#I’d rate my pain like pi

[a-lil-perspective]

Tech: *performing a health assessment* On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?

Crosshair: I love all my pain equally.

Tech:

Tech: thAt iS nOT A vALid AnSwER.

Crosshair:

Tech: I w i l l s c a n y o u n o w—

Crosshair: Wait—

#me actually #I’d rate my pain like pi #never ending #fmllllll #anyways this is crosshair for sure #incorrect quotes #source: baymax! #bad batch incorrect quotes #incorrect bad batch quotes #the bad batch #bad batch #clone force 99 #tech #tech bad batch #clone trooper tech #crosshair #crosshair bad batch #clone trooper crosshair #tbb crosshair #shitposts #just brotherly things #baymax #baymax! #it’s a lil thing

[musings-of-a-rose]

Since Forever

Pairing: Zach Wellison x f!reader

Word Count: 1150+

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: @micheleamidalajedi ​ something happened with your official ask so I had to redo it this way! I am so THRILLED you requested my beloved and underrated Zach!

**If you want to be added to the taglist, join here or let me know!

❤If you enjoy the fic, please consider giving me a warm beverage! (It is not required in any way!)

**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Zach Wellison Masterlist

It took nearly dying while on tour for Zach to realize the one thing he would regret is not telling you how he feels about you. 

As he was laying in the medic tent being stitched up, all he could think about was you. Your laugh, your smile, the way you get this sparkle in your eyes whenever you talk about something you really love. 

He didn't know he was in love with you until that moment, just making it past the blast radius from a couple of handmade explosives and all he saw was you.

It makes sense though. Looking back on your life growing up together, Zach realized that he'd loved you since the moment you asked him to make mud pies for your wedding in kindergarten. He just didn't realize it until now. 

He hoped he wasn't too late.

Due to his injuries, he was sent home from his tour early. He’d be fine but they didn’t want people with injuries to be in the trenches, so to speak. The moment he stepped out of the airport, he hailed a cab, immediately giving the driver your address. 

Zach wipes his palms down his pant legs nervously, bouncing his leg rapidly to try and relieve some of the nerves. He’d faced giant desert spiders, starvation, dehydration, literal enemies trying to kill him, but this may be the death of him. All this waiting and the uncertainty of your answer. But he knows he has to tell you - he can’t spend another day alive without telling you. 

The cab pulls up to your home and Zach hands him some cash to cover the ride and a tip, thanking him as he practically launches himself from the cab. But once he’s at your door, he freezes, hand curled into a fist to knock on the door. 

What if she freaks out? 

What if she doesn’t feel the same? 

What if she tells me this is too weird and she never wants to see me again?

Before he can run and think more on this, the door opens and there you stand, in a tank top and little pajama shorts, looking half asleep. Shit, he’d forgotten how early it was with the time difference. She blinks and rubs her eyes, trying to focus on him.

“Zach?”

“Hey, Bean.”

She reaches out a hand, placing her palm on his chest. “It’s…you’re really here?”

“I am.”

Without hesitation, she jumps into his arms, flinging her own around his neck as she hugs him tight. He grunts in pain and he hates himself for ruining the moment for as soon as the sound left his lips, she lets go of him, dropping to the floor.

“What happened? You weren’t due back for another 4 months! Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?” She palming at his fatigues, as if she were trying to see through it.

“I was hurt, yeah-”

She gasps, hands flying to her mouth. “Are you ok?”

Zach grabs her by the shoulders to stop her from freaking out. “I’m ok, Bean. I mean, I almost wasn’t but I was lucky. They sent me home because they couldn’t have any injuries outside of minor scrapes and cuts-”

“IT’S MORE THAN MINOR??” Worry fills her eyes as she rakes them over his body.

“Bean, look at me.” Her eyes find his and he smiles at her. “I’m ok, really. They stitched me up and sent me home. If I wasn’t ok, I’d still be in the med tent.”

She nods and Zach is surprised to find tears falling from her eyes. “Can…can I hug you?”

Zach pulls her in immediately, moving her around where he has stitches and holds her tight. She holds him back and he hears her sniffling into his chest, so he kisses the top of her head. They stay like that for a minute before she pulls back, wiping at her face. 

“I’m s-sorry, Z-Zach. I l-left a w-wet m-mark on your cl-clothes.” She’s still coming down from the crying, her speech stuttered with sobs.

Zach cups her chin and lifts it to look at him. “Bean, it’s ok. I’m not worried about-”

Her lips press to his and he freezes, his brain trying to catch up with what was happening. She feels the same way?

But he takes too long to respond, his body frozen and she misinterprets his non response as a bad sign. She breaks the kiss and backs up a step, her arms wrapping around herself as she avoids eye contact with him.

“I-I’m sorry, Zach. I didn’t mean to fuck things up. Can we just forget about it and move on?”

Work, brain! Make words!

“No.”

Her eyes meet his briefly, filling with fresh tears that were caused by his blunt response. 

“Please, Zach. I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”

Zach shakes his head. “No, I meant I’m not forgetting the kiss.”

She sobs and takes a deep breath. “Can’t you? I don’t want to lose-”

His large hands come up to hold her face as he pulls her to him, pressing his lips to hers. His tongue gently brushes against her soft lips and she parts them, her hands coming up to fist in the fabric of his fatigues. She’s perfect and warm and here and she feels the same for him. She has to, right? She is kissing him. Or is this because he was injured overseas?

Zach pulls back, her head still in his hands as he stares into her eyes.

“Why did you kiss me?” He asks.

To his surprise, she shifts nervously, almost looking…embarrassed?

“Bean?”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

His eyebrows raise as he takes her in, the same face he’s known practically his whole life, fully appreciating how breathtaking she was. 

“But if you don’t feel the same, that’s ok. We can forget it and I’ll just get over it and-”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I-what?”

Zach smiles, a little chuckle coming from his chest. “Don’t you dare forget those feelings.”

Her eyes finally find his. “Why?”

Zach makes sure she’s looking at him when he speaks. “Because I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”

A smile slowly stretches across her face as she realizes what he’s said. “R-really?”

He pulls her face close to his, speaking low and quiet before kissing her. “I love you so much, Bean.”

She grips the fabric of his shirt and starts to pull him inside, Zach gently closing the door behind him with his foot, neither one of them breaking the kiss that they’d each longed for for so long.

—----

General Taglist:

@chaoticgeminate @janebby @astoryisaloveaffair @balekanemohafe @greeneyedblondie44 @hoeforthefictional @marvelousmermaid @hauntedmama @giuliarogers @icanbeyourjedi @wretchedmo @sunnshineeexoxo @livingmydreams13 @adventures-of-a-nd-psych-student @sara-alonso @theewokingdead @punkerthanpascal @giggly-otter @f0rever15elf @phandoz @dirtytissuebox @gallowsjoker @lovesbiggerthanpride @sarahmilesbendrix @booksarekindaneat @mrsudontknowme @swol-bear @charlispersonallyhell @xoxabs88xox @amne @gooddaykate @alindeluce @paintballkid711 @harriedandharassed  @ladykatakuri @marrianena  @practicalghost @withakindheartx @batdarkladyvampir @justanotherkpopstanlol  @mermaidxatxheart @alexxavicry @ichigodjarin @justreblogginfics

All One Shots/Writing Prompts/Ficlets:

@Whovianayesha @tanzthompson @thatpinkshirt @petersunderoos96 @mswarriorbabe80 @hotchlover @hb8301 @fabilei @mypascalito975 @haleypearce @dindjarinswhore @itspdameronthings ​

#zach wellison #zach wellison x you #zach wellison x reader #zach wellison fanfic #zach wellison fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character fanfic #brothers and sisters

[geralt-of-baevia]

Call It What You Want: Chapter Seven

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine

pairing: nobreakout!joel x f!ofc (Violet Fletcher)

rating: explicit, MDNI 18+

word count: 3.3k

summary: Seeking solace from a painful breakup, Violet relocates to a tranquil town, purchasing a neglected house to renovate. In her new neighborhood, she befriends Harlow, who introduces her to Joel, a gruff and seasoned contractor with a heart of gold. Despite Joel's initial grumpiness, Violet finds herself drawn to his expertise and hidden kindness.

As Violet immerses herself in home renovations alongside Joel, their dynamic begins to shift, with Joel unexpectedly opening himself up to the possibility of love. Their budding relationship faces challenges as shadows from their pasts emerge, testing their newfound connection.

warnings/tags: fluff, child loss, descriptions of a car wreck, friend loss, reproductive anatomy talk, more crying, maria being a cunt, and i think that's it

a/n: so, im not telling you the next chapter something finally happens between our two love birds...but I'm also not NOT telling you that 👀. this chapter is another kinda sappy, sad one. but man, I love these characters so much. 💕

The rest of the afternoon Harlow helped me make some biscuits to take to dinner. Apparently we were going to be having breakfast, and I wanted to contribute something. 

“What’s this other dough that’s in the fridge?” Harlow asked. I looked over to see her pointing at a square slab of dough wrapped in seran wrap. 

“Oh, that’s going to be croissants. The dough is chilling after laminating it,” I told her. I started to explain what that was, but she stopped me. 

“I’ve watched enough Great British Bake Off, I know what that is,” she said proudly. I shook my head and laughed. 

“Who are you making croissants for?” 

“For Bill and Frank. I told them at the wedding I’d make them some as a wedding present,” I said happily. A huge grin spread across her face. She bit at her bottom lip to try and contain it. “What?”

“Okay, okay, you twisted my arm, I’ll tell you,” she said, rocking back and forth on her feet. 

“Tell me what?” 

“I think Frank is going to ask you to bake pies and things for their restaurant,” she said excitedly. My eyes widened and my jaw slacked. 

“Wait-wait what?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing. “But, but why?”

“Because Frank really likes you. And Bill really likes your croissants. Oh and Joel wouldn’t shut up one day about an apple pie you made,” she said, knitting her brow together at the mention of the pie. 

“Awh yes, the pie he was practically eye fucking,” I said with a giggle. Her face scrunched together in disgust. 

“Okay first off, ew. Second off, I need you to make me a pie so I can try some,” she said. I shook my head. 

“How about for next week’s dinner I’ll make a pie? I’ll take a vote on what flavor.”

She clapped her hands excitedly. “Yay! Oh my god, then everyone gets to try your food! Which, everyone should be. This town is going to fall in love with you.”

I rolled my eyes with a smirk. “If you say so.”

Once the biscuits were done and cooled enough, we drove in Harlow’s car to Joel’s. When we got there, everyone else had already arrived. The house was bustling with talking and music, it pouring out through the open windows. I could smell something cooking, and whatever it was smelled amazing. As we walked through the front door we were met with a cacophony of greetings and cheers. 

“I didn’t know you were coming!” Ellie practically screamed, rushing over to hug me. She hit me with force, almost knocking me and the biscuits over. 

“Hey, hey, hey! Be careful with the lady handling the precious cargo!” Harlow told her. Ellie rolled her eyes, taking the basket out of my hand before going over and putting them on the kitchen island. I scanned the room and saw Joel in the kitchen cooking, at the counter Tommy was sitting next to a woman I hadn’t met before, and Ellie made her way back out to the porch. Harlow followed Ellie outside as I made my way into the kitchen. 

On the stovetop Joel was cooking what looked like a country fried steak. My eyes grew wide with excitement. Joel glanced at me. 

“What? Surprised you’re not the only one who can make stuff like this, miss professional?” he jeered, giving me another glance. I scoffed. 

“You’re such a shit. I’m just excited to have this, that’s all,” I told him. I turned to Tommy and gave him a smile and a small wave hello. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Violet,” he said, he nodded his head to motion me closer. “I want to introduce you to my fiancée Maria. Maria, this is Violet.”

Maria smiled, but flatly. I tried to not take it to heart, so I just moved on. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Violet,” she said, her smile still not fully genuine. 

“You, too.” 

The rest of the evening went well for the most part. I spent most of the night giggling and joking with Ellie and Harlow, Ellie being practically attached to my hip. But something felt weird because Joel hadn’t touched me once. The most was when he was handing me my plate of food and our fingers brushed. 

Maybe coming tonight wasn’t the best idea after all. 

After dinner we all ended up on the porch, enjoying the warm summer evening air. I kept catching glances from Joel, and every time I got flashes from the day before. I wish I knew what was going on in his head.

As the evening progressed further, somehow it ended up with just Maria and I outside together. My heart beat rapidly in my chest, nervous to be alone with her. I could tell she wasn’t my biggest fan, but I couldn’t figure out why. We had just met. What could I have done? 

“You know Violet, you’re not what I expected,” she said, keeping her eyes out on the horizon of trees. 

“Oh?” I asked cautiously, “how is that?” 

“Well, for one you’re a lot younger than I would have thought,” she said. Her words hit me like a knife, and I could feel heat rising in my chest.

“Why would you think that?” I questioned, knowing full well why. She turned to face me, her expression cold. 

“I was expecting Joel to be caught up with a woman, not a girl,” she stated. My eyes narrowed at her. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Violet, you strike me as a nice enough person. You seem smart, funny, and obviously someone who is more than capable of taking care of herself at such a young age,” she started, “that it genuinely confuses me what you’re doing with a man like Joel.” 

“Why does it matter to you?” I asked, my words like spitting fire, “What is it to you that I’m seeing someone older than I am?”

“Because it’s going to drag you down. Joel isn’t some young guy who can just go out on adventures with, have kids with, or even - what do you two talk about? You can’t have anything in common-”

I held a hand up to stop her from talking.

“Maria, I just need you to stop. You don’t know me. And obviously you don’t know Joel,” I told her. “And Joel is going to be your brother in law soon. How would he, or even Tommy, feel knowing you’re talking about Joel like this? Kindly Maria, fuck off.” 

Without another word I made my way back into the house, my chest aching with anger. When I got inside I tried my best to shove all of that down, not wanting anyone knowing something was wrong.

“Violet! Settle a debate for us,” Ellie practically shouted at me once I was inside. “In the song, is the farmer’s dog named Bingo, or is the farmer’s name Bingo?” 

A smile cracked on my lips, it defusing my rage a little. 

“It’s definitely the dog. Why would he mention the dog if it wasn’t the dog’s name. He would have just said his name was Bingo.” 

Ellie’s eyes lit up. “I TOLD YOU JOEL!” 

Joel held his hands up in defeat. “I stand corrected.” 

Soon after my talk with Maria’s, her and Tommy left. Thankfully. I felt like a weight had lifted off of my shoulders once I saw their truck drive away. I grabbed a beer from Joel’s fridge and headed back out to the porch to have a moment to collect myself. 

I leaned against the railing and let out a heavy sigh, hot tears spilling over my cheeks. Maria’s word hit home more than I wanted to admit. Bringing up stuff I thought I had healed from, or thought that I had gotten over. I didn’t realize anyone was outside with me until I felt a familiar hand on my shoulder.

“Hey,” I heard in Joel’s gruff voice. I turned to see Joel standing behind me, a soft expression on his face. 

“Are you okay?” he asked gently. I shook my head no, not wanting to to speak more and in turn cry more. Without another word Joel pulled me into an embrace and I broke down, my face nuzzling in his chest. I sighed a heavy sigh of relief, not realizing how badly I needed him to touch me until I was in his arms. He pet my hair and kissed the top of my head. My body just completely melted into him. 

“I’m sorry,” I muttered out. 

“No, no, you’re okay. Was it Maria?” he asked, his tone stern. I nodded against him. “Goddammit.”

I sniffed and pulled my head away to look up at him. “What?”

“I just- she keeps making comments to me about you, especially after the wedding and Tommy went home and told her about you. And how old you are. That’s why I didn’t personally invite you tonight and why I was kinda distant,” he told me. He had been trying to protect me from Maria. “I honestly never thought she’d have the gall to say anythin’ to your face. Once Harles takes Ellie home, I want you to tell me what she said, okay?” 

I nodded up at him. He cracked a sweet smile at me.  I felt him unwrap his arms from me and reach up to wipe the tears from my cheeks with the rough pads of his thumbs. 

“Thank you,” I said softly. He cradled my face in his hands, grinning down at me. 

Harlow and Ellie stayed for about an hour longer before they headed out. Ellie fell asleep on the couch, her head in my lap. I had been combing through her hair with my fingers. She snored softly, her body completely relaxing into the couch. 

“I’ll get her,” Joel mumbled. He got up from his spot on his chair and came over to us on the couch. I watched as he leaned down and scooped up Ellie with ease. He gave me a small wink as he stood back up. My heart leapt a little. 

“I’ll get the door,” I said, getting to my feet and rushing in front of them. I opened it and he passed through. Harlow came over and pulled me into a tight hug. When she was done, she held me by my shoulders at arm’s length. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, scanning my face. I nodded. 

“Yes, I’m okay.”

“You and Joel are okay-”

“Yes, Harlow. We’re okay,” I said reassuringly. She a gave me a smile before giving me another squeeze and left. I leaned against the doorframe and watched Harlow give Joel a hug. She swayed them back and forth for a moment before hopping into her car and driving away. I walked over to where Joel was standing and snaked my arm around his, leaning my cheek against his shoulder. We watched as Harlow’s car rounded the corner at disappear. With a squeeze from Joel’s hand headed back inside. 

He closed the door behind us and I turned around to face him. He motioned with his head for me to follow him. I nodded, following him as we ascended the stairs up to his bedroom. I was confused, but followed anyway. When we got to the top, Joel kicked his shoes off. I titled my head quizically as he climbed onto his bed, laying down with his head propped up on a pillow. He patted the mattress next to him, laying his arm out for me. 

I jokingly rolled my eyes as I hopped onto the bed, laying down next to him. He wrapped his arm around me and pulled me close. I snuggled into him, trying to get as close as possible. But nothing felt close enough. I wrapped my one of my arms around his sturdy torso and nuzzled my face into his pec. 

“Okay now,” he started, wrapping his free arm around me as well, “what did Maria say?” 

I let out a heavy sigh before telling him what she said, and my response in turn. He stayed silent other than a few hums of acknowledgement for my words. When I was done, I felt his chest began to rise and fall rapidly. He was pissed. I moved so that I was propping myself up on my elbow, finally getting a good view of his face. 

His face was red and his jaw clenched, but there was something in his eyes that wasn’t anger - it was fear. I put a comforting hand on his chest. 

“Joel, I don’t want you-”

“Don’t want me to what?”

“I-I don’t know. Be mad about this? This upset?” I said. My heart began to beat rapidly in my chest. He sighed, looking up and finally meeting my eyes. There it was again, fear. 

“What are you afraid of, Joel?” I asked plainly. His eyes grew wide. He propped himself up so that he was face to face with me. 

“How do you know I’m afraid of something?” he asked, his eyes deep brown eyes scanning my face. 

“I don't know, I can just tell,” I said with a small shrug. He paused, scanning my face again, trying to get a read on me. 

“Some of the things Maria said hit a little too close to home,” he said. My face quickly changed, my brow knitting together. 

“What do you mean?” I asked. He sat the rest of the way up, leaning against the headboard. I also sat up, sitting with my legs criss crossed in front of him. 

“I mean, she’s right in a sense. I can’t give you those things,” he stated, not making eye contact with me again. 

“Like what?”

I heard him sniff, still not looking up at me. He didn’t say anything, just staying silent and looking at his lap. I got to my knees and knelt in front of him, reaching up to cradle his face in my hands. As I lifted his face to look at mine, tears fell down his cheeks. 

“Like what?” I asked again, but gentler this time, my voice just a whisper. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before he spoke. 

“Like a fun adventurous life,” he said, his voice getting more confident as he spoke, “and well, children.” 

The word stung, and I could tell he knew. This wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with him yet, but I guess I didn’t have a choice now. 

We stared at each other for a beat. Neither of us wanted to be the first person to say something on the topic. 

“I know about Sarah.” 

Joel’s eyes got bigger at my statement. 

“H-How?” he asked, searching my face for an answer. 

“Harlow told me earlier today,” I mumbled out. Joel rubbed his face with his hands, hotly wiping away tears. 

“So, you know about the accident?” he asked. I nodded with a hum. 

“I-I don’t know what to say Joel,” I said, tears swelling behind my eyes. 

He shook his head. “You don’t have to say anythin’. I mean, you were going to find out eventually. I just-I just don’t know how to bring it up to people. And I don’t really like to talk about it…”

I let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I mean, that’s understandable. I don’t love talking about how I can’t have children…”

Joel’s face went from sad to concern. 

“Wait, what?”

“Um, yeah. I can’t have kids. I found out about three years ago,” I told him. His brow furrowed together more, my answer not what he was wanting. 

“But - why? How?” he asked. 

“Um, it wasn’t like a huge or traumatic thing. My menstrual cycle got weird like five years back, weirder than normal. I stopped having one regularly, only every couple of months. So I went to the doctor and they did ultrasounds and blood tests and CT scans and all that. They found that I had something wrong with the way my reproductive organs developed and its in a way that makes it so I can’t have kids. Like, even if I wanted to try and get pregnant, I couldn’t,” I told him, my eyes glossing over a little the more I spoke. 

