#is this okay I’ve never done public commissions honestly

[otaku6337]

Why???

Why do people think this is how fandom and creation works???

(hopefully that’s legible lol - a comment saying “Otaku6337. Hi. I have a question, namely, would you be able to write a short story bnha x Avatar (James C’s film) according to my idea. Or bnha x (SpyxFamily) according to my idea”)

Okay so first thing - they didn’t even say please. Which is just straight-up rude.

But second, and main thing - why? 

I haven’t mentioned that I take ideas, or requests, or anything of the sort. They commented on a bnha fic, but I’ve never written for SpyxFamily or Avatar. It takes exactly two clicks to see the list of my posted fandoms.

They didn’t call me by my “name” - by which I mean that anyone who knows me online, or who reads my author’s notes, or my comments, would know that I don’t go by my full username in comments and convos. 

They didn’t say anything about the fic that they commented on (I’m 98% sure they didn’t read it, partic as it was my most recently updated fic), they didn’t say anything about any of my writing, and honestly I wouldn’t be surprised if they’ve sent this comment to half a dozen other authors, or will do, and they didn’t even have the veiled courtesy to be a suck-up about it.

I don’t mind, generally, when readers of mine ask if I’ll write so-and-so for them. Normally it’s a semi-regular, and I’m quite happy to just say “sounds cool but, sorry, I don’t take requests!” and that’s that. Nobody is annoyed, or offended, or rude, it’s all cordial. No skin off of anybody’s nose, even if I generally don’t think people should be asking things of authors who haven’t offered to take requests. ‘Cause, you know, they haven’t been rude, and I generally have a bit of a “don’t ask don’t get” attitude myself.

But this. I can’t.

They’re a guest (I love guest readers but there’s nothing there to trust when it comes to things like this), they ask for crossovers when A - I haven’t got any crossovers posted and B - I haven’t written for either of the other fandoms, and they have done nothing but say “would you write according to my idea”.

Why should I?

Why can’t people write the fics they want to see in the world (talent is no damn excuse, we all start off with slightly questionable skill), or at least seek out people who actively take requests/commissions?

Why do they think they have the right to even ask? I write fics and post them publicly - I’m not performing a public service at the public’s request. I’m creating my art and choosing to share it. Now I have to choose between deleting, replying, or ignoring them. Even if I do reply and do it politely, they’re not going to like any of the results.

Why do people expect this shit? Why should I, based off of almost nothing, not even knowing if there’s a reason they’re asking me specifically, or what any of the details are (I understand not wanting to share ideas in a public space but they haven’t even mentioned characters or broad tropes), want to put my time into hearing them out in detail, let alone then spending hours of my life writing this for them.

I write for others sometimes. I’m planning on writing for others soon in fact - for my two best friends. For Christmas. I’m choosing, on my own whims, to spend hours of my life writing for two people that I adore. It’s worth it. I know they will enjoy it, even more than that I know that they’ll appreciate it.

The entitled tone of this comment makes it look like they see me as a vending machine. Like they press some buttons and their perfect fic magically appears.

Not like I’m a person who spends their minimal free time doing something I love for myself, and for my readers that I know will appreciate my effort and ideas and passion.

No part of me believes that this person would truly appreciate what I could ever write for them. They might be grateful on the surface level, maybe.

But, well, they didn’t even say please.

Don’t be this person.

#I left their username in cause it's a basic guest name #not identifiable #but I mean really #I don't get why this is a valid way to interact in fandom space #it's the entitlement for me #authors are artists not your vending machine #this person is only one example of many #it's not always this exact problem but it's a pretty good example #fandom etiquette #fandom manners #ao3 #commenting #fanfiction #fic writing #ao3 manners #ao3 etiquette #commenting etiquette #don't be this person #writing vent #fandom vent #fandom rambles

[simplyasimp456]

It’s Better to Have Loved And Lost, Then to Not Have Loved At All (Chapter 362 Spoiler) Chapter 2

It’s still dark outside when I reach the agency. The rain that clings to the car splatters on the garage floor as I get out. Quickly turning to grab my keys, phone, and wallet, I head inside  in pursuit of my office. Hopeful to avoid any and all human interaction. Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends. I just really don’t want to talk to anyone, especially not Kirishima. As nice as he is, I used to feel refreshed by his personality but his kindness has evolved into annoyance at how I’m living my life. He’s always pointed out how terribly I’ve handled things after Kachaan died and he's right. Although, I honestly don’t think it’s any of his fucking business how I grieve. Plus his constant reminders have no end.

“He wouldn’t have wanted this for you.”

“You were his best friend from childhood, I could never take your place.”

I hate when Kirishima says these things. It’s a bitter reminder that he is a better person than me. I mean he was the first person to make a real friend out of Kachaan, even though I couldn't break his mean exterior.

 Rounding the corridor I bump into the small brunette that has plagued my consciousness for the past nine years. Her beautiful brown eyes shocked at my presence then settled on a look of indifference. Great, what a beautiful way to start the morning. 

“Excuse me Midoriya.”

Okay ouch, the sting of her barely acknowledging my existence hasn’t stopped. I let her pass with no more than a single glance, she doesn’t need to know how much I still hurt. I don’t think I would’ve kept a semblance of normalcy with her, not when she’s wearing that ring. I’m glad that she wasn’t weighed down by past events, and Iida’s a good man. I just can’t help but feel broken everytime I see that goddamn ring on her finger. I know my own dissatisfaction is my fault.

I run to my office because if I have any further interaction  with my colleagues, I’ll be burned out by the time my shift officially starts. That’s something no one else should be able to see outside of a therapist. I need to be happy, shining Deku for the public. Not any of those ugly emotions that constantly stir within me. 

The dark oak desk is covered in paperwork that I need to get done by the end of the day along with a horrendous amount of Allmight knicknacks, some things just never change. I can see the dust floating in the room by the little light that shines in from the window. I really need someone to clean this area.

I round the desk stepping over the textbooks and magazines that have accumulated on the ground. Taking a seat on the seasoned leather chair, I grab the clipboard with my daily rounds on it. Everyday of the week I round a specific neighborhood on intervals. Other heroes and I split up the work like this so we don’t get complacent or bored with the same rounds. Basically, this is to ensure we all see some action when we are on duty keeping us up in the polls.

Looking at the clipboard I internally cringe. Of course today of all days I would be personally responsible for patrolling the slums of Hosu City. The “Slums” weren’t always Slum-like, only after the Nomu attack on account of how decimated that side of the city was. On a normal occasio,n the Hero Commission would just shell out the money to pay for the repairs. However, seeing as nobody had an interest in living where many monsters had attacked they found it to be a lost cause.

Standing and stretching a sudden knock on the door catches my attention. 

“Izuku-Kun, I bought us some coffee to enjoy!”

Goddamn Camie. Of course that ditzy bitch couldn’t wrap her mind around what she was to me. Any other woman would have seen clearly what they meant to me at any time. I would bluntly burst through the door like an asshole and hurt her feelings but I can’t find ass as available as Camie even under normal circumstances. It’s hard to get women into your bed when you are a consistent dirtbag to every single one you meet. Especially poor Melissa, all that hope that she could be the one to change me due to knowing me in the past. 

Grabbing the notebook and swallowing the uncomfortable lump in my throat. I decide the best course of action would just be to blow her off. I open the door and push past her. 

“Sorry babe, got shit to do. Go ahead and give that coffee to Uraraka. She’s in a shit mood.”

God I really am a piece of shit.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

The crisp air after fresh rain is one of the small delights I have on patrol. The streets reflect the sun as it peeks out of the clouds and small children run around me chattering excitedly. Pretending to be Mr.Perfect I sign all the autographs their little hearts desire. I don’t know about other heroes but, the reason I’m so successful is the fan service. Whether that be signing something for someone or helping old ladies cross the road, it doesn’t matter. Not saying that is the only reason I do this, there’s more than one perk. 

Being this fake person is better than therapy. It clears out the dark thoughts in my brain, helping me enjoy life in the moment. No more dark thoughts about the day I witnessed someone I cared about lifeless and looking less human then when I last saw them. 

Signing my last autograph, I shoot myself onto the nearest building positioning the sun behind me. This is the last of my fans I’ll see before I take off, why not give them something cool they can snap photos of? With both hands on my hips and a tilted chin, I pose exactly like my predecessor. Speaking of him.

Allmight was the best and worst thing to happen to me. He was the best in the exact ways he was the worst, I mean I am thankful for the power that I was given but, if I wasn’t given OFA would Kachaan still be alive? I think about how high the bar was set by a power I was given and how he constantly bragged about being above it. Well, until he wasn’t. I shake my head, enough torturing myself for at least a couple hours. I have to finish this patrol in one piece. Focusing all the energy in my body I rise into the sky and rocket myself to the Slums.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s been four hours of nothing, at this point I’m doubting anyone even lives here aside from stray dogs. To add though, someone should do something about their population. I got chased twice and saw five dog fights, none of them I could separate. Remembering how one dog completely tore apart a smaller dog. Ugh, disgusting. 

Completely lost in thought I don’t notice the footsteps I can hear around the corner. Mindlessly walking straight into someone. Damnit and here I thought I was alone. Putting on my best Boyscout voice with my smile to match I look down at the person I bumped into, their hood engulfing the entirety of their face.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going. Do you need any help?”

The person lowers their head and coughs slightly.

“I-I’m good. T’thank you.”

That’s weird. That’s suspicious.

“On account of how desolate and abandoned this area is, I’m gonna need to see some ID.”

The hooded figure, obviously male, shifts uncomfortably. Moving his head to the side attempting to seem oblivious looking for an escape route. I know this guy is trouble. Raising his head I see the scars lining his face. Fuck. Blue flames shoot out from his hands as I launch myself in the air. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Moving around requires extreme precision to avoid those deadly flames. Left, right, down, left, up right. Burning off his sweatshirt throwing fireballs in every direction I attempt to go, he starts backing down the alley putting some distance between us. He’s visibly uncomfortable with blood dripping from his hands to the ground. I’m not an idiot, he would fuck up his body just at a chance of escape. Wincing letting the flame lick up his arm he backs up faster. Not today. In the midst of his confusion I launch myself through the air landing a hit on him. This absolute moron, I never could understand the reasoning behind ruining his body for revenge. (Apparently I’m a liar too). He did not want to live but, he was still here fighting and for what exactly? Endeavor has long since died and he hasn’t made his existence known by Shoto for years. This fucker got to live with his death wish but, Kachaan had to die. My mind wanders as my fists beat his face in. In the midst of my anger I hardly notice the damage I’m doing. I have so many unanswered questions, dear higher power, why did he live? Why didn’t Shoto finish him off? Does he have a soft spot for his brother? If so, he's one weak bastard.

“Why do you get to live?” My fist strikes his left cheek breaking bone.

“Why didn’t your brother grow a backbone and kill you?” My other fist connects with his right cheek.

I stand up and prepare for a powerful blow. Kicking him square in his chest shattering a few ribs in process, I ask my last question.

“Why did he die and trash like you gets to walk around free?”

As I rear back my foot to give him another kick to finish him for good a voice shouts out.

“Put your hands on your head, Deku.”

The flashing lights behind me tip me off to how much I fucked up. Shit.

#chapter 362 spoilers #izuku x reader #dirt bag izuku #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha smut

[kiaz1st]

I’m really needing rent money at the moment, if you commission me I will love you. You can message me on here or contact me through discord (Kiaz#3660)! My terms are that you pay half when I have the sketch down and you are happy with it, and the other half after completion, and then you can of course use the art however you’d like.

#is this okay I’ve never done public commissions honestly #art #my art #commissions #if I have multiple people contacting me I will make a queue ^^

[goldenshoyo]

Cruel - Sakusa Kiyoomi x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Semi-public sex, cunt slaps, face slaps (1), finger sucking, degradation, praise, car sex, size kink!, jealous Omi, edging, overstimulation (but in theory sorta, at the end), "daddy" and "bunny" used! As always, please let me know if I missed any!!

Summary: Sakusa Kiyoomi is not a very jealous man, but sometimes his teammates can get under his skin.

Word count: 3k

Author note: This was a commission! Therefore, the reader has some body descriptions (being shorter and smaller than Kiyoomi). If you're interested in commissioning me, please dm me!

--

Nervous was the understatement of the year. While you had met a few of Kiyoomi’s teammates before, usually just saying a quick “hi” and “bye” before he drug you away from them, nothing to this degree. Atsumu had requested that his twin allow the team to have a party at his onigiri shop to celebrate a big tournament win for the team when they got back to Tokyo. Excitement was definitely there, but nothing would stop you from feeling the heavy rock in your gut or the anxious beating of your heart.

Well, nothing but Kiyoomi’s warm hand in yours. He smiled at you before slipping his black mask over his pretty face.

“It’ll be fun,” he assured, and you wondered if he actually felt that way.

He hated these gatherings, probably more than anyone should. Not for the fact he was antisocial or that he didn’t enjoy his teammates. He just didn’t want them flocking to you and making you nervous. However, it had been several months of him turning these things down and opting to spend his days off with you after games. The team was irritated with him for it, and he knew that this one party would make up for all the times missed.

Or at least he hoped.

“I think so too!” You say back cheerfully, adjusting your dress underneath you on the seat of his car. The leather was sticking to your thighs where your sundress rode up.

“You could have worn something more-“

“Think about what you’re about to say.” You warn, and he raises an eyebrow at you. “I like this dress.”

He does too, he wants to tell you. But so will the other members of MSBY. He chooses to not say anything, knowing you would only laugh at his comment or say something smart back. He loves that about you, even if he doesn’t tell you that often. He enjoys watching you get frustrated, furrowing your brows, and pouting your lip. It’s why he always teases you about what you wear. Not that he’d ever actually make you change, well, to an extent he thinks.

“Why are you so in your head?” You ask him as he pulls out of the parking garage.

“I didn’t realize I was,” he answers honestly.

You intertwine your fingers with his on your lap as he drives, listening to the soft sounds of the radio in the background while he takes you to the infamous Onigiri Miya you’d heard about a few dozen times. You knew Kiyoomi liked to pretend he hated Atsumu, but he was probably his closest friend, no matter how much he protested that fact.

It’s a shame this would be the first time you actually got to speak to him or anyone else on the team for that matter. You thought it was definitely cute that he was protective of you, but you were beginning to feel like he was keeping part of his life from you. When you brought it up to him, he apologized profusely, promising to take you to the next event.

--

“-----,” Atsumu’s shit-eating grin appeared for the hundredth time that night. “Tell me again, am I saying that right?” His hand caresses your shoulder and you still, shocked he’d carelessly do this despite you sitting on Omi’s lap.

“There’s not another way to say her name, Miya.” Kiyoomi glares at him from above you. It amazes you that even while sitting on his lap he seems so much larger than you. Thinking about it too much stirs something inside of you that you’d rather save for when you have him alone. So, you push it away. “Stop touching my girlfriend and go find yours.”

He throws his hands up, another laugh vibrating from his chest. “Fine, fine, I’ll stop teasing you Omi Omi.”

As he walks away, you smile down at your boyfriend, and he seems to relax. “Your friends are nice.”

“He’s not my friend.” He huffs looking away from you.

You know better. It’s honestly sort of adorable the way he always denies it.

“Yo!” Bokuto’s booming voice catches your attention as he runs towards you and Kiyoomi. “Osamu said something about a karaoke set, you have to come over here with us -----!”

“I-I don’t know about that,” your fingers dig into your palm as you look to Sakusua. “Would you want to?”

“I can come watch if you want to, bunny.” His fingers slowly stroke your thighs, and you flush; unable to think straight whenever he’s touching you and calling your favorite name.

“Okay,” you stand up going with Bokuto as he drags you towards the front of the Onigiri shop where the others have begun to set up the karaoke machine.

“I’ll sing with you since I know Kiyoomi would rather die than let loose with a song. Anything you like to sing?”

“Oh, uh,” you think. “I’ve never actually done this. So just pick something easy.”

“I guess,” he starts sifting through the catalog that’s on the machine, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun it is!”

You laugh taking the mic he hands you. It’s so ridiculous he would choose it, but you know he’s doing his absolute best to help you feel comfortable around him and all the others. The entire event was bigger than you expected, everyone either bringing a partner or friend, sometimes both. However, even with all the people around Bokuto is making it easier to loosen up and realize no one actually cares about what you sound like; hell, most of them are too deep in conversation and laughing to even watch closely.

Kiyoomi is the exception, as always.

He’s removed his mask from one ear, letting it dangle from the other while he watches you. A small smile creeps on his lips when you make eye contact, and you can’t help but giggle through the lyrics. His smile quickly turns to a frown when Bokuto throws an arm around your shoulder as you finish the song and he laughs, smooshing his face up against yours to belt out the lyrics. You giggle, pulling away not sure you like the sudden closeness, and the song ending is a perfect excuse to put down the mic and heading over to Kiyoomi.

“That was quite the little show,” he says, his tone stern and unforgiving. “Especially the little bit at the end.”

“Omi,” you whine, placing your hand on his firm chest. “He was just being silly.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs before pulling his mask back on. “Let’s go. I’m ready to be home.”

“Omi!” You say more firmly. “I’m having fun!”

“Would you like to go home with one of them, then?” His eyes are intense, and you feel suddenly smaller than usual as he peers down at you.

He’s good at that, making you feel small. Even if you love it most of the time, it’s not just that. You want him, desperately, right here and now. You want to stay longer and spend more time with his friends, but he’s making it hard to focus with his deep voice and intense eyes that make you want to jump him here.

“No! Only you,” you tell him and lean up and place a soft kiss on his chest. “Let’s go, I guess,” you make sure to make your displeasure unknown even if you’re only thinking about getting him out of his clothes as soon as you are home.

You can’t exactly be sure, but you think he smiles under his mask. His eyes soften like they usually do when he smiles at you, so you assume you’ve made him happy. He says a few quick goodbyes, even making sure yours are faster than his while he pulls you away. To your surprise, he opens the back passenger door of his car.

“I am not riding in the back like a kid,” you tell him frowning. “You can’t be serio-“

“Get in the fucking car, -----.” He rolls his eyes again, and you slide in with a pout on your lips. Kiyoomi slides in beside you, pushing you down against the back seat. “I can’t wait another minute,” he growls in your ear while his fingers unhook his mask from his ear.

You bite your lip to keep from smiling too widely. “Daddy,” you whine as his fingers tease you through your thin dress.

It’s cruel, and you know that’s exactly what he intends.

He could easily hike the dress up just a few inches to have easy access to your core, but he won’t. He loves teasing you too much. The way your body reacts to even his slightest touch makes him dizzy, and he wants to feel drunk on you tonight. Even if you don’t know it, he thinks, Bokuto got to him in a way he can’t understand.

He thought Atsumu would be the one to bring out the ugly jealous side of him, but no, to his surprise it was the one man he never thought could do it. Honestly, he’s a little ashamed of himself as he’s sliding your dress up your thighs. It’s not your fault, anyone would want you. But you’re his.

Only his; and he intends to remind you of that.

“Omi, please!” You all but scream for him.

He’s relentlessly drawing small circles onto your clit and driving you mad. You’re soaking through your panties, and you need him. You’re not sure if it’s even been two minutes, but it feels like an eternity of teasing.

“Omi?” He chuckles. “Bunny, you know better than that.”

“Daddy, please,” you correct yourself. “I need you, daddy! Please!”

“That’s my girl,” he kisses you, his lips rough against yours.

He kisses you like he’s desperate he’ll lose you. Every touch and motion meant to remind you how much he loves and needs you. While his tongue enters your mouth, he slips his fingers down below your dress, moaning as he feels how wet you are for him.

“Fuck,” he groans against your lips. “You’re always so fucking good for me, bunny.”

He doesn’t curse often, or at least to this degree unless you’re fucking. Something about knowing he reserves even his swearing just for you. He pushes your panties to the side, just enough to give him access to your drooling cunt. He smiles as your back arches up off the leather of his back seat and your eyes roll back into your head.

“Tell me what you want, bunny.” He curls his fingers inside of you and you moan loudly.

“You! Daddy, want your big cock! Want it so bad,” you whine as he fucks his fingers into you.

His fingers leave you empty, and you start to whine, but before the sweet sound passes your lips, he smacks your cunt. Once and then twice and then finally a third time. You whine, trying to move away each time, but his strong hand holds your thigh still with ease. Fingertips digging into your thigh with each smack only makes you cry out louder.

It hurts too good. You want it to stop, but you want it to continue. You can’t decide which would be better. Your clit throbs, and your cunt clenches around nothing with the fourth and final smack. Your throat is starting to hurt from all your whining and straining to keep from screaming too loud.

“Remember to as politely,” he says against your lips. “Then Daddy won’t have to punish you, yeah?”

You nod, shaking your head up and down slowly while he smiles at you.

“Good girl,” he kisses you softly. “Now, I think it’s time I gave you a treat.”

You smile widely as he sits down, unbuckling his pants and sliding them down his hips and legs along with his underwear. It’s hard not to watch the way his cock slaps against his stomach, ready for you with a desperately swollen pink head. It’s unfair how pretty it is, really… who else would have a pretty cock?

“Come sit,” he strokes his cock once and you hurry over to him.

Straddling his legs, he helps you sink down on him. It always burns at first, stretching around him to adjust.

“So big,” you whine while hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Too much!”

“Shhh,” he coos rubbing your back with one hand and your ass with another. “You always take it bunny; tonight is no different.”

“Daddy,” you cry as you finally take him all in.

He smirks, thrusting up once and making you bounce. “Feel so good, my precious bunny.” He holds your hips, guiding you into starting to ride him.

His hands are tight, supporting you and making you move at his pace. He’s slow, making sure you feel every drag of his cock in and out of you. Your dress falls down around his hands and your thighs, hiding everything from anyone who could possibly be passing outside the car.

“M-more,” you whine, wanting him to start thrusting up into you.

“Do you deserve more, bunny?” He holds your hips still, making you whine and look up at him. “I’m not sure you even deserve to cum. Dirty sluts don’t get to feel good.”

“But daddy please-“

His hand is fast, hitting your cheek with enough force to shut you up and turn your head. It stings but is replaced by that addicting warmth that takes over your cheeks and mind. You moan as his hand rests on your cheek, covering the redness that’s forming already.

“Open up,” his thumb drags across your bottom lip, and you part your lips.

He closes his eyes as you suck on his thumb, relaxing and letting you start riding him slowly again. He thrusts to meet you each time you come down on his cock, making you bite down on his thumb each time. He thrusts harder with each bite, which continues in an endless cycle until he pulls his thumb out to bring your face to his. He kisses you desperately, his tongue fighting your own. You moan against his lips, holding onto his shoulders tightly while he takes control of your body again.

“Don’t you dare cum.” He warns. “Not until I say, got it?”

You nod slowly while he fucks into you harder. His thrusts are rougher and more intense, signaling he’s close. It’s nearly impossible to not cum on him now, but you hold out. Fighting ever instinct telling you to cum is the hardest thing he’s ever asked of you.

“Daddy,” you whimper, feeling like you might explode. “Please!”

“Just a little more,” he pants, closing his eyes and laying his head against the backseat. “Fuck, I’m going to feel your cute little cunt up darling. I’ll have my cum dripping down your thighs and all over that little dress of yours.”

Oh, he’s definitely close. He wouldn’t talk this much if not.

“Want your cum daddy!”

“I know you do, slutty little bunny.” He leans up and kisses your neck, his teeth grazing the soft skin between your shoulder and neck.

“Daddy please, wanna cum!”

“I told you not until I say,” he slaps your ass once and you cry out.

Everything burns. Your stomach, thighs, and even your core. You’re desperate for some release but want Omi’s praise more than anything else. So, you keep fighting the urge to just let go.

“Fuck,” he moans once more, thrusting into you and holding your hips still while he cums. You feel the warm release start to dribble down his cock and out of you onto his thigh.

The bastard really didn’t let you cum… is he going to finish you off?

“Omi!” You try to ride his cock again, but he holds you still.

“Sorry bunny,” he chuckles breathlessly, his curly hair sticking to his forehead as he looks down at you. “You have to wait just a little longer.”

“Not fair!” You whine, tears stinging your eyes. “Wanna cum now! On your cock!”

“If you cheer up, I’ll tease you on the way home and keep you on the edge. I promise I’ll let you cum when we get home.” He kisses your cheeks, teasingly thrusting up into you once before pulling out. “Can you be good for daddy? If you make it until we get home, I promise I’ll reward you.”

Your eyes brighten and you perk up. “I can try,” you tell him.

--

The ride is torment. Even a bump in the road makes you moan. Kiyoomi brings you to the edge at least three times, and after that, you lose count. The only grounding part of the experience is his warm voice praising you for doing so well. It makes you weaker, every time he gives you just that little acknowledgment, and it helps you make it all the way home.

“We’re home, bunny,” he smiles at you and opens his door.

He jogs around the car and opens yours, helping you out and guiding you inside. You’re grateful for the covered garage and the short elevator ride up to his apartment. As soon as you pass the threshold of his apartment, your arms are around him and he lifts you up. He’s already hard, you giggle feeling it against your swollen cunt and watching Omi’s pants get damp from the mess you both made earlier.

“Daddy, make me cum! Please! I did what you asked.”

“You’ve been such a good girl, bunny.” He lays you down on the dining table, spreading you out for him to stand comfortably between your thighs. “Daddy is gonna make you cream around my cock.”

You thank whatever gods may be for Kiyoomi’s agile body and earnest attitude. He has his pants off quickly and his cock inside you before you can even whine again. Gasping, you reach up for him and he holds you against his body while fucking you on the table.

“Cum whenever you want, bunny, you earned it. Cum as many times as you want. I won’t stop until you’re begging me to.”

That’s all it takes. You cum, crying against his chest and clawing at him. He fucks you through it, your body limp against him and toes still curling.

“I know you have another in you, bunny. Give me another one.”

You love Sakusa Kiyoomi, you really do, but he can be cruel sometimes. Well, if you can define edging followed by overstimulation as cruel.

#sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #hq smut #hq x reader #hqintheclub

[yeahimaloser]

Wingless

Hello! So this was the fic I've been working on, and I just wanted to quickly say this is an AU-based fic (Kinda).

WARNING MANGA SPOILERS

So I understand what's going on in the manga, but I started this fic when Keigo was injured. so I wrote a fic about how Keigo and you would deal with him losing both his wings and a part of himself.

this story contains manga spoilers, as well as warnings of mental and physical abuse (kind of), hurt to comfort, mentions of Depression, blood, someone gets glass stuck in their hand, and therapy.

no pronouns are given to the reader. Word count: 7k

. . .

You practically ran through the hospital, not listening to the nurses and doctors as they told you to slow your pace. Your mind only screamed out for him, screaming for him to be alive, for him to just be okay. You could hear your heart thumping hard against your chest, tears spilling down your cheeks.

As you ran near his room, a doctor finally managed to stop you.

“Please, calm down! He’s in this room but I can not allow you in if you act like this. You will only stress my patient out more, and we have just managed to sedate him.” the doctor held out his hands as he spoke, trying to calm you.

Although, it clearly wasn’t working. Your eyes only shone more with brimming tears, your hands shook as the doctor spoke.

After a few minutes of you catching your breath and calming yourself down, the doctor told you that you were able to see him.

You felt as if your whole body was on fire as you walked through the doors to his hospital room.

The window that overlooked the city gave an impressive view (if it wasn’t in a hospital, you probably would have stopped and looked down at the city below). The bathroom, you could see, was on your left. There was even a vanity and a television in the room as well.

But you really didn’t have time to look around, your eyes were already focused on the man that lay on the hospital bed.

Machines were hooked up to him, tubes ran out of his skin every witch way. He was flipped on his stomach to accommodate his wings or lack thereof. Bandages covered almost every area you could see, the blood on them was minimal, yet they looked new, meaning they had been changed.

You rushed to his side, stopping only when the line of his IV almost collide with your foot.

“Keigo,” you said it so lightly you were afraid only you could even hear it.

But Keigo’s eyes shot open, looking up at you, “...Y/N?”

God, his voice was a raspy mess, it sounded as though it wasn’t even his.

If you could, you would break down right then and there. Crying over him, telling him you were there for him, that you would always be there for him, no matter the hardships he was sure to overcome. You wanted desperately to hold him, to whisper love-filled words to him, to wipe away the pain you knew he was feeling.

But you didn’t, you couldn’t.

You knew you had to be strong for him in that moment, and for all the moments yet to come. You knew that what was going to happen to you two would not be easy.

So you couldn’t cry, no matter how much you wanted to.

You lightly stroked his cheek, “I’m here Kei, I’m right here. I won't leave you.”

Silent tears ran down his face as he spoke, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry.”

----

After what happened with Dabi Toya, the commission tried their best to cover everything up, telling the public that Dabi had to be wrong. But the public eye was persistent.

The truth was out, there was nothing you or Keigo could do to stop it. Everyone knew about his name, his father, and what he had done to Twice, as well as the fact that he had lost to Dabi. You knew it would be hard for him to come back to that.

The media had always been a bit ruthless when it came to Keigo, but now, it was up by tenfold. They talked about how they believed that Keigo was not worthy of his hero title. A false hero they called him.

And Keigo?

Luckily, he didn’t hear very much of it. You made sure of that. You wanted him to rest, to let what had happened wash over him little by little, and you knew if he heard what the news had been saying about him, that he might never recover.

When Keigo was a bit more stable, he still rarely talked.

His eyes didn’t shine like they used to, his face, once so uplifting and beautiful, was marred with a long scar that he had on his face.

But no matter what, you stayed with him, no matter what, you would be by his side.

But seeing Keigo like this? It was unbearable.

He would only eat if you were there to persuade him, he would only look at you if you practically begged him to.

You knew it was a selfish want, you knew it was, but you wanted your Keigo back. You wanted the man who held you in his arms, telling you he would fly to the moon and back if it meant you would give him your love. You wanted the man that stopped at nothing to protect others, you wanted the man that smiled when the going got tough, you wanted Keigo.

But you had to accept that this was Keigo.

And you wouldn’t leave him, you couldn’t. He was always there for you when you needed him most, and you weren’t going to do the same.

After what had happened with Keigo, the commission thought it would be best to send him away, let the media storm die down, letting him also take time to heal his wings.

You had to fight them in order to come as well. At first, they told you that Hawks should just be concerned with getting his wings back and becoming “hero ready”.

You should have known. You knew, of course, that the HPSC was corrupted, but you didn’t think they were heartless. Yet, you were proven wrong.

You wished they could understand, you wished everyone could understand. Keigo was so loving and kind, you just wished people would understand that about him. What Keigo had to do to Twice… you knew he didn’t want to kill him, Keigo wasn’t like that. He didn’t take pleaser in violence, all he wanted was to see others happy.

And it made your blood boil that the higher up’s couldn’t understand.

You told them how Keigo needed someone to be his caretaker, and you would be the best candidate. You knew he wouldn’t object, you told them that you would work for free, seeing as he and you had been dating, as well as living together for the last few years.

