#I’ve made peace not only with the fact that my ship will certainly not be made canon

[actuallyjustabiscuit]

Every time I write Jax being a massive asshole in my fics I start to think “Am I going too far? Should I reel him back a little bit? I don’t think he’ll be this bad in the show” and then I see this from Goose herself

And I started going “Ok, now I’m thinking I gotta make him worse”

[charmwasjess]

I woke up today and chose violence, so this is my "Rael Averross is Luthen Rael" in Andor endgame theory.

"Calm. Kindness. Kinship. Love. I’ve given up all chance at inner peace. I’ve made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there’s only one conclusion, I’m damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they’ve set me on a path from which there is no escape. I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time I looked down there was no longer any ground beneath my feet." - Luthen Rael (on why he's a fucking Jedi)

Luthen Rael, a Jedi?! Yeah kinda really seems like it

I'm hardly the first person to have picked up the hints that Luthen Rael was a Jedi at one point. He whips out a kyber crystal like it's nothing, specifies that his whole life changed 15 years ago (count back to Order 66), perceives that his embrace of anger instead of a list of ideals that sound a lot like the Jedi code is a failing, and the "share my dreams with ghosts" line sure does sound like the survivor of a genocide that targeted a specifically psychic community of people. He carries around that stupid wooden "walking stick" thing that's obviously a barely-disguised lightsaber. His fucking SHIP has a big lightsaber beam for christsakes.

In a universe where several Jedi do survive to go on to help the Rebellion under assumed identities, it's not a stretch to think that there's a conveniently-placed, established one still on Coruscant working for the proto-Rebellion in the years leading up to Andor.

So why do I think Luthen is Rael Averross, Dooku's first apprentice?

The clue in their similar names would certainly keep with the tradition of Jedi in hiding barely changing their names (looking at you "Ben" Kenobi who dresses in ... a Jedi robe.) But there's more than that.

The last time anyone saw Rael Averross was the end of the Master and Apprentice novel, where he's at the end of a 7-year-mission out of the Temple, faced with the possibility of joining Dooku, and uncertain about his future with the Jedi Order. While he ultimately doesn't decide to follow in Dooku's footsteps, his future after that does not seem clear. We don't see him again, not even in Tales of the Jedi. We know he was brought to the Temple very late (at age 5) and judging from Pijal, is very comfortable living outside the Temple as a regular guy. We know he has some difficulty feeling a sense of belonging in the Jedi Order, which seems to have worsened after Dooku left. If he left the Jedi at some point after Pijal, as he seems to have at least considered, he could have been well placed to survive Order 66.

There are other small details that could hint at their shared identity. Luthen's profession, running an antique shop full of very significant prequel easter eggs, fits with some backstory - Dooku's preoccupation with artifacts and Rael Averross's likely exposure to them. In fact, the Jedi prophecy holocrons that Dooku, Qui-Gon, and Rael all seem to obsess over at various points are even literally present, stashed in his shop. He doesn't speak with a Coruscanti accent. He's in possession of a blue kyber crystal (Averross fights with a blue lightsaber.) Rael Averross is politically connected from his time as regent on Pijal; Luthen Rael also utilizes such political connections. Luthen Rael even has a trusted, young female protégée and confidant -- if you want to go all into Rael Averross's Lost Daughter Trauma.

Both Dooku: Jedi Lost (2019) and the Master and Apprentice (2019) novels which came out ahead of Andor's 2022 release date go out of their way to flesh out the character, place him in Dooku's inner circle, and detail points of connection like the artifacts and holocron study. In a meta way, I wondered why they were spending so much book time on a relatively minor character only tangentially related to characters who get screentime. (For example, new canon hasn't touched any of Qui-Gon's previous apprentices, and if the point was just to explore Dooku's other students, Komari and Galidraan would tie in with the Jango Fett storyline and the Mandalorians.) These choices aren't random or at the author's whim; in an interview, Cavan Scott of Dooku: Jedi Lost infamy mentions he was specifically told to stay away from Dooku and Rael's apprentice days in that book. Someone in the greater Star Wars content ecosystem was paying attention to this character. Why?

Why not?

I think the biggest argument that he's not Rael Averross is the physical appearance - Claudia Gray describes Rael as short and "tan"/dark skinned, Stellan Skarsgård is a a 6'3 Swede. Probably that should stop my argument right there, but unfortunately, it wouldn't be the first time Star Wars has retconned right over a fairly large detail like that, and frankly, has a problem doing that more often with nonwhite characters. (*making direct eye contact with Clone Wars's take on Sifo-Dyas, but even Quinlan Vos occasionally gets white washed*)

Ultimately, I don't think that Andor is the kind of show that will want to show you a Luke Skywalker cameo; in the same way, I have a hard time imagining that if this theory is correct, we'll get more than a nod and a wink confirmation. The show is all about little people coming together to fight the Empire.

But I think there's at least a decent chance that Luthen Rael is a familiar face, and if so, I can't see a better place for one of the disaster lineage to end up.

[mccnstruck]

characters - kazuha x gn!reader

warnings - none

a/n - this is my first time writing after two years, so please ignore if this is rusty! i didn’t proofread this because i was actually happy that i got something DONE so like yea, but otherwise enjoy!

streamer!kazuha when both of you are first introduced to each other during a multiplayer game. while the others were trying to find a solution to winning, you and kazuha both took your time with getting to know each other. you ignored the chat as they screamed a new ship name between both of you, and you certainly didn’t see kazuha’s stream to notice his awestruck eyes.

streamer!kazuha who first dm’ed you on instagram, and you both instantly hit it off. soon, both of you were cracking inside jokes between games, sharing new content ideas, and talking about kazuha's love for poetry. you didn’t know the way you both allowed the other’s notifications even when do not disturb was turned on, and how both of your faces lit up at the sight of a instagram dm.

streamer!kazuha who got excited when you suggested a collab stream. both of you would casually play some games on roblox, and chill with both of your streams. casual was the last thing in mind as both of you were screaming and laughing when you brutally obliterated some (approximately) 12 year old on some random superpower tycoon. at one point, you couldn’t help but laugh so hard you went silent, letting a few tears slip by. ever since then, your chat suddenly started squealing when kazuha came on stream. but what you never found out was how kazuha opened your stream when you were laughing and softly smiled, deciding that angering 12 year olds was more enjoyable with you.

streamer!kazuha who first came up with a irl vlog to explore your city. you quickly agreed, and soon your chats were filled with different hotels you could stay at, foods to try, places to visit etc. when the day finally arrived, you stood in the airport, shifting your weight from left to right in excitement and in nervousness. it’s been a few months, but this is the first time you’ve met him in person. uneasiness started to settle in your mind. do i look alright? i have all my things, right? what if he feels uncomfortable in this city?..

would he even like me? i’ve been hiding under a online personality this whole time. and what if-

you felt two taps on your shoulder and turn around to see the only and only kazuha smiling at you.

"i was wondering where were you for so long."

he giggled and your mind immediately got rid of all the intrusive thoughts before. so far he looked like he's been enjoying himself, even though he got out of a 6 hour flight. when he drags you trying to find the exit, you realize you didn't have to worry about being flawless in front of him, and you let out the first sigh of relief in a long time.

streamer!kazuha who ate the cotton candy in joy as you responded to donations and questions. it was a windy day in the city, but you or kazuha didn't mind, in fact enjoying the strong breeze. after running around and trying new places, it was a nice place to relax-

"when are you and kazuha going to confess??? literally everyone sees the heart eyes you make at each other except for YOU TWO??"

ah, it wasnt as peaceful as you thought.

the question made way for another episode of chat freaking out again, and both you and kazuha's faces to go red. you look at each other and back to the camera, too shocked and embarrassed on what to say.

"well um, that was sudden. uh,,,"

you look over back to kazuha, and judging on his eyes you knew he was about to do something mischevious. what you didnt expect...

was a confession.

"maybe i might confess today after stream. who knows?"

you turn around in shock and see kazuha grinning at you.

"..what?"

he looks back at you and silently whispers," after stream," before walking away, leaving you in shock in front of thousands of people.

streamer!kazuha who patiently waits for you on his hotel bed as you read the final donations and wave goodbye to the stream. when you made sure the stream was over, you look over to see him already looking at you.

"kazuha..."

"i think you want me to explain what i said at the cotton candy store, did you?"

you hesitantly nodded, sitting on the other side of the bed. kazuha sighed before he spoke.

"i think it's pretty self-explanatory, uh," scratching his neck before continuing, "i like you. and according to both of our chats you like me as well."

when he turns to look at you, you look at him as if he were the answer to the meaning of life. a tint of pink appears on his cheek, and he keeps himself from looking away.

“what…what are you staring at?”

a pause. “say it again.”

he tilts his head in confusion. “say what again?”

“what you just said right now.”

“i like you and you like me back.”

“the first part of the sentence.”

“i like you.”

you face visibly brightens. “say that again.”

kazuha laughed, and you swear if he was your alarm, you’d wake up 10 minutes before just to hear it in the morning.

kazuha leaned back on the bed. “im pretty sure you’re forgetting the part where you liked me back, didn’t you?”

“that can wait, you said you liked me?” you reply with a grin.

he sits back up, and faced towards you, giving you the same grin. “isn’t this supposed to be a mutual confession?”

but before you could think of a cheeky response, he lifted his hand and gently cupped your jaw. all thoughts in your head were now non-existent, and you could only think about how close you both were and how his lips were so close to yours. the atmosphere in the room had changed, and whatever was about to be said before was completely out of mind now.

kazuha thumb moved closer and closer to your lips, and he softly spoke. “you would be ok with this..right?”

you would’ve responded, but the way he asked beforehand and the sudden closeness of his lips had you lean in. his arms held onto you yours, and somehow pulled you in closer than you were before. you felt like liquid, melting under his touch, and his lips on yours and his hands in your hair made you shiver. you felt his smile, and as soon as it started he broke the kiss. the air was hot but you both could only stare each other as you tried to gain your breath.

“are..are you alright?”

you softly laughed. “i’m fine. just…need to catch my breath.”

he pressed his forehead onto yours, his arms intertwined into yours. as the sun made way for the moon and you both watched the window in peace, you’ve never felt more thankful to be introduced to him.

reposting or plagiarizing of my works is not allowed under any circumstances.

[tllgrrl]

Talk Like A Pirate Day 2022

Part 2

The Paul & Darlene’s Ship Log - Sarah Wilson, Captain

Two weeks later…

As expected, the battling started immediately upon boarding each others’s ships.

I caught one of their lines, swung over to The Shield and found Captain Wilson waiting.

We both knew what was going to happen but as we’re both civilized, we exchanged the usual greetings and pleasantries:

I informed him of his status as Ass-kissing Royal Navy Scum.

He informed me of my status as a Thieving Rapscallion and a Pirate.

The grapple began.

He fought valiantly, but he was never a match for my skills, not when we were children, certainly not now that we’re grown, and I took great pleasure reminding him of that fact just before I prepared to run him through, when I heard a shout, then a very large man, came running across the deck, practically launching himself at me.

Hearing the shout made me drop back, rolling away from Sam, and the attacker landed in a crouch between me and my brother.

We both stood, and when I say we got an eyeful of each other, that is to say, I got more than an eyeful.

He wasn’t wearing a naval uniform. He wasn’t wearing any uniform, for that matter.

He was, in fact, wearing only his drawers, carrying a sword in his right hand, and he had a belt with a dagger strapped around his waist.

His left hand was gone.

Actually, most of his left arm was gone from just above the elbow, but his chest was broad with well-defined muscle that told me he was no stranger to working or fighting.

And I’ve seen my share of men in various states of dress and undress in many situations, including fighting, but there was something about this man’s nakedness that was beyond just his lack of clothing.

It was his eyes.

I can’t lay a finger on it, but there was something in his eyes.

He asked Samuel if he was harmed, then said he’d never killed a pirate before and was looking forward to doing so.

I told him to let me know when he sees a pirate he can kill, then I took off my yellow silk coat and gave it to Tommy. I didn’t want to get this scurvy, one-armed brigand’s blood on it.

I told the bilge rat to make peace with his god.

It’s not like I hadn’t ever seen a man run his eyes over me like he knew me personally. But there was something about the way he was looking at me like that…it made me titter like a bloody barmaid and that made me angry at the same time.

Then he lunged, I used a parry of six to defend my left side, and faded back to keep distance between us.

That he looked so surprised to see I knew at least a basic move made me pray to Ogun he’d make a proper challenge so I could show him that he wasn’t dealing with a novice..

He came at me again and I blocked that attack as well.

Then he nodded, and that grin grew even wider.

I was going to wipe that smug smile off of his face, if it was the last thing I did, but he didn’t make it easy as he was an excellent swordsman.

Almost as good as me.

(Just noting.)

I don’t know if it was my being distracted by his skill or his…prominence…but somehow he caught my sword and sent it flying across the deck.

This grinning jackal was besting me with one arm, and as I retreated to try and retrieve my sword, I fell backwards grabbed his belt (I swear I was grabbing at his belt), our feet tangled and we hit the deck, him landing on top of me, much to the delight of both crews, and my brother.

Next thing I knew, one of the sails was unfurling, falling to the deck, and it landed on the half-naked brigand and me, still pinned to the deck beneath him.

“Commander Barnes?” Sam said, joining in the with the laughing,

“This is my sister, Sarah Wilson. Captain of the Paul and Darlene.

Sarah? This is Commander James Buchanan Barnes, retired former member of the Royal Navy.”

Believe it or not, the fool was full out smiling when he said “Pleased to meet you, Captain…”

ADDENDUM/ERRATA: Apologies, I had to make a correction.

It is Bucky’s LEFT HAND and arm that are missing.

He does, indeed, have a complete and fully-functioning Right Hand And Arm

* * * * *

Sarah’s Ship Logs: Entry 1 / Entry 3 / Entry 4

Bucky’s Journal: Entry 1 / Entry 2 / Entry 3 / Entry 4

(ICYMI: Bucky’s Journal is written by @btwxsixesandsevens )

* * * * *

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

[mark6f]

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[purelyangenergy]

genshin ships- my thoughts

hey everyone, this is a little different to the usual! i figured i would share my thoughts and little headcanons about the various ships of genshin. i should also say, this won’t include every ship. maybe i’ll do a second part of this is well received! so, with that, let’s dive right into it.

chongyun x xingqiu (xingyun)

ah, these adorable boys. if you’ve read anything from my page before, you’ll know i adore this ship. since it’s canon that they get along really well, i would say that they act like an old married couple. bickering, and disagreeing on various matters (mostly chongyun’s dietary requirements), but still head over heels for each other, and would jump in front of a blade for each other without hesitation. my rating, 10/10, my genshin otp. would only be made better by xingqiu actually coming home.

chongyun falls asleep whilst xingqiu is reading, after a long unsuccessful ghost hunt overnight. so, xingqiu, smiles and moves the young exorcist’s head onto his lap, carrying on with his book quietly, one hand playing with chongyun’s fluffy blue hair.

the spirit hunts they go on usually end up turning more into dates when they realise that it’s another dead end. chongyun has chased xingqiu round with carrots numerous times, and it usually ends with a spicy popsicle.

so many evenings in the rain. it’s one of the times chongyun doesn’t have to worry as much about his condition, so it’s the almost closest he gets to his unrestrained self. they usually tend to sit near the adepti statues, just watching the rain fall, enjoying the other’s company.

they’re just generally sweet. they’ve always acted that way since they became friends, so people don’t usually realise they’re dating, unless they’re told. there are obviously a few exceptions to this statement.

kaeya x albedo (kaebedo)

ah yes, my favourite mondstadt boys that probably aren’t actually from monstadt (albedo was confirmed not to be after writing this, so i went back and added this note). they have very different personalities, but i feel as if it works for that exact reason. kaeya’s outgoing attitude, charisma and subtle manipulation clash with albedo’s calmer, softer personality, and it balances out for that reason precisely. kaeya wants to make it very obvious that they’re a thing, whilst albedo would rather not so he could do his work in peace without the cavalry captain clinging to his waist. overall, cute ship, and i don’t see any problems with it. 8/10

albedo definitely walks kaeya home after his nightly drinking spree at the taverns so he’s safe. not that kaeya can’t defend himself (even whilst ridiculously drunk), but albedo wants to make sure he’s okay. it’s become such a common occurrence that kaeya automatically starts walking to albedo’s place if he leaves earlier than the alchemist expected.

ice sculptures. dragonspine, a cryo user, and a talented artist. kaeya’s always happy to help if albedo wants to sculpt with ice, or to create anything with his vision if the alchemist can’t find a suitable muse. kaeya is ‘unaware’ that he’s usually the subject of albedo’s doodles when the man can’t concentrate.

diluc has once approached albedo and asked him how the hell he puts up with kaeya’s irritating self. albedo simply said he didn’t really know, and left.

albedo plaits (sorry, should say braids) kaeya’s hair whilst the taller is asleep. the result is either true elsa, or wavy haired kaeya. both of which are pretty.

kaeya always pays the check when they go out for food. every time.

