#I also decided to give her a purple mouth to like. Fit with the gray | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vnderoos · 4 years

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staring ✷ draco malfoy

(gif is not mine, credit to the owner) warnings / language(?), draco being a cocky little bugger word count / 2.7k

masterlist in bio ↴

"'MIONE, HAVE YOU cut the daisy roots, yet?" Y/N asked in a quiet voice as she stirred the cauldron with slow, clockwise movements. She and Hermione had been sitting at a workbench in Professor Snape's classroom for some time now, working together on the shrinking potion that he'd assigned for the period. Snape had performed a demonstration in the class prior, but this time, they were responsible for brewing the substance themselves. "I think it's almost warm enough to drop them in," she hummed, continuing to heat the cauldron gently.

Hermione turned to look at the girl and she managed a strained smile. "Yeah, they're all cut up," she explained. She cupped her hand and slid the pile of finely-chopped roots into a small bowl, figuring they'd be easier to dump in that way. She pushed then to Y/N over the tabletop before her gaze flickered elsewhere. "Have you noticed that Malfoy's been staring at you all class?" she muttered out of the blue, tearing her eyes off of what Y/N assumed was the platinum blonde's table.

Y/N offered her friend a gentle shake of her head and she tapped the rim of the glass on the edge of the cauldron, watching as the pieces of root fell into the thick bubbles in the cast-iron pot. "If he was staring, I'm sure I would've noticed by now," she replied, earning a heavy sigh and an eyeroll from Hermione as she peeked into her notebook to see what she needed to add next. She plucked a green bottle and the bowl of caterpillars up off of the table. "Shake the wormwood for me?" she asked, holding the bottle out to Hermione.

Hermione nodded and gently took the bottle from Y/N. "Sure." Pressing her index finger down on the cork at the top, to keep from spilling it everywhere by accident, she began to shake it vigorously. Her brown eyes seemed to trail off again as she shook the wormwood and she found herself narrowing them when they landed on Draco Malfoy for the umpteenth time that class. She was anything but surprised to find his icy gaze locked on the girl beside her. "My God, he's foul," she hissed.

"He's just sitting there, 'Mione," Y/N laughed as she dropped five hairy caterpillars into the pot. It was satisfying to watch them to sink into the purple sludge, but she didn't dwell on that long, as Hermione handed her the bottle of wormwood. "No offense, but can he not just breathe without you insulting him for once?" she questioned with light-hearted intentions as she popped the cork off of the small phial and poured it all into the potion. She watched as it's rich, purple color simmered into a dark green, and she looked over at her frizzy-haired companion.

Hermione stared back at her with a dumbfounded look. "You're joking," she stared and she slipped behind Y/N. The next step was to add the juice from four leeches and it could almost be considered law for the two witches to switch places when anything to do with leeches was involved. Hermione hated the bloody things. Y/N wasn't a fan, either, but she seemed to stomach them better. "Look, he can't keep his eyes off of you, Y/N/N," she hummed, starting to stir the potion rapidly. "It's sickening."

After Y/N lifted the leeches from a jar with her wand and set them into a mortar, she let her eyes flicker up from what she was doing for the first time. She'd almost been nervous about what she might've seen, but her nerves were calmed when she was met with the back of his head, her eyes locking onto tufts of white-blonde hair. "I wouldn't say sickening," Y/N defended quietly as she squished the leeches with a pestle. Her eyes had left the Slytherin boy for a simple second, to check on what she was doing, but when she looked back up, her heart fluttered in her chest. Her eyes were met with the gray-blue color of his own and she could feel the heat sparking beneath her cheeks as she looked at him. She couldn't seem to read Draco's expression as he stared at her, but she also couldn't seem to take her eyes off of him. Something about him was entirely too captivating. "I think he's rather handsome, actually," she stated matter-of-factly, her eyes still locked with his, and he flashed her a small smirk. A gentle smile eased onto her face in response and she turned away from him shyly, directing her focus back onto her smushed leeches.

"You can't be serious," Hermione said as she stirred, looking over at her. "He's such a rat," she argued and Y/N shrugged her shoulders.

It wasn't her fault that she was attracted to him. He was tall, mysterious, and he had skin as smooth as anything. She wouldn't even get herself started on his hair or the color of his eyes or the confident aura he oozed. "I can't help it, 'Mione, he's cute," Y/N told her, pouring the juice from the leeches into the cauldron. "Even if he does have his head up his arse half the time."

—

All of her classes after Potions had seemed to fly by that day, until Y/N was sitting next to Hermione—once again—in their last class of the day. She was never really fond of Transfiguration, as it wasn't one of her strong suits, but having one of her best friends there to offer her pointers didn't hurt. She looked over at Hermione to check the page number on her textbook, to make sure they were looking at the same material, but she found the girl glaring daggers at someone, instead. She furrowed her eyebrows and followed her gaze to the desk sitting diagonally in front of their own, where Draco and Crabbe were leaned over the top of it.

Draco was looking at Y/N over his shoulder and his eyebrows lifted slightly when her eyes met his own. Trying to pretend like Hermione wasn't ready to pounce beside her, she flashed the blonde a gentle smile. In place of smiling back, he offered her a smirk and sent a little wink in her direction, before turning back around in his seat.

Her heart jumped in her chest for the second time that day for the same reason and she looked to Hermione with a giddy smile on her face. "He just winked at me," she hummed, tilting her head bashfully as she did, and she didn't miss the way that Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," Hermione cursed, clearly having spent too much time with a certain redhead lately. "Don't tell me he's actually catching starting to catch your interest," she pleaded.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders at that and she gestured to the boy in a subtle manner. "'Mione, have you seen him? How could he not?" she argued quietly and she watched her friend gag mockingly. "He's not even that bad, you're just dramatic," she concluded with a small laugh and she bumped Hermione with her elbow.

The girl scoffed and shook her head, her untamable hair swaying along with the gesture as she did. "Merlin, I really don't know what I'm going to do with you, Y/L/N," she admitted, jokingly for the most part, but she didn't say much else before a soft psst broke their conversation.

"Y/L/N," the voice hissed again, and since Professor McGonagall had her back turned on the class, Y/N looked around, only to find her eyes fixed on Draco's once more. Catch, he mouthed, lifting his hands to reveal a small crane, neatly folded out of parchment paper, and he blew a gentle puff of air onto it. With a single breath, the parchment crane fluttered to life and her eyebrows quirked upwards as it soared her way. She held her hands out to catch it carefully, ignoring a judge look from Hermione and the way Draco's eyes lingered on her as they watched her unfold it. Her eyes flickered over the paper, following his handwriting, which was tall, messy, and very fitting for someone like him.

Wait for me after class? – D. M.

Y/N grinned to herself as she took in the message and she looked up at him. He raised his eyebrows as if to repeat his question and she nodded her head. Seemingly satisfied with her response, Draco mirrored her nod, poking his tongue into his cheek as if to hide a smile, and he turned back around.

Hermione tapped the note with the feathery end of her quill and Y/N looked over at her. "You're not actually going to meet him, are you, Y/N?" she asked quietly, her tone flushed with something comparable to worry.

Y/N almost felt bad for continuing to fight her on it when she knew that Hermione was only looking out for her. "Of course, I'm going to do it," she paused, "I mean, what's the worst he could do, you know?" she finished.

Hermione sighed softly, but ultimately, she decided to give her a nod of approval. "Not that you need my permission, anyways, but fine," she agreed reluctantly. "Just be careful, please. You know I worry about you and the other two," she hummed, in reference to Ron and Harry, the missing pieces of their little group. "I'll hex him out of the castle if he tries anything slick, alright?"

She knew that she was lucky to have someone as supportive and protective as Hermione Granger in her life, so she smiled, placing a hand on the girl's arm affectionately. "Alright. Thank you, 'Mione," she said and Hermione nodded, giving her a small smile.

—

"Alright, everyone. I think that's enough for today," Professor McGonagall called out when the class had finally come to a close. "Class dismissed." She clasped her hands and returned behind her desk as the students began to gather their belongings. Hermione was one of the first ready to leave, with all of her notebooks stuffed into her shoulder bag and her textbook cradled in her arms.

She turned to Y/N as she stood up to leave and she set a hand on her shoulder. "First, remember what we talked about earlier, please," she started, pausing to flash Y/N, who nodded in return, a supportive grin. "And second, I expect all the details when you get back to the dorm. Good luck." Hermione sang the last word as she pulled her hand from the girl's shoulder.

Knowing how strongly Hermione felt with her dislike for Draco, it meant a lot to Y/N that she put her happiness above that. "Thank you, I'm sure I'll need it," she joked, stuffing the last of her books into her bag. "I'll see you when I get back," she promised on a more serious note and the Gryffindor pivoted on her heel, hurrying towards the door so that Y/N might get to meet up with Draco sooner.

Y/N smiled to herself when she was alone, standing up out of her seat and slinging her bag over her shoulder. All of the other students had left the room by then, leaving her, Draco, and McGonagall as the remaining trio. Deciding it was time to approach him, she made her way over to the blonde and crossed her arms over her chest when his eyes flickered up to her. "Hi, Draco." She managed a smile at him, a certain kindness settling in on her features, and he gave a quick jut of his chin in greeting.

"Hello, Y/L/N," he addressed her with a teasing lilt in his voice and she would be lying if she said that it didn't make her the slightest bit nervous. "I wasn't actually sure if you'd stick around," he admitted through a smirk, flipping his bag shut and securing the clip, before he slipped the strap onto his shoulder.

She gave him a weak shrug and she matched his pace as they started towards the exit. "Well, you've been catching my eye all day. I was too curious to ditch you," countered Y/N, jokingly of course, and she stepped out into the corridor with Malfoy at her side. "Why'd you want me to wait up for you?" she questioned as she decided to turn in the direction she'd take to the Gryffindor commons. She figured if he wanted to talk so badly, he'd follow her.

And he did, of course.

Draco didn't even seem to notice as his steps mimicked her own. "I just wanted to get you away from Granger," he explained with a smirk on his lips and she furrowed her eyebrows at him in confusion. Maybe he really was going to hex her or something. "I wanted to tell you that you look nice today without her biting my head off," he elaborated, quick to dispel her doubts in him, and she was almost relieved.

As his words settled in, Y/N could feel herself blushing and she grinned, looking down at her shoes as she walked. Draco's compliment was sweet and all, but it seemed like it had come out of the blue. The two of them never harbored any bad blood towards one another, but that didn't mean they talked all the time. In fact, they hardly spoke at all unless it was necessary.

"Pardon my curiosity, Malfoy, but why are you suddenly so interested?" she found herself asking, turning her head to look back up at him once her initial sheepishness had subsided.

Draco looked over at her as soon as she turned away again, his eyes lingering on the side profile of her face while hers were directed at the empty corridor in front of them. "Well, winter's coming up. I figured I'd have to act quick if I wanted to keep you company in the cold, yeah?" He hummed confidently and he fought a laugh at the face she mad when she shot him a look. Clearly, she didn't buy that but. He settled for a shrug instead. "I don't know, Y/L/N, I just— I guess I never looked hard enough before," he confessed for real, his eyes never leaving hers as he said it.

Y/N's eyebrows quirked upwards in surprise. "So, you're serious, then? I thought this was all a bloody setup," she shared.

"No, I'm quite serious," he reassured her.

At that, she couldn't help from letting a small smile slip onto her lips. "In that case, you look nice today, too, I suppose," she returned his compliment with a cool tone of voice, hoping it would seem more nonchalant. She noticed the way that her words were like fuel to his smirk, as it grew after she spoke.

"Let's go to Hogsmeade together later. We can get something to eat and walk around," Draco suggested, waggling his eyebrows down at her. "And maybe, if it's cold enough, you'll want to hold my hand," he teased with a wink.

Of course, Draco would skip the formalities if making a date a question, but she should've expected this sort of straightforwardness from him. She didn't mind it, though. She'd always found it attractive when boys knew what they wanted. "Malfoy," she hummed through a small laugh. "You know, I don't have to be cold to want to hold your hand, yeah?" she confessed, slipping her fingers into his own as they walked, and he spared her a cocky glance.

She knew that would go right to his head. "So, it's a date, then?" he questioned and she nodded.

"It's a date," Y/N affirmed

"Alright, well, I hope you're buying," Draco said nonchalantly and her head whipped around so she could face him. The look she shot him was almost comical and he fought a laugh as she flicked him in the arm. "I'm pulling your leg, Y/L/N. I might be a prat, but I have some manners. I am walking you back to the Gryffindorks, aren't I?" he pointed out and her eyebrows lifted. She remembered how she'd assumed he hadn't noticed when she'd deliberately set them on a path back to her room, but of course, he had.

After all, he was a Slytherin.

It shouldn't have come as any surprise.

↴

taglist / @umpoedameron @h4ppydancing @pvintbreak @glenscapris

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #tom felton #tom felton imagines #tom felton x reader #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #ron weasley imagines #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #hogwarts imagines

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elizabethemerald · 3 years

Text

Fall Anniversary at the Soltryce Academy

Caleb walked into his classroom at the Soltryce Academy with the immediate instinct that something was wrong. He had been teaching Transmutation theory and application in this same class room for the past twenty years, so anything that seemed different set off alarms in his head.

He mentally checked the wards on the class room and found them intact. There were a few students in their seats, a few more filtering into the lecture hall, by the second. None of them seemed alarmed. Whatever was different today did not appear to be an immediate threat.

Still just to be safe he subtly cast Detect Magic as he set his bag down and took off his coat. Immediately a few points were highlighted in his mind. Of course his own magical items, the amber around his neck and the amulet beside it, the ring on his finger, the chalk he had enchanted to help him lecture. Nothing off there.

There were a few points of magic around the rest of the room, each quickly analyzed and dismissed. Transmutation magic on a small pile of coins near the wall, a low level student’s practice project. Abjuration magic in the wards along the walls. Divination magic in a button, another spying device Astrid had tried to sneak into his class room to keep him from teaching against the school’s policies.

It was the illusion spells that caught his attention. A few of the students were covered in the same, linked illusion. Their appearance normal enough to blend in, but also entirely too normal for a real student. And there, a student he didn’t recognize even with his keen mind, covered in an illusion spell. Several other magical objects of varying power, hidden under the spell. The Vestige appeared to be within its pocket dimension, so at least they hadn’t brought a weapon onto campus.

After setting down his things and greeting his class he squeezed past a few of the students to grab Astrid’s enchanted button. He quickly dispelled it and slipped it into an envelope to return to her later. As he returned to the front he gave the cat sitting on his desk a brief scratch.

“Hello Jester.” He said. Of course he didn’t need Detect Magic telling him of the cat’s aura of Transmutation to know his friend. She was bright blue after all and staring at him far more smugly than even a magic fey cat would.

“Now class, I know we were discussing transmutation principles as applied to effecting the elements around you, but I am afraid that lesson will have to be postponed. It would seem that it is the anniversary of the Mighty Nein getting together and they have decided to invite themselves to my class.”

There was a muttering around the class room as the students looked at each other, before one of them near the front stood up, the illusion dropping off her form as she did so.

“I told you he wouldn’t fall for it!” Veth said in her high voice, She looked mostly unchanged from when they first brought her back to her proper body. A few more laugh lines, but nothing more to show the passing two decades. “Lebby, is an amazing wizard, he wouldn’t fall for something simple like that. You students better appreciate the skill of your teacher.”

Caleb smiled fondly as Veth walked up to the front to give him a hug. Interspersed through the seats a few more illusion spells dropped. A half elven man walked up from the front row and kissed him on the cheek. Essek’s own illusion lasting even as he dismissed the Seeming on Kingsley and Yasha.

“How did they rope you into this?” Caleb whispered to Essek.

“Oh you know I can’t resist a practical joke.” Essek maintained his deadpan delivery for only a few seconds before a small smile graced his lips. Caleb knew quite well that Essek looked as ageless as ever, under his illusion. His elven blood would keep him looking much the same for the next few centuries. Caleb returned the kiss, to the muttering of his students. They weren’t ever a 100% sure who Caleb’s rotating cast of elven boyfriends were, and Caleb was more than happy to keep them in the dark.

“Well you can’t fault us for trying!” Kingsley said. They were wearing a scandalously low cut shirt, a pair of plain black pants, and a pair of thigh high boots. His purple hair was fading to a less vibrant shade just a bit near his ears and he had a larger collection of scars, as one would expect from years of piracy and being a bloodhunter. They were also wearing their sword much to Caleb’s disapproval, which was apparently not magical.

“You can’t expect me to hide this glorious look without magic though can you?” He said, sliding his hands down to his hips then back up his torso. Then he grabbed Caleb’s chin and kissed him full on the mouth, with tongue for several seconds, while his students lost their collective minds. Caleb smiled against Kingsley’s lips right before the tiefling stepped back. He was sure the rumor mill of the school would go wild about that for a few weeks. He wished he could see the look on Master Beck’s face when the news came across her desk. “Here’s to another twenty years, magic man.”

Yasha and Caduceus walked up next, each giving Caleb a tight hug. These two showed their age the least of the non elven members of the Nine. Cad could have been just stepping out of the temple doors in the Blooming Grove, saying that he had only three cups, if it weren’t for the increased presence of lichens and mosses of all kinds on his clothes and armor. Caleb was fairly certain there was an actual bird’s nest in his pink hair. Yasha of course looked as badass and muscular as she had when they first found her. Her hair was completely white, done up in an ornate braid. Home life seemed to suit her well, she looked genuinely happy and relaxed like she certainly hadn’t when they had first gotten together.

Fjord’s spell dropped as well. The half orc’s hair had large stripes of gray in it, he had crows feet at the corners of his eyes, and his salt and pepper beard had significantly more salt to it now. He still looked good, life at sea, despite its hardships, keeping him fit. He laughed at something over Caleb’s shoulder as he approached and he found himself lifted bodily into the air by a pair of muscular blue arms.

Jester having dropped her polymorph spun him around briefly in the hug before setting him back on his feet. She would never fail to look divine. Her horns now curling in on themselves, almost like her mother’s had when they first met her. Her hair is pulled back into a pony tail, poofing out behind her head from the salt air. Her sailing days were certainly not hurting her in anyway. Her smile was still just as wide, her eyes just as sharp, and her arms just as strong, if not more so.

“Happy anniversary Caleb! Twenty years ago you were a stinky wizard. Now you are here teaching!” Jester’s happiness in her voice carried to every corner of the lecture hall.

“What happened to our plan of drinks in Nicodranas this evening?”

“I just couldn’t wait Cay-leb.” She pouted. “Fjord and I got into port early, and I was so bored.”

Caleb smiled at her, then looked around at the rest of the Nein, pretending to count.

“We appear to be one short. Where is my sister? Couldn’t drag her away from the Cobalt training pit? Or did she get lost in a book like some kind of nerd?” Caleb said with a smirk.

“Mother fucker!”

He looked up towards the voice above him, just in time to watch Beauregard drop from the ceiling, to land on his desk with a perfect three point landing. She hopped off the desk and punched his arm, before also grabbing him in a tight hug.

“I am not a nerd, Widogast!” She snapped, a wide grin on her face.

“Beauregard, please do not land on my desk. It was a gift and I don’t think it could bare too many impacts like that.” He stopped to look up at the vaulted ceilings of the class room. “Also, how did you get up there?”

If she had been invisible she would have tripped the wards on the class room. And if she had gone in the brief break between classes one of the early students would have noticed her and caused a stir.

Beau took her turn to smirk.

“I have been waiting up there for four hours so we could surprise you. It’s surprisingly comfortable. I could have gone another couple of hours without breaking a sweat.” She paused to flex, causing several students, and Yasha to blush at her muscles.

Beauregard’s monk training meant that she looked like she hadn’t aged a day since Aeor. And she could still easily out fight everyone else in the room if she wanted to. She was also the one member of the Nein that Caleb saw the most frequently. Their work to root out corruption among the Cerberus Assembly, and other bodies of power in the Empire often kept them up together late into the night, until Yasha would intervene and throw her wife over her shoulder to carry her to bed.

“Can I finish the lesson, or should we depart immediately?” Caleb asked, already guessing the answer.

“Cayyyllleeeb.” Jester groaned, pulling at her face. “I’m sooooo bored. I want to drink and party already!”

Caleb turned back to his class of students. He was sure most of them had heard rumors about Professor Widogast and the wild adventures he got up to with the Mighty Nein back when they first got together. He wasn’t sure how much they actually believed, but he was sure that even the most widely blown out of proportion tale didn’t even begin to cover the truth of what they had done together.

“In honor of the anniversary of this group of arschlochs finding each other, consider this to be a free day. Keep up on your readings, and if you have any questions I will be at my regular office hours tomorrow morning.”

The students immediately started buzzing as they stood and packed. No doubt during tomorrow’s class he would have to field a whole host of questions about the Nein, and that was just the way he liked it. The day after the anniversary was the one day he would talk about what his family had done. As the class filtered out, with many a lingering glance thrown at the colorful group at the front, Caleb turned to Essek, setting the envelope with Astrid’s button in it on the table top to deal with later.

“Would you like to teleport us to the beach, or shall I?”

Essek put up both hands.

“I already used my spell slots getting us all back together again. You can bring us to the coast.” Essek said, his smile a mix between smug and fond.

Caleb rolled his eyes before pulling him into a soft kiss. Then he turned to address the rest of the Nein. The family he had made for himself.

“Are we ready?” After a series of nods, he pulled an ancient clay turtle from his pocket and gave it a squeeze. “Then let’s go!”

And they were off, to a night of drinks and celebration and stories told, and memories shared. And of course many toasts, “To another twenty years.”

#caleb widogast #essek thelyss #shadowgast #kingsley tealeaf #jester lavorre #the mighty nein #critical role #writing emerald #stories entwine evermore

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zafirosreverie · 3 years

Text

You ask, I deliver 😊❤

Part 2 of this

a/n: this gif is the one that inspired this. This is what i imagine Agatha looks like in this.