Joel reached out to take my hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. 

“Vi, that is traumatic. Your choice was taken away. I know what it’s like to have something taken away from you without you getting any say in the matter,” he said, giving me a half-hearted smile with tears in his eyes. 

I felt like my heart was going to burst. I bit at my bottom lip, trying to contain whatever feelings were going on inside of me. 

“Thank you,” I said softly. Joel reached forward and pulled me into his lap. I nuzzled my face into his neck as he enveloped me in his arms. We sat there in a comfortable silence for a bit and his hold on me never relaxed.

He held me tightly, and I could tell we both needed this. We needed someone to understand listen to and hear our traumas, that’s it. Not try to fix it, or feel sorry for the other person. Just to hold a place for each other’s baggage, taking the heavy load off of the other’s shoulder. Being vulnerable wasn’t something I was fond of, especially with someone like Joel. 

“Joel?” I asked, my voice coming out in just a whimper. 

“Hmm?”

“What happened with Sarah? And Lucas?” I asked as gently as I could. I heard him sigh.

“Um,” he started, his voice shaky, “we were headed to get a bite to eat after the girl’s had a soccer game, for my birthday. Everything was totally fine, until I drove through an intersection. Our light was green, the drunk fuck who hit us, did not. He hit the passenger side and flipped the car over. Thankfully Harlow got knocked out on impact, I’m so glad she didn’t have to see what I did. 

“There was glass everywhere, blood. I won’t go into the details, but Sarah died on impact. Lucas tried to hold on, but he died on the way to the hospital. I still will never understand how Harlow and I made it out with a couple head injuries and broken bones.”

I looked up at him in awe. How someone could go through that, losing his best friend and his only child on his birthday no less, and still go on every day. I couldn’t imagine. He and Harlow were far stronger than I could have ever imagined. 

I reached a hand up to Joel’s cheek, and he relaxed into my touch. He turned his head to look down at me, our eyes meeting. We held our gaze on each other for a moment, and before I knew it Joel’s lips were crashing down onto mine. At first, his mouth was just needy, but then it quickly turned heated. He began pulling me closer, but I stopped him. He rested his forehead against mine, both of us out of breath. 

“Joel, as much as I want to do that more than anything-”

“Now is not the time, no I know,” he cut me off, finishing my sentence. I cradled his face in my hands, his face now masked with disappointment. 

“I cannot wait to fuck you senseless, Joel,” I said in a matter of fact tone, “but right now after all of the emotions I’ve had over the last 24 hours, I want nothing more than for you to hold me until I fall asleep. Can you do that for me?” 

A smile cracked in the corner of his mouth and he nodded. 

“I can do that.”

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller x oc #no outbreak au #no outbreak!joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction

[talesofmetalandmagic]

You tagged me in that one "what fanfic writer am I" thing and asked so... "Pain" (as the meme says: intimidating / will hurt you with their fanfic / a nice person under the scary) and the godly characterisation part described under "crying". You've written pretty much the only fanfic that has ever made me feel any significant emotions, so "will hurt you with their fics", check. Intimidating, yeah. Nice person under the scary, very much yes. You are so cool and nice. (On the 'cool' part, I think my soul left my body in a good way when I realised you'd followed me back. It was a bit like meeting a celebrity in the grocery line.) Also, I've said this a ton in my rambles, but godly characterisation skills MASSIVE CHECK. Who would win, whoever they have working on Shurima at Riot or one tumblr user? And the answer, to me, is one tumblr user (you)

Thanks a lot ❤️ that’s both very sweet – and GAH thanks for the celebrity angle, I don’t think I truly deserve it but I appreciate it in spades – and very inspirational.

I’m not just torturing Azir because I want him to react in his Azir way (aka. R-Rated Kuzko) and laugh at it, or because I think he deserves it for the things he did.

He must see that he’s simultaneously less and more worthy than he thought. He’s not the golden emperor of opportunities, the child of the sun, the splendid and radiant ruler that will shine above a land of lustrous traditions. But he is Omah Azir, a unique and vibrant individual with his own special way of doing things and his own special experience that makes his presence important. That same thing he was hated for all throughout his life – just… being himself – is his best quality, that’s why he’s special.

And as for now, taking everything he’s ever had and giving it back and more is the best way.

Tbh I wish one day I could write for Riot. In the official lore I’d prefer to leave Shurima to people who can represent the culture it has – or at least work in tandem with them, like I’m not having Azir dine in strawberry pies or something but I’m also not an Egyptologist, let alone SWANA myself – but there’s a lot more people I could rightfully tort- I mean write about.

[pietros-love]

||Incorrect quotes with Pietro Maximoff||+ Avengers||gn!reader||

Y/n and Pietro walking through the mall as they pass by a queue at the toilets

Y/n: You know, if there is a line up to get into the bathroom, cut in front of everyone. If anybody asks, look back in a panic and yell "diarrhea incoming!!”

Pietro: Y/n what the fuck?

Peter Parkers and Y/ns adventures!

Y/n: They had such a sexy voice!

Peter: Y/n they kidnapped us-

Y/n: ...

Y/n rolling their eyes: At least they want me

Family weekend on their way to Disney land

Wanda: Guys, I feel like we forgot something.

Clint checking his bag: I think we have everything.

Pietro who just came back from buying some water at the gas station: Hey, have you seen Y/n?

Wanda spitting out her sandwich: WE FUCKING FORGOT Y/N!

Seeing teenagers walking around in the mall

Pietro internally: ah, to be young.

Pietro: ...

Pietro: I'm fucking twenty wait-

After Y/n had disrespected Sofia the first

Pietro: That's it. Get out you're walking home

Y/n: We are literally sitting in the driveway

After your otp cuddles all night

Pietro: This was great

Y/n: We should do that more often. You know, to keep you from having nightmares.

Pietro: Well I’d be lying if I said it didn’t work so, sure.

Y/n smiling: Wait really?

Pietro: I think it’s a great idea.

Random messages

Pietro: Send dudes.

Y/n: You mean nudes?

Pietro: No, I'm in a fight- I need some more men

Weirdos

Pietro: Thought I was meowing back at our cats for the past hour. Turns out it was just me and Y/n meowing at each other from different rooms in the house

Emotional damage

Clint: Do you ever want to talk about your emotions, Wanda?

Wanda: No

Y/n: I do

Clint: I know, Y/n

Y/n: I'm sad

Clint sighing: I know Y/n

Flirting +

Wanda: Just be casual, try some light flirting

Pietro: I can do that

later on

Y/n: Nice work! High five!

Pietro grabbing their hand: I am so in love with you

After that one time they stepped on a lego

Pietro: From a scale from 1-10, rate your pain

Y/n: Pi, a minimal but never ending number

Pietro: What the actual fuck-

That one time they met Jesus

Y/n: BTW guys, me and Pietro met Jesus the other day

Sends a picture into the group chat

Tony: He looks like he would turn water into weed.

Y/n: He said crack ain't a sin

Pietro: And he'll prob turn water into LSD instead

Parties

Tony: You don't drink? What do you do in social settings, like a party?

Y/n: Sit in my car and cry

Pickle problem

Y/n standing in Pietro's way eating pickles

Pietro: I'm about to pick you up and put you some place high so you can't get down

Stabby stab stab

Y/n: Please, I'm begging you go to the doctor.

Pietro: I'm sorry is this OUR stab wound? Stay out of it

What's sleep?

Pietro: I only got 5 hours of sleep yesterday :(

Y/n: Pathetic

Pietro: ...

Y/n: I got 0

Pietro: The pride and superiority you feel from having an unhealthier lifestyle than others is a short term gratification that will lead to long term detriments

#pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff #pietro x male reader #gender neutral reader #gn reader #marvel #marvel mcu #mcu quicksilver #incorrect quotes #incorrect marvel quotes #tony stark #clint barton #wanda maximoff #peter parker

[calif0rnia-lovers]

sweet as pie.

a/n: please join me in welcoming sam wilson to the page. first story dedicated to this classic man, surely not the last.

pairing: sam wilson x black!reader

rating: 💙

main masterlist | taglist | divider © @whimsicalrogers

sum: sam is home. although times have changed, his sister’s intentions for him have not. sarah would love for her brother to settle down, and she knows the perfect person to make him do it. but when sam gets caught up with work, he misses the date sarah has set up for him.

words: 2.3K

It’s funny how the human mind works.

How easily certain moments can slip through its cracks. Names, dates, songs, conversations, faces lost to the wind, never to be remembered again. In the same turn, how those same things can be retained, recited down to the last detail in perfection.

Sam Wilson has seen enough in his lifetime--more than most men. No one could condemn him for forgetting the smallest of details from time to time. Sometimes he does. He is human. But, strangely, he can never forget a single detail when it comes to you.

Sam can still remember the first time he saw you.

The coffee-colored, cardboard box you carried in your arms--'living room' written across the front panel in your mother’s flawless penmanship. The dark curls pineappled to rest atop the crown of your head--a last-ditch attempt of fighting the Louisiana heat. The oversized Purple Rain t-shirt faded from too many runs through the wash. The round, black sunglasses sliding down the brim of your nose as you paused to take note of the boy watching you from his front window. Down to the scuffed, worn high tops that could barely pass for white.

He even remembers the soft smile you gave him once he froze--too embarrassed to move from the window after being caught watching you for the third time--before turning to lug the box up the steps of your front porch.

It was the summer of ‘94, and Sam Wilson was running late. He was expected to be at the docks assisting his father. Instead, he was peeping around his mother’s powder blue curtains, attempting to score glimpses of his new neighbors. Primarily their teenage daughter.

It’s not every day that Delacroix welcomes a new resident--let alone an entire family. Later that night, over dinner, his mother shared that you were entering your senior year--same as him.

He still remembers the knotting of his stomach. The strange and unusual experience of being tongue-tied when he’d tripped over his name--his name for god’s sake--that morning, you opened your front door to find him and Sarah on the other side. The kindness of your dark brown eyes as they met his, the soft giggle you released as you ignored his sputtering to accept the chocolate chip cookies his mother sent her children to deliver.

He also remembers the vision of you in your wedding dress. The smile he had to keep plastered on his face the night he learned his skepticism, surrounding death by broken heart, faded. You’ve never felt pain until you’ve seen the woman you love marry another man.

Sam must admit. When he returned, he expected--hoped--that those feelings would have disappeared. That they would have been erased from his life. Only, the moment he returned home, Sam discovered those feelings remained--were stronger even.

Five years later, he found you in the same house. Your parents no lived there. After their return from the blip, they packed up their things. Suddenly, tackling their bucket list was their main priority. You still had your husband’s last name but no husband. He was gone, lost to a younger woman.

Five years later, and Sam Wilson finds himself still frozen by the sight of you.

The long-sleeved maroon shirt he’s tugged on is not his number one choice. It’s all he had in his bag. The time on his watch had forced him into an ultimatum. Either run home, shower, and change into the outfit Sarah helped him pick out and risk being five hours late. Or head straight to your house, and risk being four hours and forty-five minutes late.

Sam opted for the latter.

Flowers in hand, he stands in the gateway of your backyard. His eyes admire the glow of the string lights against your skin. The yard has been transformed. Several tables and chairs, enough to host the entire neighborhood, squeezed into its space. Filled with music and laughter a few hours before the backyard is now quiet. Only the sounds of crickets, and the rustle of the trash bag in your hand, can be heard over the racing of Sam’s heart.

“Hey.” Sam takes a step forward, clearing his throat. “Sorry, I’m late.”

“Late is an understatement.” You don’t bother looking up from the plates stacked in your hands. Dumping them into the black trash bag, you move towards the next table. “You missed the entire party.”

After dumping the trash, you realize that Sam is no longer in the backyard. You find him in the kitchen.

“What are you doing?” You ask, coming to a stop in the doorway.

Sam glances up from the soap-covered glass in his hands. “Helping you clean up.”

You glance around the kitchen, only to find that he’s managed to wash nearly the entire stack of dishes you’ve been dreading the entire night.

“I didn’t realize you still did stuff like this,” you tease. “What with you running off to save the world. Figured you’d just hire someone to do it for you.”

“Guess it’s a good thing I got you to keep me humble,” he winks.

Sam dries his hands with the bumblebee printed hand towel, a satisfied grin on his lips as he takes in the spotless kitchen. He’s too busy admiring his handiwork to realize you’re standing alongside him.

He turns, the snarky comment he’s prepared lost in his throat as he takes you in.

You can’t deny him a smile as you watch his eyes widen, a boyish grin brightening his face as he takes in the plate you’re holding. On it rests a single slice of homemade apple pie, topped with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and perfectly drizzled caramel.

“I think you’ve earned this.”

“You saved me a piece?”

“No,” you sigh, allowing your eyes to roll. “I actually saved it for me. But if I have to look at your pathetic attempt at puppy dog eyes one more second--”

“You were hoping I’d show up.” The grin on Sam’s face has morphed into a trademark smirk, the sight pulling a giggle from your lips. “You and I both know you don’t save, or share your pie with just anyone.”

Sam’s observation is spot on.

You don’t share your pie--or food, for that matter--with just anyone. In the chaos of hosting the neighborhood, you didn’t have a moment to stop and enjoy your own party. Let alone a slice of the apple pies you’d spent the previous night preparing.

Apple pies--specifically yours--were Sam Wilson’s true weakness.

The moment he sees you lugging home a bag full of granny smith and macintosh apples, he’s on full helicopter mode. You’re not sure how he knows, but he’s got a radar. One that somehow allows him to prophesize the exact moment the pies are out of the oven and set aside to cool.

He’ll show up, stopping by to say hi, or to see if you still need the drainpipe your ex-husband never got around to working on fixed, or to “pass along a message” from Sarah--as though your best friend couldn’t pick up the phone and call. Whatever the excuse Sam Wilson always manages to be the one to get the first slice of your apple pie. He’s smart enough to know that once the children of the neighborhood catch a whiff, they’ll show up on your doorstep. And as much as he loves the kids--Sam isn’t letting them steal his pie.

Sam’s words come out muffled through a mouthful of apples and crust. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, Y/N. You should sell these. You'd make a killing.”

“And I’ve already told you, it’s just for fun,” you dismiss his advice, taking another spoonful of ice cream. “Besides, what do you expect me to do? Quit my good paying--although painstakingly boring--job in the hopes that enough people will like my baking to keep me afloat?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Sam nods, a smile growing as he watches your eyes roll.

It’s a conversation the two of you have had for years. Here is the rundown of how it plays out--every single time.

Sam: suggests that you finally open up the bakery you’ve been talking about since your teenage years.

You: dismiss his words of advice, reminding Sam that most teenage dreams are foolish.

Sam: ends the conversation with, “I’d show up every day for a piece.”

You: spend the rest of the night wondering if he’s right, about taking the chance, only to psych yourself out before going to bed.

“I’m just saying,” Sam sighs, sliding the plate to the side. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned. Life is going to pass you by, regardless, no matter what you do. If you give it a shot, and it fails--which is never going to happen--your life isn’t going to end.”

You glance up from the table, a tiny smile on your lips as you take in his soft smile.

“Maybe you’re right,” you shrug. “If all else fails, I’ll just tell everyone it’s the Falcon’s favorite pie--”

“You’ll have people flooding in from across the country.”

“It’s settled,” you giggle. “I’m using you in my business model.”

“Hey,” Sam chuckles. “As long as I get a cut, I’m not complaining.”

A silence falls over the tiny kitchen as your gaze drops from his.

Sam lightly raps his knuckles against the table before pushing his chair back.

“Uh—I should probably head out. You’re probably tired. I just wanted to come by and apologize...again.”

“Wow,” the light laugh you release halts Sam’s act of standing up. “The second you get what you came for you hit the ground running?”

The response is automatic. The chance to tease him is one you never pass up.

Sam’s brow raises as he takes in your smile.

“That’s not what I came for,” he admits.

“What did you come for then?”

“To ask you over to my place for breakfast tomorrow.”

The proposition hangs in the air, Sam nearly squirming in his seat as you take your time studying his gaze. You let out a sigh, your shoulders shrugging lightly, once you finally speak.

“I don’t know, Sam” You shake your head. Picking up the plate, you stand and cross the kitchen to the sink. “You just have so many responsibilities, nowadays, running around trying to save the world--”

“I’m not going anywhere tonight,” he’s quick with the reassurance. “Or any day, until we get through that date you promised me.”

You turn to face him, arms crossing over your chest as he comes to a stop before you.

“Say I show up. You have to promise me something.”

“Whatever you want.”

He knows that promise can end up being a slippery slope, depending on how hard you’re willing to make him work for it.

“If something comes up, in the future, you call me. And you tell me exactly why you can’t be here. Nobody gets to stand me up. Not the Falcon. And sure as hell, not Sam Wilson. Understood?”

Sam’s eyes drop to your interlaced fingers, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” Standing on your toes, you place a kiss against his cheek. “Now, go get some sleep. You’re making me breakfast in the morning. I’m expecting waffles, bacon, freshly squeezed O.J.--the works.”

if at any point you would like to be removed from the taglist, just message me

sam wilson tags: @missroro @fangirl-swagg

main tags: @crowngold @cant-decide-at-this-moment @wiccanmetallicrose @themarkblues @gemini0410 @binooo98 @the-jer-bear @abbiesthings @trhett21 @trulysuccubus @leahnicole1219 @starrynite7114 @awkwardtayler @toni9 @queenbeered @kaystacks17 @thesandbeneathmytoes @richonne4life @cocotheclown @oscars-wifeyyy @jennisdirtyimagines @ughdontbeboring @myakai13 @linziland13 @sadeyesgf @brattyfics @sincerelykas @ladyofsoa @pearlkitten33 @tian-monique @megapeacelovemusic-blog @rosieposie0624 @appropriate-writers-name @demonquartz @ourlittlesecretsoveragain @beiroviski @chaneajoyyy @frostingguru @seize-the-droid @cutiebubbleboo @siempremamita @awkwardtayler @relaxing-najee @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @inyourbackpocketisbutterflies

#sorry its up late ya'll already know i had to watch the new episode of All American #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x black!reader #sam wilson imagine #the falcon x you #tfatws imagine #anthony mackie imagine

[dunkindestieldonuts]

Happy Anniversary, Nerds

1094 words, rated M (read on ao3) Happy Pi Day and happy anniversary, Dean and Cas <3

Castiel wakes up on Sunday morning to the warm, familiar weight of Dean partially on top of him, lightly kissing along his collarbone. He brings his arms up to stretch, making a noise to get Dean’s attention.

Dean stops his ministrations and rests his cheek on Castiel’s chest to look up at him. His smile is brighter than the sunlight streaming in through the open window. "Happy anniversary, Cas," he says softly.

“Anniversary?” Castiel asks, bringing his hand up to card his fingers through Dean’s hair.

Dean tilts his head to meet Castiel’s touch. “Yeah, it's our anniversary. We've been married for a month.” He pouts, which makes Castiel stifle a laugh. “Don’t tell me you forgot already.”

Castiel moves his hand to the back of Dean’s head to pull him forward so he can kiss his forehead as an apology. Dean lets him.

“I was under the impression that anniversaries were an annual occurrence. I didn't know you could do it monthly.”

“Yup,” Dean says, popping the P.

“Does the monthly version include the exchanging of gifts?”

Dean smiles mischievously. “It does indeed.” He traces patterns on Castiel’s chest with his fingers. He arches an eyebrow at his husband. “Now, I’ve got something in mind but is there something...you want?”

“Hmm.” Castiel purses his lips and looks over at the wall, considering. Dean moves up so he can reach the exposed side of Castiel’s neck with his lips. It distracts Castiel from answering for a moment before an idea comes to him.

“A food processor.”

Dean jerks his head back to look him in the eye. “A...what?”

“I've noticed when you’re looking up recipes to try, you skip over ones that require kitchen tools we don’t have, like a food processor. I'd very much like to try some of those foods. I love your cooking.”

Dean makes a pained noise and scrunches his face, closing his eyes. He drops his forehead onto Castiel’s. “I love you so fucking much.”

Dean can hear the smile in Castiel’s voice. “I love you too, Dean.”

He lifts his head back up to look Castiel in the eye. “That's not exactly what I meant. The gift should be just for you. Be selfish. Whatever you want, Cas.”

Castiel hums in thought again. He’s starting to catch on. “Maybe if you told me what you want as your gift then I'd have a better idea of what you mean.”

The mischievous smile is back. “I'd like you to let me give you a blowjob.”

Dean looks down Castiel’s chest and starts to move lower, but Cas catches him by the chin, forcing him to look back up.

“No, Dean. Be selfish,” he says, trying to be serious. His smile is betraying him, though. “Something just for you. A blowjob would benefit me as well.”

Dean sighs, knowing Cas won’t let this go, even with what Dean is offering. He brings his elbows up to either side of Castiel’s head. He glances up at the wall above the headboard and catches sight of the sword he’d taken from the bunker hanging there.