kaeya x diluc (kaeluc)

this is certainly a controversial one. mostly through translation issues into english from chinese (from what i’ve gathered anyway), this ship is seen as uh…very morally dark. if you put aside the fact they regard each other as siblings (this applies in both the original and translations), these two have a very toxic relationship. kaeya’s been shown to try to manipulate him numerous times, and diluc is not exactly nice to him in return. their canon relationship doesn’t exactly give any favours for anyone trying to find reasons for this ship. admittedly, while i was very confused as to what their relationship was at, i thought they’d look decent together. however, with a few googles and delving into the lore more, i very obviously took this back. personally, i see these two as friends at most. they were once, and with a lot of therapy, they could probably be once again. i should add that i personally see these two as siblings anyway, so anything other than platonic affection between them is definitely not my cup of tea. if i was rating them as a strictly platonic, sibling-like relationship, it would be 6/10. but, as i’m rating these ships in a romantic sense, this gets 1/10. only reason for that is because of the great melt reactions from them being in the same party.

not comfortable writing for this one, for obvious reasons.

diluc x jean (jeanluc, i think?)

this is one of the more popular diluc ships i believe. they have a fair few interactions in canon, so the ship makes sense. and with that, they get along fairly well despite some very different opinions. so, it’s pretty reasonable to see these two as a pair. though, i do see them more as that pair of friends that everyone thinks are dating since they don’t hang out with many others. then again, romantically, it’s also a very sweet pair. they’re both very mature characters, so i think the best way to describe their relationship would be elegant, or almost regal. the kind you find in a fantasy book. overall, a solid 7/10, it would be more if i didn’t see it platonically!

klee wants them to get married. despite finding diluc a little weird (and grumpy), she sees how happy jean is with him, and she wants the dandelion knight to be as happy as she can be. the pair didn’t know how to react when the child randomly stated this in the middle of an important meeting. kaeya laughed and teased them after. jean was the only reason that diluc didn’t chase kaeya out of the room.

diluc is constantly checking up on jean, making sure she gets enough rest and eats something, under the disguise of reporting nearby hilichurls. it’s a little obvious that isn’t the reason, and every one of the knights knows it. but they don’t really mind, because it means that the acting grand master is taking care of herself a little better, and that’s the best thing they could ask for from diluc.

hilichurls fear them.

kaeya x childe (chaeya…?)

when i first joined the fandom, i absolutely despised our resident ginger. i’ve grown a little more tolerant now, probably since i didn’t understand him properly at that time. kaeya however, is one of my favourite characters, and has been from the start. my opinion on this ship has changed a lot since i first learnt of it. after playing around with it a little, i’ve discovered that i have a bit of a soft spot for it. two bois that are both traumatised as hell, both kind of a nightmare, finding that safe middle ground within each other. plus, their visions work well as a unit too, so it wouldn’t be hard to see them actually becoming friends if the traveler were to bring them both along. overall, a solid 8/10. would be higher if we got actual interactions.

they definitely spar a lot. people have reported their fighting so many times but, the authorities just brush it off since it’s normal. usually, these fights end with both of them frozen. so, they sit by the fire afterwards with a warm drink, teasing about any potential mistakes they saw.

this is one relationship that diluc certainly doesn’t approve of. which is why they tried to keep it as quiet as possible, since the knights wouldn’t be happy about it either. however, drunk kaeya happened, and suddenly the whole of mondstadt knows they’re a thing.

yet again, they’re both very highly traumatised. there’s a line of secrecy, so if they ever share any highly classified information, it never leaves the comfort of their embraces. doesn’t stop them from acting on it regardless, just not telling anyone why they know things that they shouldn’t.

zhongli x childe (chili)

now, this is one that i understand. whilst their canon relationship is…complicated, the interactions before the whole trying to destroy liyue thing are something. hence, why the zhongli broke joke is probably worse than it was before, since childe is basically his sugar daddy. these two are perfect candidates for an friends to enemies to lovers story, and i very much see why people love this so very much. however, i also see why people have reservations about this. there’s a rather large age gap, of literal thousands of years, despite zhongli’s youthful appearance. they would probably have that conversation pretty early on, and eventually reach an agreement to not treat it in that way. it’s a fun ship to play with too, since childe’s seen as a fairly playful character, in contrast to zhongli’s serious attitude and calm composure. it can be applied to so many aus, and it works so very well. overall, 7/10, a very nice ship.

zhongli is constantly explaining various random topics to childe. despite not really understanding what his partner is going on about, childe eagerly listens, occasionally chiming in from his experiences.

eventually, zhongli manages to teach childe how to use chopsticks. it takes a while, but with perseverance and slight bribery, he manages it. what were the bribes, you say? they had a contract, in which everytime childe managed to improve his precision, zhongli would give him a kiss.

zhongli is basically permanently using childe’s savings to buy stuff, and there have been a few times that the fatui have asked childe why exactly he keeps spending so much on pointless things. childe just sighs and says not to question it at that point.

they’ve sparred once and it was an obvious victory to zhongli. however, he felt a bit bad since childe was so determined to beat him. so he let himself get a little more hurt than usual. before throwing a meteor at his partner. the only rule was that childe wasn’t allowed to use his foul legacy form, as zhongli didn’t want him to hurt himself.

ningguang x beidou (beiguang)

two of liyue’s girl bosses in a relationship? yes please. similar to chili, this is very much an ‘opposites attract’ or enemies to lovers scenario. they canonically have a bit of a rivalry going on, and their personalities also rather different. aside from both being fairly competitive individuals, they don’t have much in common in terms of opinion. ningguang is stern, calm and goal oriented, whilst beidou (though equally as ambitious) is much more carefree and passionate. ningguang abides by the rules, beidou couldn’t care less for them. despite all of this, they do seem to get along underneath the guise of rivals. and of course, their appearances balance each other out in this way too. this also, the fan art for this one is incredible. i’ve seen so much gorgeous art for these two. their looks are also probably where part of the whole ‘kazuha’s mums’ thing comes from, aside from his motherly relationship with beidou. overall, it’s a ship which you can play with in so many different ways, and that’s what makes it so great. it works well every time i’ve tried to. a solid 7/10, i only wish more content in-game with them!

i wholeheartedly support the kazuha’s mums agenda. ningguang probably spoils him when she gets given the chance, much to beidou’s dissatisfaction, as her partner seems to prefer her ‘son’ to her. ningguang does usually buy stuff for beidou, but she doesn’t directly hand it to her. instead, she allows kazuha to discreetly place it in beidou’s quarters.

the confession happened over a particularly heated game of chess. ningguang was having yet another rematch with the captain, but couldn’t focus on the match because of beidou’s stare. when beidou teased her about it, ningguang quite calmly responded, saying that it was hard to focus with such a beauty staring at her. this subdued beidou into silence for a moment, before she leapt from her seat and crouched down in front of ningguang, clutching one of her hands between her own. that was how beidou somehow managed to turn a chess match into a date.

ningguang believes that beidou has kept their relationship secret. only a select few of her companions know. these are ganyu, keqing (who overheard the conversation with ganyu) and zhongli. meanwhile, beidou overshares absolutely everything with anyone who was willing to listen. the entirety of the crux knew, kazuha obviously knew, the traveler and paimon knew, even gorou and kokomi knew. it was a feat that the whole of tevyat didn’t know yet.

kazuha x kazuha’s friend(tomo??) (i have no idea what the name for this ship is)

i’ve heard of a few people calling him tomo, so i might just call him that for the sake of writing this. though we don’t really see much of this one for obvious reasons *cough* tomo’s dead *cough*, it’s obvious that these two had a very strong friendship. we don’t know much about how long, or why they became friends, but it’s clear to all that they meant a lot to each other. purely based upon kazuha’s reaction to tomo’s death being so strong, it wouldn’t be hard to believe that these two could have potentially been a little more than friends. whether it’s written pre-raiden, canon divergent, or a whole different au, chemistry between these two wouldn’t be too far from the truth. there isn’t much to say here, since we don’t know as much as i wish we did, but from the small glimpse i’ve gotten into people’s work on this, it seems wholesome. and tragic because we all know the canon. so, 6/10, would like to know more about this one!

👏friends👏to👏lovers👏

tomo has a cat. we all know this. said cat is more or less their child, as they take it everywhere they go, and only the most trusted folk are allowed to hold the little feline. tomo was highly reluctant to let gorou pet the cat since he’s partially enemies by nature with said creature.

kazuha being kazuha, writes love poems and signs them with a maple leaf. when tomo wakes up to find these on his window sill, they bring a smile to his face. they always made a bad day good, and a good day better.

snuggles. they camp outside a lot, and during the colder months, they snuggle together for warmth. since tomo’s a fair bit taller than kazuha, the anemo user always feels safe in his arms, as they stare up at the starry sky, waiting for sleep to consume them.

scaramouche x kazuha (kazuscara)

this is one of the ships i discovered shortly after arriving in inazuma. from what i’m aware, these two have never actually been specified to have even met in canon, so my assumption is they’re literal strangers. i know that some believe that scaramouche was the master kazuha had before he turned into a wanderer (and outlaw), but the timelines don’t match up too well for that to actually be the case. regardless, i believe this dynamic would be one of those two friends that you have no clue on how they are still, or even became friends. these two young men are so incredibly different, the only thing that they really share is a deep dislike for the raider shogun, although for very different reasons. so i suppose you could say they’re a case of opposites attracting and balancing out their many personal flaws. it’s a fun ship to play with, and i revel in the idea that scaramouche has a soft spot for a certain soft-spoken samurai. 7/10, i quite enjoy it, though it would be higher if we actually got any sort of canon interaction. of course, if there has been, and i’m wrong, please tell me.

they met on a battlefield, and may have tried to kill each other initially. then kazuha felt bad and sent him a cake as an apology. and so, a cycle of exchanging gifts and letters later, they unconsciously fell for each other.

dates…in public? during the daytime? being an outlaw and a harbinger, going out into public to spend time together would not only result in death to random guards, but a lot more publicity then scaramouche would appreciate. if they do leave a private space, hoods and discreet clothing is a must.

there have been times that they’ve just sat down and ranted about all of their raiden shogun related trauma. tea has literally been spilled in shock a few times.

no one knows. with the exception of gorou, who burst into kazuha’s accommodation soon after kazuha reunited with him, and ended up walking in on the pair cuddling. the doggy general was and still is being bribed with sweets to keep quiet about this whole thing. gorou wouldn’t have told a soul anyways, but appreciates the payment of confectionery every two months.

kazuha x gorou (kazugorou??)

ah yes, most people’s favourite inazuman good bois. one literally being part dog, and the other just being really nice. these two have a solid, canonical friendship and balance each other out so well. canon divergence is easy to write, the friends to lovers consumers are happy, and they’re just generally cute? they just work, i don’t know how else to put it. they have a slightly teasing, mostly platonic and a pinch of romance within their relationship within my head canons anyway. as if, they’re so close that people believe they’re together, even if they actually aren’t. 8/10, no potential toxicity needs to be removed, and it’s very wholesome in general (pun not intended).

cuddles. so, so many cuddles. despite still being sensitive about anyone touching his canine extremities, gorou is quite a touchy person. when they sleep over at the other’s place, they’ll fall asleep in each other’s arms. occasionally, kazuha pets his partner’s ears whilst he sleeps, helping with the occasional night terrors from being involved in wars. (seeing the people who trusted you die around you has to be pretty traumatic, and i believe gorou mentions feeling guilty in his hangout.)

when they aren’t talking strategy, kokomi has been known to tease her general about his relationship. she’s happy that he’s found something to look after outside of work. beidou has attempted to kidnap gorou numerous times, by setting sail with him still on board. fortunately, kazuha notices before they’re too far from land and uses his vision to make sure that gorou doesn’t have to swim all the way back to sure.

mountain climbing and picnic dates. when both men have the time, they’ll go on a long walk, and sleep under the stars. gorou finds that kazuha’s most beautiful words come out when they’re doing so. plus! it’s still kind of training, just in case one day, they have to fight on a cliff side.

itto x gorou (…i don’t have a clue. ittorou? ittogorou?)

this is obviously a fairly new ship in general. however, my goodness. it’s so good? whilst there isn’t as much fanon for this quite yet (time will prove me wrong eventually), the canon is intriguing. as i’m sure most of us know, gorou is (unknowingly) using the alias ms hina to answer letters for the advice column of yae miko’s magazine. many people believe that itto might have a crush on ms hina, and mentions that when he’s near gorou, he gets a warm feeling, and that he feels like he could tell him anything. maybe i’m paraphrasing slightly, but that’s the rough outline. so. there’s been a huge eruption of this ship in fanfics relating to the ms hina situation lately, and from what i’ve read (which is quite a bit of it), they’re so good? these two have a very playful dynamic and it’s very easy to see how they could potentially end up romantically involved. their skill sets within the game are basically made to work together, further adding reason for this ship. whilst i did actually quite like the sound of this one before i found out about the ms hina thing, that did solidify it in my mind. only complaint? can people…pLEASE write more fan fiction that isn’t smut? a fair portion of their tag on ao3 is rated e, and i really would rather not read it. 9/10, give me more content, talented humans of the fandom.

weirdly enough, despite adoring this ship, i don’t know what to write for it? so i’ll summarise. fluffy, itto being a himbo, getting caught in a storm after being idiots. oh, and ridiculously flirtatious letters to ms hina that yae miko has to censor so people don’t figure out that the one may perhaps know what the columnist looks like. and that they’re in a relationship.

and that’s all for now! i might do more (if you have any suggestions of ships to rate, that would be great), but as of this moment, my brain has given up on me. i hope you all had very happy holidays (if you celebrate, of course) and have a very happy new year. that’s all from me, signing off!

-☁️

[snowbellewells]

Self Promo Sunday: “Under the Weather”

I guess I should apologize for being self-indulgent, because many of you may have read this little two shot before. It has been a while since I’ve gone back and looked at it though, and this morning I felt like looking it up again. It was one of my first CS/OuaT fics to gain some definite love and popularity back in the hiatus between 3a and 3b. Maybe some of my newer readers who missed it will enjoy, and maybe someone else will have fun looking back (I hope).  Plus, it now has perfect, amazing, lovely cover art, courtesy of the wonderful @searchingwardrobes !!! 

Summary: Just a little post-Neverland fic, taking place sometime after they've returned to Storybrooke with Henry. Pan's gone, and there is no second curse. It was originally inspired (some years ago) by cold January weather and my wondering how Hook would manage to keep warm and not get sick on a freezing cold old ship. Anyway, pretty sweet and fluffy, I'll admit it, but I still hope you enjoy - even all these years later and after how much closer our pirate and princess became...

"Under the Weather"

(posting both parts here for ease of reading)

By: @snowbellewells

Also available on ff.net or AO3

If anyone had asked her, Emma Swan couldn't have explained why she felt the sudden prickling of concern in the back of her mind, nor the unexpected, pressing need to make sure he was alright. Shaking her head at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea, she had fought against her impulses all day. She had busied herself with paperwork and answered calls about power outages and other inconveniences that came with the cold, wintry Maine weather, but there weren't enough jobs by early afternoon to keep her mind from wandering back to him and her eyes from every so often floating up to check the clock.

David knew something was bothering her; Emma could feel her father's eyes studying her for clues to her agitation. However, he was also wise enough to bite his tongue and not ask questions. She wanted to tell him to go on home to Snow, and she would finish up. Yet she didn't, knowing that would only make him more curious. Resolutely, stubbornly, she kept finding any bit of busy work she could lay her hands on to stop the disconcerting waves of concern for him that were now rolling through her at regular intervals.

'He's a 300-year-old pirate captain, for Heaven's sake!' her mind berated her seeming irrationality. 'He can certainly take care of himself in a sleepy little town. What in the world could he need you for? You haven't had word of any kind of trouble…' Still, while all of these arguments made perfect, reasonable sense, Emma found they didn't soothe her unease in the slightest.

When the clock finally struck five, David stood casually, announcing that since they weren't busy he was going to head home and help Snow with supper, if Emma didn't need anything. Emma shook her head 'no' with a small smile, thanking him and saying she would see him shortly.

"You're sure I can't do anything else to help before I leave?" her father asked sincerely, again looking at her so closely that Emma knew he was trying to divine her thoughts.

"Positive," she reiterated with a definite nod, giving him a playful smirk and waving him out the door. "I'll call if anything comes up, but I should be right behind you in an hour or so."

Once her father had left her to her own devices, Emma tossed the case files she had been pretending to read across the surface of her desk and gave up all pretense of working. Standing up and beginning to pace, she at last admitted to herself that the worry swirling inside her for Hook was not going away – in fact, it was only growing stronger. Taking one last glance around the interior of the station, she realized that she wasn't going to get anything else done, and she wouldn't have any peace until she put her awful hunch to rest. Hook was going to tease her mercilessly about her concern for him, but apparently she was going to have to live with that. The fact that he tended to haunt her steps and turn up anywhere she might be, made it especially disconcerting that she hadn't seen or heard from him in three days. At least, she was telling herself that was all it was.