"Okay okay, I have one" you said cheerfully "Your favorite food?"

The woman sitting across from you just laughed and shook her head, crossing her arms.

"I already told you that I don't have a favorite food" she replied

"Oh come on, everyone has one!!" you said, pouting

"Well, not everyone has lived for more than three hundred years, doll" she defended herself "When you live that long, food just becomes food. There is no room for favoritism."

You sighed, dropping yourself on the other side of the couch, away from her.

It had been almost two weeks since you went to Westview to find your soulmate. Almost two weeks since you rescued Agatha, since you said goodbye to Agnes. Almost two weeks since you brought her to your home.

And you still didn't know anything about her.

Well, you knew that she was a witch, that she had tried to steal Wanda Maximoff's powers, that maybe she wasn't quite good, that her moral compass was a fucking pinwheel, and that she was the most fucking beautiful person you've ever met (also the more annoying, but you let it pass because she was cute when she wanted to be).

But you didn’t know anything else.

Agatha looked at you curiously, trying to understand you. When she'd written her words on her forearm, a part of her had assumed you wouldn't go looking for her, not after all the times she ignored you.

When you freed her, she had been so grateful that she had hugged you as if her life depended on it. You'd froze for a moment, but returned the gesture almost immediately, giving the older woman a comfort she didn't know she was looking for.

Then, instead of demanding answers or bombarding her with questions right away, you had simply asked her if she was okay. It had surprised her, but not as much as when you offered her to stay at your place. You didn't even know her, you had no ties other than the one fate had given you, and yet she could see in your eyes that you would do anything of her, just because she was breathing. As simple as that.

For all her mistakes and flaws, Agatha was a woman who did not take this kind of loyalty lightly. She had cared about you since before she met you, so she hadn't dragged you into her world, but maybe, she should have asked you first. You were connected after all, and it was selfish of her not to even try to get close to you to give you a chance to decide if you wanted to fall into the abyss with her. From the look you gave her when she confirmed to you that she was a witch, she knew that you would probably throw yourself headfirst without her asking.

That was why she had shared with you what she thought was important for you to know. From her morally gray antecedents, to her failures and successes as a witch. But, even though you were a bit upset when she told you that she had killed Sparky, you really weren't scared like she thought you would.

What confused her the most, however, was that you didn't seem interested in the whole black magic thing or how she tried to manipulate an unstable girl. No, ever since you got to your house (and in fact, all the way by bus to your city) you had been asking her about small and common things, like her favorite food. She just didn't understand it, she didn't understand you.

"Your turn" you said, snapping the witch out of her thoughts.

Agatha smiled a little and she rolled her eyes fondly. She couldn't deny that, if you two were going to spend the rest of your life together, she had to get to know you a little more (at least that was the lie she was telling to herself).

"Your favorite food?" she said, imitating your tone of voice

"Hey! You can't copy me!" you said, crossing your arms "You have to ask your own questions, what you really want to know about me"

"And what if I really want to know your favorite food?" she smiled amused by your pouts. Okay, you were cute, she would give you that.

"... you really suck at this" you muttered "And just so you know, I don't speak like that" you said, slightly offended.

The older woman giggled when you tossed the notebook and pen that you had been using to jot down her answers on the coffee table. You put your legs up on the couch and stuck your tongue out at her before hiding your face on your knees.

God, you were adorable.

"You could at least pretend that you are interested in knowing me" you murmured.

That wiped the smile off the older woman's face. She looked at you for a moment, still not sure how to read you. One moment, you were the cutest and sweetest person she'd ever met, the next, you could be incredibly competitive, and the next one, you seemed like a little child, trying to get approval from your elders. You really were a mystery to her, but what she was sure of was that she wanted to see your smile again.

"How old are you?" she asked suddenly. You raised your head to frown at her

"What?"

"How old are you?" she asked again

"I don't see why that matters" you murmured.

Agatha looked at you for another moment before sighing and getting up from the couch. For a moment, you thought that she would leave the room, but she surprised you when she knelt in front of you and carefully removed your arms from your face, lowering your legs so that she could accommodate between them. You were both surprised by how well she fit in there.

"It matters, because I want to know you" she told you, lifting your chin with one hand while she rested the other on your knee "I really want to"

You looked at her for a moment, searching for any trace of lies in her eyes, but you didn't find any.

"Then why are you refusing to talk to me?" you asked.

Agatha frowned for a moment as she thought. She supposed that walking away hadn't worked, nor did closing in on you to evaluate you from afar. Perhaps the straightforward truth would work better for you.

"Because I don't understand" she said "I don't understand why you went for me after I ignored you. I don't understand why you trusted me and made the potion without question. I don't understand why you didn't run away when I told you what I've done. I don't understand why you ask me such simple questions. Why did you let me stay here. Especially, I don't understand why you make me feel so vulnerable and so afraid of hurting you. I don't understand how you do to steal my heart a little more every day. I don't understand you. And I don't like not understanding. "

You blinked and saw how her gaze asked you all the questions her mouth couldn't. You were facing a lost woman, and she needed your help.

"I went because I wanted to find you" you said "I trusted you because you are a part of me. I didn't run away because I am not afraid of you. I ask you simple questions because it is the little things that make us ourselves, and I want to know you, the real you. I let you stay because I want to be your home. And I'm also afraid of losing you. You also steal my heart every day. You don't have to understand everything, you just have to feel it."

Agatha looked at you in amazement and love. How were you so vulnerable and yet so wise? Another thing she didn't understand about you. You took her hand and pressed it to your cherst.

“Close your eyes” you said. She frowned but obeyed “Do you feel my heart beating?” you asked and she nodded “Do you understand?”

She did. Your heart was beating at the same rate as hers. You belonged to her and she belonged to you. She nodded again. You brought your face close to hers and caressed her cheek, smiling when she leaned into her touch.

"I don't know if I deserve you as a soulmate" she admitted, opening her eyes.

"Try to get rid of me" you joked lightly, making her chuckle.

The older woman wanted to kiss you, she really wanted to, but she didn't know if the gesture would be welcome or it would be too soon. You must have seen the trouble in her eyes, because it was you who brought her face closer to hers slowly.

"It's funny isn't it?" you murmured

"What?" she asked confused

"You are a woman from the 17th century, I am from the 20th century ..." you said "We are soulmates born three centuries apart ... Time collides with us, Agatha Harkness".

The witch smiled again before finally sealing her lips with yours. A young mouth against an old one, light with darkness, love and fear, present with past, with the promise of the future.

Indeed, time collides with you.

__________

A few days later, you smiled when you found your notebook scrawled in Agatha's fine handwriting:

Favorite color: purple Y/N'S eye color

Favorite food taste: Y/N's lips

Favorite sound: Y/N's voice

Favorite moment: yet to discover.

#x reader #reader insert #imagine #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x y/n #agnes x reader #agatha harkness x you #not my gif #but whoever did it #THANK YOU #request #soulmate au

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pillow-anime-talk · 3 years

Text

mistletoe. {pt.2}

synopsis: Killing cursed spirits with Satoru, winter prom with Metori and sincere conversation with Juuzou.

# tags: scenarios; christmas!au; current relationships & crush culture; romance; fluff; a bit of angst; sfw

includes: female reader ft. satoru gojou {jjk} + metori saiko {saiki k. no psi nan} + juuzou suzuya {tokyo ghoul}

part one {click}

— SATORU

“... Y/N-chan, on the left!”

“... Hey, hey! Look up, sweetheart!”

“... Oi! Behind you!”

“... Behind you too! Kick their asses, Satoru~!”

“... YEAH! Here’s my super strong girl!”

You two have been in the forest; for over twenty minutes you dealing with killing smaller or larger curses that frightened mushroom pickers or wild animals. You had a lot of fun doing it, all the time competing to see who killed more evil creatures. Of course, your boyfriend was winning so far, by three, but how could you know that some of them would come out of the forest litter, literally letting the white-haired man kill them all in a few seconds? Well, but at least you killed about twelve curses yourself, and that was a really nice result.

On the one hand, you enjoyed spending time with Gojou like that, because it was very rare for the two of you to be together on a mission, but on the other hand... It was the time of Christmas that you wanted to spend in your own home, surrounded by delicious food and desserts, hot wine or beer, loved ones, including your boyfriend’s cute students or your mutual friends. From a long time, that is, from the moment you became a sorcerer, you didn’t spend any holidays, birthdays or anniversaries as you would like. There was simply no time and energy for it because every day, apart from some Sundays, you worked to make life better for vulnerable people. It wasn’t a bad job, but sometimes... when you looking at ‘normal’ couples you envied their ignorance to the fact that some evil had appeared around them. You envied them that they could spend their free time together doing stupid things or relaxing in front of the TV.

So you sighed softly, raising the hand in which you held the small pocket knife. Small as your anti-curse tool was, it was also extremely effective and dangerous. Therefore, you cut the throat of one of the evil souls without any problems, thus defeating the last enemy.

“Ahhhh. Finally...! You’re not hurt, baby?” The young man said in a cheerful voice, and you shook your head in disapproval. Second later, you cleaned the little knife and then, hid it in one of the pockets of your black pants. “Would you like to get some hot chocolate and cake?”

“Huh? Have we finished all our work for today?” You asked in surprise, and the man just bit his lip with joy, putting his finger to his mouth after a while.

“Yes, although you forgot one thing, love.” You raised an eyebrow at his amused words. However, Satoru quickly got rid of your unawareness as soon as he raised his right hand and pointed at something above with his index finger. For a moment you were sure that he meant a curse that hadn’t been killed before, but as it turned out, it was mistletoe growing on one of the tall trees; you were surprised that during the fight he was able to additionally notice a small, green plant. Anyway, you just chuckled lightly as you stood on your tiptoes and tugged at the twenty-eight-year-old by his jacket.

You were happy that at least this one, very sweet Christmas moment could happen to you during the winter season. Thanks to this, these holidays weren’t so bad and devoid of spirit.

— METORI

Every year there was a winter prom at your school; it was the third time for you, while for Saiko, who only joined your class this year, it was something new. Of course, he was skeptical about it from the start and generally discouraged by the very idea of spending time with all PK Academy students, classmates and teachers. That’s why he immediately told you that if you want to go to the prom, he can arrange whatever prom you want; he literally said if you wanted Beyoncé he could call her.

But you just smiled warmly and said that school party is enough for you and you really like it. So he couldn’t refuse you... after all, the gray-haired young boy had a huge, indescribable weakness for you. Plus, even though you’ve been dating for a few weeks, Metori still couldn’t understand how... gentle and simple you were. You weren’t interested in luxury, his money, where his father worked. Instead, you asked every day if he had breakfast, if he would like to go for a walk with you, if he would like to come to you for dinner because your mother cooked a delicious Mexican dish. It was something new and nice for a teenager who had grown up in prosperity and splendor throughout his life. It didn’t bother him, but the prom... it was quite strange and mysterious. But he agreed, so he couldn’t take his words back because he didn’t want you to get sad or disappointed.

Thus, he bought a new, well-fitting and expensive suit – one that would fit perfectly with your delicate dress, which at the same time matches to the color of your shiny eyes. He also paid for new shoes, a watch, and a hairdresser visit, but even that couldn’t compare to your soft, natural blushes and the sweet facial expression you gave him when he came to your house with his butler.

“... You’re stressed?” You asked quietly as you sat in the car and he squeezed your little hand between his much larger ones.

“I’ve just never been at a prom... public... especially at school.” He muttered, and though he turned his head, you could see a hint of blush on his nose and both cheeks. So you chuckled lightly as you cuddled up against his shoulder.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll like it.”

The school hasn’t changed much; only a few holiday decorations have been added here and there. However, the gymnasium took your breath away because it was magically decorated. But before you had time to take your seats on the other side of the door, your physical education teacher stopped the two of you.

“Couples enter after payment.” Mr. Matsuzaki said, and the Santa Claus hat on his head added to the charm of his muscular figure.

Of course, Saiko was already taking out his wallet, but you quickly stopped it, pointing in a specific direction. It was, obviously, the smol mistletoe, which was the aforementioned entry ticket for couples who decided to show up at the ball together. So you smiled slightly at your boyfriend and he looked at you confused.

“What is it?”

“O-Oh, you never kissed under the mistletoe?”

“Kissing under it has any meaning?” He asked, still surprised, and you just moved closer to his face, stealing a short, really sweet kiss.

“It’s a tradition, love. You have to kiss under every mistletoe if you notice one.” You said happily and then thanked the teacher for going inside the gym.

Of course, Metori in his head was already calculating how many tons of mistletoe he should buy so that you could continue kissing him as sweetly as you just did.

— JUUZOU

You put two cups of hot, beautifully fragrant chocolate on the table; one was with two white marshmallows and the other with six. Of course, it was easy to guess which portion was for Juuzou and which was for you. Nevertheless, you smiled gently and then sat down next to the white-haired boy, staring at him out of the corner of your eye.

“... About what did you dream, Juuzou-kun?” You asked softly, taking the purple cup between both hands. The warm ceramics pleasantly burned your all fingers, which made you breathe blissfully. “Of course, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to tell me. We can just sit in silence and drink our sweet cocoa.” You added after a brief second so as not to put unnecessary pressure or general stress on the nineteen-year-old.

“It’s no big deal. I dreamed about my mom.” He admitted hesitantly, also taking his dark-green mug. “When I woke up and looked at the calendar I realized we had Christmas time and... Well, my mom never gave me any, not even a small gift, nor did I ever spend that time like other children my age. It hit me a bit. Not that I regret it, but... what Christmas really is?” His short speech made you look at him with a very sad expression on your face and after a quick while you just put your warm chocolate on the table, getting up from your wooden chair and walking to a random cupboard in your smol kitchen.

This year you didn’t have time (because of work) and no idea (because of fatigue) for presents for loved ones, and even more so for the unexpected guest – Suzuya, who loved to sleep in your house because, as he once said, ‘He felt at your place very safe’, but you managed to come up with a little surprise fastly; you wrapped a red ribbon that was in the cupboard with needles and scissors around an unopened box of nut cookies. You also managed to find a piece of paper and a black pen, so you wrote a concise but sincere wishes to the inspector, which ended with a tiny heart and a star. Out of the corner of your eye, you also noticed the mistletoe lying next to the clock, which was a little joke your dear friend had made to you two days ago. So you took everything and went back to the quietly sitting Juuzou, smiling slightly at him, even a bit silly.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think about gifts before, but... I hope that’s enough. After today’s work, we can go to the gallery or the park to see the decorated Christmas trees, you will surely like them. Happy Holidays, Juuzou. I hope next year will be a good one for you.” You said shyly as you handed him ribbon-decorated cookies. At the sight of them, the boy only blushed, then looked at your other hand, which was still gripping a little twig. “Ohh... it’s... such a small tradition where you get a kiss under the mistletoe.” You picked up the plant and then placed it over the white-haired young man’s head, bending down after a while and giving him a short peck on the left, smooth cheek. “Merry Christmas once again.”

“Merry Christmas to you too and... thank you for that.”

You only smirked, reaching for the mug of already cool drink. However, you weren’t disappointed in drinking the cold cocoa, because the honest, slightly timid smile of the boy you liked from the beginning of your work at CCG warmed your whole body better than any other hot chocolate, tea or coffee.

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shining-red-diamond · 3 years

Text

One Little Coyote

Words: 2k

Pairing: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst

Rating: PG

Warnings: nightmare scene, some arguing, mentions of cigarettes and smoking

A/N; I’m super proud of how this turned out! I’m sorry if it seems rushed, but I thought this was a cute and interesting concept. Banner credits to @oobin

If the morning sun wasn’t hot enough, then the afternoon sun certainly was. Heat waves could easily be seen rising up from the dark pavement the gray Subaru traveled on. Hyunjin carefully drove himself and Y/N across the desert, even though it was mostly barren despite the occasional car that passed them in the opposite direction. The two had been on the road since eight, and it was now nearing twelve-thirty as Y/N’s stomach began to rumble.

“Are you that hungry?” Hyunjin giggled.

“Hey, you’re the one who insisted on just having granola bars instead of eggs like I suggested,” Y/N shot back.

“I know, I should’ve set the alarm for earlier.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes behind his round, dark-lense sunglasses.

Y/N sighed. “No, I should’ve just grabbed an apple.”

“Baby, we’re almost to a gas station. We’ll stop there and grab a bite to eat.”

For whatever reason, the two seemed to be arguing about something with every other conversation they had since waking up that morning. Was it because one of them slept bad? Did Hyunjin get irritated at her for some reason? Or was Y/N just hangry? They hated fighting with each other, but they couldn’t seem to get along for the first leg of their journey. The heat could be a factor in both of them butting heads, but the air was on full blast.

Y/N stared down at her twiddling her thumbs as the song changed to an old AC/DC tune, and Hyunjin glanced over at her. He felt bad for using a sharp tone at her. For months, the two had been planning a road trip from the Grand Canyon to Las Vegas; but he felt terrible for being in such a crabby mood.

Taking her hand, he laced his fingers through hers and kissed the back of it.

“Why the sudden change in behavior?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized as they pulled into the gas station.

“Can we talk about this later? I just want to get some food before my stomach starts speaking in tongues.”

Before Hyunjin could respond, Y/N was already out of the car and beelined for the restaurant in the convenience store.

The gas station had only three other vehicles parked there: a motorcycle on the side of the building, a beat up brown truck at a pump, and a dark minivan at another. Heat from the sun was beating down in the surrounding area, but Hyunjin was protected under some shade at the gas pump he paid at. A snake slithered by, but it didn’t bother him. A rugged looking man exited the building and pulled a brand new pack of cigarettes and lit one up before entering the truck and pulling out, but not before giving Hyunjin a nod of acknowledgement.

When the tank was filled, Hyunjin took his receipt, parked in another spot, and locked the car before meeting his girlfriend inside. Y/N was sitting in a gray booth with an order of two burgers and large fries with two large drinks. She hadn’t touched any of the food on the tray, which she always did when she paid for food if she were traveling with anyone. Hyunjin was about to open his mouth to protest how he should have been the one to purchase the food, but he was done arguing with the love of his life.

“This looks delicious, baby,” he smiled and kissed her head before sitting in the seat across from her.

“I made sure to not get pickles in yours,” she replied.

“You know me too well.”

Once Hyunjin tied his long hair back, he and Y/N began their lunch; and she was thankful they didn’t fight while they filled their bellies with a meal.

“Just think,” Hyunjin smiled slyly, “by tomorrow afternoon we’ll be entering Vegas. The desert and heat will be a distant memory as we feast on delicious food, swim in an indoor pool, and get cozy.”

Y/N chuckled at his attempt at being smooth with his words, which in turn caused him to laugh as well.

“We can’t forget seeing all of the cool shows and counting the slot machines in each casino,” she added. “But I’m happy to just be with you for a few days, even if we don’t get to party like millionaires.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “Who needs wealth when I’m already a rich man just having the most beautiful woman in the world with me?”

“You’re cheesy, dude; but I like cheese.”

“I know,” her boyfriend replied with a wink.

As soon as they finished their meal, the two were back on the road, the surrounding desert brightened more by the afternoon sun. For about two hours, the two drive in mostly silence. The only noises around them were the radio, which would go static in some areas, and the wind outside. A few animals passed by in the sand and among the vegetation, but it was mostly snakes and rabbits.

“Babe,” Hyunjin said after a while, “about me apologizing earlier, I didn’t sleep well last night and woke up this morning in a bad mood. I hate fighting with you, and I was trying to make it up to you.”

He couldn’t exactly look at her as he was driving, but he could see out of the corner of his eye she was half smiling as he spoke.

“I’m sorry, too,” she lightly sighed. “I shouldn’t have snapped back at you. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. The bed at the motel was too uncomfortable.”

“Hopefully, the hotel bed is much better.”

“It’s Vegas! It has to be.”

A truce was formed during their own little comedy hour, and Hyunjin was happy he was able to make it all up with his girl. Like most couples, they had their arguments some days, but Hyunjin could never stay angry with Y/N, nor could she with him. The last thing either of them wanted to do was hurt the other person, and they both knew words were impactful. Only once had they insulted each other where it hurt the most that they wouldn’t speak to each other for a week until they both cooled off and talked it over.

“I wonder where the coyotes are,” Y/N spoke up as she looked out the window.

“They’re out there,” her boyfriend replied as he glanced around the sandy plains. “We won’t be going anywhere near them, but we’re approaching a bunch of rock formations and hills in a while.”

“Maybe we’ll hear them when we camp.”

“Maybe.”

“And that one little coyote howling at the moon,” Y/N sang with a giggle.

As if on cue, the radio song switched to the exact song. It was a genie wishing her song request.

“Fitting.”

The night air was too quiet for Y/N, except for the coyote’s howling at the full moon every couple of seconds. Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car, and she couldn’t fall back asleep anymore. The windows were still cracked open a little to allow air to circulate, but there was no wind blowing. Y/N hated how silent it was, and the coyote’s weren’t exactly singing lullabies to her. Sitting up, she looked over to where Hyunjin was, but he was gone. His blanket remained there, but the man himself had vanished.

Maybe he just had to go pee somewhere, she thought. However, the closest gas station was miles behind them. There was no way he would have walked that far just for a bathroom with a way to protect himself. The possibility of him just finding a small bush to do his business seemed logical, and since it was dark out, anyone who passed by probably wouldn’t see him.

Against her better judgement, Y/N decided to step out and see if her boyfriend was okay. Climbing over the seats, she reached one of the passenger doors and unlocked it. Once she stumbled out of the car, she shut the door and made her way to the back. The little fire pit used to cook their hot dogs was missing, and there was no sign that anyone had made a stop there. Nothing but dry mud and weeds. The air was also freezing, but Y/N didn’t want to go back to the car until her boyfriend was found.

“Hyunjin?” Y/N called in a whisper. No answer. She called for him across the other side of the main road, but still no reply.

“Babe, this isn’t funny!” she called as she turned around to see if he was messing with her.

