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wren-dy-flowergarden · 1 year

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The Monster Inside All of Us ★ pt.1

✦ *.✧.* Monsters live in us, they are our being, they are a part of us, and no matter what we can't outrun them. But we can learn to live and even thrive in their presence. You new neighbor- Bachira Meguru- teaches you about a world different than your own. Word Count: 2.2k / Bachira x gn!reader

Tags: topics of abuse, found family, childhood friends got your back, character study.

*TW: some uncomfortable topics of mental health leading to abuse off screen, not understanding violence, little gore, please be careful.

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A/N: Hi guys! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° Thank you all so much for your patience with me, writing has been a little difficult lately (Im not the happiest with how this turned out but eh). This is more of a journal than story for me. There should be two or three parts depending on what feels right. I hope you enjoy and again some difficult topics will be explored, so please take care of yourself! PS: Child Meguru is precious protect him at all cost.☆★☆

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There is a monster in all of us.

At least that is what your dad is screaming, on the ground sobbing underneath the weight of two bodies restraining him. His eyes pleading, looking to your mother cradling her right arm, swollen, and dripping.

Big eyes try to see more through the thin crack in the door. It sounded like glass cracking or the thumps you heard earlier. Your small mind was wild with fear, and your imagination made it worse.

But most importantly, you wanted needed to see your mom's face.

A lot of things happened because of that night. Your mother would receive pity words filled with blank stares from neighbors that contrasted itself with the usual snacks and kind greetings from before.

Your mother's face became more sullen now that your father was off in re-ha-bili-tee?

You go to school, a small school where everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew everyone's "situations".

About a week later, you finally realized what your father meant when Matsuhiro, the class clown and the boy who would agree with anything to make him seem more "grown up", opened his stupid mouth during arts and crafts.

"My mommy tells me that your mommy should have taken it and been a good wife."

You didn't really understand what he meant by "taken it" and "good wife", because your mom was the best mom in the whole world but the way his seven-year-old face sneered down at you made you angry- no it was something more than anger.

The next thing you realize is your soft bloody knuckles bleeding and Matsuhiro pleading the exact same way your dad did those nights ago, and he wailed lips cracked and eyes swollen.

"You're a monster!"

It didn't bother you much as you landed another punch near his temple, because duh of course there is a monster in you.

There is a monster in everyone.

It wasn't long after, that you and your mom make the drastic move to Tokyo to live next to your mother's best friend from college. 'Her name is Yuu she is an amazing artist.' your mother says packing a backpack to the brim with trinkets, art supplies, and snacks.

On the bus ride there, your mother looks exhausted, big black seeps carve out her eyes and you don't really remember the last time your mom smiled.

She made you pinky promise while getting off the bus that you never, in her words, "hit a person again". She muttered something else along the lines of 'bills' also, but you squeezed her pinky either way because it put a smile on her face and made her happy.

That’s the most important thing.

Back then, in the principal’s office, you refused to repeat what Matsuhiro said in front of everybody including his parents and your own mother. He couldn't say anything either with his lips swollen shut.

In the back of your mind, you shrug as you squeeze your pinkies together. Besides Matsuhiro wasn't a person, he is a monster.

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You eventually make it to an apartment complex that was at least ten times bigger than your own. It was so big! It felt like it could touch the sky. Maybe you be living in the sky!

An audible sigh of relief comes from your mother behind you, lugging at least three suitcases.

Your hopes were dashed when you realized that apartment 109 meant you were on the first floor and not the hundredth. The door frame hung the sign, Bachira Yuu. Your mother flattening out her shirt gives a hesitant knock against the wood before the door burst open.

A woman, taller than your mother brown eyes light up at the sight of you two as if Christmas just knocked on her door, hair pulled back into a messy bun and streaks of blues and yellows adorned a pink jumper as she hugs your mother.

You were going to jump at her until your mother tentatively puts her arms around her as well, making it look like the second awkward hug in the history of hugs.

"Chiyu-chan!" She lets out and gawk because only you were called "chan" in the neighborhood, "How have you been! Oh is this little (Y/N)-chan. Almost as big as Meguru."

She squats down your head barely meeting her eyes as she ruffles your hair, "Ahhhh, maybe just a bit taller than my Meguru." Callused hands grab your chubby cheeks pulling out your lips into a smile before she squeals, "So cute!"

You really didn't want this women's colorful hands to be on your cheeks but glancing at your mother who had a semblance of a grin made you resist.

Small feet pitter-patter into the apartment, across the floors were tarps filled with half-empty buckets filled with blues, purples, to reds. The smell of the arts and craft room filled this apartment, it was nice.

Your mother's friend, Yuu Bachira, crossed the room swapping extra materials with her feet creating room, "Sorry sorry! I just got so focused on my recent project and forgot to clean, forgive me?" She gives a little wink as her hand rubs the back of her nape.

You expect a frown to form on your mother's face, she always bustled around your previous flat with strict diligence making sure no dust, no objects, and nothing were out of place.

Instead, she looked happy…?

"You're always the same Yuu-chan." And physically you take a step back, because "chan"! Your mother who notices everything about you, including how your mouth is now open in shock, chuckled before pushing you towards the gushing woman, " Yuu-chan has won a lot of awards for her art, maybe she could teach you a thing or two?"

You close your mouth, excitement already in your eyes. Last month you almost won first place at the elementary school art contest (instead you won an honorary position because having seven-year-olds vote is rigged especially when you were the talk of the town). The first prize was a month's worth of popsicles, but you only won a little sticker book instead. You remember sticking many of them on the refrigerator.

Yuu crouches on the ground reaching your eye level. "Then how about you see my latest project? I desperately need your advice for the final touches!"

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Looking at her art piece made your little eyes widen in astonishment. Swirls of purples and blue melded over yellow wash as the colors twisted and turned with her paintbrush delicately. With inspiration came chaos and she would dip her fingers into a side bucket of paint before flicking yellow sparks around the edges. If you cris crossed your eyes hard enough together it almost looked like two eyes staring back at you.

"Do you like it?" You hear Yuu say before she walks over to her canvas that dwarfs her, she puts a hand on the rim of it, "I tried to capture the essence of it."

You look at the piece, hues of blue accented with the yellow probably from her fingertips, it's amazing.

She grins as if she heard your thoughts, "Thank you, I am proud of this one." You blink, did she read your mind?

You were about to speak, out loud, until the sounds of metal banged across from you two leading you to jump head darting left and right.

Yuu pats you on the back and a calm rushes over your beating heart, "Perfect timing." before she walks to the edge of her studio unlocking a metal door painted in reds and oranges. A small boy, shorter than you stumbles in eyes red, cuts on his arms and cheeks. Dark brown hair with yellow highlights that curled around the nape up wearing a grass-stained shirt decorated with a shark.

Yuu smile now gone lowers herself onto her knees rubbing her fingertips along the side of his head along with his arms. Satisfied with what she was looking for she brushed the strands of grass left on his shirt before standing up, "Now how did you get this way hm?"

The boy looks down before kicking the ground, "They asked me to play soccer and then-" he looks up eyebrows furrowing as he stomped his foot, "they called me weird! Weird 'cause they couldn't get the ball away from me!" He stares as Yuu confused, "but they aren't right. They should just be better!"

She gives a small nod before pulling out a band-aid from one of her many pockets and placing it on his nose. “You know Meguru-kun, they are just jealous of you.” She says while rubbing out some grass from his hair, “they probably can’t hear ‘it’ anymore.”

You blink. It?

You really need to control your mouth more because the boy lets out a little shout before looking around his mother towards you as if he didn’t expect you to be there. He peers up at his mother’s eyes, “Mommy who is that?” Clear fascination shows in his eyes as he points toward you.

Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, like how previous people would stare makes your stomach flip but your strong, and your mother taught you first impressions are important, “Im (Y/N). Im your….” You look towards his mother because you really weren’t sure what you are now. Yuu finishes your sentence, “our new neighbor Meguru-kun.”

By the look on his face, it seems like he is about to ask a million questions, but you're faster as you clamor towards Yuu. You point to the painting, its hues vibrant against the sun leaking in, “What do you mean by ‘it’?”

This must throw her for a loop because she starts tapping her foot against the floor, head tilting a bit, “Ah how to say it. Like something that burns in your soul.” She snaps her fingers, “Oh! Like a monster, something a bit scary but something strong.”

Your head also tilts in confusion as her son speaks, “Monsters? You mean like the ones on TV?” he puffs his chest out a bit, “but those don’t exist!”.

You think of the monsters you’ve encountered. They didn’t look like the televised ones but they felt the same. The way the previous neighbors looked at you after the incident, Matsuhiro sneering down at you and most importantly you remember the far-off look your mother would have after “incidents” staring blankly at the wall when she thought you were asleep.

You can still hear apologies muffled through thin wooden doors.

"What do you mean? Of course, there are monsters."

You blink as the two of them look at you almost surprised by the steadiness of your voice. The boy’s face shows clear excitement, but his mother read of something you could not understand as her lips clenched tight.

Taking a step closer to the boy you point at his chest, "It’s right there, inside." A pause as you reflect, “The monster.”

He points to his chest also, his small fingers mimicking yours at a short distance as he presses against himself. He looks in awe as if he can see the latest Godzilla hosted inside of himself. That’s not what you mean.

You repeat again, slower, "We all have monsters in us. That's what my dad told me. They take us."

Bright yellow eyes twinkled understanding filling in, "Oh, Like when I can't stop dribbling!"

A frown appears on your lips, you didn't know what "dribbling" is, but he seemed to be the only one who might understand as Yuu still wore a lisp of a frown on the edge of her lips before taking a deep breath. The smile you were used to seeing set on her face again.

His mother puts a hand on both of your guy’s foreheads rubbing both of your hair till it’s a mess. Well, his hair was already filled with grass and twigs yours would probably be filled by dried paint at the end of the day.

"That's right you two. A huge monster lives in both of your hearts, a voice that pushes you to follow yourself though-" she lightly flicks the tip of her son's nose where he let out a little 'ow', "violence is not good. People are jealous of how you both follow that voice."

She gives a smile before bringing the two of you into a hug, "When people grow up, they stop listening, stop believing in its own fleeting yet precious voice." She brings them back looking into their eyes, "But that a waste isn't it!"

She turns back to her artwork with pride, admiration, and longing all put into one, "I still believe you should listen to its voice because look at the beauty behind it."

Her son brightens, but you think about her words.

How it held a warm sort of kindness when she speaks about her said ‘monster’.

It’s voice guiding her…

You wonder why the voice was telling you to aim for Matsuhiro's temples instead of his nose.

And then you start to wonder, as you look at his mother's artwork if there were different monsters out there.

Not kind monsters.

Especially in you

#.wwrenspeaks #blue lock x y/n #bllk x reader #blue lock imagines #blkbrainspam #bachira x reader #bachira meguru x reader #meguru x reader #sorry this took so long thinking about life #this story will have more fluff and coherency in the next parts!

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franklyshipping · 1 year

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A Ticklish Reunion ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

HERE WE HAVE THE FIRST FANFIC OF 2023, HELL YEAH! THIS ONE IS BASED OFF A LOVELY PROMPT FROM @coolm456 FEATURING OUR FAVOURITE MUSICAL JAILBIRD, SO LET’S DO THIS!

TAGGING: @il-lee-nois and @yancelee

Yancy was so damn excited! He was convinced today was going to be the highlight of his year, because today was the day he was able to visit his epic prison family and spend proper time with them. Since his release on parole, visits had always been separated by glass and laughter had only been shared over the phone. But now Warden Murderslaughter had said he’d allow Yancy to break a few protocols and spend real quality time with his family for a whole day, which Yancy was over the moon about! The best thing though? He was allowed to bring someone with him, and Yancy had wasted no time in inviting the intrepid explorer Illinois.

Illinois had admittedly felt shocked when he was asked, feeling so flattered that it was him Yancy wanted to introduce to his prison family. Of course, he made a naturally charismatic (and slightly arrogant) comment to hide how touched he was. Yancy had then joked about how he only invited him because he thought he would fit in the best amongst criminals, which naturally Illinois had dramatically gasped at! Banter aside however, as soon as Illinois entered the facility and started being introduced to everyone, his delight peaked. Everyone was so unbelievably kind and warm and genuinely curious about him. It was a family indeed.

‘So, have you been taking Yancy on some of your adventures?’

Warden Murderslaughter asked, sat perched on a trestle table as the rest of the prisoners sat cross-legged on the floor – the Warden had allowed them use of the canteen for their gathering, providing a few blankets and treats (though don’t tell anyone he has a heart, he’ll deny it to the grave!). Illinois grinned up at him. He was sat with his legs stretched out and was resting on his hands, his wide-brimmed hat set down neatly beside him.

‘Oh naturally! He has the adventurer’s spirit for sure… though perhaps not the balance, eh Yance?’

Illinois turned to his left, where Yancy was sat by him, and gave him a nudge and a wink. The ex-prisoner pursed his lips, the familiar warmth of embarrassment threatening to creep up on him. He didn’t mind being teased, but in front of his prisoner family and the goddamn Warden?! Rude.

‘Dunno what you’re talkin’ about.’

Yancy tried to shrug it off, but now Illinois had everyone’s attention. So naturally, he was going to lap up every morsel of it.

‘Oh but of course you do! Now then let’s think… oh! There was that time you tripped into a pit of tickling snakes, and the time you got tangled in the Vines of Mirth, and the time you got punished by that tickle priestess for not adhering to her home’s dress code.’

Yancy’s face got redder and redder as Illinois went on, and the Warden hid an amused smile as he picked up on the ah… pattern, that Illinois was clearly referring to. The other prisoners sent Yancy little looks and grins, since naturally they knew exactly what Illinois was referring to as well.

‘Look, I– h-how was I supposed to know she didn’t like stripes?!’

‘I’m pretty certain I told you beforehand.’

‘W-Well… I-I don’t remember that.’

‘Oh you don’t huh?’

Illinois teased, his smirk broad and smug as he drank in Yancy’s adorable embarrassment. Yancy was crimson as fond chuckles surrounded him, including from the Warden who sent him a warm smile.

‘Nice to see you haven’t changed Yancy.’

The Warden winked, and Illinois cackled when Yancy gaped at him. For Illinois, this was genuinely the most fun he’d had in ages.

‘Aww, well isn’t that just adorable.’

Illinois laughed even louder, and Yancy bristled. The Warden sat up straighter, and Yancy’s family started to smile even wider. They saw the look on Yancy’s face, and knew what that look meant. His embarrassment had now morphed into something different, and dangerous. Yancy could tolerate a certain level of teasing before he decided that enough was enough; he took a breath, smiled, and turned to his family.

‘Hey guys… I think it’s time we teach my friend what happens to cheeky little shits in here. Whaddaya say?’

Illinois’ brows knitted together, he was immediately confused. He looked to the Warden for an explanation, but the man just chuckled. He stood and clapped the explorer on the shoulder.

‘Good luck.’

The Warden walked away, and before Illinois could call after him he was tackled very efficiently to the ground. By who, you ask? Illinois blinked and struggled, and gulped when he realised it was everyone. Yancy’s criminal family were grinning as they took hold of his limbs, ignoring his yelps and splutters. Meanwhile, Yancy was grinning at him with more menace than he’d ever seen before.

‘Woah hey what the heck?! Listen, I know I’m pretty but you guys can put hands on me one at a time you know!’

Illinois tried to act cool and suave to hide his apprehension, which made Yancy snort at him.

‘You can cut the flirtin’ Illinois, it ain’t gonna save you.’

Illinois raised an eyebrow at him.

‘… you sure?’

Illinois then sent a little wink to Bambam, who was sat next to his head – he blushed and smiled, making Yancy roll his eyes fondly. Yancy smiled to Bambam and raised a playful eyebrow.

‘Bambam, if ya don’t mind.’

Bambam sent Illinois a little, apologetic smile… before covering his mouth with his hand. Illinois’ protests were now sufficiently muffled as Yancy straddled the explorer’s waist, cracking his knuckles. Illinois swallowed hard and squirmed, his mind racing with nerves as he hoped Yancy wasn’t going to do what he thought he was going to do. Naturally, his hopes were dashed when Yancy pushed up his tight shirt with a grin.

‘Let’s show these sweet folks how pretty your laughter is, shall we?’

Illinois shook his head with wide eyes, but it was too late. Yancy’s deft, blunt nails made contact with his abs, scratching at them ruthlessly. Illinois burst into a deep fit of giggles, snorting and jolting dramatically at every little scritch and flick. The prisoners holding him all gasped and awwed down him, sharing excited look and whispers as they held him securely. Illinois’ babbles and protests remained muffled, making Yancy grin.

‘Huh? What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that?’

Yancy snickered at the little glare Illinois gave him, and delighted in drawing out a few squeaks at his pinched at his taut, twitching muscles.

‘Not so sassy now huh? It’s a wonder youse is sassy at all with how ticklish youse are.’

Yancy winked down at him, and Illinois’ face blossomed with redness. He jerked about and whined, and now tried his hand at giving pleading looks to everyone who was holding him down. He even went as far as to flutter his lashes at them, which made Yancy snicker. This was so damn priceless!

‘Pfft, don’t think these guys are gonna let you go! They’re real strong, ain’t that right?’

All the guys nodded, smirking at Illinois with evil excitement – this was the most fun they’d all had in quite some time. They all tickled and had fun with other constantly of course, but having Illinois was like have access to uncharted waters – or in this case uncharted nerves. Yancy gave them all a sneaky grin, before he leant down to Illinois and whispered.

‘And trust me, they like gettin’ real hands on.’

Oh no, that didn’t mean–? Yep, it did. Illinois shrieked as new scratching fingers entered his exposed armpits, making him cackle and writhe as Yancy still kept on tickling his poor abdominals.

‘MMPPHH!’

‘Ohoho! I think youses got a good spot!’

Yancy exclaimed at the two guys eagerly tickling Illinois’ poor hollows. The explorer desperately tugged at his arms and sent out as many pleading, handsome looks as he could, but it was all no use – he was well and truly trapped. His armpits and abs were tickled for what seemed like an eternity, time slowing down as his mind hyper-focused on each little sensation. Each drag, flick and scratch, each purred tease, all the smug smiles, all the little winks sent his way. His nerves felt like they were on fire, and everyone’s voices surrounded him like the most flustering symphony as they smirked at him.

‘Aww listen to his squeals!’

‘His face is so red, he could heat the whole prison with that blush!’

‘You sure he ain’t committed any crimes Yance? I kinda wanna keep him.’