She grabbed her jacket, hit the lights, locked up, and was headed for her car before she could fight with herself any longer. Parking the bug at the docks, Emma stepped out, straightened her clothes, and steeled her nerves before striding purposefully to the spot at the far end where the Jolly Roger had been anchored since their return from Neverland. Normally, the Captain was so alert and aware that the moment he heard anyone nearing his ship he would have already been standing on deck looking down in challenge, but Emma didn't see any sign of him.

Walking up the gangplank, she let her boots stomp and echo loudly; giving him fair warning that she was coming aboard and expecting him to appear any minute with an "Oi! Who goes there?" and brandished sword, but she was greeted with nothing but silence. Finding her footing on the familiar wooden deck, Emma actually experienced a strange sense of welcome reunion. Since they weren't hiding from Pan and Henry was safe, it was actually nice to be on the sturdy ship once more. She could have really grown to like the adventure and thrill of sailing, if the situation had been different and her son hadn't been in danger. She didn't linger in her nostalgic thoughts for long though. Trailing a gloved hand fondly along the ship's side, she moved toward the open door of the stairway which led below decks. Poking her head in, she tried calling out, "Hook?! Are you here?"

Again she got no response, so tamping down the feeling of trespass, she entered the darkness of the stairwell and stepped lower, growing more concerned all the time. 'Where had the insufferable idiot gotten to? And even more disturbing, why did she care?'

Remembering the lower level of the ship from their time in Neverland, she found her way down the hallway with a guiding hand along the wall, even though evening dusk was closing in and none of the hanging lanterns were lit. She passed the crew quarters that the rest of them had stayed in and didn't stop until she reached the room at the furthest end of the ship – the Captain's quarters. Pausing for a second, she drew in a quick, tight breath and then rapped her knuckles on the door. "If you're in there, Pirate, you'd better answer me," she warned, before adding with wry humor, "and I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in."

Whatever she had been expecting, the sight that met Emma's eyes when she entered Hook's chamber was not it. He was there, but the laughter that had been about to erupt at bursting in and catching him by surprise died in her throat when she got her first good look at him.

He was curled up in his bunk, even though it was barely 5:30, and he looked dead to the world, completely unaware of her presence despite all her yelling and stomping around. Even from across the room, she could see those unfairly long, gorgeous eyelashes flutter fitfully as he hovered not-quite-asleep, not-quite-awake, and he rolled from his side to his back with a pitiful, low groan.

"Hook?" she questioned worriedly, her voice small as she walked toward him, already stretching out a hand hesitantly. Once she got close enough to touch him, she nearly jerked back on contact; his skin was burning with fever under her fingertips. Emma gasped in surprise and leaned in closer, now truly concerned that he wasn't responding to her. She swiped her hand up his sculpted cheekbone to brush under the fringe of his dark hair and feel his forehead, equally hot and clammy from dried sweat.

It might have been the cool feeling of her hand on his flushed skin, but those stunning blue eyes, looking much more bleary and unfocused than usual, finally forced their way open to gaze at her in confusion. "Swan?" he mumbled, his voice sounding ragged and raw, probably from coughing, she realized sympathetically, "What are you…? Am I dreaming?"

She shook her head, smoothing his damp hair back and trying to calm her heart, which was now fluttering erratically at seeing him so vulnerable. "No, I'm here, Hook….I…" she hesitated, feeling that maybe she was giving too much away, "I just had a feeling…that something was wrong…that you needed help."

Hook started to smirk at her and, she was sure, offer some sort of smug comment on her admission, but he was shaken by violent tremors just then, shivering uncontrollably and a gruff sort of moan escaped against his will instead.

Her heart went out to him. Emma had honestly never pictured the man getting ill; he had survived a violent amputation, the Dark One's hand squeezing his heart, the rough, dangerous adventures of a pirate, and centuries of life in more than one realm. She would almost want to tease him for being felled by something as simple as the flu – if she weren't so concerned at the condition she found him in. She couldn't help wondering how long he had been lying there like that. Had he taken too much of a chill before she even arrived? What would have happened if she hadn't felt so compelled to come looking for him?

Reaching her other hand out in an effort to take his good one, Emma heard Hook's breath wheeze disturbingly as his mouth fell open, obviously trying to get a deeper breath through what must be badly congested lungs. "We'll be lucky if you haven't holed up in this drafty old boat and let your flu turn into bronchitis, Buddy," she chided him.

He tried to chuckle good naturedly, she could tell, but it became a wracking fit of coughs that made him clutch at his ribs and squeeze her hand in his, as if for reassurance that she was still there. "Hang in there," she whispered, squeezing back. "You're going to be okay." He barely nodded, but then his eyes fluttered closed and he didn't respond to her anymore. His loud, openmouthed, stuffy breathing let her know not to be alarmed, but Emma took the chance to look away from him and glance around the cabin.

There was a fireplace, but he had obviously not even felt strong enough to get up and tend it, as it had sunk to embers and was about to go out. She felt her own teeth nearly chattering it was so chilly in the room. He should probably be taken to someone's house – or to the hospital – but she didn't think she could move him alone, or that he was going to be able to stand and help her much.

Forcing herself to clear her head and draw in a deep, steadying breath, Emma tried to focus on one problem at a time. She pulled her hand from his clasp, and then patted his arm gently as if to reassure him she would only be a minute, though he made no movement and seemed out of it again. Stepping to the other side of the room, Emma took the poker from the mantle and stoked the fire until the embers flickered to a bit more life, then added a couple new logs. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure he wasn't looking, and then began to rummage carefully through the heavy old trunk she spotted in the corner until she found a few more blankets than the single one that Hook was using – which must have already been on the bed. He was obviously sweating and feverish, but she knew that he was still chilled and needed to stay covered.

Coming back to his bedside, she sat tentatively on the edge of his bunk, just next to his hips and gently spread both blankets over his inert form, tucking them in with a level of care and concern that bewildered, frightened, and warmed her all at once. Hook didn't even open his eyes, but let out a breathy sigh and murmured in a voice even lower and rougher than usual, "Emma…you came…"

Her name on his lips with such pure and simple affection stilled her motions and she froze for a moment, hands hovering over him as if she had forgotten how to move. Blinking, Emma came back out of her trance and stood again, looking around to see that the fire was crackling and the room was already less cold. With a nod of approval to herself, she quickly escaped above deck for a moment.

She knew her first call should be her parents, to let them know she wouldn't be coming for supper after all. However, she dreaded explaining to her suspicious, overprotective father why she had felt the need to check on Captain Hook and now didn't want to leave him sick and alone. So she put it off by calling Ruby first, knowing the other woman was about to get off work at the diner and asking her to pick up some orange juice, bottled water, cough syrup, and Kleenexes, and bring them to the Jolly, promising she would explain when Ruby arrived. Then, once she couldn't put it off any longer, Emma was relieved to get Snow on her parents' phone. Her mother actually seemed concerned about the Captain as well and wanted to help, but Emma managed to dissuade her – for reasons she didn't even want to study too carefully. She informed her mother she would be back in the morning, once she made sure Hook had some fluids in him and his fever had broken, and they ended the call.

She paced on the deck until she saw Ruby striding down the dock – sashaying was more like it. The female wolf had a sort of wild grace even in her human form that Emma wasn't ashamed to admit she envied. Emma gave Snow's best friend a wave, and Ruby grinned widely, holding up the bag of requested items. Emma thanked her, explained what was going on, paid Ruby, and tried not to dwell on how anxious she was to get back to Hook and make sure he wasn't any worse.

"You've got it bad and don't even know yet," Ruby murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously at Emma.

Emma felt her hackles rise as she shot back defensively, "What are you talking about?"

Ruby just raised an eyebrow at Emma, giving her a look that said she might be fooling herself, but it was right there for anyone else to see. "You can't lie to someone with a canine sense of smell," Ruby smirked teasingly. "The pheromones are literally rolling off of you in waves. Not that I blame you…" she paused, licking her lips almost predatorily, "…that swagger, those eyes, and all that leather…"

Emma snorted indelicately, rolling her eyes at the waitress' antics and turning Ruby to give her a push towards the gangplank. "You're crazy!" she added, laughing even as her pulse raced with the truth and she hoped the other woman couldn't sense that too.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Sheriff," Ruby called back as she sidled off with a wave. "I'll let you go…for now. But I want details later." She turned once to wink at Emma, then she was gone, her chuckling at Emma's expense fading behind her.

Once Ruby had left, Emma redirected her steps below; trying to wipe her mind clean of the werewolf's teasing and her heart's whispering that what Ruby said was true. She stepped back into Hook's cabin, eyes immediately drawn to him across the room as she rooted through the bag to pull out the medicine and a bottle of water. She moved closer, only to see that he was shaking, teeth chattering, limbs shuddering enough that the blankets were sliding off him. His eyes were no longer closed, and they rolled up to meet hers weakly as he coughed harshly, sounding as though it raked his chest raw. "No need to gawk at me, Emma love, it's embarrassing enough having you here when I'm like this." He didn't get any more out though as the effort of speaking set off another coughing fit. Trembling, he suddenly wouldn't look her in the eyes.

She took pity on his pride and leaned in to help him sit, offering the plastic cup of cough syrup.

Hook wrinkled his nose, looking at it doubtfully for a moment, then glanced to her, "What is this, Lass?"

"Medicine, you stubborn pirate," she laughed, shaking her head at his hesitation and holding it out to him again. "Come on, I'm trying to help. We need to get some liquids in you."

He held out his hand to take the cup from her, but his fingers trembled so badly that Emma could see he was going to spill it all if he did. With a sigh, she brought it to his lips instead, tilting it so he could swallow, and gasped slightly, feeling a tingling sensation run through her hand as her knuckle brushed his chin. Their eyes locked together at the shock of the contact and neither moved until he shivered violently again, the shakes actually rattling his teeth and jerking them from the strange sort of reverie they had entered.

"Go on, Beautiful," he grit out, lying back as comfortably as he could manage and averting his eyes, "can't have you getting sick too. I'll survive. It will not be the first time in 300 years that I've been ill."

Something about the way he said those words and the look in his eyes stopped Emma cold. Her insides squeezed painfully at the thought of him suffering like this before with no one to rely on or even care if he recovered or not. That realization alone made her more determined than ever to take care of him, despite him being too proud to ask for help or want to trouble her. She shook her head, leaning with him as he tried to back away from her. "Nope, sorry, Hook. You're stuck with me." She held out the water bottle next. "Here, drink up."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried to growl at her, but the menacing effect was ruined by his raw throat and how pathetic it ended up sounding. "I'm not an infant, Swan." He grumbled a bit more, but drank about half the bottle with her holding it for him, before he stopped with a short sigh of frustration. "Go on. You must have better things to do, and I don't wish to impose."

"Really?" she shot back at him, arching a brow at his attitude, but not put off by it for a second. It was scary how alike they were; she could tell he detested looking vulnerable in front of her, or anyone. If she was honest with herself, she probably acted the same way anytime she was sick. "Stop being such a baby, Hook," she added, kicking her boots off and hanging her coat over his desk chair, "and slide over."

She nearly laughed out loud at his startled expression, and his confused, "Swan? What are you on about?"

"You're sick. You're cold. You need someone to look after you. I'm the only one here, so I'm not leaving. However, I'm tired, and it's chilly, so scoot over."

For a second, she thought he was going to fight her, and she wasn't sure if he was embarrassed, worried she would get sick, or if he truly was – despite all his innuendo – the gentleman he had always claimed to be. A round of chills and coughing gripped him again though, and when his head dropped to the pillow once more in defeat, she knew she had won. "Scoot," she ordered again, lifting the covers to crawl in next to him once he did.

So close to him, Emma realized how clammy and chilled Hook truly was. He had felt like he was burning up earlier, but the shivers would be hard to miss, curled up next to him as she was. To her amusement, as reluctant as he had seemed moments before, Hook was now pulling her closer. "You're so warm, Emma," he murmured, his arm coming to rest across her middle and shooting heat through her veins.

"You're a little bit out of your head right now, aren't you?" she teased him, still genuinely concerned, but also touched at the fact that he had allowed her comfort, feeling needed and wanted right where she was. Without thinking, or stopping to second guess what her hand did instinctively, she began to lightly stroke her fingers through his coarse, black hair, sifting it soothingly and watching as his breathing smoothed out and his forehead came to rest in the crook of her neck. It gave her an adorable little thrill in her stomach at the sight of him looking so young and unguarded, as if his burdens had lifted away.

"Emma," he murmured out under his breath, and neither the scratchiness nor the softness could mask the gentle affection in his voice.

Her heart stuttered, wondering what he was thinking as he whispered her name in his sleep. For a second, she wanted to panic and bolt, but then she realized how lovely the moment actually was. She could honestly lie right there with him and never want to move away. Occasionally, a small little tremor still ran through him, but they seemed to finally be lessening. She smirked wryly to herself, knowing that if she was smart, she would be out of his bed by morning, before he woke up feeling better and ready to plague her mercilessly for all of this. She lightly traced her hand in circles on his back, hoping he was warm enough and that she had gotten enough medicine down his throat.

Shaking her head, Emma chuckled at the way he had curled himself around her protectively, smiling in his sleep unawares. She felt her own eyelids growing heavy, and the thoughts that had troubled and distracted her all day simply floated out of her mind. She was almost grateful she had the excuse to be so close to him and hold him; she would never have done it otherwise. Defining this could wait; she was going to enjoy the moment while it lasted.

Tenderly, she tilted her head just a bit to place a light little kiss to his forehead, amazed at how beautifully at peace he looked in sleep, then cuddled deeper into their embrace. Deciding just this once not to be in control, but simply to feel, she allowed her eyes to close and followed her pirate's lead, drifting off to sleep at his side.

(I was originally so flattered that "Under the Weather" received so many nice reviews, that though I really only had that one-shot in mind, the requests for the next morning caused me to re-think and come up with this. After all, good reviews are nearly as irresistible as Killian Jones' smile. It's (again) pretty sweet and fluffy...)

Epilogue: The Next Morning

Rays of warm, golden sunlight filtered into his cabin, tickling Killian Jones' face and waking him groggily from sleep. He yawned, intending to roll over and go back to sleep, when he froze, his movement arrested in shocked surprise at discovering that he was not alone in his bunk. He stiffened, years of being on guard and ready for attack taking over unconsciously as he turned his head tentatively to the side. Despite the lingering stuffiness and congestion in his head and the weak sensation in his limbs, he was pirate enough to have already reached for the cutlass he had stowed at his other side before lying down the night before, tucked hidden between the edge of the bunk and the wall. However, the vision that greeted his eyes stilled his actions and stole his very breath.

Emma Swan was curled up next to him, actually cuddled into his side, her long, blonde tresses arrayed across the pillow with the sunlight glancing off them in a glowing halo. She let out a sweet little sigh and nuzzled her face into his shoulder, bringing her hand to rest unknowingly on his chest. There was a look of such peace on her face, that he had never seen her wear in waking hours, and it completely enchanted him.

Killian knew without a doubt that if he woke her, she would run – shut him out again, pick up her cares once more, and reinforce her walls. It pained him, but he knew it to be true, as surely as he breathed. He wanted desperately, more than he had any right to hope, for her to stay. Emma had come to him, cared for him, when he was ill and alone, and it had kindled a longing in him that she would trust him enough to stay always. From the moment he had met her, with her fiery eyes and stony determination, a modern woman out of her element in the Enchanted Forest, he had been drawn to her as strongly as had been pulling away from him. She didn't want to be abandoned as she had been before, so she had made sure to leave him first. He had been following her ever since. Her turning up last night changed the game. Suddenly, he was not the only one who cared.

Emma's brow furrowed in her sleep, as if something in her dreams troubled her, and hoping to soothe her, Killian reached over to brush a finger across her cheek, feather light, then smoothed the crinkled skin between her eyes. He was hoping to ease her back into quiet slumber, not wanting her to wake, or for this dream to end. It was as if he had wakened into a serene moment of refuge from the world that had been nothing but a bitter storm of hate and cruelty for as long as he could remember – until she entered it.

Her lovely face smoothed again, and she mumbled sleepily, a tiny smile quirking one corner of her perfect, tempting mouth. She practically hummed the word that he leaned in to hear. "Killian…" she whispered, her tone sounding so warm and happy caressing his given name that he could not help but smile and long for the day when she might speak it to him with that much affection while awake.

It didn't matter that his throat was still raw and he would kill for a drink. He tried to stifle the need to cough, for fear it would jostle the golden-haired angel who had now rolled over to face him and twined her legs with his as surely as she had twined her grasp around his heart. He hardly dared to breathe, much less move, but he was still staggered by how much better he felt just being able to clumsily sift his calloused fingers through the strands of her silky mane.

Sunlight might have been pouring in to wake them, but he was going to ignore it for the chance to have this incredible, broken, infuriating woman in his arms as long as her possibly could. "I love you, Emma lass," he whispered hoarsely under his breath, placing a kiss to her temple. Then he closed his eyes, not sure if he could actually manage sleep with her so near, but needing to savor this moment. So gently it was almost imperceptible, he cradled her even closer to the warmth of his body, glad he had woken to find her still there.