“A whetstone.” He looks back down.

Castiel tilts his head to the side in confusion. Dean feels a wave of affection crash over him at the sight of the familiar gesture. He leans down to kiss Cas on the nose.

“Y’know. For the katana,” he says when he pulls back, gesturing to it. “Keep it sharp.”

Cas smiles. “That's more like it.” He wraps his arms around Dean’s neck and brings him down for a kiss. When they pull apart, Castiel looks away. “I still think we should get the food processor...”

Dean tilts his head to catch his eye. “And?”

“And I'd also like a new sweater.”

“You got it.” Dean smiles and plants a firm kiss on Castiel’s lips. “Can I give you the gift of a blowjob now?”

“You may.”

✧π✧π✧π✧

When they finally emerge from the bedroom, Castiel goes off to take a shower and Dean immediately goes to the kitchen. He opens the cabinet above the stove and pulls out a small blue journal, thumbing through it till he finds the recipes he marked the day before.  The island countertop is completely covered in ingredients and various food preparation utensils by the time Castiel comes out of the bathroom. Dean barely registers his presence, so engrossed in what he’s doing.

“What’s all this?” Castiel asks, going over to the coffee pot to get it started. He leans back against the counter as it brews and watches his husband bustle around, fondly cataloguing the way Dean fiddles with the tied bow in his apron when he reads from the journal.

“It’s Pi Day, Cas.”

“Pie day?”

“Yeah, three point one four and all that.”

“Oh, the mathematical pi.”

“Yes, that,” Dean responds distractedly as he assembles the standmixer.

Castiel goes to look at the recipes Dean has highlighted. Notes cover the margins, scribblings that he can barely make out. He thinks he sees Sam likes less sugar in the margin next to the peach cobbler, Jody doesn’t do blackberry next to a berry pie. He also catches sight of post-it notes with the names of their family, the scribbling on these a little neater. He smiles.

“So not just for us?” he asks.

“Nope, we’ve got some deliveries to make later. It might be our anniversary but Pi Day is sacred.”

Castiel scoffs, pouring two mugs of coffee. He extends his arm to give one to Dean, who can only stare at it at first, train of activity interrupted, before his brain catches up and he puts down his handful of apples to take it. “Thanks.”

Castiel pulls him closer by his apron pocket. “I think our first anniversary being on Pi Day makes the anniversary sacred, don’t you think?” he says, raising his eyebrows and looking over the lip of his mug at Dean.

Dean smiles at that. “Well then, take me to church, Cas.

“You were on your knees for me earlier,” Castiel responds.

“Fuck, I love you.”

“I know.”

Dean puts his mug down so he can hold Castiel’s face with both hands. He kisses him, deep and slow, until the oven’s preheat chime goes off. Dean pulls back, takes a swig from his now-cooled coffee, and waves his hands at Castiel.

“Now, please get out of my kitchen. I have work to do.”

✧π✧π✧π✧

Castiel goes out to get a food processor while his husband works. Dean uses it for the cherry crumble.

#my fanfic #lets try this format shall we #Destiel #Destiel fanfiction #happy anniversary dean and cas #pi day #supernatural #Destiel Wedding

[thisnoodlewritesao3]

The Girl With Stars In Her Eyes | Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Characters: Sawamura Daichi, Reader (Angel), Sugawara Koushi mentioned, Previous!Reader (Moonlight)

Pairings: Sawamura Daichi/Reader

Warnings: Angst, cheating, swearing

Word count: 4768

Summary: Falling in love was easy. Staying in love was harder. Falling out of love could be devastating or relieving. But with Daichi, everything is easy. Everything.

A/N: Make sure to check out part one of the series here and let me know what you think because oh boy did I hurt people. I’d also like to thank @pies-writes-and-more and @satan-ruler-of-hells for being my Beta-Readers

Previous | Series Masterlist | Next

----

Falling in love is always the easiest part; staying in love takes more work, but the end result is what makes it all worth it; falling out of love can be so difficult and devastating all at once - or it could be the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

You met Daichi halfway through your first year in college. He, quite literally, fell for you - well, on top of you, but they were semantics. With the wind knocked from your lungs and a vicious aching in the back of your head, you force yourself to stand up, “I am so sorry, are you okay? Do you have a concussion?” He asked fretting over you, reaching a gentle hand around to the back of your head, looking for any signs of injury.

That was an issue, because you didn’t even know the symptoms of a concussion, and now you might have one? If God could have mercy on you, then that would be highly appreciated. “I think I’m fine.” You moan, rubbing the bump that has already formed.

“I can take you to the doctor’s, just in case.” That would be the smart move, but you didn’t know who he was. Hadn’t ever seen him before, certainly hadn’t heard of him, so you were not about to follow him to some unknown location - even if he did radiate such kindness and authority. You think that he’d probably make a good police officer. Maybe he was.

“I’m good. Mostly.” You laugh and hold out an arm to steady yourself. “Besides, how bad can a concussion really be?” He almost looked shocked, so you could only assume that a concussion could be really bad. “Okay, okay, I’ll go to the doctor. Although at this rate, it’ll probably be because my lungs hurt.” You rub your chest, trying to soothe the pain in your lungs.

“I guess you could say,” he flashed a winning smile and chuckled, “I really took your breath away.” You laugh, ignoring your pain.

“Oh wow- that was… sad?” He chuckles again - how could a chuckle sound so sweet, like his voice was dipped in honey. “But I guess you did.” Of course, you meant it literally, but he clearly thought you were flirting back with him, because he smirked.

“And I fell for you harder than I’ve ever fallen for anyone,” his smirk grew wide when heat rose to your cheeks.

“I can attest to that, I mean, how are you so heavy?” You tease, momentarily forgetting the amount of pain you were actually in.

“I’m not heavy,” he pouts, though it’s obvious that he would definitely be heavy compared to you, “I just used to play volleyball in high school.” He shrugs and you roll your eyes.

Daichi leaves little room to escape in your conversation - not that you’re complaining, he’s definitely attractive and charming - the way he talked about volleyball with such a passion in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. And you knew the feeling, you loved watching it with your dad so many years ago - one of the few happy memories you have with him. For a while you thought that it would bring a bitter taste into your mouth to hear about it again, but it didn’t. You were glad.

----

Falling in love with Daichi was the easiest part. Almost too easy.

He wore his heart on his sleeve, even when you told him how dangerous that really was; there didn’t seem to be anything he couldn’t do. That wasn’t exactly true, even though he had won your heart, you refused to date a man you barely knew. Especially not one so especially charming as Daichi.

Still he’d always ask at the end of every month, “I already fell for you, if you fall too, I’ll be sure to catch you,” with the laziest wink. Like he knew exactly what was going on in your heart.

And yet the closer you got to Daichi, the further away he seemed. He had friends back home, an hour away, and, at first, he’d call them once a day. Then it slipped into every few days. Then once a week. There’s a tenderness in his voice that you can’t quite place. Something that made you question him ever so slowly. But - at this point - you were just his friend. Who were you to question how he talked to his friends?

One day, you asked if he had any exes, a tension filled the air and he looked away from you out of the window, “I guess one girl,” he shrugged, but you knew there was more than what he was telling you. You could feel it, “not much to say about her, but the first thing I noticed about her was how she reminded me of the moon. She reflects the warmth you give to her, but all in all, nothing too special.” Empty. That was how he spoke of this girl. Like there weren’t any real emotions with how he felt about her. There’s something in his eyes that changed and he frowned. “She made friends a little too easily, if you know what I mean.” Your stomach dropped at the suggestion, she hadn’t cheated on him, had she? “But you,” he turned around, smiling softly, “it’s like you have stars in your eyes.”

You laugh and roll your eyes at him - as if you hadn’t heard that a thousand times already. It was true. People called you hopeful, filled with life and joy. You hated it. So much.

Like they were taunting you somehow.

You could never seem to explain it, the distaste you had for something so seemingly sweet.

Maybe he knew how you felt when your face twisted, because he reached out and grabbed your hand so softly, rubbing his thumb along the back of it. There was that tenderness again.

You’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t skip a beat.

----

After six months of non-stop pursuing you, Daichi asks to take you on a date, and you finally agree, because you really love him so much.

And Daichi doesn’t disappoint.

He whisks you off around the city to each and every little location you held near and dear to your heart, paying for everything without any hesitation, because, “an angel like you should never have to pay for a thing.” You can’t help but hesitate.

“You must have been quite the player,” you tease, hand over your heart, feigning protection, “am I going to need to prepare myself for a heartbreak?” Something in his eyes twist - maybe guilt or shame - but you don’t have a chance to really see what it means before he squeezes them shut and smiles brightly.

“The only thing I play is volleyball.” And with that, all your worries are silenced. You find something so comforting about his company on late nights when you’re both completing so much work that it’s overwhelming. He always knows exactly the right way to relieve your stress.

Your friend's remarks about the marks that littered your body meant nothing to you, not when you found yourself in his arms later that evening, dancing under the pale moonlight. His hands running through your hair, over your body, lips on yours with such a passion and love that you’re afraid you might melt.

Daichi truly is perfect in every single way. Maybe he doesn’t see it, there’s always those underlying insecurities in everything that he does, especially when he asks whether you trust him.

You try to ask him about why he’s so worried about that, and he reminds you about the girl of the moon - the one who made friends just a little too easily. You listen as he talks about her, how she befriended his best friend just a little too quickly, how she was ignorant to what he could see, the way she’d confide in the other boy with such ease. He talked about how he’d always known their future wouldn’t be together. Not now, at least. Still, even with all the ways he described what she’d done, the way she treated him (because you don’t even need to hear the details to know that this girl had cheated on him), he still speaks about her with such a tenderness in his eyes.

So you ask more. “What was she like before?” His face twists, lost in the thought, seeking the words to describe her.

“She was just a normal girl.” He shrugged before ending the conversation quickly.

You couldn’t help but think there was something he wasn’t telling you, but you weren’t going to push him because everybody has their secrets. Even you have your own.

----

From that day forward, you could only look at the moon with a bitterness in your mouth; how silly is it to think you can despise somebody you’d never met before. Even with that bitterness, you keep seeking out the sweetness, because a girl who reminds you of the moon surely can’t be all that bad.

Yet Daichi refuses to give you more than he already had. There was something off in the way he acted, but each backtrack was covered expertly with his whispers of sweet nothings and, before you know it, he’s whisking you off your feet all over again.

Some nights you wonder whether he still speaks to the girl of the moon; with the way he spoke about her, you couldn’t assume so. If he could still talk about her so tenderly, then there had to be more about her. You wanted to know about her life beyond what Daichi had told you. Although it didn’t seem like it would do any good, so you didn’t bother trying to look for her. You walked along a path beside him, leaving stones unturned.

Other days, Daichi would ask about your childhood. And you’d tell him the truth because there was no point in trying to avoid it, “my parents would cheat on each other for revenge.” You put it plain and simple, venom soaked words seemed to be never-ending, “you’d think that at some point they’d realise that I could still hear them fight, but they didn’t.” Thinking about it hurts, but he deserves to know, because you love him. “I spent a long time watching my mom become a husk of herself. I fucking hate people who cheat. There isn't even any point to it.”

Your shaking, you didn’t realise it until just now, but the anger was bubbling over so much that you physically couldn’t contain it. Tears in your eyes burn so much and now you can’t even see clearly.

This feeling of weakness used to fill you so much, and you hated how it had been the one thing to stick around - that and the twisted idea you had stars in your eyes. You felt about ready to break down until Daichi rested his hand on your back, leaning his head down onto your shoulder; you couldn’t see the look on his face, but you were sure it was one of pity.

----

It didn’t take much longer after that before more of your things were at Daichi’s dorm rather than at your own. That was only because you had a roommate, and he didn’t, so it made more sense for you to be there.

Little pieces of you were integrated around, like his place was made for you. Your favourite candles were lit around - the smell of black cherry filled the air and made it feel like home. You were far too used to leaving textbooks and notes at his that when you were at yours, you had no choice but to do nothing all day.

There are still so many things you learn about Daichi every day; the one that surprises you the most is his brief era in watching anime. How he could now name all the characters on a random show a friend had made him watch, and that he was still watching Attack on Titan because he just wants to know what happens, he doesn’t really like it.

You were so close to Daichi, so much that you hated the few times he went to visit friends and family back home - he said that you should wait to meet his family and friends, and while you find it strange, he assures you that he’s told them all about you.

When he visits for his moms birthday, you consider sneaking with him, but decide against it. Because you love Daichi, and you will respect him. You’ll meet his family when he’s ready. That’s what you told yourself.

That’s what you had to keep telling yourself.

That day he came back with a new shirt - said his friend had insisted that he take it because he’d bought it specifically for him. He told you, “but it would look so much better on you.” And you can’t help the rush of excitement as he basically strips you right there. His hands and mouth are on you. Your mind is filled with only thoughts of him.

----

Of course nice things can never last. For all the good things, there are an equal amount of bad things. You just didn’t think one would come so soon.

You’re curled up by his side, trailing your hands over his chest. Over the little marks that you had left. Because Daichi was yours, yours and nobody else’s. For a second, you’re ready to sleep right here; you let out a soft sigh as a knock echoed throughout the dorm.

Standing up and sauntering over, you watch him as he starts to slowly get clothes on. It’s a shame, really, because he is absolutely gorgeous. Your hand hovers over the handle a minute, debating whether or not to actually open the door. But you are an angel, after all, so you open it.

In front of you stands a woman, a smile so wide and reflective that it makes you want to smile, too. She looks maybe a little older than her age, slightly tired. You note the way she’s breathing just a little too quickly. Like she’s nervous. But what exactly did she have to be nervous for? Had she gotten the wrong dorm? That seemed like the only reasonable answer. Her eyes flutter open and she opens her mouth to speak, but something makes her stop. Inside her eyes, you watch the light die and shatter.

Her eyes trail over you, taking in every little detail. It’s like she’s faced the ultimate betrayal and you aren’t sure why. She was the one who’d come to Daichi’s dorm, did she not know that the two of you were dating? For a second - a second you regret immediately - you think that Daichi might have cheated on you. The thought makes your blood boil but you brush it off, because Daichi isn’t like that. Daichi would never do anything like that.

But why does she look so destroyed?

Like her entire world was crumbling around her?

She raised a shaking hand up to her mouth - you know Daichi would never cheat, so why is your heart racing so fast? Why do you recognise the look inside of this girl's eyes?

Your grip on the door tightens as she squeezes her eyes shut - like she just can’t believe what she’s seen. But what has she seen? Sure, she’d seen you, but that was a completely normal sight around campus. Maybe she just didn’t know. Maybe she came here to confess her undying love for him? That wouldn’t have surprised you.

She meets your eyes. You can see the tears brimming but refusing to fall. Why? So many questions and not enough answers. You glance back into the dorm, taking in Daichi now wearing pants. He calls out, “who is it, angel?”

In the corner of your eye, you watch her lift her other hand to her heart before pulling it away slightly, glancing down. What was she expecting to see?

You keep your eyes focused on Daichi’s face as he stands behind you in the door frame, a hand snaking around your waist before he turns to look at the girl. Something happens. Something that you couldn’t understand. Not until his face falls entirely too quickly and something in his eyes breaks. You look back at the girl as she shakes, the saddest little smile upturning her lips, “surprise…” her attempt at a sing-song tone shatters your heart.

He calls out her name, speaking far too quickly, “sh-shit, okay. Look. I can- I can explain. Okay? Just… come inside.” He’s stuttering and fumbling as he grabs onto her wrist. A hope fills her eyes and she allows herself to be pulled inside.

----

You didn't need to be a genius to put the pieces together. If this had been a story, they were the main characters. You sit on the couch while Daichi pours some water into a mug for her. There’s something in this story that you can’t work out, and that’s where you come into play. The girl so obviously wants to do anything but be sat here, so what did Daichi need to explain to her?

“How’re the boys?” He asks, passing her the mug, you quirk a brow. He barely even glances at you as he sits down, the space between you kept growing wider. She just nods slowly, like she’s in a daze. “What about Suga? Or even the first years, do they still come-”

“Just get it over with, Daichi.” Her voice was void of any emotion as she looked up at him.

She hadn’t even cried. If she was really hurt, wouldn’t she be crying? Everything about her seemed so vacant, like she was shrouded in complete darkness.

“Right.” He clears his throat, clasping his hands together as he searches for the right words. Silence with Daichi had always been comfortable before, but this had such a tension in it that it was hard to breathe. “I just- I was alone. You left me alone… I thought you hated me. I-I… I made a mistake,” he glances at you and your heart breaks all over again. Was that all you were to him? “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.” He laughs nervously. “Y-You always had Suga. I just needed someone.” The girls grip tightens on the mug, knuckles turning white.

As you listen to him explain, you finally understand what part you play and it makes you sick. Because Daichi hadn’t just cheated on you - worse than that - he had used you to cheat on someone else. You wanted to be sick. Guilt and shame radiated off of you and you just knew she could see that.

At some point during his rambling, she looks at you again. There’s a small spark in her eyes as she speaks, “nice shirt.” You look down, of course it was nice, it was Daichi’s. But now it just makes you want to tear it apart.

“Thank you,” you mutter, “it’s Daichi’s.”

“I know.” There’s a worrying confidence in her voice as she turns to glare at him. “I bought it.”

Another twisting in your stomach and you watch him sink in on himself. How hasn’t he apologised already? He is destroying two worlds at once and he isn’t even sorry; sure, he’s coming up with excuses, but he’s just trying to defend himself.

“I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. I-I… I thought maybe if we kept trying, then maybe we could-” she cuts him off, placing the mug onto the coffee table. She hadn’t even drank it, just stared at her own reflection like it was a curse and you knew exactly what was happening in her mind. Why wasn’t I enough? She cringes at the sight of your textbooks, your candles, everything.

“I think what you mean,” she sits up straighter and faces him directly, “is that you didn’t mean for me to find out.” You watch Daichi open his mouth and you just know it’s true. What was his plan when he dared to speak to you? To pursue you? He knew he had a girlfriend and he hunted you anyway. She lets out a breath - almost sounding more like a laugh - as she claps her hands together, “well, when you told me to go out and live my life, I never thought this is what it would be like.” She seems to know the right words to say to hurt him. How long had they been together?

Something about Daichi changed, like his defences shot up, “it isn't like you ever needed me, you always had Suga clinging to your side. You never even trusted me anyway.” You couldn’t figure out what he was playing at, why was he suddenly trying to attack her? It didn’t work. Nothing about her demeanour changed. If anything, she just looked angrier. How is she ever going to be able to trust you now? You want to say.

She has a sly way of attacking, very subtle and something to admire, especially as her even tone states, “maybe that’s true, but if you really think that, then you never knew me at all.” Guilt floods his eyes and you know that it has worked; those few words were enough to make this man with an aura of authority shrink like a child.

“I spent a lot of time thinking,” she sighs. You watch as she rubs slow circles on her sides - so she really is anxious? How close is she to breaking down? If it were you, you would have been long gone by now, “that when you slowly stopped calling-” you shrink into yourself, because you were the reason he’d slowly stopped calling “-that you were really busy; you were out here doing what I should have. You were living your life.” She glanced at you and you instinctively tug the hem of the shirt. Her eyes don’t linger, not long enough to read your mind. “And I can see I was right.” Her tone was so indifferent that it was somehow more threatening.

She gets up to leave and you’re almost thankful until his hand shoots out and grabs her wrist, desperation deep set in his voice, “we can still try, I- I want you to still love me. And I will love you, because I do love you.” It breaks your heart. You don’t want to hear it. You look at her and know she feels exactly the same way.

This was the time you’d expected her to break, but she doesn’t - God, this girl is filled with surprises - she smiles sweetly down at him, carefully untangling his fingers from around her wrist. “I never said I didn’t love you, but I don’t think I like you anymore, Daichi.” And with that, she broke him.

She slips out of the room, leaving you to soak in the tension.

----

“Are you going to leave me now, too?” Daichi cries out as you start getting dressed, rummaging around his dorm for the other shoe. You can’t just leave her alone. It’s your fault, you should have seen the signs all along. “Come on, angel, don’t be like this.” He reached out and put a hand on your shoulder.

It felt like he’d burnt you, “don’t you touch me.” You hissed, shoving him off and running towards the door the moment your shoe was on. He didn’t chase after you - of course he didn’t, he hadn’t even chased after her - why would you be special? That was the thing. You weren’t. Not to Daichi, at least. You were just something he could use. It was a horrible feeling, to fall out of love so quickly and suddenly. Like the wind had been knocked from your lungs and a tear in your heart.

You ran across the campus, searching wildly for the girl. You could only assume she was just as strong as you saw her a moment ago; it didn’t take long to find her, her steps were slow, like she was hoping he’d come back to her. That he’d love her and whisk her away. That he’d say this was some sort of sick joke.

But it wasn’t.