To her horror, the Subaru was now gone. She didn’t hear the engine turn on, no tire tracks were left, nothing. It was as if it vanished into thin air. Turning back again, the road was gone too. What was going on?

Coyote howls grew louder, and Y/N was starting to panic. Small feet scampered by her, but not a humans’ footsteps. She pulled out her phone light and looked down. A row of jack rabbits were racing by her towards the rock formations, so she decided to follow them to try to find help. She took about six steps before a branch seemingly wrapped around her ankle and tripped her, cutting into the flesh.

“Don’t panic,” YN told herself. “It’s just a bush. You can get out of this.”

However, once she sat up, whatever was holding her had let go and disappeared. It left behind her ankle bleeding, but she had no means of treating it. She could still walk on it, so she kept going.

A few snakes, poisonous ones, slithered by, hissing at her as she walked. It was as if they were threatening her to turn back or else they’ll attack and sink their venomous fangs into her.

“As I rode my pony across the Western plain,” she sang sobbed, not realizing she had been crying. “We stopped and heard a sweet and sad refrain. It filled the sundown skies with a lonesome tune. It was one little coyote howling at the moon.”

RIght at that moment, howling broke the eerie silence from behind her. When Y/N turned around, two red glowing eyes were staring at her. It was a terrible, hungry look, and a deep throaty growl sent shivers down her back. Before she could even blink, teeth flashed in front of her as if the creature attempted to eat her face off.

Y/N screamed as she felt her life ending right there.

“Baby, wake up!” a familiar voice cried out.

Opening her eyes, Y/N realized she was back in the car but in a cold sweat. It was somewhat dark out, but the sky was just barely rising by the deep purple sky fading into pink.

“Jinnie!” Y/N sobbed as she pulled her boyfriend in for a hug.

“What happened?”

Once she caught her breath, she realized everything she had seen and experienced was all a nightmare.

“Bad dream?” Hyunjin guessed as dried her head with a blanket.

“Yeah,” she sighed. She explained everything in detail to him, even checking her ankle for the injury she had sustained. To her relief, there was no cut.

“I’m so sorry you had such an awful nightmare,” Hyunjin kissed her forehead. “I forget how you have bad nightmares one the first night of a camping trip.”

“I’ll be okay,” Y/N promised. “What time is it?”

Hyunjin looked through the suitcases for some fresh clothes. “6:30 in the morning. I was awake because I got too hot in here. It wasn’t long before you screamed awake.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“No, no. Don’t be sorry. It was only a dream.”

After tying his hair up to keep himself cool, Hyunjin brought Y/N closer to him and cuddled her for a while. Whenever she had a bad dream, it always comforted her to be held or snuggled until she calmed down. His heartbeat was the main composer of her calming, and she loved how warm he felt when he embraced her.

In the distance, a coyote howled.

“He won’t hurt you, my love,” Hyunjin reassured as he held Y/N tighter. “It’s just one little coyote.”

@hongism @ethereal-eirene @ezralia-writes

#kwritersworldnet #districtninewriters #kdiner #kdiarynet #kpopscape #kpopficsnetwork #newskynet #stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz x reader #skz fluff #skz angst

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themurphyzone · 3 years

Text

If I Can’t Love Him Ch 4

AN: I do eventually wanna write out an entire BatB AU, it’s just that it’s kinda on the backburner compared to Nova and Pinky the Snowmouse right now. Decided to finish this story before working on anything else in BatB AU. Unlike the other chapters, this one’s not based off any scene in the 1991 movie.

AO3 Link

Ch 4: Hints of Kindness

Two days since the West Wing incident, and there was still no sign of the Beast. His servants all said not to worry, he was always reclusive until it was time to give orders, but Pinky still worried for the Beast’s arm. He didn’t seem like the type to take it easy.

“Hey, if the scratches get infected, that’s on him,” Rita reassured Pinky as she escorted him down the corridor for breakfast.

The servants were on a rotating schedule of helping him get around the castle to prevent another incident of wandering somewhere he wasn’t supposed to. Pinky appreciated the company, but part of him also wanted to sneak around too. If he was going to be here for the rest of his life, then he wanted to know every nook and cranny of the castle.

At least the nooks and crannies of the places he was allowed to go in.

But sneaking around would have to wait. At least until the world stopped spinning around. It was throwing him off-balance.

“So what do you want for breakfast?” Rita asked, her halo bobbing above her head as she glided along the floor. “Cream? Fish? Or the gray stuff again? That’s always a hit.”

The moment breakfast was mentioned, Pinky’s stomach flip-flopped and churned. “Quiet, tummy,” he scolded.

“You good? You’re pale,” Rita asked. “Not exactly a healthy shade of white.”

“I’m...narf...I’m okay!” Pinky tried to smile at her, but Rita’s eyes only narrowed. “Don’t worry about me!”

A shiver wracked his body. Was it just him, or was the castle draftier than usual?

“Nice try, mouse,” Rita crossed her paws over her angel robe. “But a little tip about castle living? If the boss can’t pull a fast one over Hello Nurse when he’s sick, neither can you. Try it, and the results ain’t gonna be pretty.”

He was fine though. Pinky was used to hiding any signs of sickness from Papa. He couldn’t worry his father like that when there were other things to worry about. All he had to do was cover his mouth so all the icky stuff wouldn’t get out and run over to Slappy’s tree for help.

He didn’t like lying. It made him feel awful inside. But he had to, just so he wouldn’t scare Papa.

"Sorry," Pinky whispered, his throat tight. "I'll go back to my...I mean, the room you all gave me. I don't wanna make anyone else sick. Poit."

"Eh, don't worry about it," Rita said. "Only the boss is affected by that sorta thing. Rest of us are immune. Now c'mon. I gotta tell Hello Nurse so we can get some chow into you."

o-o-o-o-o

Secrets never remained secrets in the castle for long. It took a grand total of thirty seconds before a crowd of servants gathered outside the bedroom door, from the littlest dinner fork to several heavy cabinets that clinked with dishes and silverware as they moved.

A tall coat rack lifted Pinky back into bed. And while Pinky didn’t mind climbing to reach the strange, huge mattress that was cozy when he was tired and not so cozy when he thought of Papa and home, he was too dizzy to climb up himself right now.

Though he wanted to snuggle into the blankets more than anything else, he couldn’t until the stethoscope finished checking his heart and lungs. He shivered as the cold bell pressed into his chest and back, but tried to breathe when he was asked to.

When it was finished, the stethoscope firmly knocked twice against the mahogany bedframe and wrapped itself around the coat rack’s thin wooden arm.

“So what’s the verdict?” Rita asked from the doorway.

“Well, his heart and lungs are strong. And nothing’s inflamed either,” Hello Nurse said. “Pinky, are you having trouble breathing?”

Pinky shook his head.

“Any chest pain?”

“Nope. Don’t worry, everyone! It’s just a fever. I’ll be fit as a fiddle soon!” Pinky said, trying to reassure them. “And I can clean some rooms or dust the staircases or anything else you want then!”

“Nope, that won’t do at all! You’re our guest and we insist you get some rest!” Yakko protested. The fire on his head burnt intensely, and the flammable servants hastily scooted away from him. “Ya know, that’s not a bad verse for Be a Pest now that I think about it. But still! Don’t even think about getting out of bed ‘til Hello Nurse okays it!”

“Only for a day or two,” Hello Nurse added. “And tell someone immediately if you have trouble breathing or the fever gets worse. You came back soaked to the bone, and I don’t want this developing into pneumonia.”

Okay, at least he wouldn’t be confined for too long. He wanted to move around and explore. What was the point of being imprisoned in a castle if he couldn’t explore?

“What about Pharfignewton?” Pinky asked. “She fell in the river too. And...she’s all I’ve got now.”

His mother’s cape was in shreds. He didn’t know how Papa was doing. Pharfignewton was the only member of the family he could see now. The blue dress was his only remaining possession from his life in the village.

“She’s okay!” Dot piped up. “The stablemaster is one of the best in the province! He’s got her covered in a pretty violet blanket.”

“She really likes apples!” Wakko exclaimed.

Pharfignewton adored apples, and while Pinky trusted the servants to take care of her, he also wanted to make sure she was alright in-person.

But that would have to wait for a few hours.

Sapped of energy, he yawned and curled underneath the blankets. Only his head poked out, and his vision blurred as his eyes drooped with exhaustion.

The crowd dissipated with promises to come back with food and medicine later, until only Yakko lingered in the doorway.

“Keep an eye on him, Marita,” Hello Nurse told the purple and white wardrobe, which had a hippo’s face carved into the top. She hummed her agreement. “Now come along, Yakko. Pinky needs his rest.”

“But-”

“I’m sure Dr. Scratchnsniff misses you. It’s been a busy past few days,” Hello Nurse suggested, and Yakko hopped away, his spirits restored as he hollered about all the news he wanted to deliver to the psychiatrist’s couch.

Soon they were gone. As Pinky’s eyes drooped shut, he thought he might’ve seen the end of a cape and a zigzagged tail dart behind a crouching gargoyle in the hallway. But the door swung closed before he could be sure.

o-o-o-o-o

Despite the fever, or maybe because of it, it was the best sleep he had in ages.

“Wakey, wakey, Rip Van Winkle!” Dot shouted. “Got your hot tea and soup here!”

Pinky rubbed his eyes, stretching his limbs and tail as he sat up against his large pillow. His forehead was hot to the touch, and his throat was a bit sore. He breathed in fine, warm steam from the tea and soup, and while he didn’t have much of an appetite right now, he’d at least try to eat what he could. He was sure it would taste wonderful anyway.

A tray slid onto his lap. A steaming bowl of chicken and vegetable broth, a flower patterned teacup full of warm liquid, and a spoon and napkin laid on top of it.

“It’s lovely. Thanks so much!” Pinky said, smiling at the Warners, who sat atop a rolling cart next to his bed.

“Make sure you gobble it all down like a turkey!” Wakko exclaimed, doing his best impression of a turkey call just as Pinky took his first sip of the broth, which included several small pieces of carrots.

Pinky couldn’t help but laugh, which was a huge mistake with food in his mouth. He sputtered and coughed, quickly pounding on his throat as he snatched up the teacup and took a huge gulp of tea to wash it down.

“Well, don’t make him choke on it!” Dot scolded.

“Careful, dearie,” Marita said as she shifted a lovely green dress to a hanger on her front. “My darling Flavio puts lots of love into his food. I wouldn’t want it to go to waste.”

“I will,” Pinky promised. He ate more slowly, trying to savor every bite. Not that he really needed to chew. Everything just slid down his throat like melted butter.

“That didn’t go into your lungs, right?” Yakko asked, who’d been strangely silent during the visit.

“I don’t think so,” Pinky replied. “And no agonizing, excruciating, stabbing, or writhing pain?”

Pinky stretched his limbs, careful not to jostle the tray too much. “A bit sore, but I’ll be alright.”

“It’s only a fever, Yakko,” Dot muttered, rolling her eyes as Yakko’s flames burst sporadically. “He’s not suddenly gonna drop dead or anything.”

Wakko shuffled his wooden legs awkwardly as Yakko and Dot burst into an argument over their guest’s health, and Pinky found himself nursing a headache that developed at his temple.

“Children, I think our guest wants some peace while he eats,” Marita suggested, her front drawer opening to reveal a lavender letter that was sealed with a heart-shaped kiss mark. “In the meantime, would you do me a favor and deliver this letter to my sweetheart?”

“For true love!” Dot squealed in joy, forgetting that she didn’t have hands to grab it by as she strained to grab it from Marita’s handle. Wakko reached over and grabbed it for her, and Dot hopped to the other side of the cart in a huff, muttering that she could’ve gotten it for herself.

“Hi-ho rolling cart, away!” Yakko shouted, and the cart sped across the room and slammed into the slightly ajar door, and the Warners were nearly thrown off the cart from the impact.

“GAH!” there was a surprised shout from behind the door as it crashed against the wall.

That wasn’t a normal door crashing into the wall sound.

To Pinky’s surprise, the Beast stumbled into view from behind the door. He clutched one shoulder with his bandaged arm, an irritated growl building in his throat.

The Warners whistled innocently and gave the Beast extremely wide, guilty smiles before zooming away.

“Ooh, that sounded like it hurt,” Pinky said, and the Beast looked at him in annoyance. Then Pinky remembered that they hadn’t spoken to each other in a few days, and he didn’t really know where he stood with the Beast right now. “Did they catch you on the arm?”

The white-collared shirt was new though. It was a high quality piece of clothing, even though it was a simple design.

The Beast stood in the doorway, the bandages outlined against his sleeve on his injured arm while he held onto the doorframe with his uninjured arm. He also wore a wine-red cape and a pair of black trousers, and both clothing items were much less worn and ragged than when Pinky had first met him in that tower just a few nights ago.

“They didn’t,” the Beast grunted, staring at the floor like he’d seen a very interesting dust bunny. The silence was only broken by Marita’s blissful humming and the clink of Pinky’s spoon against his bowl.

The Beast wasn’t the best at conversations. It was either too much roaring or stony silence with no in-between with him.

“Were you eavesdropping?” Pinky asked.

The Beast huffed. “I was napping behind the door.”

“Strange place to nap,” Pinky said. “Wouldn’t you be better off in a cozy bed? Less back problems that way. And you wouldn’t be smashed in the shoulder by a door.”

“I’ll...keep that in mind,” the Beast replied, still not making eye contact with Pinky.

Though his responses were short and blunt, it seemed to be more out of awkwardness than anything. Still, Pinky wished the Beast would come up with a topic. It wasn’t exactly 20 Questions if the other party wasn’t asking anything.

Pinky chewed a piece of chicken, even though he didn’t need to. “Is Yakko okay? He seemed kinda scared cause I’m sick.”

“Oh, he can’t help it, dearie. An illness almost took-” Marita trailed off as a growl rose from the Beast’s throat. “-well, nobody wants to see your fever grow worse. Especially Yakko.”

Had the Beast been severely ill for a time and didn’t want to admit it? Pinky wanted to ask, but from the way the Beast’s claws dug into the doorframe, he decided that maybe it was better if he didn’t.

“Sorry if it’s a sore subject. I can ask something else if you want,” Pinky said.

The Beast’s large ears lowered, and his growl tapered off. And for the first time, shadowed pink eyes met Pinky’s.

“The fabric you used as a temporary bandage...was it important?” the Beast asked.

Pinky dropped his spoon into the bowl, surprised at a question that involved his mother’s cloak. No harm in being honest though.

“That cloak used to belong to my mother. It became mine after the accident,” Pinky admitted. The two fabric scraps from his cloak had been laundered, scrubbed of blood, and neatly tucked away in one of Marita’s drawers. He figured he could still use them somehow, but hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

The Beast looked distinctly uncomfortable, averting his eyes once more. “Sorry about your mother.”

Though awkward, it was a more sincere condolence than what some who’d attended her funeral had said.

“She wouldn’t have minded though. I think she’d be happy to know her cloak helped you,” Pinky said.

He didn’t have any doubts about that. He remembered his mother as a generous, lovely soul, even though he was a child when she passed away.

The Beast placed a hand over his bandaged arm. Then he turned to leave.

“When you’re healthy again, I’ll personally make sure that you know your way around the castle,” the Beast said. “But only to ascertain that you won’t barge into the West Wing again.”

It would be nice not to get lost. He always had trouble finding the kitchen so he could thank Chef Flavio for his meals.

“Alright,” Pinky agreed as he pushed his tray aside. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “And Beast?”

The Beast was a few steps away from Pinky’s door. He paused and looked back, stumbling over his feet like he wasn’t used to walking on two legs.

“Thanks for checking on me,” Pinky said. He snuggled into the blankets once again, ready to sleep off his meal. “I’m sure I’ll recover twice as fast cause I know everyone wants me to feel better.”

There was a long silence.

“You’re welcome,” the Beast finally said. Then he was gone.

And strangely, Pinky was looking forward to the promised tour.

Fun fact: Stethoscopes were invented in 1816, which isn’t in the French Revolution era of Beauty and the Beast, but this is Animaniacs and I am allowed to be anachronistic.

Before the curse took hold, Dot was severely ill for a time (same deal as Wakko’s Wish), and Brain doesn’t want this info getting out cause it could potentially reveal the curse to Pinky. Yakko is just spooked by any type of illness as a result, even a temporary mild fever.

#pinky and the brain #patb fanfiction #beauty and the beast au

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bookocd · 3 years

Text

Light as Air

Hi guys this is a Fenrys Fanfic that is set in the aftermath of Kingdom of Ash. I’m literally so excited about this and I have such a clear vision for where this is going to go. If anyone wants to be tagged when I update or has any thoughts for me PLEASE feel free to reach out.

Summary: Fenrys see’s a powerful fae female after Aelin’s coronation and is given the task of finding her. Only he doesn’t know the secrets and chaos that he is about to unleash upon Orynth and himself. (A longer summary will be provided after this chapter! I just didn’t want to give any spoilers away)

Thank you for reading :)

Links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2:

Ever since she was a little girl, she only ever dreamed of two things; a beautiful night sky with different constellations then she had ever seen in Terrasen, and a pair of violet eyes, only a shade darker than her own. She never understood these dreams, but it always felt as though someone was watching her, not in a scary way, but in a safe nurturing way. Like she would always have someone guarding her and giving her direction.

This past night she had still dreamt of the same stars and darkness, but instead of purple eyes looking back at her, she was staring into eyes of onyx.

She didn’t understand her sudden need to go back into the city gates and find the golden man and she sure as hell didn’t understand that feeling in her heart, in her soul, that he was also searching for her. That while she was dreaming of his eyes, he may be dreaming of hers.

Obviously he was a warrior and a male of worth, he was literally blood sworn to the most powerful queen in history.

What would he ever want with me, she thought to herself as she laid in her small bed. I’m nobody and I will always be nobody. Her insecurities clouded her mind, like a summer storm cloud.

The female looked around and saw just how much of a nobody she was. Her room was actually a hidden cellar, and past the shelves of vegetables and ale, her small bed was in the corner. The bed was for a child, not a fully grown fae female. When she slept at night, she either had to curl up into a ball, knees to her chest, or let everything past her knee go over the end of the bed. There was a small worn dresser with drawers that squeaked when opened, that had all the clothes she owned. Having never learned how sew or stitch, her wardrobe consisted of her fathers pants, which had never been long enough, loose white shirts, which also didn’t fit, and one single hooded cloak. The cloak was a deep navy blue that almost seemed black, and it was the one thing that fit her and the only reason her father had gifted it to her was so she could cover her ears, facial features, and her lean muscular body. It was also perfect for hiding her assortment of knives and other weapons.

Her father had only ever given her three things: the cloak, her array of weapons, and the skills to fight and always win. It wasn’t just physical fighting either, he educated her until she knew history, mathematics, and science, he made her able to adapt to any situation, he made her witty and able verbally spare with anyone. He did not just gift her weapons, he molded her into one.

She ran her rough crooked fingers down the soft cotton fabric, and thought about her father. He was a warrior turned scholar, and somehow knew that dangerous times were coming, so he moved himself and his only son, Smyth, along with some of his books into a small cabin. The extensive forests west of Orynth became their home and soon after the female’s home as well.

Pushing out the thoughts of her family and the impeding misery, she tried to figure out what to do next. It was obvious that she needed to wait until the other royals left before she could make her move. With so many powerful people, she would be too much of a threat, a risk, and if she was provoke… Her body shuttered with memories of torn flesh, burnt skin, and silent screams of terror. She willed her hands to stop shaking.

She would wait until all the royals were gone, then she would go into the city and see if any opportunities presented themselves, and if these opportunities came from the golden male, she wouldn’t be upset.

—

He had gone into the city and the surrounding areas every day for two weeks. He told Rowan and the others that he wanted to help with the initial rebuilding, while they were working on goodbyes and more diplomatic matters. Lorcan and Elide both did their calculating stares, Aedion coughed while saying “bullshit” which had Lysandra smothering a laugh with her hand, and Rowan pulled him aside and gave him a “stay safe” lecture.

Aelin caught up to him when he all but ran out of the room. She pointedly grabbed his elbow and forced him to look her straight on. The three blinks she sent his direction, meaning Are you all right, immediately calmed him, but also brought him back into a dark place. He could never lie to her, so he responded with two blinks, No.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on in that thick head of yours or do I need to use force.” Aelin’s eyes sparkled with the treat looming in the air.

He opened his mouth, a deflecting comment on the tip of his tongue, but she interrupted and said, “Rowan told me what you said, about someone else joining the court.” Fenrys’s head whipped toward the door they had just existed and swore he could feel the bastard male in there smiling.

“Oh don’t get all pissy about it. It’s my gods damned court and I get to decided who joins it.” He knew she was being playful by the light in her face, but he couldn’t help the sharp words as they came out of his mouth.

“I know that”

Aelin then moved her hands to her sides and widened the gap between her legs. A fighting stance. She was wearing pants and a loose black top, and her leather boots were stained with mud.

He didn’t want to fight with her, not with the one person who understood his pain. He didn’t want to push her away.

Letting out a rugged breath and running a hand down the back of his head nervously, he said, “It’s nothing I just can’t figure out if I think this girl is a threat or one of us”

“One of us?”

“A dreamer.” Clarity finally filled Aelin’s eyes and her body changed from taunt to fluid. She ran forward and put her arms around Fenrys’s neck. He grabbed her and pulled her close with his arms around her middle.

Hearing a growl, the two turned and found Rowan glaring and baring his teeth. Fenrys couldn’t help, but laugh, even if the result was a fist to the face. Rowan started toward Fenrys, but Aelin ran to him, jumped up, and put her legs around his waist.

Rowan’s fury washed away into something more heated.

Aelin turned one last time, “Go find her Fen. This group could use another female, all the males and their territorial bullshit is getting old.”

Chuckling as Rowan poked his queen in the ribs, Fenrys decided it was his time to leave.

With his fae ears he could just make out what Aelin said to her husband.