Illinois wailed. He felt like he was actually going out of his mind… though deep down he had to admit, there was a big part of him loving all the attention being lavished on him. Yancy could see it in his eyes clear as day too, and though this was technically meant to be a punishment, he was so glad Illinois was happy.

‘Sorry guys ya can’t keep him, youses gotta get all your tickles in while ya can.’

Yancy sent Illinois a wink as he scratched his sides, making the explorer snort and wiggle from side to side. Illinois thought there was no way this could get worse… oh boy was he wrong. The two guys pinning Illinois’ ankles shared a look, smirked, and worked off Illinois shoes and socks. Illinois let out a fearful, high-pitched shriek and tugged at his legs. Yancy and the others just laughed affectionately, and soon enough Illinois was shrieking with wild, bright laughter as nails raked mercilessly up and down his soles. Yancy smirked, now tracing little shapes and swirls against the explorer’s stomach.

‘Aww are they gettin’ your poor tootsies? That’s gotta be torture.’

Illinois had tears welling in his light brown eyes as his ticklers eagerly scratched at his soles and under his toes, leaving no inch of skin un-tickled. That combined with the light flurries of tickling in his hollows and Yancy’s maddening tracing at his stomach… Illinois had no choice. All the poor guy could do now was beg. Well, try to anyway.

‘PLEHEMPHH!’

Yancy gasped dramatically, his eyes lighting up as smugness radiated off him.

‘Ohh youse is beggin’ now huh?’

Illinois wailed as he nodded, his cheeks starting to ache from his constant smile. Yancy grinned wolfishly, leaning over him as he mused.

‘Youse sorry for runnin’ ya mouth and bein’ a brat?’

Illinois nodded frantically, saying yes over and over again as his gaze flicked between everyone imploringly. Yancy chuckled, knowing Illinois couldn’t take much more. So he nodded to everyone, and they all saw the sign for cease and desist in his expression. Illinois gasped loudly as the tickling stopped and his mouth was un-covered. He blinked with amazement, not registering the mercy until Yancy spoke.

‘All is forgiven, ya little shit.’

Illinois giggled, and upon realising his limbs were free proceeded to hug himself and scrunch his feet defensively. His cheeks were red, mouth stretched into an endearing smile, clothes crumpled, and hair strewn every which way. He was the most handsome, bedraggled mess on the planet.

‘Ohoho my… that shohould be illegal.’

Everyone burst out laughing, and then Bambam sent Illinois a cheeky grin.

‘Oh yeah? Ya think someone’ll arrest us?’

Illinois snorted as everyone’s laughter got louder, and Yancy rolled his eyes and caught Bambam in an affectionate headlock. Then before Illinois knew it everyone was complimenting him on his laugh, smile and endurance, and the explorer got to spend the rest of the day listening to all of their wondrous stories and tales. He was nudged, hugged, jostled with, smiled at… and when Yancy sent him a fond smile Illinois realised something. It was true, Yancy did indeed have two families. One in the manor, and one right here… and now Illinois had made his greatest discovery. He’d found a second family too.

AHHH HAPPY NEW YEAR! THANK YOU ALL FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ME, I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE THIS FIC AND PLEASE LEMME KNOW IF YA DO! WOOO LUV YOUS XX

#markiplier #markiplier egos #yancy #illinois #sfw #platonic #prompt #ego fic #ego fanfic #tword fic #tword fanfic #tword #twords #twording #twordish #love these bois

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

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Baby Eyes | Mafia Katsuki Bakugo x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ Content. Some non-con, blood, murder, Mafia Bakugo, Fem! Reader, bdsm, sexual intercourse, size kink, degrading, orgasm denial, Stockholm syndrome, yandere themes, etc.

Words: 2,896

A/N: thank you so much to @daisy-bakugo for letting me participate. It is really fun doing this collaboration with you. Daisy’s Event

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @miriobaby @milkthistletea @idfkwtfgof click here to see my other works

Vegas.

Many dream of this city. The gambling, the drinks, the money, the night life. It has it all. Your dreams and worse nightmares can be made here all within a single night. The world may be cruel, but Vegas is even crueler. At least, it is for Y/N.

Your pistol was held tight in your trembling little hand. You have not been properly trained for this moment since in your late teens. The weapon felt foreign to the touch. You are now in your twenties and you are usually not doing this line of work, but since you wanted to disturb your significant other while he was working, he handed you the gun for you to handle.

“Since you want to be such a fucking cry baby, here.” He growled, shoving the pistol into your pounding chest. You gasped.

“S-Sir, I—“ You stammered, using the name he loved to be called by you. You would help it lessen your punishment, but the man did not budge.

“Don’t keep me waiting, brat. Finish this piece of shit off swiftly and quit your damn crying.”

You watched as he left into the city lights of Vegas before turning your attention back to the male before you. The man begged for mercy beneath you and your mouth feels dry.

“P-Please, ma’am. I-I have a w-wife and t-three beautiful c-children. I’ll g-give you your m-money next week. I-I promise.” The fearful man stammered amongst the abandoned dark alleyway. You have heard this speech by many like him when Katsuki brought you on his missions. It should just fall on deaf ears, but tears still brimmed your eyes as memories flooded back to the forefront of your damaged mind.

These memories are the reason you are in this predicament. You begged and squealed, running towards Katsuki and hanging onto his arm when he directed you to stay in the car. You two could have been gone by now, but you decided to intervene. Now you are here, about to commit another murder.

Your father was in this same position a few years ago. Begging for mercy before Katsuki slaughtered him right in front of you. Your cries still echo this alleyway during late, breezy nights. People think you have been disposed of as well. That is what eventually happened to the remainder of your family, but you are just under a new identity.

The barrel of the gun digs deeper into the victim’s temple. You attempt to find your strength to pull the trigger. You need to before Katsuki returns. He does not like waiting and you really are pushing what is left of his buttons today.

“I’m sorry.” You whimper out, closing your sorrow filled eyes and pressing down on the trigger. The feeling of blood splattering amongst your cold skin brought back even more unwanted memories. Falling to your knees, you began to cry hysterically in front of the fallen corpse.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you after a few moments. Katsuki has been watching the whole time and you know it. This is what made the experience even worse. You know his judgment is coming. He gave you a task and although you succeeded, it isn’t good enough. He hates your emotional ways. ‘Baby eyes’ as he would say. Always crying over something or someone.

A big calloused hand entangling into your hair with a deep sigh following. You could not look up at him. You hate him right now. You need to, at least, but the feeling of his large fingers stroking your scalp delivered comfort. A comfort he gives and takes away on a whim.

“Took you long enough.” Katsuki grumbled. You gaze up at him with a pitiful look he knows all too well. There was a certain aura to you that changed when your mind drifted to that night. The night he murdered your family right in front of you and all you could do is watch in terror.

“I-I’m sorry.” You muttered out, already accepting that Katsuki is annoyed with you. This is not your first murder and sure will not be your last. He has groomed you long enough for you to know your role.

Katsuki kicked the man’s head with his large foot so he could see the man’s pleading face. Katsuki is cruel in that way. He loved seeing his victim’s expressions in their final moments. Especially when his beautiful woman killed them.

Digging into the man’s pockets, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and black leather wallet to review what was contained inside it. The little cash the man held is now in Katsuki’s possession.

“Marlboro Reds,” Katsuki commented as he slipped the cigarette in between his moist lips and lit it up, “nice.”

Turning around to face you after letting the nicotine enter his system, he looks down at you. Grabbing your chin, you are forced to meet his gaze. You tremble under his touch.

“What did I say about that crying shit?” Katsuki recalls one of your many lectures.

“I’m sorry!” You exclaimed, a little too loud for your own good. Katsuki’s eyebrows furrowed together, not pleased with your tone. His hand found a way to your neck, giving you a nice squeeze as he guides you up to your feet.

“Let’s go.” Katsuki growls, his red orbs shooting venom into you. Your arm is now tight into his grip as he leads you to the parked all black Lamborghini.

You climb into the passenger seat while Katsuki climbs into the driver’s. You used the napkins in the glove compartment to clean up your soiled face. Katsuki is already on his second cigarette as he drives to the mansion you both share. Considering how fed up he is with you and your antics, you are surprised that half of the box is not gone by now. You know you are in for it once you arrive home.

Katsuki pulled up to the house after some time. Your tears did not pause once the whole way there which only agitated Katsuki even more. He did not say a word as you know to follow the tall man inside. Straight up the spiral marble staircase to the master bedroom, you begin undressing as Katsuki does not appreciate the mess in his living space. Along with the fact you are always to be naked within the bedroom. That rule was set once you turned eighteen years of age.

You sat on the edge of the bed, not enjoying the look in Katsuki’s angry eyes. His muscular arms folded against his chest as he leaned against the wall, glaring into you. You feel small — as usual — within his presence. He is making sure you remember your place.

“What the hell were you thinking out there, Y/N?” Katsuki begins after moments have passed.

“I-I don’t know.” You mumbled, twiddling your thumbs in your bare lap. Your insides are curling with each passing second. You are not sure why you did what you did, honestly. You have seen numerous people plead for forgiveness at Katsuki’s feet, but Katsuki is always going to be a merciless man. Your body acted before your brain could compute. You just wanted to save him. Salvage your loved ones death in some way, shape, or form, but it can never be done.

“You have to give me a better excuse than that. This little rebellion you're on lately isn’t doing nothing but getting you into heaps of trouble.”

“It’s not a rebellion!” You snap back, tears still spilling from your orbs. “You killed my family, Katsuki!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes, used to this statement coming from you. “Here we go again.” He scoffs with a tsk following shortly after. “We’ve been over this, Y/N. Your father sold you and your family out for cash. If anything, you should be fucking grateful I even let you live.”

“Grateful?” You repeat in disbelief, a half hearted chuckle escaping your lips. Maybe it was because Katsuki let you take another life, maybe your parents' spirits are coming through, or maybe you’re just so fed up with him, but a sudden burst of confidence runs through you.

You stand up, strolling over to the man before you. His jaw is clenching as he examines each cowardly step you take towards him. You glare up to the man before you, quivering before his mighty presence.

“You killed my family, Katsuki,” you repeat through gritted teeth and clenched fists, “I’ll never forgive you for that.”

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki challenged, his profound amused smirk appearing. The look in your glossy irises said all the words you didn’t have the courage to speak. “Good thing I really don’t give a fuck about your forgiveness, princess.”

Katsuki’s words soaked into your veins like venom. His smug looks always made you want to beat it off of him. Ever since you have met him. You both know you have no match against him. He will always win. Always.

You have been stuck with him since you were fifteen years old. You two never had any relationship or any sexual conduct until you were the legal age of eighteen. You would be lying if you said you didn’t fall for him over the years. He is all you know and Katsuki grew to like you over the years. Though he trained you to be the woman he wants you to be for him, you do throw a tantrum or two when needed.

“I hate you.” You sniveled.

“Sure you do. Let’s clean up that pretty face of yours so I can stuff it, eh?” Katsuki chuckled, cupping your chin with one hand so he can wipe your nose with a handkerchief with the other. You attempted to break loose of his firm grasp, but the male was not even phased.

“I don’t want your dick anywhere near me.” You admit allowed, still keeping the same angry tone within your words.

Katsuki arched his eyebrow, releasing your face from his grip and discarding the used cloth into the waste bin. “Considering the show you put on out there tonight, you’re lucky I’m not doing worse to you. I can always make that pretty ass of yours bruised too if you’d like?”

You immediately shake your head no. Your bottom is still a bit sore from two weeks ago when Katsuki put you over his knee. You are just now able to sit normal again. You do not need to go back to that.

“No, sir.” You stutter out, backing away from him and putting your hands behind your back. Katsuki is already pouring himself some whiskey into a whiskey glass that you make sure is always waiting on his dresser. He always enjoys a good drink after a long mission.

You take his black suit jacket off of him like expected and lay it on the dirty laundry hamper. Katsuki is already sitting on the bed, sipping on his alcoholic beverage, waiting for you to get to work. Kneeling before him, you begin unzipping his slacks and tugging down his underwear to reveal his erected cock. You take a moment to contemplate your future actions. You really did not want his dick in your mouth, but like Katsuki said before, you do not have a choice in the matter.

Your train of thought is derailed when Katsuki tugs on your hair. “Isn’t going to suck itself, brat. Get to work.”

Mentally groaning, your tongue swipes his length before placing kisses on the tip. Slowly, you begin taking in inch—by—inch. Saliva slid down his cock by the time you had it in your throat. Choking noises fed Katsuki’s already inflated ego.

“Can’t talk much with my cock down your throat, huh?” He teased, taking another sip of his whiskey. “For someone who claimed they didn’t want my cock to begin with, you sure are deep throating it rather quickly.”

You ignored his usual insults as you came up for air. You let out small coughs then go in for more, every vein being pleased with your tongue as you take it all in. Katsuki groans in pleasure as you pick up the speed. His cock is coated in your saliva as you did not slow down once to catch air. It wasn’t worth the ego boost he would feel from knowing he is too big for you.

Katsuki’s whiskey went unfinished as he could not focus on drinking it. Cum soon fills your hollow cheeks and down your throat as he releases into you. Not a drop was missed as you milked his cock. You were rewarded with a head pat.

“On the bed,” Katsuki instructs, “all fours.”

“Do I have to?” You whine. Katsuki vigorously grabs your chin, staring down into you. The room is dark, but his crimson eyes seemed to glow.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get on this fucking bed and shut your Goddamn mouth.” Katsuki hisses, sending chills down your spine. You do as you are told like he taught you. Arching your back, your ass is now in his perfect viewing. Katsuki’s clothes discarded to the hardwood floor below, his dick already erected at the sight of you.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” Katsuki asked, rhetorically. He spreads you open more for his personal view. “Yeah, that’s it.” He comments, overviewing all of you. One of his hands stroked his cock while the other pressed on your begging clit. You let out a soft moan, hoping he didn’t hear.

Placing his hands on your hips, he drags you closer to him. Leveling you with his cock, the tip slowly slips into your entrance then proceeding to pick up full speed. Your cunt swallows all of him, hugging his cock with each rhythmic thrust. You can feel your tight walls get stretched by his girth with each entry he makes, not even giving you time to get used to his size as he exits to repeat the same process. No matter how many times you two have sex, you will never get used to Katsuki’s length and size.

“Katsuki—“ You sob in pleasure and in pain.

“Shut it, slut. You’re going to take all of my fucking cock and like it. I’m going to fuck the brat out of you tonight.” Katsuki demands, pressing down on your spine so your ass is more perked up for him to smack periodically. Your cries and moans are muffled into the European satin sheets below. You grip onto them for support as Katsuki does not slow down once.

Your pussy pulsates with each thrust. It was about to give out on you and cum all over his cock. Though you did not want to give him the satisfaction, your cunt had other plans as it became tighter around Katsuki’s length.

“Aw, is someone going to cum?” Katsuki coo’s condescendingly, beginning to go agonizingly slow.

You lift your head to beg for sweet release. “Please let me cum, sir. Pretty please. I need to oh so badly.” You sobbed. His silence made your insides do flips. His slow strokes did not once stop and his nails dug into your thighs.

“No.” Katsuki finally denies as he knows you cannot take anymore. You gasp, your heart stopping for a split second.

“Katsuki, please.” You hiccuped. “I really need to.”

“Should’ve thought about that before throwing a tantrum today. Good girls get to cum.” Katsuki shrugged, using his long muscular arm to push your head back into the mattress. “Now shut the hell up while I fuck you senseless.”

Just like Katsuki stated, he fucked you until his high was met. Of course, he did not make it easy as he was about to bust, he would go slower to edge himself. He wanted this to be a punishment to remember. The whole time, you behaved and did not cum. No matter how many times Katsuki tried to get you to slip, you refused.

“C’mon and cum, brat. Y’know you wanna.” Katsuki would tease with immaturity. All you could say was incoherent “no thank you’s.” A soft rub on your ass was telling you that you passed his test.

Countless minutes, maybe even hours, have passed until Katsuki decided he was ready to release himself. “You can cum now.” He finally grants. You did not get to even process his words as your pussy released onto his cock. Babbles of pleasure and gratitude escaped from your lips.

“Good fuckin’ girl.” Katsuki praises, his cock now removed from you. You whine at the hollowness you felt.

“Lay on your back.” He instructs, doing his best to keep it together. You follow his request and switch over to your back. “Play with your tits.”

Your fingers grab onto your sensitive nipples, swirling on them before giving them a nice little pinch. Katsuki stood over you, stroking his cock that is covered in his pre-cum.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl.” Katsuki praised once more, analyzing your lewd faces as your fingers played with your breast.

“Mm, cover me with your cum.” You encouraged, rubbing your thighs together and pushing your breast closer to one another. Katsuki became feral as cum squirted onto your chest and stomach. Just the sight of you is making Katsuki forget today ever happened.

Just like always, baby eyes.

©bakugosbratx

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oneprompt · 3 years

Note

Helloooo! How u doing? Hope things going over there!

Glad to meet another one piece x reader blog! 💕💕 I was wondering if I could have a drabble or headcanons (whichever u prefer honestly) about jealous Zoro x chubby s/o? It can be NSFW or SFW (again whichever u prefer)

A jealous partner just hits different u know? 😳😳😳

Thank u for ur time!

authors note : hello ! <3 im doing rather well , thanks so much for asking <3 hope you’re doing lovely <33 i hope you don’t mind that i picked NSFW for this one ;; jealousy just blends perfectly with NSFW .. Anywho ! i hope you enjoy the headcanons + drabble <3 Oh ! i mainly kept the reader gender neutral , as i wasn’t sure if you wanted it as a female , male or nb. i hope that’s alright with you <3

NSFW WARNING BELOW <3 please skip if such content makes you uncomfortable.

........

Jealous! Zoro x Chubby! Reader Headcanons

tags : jealousy , ( slight ) breeding kink , possessiveness , marking

• It takes quite a lot to get Zoro jealous. He’s a swordsman and swordsmanship is all about honor and respect , even towards opponents.

• But if a certain Straw Hat even breathes in your direction, he’s quick to make jealous. Sanji had no limitations when it came to his flirtatious attitude, he didn’t even hold back flirting with you, someone who was knowingly in a relationship, let alone someone who was dating Zoro.

• Zoro doesn’t hesitate to stride over to you and Sanji, quick to shout and possibly hit Sanji. Who does Sanji think he is? Zoro hated that sleezy face Sanji would make, allowing his eyes to trace along every piece of exposed flesh you had as you sunbathed on the ship deck. And Zoro especially hated how your face would flush in embarrassment from the other mans compliments.