Finally, with a lot of persuading, they agreed.

They sent you and Keigo to a remote location near the shores of Japan, seeing as they wanted Keigo to not remember the effects of the fight, and thought the best course of action was to send him so far out that he would have nothing to remind him of, “The Incident”.

The house was a small little thing, a lot smaller than what you and Keigo were used to at least.

It was close to the ocean, giving it a more country feeling rather than the city vibe you and Keigo used to live in. The smell of the ocean hit you full force when you two arrived, the salty, yet homie smell was a nice difference to the fullness of the air of the city.

The home had a total of seven rooms, all on the same floor.

The master bedroom had enough space, it fit a bed, a vanity, and a closet as well as a connection to the master bathroom. The walls were painted a low white, you wouldn’t call it cream however that was the closest rendition. The floors were all wood, you could feel the sand beneath your feet, you had a feeling the stuff would get everywhere.

There were three bathrooms, a guest room, a living room, and a kitchen.

The whole house honestly just felt...nice.

The floors felt grainy against your feet, but it felt weirdly cozy, kind of like how a beach house should feel. The carpeting was a bit musty for your taste, you had a feeling that would be your first project to do with the house. The couch was a bit too firm, you expected that, but still, it just needed to be worn in. The kitchen wasn’t big, but for two people, it would do.

You spent the first week moving in, all by yourself.

Keigo would only stay in bed, looking out the window, in some far-off world he was in.

You wanted to cry when you would walk into the master bedroom and see him upright on the mattress, not doing or saying anything, just staring, a shell of the man you once knew.

It made your heart clench though, normally, Keigo would always be the first to lend a helping hand, that was just his nature, to want to help. But this, this was something that broke you even more.

-----

The first few weeks were rough.

Not hard, just rough.

The only way you could even describe Keigo was just numb.

His eyes were sunken, his hair a tattered mess. His face was droopy, the once perfect-looking man now sat alone in bed, looking as though he was almost near death.

And his scar.

It served as a perfect reminder of what had happened, a symbol of the pain Keigo had gone through. You knew what he felt when he saw it, you knew what he was probably thinking when he looked in the mirror to have the long stripe of red and pink looking back at him.

Yet, you pretended not to notice.

He would barely say anything to you, choosing instead, to be silent.

For the first few days, it was hard to get him out of bed, hard for him to even eat anything.

On most days you found yourself sitting alone when you ate, going on walks by yourself on the sandy beach, watching TV all alone.

You missed him, it was hard not to. But you knew that this was hardest on Keigo, so of course, you let him have all the time he needed. Letting him sulk and wallow in his self-pity, letting his feelings shroud him. You felt as though you had to, he had every right to feel this way.

But it was hard.

It was hard having Keigo sleep in the master bedroom while you slept all alone in the guest, it was hard to be so silent in the house, it was hard living with someone who was basically a ghost.

One day though, you found him crying.

You quickly ran over to him, scared that he had somehow hurt himself. But he didn’t, nothing had happened to him.

But he sat straight up in his bed, shaking like he was cold, his hands wrapped around something you couldn’t see.

“Keigo, honey?” you asked carefully as you stepped into the room, “Is everything ok hun?”

But it was like he couldn’t even hear you, whatever he was holding, it certainly had his attention.

You walked slowly over to him, reaching out to him, like he was a wounded animal, “Keigo? What is it?”

Finally, you managed to see what it was.

It was a picture of him, of him with his beautiful red wings, smiling at the camera in his hero outfit, with one hand giving a thumbs up and the other around your waist.

In comparison to the picture, you could barely tell it was Keigo anymore. With his sunken eyes and hollow cheekbones, the scar is a stripe of change.

“Keigo I-” you took a deep breath, what were you supposed to even say? How could you even console him? How could you help ease his pain?

You couldn’t.

So you just held him, held him in your arms, trying to hide your tears from him, so he wouldn’t see you hurting as well.

. . .

But one day, when you were sitting on the porch of your borrowed home, watching the waves hit the sandy beach below, watching the sun as it hit the horizon.

It was bitter-sweet, you were all alone, watching the beautiful sight without anyone to share it with.

You sighed, contemplating whether or not to go back inside, but then... Keigo came.

It startled you, you weren’t expecting him to come off his bed, much less to see you.

He sat down in the nice little chair that was right next to you.

He didn’t say anything for a good few moments, but then, all of a sudden he spoke.

“The ocean looks really pretty, I like...I like being here with you.”

You were shocked, to say the least. Keigo had barely acknowledged your presence during this time, he hadn’t spoken to you at all during these few weeks. So to hear him say that...

You damn near cried.

You had been holding in your anxiousness and, overall, depression of not having Keigo back to his regular self. It was hard, that much was certain, but still, he was going through such a difficult time, you had to be there for him.

You quickly brushed the tear that had feel from your eye, “I-I like being here with you too.”

----

After that, things were...different.

Keigo was a bit more clingy, although, maybe you should say protective.

You would go out on your walks and would come home to him being upset, asking where you were, and fussing about you going out.

“Well, what if something happened? Just stay here.”

You asked the doctors about that, they told you how some patients latched on to certain things or people after a traumatic event, most of the time clinging desperately to what they felt was the only thing they had left.

They told you his newfound desire to be near you could be a sign of him getting worse, or it could be a sign he was getting better.

The doctor told you it was much more likely that Keigo needed something to hang on to, a sort of attachment. And again, they told you Keigo needed to see a therapist, he had so much trauma after the battle that you probably wouldn’t be able to handle it.

You knew that you should listen and that you probably couldn’t deal with Keigo all on your own. But still, you wanted to move at Keigo's pace, and you knew he needed time.

. . .

The first night you and Keigo spent in the same bed after what had happened was...strange.

Although you two lived in the same little beach house for a month now, you two haven't slept next to one another, you weren’t sure Keigo was ready just yet.

And yet, he was the one who asked you.

It happened on a normal day, while you were making dinner when Keigo spoke.

“Hey...Y/N..” you turned back to him, giving him your full attention, “Could we….could we try sleeping together? I know...I know it’s been some time but-”

“Yes!” you hastily accepted, “I mean...only if you want to.”

And so, you found yourself curled up next to Keigo, feeling him cuddled up to you, which was nice of course, but his body felt stiff like it didn’t want to be close to you.

The whole experience was… different. Normally, Keigo would wrap his arms around you, holding you against him, holding you securely and tightly, like you knew he wouldn’t let you go.

But this, this was different, but you should have expected that by now. You should have known that, now, it was so unlikely that you would ever see the old version of Keigo again.

And then it was there again, that slap of guilt, that pang of hurt at your own thought. How could you think that? Keigo was hurting, and you were upset that he was in pain?

You bit your lip, quietly willing yourself not to cry.

------

Keigo’s mood swings would happen randomly, with no merit at all.

One moment, he was blindly looking at the TV, the next he would be offering to help with dinner, then the next he was screaming at you to add more pepper to the onions.

When his first outburst happened, you blamed yourself.

You had left Keigo for what only seemed like a moment, going outside to feel the air on your face, wanting to just get out of the stuffy little cottage.

You were just watching from the porch when you heard it.

The sound of glass shattering.

You whipped your head to the sound, to find it coming from inside.

You rushed inside, running towards the kitchen.

“Keigo!” you cried out.

You stopped at the doorway to the kitchen, looking down at Keigo on the floor.

A glass of some sort had broken in Keigo’s hand, from what you could tell. It seemed like he had gotten some of it stuck in his hand, blood dripped onto the floor, sticking to the hardwood floor.

Keigo just stared, his eyes the most lively you’ve seen them in weeks. He didn’t say anything, didn’t even acknowledge your presence, just staring at his hand, looking at the blood as it dripped...dripped...dripped.

And then, he screamed.

It was so loud and so unexpected you quickly covered your ears, trying to block out the head-splitting sound.

When you finally regained your composure, you rushed down to Keigo's side, trying your best to help him.

But Keigo shoved you away.

“No! Stop! Go away! I-I don’t wanna hurt anymore! Stop it, leave me alone!” he scooted away from you, holding out his palms, trying to make you leave.

But you wouldn’t.

Slowly, you spoke, “Keigo, I need to help you, ok? I’m not here to hurt you, baby, I’m Y/N, I love you.”

You inched closer and closer as Keigo hiccuped and sniffed.

“Stop it! Don’t c-come any closer!”

You stilled, only for a moment. Then, you moved forward again.

“Honey, I have to clean your wound, please baby.”

Keigo’s breath still raged, but he let you come closer.

Before you even looked at the wound on his hand, you gave him a light kiss on the cheek. Keigo was shocked, flinching a bit at first.

You carefully picked up his hand, observing it lightly. The glass pricked his hand, but the overall damage wasn’t all that bad, it might have been worse if you hadn’t rushed to him.

You took a deep breath, “Keigo, I’m gonna need to remove the glass-”

But Keigo cut you off, “No no no no no, please. Please, I don’t wanna get hurt again. Please.”

“Keigo,” you stroked your cheek lightly, “it’s ok, it’s me, it’s Y/N.”

You purse your lips, thinking for a moment, “Remember when I got that splinter from the hardwood at that crummy hot spring? And remember how you had to pull it out? And remember how scared I was?”

He thought for a moment as if the memory was buried deep inside him, a lifetime ago. He nodded, tears still running down his face.

“It’s gonna be like that, ok? Quick, and I’ll be right there with you, just like you were for me.”

After a moment, Keigo nodded.

You made quick work of the glass, helping Keigo through the little whimpers and hiccups he let out.

Keigo was never like this before, never fighting over glass in his hand, he was a hero, he dealt with pain daily. But this Keigo was beyond damaged. He was ripped in half, put through more pain than you would ever understand, the mental strain of that had to be so much, it had to weigh on him.

The thought only made your resolve stronger, only made your need to see Keigo get better that much more secure.

After you had bandaged his hand, kissing his knuckles and wrist softly in order to calm him down, you noticed how exhausted he was.

“Do you wanna go and take a nap, Kei?”

He nodded.

You walked him to the room, helping him to bed.

You planted a small kiss on his lips before moving away to leave.

But Keigo caught the fabric of your shirt, pulling on it lightly, “Wait.”

You turned back to face him, “Yeah. what's up Kei?”

“Um, could you...join me?”

Your body perked up. This was one of the first times he had seemed...needy for contact with you. Sure, he still slept next to you, but you figured that was mainly due to some comfortability. But the way Keigo was looking at you right now? His eyes softened with desperation, his body, while still heavy with drowsiness, had enough strength to pull you to him. He seemed to genuinely want you to stay.

You smiled, a real, genuine smile, “Of course I can Keigo.”

You slid into the spot next to him, and Keigo had his arms immediately around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His face nuzzled softly into your neck, his whole body trapping you in a needed embrace.

You played with his hair, giving yourself a mental note that you needed to wash it and brush it out later.

That's when you heard the sniffling in your neck.

“Kei,” you said gently, “what’s wrong?”

It took a few labored breaths for Keigo to respond, “I’m sorry.”

At first, you were confused. What did Keigo have to be sorry about? He had done nothing wrong to you, he hadn’t said anything bad to you, the most he had really done was worry you. But he continued.

“I’m sorry for being so weak, for letting myself get like this, it’s all my fault. And I’m sorry I’m a burden for you, I know how much you loved me, how much you loved being with a strong hero,” he took another shaky breath before continuing, “But I can't. I can’t do it anymore. It hurts so bad. And now, no one wants me. I’m a failure, they’re right,” Keigo squeezed you tighter as if you would leave him too, “I’m a false hero. I failed everyone, the commission, my friends, Tokoyami. And you,” he looked back up at you, “why are you even here? I’m useless now, why can’t you see that? Why won’t you just leave? It would be better for you.”

You hadn’t even realized you had been crying before you felt how shaky your voice was, “No. Keigo that’s not true, I love-”

But he cut you off, “No!” he bolted upright, “Stop it! Stop it Y/N! I’m not who you love, that Keigo is dead and gone, look at me! I’m a shell of who he was, I’m the failure he left behind! Christ Y/N, I fucking broke down because I had fucking glass in my hand!”

He cupped his ears, seemingly trying to block out some sort of noise that you couldn’t even hear. Rocking back and forth lightly, his bandaged hand squeezing hard on his left ear.

“Keigo stop it,” you tried to get his hand away, “you're going to hurt yourself!”

After fighting him for a moment, you finally got him to put his hands down. You pulled him to you, placing his head on your chest as you calmed him down.

“Kei,” you said after a long stretch of silence, “I love you, and I’m not leaving you.”

Keigo hiccuped, “B-but.”

You shushed him, “No but’s. I’m here to stay, it’ll be hard, I know that, but I can’t leave you.”

For the first time in God now’s how long, Keigo reached up and kissed you.

It wasn’t a light, small little peck either, it was a sloppy, desired-filled kiss. You were shocked at first, seeing as how he was yelling at you a second ago, but you let yourself indulge a bit. You craved Keigo, missed his lips, his strong, protective hands that run up your body, you just missed him really.

Your hand moved down to his chest, pulling him deeper. His hands grabbed onto your hips, pulling you more in.

His teeth clashed against yours, and maybe it was because you two haven't done this in so long, or it was because neither of you cared.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan as Keigo pushed more against you, pushing you near the head of the bed.

After a few moments of the kiss, you pulled away.

“Please,” Keigo whispered lightly, “Please don’t leave me.”

------

After that, the situation with you and Keigo became so much more complicated.

Keigo would become so irritable, that you had to stand outside for hours just for him to calm down.

But the worst was when he acted so apologetic afterward, saying his, “I’m sorry”’s over and over again, sputtering about how he would, “do better.”

Of course, you felt like absolute shit, wanting to scream, to cry, to leave even. But you couldn’t. Keigo was in so much pain, you had to be strong now, you had to be there for him like he had been for you. You shoved down your tears, fighting the urge to scream and cry, waiting out your feelings.

Was it a bad coping mechanism? Yes. But you already felt so useless, you didn’t want to be a burden too.

For a while, you had hoped that he would help himself get better, you had hoped that he really was trying to get better and understand how to help himself more, but as time went on, you saw how naive you were.

You realized that Keigo was almost beyond repair, some days he would be silently upset, not talking or saying anything. While others you could hear it in his voice.

While some days you came into your shared room to see him curled up on the bed, crying and whimpering. And then there was you, unable to help, unable to tell him how, “it would be ok,” how, “I’m here for you, Kei.”

Because you knew he wouldn’t listen.

And yet, he would never yell at you, never scream or degrade you, he would only seem to be mad at...himself.

Yet, it was strange, because he seemed to grow more and more protective of you.

If you were to leave the house, he would become upset, saying how; “You could have gotten hurt, next time either take me with you or stay...please.”

It was strange how he always asked, how he never demanded.

But today, today was different.

You had noticed that Keigo was especially irritable, so you decided to just stay out of his way. Deciding to work on meal prep, because of Keigo’s accident the doctors told you to watch his meals carefully, making sure he eats a well-balanced meal each and every day.

Maybe Keigo would calm down, maybe today could still be ok, maybe you could salvage the day and make it a good one.

But that was before the broadcast.

. . .

You were outside that day, watching as the sun showned on the ocean.

You wished silently that Keigo could have enough strength to come out and see it with you. Yet, you didn’t push him.

Keigo, on the other hand, was watching some TV. Well, "watch" was a strong word. Keigo’s eyes were far off again, You never asked him what he was thinking about, but you knew it had to be something but what happened.

As you watch the waves crash against the shore, and the sun slowly sets, that's when it happened.

The broadcast.

At first, the broadcast was only just a news reporter talking about how; “us as a society must look forward, through these dark times.” Talking about the loss of certain Hero’s and civilians alike.

but the segment right after that, that's what sent Hawks into his spiral.

“And now, what has happened to the pro hero known as Hawks? And I posed a question to all of our viewers out there, should he be forgiven? Can a man who ruthlessly killed someone, even a villain, be considered a hero?”

You weren't there when the news reporter posed the question, you were only there for the aftermath.

At first, Keigo was in shock, and then, his outburst happened.

It was the worst outburst since the accident. He was screaming, yelling, hitting anything, he just needed some way to get his anger out.

When you heard the commotion, you immediately ran inside, worried that something may have hurt him. But as you went inside, you realized that there was nothing wrong, at least not from what you could see. But to Keigo, everything was wrong.

When you came in, all you could hear was yelling, “What was it all for?! I just...I just wanted to help!”

You were stunted into silence, only being able to watch from afar.

It was like you couldn’t move, your body glued down to the floor, unable to help Keigo.

And then, he hit the TV, hard.

And that's when you finally spoke.

“Keigo stop!”

You rushed forward, grabbing his arm from hitting the wall.

You latched on to him, “Keigo please, please honey just calm-”

But it was too late, and before you knew what was happening, Keigo had thrown you on the ground.

You landed on your hands, cushioning your fall, but that didn’t mean it hurt.

For a moment, everything was still, everything was silent. Keigo wasn’t yelling, he wasn't screaming, and when you looked back up, the only thing you saw was true horror and guilt.

You panted lightly, your eyes blown wide as you stared back up at Keigo.

“...Y/N-”

What was he to say?

He didn’t know.

“K-Keigo,” you were at a complete loss for words.

After a few more minutes, you stood back up. You took one, shaky breath, before you spoke.

“Keigo, I’m sorry. I-I...I can’t do this right now. It’s just… this is all too much for me right now. I think I need to clear my head.”

You moved past him, not even looking him in the eye. How could you? Your mind was a mess, a thousand thoughts jumbled through your brain.

You opened the door quickly, taking your car keys before you left, refusing to look back.

----

The ocean waves looked stunning in the sunlight, it might have been the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

At least, you would have if the tears in your eyes weren’t blocking out your vision.

And your head wouldn’t stop spinning. Was Keigo ok? Should you go back? Could you even go back? What would you even say to him?

No matter how hard you tried to convince yourself that leaving Keigo behind was for the best, that you two just needed to be away from each other, you felt like your heart was being slowly stabbed through with needles, one for every second away.

You sniffed, wiping away your tears with the back of your palm.

There had to be a way Keigo could get better, some way you could help. But every thought eluded you, how could you help someone so far gone?

You thought back to the doctor's suggestion of getting a therapist, maybe it was time. Keigo was getting too out of hand for you, and as much as you loved him, you knew that this was hurting him as much as you.

A sigh escaped your lips, why did this have to be so difficult?

And that thought came to you again.

Why couldn’t he just be himself again?

You shivered at your own selfish, hurtful thoughts. Keigo was still him, he just needed help, and thinking about how much you wanted the old him back wasn’t going to help him or you. And it wasn’t fair either, to expect that after what happened he would just be fine.

You knew you would always be there for him, but you supposed you didn’t think it would be this hard.

You placed your face in your hands.

How the hell could you help him? You felt as though Keigo was on the edge of a mountain, and you were the only thing he could grab onto, but now, he was pulling you down with him.

A small, shaky sigh escaped you.

Crunch, crunch.

Footsteps. Fast approaching, almost running.

You cocked your head up, preparing to be kicked off whoever's land that you were on (considering how you just decided to drive to the middle of nowhere).

“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought that this was public-”

But you stopped mid-sentence.

There stood Keigo, tears streamed down his cheeks, his panting breaths and sweat glistening from his body must have meant he came all the way out here on foot.

Your eyes widened in surprise, but before you could get a word in, Keigo had bent down to you.

“Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still in shock, “N-no.”

He sighed, but his face concentrated like he was thinking too hard, “I’m sorry.” and then, a long, silent pause, “I don’t...I don’t know what else to say.”

“...I don’t either,” you looked back up at him again. “You could have really hurt me, and I just don’t know how to deal with all this. I don’t know how to deal with...you.”

Keigo flinched, the implications of your words stung.

“It’s just...I want to be there for you, I really do, but it’s so hard,” you looked down tears threatening to escape, “I love you s-so much, b-but,” a silent hiccup went through you, “I don’t know how to help anymore.”

Keigo stayed silent, his words trapped under his tongue. He also didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know what to say. He wanted to help himself too, but he knew deep down he couldn’t. He didn’t know how. But he hated what he was doing to you, he hated what he was making you go through.

“Keigo,” he looked back up at you, “Do you still love me?”

Keigo stared wide-eyed back to you, his words at a loss. “I- of course, I do Y/N-”

“Then why don’t you say it?”

He paused, “...What do you mean?”

You sighed, “Have you noticed that ever since what happened, you’ve not been able to say ‘I love you,' to me? Because I have. Each morning I wake up, and I always say, ‘good morning Kei, I love you,’ and you never say it back. It feels like I’m just invisible to you. I don’t want to look at you as something to fix, or as something to make me feel miserable, but I can’t live with someone who just sees me like a ghost.”

It took a while before Keigo finally responded.

“I don’t see you as a ghost,” he said, his voice as low as a whisper, “it’s that I see me as the ghost. I lost...I lost a big part of me in that fight.”

Subconsciously, he reaches back to his used-to-be wings, his fingers flinching when nothing is there.

“Keigo, you are not your wings.”

“How can you say that when everything I was...was built off of them?”

You leaned forward, a hand placed lightly on his cheek, “Your wings did not build our relationship, we did. And we still have each other. Your wings were never the reason I loved you, your wings were always just a part of you, they were never you.”

Keigo looked back at you, placing a hand on top of yours. After a few, dragged-out moments, Keigo leaned into you. But not before whispering lightly on your lips, “I do love you, Y/N.”

. . .

Things were hard, but they were better.

It had been three weeks since the accident that happened with you and Keigo. He agreed to go to a therapist, after what happened with you two, he wanted to get help.

What neither you nor he expected though, was for his therapist to also recommend you get help as well.

In his words; “After understanding the stress that Mr. Takami has gone through, as well the details that he has shared with me, I believe that it is necessary for you to also have some sort of mental treatment. Keigo was not in the right state of mind for a very long time, and you were the only person here to look after him. I believe you first need to talk about your problems separately and then move on to couples therapy. Some of the actions Mr. Takami has put you through may have had negative effects on your psyche.”

Although that was a shock to you, Keigo visibly became more saddened after that.

After the conversation with the therapist, Keigo even offered to move out of your shared room.

“If- if you’re uncomfortable with me being here, I can take the spare room.”

You only shook your head no, saying, “I’m not uncomfortable sleeping next to you, Kei, we’re in this together.”

And you were.

Keigo went to his therapist, as did you. At first, you weren’t sure, seeing as Keigo and you would see the same person and how that may make a conflict of interest, but he assured you that Keigo dealt with trauma relating to his fight, as did you of course, but your trauma and anxiety was more based upon him.

So, you made it work.

After a while of one-on-one counseling, you moved to couples therapy.

It was hard, mostly for Keigo, because he didn’t want to admit to himself, or you, that he had hurt you as much as he did.

So, you opened first.

You talked about how scared you were of losing Keigo, not just physically but mentally, how it hurt you that some days he wouldn’t talk to you. You even opened up about missing the old him.

It seemed like when you first opened your mouth, everything just came pouring out.

And so, after you explained your side, slowly, Keigo started to explain his.

He explained how he didn’t want to hurt you, but how he just couldn’t help himself in that moment. He felt like everyone was turning on him, abandoning him, he thought it was only a matter of time before you. And he couldn’t handle how that thought chased him, his mind just became so jumbled and uncertain.

But he wanted to get better, to show you the man you deserved.

Soon, you came to realize how your relationship would never be the same since that day, how you had lost a part of Keigo, and how Keigo had lost a part of himself. And that part, that part split you two, like a deep cut, and now you two had to sew it back together, and you both knew it would be hard.

Losing that part of your life took time, it took practice and understanding, it took watching Keigo wake up in a nightmare, watching as he screamed and all you could do was hush him and stroke his cheek softly as you told him how you were there, even as tears slipped down your cheeks as well.

But you let them, you let yourself show him that you were sharing the pain, that you were together in this.

Keigo was hurting, you knew that, but as your therapist told you; “You are grieving, grieving for that Keigo that died in that battle, and not only are you grieving, you are also trying your best to take care of someone who was already so broken that now they might as well be shards of the vase they once were.”

But that didn’t stop you from explaining how you felt selfish and terrible, how you felt like you were a bad person for feeling upset, for wanting Keigo to go back to you.

After each therapy session, you two would go out and sit on the porch, not doing or saying anything, because you both realized you had said plenty before.

. . .

After a year since then, things had gotten significantly better.

Keigo and you understood the inner workings of your relationship, not only that, you both understand each other a lot better. Understanding how you both needed one another, how you two could only grow to help each other.

Almost a year has passed since the incident with Dabi, a year since Keigo “lost” his wings.

But his wings were back, and he was back.

Although, maybe not fully.

Keigo was almost like a different vision of himself, a more, down to earth, real version of who he was.

Maybe, it was the person he always was, but just never could show it.

With you, he was the most caring he’s ever been.

Watching as you fell asleep in his arms, creasing your body oh-so-perfectly as he kissed you deeply, his sing-song praises in your ear. He loved you so much.

And you, you helped him grow as well. Being there for him, watching him, helping him.

You never left him, you carried out your promise to yourself, keeping him with you no matter what. You loved him so much, and you were so happy to see how he healed.

And here you both were, Watching as the sunset, as the ocean waves tied down, the sun Illuminating the water passing over.

You watched as Keigo’s eyes lit up in the bright light, his scar’s still reflecting the hard past that he's been through, and yet, reminding you how lucky you are.

At that moment you leaned in, giving him a light peck on his cheek.

Keigo turned to you, before laughing, “Why did you do that?"

"Because... I just realized how lucky I am to have you. Thank you, Keigo.”

"There's no need to thank me, dove," he said, kissing you as well "I'll always love you, and I always will be thankful that I have you as well."

#bnha #bnha hawks #mha #hawks #mha keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo takami #hawks x y/n #takami keigo x reader #bnha keigo #keigo x reader #keigo x y/n #mha keigo x reader #mha x reader #hurt to comfort #x readers #hawks imagine #fanfic hawks

[little-mad]

Downsides of Thievery Pt. 13 (Final)

~ Previous Part ~

Gavin couldn’t stop himself from turning over his shoulder to look at Rael, who apparently had information about his theft from the alteon diplomat. Immediately, Gavin was suspicious. What information could Rael possibly have about something he hadn’t witnessed? Anything he knew that the Emperor wouldn’t already, would have to have come from Gavin himself… “Oh shit, he’s not really talking about that is he?”

What did Rael hope to gain in telling the Emperor that Gavin had been commissioned to steal from the diplomat? Was he just doing his duty as a soldier by divulging everything he knew? Or was there something more to it? When Gavin had first told Rael that he had been hired to steal the ring, he’d seemed surprised, but hadn’t expressed any desire to confess the truth. Then again, Gavin had already proven unable to read Rael.

“Very well, go ahead,” the Emperor prompted, hands folded on the table as he looked at Rael with interest.

Gavin stared back at his former captor, unable to take his eyes off the giant man. “While Gavin Stone chose not to disclose this to the public, in our time together he did reveal to me that he was in fact hired by a third party to burgle Lady Elyth,” Rael explained smoothly. “So while Gavin Stone did perform the actual deed, the idea was not his own.” His voice had the same formal, all business tone it’d had when Gavin first met him, and yet this time there was a vague hint of...was it desperation? No, it couldn’t be. Gavin had to be just imagining things at this point.

The Emperor gave an interested hum. “Intriguing,” he remarked before turning to look at Gavin. “Is this true?” he inquired.

While Gavin hadn’t been planning on explaining the full circumstances of the robbery to the Emperor, he wasn’t about to deny it now that Rael had done so. Lying at this point would only make him look more suspicious than he already did. “Yes, sir,” Gavin replied, hoping the honorific wasn’t an improper term to use with the Emperor.

The giant sovereign gave a nod of understanding. He took a long, thoughtful pause as he considered the new information before focusing back on Gavin. “Is there a reason you didn’t report this?” he asked, a serious look in those yellow eyes of his.

God, it was intimidating enough being stared at by a giant, but being stared at by a giant who ruled over an entire dimension of giants was just something else entirely. And Gavin had thought meeting Orlando Bloom at a music festival when he was seventeen had been daunting. Gavin swallowed. “Keep it together,” he ordered himself. If he wanted the Emperor to treat him like a person, it was possible he would need to earn his respect first.

“Sir, whether I was hired or not doesn’t change the fact that I committed the crime,” Gavin started. “And since I don’t know the real name of the man who hired me, I didn’t see a point in reporting it to authorities.” There was also the fact that Gavin had never really been one to snitch, especially on his fellow criminals, but he wasn’t about to say that part in a room with a soldier and a political leader.

“I see,” the Emperor responded pensively. “Well, I consider taking responsibility for your own actions to be quite noble,” he told Gavin with complete sincerity in his voice. “Truthfully, I never took Ashryn’s suggestion very seriously,” he admitted. “I’ve worked quite hard to develop a peaceful and friendly relationship with humankind, and I am not about to undo that by mistreating my first human convict.”

Gavin’s eyes widened. Did he hear that right? Did the Emperor really just, one after the other, call him noble and say that he wouldn’t lock him up in a display cage? It was hard for Gavin not to let a wave of relief crash over him. The news was great, but he still didn’t know what fate did await him. Not being treated like an animal really was the bare minimum after all.

“Um...so what are you planning to do with me?” Gavin found himself asking. He was sick and tired of the uncertainty, of not knowing what was in store for him. Whatever his sentence might be, he just wanted to know what it was already so he could start figuring out how to cope with it.

The Emperor’s eyebrows lifted slightly. He seemed somewhat taken aback by Gavin’s abrupt question. It was possible the man wasn’t accustomed to being spoken to that way. Gavin hoped he hadn’t done something taboo. He wasn’t intending to be disrespectful, he just really didn’t know how to interact with literal royalty.

Apparently, the Emperor wasn’t too upset, because a small smile had taken form on his face. “Well,” he began, glancing back at Rael. “I find myself quite fascinated by your willingness to speak up in front of me in order to defend this human.”

“Is that what he did?” Gavin asked himself. Had Rael really been standing up for him? Was it really more than him just doing his job?

“You were aware that many important figures have negative opinions of Gavin Stone, and yet you risked your reputation by speaking up for him,” the Emperor went on.

Suddenly everything was beginning to make a lot more sense. The whole scene out in the hallway...it had been all about Rael protecting his reputation. He couldn’t choose a human over an alteon, lest he risk being looked down upon by his peers. Of course, none of that made what he’d done okay, but at least Gavin understood why now. “Does this mean he had some kind of change of heart...is that why he told the Emperor about me being hired…?” he pondered to himself.

The Emperor’s gaze suddenly returned to Gavin. “I believe I have decided what your sentence will be,” he announced firmly, a satisfied smile on his face that Gavin wasn’t sure how to take. “Since the two of you have clearly established the foundations of a relationship, I have decided that, in order to atone for your crime, you will serve under Rael as an assistant for a minimum of one year.”

Gavin’s mouth fell open, but before he could even form a coherent thought, he heard Rael’s stunned voice exclaim from behind him, “What?!”

-

The word had slipped from Rael’s mouth before he could stop it. He had just been so shocked by the Emperor’s announcement that all thoughts of propriety and manners suddenly flew out the window. “Sorry, your majesty,” he quickly recovered. “I just--I wasn’t expecting that.”

Take a human on as an assistant?! It was completely unheard of--of course it was unheard of, humans were tiny people who lived in another realm, why would one ever serve as an assistant to a common alteon soldier? Rael didn’t even know what to think. The Emperor clearly trusted him enough to put Gavin in his ward, but what the hell was Rael supposed to do with a diminutive person tagging along with him while he worked? Plus there was the matter of he and Gavin’s last encounter. Something told Rael the human didn’t much want to hang around with the person who had threatened him not once, but twice within a few hours.

“I’m aware that it’s unorthodox, but to be frank, this entire situation is unorthodox,” the Emperor stated. “This way, Gavin Stone will be able to serve his punishment while learning about and experiencing our realm.” It seemed the relationship between alteons and humans was even more important to the Emperor than Rael had realized--he was completely breaking away from the norm for the sake of diplomacy.

“Are you sure it won’t be too dangerous?” Rael had to ask. On a regular basis, his job wasn’t typically overly treacherous, but even the mildest thing to him could be potentially life threatening to someone as small as Gavin.

The Emperor offered a gentle smile. “I’m certain Gavin Stone will be quite safe in your hands, Rael.” It was easy for him to say that, he didn’t know what Rael had done just ten minutes prior--if he did, he would probably never let Gavin within a hundred feet of the temper-prone excuse for an Imperial Guard soldier.

“Uh--excuse me, sir,” Gavin piped up nervously. He was facing towards the Emperor, so Rael couldn’t see his facial expression. Honestly, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to see it. “What exactly can someone like me do as an assistant?” the human inquired, voicing the question that Rael had been pondering.

“You will do whatever Rael requests of you,” the Emperor told him simply, then turning to Rael said, “You may utilize him as your assistant how you see fit, so long as he isn’t put in significant danger of course.” Rael couldn’t believe how much faith the Emperor seemingly had in him. Where did it come from? This was by far the longest interaction he’d ever had with the ruler of Iaela, so why did he seem to trust a random soldier so much? “I’ll have some furniture and attire made up to suit a human. You are also free to request any accommodations you think you may need,” the Emperor added, already scrawling down notes on a sheet of parchment.

Rael opened his mouth, but he had nothing to say. He just couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He’d gone from disliking humans to being made the guardian of one in a matter of hours. He still wasn’t sure about his opinion on humanity as a whole, but he couldn’t deny the fact that one particular human had penetrated the tough exterior he had built around himself.

Like it or not, Rael cared about Gavin. He never would have spoken up to the Emperor if he hadn’t. As strange and inexplicable as it may be, he needed to accept the reality of the situation. Gavin would be his ward for at least a year. They would be spending a lot of time with each other. Rael couldn’t keep pretending to be indifferent to the tiny man.

~

After being dismissed from the meeting with the Emperor, Gavin had been carried off by Rael, taken to what he could only assume was Rael’s quarters. The entire trip there had been silent, because what the hell was Gavin supposed to say? He was so mentally and emotionally confused at this point that he couldn’t even begin to make sense of anything.

Rael’s room was small and simple; it contained only a bed, side table, and little chest of drawers. On the way in, Gavin had noticed the hallway had been filled with doors, which led him to believe this area was entirely made up of the rooms of soldiers. At least Rael had his own space, the last thing Gavin needed at the moment was to be faced with more alteons.

“Gavin,” Rael spoke up, finally breaking the silence that had stretched out between the two of them. “I know you’re probably not pleased with this arrangement.” Gavin stared up at Rael from where he stood on the bedside table. The giant was sitting on his bed, but of course, he was still looming high over the human. “I...I understand why you would feel that way,” Rael’s voice was uncharacteristically hesitant, Gavin could hardly believe this was the same person who had yelled at him earlier.

A long sigh blew out from between Gavin’s lips. “I sure hope you’re leading up to an apology here,” he snipped, folding his arms firmly over his chest. He wasn’t going to put up with some indirect expression of regret, nah--that wasn’t going to fly. If Rael wanted his forgiveness, he would have to make an apology as clear and plain as day.

There was no derision or amusement on Rael’s face, just a solemn frown. “Ashryn wanted me to prove myself by...reigning you in,” the alteon explained in a stormy tone. “I was too afraid of harming my reputation to not take the bait.” Clearly Gavin’s assumptions had been right. “But I was wrong...and weak for not standing up to Ashryn. For that, I am sorry.” It was hard to believe Gavin was hearing those words being directed at him from Rael. A few hours ago it would have seemed impossible.

As good as it was to hear the apology, Gavin still felt like there was something Rael wasn’t entirely grasping. “Listen, I know I look pretty tough, but you’ve gotta realize how--how freaky it is when you use your size against me.” Admitting he was afraid wasn’t really something Gavin loved to do, especially considering he was trying to convince alteons that humans weren’t weak little babies, but Rael needed to know the effect his actions had.

The size disparity between the room’s occupants suddenly became even more strikingly apparent. Gavin was standing and Rael was sitting, and yet Rael still absolutely towered over the human. No matter how equal the two may be intellectually, Rael would always have a huge automatic advantage over Gavin--and that was something they would both have to come to adapt to if they were going to be living and working with each other for the foreseeable future.

“Are you afraid of me?” The sudden question stunned Gavin. He wasn’t sure why, because it had always been something in the back of his mind. Maybe it was just shocking hearing Rael ask it so bluntly.

Gavin paused. How was he supposed to answer this? He had definitely had fear inflicted on him by Rael on multiple occasions, but was he really and truly afraid of the guy? Gavin gave a weak shrug. “I don’t really know...I guess sometimes…” Rael gave a tight nod, as if he had been expecting that response. “But other times you’re just a big, awkward dork,” Gavin quickly added.

A very slight smile pulled at the corner of Rael’s lips. “Alright, I’ll promise not to use my size against you anymore, if you can promise not to call me a ‘dork’ again,” he said the words so seriously, and yet the growing grin on the alteon’s face gave him away.

Gavin chuckled. “Fine, but you gotta promise not to give me any weird assistant jobs, like polishing your scabbard or some shit.” He really didn’t know how much someone of his size could really be of use to a giant, but he supposed this arrangement was better than being thrown into a cage.

Rael raised a single dark eyebrow. “Oh, but you’re probably the only one that could actually reach the inside.”

A grumpy frown took shape on Gavin’s face. “Okay, next rule: no size jokes at my expense!”

A warm, genuine laugh escaped from Rael. In a flash the giant man was reaching forward, and before Gavin could dodge backwards, a massive index finger was ruffling his hair, making the already messy locks even more of a disaster. “No promises.”

Gavin let out a long sigh. Somehow he had gone from being a professional thief to the assistant to a gigantic, elf-eared man from another dimension. “At least it’s more exciting than being a damn doctor.”

I was originally gonna make this two parts but I decided to just make it one big chunky final chapter! This story was kind of like the introductory prologue to Gavin and Rael so there's definitely room for more about them in the future if people are interested. I had a ton of fun writing this and totally appreciate all the nice comments and such that I got!

I've got a busy few weeks ahead of me but feel free to send in prompts/commissions for my ocs. I just may take a little while to actually get to them.

#ending on lucky number 13 i guess #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t writing #my writing #g/t fluff #oc: gavin stone #oc: rael

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part two, wherein we actually get to the internships. Let’s see whether Gran lives up to all the hype (and terror) surrounding him.

[No. 46 - Bizarre! Gran Torino Appears]

We come back to the day internships start, with Aizawa seeing all his students aff at the train station. He double-checks that they all have their costume cases, before reminding them that wearing said costumes in public is prohibited, but also to not lose them. Ashido is the only one to give an enthusiastic reply, with Aizawa briefly reminding her to not slur her ‘yeah’ because he sends them all off with a reminder to be on their best behavior. 

Hagakure comments on how the internship is gonna be fun. Kirishima double-checks that Tokoyami is heading to Kyushu, before pointing out that it’s the other way. Shouto is quiet as he heads off towards his own train. And Tenya…

Tenya’s already marching off as Ochako and Izuku look on in concern. Izuku calls after him to get him to stop, before we shift into a brief narrative recollection about Ingenium and Stain. They’re heard about what happened to Ingenium on the news after the sports festival. How his attacker is still out there like a ghost in the wind. Stain had already murdered seventeen heroes and put another 23 out of commission permanently. But Tenya had never said anything.

Back in the present, Izuku tells Tenya that if it ever gets to be too much and he needs to talk, he just needs to say something. They’re his friends. Ochako nods in agreement. Tenya is silent for a moment, before he slaps on a smile and agrees before heading off, a much darker expression on his face with no one to see it.

Izuku’s narration states that he wishes he’d more than that to him, because he would eventually come to regret that day. 

Transcript:

The Kids Aren't Alright | Alli 🤝 — Today at 9:47 AM

Okay honestly I get this is supposed to be an important moment but it actually took me out of it

Like,,,,I get the idea, but to me it least it would have been more impactful with a normally shaded panel, then a heavily shaded one

That's just me tho, idk

ashy | alien queen rights — Today at 9:48 AM

understandable

The Kids Aren't Alright | Alli 🤝 — Today at 9:48 AM

I see why it was done tho, so I respect it

This is not the first time I've heavily disagreed with Horikoshi on expressions/shading but the one I'm thinking of should be saved for later

ashy | alien queen rights — Today at 9:50 AM

yeah, i mean there were definitely other moments last chapter where like, when he's putting on his fake smile, it's all normal shading and everything, so having it here would have made the dissonance of the panels above and below even more stark

The Kids Aren't Alright | Alli 🤝 — Today at 9:51 AM

He's usually so great at it so when it doesn't hit for me (cause it is subjective) the disappointment is so much bigger

Like I wanna like it but I know I can't, ya know?

ashy | alien queen rights — Today at 9:52 AM

valid and understandable! I'm perfectly okay with it, but it also could be better too. I might be a bit kinder about it because this is technically still his first year of working on BNHA at this point in the story, so like. considering current manga is what, year seven??????????? art improvements.

The Kids Aren't Alright | Alli 🤝 — Today at 9:54 AM

That too yeah, gotta take that into consideration

He obviously had the talent for it and knew how to use it but comparing technique between ch40 and ch240 is a little silly unless it's "look how he's improved"

After forty-five minutes on the bullet train, Izuku finally reaches his destination, some small city tucked into the hills. As he approaches Gran Torino’s address, Izuku muses over how he’s a hero who scares the pants off All Might. He’s never heard of said hero, but he’s gotta be one awesome guy! Gotta be one… awesome… guy…

Not an auspicious start to the internship, I would say. This small building has definitely seen better decades, and it’s a wonder it hasn’t been torn down and replaced yet, especially with how shiny new the buildings around it seem to be. Izuku hesitantly peeks inside, wondering if this is even the right address. He starts to introduce himself in case Gran is around, mentioning that he’s come from UA high, that he’s Izuku, and is in the middle of the usual polite greetings when he sees the dead body on the floor and screeches just a bit.

Man, that sure is one very dead body. Totally not faked or anything. Man, Hori really making this dark real fast. RIP, Gran Torino, we hardly knew ye. /solemn 

No wait, he’s alive! Hoorah! 

Gran gets back up to his feet, commenting on how he slipped and fell while carrying ketchup-covered sausage links, how clumsy of him. He then demands to know who Izuku is. Izuku is rigid and nervous as all hell as he repeats his name, and then again when Gran doesn’t seem to make it out. As Gran continues to show every sign of senility, Izuku starts freaking out internally, thinking of how he’d figured Gran would be old due to being All Might’s teacher, but this?

Gran sits right back down in the middle of the mess on the floor, commenting on wanting to eat lunch, while Izuku is just trying to figure out what to do. He then calls Izuku ‘Toshinori’, which Izuku denies, before he starts heading for the door with his phone in hand, excusing himself to make a call. Internally, Izuku thinks about how he needs to let All Might know this guy is off his rocker.

Transcript:

Wip Generator — Today at 10:07 AM

I love how gran is all “to slip and fall while carrying etc how clumsy of me” because that implies that he did actually trip and fall and then was like ‘oh actually I can use this!’ And just stayed down 😂

Gran: drops plate Gran: ... flops face down into the mess

ashy | alien queen rights — Today at 10:11 AM

he's really enjoying fucking with izuku and then the ruse drops and it's terrifying

However, just as Izuku turns around, the atmosphere of the entire room changes, Gran opening Izuku’s case while telling him to fire off an attack, show him his One For All. He wants to know to what degree he can control it. Izuku turns back to stare in confusion, wondering at the sudden change while he stutters and stalls. Gran ignores it and tells Izuku to put on his costume and come at him. 

He then totally breaks the atmosphere by turning to Izuku and asking who he is again. At this point, Izuku is pretty much done with everything, hissing in frustration before he starts explaining himself. He needs to get this power under control as soon as possible, because All Might doesn’t have much time left. That’s why he doesn’t have time to mess around with Gran. 

And with that, Izuku turns on his heels and moves to march out of the building, leaving his suitcase behind. Gran stares after him for a moment, seemingly confused, while Izuku is just trying to hold onto his determination. And then, well.

A sudden 180 right into terrifying! Gran launches himself around the room, building up speed as he moves to block Izuku from leaving. He wears a very terrifying leer as he repeats himself - “come at me, you neophyte.”

Izuku is not prepared.

And with that, the chapter is wrapped up. This half was really a roller coaster of emotions and I have no idea how to feel about it. But hey, coming up very soon is Full Cowl, so look forward to that! 

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #readthrough #chapter 46 #hero killer arc #midoriya izuku #Iida Tenya #gran torino #gran's one hobby in live is fucking with ofa holders #and by god does he put a lot of work into that hobby

[lady-literature]

A Miraculous DC Crossover

ALL RIGHT!!

I’ve been sucked into this unholy sub-fandom and I have thoughts okay? lots of them. Almost none are coherent and I don’t care. I have no plotline to write a fic but by the gods do I need to get out all my ideas.

Behold:

the Salttm

Lila, obviously. But she’s a petty nuisance at best, and an annoyingly competent akuma to fight at worst. manipulative, but not really dangerous ya feel?

Alya. which like, home girl probably doesn’t deserve but like,,, the drama??

CHLOE REDEMPTION YOU COWARDS

She and Marinette become surprisingly good friends (because I love that for both of them and you can pry it from me cold, dead hands)

Nettie-bug and Queenie

They pick on Adrien together

Mari’s friends Protection Squad That Don’t Take No Shit

Adrien

Chloe

NINO BITCH HE DESERVES MORE LOVE TBH

Alix?? Probably

Luka obvi

Felix (PV)?? Or does Marinette have enough emotionally constipated boys in her life?

(Answer: no. no she does not.)

Nath? He be a good fox tbh. creative and sneaky boi

Kagami!!! I love her

They’re all heroes because I say so.

Felix (Sparrow) is an honorary member even though he doesn’t have a miraculous

He handles PR and other background things along with Chloe

Joined up a few years back when Parisians were getting a bit too critical of the heroes

No Hawkmoth b/c fuck that guy

He existed, just not anymore. Bitch got yeeted

There’s other villains in town now. After Hawkmoth’s defeat other metas/supervillains looked at Paris and was just like, ‘free real estate?”

So now the Miraculous Team are Paris’ Actual Full-Time Hero TeamTM… yay.

Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Abielle (or like, Wasp/Yellow Jacket idk Chloe changes her name because ~identity stuff~) are the core three team. like, the wonder woman/batman/superman trio of the MTeam.

Nath is called Reynard Ambre b/c I love him

The public knows he exists but he’s never seen in battle and no pictures exist.

but there are plenty of instances where Paris knows he out mucking around because those akuma battles always get really weird.

Marinette be the guardian?

Guardian in training

Along with all the other holders b/c jesus. Give the girl a break.

Yeah. I like that Idea. All current holders are training to be guardians as well, but Mari’s going to step up as Guardian Supreme when Fu steps down.

Hero fashion!!!

The Miraculous Team is all decked out in their own merch like 24/7

Rarely is it thier own hero persona tho

Not because of like,,,, secrecy or anything. Just because they’re all nerds who love each other

Marinette is the lead producer of Miraculous Merchandise. It’s like,,, her BrandTM It was completely unintentional too

(Adrien and Chloe financially support her work tho. She designs, makes a prototype, and has her two blondes get others to replicate it)

Half of Paris is wearing her without knowing it

(Go MDC! get it girl!)

She totally makes Gotham inspired outfits because what else would she do????

Don’t get her wrong, most of Gotham’s fashion sense royally pisses her off but it’s fun and hey, supporting her fellow heroes ya know?

She wears a Robin hoodie after being officially acquainted with both Damian and Robin (separately of course)

Damian chokes on something, probably his own tongue.

It confuses Nettie. But then she thinks maybe he’s a fan too? She offers to make one for him but he steadfastly refuses much to his brothers’ amusement.

Might make a robin themed dress?? If so, she crosses paths with Robin when she does, thoroughly embarrassing her and almost sending poor Dami into a crisis.

Rogues Gallery

She makes a lot of designs off the rouges gallery because like, supporting people trying to get better??? also they’re some of the few who’s aesthetic aint shit?

She can’t make all of them because she ran out of time, so the rest get posited up on her Instagram and MDC blog (that’s run by Tikki mostly. She’s a great secretary and gets bored in Mari’s purse all the time)

Everyone is very flattered

Harley, if she ever finds it, immediately commission all pieces and wears them around Gotham don’t @ me

Daminette obvi

Marinette meets him and is just like ‘wow, you’re horrible. I want five’

Marinette, in the group chat later: so I met Kagami and Felix’s love child today

Kagami and Felix, seconds apart: I would never stoop so low

immediately after: Hey what the fuck? Rude

Nino: Nettie, dearest, sunshine, light of our collective lives and reason I breathe, what the fuck

Adrien: Kagami, my love, how could you? the Betrayal

Chloe: ew

Luka: Send pics or it didn’t happen

Nath: [insert the ‘right in front of my salad?’ meme]

Whenever they cross paths as Robin and Mari, he’ll just like,,, appear from nowhere hanging upside down spiderman style. Mari finds it endearing but she also wants him to stop scaring the shit out of her

Nicknames, because I have an unhealthy obsession with them, alright?

Misc Mari names: Bug, Bugaboo, Buginette, Madame President/Colonel (when the Team’s being cheeky), Princess, Marigold, Nettie (by like, Nino and Alix)

Jason calls her Pixie-pop

The bird boys call her Nightingale/Mockingbird in like, honor of her being a kickass civillian

Mari refers to them as ‘the flock’ (and bird-brains after getting to know them better)

Damian calls her: Starling, Habibti, ya qamar(my moon), malaki (angel), ya wardati(my flower) (b/c like, angel’s cute an all but I just think Damian’s way more dramatic than that tbh. he’d put thought into his nicknames)

Mari calls Damian: mon soleil (my sunshine) (because symmetry and also Mari thinks she’d hilarious), Birdie, petit oiseau/oisillon

I like the idea of Jagged being a native Gothamite tbh

it’s just so fun honestly???

He’s probably the reason the MTeam are in Gotham in the first place? maybe? anyway, the class is there, right? right. 

Kagami, Luka and Felix are all holding the fort down in Paris. Ain't no akumas but sometimes they need backup so when certain heroes need to disappear, Nath has Trixx set up an illusion of whichever one so they can slip away with the horse miraculous.

Mari’s the one who has to leave the most because she’s still Paris’ damage control, so like,,,,, ya know.

Mari doesn’t get left behind, at least not on the first day b/c come on people! She has plenty of friends in class watching out for her and a semi-competent teacher who does care even if she’s non-confrontational to a fault.

She does eventually become separated from the group. Half because of Lila and half because she’s always fucking late and got distracted.

She actually runs into one of the civilian batfam in the first place because the class was allowed an hour or so to wander around the shopping district or whatever to explore/buy things/get food. They just needed to return to the meetup spot at a certain time but Mari is like ten minutes away when it’s five minutes to the meetup

So she’s just… fucking booking it and completely takes out this trained vigilante without trying to.

Mari, as she’s groaning on the ground, tangled around a boy: By Kwamii, I thought my luck was supposed to be good Tikki.

That or like, the subway doors close before she can get on them and the rest of the class ends up ahead of her leaving her to get caught up on some bullshit in the next train or smth.

Oh, like. Of course it’s her train that gets held hostage. Wonderful.

(Later, Mari will rant at Tikki about her luck. A common conversation between the two tbh.)

This could be where she officially meets the Batfam as the Batfam. Or, like. A couple of em, at least.

Marinette getting serial adopted by the whole goddamn batfamily because i will die for this trope tbh i dont even care

The Robins nickname her Nightingale before they realize she’s Ladybug

They still call her that after but it’s not with the intention of making it her hero name anymore

Her and Alfred are def bros you don’t understand

Actually, Gina and Alfred are old friends. Mari totally knows Alfie before the bat fam and calls him Poppy/Pépé

which floors the batfam because what? Since when does that happen???

Alfred and Mari never, like, actually met in person before, but video chats exist and Gina def talks about the two to each other so it’s like they may as well know each other.

I also like the idea of Alfred being a former holder, probably the peacock. I would adore that

Just,,,, so many fun hero shenanigans

Yeah sure. The batfam are super detectives and have a history of figuring out people’s identities in no time at all. Whatever. Where’s the drama in that though? The showmanship?

Fuck canon, the Miraculous all have glamours because magic bitch and it plays fucking hell on the Batfam and all their shit

Every single Batfam member is simultaneously pulling their hair out because they don’t know who these heroes are???? Why can they figure them out?? Confusion???????

Miraculous team is just…. Straight up laughing at them. The poor dears.

That one gag where it’s a well-known secret that Mari has connections to every Parisian hero and is basically their own personal catering service/comfort place.

Also, it’s the worst kept secret in Paris that Mari is Multimouse

None of the MTeam have confirmed that rumour but they also don’t deny it.

they actually started the rumour. If all of Paris thinks Mari’s the mouse, a temporary hero, no one’s going to think she’s Ladybug/or that she’s an easy target to go after

chloe actually came up with that one

Mari meeting all of Damian’s ‘associates’ (ie pets)

She adores all of them and they her.

Especially GOLIATH, why isn’t he talked about more honestly???? He’s GREAT

She meets Goliath as Ladybug and Robin is just… so done with him??? You are supposed to be a fearsome beast and a professional why are you rolling over and expoSING YOUR STOMACH??? Meanwhile, Ladybug is just: Awww! Who’s a good boy? Who’s the best boy? You are! Look at how handsome you are! Cute widdle baby-

Miraculous Team hanging on the roof of their hotel kinda chilling

Maybe having a debate about doing some free-running/parkour?

Also maybe about whether or not they should be heroes while in Gotham

MT being like, why can’t we go and stop an armed robbery? we can help!

“Gotham already has very active heroes-”

“Vigilantes!”

“-whatever. I don’t want us stepping on any toes. This isn’t our terf and Batman’s known for being strict about Metas rolling around here.”

“We aren’t Metas though.”

“I don’t think he’ll enjoy splitting that particular hair, Nino. Just- not unless lives are at stake, okay? Emergencies only.”

“Yes, Colonel Ladybug.”

This debate most def gets crashed by batfam and confusion ensues upon both sides

batfam didn’t hear anything, they’re just really confused about these french kids hanging out on a roof in Gotham

Just.... yes. all of that. I have like, more but those are not organized or even remotely coherent. here you go! I might write for this but I already have other fics rn so... it wouldn’t be for a while. and as I said, I have no plot.

take this though, i guess. *throws confetti*

#miraculous ladybug #batfam #my typewriter #mlb x dc #mlb #ml fic #miraculous team #marinette dupen chang #adrien #maribat #daminette #maridami #headcanons #chloe #alya salt #lila salt #but like #barely #i really couldn't care less about them #tbh

[panda-noosh]

fire and ice {Draco Malfoy x Reader}{pjo x hp crossover}

Words: 21k {:))))}

Summary: Wizards and demigods don’t get along. So what happens when the Malfoys are forced to stay at Camp Half-Blood?

Genre: angst - pjo crossover!!!

Notes: ask me about commissions! - masterlist - AM I SORRY? ABSOLUTELY NOT. this has been brewing in my brain for literal ages and i’ve finally snapped and just done it. might do more. who knows? certainly not me. 

----

Lucius Malfoy hates demigods.

   Everyone knows it. He doesn't make it a secret. He doesn't listen to the people who tell him – time and time again – that demigods and wizards aren't even meant to mingle, that him bringing their name into every press conference, every public appearance, every meeting, is doing nothing but spurring a fire that should never have been lit in the first place.

   He's at it again, though, because of course he is. That man never knows when to leave well enough alone, especially concerning business that has nothing to do with him.

    Today, his words are just as harsh as they were yesterday. The newspaper quotes him saying demigods are nothing but scum, mistakes upon the world. He has claimed plenty of times that not a single demigod was a planned child, that no god in their right mind would ever conceive with a Muggle.

   “What the fuck is a Muggle?” Percy asks.

  You shake your head, eyes narrowed at the black and white words. They jumble together, as they always have done, but you're still capable of making out the bare bones.

  Lucius Malfoy really, really hates demigods.

  “This guy is on drugs,” Percy continues. “Who's gonna be the one to tell him we're all literally just vibing over here in camp?”

  “I think it all comes down to jealousy,” says Annabeth.

   “Jealous about what? He's a fully grown wizard – he could wipe us out with one flick of his wrist if he wanted to.”

  “You underestimate us.”

  Percy scoffs. “I saw Will nearly fall into the fire the other day; there's absolutely nothing here Lucius Malfoy needs to be afraid of.”

  And you see his point. Of course you do. Being a demigod yourself, you have the utmost confidence in the fact that Lucius Malfoy could, indeed, probably wipe you out with nothing more than a brief thought. Gods only know he's wanted to for as long as you've heard his name.

  Nonetheless, this acceptance doesn't stop you from thinking about what it would be like to really stumble across the man who seems to be all talk and no action. Never once have you heard a story of wizards attacking demigods, nor vise versa. The two clans stay far apart from one another for reasons that have been made abundantly clear in the newspapers; they will just never get along. Two clashes of power like that will leave the world rumbled, and many people hurt, and it's better off to avoid that when you can.

  “We should track this Malfoy bloke down.”

   The words have fallen from your mouth before you've even fully registered they are what you wanted to say. Both Percy and Annabeth pause mid-argument, Annabeth nearly snapping her spine with how fast she twists in her seat to look at you. You flick your eyes up from your plate of roast beef and give a tiny, timid smile, as if shy that you even made such a suggestion.

  “You're joking,” says Percy, before turning to Annabeth. “They're joking, right?”

  “They're definitely joking.”

   “I'm not.”

   “Well, you need to start joking before I bring Will over here to make sure you're not running a fever or something-”

   “I'm serious!” You gesture towards the fire, where the newspaper can still be seen curling amongst the flames. “Have you guys not been reading the amount of threats he sends us every time he gets a chance? What if he's serious?”   “I doubt he's being serious,” Annabeth says, though there's a wobble in her voice that tells you she perhaps doesn't fully believe her own assurances. “Isn't it a crime in the wizard world to – like – murder innocent things?”

  “I'm pretty sure there was an entire space of time over there where people were just murdering each other,” Percy responds.

  Annabeth pales.

  “See what I mean?” you continue. “Besides, it's getting boring here.”

   Percy blinks. “Boring?”

   “I'm bored. I just want something to do, for Gods sake. Chiron's keeping such a tight leash on us-”

   Percy throws his hands up. “Oh! I wonder why!”

   “You two even said a few days ago that you miss being out and about, doing stuff, saving lives-”

   “I never said that,” Percy argues. “In my opinion, I've had enough saving lives to last me a lifetime.”

  “Weak.”

   “Coming from-”

  “Okay!” Annabeth snaps. “Enough. This conversation is officially over.”

  You pout, folding your arms over your chest like a child having a tantrum. Percy laughs at your expression, giving your nose a playful tap that does nothing but infuriate you further. It's been like this for weeks now – short tempers, boredom, an unease that can only be put to rest when you're out and about, doing what you do best.

   Maybe it's the ADHD. Maybe it's the godly blood running through your veins. Maybe you're just too curious for your own good, but you want to find Lucius Malfoy and just talk to him. You want to see if he's as tough in person as he makes himself out to be on paper. You know you're not much to look at, nothing more than a teenager with interesting parentage, but maybe that will be enough to get your questions answered – why do wizards hate demigods so much?

  Annabeth cuts the conversation short any time you try bringing it to life again. She's a master at changing the subject, sometimes deciding to just talk over you about a completely different topic. Eventually, Percy's laughter and Annabeth's avoidance is enough to make you shut up, and soon you're just sitting there, listening to Annabeth talk about the recent Athena cabin shenanigans she bore witness to a few nights previous.

  Dinner finishes, and the tables split back into their cabins. Annabeth gets lost amongst her sea of siblings, giving you and Percy a wave before she disappears for the night. You and Percy walk in silence for a little while, before you split off to your own respected cabins.

  Alone.

  Sleeping on your own has never bothered you before. It's all you've ever known. You were born an only child, your mother having lost her mind shortly after giving birth to you, your father never being around due to the complicated fact he was a god.

  Is a god.

  Sometimes it shakes you to think your own father will undoubtedly outlive you. Hades is sat on his throne somewhere, watching you do all these things in his honour, knowing full well he will one day have to watch you die. He might be by your bedside as your heart beat gradually comes to a halt in your sleep.

  More likely, he will be sat amongst his godly brothers and sisters, watching you fight on the battle field, catching the very moment a sword pierces your chest and you bleed out with no one to help you, no one by your side, no one caring.

  You shake the thought from your head as you reach your cabin, a large, black painted building with a skull and crossbones over the door. It's a lonely place, but demigods are lonely kids, so it kind of fits, and you've never seen any problem with facing the truth.

  As soon as the door closes behind you, you grab your notebook and pen from beneath your pillow. It's been a long time since you wrote anything, considering you've been too tired to even properly function these days, but tonight, your thoughts are heavy, and you need to find some way to let them loose. You sit cross-legged on the uncomfortable camp bed Chiron provided you with all those years ago, and start scribbling.

  Just random sentences, things that probably won't even make sense when you wake up tomorrow morning, words that don't even go together, but are just popping in your mind every few seconds. You've always called it poetry, but it's on thin ice. You let nobody read it, considering you know how bad it is, how weird it is. You can honestly imagine someone reading it and immediately expressing concerns for your mental stability.

  But it distinguishes that weight in your brain. It makes you see sense for a bit, pouring these words onto paper before closing the notebook and stuffing it beneath your pillow. You won't have to read them again if you don't want to, and that's the best part; it offers a moment of bliss, but there are no strings attached. All is well. All can be ignored if you want it to be.