“Oh how I’m going to make you beg after that performance.” The returning purr told Fenrys that Rowan wouldn’t mind that type of punishment.

—

It wasn’t quite spring, but Fenrys was still sweating. His tan skin glistening in the sun, while nailing boards onto The Tadpole Inn’s roof. The innkeeper, Annie, a sweet human girl who had inherited the inn from her parents, who had both fought and died in the final days of the war. Fenrys had never asked her age, but he guessed she was in her twenties, and with her blond hair tied back into a long elaborate braid, she never shied away from hard work. Fenrys instantly liked her the moment she picked up a shitty wooden hammer and worked along side him, asking him questions, and even telling him to leave when she had mastered what had been taught.

She was one of those closest to the outer wall, and Fenrys constantly found himself up on the barges. The surrounding area’s were still all a battle ground, scars and all, but the forest and freedom called his name.

His keen eyes searched and scanned the land in front of him, and then he turned and looked toward the streets of Orynth. In the past weeks, he had found himself getting more and more anxious at being cooped up in the palace. It wasn’t the company, but the confinement. But he would be lying to himself if he said that was the only reason for being out and scanning the winding streets every spare moment.

A phantom wind lifted his hair, and he turned toward the strange warm breeze.

Fenrys froze.

The wind was blowing into his face now and it hit him.

Cinnamon.

He shifted in a flash of light and ran south, toward the smell.

Gods he hoped it wasn’t a pastry.

—-

Every time she was in this city, she kept to the shadows. When she was younger it was based on fear, now it was to observe. She kept far away from the palace, from the queen inside it. She didn’t want that yet, she wanted gossip.

Her father taught her that people always talked, and if you listened hard enough, the truth would always emerge.

She watched a woman with graying hair and winkles around the cornes of her dark brown eyes, slowly move wet laundry to a clothes line. The conversation with her neighbor included sharp clipped words and it rubbed the female the wrong way.

“I’ve seen the queen every single day with that male of hers,” she scoffed at the word male and violently gripped her clothing.

She continued with every word dripping with distaste, “I feel like the fae are going to be her priority, if her choice in companions says anything.”

The female thought out the words and analyzed the tone. The truth came to her fairly quickly: the woman was panicked. Their city and Terrasen, had been in a war and that has effected everything and everyone. She was scared that her and people like her, would be a second thought to their queen. The female didn’t blame the fake distain for the fae males in Aelin’s court, but the thing that did stick out to her was that the woman had seen the queen everyday.

Those are the actions of a queen who cares, for not just the city she rules over, but the individuals as well. A queen who wants to look within, fix what has been broken, before moving forward.

She didn’t know what to do with the information, but she had been hearing the same thing all morning. The queen was caring and wise. Someone that could be trusted.

It was enough.

Looking around at the smiles, even with their city so broken, these people were resilient and they would come back stronger than before.

Stepping out of the shadows for the first time, in broad day light, the female felt lighter somehow. She had no idea that her good mood translated to her manipulating the wind. All around her the air started to breath and stir, seeming to wake.

Tomorrow, she decided, I will—

The screaming cut off her thoughts and ended her rare reign of the wind. Unlike others she ran toward the commotion and started to yell at people to get inside. It wasn’t until she saw what was coming down the stone street at a sprint, that she lost her voice. Standing in the middle of the road, it was impossible for her to melt in-between buildings or become a shadow.

The golden wolf bounded toward her, and the scratching of its elongated claws against the ground was deafening. The muscles on its legs were straining with effort and its coat was near radiant in the beating down sun.

The wolf stopped mere inches from her, panting and staring into her soul, giving her a clear view of its knife like teeth. The sheer height of the beast sent a shiver down her spine. The near black eyes reminded her…

Blinding light surrounded her with a feeling of warmth. It was too bright for her not to quickly put her hands in front of her eyes as a shield, a shield from the sun like rays.

A heartbeat later, the light was gone and the female slowly moved her hands down and opened her eyes.

The golden male was standing in front of her. And he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

She was in fucking trouble.

#throne of glass #crown of midnight #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #kingdom of ash #tower of dawn #sarah j maas #Sarah j Maas boys #fenrys moonbeam #rowan whitethorn #aedion ashryver #Lysandra #lorcan salvaterre #elide lochan

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ceasari · 3 years

Text

ANTHONIA CAESAR ZEPPELI

It’s about time I introduce my first and most developed oc!

Name: Anthonia (Ceasar) Zeppeli (mother’s surname)

Occupation: Pilot, ex assassin, 7th crusader

Comes from: Naples, Italy

Birthday: 7 December 1972

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius

Part: 3, STARDUST CRUSADERS

Gender: female (uses female pronouns)

Height: 1.73 cm

Built: fit and muscular

Personality: esfp or infj

Hair: dark brown, short (similar to Jotaros haircut)

Skin colour: pale (like Ceasars)

Eye colour: blue-gray

Powers: Hamon and stand user

Special features: pink triangle cheek birthmarks, scared from bullets-knifes ect, a knife stab cutting through her right hand.

Language: Italian, Napolitan dialect, English, French, Japanese and some Greek. (Because of her job)

Family: Marko (older brother, deceased) Maria (mother, deceased) cousins-ants- uncles-grandparents (all deceased)

Stand name: The Guardian

Image: A light-sky blue, 3m tall dragon, blue scales, white and gold accents, two large white feathers, one on each of the creatures temples, large wings, green-blue snake like eyes, intimidating and scary aura. Tatto on her right upper hand.

Ability: Has the ability to heal people (slower than Josuke) by ‘firing’ a golden cloud from her stands mouth though she can’t heal herself. She can also ‘fire’ a purple one that melts the opponents bones, she calls it “bone breaker” (the more energy she puts into her ability the faster the breaking or healing process)She uses hamon to have better control of her stand.

Like a typical dragon, she can breath fire. The Guardians built allows her user to ride her and to gain complete control. The stands range is 3 meters but by riding her, it becomes endless. She requires a lot of strength and energy so she is dangerous to use for more than a few minutes.

Likes: Loves her friends, singing, rock music, reading, parkour, fighting techniques, sketching maps, writing, planes, nature, her job, stories, ancient and mid evil history.

Dislikes: Most insects-bugs, DIO

Story: She grew up in Naples with her loving brother and traditional mother. A born stand user with hamon abilities inherited from her mother and grandfather. Her mother learned to her the art of Hamon, cooking, cleaning and was really strict with her. Her brother had inherited his grandfathers charm but was the closest she had to a father figure. Her father left their family using that he was having A DAUGHTER as an excuse for him to leave his son, wife and newborn. She is an excellent fighter, parkour artist, ex-band leader, artist.

At the age of 14 years old she returned home to her families corpses. (Someone ordered by DIO eliminated them) and much to her dismay the murderer failed to get murder her but succeeded in getting rid of all her family members.

Unlike the other Crusaders she had friends before the journey. After her families passing see started working for the underworld, somehow got into pilot school and lived in a hideout with eight other coworkers-friends (assassins)and refused her birth name so she is now called Ceasar. A year later with getting her license she decided to leave Italy with her friend to work for a piloting company and travel, feeling like it was her fault for her families passing. Some months into the journey her friend was a victim of a murder and she stood alone over her dead body.

You can imagine that after that she wanted nothing to do with the world close to herself and became a hermit outside of her workplace were she used her plane to carry passengers from places to others and spend her time practicing fighting techniques, writing music, drawing, reading and studying places in East Asia and North Africa. She lived on her plane (a typical Cessna) Her name is known in traveling agencies, Italy and some locals for being a talented yet strong and fearless intimidating personality.

She met the Crusaders saving them while they were in the Arabian desert and after learning the connection of the Zeppeli-Joestar families forced them to let her join. She turns out to be a kind, humorous understanding character that doesn’t want others to know or judge her about her past. During the crusade she fell in love with Kakyoin Noriaki, gained a great friendly relationship with Jotaro Kujo and strong family bonds with Joseph Joestar and Polnareff while terns out she already knew Avdol from him being a passenger on her Cessna.

She has Strong feelings about fighting, criticizes murderers about how they do their job, respect her opponent and will gladly give your life for anyone. Her past and experience has teached her to take good care of herself and others, she’s an extremely caring and affectionate personality although people never expect it when seeing her fight.

I originally created her character to save Kakyoin Noriaki and represent a woman character in the crusaders and give her some of my own characteristics, hobbies and interests. She might be wrote as O.P. but her past, trauma and the strength her stand requires make her get really tired.

I have lots of scenario ideas about her help, stand, wholesome scenes and after stardust crusaders events in her au and would love to use her character since she is a really developed! I’d also love to see outfit recommendations and stuff!

I may add things later! Thanks if you read this far!

#ceasar Zeppeli oc #jojos bizzare adventure #jjba #jjba oc #jjba part 3 #jjba stardust crusaders #stardust crusaders

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that-one-bi-wizard · 3 years

Text

Chapter 2 of my OC fic is up! Here’s the link to it on ao3 if you wanna read it there!

CH 2:

He was done.

Alan had finally finished them. He stared down at his three creations and smiled.

They came out better than he expected. They looked like… well, teenagers. It’s just as his boss had wanted.

The first one to be completed was Yakko’s replacement.

Rather than the simple outfit the oldest Warner was known for, this kid had been completely changed. Alan wanted him to be able to appeal to a teen audience, so he gave him a more punk aesthetic and aged him up two years.

He wore a purple leather jacket with a lavender long-sleeve shirt underneath. He had gray jeans that were torn at the knees as well. His ears were pierced too with two earrings on each of his long ears.

The second one was Wakko’s replacement. Alan aged him up as well to be fifteen. He decided to completely do a one eighty with this one. Wakko’s was the hardest to do with his personality being a complete wacky mess, so Alan took that out and made him a bit more refined. He also made him the tallest of the three because he felt that it fit his personality more.

This one wore a red vest with a white button up underneath and beige khakis.

Finally, there was Dot’s replacement. She was pretty easy to do.

Alan kept all her cute traits, but made her more tomboyish and aged her up to be thirteen. She wore blue overalls and a light green t-shirt. She wore earrings like the first one except she only wore one on each ear.

It wasn’t long before the animator got them animated and talking.

Thankfully, they all seemed pretty tranquil compared to their predecessors. They didn’t talk too much either.

Well, except for the oldest, but that was to be expected. He was loosely based on the Warner that yaks.

He sat the three toons down on his couch, so he could explain how their meeting with Nora would go.

“Alright,” he finally said, standing in front of them, “tomorrow is a big day for all of us. I just want to prepare you all-”

“You finally gonna cut that man ponytail of yours?” The oldest asked with a smirk.

The taller one snickered.

“W-what? No…” Alan reached back and ran his hand through his hair self-consciously. “I meant-”

“Don’t be mean, Zach,” the young girl said.

Zach, the oldest, looked down at her. He rolled his eyes. “What? That’s what we were all thinking, right?” He nudged his brother.

The other tried to keep a straight face. “No,” he lied.

Alan sighed, ignoring the last comment. “Look, I need you three to take this seriously. Tomorrow we’re meeting up with Ms. Norita, the CEO of Warner Brothers studios. I need her to find you three likeable enough to land you a show. I also need you three to be on your best behavior, okay?”

“‘Course we will,” Zach stated. “We’re little angel’s, aren’t we sibs?” He put an arm around his sister. “Button here is probably the best behaved we got.”

Button tensed up a little and pushed a stand of hair from her face. “Uh… mhm.” She nodded shyly.

Zach crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch. “Besides, I think we’re pretty likable little bastards.”

The tall one who was sitting on the end of the couch perked up his ears. “Who are you calling a bastard, you idiot?”

“It was a joke, Jack. Relax,” Zach told him.

“It’s Jackson,” the other corrected.

Alan rubbed his temples. “I’m being serious! You three need to get it together and act normal!”

Button tilted her head. “But we are normal, aren’t we Papa?”

Alan froze.

He wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.

He shook his head. “D-don’t call me that.” He gave an audible sigh. “I- I mean, just try to act as though you’re not cartoon characters. I just want you all to stay quiet while I do the talking. That’s it.”

The three of them looked at each other.

Zach looked up at Alan. “So, what’s in it for us if we do this, Pops?”

“Stop that,” Alan said. “I’m not your dad. I just made you to—”

“So should we call you mum then?” Jackson asked jokingly.

The other two laughed.

“Stop it!” Alan snapped. “I’m being serious here!”

The three of them stared up at him. The oldest still had a smile on his face. Alan leaned in closer to him.

“Okay Mr. Funny Guy,” he said, “you think this is some kind of joke?”

He looked down at his fingernails as though they were far more interesting than what the older man had to say. “I mean, with that look on your face, I’d say so.”

Alan shook his head. “Oh, I bet you’ll be laughing when they lock you three in the water tower for sixty years, won’t you?”

The animator had an idea. He just had to give them a little scare to set these kids straight.

Zach looked up, but Button was the one to speak. “The… the what?” She asked in a soft voice.

“The Warner Brothers water tower,” Alan explained. “That’s where they trapped your predecessors. After they acted out of line, that’s where they were stuck.”

Button brought her knees closer to her and hugged them. “Th-that can’t be true. They were just kids, w-weren’t they?”

“Yup. Younger than you three even. The executives don’t care. They’ll get rid of you at the drop of a hat and leave you for dead if any of you step out of line.”

Button circle closer to Zach, who put an arm around her.

Jackson spoke up this time. “That… They won’t do that to us… will they? I mean, we haven’t done anything yet.” He crossed his arms tightly around his chest.

Alan gave them an exaggerated shrug. “I wouldn’t put it past them.” He looked at the oldest. “So, is it still funny to you?”

A dog-like whimper escaped the teen. “Uh, not when you put it like that… sir.”

“Good. So, you’ll be good tomorrow?”

The three of them nodded quickly.

“Excellent! It’ll all be fine as long as you three do as you're told.”

“Alright Harris, you better have something good for me.”

Nora sat at her desk and gave him an intense stare. She had her hands clasped together and firmly in front of her on the desk. She was prepared for whatever Alan had to present for better or worse. Hopefully, for his sake, it was for the better.

Alan straightened his tie and smoothed his unkempt hair back. He took in a deep breath and smiled.

Dear god, he hoped these kids were going to be good enough. He was really scared of losing his job over this. Or worse… he couldn’t think of what could be worse in that moment, but there was probably something worse that could happen!

He was sweating like crazy. His hands were damp as he clasped them together.

Come on Al, he told himself, they’re great. You got this.

He cleared his throat.

“I-I do, Ms. Norita! There were a few inconveniences, a-and it took a lot of work to get them right, but-”

“Just get on with it, Harris,” she said sternly, checking her watch. “I have other meetings, you know.”

“Yes!” He blurted out. He cleared his throat again. “Uh, yes. Now, let me introduce you to my new Animaniacs. They’re just out here.”

He opened the door and motioned for his toons to enter the office.

Zach, Jackson, and Button entered the room. They stood up with their backs straight, trying to look as best they could.

Nora pushed up her glasses and stared skeptically. They certainly were… something.

The drastically different designs intrigued the CEO though. She was curious to see where this was going.

Alan stepped behind them and smiled nervously.

“Now, they aren’t exactly the Warners siblings,” he explained. “When making them, I kind of intended to separate them from their successors.” He cleared his throat nervously. “S-So, they’re more like replacements than actual reboots of the characters-”

“I don’t care,” Nora interrupted. “Just tell me about their personalities. Are they going to appeal to our modern audience?”

“I hope so,” Alan muttered to himself.

“What was that?”

“I-I said I’m sure of it!”

“That’s a lot of stuttering for someone so sure,” Zach commented. He covered his mouth immediately.

Alan gave him a look.

Nora raised an eyebrow. “And who are you?” She asked.

Zach glanced up at Alan quickly. “Uh…”

He gave him a nod to answer.

“Zachery, Zach for short. I’m the oldest sibling,” he said, taking a few steps forward.

Nora looked him up and down. “Interesting…” She stood up and walked around her desk to him. “Tell me a bit about yourself, kid.”

“I’m… I guess I’m the leader. And I follow orders pretty well too. I’m pretty smart and… yeah…” He put his hands in his pockets and kicked the ground softly.

“Hobbies?”

“Lady, I was literally born yesterday. What the hell do you want from me?” He told her.

Dammit Zach, Alan thought.

She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. “What about your siblings?”

Zach took one hand out of his pocket and pointed to his sister. “That’s Button. She’s the cute one.” He pointed to Jackson. “And that’s my younger brother, Jack. He’s more of the quiet one. Got a bit of a temper too.”

“Do not!” Jackson exclaimed. “And it’s Jackson!”

“Pl-please stop,” Button said softly.

The CEO held up a hand to silence everyone. “I think I’ve seen enough.”

Everyone went silent. All eyes were on her.

She brought out her cell phone and dialed a few things. She looked through a few things and finally looked up.

“I think they’ll do nicely.”

Alan’s eyes widened. “W-wait, you mean it?”

“I don’t play games, Harris,” she said. “According to statistics, teenagers and young adults are into the whole relatability aspect of characters, and the sibling bickering and sarcastic nature is just what we need. The emo look is in too.” She pulled on Zach’s left ear and released it. “With a few good writers and a bit of acting, these three can make us a quick buck.”

She pressed a few more things on her phone. “I’ll order a pilot episode,” she continued. “We’ll get a few test screenings and have a script ready to go by… as soon as next month!”

“S-so we’re not getting locked in the water tower?” Button spoke up.

Nora shook her head. “Wha— No, of course not! You three are going to bring in some good money. As long as you don’t cause chaos like the Warners, you three should be fine.”

The three of them loosened up.

Zach sighed. He turned to his siblings. Button ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him. He ran a hand through her hair and pulled her close.

Jackson had a smile on his face. He turned to Alan. “We did it Pa!” Jackson stopped. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

Alan put an arm around him. “You know what? I don’t mind right now.” He was too relieved to care what they called him.

He was just glad he’d get to keep his job.

And the kids were glad they weren't going to be shut inside a water tower for sixty years.

Still, for one of them, it lingered in the back of his mind.He was scared of what would become of them if this pilot didn’t do well.

And rightfully so.

#I’m posting this from my phone so :b #animaniacs #animaniacs ocs #oc alan #oc zach #oc jackson #oc button #oc fanfiction #animaniacs fanfiction #oc stuff #jay tries to write

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rhetoricalrogue · 3 years

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31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 27

Prompt: Unkempt Rating: PG-ish? Nicky may have thrown an F-bomb or two around, I can’t remember. Words: 3,271 Characters: Nicolo Morelli, Elaine from Records Summary: Nicky is about to have words for some agents who can’t spell properly.

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Nicky was many things: a charming man with a reputation with the ladies, a loyal team member adept at technology and stealth, a man who prided himself in keeping up with the latest fashions. What Nicky wasn’t was a patient man when it came to proofreading documents, especially documents that were supposed to have been written by people who knew what they were doing.

“This is unacceptable,” he growled, swiveling in the office chair he’d been assigned to. He wasn’t much of a day drinker by any means, but he suddenly craved something to vent his frustrations on as he went through the fifth document of the morning.

It was only nine. He still had an entire stack of paperwork he was expected to complete by lunch piled high on his inbox and who knew how many files in his email. He needed more coffee. The office building he was in could only be described as bland, and even that was by Agency standards. Normally, the rest of the Facility was a uniform neutral done up in white paint and stainless steel, but this looked as if someone had gone back in time, snipped off a portion of the seventies, and whisked it back to the present day. Beige walls and dark brown carpet assaulted his sensibilities. Even the very air seemed to smell of old toner - Nicky was certain that purple ditto sheets reeking of methanol and isopropanol had gone the way of the dinosaur, but then again, this was the Agency. There was probably a reason an early era Xerox printer was still being used, and as inquisitive as he was, Nicky wasn’t going to try to investigate. He was merely lucky that there was a computer hooked up to his desk, even if it was an ancient yellow box of an Apple Macintosh from the 80s that somehow had Microsoft Word installed on it. Again, he wasn’t going to question it, even if he did nervously glance down at his phone on multiple occasions to see if there was something in the office or perhaps the office itself that would transform his latest phone upgrade into a brick bag phone.

God, he’d hated that era of early technology. Everything had been so goddamn expensive and it was comical to see the cutting technology of the day compared to now.

“Welcome to my world.” Nicky peered around the plain grayish beige partition of his cubicle - a cubicle! The demotion from Charlie to Delta was irritating enough, but to have to go through an entire probationary period before being able to get back onto the sort of fieldwork that his unit was used to performing was downright galling. - that smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and watched as a tall, sturdy looking woman sat down in the cubicle next to his and sighed. At first glance, Nicky wouldn’t have thought that she belonged in an office setting. Trolls normally weren’t the types that came to mind when one thought about what a clerical staff would look like. Yet apparently Elaine was one of the best and fastest proofreaders in the Agency, shooting up from ground level staff to managerial level quicker than anyone would have thought, troll or not. Nicky hadn’t worked with her before, but he had worked with trolls in the past, so her craggy gray skin and over seven feet height didn’t put him off. She walked and sat with a hunch, to make herself smaller in the environment or if that was purely her nature, Nicky didn’t know, but her lichen colored hair was done up in a neat bun atop her hair and the tips of her fingers were painted a bright coral color that matched her lipstick. On anyone else, the color would have looked garish, but she seemed to pull it off well.

Elaine didn’t normally have a cubicle, her glass encased office was down the hall, but one of the other proofreaders had called in sick and she had decided it was easier to complete the workload at their desk instead of hauling it over to hers. It meant that the space wasn’t quite suited to fit her, the cubicle walls short enough that the top of her head was clearly visible over them and her knees bumped the top of the desk if she wasn’t careful. Nicky had already heard her mutter curses under her breath at least four times that morning alone and hoped she wouldn’t bruise her kneecaps before the day was done. The permanent scowl her mouth was set in while she worked seemed completely out of place in the cubicle: the actual owner had a thing for bright pink office supplies and the little poster of a kitten hanging onto a branch emblazoned with a “hang in there, baby!” at the bottom definitely seemed like it wasn’t her sort of decor.