You reached out and tapped her shoulder, closing your eyes as you talked, “I am so sorry. I- I never would have done anything like that if I knew,” your heart hurts because you had been a part of this girl's destruction. “I didn’t know. And I-” you slowly open your eyes. Soft tears are falling from her eyes, and yet she holds her composure, “you really loved him, didn’t you?” Your voice is so soft that you’re worried she hasn't heard it.

But she did, telling someone that she’d call them back before hanging up. She looked around hopelessly before spotting a bench and beckoning you to follow, which you do - she seems so wise beyond her years, like she never really had the chance to be young.

Something about her reminds you of the girl Daichi told you about - the girl of the moon - how she still seems bright even in the darkness. Because this had to have been her darknest point.

“I do-” she hesitates, and you know that she still does, no matter what she says next, “- I did. Did he ever tell you how we met?” You shake your head, but it’s only a half truth. You had only heard the few things that he had said, and those words didn’t seem like much of a truth now. Because this girl doesn’t seem like she could hurt anyone; maybe only herself.

You listen intently as she tells you the story of how they met. How they’d been put in the same class, next to each other. How she was jealous of the window and how he blocked it; how he never really stopped blocking the window (that you could attest to, because he’d done the same thing). She tells you about Suga - his best friend - and how she just never wanted to hurt Daichi. She told you that she’d stayed back for her siblings, and that she didn’t really know what to do. Her confusion and sadness when he stopped calling. How that became normal.

Then she talks about him more. Her first impressions; how he had an unwillingness to give up (you knew that much) and an aura of authority and you agree, because who wouldn’t. She talks about this side of him with such a tenderness and you just know she loves him. She tells you that he could bring the first years to their knees, and you can’t help but laugh.

There’s so much more you want to talk to her about, but she just grabs your hand and sighs. “I- I don’t blame you.” It must be bitter to admit, but it eases the tension in your heart. “Daichi made his choice, and if that choice was you, then I can see why.” You want to hold her. To tell her how sorry you are. But the words refuse to leave your lips. Instead, you squeeze her hand and she smiles softly before standing up, wishing you a good life.

Would you ever have a good life after this?

----

It takes you an hour to pack up your things from Daichi’s dorm - with the help of your friends. A week to cry out any feelings you had for him. A month until Daichi finally understands you aren’t coming back to him. A year until you finish college and move in with a friend.

Sometimes the thought of Daichi still lingers, but then you look at the moon, and any thoughts are washed away.

You think kindly back on the girl wise beyond her years. Some days you wish you’d gotten to be her friend, but then you figure she wouldn’t want to be.

Falling in love is the easy part - but that’s why you hesitate when falling in love with the next boy - Matsukawa Issei. 

Staying in love with him is the hard part, but you learn how to work together, and things become just a little easier. He doesn’t make things hard, doesn’t beat around the bush. And (the girl would be happy about this) he doesn’t block the windows. He pulls you close so you can stand together. 

Falling out of love isn’t something you need to worry about. Not when he looks at you with stars in his eyes.

----

Taglist:

@dekuspet @pies-writes-and-more @satan-ruler-of-hells @realcube

If you want to be added to the taglist, send me an ask or a DM.

#sawamura daichi #sawamura daichi angst #sawamura daichi x reader #hq daichi #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #angst #writing #my writing #thisnoodlewrites #the.girls.touched.by.space

[randomposterofstuff]

RivaMika Stories Master list (As of 4/16/2021)

Author's Note: Hello, fellow RM shippers! I know that a lot of us still feel upset because of Chapter 139. (I still haven't gotten to making a post about about my thoughts on it. Lol.) And I know that many are seeking copium. (Just like me. Hahaha.) So in relation to this, I would like to share my RivaMika stories through this master list. I've only written (3) stories as of present time. Also, please note that I wrote these before Chapter 139 was released. So, they're more or less canon-divergent. Haha. But in any case, I hope that you like them! Comments and reviews would be very much appreciated!

EDIT (4/17/2021): Hello, @rivamikaevents! I'd like to submit this master list for this weekend's "canon-divergence" prompt. Hehehe.

-----

1. Endure

Summary: After the war, Levi and Mikasa now live together in relative peace. But some scars still cause lingering pain.

Rating: T

Tags: Slight mentions of PTSD, Fluff, Canon-Divergence, Slight Angst, RivaMika Cottagecore

2. Glad that You're Here

Summary: When a night terror jolts Mikasa awake, Levi is there to calm and steady her.

Rating: T

Tags: Slight Mentions of PTSD, Fluff, Angst

3. Of Toys, Winds, and Apple Pies

Summary: On one sunny morning, Mikasa wakes up to Levi's eyes on her, their daughter's excited squeals, and an important epiphany.

Rating: T

Tags: Family, Fluff, Ackerbaby, Mild swearing, Canon-Divergence

#rivamika #levimika #mikasa ackerman #levi ackerman #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #snk

[life-rewritten]

GIANTS OF BL 2021 AKA SHOWS LINED UP FOR GMMTV THAT WE WON’T STOP SCREAMING ABOUT!

Is there a way I can get over the addiction of BLS? Apparently not because GMMTV came and slapped me across the face for ever thinking I could. Like what even was that conference? I came in like yeah I've heard the rumours. 6 BLs! LOL, you're kidding, like nothing I'd want would even happen. But I still made a list of everything I wanted from them and held that checklist in my mind and boy was I shocked! I ended up just on the floor, brain exploded, mind shut down and can you believe I was crying? Like why on earth was I crying for GMMTV BLs? Crazy right? I am absolutely left floored, I'm going to be crying as I write this by the way just so you know, I've got my heart full ready to burst, talking about the change we've seen in BLs this year, the journey, the growth; there's still some work to do, but GMMTV said they were also part of that, they were going to change and make us stay, wanting more. They did that in a 3-hour conference. My brain is ready, my mind is prepared, my heart is available for all these shows, and I can't wait to see what 2021 unfolds. Let's begin screaming:

Ratings: From 1 to 5 (1 being least excited to watch, 5 being most,) how excited am I to delve into these shows?

THE NICE SURPRISES

BAKERY BOYS

Genre/Themes: Thriller, Bromance, Mystery, Psychological, Drama, Friendship, BL? (The manga is), Baking

Verdict: You know I love Antique when immediately I see that Foie's hands shaking as he has to be one of the waiters in the cafe, reminds me back to another favourite bodyguard of mine doing so. I was in shock; One because Antique was one of my first Korean 'BL' movies I saw, with all my favourite actors, an unusual and intriguing plotline and I ate it up; all of it. I didn't like how censored it was and the weird open ending for the relationship in the show. But I couldn't care less, something about it made me happy. I just loved the characters I think, and I enjoyed seeing our 4 bakers become friends and find a weird found family with each other. Add in a mystery to why Joon’s character wanted to kill himself and hated cakes? And I was sold. Now GMMTV is making a remake for it, and SINGTO is playing my favourite gay baker. Like I am so happy with this. Do I expect this to blow my mind? No. Do I expect more BL? A little? I'm not sure like GMMTV could make Antique a BL if they want to, Korea hinted to it, Japan ignored it in anime and others, but Thailand could change that. I'm not holding hopes for it, but I love this cast just as much as I love the Korean Cast like Lee Thanawat is perfect for this role, Singto is greater (I just love him so much) and we even have Pleum and Foei?? Are you kidding me? Greatness. It's going to be fun to see what they do with the mystery—something I greatly liked in the movie. Let's hope it's more fleshed out in the tv show. So excited!

Ratings: 3.5/5 I mean it's not really a BL so it'll feel queer baity for me and I may end up being annoyed it, but I really do have fond memories of the Korean movie, so I want to be excited, and the cast is everything so we'll see.

FISH UPON THE SKY

Genre: Unrequited Love, Comedy, Romance, Rivalry, Haters to Lovers, 

Verdict: 

DID SOMEONE SAY JITTIRAIN: THEORY OF LOVE? 2GETHER??? Sorry for screaming but like what else am I meant to do. Theory of love is my ultimate BL show, one of it anyway, one of the reasons will be discussed even more later with another show, but this is not about them. Also, 2gether is like one of the biggest BLs ever right now. Jittirain is genius, she has this ability to make you feel for her characters, root for their love stories whilst throwing plot twists everywhere. I also like that she always has a focus; theory of love, we had film theory, 2gether we had music, and now we have Fish Upon the Sky, and we have?

 Medicine? Love rivalry? Honestly, I don't know, the title even makes me feel even weird; what the hell does Fish upon a sky mean? But who cares it's a Jittirain classic, comedy, pain, longiiiing, and unrequited love, and scheming to get unrequited loves requited, more side couples and secretive characters. This time we have PHUWIN (had to emphasise that because he's impressive people stop sleeping on him!), one of my favourite youngins, showing up and becoming our main Pi and we have Pond a newbie, who has charisma for days, and he plays Mork, and they are love rivals. Wait what? A love story between two people who fall for each other after chasing after one guy? I'm ready for this, the haters to lovers, the pain of unrequited longing, but hold on it seems like a plot twist! Seems like we have another oblivious protagonist on our hand aside from Tine in 2gether, Pi can't even see that Mork isn't chasing after the same person as him, but for he's chasing after him! Sarawat scheming activated! I'm expecting giggles, chemistry and a great story. And it's going to be great because it's Jittirain. 

Ratings: 4.5/5 It's not anything new but do I need to repeat my self? Theory of love pining and longing and emotions mixed with 2gether's secrecy, scheming and obliviousness? It's going to be great. The cast is also excellent, I have total faith in this show, better be a good director though (oh no nightmares from the last half of 2gether has returned). 

FINDING ENCHANTE

Genre: Romance, Comedy, Angst, Drama, Friends to Lovers, Haters to Lovers, Harem, Mystery, 

Verdicts: 

Enchante that means nice to meet you aww. Wow, now I know French. Yay now where do I sign up to be like Theo and have 5 men chasing after me? Actually, that sounds like a nightmare, and I don't have time for that. He does apparently. Guess what guys! I knew I had a feeling in my gut when I watched this drama, I felt the memories, the intuition, the clues, hitting my brain, and I realised why. This show is also written by My gear and your gown's writer. YES! You mean more mystery and subtext filled storytelling, a show where I can analyse the character dynamics, and find clues to piecing the story together??? Perfection. As much as My gear and your gown wasn't everything to me, it was everything to me when I analysed it, I have fun with this writer's works when directed properly her works have great potential to be one of the best. I love GMMTV giving new actors the time to shine, and choosing stories that make my mind start working again. Thank you. 

With this show we're having a love Simon flashbacks with our Simon being sent secret messages through a book by Enchante, he's sweet, caring and totally all about making our lead comfortable. Who could he be?

 The best friend who's totally pining from afar and playing off his feelings like its nothing?  My gut is already saying that Tine definitely wants it to be him (so again requited but they don't know trope? you've got me!)

Is it the playboy guitar extraordinaire played by GAWIN you heard me right GAWIN my Mork in Dark Blue Kiss!! Like what? Where've you been boy? He looks so great in this, by the way, he's a tease, likes to play our lead's feelings, and has chemistry because they're haters to lovers.  

Or is it FLUKE PUSIT?? What even is this cast how is it both my favourite actors are here? Anyways Fluke is an artist, he wants our lead to let him in so he can draw him, our lead is his muse apparently, and again chemistry that makes your head hurt because like who is this damn Enchante?? Who will Theo choose? 

Anyways we then have two people who I don't know that well sorry, Boom is the football captain that likes our lead and is always protecting him, and the other is a genius/nerd? Who helps Theo with his studies? Like wow, it must be great to be Theo, guys from different lifestyles and aesthetics have found him, they want him, they need him and one of them he wants and needs. I wonder who it is. 

Ps people already thinking it's the best friend, not me, I think bestie is obviously endgame Tine is definitely also secretly wanting him to be with that pining and longing (I'm sure it's why he wants to find enchante desperately). I can't wait to see why these two refuse to let each other know how it feels. All I beg for is, please don't let New direct this. Guess what it's produced by X (Theory of Love! Hold on while I cry again) and Film! (Also theory of love!) Oh, this is going to be brilliant!

Ratings: 4.5/5 This drama is probably going to be the most underrated because people have other things to care about I don't blame you, but I think for me, this would be a same favourite way I loved MGYG and I'm ready for new faces, Gawin and Fluke and a requited but they don't know it angsty love story plus I know the directing is going to be amazing!. Ps, I actually hate harems, but the excitement is in figuring out who on earth is Enchante and why this is happening! 

THE BIG BOYS

GMMTV decided to not let me rest next year. How is it that I already felt happy by seeing Phuwin, Gawin, Fluke etc... I was content you know, I was like great we have a great line up I'm excited now I don't think there's anything else I secretly want that will happen. I'm being a clown, BUT NO. EVERYTHING I ASKED FOR: EVERYONE I WANTED TO SEE, EVERY TROPE I WANTED, THE DIRECTOR, THE PLOTS, EVERYTHING WAS MANIFESTED BY THESE THREE TRAILERS. That's why I ended up crying.  Because even till this day I can't believe this is real. I don't know when I'll finally think they will be real in 2021. Crying again!

NOT ME 

Genre: Gang, Mafia, Crime, Romance, Drama, Stolen Identity, Twins, Angst

Not me? Not you? Not us? See how my mind scrambles when it comes to this show. Because I was determined to not be a clown and believe in this even when I saw OFF GUN hold onto each other on the motorbike I was like HA, nope they're just guest stars, when I saw them as gang members I was like HA; interesting probably not BL. When I saw two Guns, I was like HA, nice Gifted character flashback but still not BL. I won't fall for it,  this is a BAIT! You get me? BAIT!! Don't fall for it and then GMMTV was like shut up here's a kiss. And then I broke down and cried. Because it was a journey. 

Remember when I said Theory of Love was my favourite? It's because of these two; OffGun is everything, my favourite BL couple on screen, my favourite fanservice couple, everything. I thought that the end of theory of love meant I won't be seeing them for a while, they'd be in other series separate, they'd not want to be typecasted. Gun would go for serious roles, Off will choose more het romantic comedies, don't blame them. Still, I didn't think I'd see them again, and I wasn't sure I wanted to see them in another university setting. I set my mind on only seeing them in fan meetings and side projects, I'd made up my mind to miss them. And then NOT ME happened, and now I'm crying just at the thought;

This isn't a cringy, comedic, cheesy BL. 

This isn't set in University.

This isn't'  unrequited pining from Gun to Off.

Gun is Dark! I repeat Gun went Dark he became a gang leader determined to break the law, called Black and Off; OFF went serious and he's Gun's right-hand man called Sean, and I'm just like wait is this real?? We're getting dark, gritty OFF GUN??? Are you serious?? See?? still can't believe it, and it's BL??? What is this? Christmas?? Like how did we get this, who came up with this idea THANK YOU SO MUCH. 

I thought nothing could beat theory of love for me and now OffGun came back and said HA you thought. I have a lot of feels about this, I will never stop screaming, I've rewatched that youtube trailer now for about more than 20 times, I'm not even kidding you, every day it's on repeat, I'm just ready, ready to write, to scream, to talk about this in so much detail. Let's get a plot that's deep, thrilling and mysterious, let's get a romance that is interesting, angsty but also sweet, let's get acting that is full of range, that will break my heart but fix it together again, let's get chemistry that would make me forget everything else. I'm ready for this. I've never been more ready!

Ratings: 5/5 What were you expecting? I can't even rate this anything else, nothing about this is worrying; even the director I trust she's also worked with Gun before in another movie of his, she respects LGBTQ, and she wants to make a great BL. I just can't believe this is real. 2021 come faster, I beg you. 

BAD BUDDY 

Genre: Forbidden romance, Haters to Lovers, Romance, Comedy, Opposites attract, Angst, Friends to Lovers, 

Verdict: 

You thought my screaming would be over. But no. GMMTV wasn't done with me yet. It's like it knew I was mourning from my lack of Ohm Pawat after rewatching He's coming to me (review here) and it knew I had just finished watching Gifted Graduation and felt slighted to see my opportunity at seeing Nanon as a BL character being taken from me with that finale. GMMTV knew I was empty without them and decided to mock me, and put me back together by making OHM NANON in a series together,. 

Again the same process as Not me; I started laughing when I saw the trailer like a mad person. I was like this is clearly a queer bait bromance, HA, not falling for it GMMTV almost got me this time, but then there were the stares, the Romeo and Juliet energy, the sneaking into each other's rooms, the becoming secret friends despite being haters to lovers, the skinship, the intimacy, and then the jealousy, the pining, the longing, the are we just friends scene??? WAIT, WHAT IS THIS?? Why is AOF directing this (same director of ALL my favourite BLS), what is this GMMTV? 

Nanon wouldn't be in a BL we know this, we've been clowns, but we accepted this with defeat, why is he now saying he's doing one because of the cast? THIS IS A BL? NOT BAIT? NOT A TRICK? BY AOF? WHATTTTTTT???? see my mind exploded. 

Since then it hasn't still comprehended this. This is insane, do you know how good, how genius, how amazing Nanon and Ohm Pawat is?? Do you see the power this holds? The fact it's directed by Aof who's like one of the best directors ever in GMMTV??? Do you even know what this means? For this GENRE??? Sorry, I have to scream. I still can't believe this! This is something someone would say, and we'd laugh it of as a joke like yeah right, in your dreams, but it's real, and it looks absolutely amazing, is it a university setting YES, so what? This is everything, with haters to lovers but not really, to Romeo and Juliet pining and longing, to the chemistry that takes your breath away. To just Ohm and Nanon in a screen together being in love. Yep, you guessed it my mind is never goanna be whole again after this breakdown. Guess what I'm okay with it. 

Ratings: 5/5 OhmNanon, Aof that's it. That's the post.

A TALE OF A THOUSAND STARS

 Genre/Themes: Military, Romance, Comedy, Drama, Heart Transplant, Unrequited Love, Fish out of water, 

Verdict:

 And we come to this big one here. You see it? It screams 2021 show of the year to me, it screams incredible plot and romance to me, it screams unique and exciting BL to me. Guess what? It's also by Aof. Ha. It took me a year to accept this is happening because when the trailer came out, I knew that with this cursed genre that this was too good that there'd probably be some kind of issue with it. But did it matter? No! Because this was real. Earth and Mix were in a BL together, and it looks so amazing, so great, and it's coming in less than 3 months. I'm going to cry. And it means everything; because there's a hint of character dynamics, angst and also haters to lovers. I see the chemistry, the production, the plot, the actors, and I just feel so ready for this show that I have no other words to say except I love it, I love it, I love it!. 

Ratings: 5/5 It's taken years, but I'm ready for this, I just want the trailer now, I want the show now, I want 2021 to start now. This is definitely a giant for sure, it's everything, and I can't wait for it. 

After screaming at everything; 2021 starting with ATOTS is already a sign, we're in for a great year with so many incredible changes in this genre. GMMTV isn't messing around, with subs in their event to show international fans are no longer forgotten and are heard and respected, with actors that have made their way into my heart and refuse to leave, and I'm just so happy. It may seem so extreme to be this excited for a BL series to be good, but I love this genre, I love seeing what it represents to so many people, I love the interesting storylines, the discussions you can have for days because of it, the tears, angst, and happiness you feel. But most of all I love how BL has brought out writing from me, I'm happy when I analyse this genre, I'm delighted discussing real-life links and conversations derived from it, I'm so glad learning and humbling my self and opening my mind to new things. BL has been a source of excitement, shock and happiness this year. I can't for next year to be even more splendid, and with this line-up, it's going to be even more than that. It's going to break the world. Can't wait. 

#thai bl #gmmtv 2021 #gmmtv #bl series #bl drama #antique bakery #baker boys #singto prachaya #fish upon the sky #phuwin tangsakyuen #enchante #not me #off gun #offgun #bad buddy #ohmnanon #ohmnon #fvete #2021

[xazz]

Moth Wings 7

Pairing: AltMal, Altair+Desmond Rating: Explicit Tags: vampires, romance, servant AU, music AU, fluff, angst, flangst Status: WIP

Oof it’s been a while. I should really keep on top of this here on Tumblr.  As before Tumblr gets updated before AO3, meanwhile Patreon is like 40k words ahead of everyone. Like Malik and Altair have fucked already lol

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Altair was alone in his room carefully restringing his violin. One of the strings had snapped and he took it as an excuse to put all new ones on. He saved the good old ones but putting new ones on gave him something to do before he passed out.

He’d been playing so much and that was why the string had broken. He’d tightened it too much and just all the playing he’d been doing the past few weeks had put a strain on the string and made it snap. It’d also left a cut across the top of his hand when it’d snapped, nothing serious but he’d had to leave Desmond in the care of someone else until the bleeding stopped. You couldn’t have an open wound around a vampire child like that. They didn’t have the control adults did.

He perked up when there was a knock on his door. Who? He got up and opened the door and couldn’t help himself. He looked down at Malik’s chest instead of at his face. “Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked.

“I came to see how your hand was doing,” Malik said.

Altair self consciously reached over and touched his bandage wrapped hand. It stung a little still but the bleeding had stopped. It had only broken the top few layers of skin, barely bleeding at all. “It’s doing fine. Probably won’t even scar.”

“Won’t affect your playing?”

“No, sir,” he said, still not looking at Malik directly.

“Are you able to play now?” Altair just shrugged. He flinched when Malik gently tipped his head up. “I don’t like talking to the top of your head, Altair.”

“Habit,” was all he said. Malik’s hand stayed under his chin, barely touching him.

“Is your hand well enough to play?”

“Tomorrow, probably. I should give it time to heal.”

“Good,” Malik nodded. “I’ve heard you playing for Desmond, you sound better every time, I swear.”

“Yeah, it’s called practice,” Altair said. Malik laughed. He’d never made a vampire laugh before. Well, except Desmond. But that hardly counted. Desmond was a baby.

“How are you sleeping?”

“That’s not your concern,” Altair said and finally pulled his head out of Malik’s reach, taking a step back into his room, hand on the door. “I don’t give you permission to come in here,” he said when he saw Malik try to step over his threshold. While Malik was invited into the castle and that meant every room he was welcome in you could revoke that permission. Altair had learned that when Desmond had first learned to walk and ended up almost going into rooms he shouldn’t have been in because he was curious. Altair was technically a member of the house and he could deny others access to rooms. He didn’t do it often.

Malik was frozen at the doorway. “I’m just trying to help you, Altair.”

“I asked you to leave me alone, sir,” Altair said. “That would help me.”

“How? Huh?”

“What does my condition have to do with you? You’re not of this coven, you’re not of this house. You’re just a guest. You shouldn’t meddle in the affairs of your hosts-

“Because I am not a monster is why,” Malik snapped. “And when I see suffering I want to end it if I can. My country is tearing itself apart and my coven decided to ‘make the best of it’ by coming to the conclusion that because humans were killing each other they could just casually hunt humans again like we were monsters. I couldn’t do anything to end the suffering there but damnit I can try and do something here,” he’d gotten very worked up and Altair was glad they were on opposite sides of the threshold.

“You don’t deserve to be treated like this, Altair. I want to help you.”

“I don’t want your help. So far you’ve done nothing but bring me pain,” Altair told him. “I was in ignorant bliss before. And you thinking you know what is best for me, a man you don’t even know, just made my reality all the more crushing. I told you before, you may help me now but you won’t be here forever, and when you leave this is where I’ll be. I’d rather not know the silken pillow for the stone that comes later.” Malik had nothing to say to that but he looked very annoyed. 

“I need to go to bed now. Goodnight, Malik,” and he closed the door. He heard Malik make an wordless noise of anger and frustration on the other side but he didn’t care. He sat back down on his cot to finish stringing the violin. Only then did he put it away carefully and crawl into bed.

—

Now that Altair had taken Desmond outside the boy wanted to go more often. Altair didn’t mind. It was nice this time of year. Brisk at night, a creeping autumn chill settling in the valley. The leaves were starting to change color and soon they’d be falling. The master would bring some humans up in the day and have the grounds raked. It’d start snowing early and last well into spring. Altair had liked autumn and winter before he’d come to the castle but up here in isolation he hated it. There was no hot cider or warm fruit pies or the harvest festival.

So he was surprised when the master came and found Altair and Desmond in one of the gardens. Desmond was splashing his hands in the fountain, chasing the fish around the circular pond and slapping the water to make them dart away. Every time they swam away he’d laugh. Altair had a lamp beside him and was drawing idly. When the master came up he stopped drawing and kept his eyes down.

“So this is where you’ve been off to,” the master said.

“Yes, sir. The young master likes being outside in this weather,” Altair said, looking at the vampire’s well made shoes.

“Good. The town is throwing a festival in a few days. Bring him down to it.”

Altair looked up in surprise but when he met the master’s black eyes his brows went down and Altair immediately looked down again. “The harvest festival? We’re to go this year?”

“Yes. It’s good for him to see what sorts of things humans do so he isnt stupid.”

“Am I simply to accompany you and the mistress or am I free to wander?”

The master was thoughtful. “We will be the king and queen of the harvest and stationary. But a festival is a big place for exploring. We want our son to experience it.”

“Of course, master,” Altair bowed slightly where he was sitting.

“Ensure you look presentable when you go down there. You reflect on us as well,” he said.

“Yes, master,” Altair nodded. You mean not wear the same shirt he’d worn three days in a row because he hadn’t had a chance to wash them because he couldn’t add his laundry to the coven’s. William left after that, stopping briefly to see what Desmond was doing but he didn’t have much interest in the child.

Altair bit his lower lip and went back to his drawing. He needed to plan for this and make sure he had time to clean his nicer clothes. Or at least his nicest clothes. They were fairly nice too. He didn’t wear them often so he could keep them in good shape.

He heard a rustling of the trees and looked up, shielding the lamp slightly to help with his night vision. At first he saw nothing and then he hunched. A few members of the coven were flying off into the dark, their dragonfly and beetle wings flashing in the silver moonlight. He could hear their voices from here but not what they were saying, chattering to each other. Desmond looked up too. He held onto the fountain and started jumping up and down his little transparent wings buzzing without generating any lift. But he was trying.

They swooped across the nearly full moon, laughing and playing and Altair didn’t like watching them. Seeing human figures with wings like bugs flying in the night sky didn’t fill him with a sense of wonder. Were they just playing? Or were they out to play hunt? He’d heard of that happening, especially this coven. Not in Castlesong but in other towns in the valley they’d play stalk and hunt the people there only to laugh and dart away into the sky, finding the human’s fear of being eaten hilarious.

The vampires darted around the air but eventually flew too far away for Altair to hear or see them anymore. That made him feel better. He turned away from the sky. Desmond whined in annoyance he couldn’t fly with them and kept jumping to try and fly after them. Then he sat angrily on the ground, arms folded, pouting hard. Altair grinned watching him. “You’ll fly one day, Desmond,” Altair called to him. Desmond just whined and reached up towards the moon. “I know. You’ll get there when you’re older, just like the others,” Altair promised him.

“Now,” Desmond whined. Altair laughed. Desmond got up and came over to Altair and collapsed on his thigh. “Now,” he said looking up at Altair.

“Sorry. I can’t fly, neither can you,” he stroked Desmond’s hair gently. “But once your wings are bigger you’ll be able to.” Desmond just whined. “I know. Being a sweet little boy is so hard,” Altair teased him. Desmond whined louder and Altair just laughed some more.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Altair nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice behind him. He twisted around and frowned. It was Malik. He’d left Altair alone for a few days but he couldn’t seem to figure it out that Altair wanted to just be left alone for real. He was dressed in an elegant black and blue outfit that wasn’t a cut Altair had ever seen. At least not on a man. It looked almost like a dress but closer to a long tunic.

“Did you need something, sir?” Altair asked, looking at Desmond instead of Malik.

“I couldn’t help but overhear. Desmond wanted to join the others in a flight?”

“Yes. But he’s still too little.” Desmond pouted at Altair.

“Well that’s true, but he can still fly.” 

Altair looked at him in confusion. “Unless there’s something I’m missing about how wings work, no he can’t,” he said.

He almost swallowed his tongue when Malik came around and without asking picked Desmond up. The child protested for half a second but in that time Malik unfurled his huge wings and picked himself up off the ground. Then Desmond started making happy little squeaks like he did when she was a newborn.

Altair got to his feet nervously, drawings forgotten. “Don’t drop him,” Altair called up to Malik who was only ten or so feet above his head.

“I would never,” Malik said. He flew back and forth around the fountain. 

Altair’s heart was in his throat when Malik flew up over the garden trees and he lost sight of them in the darkness. His heart pounded with anxiety and then a huge pair of eyes appeared in the darkness above. Altair took a moment to realize it was the false eyes on the inside of Malik’s moth-like wings. He let out a shaky breath of relief when Malik landed in front of him.

“He’s fine,” Malik said even as Altair snatched the baby from Malik.

“If he was anything less than fine it’d be my life,” Altair said, holding Desmond tightly.

“Plaw!” Desmond cried happily, squirming in Altair’s arms but Altair kept a firm grip on him.

Altair took a deep breath to calm himself but his heart was still hammering. “Did you enjoy that?” he asked Desmond. Desmond nodded hugely, a huge smile on his face. “What do we say to people who do nice things for us?” he asked and faced Desmond towards Malik.

“Thank you,” Desmond cried cutely.

Malik looked taken aback a moment and then softened. “You’re welcome. What are you doing out here?”

“We’re enjoying the night,” Altair said, trying not to sound incredulous. He was a servant, not a captive. He could leave the castle as he wanted and certainly walk the grounds.

“Plaw plaw,” Desmond demanded.

“Desmond, hush,” Altair said.

“Altear, plaw!”

Altair sighed. “Alright.” He’d left his violin in the castle. He tried to juggle Desmond around to pick up his things but to his surprise Malik just did so instead. “I can take those,” he said, holding a hand out for them.

“I don’t mind,” Malik said.

“I’m sure this doesn’t qualify as leaving me alone,” Altair said.

“I live here. You’ll have to get used to me being around,” Malik said with a smirk. The real annoying part about it was that it just made Malik look more handsome, especially with his slightly wind ruffled hair from flying.

Altair just didn’t bother arguing. “Fine,” he said and took Desmond back into the castle. He let the boy down in his room and Desmond ran around and pulled out some of his toys and set them up like a little audience to listen to Altair play the violin. “I’ll take that now,” he held his hand for his things again to Malik.

“Can I join the audience?” Malik asked sheepishly. That annoyed Altair. Why was he so persistent in trying to bother Altair? Couldn’t he just leave Altair alone? But Altair figured at this point it’d be easier just to go along with it than fight Malik on it. He was good at making himself a nuisance and Altair didn’t have the energy to fight him.

“If you want,” and Altair took the sketchbook and his pencils. Malik glided into the room and sat cross legged behind Desmond’s toys he was still setting up to witness Altair’s playing.

Altair got his violin and got ready. He’d built up the proper calluses now over the weeks and his hand dexterity was way up. That made him happy. “Is everyone ready?” he asked Desmond who was carefully aligning his toys just so.

“Almost,” Desmond said, rearranging the wooden horses he had into some order that made the most sense to him, which Altair had no idea what that was but it made him happy. Then Desmond flopped down next to a large soft stuffed animal. “Plaw,” he said and he gave a little cheer when Altair drew out the first chord across the strings. 

The two vampires watched and listened in silent delight. Altair hardly noticed them. He was playing a song he’d found the last time he’d visited his father. He’d brought some sheet music back up to the castle to have some actual music to play. The song he played was the only one he’d memorized so far. It was normally played with a singing accompaniment but Altair didn’t sing well enough to try. It was about a mountain climber trying to reach the tallest peak surrounding the valley. But he was foolish and went during a blizzard and never came home. People found him frozen to death on the side of the mountain a week later once the weather turned. It was a sad song but the tempo was upbeat and was usually sung as a cheerful but cautionary tale about not being an idiot and staying home during blizzards.

He finished the song and Malik clapped. Desmond looked at Malik and after a second mimicked him, slapping his palms together and not really succeeding in a proper clap. “That was amazing,” Malik said. “Right, Desmond? Altair plays beautiful music.”

“Bu-ful,” Desmond declared, still clapping.

“Did you make that?” Malik asked him.

“No. It’s a well known bard tune here in the valley. It’s about not going out during a blizzard or you’ll freeze to death,” Altair said.

“Excuse my ignorance: what’s a blizzard?” Malik asked. “We don’t have that where I’m from.”

“Well it's a storm but instead of rain it’s snow so thick you can’t see through it and can drop feet and feet of snow. It’s dangerous to go out in because of the cold.”

Malik grimaced. “That sounds terrible. Do you have blizzards often here?”

“A few times during winter, yes.” He laughed when Malik shivered just thinking about it. “You came here.”

“I didn’t think the weather would be that extreme,” Malik admitted.

“Altear, plaw plaw,” Desmond said, quite over the adults having a conversation when he could have more music.

“Okay okay,” Altair said to quiet him. He tried playing a song he was in the process of memorizing. He had the first part down but the second part was coming along slow. But he played it and the vampires didn’t care that he played the first few dozen bars over and over again to try and remember the next part.

Eventually he grew frustrated. He needed the sheet music. “Alright, that’s enough for now,” he declared.

“Awwww,” Desmond complained.

“I’ll play later,” Altair said.

“Yay!”

“Now put your toys away. They all want to go home after the performance,” Altair said. Desmond got up and started picking up his toys.

Malik unfolded from the floor. “That was magnificent,” he said, coming over to Altair as he was putting his instrument away. “It sounds so different from how you started off.”

“Desmond insists I play every day. It’s hard not to improve,” Altair said.

“I’m quite jealous of him. He gets to hear you play all the time. I just do if I happen to walk by at the right moment.” Altair just shrugged. Malik looked at Desmond cleaning up. “I’ve seen other vampire children, they’re never this well behaved, or clean up their own mess,” he said.

“Were they raised by vampires, or humans?”

“Vampires,” Malik said.

“Vampire parents don’t care about their children,” Altair said, punctuating it with clasps on the case snapping closed.

“That’s not true,” Malik protested.

Altair looked at him mildly, looking up but over his shoulder just so Malik wouldn’t touch him. “From what I’ve seen so far they don’t,” was all he said.

Malik grimaced. “Well... William and Kaley aren’t really star parent material I’ll agree,” he said. “But most other vampire parents care about the raising of their children. They’re still rarely this well behaved.”

“You can care about your children but if they’re old and aloof you’ll neglect them anyway,” Altair said. “And they’ll act unruly. I assume that’s why the masters have had humans raise their children for them. They know they don’t care, so force a human to care about them instead.”

Malik was taken aback. “The rest of them?”

“As far as I know,” Altair shrugged. He moved away from Malik and went to help Desmond with the last bit of putting his toys away. “What do you want to do now, Desmond?”

Desmond looked thoughtful. “Dwa,” he said.

“Okay,” Altair said gently and got some paper and pastels and pencils and put them on the floor for Desmond to draw with. Altair didn’t mind if Malik was still there. He could hang around if he wanted but Altair didn’t care about him. His only worry was Desmond. Desmond had an active imagination and loved drawing and it was full of color and intricate lines as he mimicked Altair. Altair also sometimes drew him lined drawings to color in. He’d gotten very good at drawing flowers as of late for Desmond to color in as those were some of Desmond's favorites. It meant there was a stuffed folder full of messily colored well drawn flowers. 

He was shocked when Malik sat down on the floor with them. “May I join you, young master?” he asked Desmond.

“Dwa?”

“Yes. I like to draw too.”

“Okie,” Desmond said happily and went back to merrily scribbling on some paper.

Altair looked at Malik as he started drawing on a half used piece of paper Desmond had already drawn a few wide scribbles on. He was using Desmond seemingly random lines to make something out of them. Altair couldn’t help but keep glancing at what Malik was drawing even as he was casually using the pastels to make block shapes on his own paper. He was surprised that Malik was actually quite good. He had a delicate but purposeful hand, the pencil he was using barely leaving a mark on the paper but he went over it again and again to build up depth and volume in a way Altair had never seen before.

After a little while he’d turned some spiraled scribbles Desmond had put on the paper into strange centaurs of those striped horses that pulled his carriage. Zebras? Altair thought that was what they were called.

“Ooo,” Desmond leaned over to see what Malik was doing. “Horsey,” he pointed.

“Yes. They’re called zebras,” Malik said patiently. 

“Zeeebas,” Desmond said.

“Close,” Malik allowed. “I have some.”

“Have horsies?”

Altair sighed. “Now you’ve done it?”

“What?” Malik asked.

“Horsies. Horsies. Horsies!” Desmond cried. “Altear horsies.”

“I take it he likes horses?” Malik asked with a grin.

“He loves horses. Ever since he saw Jacob and Evie leave that one time on them a few weeks ago to go visit a town in the north part of the valley but they were too lazy to fly,” Altair sighed.

“Altear, horsies! Zeeeebas!”

“I think he just wants to taste one at this point,” Altair leaned on his thigh.

Malik chuckled. “I have zebras,” he told Desmond. Desmond’s black eyes got huge. “Would you like to see them, young master?” Desmond’s mouth popped open and he just made a high pitched screeing sound he did when he was excited.

Altair reached over and closed his mouth. “That’s loud,” he said. Desmond flapped his hands at Altair excitedly, whining loudly. “Use your words and answer master Malik properly,” he said calmly.

Desmond tried to compose himself but he still flapped his arms excitedly. “Go zeebas?”

“Ah— if it’s alright with Altair,” Malik looked at Altair.

“What do we say?” Altair asked Desmond.

“Please!”

“Yes. We see the zebras. But first we have to clean up.” Desmond made an annoyed noise. “The quicker we clean up the sooner we can see the zebras.” Desmond immediately got up and started putting the pastels and pencils into their wooden bin. Altair gathered up the papers. Malik handed over his zebra centaurs over to Altair to add to the pile. Altair took a more than cursory glance over the picture and quickly put it away and got up to hide his blush. The two centaurs had his and Malik’s faces on them. 

How inappropriate.

Altair picked up the bin and put them away, out of reach of Desmond normally and the paper went into one of the nearly overflowing folders full of paper. “All clean?” Altair asked Desmond.

“All cwean!” Desmond said proudly. Altair held out his hand and Desmond bounced over to grab it. “Zeebas now?” he asked, pulling on Altair’s hand.

“Yes. If that’s alright with you, sir.”

“Of course. I offered,” Malik said. He guided them out of the room and through the castle. They passed a few members of the coven who’d just come back from their flight, laughing and shoving each other playfully. They greeted Malik and Desmond but ignored Altair entirely, not even acknowledging that he was holding Desmond’s hand while he excitedly told them they were going to see the horses in the stables. Then they passed the trio by and disappeared into the castle.

“Rude bunch,” Malik said.

“They’re vampires,” was all Altair said and he saw Malik wince.

They left the castle and Altair saw the dull color of a false dawn on the horizon. They couldn’t be out here too long. Malik led them around the drive to the stables. In the large stables were normal horses and in a paddock outside were Malik’s four zebras.

Desmond cried out when he saw the zebras and pulled on Altair’s hand but Altair only walked a little faster.

They got to the fence and Altair picked Desmond to put him on top of the fence to sit, holding onto the boy lightly so he didn’t fall. “Just be ready to grab him,” Malik said.

“Why?”

“Zebras can be... aggressive,” Malik said even as he climbed over the fence. Yes. Just say that and walk off like it didn’t shoot worry all through Altair instantly.

He didn’t know what Malik was doing but he did start leading a zebra over by a halter. The creature seemed lethargic. Not a shock. It was late and it had probably been just woken up. “Here we go, young master, a zebra,” Malik said, presenting the zebra before Desmond. “I believe this one’s name is Qaseem.”

“Horsie,” Desmond said and reached out to pet the front of its nose. The zebra allowed it, its eyes lidded and sleepy. “Pretty,” he said.

“Yes. They are, aren’t they,” Malik said. “They’re from my country, far to the south of here. Only vampires keep them.”

“Why?”

“Because they’re a pain to train, and breed, and maintain,” Malik said and Desmond just stared at him, not understanding. “Because humans don’t like them,” he said instead.

“Ooooh.” That Desmond understood.

Malik let Desmond pet Qaseem for a little bit before Altair said, “The sun will be up soon. We should go back inside.”

“No. Horsie,” Desmond whined.

“We can see the horsie tomorrow night too. But the sun is coming. We don’t like the sun, right?”

Desmond looked torn. “Sun bad,” he finally agreed.

Altair helped Desmond down from the fence once he gave Qaseem one last pet on the head. Malik released the zebra to go back and join the others of the little herd. He climbed over the fence and joined them on the right side. “See zeebas again?”

“Yes, of course,” Malik said.

“Yay! Altear, hungry,” he proclaimed.

“Yes. I’m sure,” Altair said.

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Hey you, yeah, if you liked it, consider reblogging. It helps me a lot. Maybe leave something nice in the tags idk.

#Assassin's Creed #AltMal #Altair #Malik al-Sayf #Desmond Miles #Moth Wings #shut up bb

[blackhakumen]

Mini Fanfic #661: The Drip Sensation (Super Smash Bros Ultimate)

Luigi: (Eyes Widened in Confusion at What is in front of Him) Uhhhhh......

Cloud: (Already Has a Deadpinned Look on.his Face) Dedede, what are you wearing?

Dedede: (Smiles Proudly While Wearing a Black Coat) This, gentlemen, is what we like to call "The Drip Coat".

Luigi: (Raised an Eyebrow in Confusion) The....Drip Coat?

Dedede: Yep! Been a rage these days on the internet. Says it makes ya look like a real boss once you wear it.

Luigi: Huh. Neat.

Cloud: (Crosses his Arms in a Unimpressed Manner) No offense, your majesty, but the jacket makes you look stupid.