  ----

  It takes weeks for the subject of Lucius Malfoy to arise at the dinner table again.

   Annabeth has been fighting it off. The demigod has known you for far too long; at this point, all she needs to do is take a glimpse of your face, and immediately she knows exactly what is going through your brain. It's like a sixth sense to her, and it gives her the perfect opportunity to change the subject before you can so much as utter the word Wizard.

   Percy notices the tension, and finally snaps.

  “Are you still thinking about what Lucius Malfoy said?”

   Annabeth groans, slapping Percy on the arm. “I told you not to bring it up!”    But your attention has already been grabbed. You straighten up in your seat, grinning from ear to ear as you say, “So can we go?”

   “Give me a break,” Annabeth grumbles, dropping her head into her hand. “We're not going to visit Lucius Malfoy. We don't know the guy.”

  “He doesn't know us.”

   “Good.”

  You lean across the table to flick Annabeth's forehead. “But he still insists on talking about us to whatever freaky wizard press he has special ties to; I just want to see him, Annabeth! I just want to – like – mess with him a little bit!”

  Percy laughs, nudging Annabeth's elbow. When he speaks, it's through a mouthful of noodles. “I actually think our Y/N is on to something.”

   “Thank you, Percy.”

  Annabeth's head shoots up, a pale spot in the centre of her forehead where you flicked her. “No! No, this isn't even up for debate. Chiron will kill us if he knows we're even talking about it.”

   “No he won't,” you reply. “Chiron trusts us. He's seen us do all sorts, and it's not like I'm asking you guys to go and risk your lives for me. We'll go and talk to him, get his side of the story, and then we'll-”

  “It's honestly like you think I'm stupid.”

  You freeze, fork hovering halfway to your mouth. “Come again?”

   Percy laughs, failing to stifle it behind his hand. “You've only gone and woken the beast, Y/N.”

  “Shut up.”

  Annabeth sighs, running a hand over her ponytail. “I've known you since we were seven years old, Y/N – I know what you're up to. You'll never just talk to Lucius Malfoy. You'll get there, and you'll have to taunt him, and jeer at him, and put a stink bomb in his bathroom-”

   “That's the oldest trick in the book – I'm better than that.”

  “But you know what I mean!” Annabeth shakes her head. “You'll get carried away, and we know what happens when you get carried away.”

  Your stomach dips. Even Percy's bright smile falls, replaced with a grimace the two of you share. It's a low blow, and Annabeth knows that, but she also knows better than to make it out like you and Percy aren't two of the most unpredictable demigods to walk on Camp Half-Blood soil.

  When Annabeth next speaks, her voice is softer. “It's just too risky.”

  “Since when did you start being scared of a little confrontation?”

  Percy's voice startles you from your momentary reverie. Both you and Annabeth snap to attention, turning to look at your friend with raised brows; suddenly, he doesn't look like the happy-go-lucky, always bantering kid he usually is. His expression has darkened, jaw set and eyebrows lowered so his blue eyes look darker than normal. He can't even bring himself to look you both in the eye, instead choosing to keep a firm glare on the noodles and rice in front of him.

  “What do you mean?” Annabeth asks. “I'm not afraid of confrontation. My scars can vouch for that.”

   “Right, so why is Y/N's suggestion so scary to you?”

   You blink; this was certainly not the direction you were expecting the conversation to go. Annabeth and Percy bicker like cat and dog, but there's never been any malice in it. Now, listening to Percy, you can hear the genuine hurt in his voice, and you know her previous comments about getting carried away have actually struck a chord in him.

  Annabeth stares with her mouth agape, clearly unsure how to respond. She must sense the tension, too, must realise she has said the wrong thing.

   Still without looking up, Percy says, “I agree with Y/N; we need out of this camp for a little while. We need to do something. So why not have a little road trip to visit the man himself, huh? Why not get our questions answered?”

  “Percy....” Annabeth flicks a desperate glance in your direction, but you're not inclined to intervene when Percy is like this. As someone who has experienced the difficulty of controlling powers that you have been forced to ignore for a grand number of years, the last thing you want to do is provoke Percy any further than Annabeth has already managed to do.

   “I'm bored, too,” he continues. “And, to be honest, I'm getting pretty tired of them wizards thinking they can say whatever they want about us. It's about time we let them know they're not better than anyone just 'cause they wear them stupid robes and have a council.”

  “So what are you saying?” you pipe up, excitedly. “You'll go with me?”

   Percy shrugs. “I don't see why not. It'll be a bit of fun, won't it?”

   You cheer, throwing your hands in the air before catching a glimpse of Annabeth's angered expression. Your cheer immediately drifts away, and you let your hands fall to your sides before mumbling, “You sure? 'Cause, I mean, we don't have to.”

  “No, we're going,” says Percy, staring right at Annabeth. He has a death wish. That is the only explanation you can come up with right now. “It'll be fun, as you said.”

  Annabeth's nostrils flare. She says nothing else, simply sends one final glare to Percy – as if you're not even present – and stands up, marching away before dinner has finished.

   Percy huffs, slumping back in his chair. “Where does she get off telling us we get carried away?”

  “I mean, she isn't wrong, Percy.”

  Percy scowls. “I don't think that's very fair.”

  “You're in denial.” You plunge your fork into his noodles, using his distraction to steal some food for yourself. “But we're going to visit Lucius Malfoy! That'll be fun!”

   “I only said that to make Annabeth angry.”

  “I know, but a promise is a promise. We're going, and we're gonna have a fantastic time.”

  “I highly doubt that.”

  Not even two seconds later, Percy squeals and jumps from his seat. “Hey! Don't do that!”

  You grin, willing the skeletons hand to let go of Percy's ankle and sink back into the dirt.

  -----

  You and Percy remember this so well.

  It's muscle memory at this point, standing in the Hades cabin in the dark of night, Percy having tip-toed over to your domain to indulge in some illegal shenanigans. When you were younger, this used to be a nightly occurrence, which is one of the main reasons you both share such dramatic memories; neither of you are capable of staying out of trouble for very long, and maybe this is the very reason why.

  It's so easy for you to go wherever you want. You could shadow travel out of Camp Half Blood without a second thought, exhaustion be damned, but you never do. You respect Chiron too much to go out of your way to disobey him, but tonight is an exception. Percy stands by your side, hands tucked into an oversized hoodie. He's pulled the hood on over his dark hair, shoving the tangled strands into his eyes, though he does little to fix this. Instead, he keeps his blue gaze on you and says, “How long do you think we'll be?”

   “Not long,” you reply. “A few hours. Maybe a little longer if you fancy a stroll around London before we head back.”

  Percy scowls, glancing over his shoulder at the window. Nobody is awake. Camp Half Blood has never been so quiet.

  “Stop worrying.” You grab the sleeve of his hoodie, ushering his attention back to you. “I know what I'm doing, Perce – you've been with me a thousand times before. You know I can do it.”

  “Last time you shadow travelled this far, you nearly died.”

  “I was younger then. I've had more practise.”

  “Enough to travel to London?”

  You grab his hand, the motion so familiar now it's almost second nature. “Let's find out, shall we?”

   You don't give life the chance to throw another distraction your way; you inhale in that way you always do before a lengthy jump, and then you let your mind empty of all rational thought. Your mind does not go blank, nor does it settle; for a brief spell, you feel insane. You feel utterly and completely unhinged as the dead cackle in your head, thrashing through your brain like dogs trying to leap a wire fence. Your thoughts are no longer your own, replaced instead by the thoughts of people who are angry at death, angry at their own fate, people who blame your father and all of his offspring for the way their lives turned out.

  It hurts. You're forced to watch their faces as they twist into expressions of pure agony, begging for a help you cannot give them, because they are hundreds of years too late.

  It stops once your feet hit the ground.

  You try to steady yourself just to give off the illusion that you're perfectly fine, but your legs give out and you fall to your knees. Percy grabs your arm, but your body is limp as it slowly restores from the hectic ride that is shadow travel.

  “Never gets any better,” Percy grumbles; even he is a little uneasy on his feet, swaying to and fro. “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” you belch. “Are we in London?”

  Percy looks up. You follow his gaze, warmth immediately flooding your stomach at the sight of a job well done, because the two of you are amongst the unmistakeable sights of London.

  It's a bit disappointing, you won't lie. Pictures in newspapers always perceive England to be this sophisticated, well-lit place, bustling with people dressed in suits and expensive clothes. Instead, you're greeted by a dark city street, broken street lights flickering overhead, people bustling by with their heads down, wearing track suits.

  In the distance, someone yells, “Come on, mate!” and it echoes off the cobbled stone walls.

  You and Percy share a glance.

  “Maybe we just expected too much,” he says.

  “Probably.”

  He hauls you to your feet, keeping a hand on your arm just in case you end up toppling over again. Through the darkness, you are just able to make out the peak of a large house in the distance. It's straight from a horror movie in your opinion, made up of dark cobbles, a golden fence adorned with spikes to keep the Muggles from entering; the word itself is nearly enough to make you laugh, though the sight of the house keeps you quiet.

  You and Percy approach the gates timidly, his hand still on your arm. “Is this the Malfoy house?”

  “I think so,” you whisper. “It looks like the pictures we always see. It's what I was aiming for, anyway.”

   “Good job, soldier.”

  “Thanks, boss.” You pause, craning your neck to get a better look at the house. “How do we actually get through the gate?”

  There are lights on in at least four of the rooms, a shadow passing by a curtain that looks tall and slim, gliding more than walking. You grab Percy's arm and point, whispering urgently, “That must be him! Lucius!”

   Percy ducks his head down and laughs. “Okay, okay. Let's just climb the fucking gate and get everything set up.” He glances at you. “You're sure you're up for this?”

  “I've never been more prepared for anything in my life.”

  Together, the two of you scale the metal gate, using the upper body strength you have gathered from years of training at Camp Half Blood. You're over and in this strangers garden in a number of seconds, sprinting through the grand garden before suspicions can be roused. Around you, white peacocks look up from their grazing, though none of them make a sound to give away the presence of two strangers.

  You reach the fountain and duck beneath it; this is where Percy needs to be if he wants to succeed in his part of the plan. He crouches beside you and hovers his hands over the water, not even giving you a warning before he uses his powers to pull the water from the concrete fountain. It sprays across the garden, and that's when the peacocks start to scream.

  Water splashes against their feathers, startling them. You can barely hide your laughter at the sight of them springing up from whatever peaceful graze they were involved in beforehand, now darting around the garden like someone has plucked a feather from their flesh.

  Percy shoves your arm. “Stop laughing and get on with it before they come out!”

   You push past the distractions and focus your energy on your own powers. Your exhaustion makes it all a little bit more difficult, but the image of the final product is enough to have you pushing the exhaustion aside just to reap the benefits of this. Inside yourself, something pulls, and it's familiar, uncomfortable, but it has the effect you want. Almost immediately, a skeletal hand darts from the ground. Just one for now, but you wait patiently before making the next one erupt.

  The front door of the Malfoy house bursts open, and standing there is no other than-

  “That's not Lucius,” Percy says.

  “It definitely is not.”

   The person standing in the doorway cannot be much older than you, with snow white hair and a sharp face. His eyes, blue and cold, are wide as they take in the sight before him, his wand clutched in a trembling hand.

  “You said you saw Lucius in the window!” Percy hisses, struggling to reel the spray of water back into himself.

  “I thought it was!”

  “For Gods sake.” Percy grabs your arm and drags you up, no longer caring about being seen. However, you stumble as he runs, dragging you along behind him, because the sight of the boy is distracting; he looks terrified, like he was expecting something completely different, like he thought someone was finally coming to take him away.

  You recognise the expression only because you've worn it yourself so many times; growing up as the child of Hades leaves a lot of scars and a lot of fear on a person, considering your father certainly isn't the most liked individual upon the Olympians.

  As Percy attempts to drag you back to the gate, you glance over your shoulder. The boys blue eyes glare into your own. He has seen you.

  And nothing can really prepare you for what happens next. You don't know enough about the wizarding world to expect this, but the feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. Someone yells in your direction, and then something is crashing into your spine, slithering along your neck, giving you not a single chance to react before the world goes still and you drop to the floor, no longer processing a single thing happening around you.

  ----

  “Would you just wake up?”

  The voice is posh and annoying. It makes you want to laugh.

  The pain in your spine stops you from doing such a thing, however. Instead, you slowly rouse from sleep, met by the blinding lights of a room unfamiliar. You lay on a bed fit for a king, soft pillows engulfing your sore head, thick mattress swaddling your body like a newborn baby.

  And standing above you is a boy you remember seeing only vaguely; pale skin, snow white hair, a grimace that shows he perhaps isn't too happy about having you in his home.

  You stare at him a moment, willing him to make the first move. Maybe if he starts the conversation, you won't have to go into too much detail about why you're actually here, because despite the glitches in your memory, that is something you remember very, very well.

  Running across his lawn, thinking you were clever because you and Percy were finally going to give Lucius Malfoy a piece of his own medicine.

  And now Percy is gone, and you're trapped in a strangers house.

  The boy stood above you, however, says nothing. He looks almost nervous, eyes flashing between you and the door, like he's planning the easiest way to flee if things reach that point.

  Finally, you snap. “Hello.”

  He jerks away, nearly stumbling over a stool by the bedside as he does. “Oh,Christ. Hello.”

  “I didn't mean to scare you.”

  “You didn't – I'm not scared. I just thought you were still Stunned.”

  You blink. “Stunned?”

  “I Stunned you.” He pauses, biting his lower lip. “It was the only way I could think to get you to stop running.”

  “Is that some kind of spell?”

   The boy waves a dismissive hand. “The point is, you were in my garden earlier. If my father had been the one to see you, he wouldn't have hesitated to curse you and call it self defence.”

  His father.

  Something rushes through your stomach, an excitement that doesn't really make sense. All has failed. You're going to go back to Camp Half Blood and be chastised, probably brutally punished, for the choices you made tonight, and yet here you are, overjoyed at the mere mention of Lucius Malfoy, because that's the only person this boy must be talking about.

  “You look a lot like him,” you say.

  The boy narrows his eyes. “My father?”

  “Lucius,” you clarify. “He lives here, doesn't he? He's the one Percy and I came to see.”

  The boy slowly leans back in his chair; it's quite cute, actually, that he dragged a chair into this room just so he could sit over your Stunned body. Maybe he was making sure you didn't die. Maybe he just didn't trust leaving you on your own.

  “What business could you possibly want with my father?” he asks. “You must be my age. What year are you in at Hogwarts? What House?”

 You smile. “I don't go to Hogwarts.”

  He reels back. “Really? Are you from a foreign school? Beuxbatons?”

  “I don't go to your fancy magic schools. I'm not a wizard.”

  The boy blinks. It never ceases to baffle you the pure ignorance of these people – how they can grow up in a world completely detached from everything and everyone, and yet are still unable to fathom the idea of anybody being different.

  “If you're not a wizard, how did you make the water fountain do that?”

   “I didn't. Percy did that.”

  “Who is this Percy bloke you keep going on about?”

   “He's my friend, the one you apparently let get away.”

  The boy raises a brow, glancing over at the window as if expecting to see Percy just standing there; honestly, you wouldn't even be surprised.

  He turns back and says, “So your friend is a wizard? Are you a Muggle?”

   He's taking an awfully long time to catch on.

  “No,” you reply, exasperated. “Neither of us are wizards. We're from New York – a little place called Camp Half Blood.”

   And for a second, the revelation doesn't land. The boy continues staring at you like you have three heads, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed. But then the ball drops, and he jerks back, the chair dragging in the carpet with the speed at which he jumps to his feet. He looks almost horrified.

  “Alright,” you mumble. “I'm not going to bring Zeus down here personally. He's a bit busy-”

  “How did you even get here?” he hisses. “Are you an assassin? Is that why you were looking for my father – so you could kill him?”

  “Oh, don't be so dramatic. I'm a demigod, not a murderer.”

  The boy looks at you like he doesn't think there's much difference between the two.

  This angers you. Something in your stomach burns, and suddenly, the only thing you want to do is to get away from him. You want to go back home. You want to find Annabeth and hug her, tell her she was right, just as she always is. You don't like being in the company of wizards. You don't like being away from the people who understand you best.

  “Look, this was fun,” you say, pushing yourself up from the bed. “But I need to get going. I'm sorry about your fountain-”

  “Where are you going?” he demands.

  You pause, raising a brow.  “Why do you care?”

  “Because – Because what if you come back to finish my father off? I can't just let you go!”

  He must be completely oblivious. You have fought monsters taken directly out of storybooks, have argued and debated with Gods about things such as ice cream flavours and which way is the right direction to go on a road trip – the last person you have any interest in fighting with is some posh, uptight wizard.

  “Look,” you say, “all I wanted to do was mess with the guy. He's been saying some pretty harsh things about demigods lately, and Percy and I just wanted to give him a taste of his own medicine. I don't want to murder your father.”

  The boy stares at you. He's powerful, too. You know he is. You can see his wand sticking out of a deep pocket in his emerald green robes. One flick of that and you're a goner, and yet he chooses to just stand over you, eyes burning holes into your head.

  “What's your name, anyway?” you ask.

  He tenses. “Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.”

   “Sounds evil.”

  “It's a strong name.”

  “Right.” You flick your eyes to the clock hung upon the wall. “Can I go now?”

  He sighs and backs away from the bed. “My father would kill me if he found out I was letting you go.”

  You stand up, knees trembling from the aftershocks of having a wizards spell slam directly into your spine, but you manage to catch yourself before crumbling completely; Draco does nothing to help stabilise you, instead watching you with a thoughtful gaze, like he's preparing to attack at any moment.

  And it's weird. You know it's weird. You should not just be able to walk out of his house without a single consequence to your name. He should be holding you hostage, keeping you pinned to this bed until his grand old father gets home, and he can tell you off for trespassing, scaring the life out of his precious white peacocks.

  But Draco doesn't say another word as you slip out the door and barrel downstairs, suddenly desperate to be away from a world like this. It's weird. It's unnatural. They care about blood status, and they learn spells, and it's all just a little bit too weird for your taste.

  Even weirder is the fact that Draco is letting you go so easily.

  ---

  You arrive back at Camp Half Blood when it's light outside, and you know you've been caught.

  Wherever Percy may be, you do not envy the treatment he must be getting. You clamber up to the pine tree and look down at the camp you call home, not surprised to see people bustling back and forth already, Chiron included. He looks miffed, digging his front hoof into the dirt like a rabid animal ready to charge.

  That's kind of what he is.

  You hollow out your cheeks and stroll directly into camp, ignoring the startled gasps of the Half-Bloods. You'll deal with Chiron before you deal with them – that seems like the best way forward.

  Chiron spots you seconds before you reach him. He turns, dust billowing up around him before he says, “And where do you think you've been?”

  Chiron has always been a father-figure to you, Hades be damned. He saw you as a junior demigod, just growing into who you are, unable to fully process the fact that the man you always hated, the man you once believed to be a no good excuse of a father, was actually a Greek God who has spent his time watching you grow – just from the sky instead of on the ground.

  He treats you and Percy differently than everybody else. You're both feared for no reason. People shy away from you like you've been on some blood-lust streak your entire life, even though that's far from the case. When you can, you avoid using your powers, purely because you know how much people dislike them. They see them as unnatural. They think it's weird, despite them having abilities, too.

  “Hello, Chiron,” you mumble. “I'm very tired, so if you could just-”

  “We've had word from the Ministry of Magic.”

   You freeze, stomach dropping, certain you heard him wrong. The only wizard you actually made contact with was Draco, and surely he didn't go to the Ministry after letting you run free just like that?

  Chiron shakes his head. His disappointed look is more than you can bare. “What were you two thinking, Y/N? What did you think would happen?”

  “I – I – I don't know.” You look around desperately. “Is Percy here? Did he make it back safely?”

   “Percy's resting. He wanted to go after you, but Grover wouldn't let him, and thankfully so-”

  “I was fine. The boy I met – Draco -”

  “Draco Malfoy?”

  You falter. “Well, yeah. He spotted us and ended up Stunning me-”

 “Oh my gods.” Chiron runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the sky, saying whatever prayers he thinks will help right now, like the Gods have ever listened to any of you before. “You do realise that's Lucius Malfoy's son, don't you? The son of the man who wants our kind terminated.”

  “Draco wasn't like that,” you reply, even though you don't know why. “He let me go. He didn't even hurt me-”

  “You've just said he Stunned you!”

  “For, like, an hour! I was fine when I woke up! And look me in the eyes and tell me you wouldn't do the exact same thing if you could.”

    Chiron groans, turning back to the Big House. He starts walking without another word, forcing you to sprint after him.

  “Don't be mad,” you say. “It was stupid. I'm sorry. Chiron, I'm sorry. We just got bored-”

  “If children put their family's in danger every time they were bored, Y/N, the human race wouldn't exist.”

  He really is angry, angrier than you've ever seen him. It takes you back to your childhood when he used to tell you off for staying up too late, or getting out of bed in the middle of the night.

  You stumble after him, thankful that he isn't telling you to go away and leave him alone; that's one thing Chiron has always promised he will never do to you or Percy – he'll never just leave you alone.

  You walk into the Big House, side-by-side, and it's a mildly unpleasant surprise for you to see Annabeth already sat by Chiron's desk, her head in her hands, blonde curls framing her face. As soon as the door shuts behind you, she jerks up, whirls around and throws a pen in your direction.

  You catch it. “I am safe, thank you for asking.”

  “You're so stupid!” She groans, picks up another pen and throws it. Chiron is the one to interject this time, snatching the pen from thin air and tucking it into the little pouch hooked to his side.

  “Enough, Annabeth. We haven't got time to chastise them.”

  “I beg to differ,” Annabeth growls, not once taking her eyes off you.

  The guilt claws to the surface; she only wanted to protect you, only wanted to give you some decent advice, and neither you nor Percy had listened, both too absorbed in your own boredom to use the common sense Annabeth seems so prone to.

  Chiron, however, does not give you a chance to ponder over this gruesome feeling. Instead, he pulls a seat out and gestures for you to sit down, which you do without question; at this point, you know you'd be stupid to disobey him, would only be digging yourself into a deeper hole, one you're not too sure you'll be able to crawl out of.

  He takes a seat in front of you as Annabeth hovers by your shoulder, arms folded over her chest, eyes trained dead ahead. You awkwardly shift in your seat, waiting for the scolding to begin.

  But instead, Chiron grabs a golden button from a drawer in his desk and presses it without saying anything at all. The room immediately brightens up in all different colours – red, green, blue, strobe lights dancing across the room, taking shape in the centre of the carpet. You have to squint to fully understand the form taking shape, but when it does, your stomach drops.

  Made entirely of lights, standing in the middle of the room, is Cornelius Fudge, the jittery little minister of the wizard world.

  You've only seen him a few times, and never in person; a few times, he came to meet with Chiron in regards to escaped prisoners, wizards who wanted to harm demigods who were on the run. You never thought too much of him, but he looks angry now, his grubbly little face twisted into an expression of anger and loathing. When he speaks, his voice is loud and harsh, making you flinch with each syllable.

  “Chiron!” he exclaims. “I hope this message finds you well; I'm still trying to figure out the communication device you gave to me in our last meeting. It's all very confusing, and every time I press something wrong, thunder and lightening nearly wipe me out.” He coughs into a handkerchief before continuing. “Anyway, I'm here to inform you of a mishap which took place in the Malfoy Manor only a few short hours ago. I've been given word that one of your people tried breaking into Lucius's home to do God only knows what. It's only pure luck that Malfoy's son, Draco, was awake and was able to stop the wicked thing from getting through the door.”

   “Wicked thing?” you burst. Chiron raises a silencing hand, still refusing to look at you.

  “We as a nation are becoming very paranoid by the loose grip with which you have upon your own people; they are starting to become wild, careless, and I can truly see a murder from one of you in our future, which, as the Minister, I must put a stop to as soon as possible. Therefore, I demand the culprit be punished for his or her crimes, and I will be popping in soon with my witness to go over the details of the night to help you further understand where our fear is coming from.” Again, he coughs into a handkerchief. “Thank you. I hope the camp is well – the strawberries you sent were wonderful, as always! Good day to you, sir!”

  The lights blink out. The room is doused in silence. Inside your head, a scream echoes.

  You don't even know what to say. Would an apology even suffice? Would an explanation even be worth it? Years it has taken for the wizarding world and the demigod world to live in peace, and by the sounds of it, you've just annihilated all of that for the sake of a prank. You let Lucius Malfoy's hateful words burrow themselves into your head, which is probably exactly what he planned.

  Chiron puts the golden button back in his desk. The soft click it makes as it hits the wood echoes off the walls, so loud and gentle, so mocking. Slowly, he lifts his eyes to meet your own and says, “Now you can understand why we're all a little bit angry.”

  “A little bit?” You close your eyes, letting Annabeth's outburst ring throughout the room. “Chiron, I warned them! I warned them both! I said – what did I say Y/N? - I said-”

  “You said it was stupid, and that we shouldn't do it,” you mumble. “And we didn't listen.”

  “No, you didn't, and now you've given the wizard council a reason to think we're out to get them, which gives them a reason to announce open fucking warfare on us-”

  “Okay, Annabeth, calm down,” Chiron says. “We're taking this one step at a time. There's no point jumping ahead to things like that.”

  “Chiron, this is bad. This is so, so bad. The wizards are going to think we did this on purpose-”

  “Why are you saying we?” you ask. “Percy and I did this on our own. We'll take the consequences. We've done it before.” You turn to Chiron, who stands solemnly in the corner, head bowed as if deep in thought. “What are the consequences, may I ask?”

  He sighs, nostrils flaring. “We've decided that keeping you in camp for the rest of the summer will suffice for now. The Minister and his witness will be arriving in a few days and I want you to be on your best behaviour.”

  You scowl; the punishment is weak. You got off lucky, and you're aware of that, but it doesn't make it any more bearable. You hate being trapped, hate sitting in the Hades cabin with nothing but your own thoughts keeping you company. That's the hardest part about being a child of one of the Big Three – you're alone. It doesn't matter how many campers surround you, you are alone.

  But you take the punishment on the chin, giving Chiron a respectful nod before walking from the Big House to continue with the rest of your day. You'll find Percy and talk to him about everything, maybe apologise for dragging him into something so stupid, something so avoidable. If either of you had any flicker of common sense, none of this would have happened.

  It's only when you're halfway down the hill do you question anything Chiron has just told you.

  You falter, one word lingering in your mind. Witness.

  The only witness you can possibly think of is Draco Malfoy.

  ---

  He arrives in the afternoon, already looking so madly out of place.

  You spot his white hair, blowing so majestically in the wind Chiron has picked out for the day. His robes billow out around him, his sharp face stuck in an expression of anxiety. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes darting to and fro as he strolls through the centre of Camp Half-Blood with his father at his side and the stout Minister, Cornelius Fudge, strolling behind them.

  He looks so out of place. It would almost be humorous if you weren't burning with misplaced anger at the mere sight of him; he told on you. He ran to his father and touted on you, even after making it seem like he was going to let you go with no consequences, and now you're stuck in camp for the rest of the summer with absolutely nothing to do and barely anyone to talk to.

  “Dickhead.”

  “Is that him?”

  You jump at the sound of Annabeth's voice, very nearly dropping the spear you were working with before your distraction walked through the barriers.

  “That's him,” you reply. “Draco Malfoy.”

   “I meant the other guy. The one you went after.”

  “Oh, Lucius. Yeah. He's there, too.”

  Annabeth narrows her grey eyes, following the movements of the Malfoy boys. “You know, I can kind of understand why you wanted to put them in their place.”

  You open your mouth to respond, but the words collapse when Draco's head snaps in your direction, like he somehow sensed your presence. His eyes find yours, his face draining of what little colour it has; something inside you stirs, fingers curling impossibly tighter around the spear.

  You remember those eyes so well, shockingly well, strangely well. Waking up to them burning holes into your skull was an experience you don't think you'll forget, considering the shock that coursed through you at the mere sight of him. He was so calm, so curious, not even yelling the slurs his father seems so keen on.

  And you might have made it up. You might have just been imagining it, but you're almost certain he flicks his head in the direction of the bandstand set up on the far side of camp, nearly hidden beneath the canopy of trees. You continue to stare at him, too bewildered by the miniscule movement to respond before he disappears over the hill.

  “Come on,” Annabeth urges, nudging your arm. “Let's get back to training.”

  But you're too distracted now. Knowing that Lucius Malfoy and his son – Draco – are walking around Camp Half-Blood makes your moves sloppy. And then there's the matter of Draco's little signal, like he wants you to meet him somewhere, like he wants to talk to you.

  You have nothing to say to him, but that doesn't stop you being curious about what he wants to tell you.

  Annabeth swings her sword, very nearly clipping the side of your ear. You yelp, stumbling back. Your foot catches on a rock sticking up from the ground, and before you can react, you're sprawled across the grass with your spear laying in a heap at your side.

  Annabeth sighs, kicking the weapon away from your outstretched fingers. “What the hell was that, L/N?”

  You prop yourself up on an elbow. “You could have given me some warning.”

  “Oh yes, because the monsters will be so generous as to give you some warning.”

   You scowl, shoving up from the ground. “Look, I'm just gonna get some water before the next round, okay?”

  Annabeth falters, narrowing her eyes. “Just some water?”

  “Just some water.” You give her a dazzling smile, hoping to the gods that this is enough to convince her you are telling the truth. You know it's a long shot – Annabeth knows you better than anybody else, but she's learned from her mistakes. Trying to boss you around and tell you what to do will only ever end in disaster, and so she says nothing else as you set your gear back on the rack and head up the hill towards the bandstand, out of sight of Annabeth's suspicious glare.

  Draco isn't there when you arrive. The bandstand is deserted, the only sign of life being the tree nymphs poking their heads out of the canopy to see who has arrived on their territory. You shoo them away before slumping down on the bench set in the middle of the stand, gazing around with your heart beating wildly in your chest, and for no reason at all.

  He probably won't even show up. He probably hates you. He's probably too scared to face you after what he did, and honestly, you wouldn't even blame him.

  After ten minutes, you start losing hope. Chiron will be looking for you shortly, most likely tipped off by Annabeth that you disappeared for no reason instead of finishing your training session. It won't be long for them to add two and two together and realise exactly what you have gone to do-

  “I didn't think you'd actually show up. Thought you might have been banned from seeing me.”

  Your head snaps up. “Jesus, Draco. You scared the shit out of me!”

   There he is, all tall and lanky, white hair blowing away from his forehead, his weird robes billowing out around him. It's weird how a person can make such odd attire look nice, almost like an outfit you'd wear yourself.

  “Sorry,” he says, though he doesn't sound apologetic in the slightest; he sounds tired. “I thought you demigods were meant to have superhuman senses or something.”

  You raise a brow. “Our parents are gods, not superheroes.”

  “Same difference.”

  “I'm flattered.”

  He sits down beside you, shoulder bumping yours. “Don't be. It wasn't a compliment.”

   You fall into silence then, unsure of what to say, how to start the conversation you both know needs to be had. You had so much anger built up inside you only moments before, but the second you looked up and saw his face, it dispelled. You were reminded of them blue eyes gazing down at you when you awoke from your Stunning spell, how soft and worried they were for a complete stranger.

  Finally, he inhales deeply and says, “I didn't mean for this to get as big as it did.”

  “Everyone's mad at Percy and I. Me especially.”

  He tilts his head back, glaring up at the sky. “How badly did they punish you?”

   “I can't leave this place for the rest of the summer.”

  “Not too bad, then.”

  You glare at him. He cracks open an eye, catches your expression and raises a brow.

  “It is bad?” Lifting his head, he gestures towards the open stretch of grass in front of you. “This place looks amazing, Y/N. You've got everything you could possibly need, plus you're safe from all those crazy monsters we always get word about.”

  “The monsters don't bother me. I'm meant to go out and fight them; that's my purpose.”

   Draco glances at you. You feel his blue eyes burning holes into the side of your head, can feel the judgement radiating off him as he takes in what you've just said. You never realise just how strange other people must find statements like that, how backwards it truly is to crave the feel of battle.

  “You know, I'd kill to have a place like this.”

  You look at him. “Really? Is your mansion not enough?”

  He scowls, barrelling on like you haven't said anything. “A place where you feel like you belong.” He glances over. “You may hate being here sometimes, but look me in the eyes and tell me you don't feel like this place is home.”

   You can't do that. Despite your desire to be free sometimes, your desire to head out on the streets where you don't belong, you know Camp Half Blood will always be home. It will always be the place you turn to when you need comfort, because it is the only place in the world that has ever accepted you and your weird abilities with open arms.

  Draco hums. “Exactly. I don't have that. I don't fit in anywhere; I'm not evil enough for my family, not good enough for everyone else. I'm on my own.”

    The silence that follows is a heavy one; you're not used to this kind of talk. You relate so strongly to his feelings, but you very rarely express them in quite the same way. At Camp Half-Blood, everyone is in the same boat. It's rude to think you have it worse than somebody else. Every single person here was abandoned by a parent, maybe even both.

  But Draco isn't a demigod, so maybe he won't mind.

  “I get that.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yeah.” You tug at your sleeve, pulling the material over your curled fingers. “I don't exactly come from the most well-loved bloodline in this place. Even other Half-Bloods take one look at me and cower.”

  “That blonde girl I saw you with-”

  You wave a dismissive hand. “That's Annabeth; she's more like a sister to me, but even she's wary of my powers.”

  Draco pauses. “What powers?”

  You open your mouth to respond, to go through the long list of the terrifying things you are capable of, but your words are cut short by the sound of a bark in the distance. Your head snaps up immediately, senses sparking to life before you've even fully processed where the noise is coming from. Around you, the tension in the camp is amplified as the other Half-Bloods spring to the same level of alertness.

  Draco straightens up, reaching into his back pocket for a wand that you can almost guarantee will be completely useless within the boundaries of Camp Half-Blood. You place a hand on his shoulder as you stand, pushing him back down onto the bench.

  “Stay here.”

  “Where are you going?” he asks, head darting left and right. “What was that?”

  “I don't know, but it didn't sound good.”

   “So call someone!”

  You raise a brow, shooting him a glance over your shoulder. He looks like a scared little boy, hands balled against his chest, eyes darting to and fro. They join with yours eventually, softening almost immediately.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “We don't just call someone at Camp Half-Blood. We deal with this stuff on our own.”

  Draco falters. His eyes narrow, though the expression doesn't last long; suddenly, he cries out and lurches forward, pointing madly to a space just over your shoulder. You spin just in time, yanking your sword from your belt and swinging blindly. Your shoulder smashes against the dirt, giving you a view of the beast that has just tried ripping you to shreds.

  A chimera.

  You recognise it. Of course you do. The lion head and snake tail are kind of difficult to forget.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Draco, go!” you yell, rolling onto your knees and swinging your sword yet again. The chimera dives, talons outstretched, mouth open in a roar.

It's massive paws slam into your shoulders, shoving you back yet again. You cry out, struggling to lift your sword with the weight pressing against your chest, the blood now seeping from two wounds in your shoulders. Over the chimera's massive shoulders, you can see Draco jumping from foot to foot, clearly unsure what to do.

  “Why are you still stood there?” you scream.

  Your yelling triggers something within the chimera. You watch the gears turn in its head, its red eyes gleaming before it spins, it's tail snapping out and wrapping around your wrist. You cry out, sword clattering to the floor before you're yanked to your feet and thrown carelessly against the bench you were previously sat on.

  Draco spins. “Y/N!”

  You groan, looking up through bleary eyes; your sword isn't like Percy's. It won't just reappear in your pocket any time you lose connection with it. Where it lies in the grass, feet away from you, it will stay.

  That means you only have one way to get this beast away from you and Draco.

  It takes all of your strength, and it's never easy, but you push through the pain and the exhaustion and pull on that little trigger within your body. Something surges inside you, a feeling so familiar it almost feels like second nature. The floor rumbles. Draco yelps, clinging desperately to the back of the bench, but you keep your eyes on the chimera. It digs its foot into the dirt, growls low in its throat, and then it dives.

  The skeleton's hand bursts from the ground, wraps around the chimera's ankle and pulls it back.

  As soon as the chimera's chin hits the dirt, you bounce to your feet and sprint towards your sword. You snatch it from the ground, spin and slash through the air, no longer caring what part of the beast you hit, just as long as you injure it somehow.

  It strikes through the goats head that protrudes from the chimera's back.

  Black blood oozes from the monsters back end. It splatters up your arms, tiny dots sprinkling your face, but you don't have the time to ponder on that. You swing again, this time going for the neck. The chimera screams, but as soon as your sword makes contact with it's bushy mane, the scream disappears. The chimera bursts into golden powder in front of you, blowing away in the wind.

  A pair of hands wraps around your waist, tugging you up before you can fall to your knees.

  “Holy shit,” you whisper against Draco's collar. “Are you okay?”

Draco can't speak. Looking up, you see his lower jaw rattling, words fighting to the surface but being unable to push past his wall of fear. He looks everywhere but your face, as if trying to figure out where on earth the chimera disappeared to.

  “It's gone for now,” you say, throat dry. “You're safe, Magic Boy.”

  “How did that get in here?”

  Annabeth's voice echoes up the hill. Glancing over your shoulder, you see her marching in your direction, Chiron and Percy walking by her side. At the bottom of the hill, the other Half-Bloods look up, shocked at the sight in front of them. Your disgruntled form being held up by a wizard is certainly not a normal sight at Camp Half-Blood.

  “Y/N,” Percy exclaims. “Are you alright?”

  “Just peachy,” you croak out. “I think I might be bleeding out, though.”

  “Someone get some ambrosia,” Chiron demands, and it's with gentle hands that he extracts you from Draco's grip and lowers you to the floor. He looks up at Draco and says, “Are you alright, boy?”

  “T-the skeletons,” Draco stammers. “They just – they just came out of the floor!”

  Chiron smiles gently. “So I see you've been witness to our Y/N's miraculous abilities, hm?”

  Draco's eyes widen. “Y/N did that?”

  “Yes, you idiot,” Annabeth hisses, shouldering Draco out of the way so she can kneel beside you. She dabs a wet cloth against your shoulder, and you hiss at the contact.

  Percy arrives shortly after with an air tight bag of ambrosia, which you eat in about two seconds flat.

  “How did that get in here?” Percy asks.

  “The barriers were open already,” Chiron replies. “We needed to let the Minister and his men inside the camp, so we had to weaken them a little bit. We must have weakened them too much, and the chimera found a way in.”

   “Or this is the gods playing some sick trick on us,” says Annabeth. “Remember when Percy first arrived and they thought it would be funny to let the Minotaur roam free?”

  “This isn't the gods,” you mumble. “I haven't done anything to make them mad.”

  “So it's the wizards, then.” Annabeth whirls on Draco, folding her arms over her chest. You close your eyes, listening to Percy chuckle lightheartedly at your side. Both of you have given up trying to calm her down at this point. “You and your people just have to come in and ruin everything, don't you?”

  Draco blinks. He's barely spoken the entire time, clearly still trying to figure out what the hell he has just witnessed.

  Annabeth laughs coldly. “When will you and your people get the hint that we don't want you here. We don't want anything to do with you! It's you lot who have so much to say about us, and the minute we retaliate, you take a little hissy fit and have to get the bloody council involved! Well, goodbye to you. Get out of our camp and stay out or else the next monster to attack you won't be killed by us – you can deal with it on your own with your fancy magic spells.”

  She turns back, flicking her curls in Draco's face.

  You shyly glance up and mumble, “Sorry about her.”

   “And although that speech held a lot of passion,” Chiron cuts in, placing a hand on Annabeth's shoulder, “I'm afraid Mr Malfoy and his people cannot leave the camp until the barriers have been sorted.”

    Silence.

  Even you're too stunned to speak, staring up at Chiron as if waiting for the punchline of some joke. He simply looks around, examining the invisible barriers surrounding you, most likely seeing every single gap and crack held within them.

  Percy is the first to break the silence. “Uh. . . Why not?”

  “Well,” Chiron says, “the barriers have been split. If we were to open them any further to let these men out, I fear they might be unsalvageable. We can't risk it.”

  “So we're just gonna let them stay here?” Annabeth hisses.

  “I can't do that!” Draco exclaims, stumbling forward with wide eyes. “I have school, and my mother-”

  “This isn't up for debate,” Chiron says. “I must keep the safety of my people in mind at all times, and this is the only solution that will keep them safe.”

  Annabeth scoffs. “I wouldn't say letting the Malfoy's in our space is keeping us safe.”

  “That is because you're blinded by your ignorance.”

   You and Percy take sharp breaths through your teeth, watching Annabeth's face drop. It would almost be sad if you weren't in agreement with the centaur.

  And it's weird because you used to have the exact same thought process as Annabeth; all you read about wizards was how much they despised your kind, how they saw you as unnatural, a mistake, because gods aren't meant to have children with mortals. Mortals – or Muggles – aren't meant to carry such powerful beings.

  And yet here you are, looking at Draco and feeling even the tiniest glimmer of excitement at the idea of having him stay with you for a little while.

  Chiron turns back to Draco and says, “You can stay in cabin eleven with the Hermes kids. That's where all the newcomers go.”

  Draco pales. “I really don't think this is a good idea...”

  “It's the only idea we have,” Chiron says. “Now, get ready for the feast. You must be starving.”

  ---

  Draco doesn't go to the feast. Apparently, he isn't as starved as Chiron made him out to be.

  Instead, he follows you to the infirmary, despite having no injuries himself. Will Solace feeds you chunks of ambrosia, keeping a narrowed gaze on Draco as he sits by your bedside, saying nothing. He looks thoughtful, head ducked down, hands perched between his legs; he hasn't spoken a single word since the two of you arrived, and his skin is yet to find colour again.

  You glance at Will and whisper, “Is he looking okay to you?”

  “Absolutely not,” Will replies, pressing a damp cloth to your shoulder blade. “But I'm not one hundred percent sure how wizards are supposed to look in the first place, so I can't really say.”

  “Have you got any juice or anything like that you can give him?”

  Will hollows out his cheeks, clearly not appreciating the idea of using up resources on a wizard. Nonetheless, the son of Apollo is too kind for his own good and heads into the back room to grab a juice box. He hands it to Draco with a soft smile, one Draco does not return, before Will says he's going to go check on the other campers. He leaves you alone after that, the room empty besides you and Draco.

  Draco doesn't look up. He doesn't really need to; even without seeing his face, you know what expression he will be wearing, as it is the same expression so many people have worn after watching you bring the dead up from the ground.

  You bite your lip and say, “The food is good here. Are you sure you don't want to go and get some dinner?”

  Draco slowly looks up. His eyes are bloodshot, strained, glinting light blue beneath the yellow lights. “Who is your godly parent?”

  You pause. “Why do you care?”

  “Because what I just saw you do-”

    “Hades,” you blurt out, unable to bear hearing him go into detail again, unable to bear the disgust that will surely ring through his voice. “Hades is my father. I'm the kid he was never supposed to have.”

  Draco stares at you, waiting for you to continue, but what else is there to say? There's no relationship to describe, no happy memories with your dad you can share. All there is to it, is that you are not meant to be here, and you are.

  “And you . . . you have no brothers or sisters? You're all alone?”

  Your eyes snap up. “I'm not alone. I have Percy, and Annabeth, and. . . and everyone else. Plus, I have a little brother – Nico.”

  Draco perks up, like the idea of you having a little brother is something to be excited about. “Really? Where is he?”

  “He's floating around somewhere,” you reply. “He doesn't really like staying in one place for too long; I only really see him when he comes to visit me or his boyfriend.”

   Draco withers. “Oh.”

  “Why do you care anyway?”

  He scowls. “I don't care. I'm just curious. If I'm to stay here for the next few days, I might as well get to know you a little better.”

  “It works both ways, Magic Man. Tell me, why is your father such a little bitch?”

  “I could ask the same thing about yours.”

  “My dad is the god of death. What's your dad's excuse?”

  Draco glares. You grin, slowly leaning back on the hospital bed as you wait for his response, because you genuinely want to know. You've spent years reading articles orchestrated by Lucius Malfoy that go into great detail about why he hates demigods so much, why he thinks they're the scum of the earth; now, you have his son at your disposal, and you're determined to find out where these violent opinions have stemmed from.

  Draco sighs, folding his arms over his chest. “My father just doesn't like people who are different.”

  You pause. “Different?”

   “People who aren't pure-blood wizards are basically bottom tier to him. That includes Muggle borns, Squibs, Muggles, demigods.”

  “But he doesn't even know anything about demigods.”

  Draco shrugs heavily. “He knows you're different. That's all he cares about.”

  It makes sense, you suppose. Lucius has never kept his ignorance a secret. It's not just demigods he speaks badly about. You've read it all – his hatred for Muggles, for people who disagree with him, for good people.

  People who aren't like him.

  “And what about you?” you ask.

  Draco flicks his eyes up, still messing with his fingers. “What about me?”

  “How do you feel about demigods?” You gesture around the room. “Now that you've seen us in action; what are your thoughts?”

  Draco shrugs, looking back down at his intertwined hands. He has nice hands. Muscled, long fingers, expensive rings. “I think it's all quite odd, but I'll get used to it. I'm gonna be stuck here with you for a while, so I don't really have a choice, do I?”

  You smile. “No, I don't think so.”

  ---

  The dreams are worse that night.

  They always are after you have been injured. Already restless, you aren't strong enough to fight off the nightmares that swarm your mind, and tonight they come for you in full force.

  You always call them nightmares, even though they really aren't. More like visions, people visiting you when you least expect it. You've had Poseidon visit your dreams, Athena, even Ares, but tonight, someone new is making an appearance.

  You recognise him immediately. He has the same eyes as you.

  “Dad.”

  He stands waist deep in black mist. Curly black hair frames a chiselled face, dark eyes gazing at you with a look close enough to love that you get a little emotional. By his side is a three-headed dog, and in his hand is a skull, held so casually. Neither of you mention it. Neither of you need to.

  The room is dark. Looking down, you see black mist crawling towards you, hiding your legs from view. You should probably be panicking, but something is holding you back.

  “Dad,” you repeat. “Where's Nico?”

  “Safe,” he responds, voice too calm for a man whose son has been missing for weeks. Voice too calm for a man who is standing in front of the child he abandoned so many years ago. “And how are you, child?”

  “Good. Better than ever, actually.”

  “Even with the company you have been keeping recently?”

  You pause, certain you misheard. Hades raises a brow, tilting his head as if to say Are you going to try and tell me otherwise?

  Swallowing, you say, “So this is about Draco.”

   “This is about the wizards in general,” Hades corrects. “Don't think I didn't notice you getting comfortable with that boy.”

  “I wouldn't exactly say comfortable-”

  “He held you up when you fell.”

   “And that was very nice of him.”

  “That was inappropriate.”

  You fall silent, cheeks heating up. You truly cannot believe your dad – your real life father – is stood in front of you giving dating advice. He needs to take one look at his own history with women and sort himself out before he comes running to you.

  “Wizards aren't safe around our people, Y/N,” Hades continues. “You aren't meant to mingle with people like him.”

  “I think that's a little harsh.”

  “His father wants you dead.”

  “My father wants everyone dead! You're the god of the underworld, for crying out loud!”

  Hades's eyes widen for a moment, clearly shocked at your outburst, but you don't even have the strength to reel it back in. You have felt frustration towards many of the Olympians, all of whom seem to believe they have some sort of control over you, but the one Olympian who makes you angriest the quickest, is the one stood right in front of you, the one who shares your blood, the one who hooked up with your mum one day before abandoning her, along with the kid he always claimed he was never going to have.

  You don't even care that he's a god. You don't care that he could kill you in two seconds flat if he so desired.

  “Chiron did not raise you to have such a sour attitude,” Hades says after a moment.

  You deflate, eyes slipping closed. “There's really no point in trying to get through to you, is there?”

  “It is my job as a father-”

  You scoff.

  “-to keep my kids safe. That's what I'm doing.”

   Your eyes pop open. “Keep us safe? Bianca's dead, Dad. Nico's gone rogue. The only reason I haven't been slaughtered is because I never expected you to keep an eye on me – I do everything on my own.”

  “That's not true,” Hades growls. “You know that's not true.”

  “No? So where's my little brother then, huh? Where's Bianca? Where were you yesterday when a fucking chimera nearly ripped me to shreds, huh? Where were you then?”

  “I'm a busy man, Y/N, but I'm serious when I say that wizards are not the kinds of-”

  “This isn't about the wizards!” you yell, throwing your hands up. The ground rumbles, but neither you nor Hades acknowledge it. “This is about you coming into my dreams, thinking you can just lay down some fatherly rules after nearly eighteen years of not giving a shit about me!”

  His eyes flash. Within the dark irises, you catch a glimpse of a screaming face, and you know exactly what he must be hearing in the back of his mind right now. You hear it sometimes, too, only he must be much more used to it than you are.

  “I have always cared for you,” he says. “Even when my brothers and sisters were punishing me for having another demigod child, I cared for you. I kept them from harming you. I made sure you reached Camp Half-Blood safely so that you could be under the protection of people who knew where you came from.”

  “And they've been more like family to me than you have ever been.”

  Hades closes his eyes. A god dejected. A god not getting what he wants. It's a rare but pleasant sight.

  “I'd like to wake up now,” you mumble. “I appreciate you stopping in, but please never do it again.”

  Hade's looks at you, and you hate the resemblance. You hate that pull, so mortal and familial. You can't even help it. It's like the genes you got from this man are desperate for you to just make up with him, to just see him as the dad he is.

  But you can't.

  He argues no further, clicking his fingers to send you out of your sleep. You awake, startled, eyes snapping open to the sight of your dark room, the smell of ash heavy in the air. You flick your eyes over to see your bedside table gone – yet again, you incinerated it in your sleep.

  “Fuck sake,” you whisper.

  “I put it out.”

  You yelp, very nearly falling out of bed in your shock. Your head snaps up, hands grappling for your sword, only to pause when you look over and see Draco standing in the doorway wearing a white dress shirt and black trousers.

  He looks exceptionally smart.

  Exceptionally smart.

  Your heart jumps as you push yourself up, running a self conscious hand through your bed head. “What the hell are you doing in here?”

  “Chiron asked me to wake you. He said you have training today.”

  You groan, flopping back into your pillows. Draco chuckles, and before you can tell him to stop, he strolls right over to your window and pulls the black out curtains open.

  “Noooo,” you moan, rolling onto your stomach and stuffing your head in the pillows.

  Draco chuckles. “Come on. It's already nine am. The climbing wall is gonna be packed if you don't wake up now.”

  You peek an eye out of your pillow and glare at him. “How do you even know about the climbing wall?”

  “Poseidon's son gave me a little tour after I left the infirmary yesterday; quite a nice little place you've got here, I must say. I'm quite fond of it all.”

  “Oh, happy days. As long as you're happy.”

  He grins, sharp as knives. “I feel like I'm on holiday.”

  You swing your legs out of bed. “You're digging yourself into a deeper hole, Malfoy.”

   “I can just sit back, kick my feet up, watch you lot fight a bunch of mythical creatures-”

  You lob a sock at him. “Get out while I get changed.”

   Draco grins before bowing out of the room, slamming the door closed behind him.

  And so you get ready for the day, getting dressed in your usual Camp Half-Blood shirt and a pair of comfortable jogging bottoms. The sun is bright this morning, a clear indicator that Chiron and the gods are in a bit of a better mood than they were yesterday, when rain was breaking through the already damaged seals of the camps barriers.

  As promised, the climbing wall is set up and booming with Half-Bloods. People from all the different cabins take turns going up against one another, clambering up one side of the wall, racing each other to the top as lava pours down from nowhere, lightening strikes zap through the centre of the wooden beam, as random hands appear out of nowhere and make swipes for legs and arms and faces.

  You spot Draco sat by himself in the stands, wand twirling in his fingers. It could very well be an intimidation tactic, but you stroll up beside him anyway, taking a seat to watch the scene before you unfold; someone from the Ares cabin has gone up against someone from the Athena cabin, a deadly pairing when put together.

  Draco doesn't budge when you sit down. Instead, he points and says, “I think the one with the spear is going to win.”

  “Clarisse?” you say. “Yeah, probably. She's a stubborn bitch.”

  “Daughter of...”

  “Ares.”

 “God of...”

  You roll your eyes. “Have you ever actually looked into the Greek myths?”

   Draco shrugs, leaning back in his seat. He stretches his long limbs out in front and says, “I was educated more in the ways of Dark Magic than Greek myths.”

  “Boring.”

  “Necessary, I think.”

   “Tell me how that all works.”

  Draco glances over. “Magic?”

  “The world of magic. It sounds. . . confusing.”

  Draco pauses for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. As he ponders, the two of you watch Clarisse make her way to the top of the climbing wall, where she pulls the ring loose of it's confines and holds it up to the sound of applause and cheers from the people on the ground. She hops off, landing in a crouch on the ground; her brothers and sisters swarm her, all but lifting her off her feet in celebration.

  Finally, Draco speaks. “It really is just a whole different world. Different to. . . any other world, I guess. We dress differently-”

  “Yes.”

  “The structure of the whole thing is different. You get used to it after a while, but I guess being here is making me realise just how weird the way things are run back home really are.”

  “But it's what you're used to, isn't it?” you say. “You must have thought the way we did things was weird when you first arrived.”

  Draco scoffs. “Skeletons coming up from the floor? Definitely weird.”

  Your cheeks heat up, despite the lack of malice in his voice. Your powers are still – and forever will be – a sensitive topic for you; you've had far too many bad experiences with them to ever be comfortable flaunting them around like the other Half-Bloods are capable of doing. Even now, you watch the Hephaestus kids make fire sprout from their fingertips without so much as a flicker of hesitation – you've never been able to do that, because people take one look at what you're capable of and immediately think you're some kind of devil spawn, there just to drag them into the pits of hell or something.

  Draco nudges you, pulling you from your trance. When you look over, he gestures towards the climbing wall. You follow his gaze to see Percy standing in the centre, waving up at you, arms wild above his head, that goofy grin on his stupid face.

  “I think he wants you to join him,” Draco mumbles.

  You glance over. “You don't mind?”

  “I'll stay here and cheer you on. How about that?”

   You stare at him a second longer, the wand twirling between his nimble fingers; oh, it would be so easy to hate him. That cocky smirk, the subtle hostility to everything he says. You weren't made to like wizards, but Draco Malfoy is starting to grow on you.

  You give him a smile before hopping from your seat and jogging down into the grounds. People cheer at your arrival, because this is the match they have all been waiting for; scared as they may be to face your powers on their own, they would never give up the opportunity to watch two kids of the Big Three go head to head against one another. This is truly the only time you feel comfortable using your powers.

  Percy shakes your hand when you reach him, dragging you close so he can whisper in your ear. “You and Dynamo getting a little close up there?”

   You shove him away, not even giving him an answer before you hop up onto the first ring of the climbing wall. “You coming, Seaweed Brain?”

  Percy rolls his eyes, taking position on the other side of the climbing wall. In the stands, a whistle blows, and immediately the two of you start.

  Percy's quick. Percy has always been quick. From the day he strolled into camp, dragging Grover along with him, he has proven how powerful he is.

  But you're also pretty quick, pretty lithe, just as capable as him.

  You don't even fully process where he is, much too focused on avoiding the downfall of lava dribbling down the side of the climbing wall. The heat singes your hand as you pull yourself up, and you have to grit your teeth to stop the cry of panic that always wants to make it's way to the surface when this happens.

  Percy has the advantage, of course; he just summons some water from thin air, and the lava is immediately overpowered. He laughs at your scowl, pulling himself further along the climbing wall.

  “Okay, Mr Jackson,” you mutter. “If that's really how you want to play it.”

  You pull on something within your stomach, a trick your sister Hazel was able to teach you when you visited her in the Roman camp all those months ago. You reach a hand out, grabbing the iron ore before it soars above your head after being ripped from the ground by your powers. It's not much – you're much better with a sword – but you throw it, using your powers to push it away from your body, straight towards Percy's face. It smacks him in the nose, making him cry and stumble. He slips from the ring he is hanging onto, dropping a few feet before finally latching onto another; blood oozes from his nose, and he glares up at you as you quicken your pace, hoping to put as much distance between you both as humanly possible.

  “That wasn't very fair, you know!” Percy yells up.

  “Gotta do what you gotta do!” you yell back, which of course prompts Percy to shoot a blast of water straight at your legs. You yelp, grip loosening on the ring you have grip on.

  But then you're falling, because the thing about water is that it makes surfaces extremely slippery, and not even a child of Hades can overpower that. You desperately try latching onto something – anything – that can soften your fall, but your moving too quick, and the rings are zooming past, out of reach, and you know this is it. You're going to fall to the floor and break some bones and be out of commission for weeks, because that's what always happens when Percy gets competitive. You're starting to get real-

  “Wingardium Leviosa!”

  Another yelp is ripped from your throat, this one more a yelp of surprise as you suddenly become light as a feather. The wind stops whistling in your ears, replaced now by the gasps coming from the ground, and the sound of Percy yelling, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” over and over again.

  Ever so gently, you are lowered onto the floor. As soon as your feet hit solid ground, you are engulfed by a crowd of Half-Bloods, all coming to make sure you're okay, have not been harmed despite that being the way of things in this place.

  Percy clambers off the climbing wall and dashes to your side, wrapping you in a brotherly hug as soon as he reaches you. “Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you that hard-”

  “'Course you didn't.”

  “You had it coming!” He points to his nose, still dripping blood. “Look what you did to me!”

  You roll your eyes before craning your neck to get a better view over the heads of your fellow campers. You catch sight of him immediately, leaning against the stands with his wand still twirling in his fingers, the tiniest of smirks present on his pale face.

  Your stomach turns; he had used his magic, cast some sort of spell to stop you from hitting the floor.

  You probably need to thank him for that.

  However, as soon as he meets your eyes, he does nothing but wink and turn on his heel, strolling oh-so-casually towards cabin eleven.

  ----

  “So are you going to tell me what that was?”

  You scream. Your hands fly above your head, knocking the low hung lamp shade dangling from the roof of the Hades cabin.

  Spinning, you catch sight of your father stood in the corner of your room, shrunken down to the size of a normal human being. He likes playing pretend, apparently, but you see right through it. His dark eyes are narrowed, and leaning against the wall beside him is the scythe he so often carries around with him.

  “That's an intimidation tactic,” you pant, motioning to the scythe. “It's not gonna work me on, Big Guy.”

  “Don't ignore my question,” he snaps. “What did that boy do to you when you were falling?”

  You slowly straighten up. “You saw that?”

  “Answer the question.”

   “Why do you think I have an answer?” you exclaim. “I know just as much about the wizarding world as you do! I don't know what he did, but I'm not dead, so I'm not gonna bother questioning it.” You grab a pomegranate seed from the bowl beside your bed, popping it into your mouth before you point a stern finger at the god standing in your room. “And you shouldn't either; he saved your child's life.”

  “My children are capable of protecting themselves. That's how you were raised.”

  You roll your eyes, flopping down on your bed. “This again? Where do you get off talking about raising kids?”

  For a brief second, Hades pauses. You savour it, the moment his face twists into one of uncertainty, as if only just then realising where he has messed up; he can talk all he wants about his children and how you're all just like him, but he can never claim to have made you into the people you are today.

  You hum, smirking. “That's what I thought.”

   Hades snatches the bowl of seeds out of your hand and slams them back onto the bedside table. The room rattles much more than necessary, but you spare the trembling walls only a single glance before turning your attention back on your father. He glares down at you, no longer justifying your attitude with words. He's waiting patiently for you to just open up and tell him exactly what happened, waiting for you to just admit that what happened out there was messed up, and unnatural, and you will never see Draco ever again if you can help it-

  “He saved my life.”

  You believe it, even though it takes every fibre of your willpower to admit such a thing. Demigods don't just get saved. They do the saving. They live their lives getting trained to protect themselves, because they know nobody else will. Today, all those years of training disappeared, and you should have died. You should have fallen to the ground as punishment for your lack of concentration, but Draco had stepped in and given you a second chance.

  And maybe that's dramatic. Maybe looking at it as a second chance was taking it a step too far, but he had done something, and you can't just sit back and pretend otherwise.

  Hades straightens up. In mortal form, his full height is only around five foot nine, but he still manages to look intimidating. It's the eyes. You wonder if people think the same thing about you when you look at them.

  “My brothers and sisters have been voicing their concerns about you getting too close to the Malfoys,” he says, voice softer now. “I told them not to worry, that no child of mine would ever fraternise with people like them. And yet here we are.”

  You pause. “Here we are, yeah.”

   “Lucius won't be happy to hear his son has helped save the life of a Half-Blood.”

  “Lucius Malfoy won't be happy, period. Plus, I haven't even spoken to him the entire time he's been here.”You push yourself up into a sitting position. “Draco isn't like Lucius, Dad. They are two separate people, just like me and you.”

  Hades clenches his jaw. You've hit a nerve. You always do when you bring up just how desperately you want to be separated from your father, just how much you despise being told you look like him, or you do something like him.

  He looks at you with those dark eyes and says, “You're stubborn, you know. That's a trait you get from me, not your mother.”

  “You're grasping at straws now.”

  “You're more like me than you'll ever be willing to admit, but everyone sees it. Nico and Bianca. . . they had little traits of me within them, but not as much as you. You really are my child.”

   Your stomach clenches, and it's confusing. It's so, so confusing, and so painful, because there's a part of you that basks in these comments. He's your dad. No matter how much you try denying it, there has always been a part of you that wants to know you're a little bit like your dad, and yet there's that hostility that begs and clambers for any excuse you can use to go against such a thing.

  You look away, fighting the urge to cry that always seems to rise to the surface when Hades is in your vicinity. “Can you just leave, please? I'm not going to stop talking to Draco just because you lot upstairs have a grudge against his family.”

   Hades sighs. “I know you won't. But you can't say I didn't warn you.”

  “Get out, Dad!”

  When you next look up, the room is empty. Nico and Bianca's beds are desolate, pushed against the wall, suffering from years of neglect. Once again, you are alone. Outside, Draco's shadow passes the window, accompanied by Lucius.

  ----

  Draco seems to be getting comfortable in camp.

  Your father doesn't like this.

  You see, Hades has a very annoying way of making his anger obvious, especially when the anger is pointed towards his children. You will be sat talking to Draco, having a seemingly normal conversation about whatever the days endeavours are holding, when suddenly a scream will plunge right through the centre of your brain, impossible to ignore.

  It's painful sometimes. The headaches that often follow are the kind that leaves you sweating, unable to look into any form of light lest you make it worse. Hades doesn't take this into consideration, however, as he continues giving you these flashes throughout the next week and a half.

  It's another one of his stupid fear tactics. You know it is. He wants to make you suffer so you'll be on his side through intimidation, and you're not willing to give in to him like that. Gods don't always get what they want. That's something they need to learn.

  And so, you continue talking to Draco, and honestly, he's starting to become a friend. He's still a little drawn back, and you can only imagine the reasoning behind that is because Lucius is breathing down his neck every two seconds. Whilst Draco is taking the moral high ground and getting used to life at Camp Half-Blood, Lucius refuses to do such a thing. He spends his days brooding away in the Big House, getting angry when Chiron or any of the other Half-Bloods step foot in what he has now claimed as his domain. The Big House has basically become Out of Bounds whilst the Malfoys are in your presence, because Lucius throws a tantrum any time anyone besides him and his fellow wizards step foot inside of it.

  It's on day twelve that you and Draco sit together in the grass upon the hill. In your lap is a colouring book that Percy stole for you a few years back, one you haven't touched because you very rarely have the time to just sit down and colour something in. He said it got rid of stress or something like that. You wonder if it works.

  Draco lays down beside you, gazing up at the baby blue sky. He has one hand cupped across his forehead, the other resting on his stomach. His ice blue eyes are a little lighter when the sun hits them, and you can see some golden streaks in his silver hair.

  You colour in a picture of Poseidon, already excited to show Percy the final product.

  “Look at this picture a second,” you say after too many minutes of silence. “Tell me if that guy looks like Percy.”

   Draco flicks his gaze over, lifting his head just slightly to get a better view. “Percy?”

  “The son of Poseidon,” you confirm. “The annoying one who blew up your fountain.”

  “Oh, him.” Draco scowls, dropping his head back to the grass. “I suppose it looks a little bit like him, yes. Why?”

  You tilt the colouring book back and forth, humming as you inspect the drawing; it's badly done, of course, with the image probably taken from Google Images, drawn by some human who didn't know any better. For example, they drew him wearing some fancy toga-looking thing instead of his usual khaki shorts and Hawaiian button-up. You've also known Poseidon to enjoy getting his hair permed, but his hair is dead straight in the colouring book.

  “I just think Percy looks a lot like his dad,” you reply. “Not in this picture, obviously – Poseidon wouldn't be caught dead with his eyebrows looking like that. But in real life, I swear, they're the picture of each other.”

   Draco grunts. Not exactly the response you were looking for.

  You glance down at him, raising a brow. “Not gonna add anything helpful to the conversation?”

   “What could I possibly add? I don't know the Greek gods personally.”

  “Really?”

  Draco glares at you. “Forgive me for not fraternising with mythological gods, Y/N. I don't have quite the same relationship with them as you do.”

  You hold up your hands in faux surrender, recognising his angry tone. “Alright, fair enough. No need to get grumpy.”

  “You and Percy are really close.”

   It isn't a question, and you suppose it doesn't have to be. Anyone who has known you for more than two seconds will be able to see that you and Percy are close, having been through so much together. “Yeah, we are. What's wrong with that?”

   Draco slips his hand from his forehead over his eyes and mumbles, “Nothing. Absolutely nothing.” But his heart isn't in it, and you're not exactly convinced he's telling the truth. You haven't known Draco all that long, but you're pretty confident now in your abilities to pick up when he's angry, or frustrated, as you have seen it more often than any other emotion.

  You glance at him, raising a brow. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes. Why would I think there was something wrong with you having a friend?” He pauses a moment before adding, “He is just a friend, isn't he?”

   It clicks.

  Your cheeks heat up with the realisation. You're thankful that Draco is covering his eyes, because otherwise he would have surely been able to see your shocked expression, and that isn't the look you want to give off right now; you need to remain calm and collected, make sure you're reading this right before you go and lose your cool.

  Awkwardly, you push the colouring book onto the grass and turn your attention fully on Draco. He stiffens when he feels you move, though he doesn't look at you. He doesn't even move his hand away from his face. You wonder if perhaps he doesn't want to show you his true expression, either.

  “Yes,” you say. “Percy is just a friend. He's never been anything more than that.”

  “Oh right. Nice.”

  “Would...” You inhale, glancing down into camp. You're not used to this. Actual emotions, they're scary things. You've never been able to properly handle them. “Would that be an issue if he was?”

  This time, Draco is unable to hide his embarrassment. Beneath his hands, his pale cheeks flush red, his Adams apple bobbing as he swallows and says, “No. It's none of my business.”

  “Well, it's just 'cause, like, you asked, and I just thought-”

  “Thought what?” Finally he looks at you, eyes narrowed. “Thought I cared about what you got up to when I'm not around?”

  You reel back at his tone. “What? No! Well – yeah, I guess, because clearly some part of you cares-”

  “You and Percy can do whatever you want.” He stands, wiping the grass from the elbows of his fancy black blazer. “I honestly couldn't care less. It's not like I'm sticking around much longer, anyway.”

  You raise a brow. “Are you mad? How the hell did that happen? I didn't even say anything!”

   “I'm not bloody mad.” He groans, spinning on his heel as he runs his hands through his hair. You don't even go after him, too stunned to even move. Instead, you just watch his retreating form, only for him to stop a few feet away, turn back and say, “Do you just forget the fact that he was about to let you fall to your death?”

  You freeze. This was not the turn you were expecting the conversation to make. “Come again?”

  “On that climbing wall,” Draco exclaims. “He watched you fall, Y/N! He didn't do anything to stop it from happening, and I refuse to believe he wasn't able to, because from what I've heard, he's one of the most powerful things in this bloody camp!”

   “Things?”

  “Oh, you know what I meant!”

  You shoot up then, anger flooding your system. This is happening too often. You're losing your grip on the control you have trained so hard to gather, and it's all Draco's fault. “No, Draco, I don't actually know what you mean. In case you've forgotten, you're in our home, so don't you dare come in here claiming to know what we see is right and wrong. Percy might be one of the stronger demigods, but so am I. I can handle myself, and Percy knows that! That's the only reason he didn't do anything-”

   “That's his excuse, is it?” Draco laughs, a bitter noise that makes your blood boil. “I wonder how long it took for him to brainwash you into believing that.”

  That's what does it.

  You remember all those times Percy has saved your life. You remember spending weeks by his side, on the run from the worlds most terrifying monsters. You remember crying with your belief that he was dead, imagining a life without your best friend, your companion.

  And here Draco is, acting like he knows Percy better than you, deeming him a bad person just because of a single mishap he happened to witness, a mishap he doesn't even fully understand.

  Behind you, the black cloud arises from the ground. Without even looking, you know it's there, consuming you in tendrils of darkness. Draco's eyes widen, a cry of surprise escaping him before he stumbles back.

  The cloud follows him.

  In your head, you listen to the screams of the souls that make up that cloud, the souls you can control with nothing more than a brief thought nowadays. Draco cries out, nearly falling over his feet. Soon, you can no longer see him as he disappears behind the black curtain.

  You stay exactly where you are, watching him run down the hill, being chased by this power you have total control over. It's fuelled by anger, and you know you're going to get in trouble for doing it, but in this moment, you don't even care. You'll deal with the repercussions later, so long as Draco learns his lesson now.

  It's once the young wizard has disappeared round the corner that you let the souls drop. They sink back into the floor, a rush of energy slamming back into your body now that the strenuous work is over. The hill you are standing on goes silent bar the sound of the snickering tree nymphs.

  And then, just by your left ear, your fathers voice whispers, “Good job, Y/N. Definitely my child.”

  ----

   Percy always knows when something is wrong with you.

  There's something in the air, he says, a buzzing that he recognises as something he too possesses when he's angry. It's like the children of the Big Three communicate their anger through this weird little hum that only the other mistakes can hear.

  He must notice it now.

  He sits across from you at the lake, his toes dipping in the water as you keep your knees drawn to your chest, fingers sunk in the dirt. You keep your eyes on the tide as it sways in and out, but Percy keeps his eyes on you, waiting for the moment you will turn and look at him.

  But you don't.

  You don't want to answer his questions right now. You don't want to go into detail about what Draco said, about what you did to him, about how guilty you feel even though you know you shouldn't. You have used that scare tactic on so many people in the past, and it's always been for good reason – not once have you ever felt guilty about it.

  Not until now.

  Finally, Percy sighs and says, “So you're just gonna sit there and not tell me what's up?”

  Leave it to him to be blunt.

  You glance over and shrug, unsure where to even begin. You want to tell him the truth, of course; he's like a brother to you. The world always feels a little off when you're not telling him every little detail of your life. But gods, how do you explain this without sounding crazy?

  “Do you want me to guess?” Percy continues, shuffling a little closer to you. “'Cause I'm good at that. Especially with you.”

  “Try it.”

  He hums, leaning back. “It definitely has something to do with the wizard boy.”

  Your eyes snap up. “How did you know?”

   “It's always about the wizard boy; you two have been joined at the hip since Chiron declared his residency here.” Again, he hums, continuing his analysis. His sea green eyes are narrowed, his lower lip protruding in a pout. “Did you two get into an argument?”

  “Kind of.”

  “Was he taking his fathers side?”

  “No.”

  “Was he insulting one of us?”

  “...Kind of.”

  Percy raises a brow. “So I'm getting warmer.”

  You sigh, closing your eyes in exasperation. “He thought you and I were a couple.”

 Percy pauses. It's now an awkward pause, especially considering he bursts into laughter not three seconds after. His shoulders jolt, eyes widening as he claps a hand to leg as if to stabalise himself. “You're kidding.”

  “Alright, Seaweed Brain, hands off.” You push him away and fold your arms over your chest. “But yes, he thought you and I were a couple.”

  “And that bothered you so much that you got into an argument with him and now you're huffing?”

   You glare. “You're really enjoying this, huh?”

  Percy nudges your shoulder light-heartedly. “I'm just messing. Tell me what happened.”

  And so, as Percy gets comfortable, you begin your retelling, going into the details about Draco's little tantrum, and your retaliation to said tantrum. Percy interjects with a little “Aww” when you talk about defending him, to which you push his arm to get him to pipe down.

  You feel even worse once the story has been spilled and you are able to see everything in hindsight; should you still be mad? Did Draco deserve that kind of torment?

  Percy is silent for a moment once the story has been told. He looks off into the sea, as if calling to the waves for an answer, a piece of advice he can give you.

  Finally, his wise mind comes up with, “That sounds shitty.”

  “Yeah,” you grumble. “It was.”

  “Sounds like he fancies you.”

  Your cheeks heat up. “I don't think so. Not any more, anyway.”

  “And you're disappointed about that?”

  You shrug, because you really don't know. It would be much less hassle if you weren't disappointed about it, but you can't deny that you don't enjoy the feeling of Draco being mad at you. It feels off. It feels like you've done something wrong, even though you don't think you have.

  “You know,” Percy continues, “I feel a little guilty being the reason you two have fallen out. I wasn't even there and I'm still causing trouble.”

   You scoff. “Yeah. You have a habit of doing that, don't you?”

  “I can't help it.” He leans forward, nudging your arm. “What if I have a little chat with Draco?”

  You perk up, stomach turning at the mere suggestion. “Oh Percy, no. . .”

  “What do you think I'm gonna do?”

  “Bully him. Make him hate me even more.”

  “The fact that that thought bothers you so much just proves to me how much I need to step in and offer my expertise. Annabeth didn't fall in love with me for no reason, and you know that.”

   You open your mouth to object, but the words fall short, because he has a point; out of everyone you've ever known, Percy is the one who has been able to keep up a healthy relationship the longest. He and Annabeth argue like cat and dog, yet they still give off the aura of two young people who are truly in love with another.

  That's rare.

  You slump back against a tree. “Just don't say anything stupid to him. Please.”

  He's already standing up, brushing dirt off the seat of his trousers. “Of course not. Give me ten minutes. I'll have him seeing sense in no time.”    ----

  Draco tries his best to stop the panic.

  It's an old habit, one he hasn't been able to kick. He sees a demigod, and immediately his heart starts beating really fast, and his stomach drops, and his fingers twitch in the direction of his wand. It's a self defence reflex, one that has been built into him from day one, but he's amongst them now, and he needs to stop it.

  But seeing Percy Jackson walking towards him is never going to be a sight he's going to get used to.

  Draco remembers that picture you were colouring in the grass the day previous. You said Percy looked just like his father, and Draco can see the resemblance now. From what little he knows about the true Greek god of the sea, he can tell just where that analysis came from; Percy's black hair, his sea green eyes, even the way he carries himself like he owns the place.

  It screams My dad is a god.

  Draco pulls his shoulders back and gives Percy his best game face, trying desperately to look like he knows what he's doing, like he hasn't been lost in his own thoughts from the moment you looked at him with that anger on your face. He hates that it affected him so much, that he can't get the image out of his head, that he wants nothing more than to storm over to the Hades cabin and apologise for ever upsetting you.

  “Draco, my man!” Percy exclaims, though his heart clearly isn't in it. “How are you? Good?”

  “Fine.”

  Percy clicks his fingers, giving awkward finger guns. “That's good. So good.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks around. Then, out of nowhere, he snaps his gaze down to Draco's and says, “So, I've been told there's a bit of trouble in paradise.”

  Draco pauses. “Paradise? I'd hardly call this place paradise, Jackson.”

  Percy raises a brow; it infuriates Draco, who is so used to his comments making people angry. Percy just seems amused. “Your accent really doesn't do my last name justice when you say it like that.”

  Draco scowls. “What do you want from me, Percy? I've got nothing to say to you.”

  “Well, no. You don't. Technically, I have nothing to say to you, either, but I'm a nosy little shit head, so here we are.”

  “What makes you think I'll tell you anything?”

  Percy grins and takes an abrupt seat next to Draco, shoving his shoulder like they've been best friends for years. “If you tell me what I want to know, I'll tell you what you-” He prods a finger into Draco's chest. “-want to know.”

   Draco's heart hammers. He stares at the grinning demigod, debating whether or not to just jinx him here and now rather than let this absurd conversation go any further.

  But then the options come into his head.

  He has questions about you. Of course he does. You're just. . . a force to be reckoned with. You're such an individual, unlike any Draco has ever encountered in his life, and he wants to know more. Percy could be the key to having those questions answered.

  He coughs into his hand before saying, “I suppose I can talk a little bit.”

  Percy perks up. “Oh, really? Great! So what makes you think Y/N and I are a couple?”

  Draco's cheeks heat up. “Y/N told you about that?”

  “Y/N tells me everything. It's part of the whole being best friends thing.”

  Draco shrugs, awkwardly glancing down at his hands knotted upon his knees. “It was a stupid assumption to make. I know that now. Just. . . at the time, with how close you both are, it seemed the most plausible thing to think.”

  “Well, it was stupid.”

  “Yes-”

 “And did this assumption-” He says this with a snooty British accent that makes Draco glare even harder. “-piss you off?”

  Draco pauses; here is where he could very easily trip up. He needs to choose his words carefully.

  “Yes.”

  Percy tilts his head. “Because you. . . love Y/N?”

  “Love?”

  Percy raises his hands in faux surrender, though there is a grin flashing across his face. “Sorry, sorry. Do you fancy Y/N?”

  Draco swallows the golf ball sized lump in his throat; he wants to die. He literally wants to throw himself into the lake and never resurface. How has Percy managed to butter him up in less than fifteen minutes?

  “I suppose,” Draco mutters. “They are very – um – attractive.”

  “Big brain,” Percy says, nodding. “I get it, man. Smart people are hot.”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, they are also very smart-”

  “And scary.” Percy hollows out his cheeks, shaking his head at nothing. Draco is starting to get annoyed. “Y/N is terrifying, and let me tell you, when a person can intimidate me? Wow. Marry me on the spot, is what I say.”

   “Why don't you just ask Y/N out then?”

  The words come out harsher than Draco planned, but he can't help it. Percy is sat there, basically drooling over you, and it's driving him mad. It's been driving him mad from the instant he got that stupid thought stuck in his brain that maybe – just maybe – you and Percy were something a little more than just the best of friends.

  Percy is grinning, though.

  Draco scowls. “What's so funny?”

  “You really like them, don't you?”

  “I never said-”

  “Personally, I wouldn't touch Y/N with a six foot pole,” Percy continues, which just makes Draco even angrier, and he no longer knows just what he wants. “I'm talking about my girlfriend, Annabeth. The blonde girl. Daughter of Athena.”

  It takes a moment for Draco to remember who Annabeth is. But then it dawns on him, and suddenly everything is making sense.

  His cheeks warm again. “Oh. Right.”

  “Yep. So that's that.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “Nah, don't be. It's not me you need to apologise to.”

  Draco bites his lower lip, understanding that Percy is right; he said some awful things, and he put you on the spot when you really didn't deserve it. You were doing nothing more than talking about your best friend, and Draco let his own jealousy push to the forefront.

  He looks over at Percy to see the demigod grinning again, an expression he often seems to have. Draco wonders why you don't like him, why you decided to spend all those hours with him instead of Percy.

  And as if Percy can read his mind, he says, “Y/N likes you too, you know. Like, properly likes you.”

  Draco pushes up from the grass, gives Percy a grateful smile before heading out on his mission – to apologise.

  ----

  You run into Lucius Malfoy shortly after Percy storms off.

  It's quite a chance meeting, though part of you can't help but feel that maybe Lucius had it all planned out from the beginning. He holds himself like a man who knows exactly what he wants, like a man who doesn't understand what a chance meeting is.

  You pause in the grass, watching him wade towards you. In your hand, you hold your sword, but that clearly isn't enough of an intimidation tactic against the tall, pale wizard. He stops only when he's feet in front of you, and with his posh accent, he says, “Y/N.”

  “Mr Malfoy.”

  “Where is Draco?”

  “Beats me. He isn't my son.”

  Lucius's nostrils flare. “Can you put that sword down whilst talking to me, please? It's disrespectful.”

  You look at the celestial bronze blade and tilt it back and forth. The sun hits off the hilt, illuminating the Greek words inscribed upon it. “No. I quite like it in my hand.” You look back at Lucius and smile pleasantly. “Is there something I can help you with, Mr Malfoy? Are you lost?”

  Lucius grits his teeth. Something throbs in his jaw, and honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if he were to draw back now and punch you square in the face.

  Or he could just cast a spell, or whatever it is wizards do.

  “You know, Y/N, Draco has told me an awful lot about you,” he growls.

  “Oh?”

  “Yes. And quite frankly, the details he has given me only further prove my theory that your kind are just unnatural.”

  He's only trying to wind you up. You keep that in mind as you stand before him, listening to him spew such hatred; you could so easily just chop him to pieces right now. You could end this for everybody, but you think of Draco and how he would react and that thought alone is enough to silence the violent thoughts before you lose grip on your powers.

  “I'm sorry you think that,” you mumble. “Hopefully you'll be out of camp soon enough and won't have to bother with my kind for much longer.”

   Lucius laughs. There's no humour in it. It makes you ill just listening to it. “He told me about your little parlour trick – raising the dead, is it?”

  “Controlling the dead.”

  “That's Dark Magic, dear. That's the devils work if I've ever heard of it.”

  You open your mouth to respond, but the chance is ripped away by the sound of someone else's voice ringing in your ear.

  “I don't really enjoy being called the devil. He and I are two very different legends.”

   You close your eyes. “Dad, go home.”

  He doesn't listen to you. Of course he doesn't. Instead, he steps up to your side and places a warm hand on your shoulder. When you look up, he's smiling at Lucius with the same pleasant smile you gave him only seconds before – the pleasant smile that hides the fact you're on the verge of murdering someone.

  “Is there a problem here?” Hades asks.

  “Who are you?” Lucius demands, and you very nearly laugh at his stupidity.

  Hades actually does laugh at his stupidity as he motions between you. “Surely you notice the family resemblance?”

  Lucius stares, and then it all clicks into place. His eyes widen, mouth dropping open in a look you can only label horror. He stumbles back and says, “Hades?”

  “A god,” you pipe up. “So watch what you say. I can't hold this one back.” You turn to Hades with an exasperated look. “Who let you crawl out of Tartarus again?”

  “Nobody lets me do anything, dear,” Hades replies, keeping his eyes on the horrified Lucius Malfoy. “I just heard what our little friend here was saying to you, and I thought I'd come and put him in his place. Can't have someone insulting my dear child, can I?”

  “You've never intervened before.”

  Hades pushes you backwards, ignoring what you've just said. “So, Lucius; would you like a little duel beforehand, or are you just going to let me end your life, plain and simple?” He pauses, and when Lucius doesn't reply, he adds, “There's no shame in taking the easy way out.”

  “Dad-”

  “Stay out of this, Y/N. This is between me and-”

  “Dad? What's wrong?”

  Your head snaps up. Draco is stumbling down the hill, eyebrows raised as he glances between Hades and his father. Your heart jumps at the sight of him.

  “Draco, pack up your things,” Lucius demands, staring at Hades as if afraid to look away lest your dad make any sudden movements. “We're leaving.”

  “Oh, happy days!” You rush forward and grab your fathers elbow, dragging him back as much as you can. “Did you hear that, Dad? They're leaving!”

  “I'm not going anywhere.”

  You whirl on Draco. “What do you mean you're not going anywhere? Can't you see the predicament we're in right now?”

  Draco raises his brow, clearly still confused as to what the hell he has just walked in on. “Who is this?”

  “This is my dad.”

  Draco's skin pales even more, if that is even possible. Hades turns, gives the young boy a pleasant little wave before he starts rolling up his sleeves, eyeing Lucius up again.

  “Oh, right,” Draco squeaks.

  You turn your attention back to Hades, latching onto his arm yet again. “Come on, Dad. This is pointless. They're leaving camp-”

  “Y/N, I'm not going anywhere before we talk.”

  “Draco, this really isn't the time-”

  “Make up your mind, Lucius. . .” Hades sing-songs. “Quick and easy, or slow and painful? I can do both.”

  Your heart hammers in your chest; this is not how you wanted things to go, not at all. You wish to every other god listening that Draco will just agree to go with his father, that he will leave and never return.

  But you don't really want that, do you?

  “Curse you, Zeus, you mind-reading bitch,” you hiss beneath your breath.

  Draco glances at you. “What?”

  “Never mind.” You grab Draco's shoulders and shove him back. “Just go, Draco, please. My dad is going to-”

  But you never get to tell Draco what your dad is going to do, not before Lucius Malfoy cries out, “Avada Kadavra!”

  You don't understand what's happened; the words just yelled by the Malfoy man are unfamiliar to you, jibberish if you've ever heard it, but Draco cries out and dashes forward. A blinding flash of light slams makes you stumble before Draco's arms wrap around your waist, throwing you to the ground with him hovering over you. When you open your eyes, his face is inches from your own, but neither of you get to bask in each others closeness, because all hell has suddenly broken loose.

  Hades is so powerful. Sometimes you forget that. You've read the stories, and you know he's a god, but sometimes, all he is to you is your annoying dad who shows up every now and then to be annoying, and then he leaves. Sometimes you forget he can literally raise the dead in two point six seconds.

  And judging by the corpses now stumbling around you, that's exactly what he has done.

  “Oh my god,” Draco mumbles.

  You push him away and clamber to your feet. “Dad, stop!”

  The wind is billowing, however, and your words fall on deaf ears. Lucius has fallen to the floor, staring up at your father with a look of pure, unfiltered horror. Hades stands over him, now in full god form, and the sight is breathtaking. He's at his full height now, standing over everyone with his arms outstretched. Dirt billows around him, and a black light emanates from his body, blinding if you weren't his child. Draco has fallen to the floor, covering his head with his arms, and you are so, so happy he has the common sense to look away.

  You stumble forward, latching onto your fathers clothes. “Dad, stop this now! Please!”

  “How dare you?” Hades's voice shakes the trees. His eyes are pitch black. He is a god. “How dare you use your filthy wizard spells against my child?”

  “I'm fine!” you cry. “Dad, I'm fine! Draco saved me! Look!” You helplessly wave your arms over your head. Beside you, a corpse laughs a high pitched laugh. You glare at it and say, “Shut up.”

  The wind only grows stronger as Hades continues to bellow his threats and his curses. Lucius is too stunned to even move. Behind you, Draco cries out your name, tries reaching for your sleeve, but you pull away and continue yelling up at your father, trying to make him see sense.

  “Dad, I'm fine! If you kill him, I'll never forgive you!” You grapple for something else, some other excuse you can use. “I'll – I'll never come back to Camp Half-Blood! I'll stay in the mortal world forever and there's absolutely nothing you can do about it!”

   Hades falters. He glances down at you with those dark, sunken eyes and he says, “You know you're not safe there, Y/N. Don't joke about such things.”

  “Then let him go,” you beg. “Please, Dad. I never ask you for anything, but I'm asking – begging – you for this. Just let him go.”

   Hades tilts his head. “You're standing up for this piece of dirt?”

  “Draco,” you pant, as if that is enough explanation. “Draco just saved my life, Dad. The least you can do is spare his fathers life.”

  The wind dies down. Dirt topples back to the floor. The walking corpses drop to their knees before the soil reaches around them and drags them back into their graves, where hopefully they will remain for another few years. Slowly, your father shrinks back down to his usual five seven stature, his eyes gaining their normal dark colouring again. He continues staring.

  You stare back for only a second before you spin on your heel and march towards Draco. You yank him up by his collar and shove him back, hissing, “Go grab your stuff and get out of here. This is the shit you're gonna get wound up in if you stay. You don't deserve that.”

 Draco, flustered, grabs your shoulders and pushes back, keeping himself rooted to the ground. You want to cry. You need him to leave. You need him to be safe. You can't let him witness something like that ever again.

  “Please, Draco,” you croak out. “Save yourself the bother-”

  “You're crying.”

   You groan, quickly swiping beneath your eyes to rid yourself of the tears you didn't even realise were falling. “No, I'm not.”

   Draco wraps his arms around you and drags you into his shoulder. You don't really know why you melt into him in the way you do; it just kind of happens. Feeling the fabric of his shirt against your cheek, his arms around your shoulders, his body against yours – it's as if all the stresses of the evening flood out of you in a single swoop, replaced by a relief you didn't even know you were in such dire need of.

  It's like Hades and Lucius don't even exist any more. It's just you and Draco, swaying back and forth in the darkness, saying nothing and that being enough.

  “I'm not going anywhere,” he whispers. “Not until you know.”

  You pause, but don't pull away. “Until I know what?”

  “That – That you're special.”

  You look up, raising a brow. “Is that a demigod joke?”

  Draco groans, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “No. That's not what I meant. I meant – like – you're special to me.”

  “Okay...”

 He squeezes his eyes closed. “What I'm saying is, I don't want to leave you. I don't want to go back to the wizarding world and pretend I never met you. I want this – whatever this is – to last a long, long time.”

  Your heart thunders in your chest. Beneath you, the ground rumbles, like the floor is hungry. “Draco...”

  “I don't care what my father thinks of it,” he says, voice lower now. “I haven't been this happy in forever. I haven't met anyone like you before, and I'm so, so grateful you don't hate me.” He blinks. “Percy told me that, by the way – that you don't hate me. He wasn't lying, was he?”

  You laugh. “No, he wasn't lying.”

  “Oh, great.” He pulls you closer. “So, as I was saying-”

  “Oh, for the love of me!” Hades claps his hands impatiently. “Just kiss them already, you idiot! Why do mortals take so long to get to the point?”

  Draco looks over your shoulder, face going red. “Are you giving me permission to kiss Y/N?”

  Hades rolls his eyes, waving a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Just get on with it. I'm ageing.”

  “You're immortal, old man.”

  “Watch your mouth, little one, or you're grounded.”

  Your laugh is broken by Draco's kiss.

  In the background, Lucius yells in frustration, but he quietens as soon as he looks at Hades. You don't even care, though, because once again, it's like neither of them are really there. It's just you and Draco. There is no world separating you, there is no problems, you are the same. His hands trail along your jawline before crawling over the back of your neck, holding you in place, as if you would ever willingly pull away.

  Beneath you, the ground continues to growl. You imagine it's the dead people giving you a round of applause.

---

“Lumos.”

  You crack an eye open. Beside you, Draco shifts, lifting the covers further over his head. Through the thin material of the quilt, you can make out a dim yellow glow coming from Draco's wand.

  You roll onto your back, nudging his arm with your elbow. He pauses, taking a few seconds before he pulls the covers back down, revealing his messy bed head and bare torso. He gives you a grin and says, “What are you doing awake?”

   “You woke me,” you reply, before nodding towards the book resting on his lap. “What's that?”

  “Oh, this? Nothing. Just a little book I picked up from the library the last time I was at Hogwarts.”

  You raise a brow; you haven't seen Draco casually read in quite a while. Any time he has his head stuck in a book, it's usually to learn some new potion, or some new spell that he can show the harpies to impress them when they ask for a magic show. However, looking down at the book currently perched on his knees, you can see this isn't just some simple recipe book for wizards – the pages are filled with text, with very little pictures to accompany them.

  “Can I read it with you?” you ask.

  Draco's cheeks light up. “Maybe you should just go back to sleep. It's pretty late-”

  He goes quiet when you rest your drowsy head on his chest, tugging the quilt up to your chin. You hear him sigh, a noise of content before he looks down at the page and places his wand beneath the words. In bold at the top is the title Hades and Persephone.

  “Oh, my mum hated her,” you say.

  Draco chuckles. “I can imagine.”

   You trace your eyes over the words. You can't really make them out with your dyslexia, but Draco reads them for you, because he knows. He reads the story of your father and his true wife, pausing to ask you your opinions, or if you know anything about any of it. You tell him you don't, but you want him to keep reading, so he does, and together you learn about your father and his ways.

  Finally, when Draco reaches the end of that particular story, you look up at him and say, “Why are you reading this?”

   He shrugs. You don't buy it, though, and continue waiting for his response. He rolls his eyes at your patient silence and says, “Remember when you asked me if I'd ever read any of the Greek myths?”

  You raise a brow. “Yes...”

  “I hadn't read any of them. But I realised it's kind of part of your history, isn't it? These myths, the people and things you talk about. If I really want to understand you, I have to get familiar with a few of these terms, don't I?”

   A lump forms in your throat. “You're reading these for me?”

  “Of course.” He slams the book closed and says, “Quiz me. I can tell you who Demeter is right now.”

  You stare at him a moment longer, overwhelmed beyond words. Instead of giving Draco a pop quiz on all things Greece, you reach up and press your lips to his own, whispering the unknown words of “I love you,” against his mouth.

  Draco chuckles, the sound like music to your ears. “I love you, too.”

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[fallingarchons]

idiot

pairing: xiao / gn!reader

cw: cursing, mild violence, description of injuries

in which xiao thinks you’re an idiot, but never once thought he’d want you to be his idiot

wc: 4.7k

A/N: hey everyone! i’ve never written before, and i’ve kinda been on my genshin brainrot for a while now. honestly this has been living in my mind rent free for a while so i decided to take a crack at it and start writing, and the result was this kinda corny, super cliche lil ficlet. hope you all enjoy! also, it’s not edited because i’m kinda lazy whoops. luv ya, n enjoy!

Xiao hates you.

He really does.

How dare you walk into HIS inn, stand on HIS balcony eating HIS almond tofu, grinning that disgustingly beautiful smile while loudly talking to your equally as loud companion about archons know what.

Honestly? Xiao thinks you’re an idiot.

He watches for around 20 minutes, fuming, as the two of you continue your high volume conversation that has done nothing but disturb his peace. Xiao decides then and there that he does not like you, and he wants you away from him as soon as possible.

With that thought in mind, he hops down from his spot on the roof.

His hand reaches out to angrily tap you on the shoulder, when suddenly he’s face to face with wide (e/c) eyes.

“Well hello there handsome.”

“Excuse me?”

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You were having a pretty good day.

You had finally reached Liyue after almost 2 weeks of travelling, as you hailed from Mondstadt originally. You were sent out on a couple commissions that required you to travel to the neighboring city of Liyue, where you met your current travelling companion and good friend Xiangling. The two of you had eaten dinner at her restaurant, where you were recommended the Wangshu Inn by a passing customer.

“Xiangling, do you know of a possible place that I could stay tonight?” you swallowed your Sweet Mistress before continuing. “I have to head out on a commission in the plains tomorrow, so I need somewhere near there.”

Xiangling opened her mouth to answer you, but a man passing by your table spoke before she could. “The Guili Plains? There’s a nice inn over there called the Wangshu Inn that you could stay at. The nightly rate isn’t too expensive, and the views are incredible.”

Xiangling sprung up from her chair. “Wangshu Inn? I know that place! I’ve heard so many good things about it. Oh and the food there- YUM!! They have so many amazing options. There's mora meat, sweet mistresses, almond tofu-”

“Xiangling! Take a breath, girl!” You cut off her mindless rambling with an eye roll, patting her back as she heaved.

The passerby spoke up again, “I would really recommend the almond tofu. The chef there, Smiley Yixiao, is a good friend of mine, and he makes delicious almond tofu. You should definitely try it if you end up staying there.”

You smiled, thanking him for his help before nodding to Xiangling. She met your gaze, and the two of you cleared your table before walking out.

Before you left, the nice passerby stopped you one last time.

“It’s still light outside. If you hurry, you can catch the sunset! The top floor valley has a gorgeous view of the sunset. Oh- and tell Yixiao hi for me, okay?”

Waving goodbye to the man, you and Xiangling started off towards the Wangshu Inn, a little skip present in your step. Picking up a light jog, you aimlessly chatted with your friend as the bustle of the City of Contracts grew farther and farther away.

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“Fuck, man.”

You had nearly collapsed once you finally arrived at the inn, out of breath from running for so long.

“It- shit, hold on” you pant. “It’s nearly sunset we have- we have to hurry up.”

Xiangling flashed you a quick thumbs up, equally as exhausted as you were. After getting your bearings, the two of you sluggishly walked into the inn.

A voice called out to you from your left.

“Hello and welcome to the Wangshu Inn! My name is Verr Goldet. Can I help you two travelers with anything?”

Given you still hadn’t fully recovered from the run, Xiangling took over, conversing with Verr Goldet about your anticipated stay.

While Xiangling handled the room, you decided to look around a bit. You walked down a small flight of stairs to what looked like a large kitchen, with a tall man cooking some delicious-smelling meals. The words of the friendly passerby flashed into your mind, and you asked him,

“Are you by any chance Smiley Yixiao? And do you have any of your famed almond tofu?”

The man visibly startled, a small squeak coming out of his mouth as he whipped around. Realizing it was a living person and not a ghost, he seemed to calm down. He told you that he was in fact Smiley Yixiao, and he happened to have some extra almond tofu on hand he had made earlier.

“Actually, if you could take this up to the balcony on the top floor for me, that would be great. Xiao should be up there right now.”

You nodded, taking the three plates of the gelatin dish from his hands.

‘...Xiao? Now who in the world is that.’ you wondered to yourself. Shrugging, you jogged up the stairs back to your friend, who was waiting for you with the room key.

“Oh my gosh that looks so good I am so excited!”

You returned Xiangling’s excitement with just as much enthusiasm, and you talked animatedly about how good it looked until you got to the balcony.

Eyes wide, you stared at the view in front of you in awe. The sky was a beautiful blend of crimson, gold, orange, and a hint of purple. The sun was but a small red sliver cutting the horizon. Leaning on the railing, you thought you had never seen anything more beautiful.

That is, until you turned around.

There in front of you is perhaps the most gorgeous man- no, human being you had ever seen in your life. He has pitch black hair with what looks to you like green highlights and- is that orange eyeliner? You look at his outfit- strange but it fits him in a way that’s almost unfair. But what really draws you in are his eyes. Striking liquid gold stares back at you unblinkingly, and you swear you just about passed out.

‘Well hello there handsome.’ you thought to yourself.

“Excuse me?” comes the annoyed reply.

Shit.

Did you say that out loud?

“Yes, you did in fact say that out loud.” the annoyed voice continues. “Now tell me, mortal. What in Morax’s name are you doing on my balcony?”

You know that you have a perfectly good reason for being on the balcony, it’s a public place for archon’s sake. But his steely eyes and icy voice make any defense you planned on vocalizing retreat down your throat, rendering you speechless with your mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Your eyes quickly scan the area, searching for your friend to get you out of this mess, only to find she had left in the midst of your distraction.

The man in front of you scoffs, rolling his eyes at your flustered demeanor.

“Leave mortal. You have no business here.”

As he turns to leave, you finally find your voice.

“Hey, uh, green bean man!”

When did you get so bold?

You see him freeze midstep.

“...Green. Bean. Man?” he grits. “Why you-“

“Yeah green bean man because your hair is green and I don’t know your name anyways that’s not important basically I just wanted to see the sunset and I was told by a chef to come up here and so I did and I didn’t know it was off limits sorry it won’t happen again sexy man.”

Panting, you look at him, only to see pools of amber glaring at you from your outburst.

Letting out a nervous laugh, you fumble for the dish that was given to you, holding it out to him tentatively.

“I take it you’re probably Xiao so… almond tofu?”

You see his eyes briefly light up, before reverting back to their steely appearance. He walks over to you, snatching the food from your outreached hand. You raise your gaze to meet his, immediately feeling the intensity of his guarded glare.

“You are an idiot, mortal. Now leave, and do not come back here. Do not come near me.”

With that, he disappears in a puff of teal.

Unfortunately, Xiao was right.

You are an idiot.

For the next month, he watches with disdain as you make yourself at home on his balcony, clutching a plate of almond tofu every time.

Despite his harsh glare and “stay-away” demeanor, you make a beeline for him every time, already happily chirping away about something he deems meaningless.

He rarely answers you when you talk to him, opting instead for humming and the occasional one word answer.

That is, if he decides to respond at all.

You don’t seem to care though, if he’s thinking about it. No matter if he says anything or not, you always continue talking until he eventually leaves.

Despite what he thought at the beginning, he knows he doesn’t necessarily hate you, nor does he aspire to be mean to you.

Xiao, quite frankly, is just not used to this. ‘This’ being the idea of having a companion, a friend. He’s used to solitude, and doesn’t know how to act now that someone is showing interest in knowing him.

On top of this, he is dangerous. He knows he is dangerous.

Anyone who gets close to him eventually gets hurt. And why should he put in the effort of creating an emotional bond when all they’re going to do is leave him?

Whether it be by time,

or by his own hand.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yet here he is, 3 months into your stay in Liyue, attempting to make almond tofu with you at Xiangling’s restaurant.

You had dragged him to the city a couple of hours ago, whining that “it’s Lantern Rite, a celebration about YOU!” and “Xiao you have to go with me! Don’t make me go alone!”

He eventually gave in, (though it really didn’t take much effort on your part) and he finds himself being yanked by the hand through the lantern-lit city.

He thinks if you weren’t holding onto him, he certainly  would’ve lost you by now.

You are a whirlwind of energy and enthusiasm he’s come to find out, and he struggles to keep up with you and your curiosity. Every second in Liyue it seems you’ve found something new to look at.

“Xiao! Let’s go look at the Mingxiao lantern!”

“Okay-“

“Wait no, look at that food stand!”

“Weren’t we goi-“

“IS THAT A DOG.”

“I- nevermind.”

Xiao almost groaned in relief when you told him you wanted to have dinner at Xiangling’s restaurant. He just wanted to sit down and rest for a little bit, not used to the bustling social environment that is Liyue’s Lantern Rite Festival.

But maybe that was just wishful thinking.

That much is obvious to him when he overcooks his almond tofu for the fourth time. When he let out a nearly inaudible groan, the sound of your loud laughter rings throughout the restaurant. He looks over to see you doubled over on the floor, nearly crying at his expense.

“P-please Xiao. y-y-you idiot” you manage to wheeze out. “How- how- oh my god hold on I can’t breathe- how are you so bad at this?”

He should be angry. A mere mortal laughing at him, the Conqueror of Demons, a man with more blood on his hands than anyone will ever truly know, laughing at something so trivial like he’s never done wrong in his life. Like he’ll never do you wrong. He should be upset. He should push you away, tell you to never associate yourself with him again for your own protection.

Instead, for the first time in over 1000 years, Xiao laughs.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What did you write?” you ask, sitting on the cliff above Liyue.

A questioning hum sounds from next to you at your sudden question. You don’t bother to look over, eyes still glued to the lantern-filled sky above you.

“On your lantern? I hear the citizens write their wishes on the lanterns in hopes that the Adepti will see them and grant them.” you explain.

“I know that. And nothing important.”

“Oh.”

A beat of awkward silence passes.

“I… have my last commission tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving Liyue. I’m due back in Mondstadt to report to Kaeya my findings.” you say reluctantly, fiddling with the lantern in your lap.

You’re greeted with silence, the carefree mood quickly turning somber.

Another beat passes before you hear rustling, and turn your head. You’re met with the sight of Xiao quickly standing. He releases his lantern before you could glimpse what he had written before turning to walk away. You balk, calling out to him.

“Dude! Yo! Green bean man! Where are you going? I thought we were going to release our lanterns together!”

He freezes, his posture rigid. He can hear the thinly veiled hurt in your voice, and his chest squeezes in a way he doesn’t want to understand.

“I’m being summoned. If I do not see you before your departure, I extend my well-wishings. Goodbye traveler.”

And then he’s gone, leaving you speechless, alone, and hurt.

Your hand shakily reaches down to grasp your lantern, reading the inscription once more before letting it go.

‘I wish I didn’t have to leave him behind.’

A single tear rolls down your cheek.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

High in the mountains above Liyue, a figure watches as a lone traveler releases their lantern. Clutching the lantern of a certain adeptus, the figure reads the neat writing once more.

‘I wish they didn’t have to leave me.’

Chuckling, the figure’s hand reaches to snatch the traveler’s lantern out of the sky.

“Just as I predicted,” the figure laments, reading the second wish. “the Yaksha finally has a weakness.”

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You never thought you would be so hesitant to return to Mondstadt. But the thought of leaving Xiao your new Liyue friends was nearly enough to convince you to shackle yourself to your bedpost so you couldn’t leave.

You had never been one for rationality.

Letting out a deep sigh, you shoved the last of your few belongings into your travel pack. You stand in the doorway, taking one last glimpse at the room you had called home for the past few months, before heading downstairs.

Immediately, you are pulled into a bone crushing hug by a sobbing Xiangling. You faintly hear her blubbering, but it’s too quick and muffled by your shoulder to understand.

Your eyes quickly survey the room, flitting between the smiling faces of your friends. Desperately searching for someone you aren’t even sure you want to see.

Unfortunately (or fortunately- you still can’t tell), the adeptus was nowhere to be found. You lock eyes with Xinyan, who looks at you sympathetically. (You had met Xinyan after you bursted into Xiangling’s restaurant in tears following Xiao’s abrupt departure. She was understanding, but you still feel a bit awkward that her first impression of you was crying over a boy.)

You pry Xiangling off of you as much as you can, cupping her face so that her eyes meet yours. “Ling-Ling, this isn't goodbye forever! I’ll be back at some point, I promise!” you reassure yourself her. Fighting back tears of your own, you walk around to say your farewells to everybody else.

Your farewells are quick but emotional, and you find yourself crying as you walk out of the inn. A tap on your shoulder makes you turn around, and your (c) irises meet amber.

“Xia-“

He cuts you off, “Be careful on your way back. If you find yourself in trouble, summon me. Say my name and I’ll be there. Any time. Anywhere. Goodbye traveler.”

“Wait Xiao I-“ He’s gone before you can finish your thought.

Your hand that is reached out moves to whip the tears from your face.

‘It’s useless to just sit here and fucking cry,’ you think bitterly. ‘I’ve got shit to do, and I’m going to do it. It’s time to get serious and focus. Come on ____, you’re better than this!’

With that thought in mind, you straighten your back, effectively steeling yourself before heading out into the vast plains.

You don’t turn back once.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I should’ve turned back! Why didn’t I turn back?” you shout over the loud roars of the Frostarm Lawachurl stomping after you. Thinking back on it, you don’t entirely know why you accepted a commission in Dragonspine of all places.

You really, really, really hate Dragonspine.

You mutter expletives under your breath, cursing whatever god was willing to listen for making you encounter this overgrown yeti. You’re tired, cold, hungry, and running on pure adrenaline at this point.

What would’ve happened if you had just stayed in Liyue?

That thought briefly flashes through your mind, and in your distraction you don’t notice you’ve slowed down.

That is, until an icy fist rams into your backside.

You can practically feel the bones in your spine shatter as you fly off the edge of the mountain. Summoning all of the energy you have left, you force open your wind glider before you can fall to your rocky doom.

Through hazy eyes you spot a shallow cave on the side of the mountain. You wheeze out a sigh of relief, floating down into the mouth of the cave. Inside, you spot remnants of what looks to be the camp of a traveler. Scattered books, a pot, and- oh thank archons- a makeshift fire pit. As you weakly light the fire, you silently thank the gods for blessing you with a Pyro Vision. It really saves your ass sometimes.

You let out a small laugh through chattering teeth, pulling your jacket closer to your body as you lay down on the cold floor. Pain flares in your shattered back, and you whimper quietly.

With frozen tears on your cheeks and the crackling sound of the fire, you finally doze off into a dreamless sleep.

Oh how you wish you didn’t.

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When you do eventually wake up, you kind of wish you hadn’t.

First of all, your back is on fire. Your fingers feel like they’re frozen in place, and your head feels like you were hit upside the head by the hilt of Xinyan’s claymore. Your whole body is stiff and ridden with knots that you itch to stretch out but can’t due to the chains holding your wrists in place.

Wait.

Chains?

Your eyes widen almost comically as you stare at the glinting metal of your cuffs. Your head whips around to look at your surroundings.

“Ow, too fast too fast. Oh, my head…”

Recovering, you come to find you’re in some sort of jail cell, metal bars keeping you from the outside world, and- oh dear Lord Barbatos is that a rat?

Pfft. How cliche.

You roll your eyes, ignoring the pounding in your head.

“Hey! Is anyone out there? Because, uh, what the fuck? I have places to be! I need to go!”

Silence follows, until you hear the faint clacking of footsteps echoing through the dungeon. You can’t quite make out the features of whoever is walking down the dark hallway, so you squint your eyes at the silhouette.

“Well, well, well what do we have-“

Not in the mood for another cliche, you cut the figure off. “Save the corny villain speech, I don’t care.” you deadpan. “Just tell me where the hell I am before I blast you into next week.”

The figure stops right before your bars, and in the dim lighting you can finally make out her features. You bite back a noise of surprise, because you swear if this woman hadn't kidnapped you, you would probably try to court her. Her indigo irises look at you mockingly before she speaks.

“Blast me into next week…” she taps her chin in a mock ponder. “Oh! I don’t suppose you mean with this?” You look at her now outstretched arm, seeing your precious Pyro Vision dangling from a perfectly manicured finger. Your eyes shoot to your left hip where your Vision should be, seeing nothing. You’re at a loss for words. Your only plan of escape was with the use of your fire, and now you’re practically useless.

Dread fills your body. You faintly hear the woman giggle sadistically as you visibly deflate, but you’re too caught up with your thoughts to really care. Your mind is running a mile a minute, trying to pinpoint something that could possibly help you get out of here alive.

“Be careful on your way back. If you find yourself in trouble, summon me. Say my name and I’ll be there. Anytime. Anywhere.”

Xiao.

You could call Xiao.

La Signora’s sardonic smile widens when she sees your apparent internal battle. You’re thinking about it. She knows you’re thinking about it. She set things up perfectly, and now everything is falling into place. The normally composed woman is practically vibrating with giddiness.

“Do it dolly,” she taunts. “I know you want to. Call the adeptus dolly. Call him to you.”

“No.” your voice is firm.

“Do it.” hers is firmer.

“No.” your voice wavers, and her grin widens impossibly more.

“Do it!” she slams her hands on the bars, and you startle.

“N-no!” your resolve weakens further, and La Signora knows she has you.

She slowly opens your cell door, sauntering over to you with a sick look on her beautiful face. She leans down, her lips inches from your ear.

“Do. It.” she hisses.

You crack.

You wilt, whispering into your knees.

“Xiao, please. Help me.”

A flash of teal and black.

Your captor stands up. “Oh good you're here! Now things get interesting.” She turns to you with her arm raised. “Now go to sleep dolly. The adults are talking.” She brings her hand down on your neck.

The last thing you see before you fall under is the mask the adeptus swore to never wear again form in his hand.

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For the second time in what feels like 3 days, you wake up feeling like you were hit with a claymore. Shutting your eyes again, you snuggle back into the warmth of the sheets. Something grabs onto your arm and a voice mutters, “Shh. Don’t move or you’ll hurt yourself more.”

Your mind catches up to you, and suddenly everything hits you.

One: why are you in a bed?

And two: who the hell is touching you?

Fighting the excruciating pain in both your head and your spine, you turn over to meet the worried eyes of your companion.

“V-verr Goldet? Is that you? Why is it you? Does this mean I’m back at the Wangshu Inn? Why am I back at the inn? How did I get here? Wh-”

“____ hey. Take a deep breath. To answer your questions, yes it is me. Yes you are back at the Wangshu Inn. You were taken by the Fatui- you know what? I think there is someone else more suited to tell you what happened. He’s been showing up outside your door for nearly a week waiting for you to wake up.”

You balk. “A week? I've been asleep for a full week?”

Verr Goldet laughs quietly. “Yes, a full week. Your injuries are severe, and your body needed time to heal. Frankly, I’m surprised you're awake even now. I will take my leave. I can feel him getting restless knowing you're awake.”

She turns to walk away, pausing in the doorway once more. “Please go easy on him. He’s never experienced this sort of… attachment before. He’s just a bit confused. He really has never meant to bring you any sort of anguish, he’s just doing what he’s always done.” You watch as she leaves the room, her form in the doorway being replaced by one you know all too well. You begin to lift your body to welcome him, and he rushes over to gently nudge you back down.

“Don’t strain yourself too much. Your spine is greatly injured, and Qiqi is gathering what she needs to try to fix the fractures. She should be here within the next day.” He pauses, sighing. “I suppose you would like to know what happened, right?” He doesn’t meet your eyes.

He breathes in once more before beginning his tale.

“You were taken by a woman named La Signora, who revealed herself to me as the Eight of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers. She had been following you for a while, and finally found an ideal moment to strike when you were in that cave in Dragonspine.” You are extremely confused. Why did La Signora decide to take you? Of what importance could you have been to the Fatui? Your confusion must have shown, because Xiao speaks again.

“I know you must be wondering why the Fatui would want you for seemingly no reason. She explained to me after I defeated her that the Fatui wants to wipe out all immortal beings. So she utilized what she found to be my weakness. Which is, well, you. Because of my apparent romantic feelings towards you. She saw our wishes on our lanterns during the Lantern Rite and...”

At this point you've drowned him out. ‘Apparent romantic feelings?’ How can he say that so matter-of-factly?

“Wait hold on back up. You-” you clear your throat awkwardly. “You like me?”

He looks at you strangely. “No I do not ‘like’ you. It has been brought to my attention that what I feel for you is called ‘love’ and that I am in love with you. And I am aware that you feel this love toward me too.”

He notices your silence and speaks up hesitantly. “Am- am I incorrect?”

The kicked-puppy voice almost has you flailing. You wave your arms wildly, and nearly scream “No! No. No you’re not- oh ow ow ow ow ow.” In your urgency, you strained your injuries. Again. Xiao’s eyes soften as he reaches out to lay you back down into bed, careful of your back. When the pain subsides, you speak again.

“No, you're not incorrect. I was just, taken aback, by how upfront you were. I do love you, a lot actually, and it’s very surprising that you feel the same way. I… I’m very happy.”

“Your face is extremely red. Are you running a fever?”

You weakly whack him in the arm, and he lets out a small laugh.

“I am just joking my love, I am not that dense.”

Your face flushes more with every word that comes out of his mouth.

“So are we going to kiss now? Since we are a couple in a romantic relationship I think we should.” You don’t know where your burst of confidence came from, but at his words you wrap your arms around his neck, yanking him down to your level. He braces himself with one arm on the bed, the other resting on your waist. Right as your lips are about to meet, you hear a thud and then an exasperated “Xiangling!”

You and Xiao look at each other, looks of equal annoyance present on your features. You push him up reluctantly.

“If you guys don’t open that door and get your sorry asses in here, I swear to Morax-”

The door opens slowly, and your friends shuffle, bearing sheepish grins. Your sword materializes in your hand, already glowing with fire. Xiao’s arm lifts to steady yours, and you mentally thank him for not making you look too out of commission. The glint in your eyes hint that you mean business, and Xiangling is the first to squeak out an apology.

“We’re sorry ____, we just wanted to know!”

Your eyes glint dangerously, and you nudge Xiao.

“Since I can’t exactly do anything, he will. Time to face the wrath of a Yaksha bitches!” you exclaim gleefully. “Xiao get them! Go!” you shoo him away with your hands.

Xiao shakes his head once more, before pushing himself off of your bedside. His jade polearm appears in his hand, and he stalks towards your friends. The door closes behind him and you’re left to your own thoughts. You think back to the words he’s said to you on many an occasion.

“You’re an idiot, mortal.”

You suppose you are an idiot. But maybe so is he. You’re just two idiots in love. At that thought, you laugh.

You suppose you'll get that kiss later.

#genshin #genshin xiao #genshin oneshot #genshin scenarios #genshin impact #genshin imagines #genshin x reader

[a-solitary-marshmallow]

Do No Harm Take No Shit Chapter 5 - Home(room) Coming

They discussed how best to break the news to everyone, while feeding each other ice cream. (call Adrien a sap, he didn’t care, this was the best day of his fucking life) It seemed a bit obtrusive to walk into class and announce, ‘Hello Marinette is my girlfriend now, any questions?’

On the other hand, Lila would probably take advantage of any ambiguity. Not to mention Adrien’s fans – they would throw a tantrum when he and Marinette went public.

In the end, the simple approach was taken. Adrien took a selfie of them sharing their couples’ cone, one in which Marinette’s face was scrunched up adorably as he dabbed strawberry ice cream on the tip of her nose. Her hair was out and tumbling in the breeze, slapping Adrien on the cheek while he laughed and held the camera up blindly. It was his favourite shot – he was almost loathe to share it with the world. A quick caption. Magical ice cream with my magical girlfriend – best day of my life. Adrien posted it on Monday morning while the Gorilla drove them to school.

“Aaaaand… done.” He leaned his head against Marinette’s shoulder and watched the comments start to filter in.

“That was fast.” Marinette said.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure I’ve got a few stalkers on here.”

“You don’t say.” She teased.

Paris flashed by, and then they had arrived. They walked into the school hand in hand – Marinette’s hand was an honour Adrien held with pride. In the hallway Mylène glanced at them, glanced away casually, and then her gaze snapped back, accompanied by unashamed jaw-dropping. She elbowed Ivan, who looked around and blinked at the two, before grinning excitedly. They started to whisper between themselves. Adrien stifled a laugh.

“So,” He murmured as they walked, “How many people know about your huge crush on me, exactly?”

Marinette groaned. “No.”

“Because if Alya and Nino were shipping us…”

“Please, there are too many names to remember. You are the one person who didn’t know.”

“Was everyone on team Marinette-Adrien?”

“Adrienette.”

“What?”

Marinette looked away, face blushing a lovely shade of red. “Nothing.”

Adrien hummed and swung their joined hands. After a moment, Marinette gathered her courage and spoke again.

“Most people were on the team. Except for Chloe, of course.”

“Chloe’s always the exception.” Adrien noted.

They stepped inside the class, and Rose began to squeal. Adrien jumped at the pitch of it – all eyes were on them suddenly. He smiled nervously at the wide-mouthed stares.

“Uh, hi?”

“Congratulations!” Rose squealed. She rushed down from her chair to hug Marinette and Adrien in turn, swiftly followed by a grinning Alya who slung an arm around her best friend’s shoulder.

“Mari! Why didn’t you say something earlier? Congrats you two!”

The class was loud with cheers and excited voices. Kim laughed from his seat, “Adrien, bro! We thought you were gonna be oblivious forever.”

“Well, what can I say?” Adrien shrugged, fingers still tangled with Marinette’s. “I saw the light.”

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Rose cried. She glanced back to the very stiff figure sitting at her desk, “Lila, I told you they would figure it out!”

“Yes, you did.” Lila’s voice dripped with saccharine contempt. Adrien could feel her glare drilling into him from across the classroom. He suppressed the animalistic urge to bristle and hiss, instead sending a sweet smile towards the teeth-gritting girl. ‘Look out. You have no idea who you’re messing with.’

“So, when did this happen?” Alya urged. Marinette shrugged.

“This weekend. We went out, and talked, and… well.” She slightly lifted their joined hands, and the girls cooed. Marinette’s cheeks were flushed with happiness – even Lila’s presence didn’t seem to impact her. Adrien wished she could be this happy all the time. Damn it if he wasn’t going to try and make it so. “I’m expecting some rabid fangirl lashback though.”

Alya crinkled her nose. “Ew. Don’t worry Mari, we’ve got your back.”

“I know. Thank you.”                

“Soooo,” Alya leaned in towards the new couple, “I was wondering, would you guys object to a slight seat change today? I really want to sit next to my boyfriend, and – gosh – that leaves you two together in the front row!”

“Real smooth, Alya.” Alix elbowed her with a snort. Marinette laughed.

“I’d like that. Adrien?”

“Definitely.” He said fervently.

“Oh, and do you guys want to have lunch at my house?” Marinette offered Nino and Alya. Nino sighed happily.

“Ah, Dupain-Cheng pastries. It’s been too long.”

“So that’s a yes.” Alya clarified.

 The classes went quickly, with Marinette by Adrien’s side. When she was waiting for the other students to finish up with their note taking, she would doodle in the corners of her sketchbook. Adrien picked up her pen to draw a little love heart on her cast. She returned the favour on the back of his hand. At lunch time he, Marinette, Alya and Nino met outside the classroom to walk to Marinette’s house. They were about to start off when a voice called out.

“Oh! Would you mind if I joined you?” Lila’s sickeningly sweet cry made Adrien stiffen. Marinette bit her lip, hard, as Alya and Nino turned to see the brunette hurrying over. Alya tipped her head with a confused smile.

“Of course, girl, but I thought you were busy? You said you were having lunch with… a special someone?” Alya pointed surreptitiously to her earrings. Lila sighed, an impressive show of disappointment.

“Oh, I was so looking forward to having lunch together, but she had to cancel! Her partner got into trouble and she had to go and bail him out again. Honestly, cats can be so troublesome can’t they?”

Oh. Cats, earrings. Was Lila really talking about Ladybug? Having lunch with Ladybug? Not only was that an incredibly stupid thing to brag about, given the whole being-targeted-by-a-supervillain thing, but Lila had picked the wrong people to boast to. Adrien was almost ready to give her a cataclysm to the face.

But he wasn’t suited up right now, and Alya had already invited Lila along with a smile and a reassurance that she was sure it wasn’t personal, Lila’s bestie was a very busy person after all. A quick glance at Marinette’s uninjured arm revealed the way her fists were clenched. Adrien threaded his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand. I know. It’s bullshit.

“Are you guys coming?” Nino called from up ahead. The others had already started off. Adrien pasted on his model smile.

“Yep! We’ll catch up to you in a sec.”

“Adrien.” Marinette whispered. He turned to her, allowed his smile to drop into a scowl that mirrored hers. “I don’t want Lila in my house.”

He shuddered. “Ugh, I know, I’ve already had that experience. She’s creepy.”

“No, you don’t understand.” She whispered desperately. “Lila hates me. What if she gets her hands on something important? What if she finds the miracle box? Or lies to my parents? Or spills paint on my ball gown commission? She knows I’m being commissioned by Clara Nightingale, she asked Alya about it the other day. I’ve been working on it for weeks, if she ruins it I’ll have to start again and buy all the fabrics with my own money and the bakery will go broke and Maman and Papa will have to sell and I’ll never get a job in fashion and I’ll live on the streets and get stabbed in a mugging and-”

Adrien squeezed her hand, and Marinette trailed off.

“It’ll be fine.” He promised. “We won’t go to your house.”

Marinette looked up at him with such desperation, that Adrien felt his heart break. Had he really made her feel like this? That no one was here for her? Adrien lifted her hand to kiss it before turning to call after the three students on the footpath ahead of them.

“Guys, hold up! Marinette forgot about a huge order her parents have at the bakery, if we go there we’ll just be in the way. There’s a cool café down the road we can go to instead.”

Lila’s eyes widened like a kicked puppy’s. “I-I don’t have any money with me, I gave it all to Prince’s Ali’s charity for disabled orphans.” She put on a pained smile. “It’s okay, though. I don’t need to get anything – my diabetes won’t be a huge problem if I skip a meal or two. It’s enough to just spend time with my favourite people.”

Alya ‘awww’ed and slung an arm around Lila’s shoulder. “Mari, are you sure we can’t just stop by your place? Your folks have plenty of food they don’t sell, right?”