Someday, he did desire to wake her with languid kisses trailing down her neck and along her collarbone, whispering endearments before either keeping her in his bed all day to love her as she deserved or venturing out to fetch her breakfast and talk to her and she readied for a new morn. Yet he knew that day had not yet come. He would not rush her. Instead, he would celebrate the step she had taken in allowing him to know of her concern for his well-being. He would hold her close enough to memorize and treasure the feeling – in all probability, she would fight its happening again anytime soon – and be glad she had given him reason to hope. Killian touched one flaxen strand of her hair, twirled it around his finger for a moment, and then tucked it behind her ear. "I can wait as long as you need, Emma," he whispering fervently. "I have all the time in the world."

Tagging a few who might be interested (or were before): @jennjenn615  @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @therooksshiningknight @spartanguard @optomisticgirl @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @kday426 @stahlop @xhookswenchx @elizabeethan @donteattheappleshook @wefoundloveunderthelight @linda8084 @lfh1226-linda @thislassishooked @resident-of-storybrooke @let-it-raines @teamhook @revanmeetra87 @tomeandflickcorner @scientificapricot @drowned-dreamer @blowmiakisscolin @ineffablecolors @artistic-writer @hollyethecurious @killian-whump @darkcolinodonorgasm @sailtoafarawayland @xsajx @thisonesatellite @profdanglaisstuff​ @shireness-says​

[cyborg-franky]

Can I have something fluffy with gn reader x Law please? <3

I WENT ABIT MAD ON THIS. Law is like my best boy. I even have Law tats haha. so writing him after so long I was very nervous. I hope you like.

Law x GN reader SFW Fluff/Angst Words: 1,558 Not proof read oops

You had always wanted to go to sea, being a pirate wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking when it came to visions of the wide-open sea, beautiful sunsets and amazing adventures. But adventures you got regardless of the unforeseen career option. Your only real complaint apart from the dangers of the job was the fact that you felt lonely, being a Straw Hat pirate was great, you loved your crew but there was no one you felt a deep connection with, not the type you’d always longed for, someone to hold your hand, share a bed with.

That was until you’d met the surgeon of death, you didn’t think someone as harsh as him would have been your type. The way he always seemed pissed off and irritated at even being around your crew, the fact he just needed your captains help and had formed a hasty alliance that every moment of every day you thought he deeply regretted the choice, that much was always clear on his face.

You were shocked he didn’t have wrinkles with how much his brows were permanently furrowed, even when the man ate at dinner with you all, the way his stern expression never left his face. Whenever you’d glance at him you always thought he would be so much more handsome if he smiled.

Just like everyone that you’d come across during this new life of yours, Law was no exception, scars of a tragic past remained on his soul. You couldn’t blame him for that and at least he wasn’t ever nasty or ill willed towards anyone. He seemed to even get along with some of the crew. The less intense members.

Thinking back to the first night you really made progress with the heart pirate you recalled how it changed the way you thought about him. It had been late into the evening, everyone settling down to their own devices.

You knocked on Chopper’s office door, opening it before you got an answer, often the small medic had issues rushing from his chair and to the door to open it so you always just stepped in. “Chopper can you look at this for me?” you asked closing the door.

“The Doctor went to bed an hour ago.”

You gripped the doorknob, that deep voice certainly didn’t belong to the sweet fluffy reindeer, you took a breath, why didn’t you just wait for a response like a nice normal and polite person? You had never been in a room alone with Law until now. Taking a breath and telling yourself that your hand wasn’t going to get any better by just going to bed.

“Oh, sorry” cradling your sore hand close to your chest your eyes darted around everywhere you could to avoid looking at him.

He was sat at the doctor’s desk, a medical textbook open, a pot of coffee at his side. His normal irritated expression however wasn’t present, his brows relaxed, his whole posture in fact looked lazy, his long legs stretched under the table, he looked comfortable in the chair, like he was on his own ship.

“I can look at it.”

“Huh?”

He turned to face you, cocking his head to the side to give you his full attention, his gaze rested on your chest, or rather the aching hand you clutched there, feeling your own beating heart as he nodded for you to come forward.

“Are you sure?” You looked at the comfy stool next to his desk, inching towards it.

Your hesitation made him laugh, actually laugh, it was such a nice sound you decided, deep but smooth, you’d never heard him make any show of amusement, he hadn’t even cracked a smile in all the time you had known him. But here he was, the very person who had the reputation of being a twisted individual, a current warlord for gods sake, the surgeon of DEATH in fact, smirking at you as you nervously sat down where he’d gestured.

“I am still a doctor you know” another chuckle as he straightened up in his seat.

“I know I don’t look like one, but my father was a doctor, I learned a great deal from him, it’s not just my devil fruit that affords me my gifts” Law explained and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to go on.

“Sorry, I know you shouldn’t believer every rumor that floats out at sea, if I believed everything the papers or drunks in bars said I’d think my captain was the devil but I’ve seen that man with chopsticks up his nose, I’ve seen him sleeping like a baby, he’s no devil” You knew your nerves had turned into rambling, feeling your palms sweat at being so close with the other captain but his soft chuckle, under his breath, trying to be discreet. But you’d heard it, such a nice sound you mused feeling a little more at ease around him now.

“So?”

“Well, my hand hurts, ever since I climbed down from the crows nest about three hours ago, I think I got it tangled in the ropes as I slipped a little” You explained. Law nodded his head before he held his tattooed hands out.

You held your hand out for him, he gently took it in both of his, long nimble fingers moved over your digits, feeling different parts, he was surprisingly gentle, his hands warm and welcoming. You couldn’t help but stare as he expertly examined your aching hand. You felt your gaze drift from his hands, up his arms and towards his face. His expression was like nothing you’d ever seen on the warlord. Soft. The way his tired eyes looked over your hand, he seemed happy to help, in his true element.

If not for whatever plagued him in his past, would he have been happy just being a village doctor? He seemed at peace right now. You allowed yourself to smile, your heart beating faster for an entirely different reason then when you’d set foot into the doctor’s office.

His grey eyes met yours when he pressed a certain painful part of your hand and you yelped. He clicked his tongue pressed a little harder, flexing your hand in his grasp. You bit your lip and focused on where your hands met.

“Sprain”

“H-huh?”

“You sprained your hand” He pulled his hands away and you hated how your heart dropped at the loss of contact.

“Oh..”

Law pushed his chair out and stood up, walking around the doctor’s office and looking for things, opening a few draws. You did your best to stifle any laughter from watching the very tall man try navigating his way around storage designed for a very small reindeer. It was comical.

“Avoid using it wherever you can for starters” he explained pulling out a small box and returning to the desk. “Ice will help it; you should have come to me sooner about it but” yeah, he was a doctor alright you mused as he took your hand once more. “Ice for twenty minutes every two to three hours will help with the swelling, I’m going to bandage it up right now, a compression will help support your hand while it heals, I suggest elevating it as much as possible.”

You nodded along while watching him work on your hand, he did so much damage to people, you’d seen some of the things he was capable of, he was terrifyingly powerful. But the way he held your hand still, being firm but gentle was a side you didn’t think someone who’d swapped out people’s body parts and rearranged souls for what seemed like fun could ever be capable of.

“Come to me tomorrow morning and I can re-do it if needs be” you wished he’d hold your hand longer, but he moved to get something else, a little cup which held two pills.

“For the pain”

“Thank you” You watched him pour you a glass of water and handed it you, aiming for your good hand. You gulped the medication he’d given you and drinking the water to chase it down you let out a sigh.

Law simply nodded in response to your gratitude, saying nothing more as he got comfortable in his seat once more, taking a swig of his black coffee, no wounder the man never slept, you stood from your seat and excused yourself with a small ‘goodnight’ closing the door.

Walking along the deck, just the sound of waves lapping against the ship to keep you company. You turned the corner and pressed yourself against the wall, your newly bandaged hand laid over your heart as you stared out to sea, watching the moon shimmer across the dark surface of water. You felt your lip tremble.

The feeling you’d wanted all your life, the tight feeling in your chest, the fluttering of butterflies, all-encompassing feeling and desire to be by someone’s side. You were in love. You were in love with Trafalgar Law of all people, and you knew this wouldn’t end well for you.

You bit your lip, slowly sinking to your knees on the wooden deck of the ship. You could feel tears prick your eyes. This was going to hurt, worse then never knowing what it was like to long for someone.

[caker-baker]

The Fall Guy

Ah, hell. Maybe the hero didn’t think this through. This was more of a myth than anything, if myth was the right word.

Or maybe it was just a pizza place and the hero was overthinking things.

Regardless, it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Uh, hi.” The hero greeted the lanky cashier. “Can I get the hero’s special? I’m willing to pay extra.”

The cashier regarded this with a blink, then another, then finally, to finish off his grand display of emotion, he sighed.

“With or without the ‘save the day’ toppings?”

The hero scrambled to remember what to say. “With, please.”

Now with mild interest, the cashier leaned over. “Down that way, second door on your left.”

“Thank you.” The hero said with narrowed eyes.

Holy hell, that whole interaction felt like a strange dream that was a little too realistic. And that cashier was a bit too intrigued.

Jesus, their heart was beating in their ears at this point.

It could all be a lie, all of it, this could all be an intricate and carefully crafted lie told by a villain, made to lure in unsuspecting heroes to their deaths.

Too late now, their hand was already turning the handle.

Where the hero was expecting some small room that fit logistically with the rest of the joint, there were stairs.

No, they didn’t like this at all. But what was the choice, go down there, or go back outside?

Downstairs it was.

Surprisingly, it got lighter, and larger, a hard contrast to the ominous setting. And with the light came music. Something very upbeat, lots of drums and guitars, and loud.

With their final step, the hero was able to see the cause of the music, two large speakers attached to a phone.

They also got to see the apparent villain, sitting and humming along to the beat.

“Hello?”

The villain, who’s head snapped up, reached to turn down the music before turning around.

If the hero was unsure before, they definitely were unsure now. They couldn’t help being nervous as an oil stained face looked them up and down.

“I know you.” The villain finally said.

“You do?”

The villain hummed in thought. “You were the one involved in the bridge incident two weeks ago, yeah?”

A strange bout of pain overcame the hero.

“Yeah, that was me.”

“Well, no need to look all guilty about it.” The villain stood from their stool, still shielding whatever caused the oil on their face. “Everyone screws up. Is that why you want to leave?”

“No! I’m not running away from that, I’m running away from-”

“You’re getting away from the heroing part. I get it.” The villain reached behind them, grabbing measuring tape. “Mind if I get your measurements?”

“What for?”

“The decoy. Did whoever told you about this not tell you about how it works?” The villain spoke while they untangled the tape.

“No. I didn’t even know if this was real. I thought the cashier was just annoyed by me.”

“Yeah, Paul, he’s just judgy.” The villain stepped closer. “Step on this.”

The hero put a foot on one end of the measuring tape while the villain pulled the rest of it up to the top of the hero’s head.

“Thanks.”

The villain seemed fine in silence, the hero, however, felt like their whole being was vibrating with questions.

When the villain moved away, the hero felt themself breathe out heavily.

“You alright there?” The villain asked, turning away to write something down. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

The hero chuckled awkwardly. “It wouldn’t be very heroic if I was, would it?”

Turning around again, the villain spoke. “Well, considering you won’t be a hero much longer, I won’t hold it against you.”

It all seemed to fall out of the hero at once, words carefully hidden away now in full sight.

“I didn’t even want to be a hero, then one day I was drafted. I don’t know how they found out what I could do, I never registered. All I wanted was to keep my head down, but suddenly I was out with the big leagues.”

Several creases had formed on the hero’s head.

“And then the tracking, oh, God, the tracking. I went out for fast food once without telling anyone, just for a moment of peace, and it was like the world imploded.”

The villain rested their chin in their hand, nodding emphatically every once in a while.

“You know there’s three days of training before they shove you into the world. They don’t care what you run into, as long as you defeat it. ‘Real heroes don’t run’ type bullshit. Ironically, that’s the most freedom we get, going up against something or someone three times our sizes.”

The villain turned their head to the side.

“And there’s a seminar on meeting foreign dignitaries! Meetings on how to address the general public, correct customs for different world leaders. Jesus, I don’t even get a choice on where I stay! I could be shipped off to Japan tomorrow.”

The hero stopped, their eyes glazing over with a strange numbness.

“Then I messed up, put on house arrest. God, that’s the happiest I’ve been in a while. Of course, I did have to beg to go and get ‘pizza’, even after the house arrest. That was the only downside, I guess.”

A beat.

“Are you finished?” The villain asked.

A brilliant scarlet color bloomed across the hero’s face. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

The villain waved them off. “Happens to nearly every one of my customers, sometimes the best therapy is just venting to the fall guy.”

“Fall guy?” The hero echoed, eyebrows furrowing.

That made the villain pause. “Yes? If this was all found out, who do you think would take the fall? Paul?” They laughed.

“Are you never, I don’t know, worried about being caught?”

The villain shrugged half heartedly. “Well, last time it happened, I just packed it up and moved. This time I had to make it pizza. Used to be donuts.” Their lips pursed. “I miss the donuts.”

The hero opened their mouth, then closed it again, trying to figure something out.

“What if-” Those weren’t quite the right words. “What happens if one of your, ah, customers gets loose lips, talks to the wrong person?”

“That, my dear hero, is a matter of trust. And it helps I am financially gifted, powerful. It’s a matter of who would last longer, and it will always be me.”

“I see.”

The villain leaned against their work table. “Hey, do me a favor.”

“Sure.”

“Can you portal something?”

The hero blinked, not expecting that. “Depends on what and how far.”

“Yourself, to a rendezvous point, say, oh, twenty six miles from here.”

The villain was grinning, waiting patiently for the hero to realize their plan.

“You use the heroes who come here, their powers to help them.” They concluded.

“While my decoys certainly do last quite a while, it’s not forever, and heroes often don’t realize the assets they have available. Speaking of, how come you haven’t tried it?”

The hero swallowed. “Portalling a living person is complicated.”

At that, the villain motioned with their hand, urging the hero to tell them what they weren’t saying.

“And,” the hero began. “my portals don’t like technology. The tracker in me could malfunction, electrocuting me before I get all the way through.”

“How did you learn that?” The villain asked, turning to scribble something down.

“The bridge incident was my first mistake as a hero, not a person.”

The villain let out a laugh. “Seems you’re just as morally gray as me.”

“It’s why I can’t be a hero.”

The villain smirked at the self righteousness of the hero, who probably didn’t even realize they were being self righteous.

“And the tracker,” the villain switched subjects. “standard GIM-14U?”

Wait, something wasn’t adding up here. There was something too certain, too familiar about the way it rolled off the villain’s tongue.

“How’d you know?”

The villain tensed, as if they hadn’t expected anyone to pick up in their certainty.

“My clientele often times have the same one.”

“And?” The hero prodded.

They could hear the villain mumble a curse under their breath.

“I used to have one. First prototype, in fact.”

Something else didn’t add up. The first GIM-14U came out several years ago, when the hero was a kid. The villain was barely older than the hero, maybe the same age. Why did the villain have one when it just came out?

It took a moment too long to realize. “You were the child prodigy, the one who vanished.”

The villain did a mock bow, their muscles relaxing slightly. “In the flesh, although technically, I’m M.I.A.”

“Oh, God. Now you-now you get other heroes out.” The hero almost laughed. “That’s genius, it’s the perfect payback, it’s-”

“What makes you think it’s payback? Maybe I just like helping people.” The villain had a raised eyebrow.

“Oh, oh, gosh. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed-”

The villain held up a hand. “It’s a little bit payback.”

A familiar shade of scarlet crept across the hero’s face, and the former prodigy decided they liked that.

“Now this part is the part most of my customers don’t like - waiting. Your decoy will most likely only take two months. In that time, you need to work on your portalling.” The villain made sure to hold the hero in their gaze. “I will contact you when and where to meet and set up the decoy. I already have your information.”

“How do you-”

“Door frame. Like a metal detector, but more precise. If you are registered on any system anywhere, I’ll know you.”

The hero had relief coming off them in waves. Two months, and all they had to do was practice some portals. And do some heroing, but they could manage.

“You know, you interrupt people a lot.” The tone was joking, and the hero was far too busy trying to contain a smile, there was no time for chiding.

“So I’ve been told.” The villain did smile. “Now, about my payment.”

“Right.” For a second, the hero fumbled around in their pockets, before pulling out a wad of cash.

The villain took it, and began counting the bills, their eyes getting wider.

“‘I’m willing to pay extra’ is just part of the code. You know that, don’t you?”

The hero shrugged. “Do you not want it?”

In the blink of an eye, the money was pocketed by the villain. “I didn’t say that. Pleasure doing business with you.”

The hero nodded, and turned on their heel, then stopped suddenly to ask one final question.

“If you know everyone from the door frame, why bother with the measuring ordeal?”

“Gets people to open up, relax a bit.”

Oh. That was sweet.

“You aren’t a bad person, are you?” Asked the hero.

“Hey now, don’t go telling everybody. My scary reputation could be ruined.”

The hero, a ghost of a smile on their lips, left, back up the stairs, through the pizza place.

Two months.

