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shootingcookielover · 1 year ago

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Villain!Donald One-Shot

Alrightttt because ppl really like the donald duck villain au...

Have a one-shot. As a treat! (I'm not promising more bc my trackrecord of finishing long-form fics is. Zero. But hey, if u like... Feel free to play around w the idea urself! Tag me in that though, i wanna read it, too xD)

Somehow, Donald had thought the days would feel more... Profound than this. That there would be an invisible weight off his shoulders, that the rage and resentment would have finally, finally cut off. Released, now that he was no longer affiliated with... Everything.

But he felt pretty much the same as he always had - bar the inevitable exhaustion of raising three children as a single parent. Uncle.

Luckily they were asleep for now, down for the night. Louie and Huey had, as always, been the easiest to put down.

How could anyone, anyone look at children - these soft, small, terribly fragile creatures and... Deem them fit for adventuring? For fighting off ancient curses and monsters and the undead?

His own childhood memories sat heavily in his mind, that old, familiar prickle of fear and adrenaline running through his system for a moment.

He shook his head, eyes moving downward to the pile of bills laid out before him. A couple newspapers were spread beside them, all open to show off whatever jobs were available right now.

Most of them had already been crossed out by him, the red crayon he'd used for it still rested in his hands. The color had started staining his feathers a little, not that he particularly minded. His shirt was equally stained, he wasn't sure he actually still had a clean one anywhere on the boat.

The boat he could only just afford with the help of the state, with the help of what little financial aid it offered for single parents. An aid, of course, heavily supplemented by one Scrooge McDuck. Living off of it made Donald feel like gritting his teeth. Like breaking something.

Not that he would. He couldn't risk waking the boys. Or breaking something important he wouldn't have the money to replace.

His head thunked face-first into the tabletop, beak squished against papers. A despondent sigh left him.

Money, it always came back to the money, didn't it? His uncle's adventures had also always cricled back around to that singular goal, no matter how much he'd claimed it was about "scientific discovery" or "archiological finds".

And Della had always eaten it up. Had strived to find the most exciting, mystical artefact, not realizing that Scrooge probably would have just ended up selling it to some schmuck.

Maybe, Donald thought, he could break into the Money Bin and just take some of that money. Certainly, once his uncle realized it was him, he would be left off the hook. What, with how they'd parted ways, with how Scrooge had insisted upon being "family".

Then again, family had always ended where the money began.

Donald balled his hand into a fist and finally raised his head from the table again. He plopped his face into his hand, staring sightlessly down at the papers he'd collected.

Even if he could manage to land a job anytime in the near future, he still needed a babysitter or a daycare of some kind. Someone to take care of the kids while he wasn't here.

The mere thought of leaving the boys with somebody else nearly left him breathless with worry. Enough so that he abruptly abandoned his seat and walked through the tiny "living room" area of the houseboat to his room. Their room.

(He'd seen the kind of terrors this world was home to, had fought them himself, even. Anyone of them making their way inside, closing in on the children - he didn't want to even think about it.)

He opened the door, silently as he could, just enough to peek his head inside. He had a baby monitor, of course, charged and ready to use on his table, but that wasn't enough.

He needed visual confirmation.

And there they were, in that crib that Donald had cobbled together, while the boys had been just in his eyesight, playing with toys.

All three were snuggled into their blanket, eyes closed, breathing calmly and only occasionally letting out little snuffles.

A soft smile crept onto Donald's beak.

Despite himself, he stepped into the room. Careful to avoid the creaking planks he'd discovered within his first week living on the boat, he approached the crib.

He reached down, where the little stuffed lion had fallen, that Donald had recently bought the boys. They'd been in love with it from day one, hardly willing to share it even with each other. Donald's heart still ached at the thought he couldn't even afford two more plushies for them.

The lion was lowered carefully and Dewey, always the most active out of the three, who lay at the very right, immediately snatched it away from Donald's hand. The movement was accompanied by a soft, baby hand smacking into his brother's, Huey's, face. The boy frowned in his sleep and turned around, but didn't wake up.

Donald let out a soft breath of relief as he pulled up the blanket a bit, to properly tuck the three in again. Louie didn't acknowledge any of the changes going on within the crib, blissfully, deeply asleep.

Donald couldn't help himself as he brushed his hand over the youngest triplet's head. For a while, he had been nothing but anxious about Louie. Because the little one had been so much sleepier, much less active than his brothers. But the doctor had reassured him that Louie was perfectly fine, his energy levels simply did not quite match up with his brothers.

The doctor had also promptly slammed him with an outrageously high bill for the appointment, but Donald decided not to think about that for the moment. He didn't want to ruin his mood again, not when he'd just managed to calm himself.

He backed away from the crib, intent to go gather the bills and newspapers he'd laid out, maybe look over them tomorrow when he'd had some sleep. (He already knew Dewey was going to wake him up in the middle of the night again, hungry and fussy and bothering his brothers in the process.)

Except as he softly closed the door, making sure it didn't produce a sound, his eyes caught on the opposing wall. Or, more accurately, the window across from him. Because that window was wide open, letting in the cold night air.

Immediately, Donald was on alert. His shoulders tensed as he looked over the room, poised and ready to defend himself as well as the babies in the next room, should it come to that.

But the room looked entirely untouched, except for the open window. A bit dirty, a bit messy, sure, but not anymore or less so than before Donald had gone to check on his nephews.

His brows furrowed into a frown. Strange.

Perhaps he'd opened the window earlier and forgotten...?

Still he didn't relax, even as he approached the window and closed it again. It looked fine, really, no evidence of being tampered with or anything. And certainly Donald would have heard anyone come in, even from the boys' room. Even through the door - it wasn't exactly sound-proof, after all.

Reasanobly reassured, Donald went back to his pile of papers. A few had scattered off the table and now decorated the ground.

With a huff Donald bent down to pick them up.

But as he did so, something red caught his attention in the corner of his vision. It couldn't be the crayon - he was still carrying that around, after all - no. It was an envelope, half-hidden under the pile of other documents.

Frowning harder than before, Donald reached out and pulled it free. His tension was back immediately and his gaze hushed over to the baby monitor for a second. But no sound came from there, nothing indicating anything being amiss.

Only the red envelope in his hands.

He didn't remember it being in the pile of mail he'd grabbed that morning - mostly bills, really - and there was no address on the front, either. All that was written on it in awfully nice, unfamiliar handwriting was "For Donald Duck".

Even as he turned it, he didn't expect to find more. And he was right, the back was entirely blank.

Already over this, whatever this was, he began ripping open the letter. Meanwhile he tried composing a mental list of Scrooge's enemies and which one was most likely to send a threat to Donald, of all people, when he had so clearly distanced himself from his uncle.

The list shattered into a pile of questions as he read the words trapped within the envelope.

"Dear Mr. Duck,

It has come to our attention that you have recently split off from your uncle and are in dire need of both a babysitter and a job. To prove that we do not have any malicious intentions toward you or the children, we propose a meeting with one of our representatives."

There was more, after that, instructions about a place to meet - a public place, a playground in the middle of Duckburg, yet not too far from the boat. Donald knew it well, went there often if only to satisfy his own need for fresh air.

It was a well-frequented place, always full of other parents - some of which had helped Donald with the kids before, some of which he'd thought of setting up a play-date with. Innocent, potential victims.

The thought of agreeing to this made every single alarm bell in his head ring deafeningly loud, but at the same time... His gaze travelled to look over the newspapers he'd been attempting to find a job in.

He sighed as he put down the envelope beside his bills. His finger tapped the tabletop a couple of times, his tired mind busy debating the pros and cons of the situation.

The cons list was pretty long, at this point.

But, even though it was shorter, the pros list held a couple of very important points that Donald would be remiss to ignore.

His musings were cut short by the sudden cry of a newborn.

Red envelope forgotten, Donald dashed into the boys' room again.

----

He'd debated calling Beakley for back-up, just some silent support in case things went south.

Now he regretted that he'd decided against it.

His nerves were high as he sat on the bench, watching the boys toddle around the sandbox. They stayed close to him today, though Donald hadn't told them to. Certainly, if he had, they'd have soread out as far away from him as possible.

Perhaps the little ones had picked up on Donald's anxiety. He had heard from other parents that children often were a lot more perceptive than adults gave them credit for.

Though his nephews were still so small. How could they realize his emotional turmoil? How could he put that on them? How could he put them in danger like this?

Hardly five minutes after sitting down, Donald stood up again.

This was a mistake. He shouldn't have come. Shouldn't have listened to that letter.

He was just so damn tired--

"Huey!", he had barely been able to call when an unfamiliar voice spoke up from just beside the bench.

"Mr. Duck?"

He turned and his heart sank into his stomach. He'd been right.

This was a mistake.

Stood just beside the bench were two people, one he didn't recognise, a duck with red hair who stayed in the back, not appearing to be paying attention. The second was Black Heron.

He remembered her, remembered feeling terrified, petrified as a child, faced with the supervillain. That same feeling now rushed through his veins, alongside overwhelming concern for the boys.

His eyes darted to the side for a moment, glancing to where they'd been just moments prior. They were there still, appearing unbothered as they dug through the sand.

"Black Heron.", Donald replied, voice cool as he returned her gaze.

The other grinned, reaching out with one hand. A robotic hand, Donald noted, with sharp bits and pointed ends that he wanted never, ever anywhere near his nephews. "So you do remember me. I am flattered, Mr. Duck."

"What do you want?", Donald asked, tone harsh. This sort of thing was exactly why he'd left Scrooge in the first place. He had no desire for the boys to get involved with things like this.

Pulling back her ignored hand, Black Heron rolled her eyes. "Now, please. There's no need to be so hostile."

"Yeah! It's not like we're here tl kidnap the kids or anything! Now, if we were planning that you should be concerned, but honestly I don't know if I could do that. I mean, look at them! They're so adorable, I don't think I could focus long enough to take them! Not that I'm particularly good at focussing regardless, but my point is--"

"Quiet!", Black Heron interrupted the ramblings of her... Accomplice, a severe expression in her face.

The other woman looked sheepish and yet somehow entirely clueless and unaffected as well. "Sorry.", she said simply, giving a bit of a shrug.

Donald didn't feel very comforted by what was going on, though he supposed at least they weren't openly threatening to take the boys. He stole another glance at them. They were fine, Huey was busy digging a plastic shovel into the ground, Dewey had started shoveling sand into his beak and Louie looked about five seconds away from falling asleep next to his brothers.

Wait. Dewey was shoveling sand in his mouth.

"Dew-", he began, already starting in that direction.

But he was quickly eclipsed by the red-haired stranger Black Heron had brought along. She sped past him and picked up Dewey from the ground.

Donald's heartbeat sped up faster than the Cloudslayer could fly. "What are you- Put him down!"

But the woman wasn't paying him any mind. She was swaying Dewey back and forth, and... Talking to him.

"Y'know, I thought eating sand was a really fun idea, too, when I was younger, but then I tried it again recently and oh boy, let me tell you, getting the grit out of your teeth is nearly impossible! And, well, I mean you barely even have any teeth but, still you shouldn't get into the habit, y'know? Besides, who knows what all is crawling around in playground sand! You could get all sorts of sicknesses! Why don't you chew on this instead?"

She reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out... A teething ring? She held it out to Dewey and the boy eagerly grabbed it, before shoving it in his mouth. "There, see? Much better!", the woman exclaimed before setting Dewey back down on the ground.

Donald felt a little lost at the display. "I- what?", he muttered, trying and failing to keep his worldview intact. He shook his head. Maybe all the lack of sleep was getting to him.

"Hm, yes, I was surprised, too, but apparently Agent 01 is quite adept at taking care of children.", Black Heron added, arms crossed against her chest as she watched the kids now, too.

"Oh, yeah, I had to take care of my little siblings all the time when I was younger.", the woman - Agent 01? - added, grinning up brightly at them, from where she sat kneeling in the sand, entertaining Huey.

Donald blinked a few times, still feeling unbalanced. Sort of as though somebody had pulled out the rug from under him. His unease and worry were still there, but he found mild intrigue there, now, too. The letter had mentioned there would be a babysitter. And a job.

Donald's brows knitted together again.

"What do you want?", he said again, glancing Heron's way once more, tone a touch less hostile than earlier.

-----

Working for F.O.W.L. wasn't so bad, really, Donald thought. Of course he wasn't one of the actual agents - moreso filling the role of accountant, fiddling with and filling out paperwork, but Donald didn't mind.

He liked it, actually, the quiet that came with it, the calm. Certainly he wasn't used to it; his life had always been hectic, one adventure chasing the next, chasing the next and then he'd abruptly become a caregiver for three children and the very idea of having a calm day went out the window.

But now? He tapped his pen against his desk a couple of times. He had an entire little office to himself, here in F.O.W.L.'s underground headquarters.

A desk with a chair, a couple of filing cabinets, a potted plant. A cozy little carpet on the floor, a "hang in there!"-poster on one wall. A poster with the F.O.W.L. logo on the other.

This might be the most normal experience Donald had ever had. And it was in the HQ of a secret organization that strived for world domination.

Truly only in this family, Donald thought with a sigh.

He scribbled down a couple more notes on the paper he was currently working on, before shoving it aside on the "finsihed" pile. He felt almost at peace.

His teeth came down on the back of the pen. His gaze flitted to the clock that hung above the door.

The document before him was nearly ledgible.

Nearly, because Donald couldn't focus.

Who was he kidding? He was the furthest thing from peaceful!

What was he even doing?! Working for F.O.W.L.?!

He stood up, chair spinning away behind him.

His steps were quick and crisp as he crossed the room. The door opened easily, unlocked, and as he peered outside he didn't find any guards, either.

They were underestimating him, then. He could work with that. He'd worked with that constantly when he'd been a child and none of Scrooge's enemies had taken him seriously.

The hallways looked basically normal as well, as normal as one could get, who knows how many miles under the earth.

Donald strode with confidence, face set into a snarl.

He knew where the boys where, knew that Pepper - Agent 01, the woman who'd accompanied Black Heron that first time - was in charge of keeping them safe and entertained.

How could he have agreed to that? Agreed to have a F.O.W.L. agent watch over his nephews? Even one as apparently harmless as Pepper?

He found himself picking up his pace until he was running through the hallways. Eggheads shot him confused looks as he made his way past, but didn't say anything.

He slid to a stop by the door of the "daycare".

He had to restrain himself from ripping it off his hinges, in a desperate effort not to draw more attention to himself.

In the room itself - floor covered in soft, colorful mats, looking like puzzle pieces, decked out with all sorts of toys and plushies - Pepper looked up in surprise, Louie peacefully napping in her arms.

"Donald!", Pepper exclaimed in surprise, voice subdued for the benefit of the sleeping infant.

Huey and Dewey weren't far from her, distracted by their own little toys. Dewey was chewing on that same teething ring Pepper had provided him at their first meeting.

"What are you doing to them?!", Donald snapped, voice a dangerous whisper.

Pepper blinked, part confusion, part surprise. "Uh, well, I was going to lay this little one down for a proper nap soon and maybe read Huey and Louie a story, later?"

"No.", Donald replied. "What are you doing to them?! To me?!"

"Uhm.", