up from his desk.

"I didn't know you were staying late," Delia, the secretary, commented seeming to have appeared out of nowhere. "Is there some new project you're working on?"

Momentarily startled by her sudden presence, Lew shook his head. "I'm not staying late." He got up from his desk and grabbed his coat. "In fact, I'm leaving now. I've got reservations to make."

"But you just..." her voice trailed off just as her eyes widened. "Sir, not to pry, but does this have anything to do with the thing that I definitely did not see on your desk a while back?"

"Yes," he replied, slipping his arms into the coat.

Her jaw dropped. "Does Dick know?"

The look he gave her made her facepalm.

"What am I saying? Of course, Dick knows."

"Delia, I really do have to go," he reminded her. He stopped for a moment. "Please don't mention this to anyone."

"Mum's the word," she promised as he rushed out.

__________

It had been over a week since you had spent any real time with your boyfriend, and you were growing more nervous and self-conscious by the day. There were thoughts that you couldn't help but entertain, even against your better judgement. As much as you wanted to push these thoughts away, they gnawed at the pit of your stomach at any given moment.

But out of the blue, Lew called.

"I know you don't work today—I called and checked—so I'll be over in half an hour to come get you. I figured I still owe you that dinner and walk."

As happy as you were to accept, your anxiety grew as you got yourself ready. You shed a few stray tears but primarily held yourself together. Your thoughts persisted as you heard the knock at the door.

“How’s my best girl?”

You offered him a tight smile. “You mind stepping in a minute? I’m not quite ready to go.”

He followed you back into the living room of your small apartment.

Trying not to choke on your words, you finally managed to spit it out. "Why have you been avoiding me?" You feared the answer, and the look on his face didn't ease your anxiety.

"Avoiding you? Have I been..." His voice trailed off as he noticed the hurt you were trying to conceal. He closed his eyes, releasing a breath. "I'm so sorry."

"I want you to be honest with me, Lewis." Your expression hardened at the sound of what you thought was a confession. "Are you seeing someone else?"

He blinked incredulously at you before sputtering out, "What? You're joking right?" He wanted to laugh, but he knew it wasn't the time. Instead he pulled you into his chest, tucking your head under his chin. "In retrospect, I see how you could have thought that, but I swear that's not it."

You pried free from his embrace, still not entirely convinced. "Then why the secrecy? Why the phone calls and late nights and cancelled plans?"

"There goes my surprise," he mumbled. He sighed before lightly sitting on the edge of the couch, beckoning you to join him. When you did, he looked pleadingly into your eyes. "I was... dammit. I was so nervous about asking you, and I guess subconsciously I avoided you to keep from doing it too early."

"Doing what?" It came out harsher than you had intended, but your patience was wearing thin. "What were you going to ask me?" The vaguest idea of what it could be formed in the back of your mind, but your skepticism was refusing to let it grow.

"I wanted to propose," he admitted gently. "I had the perfect spot picked out. Dick helped me practice the speech I was going to give leading up to it down pat. I've had the ring for... a while. But every chance I had to move in the right direction, I got scared."

That little inkling that had formed was yelling "Told you so!" And you felt your heart melt immediately. "You were going to propose to me?"

He nodded, suddenly looking more nervous than you'd ever seen him. "Would you say yes?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Are you asking?"

He gave you a sideways glance before moving from his place on the coach to bended knee in front of you. "Y/N, will you marry me?"

"Absolutely," you practically gushed. Even expecting it, your heart raced at the sound of the words. You flung your arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry for-“

“Shhh...” he coaxed, rubbing your back. “Don’t apologize, baby. Let this be a happy moment.” He loosened himself from your embrace to look at you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“If I get to be with you for the rest of my life, then I’ll be happier than I’ve ever been.”

#band of brothers #mariah writes: band of brothers #lewis nixon #lewis nixon x reader #band of brothers imagine

[aikrus]

Another Day, Another Life (Tenya Iida x Villain!Reader)

Fandom: Bnha / Mha  Warnings: Angst, amnesia, swearing, weed, coping with death, hallucinations  Words: 3,456 Requested by: No one, but requests are open!  Request/ Description: Casualties are expected in a war, but when a child dies no one is ready. No one knows how to react. The death of a teen can tear people apart, it can rip people into shreds to never be put together again, but is it better or worse if they’re not actually dead?

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          Toga was far from an ideal friend. She was clingy and rude, she talked too much and she cared primarily about herself. She was weird and difficult to get understand, and you never really knew where she stood. She wasn’t perfect, but having her was a blessing in disguise. 

“Y/n, we’re heading out, are you ready?” While she wasn’t perfect, she was pretty close to it. Himiko had a strange way with words, and she could always make the world feel smaller than it was. Her voice was like warm honey on a spoon; hazy caramel color and sweet, perfect for recovery.

“I’m ready, thanks for grabbing me,” Y/n wasn’t close to anyone. It was hard to get attached when the overwhelming threat of having friends ripped away from her grasp constantly loomed over her. She kept her distance, but it was hard not to get sucked into being friends with the blonde.

“Of course!” Her bright smile feels like it should be un-nerving, it holds malice and hatred, it’s the smile of a girl who has been rejected her entire life- but it almost makes others smile back. And so, Y/n’s face was covered with the rare grin; which had become scarce. 

“It really isn’t that big a deal, but Shigarki is getting trigger-happy. We should hurry, I’m pretty sure Dabi will set his hands on fire if we don’t leave soon!” Her voice dripped sugar, and Y/n found herself hurrying. She put her phone into her side pocket, and she secured her outfit. 

The pair walked out of Y/n’s assigned room, and they made their way to the group scattered around the bar. “I thought you all were ready? Let’s get a move on!” Y/n said, there was an unusual lightness to her tone.

The group had started to pass through the given portals Kurogiri had made for them, and one by one they stepped through. In the end, only Dabi and Y/n were left standing with the tall void-like man. 

“Hey,” the gruff man had grabbed a hold of Y/n’s y/s/c arm, and he had lightly pulled it back.

“What’s the deal, Dabi?” She asked, not rudely, but he could tell she didn’t appreciate the physical contact. They were far from close. When Y/n woke up, Dabi could tell something was off about her. Not wrong necessarily, she just had a very unique vibe that he felt was oddly familiar. 

“It’s just...” he sighed and shook his head, “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.” 

Whatever it was that Dabi was going to tell her obviously didn’t matter that much, so she shook it off and went through the portal. 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” Kurogiri looked him in the eyes with a knowing gleam in his eyes.

Dabi nodded and walked through the portal- it would be cruel to tell her- he decided as soon as he saw her laughing with Toga. She has no memory of it, and she just recently started to act like herself again, why would I ruin that for her?

Amnesia was a tricky situation for anyone to deal with. It was dangerous to the person suffering from it, due to how trusting and gullible they become- but it is significantly worse for those of them who have their memories of the victim intact.

Dabi was one of those lucky people- so is the majority of the other people on the team. They can all think back to at least one memory of the spunky girl they have grown to care for. She was always so strong, yet somehow she was always overshadowed by her over-zealous classmates. Those stars that tried to outshine her magnificence- Dabi could only hope they would burn out soon.

He had been one of the first to meet the girl, and boy was she hard to forget. If her physical appearance didn’t grab his attention- her striking y/e/c eyes and flawless y/h/c hair- her quirk definitely did. 

GateKeeper was a well-known up-and-coming hero and student at UA’s school for future hero’s, she was the receiver of the most interning opportunities, and she was respected by almost everyone. Named after her quirk, GateKeeper- or rather, Y/N, is able to access the gates between different planes. 

She can visit the gates of hell, she can see the holy light of heaven, she can see the Mormon’s different kingdoms and the fields of Aaru. She can walk along the banks of river Styx with those about to be reincarnated. 

She can see spirits or those who have passed, and she can comfort those who have lost love ones. With this power, she has been given the ability to have the power of those who have died where she is standing. She can call on the remaining spirits to help her, and she has the power to reap souls. 

Dabi had spent countless hours thinking about the girl who froze him in place- she showed him his worst fear and didn’t bat an eye. She was fierce and protective of all the other students, she stood in front of them and, with her small undead army of soldiers who could never move on, defended them till her last breath. If only she had died.

The fight hadn't lasted long, the pros took out most of the b-tier criminals, and the students were fighting here and there. With All-might out of the picture, it was anyone's guess how the fight would go.

Who would have thought that a single girl who wipe the floor with them? Ahh yes, in a flash of light she managed to subdue the vast majority of the villains, if only she hadn’t lost consciousness- then maybe she wouldn’t have been snatched away so easily. 

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

It was hard to believe that Iida would skip school. For the first handful of days after the attack, he dragged himself to his classes- half-conscious and unwilling to be aware of his surroundings.

Eventually having to push himself to get out of his bed- let alone go to school- grew too much for him. He settled with walking to the canteen when everyone else was out to get food before going back to his room. 

He was never one for dramatics, but Iida knew there was nothing he could do. He had failed her, the love of his life slipped through his fingers- never to be seen again.

Day after day he listened to a voicemail left months before the incident- he was never happier for his phone to be dead than when he knew he could hear her talk to him again. 

And while Iida had his outlet for his sadness, his classmates were going more and more concerned with every passing minute. 

Midoriya would double take when he heard her voice through his wall, and, silently, he would press his ear against it just so he could make-believe she was still with them.

“Hey, Tenya! I guess you’re busy huh? Haha! It’s so weird to talk to your voicemail- I’ve never had to before. Well, I miss you! Remember that just because it’s Christmas and I’m not with you doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to celebrate with your other friends!

I just want to remind you how much I love you! You are such a great boyfriend, and I’m glad that you’re mine. I was planing on FaceTiming you while we have Christmas dinner, but since I can’t I guess this will have to do~

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening?

In the lane, snow is glistening

A beautiful sight

We're happy tonight

Walking in a winter wonderland

Gone away is the bluebird

Here to stay is a new bird

To sing a love song

While we stroll along

Walking in a winter wonderland

In the meadow, we can build a snowman

We'll pretend that he is Parson Brown

He'll say, are you married?

We'll say, no man

But you can do the job when you're in town

Later on, we'll conspire

As we dream by the fire

To face unafraid

The plans that we've made,

Walking in a winter wonderland”

She cleared her throat and laughed a little, “That was really awkward, but I hope you’ll accept my mini Christmas gift! I’ll wait to open the one you got me until I’m with you again. I love you Tenya, merry Christmas!”

Once again, the shrill ring of an ended voicemail echoed through his room. Wiping away a stray tear- Iida sat down at his desk.

Everything had been going so perfect, everything was going exactly to plan. His brother had been in recovery, they had been going smoothly, classes had finally declared winter-break, and then... everything fell apart. The storm had been brewing, and brewing, and then it came- and then it destroyed everything in its wake. 

It’s hard to accept a loss that you didn’t see happen. He didn’t get the goodbye, or the I’ll never let go. There was no body to hold on to, no one in the casket which was lowered to the ground. Nothing to show that his lover was gone- only the empty dorm room and phone number that gave no answer. 

The school had opened it’s doors during winter break for all the students and parents to come. Some of her closest friends only ever saw her in the hallow walls of UA, and now they didn’t have the chance to see her anywhere else.

There was really no good way to deal with it. ‘It’. Iida despised that word now- ‘it’ was the only way people described the death of his girlfriend. As if death was a taboo word, ‘it’ was all people talked about and yet their words meant nothing. 

Tenya was doing his best- fighting every single fucking day at a time. He hated what he had turned into. He hated the state of being that he devolved to be. Every trait she adored about her boyfriend diapered.  Failing to go to class and snapping at those that came close enough to bother him. He had always gotten cold when faced with misery, resolved and retreated in himself- he had never seen himself as someone who would take up smoking to feel better.

Weed always seemed so far beneath him, it felt like something nothings did to feel better about themselves instead of working hard at bettering themselves, but now even Denki wasn’t eager to help him. Last time he visited the blonds room Kaminari rejected him, saying that he wasn’t getting high in the right way and that he was worried Iida would become a drug abuser with how things were turning up. 

Tenya hated himself more that night. He hated himself and he hated everyone else. He hated Uraraka, who coped with baking Y/n’s favorite cookies and eating them to the movie they would watch during their own girl’s night. 

He hated Momo too, she still got straight A’s and seemed to be just fine- pretending like we didn’t hear her obnoxious sobs at two am. He hated Mina too- she had no place wearing Y/n’s hoodie to school everyday. It was a shitty thing to do. 

He’s pissed at Deku as well- Midoriya the hypocrite. Knocks on his door every day with his missed classwork and with his judgement, pressuring him to leave his room. Everyone knows his grade’s have gone down since her death so who is he to talk about attending class. 

He hates Bakugo, who only ever yelled at her even when she joked around with him- who’s words she laughed at but really made her drown in her insecurities when she was suppose to be secure in her boyfriends arms. Fuck Bakugo, for glaring at her empty seat next to him like he didn’t openly mock her when she got a grade lower than him. Fuck him for screaming at 3am and breaking the school punching bags. Fuck him for feeling bad after hurting her. Fuck him for being her friend. Fuck him for giving a shit. Fuck everyone.

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

Aizawa sighed once he sat at his desk. Classes would start in half and hour and he was still crying. His silent tears burned down his cheek and all he could fell was the raw aching in his throat and the headache that felt like it was killing him slowly. 

He saw it then. In that classroom starring at her desk, he can see it happening. 

The cold breeze had moved his hair into his face, giving the villain a second outside of his hold. One second- yet it was long enough for him to disappear into the ground. 

“Dammit,” he hissed, looking around him. 

He heared Mic’s screech at a crowed of them on his left, and the majority of his students stood tall on his right. Everything was chaotic, but a Nomu appeared from the forest line everything exploded. 

He felt a familiar chill crawl over his skin, signifying Y/n using one of her ultimate moves ‘Fallen Heros’. AS what looked like hundreds of dead warriors of different generation’s rose from the ground- some in modern military uniform and others in ancient armor- and surrounded the giant Nomu. 

More appeared- in uniquely them outfits. They were the dead pro-heroes, the ones who passed during a fight they’ll never get to finish. The ones who either dine at Valhalla or will never be at peace after failing. 

A woman with black hair flew as she fought- with more ease than the others that were in spirit form. It was safe to assume that this was her quirk. The other that sent momentary shock waves through the gathering was Sir Nighteye, who waisited no time wiping out the waves of villains. 

Aizawa took notice of Y/n’s body floating in mid-air. The cost of her quirk- she had to keep note of all those she called upon. If one of the fallen are out of her sight for too long her body replicates what the dead’s went through, and she would eventually die from the injury. 

The dead soldiers ended the battle very suddenly, and, as their spirits returned to the afterlife, a large explosion of dust swallowed the crowed. 

Once they could all see, and the hectic environment calmed, Iida’s voice cut through the air. He was screaming as loud as he could, frantically running around the field of people. 

“Y/n!” He had shouted, his voice becoming horse. “Y/n!” Everyone became deathly pale and still as the horror of realization came upon them. She was gone. 

“Y/l/n?” Aizawa had shouted, starting the shove peoples shoulders to get to where she was. 

“Y/l/n now is NOT the time to play games!” He had hopefully prayed. His face fell along with his voice as he made it to where she had been floating. A scorched square of land had taken her place. 

His mind tried to go back and see the rose dead she had summoned, he looked frantically for a scorched soldiers face, but he couldn't find one. Even then it wasn’t hard to guess at what had happened.

No one near her had heard her screams, but with the noise coming from everyone in the dust storm, it would be unlikely that they would have been heard whether she screamed or not. 

He was right there. He saw her. He was less than three yards away. How did he let this happen?

He remembers looking around for a corpse of a soldier, but he wondered if, with Y/n dead, they would be able to live anyway. 

He pinched the bridge of his noes, wiping away the pools of tears from his stinging eyes. Rubbing them with his palm, his vision blurs when he looks up. Yet, even with the lines blurring, what he sees is unmistakable.

“Y/n?” He asked, seeing her figure sit on the top of her desk. 

“Calling a student by their first name,” she teased lightly, “how unprofessional,”

“Are you...” he stopped and starred at her, “Are you really here? Is this a part of your quirk?” 

“C’mon Eraserhead, like I would know. If you’re right then you’re right. If you’re wrong then I’m just a fixation of your brain and I wouldn’t know it,” She tried to reason, hopping off of her desk. 

“Damn... you’re right. I’m going batshit crazy,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

“So,” Y/n smirked, walking up to his desk and bending over, placing her hands on her locked knees, “Wanna talk about why you’re fantasizing about your dead, female, super fucking hot, student?”

He groaned out annoyed and clawed at his eyes, “Why the fuck is that happening? I hate that, I hate this, cut this shit out!” He shouted, pushing his hand into his covered corneas. 

“What shit out?” Hizashi asked, stepping into his classroom.

“Nothing Mic, just overthinking,” he responded, slamming his eyes open looking for his student. 

“Alright Shouta, just remember that I’m across the hall if you ever need to talk,” 

Sighing once he noticed Y/n had vanished, he wondered if this was confirmation that he was hallucinating. Needless to say, Y/n definitely responded to her situation exactly how he would expect her to when she figured out her action’s had no consequence- like a little shit who needs to be put into detention. 

God, even thinking that last sentence made Aizawa feel dirty. He’ll definitely need to scrub his skin red after that. 

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

Breakfasts in the mornings have changed a lot since school opened back up. Y/n was always made a plate of food and a drink every morning, it varied in who made it every couple days. No one vocalized what the food at her usual spot on the couch meant, but it was an unspoken rule that it would stay undisturbed. 

No one was entirely sure who cleaned it up when they were in class. They were pretty sure it wasn’t Iida, the seat was clear even when he was in class with them. 

Everyone missed her voice in the mornings. Whether she was complaining about late nights (to which Denki or Mina would yell get some in her direction after) or she was cracking jokes to help wake everyone up, her voice still rung in the air leaving a hole of silence where it once was. 

People’s sentences often drifted off half way through as their eyes caught themselves on her corner seat, where she once curled up into half a ball as she placed her plate of breakfast on top of a throw pillow. 

As people would shuffle off to class, everyone would throw a look over their shoulder and give a moment of their time to the friend they would never get to see again. 

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

Taking one more look at the lock-screen of a phone she couldn’t unlock, she wondered who it was on her screen. A boy with strikingly unique features had white ice cream smeared from his noes down to his lips, and a small smirk was percent on his face. Lights from a Ferris Wheel and fairy lights lit up the dark night sky behind him, and what looked like her knuckles were in front of the camera, showing their interlocked fingers. 

It was a cute photo, but it was so foreign to her it made Y/n wonder if the phone was even hers. She sighed after staring at the keypad, asking for her password. The face id had been disabled after it shut off, and all she could do was hope she would remember what is was.

“You okay?” Toga asked, placing a hand on Y/n’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded, taking in the forest clearing Toga had taken her off to, splitting off from the rest of the group. “What are we doing here Himiko?”

“The other members want to know how much control you still have over your quirk. They thought I would be the best person for you t be around when we do this,” She explained, a soft smile on her face as she explained. 

“Huh,” Y/n had a few thoughts running around in her mind, “Shigiraki didn’t want you to tell me did he?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” She teased, a wide smile on her face.

“I dunno... it felt like someone whispered it in my ear, if that makes sense?” 

“Who knows, that could be one of the parts of your quirk,”

“What exactly is my quirk?” She asked, glaring at one of the birds near them who had grown to be too loud. 

“It’s kinda hard to explain. The easiest way that I know how to explain it is that you’ve got a strong connection to the dead. You can talk to them, visit them I think, and most importantly you can summon them to fight for you,”

“Fight for me?” Y/n echoed. She wasn’t quiet sure why, but that phrasing felt weird... it almost felt off... 

“Yup!” Himiko cheered, bouncing slightly. 

“Alright,” Y/n sighed, shaking her arms, “Let’s give this shit a try,” she declared, moving her arms slowly from beneath her hips, struggling to get them above her waist.

In front of her, a muddy figure rose from the ground, it’s shoulders cracking as it took a deep breath of clean, fresh, air.

#Bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #iida tenya #Tenya iida #iida tenya x reader #tenya iida x reader #Tenya x reader #Iida x reader #Tenya Iida x Villain Reader #Bnha villain reader #bnha villian reader #tenya iida x villian reader #Bnha angst #angst #death #bnha death #boku no hero academia #boku no academia #my hero academia #my hero #iida x reader

[reyescarlos]

if the moon fell down || buddie drabble

wow look at me writing my first fic for this fandom. nothing fancy but i needed to get this out of my head. enjoy some nighttime buddie <3

Buck isn’t sure what time it is but he knows without a doubt that he should have been asleep a while ago. Beside him Eddie’s snores softly, perfectly content after the two of them put Chris to bed some time ago. He stares absently at the ceiling before deciding his restless body needs to move.

He gets out of bed as stealthily as he can, doing his best not to disturb Eddie’s rest. He glances at the man once before leaving the room and padding quietly down the hall. Buck opens the door to Christopher’s room and pauses in the door frame. As expected, the boy is sound asleep like his father but Buck still watches over him for a few moments and smiles at the sight. This kid is without a doubt his favorite in the world. He looks over at the cork board on Chris’ wall. Tacked up are his drawings with all the usual suspects, himself included.

Smiling to himself, Buck returns to Eddie’s room and slips under the covers once more, turning on his side to face his boyfriend. If Eddie were to wake up right now, Buck is certain he’d tease him mercilessly for watching him as he slept but Buck can’t help it. Eddie’s face is simply one of his favorite things and he’ll take advantage of any and all opportunities to gaze upon it. He loves how relaxed Eddie looks when he sleeps. Buck knows firsthand just how much of a marathon the man’s life is each day. Between caring for Chris and working long hours at such a dangerous job, getting a few hours worth of decent rest is the very least he deserves.

Buck can’t help but to wonder what thoughts run through Eddie’s mind now. Selfishly he hopes he’s making an appearance in the man’s dreams. Lord knows Eddie runs through his all the time. Buck marvels at how young Eddie looks. Unperturbed and at complete ease, all the concerns that otherwise take up residence in his head are at bay. The pinch of skin between his eyebrows that typically springs up periodically is smoothed out now. Buck watches the steady rise and fall of Eddie’s chest, captivated by the machinery that keeps the man he loves running. It’s almost painful to look at Eddie sometimes. More often than not Buck feels overwhelmed by how full his heart is with love and adoration for this man.

Suddenly he truly is overcome by the feeling. The dull ache in his chest grows despite his best efforts to keep it at a distance. Buck stifles a sob, grateful that Eddie is still snoozing beside him and can’t see him now. Christ, what is wrong with me? Buck thinks. There’s nothing to be sad over and yet he can’t seem to stop himself from shedding tears now. This isn’t the response he expects to have. He knows that in this moment he is happier than he’s ever been and yet—

Buck sniffles and sits upright, scrubbing at his eyes to make it stop but he quickly realizes it’s a losing battle. Coming undone like this was absolutely not in his game plan but the disconnect between his brain and his body now are making it impossible for him to control it.

“Buck,” Eddie says groggily. “You okay?”

Buck curses inwardly. He hadn’t even realized Eddie woke up. “Shh, go back to sleep,” Buck whispers, keeping his head down to hide his face.

Eddie sits upright slowly in bed before turning to switch on the lamp on the nightstand. 

“You’re crying,” he says. “Buck what’s wrong? What happened?” The concern is etched into Eddie’s feature so sharply Buck can only feel guilty for it. This was the last thing he wanted. Eddie was always a million things at once. At three in the morning he should be fast asleep.

“I’m okay, seriously,” Buck tries once more, drawing in a breath and attempting to collect himself. Whatever expression is on Buck’s face clearly isn’t convincing enough as Eddie reaches a hand to his face and gentle strokes his cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “Yeah, real convincing argument,” he counters, not unkindly. “Did something happen? Are you okay? Is Maddie alright?” Buck intervenes quickly, not wanting Eddie’s escalating thoughts to spiral even further. “Everyone is fine, I swear. I’m good, Eddie. I’m just…really happy,” he chuckles. “I promise.” For the first time in minutes Eddie relaxes and Buck swears the smile that breaks across the man’s face is like a sunrise on a snowy day. It’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and he’s grateful he’s the reason for such a sight. “I couldn’t sleep,” Buck continues. “I don’t know why but I just feel so wired tonight. I went to check on Chris and I got back here and just started looking at you and it felt— I don’t know, it’s stupid,” he says dismissively, shaking his head. “If you’re feeling it, I don’t think it’s stupid,” Eddie presses. “Go on.” Reassured, Buck looks Eddie directly in his warm brown eyes. With this man in his corner, he knows that he can do or say anything and that includes being candid at such an hour. “It’s just that I didn’t think I could ever have any of this and now, it’s my life each and every day. It’s insane to go from having nothing to everything. You changed all that for me and I don’t wanna lose it. I can’t afford to.” Eddie’s brows furrow at the last bit. “Whoa, who said anything about this going away?” “It always ends, my relationships. Either I’m too much or not enough. I’ve got too much invested here. I’m not sure I’ll be able to bounce back and that scares the hell out me.” Eddie places his hands on both sides of Buck’s face, forcing his attention solely on him as he speaks. “You are exactly what I want. You’re exactly what I need. I’m not going anywhere, Buck, do you hear me? Do you think I could survive losing you? Or Chris for that matter? You’re loved, Evan. So deeply and fully. Please don’t ever doubt that.” Buck’s vision blurs as more tears fill his eyes. It’s so easy to believe in what Eddie’s saying. Buck hates that voice of doubt that whispers in his ear every now and then. But looking at Eddie, he knows what the truth is, he knows which voice he can believe in. “I love you,” Buck says quietly. The wavering image of Eddie leans forward and places a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment before brushing his nose softly against Buck’s. “I love you, too. And I plan on spending the rest of my life showing you.”

#911 #911 fanfic #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #kimmy writes #sulkybbarnes #evanbuckleyed #dimshums

[laceymorganwrites]

Exile

Word count: 1,135

Pairing: former Kenma x reader

Warnings: swearing maybe, a bunch of heartbreak, yelling

Song: Exile - Taylor Swift, Bon Iver

A/N: I´ve had this idea for so long now, I finally got my ass up to write it.

Taglist: @babythotshq (send in an ask to be added to my general taglist or to my fandom specific ones, you can also ask to be tagged in works for a certain character)

I can see you standin', honey With his arms around your body Laughin' but the joke's not funny at all And it took you five whole minutes To pack us up and leave me with it Holdin' all this love out here in the hall

Kenma didn´t expect to see you so soon after your break up. Well, it´s been months, but still, the wound was more than fresh for him. He thought too much whether or not he should approach you, but as soon as he saw another pair of arms wrap around you, his heart sunk.

So you had already moved on…

On the one hand he wished he could too, but then again, he would never be able to forget you, stop loving you even less.

His eyes went wide at the sound of your laughter, he never thought he´d hear it again, it was one of his favorite sounds in the world and he regretted nothing more than telling you to shut up because he couldn´t concentrate.

He should´ve made you laugh more. I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending You're not my homeland anymore So what am I defendin' now? You were my town Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before

Kenma knew it was a mistake to get into a relationship with you. And yet he couldn´t stop himself.