“Is it always this bad?” he asked, changing the spelling and punctuation in a paragraph that a toddler could have written better. He tisked, he knew this agent and hadn’t thought they were capable of this...this monstrosity. He was going to have to have words with them once his time in purgatory was up. Not for the first time since agreeing to this sort of punishment, Nicky wished that he had swapped spots with Cam and taken on the rookie agent field assignments instead.

“Sometimes it’s worse.” Her fingers flew across the keyboard, editing as she went. “If it makes you feel any better, Morelli, I’ve never seen any of your reports cross my desk.”

He scoffed before getting up to the little breakroom, the brown low pile carpeting making way for white vinyl linoleum spattered with black and beige speckles. “I should hope not. I look over my reports for typos at least twice with a fine toothed comb before I turn them in.”

“And you still get them done in a timely manner, I’m impressed.”

He came back with a cup of coffee. It wasn’t anything to write home about, but it was hot and at least whoever had made the last pot had made it strong. “What can I say? I’m quick, efficient, and I get the job done right the first time.”

There was a sound from the cubicle almost as if someone were crushing gravel. It took Nicky a split second to realize that was Elaine laughing. “Sounds like the ideal traits for a troll mate,” she joked. “Careful, lest I think you’re trying to come on to me.”

Nicky grinned, though he was inwardly running through his mental catalogue of supernatural mating habits and blanched at what he dragged up. Apparently trolls had a use ‘em and lose ‘em mentality when it came to their partners. The lose part was when they bit off their heads and had them for a post-coital snack. “Now, now,” he said, holding up his hands defensively. “As much as I would like to, I am a married man!”

That gravel noise sounded again, even as Elaine’s fingers continued to clack on the keyboard. “Ha! Good one, Morelli! Pull the other leg while you’re at it!”

“No, it’s true! And believe me, it’s just as much a surprise to me as it is to everyone else!” It had been a week since coming back from Chicago where Isabela had apparently made her home. Communications with her were still in this strange state - how did one text one’s estranged wife romantically without it boiling down to looking like a booty call or an invitation to send nudes, especially when one’s long-lost spouse was prone to stabbing and spellcraft? Seeing that Isabela had already hexed certain body parts of his before, Nicky was careful of his wording, lest his best feature downstairs suffer a second cursed fate.

At least she was responding favorably to his texts, even if his buongiorno, Bella the other day had been answered with a slightly grumpy it is five in the morning, Nicolo. Even so, he’d treasured the picture she added: Isabela in her bedroom, hair sleep-tousled and unkempt, eyes still half-lidded and sleepy looking, lips slightly pursed and cheek pressed against her pillow.

It had become his phone’s home screen almost instantly.

He should just wear her down enough to give him her email address. At least then he could take his time and compose honest to goodness love letters to her, even if they weren’t of the pen and paper variety, instead of having to rely on quickly creating off the cuff compositions that while expressed his sentiments were still a little unpolished.

For someone who hadn’t seen himself as the type of man that was willing to settle down with one woman, Nicky was sure taking the whole matrimony against his will, being magically bound to one woman for all eternity, having knowledge that he’d fathered a child and was currently a grandfather dumped into his lap not even two months ago pretty well. Having this time away from fieldwork and actual missions gave him time for introspection and the fact that his daughter - and how that still had him reeling! - texted him at least once a day to catch him up on her life gave him a warm feeling in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a very long time, if ever. Nicky made a mental note to invest in one of those silicone wedding bands. Gold and other metals weren’t the best to wear out in the field and while his body regenerated severed limbs and whatnot, he really wasn’t interested in accidentally getting a finger crushed or torn off when his hand ultimately got stuck in a door or some other scenario that had already come up several times in the past. Fingers grew back. Fingers also hurt like no one’s business when they were lost and while they grew back. He would like to avoid either scenario as much as possible.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. Would sending his wife an unsolicited picture of his hand while wearing a wedding ring count as flirting? While the tone to their texts had been amiable if not a little icy at times, perhaps the gesture would endear him to her a little bit. He grinned. Maybe it would even earn him an actual phone call. His grin widened. Perhaps, if he played his cards right, the phone call would change from talking about the weather to more steamier topics.

His grin faltered. He wondered what would happen between him and Isabela. While they had only known the other for a paltry week three hundred years ago, Nicky knew when a woman was interested in him but playing hard to get. But what would happen when she decided that he’d suffered long enough, when he’d taken another flight to grovel for her forgiveness at her front door like she said she’d wanted him to do? He was an agent, it was the only life that he’d known since being scooped up, shell shocked and horrified at being brought back to life after being murdered and left to rot in a ditch. He had a life here with the Agency, had a deep loyalty to his unit, surely she wouldn’t expect him to leave it behind to run away from his responsibilities with her? And what of her? She was settled in one spot, she had people of her own that were important to her. He couldn’t ask her to leave that life behind, wouldn’t ask her to leave that life behind, in favor of joining up with the Agency so they could share a cramped windowless room with a narrow full-size bed.

Nicky thought back to her cottage with its iron fence and little backyard garden. Granted, he hadn’t gotten to see the interior of her home very well, seeing as she had stabbed him to death in her kitchen and then shoved him out the back porch, he knew that he wouldn’t want her to trade that life for one here, even if it meant that all their relationship - or whatever this was that they were starting could be called - would ever be merely good morning and good evening texts with brief visits when vacation time was allotted and FaceTime calls filling up the spaces in between.

“You’re spacing out. Daydreaming isn’t going to get that pile of work done.” Nicky blinked and sighed as Elaine looked at him from over the partition. Then he growled, realizing that in the brief moment he had taken to think of Isabela, the work in his virtual inbox had doubled in size.

“No one deserves this kind of torture,” he grumbled, fingers all but slamming on the keys as he corrected “teh” to “the” for the umpteenth time and formatted the entire document to full justification. Did no one know how to write a proper office memo?

“Eh, it pays well.” Elaine got up, shoulders bunched up to her ears and back hunched so she wouldn’t risk brushing the white drop ceiling tiles - tiles Nicky was sure contained asbestos - and made her way to his desk. Before he could say anything, she grabbed the physical files in his to file inbox and made her way over to the wall of dark grey metal filing cabinets. She’d explained on his first day in the department that they weren’t actual filing cabinets, but magical portals to deliver each report to its intended recipient. “Some of us aren’t fit for field duty, so reading badly written reports is the closest we’re ever going to get to the action.”

“Aw, come on, Elaine.” Nicky hit print and deleted the file, moving on to the next. Sure, he understood the whole paper trail as means of securing Agency secrets from getting spilled, but really, all one had to do was get a strong enough firewall and other cybersecurity options and none of this transcribing digital to print would have to happen. He eyed the file cabinets. It wouldn’t take someone with enough skill to break through the security wards to change just where those files ended up to either.

Besides, there was a major loophole in Agency logic: if all the reports were done in the field via laptops or tablets, then what was stopping anyone from leaking company secrets at that level? Somehow, the bureaucratic nature of even having this department, even with the older technology on hand, seemed inefficient and redundant.

Oh well, at least no one was making Nicky type handwritten field notes and reports on an actual typewriter. He was a good typist, but not good enough to avoid going through his share of correction tape and white-out. The backspace key was his friend, one that he could not do without.

“What?” Elaine picked up the report from the copier and made her way towards the file cabinet again.

“I’m just saying, I bet you would be a formidable Agent out in the field.”

She rolled her eyes. “No can do, Morelli. Apparently the powers that be came to the conclusion that my aptitude tests put me at a higher risk of accidental exposure via bloodletting.” She went back to her cubicle and began typing again. “The risk of collateral damage would be too high to let me loose in the world.”

“Yeah, I could see that being a big minus on the pros and cons of getting you into field agent status.”

“Hey, I’m happy where I’m at. I’m being helpful and not causing havoc under some bridge or underpass somewhere. It’s a win-win situation.” She sat back down at the desk, cursing when her knee banged into the desktop hard enough to make the little fake plant that was activated by the overhead lighting wobble precariously on the cute clip-on cubicle wall shelf. “You though?”

“What about me?”

She paused in her typing. “You don’t belong in an office tied to a desk. Those powers that be? I say they did your unit dirty.”

Nicky shrugged. “Yeah, well, we win as a team and we make mistakes as a team. We wouldn’t leave one of us out to dry that way.”

Elaine leaned forward. “And I read the report that another unit gave about the whole incident. Hell, it was so full of typos that I’m pretty damn sure it was meant for me to read. Exiling Agent Adams, especially with no way of fending for herself when it comes to regaining her energy? Demoting your entire unit? Something smells distinctly like bullshit.”

Nicky sagged in his desk chair. “Fuck. And here I thought it was just me being my usual paranoid self.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s just that I can’t find any evidence that would suggest why anyone would set Win up to fail that way. And I definitely can’t find any evidence that would suggest why, knowing the way that Cam leads our unit and how loyal we are to the other, that anyone would want to take us out of commission. It wasn’t the old Delta unit, they fought being promoted to Charlie the entire way, and no one jumped up to try to play unit ranking hopscotch either.”

“I wish I could tell you something, I really do. All I know is that my gut is saying this isn’t right.” She gave him a pointed look over the cubicle wall. “It isn’t much, but I can keep my eyes peeled for any leads.”

He nodded. “Thanks, but I don’t want to drag you into anything, especially if this turns out to be something big.”

“You’re not dragging me if I go willingly, Morelli. While I may not be busting heads and whatnot out on the surface, let me do my own sort of carnage of the paperwork variety. In the meantime, take an early lunch.”

“Elaine, it’s only nine fifteen.”

“Then take an early brunch. I’ve already got myself caught up on my own paperwork and once I get this stuff done, I’ll move onto your workstation. That report that came in? Hit up Agent Kline in Unit Foxtrot, see if they’ll give you any information.” She winked. “And I’ll understand if traffic was so bad that you couldn’t get back to the office today. Just be sure to come in at regular time tomorrow morning.”

He got up and shrugged on his jacket, stuffing his phone back into an inner pocket. “Thanks, Elaine. You’re a doll.”

She made a vague shooing motion with her hand. “Quiet, I’ve got a reputation to uphold. And if you talk to her, tell Agent Adams hello.”

Nicky made his way out of the Records Department and strode down the labyrinthine hallways of the Facility. It was a strange sense to step out of whatever time era the department was stuck in and step into a more modern hallway. For a brief moment, Nicky almost preferred the archaic, not quite retro feel of the office instead. Tugging on his jacket collar, he pulled out his phone. Cam and Penny would want to hear what he discovered for themselves.

As he strode down the empty hall, texting as he walked, he thought back to Elaine. He made a mental note to make a trip topside that evening. As thanks for helping shed some light on ideas that had been bothering him, he was buying her the best coffeemaker he could find to replace the sad, beaten up plastic and glass number that took up way too much space on the counter.

He’d even go out of his way to get her the good coffee beans.

#31daysofwayhaven #my writing #nicolo morelli #do I know where this rambling sideplot is going?#no I do not #will it get resolved before the month is over?#no it will not #listen I'm doing NaNoWriMo a month early with this challenge #and I'm in the home stretch with less than 8K words left to go #I do not control the story or the characters I just go where they want to go with each prompt

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marveldc-imagines-hub · 5 years

Text

That’s Not a Real Kiss (Telltale John Doe x Reader)

A/N: Here’s a thing nobody asked for that I’ve had on my mind literally since I created this blog. I love soft John Doe and just want him to be happy because Harley’s abusive and Bruce is a jackass; you’re welcome.

My take on the Telltale Harley Quinn/Joker dynamic is that it’s essentially a switcheroo on the regular representation of the couple, with John Doe being the unstable but more or less well-meaning pushover and Harley being the manipulative, abusive mastermind. With a side of Bruce also being kind of a dumpster fire of a character, in my opinion. I just mention this because I recently realized that this apparently isn’t the most popular take on Telltale’s Joker and a good portion of people still think he’s the main mastermind and has Harley wrapped around his finger. To each their own.

Word count: 1999 (2001 before editing; longer than what I usually write, woo)

Summary: You’ve been close friends with John for a while now, but have grown tired of his blind affections for people didn’t seem to think nearly as highly of him. During another late night of listening to him fawn over Harley and Bruce, you end up deciding to confront him--and corner yourself into confessing your own feelings for him in the process.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse (nothing too graphic), a bit of a cliffhanger? (I might make a sequel if people are interested); I started this months ago and just continued/finished it at three am this morning, so while I did edit it and al that jazz, there may still be the occasional grammar error and choppy writing. That being said, I did also try to write it in a way that felt lengthy and breathless and jumpy? I guess? In hopes of portraying how the reader was feeling and the way their brain was buzzing out of nervousness. Lemme know how I did.