Dedede: (Eyes Widened in Shock by Cloud's Comment) What!? (Glares at the Ex Solider) Boy, what makes you say that already?

Cloud: (Shrugged) I dunno. I just think it does.

Dedede: See, that's your problem. You quickly judge the material before wearing it yourself. (Puts on a Smirk on his Face) Hell, I bet if you wore this coat, your opinion of it is gonna change into a different light. Make you look like a whole new man.

Cloud: Yeah. No. Sorry, king. But I don't have any interest in wearing that thing. No matter how much a "new man" it makes me.

Sephiroth: (Walks By with a Drip Coat of his own While Carrying Pichu in.his Arms) ('Heh') Of course you, of all people, would find distaste in this well made product, Cloud Strife. Pity. And I here i thought that it would make you look somewhat decent. (Turns to Pichu) Isn't that right, my dear son?

Pichu: (Smiles Brightly at Sephiroth) Pi-Pi!~

Sephiroth: (Chuckles Lightly) Yes. Yes. This coat does make me look superior.

Cloud: (Eye Starts Twitching in Anger Once he Sees Sephiroth Walking Away).......

Dedede: See? Pretty boy over there things the coat it looks good on him-

Cloud: Dedede.

Dedede: Huh?

Cloud: Where did you get the coat?

Dedede: From the mall. Why ask?

Cloud: Simple. (Got up From the Sofa) We're going shopping. (Turns to Luigi) And I want you to go with me, Luigi. We're getting those Drip Coats together.

Luigi: I dunno, Cloud....Are you sure you wanna go through with this?

Cloud: Well, I'm already out of the sofa. So I'd say so, Luigi. Besides, if you get one too, I'm pretty sure Daisy would think you look cool in it.

Luigi: (Eyes Widened in Genuine Surprised) You.... really think so?

Cloud: Yeah. I mean, granted, all of us think you're pretty cool already, but-

Luigi: (Immediately Got Up from the Sofa as Well) I'm in.

Cloud: Neat.

One Trip to the Mall Later......

Tifa: (Eyes Widened at What is In Front of Her, Daisy, and Samus) Woah....

Daisy: Holy......

Samus: (Has a Deadpinned Look on her Face) What are you boys wearing?

Cloud: (Wearing the Coat Alongside with Luigi and Dedede) Drip Coats.

Luigi: W-What do you think?

Daisy: (Smiles Brightly at her Man) Weegie~ (Pulls Luigi Into a Loving Hug) You look great!~ Though, personally...(Puts on a Seductive Smirk on her Face) I always think your handsome with and without the coat~

Luigi: (Puts on a bit of Seductive Smirk on his Face While Blushing) And I think you're always beautiful in my eyes~

Daisy: Oh sweetie~ (Begins Kissing Luigi Passionately on the Lips)

Tifa: (Giggles Softly at the Kissing Couple) I agree with Daisy. (Turns to Cloud and Dedede) The coats look great on you guys.

Samus: (Shrugged) Eh. You three look decent in them. What makes you even want to try them out in the first place?

Dedede: I've been wanting to get these bad boys for a long while now. (Points at Cloud) Cloudy boi over got them because-

Sephiroth: (Walks by with Pichu in his Hand with a Smirk on his Face) I see thay you've finally gotten your the Drip Coat, Cloud. About time. Though, I'm still giving you a 5/10 rating. Expected a lot better out of you.

Pichu: (Smiles Brightly) Pi-Pi!~

Sephiroth: (Chuckles Lightly) That's right, little one. Cloud does indeed looks like a bigger fool in that coat.

Cloud: (Gives Sephiroth a Middle Finger from Behind his Back)

Tifa: Wait. Why was Sephiroth wearing that coat too-(Eyes Widened for a Few Seconds Before Slowly Turning Back to Cloud with a Disappointed Glare in her Face) Clouuuud...... Did you only got the coat because Sephiroth was wearing it too?

Cloud: ('Scoffs') No.........

Tifa: (Raised an Eyebrow While Crossing her Arms)

Samus: (Crosses her Arms as Well) Yeah. I don't recommend you lying to her, Cloudy-boi.

Dedede: (Shrugged) She's right. The girl has muscles after all.

Luigi/Daisy: (Nodded While Giving Cloud Disappointed Glares as Well)

Cloud: ('Sighs in Defeat') Okay, fine. So maybe I did wore it to one up on Sephiroth. But that's only because he started doing it to me first.

Tifa: ('Sigh') Oh, Cloud.....(Gently Grab Both of Cloud's Hands Gives him a Worried Frown on her Face) This is exactly why I don't want you near him. He always finds a way to get into your head.

Samus: Exactly. (Ruffles the top of Cloud's Hair) That's all the more reasons why none of us want you to get yourself stressed out over him.

Cloud: Yeah. I....('Sigh') Guess I really should've known that by now. Sorry, guys

Tifa: (Smiles Softly) It's fine, 'hon. Just promise all of us that you won't pay him no mind next time, okay?

Cloud: (Smiles Back at Tifa) So uhh.....did you still think this coat looks decent on me?

Tifa: (Giggles Softly) It looks great on you, Cloud. I love it. Just as much as I love you~

Cloud: (Chuckles Lightly) I love you too, Tifa~ (Gives Tifa a Loving Kiss on the Lips)

Luigi/Daisy: (Immediately Gushes on Cloud and Tifa's Kiss) Awwwwwwwwwww!~

Dedede: (Sticks out his Tongue and Use his Finger to Point Down at it)

Samus: (Hit Dedede on the Shoulder with Hers) Stopping being rude, De.

Dedede: (Winces in Pain) Alright! Alright. Sheesh. (Rubbing his Shoulder) I was only kiddin'.....

@26shann

@keyenuta

@caleb13frede

@italian-love-cake

@albion-93

@ma-lemons

#super smash ultimate #cloud strife #king dedede #luigi #tifa lockhart #daisy #samus aran #sephiroth #pichu #humor #lots and lots of fluff here #cute romance #cloud still hates sephiroth to this day #cloud x tifa #daisy loves luigi #drip meme #pichu is now sephiroth's son no questions

[kmomof4]

Chosen, Protected, & Saved Ch. 3

We made it!!! It’s the final chapter of Chosen, Protected, & Saved for the @captainswanmoviemarathon​!!! Thank you all for the trust you placed in me after last weeks cliffhanger. Everything gets tied up in this chapter, happy ending ahoy, and I hope y'all enjoy it!!! Thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me!! I’d love to know what you think!!

All the love and hugs to @profdanglaisstuff​ and @hollyethecurious​ for their beta services, brainstorming sessions, and encouragement!! Thank you so much, ladies!!! This fic wouldn't be here without either of you!!! *MWAH* 😘

Summary: A little boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer. Demonic forces will stop at nothing to possess it. It’s up to Killian Jones, PI to find him and save him before it’s too late.

Rating: T

Words: 4253 of 18.4K

Tags: Inspired by The Golden Child, Kidnapping, Magic, Minor Character Death, Temporary Major Character Death, True Loves Kiss

ao3 fic link ch link Prologue on Tumblr Ch1 on Tumblr Ch2 on Tumblr

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Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 3

Killian finally came to a stop in front of a warehouse near Boston harbor in the early hours of the morning. Even traveling down state roads and the interstate in the middle of the night, he lost count of the number of frenzied honks he heard as Bubo flew only about fifteen feet above the road and about that same distance in front of him. It made it wonderfully convenient to not have to worry about losing him.

Now that he was here, he scanned the building in front of him, taking note of the surroundings. The large, imposing structure reminded him of the slasher flicks he used to watch as a teenager. The kind of places that the audience groaned or shouted at the hero to not go in. A chill tried to work its way down his spine. He put a firm lid on it reminding himself that he had to find Henry and bring him home. Going in with no foreknowledge of this particular building or backup, it was important for him to identify potential hiding places, entrances and exits, security cameras and the like. It was times like these that he thanked God for the experience he gained as a beat cop then detective with the Boston PD before he left the force and struck out on his own as a PI. That background would surely be useful in getting to Henry.

Not seeing anything that stood out, and making a mental note of where Bubo had flown up to the building and disappeared, he checked that his piece was ready to rock in case of trouble and got out of his car. Securing the Glock in the shoulder holster he wore, he crouched in the shadow of the vehicle before he ran the fifteen or so feet to the side of the structure. Turning toward the lone door, he could feel the dark magic covering it. He could almost see the magic, even in the darkness, a slightly shimmering cascade that he hesitated to touch. Pushing back his exhaustion and gathering his courage, he reached out to touch the door and was amazed when his hand passed right through the magical barrier. The dark magic chilled him to the bone, but he turned the knob and found it unlocked. He figured the Dark One must not be too concerned about anyone getting past his magic.

As he opened the door, something oddly familiar awoke just under his skin. A humming that was strangely comforting. He remembered feeling something like it in the split second before his magic saved Emma underneath the cathedral the night before. Could it be my magic? Closing the door behind him, he took care to stay in the shadows. The main space of the warehouse was completely empty, but he didn’t want to risk being seen by any cameras that might be hidden by the shadows near the top of the building. He stayed by the wall and made his way around to where the offices appeared to be on the other side. As he got closer, the humming became a full fledged vibration. A rustle from up above drew his attention as Bubo flew down. He held his arm out like he’d seen raptor trainers do and Bubo landed neatly on his offered limb. He wasn’t prepared for the sharp talons though, as they pierced the leather of his jacket. It was all he could do to limit the scream that wanted to emerge to a loud pain-filled hiss. His magic started to crackle at the ends of his fingers as he continued stealthily toward the offices. Bubo was not thrilled with the magic sparking so close to where he sat, so he took off again.

Killian finally came to the first office, but as he peered in through the open door, he saw nothing of interest. As he moved toward the second, lightning started to spark from his hands. Killian inhaled sharply as he saw that the door was closed and the sheen of more magic caught his eye. Henry was obviously being held inside. The disquiet he felt in his spirit only intensified as he got closer to the door. For someone who was so desperate to keep him away from Henry and this case, there was a disconcerting lack of trouble actually getting to the boy. Killian pulled his gun out. He wasn’t sure it’d be terribly effective against the Dark One, if he also happened to be in the office, but it certainly helped him feel better. Not quite so vulnerable. He may have his own magic, but he didn’t have the first idea of how to use it, especially not in a situation like this.

He looked in the window of the door to the office. On the other side of the room, he could see a small boy asleep on the floor, covered by nothing but his own clothing. Killian’s heart nearly broke before an anger he had never known completely overtook him. He held his left hand up to the door, and a surge of blue magic completely obliterated the magical shield and destroyed the door as well. The jarring racket was enough of a shock without the startled cry both from Henry and the other boy in the room. Killian hadn’t noticed the teenaged guard asleep on the plush sofa behind the desk when he looked through the window. Another surge of rage filled him at the mistreatment Henry had suffered at the hands of the Dark One and his teenaged cohorts. Before he could even think, another surge of magic pulsed from his open left hand toward the youth. He still held the Glock in his right, but in a corner of his mind, he was glad it was magic going off and not the gun. The teen was thrown back on the sofa and was completely frozen, rendered impotent in thwarting their escape.

Killian replaced the gun in his holster and approached Henry as Bubo flew in. “Bubo!” Henry cried. Bubo landed on the floor before him and turned his head to look at Killian. Henry looked up at the man standing in the doorway. Something about him seemed familiar, though he couldn’t tell what.

“Henry?” Killian asked. Henry nodded. “I’m Killian and I’m here to take you home. Will you come with me?”

Henry nodded and stood up. “I know,” he said.

Killian tilted his head, puzzled. “You know?”

“Yeah. Bubo told me.” He held his wrist out. “Can you take this off, please? It stops me from using my magic. I can’t remove it, but someone else can.”

“Sure,” Killian replied. He reached under the black cuff on the boy’s wrist and pulled it off. He held his hand out and Henry took it as they walked toward the door. Before they got there, however, a chill came over Killian that meant only one thing. He stopped and looked down at the little boy whose eyes shone with absolute trust as he looked back at him.

“We’ve got to get out of here quick, Henry,” Killian said. “He’s coming,” he looked back at the door, “if he’s not here already.”

At that moment, a purple cloud of smoke enveloped him and Henry and the next moment, they were back at Regina’s.

“Regina!” Henry cried, running into her outstretched arms.

“Henry!” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re safe!” She held him close and Killian’s eyes filled with tears at the sight.

Regina looked up at him and mouthed a silent “thank you” as she continued rocking the boy back and forth. She released him and held him away from her as she quickly scanned him for any signs of injury.

Henry’s eyes sparkled with happiness as he turned back to Killian. “Killian saved me.”

A watery smile split Regina’s face. “I know,” she exclaimed, “I was watching him. And you were right, Killian,” she continued, looking up at him. “The Dark One was there. He was just outside the office. I didn’t want to risk a confrontation with him, so I just brought you back myself.” She turned her eyes back upon Henry. “Henry,” she said, softly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

Killian suddenly remembered the events from earlier in the night and it was all he could do to remain on his feet instead of collapsing to his knees in despair. He’d been so focused on finding and getting Henry, that Emma’s death had been pushed to the back of his mind. Now it came back to the forefront and all he wanted to do was curl into a ball until his complete and utter heartbreak eased enough for him to go on. His jaw clenched and his eyes filled with fresh tears as Regina took Henry’s hand in her own and led him from the room.

They climbed the stairs to the bedroom he and Emma had shared the night before. She was laid out on the bed looking so peaceful he could almost believe she simply slept. Henry stared at his mother.

“Mama?” he said, in a trembling voice. He took a step toward her.

“The Dark One came last night to get the dagger, Henry. Before Killian came for you,” Regina whispered. “He and your mama fought hard, but the Dark One killed her before I could intervene. I’m so sorry, Henry.” Regina choked back a sob as Henry moved toward his mother. “But, there is a way to save her.”

Killian’s head turned sharply towards Regina. “What?”

“Killian,” she began, wiping away her own tears, “there is no doubt in my mind that you share a bond with Emma. A bond that I’ve never actually seen before, although I’ve heard tales...” She took a deep breath. “When you got back here last night, you were both so tired that there was no time to talk about what happened when you went after the dagger. But I could see the remnants of the magic you used while you were gone surrounding you. And as I said when we were talking about your magic, it would have only come to the surface in a moment of extreme emotional upheaval. Whether that was fear, love, joy, or sadness. Can you tell me what happened to trigger it?”

Killian’s agitation increased at her question. Why was she asking him this? What did his magic have to do with anything? Especially when there was a possibility that Emma could be saved. They were wasting time!

Regina’s eyes bored into his as she made a placating motion with her hand. “I know this seems random. But please believe me when I say, it truly isn’t. My question has everything to do with saving Emma.”

Killian swallowed hard and looked down at Henry’s face. The little boy nodded at him, encouraging him to trust Regina and answer the question.

“We were underneath the cathedral, but hadn’t made it yet to the chamber of the dagger under Stonehenge,” he whispered, haltingly. “A teenager… kind of gangly, blonde headed, thin as a scarecrow, came at us with a sword.” He shook his head as the details came back to him. “Some kind of black, thick substance coated the tip. I would have guessed it was tar. But why would someone put tar on a sword?” He shook his head again, cutting off his rambling. “Anyway, he was coming for her and I threw my arm out to try and push her back out of his way. I remember feeling a tingling just before my magic shot out and sent him flying across the chamber.” He bowed his head in shame. “His head cracked against a column.” He swallowed hard. “I’ve never been responsible for the death of someone that young.”

“You’re sure he was dead?” Regina asked, her heart hurting for him.

“When it happened, we couldn’t stop. We had to keep going. But when we came back and he still hadn’t moved, I checked his pulse.” His eyes looked haunted, but his story confirmed her earlier thoughts. The manifestation of his magic at that time and under those circumstances told her that their bond was indeed True Love.

“You can save Emma, Killian,” she asserted.

Killian’s eyes widened. If the situation wasn’t so serious, she would almost laugh.

“How?”

“You saw how the Dark One removed Emma’s heart and crushed it.” He nodded. “Magic users can remove hearts. I can remove yours, split it, and put one half inside each of your chests. You have True Love for her, and that True Love should bring her back.”

“True Love,” Killian breathed, completely overwhelmed. He never knew that such a thing existed. But it would certainly explain the connection he felt with her and how and why he fell in love with her so quickly. Not to mention the way he felt about Henry, a little boy that he had met literally minutes ago. He shook his head again. He didn’t even have to think. “Do it,” he demanded.

Regina held her hand up and tilted her head to the side in warning. “There are risks that you should know about.”

“I don’t care about any risks,” he assured her, vehemently. “If it will save Emma, it’s worth it.” He looked down at the woman he loved on the bed. “She is worth everything,” he whispered.

The sun was rising and the bedroom was flooded with the morning light. Henry raised his hand to Killian’s heart. His palm glowed a vibrant gold color. A soothing warmth filled him. “You’ll save my mama, Killian.”

Killian nodded. “I will indeed, lad.” He looked at Regina again. “Do it.”

Regina placed her hand on his chest. She stared into his eyes, deadly serious before she pushed her hand into his chest cavity. The pain stole Killian’s breath, but he looked over at Emma on the bed and endured it as he felt Regina’s fingers close around his heart and pull it out. He caught his breath and beheld the glowing heart now in the palm of Regina’s hand. He looked back at Emma on the bed, and while he could still feel his love for her, it was muted. Regina looked back up at him.

“When your heart is no longer inside your body, all your emotions will be dulled. They’ll be restored as soon as it’s back where it belongs.”

Killian nodded. “This is going to hurt. Are you ready?” Regina asked.

“As I’ll ever be,” he replied.

Regina placed her other hand over his heart and twisted. A pain far worse than being shot burst through him and his knees buckled. He landed on all fours on the floor and looked back up. Both of Regina’s hands now held a piece of his heart. She knelt before him and placed her right hand at his chest again. She pushed into his empty chest cavity and he took a deep cleansing breath as the agony subsided.

“Can’t say as that’s something I’d ever want to repeat, love,” he quipped.

Regina let out a small laugh. “I should hope not.” She rose with him and turned to Emma on the bed.

She moved quickly and pushed her other hand into Emma’s chest. Everyone held their breath as they waited. When about twenty seconds had passed with no movement from Emma, Regina’s brow furrowed and panic started to rear its ugly head in his mind. Henry turned to Regina.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t she waking up?”

At that moment, the bone chilling cold of the same dark magic that he had encountered just a short time ago came over Killian. He turned wide, alarmed eyes at Regina who stared at him with equal apprehension.

“He’s here,” they stated, together.

Regina waved her hand and the dagger appeared in her hand. She handed it to Killian.

“This is the only thing that can destroy him.” Regina’s eyes were wide with dread as she gave him last minute instructions. “As the Chosen One, it falls to you. As long as you hold it, you are master of the dagger. He can’t summon it to himself. Don’t lose your grip on it, whatever you do!”

Killian nodded. Regina continued as they all ran downstairs. “You may be untrained in magic, Killian, but your love for Emma has made you powerful. Use it! Magic is emotion. Keep your love for Emma at the front of your mind, and you can defeat him. Stay inside, Henry,” Regina said, turning to the boy. Henry nodded and he and Regina ran onto the back lawn where the Dark One waited for them.

“Ahhh,” he gloated, “You’ve brought me my dagger! How considerate of you!” He waved his hand and they were both frozen in place. Terror filled him as the demon strolled toward him. When he was so close that he could smell the fire and brimstone emanating from him, he felt the same sensation that he had just experienced at Regina’s hand.

The Dark One stood before him with his half a heart glowing in his hand.

“Interesting,” the demon cooed. “Only half a heart. Where is the other half?” he asked, speculatively, “Could it possibly be in the chest of your Twue Wuv?” he singsonged. He looked back at Killian and cackled. “But where is she? She’s not here, is she?” He got right in Killian’s face with such a face of gloating triumph that Killian felt sick. “No True Love’s Kiss, then? Awww, and that’s the only thing that can save her, isn’t it? Since it’s your heart, only your True Love’s Kiss will do.” Killian’s eyes grew wide as the beast’s statement registered in his panic. “But if I crush your heart,” he squeezed slightly, the pain overwhelming Killian, stealing his breath, “you can’t very well share True Love’s Kiss with her, can you?”

Rage filled Killian and if he could have spit in the creature’s face, he would have. But at least he knew why Emma hadn’t come back when Regina placed his heart in her chest. The kiss, his kiss, was needed to bring her back to him.

“Fortunately for you,” the Dark One continued, “I can’t crush your heart as long as you hold my dagger. But I can hold your heart. For as long as necessary. I can leave you right here, frozen, until your death returns my dagger to me. But, I don’t want to wait that long.” He shrugged, in studied casualness. “So how about a trade? I give you back your heart so you can save your lady love, and you give me my dagger. The Dark One never breaks a deal, so you have nothing to fear and boy is obviously well protected, for now.” He sneered in Regina’s direction. “Do we have a deal?”