• When he’s jealous, Zoro gets a lot tougher when it comes to bed room activities. Most of the time, he’s slow with his strokes, leaving light kisses along your stomach or neck, depending on what position you two were in. But when he’s jealous? Boy, oh boy... Jealousy is the plague! Do not expect to be able to walk straight afterwards

• He’ll definitely bury your body in hickies and bite marks, wherever his mouth can reach, it’ll be throbbing from Zoro’s lips. Zoro lacks shame, really. He doesn’t mind if people notice the marks he leaves upon you. If anything, Zoro wants people to see them, it strokes his ego.

• Zoro wants to be able to see your face 100%. He loves seeing your sweet expression sink with pure ecstasy. The way you’ll drool and blush an unbelievable shade of red as he rams up into the warmth of your body makes him grin with delight. Zoro knows nobody can do this for you, that only he can. And that feeling is the greatest to ever bask within him, the feeling of superiority of all the men who have ever looked at you in a lewd way.

• Zoro loves to grope your body, as well. He likes to feel every bit of you, from your chest to your lovehandles, he wants to feel it all. He loves knowing your plump body is only for him to feast on.

• If you ever show shame in your body type, Zoro is quick to correct you with eager touches. How idiotic do you have to be to neglect such a treasure? Zoro will always be there to remind you of the value your body holds to him, and why you should find pride in it as well.

• When Zoro is in a mood, he often likes to drain his seed inside of you, filling you to the brim with his musky semen. He’s very territorial , as you can tell. Very into marking, wether with marks or his own cum.

Jealous! Zoro x Chubby! Reader Oneshot

“H-hey... can’t you be a bit gentler?” Your voice seeped out in between the harsh pants that circulated from you. The way Zoro was palming at your body was as tight as the grip he would use upon his sword. Mixing such powerful touches with the grinding of his rock hard member made it even more difficult to speak through. You could feel his precum dribble against your hole, making your warm body hotter then it already was.

Zoro didn’t make an effort to reply, as he was clearly in his own little world. All of this over Sanji and his cooking .. All you had done was compliment the chef on the straw berry and vanilla parfait he had graciously served you. It wasn’t your fault Sanji took ever little thing to heart... Yet, even as you had explained the scene, Zoro still didn’t let up with his sudden yearning for your body.

It was embarrassing, nearly. The way Zoro’s face smothered against your stomach, his calloused fingers scaling against the surface of your body. Everytime Zoro would leave a kiss or hickey against your stomach, you’d jolt in pleasure. It felt so good but having him smother your stomach like that... it was far too much.

“Zoro...not my stomach...its-“ You gasped out loudly as you were suddenly impaled on the forth of Zoro’s member, that action completely cutting off your words. You felt your toes curl and your legs tremble from the intrusion. You were already so sensitive, and that certainly amped it up further. Your eyes peered up at Zoro as he sat up, his tanned hands firmly squeezing your love handles as he let you consume every inch of him.

“Eh? It’s not what, Y/n?” Zoro smirked down at you, letting out a raspy laugh. He didn’t hesitate to begin to move his hips, letting his member exit your warmth before burrowing deep inside once again. “You better not have been thinking what i think you were...” Zoro knew how you felt about your body. You didn’t hate it but some days he would notice the way you’d gaze upon yourself, a small frown taking over your face. “Because.. the whole Grand Line can tell how fucking hot you are,” Zoro hissed, his breath growing slightly heavy as he quickened his thrusts.

You couldn’t tell if your face was hot from the temps tire of the room and the man that hovered over your naked form, or if it was hot from what Zoro had just said. Zoro was never new to vulgar compliments but that one was far too for you to handle, making you tighten around Zoro’s shaft. This was certainly different from the sex you two typically had. Zoro was never a man to falter, always staying at a steady pace but today, it was nonstop. You couldn’t help but let the loud moans that brewed within your throat out. You felt guilty, because God knows the rest of the crew was trying to sleep right now. But you couldn’t help it, you couldn’t help but gasp and call out for your lover as he pounded your deepest parts.

Zoro felt a never ending source of confidence against the rest of the ship and their mates. He knew he was the only person to make you scream in such a way. The thought that he was the only one who ever got to see you in such a manner just made him even more excited. Nobody got such a great view, nor would they ever. You were Zoro’s and Zoro’s alone, no one could come between you two, not even a damn War Lord.

Zoro was consistent, never stopping his rapid and rough strokes. He didn’t even pace himself, as you two got further into the session. It was sloppy, at that point. You two had been going at it like animals for about an hour or so, giving not a single Straw Hat time to get a blink of sleep in the time window. Fluids gushed from the both of you, the sticky fluid you dumped against his member just made such a lewd noise every time he would thrust inward. It was loud as he rammed into you, matching with the smacking of flesh.

You were close, and with the look that rested on Zoro’s face, he was just as close as you were. The room was full of moans and groans, the playful banter from before had ceased to be, melted within the bed sheets, along with the sweat that was produced from you and Zoro.

“Zoro...! I’m close!” You mustered out, throwing your head back into the mess of pillows that remained behind you. It was as i you were molding into the bed, slowly sinking into the wet bed sheets, marked with your own juices as well as the ones from your lover.

With how suddenly your walls clamped against Zoro’s shaft, it didn’t give him a single moment to think about pulling out. It was as if you were attempting to milk him of every drop of cum he could produce. And so, you did. The warmth of Zoro’s seed was an overwhelming force that seeped into you, painting your walls white with the thick fluid.

An animalistic groan escaped Zoro as he drained his balls, filling you as much as he could with his semen. It felt so satisfying to fill you, almost as if he were trying to impregnate you, wether he could or not. The feeling of him not just branding every bit of you on the outside but as well on the inside was the best feeling he could ask for.

You were his. Inside and out, you were marked by the worlds top wanted ‘ pirate hunter ‘ , the right hand man to the worlds future pirate king.

#one piece imagines #one piece x you #one piece x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro imagines #zoro x reader #zoro x you #zoro x y/n #smut #one piece smut #x reader smut #fanfic

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kanerallels · 3 years

Note

for your 111 celebration - star wars, kanera, karaoke??? :D

It would be my pleasure!!!

Pairing: Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla

Word Count: TBD, I'm currently on mobile with no way of checking

Tags/Warning: rated G (for good grief, Kanan you drama queen). The only objectional thing is the fact that Ezra is presented as Kanan's biological son with very little explanation. TW for alcohol

The first time Hera Syndulla saw Kanan Jarrus after Gorse was nothing like what she’d expected.

She was in a cantina on Mykapo, waiting for Sabine to return from her mission-- the Mandalorian girl was picking up intel from one of their contacts who lived there, and Hera was watching her back from a distance. It was a good learning experience for the teenager, and she had Chopper with her. Hera was more than happy to sit in the bar waiting for her crew’s return-- and treat herself to a drink while she was at it.

Settled at one of the stools, Hera waited patiently for the bartender to come serve her. As she did so, her gaze wandered around the room. It was the standard cantina, containing quite a motley crew of beings, although not as many as there would be after the average work day. Then it would be filled to the brim with them. In the back of the room was a stage and a karaoke machine, currently being used by a very drunk, very tone deaf Quarren.

She wasn’t sure what made her glance to her side-- perhaps a slight rustle of sound, or the sudden sensation that someone was close by. But she did, and was startled to meet the bright blue eyes of a boy, who couldn’t have been much older than twelve.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a grin. “I’m Ezra. What’s your name?”

“...hi,” Hera responded, caught somewhat off guard. Regaining her equilibrium, she offered him her hand. “I’m Hera. It’s nice to meet you, Ezra.”

“Nice to meet you, too,” Ezra said, shaking her hand solemnly.

Curiosity flickering through her, Hera asked, “So, Ezra, what brings you to this bar? I’m… pretty sure kids aren’t allowed in here-- no offense.”

“None taken-- they’re not,” Ezra said with a shrug. “But the owner makes an exception for me, cause I’m awesome. Also, my dad works here.”

“Your dad, huh?” Hera gave the kid a once-over, taking in his scruffy blue-black hair and relatively clean orange jumpsuit. Nothing that would signify he was telling the truth-- but then, there was very little that would point to the opposite. “And where is your dad right now?”

Seeming unconcerned by her questions, Ezra craned his neck, looking around as the Quarren on stage stumbled off to several boos from the crowd. “Huh. Could have sworn he was-- ah-ha!! There he is!”

Ezra pointed, and Hera followed his hand to the karaoke stage, where a new song was starting on the machine. Standing next to it, holding the microphone, was a tall, familiar figure she hadn't thought she'd ever see again.

Kanan Jarrus sent her a crooked grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he lifted the microphone and said, “I'd like to dedicate this song to a special someone out there sitting at the bar next to my kid, the drop dead gorgeous Twi'lek woman. You know who you are.”

“Because you just told everyone,” Hera pointed out in exasperation, but Kanan didn't seem to be listening-- nor did the crowd, all of whom seemed deeply invested. Grinning widely, he started to sing, his voice a deep, rich baritone:

“I musta been through about a million girls,

I love em and I leave em alone

I didn’t care how much they cried, no sir,

Their tears left me cold as a stone.

But then I fooled around and fell in love,

I fooled and fell in love…”

Hera had to give it to him-- he had a good voice, better than she’d expected. Catching her eye, Kanan shot her a wink, and Hera dropped her head into her hands in exasperation. “So, he hasn��t changed at all,” she observed to herself.

“Wait, do you know Kanan?” Ezra asked, sounding delighted. “That’s awesome! How do you know him?”

“We met about five years ago,” Hera told him, pointedly avoiding Kanan’s gaze. “On Gorse. He was--”

“Wait, you’re the Gorse lady?” Ezra gasped, his eyes going wide. “No WAY. Kanan mentioned you a couple times.”

“Did he,” Hera said, raising an eyebrow. “Please, tell me exactly what he said.” She wasn’t exactly sure why Kanan would be talking about her with this kid-- his son? The ages didn’t exactly match up-- but she was definitely curious as to how it had come up.

Ezra frowned thoughtfully. “Let’s see-- I remember! He told me you were the best pilot he’d ever met, and that you were kinda crazy but also really smart and good at what you did-- but most importantly, he said that he'd trust you to watch his back.”

“What?” Hera said, taken aback. She'd expected parts of what Ezra said, and was even secretly pleased about the pilot part. But to know that she had Kanan's trust? That struck a different chord for Hera.

“I know,” Ezra said, nodding gravely. “It surprised me, too. Kanan doesn't really trust people. I mean, I've seen him trust people before, but it's been a really long time. So when I heard that he trusted you, I knew you had to be special to him.”

“I don't think that's quite true,” Hera said, mildly embarrassed. “Kanan and I-- well, we only knew each other for a little while. I don’t think he could have learned to trust me that much in that little time.” But even as she spoke, she remembered on the Forager, the moment when the ship was coming to pieces around them and Kanan had used the Force to save her. He’d showed her his deepest secret in that moment, a secret that could easily have him killed. But he’d trusted her with it. Maybe Ezra is on to something.

Shrugging, Ezra said, “Maybe, but I think he sees something special about you. Or hears-- he also mentioned your voice.”

As Hera turned that over in her mind, Kanan's song ended. The entire cantina burst into applause, and Hera couldn't resist an eye roll at his antics as he gave the crowd a wave and a bow. Strolling off of the stage, Kanan moved behind the bar and towards where Hera was sitting.

As he approached, Hera lifted an eyebrow at him. “Very impressive,” she said dryly. “Who would have thought you could sing?”

“I live to please,” Kanan said, leaning against the bar and grinning at her. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Hera said. “I do have one issue with the whole performance, however. Did it occur to you that I might be trying to keep a low profile, and wouldn’t want the entire bar staring at me?”

“Trust me, most of them are so drunk they won’t remember our names, faces or what song I chose,” Kanan assured her. “I wouldn’t dream of messing with whatever you’re up to now. We all remember how that went last time.”

“I didn’t think it went that badly,” Hera said, and Kanan’s grin widened.

“Oh, really?”

Giving him a look, Hera said, “The mission. I completed my objective, after all.”

“I suppose you did, Captain.” Straightening up, Kanan asked, “So, what can I get you?”

“Something non-alcoholic,” Hera said. “I’m here on business.”

“I’ve got the perfect thing. So, business, eh?” Kanan made a face as he opened the mini fridge behind him and pulled out a bottle of juice. “That never means anything good.”

“I thought you wanted to avoid that sort of thing,” Hera pointed out.

“Good point,” Kanan said, handing her a glass full of the juice. Hera took a sip and was pleasantly surprised at the familiar tangy taste of meiloorun, combined with something a little sweeter. As she took another sip, Kanan turned to Ezra. “And kid, what are you doing out here? We’ve talked about this.”

“It’s boring in the back,” Ezra protested. “There’s nothing to do, and no one to talk to. Don’t worry, Hera’s keeping an eye on me.”

Kanan’s gaze flashed from the kid to Hera. “Oh, she is now, is she? Well, you can’t sit at the bar, at the least. Come back here, okay?”

Ezra grumbled something, but vaulted over the bar in a very Kanan-like move. As he disappeared behind the bar, Hera said quietly, “I didn’t know you had a kid.”

“Recent development,” Kanan said calmly, and there was a snort from down where Ezra had settled.

“Try five years!”

“That, too,” Kanan agreed, but Hera’s mind was busy matching up the timeline.

“Five years? That was around the time we first met, wasn’t it?”

Nodding, Kanan said, “Yeah. It was actually shortly after that.”

“Was that why you didn’t come with me?”

“More or less.”

Ezra’s head appeared from behind the bar. “Wait, you asked Kanan to go with you? You never told me that! Were you two lovers?”

Hera nearly choked on her drink and Kanan let out a long sigh. “EZRA. We’ve talked about these kinds of questions.”

“You said I could ask you whatever I wanted,” Ezra pointed out. “The first day I moved in with you--”

“Yeah, I know, and you’ve proceeded to never let it go since. No, we were not lovers.”

“Not for lack of trying on your part,” Hera murmured into her juice.

“Ouch.”

“It’s just the truth, dear.”

“Fair enough,” Kanan muttered, a slight grin slipping across his face as Ezra snickered down by his feet.

“I like her.” he told the older man.

“Me, too,” Kanan told Ezra. Turning to Hera, he said, “So, it’s been a minute and a half since we talked. How’ve you been? Find some more crew for that gorgeous ship of yours?”

“I did,” Hera said, a small smile crossing her face. “I think you’d like them.”

“No idea if that’s a compliment for them,” Kanan joked. A serious look crossed his face. “However… I’m glad. Whoever this person is. I’ve always maintained that you needed more support in your life.”

“You never once said that,” Hera pointed out.

“No? Must have been someone else.”

“Must have been,” Hera said lightly. She paused for a minute, studying Kanan closely. He looked different-- older, of course. And despite his cavalier attitude, there was a new layer of something, responsibility, perhaps.

But more than any of those, he looked tired. Now that he was directly across from her, Hera could see the dark shadows under his eyes, and while he still leaned against the bar casually, there was the slightest slump to his shoulders. “Are you okay?” she asked quietly.

One of Kanan’s eyebrows shot up, and he looked caught off guard. “What?”

“You look exhausted,” Hera told him, deciding to just get straight to the point. Kanan opened his mouth, presumably to make some joke, and Hera speared him with a glare. “The truth, please.”

He closed his mouth with an audible snap, then sighed. “It’s been a long month. I’ve been working a lot lately. And this time of year is always… hard.”

Hera saw his gaze flick down to where Ezra was, and she frowned slightly. She knew Empire Day was coming up soon-- clearly, it had some special significance for these two.

She started to ask him another question, but heard a commotion behind her. Kanan’s gaze snapped up, and his hand slid towards where a blaster was. Hera turned and spotted Sabine and Chopper making a beeline towards her. “They’re with me,” she told him.

“This is your crew? Seems a little young,” Kanan remarked.

“Said the man with a son he didn’t tell me about,” Hera shot back, although she was getting less and less convinced that Ezra was Kanan’s biological son.

Before Kanan could respond, Sabine was next to them, the look in her eyes urgent. “Hera, we’ve got something.”

“What is?” Hera asked, and Sabine’s gaze moved to Kanan warily. “He’s fine,” Hera assured the Mandalorian.

Holding up a hand, Kanan said, “Don’t worry, Mandalorian. I want absolutely nothing to do with this.” Grabbing a cleaning rag, he began wiping down the surface of the bar.

“Not sure if that’s reassuring, but whatever,” Sabine said. Looking back at Hera, she said, “We got a lead.”

“On the survivor from Lasan?” Hera asked in shock. She felt Kanan’s gaze shift back towards them, but focused on Sabine. “Tell me everything.”

“Apparently, he was spotted a few days ago-- Hera, we have a location. He’s hiding out on Pantora.”

“Pantora? That’s only a few days from here.” Making up her mind on the spot, Hera turned to Kanan and slid him a few credits. “Thanks for the drink-- I need to go.”

He didn’t take the money. “You found a Lasat survivor?” he asked, his voice sounding stunned. “There are some left?”

“Only the one that we know of,” Sabine said, eying him warily. “Why? Also who is this?”

Kanan ignored her and turned to Hera. “Let me come with you.”

Hera’s eyes shot wide. “What? Kanan, now’s not the time for--”

“Hera, I’m serious. Let me come with you. I can help.” Kanan’s voice was shockingly urgent as he leaned across the bar, his gaze locking with Hera’s. “Please. I can help you get him to safety.”

“Why exactly do you want to help so much?” Sabine asked, her tone dripping with skepticism.

Kanan’s gaze didn’t leave Hera’s as he replied, “Because I’ve been where he is.”

Oh. Oh, kriff.

Hera hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “You can come.”

“What?” Sabine’s incredulity was almost immediately drowned out as Ezra jumped up from behind the bar.

“YES!!! Finally, we can leave Mykapo, it’s SO BORING here.”

“What the-- Who’s this?” Sabine demanded. “Hera--”

“I’ll explain on the way,” Hera promised. Looking at Kanan, she said, “Meet us in the space port. We’re in docking bay seven.”

“We’ll be there in fifteen minute,” Kanan replied, already moving, Ezra all but skipping at his side.

As Hera led the way out of the cantina, her two companions brimming with questions and suspicion, she had to admit-- she hadn’t expected to leave Mykapo with new crew members. But for whatever reason, she had a really good feeling about this, and about Kanan Jarrus. It all depended on what happened next, and Hera was very interested to see what that was.

#swr #kanan jarrus #hera syndulla #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #kanera #star wars #sabine wren #sw rebels #111 followers celebration #post a new dawn #i actually have a full post to make about this au explaining where and how ezra comes in #but that's a post for another time #kanan is a dad and no one can argue #swr fan fic #it was dope. the end

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weasleypogues · 3 years

Text

written in the stars (f.w. au) pt. 2

hiii soo happy people liked the first part!! im actually obsessed with this au so this is so much fun to write! again, requests for other characters are open! :) let me know if you want to be tagged in this small fic! part 1 here!

tag list for the fic so far: @daddystevee @nojamsonmytoast @thebadassbitchqueen

masterlist. part 3.

hope you enjoy it !!! xx

your eyes scanned over the words again and again as your eyebrows furrowed together. balderdash. what could that mean? absolutely nothing could cross your mind as you stared at the black ink that was soon fading away. you felt frozen in place, astonished to see writing as you were waiting for this day for what felt like forever but confusion nonetheless.

“i should write back, right? does he know that this went through? clearly he’s older than me....” you spoke aloud, trying to wrap your head around it. you felt somewhat guilty feeling like this. you should have been excited to see words from your soulmate, knowing there was someone out there, but this was all such sudden change that you knew where you had to go. you felt the urge to run to cedric and ask him any and all questions you could think of.

basically sprinting to the hufflepuff common room without look extremely suspicious to any onlookers, you tapped the barrell and the door to the common room opened with one swift movement. you walked through the threshold and glanced at the fellow housemates and gave them warm smiles and they wished you a happy birthday.

“thanks guys, anyone know where cedric might be?” you asked, slightly out of breath and looking more frazzeled than one should look on their seventeenth birthday.

“is the birthday girl looking for me?” you heard a voice from the boys dormitory stairs call out. your nerves calmed and you spun around looking at cedric who had a wide smile on his face. “happy birthday , (y/n/n)! i got you this.”

you took a small box from cedrics hands and gave him a big smile, the stressful thought being pushed to the back of your head for a moment. you untied the white ribbon from the silver box and lifted the top to see three bars of honeydukes best chocolate and lifted it to see a picture frame. in the picture was a picture of you and cedric hysterically laughing at whatever joke was told at the time, looking as happy as ever. the frame was an off-white color with sage green vines designed around it. you smiled widely and glanced up at him with tears brimming your eyes.

“it’s beautiful, cedric. i love it!” you responded, placing the box to the nearest table and wrapping your arms around his neck and squeezing. he returned the hug and you could feel the vibrations of his body as he must’ve chuckled. you pulled away still smiling.

“was there something specific you were looking for me for? was it about your pen?” cedric inquired as if he literally read your mind. you heart rate increased slightly, as the previous moment passed and you grabbed the smaller box on the table next to your new gift. you held it in your hands and you looked up at him.

“so all i know right now is that i’m younger. they wrote something and it showed up on my forearm and i kinda freaked out. what does that mean?” you asked, switching your glance back and forth from his eyes searching for answers as soon as possible. he sensed your stress and placed both of his hands on your shoulders.

“okay, first off, ease your nerves a little bit. it’s not going to help.” he stated and you felt your shoulders relax themselves and took a deep breath. “assuming that you got the writing on your arm specifically means that he wrote it on his arm as well. he probably did it to remember something and has no idea that you even got it yet. what did it say?”

“balderdash?” you said in more of a question, wondering if that was the right word and what it could’ve meant. cedric’s own eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth opened slightly to speak but closed soon to take a second to think. you bit your lip and tried to maneuver your mind through this internal maze to figure out what that could possibly mean.

“i think i’m being too narrowminded right now. i’m trying to connect it to someone at hogwarts when it could literally be almost anyone in the world, right?” you asked, your heart sinking at the thought that maybe your soulmate wasn’t at hogwarts right now. you instinctively cracked your fingers and threw your head back.

“look anything is possible. but i could have sworn i heard that word recently.” cedric stated his own eyes darting around the room as his brain tried to make sense of things. “until something sparks in my mind, try writing back to him? this should be exciting, don’t stress yourself, love.”

you gave him a small smile and nodded slowly before licking your lips and reaching for the marble pen. your took a deep breath, a smile forming on your lips coming to the realization that this is a memorable moment.

wow i finally get to talk to you.

you wrote on your forearm, glitter trailing after the pen’s tip and soon leading to plain black ink before slowly disappearing. you paused and could practically hear the blood pumping in your ears.

oh my god. happy birthday, love. finally!

you giggled aloud and showed cedric who failed to hide his own smile and looked at you, “see! nothing to be worried about!” you felt more at ease and dazed as you were literally talking to your soulmate.

footsteps pulled you out of the small trance you had at your forearm as the ink disappeared. you looked up and saw malia with a wide grin on her face. “(y/n)! happy birthday!” you giggled and thanked her, pulling her into a hug.

“oh my god! your pen! have you written anything yet? have they written anything yet? ahh! this is so exciting, i’m so happy for you.” malia basically squealed. a smirk rose upon your lips, realizing how literally perfect she was for cedric and you nodded.

“they wrote bladerdash earlier and than i kind of froze and freaked out but i wrote and he wrote back!” you announced, happiness oh so evident in your tone and a blush rising to your cheeks. malia tucked a piece of hair behind her hair.

“balderdash? if i’m not mistaken, angelina said to me that was the gryffindor common room password. they’re holding a bit of a secret party before classes on monday and said to invite a few people and let myself in.” malia exclaimed, putting the pieces together to your puzzle. an overwhelming feeling you soon determined was excitement bubbled inside you as you listened to her. gryffindor? so they have to be a student at hogwarts!

“ooh, got yourself a bit of a brave one there, don’t you (y/n/n)?” cedric teased, wiggling his eyebrows. you held the pen in your hand a little tighter, eager to write on something. you grabbed the nearest piece of parchment, completely over having to write on your own skin and saw the glitter emitting immediately from the tip of the pen.

balderdash? afraid you were going to forget your common room password, huh?

you giggled at your sarcasm and wittiness and looked back up at the couple in front of you. they shared your excitement and cedric spoke up, “i hate to break this up but why don’t we go down to breakfast? i’m sure people wanna see the birthday girl.”

hogwarts student, eh? this’ll be easy.

you blushed and rolled your eyes, realizing the birthday attention was going to significantly increase today because of your new little pen. you clicked the pen and put it back into the box, grabbing the parchment, hoping what he had to say would appear on their instead of your forearm. “let me get jada and than i’m ready when you are!” you raced upstairs to grab one of your roommates and the four of you made your way to the great hall to reconnect with the rest of your house.

as you stood in front of the great hall doors, it hit you right then and there that there was a great chance your soulmate would be sitting at the gryffindor table right now, that is if they enjoy breakfast. you gulped obviously and looked over at cedric who was next to you.

“don’t get too freaked out. they’re going to be just as excited as you are.” cedric calmed you down, acknowledging the nerves you were clearly emitting.

“i’m not the best with change. and what if they see everyone wishing me a happy birthday and come up to confront me. or worse what happens if they don’t say anything at all and are embarrassed?”

cedric said nothing but gave you a look that said that you were overthinking it. he pulled you in for a brotherly hug and you two made your way into the great hall, your eyes only slightly darting to the gryffindor table a couple of times to play it cool.

you sat with your friends who were all extremely interested in your pen and tried to make their own guesses on who it may be. “it has to be someone in gryffindor obviously, and older than you!” you let your eyes trail to the table and tried to weed out who it may be until you heard a slight explosion come from the slytherin table. slytherin students were fleeing the spot, their shirts covering their noses and gryffindor students laughing at their rivals evacuate from the spots. you spotted the weasley twins high five each other and put together it was one of their up and coming dungbombs. they were both laughing and you couldn’t help but chuckle as well but subtly wanted to make sure the slytherin students were okay.

“ugh, if you got one of the weasely twins, you would be so fucking lucky!” your friend lola exclaimed, basically swooning at the thought of them. you grinned and rolled your eyes playfully before taking one last sip of orange juice and rising from the hufflepuff table.

“i’m stuffed, anyone wanna go to hogsmeade?” you announced and you friends agreed immediately. you snuck the marble pen out of your pocket as you made your way out of the great hall and opened your palm.

see you at the gryffindor party later?

the glittery remnants disappearing along with the black in. your palm tickled as you looked down at the quick response.

can’t wait.

#fred weasley imagines #fred weasley #fred weasley x #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x hufflepuff!reader #Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagines #george weasley imagines #hp imagines #hp writing #ron weasley imagines #soulmate au

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aggressive-positivity-network · 3 years

Note

Your demo in a relationship headcanons were simply aaaaaaahhhh!*chef kiss* could we maybe have some for everyone's favorite aussie stringbean?

I absolutely love Sniper...he’s one of those characters I can just fall back on. I also just like Australian accents, especially when he speaks in a low, intimidating voice. Gets me every time. Makes me either blush or happy stim whenever I hear it.

First Date:

You find Sniper on a dating app after a particularly bad break-up.

His profile picture is of him shirtless, holding a huge gun next to him. However, instead of looking sexily into the camera, he’s looking off camera with a bewildered look on his face.

His bio says, “My friends put me up to this. Don’t expect too much. If you go on one date with me maybe they’ll shut up. Who bloody knows?”

You get curious, and you decide to start a chat with him.

“Your friends put you up to this huh? 😏”

“yeah. what of it?”

“What, are you some lonely wolf type or what?”

“you could say that.”

He was texting back almost immediately. Even if he wasn’t a lovey-dovey person, he was certainly interested.

“How would you like to get those friends off your back?”

“i’m free wednesday.”

You make plans, which, despite only seeing this as a one-night stand, you gradually get more and more excited for.

You meet Sniper at a nicer restaurant, wearing a new black dress that you hadn’t worn yet.

When you finally see him at the lobby, you realize that the picture didn’t do him justice, even thought he now had a beige suit on.

His lankiness showed a bit more, but his arms were very strong despite his frame. He was wearing sunglasses, which added an air of cool refinement.

At first you thought he was British because of his texts, but when he spoke, you knew right away he was Australian. You are far from disappointed.

You are still waiting for your table when all of a sudden, Sniper takes out a huge knife. Before you can react, he quickly slices something out of your vision and then brings it before your eyes. You had forgotten to take the tag off your dress.

“I’m flattered. I didn’t think you’d get all shinied up for me.”

You breathe out shakily and rub your neck. Sniper’s eyes furrow.

“I didn’ nick ya, did I?”

“N-no...just s-scared me...”

You thought maybe you had met up with a psycho, and all your suspicions were not put to rest yet, but the close encounter seemed to awaken something in you.

The date continues as normal. Both of you are pretty awkward at first, especially since the knife incident. But before the main meal is brought to your table, you’ve started up a conversation.

Sniper told you he was in the military, but his base is very lax with dress code and schedule.

You start telling him about your job as a graphic designer when all of a sudden a scream interrupts you mid-sentence.

There’s a guy holding a gun about eight tables from you, pointing it at the many patrons. He doesn’t seem drunk, but just enraged.

“WHAT’S A GUY GOTTA DO TO GET SOME DAMN FRIES?!”

The manager tries to talk to him, but ends up getting shot, most likely dead.

The yelling continues for about fifteen minutes. You are very uncomfortable, not to mention terrified, but Sniper seems oddly nonchalant.

Suddenly, Sniper yells, “OI! THEY’RE BRINGIN’ OUT YOUR FRIES! RIGHT THERE, MATE!”

The guy follows Sniper’s finger, and all of a sudden there’s a gunshot. But it wasn’t from the madman’s gun...it was from Sniper’s.

The guy falls over on top of the bleeding manager, writhing in agony.

Before you can even process what’s happening, Sniper grabs you by the arm and drags you out of the restaurant.

“Dishes it out but can’t take it, eh luv? C’mon, we’ll go to my place. It’s real nice.”

You get into his van, which smells like a mixture of old leather, beef jerky, and...something else. However, your terror quickly trumps your logic.

“First Time”:

Despite your fiasco of a first date, you still decide to stay at Sniper’s until it’s all blown over.

His apartment is covered wall to wall with guns, memorabilia, and sticky notes, usually with names and dates written on them.

On the far wall was a cork board filled to the brim with pictures, yarn, and Xs made in thick red Sharpie.

“If I woulda known it would go this far, I woulda tidied up the place. Sorry about that, luv.”

You brush it off, and you both sit on an old leather couch with bits of stuffing sticking out of it.

You take this as a cue to get around to what this whole date had been about: some sweet, sweet rebound. It seems awkward now that you had gone through so much - besides, you hadn’t expected to connect with Sniper the way you have...

But you still manage to spit it out.

“Er...yeah. That’s what people usually do, right? Yeah? I dunno. I’ve been off the playin’ field awhile.”

Sniper puts his hands around your neck and let’s you begin to kiss him. But it was clear after a while he wasn’t into it, so you pull away and ask if he wanted to wait another time.

“Aw, no, shiela. Look at me, lyin’ ‘ere like a dead fish...I just...I’ll try ‘arder, luv, I promise.”

You pull away completely. This had trauma written all over it, and you weren’t about to force someone into it...you were better than your ex.

“Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

You asked him what was wrong, and why he was being so passive about what was happening to him. Why didn’t he say anything? Do anything?

Sniper sighed, pulling his hat way down in front of his face.

“I like girls, don’t get me wrong. It isn’t that. But I never felt...that way about ‘em. Or anybody else, honestly. I tried it once in college...I just ended up feelin’ sick. Tried it with another girl, then another, then another. I even tried with my guy roommate. But I always ended up feelin’ like I was gonna puke. Sometimes I did. It just never felt right. It wasn’t magical, it was bloody disgusting.”

“But every girl I’ve ever been with expected it, and to keep ‘em, I ‘ad to do what they wanted. Sometimes I’d just lie there, tryin’ not to vomit, trying to at least move a little, act like I was into it. They said they’d change my mind, that this time would be different. At the end of the day, it never was, and I lost ‘em. And now I’m gonna lose you too, ‘n I’m gonna halfta tell the guys...they’ll never let this go...”

Back At The Base... :

Spy called the entire team into the security room to watch the entire date go down. He had placed a bug on Sniper’s suit while helping him adjust it, and now everyone was here to watch the show.

Everybody cheered when the guy was shot, though Spy made a mental note to call Miss Pauling in the morning.

The whole team, Scout especially, was excited to see some action when Sniper brought you to his apartment. Well, everyone except Medic. He stood their with his eyebrows creased. He knew exactly what was going to happen.

“Aw, c’mon Snipes, what’s the hold up?! She is so inta you!”

There wasn’t any sound, so no one exactly knew why Sniper paused for so long.

Finally, you two came back together again, but after about thirty minutes of just kissing, the other mercs got bored really fast.

Scout was especially disappointed.

“Man, this was whole thing was a bust!”

Spy shrugged. “Not quite a waste of time. Look at her. She’s smitten. I never thought I would say this, but gentlemen - we have found Sniper a suitable suitor!”

Medic, eyes wide, kept his Sniper’s medical history too himself - not for HIPAA, but for the drama of it all. He wanted to see how this would play out.

Love At First Shot:

On a casual date at his place, Sniper catches you admiring one of his weapons.

“That’s one’s a beaut, ain’ it? That’s one ‘a my oldest guns. She’s outta service, the old girl, but she don’t look a shot over thirty.”

He picks it up and cocks it, nodding approvingly.

“Got this offa real bloody fruit seller. The muzzle ‘ad stains all over it, rust in some places...the bloke obviously had no idea how to take care of it.”

You suddenly feel a pang in your chest.

“Oi, luv, not a fan ‘a guns?”

“No...I...it just made me remember something.”

Sniper puts down his weapon, sits on the sofa, and pats his leg.

“‘Ere. Tell me about it.”

You hesitate for a moment before shyly sitting on his knee. You’re on the smaller side, but you were still afraid you might hurt him.

“Aw, it’s alright. Put your full weight on. These babies can ‘old an Aussie an’ an AK-47.”

You giggle, letting yourself get a little more comfortable.

“Now, luv...what’s on your mind? What’s that pretty lil’ head a’ yours thinkin’?”

You sigh.

“My boyfriend...or, my ex-boyfriend...we broke up for a reason. Or, well, I dumped him. We had been dating for almost three years, and I didn’t see it coming.”

“Crazy train crashed inta the station, huh?”

“He almost did. He...he had hit me before. I just didn’t say anything because I didn’t want him to get in trouble. But one night...it got really, really bad. He wasn’t even drunk. He was still in his work uniform. I stayed with a friend, and I told him it was over with a text - I was just so scared he’d find me. He knew my friends. He knew my address. And so I just wanted to find someone to protect me. It was more than just rebound...I just didn’t want to be alone. I wanted one person in my life he didn’t know so they could protect me.”

You could feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you bit them back. You didn’t feel like sobbing in front of your new boyfriend. Sniper, though, started laying down, taking you with him.

Your head was now under his chin, and you were laying all along his body. The sudden show of affection caught you off guard. You started to cry, burying your face in his chest.

Sniper wrapped his arms around you, supporting your entire weight easily.

Neither of you spoke for a good fifteen minutes, except for Sniper saying an occasional, “Aw, sweetheart...”

Finally, you calmed down, feeling safe in your boyfriend’s embrace.

“Y’know, luv...”

Sniper hesitated.

“I...could teach ya how to shoot. If it’ll make ya feel safe.”

You sniffle and look up.

“I know ya probably want some big, strong man to protect ya, an’ I will. God, if anybody even touches a bloody ‘air on your ‘ead, I’ll kill ‘em. But I wan’ you to go to the movies, or the store, or just ‘ave a nice walk an’ not be lookin’ over your shoulder. I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

“I...I can’t shoot a gun...”

“Why not?”

“I can’t...aim or shoot...I don’t think I’ve even held a gun before...”

“Well, we can fix that! ‘Ere...”

Sniper leans over and picks up his old gun again, laying it in your hands. It’s a bit heavier than you expected.

You run your hands over the muzzle and barrel, not even daring to touch the trigger.

Sniper puts his hands over yours and guides them over the gun, giving you more confidence about handling the weapon.

“A gun is like...like a dog. You train it right, an’ you train yourself, you’ll be fine. You’re no kid, so you know ‘ow dangerous these can be. But fear doesn’t shoot the bullet. Fear doesn’ aim for ya.”

Every time you went to his apartment, he would do this. Sometimes you two would be talking, and he would nonchalantly hand you the gun, which, after a while, you took without thought.

Now it was time to take you to the range.

He gave you that old gun to use as practice, but promised a newer, more compact gun when you had gotten the hang of shooting.

Hands on your shoulders, hands over yours, he taught you how to target a person’s more sensitive areas.