Like what I do? Leave me a tip!

~~~~~

You sat crouched against the wall of John Doe’s scrappy home within the warehouse hideout of the criminal group he’d decided to attach himself to, a scowl etched into your features as you watched him flamboyantly pace around. Seeing him so happy would normally make you happy too, and if he wasn’t talking about the two most manipulative people in his life like they were gods, you would have been. Unfortunately, though, Harley and Bruce were the ones bringing that adorable grin to his face, so you sat unenthusiastically nursing the drink John had provided and stewing in a mental pool of God, I wish that were me.

Then, against your better judgement, you decided to do something about it.

“Hey, Johnny.” You placed your drink down with a hard clink against the concrete floor and glanced up at the man, who had stopped his affectionate rambling with an embarrassed grin; god, you loved that grin. Most people found it unnerving, saying that paired with his paper pale skin it made John look like the living dead--or a clown if they were a crackhead. You, however, found it fitting for him, a strangely cute smile for a strangely cute man. You just wished you were the cause of it more often.

You also wished that what you were going to say wouldn’t result in an argument but you knew it probably would anyway. Shaking aside your butterfly-stirring thoughts and grumbling--partially in case Harley or her criminal buddies were still wandering around the warehouse at this hour, mainly because you’d almost immediately lost all the confidence you had about five seconds ago--you repeated, “Hey, Johnny--”

“Hey, [Y/N/N],” John chirped back, relaxing enough to take a seat on an overturned crate across from you. Curiosity and a bit of confusion sparkled in his green-gray eyes, and his head was tilted slightly to the side. He looked like a puppy; a sweet, dorky, green-haired, white-skinned, horribly lost puppy. One of those pretty soft eyes was still purple-black and partially swollen shut, a punishment from Harley Quinn herself after John had gotten a little too excited and caused a mission earlier today to turn sour. Better than getting a bullet through the eye instead, though that thought didn’t make you feel much better about it.

Still, he smiled, shining like a ray of sun in the dark chaos that was Gotham these days. Still, he fawned over Harley and treated her like a queen.

The idea of it made you want to hurl. You could almost feel the frown lines etching themselves into your skin.

“Why do you like either of them?” you blurted, louder than you had meant to and apparently cutting John off from speaking at the same time; his lips had parted and one of his hands had risen just as words were pouring from your own mouth.

John’s response was a blink, then a chuckle, then that rubbing of the back of his neck that he did when he was flustered. He’d blush if he could, but he couldn’t so he started talking instead. “Well, as I was saying--”

You winced at the slow way he’d said ‘saying,’ like he was annoyed that you’d prevented him from continuing his love-struck rant about a couple of bullies. “You know what I mean, John. I don’t want you to go off on another tangent. We’ve talked about this before.”

It’s true. Despite your unwillingness, this wasn’t the first time you’d gotten enough courage to call John out on his self-destructive bullshit. You’d initially joined The Pact because you had had nowhere else to go at the time, a Gotham newbie with no money but with an attitude and a penchant for eavesdropping and minor pickpocketing--the key was to return the wallet from the person you’d taken it from, acting like they’d dropped it during you bumping into them; everyone in Gotham was too busy to check if anything was missing right then, and you were bland enough in appearance to have basically disappeared and been forgotten by the time they’d noticed. Sometimes, if you were lucky, you might even be mistaken for a homeless ragamuffin and given more money than what you stole from a particularly sympathetic victim.

By the time you’d impressed Harley enough to join her squad of crazy, saving you from sleeping at bus stops and bathing in sinks at gas stations, John Doe was showing up with his friend. His friend Bruce Wayne, AKA Batman--it wasn’t difficult to figure out who the man behind the mask was, if you were really looking; the fact was that no one in Gotham really wanted to ruin the illusion--who you soon realized wasn’t really a friend at all. Like Harley, Bruce used John as pawn at every turn, and you, who had made friends with the lively man pretty easily, couldn’t stand it; you’d quickly learned that John was brilliantly clever, entertaining, had a very intriguing set of gray morals, and was almost completely unaware of the poor treatment he was receiving. After a few weeks of enduring the irritation of watching two mightier-than-thou Gothamites treating your friend like a doormat with the intelligence of a box of rocks, and in some cases saving him from and nursing him back to health after suffering Harley’s wrath, you decided to put on your adult pants and deal with the problem head on: showing John what he was avoiding seeing and hoping to whatever being of high power that he believed you.

At some point among the many high-energy, zany moments you’d experienced with John, but more likely during one of the few gentler, more caring ones, you had caught feelings for the bizarre but lovely man. This realization had you further searching for shooting stars, tossing pennies into fountains, praying, doing whatever else you thought may help every time you every time you considered talking with him about his toxic loved ones. Silently begging that he wouldn’t get so upset with you that he’d decide to completely cut ties with you, or worse--tell Harley what you’d been trying to do, most likely resulting in your corpse being thrown off a Gotham pier.

Now John sat across from you, his long-fingered hands fiddling with each other and his purple-shoed foot tapping and his pale gaze shifting to look anywhere but at you as he considered what to say. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how to explain his love for an abuser and a manipulator without losing the one person who never seemed to grow tired of him.

“[Y/N],” he finally drawled, hesitant, then with a chuckle, “I know you don’t like them but they’re great guys, really; you just need to give them a chance. Harls? She can be real sweet, as long as you stay on her good side and do what she says. And Bruce! Sure, he’s a little grumbly around the edges but--”

“John,” you cried softly, desperately, and rose to your feet. In a few steps you were right in front of him, kneeling and gently pressing a hand to the side of his face that was still bruised. Your face was twisted in pain, none felt for yourself, as you brushed a hand over the surprisingly cool but still puffy skin under his black eye; you looked directly into it, a half moon of silvery green almost hidden by purple flesh, as you continued, “Bruce is a rich boy with a hero complex doing whatever he needs to do and screwing over people he doesn’t think matters in order to finish a mission. Harley Quinn is a menace. She would have smashed your head in if I hadn’t distracted her with new mission plans; that wasn’t even twenty-four hours ago! The bruises from her almost strangling you because you went out to the carnival with me without telling her are just now beginning to fade. I didn’t get a punishment like that, and you know why? Because she thinks I’m useful and she thinks you’re a toy that she can play with and then throw away whenever she wants. She knows you worship the ground she walks on, but I’ve seen you noticing that you don’t deserve the treatment she’s dealing out. People who love you don’t treat you like that, John. Bruce and Harley don’t care about you. They don’t love you. They’re not even your friends.”

Emotionally exhausted and scared that you had crossed a line you shouldn’t have, you ended your speech with a slow breath. You took a moment to look away, shake off the feeling of your eyes burning. You only looked back at John when you felt his cold hand on yours, felt his face lean into your warm palm.

The green-ette who was all limbs and jawline--he looked more like a deer in headlights than a curious puppy now--was watching you, his eyes wide and conflicted. He seemed to be struggling to say something again; you could feel his hands quivering and see him chewing the inside of his cheek in thought. Then he blinked, pressed his cheek more securely into your hand, and asked in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use, “Do you?”

You grew more flustered and confused the longer the moment stretched on, and it was your turn to tilt your head slightly. “Do I…?”

“You said they don’t love me,” John clarified, and you felt your mouth go dry. “You said people who love me don’t treat me like that. You’ve never treated me like that.”

Attempting to bring moisture back to your mouth in order to protest, to deny the truths John was claiming, only resulted in what you assumed was pretty unattractive grumble and cough. Not that you thought John would care; you knew he wouldn’t. You did, however, realize that talking was futile, so you took a moment to think of the next best thing. Just as John began to start a new thought again, just as doubt began to blossom in his eyes, you decided to throw all caution to the wind and kiss him.

A small kiss. A very slight brush of the lips. And not on his lips, but right in the center of his forehead.

There was a moment of silence, another excruciatingly long one that briefly made you feel like you were having a heart attack, until you felt the brush of eyelashes on your jaw when John blinked once again.

“That’s not a real kiss.”

You could help bark a short laugh at the pouty tone your friend’s--friend?--voice had. You began to sit back on your heels, apologizing more about the fact that you had kissed John at all than because he’d considered the kiss ‘fake.’ Before you could pull away fully, however, you felt chilly hands make their way from your arm to your shoulder, then to your neck and jaw, pulling you closer. You hadn’t noticed that you had closed your eyes until you opened them again, and then inhaled sharply. You saw the look on John’s face, something new and breathtaking and lacking any of the sadness or doubt that was usually there lately, and smelled a faint cologne all around you--did he always wear that?--and finally felt his breath on your lips when he spoke again.

“It’s okay,” he said, responding to your apology. Pulling you ever closer--you could brush noses and lips now, and even though you felt your eyes flutter shut again but could still see that face behind your lids--he continued, “I’ll do it.”

You weren’t sure, as John’s lips met yours, where this kiss would take you or where the man’s thoughts were at. All you did know was that your doubts of having a chance with John flew right out the window at you leaned into his touch, and that if Harley wanted a fight for him, you’d give her a war.

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o0o-chibaken-o0o · 5 years

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Communal 2018 Drarry Rec List

IT’S HERE, EVERYBODY!!! And it’s long! Thank you so so much to everyone who sent in their favorite fics written in 2018! To make this easier to navigate, I’ve created categories that make sense to me based on this collection of fics — obviously many fit into multiple categories, but I tried my best to place them accurately! I had so much fun looking through these and talking to everyone about their favorite fics, and I’m already super excited to do this again next year!! :D

Note that all recs were written by the person who submitted each fic, and they are in no particular order within their categories :)

ENJOY!

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EIGHTH YEAR

The Nightmare Club by Elle Gray / @diligent-thunder (85K)- Hermione and Ron are going back to Hogwarts to do N.E.W.T.s, Ginny isn't. Harry hasn't decided, until he has, in front of the Wizengamot and now he's responsible for Malfoy as well. A tale of enemies who learn to get along, get it wrong and get it on. Everything is purple, some things are on fire and no-one is sleeping properly. But don't worry, there's tea! Wishing you could curl up on a purple couch in an eighth year common room stocked with hundreds of varieties of tea and eavesdrop on our favorite Hogwarts kids as they attempt to adjust to a normal school year? If you love awkward miscommunications, snuggling, open minded acceptance, kind-hearted friends, and—of course—mutual pining, this fic is for you.

Sex and The Art of Castle Maintenance by birdsofshore (15K)- "Come on, boys," Zabini drawled. "You’re only delaying the inevitable." Trouble always had a way of finding Harry, and eighth year was obviously going to be no exception. The antagonism, tension, and heat leaps off the screen, and I could NOT put this story down.

To Hurt and Heal by @cassisluna (21.5K)- They say that everybody who gets out of Azkaban comes out a little mad. After the war, Draco Malfoy spends three months in Azkaban. He just wants to go insane in peace, but Harry Potter finds that he, inexplicably, still can't leave Draco alone. I went into this expecting angst, but by the end I got Eighth Year fluff and a whole lot of eating breakfast. Can't say I didn't love it.

Orbit by HenryMercury (52.5K)- "The classical problem of celestial mechanics, perhaps of all Newtonian mechanics, involves the motion of one body about another under the influence of their mutual gravitation." *They don't like each other. They're not friends. There's not even a ceasefire of any sort because they're fighting as much as ever—but there's definitely something different about it. An added layer of self-awareness they don't dare identify, but which colours every Scared, Potter? and Do your worst; each You wouldn't dare and Then prove it. 8th year fic that does such a fabulous job of bringing Harry and Draco together, that makes their pairing so realistic, even non-drarry shippers would be able to see the appeal.

Once Upon a Time by @fantom-ftnoise (12.5K)- This is the story of Hansel & Gretel - er, that is, Harry & Draco. A wonderful retelling of Hansel and Gretel, with amazing (and delightfully creepy) sensory descriptions, humour, nail-biting tension and a glorious happy ending.

Eighteen Kisses by tigersilver (10K)- Harry is being targeted by a very determined and wily Malfoy, a Malfoy with sly hands and a sweet, sweet mouth. The story features adorably fluffy Draco and insanely flustered Harry, with chocolate and sweet kisses

It takes 36 Questions to fall in love by @gnarf (14K)- After returning to Hogwarts for their 8th year, Harry and Draco can't seem to stop fighting, much to the irritation of staff and students alike. Their last fight escalated and Harry and Draco are forced to room together by a pretty angry Headmistress. They will have to stay in their new quarters until they overcome their differences. But it wouldn’t be McGonagall if she didn’t have a plan. To help them achieve this goal (and to save everyone else from going crazy because of them) she gave them a charmed parchment that will ask a series of personal questions. Over the next couple of days they'll learn much more about each other than they could ever have imagined. A precious they-finally-start-understand-eachother story that left me feeling fuzzy and happy

Oblivious by lealamalfoy / @gregqoyle (17.5K)- Harry doesn't believe his Amortentia's scent is correct, and starts questioning the potion and his feelings. Of course Malfoy, of all people, is the one to answer these questions Harry's lack of communication with the female population and Draco's lack of communication with Harry is infuriating to new levels

Heart of Silver/Heart of Gold by @lettersbyelise (54.5K)- Draco Malfoy, a young demon specialising in school bullying, has lived hundreds of uneventful lives. Until his world is turned upside down by his newest assignment a few days before Christmas: to get rid of 8th year classmate Harry Potter, Defeater of Dark Lords and thorn in the side of all things evil. Trouble is, Draco’s world has been upside down for a while… ever since he started having very human feelings for a certain bespectacled Gryffindor. It’s a slow burn fic where Draco is a demon sent to torture and kill Harry buuuuut feelings are involved; also there’s a Niffler names Jeff and some very amusing Ron moments!

AUROR(S) / CURSE BREAKER(S)

Ten Thousand Reasons Why Not by @lqtraintracks (8.5K)- Harry and Draco are stand-ins for the usual witch who gives the workplace harassment and sexual consent talk to the Auror trainees. Amazingly funny and sexy fic, featuring public UST, great dialogue and banter, and smut to die for.

Changeling by Obscurus343 (86K)- The assignment seems to be an excuse to get the Boy Who Lived away from the press for a while – Head Auror Savage is human, after all. But when they arrive to Barebone Castle, Aurors Potter and Malfoy realize that something sinister may indeed be going on. It's terrifying. It's cursed. It's some next level freaky shit that nobody can explain. But not to worry! Two lovestruck idiots are on the case. warm and funny, with a wonderfully crafted cast, spooky mystery and more handholding and cuddling than your heart can take

Cold Like Fire by @queenofthyme (12K)- Head Auror Harry Potter had no problem with mandatory consent training for his team. He’d actually been looking forward to it, that is, until he discovered who the teacher was. Now, he had no idea how he was going to get through the training without throwing a hex at Draco Malfoy. Or a punch. This fic is absolutely hilarious and full of so many wonderful drarry-y moments!

The Partner, the Rival and the Very Big Case by oceaxe (24.5K)- When Harry and Nott are paired up to go undercover as fake boyfriends, Draco is disappointed not to get the assignment. It's just professional jealousy that's making him feel so upset. Obviously. He's engaged to be married to Astoria, after all.But when he walks in on Nott kissing Harry for 'practice' and has a wild magic outbreak, he starts to think that something else might be going on. Is Nott right? Is Draco a homophobe? Or is there... just possibly... another explanation? Funny as hell and sexy too, it features a Draco grappling with his attraction to Harry, his jealousy regarding him, and his own sexuality, when their partnership gets split up for a case.

Cabin in the Forest by @justdrarryme (23K)- Of course Harry would get partnered with Malfoy when Ron leaves the Aurors, nothing in his life could ever be easy. What he hadn't counted on though were his feelings for the other man. Or, Harry and Draco get trapped in a Bundling Bed and are forced to work their shit out. The art that this fic is based on (by ano-ka-ba) is incredible, and the way these two get out of their predicament is hot as hell.

Still Catch The Tide by @dwell-the-brave, art by Razielim and Apriicat (57K)- When a ravaged body is found on Blackpool beach front, newly partnered Aurors Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are sent to investigate. This is a make-or-break case for Harry - solve the case and not scare his partner away, or risk his career. But when another body appears, and another, this mystery goes far deeper than either of them could have imagined. from Big Bang, this Auror partners casefic has suspense, rich writing with a thread of melancholy, and gorgeous art.

In Our Blood by @secretsalex (38K)- Draco is an accomplished pure-blood curse breaker, and Harry is tasked with accompanying him on his latest job—cleaning up the Van Boer mansion, which has been under a devastating fertility curse for seven generations. reading this is like watching a gorgeously shot, terrifying horror film. Don't let that scare you off - it's compelling and will leave you thinking about it long after you close the tab.

COMING OUT / LGBT+ THEMES

Little Compton Street (One Rainy Night in Soho) by @writcraft (65.5K)- Draco is lonely, Harry hates the press and it won’t stop raining in London. Harry discovers a magical street that’s close to disappearing forever and Draco realises he’s one rainy night in Soho away from finding everything he’s been searching for. This fic is a BEAUTIFUL ode to LGBT culture and community, and was so so moving in addition to being an extremely entertaining read with a great relationship between Harry and Draco

Rookie Moves by Elle Grey / @diligent-thunder (60K)- So the war's over and Harry's a Rookie Auror, and everything seems... fine? I mean, he's single, his life is mostly work and he hasn't been out in ages and he's tired and annoyed most of the time, and he should probably be a bit more social, but the last time he kissed a girl he had to Obliviate her... but that's normal, right? And then Robards throws him a file, yells at him a bit and he finds himself guarding Malfoy of all people, and maybe that little feeling in his gut he thought he'd disproved as indigestion once and for all.... maybe was something else. Something lots gayer. A tragically under appreciated coming out fic that legit made me laugh so hard I cried.

Around You Moves by ignatiustrout / @dracomalfoyofficial (29.5K)- Harry knew Draco was gay when he invited him to move in. He’s never had a problem with this. So why does he feel so weird about Draco bringing men home all of a sudden? a fabulous fic in which Harry thinks he’s homophobic when he hates seeing Draco with other men ... and then he realizes a few things about himself ;)

Harry Potter and the Bisexual Awakening by @writcraft (23K)- Harry is perfectly content being single, heterosexual and living in Godric's Hollow with his very clingy rescue dog, Snitch. When Draco Malfoy turns up on Harry's doorstep demanding that Harry teach him how to drive, things quickly become a lot more complicated. Funny, sharply-written and sexy, HPatBA has everything I love about reading drarry (snark and UST, fantastic prose, emotional connection and hot sex) but brings an awesome new perspective to coming out, in queer fic.

When You Kiss Me (What a Lovely Way to Burn) by @femmequixotic (22K)- A drag fairytale of New York in which Draco wears red lipstick and Potter can’t get enough A fantastic piece of writing that explores a genderqueer Draco, working at a drag club in New York, where he sees Harry for the first time in years. (note from chibi: THIS FIC IS SO BEAUTIFUL IT WILL GIVE YOU A SEXUAL AWAKENING AND I WANT TO HOLD IT CLOSE FOREVER)

DANCING/CLUBBING

Kill, Fuck, Marry by @lettersbyelise (12.5K)- Malfoy leans toward him with a baleful look. “I do believe Pansy Parkinson, my best friend, paid you to spend the evening with me. It’s my birthday, Potter. So you’re going to get off your Gryffindor arse, and you’re going to dance with me. I want to dance. I want to win. I want that bloody trophy on my shelf before the end of the night.” Harry and Draco unexpectedly meet again on Draco’s birthday, years after their last encounter. Incredulity, banter, witty conversation, gin and tonics and impromptu dancing ensue. It’s only natural, of course, that Draco would expect his birthday night to finish with a bang… Perfectly in-character dialogue and great heat during what starts as an awkward, unintended date between Draco and Harry. Two Truths and all those Hidden Lies by @keyflight790 (7.5K)- It didn’t matter whether Draco knew about the Polyjuice or not; nor did it matter what face Harry deigned to hide behind in the club. Draco could spot Potter a mile away. Polyjuice could change his face. It could change the way his hair sat along his scalp, and the color of his eyes, and the shape of his lips. It could change his height and the way his muscles rippled beneath his shirt. It could change the swell of his arse, the length of his... Not that Draco was thinking of that. The fact that Draco can recognize Harry even without his awful glasses and stupid scar warms my heart every time.

Brick by Brick by @agentmoppet (8K)- There’s something between the two of them, something that builds beneath the smoky lights of the club and grows stronger during midnight conversations held on a rooftop high above the streets of London. But Draco wants to wait. deals beautifully with consent and all the waiting the two men go through to build something that is not just sex.

ANGST & HURT/COMFORT

Away Childish Things by @letteredlettered (154K)- Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him. “You’re crying over that fan fiction about the children again, aren’t you.” -my husband

I could be wrong, I could be ready by @harryromper (57.5K)- (...) Harry Potter left Britain after the war and didn’t look back. Ten years later, when Gringotts discovers a vault containing his parents’ belongings—including their badly spell-damaged wedding rings—he’s forced to face up to friends and family who’ve grown in ways he could never imagine, a wizarding London rebuilt beyond his expectations, and the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. And if that wasn’t enough, there’s the entirely unforeseen problem of Draco Malfoy. Featuring pureblood wizarding traditions, ancestral magic, open mic nights, marriage equality, a diner in Brooklyn, and the return of Fleamont Potter. I am like ......so overwhelmed by how this fic is so amazing like my goodness

Chocolate and Pastry by @agentmoppet, art by @anemonensblog (50.5K)- When Pansy bets Draco that there is no chance he and Harry could carry out a genuine romantic relationship, he and Harry form a plan. But as their fake relationship progresses, Draco sees a side of Harry he never expected. Harry is struggling with something, pushing it far down inside him where he doesn't have to acknowledge its existence. Draco starts to worry, and then he starts to care, and then... horribly... he starts to fall in love. Fake relationships are always fantastic, but this one just hits you right in the feels, and is so beautiful!!

Things You’ve Told Him All Along by thirdeyeblinkings (19K)- Anonymous fire calls, blind dates, awkward run-ins, and kissing in the d-a-r-k. But besides all that, a story about hiding, coming out, and starting over (and over). It is so wonderfully written with artist!Draco and it tackles mental health issues just beautifully.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (20.5K)- When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want. He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try. This fic is wonderful and devastating and one of the best I’ve ever read. I think I cried 5 times while reading this but it’s worth it because it’s so beautifully written.

Antlers and Ivy by @violetclarity (19K)- The thing is, Draco has always known he wouldn’t be able to marry his soulmate. Finding out his soulmate is Harry Potter shouldn’t change anything. Or: soulmarks, a masquerade ball, and gratuitous use of The Daily Prophet as a plot device. A beautiful examination of the soulmate trope, filled with longing that made me ache and a resolution that made me want to cheer.

That Which Marks You by @belleslettres-love (8K)- After the war, Harry is struggling… He knows his heart should be aching from the loss of his loved ones. Instead, he feels nothing. Draco feels everything… cold, hunger, pain from being forced out of the Wizarding world… forced to be a beggar—or worse—just to survive. When Harry sees Draco, shivering on a street corner, he knows one thing: Draco Malfoy is the only one who can make him feel. It starts with dark!Harry which is not my thing usually, but it devolves into cute relationship that we all love.

SLOW BURN

Charming Chocolates by @fantom-ftnoise (100.5K)- The summer following the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry Potter visited his parents' graves and disappeared in a mysterious attack. His wand was recovered but the trail soon went cold and the world moved on. Twelve years later, Remus Lupin discovers James Charming, of Charming Chocolates, a mute man with no memories before July of 1998. James Charming, father of identical twin boys and loving boyfriend to a Scottish Muggle named Monty, is ripped out of his comfortable life and forced to rediscover Hogwarts, magic, and a whole world of past memories. His Mind Healer helps him to balance his new life with his old memories. A rift is formed between James and Monty, and he finds himself wanting to spend more and more time with Healer Malfoy. Meanwhile, Auror Weasley tries to solve the mystery of who is out for Harry Potter's head before it's too late. A breathtaking, heart-warming, story that explores trauma, disability, dysfunctional relationships, family, bravery and love.

Nero su bianco by zuzallove (35K)- September 1997. Hogwarts is under the regime of Voldemort and the Carrows. Finding himself alienated by both his friends and his supposed enemies, Draco puts quill to parchment, and writes letters. He addresses them to the only person he can think of, as Hogwarts rapidly falls into chaos and ruin: Harry Potter. He goes to great lengths to ensure the letters are never discovered, and he’s pretty certain he’s done a great job. Until the day of his trial. Its heartbreakingly sad, beautiful and funny at the same time featuring Trial!Draco required to reveal his feelings/true self in front of the Wizengamot

It actually hurts by @parkkate (52K)- For years, Draco has tried to avoid Harry Potter. He just knows he’ll make a fool out of himself if they spent more than five minutes in a room together. Unfortunately, Potter suddenly seems intent on becoming Draco’s friend, but neither of them are prepared for the inevitable consequences... There is so much love and emotion in this, so much body-positivity and so much pining - it’s simply beautiful.