Why should he? He loved you after all.

Or so he thought.

He never questioned anything, that was why it didn´t work out. Kenma took everything about you for granted and never once reflected on himself.

Now he knew what a big mistake that was, but then he had more important things to do.

Oh how he hated himself for thinking that way.

But now everything was too late. He let you go just like that and didn´t even watch you walk out.

Regret was all he felt and yet he didn´t have the guts to do anything about it. All he did was think, about how badly he fucked up, about how you were much happier now, about how he wanted to be the one to make you happy. Hoo, hoo-ooh Hoo, hoo-ooh Hoo, hoo-ooh I can see you starin', honey Like he's just your understudy Like you'd get your knuckles bloody for me Second, third, and hundredth chances Balancin' on breaking branches Those eyes add insult to injury

You were too busy laughing at the joke of your boyfriend to notice Kenma staring at you. Well he never was one to stand out in the crowd.

And yet when you looked at your boyfriend, your smile still adamant and your eyes bright, you caught a glimpse of him and everything around you went dark.

It felt like gravity was pulling you to the ground, punching you in the face and kicking your guts at the same time.

Kenma still had that uncaring look on his face, it was something you grew to hate over time, something that always frustrated you so much.

You were still mad at him for letting you walk out like that, no, you were mad at yourself for not being more persistent.

But then again, you were doing your best. Your best to be there for him, to spend time with him.

And every one of your attempts was blocked by him, belittled and he would always roll his eyes at you, telling you not to overreact like that.

But with someone who didn´t react at all, that was the natural reaction. I think I've seen this film before And I didn't like the ending I'm not your problem anymore So who am I offending now? You were my crown Now I'm in exile seein' you out I think I've seen this film before So I'm leavin' out the side door

Everything came back to you all at once, the way he was always so distant, so annoyed with you, the way he yelled at you that day…

But it wasn´t all his fault.

You shouldn´t have been that clingy, you should have supported him. With Kenma, you never were sure what you were going to get.

Some days he was really cuddly and affectionate and wanted to spend a lot of time with you, but even more days he was distant and didn´t want you anywhere close to him.

On those days you felt more than unwanted, like a bother and nuisance.

So step right out There is no amount Of cryin' I can do for you

Kenma never meant to push you away like that, you were his first relationship, he didn´t know what to do and was too ashamed to ask.

He wanted to be perfect and every time he wasn´t, he got so frustrated and mad at himself.

Never did he mean to take his anger out on you, never did he mean to close up the way he did.

But he couldn´t change time. And the worst thing was that he couldn´t even make it better.

It wasn´t his place anymore, you´ve already found someone to mend your broken heart. All this time We always walked a very thin line You didn't even hear me out (You didn't even hear me out) You never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs)

You fought for him until the very last second. Every time he closed the door on you, you kept knocking and brought him water and food. You always made sure to take care of him even though he didn´t want to see you.

Whenever he was having those bad days of doubt and sadness, you were always there, waiting for him to open up and tell you what was wrong.

He never did.

Communication has always been your biggest problem.

Kenma overall didn´t talk and you just stopped trying at some point.

You never should´ve given up on you. Maybe all of this could´ve been resolved if Kenma told you what he wanted, lacked, needed.

All this time I never learned to read your mind (Never learned to read my mind) I couldn't turn things around (You never turned things around) 'Cause you never gave a warning sign (I gave so many signs) So many signs So many signs (You didn't even see the signs) Kenma decided to go home instead of staring at you and your boyfriend any longer. It was no use anyway.

He could never make up for the way he treated you, he didn´t have the right to.

Neither did he have the right to intrude in your new love and happiness.

If only he noticed the longing look you had on your face when he walked away the same way you once did, without saying a single word.

#haikyuu #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu songfic #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu kenma #kenma kozume #kenma x reader #kenma imagine #kenma oneshot #kenma scenario #kenma songfic #hq #hq imagine #hq oneshot #hq songfic #hq scenario #hq kenma