Over the next few months, you grew better and better at hitting your mark. You weren’t perfect, but you could definitely defend yourself.

One night, Sniper went to go get you both Chinese food, and you were hanging out at your apartment.

You heard a knock on your window. You ignore it, thinking a bird had flown into it by accident. However, as the knocking grew louder and more insistent, you lift your head, startled.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

He was in a suit, but his face wasn’t nearly as neat. His eyes were red and wide, and his hair was messy.

He had walked up the fire escape to your balcony, and was leaning against the rail, relaxed.

You stayed inside, but you knew that the door was unlocked - he could come in any time he wanted. And he knew this.

He spoke, and you could hear him through the glass.

“Still single. Just like I thought.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off.

“I came back because I was worried. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you...I thought maybe something had happened. You were so depressed when you left. I couldn’t help but think that maybe...well, that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re here, and I am more than willing to be with you again. I think we both have cooled off, right? We’ve had some time apart, and now we’ve realized we’re madly in love with each other and can’t be apart for another minute...”

“I have a new boyfriend!”

You blurted it out so suddenly you even surprised yourself. But your ex was unmoved.

“Oh, right. Sure. How much are you paying him, this boyfriend of yours? Do you have to pay extra for sex, or do you have a pity discount?”

“He...he’ll come back...and...”

You looked beside you. Your gun was laying on the floor beside you. Sniper had just taken you to the range, and you hadn’t had enough time to put it away.

You remembered what he said...

“I wan’ ya to enjoy your life, luv.”

You put your hand around the gun, grasping it tightly.

You swallow.

“Come back and what?” your ex jeered. “What’s your new boyfriend going to do? Beat me up?”

You are still trying to make your decision when you hear the glass door open.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, angel. I want to see your beautiful face.”

You whip around, the gun in your hand. Your ex immediately recoils, his hands flinging up.

“Woah woah woah...!”

“Please. Leave.”

Your voice is hoarse, but you try to sound as firm as possible.

“Even if I didn’t have a boyfriend, I would never get back with you. Ever. You...you made me feel so helpless, scared, alone...I can’t feel that way forever. I don’t want you to get hurt, but I want you to leave and never come back. Please. Just leave me alone.”

Your ex smirks, albeit shakily. “You can’t shoot that. You’ve never touched a gun in your life.”

“My boyfriend wanted me to be safe. He wanted me to be happy. He wanted me to be able to deal with creeps like you.”

You get up, gun still in hand, and your ex backs away.

“He did more than you ever did.”

“What, so you’re just going to shoot me? End up on the six o’clock news?”

“No. I won’t. I don’t want to hurt you. I just want you to leave. For good.”

“I bet that thing isn’t even loaded.”

You show him a half-full magazine and point to the fire escape.

“Like you know how to -!”

You quickly turn to a picture of a seaside landscape, shakily aim, and manage to shoot it, shattering the frame to pieces.

“Get. Out.”

Your ex practically runs out, yelling that he was calling the police.

Sniper comes back a few minutes later, and when he asks you what the hell happened, you start telling him between trembling breaths what had occurred.

Sniper turned bright red and tipped his hat down.

“That bloody wanker...fruit sellin’...”

He starts to walk towards the fire escape, but you stop him.

“I scared him off, please don’t...he said he was going to call the police...”

Sniper took a few deep breaths, calming down.

“We’ve got th’ best lawyers in the country. I’d like to see ‘im try.”

The police was never called - you think it was probably a pride thing, since you had overpowered him so easily - but you weren’t sure you had seen the last of him.

But with your own experience and Sniper’s, you had some piece of mind.

However, you were soon going to find out that Sniper had more power on his side than you thought...

*****************

Long time, no headcanon! Well, good headcanons, anyway. I rushed my last post, so I tried to go all out with this one. I might write a second part when headcanons are open again, but I think I prefer leaving some things up to the imagination, hm?

Anyway, more headcanons on the way! Same bat time, same bat channel! The next one is about siblings, though I may post shorter headcanons before that, since it’s such a fun idea to write.

#tf2 #tf2 fandom #tf2 ask blog #tf2 headcanon #tf2 headcanons #sniper tf2 #tf2 sniper

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yandere-romanticaa · 4 years

Text

ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟᴛᴀʟᴇ ᴛᴀʟᴇꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴀɴᴅʀᴇᴡ ᴊᴇᴋʏʟʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴜ��ᴠᴇ ᴇᴅᴡᴀʀᴅ ʜʏᴅᴇ.

♥♥♥

A well beloved doctor living in London, Andrew has made quite a name for himself! All of his patients are very happy with his work as he is able to always diagnose them properly and give them the correct medicine - truly a divine blessing in this day and age. He's a cheerful gentleman in his mid to early thirties who always has a gentle smile on his face. He is very fond of children and he does not mind babysitting them whenever someone asks him to do so, making him popular with parents and single mothers especially. During the day time he is filled to the brim with work but he always makes time to have afternoon tea, chat with his servants, or just try to enjoy like in general. A truly kind man in the eyes of many!

Alas though, when darkness overcomes his manor a new side of the good doctor surfaces, a side that no one knows about.

And Andrew plans to keep it that way.

There are many, many things that the doctor desires, craves, needs. But he is stuck in the same place day by day as he is forced to play his role of the savior. Even the good doctor Andrew likes to indulge himself from time to time... But that indulgence has gotten out of hand. By sheer accident Andrew was able to create a special elixir which is able to shift him in to a completely different person. His body is different, his hair is different, everything is different. His psyche however, remains the same.

And Andrew uses this newfound knowlege to his advantage.

Dubbing his new alter ego "Edward Hyde", Andrew is pleased to do what he wants once the sun sets. He messes with the townfolk, he shamelessly flirts and seduces any woman he sees, he picks on the young and the poor, nothing is off the table. This becomes a habbit very quickly as Edward is soon well known among the city. Some flee and flinch at the mere mention of him while others scoff and prepare their fists for a fight. Things continue like this for a while until Andrew notices that whenever he changes in to Edward, his mind is no longer fully his. Even throught the day as he sits in his office he can hear a gruff voice at the back of his mind, telling him to just finish the damn paperwork already. He starts hearing this voice everywhere and he starts to think that he is going mad. The voice taunts him day after day until he finally turns in to Hyde. Only then is he able to feel some inner peace. Andrew soon starts to lose control over himself as the voice grows louder and louder, yelling at him and commanding him to do its bidding. Every day now turns in to a battle as Andrew struggles to get out of bed and face himself in the mirror... But that's the catch. On one fateful morning the reflection he sees is not his own.

It's Hyde's.

The glowing green eyes of Edward Hyde stare back at him as Jekyll does his best to hold his breath in. This can't be real, this can't be happening! By now Andrew is pretty much at war with this new persona he had made and he does not know how to stop this coflict. Both do as they please which contradicts their previous actions, making both Edward and Andrew more then a little suspicious to the public eye. By this point Andrew regrets having ever created Edward but it's too late now. Edward Hyde was a part of him now, a dark part of him which could not be released. The only thing Andrew could do was to keep him at bay even if he was bearly able to do so. This constant pushing and pulling was exhausting to both of them and both were more then ready for a release.

And their release indeed came, but not in the way they thought it would.

It came in the form of love. Love for a sweet darling, a twisted obsession and want over this special little lamb who stumbled in to their lives by sheer accident, at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Andrew and Edward remain greatful still.

The pushing and pulling dies down whenever (y/n) is in the room and their attitudes are completely different from each other. Oh, if only (y/n) knew just what sort of danger awaits...

Andrew Jekyll.

Ever the gentleman, Andrew always places his darlings needs before his own. He worries for his sweetheart constantly as he dotes on them, making sure that they are safe and happy. Did his darling eat today? Did his darling sleep well? He won't ever stop asking these questions whenever he sees them, he just can't help himself! He never shuts up and he always seems to forget what he is trying to say but that's okay, his darling doesn't seem to mind.

Andrew stays gentle like that for a while as he treats his darling like divine royalty which does not go unnoticed by the people around him. He hears his servants whisper many things once he turns his back but he can't help but to blush a little - he may act a little awkward but in reality he really doesn't mind.

Andrew is also willing to bend over backwards and break his spine to get his darling whatever their little heart desires. He has more then enough money then he knows what to do with anyway! He wants jis darling to depend on him, he wants to be darlings only one true protector. He wants to provide for his darling like a good husband would.

Andrew often loses himself in these little fantasies that he gets distracted from his work, cahsing him to mess something up or to accidentaly spill or destroy amything around him. It's a vicious cycle of endless pinning as Andrew just doesn't have the guts to express his feelings, much to Hyde's annoyance and amusement. Cracks will start to form deep within him as Andrew tries to restrain himself more and more whenever he is around his darling. His smiles are not entierly his anymore as he stares his darling down like a piece of meat. Andrew hungers for darlings love and approval which in a way, does make his darling a piece of meat to him.

No matter what he just can never get enough of his darling, ever. The cheerful smiles thrown his way are not enough, and good grief just the mere brush of darlings fingers against his own is enough to send Jekyll in to a panicked frenzy. He loses his composure right there and then as he is forced to look his darling in the eye and do... nothing. He can't do anything he desires, he can't grab his darling by the back of their neck and press those pretty little lips against his own...

He can't caress the love of his life freely in public.

Hell, he can't even touch them without someone making a fuss.

Everything, everyone, is slowly driving him mad.

His love is driving him mad.

Andrew's affection starts to turn conditional, he can only ever shower his darling with gifts if they behave how he wants them to, if they pay enough attention to him, which is of course never quite enough.

His sanity fades as lovesickness kicks in.

His patience is wearing thin. What's taking his darling to love him back already? Hasn't he done everything any ideal lover would do? He has done literally everything, it must be his darling! It can't be his fault! His soft spoken words soon turn sharper then any knife as he imagines that very same weapon in his hands, pressed against darlings pretty little neck. Bruised, bloody and broken, that's how Jekyll wants his darling to be now.

He wants to crush them in his love.

And chances are, he will give in to his temptations.

Edward Hyde.

Tsk, tsk, this man is quite the charmer. A real smooth talker blessed with a deeper voice then his more seemingly more gentle counterpart, Hyde is no stranger to suggestive comments and rough touches. His feelings ignite like flames, quickly and suddenly. They take over his heart and soul, burning him and leaving endless ache and want in its path.

It's a strange feeling. He doesn't know how to feel about it...

When he meets his darling he treats her just how he treats other women. He craves nothing more then darlings body but when darling turns him down Hyde feels intrigued. Playing hard to get, eh?

He is always up for a good challenge.

Hyde stops paying attention to other women and his darling soon becomes his prime time target - Edward cannot move on unless he has his darling. He provokes, taunts and teases, just itching to see darlings reactions to his schemes. Cuss at him, slap him, do anything you want! Just as long as your focus is on him that wolf like grin will never leave his face. He just loves it when his darling turns red, it's so cute he could kiss her. His provoking continues like this for a while until Hyde begins to realize just how some couples act around each other. His softer side starts to show itself and it's something to marvel at really.

Unlike Jekyll, who is soft at the beginning and turns cruel at the end, Hyde is the opposite of that. He doesn't want to just mess with his darling anymore, he wants to actually love and care for her, to actually be in a commited relationship.

His protective side is on full display and anyone with at least a single braincell should be able to get the message.

Hyde often wonders when the Hell did he become so soft all of a sudden. He wants this pain in his chest to stop but the only way it can is if his darling is with him. He doesn't need anyone else... He doesn't want anyone else.

Let's hope Hyde's darling has a strong stomach because he doesn't give a damn who he has to hurt. He and Jekyll are nearly nothing alike but if they share on thing in common, it would be determination.

Edward Hyde has found his prey and he isn't going anywhere without it.

Tags: @3rdgymbros, @eclipsezero, @ghostiebabey, @yandere-of-your-dreams, @howl-of-the-hunting-lambs, @yandere-wishes, @severnrsstuff, @twstdreams, @twst-soul, @hattress-of-spades

I did my best guys, I hope this was okay! First time making a OC, sorry if it's too similar to the original characters. As I write more stories for them I'll try to build them up more! And feel free to ask any questions if you have them!

#yandere #yancore #yandere male #yanderecore #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #jekyll and hyde #yandere andrew jekyll x reader #yandere andrew jekyll #yandere edward hyde x reader #yandere edward hyde #edward hyde #gothic #victorian era

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chelsfic · 4 years

Text

Unseemly Desire, or Nandor's Season of Self-Discovery - Nandor x Guillermo Fanfic

Sequel to I Fell into Fantasy | WWDITS Masterlist

Summary: In which Nandor tries to convince everyone, including himself, that he does not have any unseemly feelings for his familiar.

A/N: I couldn't decide on a serious title or a goof title, so I went with both. Thanks so much to Spiff from the Nandermo server for helping me workshop this idea. After I wrote "I Fell into Fantasy" I just kept thinking about how Nandor would spin into denial and the angst that would ensue. Then I woke up this morning with the idea of an axe throwing competition?? And now we're here?

Oh, yeah....this is a multi-chapter fic *flops around the floor helplessly*

Warnings/Tags: Angst, mutual pining, Eventual smut, Blood drinking, Toxic Masculinity in the Ottoman Empire, Repressing feelings, Axe throwing...the usual

---

Nandor wakes to the sound of his familiar quietly shuffling about the crypt, no doubt lighting the dozens of candles that line the room. The vampire shifts inside his coffin, frowning at the sticky feel of dried seed on the inside of his trousers. He’d gone to bed that morning with a powerful desire still coursing through his veins along with Guillermo’s sweet, virgin blood. The mere memory of last night’s feeding is enough to stir him once more and he growls, driving the heel of his palm against his crotch to stifle his reaction.

“Master? Are you alright?” Guillermo’s voice is sweet and tentative.

“I’m fine! Why would you ask such a thing?” he snaps irritably, then in a softer voice, “Is it safe to open my coffin now, Guillermo?”

In answer Guillermo cracks the lid, easily lifting the solid weight after years of practice. His master sits up quickly, tugging at the bottom of his loose nightshirt in an effort to cover the obvious stain on the front of his pants.

“Good evening, master,” Guillermo greets with his usual respectful subservience.

Good. Perhaps he won’t have to work too hard at reestablishing the boundaries he’d so savagely torn down the night before. It’s imperative that Nandor reminds his familiar of his place within the household and, especially, within their...relationship. His reaction to drinking Guillermo’s blood was shameful and he does not want his familiar getting any high ideas about a romance with his master.

He knows--how could he not?--of Guillermo’s inappropriate attraction to him. He hears the way the human’s heartbeat races whenever they are physically close. He sees the secret grins on Guillermo’s lips when Nandor does anything the least bit kind. But a romantic relationship between a vampire and a familiar? Yeeck! It’s just not done. Of course, he considered the sex slave option when this unnatural lust first manifested. Other vampires make such arrangements with their familiars. But Guillermo would want more. He would want snuggles and romance and caring and...maybe even a break from his chores?! And the idea of using Guillermo for sex, while appealing, also causes him to feel a burning, stabby pain in his chest that he can’t identify.

No, it is better that he keep things strictly professional. A master and his servant. Nothing more.

Nandor finally steels himself to look up at his familiar, keeping his face a cold, forbidding mask. And then he sees the massive bruise on Guillermo’s neck.

It’s an angry, deep purple that extends from his jaw down the side of his neck and beneath the collar of his fuzzy sweater. Two scabbed puncture wounds sit in the center of the damage, like demon eyes looking back at Nandor accusingly. He sucks in a breath and involuntarily reaches out to brush his fingers against the wounded skin. Guillermo flinches away from the touch with a pained mew.

“It’s just...tender, master,” Guillermo explains, almost apologetically.

Nandor can’t think straight. His eyes, liquid and deep, full of some unnameable emotion, focus on the damage he’s caused. How many dead bodies has he tossed aside without a qualm? How many bruises and bites and broken bones has he caused? But he’s never seen the results on someone he--

“I...Guillermo,” he whispers, finally locking eyes with his human and bringing his hand up to cup his cheek, “I did not mean to be causing permanent damage…”

Guillermo gasps softly at his master’s touch. He leans into it, silently thrilling when Nandor doesn’t immediately draw his hand away.

“Permanent? No, master, it’s just a bruise. It will fade eventually,” Guillermo assures him, but Nandor still looks skeptical.

“Does it hurt?” he asks and Guillermo brims with happiness at his master’s concern.

“Only a little bit, Na--master,” Guillermo stumbles, nearly breaking the carefully established protocol between them.

Nandor notes the mistake and snatches his hand away as if he’s been burned by holy water. He clambers out of the coffin without Guillermo’s assistance. They go through the motions of dressing. Nandor bends down so that Guillermo can get his shirt on over his head, steps into his trousers and boots, and sits quietly while Guillermo arranges his hair. All the while a single word cycles through his head.

Fuck!

---

Guillermo is practically buzzing with energy despite last night’s blood loss. Every time he moves he feels a delicious tug on his wound and the memories of his master’s touch come flying back to the surface of his mind. He doesn’t even care that Nandor dismissed him so abruptly after getting dressed. Nor does he care that he gave him a seemingly random and unnecessary order before fleeing the crypt in his bat form. Guillermo sits on the floor surrounded by his master’s extensive blade collection, carefully cleaning and polishing each one with a giant, goofy grin on his face.

---

“Well, well, well...doing the flight of shame, Nandor?” Laszlo chuckles at his own joke as Nandor drops out of his bat form into a chair in the fancy room.

“Very good joke, darling! Because he’s finally given the sex to Gizmo!” Nadja crows.

The couple are sitting together in the loveseat. Laszlo is bent over Nadja’s hand, painting her nails and heedlessly dripping lacquer all over the upholstery as he does so.

Nandor’s face blanches in alarm and he cries, “What the shit are you two talking about!? I have not been doing sex with Guillermo! Yuck! Unspeakable! Why would that even occur to you?”

“Me thinks he doth protest too much, eh, darling?” Laszlo remarks to another shriek of laughter from his wife.

Nandor jerks to his feet, bristling and defensive, but before he can think of a reply Laszlo continues, “Well if you weren’t having sex then what the blazes were you doing to the chap to cause those tantalizing moans?”

With this Laszlo launches into a cartoonish impression of the desperate cries and moans that Guillermo made as Nandor drank from him. Nadja claps her hands in delight and joins in the fun. The pair of perverts are soon screeching and twitching in exaggerated, obscene mockery of his familiar.

“Enough!” Nandor roars, stomping his foot petulantly. “Stop speaking of my familiar this way! It’s highly inappropriate!”

“So, you’re saying you didn’t roger your little rotten soldier last night?” Laszlo arches a brow, snorting under his breath derisively.

Nandor stares back at him in confusion, “What the fuck--?! No! Certainly not. Very...disgusting to even say such a thing. Gross!”

Laszlo glances to Nadja with a sly smirk as he speaks, “Then you wouldn’t mind if my good lady wife and I extended an invitation to the fellow to join us in a ménage à threesome?”

Nandor takes to the air, eyes glowing with rage as he hisses wildly at Laszlo.

“Hey dudes, what’s all the fuss about?” Colin Robinson, drawn by the pulsing waves of drama emanating from the room, appears in the doorway.

Nandor drops back onto his feet and whines, “Laszlo is making unsavory claims about my familiar and I won’t have it!”

“Nandor’s being a snake dick because he’s horny for his familiar and won’t admit it!” Nadja counters.

Nandor’s mouth snaps shut at that. Nadja’s words have struck true and Nandor feels a shiver of panic at the thought of his shameful secret being known throughout the household. He must convince them they’re mistaken...but how?

He’s still too enraged to think straight and rather than address Nadja’s words he simply bellows, “Satisfaction! I will have satisfaction against these two perverts!”

Colin grins, his eyes lighting with hungry delight, “How about a contest of some sort? Whoever wins is right. Of course, you should choose a neutral activity. Something in which you’re all equally matched. A checkers tournament? Scrabble, maybe…”

“A contest! Yes!” Nandor interrupts with an excited grin. “A challenge of strength and accuracy! Guillermo! Bring me my axes for throwing! My throwing axes!”

Nadja rolls her eyes and looks about to argue when Laszlo stops her with a hand on her arm.

“I say, good idea, Nandor. We’ll compete in a game of throwing axes. But to prove that you really are telling the truth and you don’t harbor secret, moist fantasies about your little familiar, we’ll make it more interesting. Whoever gets their axe closest to Gizmo without skewering the little guy wins!”

Nandor deflates, “That’s not...I don’t…”

Guillermo enters carefully holding a bundle of wickedly sharp axes. The blades shine in the candlelight and contrast against the soft, muted colors of his sweater. Nandor imagines one of those blades sinking into his familiar’s soft flesh and he shivers.

Laszlo looks as if he’s already won the little game he’s playing and Nandor clenches his fists, forcing levity into his voice as he announces, “Everyone in the garden! We are going to have a little game!”

---

Guillermo can’t decide if he’s more livid or terrified. He’s standing up against the fence, shivering despite his hat and coat, and desperately trying to hold still as his master casually tests the weight of the axe in his hand. Nadja and Laszlo look on, each carrying axes of their own, and Colin Robinson looks positively frenzied as he feeds off the tension in the air.

“Master, why are we doing this, again?” Guillermo wishes his voice didn’t have such a marked tremor in it.

“I am defending your honor, Guillermo. Now be very, very still,” Nandor launches the axe without any further warning.

Guillermo shrieks and he feels the air to the right of his head part as the blade sinks into the wood of the fence an inch away from his face. He turns to stare at the quivering handle with wide, horrified eyes.

“There!” Nandor announces with a smug smile. “No one could beat such a throw! Contest over, I win. Guillermo, attend me--”

Nandor is already starting to stride back to the house but Guillermo barely has a chance to let out a relieved sigh when Laszlo steps up wielding his own weapon.

“Not so fast, Gizmo! I’ll have my turn, thank you!” his voice lilts up dramatically as he raises the axe, screwing one eye shut and taking aim.

Nandor whirls, eyes wide with panic as he urgently hisses, “Be still, Guillermo!”

Guillermo shuts his eyes, whimpering as he awaits his fate. One second Laszlo is letting out a manful bellow as the axe leaves his fingers and the next second Guillermo is hissing in pain as the blade cuts into his cheek. His eyes flash open in shock and he brings his hand up to cup his face. Blood pours from the shallow wound. The pain is a sharp, burning intensity that brings tears stinging to his eyes.

“Ha!” Nandor gloats. “You’ve lost! Your blade touched...him.”

Laszlo swears under his breath but Nandor has lost his steam as the reality of his words hits him. He steps forward, involuntarily reaching for his wounded familiar. Then he catches the knowing look on Laszlo’s face and he stops himself, straightening his spine and raising his head in a show of haughty indifference that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“My turn!” Nadja trills, flipping her axe from hand to hand with a little skip in her step.

“Master… please!” Guillermo begs. There are tears leaking from his eyes now. Whatever fucking insult Nandor thinks they made against him isn’t worth this!

“Yes, Nandor, the boy has a point. My lady wife is known for many...eclectic skills, but her aim isn’t one of them. We could put a stop to this if you’d care to admit we’re right about your shameful little secret…”

“Never!” Nandor shouts, looking like a giant, angry toddler.

Guillermo’s head spins, “What? What is he talking about, master?”

Nandor turns to his familiar, injecting authority into his voice as he commands, “Guillermo, tell Nadja and Laszlo that we were not doing sex together last night!”

“E-excuse me!?” Guillermo sputters, feeling a heated blush creep up his neck.

Nandor lets out a frustrated growl and his lips curl in revulsion as he shouts, “Tell them that I did not have disgusting, unnatural sex with a...a...human servant! I order you!”

The hand he’s kept clutched over the bleeding wound on his cheek falls limp at his side. Guillermo looks from his master’s cold, detached expression to Nadja and Laszlo’s expectantly curious faces and he sighs in resignation even as another tiny piece of his heart chips and falls away.

“...He didn’t,” he says in a small voice and then, more loudly, “We did not have sex.”

Laszlo looks unconvinced and Nadja just looks annoyed.

“This is getting very boring and I still have not had my turn to throw the axe! Here I go!”

She flings the blade through the air with barely a glance in Guillermo’s direction. It wobbles in the air, toppling end over end as it cuts a deadly path that Nandor immediately sees will end in his familiar’s gut. Guillermo has barely enough time to flinch but Nandor moves with supernatural speed, dashing in front of his human and plucking the axe from the air before it can hurt him.

“Nadja!” Nandor admonishes in an affronted tone. “That was very careless of you! You could have seriously injured my Gui--my familiar! I’m very annoyed with you both!”

Guillermo trembles from behind Nandor, clinging to the fabric of his cape for comfort despite the anger, hurt and resentment that still broils just beneath the surface of his emotions. He’ll deal with all that once his legs resolidify.

Laszlo waves away the near-catastrophe with a flick of his wrist and holds out his arm for Nadja as he comments, “I think we have our answer, darling…”

Nandor’s hands curl into fists at his sides as he watches the other vampires stroll away with smug satisfaction on their faces.

Fucking shit!

---

“Guillermo…” Nandor pauses on his way up the step stool, he squeezes his familiar’s hand in his. “About tonight…”

He’s going to apologize for putting me in danger...for saying those things… Guillermo looks up at him with hopeful expectation in his eyes.

“I hope you are not getting strange notions in your little human brain because of what Laszlo said. It was very wrong of him to make such a sickening claim,” Nandor’s voice is pure condescension.

Guillermo is silent for a beat, swallowing against the lump of emotion in his throat and blinking his eyes rapidly before looking his master in the eye and lying, “Of course not, master.”

Nandor nods in satisfaction and he swings down into his coffin. But he tastes the edge of human sadness beginning to taint the air of the room and he frowns. Hadn’t this whole mess started because he was trying to get rid of the sad human smell? He is caught in one of those hog day loops!

Nandor hesitates, scowling as he chooses his words, “But… I am sorry about the axes. It wasn’t my idea. And… and… I would have been really sad if you had died, because you’re...special to me, Guillermo.”

Nandor lets the words hang in the air for a moment, watching the start of a smile curling his familiar’s lips before shaking his head and waving a hand in front of Guillermo’s face in a flourish, “You will forget about that last thing I just said.”

#nandermo #nandor x guillermo #guillermo x nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #wwdits fanfic #wwdits

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keelywolfe · 4 years

Text

Drabble: Cheap Thrills (baon)

Summary: Stretch can get a lot of entertainment out of a thrift store find.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationship, Domestic Fluff

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch loved to pick up old books at the thrift shop. There were so many gems that might get lost at a traditional bookstore, like his trusty copy of ‘How to Teach Spanish to Dogs.’

Romance novels were cheap and plentiful, and he got them by bagful for Blue, who never much seemed interested in finding his own romance but loved reading about others. Old reference books filled with outdated information that was still interesting to read about, seeing what people used to believe, until science or society proved them wrong.

Then there were specialty finds.

Stretch wasn’t even two steps through the front door before he held up his prize, announcing happily, “look what i found!”

Edge barely looked up from his laptop, “If it has even one clown on it—"

“No clowns.” That was a prize he’d be sure to stash behind the shower curtain for maximum effect.

For once Stretch didn’t mind Edge working a little overtime at home. Kept him off his feet, gave all those healing juices a chance to settle in.

But a little distraction never hurt. Stretch flopped on the sofa and settled his head right into Edge’s lap, ignoring his exasperated sigh as he held out the book he’d found.

The cover was old and stained, but the title was still readable, ‘The Congregational Cook Book’ and in small letters beneath that, ‘edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church of Ebott, 1915.’

He knew his baby well. As soon as Edge stopped glaring an actually looked at the book, a flicker of interest made an appearance. He set his laptop on the coffee table, ignoring Stretch’s exaggerated sputters of suffocation as his forward lean threatened to smother him with Edge’s shirt, then took the book.

“A cookbook?”

“a really old cookbook!” Stretch enthused, “like, a century old. i thought maybe you’d like to try one it out. See how it compares to the youtube generation of cooking.”

“That does sound interesting,” Edge flipped through the book, reading aloud, “Salmon omelet, no, thank you, green tomato pickles, hot water gingerbread, hm, apple tarts. I do have apples, how does that sound?”

“baby, anything you make sounds like mana from heaven.” And at Edge’s raised brow bone, Stretch admitted, “except risotto, okay, but that’s less you than a general dislike of the genre.”

Edge nudged Stretch off his lap and stood, heading into the kitchen with book in hand. Normally, Stretch would’ve tossed him a fair thee well and let him get to it, but this time, he followed Edge through the swinging door. He was sort of curious if there were any differences in a recipe from a hundred years ago to now, and hey, science, right?

Not that he planned on helping with the cooking process, he was here strictly as an observer, and he plopped down into one of the chairs that surrounded their ‘dining room table’, “so, how much longer are we eating at the card table?”

“Not long,” Edge retrieved a large bowl from under the counter and a set of measuring cups from the cupboard before tying on an apron. “I’m working on a plan for our new kitchen layout. As soon as it’s done, I’ll have the builders get started on it.”

“uh huh, no rush, i was only curious,” Stretch propped his chin on one hand. “you do have a lot on your plate right now, babe. and there’s your whole mental health assessment you still need done.”

Really, it was sort of impressive how much Stretch could glean from slightest change in his husband’s expression. A normal person would think there was no change, but Stretch was good with languages, spent years learning Edge-ese. He knew a twist of distaste when it saw it, “Yes. There is that.”

Any other comment about it was effectively blocked by Edge’s renewed focus on the cookbook, reading the recipe aloud beneath his breath. His brow bone slowly furrowed, concentration replaced with dismay. Which…it was a cookbook, not a grimoire of early twentieth century curses. Wasn’t it?

“babe?” Stretch asked cautiously, “what is it?”

“What kind of recipe is this!” Edge exclaimed. He picked up the book and read aloud, “Eggs, oil, fresh butter or lard, sugar, baking powder, as much flour as it needs. Must be soft as an earlobe, thicker than cake.”

“uh…” Stretch scratched at the back of his skull. “and?”

“That's it. That's the entire recipe. There’s no measurements, no directions, no temperature for baking!” He slapped the book back down on the counter-top. “There are no apples listed! How can this be a recipe for apple tarts without apples? How in the name of the unknown am I supposed to gauge the softness of an earlobe when I don’t have ears?”

All great questions, except Stretch was in possession of exactly zero answers. “does seem a little speciest against those of us without earlobes.”

Edge glared at the cookbook as if by his will alone answers to his questions would come, which was why Stretch was a little surprised when Edge said abruptly, "Let me see your phone."

"yeah, sure," Stretch said, slowly handing it over. Not like he had any secrets or anything and while Edge might change his own passwords at least once a month for security reasons, he’d been using the first 6 digits of Pi since he got the phone. “why?”

“Because I left mine in the living room.” Edge tapped the screen impatiently holding it out as it began dialing out over speakerphone.

A sleepy voice answered, "'lo? Wassup, Boney Marony. "

"Jeff,” Edge said, “I’m afraid you’ll have to engage in wordplay with my husband later. Right now, I need you to come over so I can feel your ears."

A long moment of silence. "That’s very specific. Okay, I'll bite, give me five."

It was more like ten minutes, with Edge sitting impatiently across from Stretch, who was engaged in a furious game of Words With Friends on his newly retrieved phone. Until the light knock came on the front door followed by Jeff shambling into the kitchen. He looked like they’d woken him from a nap, his hair was smashed flat on one side and sticking up on the other. He scratched at his t-shirt covered belly and yawned out, "You know, before I met you guys, I never got calls like this."

“sounds to me like you needed a little more excitement in your life,” Stretch said cheerily.

Edge didn’t bother with a greeting. He limped determinedly over, stripping off his gloves as he went, and without warning began to vigorously fondle Jeff’s earlobes. Jeff squeaked out a mousy sound, his eyes wide as golf balls as he stared up at Edge.

Well. Wasn’t like Andy didn’t know why he was here.

“easy, babe,” Stretch winced, “he might need a little foreplay before you go right for the lobes.”

“I’m checking his ears, not his testicles,” Edge said curtly, even as he leaned down to peer closely at the ears in question.

That remark made Stretch and Jeff speak in unison,

“holy shit, wow, just tossing that out there, huh.”

“Okay, I’m good to help a friend out, but I am drawing the line at ball grabbing.”

Edge ignored them both. He let Jeff go and limped back to his gathered ingredients, already starting to measure them into the bowl, “Thank you, Jeff, that will be all.”

Welp, that sounded like a dismissal. Stretch climbed to his feet, jerking his head towards the door. “c’mon, andy, we can take in a flick while you’re here, if you want.”

Jeff was still a little wobbly, gingerly reaching up to touch one of his well-inspected ears as he followed Stretch out, “Do I want to know what that was all about?”

Stretch shrugged, “cooking.”

“Cooking,” Jeff repeated. He mouthed it again, soundlessly, then shook his head. “I don’t even think I want to know, plausible deniability is probably better. So, he asked for me to help, why?”

“well, how many other humans does edge know that he can call up and ask?” Stretch asked reasonably. He picked up the remote and turned on Netflix. “and don’t say your honey because we both know he’d just hang up, especially without having the proper forms filled out first.”

“Glad to be the go-to guy for illicit cooking-related bodily inspections.” Jeff joined Stretch on the sofa, settling in. “Classic Twilight Zone, huh? Good choice.”

The first episode was mostly over by the time Edge came out with a tray with a half-dozen golden-brown treats that brimmed with appley goodness. Stretch and Jeff dug in, mumbling thank you’s around their mouthfuls and Stretch was already on his second one when he noticed Edge was scribbling notes. He chewed and swallowed his current bite and asked, “what are you doing?”

“Gauging your reactions,” Edge said, still writing, “I kept a close track of the ingredient measurements that I used so that I can make changes for the second batch. Are they too dry? Is the pastry tough?”

“Tastes fine to me,” Jeff said around his mouthful.

“Crisp? Chewy? Is there enough spice?” Edge persisted. The two of them did their best to answer him around bites and finally, Edge made a satisfied sound and disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Huh,” Jeff snagged another tart. “How many batches you think he’s gonna make?”

Stretch shrugged, “i do my experiments and he does his.”

“His taste better.”

“my science isn’t the kind you lick.”

“So far it hasn’t involved you groping my ears, either,” Jeff took a bite and groaned around it, “Worth it, man, but the balls are still off-limits.”

“sounds reasonable.” Stretch snagged the last tart and sank back to watch the pig-faced doctor demanding a needle to sedate his patient, happily waiting to review batch number two.

Hey, he got a snack and a show, all for the price of a thrift store book. Now all he needed to do was sneak that clown statue into the bathroom, but eh, he might wait a while on that. This was enough entertainment for one day.

-finis-

Notes:

So, the recipe in question has been slightly modified from one in a reddit post and the poster had a couple of similar questions as Edge, although their solution wasn't the same. 😂 I couldn't resist writing how Edge would react to finding such a recipe.

The ‘The Congregational Cook Book, edited by the ladies’ aid society of the First Congregational Church, 1915.’ is real enough and I own it. Some of recipes and their measurements are very interesting in comparison to what we see now!

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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milkhyuun · 4 years

Text

dear valentine | j.jh (ii - fluff)

pairing | jaehyun / reader

tags | fluff, boyfriend!au

warnings | none

word count | 2.1k

[intro] | [alt. ending - angst]

a/n: if you read the angst one already, this one is much easier on your heart, i promise

You woke up on Valentine’s Day to the smell of freshly cooked pancakes wafting in from the kitchen. Yawning, you crawled out of the sheets and stretched out the sleep from your system. The other side of the bed was already empty, and you wondered about how early Jaehyun must’ve woken up to make breakfast. You drowsily stumbled out of the bedroom, still in Jaehyun’s shirt that you had slept in the previous night.

You find Jaehyun at the stove, a stack of pancakes already on a plate next to him. You approach him and curl your arms around his waist, resting your head against his back as he cooks. “Why are you making breakfast?” you ask him, cheek still pressed against his back. “It’s your birthday.”

He laughs and you feel the movements against your side of your face, causing you to curl your lips into a smile. “You really think I would let you cook? Like, ever?”

You release your arms from his waist to smack him on the shoulder. “Jaehyun! I can cook! You’re so mean to me.” You pout and scrunch your eyebrows as you sit down at the counter, arms crossed in disdain.

Another laugh escapes from his mouth. It’s been so long since you’ve met Jaehyun, and you still can’t help the butterflies that flutter in your chest when you hear him laugh.

“Sorry, babe,” he says as he turns around with the plates of pancakes in his hands. He sets one plate across from you before taking the seat next to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You know I’m right, though.”

You stuff a bite of pancake in your mouth, and you almost sigh passionately at the taste. “Perhaps,” you reply, shrugging as you continue to shovel the bits of pancake into your mouth. Jaehyun watches you affectionately and you pause your eating momentarily to look back at him, eyes shining.