[vina-writes]

Ten Favorite Drarry Fic Recs

I’ve reached a bit of a follower milestone, and I thought, why not celebrate? I’m happy! This is an incredible feeling that I honestly can’t fully articulate in writing. Knowing someone enjoyed my work and presence enough that they’d want to be notified if I posted again just makes me squeal and want to hug everyone from joy!! Thank you to anyone who has ever left me kudos, a comment, a tag, a note, an emoji, a tag emoji!! I am endlessly grateful to you all for this support and kindness.

Now, since it’s party time, I’ve compiled a personal list of my ten favorite Drarry fics to share the love. This is by no means a stamp of quality (as there are thousands of brilliant fics out there) and neither is it a guarantee that these are everyone’s cup of tea. But they are certainly my cup of tea— my whole buffet honestly.

I chose fics that made me feel deeply. Fics that made me cry, laugh, throw my phone, squeal and wiggle and dance at the end. These (mostly) weren’t fics which answered deep philosophical questions. They were fics which instead showed me love and adventure, joys and betrayals, misunderstandings and occasionally unbelievable (but appreciated) levels of smut (you know who you are). These are stories I read to be entertained, entranced, delighted, and happy. These are stories that made me feel in love.

In honor of that (and of my Canva addiction) I’ve made little banners for each. I hope they do some justice to these works. I’ve tried to capture the feeling of each fic in just one image. Without further ado, read on to find out exactly what my guilty pleasure (as if Drarry isn’t enough) is:

The Songbirds of Avebury Manor by Tessa Crowley [E, 18k] 

Summary: Harry Potter presents as alpha at fifteen, and it is supposed to change his life for the better. Instead, it leads him to a beautiful noble omega he cannot have, a political plot he cannot escape, and a threat on his life.

This story. Oh my stars, this story. What can I even say to properly express how I feel about it? This is the Romeo and Juliet, the Pride and Prejudice, the Hades and Persephone of Drarry. Reading this made me feel like an unwedded Victorian lass waiting for her Prince Charming. It’s a wonderful Historical AU that throws around power dynamics and questions of who is worthy of love, freedom, and respect despite them. This is a brilliant portrait of deep romantic love. Harry’s dedication to Draco is all-encompassing, beautiful, intense, intimate— earth shattering, really. The way they fall in love despite class and situation made me want to cry and write poetry. This is a true fairytale romance.

The Pirate and the Prince by @nerdherderette​, maniacani [E, 49k]

Summary: Draco can't believe that fate and circumstance have made him a stowaway on the Master of Death's ship. He doesn't know what's worse: the dread pirate's legendary vendetta against the aristocracy, or the fact that his captor is the most infuriating yet irrefutably fascinating man Draco has ever met.

The moment I started this story I knew it was going to be an instant favorite. It’s swashbuckling, debonair yet disheveled, dangerous, fun, adventurous— everything you could desire from a romance on the high seas! Though they come from very different backgrounds, this Draco and Harry are a power couple to the core. Their romance is once again beautiful, intense, and dedicated, but this time it’s mixed with a healthy dose of self-exploration and mutual acceptance. But apart from romance this fic holds delicious secrecy and identity issues, an astounding knowledge of sailing ships, plenty of piratey shenanigans, some heart-wrenching found family dynamics, a cursing parrot, and a glorious angst with a happy ending finale! 

Soup-pocalypse and the Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats [E, 104k]

Summary: Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

What can I say about Soup-pocalypse? It will lure you in with tales of Veelas and romance, and then it will kidnap you and throw you in cooking class and therapy. You’ll come out wondering what just happened and how two days have passed. There will, of course, be Veelas and romance aplenty, but it will be a caring romance, a familial romance, a supportive and kind and nurturing romance. This story feels like family, good cooking, sunny days, the deep heartbreak of change, and through all of it, the truth of a real and solid partnership. This is the humorous yet angst-ridden tale of two idiots learning to love as adults, and then in turn learning to face the world together.

you’ve got the antidote for me by Kandakickass [M, 20k]

Summary: When Harry Potter unintentionally severs their soulbond before it can fully form, Draco Malfoy resigns himself to a slow death and decides not to burden Harry with a soulmate he's made it very clear he doesn't want.

He's never been selfless before, but for Harry, he can try.

Right then. On to the angstiest story I’ve ever read and truly enjoyed. Not just enjoyed, adored! Worshipped! Come back to time and again whenever I needed a good cry! Here is the beauty of it: this fic is deeply painful and heartbreaking, yet it steers clear of emotions like disgust and discomfort. Never once was it disturbing— only sorrowful, in the purest and most heart-wrenching way. Yet despite the pain strung throughout the majority of it, this fic left me feeling relieved and rejuvenated, the way one feels after crying their heart out over something simple. It’s an emotional release that does not leave you broken.

On the Last Day of Our World by Sansa [E, 84k]

Summary: During a detention, Harry and Draco get locked in a strange room together overnight. When they escape the next morning, they discover they are alone. Love, angst and adventure abound as they struggle to survive in an empty world.

Truly one of my favorite takes on canon divergence. Truly. This is an exploration of isolation and the joys and comforts that come with it. It is the power couple Drarry to rule them all— a Draco and Harry so strongly connected, in love, and attuned to one another that the world could fall at their feet. This story leaves you on the edge of your seat until the very bitter end— one of those where the second things are briefly peaceful the world goes up in a new set of flames. Those of you who daydream about a partnership that needs no others, two souls who are each other’s family, friend, and future, and would gladly abandon everything to spend eternity alone together: this is for you.

The Arc of the Pendulum by brummel [E, 30k]

Summary: After his father casts a mysterious curse on Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy is forced to try to make things right.

Yes. YES. YES!!! The Beauty and the Beast take you didn’t know you needed! Still canon-compliant to an extent, this is realistic and raw and incredible. Draco makes the choice to help Harry here, and the vulnerability of their interactions while Harry struggles with the curse is everything you could hope it to be. There’s a distinct fairytale atmosphere in this fic— both of them confined together, finding support and comfort in one another while struggling through the effects of the curse, and falling in love along the way. I could write sonnets about the ending using my tears for ink, but they shan’t be revealed here.

Picking Up Pieces by Tessa Crowley [E, 43k]

Summary of Part One: Fifteen years after the War, Draco is a social recluse and award winning author. Harry is an auror who works too hard, ensuring his old war wounds never heal. They meet at a masque ball, unaware of each other's identities. In another situation, it would have been love at first sight. But for them, it would never be so simple.

Picking Up Pieces deserves no introduction, but if you haven’t read it yet, please find a blanket, and cup of tea, and a quiet place to read, cry, and recover. I sobbed my little heart out through the entire second half— the tears were really never ending. How does it end up on a reclist by a fluff lover like me? The answer is similar to Antidote— though this story broke me apart, it was never twisted nor ugly, never disturbing. It was an incredibly touching tale of redemption, forgiveness, human nature, and recompense. The writing does put you through the emotional wringer, but it leaves you relieved and whole. I would lay down my life for this Draco. He truly needs to be protected and loved at all costs. Even though I’m usually careful when recommending heavy stories, I would encourage everyone to read this— it made me feel new, it made me feel like I’d spent an hour crying in the shower, but most of all, it really did make me happy.

Two Trees by LakeWitch [E, 36k]

Summary (shortened): In his Eighth year at Hogwarts, part of Draco Malfoy's probation is to see a Mind Healer once a week. Another part, unfortunately, is having to take Muggle Studies.

It wouldn't be so bad, really, if it weren't for the mandatory outing—a 'field trip'—booked at a Muggle lakeside retreat for the better part of five days. [...] Draco is determined to get it all over with as painlessly as possible. He'll keep his head down, and stay out of everyone's way. That is, until Pansy tells him—at the very last moment—that she's schemed to have Draco stay in the same room with Potter for the whole trip.

Just the two of them... in one room.

This is the comfort fic of all comfort fics. It feels like camping, like sitting by a lake in the sun, like marshmallows over a fire and sparks against a starry sky, and cool, feather-soft hotel sheets. Draco is dealing with several different anxieties here, but the brilliant setting and easy plot turn them into a cathartic read. This is a fic about young love and the ability to build bonds on trips. It made me remember my first crushes and the feeling of getting breakfast in a hotel lobby. There’s cuddling, there’s love, there’s some highly emo Draco (both warranted and unwarranted), and there’s a truckload of nature. Go read it!

Your Place Or Mine? by @l0vegl0wsinthedark​ [E, 26k]

Summary: "This person is so much harder to hate. And I’m supposed to hate Malfoy. How the fuck else am I supposed to limit this to just sex?" 

At first I was like, “Damn, Harry,” but then I was all, “Damn Harry!” but then I went, “DAMN Harry!” (interspersed with a lot of whistling and cursing). I could have slapped him, and you will want to. This is another Draco that deserves endless love and hot chocolate, with a Harry that deserves a good smack. I think about this fic weekly, and not just because it’s endlessly hot— although it is scorching hot, like how do you even write something that hot type of hot. Draco’s pining and Harry’s stupidity makes for the angstiest yet most satisfying friends-with-benefits-but-really-there’s-more combination, and the climax (pun intended) and resulting spill of emotions is everything anyone could hope for. Ten out of ten.

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken​ [T, 19k]

Summary (shortened): Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

So Draco decides to boldly go where no one has gone before: to put himself through scrutiny; their friends’ teasing and pranks; unsound romantic advice from a house-elf; wearing pretty clothes; all to try and win Potter’s heart through courtship...

This thing of beauty is exactly as hilarious as it sounds. However, it is so much more than the endless laughs (although there are many). It is sweet, tender, touching, and filled with glorious pining and misunderstandings. Inside you’ll find extravagant (the word was literally invented for Cibee’s Draco) outfits, confusing customs, a blanket that brought me to tears, one badass house-elf, one very confused beloved, absolutely no fornication (wink), and one hopelessly smitten pureblood. Be warned, this fic is actually three “What the fuck, Draco?”s in a trenchcoat. I read it when I want to laugh, facepalm, and submerge myself in the adorable stupidity that is Draco Malfoy in love. It is well worth your time and is sure to bring a smile to your face.

With this final fic we conclude my list on a happy note! It’s long, it’s tedious, and I had a spanking good time writing it. I hope these bring some joy or happy tears to your day.

Love, Vina 

[kanonsarchivedblog]

Might Be Onto Somethin' (Kiss Me More)

Word Count: 2142 Rating: E Character(s): Mitsuri Kanroji Ships: None; Mentions of Rengoku Kyōjurō, Iguro Obanai, Sanemi Shinazugawa Genre: Smut Author's Notes: I... Have no excuse other than the fact that Mitsuri is cute and she deserves so much love. And many partners. Give her all of the partners please. She has so much love to give- This can also be read over on my ao3! ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ The perks of having your own portion of the compound meant the peace and quiet that came with it. It was nice to be able to just relax, to not have to worry about being walked in on. A nice soak in the hot spring had been well earned! A trim to the ends of her hair to get rid of any split ends and to keep the long layers still looking good, and then a bit of skin care! Mitsuri was even able to paint her nails! And her toe nails!

Evening was falling, the sounds of laughter coming from her siblings filling the air as she closed the shoji. Dinner was already done; they would all be retiring to their own spaces soon enough. Summer was in full swing, the heat of the day melting away, though that didn’t mean it still wasn’t warm- too warm to wear proper clothes. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d stripped out of her dinner kimono so quickly; she took a moment to simply stand in the nude, enjoying the slight cool breeze that drifted through the room from an open window.

Open window. Naked. Oh, no!

A squeak escaped her as she grabbed hold of a light cotton yukata, slipping it on to cover herself, cheeks growing rosy in embarrassment. What if someone had come by? And seen her? That would have been so awkward! What if it had been Tomioka-san? OR Shinobu-san? Oh, she wouldn’t have been able to look them in the eye! Or even Uzui-san!

… Or Rengoku-kun.

Or… Or Iguro-san…

Swallowing roughly, Kanroji turned on her heel and marched herself to her bedroom, chastising herself for even considering those thoughts. That- that wasn’t ladylike! Was it? No- yes? A groan slipped free as she flopped onto her futon, face pressed into the blankets. It wasn’t… Wrong to feel lust. She knew this. It also wasn’t wrong to feel love! And it… Wasn’t a bad thing to be attracted to people- to people she knew well! There wasn’t anything bad with that at all!

Kyōjurō had been her friend for years- they’d known each other long before they became Hashira. He’d been her teacher, even! And she’d watched as he grew- as they both grew! Cheeks tinting with an emotion she couldn’t quite place, she rolled over onto her back, staring up at her ceiling. Her window was open in here, too; from there, she could see down the hill to where the Rengoku compound sat.

Her gaze drifted to the window, watching as clouds began to drift across the night sky, the stars peeking out from behind clouds occasionally. It wasn’t a bad thing to… Want. Everyone wanted something, someone- it was natural. Her thighs clenched, an unconscious movement that drew a soft gasp out. Her eyes slid shut, the battle beginning to wane in her mind. This was okay. It was! Especially with… How good it would feel, oh- oh, it would feel good.

“This is okay,” she decided, speaking softly to the empty bedroom. Pushing herself up, she glanced around- as if making sure she was truly alone. Which was silly- of course she was alone! She would have heard if someone came in. A giddy smile curled her lips as she settled back down against her pillows, nimble fingers quickly undoing the tie that held the yukata together, allowing for the fabric to shift.

Her eyes slid shut as she drew in a slow, nervous breath. It wasn’t as if she never touched herself- she did, more often than she really wanted to admit. The tint in her cheeks darkened as she squeezed her thighs together again, creating a gentle sort of pressure that had a sigh slipping free. A hand raised- not her own, not in her mind, no, this hand was much larger than her own, somehow still so soft despite wielding a wicked blade- and came to peel away the yukata, baring her naked form to the room. She was proud of her physique- she was soft, her tummy softer than her fellow Hashira, but beneath that layer of softness was muscle she’d always had, would always have. She liked it- liked having soft hips, a soft tummy, soft thighs.

Iguro-san liked her thighs. He’d complimented her on them a few days ago- when they’d all been granted time off to have their blades sharpened. It had been an idle comment in a conversation with Shinobu-san, who had brought up the idea of a lighter fabric for their summer uniforms. They’d all agreed- it would be nice not to smother in the heavy, dark fabric. Tengen had mentioned how it was smart to have a uniform like her own- a skirt, which did mean she was able to cool off faster than her companions.

The conversation had drifted, which let Obanai murmur close to her ear that he enjoyed her uniform quite a bit- after all, it allowed him to see her beautiful thighs. It had made her blush, had made her squeeze her thighs together and hide a smile.

“Iguro-san,” she sighed out, hand drifting lower, nails ghosting against the skin of a thigh before digging in in a way that gave both pain and pleasure- something she was certain he would enjoy. Something he would do. “Please…”

He wasn’t the only one who looked- she would never admit it aloud, but she caught Kyōjurō looking at her chest a few times, his gaze soft, lids heavy before he caught himself and looked away, cheeks rosy. She thought it was cute! She was more than aware of her bust- it caused her problems at times, especially if she couldn’t bind the proper way before a mission. But oh…

A hand cupped her left breast, fingers squeezing the soft flesh. She pictured the hand to be larger, much larger and warmer, massaging and squeezing, pinching at her nipples just so, drawing out a soft squeal because oh, that’s sensitive! “Kyo-” she whined, head turning to the side, thighs parting as the hand shifted to the other, giving it the same treatment. “Sensitive,” she whispered, though she didn’t hear her own voice- the rasp of another, of a tongue drifting across her nipple, of silver hair and wild eyes.

The hand on her thigh slipped upward, dragging sharp nails along the inside of her thigh. It sent a shock through her system, her legs jolting with the pleasure it drew forth. “Iguro-san!” She gasped, and for a moment, she swore she heard a chuckle- his chuckle, but it only made her hand settle over herself, adrenaline and lust mingling in her veins. Her toes curled as she slipped her middle finger between her folds, surprised to find herself already wet. Then again-

She had been excited for days now, hadn’t had time to handle this.

Oh, but the finger pressing against a bundle of nerves drew her from her thoughts quickly, a moan drifting into the open air of the bedroom at the relief that brief touch gave. Her eyes opened, blinking in the darkness of her bedroom, the images dispelling for a moment.

Toy. She needed something. She needed to be filled- to feel full. It wasn’t as if she could just… Go get the real thing! No, instead she rolled over, grabbing an ornate box that looked as if it should hold jewelry, and tugged it closer. It was inconspicuous; no one would ever think of what it would hold. The toy itself was a good replica of the real thing, thicker near the base, thinner towards the top with a flared head. The material used was soft so as to not cause discomfort- perfect for her, considering how sensitive she could be sometimes. And tonight was certainly one of those times.

Rolling back onto her bed, she took hold of another pillow and slid it down, settling it beneath her rear. Eyes closing once more, images flooded back to the forefront of her mind. The toy pressed to her lips, and if she thought hard enough, she could imagine it having heat along with the weight it held. Her lips parted, the toy slipping in, her tongue curling around the head before she forced her jaw to relax. She’d never admit it out loud, but she’d trained herself with this toy, her throat relaxing. Fingers of another hand drifted low, gathering the slickness that had formed between her lower lips before slipping inside, drawing out a whine around the toy. Her brows furrowed as she tried to time the thrusts with the toy in her mouth, brushing against that one spot every now and then.

In her mind, it wasn’t her fingers in her, or a toy in her mouth- no, the fingers belonged to a man with golden and ruby hair who pressed kisses to her thighs as he opened her up and tore her apart, as he coaxed her closer and closer to the edge with his delicate touches. In her mouth sat the cock of the Snake Pillar, thrusting slowly, deeply, fucking her face.

Too close, too close- she pulled her fingers free and slipped the toy from her mouth with a whine, head falling back. Not yet, she didn’t want to stop yet. Licking her lips, she readjusted, bringing the toy down to settle between her lips, rocking slowly, the head nudging against her clit with each rock until she couldn’t handle it, slipping the toy inside slowly, a hiss slipping free at the stretch. It wasn’t painful, not in the least- no, it felt good, wonderfully so. She whined, nose scrunching up as it bottomed out. She took a moment to adjust, shifting her hips to get a more comfortable angle.

A hand settled at her breasts once more, groping, teasing as she began to move her hand. “Oh,” she whispered, brows furrowing, “yes- yes, like that! I like that, please, yes,” she began to babble as the toy sped up- no, not a toy. Obanai was between her thighs, Kyōjurō behind her, holding her, his hands on her chest as Obanai used her. “Harder, harder, harder- please, I’ve been a good girl!” She whined, lost to her fantasy. “Obanai- Obanai, please.”

'Only good girls get to cum. Are you sure you've been good?' The phantom image asked, voice gruff- Oh. Oh, that would be Sanemi.

“I have!” She squealed, hips rising as the toy began to hit that one spot dead center. “I have, I’ve been good! ‘Nemi, ‘Nemi!” She whined, body moving with the force she used. “Kyo- Oba- oh, there, there, there, don’t stop!”

'We won't stop,' Kyo’s voice whispered in her ear as his fingers played with her nipple, twisting, pinching, massaging. 'Not until you're sobbing and making a mess for us.'

“Fuck me!” She pleaded, something so vulgar that, had she not been in such a worked up state, would have embarrassed her. “Please! I’m a good girl! I’m your good girl! Fuck me, please, God- Obanai, you feel so good! So good in me, so good, yes, yes, 𝘺𝘦𝘴!”

'Gonna be a good girl and cum for me?' Obanai asked, panting. 'Cum on my cock like a good girl, Mitsuri?'

“Yes, yes- Obanai, Ob-” She clamped a hand over her mouth to muffle her scream as she tumbled over the edge, legs twitching, chest heaving as she kept fucking herself. “Harder, harder, please-” she begged, working herself higher and higher up before her hand stopped, body stilling. Tears spilled free, trailing down her cheeks as she removed her hand from her mouth, panting harshly. Wet- very… Wet? Blinking to clear her vision, Mitsuri shifted her hips.

Oh.

Oh!

“Oh, no- that’s- that’s new, oh dear, oh no,” she whispered, pulling the toy free so that she could sit up and gawk at the wet… Puddle. That was a puddle. “OH-” She squeaked, cheeks red as strawberries as she realized what she’d done. She couldn’t stand to clean off her bed- not yet, anyway. She’d clean the blankets and sheets tomorrow, but that poor pillow… “At least you were already ready to be tossed,” she murmured, a giggle bubbling up.

She settled back down on a clean portion of her bed, body relaxing. Sanemi? Kyo? And Obanai? Oh, my! She covered her face with her hands and let out a soft squeal. How would she look them in the eye tomorrow! She shifted, staring at the window- were her eyes playing tricks on her? Brows furrowing, she rose to her feet and stepped closer, poking her head out. No one was there.

Huh.

She could have sworn she’d seen golden and ruby hair. Strange.

Perhaps it was wishful thinking. Shrugging, she turned back to the mess she now had to clean up. Or…

“Or I could… Have some more fun?”

[mandoalorian]

Din djarin is a insecure man so what do you think about din being insecure and following reader when she is in the streets and she already knows it and try to play with his jealous and Fluff at the end. I love you and thanks 🥰

Are You An Angel? [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

Rating: 13+

Word count: 1.7k

Masterlist

Permanent taglist - let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluff @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth

Din Djarin taglist: @alecdamndario0

When Din was younger, he'd lay in the lap of his mother and at night, and she'd sing sweet songs to lull him to sleep. His father always made an effort to spend time with Din during the later hours of the evening, sitting on the edge of Din's small bed and holding his son's hand. He couldn't sing like his wife could, and Din didn't really have the privilege of owning any books— but there was one bedtime story that only Din's father could tell, and Din had in fact become particularly fond of it.

"When I met your mother, I believed she was an angel from the moon of Iego. The angels were reputed for their beauty, and she was certainly the most beautiful woman I had ever seen." Din's father would tell, smiling as he reminisced.

Din became enamoured with the story and the concept of angels. But after the death of his parents the idea of love and beauty and peace became so foreign. When he was sworn to the Creed, his priority became to fight and defend, but the story his father told all those years ago still lived deep within Din's heart. It was something he always held onto.

Finding a long term lover was just never in the cards for Din, no matter how much he dreamed of it. It just wasn't plausible, considering his creed and career, and that gave him some kind of insecurity. He'd never had a serious relationship. He understood and came to accept that no one would really want a man who was part of a culture that forbade the removal of his helmet, or even a bounty hunter who was always constantly travelling and couldn't settle down.

But things had been changing. Din had a child now, and he hadn't claimed a bounty from the Guild in months. Din had never stayed in one place for too long— he couldn't without running the risk of getting into trouble with thugs or crime syndicates. But when he returned to Nevarro one sunny afternoon, he walked through the market and saw you.

You were hidden by a cloak, intriguing the attention from Din almost immediately. You picked up an apple and handed it to one of the children with a generous smile. The child snatched it from you promptly and ran off. You were unlike anyone or anything Din had seen before… you beamed and glowed and your beauty was incomparable. When he first saw you, he was reminded of his father's story about the angels on Iego.

Once upon a time, Din would've said that 'love at first sight' was nonsense. Ridiculous. But he hadn't met you. He learned that you attended the farmers market on Nevarro everyday at approximately the same time— and every day, without fail, you'd purchase an item of fruit; be it sourberries or sweetplums, and you'd give it to a child in need. Din would watch you from the hull of the Razor Crest, staring intently, baffled by your continued selfless acts of kindness and generosity.

He wanted to approach you. He wanted to say hello, maybe ask you for a drink— although that would be absurd considering he couldn't remove the beskar that contained his face. He just wished he'd have enough confidence to say something; anything to you. But whenever he got close to saying something, his mouth would get dry and his throat would close up.

He couldn't believe it, he'd never experienced anything like this before. Din was always able to talk himself out of tricky situations but this… was something else. It was your aura that stunned him. It was everything his father had described to him when he was younger, but now Din could finally understand what exactly he meant.

He was going to say something. Just a simple 'hello'. He had to. He spent some time in the fresher before, he planned out how exactly he was going to approach you. He'd talk it through with Grogu. "Listen kid," he told the green bean. "She seems to like to give kids fruit from the market stall so… maybe ask for some sourberries or something, yeah? And then I'll come up to you and uh…" Din trailed off, trying to make his elaborate plan clear to his son who almost definitely had no idea what Din was talking about.

Din was sure you hadn't seen him, but he was wrong. Only once in a blue moon would the Nevarro locals see a Mandalorian dressed head to toe in silver Beskar. Din was pretty memorable. You noticed him the first day he saw you. You were aware you were being watched, and quite frankly, you didn't care.

If it was any other man… any other dirty scoundrel watching you from his ship quarters, you'd feel violated and disgusted. But Din Djarin wasn't just any man. Having a Mandalorian warrior watch over you, knowing that he had an armoury full of weapons and the impeccable skillset of a true fighter made you feel protected. You hadn't spoken a word to him— what were you to say to a Mandalorian? But you wanted to. His presence initiated a primal urge within you. You needed him.

When the time came, he couldn't do it. He froze up, seeing a man caress your arm and lean into you. The man was strange. Din had been watching you for weeks now and he had never seen this man at all. Could it be a friend from another planet? A boyfriend? No… not a boyfriend. The pit of Din's stomach filled with envy. Had he waited too long to make his move? He cursed himself under his breath for letting himself get so attached to a woman he had never even met before.

Din watched closer, his eyes narrowing when he saw the strange man press his chest into yours, pushing you into the fruit & veg stall you stood beside everyday. You looked uncomfortable but your good heart stopped you from pushing him away. Din's fingers graced the blaster in his holster as he watched the man press a finger into your chest, drunkenly slurring his speech. Your fingers curled around the market stall table, defensively creating fists that were so tight your knuckles turned white.

Noticing the man had a dagger in his pocket, Din decided he had to act fast. It wasn't the way he intended meeting you, but no one else was watching over you. He couldn't bear to see you get hurt.

Din whipped out his vibroblade and held it to the man's neck, your eyes widening in horror as he approached the stranger from behind. "Step away from the lady," Din hissed, his voice laced with venom and the knife only inches away from the man's throat. "Make one wrong move and you're dead, you understand?" Din asked.

The man removed his hands from you, placing them above his head and surrendering. He slowly took a few steps away before quickly running off without saying a word. With a flick of a switch, Din shut down his vibroblade and slid it back into his holster.

"Th-thank you," you bit your lip nervously, looking up at the Mandalorian. "You're my hero."

"It's uh, it's nothing," Din replied, feeling the awkwardness consume him. "Are you new around here?"

"Fairly," you answered quickly with a nod.

"Because there's a lot of men like him, here on Nevarro. Bad men. So uh, you should really be careful." Din explained and you didn't reply, instead shyly looking down at the ground. Din felt like he had royally messed up. Grogu padded over towards the both of you, blinking his big black eyes innocently. You couldn't help but grin when you saw him.

"Is this your child?" you quizzed, eventually breaking the silence.

"Something like that." Din muttered as his gaze flicked between you and Grogu.

"Oh, I've never seen a child like him before. He's wonderful." you beamed merrily, pulling out a bunch of sourberries and handing them to Grogu.

"He's certainly special," Din grumbled through a genuine smile. "So, what brings you to Nevarro?"

"It's… complicated," you huffed out a sigh. "Actually, I may not be able to stay here much longer."

"On the run?" Din asked with a chuckle, but it was only a half joke. His heart shattered when he saw you nod sadly.

"Yeah. Like I said, complicated." You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest.

"I know how it feels," Din revealed and you looked up at him with curiousity. "My uh… my ship. It has room for you, if you wanted to come with me." He suggested, pointing aimlessly to the Razor Crest which was stationed a few yards back. Grogu gargled quizzically.

"Where are you going?" you asked the Mandalorian.

"I- anywhere? Nowhere? Everywhere? There's really no place off limits." Din responded.

"You'd really let me accompany you?" you asked again. For some reason, you weren't completely opposed to the idea. In fact, you trusted this man who you didn't even know the name of.

"Yeah," Din shrugged casually. "But I do have one question," you nodded, urging him to continue. "Are you an angel?" he asked, immediately hating the way the words left his lips.

"A what?" you scrunched up your nose in bewilderment, unsure if you had heard him right.

"An angel," he repeated. "From the moons of Iego."

You felt your cheeks heat up at his sentiment. "I could be asking you the same thing," you giggled, pursing your lips together into a thin line. "You've been watching me for weeks. Like my guardian angel." Din felt embarrassed that you had noticed him, but his feeling immediately softened when you placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I would like to come with you." you said quietly, subconsciously fluttering your eyelashes.

"Where would you like to go?" Din questioned, his voice low through the modulator.

"Take me to the moons of Iego," you smiled, before interlocking your fingers with his and letting him direct you back to the ship. "I want to see these angels."

[melzula]

hi ! i don’t know if this counts as a whole prompt, but could i request some iroh ii ? maybe their reunion when kya’s daughter went back with bumi to the fire nation and their whole reunion to wedding story ?

a/n: I just did the reunion part of this because it would be hard to cram the whole timeline into one piece aha but nonetheless enjoy!

*based off of these hc’s

The cool breeze of the ocean air does little to calm your nerves as you fidget with the beads that wrap themselves neatly around your wrist and stare out into the open water. The Fire Nation docks are fast approaching, and you foolishly wonder if everything will be the same as it was when you left it behind all those years ago. You wonder if he is still the same, fearing for a moment that perhaps he has forgotten you after being apart for so long, but you don’t have time to dwell on your anxieties when a firm clap on your shoulder breaks you from your thoughts.

“Why the long face, kiddo?” Your Uncle Bumi grins. “I thought you’d be happier to be back here.”

“I am,” you reassure him, “it’s just I’m a little nervous is all. I haven’t been here in so long...”

“Well I’m sure the royals will be happy to see you,” he says. “You were Lord Zuko’s star student after all, and General Iroh is always asking about you.”

“He is?” You gasp, doing your best to quell the excitement that bubbles up inside of you at the news. You always brushed off your infatuation with the General as a silly childhood crush, but if that were the case then the mere mention of him shouldn’t have made you as cheerful as it did.

“Of course! Why do you think I brought you out here with me? Some good old nostalgia would be perfect for you!”

“Uncle,” you say with a pointed look. Bumi grins sheepishly.

“You could use a friend, y/n. And so could Iroh.”

You don’t get the chance to argue or insist that you’re fine, that you’re perfectly okay with the fact that your best friend is your Gran Gran, as the ship pulls into the docks and Fire Nation guards arrive to escort you to the palace. None of them are familiar to you, most of the men you’d known as a child having retired by now, but they still greet you with the same kindness as always, a perk of being the Avatar’s granddaughter and the Commander’s niece.

“I have to prepare for the meeting,” your uncle says as you reach the front gates and are permitted entry to the palace, “but if you want to head off and look for some old friends or even just explore your old playing grounds go right ahead.”

“Good look with the meeting, Uncle Bumi,” you reply before gifting the man a kiss on the cheek and parting ways with him for now.

You find yourself wandering into the gardens, admiring the blooming fire lilies and enjoying the refreshing breeze that blows cooly against your face as you reminisce on the memories you hold in this very spot. If you look hard enough you can almost see yourself sitting underneath the shade of the tree with Zuko and his grandson studying fire bending scrolls and enjoying cups of tea. Life had been so quiet and simple then, so peaceful. Maybe Bumi was right about needing a friend; you’d never felt lonelier in your entire life than you did now looking upon old childhood memories.

“Y/n?” A voice calls almost hesitantly, void of the confidence he’d always held, and despite the fact that your heart catches in your throat at the sound of his voice you will yourself to turn around and face the man you never stopped thinking about.

You can’t help the way your mouth hangs agape at the sight of him; he’d always been a good looking boy, but over the years Iroh had grown into the handsomest man you’d ever seen. He was beautiful with his strong jaw and shimmering gold irises, and despite how much he’d changed over the years he still held that same boyish grin you’d taken comfort in many times before.

“Iroh,” you finally say, heat crawling up your neck as you smile shyly. He’s rushing towards you in an instant, pulling you into his chest for a tight hug and laughing with pure unadulterated joy.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he admits with a sheepish grin, hands resting on your shoulders as he pulls away and looks you in the eyes. You don’t know it, but he’s just as taken back by your beauty. He was used to seeing you running around in your pigtails with your wide smile and a few teeth missing; you were absolutely radiant, your features maturing with the time that had passed, but your eyes still held that same twinkle they always did.

“It’s so good to you, old friend,” you say, smiling fondly as you rest a hand upon his cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

“So have I,” he replies, and you don’t miss the way he seems to melt into your touch. “I have a meeting to attend to, but perhaps you’d like to accompany me to dinner tonight? I want to hear about all of your adventures.”

“Dinner sounds lovely.”

“Perfect,” Iroh grins, “I’ll see you then.”

He parts from you then with a kiss on the cheek, leaving you with a dazed smile alone in the gardens as you watch him walk into the palace.

“We’re having dinner,” you murmur quietly to yourself, an excited smile pulling at your lips as you rush towards your assigned quarters to prepare.

~~~

“A date with the General, huh?”

“It’s not a date, Uncle Bumi,” you remind him as you sit before the vanity and slip on your favorite pair of earrings, a pair your mother had bought for you once during your travels, “it’s just dinner.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” he teases with a knowing grin. “You know, I always had a feeling about you two.”

“You said the same thing about Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Lin,” you retort only for Bumi to grimace.

“I never said it was a good feeling.”

“It’s not a big deal,” you shrug nonchalantly. “We’re just two old friends who want to catch up with each other.”

Oh, but it actually is a very big deal for you. You can’t remember the last time anyone has taken you out to dinner or the last time you had actually dressed yourself up for someone else, and frankly you don’t know why you’re so nervous. It’s Iroh, after all, your childhood friend, why should you be nervous?

“Oh, I’ll walk you out!” Your Uncle exclaims excitedly once you put the finishing touches on your ensamble, and before you can even get up from your chair Bumi is yanking you onto your feet and dragging you out of the room towards the front gates where Iroh is presumably waiting for you. “I only wish your mother were here to see this!”

“Uncle,” you groan in quiet embarrassment, “you seem more excited than I am.”

“What? That’s nonsense!” Bumi scoffs. “Can’t I just appreciate the romanticism that comes with seeing old friends?”

“I see you’re a poet much like your father,” a third voice intrudes, a smiling Iroh startling both you and your uncle. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, not at all!” Bumi says before you can so much as open your mouth to reply. “In fact I was just leaving. You kids have fun! Oh, and uh, bring her back home safe and sound and all that protective Uncle junk I’m supposed to say.”

“Of course, Commander,” he says with a slight laugh before turning to you. “Are you ready?”

“I am,” you smile, making sure to give your Uncle a chaste kiss to the cheek before taking Iroh’s outstretched and following him out the front gates. Your Uncle watches your retreating forms with a faint smile and a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Phase one of my matchmaking plan is complete.”