Marinette squeaked. Adrien spoke over her smoothly. “Don’t worry, Lila! I’ll pay for your lunch. It’s the least I can do, after how good you are to those disabled orphans.”

He could feel Lila’s glare, and it was hilarious. She said sweetly, “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly take your money!”

“I’m literally rich. Besides, wouldn’t it be the same if you took Marinette’s food?” He smiled at the fuming girl. “Please, let me treat you. I’d do the same for any friend.”

He was really laying it on thick now, he could tell from Marinette’s stifled giggle. At Lila’s side, however, Alya hadn’t picked up on the passive aggressive note. She was beaming as she linked arms with Nino and Lila. “Great! Let’s go, before lunch time runs out.”

Marinette and Adrien followed behind. As they walked Marinette leaned in to murmur, “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Adrien whispered back. “Your knight in shining leather is always here to help.”

She snorted and bumped him. Adrien grinned.

“It’s a tail as old as time. Fur as long as I can remember, it’s always been the princess and her alley cat against the world.” Marinette groaned, but the sparkle in her eye betrayed her. “What’s wrong, Milady? Are you feline okay? You didn’t catch a cold or something, did you?”

“What secrets are you two whispering about?” Nino joked. Adrien sent him an innocent smile.

“I have no idea what you mean. I’m just complimenting my beautiful girlfriend.” He leaned in to Marinette to add, “Let me know if all the whiskering is bugging you.”

Marinette laughed out loud. “Please, Adrien. Please get some new material.”

“Why would I, when I have the purrfect puns already?” He lowered his voice again. “Seriously though, if I am annoying you or if Lila’s making you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

“I will, kitty.” Marinette smiled. Adrien was thrilled that he could make her smile like that. He would tell awful puns every day for the rest of his life if it would make Marinette smile.

They walked together, with a liar, to go get lunch.

  ­­­Two months later

“Are you sure about this?” Adrien asked for what seemed like the umpteenth time as Marinette shoved her bag into her locker. She still held her newly-uncasted arm carefully against her body, out of habit. “I can do it instead, it doesn’t have to be you.”

“Yes it does.” Marinette closed her locker firmly. “I have to do this. You just make sure to get it all, okay? You have an important part.”

“Of course, Milady.” Adrien wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her hair. Marinette hummed happily and buried her face in his jacket. And everything was wonderful for a short, blissful moment.

There was a faint zipping sound, and then Plagg stuck his head through the wall of the deserted locker room and barked, “She’s alone in the courtyard. Now’s the time, Pigtails.”

Adrien wished this moment would never end. Alas, he could not hold the love of his life forever. Marinette proved that when she lifted her head.

“Okay.” She pulled in a deep breath and smiled up at Adrien.

“You’ve got this.” He told her. She nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Tikki, spots on.”

  When it was over Adrien rushed to meet Marinette in the garden behind the school, tucked away between trees and bundles of flowers. She had beaten him there and had already detransformed, Tikki sitting on a nearby branch and munching on a cookie. When Adrien arrived she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes and lifted her arms.

“Hey, hey.” Adrien ran into her embrace and hugged her tightly. She was shaking. “It’s okay. You did it. You were amazing Marinette, and now it’s all over.”

“I know.” Marinette mumbled again him. “I just can’t believe…”

“I know.” He held her firmly and Marinette returned the gesture, clutching at his back. “You’re done. You can relax now.”

Marinette made a muffled sound. Adrien stroked her hair.

“Do you wanna go home?”

She nodded, not lifting her face from his chest.

“Do you wanna be alone?”

She shook her head.

“Do you wanna cuddle and watch cartoons?”

Marinette nodded again.

“Do you wanna watch the Ladybug and Chat Noir movie and laugh at all the stuff that they got wrong?”

Another nod. Adrien kissed the top of her head.

“Then that can be arranged. And we’ll deal with tomorrow when it comes.”

“When it comes.” Marinette mumbled.

  Adrien walked to the front of the class the next morning just before school was due to start. Most of the students were already in their seats – including Marinette, who Adrien had insisted was due for a break. She had already done the heavy lifting of the plan, now Adrien could see it through. Besides, she didn’t need Lila targeting her even more for this. Speaking of Lila, Adrien could feel the girl’s suspicious glare drilling into his back as he spoke to Ms. Bustier.

“Excuse me miss, is it alright if I show the class something before the lesson starts? It’s urgent.”

She frowned from her desk. “Can it wait? We have a lot of important information to cover this lesson.”

“Ms. Bustier, this is very important information. I think everyone should see it as soon as possible – including you and the other teachers.”

She shook her head. “Mister Agreste, I really don’t see what could be so important that you must interrupt my lesson. Why don’t you go and sit down, and talk to the principal at lunch?”

“Because it concerns my classmates and-”

“All the more reason for it to be dealt with discreetly – we don’t need a spectacle.”

“You didn’t give Marinette that luxury.” Chloe called mildly from the front seat. Adrien turned to stare at her in disbelief. “You called her out in front of everyone during that whole cheating scandal. Why not give Adrien the same luxury? Or do I need to bring my daddy into this?” She pulled out her phone threateningly and Miss Bustier whitened.

“That will not be necessary, Chloe. I’m sure a… a few minutes is fine.”

“It won’t take long.” Adrien assured, sending Chloe a grateful look. She smiled smugly. Adrien quickly plugged in his USB and opened the document, taking a breath to raise his voice to the whole class.

“Thank you all for your time. At first I wasn’t sure if I should share this – but after doing a bit of research, I’ve found some worrying things that I think everyone here should know about.” Adrien could feel Lila’s glare searing through his forehead. He resisted the urge to smirk at her, instead schooling his expression into hesitance and worry. He had a part to play – the innocent bystander. After all, a malicious witness wasn’t very trustworthy. “I sent a copy to Mr. Damocles and the Ladyblog – Alya, you probably haven’t seen it yet – but I think it’s important that you all watch it before anyone else.”

Marinette met his eye, and nodded. Adrien smiled at her and pressed play.

#fic #my writing #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #chat noir #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila #lila gets exposed #dnhtns

[scariusaquarius]

take a ride 2.

Mechanic! Thorin Oakenshield x Female! Reader

---

A/n: Wow, I didn’t realize that you guys would enjoy mechanic thorin, but a down-and-dirty Thorin isn’t too bad of an image...might have to commission an artist for a mechanic! thorin artwork sometime!

AND Y’ALL LOOK AT THE MOODBOARD I AM SCREAMING AHHHH THANK YOU SO MUCH @unapologetic-and-aesthetic​

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO (HERE) | CHAPTER THREE 

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Genre: Humor, Friendship, Romance Rated: General Warning: Swearing, Humor, Fluff

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Author: dabisburntnut

---

It had been a whole week since you had met Thorin Durin of Shield Tow & Maintenance. You had given him a hefty tip when he had finished, and had gone right on your way as soon as you could. Your car was running like brand new, and you wondered what he had done in the four hours that he had worked. 

Balin had told you much about the business, and how the employees of the company were related in some way, shape, and form. It made you flabbergasted. Just how big was the family of Durin? When you had gotten home, you had a very restless sleep, dreaming of sky-blue eyes and the smell of oil the whole week afterwards.

As you got up the morning, you groaned slightly, rubbing the back of your neck as the smell of motor oil disappeared. You could tell that today was going to be a coffee-shop day, your body already aching and sluggish with fatigue. You didn’t like that Thorin was haunting your dreams...but there was a part of you that was already becoming so attached to him. How could you ever try to deny it? 

Thorin was handsome and you wanted him badly. 

Groaning, you walked into your bathroom and turned the light on, scrunching your face as the light blinded you. Grabbing your toothbrush, you began your morning routine. When you were finally done, you slipped on your clothes for the day before heading out. 

The sky was cloudy, dark clouds heavy in the distance, and you sighed, hoping that it would pass. You didn’t mind the rain normally...but since you had a beautiful man keeping you up at night, you weren’t so keen on the thunderous clouds ahead. 

As you made your way to the coffee shop, your mind began to wander as it usually did. What if you had gotten Thorin’s number...or had given him yours? Would he have called you back? Want to take you on a date? Your cheeks colored as you thought about it, shaking your head. 

‘Don’t get ahead of yourself, man,’ you thought to yourself. 

‘He is so out of my league!’

You were just an average woman. You weren’t someone who looked like they just got done filming a photoshoot...you were just you. Groaning softly, you walked into coffee shop and bit your lip at the line. Were Wednesdays always so busy? You hoped that you would be able to get the library before it was time to start your shift!

As you looked around the shop, your eyes caught a familiar man sitting at one of the tables with another familiar pair of men, and your cheeks went hot. There in the booth sat Thorin Durin and his nephews. Oh god, and he was wearing that same tight shirt again! You averted your gaze, the line getting closer and closer to the counter before you heard the brunette boy, Kili, calling your name. 

“Hey, it’s (Y/n)! (Y/n), over here-OW! What the hell was that for?”

You turned, Kili rubbing at his leg beneath the table. Thorin was glaring at him, and Fili, the blonde one, was trying not to laugh. Thorin looked over at you with an apologetic look. Smiling kindly, though your heart was racing, you waved gently before turning back to the counter. 

As you gave the clerk your order, Thorin came up beside you, startling you just the slightest. 

“I apologize for my youngest nephew. He can be very troublesome.”

You smiled shyly, smoothing your clammy hands on your jeans. 

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m quite flattered he remembered me, though I did spend many hours at your shop.”

Thorin chuckled softly before handing the clerk his debit card, and your eyes widened. 

“No, Thorin, you don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I insist.”

You flushed hot again, and Thorin cleared his throat softly. 

“Would you like to sit with us?”

Looking up at Thorin, you stared into his beautiful blue eyes, surprised that he had asked you if you wanted to sit with him, and you couldn’t help but ask him.  “This isn’t just a way to get a complimentary tip, is it?”

Thorin tipped his head back, laughing loudly, and you laughed softly to yourself. Thorin said to you, grabbing your food and moving to a table that was far away from his nephews. 

“No, I think the tip you gave me before could last me a long while.”

Your ears went warm, and you looked down at the table, rambling. 

“Oh, well, I just thought it’d be nice to give you a tip like that because of the trouble that you went through for me. I mean, having to give me a ride to your shop must have been really weird and-”

“-Ms. (L/n), it’s quite alright.”

You shyly looked up at him, and Thorin looked amused. You took a healthy sip of your coffee and asked him. 

“What brings you here?”

“I had decided to treat my nephews to breakfast before we go into the shop.”

You smiled softly and asked him. 

“Is it a morning routine or are you trying to teach them positive reinforcement of good behavior?”

Thorin laughed again, sounding so deep and lovely, and you were elated that you could make him laugh like this. 

“I guess you could say that it’s a bit of both. What about you, Ms (L/n)?”

You shook your head, holding your hand up a bit. 

“Please, there’s no need to be so polite with me. You can call me (Y/n), if you would like to.”

Thorin smiled softly at you, and you continued on. 

“I’m about to be going to work as well. I just needed a quick pick-me-up.”

‘And it’s all because of you,’ you thought to yourself as you sipped your coffee. Thorin asked you, taking a sip of his coffee as well. 

“And what is it that you do, (Y/n)?”

“I work at the public library just downtown.”

Thorin hummed deeply, saying. 

“The Imladris Public Library has a wonderful collection of historical documents...and crime thrillers. Balin spends much of his time there. I’m surprised you had not run into him before until last week.”

You smiled at replied, leaning a bit closer to Thorin as you became comfortable with it.

“Oh, yes. I’ve never approached him, but I have seen him. He really does enjoy the historical section of the library. I take it you enjoy the crime and psychological thriller section that we have?”

Thorin smiled and nodded. 

“Yes, I am particularly fond of Thomas Harris and his Hannibal Lecter collection.”

“Are you kidding? I love that series!”

Thorin smiled as you began to ramble about the books, talking about your favorite book of the series, the characters, and he couldn’t help but to think just how adorable it was to watch you talk so passionately about the books. 

Thorin respectfully nodded along, replying when he could, but honestly, he could focus on nothing but you. Not your words, just you. Your eyes lighting up, your smile, and the way you gesticulated so enthusiastically...it was quite adorable to him. 

Your phone began to ring, bring you both out of your stupors, and you apologized to him with a sheepish smile. 

“I’m so sorry. That’s my alarm to remind me that it’s time to get going. I did quite enjoy talking with you and seeing you again though.”

“I did as well, (Y/n). Perhaps, if you would like to, we can meet up here again sometime.”

You smiled and nodded as you stood, grabbing your coffee and holding it close to your chest. 

“I’d like that very much, Thorin. I hope you have an easy and lovely day.”

“And to you as well, (Y/n).”

You nodded softly before waving goodbye to his nephews, who seemed extremely enthusiastic to wave back, and when you walked out, Thorin let out a breath of relief. Walking back to the table with his nephews, he paused at the looks they were giving him. 

“What?”

“So, when’s the next hot date?”

Thorin almost choked on his coffee and coughed, hitting his fist against his chest, and Kili cackled while Fili put his face into his hands, shaking his head. 

“Keep that tongue still!”

Thorin hissed, but there was no way to hide the flush on his face. 

“I have said nothing wrong, Uncle.”

“Quite the opposite, actually.”

Fili piped up, and Thorin groaned deeply while his nephews laughed with each other. He was never going to hear the end of this one.

[CHAPTER THREE]

Richard Armitage & Co. Taglist: @fizzyxcustard​ @aspookybunny​ @daisy-picking-lady​ @narnvaeron​ @thequeenoferebor​ @abiwim @crazytxgradstudent​ @ruthoakenshield​ @sgtbarnes107​ @thorinthehottytotty​ @mariannetora @deepestfirefun​ @onlyyoudarling 

Hobbit Taglist: @underthemoon-n​ @tschrist1​

Take a Ride Taglist: @stuckupstucky​ 

#Thorin #Reader #Thorin x Reader #Thorin Oakenshield #Thorin Oakenshield x Reader #Thorin Fanfiction #Thorin Oakenshield Fanfiction #The Hobbit #The Hobbit Fanfiction #Hobbit #Hobbit Fanfiction #Richard Armitage #Richard Armitage x Reader #Richard Armitage Fanfiction #Mechanic! Thorin #Mechanic AU

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello, Lovely Steph! I know that people here don't usually talk much about their personal life, but, only if you're completely ok with answering this question, I was wondering what you worked in, like, if you had a job in rl. I was interested in what is your job; imho you'd be great at everything, and if u feel comfortable with telling us what you do, it'd be really cool On the other hand, if you don't, for any reason, wanna say it it'd be absolutely ok and u wouldn't even have to answer this 💜

Hey Nonny!

It’s totally okay, I don’t mind. I just try to keep a lot of my personal, online and work life all separate for various reasons (something I don’t think people do enough of, to be honest), but I don’t mind letting y’all know my day-job. It might help y’all understand why I need a break from my computer more often than not.

Yes, I do have a day job as a paid full-time senior graphic designer, one that I’m fortunate enough to work from home at during the pandemic. Assuming you’re new so it’s not AS noticeable that I actually do have a day-job because during quarantine I’m working from home on my home computer, so blogging all day is just a switch of tabs. Downside being a designer in quarantine is you’re always on call and it’s kind of expected that you’re available... *shrugs* At least when I worked at the office, there was that distinct break up of my going to and from work, and a computer dedicated solely for work, and my PERSONAL computer was for personal things. Now my personal computer is EVERYTHING, and I never leave home so *shrugs*

I’m purposely being vague because I don’t want to say much else on a public post, since there is a level of privacy related to my job, other than, if you live in Canada, you’ve probably seen my work all across the country in newspapers, websites, posters, advertisements, television events and billboards. And I do love my job: my boss is great, I have great benefits and I get paid above-living wage, which means I can afford a single apt on my own. It pays over double of my last job, where I used to work as a production coordinator and graphic designer for local newspapers (word to the wise: NEVER work at a newspaper company, they will find ways to fuck you over). This job you guys probably DO know about, since I reference it a lot when people come to me about trash rags using clickbait. That job was a 9 year gig and it paid shit (WAY below poverty), but the benefits and holiday package was good which is why I stayed so long (and waiting for the layoff package that never came), but I LITERALLY couldn’t afford to live anymore and it was to the point I almost lost my home. My friend who works at the HQ branch of my current job got me the position I have now, and for now I’m content, though I want out of the drama of it eventually. My dream is working graphic design at a studio, but where I am now, actually was the “alternate dream position” because my neurotic ass did the math as a teenager and I knew it would enable me to live, if nothing else. I’m saving up to finally move into a condo with my RSP money (in Canada, you can use your RSP’s to buy your first home, which is what I am going to do with it), which is a dream next-step, but I live in a major city so it’s not cheap to go from renting to owning... the in-between stage will cost me about 30,000$ up-front, which I don’t have and the prospect of dropping that much money at once terrifies me. 

Work is one of the few things I KNOW I excel at – I’ve been doing it for nearly 20 years – and honestly these days I truly believe it’s ALL I’m good at, so sadly I choose working tirelessly over anything else because I need the validation from my peers, and at the end of the day, it’s unfortunately left me a very lonely person with shit self-esteem and obsessive compulsive tendencies.

Anyway, it is cliché, but graphic design is legit my passion. I love it very much, but I just hate how cutthroat the industry is, and how little respect we designers receive. It combines my love of computers and art seamlessly, and I am proud of the work I have done.  Every month I also do freelance work on the side for a former boss of mine, which is so minimal that I don’t have to claim it (it’s literally under 1000$ a year), for a magazine she publishes, so that gets me some extra spending money every month that I squirrel away for trips and collecting stuff.

So yeah, that’s a bit about me. So if you ever need a business card, logo, poster, etc, I’m your gal, LOL. The blogging and art are hobbies for me. I WANT to make art or writing my sole income, but I’ve never been able to launch either  beyond a commission once every few years or to just meta and the occasional one-shot fic. And my self esteem is SO shit that if I created a Patreon and no one signed up, I’d see it as another failure in my life, so that’s why I just leave the option of my Ko.fi for people to contribute if they like my blog or what I do. 

Anyhoo, TL;DR: I’m a graphic designer for very important people. 

Cheers Nonny, hope that gave you a bit of insight :) 

#steph replies #about my #my ramblings #chatting with nonnies #my job is just a job #for the record #Anonymous

[rootbeergoddess]

Owlson for Mayor

Owlson runs for mayor of St. Canard. Does she have what it takes? Commission for @weirdkev27

Owlson couldn’t believe where her career had taken her. She had thought she would end up as a pencil pusher for some big company. She became CEO of a multitrillion-dollar company, and now, she was running for mayor of St. Canard. Working with Glomglod had proven to be too taxing, mentally and psychically. Owlson also wasn’t an adventurer, and it seemed like working with Glomglod meant adventure would usually follow.

Hopefully, being a mayor would be less stressful.

“Roxanne Featherly here and today, I have a special interview for you all,” Roxanne said. “Zan Owlson, former head of Glomgold Industries, has decided to run for mayor of St. Canard. Today, we will be asking her some questions about her campaign. Thank you for coming today, Zan.”

“Thanks for having me,” Zan said. “I’ve been looking forward to this. I have a lot I’d like to talk about.”

“Really? Like what?” Roxanne asked.

“Well, first, I wanted to talk about my billionaire adventure protection plan,” Zan said. “I know you and many others have experienced destruction at the hands of two famous Scottish billionaires.”

“Oh yes,” Roxanne said. “And what is this plan you have?”

Zan launched into her plan about protecting people from adventuring Scottish billionaires and then went into her plan for schools. The interview went well, with Roxanne being rather polite and listening intently to everything she had to say. When they had finished the interview, Roxanne shook her hand.

“You know, I wasn’t sure you had the chops to run for mayor,” Roxanne said. “But honestly, if you can handle Glomgold, I think you can handle anything.”

Zan took Roxanne’s hand and smiled. So far, so good. Next up was a public forum where voters could ask Zan questions. This was something Zan knew she could handle with ease. Talking to people and understanding them was her specialty. Even though she had trouble with Glomgold, she still had managed to handle him. Speaking to ordinary people was child’s play compared to what she used to do. “Alright, the first question,” The moderator said. “Let’s start with you, young lady.”

“Miss Owlson, I know you’ve experienced some supernatural beings in your life. How do you plan to keep St. Canard safe from magical threats?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Zan said with a smile. “I was concerned about this matter, so I asked Scrooge McDuck for help seeing as how he’s one of the leading experts in magical defense. I will be doing everything in my power to make sure St. Canard has the perfect defenses against the black arts.”

People in the audience started to murmur and nod their heads. The young woman sat down, and a man stood up.

“What about crime? What if the Beagle Boys try to move to St. Canard?”

“I have a plan for that too,” Zan said. “I will not just strengthen the police department, but I will give them the proper tools to handle villains like the Beagle Boys. St. Canard will be a safe place.”

More people started to murmur and nod, filling Zan with a sense of accomplishment. She really couldn’t believe how well this entire thing was going. The rest of the forum went very well. There were no schemes or capers, just people asking questions. Zan wished she had done this sooner. “So what do you think?” Phillianne held up the poster.

The poster was bigger than Owlson had thought. Phillianne was helping her with advertising herself. Zan preferred to focus on what her campaign would be and how she’d change St. Canard. She was more business than creative. Phillianne decided she would be in control of advertisements. The only stipulation was that Zan didn’t want to do any commercials bad-mouthing her opponents. That was something Glomgold would do, and she was not him. “Does it have to be so big?” Zan asked. “And are you sure yellow is the best color for the background?”

“Darling, you have to trust me on this,” Phillianne rolled up the poster. “However, it seems like something is on your mind.”

“How could you tell?” Zan asked.

“Let me make you some nutmeg tea, and we’ll talk it over,” Phillianne kissed Owlson’s forehead.

Zan wished she was better at being open with her feelings. She was lucky that Phillanne was so understanding and patient. Sighing, Zan stood up and headed to the living room. She felt exhausted; her joints hurt, her feet were sore, and she was surprised she hadn’t passed out yet. She closed her eyes, listening to the kettle whistle.

“Here you are, dear,” Philliane handed her a cup. “So, what’s worrying you.”

“I guess I’m just letting my mind get the better of me,” Zan admitted.

“Let me guess you’re thinking about Glomgold, aren’t you?” Philliane asked.

“I can’t help it,” Zan sighed. “That man has given me so many headaches and breakdowns. I’m terrified he’ll ruin this somehow.”

“He’s all the way in Duckburg. You’ll be fine,” Philliane kissed Zan’s cheek. “You need to focus on yourself and what you want to do.”

“I know, it’s just hard sometimes,” Zan said. “I have a meeting with that school tomorrow. I’m hoping I do well.”

“I think you will,” Phillianne said. “You’re doing really well. I looked at your polls. You’re up ten percent.”

“That’s good,” Zan said. “I hope it’ll go up.”

“It will,” Philliane squeezed Zan’s hand. “You’ve got this. I know you can do this.”

Zan smiled and leaned against Phillianne. At least someone was here to be her rock. Going to the school had been the right choice.

Zan liked being around kids. They were the future, after all. They were also curious, and she always loved listening to their ideas. “Miss Owlson,” A girl raised her hand. “My name is Molly. One day, can I run for mayor just like you?”

“Of course you can, Molly,” Zan smiled at her. “Anyone can run for mayor.”

“Even though I’m a girl?” Molly asked.

“Anyone can run for mayor,” Zan repeated. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a girl, a boy, or non-binary. All that matters is that you want to do well for your city.”

“Ha, in your face Bobby!” Molly turned around and stuck her tongue at the boy behind her. “Girls can be the mayor!”

“But how?” Bobby asked. “My dad said only men should be politicians.”

“I’m sorry to say this, Bobby, but your father is wrong,” Owlson said. “Think of this. You have female teachers, male teachers, and some teachers who are neither. Does that change how they teach you? No, of course not. They’re all doing their jobs. They may do a few different things, but they’re still all teachers. The same goes for politicians. What matters is how we do our job.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Bobby said.

After a few pictures, Owlson was ready to head out to another debate. She grabbed her purse when little Molly ran up to her. Owlson was shocked when the young girl gave her a huge hug. She smiled as Molly looked up at her with huge, round eyes.

“When I grow up, I wanna be just like you!” Molly said.

Owlson felt like she would melt. Smiling, she got down on her knees and placed a hand on Molly’s shoulder.

“Well then, I hope to see you at one of the debates one day,” She said. Owlson felt like she was on cloud 9. That one small interaction with Molly had renewed her self-confidence. When she got home, Philliane was sitting on the couch, looking at her tablet. Owlson snuck up behind her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Phillianne chuckled as Owlson sat down next to her. “You’re in a good mood,” Phillianne grinned.

“Phillianne, those kids really helped me realize that I’m doing the right thing,” She said. “I keep thinking I’m not cut out for this, that I can’t do this. But those kids gave me the push I needed.”

“That’s my girl,” Philliannesaid. “If you liked that, wait until you see this.”

Phillianne held up her pink tablet. It was a video of Scrooge McDuck. Phillianne pressed play on the video.

“Hello, Owlson,” Scrooge said. “So I heard you were running for Mayor of St. Canard. While we haven’t always seen eye to eye, I respect you greatly. Anyone who can manage Glomgold Industries, pull it out of the muck, make it a real company, and manage to make Flinty behave is okay in my book. So, I’ll be endorsing your campaign and, to help you out, sending you $500 million. Good luck and----DEWEY, STOP MESSING WITH THAT!”

The video cut off at that moment.

“$500 million? To me?” Owlson gasped. “But---why?”

“You heard him,” Phillianne said. “He believes you. He’s also right. If someone can handle Flintheart Glomgold, the world’s worst immature rich person, you could handle anything.”

“You know, I think we should celebrate,” Owlson said. “How about we go to dinner tomorrow?”

“Oh, you are in a good mood,” Phillianne said. “Where should we go? That nice little Chinese buffet?”

“I have a better idea,” Owlson said with a grin. “Two hotdogs with all the fixings,” Pedro handed the food to Owlson. “And a side of my famous cheese fries.”

“Pedro, the fanciest restaurant in town has nothing on your food,” Phillianne slipped a few five-dollar bills into his tip jar. “Agreed,” Owlson said. “Thanks, Pedro.”

“How can I say no to my two favorite customers and the future mayor?” Pedro said. “I can tell everyone that the Mayoreats at my humble, little establishment. You’ll never forget me, right?”

“Pedro, where would I get my mango ice cream?” Owlson asked. “You’re irreplaceable.”

Pedro waved them off as Zan and Phillianne found a table. The beach was almost empty, with only a few stragglers. They sat at a table that gave them the perfect view of the sunset over the ocean. Owlson took a bite of her hotdog, glancing at the gorgeous sky. She couldn’t believe how well things were going for her. She had been waiting for something to blow up in her face like they usually did when she worked for Glomgold. But here she was, getting close to achieving her dream.

“You know I’m proud of you, right, dear?” Phillianne said suddenly.

“Really? Why?” Zan asked.

Phillianne wiped away some chili from her girlfriend’s beak.

“That’s a silly question,” Phillianne said. “You’ve worked hard. You’re also not being intimidated. There are so many people who think a woman has no place in politics.”

Zan thought about little Molly and her question. Zan knew that sexism existed everywhere, but she had never focused on it. It wasn’t that it wasn’t an important issue. She just felt it was better to push forward and show those who doubted you wrong. That is what she was doing. Thinking about this made her feel proud of herself.

“I never thought about it that way until today, honestly,” Zan said. “That little girl looked at me like I had just helped her figure out the meaning of life. I don’t know if I’m a hero or anything, but I am happy that me just being mayor will inspire little girls.”

“Look at you, being a hero to millions,” Phillianne teased, nudging Zan. “Of course, you were my hero first.”

“Now you’re just being mushy.”

“Hush, you love it,” The news had hit Zan like a truck.

There was always the fear in her mind that there could be a miscount or someone stole the votes. What if some monsters from ancient times wanted to duel her for the right to be mayor? No, nothing like that happened. A few days after the election and all the votes were tallied, Phillianne shook her awake.

“Zan, the news!” She said.

She pulled Zan along to the television, where a vast picture of Zan was being displayed with the words ‘New Mayor: Zan Owlson.’

All her work had paid off, and she had gotten what she had wanted. It didn’t seem real for a second. It felt like a dream. Phillianne kissed her repeatedly, gushing about how proud she was. Zan was silent for a full minute before she was able to speak.

“I won?” She asked.

“Yes, you did!” Phillianne squeezed her. “Oh, darling, you did! You’re the new mayor of St. Canard! I knew it, I knew you were going to win. I’m so proud of you.”

“I won?” Zan repeated.

“Oh dear, I think the news has broken you,” Phillianne said. “Come along, I’ll make you some breakfast, Madame Mayor.”

Zan let herself be led to the kitchen, and she sat down. This was so surreal to her. Yes, this was what she had wanted, but she just couldn’t believe it. She was now mayor. A smile appeared on Zan’s face as realization started settling in. Phillianne hummed as she worked on a breakfast for Zan.

“I won!” Zan shot up, laughing. “Phillianne, I won!”

“That’s right, dear, you did,”  Phillianne smiled at her. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“I can’t believe it,” Zan said. “There was a chance that I’d lose. I just can’t believe it. This is like a dream.” “It’s real, dearest,” Phillianne brought over a plate. “Sit down and enjoy your first breakfast as the mayor.”

“You know I couldn’t have done this without you,” Zan said. “Oh, and I need to thank Scrooge.”

“You know who else you should possibly thank?” Phillianne poured some coffee. “Glomgold.”

Zan was about to say Phillianne was crazy, but she paused. As much as she had hated working under Glomgold, she had learned a lot. She learned to be resourceful, to be patient, and when to put her foot down. While she never wanted to work with him again, Zan realized that her short time at his company had made her who she was today.

“Maybe I’ll send him a fruit basket,” Zan mused. “As much as I despise the man, you are right.”

“I’m not saying you have to adore the man,” Phillianne said. “I’ve met him several times, and I honestly don’t understand how he’s still alive.”

Zan chuckled. It was surprising how Glomgold had managed to survive this long. Maybe spite was his motivator, and it added to his long life. Zan didn’t know, but she did have to admit that working with Glomgold had helped her.

“I still can’t believe it,” Zan smiled. “I’m Mayor.”

Phillianne kissed Zan’s cheek as she sat down.

“I’m so proud of your sweetie,” Phillianne smiled warmly at Zan. “You’ve worked so hard. Those long hard nights paid off.”

“Yeah,” Zan leaned against Phillianne. “Thanks for everything. I don’t think I could have done this without you.”

“Oh, I don’t believe that.” “No, I’m serious,” Zan looked at her. “Ever since I’ve met you, your confidence has rubbed off on me. I can’t thank you enough for all you do.”

“You can thank me with a kiss.”

And that is precisely what Zan did.

#Rootbeer Writes #Ducktales #Zan Owlson #Disney