After finishing breakfast and putting your dishes in the sink, you leave the kitchen to go take a shower. Jaehyun, who was still sitting at the counter, takes your wrist before you can leave and pulls you closer. He encases your torso in his arms, burying his face into your stomach. “Where are you going? It’s still early, stay with me for a bit,” he says, voice muffled.

You brush your fingers through his hair, speaking to the top of his head. “I got to go to the store real quick. And let go of me, I still need to shower.”

“I think you’re prettiest in the morning, though,” he replies. You’re glad he can’t see the intense blush that creeps onto your cheeks.

“Why are you going to the store? Are you gonna buy me a gift?” He looks up at you, smirking and wiggling his eyebrows.

“Uh, no,” you say, laughing too nervously for your liking. You hope Jaehyun doesn’t notice. “You made me promise not to get you anything, remember? I was just going to buy some groceries, y’know, for our Valentine’s Day movie marathon?”

Jaehyun nods understandingly and releases you from his embrace. “Okay, but don’t be too long!”

You take a quick shower and got dressed, throwing on a pair of shorts and a hoodie (another one from Jaehyun’s wardrobe) over your shirt. You didn’t intend on staying out long, like you said, since you were eager to spend more time next to Jaehyun this Valentine’s Day. While most couples would go out for a fancy dinner or go on cute, creative dates, you and Jaehyun had opted to stay inside and just watch movies together. It was more than ideal for the both of you.

Jaehyun had also made you promise that you wouldn’t get each other Valentine’s gifts. While they were most definitely appreciated, he said that he didn’t want gifts to be a thing of special occasion. Acts of romantic affection should be a part of our daily life, he had claimed proudly. You were willing to comply with his terms, but you still felt a little bit guilty about getting him nothing at all, especially when it was his birthday, too. That’s the reason why you had snuck out to the store to buy Jaehyun a present without him knowing.

You counted off the list in your head. You had the journal already, written in with words to the very brim. You still planned to buy a stuffed animal, some flowers, and a gift bag. And also the snacks for when you watch the movies. That would be all you get. Just a quick stop at the store, nothing more.

You get a bit sidetracked, however, because you find yourself spending half an hour in the toys section pondering over which stuffed animal to buy. The basket hanging from your arm already has everything else: the small gift bag decorated with tiny hearts, the bouquet of red gardenias you had picked up from your florist friend Johnny beforehand, and many of your and Jaehyun’s favorite snacks and foods. The last thing you needed was a stuffed toy, but you simply couldn’t decide on any of them. After narrowing down your options to a calico cat sporting a little bowtie and a floppy-eared pink bunny, you decide to ask Jaehyun himself. Maybe a not-so-subtle text like Hey, do you prefer cats or bunnies? would do the trick.

You fish through your bag for your phone, scrunching your nose when you can’t seem to find it. You temporarily take out the journal, which you had brought with you, and set it gently on the shelf in front of you.

Jaehyun responds with, Hmm… that’s a hard one, but bunnies! Why? You don’t what to say to him without blowing your cover, so you pretend not to see the message and leave it unopened.

You leave the aisle with the bunny finally in your basket. You check the time on your phone and realize how much time you had spent in the store already. Would Jaehyun get suspicious? Eh, probably. You shrug it off. Not much he can do, anyway. You’re probably going to force him to accept your thoughtful presents.

You’re about to get in line to check-out when you pat your bag and find it unusually empty. Your stomach drops. Shit. You mentally slap yourself. I left my journal with the stuffed animals.

You pivot on your heel and make a beeline for the toys aisle, desperately hoping that no one would steal it. Who would steal journal anyway?

When you get to the mouth of the aisle, however, your futile attempts to calm yourself are immediately dowsed when you see the figure of your boyfriend standing in front of you.

You let out a small gasp and quickly retreat before Jaehyun can see you. As discreetly as you can, you peek out from behind the shelf.

He’s standing in the aisle by himself, his eyes scanning through the stuffed animals on the top shelf. Your heart catches in your throat when his gaze passes over the journal sitting on the shelf directly his eye level, partially hidden by a white bear holding a rose in its mouth. When his eyes pass over it, you let out a quiet sigh of relief. But then you see him do a double-take and his attention moves back to the white teddy bear, eyes landing on the journal. You catch your breath in your throat again as you watch him slowly pick it up.

You’re watching the realization forming in his eyes as you rack your brain for what to do. Do I just run away? Oh, but what if he reads it? Should I just grab it from him and run? Ah, fuck…

You’re desperately hoping for him to just put the journal back down, when he glances towards your direction, and his eyes meet with yours. His expression brightens considerably.

“y/n!” You’re forced to leave your hiding spot and approach Jaehyun, the basket with all his “secret” presents hidden behind your legs. “Did you get the snacks?”

“Yup.” He peers over to see it, but you angle your body away nervously. “So, uh, what are you doing here?”

Jaehyun glances away for a split second. “Umm... I... came here to help you! With the snacks! Like a good boyfriend!” Then he holds up the journal, and you swallow, eyes shaking. “Also, I found this. Isn’t it your journal?”

“Oh, yeah, thanks!” You grab it from his hand frantically. “I was looking for that.” He’s about to open his mouth to say something else, but you interrupt him and take his wrist. “We should get going, birthday boy!”

“Let me hold the basket for you.”

“No! I mean, you don’t have to, it’s not that heavy.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you. “Are there presents in that basket, y/n?” he asks you in a playfully accusing tone.

You sigh, eyes cast down. “Yeah…” you admit. It would be no use denying it. Jaehyun’s not that stupid.

He starts laughing underneath his breath, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Jaehyun looks back at you, smiling with both his lips and his eyes. “That’s funny, because,” he pauses to sneak a quick kiss onto your lips before continuing, “I came here to do the same exact thing. I thought you would go to the store closer to the house for the snacks. Great minds think alike, huh?”

It’s your turn to let out small giggles. “I was wondering why you would come down to help to help me for just a couple of snacks...”

“You still can’t look, though!” You keep the basket hidden behind you “Since you’re buying gifts, too, I’ll leave you alone so I won’t see. That way, it’s a surprise for the both of us!”

“That’s fair,” he says, bringing out his pinky to seal the deal. You curl your own pinky finger around his. “At least I know that there’s something bunny related in there.” He chuckles.

When the gifts are safely hidden from each others’ prying eyes in shopping bags, the two of you leave to go back home. It’s past afternoon now, the sun high in the sky, but the mild cold from this morning still hasn’t let down, and you’re starting to grow envious of Jaehyun’s warmly-clad legs in sweatpants.

The cool air bites your exposed legs and fingertips, so you squeeze Jaehyun’s hand for warmth. Around you, there were couples strolling around for Valentine’s Day, heading into restaurants or stores, looking not much different from you and Jaehyun. The only difference was that you and Jaehyun were still wearing pajamas, and were headed to spend Valentine’s Day at home. You didn’t mind, though. In fact, you felt quite warm at the thought of spending Valentine’s Day in your cozy home with just Jaehyun. You smile softly at yourself.

“Did you actually fill out that journal?” Jaehyun asks. He’s eyeing the book tucked underneath your arm. “Like all the way? Every single page?” You nod.

His mouth forms an o-shape, and then he grins. “Aw, y/n, you’re too sweet.” Jaehyun suddenly rains kisses down on the top of your head. “It’s all I ever wanted!”

You wag your finger at him. “You’ll have to wait ‘till we get home if you wanna see it.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you, curling his lips mischievously. “Unless…” You yelp when he suddenly swipes the journal from underneath your arm. He opens it with one hand.

“Jaehyun!” You reach over and try to grab the journal from his hands, but he swerves his body away from you, laughing playfully. “Don’t read it now! At least wait until we get home…”

“Aw, love, your cheeks are turning red!” Jaehyun brings up his hand and pinches your cheek gently. When you purse your lips and cross your arms with a huff, he drapes his arm over your shoulder and pulls you closer to his side. His other arm is still displaying the open journal with one hand. “Sorry, sorry. I’m just curious! Let me read one, just one. Right now, while we’re walking.” He pouts and gives you the puppy eyes you dread so much.

You surrender and let out a defeated exhale. Your breath curls into the cool evening air in front of you. “Fine. But just the first one, okay?” He nods, laughing, and you feel the butterflies fluttering around in your tummy again.

Jaehyun clears his throat declaratively and looks down at you. His dazzling smile shines back at you, and you can help the small smile that breaks your faux annoyance and forms on your lips in return.

You wonder why you hadn’t shown him the journal sooner, or why you hadn’t just opened your heart to him in the first place. Because, in that moment, you decide you have never been more in love with someone your whole life.

“Dear Valentine…”

#jaehyun #nct #jaehyun scenarios #nct scenarios #jaehyun imagines #nct imagines #jaehyun fluff #nct fluff

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marshallpupfan · 4 years

Text

It’s been a while since I’ve posted an update on that 3D model. To be honest, I haven’t been working on it as much here lately, thanks to some more real life distractions and certain parts of this project being incredibly frustrating. This started out as something fun, but now it’s kinda becoming a chore.... but I am going to see this through till the end, since I’ve gone this far and it’d be a shame to stop now.

One thing I want to point out is that I decided I’m not going to do his fireman or EMT outfit (I may change my mind one day). I just wanted to focus on Marshall, himself and not his uniforms... though I did keep the hat because I still think he looks pretty cool with just it on.

One thing you might notice is that the texture on the hat is gone. I wanted to include it, but the method I’m using to fix up the model made it difficult to preserve, so unfortunately it had to go. You can chalk that up to a lack of experience... though personally, I think it looks better without it.

A better shot at the emblem on the hat. You can also see just how much smoother the brim of the hat is from this angle, too.

And now, his pup tag! Surprisingly, this was one of the toughest parts of it so far. I still need to fix certain parts of it, such as changing the amount of bones behind the fire emblem and straightening/improving many of the lines... but overall, I think it looks so much better.

And here’s a before and after shot of his head. I also improved his tongue, teeth, and collar. Thankfully, all three of those were easy to improve.

I certainly think it looks better now, eh? Outside of some general improvements here and there, all I’ve got left is the body. That’s... gonna take a while, since it’s easily the biggest part of this whole project.

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funkypoacher · 4 years

Text

The Perfect Cup of Tea

some Handers fluff I finally decided to post after ... a year... of ignoring it. tagging @fandomn00blr for fluffy, sniffly, Cat Husband reasons :)

With long faces (and even longer hair), Hawke and Anders rolled into town.

Sore eyes, strained bodies: as the journey from Weisshaupt to Kirkwall entered its final days, the village was a sight for both. It’d been months since the couple, traveling exclusively by foot, had felt secure enough in their anonymity to pop into one of the hamlets they passed, but something about this place—off the beaten path; rising from the forest like a fairytale—had its allure.

It may have been pure exhaustion. It may have been cresting anticipation of impending home. Either way, the bedraggled duo dove in.

Hawke, a woman who, according to reputation, would rather be flayed than found describing anything as ‘cute’, said honestly, in a voice raw from exhaustion, “it’s cute.”

“It is cute,” Anders agreed, scratching his chin through an excessive beard. “Not a lot of industry, but I suppose they don’t need it—not this close to the highway, anyway. Must get loads of visitors.”

Inspecting a large sign around which allium was planted, Hawke read aloud, “Longerswold.” She stared, as though it held a secret.

Leaning on his staff-cum-walking stick, Anders led the way. To and fro they turned their heads, padding down an unpaved street which was lined by little houses hidden behind healthy gardens.

“Has a nice Anderfels flavor to it,” the man remarked of the name.

“And as long as it doesn’t actually taste like the Anderfels, that’s fine,” Hawke answered, allowing her slighted stomach to take charge of her mood. “If I have to eat rouladen again any time soon, I’m going to… Well, I’m just not going to eat, I guess.”

“That’s my heritage you’re insulting!” But, after a beat, Anders wrinkled his nose. “I’m pretty sick of it, too.”

The air smelled sweet with flowers and lush grass; passing people smiled, inspiring confidence in the two disheveled strangers. Clearing her throat, Hawke nervously asked of someone “is there an inn here?”, and, about to enter their front door, the local turned around, approaching cheerfully.

“Sure is! Ivah’s Inn.” Beefy hands shoved in his large pockets, the man nodded down the way, drowning in the brim of his floppy, felt hat. “A few rooms on the second level. Ivah serves dinner ‘round seven. Might be you’re a bit early.”

“That’s alright!” Anders replied brightly, looking between the man and Hawke, his face lit by a polite smile. “Charming place like this, I’m sure we’ll find a way to pass the time.”

The man looked Anders straight in the eye, a most deadly-serious expression squinting his small, brown peepers. “Now you head on to Ivah’s straight-way, friend. You ask for the perfect cup of tea. Not a cup of tea, mind. The perfect cup. You won’t regret it.”

With that, the man went back up his walk way, whistling all the way into his house.

“What a friendly man,” Anders commented, beginning to drag his bones along.

“Yeah.” Hawke frowned. “Too friendly.”

But it was impossible for his pessimistic sweetheart to rain on his parade. As they stepped into Ivah’s thatched roof cottage, two kittens, overseen by their lounging mother, were playing in a stream of sunshine, their soft joyful squeals ringing through the room.

“I’ve died and gone to the Maker’s side,” Anders gushed, crouching down and watching with rapturous delight.

A voice called, “you needing rooms?”

Leaving Anders to bask, Ann strolled towards a worn counter overlooking a small dining area. There were tiny round tables with lace doilies, colourful carved nick-nacks covering almost every wall, and what room was left was filled with plush, potted plants kept fat and happy by the multitude of windows looking out into the backyard.

Distracted by this new view, Hawke’s mouth fell ajar as she looked passed the spotted glass into a yard of chaos and beauty. Not one for the leafier side of life (she’d never been a gardener), nonetheless she noticed that not one bundle of flowers matched another. Dozens—hundreds—of blooms were planted here, some of them still vaguely familiar, and others utterly exotic, but all of them different.

“Dearie?”

Ann’s trance was broken was a going-grey matron at her side, shorter than even she, wearing a dress of colourful patchwork tied at the waist with a tasseled rope.

“Yes!” Ann gasped, startled. “Needing rooms—yes.”

“That one yours?” The woman, presumably the looked-for Ivah, jerked her thumb in Anders’ direction.

Smiling thinly, Ann affirmed, “most definitely” and followed Ivah to one of the tables. The woman hastily swiped a rag over its lace covering (to which Ann smirked), then disappeared without a word.

“We, um—” Hawke called after her, hand held aloft in a ‘hold on!’ position. “We were told to get—”

“Tea! Yeah!” Ivah was no longer visible. The clunking and thudding of pot-steel suggested she was in a kitchen. “I got yer tea...”

Tuckered from his kitten play-date, Anders slumped into the chair across from Ann, cheeks glowing, eyes hazy.

“Wow,” Ann commented wryly, having once thought that look to be reserved only for post-coitus bliss.

“I named them,” Anders informed, sitting back comfortably in his seat. “Bink-Bonk and Stinker. They’re brothers, and they go on adventures together.” He nodded towards Ivah’s ruckus. “She seemed snooty.”

It was true. Brusque and assuming, Ivah’s nature was at odds with the quaint home settled within the cute village. Her garden of colours; the charming decor: neither matched her sharp, short attitude.

“I like her,” Ann said, surprising herself. Unsure why, it was nonetheless true. For reasons beyond her, Ann thought it to do with her flowers.

Quieting, slumping, the couple cooled down, taking stock of their various pains and aches, admiring their surroundings, and silently wondering how the rest of their trip would turn out.

No other living beings were to be heard in the house, which started to rub Hawke the wrong way. She was so used to over-shoulder glancing and credence-giving to the dread settling in her gut that she no longer knew how to handle peace. Five minutes of muted nothingness meant something was coming. Her heart clawed at her chest, restless and worried.

And she was right. Something came.

“Here’s your tea!” Ivah plunked down a huge tray with two-to-three too many things. Besides the tea-pot sitting on a brazier, there were cinnamon sticks bundled with red yarn, honey, milk, brown sugar, lavender satchels, cream, mint leaves, possibly maple syrup, slices of fresh, glistening lemon…

“My,” Anders exclaimed under his breath, staring at the spread.

“Never could make the stuff just right fer every person,” Ivah lamented in that thick accent particular to the town. “Always hearin’ ‘it’s too sweet, Ivah!’, or, ‘it’s too bland, Ivah!’' She nodded towards the fixings. “So here. Can’t make it perfect to yer likin’, yer too picky.”

With a flourish of her wrist, the brazier caught fire, setting their tea to boil. Ivan went off wordlessly, and Anders’ eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

“Did you—?”

“I did,” Ann affirmed. She realized why she’d thought she liked Ivah. The plants in her backyard: they’d been the same as some grown by Merrill in a little plot of soil in the Kirkwall alienage, all of which were for the purposes of replenishing mana, or supplementing mana, or sometimes subduing it.

Those flowers out back; those colours and petals: they were mage flowers.

Anders stared at the brazier’s flames, licking and flickering, dancing free and uninhibited.

“She…”

“I know.”

Hawke watched the wonder take years off his face. The newer wrinkles at Anders’ forehead disappeared; his crows feet, there as long as she’d known him, soothed. The old-man beard he hid beneath was no help, but the boyish joy pulling his jaw into an overwhelmed ogling made him as beautiful as she’d ever seen him.

“I can’t believe it,” Anders whispered, covering his mouth with both hands. Tears began to start; he looked at her with hope she’d forgotten. “Using her gifts. In the open.”

Ann realized she had to start breathing herself, or she might pass out. Swallowing, she felt a little hiccuping, happy sob, but pushed it away, back into her chest.

“Yeah.” Hawke nodded.

“With—with the new Circle of Magi under this Divine, I never thought… But without a thought! Without fear!” Anders’ bony hands, still clasped to his lips, trembled. “Maker.”

And he broke. Bent over, his face buried in his palms, the thick, glad tears spilled down his cheeks, through his beard, to his chin and sloping jaw. He was quiet in his weeping, but now and then a startling sound burst forth before he softened once more.

They knew. The town knew. Everyone in this village, without question, understood what Ivah was, and they didn’t care. They supported her; gave her coin; purpose. They allowed her to subsist on her gifts; they promoted her inn, sending strangers her way. No doubt they vetted visitors, choosing carefully whom to allow near Ivah’s inn. They loved her. They loved her enough that she needn’t be shy or guarded. She was brash and dismissive because they allowed it with their love. They let Ivah be herself.

Thinking about it some more, Hawke had to try very hard not to cry, too.

“Eh?”

Jumping, Hawke looked to her right to see the mage in question, thick hands on her wide hips, long mouth in a frown.

“What I miss?” Ivah asked, eyeing the tray, and, from her tone, most assuredly not making a joke. “Got yer cream; yer sugar.”

“Oh, it’s—it’s not that,” Ann said with a soft laugh, the sound of her own whispering voice breaking her heart. “It’s… it’s great tea. Really. It’s the perfect cup of tea.”

Ivah gave them long looks, scrutinizing and terrible. Anders tried hard to stifle himself, but it only made things worse. Finally, Ivah placed a key on their table, mentioned off-handedly “second room on the right—no charge,” and went on her way, wiping her hands on her patchwork skirt.

Anders sniffled, finally calming. His thin, graceful hands, which had become worn with these few years’ hard living, settled on the table. Ann took them in hers, and took her turn at a good cry.

#handers #My writing

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ihni · 4 years

Text

Tagged by @pointeful, who did their own version of the fic trope jars, and well. Fun! So here we go:

Explainations are in order: I will read anything, and I can be convinced ANYTHING is good, if it lures me in with good writing, good characters, good whump, good plot, or something else that I like.

Like, I am normally not into ABO, but "Werewolf Gimmick" by @kathleenthegothqueen is amazing. I wasn't particularly into Summer camp AUs until I read "Strange days at Camp Hawkins" by @aeon-of-neon just recently (although I really should have known it could be a Thing because I was immidiately hooked by "The Parent Escape" by Snowjob). I had no particular feelings about amnesia fics until @lemonlovely posted "Where is my mind" (to be fair, though, Lelo could write about just about anything and I'd love it, probably), and I have read pure smut that even I, as an asexual, have enjoyed ("Perfectly Unnatural" by @imneithernor and "brainless" by ShipperTrash140109 comes to mind - the former because the power dynamics and the mental image of them on the car, because gosh darnit do I love that car, and the latter because the artistic language, and how the words painted a picture). (Also "In the Mirror, lovely" by @sky2fall which was so creepy that I had to cover my mirrors after I had read it, which is high praise because I READ it, even though it was sex).

(On that note, I just realized I filled the dom/sub jar too much. I was thinking character dynamics and didn't even realize the sexual aspect of it. I honestly didn't think of it! Oops! So hmm, editing that one out).

Friends to lovers is eh, because I'm normally not interested in the "to lovers" part. I'm in it for the "enemies to something else" part, and I don't particularly care if that's friends or lovers (@missroserose wrote me "We'll Become Who We Were Meant To Be" and it's the most perfect example of enemies to friends and i love it). Angst is my lifeblood, but only with happy endings (@lymricks is the god of that particular genre, "it does ripple" comes to mind but literally everything they write!), found family is A++++ (@okaybutlikeimagine writes the bestttttt stuff, like, just read "As Their Protectors Do" or anything in the "Found family" series, and for your Loki kick may I direct you to "Grievance" by @peaceheather, which I recently re-read and adore), and fluff is good like 98% of the time (thank you @tracy7307 for being the fluff queen and writing gems like my personal favorite "Merry Christmas, Baby", and @flippyspoon for stuff like "The Favor"). I have somehow convinced myself I am not into kid fics, but I'm proven wrong again and again (@kingsandsaints did an art of Billy and a baby which made me - a person who does not particularly like babies - go "awwwww" OUT LOUD, and Rawren wrote "Prince among wolves" - an old Teen Wolf classic!), so at this point I must face the fact that I can be into that, too.

I am not really into unrequited love (because I'm also aromantic, and if romance in fic is gonna be COMPLICATED and with an unhappy ending to boot, I'm just gonna pass), and "meeting again" makes me exhausted because then I have to imagine a lot of time having passed and stuff happening between then and now and just, ugh. I'm lazy. Texting is ... Well, I will not actively seek it out (but sometimes I stumble upon something awesome written in social media style - shout out to "The A-team challenge", a Marvel fic that is hilarious!). Flower shops are a bit ?!??? but they make me think of assassins and then I have to link to @hoppnhorn 's "Target aquired" which is as far from flower shop as you can get but which I really like and also flower shops and assassins go hand in hand, dont @ me! But again - even if I don't actively LIKE a trope, i migh read a fic with ANY of those tropes, and love it. It depends on the fic. How it's written, how it makes me feel.

Now, jars that are MISSING and that I would have filled up to the BRIM are: whump, touch-starved, identity reveal, misunderstandings, prank wars, guilt (is that a trope?), villains reluctantly doing good things, self-sacrifice, mistaken identity, and anything in this post.

Now, I have already tagged a bunch of people in this post so if I have mentioned you, you are hereby tagged. Also @bentnotbroken1fanfiction @13callieb @platypan @dobetterbillyhargrove @klayr-de-gall @gideongrace @buildyourwalls and honestly anyone who wants to, here's the blank template (thanks @pointeful):

#tagging game #tropes #fic rec

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chlorue · 4 years

Text

here’s to never growing up

a little shameless fic to sooth your troubles.

Pairing: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich

Description: It was finally Franny's fifth birthday. What did Ian do? Spent two weeks planning it. The party is full of disapproving PTA moms and a new friend for Ian. Ian had spent weeks planning this party and he was damn well sure it was going to turn out well.

word count: 2,814

read on ao3

The sun was bright today. The rays shining on the Gallagher backyard. Ian was frantically running around the backyard making sure everything was in line for his niece's 5th birthday. The entire backyard was decked out in whatever leftover party decorations Ian could find in the basement. Small party tables with fun tablecloths were placed around. Balloons were everywhere. Ian found a pile of streamers in Carl's room and placed them on the stairs and tables. There was no necessary theme to the party, it was just Ian felt obligated to go all out. He had Lip get the cake, Liam to get the other food, Carl to get party favors that weren’t weed, and Mickey to keep Franny and Debbie away from the house. So far everything was looking up.

Ian was sitting on the steps looking at his phone waiting for someone to text him that something was wrong. He would look at his phone lock screen every few seconds, see nothing there, and put back down next to him. Finally his phone dinged. He rushed to pick it up. It was from a small group chat he put together.

the one who sold weed once

hey are we serving alcohol at this party????

the one with a son

Nah, half of us can’t even drink, recovering alcoholic and the lithium thing

the smart one

What about all the PTA moms?

the one with a son

They’ll just have to get over it.

Okay, can you all shut up? This is a five year olds party, we’ll be drinking the soda Liam

gets.

It seemed everyone got the message because they stopped texting. Ian sighed and leaned back. He tried to drown out the sound of buzz on the streets. Luckily Frank was nowhere to be found, he hadn’t been for the past few days. Something shocked Ian out of his small trance. There were voices that were familiar coming down the street. Ian stood up to see Tami with Fred on her and Lip a few paces behind her with a white box in his hands.

“Hey fuckwad!” Lip called when he spotted Ian. Tami swatted him, most likely for the language. “Sorry.” Lip apologized. Lip set the box on a table and pulled his little brother into a hug. Ian pulled away and patted Fred on the head.

“Thanks so much for getting this, you two are amazing!” Ian opened the box to see a rectangular pink cake that had swirly white writing. Happy Birthday Franny! It was perfect and Ian let a small weight off his shoulders.

“Eh, you just owe us for Fred’s 5th birthday.” Tami patted her son's head.

“I can do that.” Ian sighed and smiled. They both looked to be doing better. He had heard about the fight they got into at his wedding and was glad to see them back together. Lip had sent him too many pictures of the house and Fred.

The back door swung open, startling all three of them, revealing Carl and Liam. “What’s up whores!” Carl yelled. Lip, Tami, Ian, and Liam collectively sighed.

“We really need to have a talk about language in this family.” Tami sighed. Ian nodded and took a seat at the table. Liam and Carl made their way down with a lot of bags.

They set them on the table just in time for Mickey to stroll in. Liam started pulling bags of chips out and Lip told him where to put it. “Carl, are you just gonna stand there?” Ian cocked an eyebrow.

“What do you mean?” Carl asked and Ian groaned. Lip saw his brother's stress and took Carl away from the table. Tami took Liam and the rest of the bags away from the poor man.

Another presence slipped into the chair next to him and kissed his head. Mickey. Ian pulled his head up to see his husband. He smiled for a second before realizing. “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, comforting my stressed out husband?” Mickey smiled.

“Where is Franny? And Debbie?” Ian looked frantically around the backyard. The party wasn’t really a surprise. Ian had asked Debbie two weeks ago if he could plan it, but Ian didn’t expect to really take over his life. He really wanted to be special for the little girl. “You were supposed to be keeping them occupied!” He groaned.

“Calm down hotstuff, did you happen to look at the time?” Mickey cupped Ian’s face and made him face Mickey. Ian was confused, mad and shocked all at the same time. Once Mickey let him out of his hold Ian pulled his phone from his back pocket. The time read 1:45. The party was starting in 15 minutes.

“Fuck.” Ian sighed. Ian had been so focused on things going wrong he must’ve lost track of time. “I’m sorry, I’m just really stressed. I want her to like this.” Ian pulled his hands down his face and faced his husband.

“Dude, she’s 5, she got excited by my name tag yesterday, I think this will fill her to the brim with joy.” Mickey rubbed his shoulder. Ian felt better knowing Mickey was next to him. “Jesus you are tense.”

“Hey Ian!” Tami’s voice broke through the small silence. “People are arriving!”

“Let them in.” He called behind him. Tami gave a thumbs and went back inside. “Well, our backyard is about to be filled with every mom and her kid from Franny’s school, you ready?” Ian asked.

“Jesus, ready for the dirty looks at my hands? I’m used to it by now, so I guess.” Mickey kissed Ian’s cheek before getting up. “Just, uh, holler if you need help. Please don’t put any more stress on yourself.” Mickey smiled before stomping up the stairs. He was met with the first kid and mom. The mom smiled at him and he smiled back before moving into the house.

Ian sighed and got out of his chair. “Ian! So nice to see you!” The mom smiled as she approached Ian.

“Mary!” Ian faked a smile. Mary Lynn was a god damn bitch. She never liked Mickey or Ian. She would pretend to be nice to them and Franny only to go over to the other mom’s to talk about how horrible they were. Ian pretended not to care, but sometimes he would rant to Mickey about how much he wanted to punch her. “You look great!” No she didn’t. Ian was resisting the urge to pull her fake blonde hair off her head.

"Chelsea here is so excited to hang out with Franny! I can’t believe she’s turning five, they grow up so fast!” She gave the fakest laugh Ian had ever heard. Ian returned it.

“Yeah, we’re excited too!” Ian wanted so badly for this conversation to be over. “You can go ahead and find a seat, Franny will be out soon.” Ian gave one last fake smile and pulled his hand from her grip. He walked in the back door only to be met with six more PTA moms.

Today was gonna be a long day.

The party was in full swing now. Franny was running around and playing with her friends while their mothers sat at tables talking. Ian was leaning against the chain-link fence watching his niece run around with a big ass smile on her face.

Another presence took its place next to Ian. He turned to see the dark red hair of his little sister. “Hey, you really didn't have to do this, you know?” Debbie smiled.

“Eh, I didn’t have anything else to occupy my time,” Ian smiled and took a drink from his cup. Debbie patted his shoulder and sighed. “You know, you might want to mingle with the moms over there.”

“Oh, god no. I’d rather not inhale the cheap perfume up close.” Debbie laughed.

“Well them maybe you should go hang out with your daughter, I’m gonna head inside, see what other shit Carl has to drink.” Ian patted his sisters head before walking away. He made his way into the Gallagher kitchen to see the rest of the family scattered through. Liam was plastered by the punch bowls, Lip was by the pack and play with Fred, Carl was sitting on the table, and Mickey was leaning next to the fridge.

“Welcome back,” Carl said, not even looking up from his phone. “Drinks and food are over there, we will be serving cake in 40 minutes.” He deadpanned.

Ian pushed his head, forcing Carl to look up and smile. “Oh, hey man!”

Ian smiled and went over to the counter area, not before throwing his cup away. “Hey, are Kev and V coming?” He leaned over to Liam. He invited the neighbors not only because they were some of his best friends and they loved Franny, but for moral support and help as well.

“Yeah, they just had to close up the Alibi.” Liam sighed and continued to stir the punch. Ian ran his hair through his hair. Then a knock came from the door. “That must be them.” Liam said and turned around.

He was right. Veronica and Kevin were strolling in with Amy and Gemma racing in front of them. “What is up to my favorite people in the world!” Veronica exclaimed as she strutted into the kitchen. Kev waved to everyone, but his attention was clearly on the very eager girls who wanted to get outside and see their friends. “God, it has been way too long!"

“You were two nights ago.” Mickey said. Mickey was now over by the Pac-And-Play with Tami. V shushed and he went back to playing with Fred.

“So Ian, how are you holdin’ up. I know PTA moms can be a handful.” V sighed and placed herself next to Ian.

“I think I’ll be fine with you and Kev here. I texted Fiona earlier for a pep talk.”

“Damn Fi, she always gave some sort of pep talk, shitty or not. They fuckin’ worked.” V sighed and laughed.

“God, can parents please name their children something fucking normal. I swear I literally just met a kid named Neptune.” Lip groaned as he swung open the door. “Also Ian, some people want to talk to you.”

Ian groaned. V gave his hand a squeeze and he took a deep breath. Time to venture back into the unknown.

Ian had been outside for about an hour. Turns out what the mothers wanted to talk to him about was alcohol. Whether he was serving it? Where was it stored in the house with the kids? Ian finally got away from it all. He was sitting in a lawn chair in the shade watching Mickey play with Franny.

“Hey do you mind if I sit?” Ian looked up to see a mom he had never really seen before. She was tall and had blonde hair, like most of them. But this blonde looked real. It was in a high ponytail. Her eyes were blue and her makeup was pretty and subtle. She wore a pink bomber jacket, white undershirt and gray pants.

“Oh, yeah sure, go ahead.” Ian smiled and pointed to the chair next to him.

“Thanks, I was getting tired of listening to Jennifer go on about her failing marriage, and you looked lonely.” The woman smiled.

“Did she tell you the reason it’s failing?”

“No, what is it? Something juicy?”

“Nah, he won’t let her drink more than three tequila shots.”

“That doesn’t seem that bad.”

“ A night. ” Ian smirked and the woman laughed. “I’m Ian by the way.” He held his hand out.

“Amara.” She shook his hand. “This is a really nice party, did you plan it all by yourself?”

“Eh, only a little bit. It’s not like it took up my life for about two weeks.” Ian smiled. Amara laughed. She seemed different from the rest of the moms there. She was fit, like really fit, she seemed a tiny bit dorky, but she was nicer than any of the other moms.

“Tell me about it. When my son turned 4 we held this “small” gathering that ended up turning into a whole block party!” Amara laughed.

“Wow, I feel like that happened when I was like 12. Gallaghers knew and know how to party.” Ian smiled.

“You haven’t seen the chaos that is my company.” Amara smiled. “I’m surprised you aren’t serving alcohol today, PTA moms and all.”

“Oh, basically none of us in this family can drink anymore, other than my little brother and my deadbeat father.” Ian sighed. “My older brother and sister are recovering alcoholics and I can’t drink on my meds. It fucks with my lithium.” Ian takes a swig of the Pepsi in his hands.

“Oh, that sucks. But that’s the South Side for you.” Amara sighed. “My wife and I may have moved to the North Side, but we won't forget the weirdos here.”

“Wait, you’re gay? And South Side?” Ian was now even more interested in this Amara. She was gay. No wonder she was so different then the rest of the moms. And she was raised on the south side. She definitely did not look like it.

“Oh, hell yeah! Most of my company is a part of the LGBT community. And yes, born and raised in a foster home here. That is how I met my wife, Callie. She’s over there playing with our son.” She pointed to a woman with dark skin and brown pixie cut. She was playing with a small boy who looked to be about the same age as Fran.

“Very pretty. My husband and I are born and raised as well. In and out of foster and group homes, though.” Ian smiled.

“You’re gay? No wonder the moms despise and love you.” Amara laughed. “Who’s your husband?”

“Him.” He pointed to Mickey who was now swinging Franny around.

“Oh, is he the one the moms are mad at because of his tattoos?” Amara asked and Ian nodded. “I bet they’re fucking dope, my friend did one of my favorite tattoos.” She pulled her sleeve to expose her wrist. On it was what looked like a heart, but it looked like it belonged to a robot. “I have two more, but they’re on my back.”

“I only have two. One is a military thing, and the other is a set of boobs.” Ian sighed at the memory of the failed tattoo.

“Dope!” Amara beamed and they both laughed. “But why boobs?”

“It was supposed to be a memory of my mother, but it went wrong.” Ian smiled.

“Does your husband have any others, other than the knuckle tats?”

“He has one on his forearm, long story. And my name above his heart.” Ian looked back over at his husband. He was laughing and dancing with Franny. Amara cooed and smiled. “Yeah, he did spell my last name wrong.” He looked over to Amara. She sighed and hung her head back.

Suddenly Franny was in front of them. “Uncle Ian! Let’s do the cake. Pwease?” She gave Ina her best puppy dog eyes. Ian laughed and stood up, hoisting her up.

“You comin?” Ian looked at Amara. She smiled and hoisted herself up, tightening her ponytail.

Everything had settled down by 9 PM. Franny was asleep, Lip and Tami left, Liam was downstairs watching TV and Carl was doing who the fuck knows in his room. Ian came into the room from the bathroom to see his husband leaning against the headboard scrolling on his phone. “Well you are a sight for sore eyes.” Ian said leaning against the doorway. Mickey shot his finger up and Ian laughed. He crawled onto the bed and rested himself right next to Mickey.

“Hey, who were you talking to today? The blonde chick?” Mickey started to play with Ian’s hair.

“Don’t get jealous, she has a wife. And her name is Amara, and she is one of the most cool PTA moms I have ever met. She’s South Side too, her and her wife.” Ian smiled at his husband. Mickey looked slightly amused.

“You know, it was really amazing that you did this for Franny, lord know both of us didn’t get the luxury of this.” Mickey sighed.

“Fiona tried her hardest, but I got sick on my 5th birthday.”

“When are you not sick, honestly?” Ian laughed at Mickey’s comment. Mickey smelled nice. A mix of cigarette smoke and soap. It was a smell that reminded Ian of where his home was. He wanted to move out and get a cat and kid with Mickey, but that was a problem for future Mickey and Ian. Ian was focused on Mickey, not realizing that he was slowly falling asleep. He drifted off, but not before pulling Mickey down with him.

“Thank you.”

#shameless #shameless fic #shameless us #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #my fic #my wriitng #all mistakes are my own #mickey and ian #amara and callie may or may not be based off adora and catra

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