Killian’s brain worked furiously. It was an impossible choice. By releasing the dagger, the chances of being able to destroy him shrunk exponentially, plus, he was giving the monster exactly what he wanted, bringing him one step closer to being able to harm Henry. A very large step. But, he would be able to save Emma and surely, between the three of them, they could protect Henry. If he refused, the Dark One would simply hold his heart until his death returned the dagger to the demon and Emma would remain as she was, forever.

He cut his eyes toward Regina, her own eyes wide with realization. He tried to convey how sorry he was in his gaze before he turned his eyes back on the demon in front of him.

“I’m going to partially lift the freezing spell I’ve got on you now and you can give me your answer.”

Killian’s mouth and hand holding the dagger were suddenly free.

“Fine,” he gritted out. “You have a deal. My heart for your dagger.” He opened his hand and the dagger fell to the ground. The Dark One giggled and picked the dagger up from the ground. He looked back at Killian.

“A pleasure doing business with you, dearie,” he chortled as he all but punched his heart back into his chest. As soon as he had done so, he was enveloped in a cloud of grey smoke and disappeared.

The enchantment holding them frozen disappeared with him. Killian collapsed to the ground and Henry ran out of the house toward them.

“True Love’s Kiss, Killian,” he cried. “When you give Mama True Love’s Kiss, you’ll save her!” Regina ran over to him as he struggled back to his feet.

“Aye, lad,” he replied, somewhat out of breath from his ordeal, “Let’s go give it a try.”

At that moment, the Dark One again appeared in the yard, this time just behind Henry. He had not gone far and was simply waiting for Henry to leave the house so that he could strike. Regina screamed as Killian jumped in between the Dark One and Henry and tackled the demon. Regina grabbed Henry and ran for the safety of the house.

They crashed to the ground and the Dark One lost his grip on the dagger. As they rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand, Killian remembered what Regina had told him on the way down. That his love for Emma made him powerful and that if he kept his love for her at the front of his mind, he could defeat the monster.

Killian closed his eyes and let the love he had for Emma fill him completely. He pictured the dagger in his hand and the same moment, felt the instrument in his grip. His fist curled around it and he pulled the hilt toward his chest, the blade tilted slightly upward. The Dark One was on top of him now, their faces so close together that Killian could see the madness in his enemy’s eyes and then the grimace that crossed his lips as he felt the dagger pierce flesh.

The demon went limp on top of him. Killian pushed the dead weight off only to find the dagger buried in the Dark One’s chest. A dark swirling cloud poured out of the wound and coalesced around the dagger. After a few moments, the cloud, the dagger, and the Dark One, his unseeing eyes staring toward the rising sun, seemed to fold in on themselves, until with a pop, they were gone.

Killian got back to his feet and looked to where Regina and Henry had made it inside the house. He ran toward them as Henry barreled out the back door toward him. He caught him in his arms and spun him around, laughing at the little boy’s exuberance.

“You killed him,” Henry shouted.

“I did, indeed, my boy,” he said. “You’re safe now. He can’t ever hurt you again.”

“Thank God for that,” Regina agreed, hugging them both.

Killian held them both in his arms for a few moments, relishing the fact that they were all alive and safe. All except one. He looked back at Henry as he set him on the ground. “Let’s go save your Mama, shall we Henry?”

“Yeah!” Henry shouted, taking off for the house again. Killian and Regina followed him into the house and up to the bedroom where Emma still lay.

Killian entered the room after Regina and Henry. The morning light completely filled the room now and Emma seemed to be surrounded by a gold shroud spun from pure light. He had never beheld anything so breathtakingly beautiful. Everything faded from the periphery as he moved toward her. His heart raced in his chest and his breathing hitched as he beheld her. His True Love. He knelt beside the bed and took one of her hands in his own. His thumb rubbed over her knuckles as he leaned over her and pressed his lips to her own. It took only a moment before a rainbow burst fell over them and Emma took a breath and opened her eyes.

“Killian,” she breathed. Killian’s face split in the biggest smile he’d ever worn.

“Swan,” he exclaimed, gathering her in his arms, tears of joy filling his eyes.

She hugged him back just as fiercely before they were interrupted by Henry’s enthusiastic “Mama!” before he launched himself toward her from where Regina had held him near the door.

“Henry!” She caught him up in her arms, hugging him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re safe! I was so worried!”

“I know, Mama,” he exclaimed, “Killian saved me! And he saved you, too!” Emma looked back at him, pure love shining out of her eyes. He scratched behind his ear until he finally looked back at her. “He’s your True Love, Mama! He saved you with True Love’s Kiss! That means he’s gonna stay here with us!” Henry spoke a mile a minute in his unbridled enthusiasm. “Right, Killian?” Henry turned back toward him, expectantly.

“With your mother’s permission, lad, I’d like that very much.”

Emma beamed as she held out her hand for Killian to take. “I think we can handle that.”

Killian grinned widely as he took her proffered hand and bent over to kiss her again.

It didn’t take long for Killian to move his PI practice to Storybrooke where he courted Emma properly, much to the sheriff’s dismay. A year later, Killian and Emma were married, and a year after that, Henry had a baby sister to show off.

And they all lived happily ever after.

The End

~*~*~

Thank you all for all your love for me and this fic!!! I’d love to know what you thought!!!

#csmm20 #chosen protected & saved #krystal writes #art by krystal #inspired by the golden child

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 3

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 3 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 3/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

[A/N - A longer one because once again there was no good place to split it.]

They were lowered down into a large circular room.

A man was seated in the middle.

“Hello? Hello, are you the manager? I demand to speak to the manager,” the Doctor called.

“This is not a real restaurant, is it?” Clara asked.

“Well now, it's more a sort of automated organ collection station for the unwary diner. Sweeney Todd without the pies.”

“Sweeney Todd? How do you know Sweeney Todd?” Elise asked.

“I’m over a thousand years old, Elise. Of course I know Sweeney Todd.”

“So where are we now?” Clara asked.

“Factually? An ancient spaceship, probably buried for centuries. Functionally? A larder,” the Doctor told them.

“So why hasn't somebody come for us?”

“We're alive.”

“We're alive in a larder.”

“Exactly. It's cheaper than freezing us.”

“Okay.”

The Doctor managed to shake his sonic screwdriver out of his coat. “Are you ready?”

Clara nodded. “Go for it.”

“Don't let it roll away.”

“No.”

“We've got one shot at this.”

“Next time, make one that doesn't roll.”

“Go.”

The sonic screwdriver hit the floor next to Clara’s feet.

“Have you got it?” the Doctor asked her.

“I can only just about reach it.”

“Oh, it's at times like this I miss Amy.”

Elise’s hearts skipped a beat at the mention of her name. He hadn’t talked about the Ponds since Manhattan.

“Who?”

“Nothing.”

Elise rolled her eyes, tired of waiting for Clara and dipped her head down. Her teeth grabbed the top of her sonic screwdriver and pulled it from her dress. She flicked it and it landed in her hand. She soniced her bonds and worked on getting Clara and the Doctor out.

“You’ve had that this whole time!” Clara snapped.

Elise shrugged and stashed in it her dress again.

The Doctor grabbed his screwdriver off the floor.

“You should make that thing voice-activated,” Clara told him. When she saw the look on his face, she said, “Oh, for God's sake, it is, isn't it?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Doctor?”

A Chinese man stood in one of the alcoves.

The Doctor examined him. “Dormant.”

“How do you know?”

“I don't. I'm just hoping.”

“That’s encouraging,” Elise muttered.

They carefully walked around the room.

“So, is it these guys that killed the dinosaur?” Clara asked.

“Well, if they're harvesting organs, a dinosaur would have some great stuff,” the Doctor said.

“Why would robots need organs? Burke and Hare from space?”

“No, but that's a good theory. Droids harvesting spare parts. That rings a bell.”

The man sitting in the middle of the room had half a face. The other half was just robotics.

“Captain, my Captain.”

“Can he see us?”

“Dormant.”

“Hoping?”

“Yep.” The Doctor spotted some cables coming out of the back of the chair. “Oh, look. He's recharging. He's asleep. Doesn't even know we're here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure. Not sure. One or the other.”

“Okay. So, half-man, half-robot. A cyborg, yeah?”

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Look at the hands,” Elise said.

“What about them?” Clara asked.

“Look at them,” the Doctor told her.

Clara looked at them, not understanding what the two Timelords were on about. “I'm looking.”

“They don't match. These hands don't belong to the same body.”

One was large and the other small. Obviously a man and a woman.

“I don't understand,” Clara said.

“Well, I don't blame you. See this, this is not your normal cyborg. This isn't a man turning himself into a robot. This is a robot turning himself into a man, piece by piece,” the Doctor explained.

“That's what the restaurant's for?”

“Well, it would need a constant supply of spare parts. You can tan skin, but organs rot. Some of that metalwork looks Roman. Wonder how long it's been around, how much of the original is even left? The eyeballs look very fresh, though.”

The arms moved and the three of them jumped back.

“Is it awake?” Clara breathed.

“It's waking up. I think,” the Doctor said.

Clara pointed to a door and the Doctor nodded.

“Okay, let's go.”

They calmly walked away and then ran through a doorway into a corridor.

The Doctor turned around and ran back into the room. “I've seen this before. I'm missing something.”

“Doctor!” Clara insisted.

Clara and Elise ran back towards him.

“It's the brand new head, rebooting.”

“Where’s a cricket bat when you need one?” Elise muttered.

The Doctor was up too soon. He should have rested more.

“Come on,” Clara said.

“I've seen this before.”

Clara grabbed the Doctor and pushed him through the doorway. “Oh, hurry up. Get out.”

The door came down, separating the Doctor and the women.

The Doctor grabbed his sonic and Elise did the same.

Even with two sonic screwdrivers doing the work, the door only lifted a little bit.

The Half-Face man was unplugging himself from the chair.

“Sorry, too slow. There's no point in them catching us both,” the Doctor said. The Doctor closed the door completely and left them.

“No!” Elise yelled, trying to sonic the door. She kicked the door in frustration. “Bastard deadlocked it. Sonic’s useless now.”

Clara let out a small sob as the Half-Face man walked over to the bench seat.

Elise grabbed Clara by the shoulders. “Clara, focus. Focus! Now how long can you hold your breath?”

Clara caught on and took a deep breath.

The Half-Face man disregarded them. The robots around them started moving, so Elise and Clara mimicked their movements and moved towards the doorway.

They walked through and ran down another corridor. They rounded the corner and found more robots.

Clara took a breath and fell to her knees.

“Clara!” Elise yelled, but the brunette wouldn’t wake up.

The robots approached her and one of them grabbed her by the throat. It tightened its grip on her until her eyes rolled back in her head.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

When Elise and Clara came to, they were back in the circular room.

“Where is the other one?” the Half-Face man asked them, “There was another. Where is he? Where is the other? You will tell us, or you will be destroyed.”

“What did you say?” Clara whispered.

“You will tell us.”

“Yeah, I know. Or what?”

“You will die.”

Clara stood up, Elise following. “Go on, then. Do it. I'm not going to answer any of your questions, so you have to do it. You have to kill me. Threats don't work unless you deliver.”

“You will tell us where the other one is.”

“Nope.”

“You will be destroyed.”

“Destroy me, then. And if you don't, then I'm not going to believe a single threat you make from now on. Of course, if I'm dead, then I can't tell you where the other one went then. You need to keep this place down here a secret, don't you? Never start with your final sanction. You've got nowhere to go but backwards.”

“Humans feel pain.”

“Ah. Bigger threat to smaller threat. See what I mean? Backwards.”

“The information can be extracted by means of your suffering.”

“You’ll have to go through me first. And you know why? I’m a Timelord, mate. And I’m only on my second body. Have you ever tried to kill a Timelord while they’re regenerating? My father took out an entire Dalek fleet while he was regenerating and my mother destroyed a platoon of Nazi soldiers. So try me,” Elise told him.

The Half-Face Man stood up.

“All you can offer me is my life. What you can't do is threaten it. You can negotiate,” Clara said.

The Half-Man removed one of his hands and it grabbed onto his lapel.

Clara backed up and her voice wavered. “Okay, okay, okay. Okay, yes, yes, yes, I'm crying and it's just because I am very frightened of you. If you know anything about human beings, that means you, you're in a lot trouble.”

Elise, however, was not scared. A flame thrower shot out of the Half-Face man’s hand and Elise put herself between him and Clara.

“We will not negotiate,” he said.

“You don't have a choice. I tell you what. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine.”

“We will not answer questions.”

“We'll take turns. I'll go first. Why did you kill the dinosaur?”

“We will not answer questions.”

“Why'd you kill the dinosaur?”

“We will not answer questions!”

“Then you might as well kill me, because I'm not talking again till you do.”

The Half-Face man seemed to consider this for a moment before he spoke. “Within the optic nerve of the dinosaur is material of use to our computer systems.”

“You burned a whole dinosaur for a spare part? No. No, hang on. You know what's in a dinosaur's optic nerve, which means you've seen them before.”

“Where is the other one?”

“How long have you been rebuilding yourselves? Look at the state of you. Is there any real you left? What's the point?”

“We will reach the promised land.”

“The what? The promised land? What's that?”

“Where is the other one?”

“Haven’t you been listening? We don’t know!” Elise snapped, “But I do know where he will be. Where he will always be. If the Doctor is still the Doctor, he will have my back. Because it’s me and him, no matter what.”

Clara reached behind her.

“Come on. Come on,” Elise whispered.

A hand grabbed Clara’s and pulled her back.

The robot removed the skin from its face and the Doctor stood there. “Ah. Hello, hello, rubbish robots from the dawn of time. Thank you for all the gratuitous information. Five foot one and crying. You never stood a chance.” He pushed the Half-Face man’s arm down. “Stop it.”

He put his sonic screwdriver into the recharger on the chair and the lights went out. “This is your power source. And feeble though it is, I can use it to blow this whole room if I see one thing that I don't like. And that includes karaoke and mime, so take no chances. See, Clara? That's how you disguise yourself as a droid.” He tossed her the face.

“Yeah, well, I didn't have a lot of time. I'd been suddenly abandoned,” she snapped.

“Yeah, sorry. Well no, actually, I'm not. You're brilliant on adrenaline. And you were out of your depth, sir. Never try and control a control freak.”

“I am not a control freak!”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Why are you here?” the Half-Face man asked.

“Why did you invite us? The message, in the paper. That was you, wasn't it?”

The Half-Face man cocked his head.

“Oh.” The Doctor grabbed his screwdriver and walked over to the two women. “I hate being wrong in public. Everybody forget that happened. Clara, say the word.”

“What word?”

“They never sent you in here without a word.”

“I don't want to say it.”

“I've guessed already.”

Clara and Elise touched the top button of their dresses. “Geronimo.”

Vastra and Jenny descended from the ceiling using long pieces of fabric. When they landed, they pulled out their swords.

Jenny tossed one to Elise.

“Remain still, and lay down your weapons in the name of the British Empire,” Vastra told them.

Strax fell from the ceiling.

“Strax!” Vastra scolded.

“Sorry.”

“I've told you before. Take the stairs,” Jenny said.

“Oh, look. The cavalry,” the Doctor muttered.

“I burned an ancient, beautiful creature for one inch of optic nerve. What do you think you can accomplish, little man?” the Half-Face man asked.

“What do you…? Vastra?”

Vastra blocked the flame-thrower with her sword. “The establishment upstairs has been disabled with maximum prejudice, and the authorities summoned.”

“Hang on, she called the police? We never do that. We should start,” Clara told the Doctor.

“You see? Destroy us if you will, they're still going to close your restaurant. That was going to sound better.”

“Then we will destroy you,” the Half-Face man said.

The robots around them had swords for arms.

“No, you won't. You're logical. You have restraint. You killed to survive. You're not a murderer.”

“He's not a what? This is a slaughterhouse,” Clara reminded him.

“And how does that make it different from any other restaurant? You weren't vegetarian the last time I checked. This is over. Killing us won't change that. What would be the point?”

“To find the promised land,” the Half-Face man told them.

“You're millions of years old. It's time you knew, there isn't one.”

“I am in search of paradise.”

“Yeah, well, me too. I'm not going to make it either.”

The Half-Face man hit the Doctor in the head and he went down.

“Doctor!”

“Dad!”

Clara and Elise rushed to his side.

“I will leave in the escape capsule. Destroy where necessary,” the Half-Face man said, walking over the bench seat.

“Escape capsule? This ship is millions of years old. It'll never fly,” Vastra told him.

“It has been repaired.”

“What with?” Clara asked.

“You.”

“Defensive positions, everyone,” Strax said as the robots encircled them.

“Doctor. He's getting away!” Clara yelled.

“Your friend is intelligent. He'll know better than to follow me.”

Elise turned just in time to see him holding onto a brass handle under the seat. He met her eyes and winked.

#Twelfth Doctor #twelfth doctor fanfiction #twelfth doctor imagine #doctor who #Doctor Who fanfiction #doctor who imagine #clara oswald #clara oswald imagine #jenny flint #Madame Vastra #strax #the littlest timelord #the littlest timelord: the new doctor #deep breath

[mypoisonedvine]

Hello! If it’s okay, can please you write a fic with Jaskier x female reader with these prompts please? "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child” + “I’m in love with you.” + “Can I kiss you?” + "Are you scared?” + “I'll keep you safe.” + “It's okay to cry.” + “Please hold me. It’s been a day.”. I know that’s a lot of prompts, but I’m quite interested to see what you’ll come up with them! If you would prefer a plot, please let me know and I’ll try and think of one. Thank you! 🥰

Thank you so much for this!  I love these sorts of prompts, I oughta reblog more of those number prompt things but I don’t see that many on my dash and also I’m so bad at short drabbles lol… I did my best!  

Word Count: ~1.5k (tagging @100percentamess and @ultracolorfulnerdcollection)Rating: T (implied shenanigans, swearing)

“Please hold me,” you requested weakly, “it’s been a day.”

“Of course,” Jaskier obliged, wrapping you in a warm hug.  You let your head fall against his chest, inhaling the woodsy yet fresh smell of his clothes.  How could he smell so good at the end of the day?  It was infuriating, how everything about him made you love him more… especially when you were just friends.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked you quietly, one hand stroking your hair gently.  

“Not particularly, I’d just rather forget it ever happened,” you sighed.

“Alright,” he smiled, “but if there’s anyone I need to beat up for you, let me know.”

You chuckled. “You’d do that for me?”

“Well, I wouldn’t do it myself.  I’d sic Geralt on them,” he clarified.

“That would be more effective,” you smirked.

The hug ended, but you wished it could go on forever.  He moved his hands from your back to your shoulders, looking down at you with that smile that made you melt inside.  How cruel it was to have him so close and still so far away, getting love from him but never getting the kind of love you really needed.  And yet, better to know him and be near him as a friend than to not know him at all, even if it was torturous at times.  Right now, though, looking at him like this made you feel worse, the comfort coming at the price of yet another reminder that he wasn’t yours.

You felt tears welling in your eyes, and you dodged his gaze, turning away.

“Are you going to be alright?  I mean, I know you had a rough day, but is everything okay?” he asked, pulling you closer again.  You broke away from his grasp, facing the opposite direction so he wouldn’t see you cry.

“It’s fine, I’m just being foolish,” you dismissed.

“It’s okay to cry,” he soothed, stepping closer. “I just want to help you, if I can.”

“Jaskier, you’re kind, and you’re my best friend and all,” you sighed, “but you’re the last person who can help me right now.”

You felt his hand on your shoulder, and instead of shrugging it away again you accepted it, putting your hand on top of his.  He stepped forward and hugged you again, this time from behind.  And maybe it was the way that this hug felt so much more intimate than before, or maybe it was the stress from the day that you’d had, or maybe it was late-onset, brief insanity, but something compelled you to turn around and face him and ask:

“Can I kiss you?”

You looked at him and waited for a response, or at least for his facial expression to change, but all he did was look back at you in an entirely unreadable way.  Instead of responding, he kissed you first, delicate and patient.  You closed your eyes, melting into his arms, and he held you even tighter in response.

Just as you allowed yourself to let go, all the thoughts and anxieties of the day washing away, he pulled back.

“Is this alright?” he asked quietly, moving a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, of course: more than alright,” you rushed.

He smiled and kissed you again, and you hoped it wasn’t just a favor or something- if so, it was the most passionate favor anyone’d ever given you, certainly.

~

“Jaskier…” you began but trailed off.

“Is everything alright?” he asked with concern in his voice, sitting down next to you.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you something: something I should’ve told you sooner,” you explained.

“What’s it about?” 

“It’s about what happened two months ago,” you answered hesitantly.

His face changed, but the expression was unreadable.

“Oh, right,” he replied.

The two of you hadn’t really spoken of it at all since it happened, and you partially feared that he wouldn’t know what you were referring to, since he wouldn’t remember how long it had been.  Of course, you had been counting the days.  However, the awkwardness of his tone made it clear that you were definitely on the same page.  