Never Grow a Wishbone by ShanaStoryteller (65K WIP)- She almost smiles, and true alarm starts to build in his chest. “I’m afraid I’m not here for something so small. Professor Roberts has resigned.” “Good,” Draco says honestly, “Would you like a list of suitable alternatives? I know a number of competent potions masters abroad, but then of course you’d have to hire another teacher to act as the Slytherin head. I’m afraid you’ve dried up all the half decent Slytherin Potions masters.” “Not all of them,” she says quietly. [...] a hogwarts professor au which consists of a lot of world building and lore

CREATURE FIC

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (104.5K)- Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria. This is a fantastic take on the classic creature fic, which plays into some Veela tropes and turns others on their heads; very funny and warm and realistic drarry, too.

Hush, Darling by @magpiefngrl (23.5K)- Draco is in trouble. To get out of it he needs to seduce Harry Potter. One of the coolest, most original creature fics ever, featuring Draco as an Incubus who's tasked, under threat, with getting something from Harry -- who he makes the mistake of falling in love with.

In The Red by @bixgirl1 (45.5K)- When Harry goes looking for a vampire at a Creature club, the second-to-last thing Harry expects is to find Malfoy working there. The last thing he expects is to fall in love with him. It's so beautifully written I gasped, so hot I died, and so damn good I'm going to reread it for years to come.

ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE(S)

Tangiers by @magpiefngrl (4K)- The one where Harry and Draco are archaeologists, ex boyfriends and seeking the same priceless and possibly cursed object. Featuring a revolver, the spirits of dead monks and a bed they can hardly fit in. Adventurous, sexy and highly relatable, the AU of AUs, ladies and gentlemen, a masterfully crafted tale that feels simultaneously fantastical and down to earth, that includes a substantial backstory that left me wanting more, that presents a version of Harry and Draco that is incredibly true to the characters and kept me on my toes every second.

Purple, Peach and Vibrant Green by @queenofthyme (3.5K)- Draco Malfoy has a waiter pretend to be his date to impress an ex. Of course, it helps when that waiter is exceedingly attractive and happens to be Harry Potter. Solid fic. 5/10. (note from chibi: @jadepresley is very rude to her friends but she actually loves this super cute fic and so will you)

Men Who Love Dragons Too Much by fencer_x, art by @danasauurrr (479K)- [Extensive re-telling of Deathly Hallows] As in Half-blood Prince, Draco is charged by Voldemort with killing Dumbledore—only instead of trying to do his best with the challenge, he realizes he’s been set a futile task and focuses on finding a way to save both himself and his parents. He eventually decides to spend his sixth year studying Animagecraft, convinced it's his best shot at escaping the impossible situation he's found himself in. But just his luck, his Animagus form turns out to be a dragon, and a rather randy juvenile at that, intent on finding its mate: one Harry James Potter. from Big Bang, an inventive and unique story with Draco as a dragon animagus, and a retelling of Deathly Hallows. With art!

Every Me and Every You by @bixgirl1 (69.5K)- Harry liked his life just fine, thankyouverymuch — so it was bad enough when a sly fairy cursed him to leap into alternate realities. But seeing Malfoy in all of them? Definitely way too much. And worse yet: needing the bastard's help to figure out how to get out of of it. It was a disaster waiting to happen, really. Well... probably. Fabulously written, stunningly complex and multi-layered, with sizzling tension between H/D, LEGILIMENCY SEX (and other hot, hot sex), inventively plotted, perfect in every single way.

survival is a talent by ShanaStoryteller (219K WIP)- In the middle of their second year, Draco and Harry discover they're soulmates and do their best to keep it a secret from everyone.Their best isn't perfect. a soulmate au that starts in 2nd year, when harry and draco find out that they’re soulmates - my favorite fic ever

FAMILY / KID!FIC

All I Want For Christmas (Is For You To Stop Talking) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (163K)- The Niffler's Garden is the most prestigious wizarding nursery school in England and has been for the last century or more. Harry Potter's boys are both enrolled as pupils at the Garden. When he volunteers to assist with the Yule pageant, he has no idea that he'll be working closely with another parent, Draco Malfoy. Although they haven't seen each other much since their own school days, Harry faults Malfoy for not being a hands-on dad to little Scorpius. Will the intense weeks of preparation fan the fires of enmity or something else entirely? This is the most perfect holiday fic ever with children and a pageant and amazing side characters and tons of lovely winter feels!

Sunshine, Fresh Air, Telly, and Time by frnklymrshnkly (32.5K)- Immediately following the war, Andromeda and Harry must look after Teddy. But who will look after them? a wonderfully loving and bittersweet tale of Draco, Harry, and Narcissa living with Andromeda after the war—all raising Teddy as they grieve and heal together.

Failed Application of Thought by RuArcher (67K)- Draco sighed, knowing he would live to regret his next words, “I’m willing to do anything it takes to get Scorpius the life he deserves, even if that means pretending to be madly in love with you, you intolerable buffoon.” This is a fabulous fake dating fic filled with all the feelings you could ever desire, and it has one of my favorite Dracos ever-- I just want to wrap him up and protect him and Scorpius forever!

papa says harry potter helps people by jilliancares (10K)- Draco Malfoy is reintroduced into Harry's life when a little boy enters his shop, lost. The same little boy upends all his bookshelves, which Draco holds himself responsible for. It all kind of escalates from there. contains very adorable Scorpius moments, Harry running a book shop, and Draco and Harry slowly falling for each other.

POST-HOGWARTS

Ynys Afallach (I will give my Love an Apple) by @femmequixotic and @noeeon (42.5K)- Professor Waverley Root's tutorial in the history of magical food is something of a legend at Flamel College. Draco Malfoy wants to apply it to his work in sustainable wizarding agriculture. Harry Potter's taking it for his interest in historical overlap between the magical and Muggle worlds in the West Country. When Root pairs them together, the fireworks (and the apples!) fly. Now if only they can find something original, perhaps they'll make it through to complete their degrees on time. Okay this fic is highly underrated and needs 5x the current kudos- it has university students!drarry, sexual tension out the roof, amazing use of arthurian legend, brilliant magical theory, and is just all around brilliant as fuck!!

Silver Soul by @dracoismytrashson (75K)- It's about a year after the war, and Draco is a bit of a London hipster working at a record store. Harry is lonely and confused about what to do with his life so hanging out with Draco and listening to shoegaze records to pass the time seems like a perfectly viable option. one of my favorite Draco in the Muggle world stories ever. Misunderstandings, softness, snarkiness, shoegaze.

Tell Me the End at the Beginning by @harryromper (36.5K)- St Mungo’s is the last place anyone wants to spend the festive season. Harry finds himself there anyway. Or: Harry's an Auror suspended from duty, Malfoy's wearing the hell out of three-piece suits, Hermione is entirely over everything, and Kreacher just wants to be left alone to decorate for Christmas. Draco Malfoy wears three-piece suits. Like, if that's not enough to convince you, I don't know what is.

Chasing Treacle Tart (and Draco Malfoy) by xErised (23K)- Malfoy, who is sentenced to work as a dinner lady in the Ministry canteen, has an annoying habit of withholding desserts from Harry. Harry puts up with it, but when Malfoy stops him from getting his beloved treacle tart, Harry is determined to do something about it. And Ron? He's really just there for the awkward flirting. This fic is funny, sexy, compelling, and just all around delightful :)

Castle on the Hill by tsundanire/@breathofmine (1.5K)- Based on Ed Sheeran's "Castle on the Hill"Harry takes a "road trip" back to England after spending a few years in Romania working with dragons. It had been 10 years since Harry left, and the honest and pure relationship he built with Malfoy over letters is gorgeous. They both just hope that meeting again after all that time will be just as wonderful. (and it is)

Highly (in)Compatible by @gracie137blogs (37.5K)- Draco’s been shagging The Prat Who Lived on and off for a few months when his soul mark starts to change. Draco’s had to accept a lot of adjustments to his life, but accepting that Harry Potter could be his soulmate is one step too far. It can’t be true? Can it? One of the best takes on soulmates I’ve read with excellent magical theory and an exploration of free will, and which includes a wonderful cast of characters and lots of humour and banter; Draco’s voice here is fantastic.

The Kitchen Thieves (and the Kitchen Herself) by @potteresque_ire (Pie) (67K)- In a deserted cottage miles away from Hogsmeade, two young spirits waited for a new owner to call the place home. One day, Auror Harry Potter bought the cottage. One evening, farm wizard Draco Malfoy showed up to spend the night with Harry...and steal a pepper shaker from the kitchen. Maybe Kate can tell you all about them? She’s the spirit who looks after the kitchen, and she’s got quite a bit to say… Pie took the sentient houses trope and ran with it; utterly unique fic, with incredible rich characterisations and an emotional arc that had me reading the last part through copious (happy) tears.

SMUT

In the dark, the light by Phrynne (32K)- ‘Potter… It’s Malfoy. Do you still want this?’ It started like that. Malfoy’s breath on his ear, his voice low, hot against his skin. Harry shivered, though he could feel the heat from Malfoy’s body just behind him, too close, but not touching him. Even if he could. For the rest of the night, he could do whatever the hell he wanted with Harry. The best bdsm I’ve EVER read.

Whole New Kinds of Weather by @lower-east-side (2.5K)- She’s just as compelling as she’s ever been. Incredible UST, perfect dialogue, scorching, fabulous sex, and Draco as genderqueer: a fic not to be missed.

Kettle by @magpiefngrl (3.5K)- Draco likes to put up a fight. The most tender exploration of hardcore kink within a loving, committed relationship that I've ever read, and hot as hell, too.

In Deep by @lqtraintracks (9K)- Harry isn't sure when he went from hating Malfoy's snide, smug mouth to wanting that mouth all over his cock. Gorgeously hot exploration of BDSM kink in a new relationship that manages to be tender and sweet at the same time.

DEFIES CATEGORIZATION (by me at this time)

Love Him More by @bixgirl1 (17.5K)- A love story. Several of them, really. Delicate, bruising, and uplifting all at once.

The Drarry Sestina by @julcheninred (<1K)- Sometimes I dream I’m bleeding from my scars... This gorgeously written poem took my breath away and left me haunted but ever hopeful for Draco and for the both of them

Dwelling by aideomai (83.5K)- Curses, James and Lily Potter ride again, several Ministry balls, a teenage Summer of Love, a grim young adult dystopian winter, a few different Draco Malfoys, secrets and the problems re: not having any, alternate lives, impossible lives, real lives, allusions to Dirty Dancing, and just because it's not called the Mirror of Erised doesn't mean you shouldn't know better. The most mind-blowing fic I read this year, a story that allows the reader to see how much it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, besides giving us a delightful relationship development and some seriously hot moments, all wrapped in a glorious package of plot and overall awesomeness.

A Holiday in Provence by @dracoismytrashson (32K)- Harry Potter is turning 50 years old and feeling lonelier than ever. Divorced, retired, and learning he’s not quite as straight as he thought he was, Harry reluctantly accepts a birthday gift from his friends for a week’s stay at an idyllic French vineyard. Too bad Hermione and Ron neglected to mention that the owner of the winery happens to be a certain quick-witted blond Slytherin… The world-building and the dynamic between the characters in this is nothing short of magical.

Memories of Draco Malfoy by ImmortalAcorn (14K)- “He had to live, I knew. Without him there would not be much to see. I guess the world would be just ashes and smoke and blood - that's at least how I imagined it. He had to live. Whatever it would take.” a series of short poems (I guess) about Draco and their relationship. There is another one, from Harrys perspective. They are short but perfect. Angst is real and sooooooo good.

‘Til Our Compass Stands Still by china_nightingale (9K)- "It was an unconventional relationship, if one could call it that. It was the way it had always been - bodies colliding while lips stayed closed, dueling and caressing and ripping one another open while hearts stayed locked safely behind cages covered in bruises from curses and kisses. There were never many words spoken. If they talked, chances were that ugly things would tumble from their tongues like they did so easily during their Hogwarts days." Harry and Draco eventually realise that things don't always go to plan, even if it's a plan they've been carefully crafting to keep themselves safe from each other. a little harsh and gritty, but so full of unspoken love <3

Thank you again to everyone who contributed!!: @dracothecupcake @ebbet @keyflight790 @bixgirl1 @magpiefngrl @hogwartsfirebolt @amrame @bonzicatgirl @lillyevans @harryandhislittledragon @hermionejeangranger @lower-east-side @jadepresley @findingsilencetheymadelove @lqtraintracks @queendomcosplay @threeh plus several anons! <3<3<3

I’ve done my best to tag all the writers whose tumblrs I could locate, but if I’ve missed anyone, please let me know so I can tag them!

#communal 2018 rec list #drarry #drarry fanfiction #drarry recs #rec list #chibarecs #sort of?#there are definitely a few of my own recs mixed in here!!!#as well as a few that I would have recced but y'all beat me to ;)#AND SO MANY I'VE YET TO READ YAY!!!#editing this list is so difficult because I keep wanting to read everything #and worrying I will forget this or that one #i'll be honest making this list was a very selfish endeavor hahaha #i think i'm set for months now #yay!#<3<3<3

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dreamy--dolly · 4 years

Text

this is it. this is the angst fic i was promising.

taglist: @mordredfuckingpendragon @gringolet @kouvei-matarra @cukibola

They meet in the hazy heat of summer, when they are both very young. Though the grass is green and birds and insects hum in merry harmony on the breeze, Galahad still can’t take his mind off the scrape that bleeds red on his knee - his mother will tell him that it’s nothing to worry about, because there are people who have gotten hurt worse. So he makes his way deeper in the woods. He knows the way back - just make his way back on the straggly dirt path till the pain fades.

And then there is the boy who he finds on the path, in a blue dress stained with dirt and too-long black hair bound in a braid that’s coming undone. What he notices first about the boy is his eyes: A dark shade of blue, but still soft and sincere. He blinks at Galahad - you look pathetic, he tells himself, crying in front of someone else because Mother says you’re too old to cry - and says nothing about his tear-streaked face and loud sniffling in the quiet of the woods.

Then he sticks his tongue and and squints, twisting his face and scrunching his eyes shut.

The pain is still there but Galahad laughs, and the boy laughs with him. He does not ask and does not care that the boy wears a dress or that his hair is too long, because surely that does not matter in the end. He just has someone to laugh with in the summer, someone who will let the black-spotted ladybugs crawl up their arms and draw pictures in the dirt with him.

“What’s your name?” he asks the boy, who shuffles his fistful of flowers.

“Percival.”

“That’s a nice name. Percival. ‘M Galahad.”

“I like your name, too.”

The summer heat may make Galahad’s eyelids flicker behind his spectacles, and when he gets home he will have to answer the questions about why his knee is covered in crusted-over blood. But at least he has a friend to explore other worlds with during the summer.

Autumn comes and Percival sees angels - that’s what he tells Galahad at least. They’re climbing trees even though Percival knows he’ll tear up his dress on it (he talks about how sometimes his mother gets visitors and always talks about her “daughters” but when the visitors are gone she talks about him as her son, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.) They spend their days treading the paths of imaginary worlds they can save, kindling their own warmth in the coming bitterness of winter.

“It was at night, and I swore they were angels - just with hidden wings. They rode horses and were so beautiful I wanted to join them. Mother told me I had to go back inside, that they were knights and I didn’t want any business with them.”

Galahad climbs down from the tree. Rough bark scrapes at his hands. Then he reaches the ground and sits cross-legged, staring up at Percival who still struggles to maintain balance. The leaves are afire in red and yellow and brown and cling to his hands and legs from the greasy drizzle that’s got them slicked with rain.

“Knights?”

“Yes, knights. I don’t understand why that sounds so strange to you.”

“Mother says I have to become a knight like my father did when I get older. And I’ll be off to train in Camelot when winter comes. Which means I won’t get to see you…”

“Unless I become a knight to join you.”

That’s the first time Galahad sees what others might see through the keyhole: Percival whose mother shoves him into dresses and hides him away from a world that may not be as thorny as she makes it out to be - because perhaps there are petals, too. At least that’s what Galahad believes. You just have to snip the thorns away and the flowers won’t prick your fingers. Still, though-

“How? You really think you could do it?”

Percival clasps hold of his hands, blue eyes shining at green. “I can if I try. I promise I will.”

So that is what Galahad chooses to believe. It might be fleeting, but he’ll hold onto it while he can.

“And I’m glad you’ll try. Because if I had to train with anyone else, I’d want it to be you.”

Winter, Galahad decides, is the worst of the four seasons.

At least autumn has a prelude of warm colors before the bitter cold sets in. The snow may sparkle pristine white against the torchlight for a little bit, but after a day or two it all melts away to gray slush. He doesn’t say a word about it, though - at least he’s far away from his mother and the convent, yet there’s still his father Lancelot who seems to be infected by winter’s chill: Though he embraces his son when he sees him there is no warmth or anything Galahad thinks a father should give. The king, however, is different with his ruffling Galahad’s hair and saying how he’s heard about how he’s worked so hard.

And for him there’s something missing, stars melted away from a gray sky.

He never says anything about it, though, because that is what he was taught - if you really want to change, don’t speak with others of the worries that linger in your mind. The beetle and worm find their way into everything eventually, so why bother?

But then winter brings a visitor, who drags himself from the thorny woods through the heavy snow towards Camelot, a visitor who presents himself in the throne room with red dress tattered and dirtied, snow dusting his dark hair. But there is something alight in his eyes and it is what has brought him here in the first place. Galahad thinks it is who he thought it was, but keeps his mouth shut till Kay brings him to see the boy.

When he sees the face he’s kept in his memories, it’s like the snow melts.

Galahad elbows his way past Kay to greet him, and runs to tackle him to the ground in a hug. Here is the boy who has watched seasons fade into one another with him, shared his dreams. And he feels like home.

“I kept my promise,” Percival says.

“And I’m so glad you did.”

Spring brings magic that touches the dead branches of trees and makes the world breathe again. Three years since Percival brought a burst of warmth into winter, and by now the trees are coated with tiny green leaves and the first pale buds of flowers to come. The snow has thawed and the world is perfumed by a balmy, honeyed breeze that smells of fresh earth and new beginnings. Magic, Galahad learns, is something that people are blessed with - the reason he and Percival are at Camelot is because God gave them magic and they will use it to change the world for the better.

But he spends his time in the chapel praying for things to change, because sometimes trying is not enough. He prays for selfish things: A father that will thaw away with the dissolving snow, a mother who tries to fit him into the keyhole even though he won’t fit, for a world that is not razor-edged. He does not know if magic or even prayers will be enough, but at least there is Percival, too, who stays at his side.

Galahad uses his magic to make the flowers grow. He likes watching their stems curl from the ground and the soft petals unfurl. Today he grows flowers for Percival and thinks about the ones he wants to show him. Give him purple lilacs, Galahad thinks, and hydrangeas. And irises. And-

“What are you doing?”

The noise that comes out of his mouth is something like a fox’s cry and Galahad almost falls face first against the ground. Percival squats next to him, staring at the splashes of purple and periwinkle so bright and pale against the green.

“I was trying to grow flowers for you.”

“Any reason why?”

“No, just that you like flowers and you’d make flower crowns for us when we were young-”

(A crown of gold doesn’t suit you, Galahad thinks. It weighs too heavy on your brow, when flowers do not.)

“Wait a moment,” Percival mumbles, and he notices what Galahad half-hopes he would and would not notice. “Hydrangeas mean heartfelt emotions, irises mean faith and hope, and purple lilac-”

“Are purple?”

“Well, yes. But purple lilacs also mean first love. Don’t they?”

“Mm-hm.”

Though he lowers his head Percival still presses his fingers to Galahad’s cheeks and moves in closer. When Galahad looks up, he’s smiling.

“I hope that’s what you’re trying to say. But it’d be just as nice if you picked those because you know purple and blue are my favorite colors.”

He almost closes the gap between them before pulling away, as if disenchanted from the magic of the fragrant air. “...Can I?”

Galahad nods. He tastes sweet but a little bitter, of fresh honey and fuzz-coated peaches. He lets Percival’s hands frame his face, fingertips pressing gently at his flaxen blonde hair. And it feels like an ending, the last blotchy-inked illustration in a storybook that will close and be over. Though a part of him knows that there will be more books to follow, more books that feel like the end but still have him praying - he pushes all of that aside and pretends that this is the last page. He can take a walk in his imaginations for a little while.

He pulls away and rests back on the grass, and Percival cradles him close. They have magic and their hopes sprouting from seeds in the ground, growing against the odds and through the winter thaw, and for the moment that is all that they need.

“Hold still and let me heal you.”

Even though they are tucked safely away from the sun in the canvas tent, the heat is still stifling. Galahad stares down at the stretch of red-soaked split skin on his stomach and the bloodied patches that peek through his shirtsleeve. The fight against the chimera was not an easy one; Galahad’s wounds are a testament to that. He’d been the one to jump in when it looked like Mordred and Percival would have been knocked down. Because even though they’re untouchable - they were blessed with their magic by God, after all, they are living vicariously through the bedtime stories parents spin - there is still a part of Galahad that wonders what if there was no happy ending where they all stroll back to Camelot hand in hand, the sun setting behind them?

Percival is gentle when he heals Galahad, blue magic lighting up the tips of his fingers as he cleans off the blood with a damp towel and knits the wound closed. He exhales for a few moments, taking in what it feels like to breathe without the strain of torn muscle in his body.

“Please be careful,” Percival says softly.

It’s not easy, though, when his life is nothing. So long as everyone else gets a chance to live, that would be enough. If he had to stay without being healed so that Percival would continue to breathe, he would. And he would protect those that the chimera’s flames could burn away even if it meant he’d end up dead and unmoving by the end of it. His life may mean nothing, but death in exchange for another is something.

“I was scared you’d get hurt. What if you or Mordred had died?”

“We won’t die. We were blessed - and I’ll protect you if it looks like you’d get hurt in the process. You can protect me, but I will want you to live on in the end. Because neither of us are going to die out there - we have our magic and we’re training as knights.”

Through the flap in the tent, the first fireflies have started to come out; indeed, the heat seems less oppressive now that night is falling. And Galahad believes him. All of them will live on. Time will pass and they will grow old and gray, but that is far from now. For now and in the near future, they’re alive.

“Alright. Thank you for healing me.” He kisses Percival on the nose. It’s a secret code of theirs, one that looks like close greetings from the outside. But there’s a sort of magic between them that one cannot find in any of the books nor written spells that they have, a magic that they understand best of all.

“It’s not a problem at all. Now let’s get some rest. The trip home tomorrow will be a long one.”

They are inseparable even as autumn sets aflame everything it touches. The court oohs and aahs at the talented young knights, of the pious Galahad and the gentle Percival. Surely, if anyone were to ever encounter the Holy Grail, it would be one of them. One day he will rise and travel to find it, and Galahad thinks that maybe the Grail can grant him what his prayers cannot: A better world, a better father that he’s related to by blood because the king is more of a father to him than Lancelot is. And he wishes that were not true. It is silly and flighty and childish and most of all selfish, so Galahad does not think about it very much.

“Winter’ll be here soon.” This is how they spend their nights when Galahad’s eyelids droop yet he still cannot fall asleep, so Percival stays with him till he closes his eyes and slips into his dreams at last. The candle has been snuffed out but the navy-shadowed room still smells like wax. It’s a familiar place and a familiar smell.

“I actually didn’t like winter very much growing up. Didn’t like it because I couldn’t play outside, and I didn’t have many people to keep me company. But I like it more now.”

“Really?” Percival says. “I always thought your favorite season was spring - that was when all your favorite flowers sprung up.”

“It is. But I don’t dislike winter as much as I used to.”

“Why’s that?”

“I like the winter,” Galahad confesses, “Because it reminds me of when you came to Camelot.”

Percival shifts, the covers rustling over him as he pulls Galahad close. Here in Percival’s arms they are once again untouchable, impervious to whatever will happen once the page turns.

“Where would you want to go when we get older? After the quest.”

They both know the quest will reach them and for a fraction of a moment the pedestal begins to crack. They pretend not to notice it, though, because they are focusing on the great after - their epilogue, their ending that they may not get if it means taking up the mantle of Atlas or breaking beneath the weight of the sky to sustain the rest of the world.

“Away.” Away from Camelot, away from my father - I can’t even call him ‘Father - even if it’s selfish. But it hurts here.

“I have a sister. Ended up inheriting the kingdom after her husband died in battle - her name’s Dindrane. She’s written letters to me once I visited her from Camelot. I think she’d be willing to let us stay there. It’s a big castle, with a lovely forest, and lots of trees so we can go apple-picking, and a beautiful lake to go swimming in.”

“We could still travel, though. I want to see more of the world and help more people that way.”

“Of course we will. We will travel around the world after the Grail quest - and maybe get married, too?”

“All of things. And more. But I’m getting too tired to-” Here he lets out a soft, high-pitched yawn - “-To say anything more on the subject.”

Percival laughs, soft like rain. “Sleep well.”

“Good night, Percival.” And then, to himself before he falls into a world of blurry dreams that aren’t so soft once he brushes against them: “Good night, my love.”