~~~

The royal plaza is beautiful at night. Lanterns hang from the skies and bathe the streets in their golden hue. The restaurants and shops are bustling with customers as lovers, families, and friends all spend their evenings out on the town. No one seems to notice your presence— Iroh had insisted that no guards were needed to escort you both— and for that you are grateful.

“Hungry for anything in particular? I know you were especially fond of dumplings when we were children,” Iroh notes with a chuckle.

“I’d love anything spicy. As much as I enjoy sea prunes and seal jerky, nothing in the south really has that same kick to it that Fire Nation food has.”

“I know the perfect place,” Iroh says, and you have to fight against the way your stomach seems to summersault when he takes your hand in his own and weaves you through the streets.

You end up in a quiet little restaurant together where the food is fresh and the hostess is the sweetest little old lady you’ve ever met, though she brings you way more food than you ordered. You’re eager to scarf down the spicy noodles and steaming buns, so eager in fact that you don’t notice the love stricken way in which Iroh watches you practically inhale your food.

“How’s your family?” He asks behind his cup of tea.

“Good. Gran Gran has been training the new Avatar and my mother helps where she can. My Uncle Tenzin and Aunt Pema just had a new baby not too long ago, a son named Meelo.”

“That’s amazing,” Iroh smiles, “congratulations on your new cousin.”

“Thank you. Our family is certainly growing,” you say with a slight laugh. “And how are things with you and your family?”

“I have to admit, I haven’t really been home much to know,” Iroh chuckles. “This visit is also my first time back in a while. Mother is a gracious ruler and the people love her, my sister is still living her quiet life with her husband out on the farm, and my grandfather comes back and forth all the time. Everyone seems to be happy.”

“And are you happy?”

“I like to think so. I’m the youngest General in the United Forces which is a great accomplishment, and I’m having dinner with a friend I thought I’d never see again, so yes, I’m very happy,” he notes with a wink. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his slyness, a small huff blowing past your nose.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” you tease.

“Really, y/n,” Iroh says, all features void of his previous humor as they morph into a more tender nature. He reaches across the table and rests a hand across your own, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve missed you, and I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Me too,” you admit with a tiny smile. “It’s been hard without you, friend.”

“Friend,” Iroh repeats with a small sigh, but his smile never falters. He pays for your meal and offers you his arm to guide you back to the palace; you talk about old memories and new ones, your adventures during your time apart, and your excitement to create new ones together. You’ve never been happier, and for the first time in a long time the loneliness that normally gnaws at your spirit is nowhere to be found.

“Can you find your room okay?” Iroh asks as you reach the front doors of the palace.

“I can,” you nod with a smile. “I’m actually staying in the room I had when I was a kid.”

“Go figure,” he laughs softly before gracing you with a sweet smile. “Thank you for accompanying me to dinner tonight. Will I see you tomorrow?”

“You will.”

“Good. I look forward to it,” Iroh says. “Sleep well, y/n.”

“Goodnight, Iroh,” you utter with a small smile, making sure to gift him a kiss on the cheek before disappearing inside. Stunned, the General stands frozen in place with a dazed smile on his face. He hasn’t felt this way about anyone in such a long time, hadn’t felt such genuine excitement and joy, and he had to admit that it somewhat intimidated him. He’d always seen you as the girl he’d grown up with, the one he’d spent his time with stealing desserts from the kitchen and running through the hallways, but now...

“Spirits,” Iroh exclaims with a breathless laugh. “I think I’m in love.”

In the gardens sits the trio of adults who watch the scene unfold before them, knowing looks exchanged among them as they sip their tea and watch Iroh disappear into the palace.

“They make a handsome pair, don’t they?” Zuko notes offhandedly to his daughter. “I give them a month.”

“A month?” Bumi snorts. “No way! Three weeks maybe, but not a month.”

“I have more faith in my son than that,” Izumi says with the shake of her head. “One week.”

“One week?!” The Commander exclaims with a laugh. “Oh, you’re on!”

“Betting over the love life of my grandson and my former student was not how I pictured spending my retirement,” Zuko sighs, but there’s a smile on his face as he considers his grandson courting the granddaughter of his best friend. Life has a funny way of working out sometimes.

And it was going to work out for you and Iroh.

| iroh/atla tags: @nataliahaslosthershit @zukh03s @rainteslerrrr @simpinforsukka |

[roc-writes]

-Laughs Nervously- What am I dooOIIIINNGGGG @prof-peach Well Obviously I’m writing but like, I just....? Goodness I’m sorry. Small backstory, I’ve wanted to write about my pokemon ranger OC and her partner for a While now. And your blog inspires me a lot! So I wrote a tiny little something! Under the Read More!

With her legs leaning over and out of the ship, a grinning pokemon ranger observed as the sight of land drew ever closer. She inhaled the salty tang of the air deeply.  “Ahhhhh…! Can you smell that in the air, Sheva?” She asked her Flygon who was leaning their upper body over the protective railing of the ship where its trainer was haphazardly perched. Sheva trilled back, making the ranger laugh. “Same here, I can’t smell ANYTHING other than the seawater!! This is nothing like where we’ve been stationed for the past six months! Johto is absolutely beautiful!” Breaking the peace and comfort of the ferry trip, she felt her pokemon partner press its face into her chest with a small whimper. She rubbed Sheva’s snout affectionately, carting her free hand through the soft fluff that decorated her Flygon’s chest.

“Rrrrrnnn!” Sheva protested, whining.

“I know, I know… It’s scary to think of the reason why we’re headed to Dotaku Island in the first place. But Sheva, Professors Peach and Grey will be able to help you get back into the sky again. And then we can fly across all of Orre just like we used to, we can be official partners again. Just promise me you won’t push them away out of stubbornness.” Before Sheva could respond, the pair heard the ferry captain’s voice on the speakers

“Now docking at Dotaku Isle.” 

“Wonderful! Sheva, let's get down and confirm our appointment with Professor Grey!”

~*~

“Oh, San! You made it in person, that’s wonderful news.” San turned her head to the voice that called her, smiling wide when she recognized it was Professor Grey. The young ranger cantered over to the professor, happy that he recognized her so quickly. The two had been in contact over the last few weeks, trying to figure out the exact needs for Sheva and whether she would be better off with prosthetics or a regimen for therapy.

“Of course I did! When you offered to examine Sheva, I was overjoyed I couldn’t stop thinking about it in every waking hour I had! I would have come sooner too, if I wasn’t in a constant kerfuffle with the Orre Police Department trying to get official leave for this trip.” Grey offered a sympathetic smile to her.

“As I understand, you are one of the few pokemon rangers partnered with the Orre force that isn’t stationed in Pyrite, correct?” San exhaled harshly, shaking her head.

“Yes, I’m helping create and clear space for the new Pokemon HQ Lab by day, and in the evening it's usually only Sheva and I who can patrol the sun-parched dunes of the desert.” The exhaustion from San’s almost nonstop efforts to keep the region safe from the likes of danger must have permanently etched themselves onto the creases on her face and the weariness of her limbs by now. She couldn’t remember the last time she even did something for herself.

“I understand, I’m especially relieved you were able to make it then! Now, where’s your partner? In her pokeball?” San shook her head.

“Oh no! Sheva never goes into her pokeball. In fact I don’t even think I bring it with me on the regular.” There was a moment of pause.

“I see… So where is your partner now? You said she was grounded and unable to fly still.” A panic set into San’s body, shaking off her obliviousness to the world around her.

“Sheva? SHEVA?!” Sheva couldn’t have gone far, she felt the dragon pokemon’s claws on her shoulders just moments ago before she went to greet Professor Grey.

“Now, aren’t you the most curious thing I ever did see on a Saturday morning!” San and the professor quickly made their way over, the former of which placed a hand on her chest to calm her beating heart. Sheva was in one of the most capable hands on the island, Professor Peach was already eyeing Sheva with what seemed to be delight and fascination. 

“Ah there you are, Sheva! Making friends? And here I was worried you’d be too apprehensive!” Sheva turned to San and crooned delightedly as Peach found one of her favorite spots to be scratched just under its chin. 

“I see… You certainly have more wings than I was expecting to see on a Flygon, and you’re spotting some of the softest down I’ve felt on any dragon type I’ve had the pleasure to meet. Ataria descended, maybe? Not quite. Hmm, oh… No! One of your parents must have been a Volcarona!” San couldn’t help but smile as Peach affectionately regarded Sheva, and only snapped out of her stupor when Sheva placed its chin over its trainer’s head.

“H-hello Professor Peach! My name is San and I’ve travelled from Orre in search of some guidance and help for my partner Sheva. Do you think you can help us?”

~*~*~*~

Some small notes in case anyone was wondering:

San is a trainer originally from Unova but was stationed in the Orre Region after graduating from the ranger academy. Sheva is her Volcarona-variant Flygon because I’m absolutely OBSESSED with the idea of pokemon variants and I wanted to include two of my favorite pokemon that can actually breed in the games.

Sheva has more than one pair of wings, I can’t decide if she’d have four or six wings total, but two of them were torn from a bad encounter with Team Snagem  who was after Sheva because she was a strange looking pokemon and fully evolved. Sheva also has some chest fluff like Volcarona does! Sheva loves to be petted on the chest and chin especially

Sheva cannot fly as of now, whether it is due to the trauma of the attack or because she’s not used to using one less pair of wings is what San is trying to figure out. That’s why she arrived on the island seeking help and counsel from Professor Grey who is the expert in prosthetics just in case Sheva might need some to fly again.

And I plan on writing a little more down the line too! I have a few ideas of San and Sheva on Dotaku island that I’d like to explore in time.

[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[girl-with-cat-eyes]

Wednesdays

Summary: Wednesdays are Janus Picani's busiest day. Between meetings, snack day, soccer practice, and art club, he's running around like a chicken with his head cut off. This Wednesday, however, is sure to change the lives of the Picani family forever. Jan's sure they can handle it though.

Ships: Platonic Moceit, thvi

A/N: I've been rewatching the old Reba sitcom from the 2000s and I'd forgotten just how good it was. Good enough that I wanted to write an au for it. Thank you so much to @amazon-me-bitches and my lovely qpp @forever-forgotten-angel for beta reading this and helping me to work out the kinks with the plot. As always, leave a comment if you like this. Enjoy!

For most people, Mondays were their busiest day. It made sense; returning to the workweek, school, etc. For Janus Picani, however, the title of busiest day went to Wednesday. His firm always had partner meetings, they were Emile’s day to bring class snacks, Remy had soccer, and Virgil had art club. On top of that, Jan’s therapy sessions were Wednesdays, which meant he had to make sure all of his work was done 15 minutes early so he could get to his appointment on time. Safe to say, to say Wednesdays weren’t exactly his favorite day.

“Emile! Get down here! You don’t want to be late for school!”, He called upstairs as he finished making breakfast sandwiches. Virgil stood across from him, packing lunches for his brothers.

“He probably can’t find his backpack. He left it down here after he finished his homework.”

Janus sighed, “This wouldn’t be a problem if he just left his backpack down here every night. Remy go get your brother and tell him his backpack is down here.”, the young boy got up, rolling his eyes and Jan had to bite back a sigh. Remy had always been his sassiest child.

“Why can’t Virgil do it?”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him, “Because I’m making lunch, I can go get him if you want to make your own sandwich ?”, Remys shook his head and ran upstairs, Virgil chuckling at the sight.

Janus finished plating breakfast and turned to thank Virgil, frowning when he saw that Virgil had only made two lunches. He looked pointedly at his son, “You’re not eating?”, he asked.

Virgil shrugged, “I’m gonna get lunch at school today. They’re having burritos.”, Janus nodded. As long as he was eating. Patton came downstairs before he could reply, Remy and Emile in tow.

“I found these two trying to play on the Switch.”, Emile and Remy sat down, guilty little grins on their faces that told Jan that they didn’t regret it, “Good thing I went to check on them.” “Good thing indeed.” He handed Pat a plate, pouting a cup of coffee for his husband? Ex? Janus wasn’t sure what to call the man he’d been married to for 20 years, separated from, hadn’t divorced, and who still lived in the house with. Regardless he poured him a cup of coffee, “Ok so you’re taking Emile and Remy to school and I’ll take Virgil. I’ll pick up Remy and you pick up Emile and-” “-and I’m catching a ride home with Thomas after theater. I’m working on the sets for Little shop today.”, Virgil piped up and Jan had to hold back a grimace at the mention of his boyfriend. He like Thomas, he really did. In terms of high school boyfriends, Thomas had been nothing but a gentleman. But the thought of his son dating still upset Janus deep down; according to his therapist, he was grappling with the thought of his baby growing up.

“Ok.”, he replied, keeping his thoughts to himself. It wouldn’t do any good to speak them when they were his problem to deal with, “I’ll pick up takeout on the way home.”

“Jan? I was wondering if you’d want to come to the restaurant today for lunch?”, He turned to look at Patton. Based on the tone in his voice Janus knew that this wasn’t just a friendly invitation to taste a new menu item. He sighed: he’d been planning to work through his lunch today so he could get out on time.

Regardless, this seemed serious, “Ok. I’ll be there at noon.”, he promised. He quickly finished his breakfast and looked over to Virgil, “Ready to go?”, he asked. He nodded and finished pouring his iced coffee and they were off.

The ride to Virgil’s school was as quick as always. Music played lowly on the radio, lowly on the radio and Janus hummed along. It would be peaceful if not for the fact that Virgil kept fidgeting and staring out the window. Something was up, “Ok. Something’s wrong. Spill.” Virgil turned to look at him, “What? Nothing’s wrong.”, He straightened his face, trying to appear calm. Janus didn’t buy it for a second, “I’m fine.” “Virgil James Picani. I have known you since you were born. I have held you for night after night. I know you inside out. And I know when you’re lying to me. What’s wrong? Is someone bothering you?” Virgil shook his head. “No. It’s just that Mr.Prince, the drama teacher, wants me to be Seymore’s understudy. And I know the chances of me going on stage are rare but I don’t want to take that chance. And I don’t know how to tell him without letting him down.” “Baby bat, just tell him the truth. I’m sure he’ll understand.”, Virgil nodded. The issue seemed to be solved, yet Janus had a feeling that there was something else wrong. But before he could ask any more, they’d arrived and Virgil was getting out. “Love you, Dad! I’ll see you after school!”, Janus shook his head, trying to keep his concerns down. He’d ask Virgil after school. It was fine.

Being a lawyer certainly had its perks; financial security being a prime example. Meetings running long weren’t that though. Janus sighed as he rushed into Pat’s. The warm lighting and delicious smells greeting him. Even if he’d preferred to work through his lunch, Janus couldn’t deny that the thought of Patton’s cooking made his mouth water. There was a reason people came from near and far to this place.

Speaking of Patton, Janus spotted the bespectacled man sitting in their usual booth, a bottle of wine waiting there. He smiled at the thought and sat down, “I thought you weren’t a fan of day drinking?”, he quipped. Pat rarely drank at all, but especially not during the day. “I’m not but I know you don’t mind a glass of wine at lunch.”, Pat poured him a glass, “Salmon or duck?” “Salmon.”, Janus answered. Patton made a delicious pan-seared salmon with risotto and kale salad. It was delicious and sounded lovely right now. Patton nodded and ordered that for him and glazed crispy duck for himself. “So.”, he began as he buttered a roll, “What did you want to discuss?” “Who says I have something to discuss? Maybe I just wanted to have lunch with you?”, He was stalling obviously. Trying to get time to steel his nerves.

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, “You and I know very well that Wednesday is our busy day. If you wanted to just have lunch you would have asked on another day. Therefore this is something important that you don’t want to talk about in front of the kids. So what do you want to discuss?” Patton sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Whatever he wanted to talk about was weighing heavily on his mind. After some time he finally spoke, “I want to finalize our divorce.”, he spoke quickly, like he wanted to get the words out of his mouth as fast as he could.

Janus nodded; he supposed it made sense. They had been separated for over a year now, they slept in separate bedrooms, and they hadn’t had sex since long before they separated. While they still cared for each other, the love they once shared was long gone. The only reason they were still married was the cost of getting a divorce. Considering they’d spent 20 dollars on a courthouse wedding neither had been too happy to shill out thousands of dollars to end their marriage.