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that too,” he mumbled as he shifted nervously.

“Oh,” you gasped, “well, that’s…good.”

“Maybe we want to say the same thing,” he wondered aloud.

“I’m almost one hundred percent sure that we don’t,” you chuckled.

“We should say it at the same time, just in case,” he suggested.

“Why would we do that?” you asked with a quirked eyebrow. 

“I don’t know, for dramatic effect?” he shrugged.

You laughed, but you realized it might make it easier to say what you had to say.  There was so much you wanted to say- how it was the best night of your life, how you didn’t think it was a mistake even if it was sort of unorthodox to have sex with your best friend and then not talk about it at all, how you hadn’t stopped thinking about it- you know, that sort of thing.  But there was only one thing that you needed to say, and unlike everything that you wanted to say, this was something unaffected by his opinion.  Even if he had a horrible time, even if he did think it was a mistake , even if he didn’t want to think about this ever again, you had to tell him the truth.  And you’d only spent weeks dreading it!

“Fine, on three, we’ll say what we wanted to say about what happened,” you announced with a deep breath.

“One,” he began to count.

“Two,” you added.

The world’s longest second passed.

“I’m in love with you,” he said confidently.

“I think I’m pregnant,” you said less confidently.

Jaskier was sort of right about you saying the same thing at the same time, because after a moment, you both said “What?!”

~

“I can’t believe you’re carrying my child,” he hummed sweetly as wrapped you in a hug from behind.  You were already halfway along and just getting big enough now that he couldn’t really hug you from the front anymore- at least not very hard.

“You say that a few times a week,” you scoffed.

“It’s still true!” he defended.

“I guess it’s fair that you never thought this would happen, I know I didn’t,” you remembered.

“No, it’s not that,” he explained, turning you around to look at your face, “it’s that I always wanted it to happen.  Maybe, er, not quite so fast-” you laughed at that- “but it makes  a lot of sense, at least to me.”

You smiled, nodding in agreement.  “Yeah, it makes sense.”

You felt your smile fade, though, as you started to think about everything that made you feel anxious again.

“What’s wrong?” he pressed, pulling you closer.

“Are… are you scared?” you asked him softly in response.  He smiled.

“Gods, of course!  I’m terrified!” 

Maybe it shouldn’t be comforting, and yet it was; it was good to know that you weren’t the only one freaking out about all this.

“Yes, but you’re terrified of being a parent,” you clarified. “I’m tired of becoming a parent.  You know.  Vaginally.”

He chuckled, stroking your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“Yes, well, I can’t help you much there.  But I’ll help you any way I can- I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“Are you under the impression that women who die during childbirth are attacked by beasts or something?” you mocked.

“Alright, so maybe I can’t protect you from the vast majority of pregnancy complications-” he admitted.

“The majority?” you interjected. “I’m sorry, which pregnancy complications can be defeated by asking Geralt for a favor?” 

“None, but I can defeat a few of them all on my own: loneliness, boredom… cravings for music?” he offered.  You laughed.

“Alright, that’s fair.  How about a craving for mince pies?” 

“I can help with that, too,” he smiled, pulling you into one more hug. “I know I can’t make this easy for you- I wish more than anything that I could.  I can’t promise that you’ll never be in pain, or that you’ll never be sad… but I can promise that you’ll never have to be alone.”

You held him closer, having to angle yourself a bit oddly to not squish your delicate stomach, but it was worth it to press your face into his chest.

“Thank you, Jaskier.”

“I love you,” he said softly.

“I love you too,” you replied, looking up at him.  You smiled at each other and it was a tender moment, but you didn’t feel even kind of bad interrupting it to add “I was serious about that mince pie, by the way.”

#jaskier x oc #jaskier x reader #dandelion x reader #the witcher #my writing

[searchingwardrobes]

The Early Leaf’s a Flower: 1/11

I can’t believe this day is finally here! I have worked so hard on this, and I am both nervous and excited to post it. This is a re-write of Someone to Watch Over Me. I changed the title because the focus was no longer on Emma’s “imaginary friend” watching over her, but equally on Emma and Killian and how, when, and why the wardrobe brings them together. There’s also a theme about growing up and loss of innocence, which is why I took the title from one of my favorite poems, “Nothing Gold Can Stay” by Robert Frost. For those of you who loved the original fic, I haven’t done away with little!Emma and little!Killy. As a matter of fact, there’s more of it with parts from Killian’s point of view, where the original was just from Emma’s.

The biggest change in this is that I have completely thrown out canon. Emma and Killian are the same age in this, and the plot focuses on Neverland. I had just finished re-reading Barrie’s Peter Pan with my daughter when I started this, so it became a mixture of Once’s Neverland and Barrie’s. I love how that part in particular came out, and I hope you all do as well!

Massive thanks to the mods of the @captainswanbigbang​ ( @optomisticgirl​ , @phiralovesloki​, @shippingtheswann​ , and @spartanguard​). @optomisticgirl​ in particular helped beta when my original had to bow out and also encouraged me when I doubted myself (enduring really long pms in the process!) @shippingtheswann​, I just don’t have words to express your beta skills in this! Emma and Killian’s relationship as kids would not be what it is without you, for one, and you just overall made me so much better as a writer. @distant-rose​, thank you for encouraging me to write Milah the way I envisioned her and helping me create an awesome pirate crew for Killian. And finally, every single one of you in the discord chat for your constant encouragement, advice, and sprinting.

And now I will shut up and get to the fic! Therefore, tags at the end :)

Summary: She saw eyes that were the blue of the forget me not peering at her through the cracked door of the wardrobe. He saw hair as gold as the buttercups. Why does the wardrobe keep bringing them back to one another, if fate keeps tearing them apart? Or maybe fate has her reasons . . .

Rating: M for eventual sexy times, violence, canonical major character death, and attempted rape 

Trigger warnings: vague references to child abuse (physical and sexual), violence, and eventual positive Millian

Words: about 3k in this chapter

This fic is complete and will be updated every Monday.

Also on Ao3

Emma: Age 10

Emma’s palms are damp with sweat as they clutch the small duffel in her lap. Another social worker, another foster home. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been nice enough, but their biological sons? Emma shudders as she thinks of their sneering taunts and cruel pranks. She loosens her grip on her duffel bag so she can rub her thumb over the birthmark on the inside of her left wrist. Sometimes the flower-shaped mark becomes red and raw from the nervous habit.

Sighing, she watches the scenery go by outside the car window. Emma tries to keep her mind blank, knowing that getting her hopes up will bring nothing but pain. Yet she can’t help the anticipation swirling in her stomach.

The social worker pulls into a modest gravel drive just off the busy highway. The house looks old, and so does the woman who stands on the porch that spreads across the entire front of it.

“That’s Martha,” the social worker tells Emma, “she’s your new foster mother.”

Emma steps out of the car hesitantly, her eyes trained on her feet. Martha tells her hello, but she only mumbles a response. Instead of looking at her new guardian, Emma takes in the front of the house. Dingy white paint covers cracked shingles, the banister lining the porch is broken in places, and the red brick steps are crumbling at the corners. Emma doesn’t really care about any of that, however. Not when brilliant blooms crowd the ground beside the steps and in front of the banister. Emma reaches her hand out tentatively to feel the soft, blue petals.

“Those are forget-me-nots,” Martha tells her, “they’re my favorite flower.”

“The blue is so bright,” Emma says shyly.

“Aren’t they?” Martha leans down closer to Emma, chuckling as her knees crack. “Despite these old bones of mine, I tend these flowers carefully. Want to know why?”

For the first time, Emma looks directly at Martha, and the woman’s kind hazel eyes put her at ease. She nods silently.

“My Alfred, God rest his soul, gave me a bouquet of these before he left for Korea many, many years ago. Forget me not, Martha.”

The woman chuckles, and Emma tries out a tiny smile. “And you didn’t?”

“No,” Martha says, as she rises, extending a hand to Emma, “and he came home to me. We raised two kids in this old house, and now that he’s gone and my children have moved away, I get a bit lonely. I’d like us to keep each other company, Emma, if you want.”

Blinking in surprise, Emma looks at Martha’s hand, then at her face. She’s never had a foster parent or social worker ask her what she wanted. The question gives her the courage to take Martha’s hand.

Emma examines the woman as she takes her inside and shows her around the house. Martha looks to be in her seventies with brittle gray hair and deep wrinkles. Yet her smile is kind, and her hands are soft as they gently give her slim shoulders a squeeze. The house is at least a hundred years old with cracked, peeling paint, and scuffed hardwood floors. A monstrous, black pot-bellied stove radiates heat from the corner of the main room. Like most old houses, one room leads into the next, and Martha gently steers her through the doorway next to the stove. She tells her this will be the room she shares with Lindsey, the sullen teenager with a permanent scowl on her face. Emma looks around, taking it all in through her wide jaded eyes. There’s a fireplace in this room, but it’s bricked up. A small space heater instead runs in the corner of the room. Martha tells her this used to be the dining room, and a set of French doors line one wall. A long, low piece of furniture sits in front of it to block the door, but through the beveled glass, Emma can see the foyer and the front door that she knows leads out to a massive front porch complete with a swing.

Martha shows Emma her bed, and she’s surprised to find that she gets the larger one. A massive double bed of thick, dark wood with tall posts. Lindsay’s twin bed, just a simple metal frame and mattress sits in front of the room’s one window.

“Lindsay couldn’t sleep in that huge bed, so I got her that cot,” Martha explains with a shrug. She sets Emma’s bag beside the bed and then pulls a small step stool from beneath it. “This thing is so high off the ground, you’ll have to use this to get in. It’s a very old bed.”

Emma eyes the stool and tries to hide how pleased she is with the bed. It’s ornate and obviously an antique. It’s like something out of a movie. She’ll feel like a princess sleeping in that bed. All her life, she’s wanted more than the cots or metal twin beds she usually gets in foster homes. She flings her duffel right on top, lest this Lindsay change her mind and steal the bed away.

But the best thing of all is the wide space between the bed and the hardwood floor. No monsters can lurk there. In this bed, in this room, with Martha who tends flowers despite her creaking bones, maybe she’ll finally feel safe.

*****************************************************

Martha wears a faded house dress covered in tiny blue flowers and blue terry-cloth house shoes on her feet. She dons an apron to make supper, and Emma thinks of old black and white TV shows. Maybe this place won’t be so bad. Maybe Martha will one day tell her, “I love you, please stay. And why don’t you call me grandma?”

Emma tries to push that fantasy aside. If it doesn’t come true, she’ll be disappointed. Again. Martha asks if she wants to help with supper, and she eagerly agrees. Martha lets her pour the macaroni noodles into the boiling water on the stove, warning her to go slowly so she doesn’t burn herself. She then lets Emma stir the noodles so they won’t stick together while she expertly chops an onion into tiny pieces.

“These are the chicken pot pies,” she explains next, handing Emma a fork. She shows Emma how to slowly poke the fork into the crust to make each family member’s initials. Emma grins as she presses the fork into hers, then turns the fork sideways to make three more straight lines. “E” for Emma.

Martha’s kitchen table is of chipped formica that was probably once a bright blue but is now faded. The metal chairs with matching blue leather seats are like something out of the 1950s. Emma sits at the table with Martha and the other foster children the woman has taken in. Besides Lindsay and Emma, there’s also a little boy named Tyler with wide eyes and a sad, fearful face. His parents and sister were killed in a car accident, and he’s only here temporarily while his aunt and grandparents argue over who gets to keep him. Emma has a hard time imagining family, much less one who will want you so badly they would fight about it.

Martha hands Tyler a little plastic box shaped like a loaf of bread. She tells him to take out a card and pass it around the table. On each is a Bible verse, and they can’t eat until they’ve each read one. Lindsay rolls her eyes but does as Martha asks anyway.

Emma’s verse reads, “When my father and my mother forsake me; then the Lord will take me up.”

Martha takes a surprising interest in hearing about each child’s day. Lindsay’s eye rolling, Tyler’s quiet sadness, and Emma’s nervousness doesn’t phase the woman at all. After the meal, everyone helps clear the table and do the dishes. It’s a small kitchen, and several times Martha bumps softly into Emma or brushes against her. Each time, the woman laughs and gives her a tentative side hug. When she does, the elderly woman’s scent washes over Emma. It’s a distinctive smell that Emma can’t quite place, but it’s comforting and makes Emma want to bury herself in a bear hug with the woman. However, she refrains. She can’t seem too eager; it might scare Martha and then she won’t want to keep her.

The bathroom in this house is in an odd place: off the kitchen. When Emma goes to brush her teeth, she sees two jars on the pedestal sink. Inside one is a pinkish cold cream, and in the other is powder with a fat, fluffy puff resting on top. Emma lifts both to her nose and sniffs deeply. Yes, the combination of the two. That’s Martha’s scent. Emma eyes the makeup puff as she screws the top back on the cream. She simply can’t resist it, she lifts the puff and starts patting the powder onto her face. She starts and almost drops the puff when Martha suddenly steps into the room. Emma wilts. This will be her shortest stay at a foster home ever. A new record. She waits silently, heart pounding, for the yelling, frustration, and inevitable punishment.

But a smile simply deepens the crows feet around Martha’s eyes as she chuckles softly. She wets a washcloth and swipes it across Emma’s face.

“This pretty face doesn’t need makeup,” she tells her with a sparkle in her eye. “Of course,” she continues, “pretty is as pretty does.”

Emma cocks her head to one side and wrinkles her forehead, “What does that mean?”

Martha pats Emma’s cheek gently, “It means our hearts are what make us truly beautiful. The way we treat people and the things we do are far more important than what we look like.”

Relief washes through Emma when it sinks in that the woman isn’t going to punish her or even yell. Lessons on true beauty aren’t exactly what Emma is used to in a foster home, and she’s not quite sure how to accept it. Martha helps her off the stool, then takes her hand. She leads her to her room, tucks her in, and says a short prayer. Emma bites her bottom lip, wanting so badly to request a hug, but afraid to do so.

“Could I give you a hug and kiss good night?” Martha asks, and Emma thinks that the old woman looks just as nervous as Emma asking.

Emma beams and pulls her arms out from under the covers. The woman gives her a good, firm hug. Over her shoulder, Emma notices for the first time a large, ornate piece of furniture in the corner. There are a large set of doors in the top half, and two drawers on the bottom.

“What is that?” Emma asks in a shaky voice, pointing, when Martha releases her from the hug.

“It’s a wardrobe,” the woman explains, as she tucks the blankets back around Emma. “Old houses didn’t have closets, so people put their clothes in those.”

Emma says nothing as Martha brushes a kiss to her forehead and tells her goodnight, but she eyes the wardrobe warily. It’s the perfect place for monsters. She squeezes her eyes shut as Martha brushes her hair back from her face. Emma tries to tell herself that the boys at the last place were probably making things up. There’s no such thing as monsters . . . right? Yet she can’t forget the panic that had clawed at her when she was locked in that dark room . . .

“Sleepy, huh?” Martha chuckles, tucking her hair behind her ear. Emma lets her believe she is, waiting to open her eyes after the woman is gone.

A few minutes later, Lindsay comes in, rubbing her wet hair with a towel. Instead of pajamas, she’s dressed in tight jeans and a skimpy tank top. Emma sits up in bed and watches curiously as the teenager slips into a pair of boots.

“What are you doing?” Emma asks as Lindsay slowly and quietly opens the window.

“None of your business, kid,” she snaps, tossing a backpack out the open window. “Just don’t snitch. Got that?”

Emma nods as she pulls the blanket to her chest. Why should she care what Lindsay does? The teenager disappears out the window, and Emma falls back against the mattress with a sigh. She can’t remember the last time she had a room all to herself, and it makes her a little nervous.

She eyes the wardrobe warily, sitting up in bed and scrambling back against the headboard. She clutches the handmade quilt Martha had tucked around her in sweaty fists. Did it just creak open a little? She squints in the dark. Through the open slit of the wardrobe, she swears she sees a pair of bright blue eyes, the color of the forget me nots in Martha’s yard, looking at her. She gasps and throws the covers over her head. She counts to twenty slowly, squeezing her eyes shut. The wardrobe door makes another long, rusty sound. After another count to twenty, she slowly eases her head out of the covers.

The wardrobe door is shut tight.

Killian: Age 10

The sea is calm as glass, the air still and stifling. The sailors are antsy and on-edge, praying to every deity for wind. Rowers are sent to the galley every day to make some headway, and it’s exhausting work. Killian isn’t big or strong enough at just ten years of age, but Liam, at twelve, is. The elder Jones collapses into his bunk each night with sore arms and blistered hands. Killian prays the wind comes soon so he can have his brother back.

Perhaps his absence is why Killian’s mind is so distracted lately with thoughts of ginger curls and hazel eyes. His mother’s touch was always so gentle, her voice soft and lilting, her smile and eyes bright. He remembers her being sick; her eyes losing some of their brightness, and her laughter coming less often. But she still smiled. She still held him whenever he crawled into her sick bed. She still kissed him with her soft lips.

Killian remembers she would sing, too, with that lilting voice that was so different from his father’s deep, critical one. Every night, he was lulled to sleep by her lullabies. He begins to sing one now as he knots rope.

She stepped away from me

And she moved through the Fair

And fondly I watched her

Move here and move there

And she went her way homeward

With one star awake

As the swans in the evening

Move over the lake

Killian jumps as an empty bottle of rum shatters against the railing to his right.

“Shut up, boy, and get back to work!”

But to Killian’s surprise, the other sailors yell at the first to leave him alone. The lullaby reminds them of home, they say, so let the boy sing. And sing he does, passing the long, weary, windless days. The sailors who normally terrorize him are lulled by the bright, clear voice that only a child can possess. It changes the morale of the crew to such an extent, that the captain even sends him below to encourage the rowers with his songs. That is the best development of all, for now he’s near his brother; the only family he has.

A few nights later, Killian Jones can’t seem to get comfortable in his hammock. The ship creaks and sways, men snore loudly all around him, and the air smells, clogging his nose and making him gag. Nevertheless, his days are so brutally exhausting that sleep comes swiftly. Even last week when he was forced to sleep on his stomach because of the bloody lashes criss-crossing his back, sleep had claimed him easily.

But not tonight.

He shifts again, his hammock swinging with the motion. In his new position, he sees something in the hold that is completely out of place: a large, wooden wardrobe. No one would keep such a nice piece of furniture in the damp, dark hold. Killian furrows his brow in confusion - the large, bulky thing isn’t even moving an inch as the ship sways, which should be impossible, and it surely wasn’t there when he first went to bed.

“Liam, Li-am!” he whispers, poking at the hammock above him. Liam just mumbles in his sleep, something partially intelligible along the lines of leave me alone, Killy. Exasperated, Killian huffs and swings his scrawny legs over the edge of his hammock. He moves silently and cautiously across the wet wooden boards, his hand trembling as he reaches up to grasp the knob on the door of the wardrobe. He opens it a crack and gasps when he hears voices, female voices, on the other side. He glances behind him, but when he sees that no one else is awake, he crawls up inside the wardrobe. It is deeper than he expected it to be, and instead of a back, there is another set of doors. Killian is comforted to still see the ship’s hold through the open door he just crawled through, so he turns back around and pushes slowly on the second set of doors, opening them only a little.

He sees a bedroom, lit with soft light from a bedside lamp. A little girl about his age, with blonde hair the color of buttercups is being tucked into bed by a soft, wrinkled old woman with a gentle smile. Killian watches, fascinated, as the woman asks for a hug. He’s been surrounded by nothing but rough, loud men for so long, that he yearns to receive a hug for himself from someone so soft and warm. The little girl smiles as the woman embraces her, her eyes shut tight as she relishes the hug. But then her eyes, the color of seafoam, open and he quickly shuts the wardrobe as quietly as he can. His heart pounds in his chest as he hears the little girl ask the woman – her grandmother? – about the large piece of furniture. The girl’s voice wobbles as if she’s frightened, and Killian hopes she didn’t see him.

He thinks that maybe he should go back to his hammock, but he can’t get those sea green eyes out of his mind, nor the way the girl’s hair had shimmered like gold from the lamplight. He’s never thought long on any lass, or found any of them pretty. Most women he sees on his occasional stops in port are loud, brazen, and considerably older. This one, however, is different. She’s his age, for one, and there’s a softness about her that he hasn’t known since his mother was living. So finally, he musters up the courage to open the door a crack once more. This time, those green eyes lock on his, and the girl gasps and dives under the covers. He frowns as he pulls the door shut once more. He hadn’t meant to frighten her.

The next morning, he thinks he’ll talk to Liam about the wardrobe and the little girl on the other side. But when his brother teasingly upends his hammock, depositing him unceremoniously upon the floor, Killian rolls over to find the wardrobe is gone.

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#cs ff #csrt #captain swan rewrite a thon #cs canon divergence #cs neverland au #childhood sweethearts #angst #soul mates #magic wardrobes #little!emma #little!killy