The night before the Grail Quest is winter and though he’s been stung before, it’s enough to make Galahad cry. Crying, he tells himself, will not solve anything - that is what Mother and the nuns taught you, and Father too even if he wasn’t there to do it. Crying is for children, and you’re no child: You’re eighteen going on nineteen, and you’re powerful enough of a knight and lucky enough to find the Holy Grail. Crying means you’re unworthy. It means you are weak.

When he hears a knock on the door and Percival’s voice on the other end he lets him in and clutches onto him, forgetting selfishness and restraint and letting the tears flow. His eyes are rimmed red and the deep gasping sobs make his throat sore and feel as though his chest might burst. He buries his head in Percival’s shoulder, tears staining his shirt and he lets go. He lets go because he knows. There are so many truths he knew from the beginning that Percival can’t comprehend and Bors remains oblivious to. And he wishes he were dead for it.

“Sorry - for crying - in front of you-”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s fine to cry.”

“I just - I just - everyone keeps comparing me and saying I’m even better of a knight than my father was and it’s horrible. I know he hates me for what I am or at least resents me for it, and I hate how the king treats me more like a son than my father does - and he treats everyone like family, so what am I to complain about special treatment? I’m just - I’m scared, and it’s selfish, and I’m not worthy, and I’m sorry. I don’t know. The Grail might not be worth it but if I think that it’s selfish. What if I make a mistake? What if I fail? What will the people of Camelot think of me then?”

Percival stays silent. He has no words of comfort to offer because they have laid the truth bare and taken it apart with a dull edged knife. They cling to each other because they are all they have left, they’re just trying to make their way through clusters of roses even though the thorns make them bleed. They know they’ll reach an ending and no matter what it is it will not be the ending they want.

“Maybe we could run away,” Percival says at last. “Forget about the Grail. You’re unhappy and I don’t want that. I heard you and Lancelot… shouting at one another. You’re not happy here. This place is not for you, not for us. So we could just leave it behind, and do good elsewhere. There’s still hope to change the world. But not here. Not like this.”

It is what they needed to hear, but it can’t be the truth. At least no one else but them would think it true. And they both know that there will be loose threads dangling if they run away now. What if they are found? What of the others at Camelot’s court that don’t hail them as the shining heroes that they really aren’t? What of Arthur himself? What of the Round Table? What then?

So Galahad lies awake wrapped in Percival’s arms. Tomorrow they will head off to find the Grail, and his father will be with them and Bors, too. And it will be his only chance to prove that he is not the selfish knight the nuns told him he must never be. If he finds the Grail then perhaps all will be right. Even though he is shattered, maybe that will be enough to plaster the broken pieces of the rest of the world back together again. But in Percival’s arms he can pretend. He can pretend that that will not happen once the sun rises.

He feels something shift next to him and moves his head a little closer against Percival’s chest.

“Please don’t go yet,” he pleads.

Percival lies back down and cradles him close, fingers combing through his hair. First Galahad closes his eyes to the darkened room dipped in dark blue, then to the morning that will come, but still lets linger the beating of Percival’s heart.

“I won’t go. I can promise that much.”

Winter sucks everything of life, and it drains whatever might be left of the person Lancelot du Lac used to be. Because a father should not be like this. Or perhaps it is the Grail, an ever present reminder of what no one at Camelot will ever have.

“Do you know what it’s like to feel like you’re slowly being forgotten? Or how it feels to look down at scars and be told that she - your mother - was young and didn’t know any better than to leave scratches and make me feel like I’d never perform miracles again? What does it feel like to walk around as a reminder of what I used to be and what I’ll never achieve now?” “And you act as though I’m happy because of it! You act like I enjoy being told those things. Except I worry about every little mistake I might make - what will people think of me then? What will happen for every selfish thought I have? And you’re so far away from me because you can’t understand that. No, you don’t want to understand-”

“Then you’re no son of mine, because everything up to now is your fault!”

Time heals all wounds. Except the scars are still there and if you scratch at the scars enough they sting, and even if you leave them alone they will always serve as a reminder that maybe you wouldn’t end up this way. For Lancelot, his scars still make him ache. So Galahad leaves him behind, because maybe the pain of his scars will fade if what brings him pain leaves.

“Galahad, I-”

“No. You spoke the truth.” He wants to weep but that is a luxury he does not have, and he must steel himself for the quest. That’s what he vowed. “I will go and fetch the Grail myself, even if it means trading my life for it in the process. I will do it for my kingdom, and for our king.”

The seasons will bleed into one another. This will be his last quest. But it’s the only way to prove to himself and to everyone else that he is all they make him out to be. And if he goes alone, there will be no one else who has to deal with the pain.

“I’m going off on my own to seek the Grail,” he tells Percival. “I know I might die. But you shouldn’t. You deserve to go on. Once I find the Grail it will be alright.” In his heart of hearts he knows that this is not what should be. He wants to travel and live on, but to want for that is far too selfish, is it not? Though he smiles at Percival through the snow, he feels like he might break.

“I love you,” Percival tells him, and pulls him close to kiss him. He does not tell Galahad that no, he should stay and continue to travel with the lot of them because both of them know that nothing will root Galahad to this place. He is not meant to grow here, to decay without the flames licking away at him till not even something burnt and broken remains. And the kiss is the first one that feels cold and full of nothing. Because that is all he is. Nothing.

“I love you, too.” This is not nothing. Galahad says that because he means it, and he knows that if he turns his back too soon he’ll never say those words again. They never really brought up those words because they both knew that it was not necessary to say with words, but now they say it because it is all they will have left.

When he turns his back he lets winter steal him away.

The seasons have passed and will continue to. The sun shines. And Galahad knows he does not have much time left - but for the others, the sun will rise and set, winter will morph into spring and summer into fall. Things will go on. He has finished his quest.

And then Percival finds him and he realizes that it didn’t mean a thing - he spent his life believing that if someone ripped away the blessings and his parenthood that he would be nothing, but the truth is that he had a chance to be something were it not for the Grail. He had a chance to be a little more of himself with Percival around, and he could have gone on not living in a shell.

So as he begins to fade, he asks Percival of one last thing: “Will you sing for me?”

He pretends that this is just another passing lullaby Percival hums to him as they both fall asleep in each other’s arms, that eventually he will wake up again and there will be a tomorrow he can move on into. That he will go on to be someone, and that they will be together without the Grail or anything above them tying them together. But that is not to be, so he wishes that Percival will realize that there is more to the world than a God that doesn’t answer their prayers and that damningly far away Grail, and that he can make the world safe little by little if he walks and clears the path.

The clock stops ticking. He can’t hear Percival sing. He closes his eyes one last time. And he smiles because he knows what he wants to know, and that this is the most important thing he has learned in the end.

He is gone, not even dust or ash in the breeze. But he still lingers - he cannot take a form that people will see, nor will his words on the wind be heard. Galahad must play the role of bystander, because he is not ready for the great after just yet. If he could talk to Percival and tell him that yes, he is there and not all gone, he would. But he can’t.

So he stays as a lingering presence at his side - a feeling of something simple like home again. He presses secret kisses to his brow, sends him quiet reminders not of his presence but that there is more beyond what he set out for, and that things will heal again.

It’s not an ending. Because if it was, they’d have reached that ending together.

But he knows he did what he could even if it wasn’t what he needed. And that maybe one day he and Percival will meet again, and end their story the way it was meant to end.

Together.

#angie.txt #arthuriana #percihad #percival (arthuriana)#galahad (arthuriana)

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softguerin · 4 years

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I love you fics! You don't have to write this prompt but I can't stop THINKING about this. Michael's held captive by Manes and Alex breaks into the facility where he is, using his super smart codebreaker brain. He finds Michael tied to a gurney and hurt, bad. He gets Michael out to where Max and Kyle are waiting. Then every one has a moment of taking care of him as he fights to live through the night and then he wakes to find Alex by his side. I would write it, but I'm rusting! Peace and love

This has been in my inbox forever. I’m sorry. But against all odds, I did it. You can also read it on ao3.

17:00

“What do you mean ‘you can’t find Michael’?” Alex asks, an edge of panic rising in his voice. “This is Roswell, not New York fucking City.”

Max and Liz are standing on his front porch, and while Max appears to be worried, almost vibrating out of his skin with dark bags under his eyes, Isobel mostly just looks pissed.

“I’m sorry Alex, we’re we supposed to plant a tracking chip in our brother like he’s a wandering dog?” She asks with an unkind smile, and if he didn’t know her better, he’d think she was trying to burn holes in his body.

Alex sighs loudly, squeezing his eyes shut and raking a hand through his hair, trying to come up with something, anything. “You can get in people’s mind,” he says after a moment, turning back to Isobel. “Can’t you just go through his mind, and find out where he is?”

Isobel clicks her tongue and smirks. “Oh, shucks, why didn’t I think of that before? Oh right, because I’m not a GPS tracker.”

“Iz…” Max says, and Alex guesses it’s supposed to be a warning but it only makes Isobel more furious.

“Max! He’s basically blaming us for Michael’s disappearance when he’s most probably the last one to have seen him.”

“Nobody’s blaming anyone,” Max says, trying to defuse the situation. “How long has it been since you last saw Michael?”

Alex doesn’t even have to think. He’s been replaying the last two days on a loop in his mind. Michael, Monday morning, getting out of bed early, way earlier than he usually does. Michael making pancakes in Alex’s tiny rundown kitchen, wearing nothing but his loose gray boxer and one fuzzy purple sock. Michael, kissing Alex goodbye, his mouth tasting of sweet maple syrup. Michael, telling him he’d be working on the ranch all day and running errands later that night. Michael, saying not to wait up for him. Michael, kissing him again, once against his cheek, once more against his lips.

Then radio silence, all through Thursday and now Wednesday.

“Two days,” Alex says. “He left on Monday morning and then nothing.”

“Ok,” Max nods, his voice tight. He turns around, lifts his hat to run a hand through his hair and looks back at Alex. “Ok. Have you tried anything to find him?”

“Other than calling us?” Isobel adds. Max gives her a look, but doesn’t otherwise reprimand her.

Alex swallows and nods. “Yeah,” he opens the door wider and goes into the cabin, to the little nook in his living room he turned into an office and sits down in front of the computer. “I put a tracker in his phone, right? But not just a normal app, something a little more… sophisticated.”

“Yeah, that’s not psycho possessive at all,” Isobel mumbles but Alex decides to ignore her.

Alex had been a little shaken up after discovering that the man he’s been in love with for the past 10 years was secretly an alien living among them. Even now, the thought of it sounds completely surreal but Alex had rolled with it and nodded along to Michael’s story. It didn’t take long for Alex’s instincts to kick in, though, and he came up with multiple worst-case scenarios where Michael was discovered by the authorities, or the military or worse – his dad. Alex had to take precautions but he’d hoped to never have to use them. So much for wishful thinking.

“About 20 years ago, the military purchased a bunch of satellites, mostly used for global positioning, but they only made a couple of them available for the general public, which is what we use for our phones’ GPS for example,” Alex explains, entering his credentials and starting up the program.

“So we’re only getting a certain range depending on the number of satellites available to use,” Max says, making sense of where Alex is going with this.

“Exactly. But with a larger number of satellites, we get a more precise and up-to-date location because there are more satellites to bounce back the information.”

“Ok, so why does it keep saying, ‘signal cannot be detected’?” Isobel asks, referring to the green letters blinking on Alex’s screen.

“My best guess was that Michael was being held in a military base. As far as I know, the only technology that can interfere with a military grade signal is military itself.”

Isobel shrugs. “Alright, so let’s raid a couple military buildings.”

Alex chuckles, entirely unamused. “I’ve got this covered. I called up every base within the perimeter of the signal, asked if we had any prisoner that fits Michael’s description and turned up nothing.”

He doesn’t add the part where most officers were suspicious of Alex’s demand and his motives, and so Alex had to resort to using his dad’s influence to get what he wanted. Alex wasn’t proud of it, but the result was that Alex was actually getting intel that he could trust.

“The only other logical explanation if he were being held in an abandoned, underground facility or if he were in outer space,” Alex swivels around to find Isobel and Max sharing a look, their faces having gone pale. “What? What is it?”

“I think I know where Michael’s been holed up,” Max declares and Alex notices how stiff his movements have become. His face has gone taut, still too pale, but there is a glint in his eyes that Alex wants to interpret as hope and determination.

“Max, we don’t know–”

“It’s the only place,” Max interrupts her. “Come on, let’s go.”

18:00

When they get to the scrapyard, Liz and Kyle are already waiting for them.

“I called reinforcements,” is Max’s only explanation and Alex doesn’t question it. It seems to be an all hands on deck situation and Alex will take any help he can at this point. Still, he smiles back gratefully at Max.

“We moved the trailer like you asked,” Kyle says as a greeting, getting out of the passenger side of the pickup truck.

“No manches,” Liz replies, grinning as she slams the driver’s door. “We moved the trailer? Remind me what you did except doubt me and cry that the chain was gonna break?”

Kyle waves her off. “Semantics,” he says and grins when Liz shoves him aside. “So what’s up with the Scooby Gang?”

Alex could answer, but he’s buzzing with anxious energy, his mind reeling with all the different ways Michael could be in trouble at the moment. Thankfully, Max goes straight to the point: “Michael’s been missing for two days.”

Liz frowns at that. Kyle simply arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, but it’s Michael. Are we sure he’s not just sleeping off a hangover under the bar at the Wild Pony?”

Alex clenches his fist, his anxiety quickly giving way to irritation but Liz is the one who answers Kyle, shaking her head. “No, Maria mentioned that she hadn’t seen Guerin at the Pony in a while. Definitely not in the last two days.”

“We have reasons to think he’s being held in an unused military facility,” Alex explains, once he’s regained some of this composure.

“And we think we know where to find it,” Isobel announces.

Max grabs hold of the manhole cover usually hidden by Michael’s trailer and lifts it, propping it up against the ground. “Ladies first.” Liz climbs down, quickly followed by Isobel, Kyle and then Alex, Max right behind him.

The first thing Alex notices is how dark the room is and dusty. He coughs a few times, suddenly reminded of the sweltering Iraq heat and the sand that would get everywhere, how the taste would stay in his mouth after a few weeks in the desert. His lungs quickly adjust.

“Had I known, I would’ve brought masks,” Kyle says once he’s on solid ground. “There could be mold or mildew in here. Try not to breathe through your mouth as much as possible.”

“You’ll be fine,” Max says when he’s in, and turns on the lights.

Alex realizes that they’re standing in what is probably an old Cold War bunker that Michael turned into a lair filled with alien artifacts. Without thinking, Alex runs a hand over the schematics lying on the table, his eyes roaming over the vials full of unknown liquids and the equations on the wall. At the end of the table, his eye catches the several pieces of what seems to be glass, the colours shifting ethereally in a familiar way. Alex takes a closer step, blinking rapidly as if he expects the image in front of him to disappear. It’s real, though, Alex knows this much. These are the same as the strange object he found in the wall of his cabin. He’s Michael’s missing piece.

“Here,” Max’s voice on the other side of the room cuts through the white noise in Alex’s head, brings him back to the present. Max has pulled down a map that shows all the military bases in Roswell and beyond, around New Mexico. Most of them Alex recognizes but the ones circled with a red X, those Alex has no recollection of their existence.

“Michael has been investigating top secrets and abandoned facilities to get whatever information he could find about our… species,” Max explains, wincing at the wording. “That’s the latest one he found,” Max points to the only circled location not to bear an X. “He refers to it as Trinity. I think this is where we’ll find him.”

Alex nods. “Ok. We need to find him tonight.”

“Alex, it’s almost two hours away, by the time we get there it’ll be dark and we don’t have a precise location,” Kyle points out but Alex shakes his head.

“It’s already been two days,” his voice wavers, almost pleading. He doesn’t say out loud what he’s actually thinking, a constant stream of he could’ve been badly injured or he might already be dead. He tries to push those thoughts to the back of his head but then all he thinks is I should have kissed him one more time and that’s almost worst. “We can’t waste any more time.”

Isobel sighs. “Alex is right. We need to get him out of there.” Liz nods along.

“Ok so what do we need?”

“I’ve got gear back home that should help us locate the base pretty easily,” Alex speaks up and everybody nods sternly, looking expectantly at him. It’s almost like being back in Iraq, Alex thinks. Combat search and rescue, the usual. Except the stakes have never been higher. “And Kyle, you should bring a med kit.”

Alex doesn’t miss the way Isobel slightly flinches. “Just in case,” he adds.

“Copy that.”

Alex nods. “Ok. Let’s all meet at my place at 19:00 sharp.”

Combat search and rescue. It’s been done a thousand times.

“Don’t be late.”

22:00

They’ve been walking through endless hallways for what feels like forever and Alex is growing more and more restless. Max, walking beside him, doesn’t seem to be doing much better. He’s clearly on edge, a little jumpy, but his eyes are focused as if determined that they’ll find Michael and get him out of there. Alex starts to have his doubts.

“What if this isn’t it?” Alex murmurs, letting his unease get the best of time. Max is unshakeable though as he shakes his head.

“No, this has to be it,” he says and Alex has to believe him.

They continue to make their way through the long, empty hallway in silence. Alex is not picking up any other heat signatures than his and Max’s. They go through yet another hallway. They let the silence build. Alex tries to imagine Michael in here, confined by these dark, damp walls and the thought alone is enough to ignite more anger inside of him, pushes him to keep looking.

The walkie-talkie buzzes in Max’s hand, and through the infrared goggles, Alex can see how it made Max jump. He doesn’t comment on it.

“Guys, we’re in Wing G,” Kyle’s voice rises through the static. “Isobel thinks she’s picking up something. Over.”

Alex nods to Max and Max raises the walkie-talkie to his mouth. “We’re on our way. Stay where you are. Over.”

Max and Alex give each other a look but don’t otherwise say anything as they quickly make their way through the maze of hallways to where Kyle, Liz and Isobel are waiting for them. When they get there, Isobel is sitting up against the wall, her eyes screwed shut with Kyle crouched next to her. Immediately, Max joins them on her other side, carefully smoothing the frown lines between Isobel’s eyebrows.

“What is it Iz?” he asks, squeezing her hand.

Isobel shakes her head but doesn’t open her eyes. “He’s here, I can feel it but,” she trails off, as if out of breath.

“Where is he?” Alex asks and he’s surprised at how calm his voice comes out, the complete opposite of what he’s feeling inside.

“He’s here but it’s,” she cuts herself off again, curling on herself as Max softly runs a hand through her hair. “It’s so faint, but it’s here.”

“Faint?” Liz asks but Isobel doesn’t have time to elaborate as Alex’s alarm on his tablet goes off, the piercing sound echoing through the mostly empty room. “Jesus Alex, what is that?”

Alex turns off the alarm but pinpoint the source of the trigger. “Sudden massive power surge,” he explains, still tapping on his tablet. At first glance, it seems like the power surge happened right where they are standing, leaving Alex confused. He looks up, scanning the room until he finds what he’s looking for. A subtle, indistinct line on the ground, disappearing under the dusty carpet pushed against the far wall. “Right beneath us.”

He crosses the room and pulls the carpet, revealing a concealed trap door leading into the basement.

“It’s gotta be there,” Isobel murmurs, still weak from exertion, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.

“Kyle, Liz, stay up there and keep an eye on Isobel,” Alex says and Max waits for Liz to take his place next to his sister before standing up and following Alex down the creaky wooden stairs.

There is a constant beeping sound, but not enough lighting to distinguish anything and Alex and Max move quietly around the room. They reach a couple rows of bookshelves when a voice stops them straight in their tracks.

“A disgraced deputy and a crippled walk into a lab… it feels like there’s a joke in there somewhere.”

Alex’s blood runs cold, but still he stands up straight, his jaw clenched painfully, and makes his way to where his father is waiting for them. Sergeant Manes’ face splits into a mean, sharp smile, the way a shark would look at a fish before eating it alive. Alex’s focus isn’t on his father, though; Michael is there, lying on a gurney with a strap across his chest, looking pale but definitely alive.

Alex swallows around the lump in his throat as he tears his eyes away from Michael to look back at his dad. “What is this?”

“Oh, this?” he replies, pointing at an unconscious Michael and raising an eyebrow. “Just a little… experiment.”

Alex can feel Max trembling with rage next to him and he only hopes he doesn’t plan on doing something stupid and impulsive.

“What did you do to him?” Alex asks, his heart pounding in his ears but trying not to let the panic seep in his voice.

Sergeant Manes sighs. “Well, first, I had to calm him down. He’s a feisty one, that’s for sure. He loved to swing those bookshelves around, and while that was entertaining, it became a hazard to my work environment.” He stands up, opens a drawer and pulls out a little vial, drawing a sharp intake of breath out of Max. “Thankfully, your friend came up with this nifty little solution. I’m afraid our friend has become a little unresponsive, though,” he continues, walking over to Michael and cupping his face to move it from one side, then the other. “He’s not as much fun to play with now. But look,” he raises his head to fix his cold eyes on Max. “You brought me another friend. How thoughtful.”

It happens quickly. One second, Sergeant is taking a step towards them, his hand going at his waist to unholster his gun and smash it against Max’s temple. Max stumbles backward and Alex moves to come up between his father and Max. The next second, he’s sprawled out on the floor, Liz panting heavily as he lets a lead pipe fall out of her grip. “Your dad talks a lot,” she says to Alex and then goes straight to Max, falls to her knees next to him. “Are you ok?”

There’s a nasty cut on the side of Max’s head, blood falling down his cheek but he waves them away. “I’m fine,” he says, and then, “Michael?”

“He needs the antidote,” Liz tells Alex, not moving from Max’s side. “We need to get him to my lab.”

“We’re two hours away!” Alex says, his voice shaking, the pit in his stomach quickly bubbling up to the surface.

“Well, drive fast! We’ll put him with Kyle in the backseat so he can check on his vital and keep him alive,” Liz says, dragging Max up and letting him slump against her. “Michael’s gonna be alright Alex. Come on.”

Alex takes a deep breath as he unstraps Michael and takes him in his arms.

They’re gonna be alright. They just need to drive fast.

02:00

It’s the middle of the night when Michael finally wakes up in Roswell Community Medical. Alex is in a chair next to his bed, fully alert. He’s been like this for the past two hours, despite Liz and Kyle’s reassurances that everything was going to be fine.

“He won’t wake up right away because he’s drained of all energy,” Liz had explained when Alex had asked her why Michael was still unconscious after receiving the antidote. “You should rest too.”

Except Alex hadn’t been able to sleep, hadn’t been able to look away from Michael once they got him back and Liz knew this and convinced Kyle to let Alex stay despite visiting hours being over.

And now the sheets are rustling and Michael is slowly opening his eyes and Alex feels as though his heart is about to jump out of his throat.

“Alex?” Michael murmurs, his voice scratchy and Alex grabs the glass of water on Michael’s table.

“Here, drink this,” he says and lifts the plastic cup carefully to Michael’s lips, a wave of relief washing over him as he watches something as mundane as Michael drinking water. Once the cup is empty, Alex set it down back on the bedside table and turns back to Michael, not daring to take his eyes away from him for too long. “You really scared me.”

“I know,” Michael says, and even though he still looks too tired, Alex can also tell how sincere he is. “I’m sorry.”

Alex shakes his head. “Don’t apologize,” he says softly, hand coming up to stroke Michael’s cheek.

“I shouldn’t have kept it from you,” Michael continues and for a moment, Alex is confused until he remembers the bunker and the glowing pieces of glass.

“Everybody has secrets,” Alex says and for a second, an image of his own piece of alien glasses flashes behind his eyes. He should tell him, he’ll know eventually, but for now it can wait. “What I don’t understand is why you still sleep in your piece of junk when you have a beautiful post-war bunker right underneath.”

Michael grins, his eyes lidded and Alex thinks he should really let him go back to sleep. “Because I wouldn’t have a good excuse to shack up with you in your rustic cabin,” Michael says and Alex rolls his eyes, unable to ignore how fond he is of the man in front of him.

“Go back to sleep,” Alex tells him, moving his hand from his face to his curly hair. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You know, I just don’t sleep as well anymore without you next to me,” Michael says, sheepish and Alex knows that Michael knows exactly what he is doing. It should probably be scary how well someone else knows his weak spots. It makes him vulnerable.

Alex finds that he doesn’t care much.

“Scoot over, you giant baby,” he says and Michael obliges with a low giggle that fills Alex’s chest with warmth. “You’d better not steal the blanket this time.”

Michael sighs as he relaxes against Alex, quickly drifting back to sleep. “Anything for you Alex.”

And Alex closes his eyes, pressed against Michael, letting himself relax for the first time in days. He doesn’t know if he says it out loud or if it’s just in his head, but Alex doesn’t care either way. “Anything for you Michael.”

#im back on my bullshit lads except now ive graduated university #malex #malex fic #roswell new mexico

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