The question was why now, and why couldn’t he say it in front of the kids. They’d sat them down months ago and explained that while they loved each other and would always be a family, they weren’t in love anymore. Virgil had taken in the best; being the oldest, he’d seen the signs for a while now. He’d taken it upon himself to comfort his younger brothers. Remy tried to pretend that he was fine, but both Janus and Patton knew better. He’d taken the thought of his family splitting up harder than he was showing. They’d both spoken to him about it, reassuring him that they’d always be a family. And they’d started having family activities every Saturday. Emile had taken it the hardest. The six-year-old didn’t truly understand what was going on. They were still having conversations explaining what it meant. Janus had even begun researching child psychologists at the recommendation of his therapist.

“Ok.”, He spoke, “Why now though? I thought we’d agreed that divorces are too expensive…. You met someone.”, the realization hit Janus like a ton of bricks. Everything made sense. Pat would feel guilty about pursuing someone else while married, even if they were separated. And he wouldn’t want to talk about this in front of the kids until he knew for sure that it was serious.

Patton nodded, “I did.”

“Well, tell me about him. I care about you regardless of our marital status. And I want to know about the person you’ll be bringing around our kids.”

“Ok. His name is Logan and I met him a few weeks ago. He came in here for dinner and he’s just the cutest. He got so excited when he found out we use crofters in our thumbprint cookies and our victoria sponge.” Patton smiled fondly at the thought, “We’ve been on a few dates and… It’s not just a fling. I can see a future with him, Jan.”

Jan took a sip of wine, “Ok. I’ll ask around for good lawyers when I get back.”,

Patton squealed and hugged him, “Thank you so much Jan. Maybe I could invite him over for dinner sometime. That way you could meet him and I could introduce him to the kids.”, Their food came at that moment, which meant Patton had to stop hugging him. Janus was thankful; he’d never been the type for hugging. Except with his kids.

“Ok. But you have to tell them about the divorce first. Deal?” “Deal.”

Virgil was generally considered a good kid by his peers and teachers. Quiet perhaps, but overall a good kid. He didn’t break rules, got good grades, and overall kept to himself. The one anomaly about him was that he was dating Thomas sanders, or rather that Thomas Sanders was dating him. Thomas was a bright and outgoing person; if this was a 2000s sitcom, he might have been considered popular. Not only that, but he had a fairly popular youtube channel where he did skits, challenges, and more. Virgil barely even had social media. They were a couple regardless, and Virgil was known as a good kid.

He didn’t feel like a good kid as he watched the Chipotle employee make his bowl. He’d signed himself out of school early along with Thomas, and now they were getting lunch. The thought of skipping school kept buzzing around his head, even though he’d gotten all of his assignments from the classes he’d be missing. Besides he had bigger problems to worry about.

He sat down beside his boyfriend and took a bite of his food, “What am I going to do?” He asked in a small voice, fear lacing his tone. Thomas reached across the booth and squeezed his hand.

Hey,”, Thomas whispered, his voice soft and reassuring, “It’ll be ok. I’ll be right here no matter what.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”, Thomas squeezed his hand, “Now really eat, you skipped lunch yesterday.”, Virgil nodded and the rest of lunch passed silence. The pair simply enjoying their food together. Virgil grinned and poured queso onto his bowl and smiled at his boyfriend.

“You’re so cute.”, he whispered. Thomas blushed at the compliment and Virgil considered it a win. Sooner enough they were done with their meal. Virgil stood up and gathered their trash, “I’m gonna go the bathroom.” “Ok”, Thomas nodded, “I love you no matter what.”. Virgil smiled and went to the bathroom, anxiety twisting his stomach in knots.

Janus sighed as he drove home. Patton had messaged him earlier that he was making dinner and Jan didn’t have to pick up any takeout. Of course, that made Jan’s life easier, but it also meant that they were going to talk over the divorce with the kids. Great. He peered at Remy in the backseat, sipping his chocolate milk without a care in the world. God sometimes Jan wished he were a child still. Childhood was so much easier, “I think your Dad is making dinner tonight.” Remy looked at him, “I thought we were going to pick up takeout?” “He messaged me saying that I don’t need to pick up any food.”, Remy nodded and smiled before looking back out the window. Janus understood: Patton was an amazing cook. Hopefully, they’d all be able to eat after this. God, how would Remy react? He’d already taken the separation hard. And Emile, he barely understood what divorce was. And Virgil, the oldest, the one who buried his feelings the most. He probably wouldn’t want to talk about it and would bury his feelings to help his brothers.

They pulled into the garage, Remy grabbing his stuff and running inside, “Take off your shoes and change before you get mud all over the house.’, he called after him. Janus took his time collecting his things. ‘Just go in. Better to get it over with.’, his thoughts raced around his head like an angry swarm of bees. He took a deep breath and walked inside.

The smell of garlic and tomatoes washed over his sense, Patton was making Italian food. He took a deep breath, enjoying the smells. Patton stood next to the counter, buttering a long baguette for garlic bread. He looked up and gave a reassuring smile, but Janus could see the nervousness in his eye, at least he wasn’t alone in the feeling, “Hey.” He greeted, “The lasagna is almost done and I’m making garlic bread right now. There’s stuff for caesar salad in the fridge if you want to help out.”

Janus nodded and took off his jacket before washing his hands and making said salad, “Where’s Emile and Virgil?”, he asked, praying that he sounded casual. The salad offered a great distraction from his thoughts, greeting parmesan meant he didn’t have to focus on this upcoming family discussion.

“Virgil is helping Emile with his homework. He’s learning addition.”, Patton supplied as he put the bread on a tray, placing it in the oven. “There are brownies in the fridge. I figured we could make sundaes. Hopefully, it’ll make the conversation easier.”, Janus nodded. Remy and Emile might not realize it but Virgil would know something was up. Pat rarely made dessert on weekdays.

Soon enough dinner was done and all five of them were sitting around the table. Virgil still looked anxious and Janus wanted to bang his head off the table. There was no way he’d be able to ask what was wrong after this conversation. Why did this have to happen tonight?

Patton smiled, “So how was school guys?”, ‘Subtle Pat, subtle. Why don’t you just hang a banner above our heads that says We’re getting divorced’. Janus took a large sip of wine so his thoughts would stay in his head.

“Ok,” Remy spoke up. “But I keep getting headaches during the day. The lights in the class are too bright.”, This had been going on for a while now. The fluorescent lighting of the classroom seemed to give Remy migraines, and his teacher wasn’t budging on letting him wear sunglasses to prevent it.

“I’ll talk to your teacher in the morning.”

“My day was good Daddy.”, Emile grinned, “We learned about ecosystems.”, Janus smiled. Emile was so young and innocent.

“Virgil?”, The teenager in question looked up from where he’d been staring off into space. He took a quick bit of lasagna before speaking.

“It was fine.”

He was lying. Something was wrong and Virgil was trying to act like he was ok. Janus wanted to ask more questions, to figure out what was bothering his son. It wouldn’t work though. Virgil guarded his privacy with his life. Prying would only make him more tight-lipped. Janus just had to wait for Virgil to come to him with what was wrong, and in the meantime, hope that it wasn’t serious.

Besides, even if Janus thought it was a good idea to ask, there were other things at hand. Patton nodded to him and he knew it was time. “Your father and I have some news.”. Patton began. Janus held back a groan.

“Are we going to Disney World?”, Emile was practically bouncing in his seat at the thought of such a trip.

“No.”, Janus made a mental note to talk to Patton about a family vacation. Maybe it would help reassure Remy and Emile that they were all still a family. “It’s not that. You all know that we’re always going to be a family right? No matter what happens we’ll always be together.”, Virgil was ghostly pale and Remy had his fists clenched. He didn’t even have to say it. They knew.

His middle son jumped up, “No.” He was tearing up, “You promised.”

“Remy..”

“No! You said we’d always be together.”, Tears began running down his face. A knot formed in Janus’ throat. Why did they have to do this?

“And we will. No matter what.”, Patton tried to soothe. It was met on deaf ears.

“No, we won’t! That’s what they all say! They say nothing will change but it does. Next thing you know, you’re in different houses and splitting custody and no one will want me. And then I’ll be back in foster care.”

“Remy that won’t happen. We love you.”, Janus wanted to take his son in his arms. Wanted to hold all of his children and promise them that they still loved them all, and the divorce wouldn’t change that. But Remy ran upstairs, the sound of his bedroom door slamming shut echoing through the house.

“What’s going on?”, Emile’s face was contorted, confusion visible. Of course, he wouldn’t fully understand what was going on. The six-year-old had barely understood the separation.

Patton sighed and knelt down next to him, “Your father and I are finalizing our divorce. We won’t be married anymore.” Emile blinked.

“Why? I thought you weren’t getting one?” Patton sighed, “Things have changed.”, Emile blinked at him. This was going wrong. It was too soon. They should have eased them into this idea. Shouldn’t have sprung it on them like this.

Understanding bloomed in Emile’s face. His next words were a whisper, so quiet that Janus almost didn’t hear them. But he did, and it felt like getting hit by a truck. “Are you divorcing cause Virgil’s pregnant?” “EMILE!”, Virgil shrieked. Janus felt like he was watching this from above like it was a tv show playing out in front of him, and not his life. He looked next to him. Patton appeared to be in a similar situation.

“It’s the truth.”

Finally, Janus found himself able to speak. There were a million questions inside of him longing to get out, but all he could say was, “What?”

Luckily Patton was able to voice one of his questions, “Virgil, is this true?”. Virgil refused to make eye contact with either of them and Janus knew it was. His eldest child looked almost ashamed, shoulders tense and body hunched over.

“Virgil…”, He started, but he was upstairs before Janus could continue. Janus shut his eyes. Amazing. One of his kids was pregnant at 17 and another thought he was going to be sent back to foster care. His head met the table with a groan. Patton rubbed his shoulder.

Emile still stood in front of them, “Am I in trouble?”, he asked, voice shaking. Janus leaned forward and picked him up. He bounced Emile on his hip, stroking his back.

“No baby.”, He ruffled his hair and booped his nose. “You aren’t in trouble ok. Everything is just kinda stressful right now. But none of that is your fault, ok?” Emile nodded and buried his face into Jan’s chest. Patton joined the hug, stroking Emile’s back and humming softly. They sat there in this position for about 10 minutes before Janus pulled away, gave Emile a kiss on the forehead, “We love all of you so much and the divorce won’t change that ok?”

He nodded and Janus stood up, “I’m going to go talk to Remy, he might be easier to get to open up than Virgil right now.”, He handed Emile to Pat, who bounced him on his hip.

“Ok. I’ll make a pot of hot cocoa to take up. Hopefully, it’ll get him to open up.”, Janus nodded in thanks and made his way upstairs.

Remy’s room was as dark as ever, the twelve-year-old liked to leave the lights in his room dimmed. Janus peaked his head in, seeing him laying on his bed, face buried into his pillows. “Remy?”, He called out. The child in question didn’t respond but Janus knew he was awake, “Can I come in?”

There was silence for a moment and Janus thought about what he would do if Remy said no. He wanted to respect his privacy, but at the time this was a conversation that needed to happen. Remy thought he was going to be sent back to foster care and Janus couldn’t let him just think that. Luckily Remy soon answered, “Yes…”

He walked in slowly, eyes trained on his son. His son who was terrified that he was going to be sent away. He swallowed, “Remy you aren’t going to be sent back to foster care. I promise that.”

Remy sniffled and his heart broke for his middle child, “That’s what they said last time. They said they loved me and I’d never be sent away again. And then they said they were getting a divorce and it wasn’t a good time for them to adopt a kid.”

Janus sighed and began stroking his hair, “And I’m promising that no matter what we’re not sending you back there. We love you. You’re our son, our wonderful son who we love so much. The divorce is between your father and me. And I won’t lie and say that it won’t affect you or that nothing will change, because things will change. A lot of things will change. But the love that your father and I have for the three of you? That will never change. It’ll never fade or go away. And we’re never sending you back.” He smiled slightly and joked, “Besides we threw away the receipt. No returns.”

Remy giggled and Janus knew he’d been successful in cheering him up. Remy sat up and hugged him tightly, tears still flowing freely, “I love you both. This is my home, my family. I don’t want to lose you.” “I know baby, I know. What does Stitch say?”, He hoped that a reference to Remy’s favorite movie would lighten the mood even more.

Remy sighed, “Ohana means family.” “And?”

“Family is never left behind or forgotten.”

Janus nodded and kissed his head, “And you’re our ohana. And we hope to yours. We’re here for as long as you want us.”, Remy smiled and Janus knew that even if it took some time, everything would be ok with him. He sat up. “Patton should be up here in a few minutes with cocoa and I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. So I’ll sit here with you until he gets up here and then I’ll give you your privacy. Ok? Besides I need to talk to your older brother.”

Remy nodded, “Is Virgil ok?”

Janus sighed, “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.”. As if on cue, there was a knock on the door and Patton peaked his head in. He held a tray with four mugs of cocoa topped with whipped cream. Next to them sat a plate with brownies.

“Can I come in? I brought cocoa.” He smiled encouragingly. Remy nodded and sat up off of Janus’s chest. Patton came in, taking two of the mugs and some of the brownies. “The rest are for you and Virgil.”

“Where’s Emile?”

“In his room with a covered mug and a brownie watching Aladdin. He’ll be ok.”, Janus nodded and took the tray before leaving.

Janus stood outside of Virgil’s room, trying to figure out what to say. What did you say when your teenage son was pregnant? Most parents were worried about their sons getting someone pregnant, not their sons being pregnant. Then again, not everyone had a trans son. He sighed and knocked, “Virgil? Can I come in?”

Unlike Remy, who took his time answering, Virgil’s reply was almost immediate, “I don’t want to talk, Dad.”, Janus sighed. Goddammit. This is exactly what he was fearing. He couldn’t just leave his son alone right now. His pregnant son at that. Virgil was pregnant. He groaned.

“Baby bat, please. We need to talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk.” “I have Pat’s hot chocolate and brownies.”

There was a pause. Then he spoke, “The door’s open.”, Janus opened the door slowly. Virgil sat in the middle of the bed, knees tucked against his chest. Tears ran down his face in inky black trails. Janus’ heart ached for him. He looked at Janus and sniffled, “Go on. Yell at me about what a horrible mistake I made.” His heart lept into his throat. Janus remembered having a similar conversation with his sister 18 years ago. How she was pregnant and her boyfriend ran off on her. Janus hadn’t known then how his life was going to change forever. And now his son was pregnant.

“I’m not here to yell at you V.”, He sat next to him, handing Virgil the mug of cocoa. He took a sip of his own, “How long have you known?” Virgil shrugged, “I only found out today. But I suspected it when Dad mentioned that one of the waitresses at the restaurant was pregnant. I’m about a month along.” Janus nodded, “Does Thomas know?”, he was met with a nod. “And what does he think?”, more memories of his sister rushed to the surface. His sister saying that her boyfriend had ran out of town when she found out that was pregnant. That he took the rent money and she’d been evicted. He was brought out of his memories by Virgil’s next words.

“He says he loves me still. And he supports me no matter what I choose.”, Well that was good. Janus didn’t know what he would have done if Thomas had abandoned Virgil. It would have been unpleasant that’s for sure. Now for the hardest question.

“You have options; you don’t have to keep the baby if you don’t want to. Do you have an idea of what you want to do?”, Virgil looked up at him and Janus once again was overcome with memories of his sister. Adelaide saying that she didn’t know what she was going to do but she was keeping her baby. He and Pat letting her move in. Recording home movies for the baby. Rushing her to the hospital while she screamed in pain in his backseat. The doctor saying that she lost too much blood. Holding Virgil in his arms.

“I want to keep the baby.”, there it was. The thing that Janus had known deep down that Virgil would say from the moment he found out about the pregnancy, “I know I have options and I know I’m young and this probably seems stupid but I want this baby. I just... You took a chance on me when mom died. You and Dad weren’t looking for a kid when I was born but you took me in anyway. You took a chance on me. And I’m taking a chance on this baby.”

Janus sighed, “You’re just like your mother you know that. Just as stubborn and just as loving. And you know what? She was just as determined to have you, even if it wasn’t the best time. And I’m going to tell you the same thing I told her.”, He hugged Virgil close, “I love you so much. And if you want this baby then your dad and I will support you no matter what ok? We’ll help you out. I promise.”

Virgil smiled at him, “Really?”

Janus nodded, “Really really. Now I think you should invite Thomas over tomorrow. I want to talk to him.”. Seeing the look on Virgil’s face he added, “I’ll go easy on him. I just want to know he’ll be a good dad for my grandchild. And you two need to tell his parents.”

Virgil nodded and there was a knock at the door, “Come in.”

It was Patton, “Hey. Emile and Remy are both asleep. How is everything?”

“Well Pat, we’re going to be grandfathers.”

Patton smiled and sat down next to them both, “I see. And everything is ok?” Virgil nodded, “Yeah. Everything will work itself out.”, And at that moment Janus knew it to be true.

A/N: Unlike some of my other works, this one is going to be a series of one-shots. I think I'll be able to handle that better than chapter fic. It'll also feel more like episodes of a sitcom. I really like the feel to this and I'm open to prompts.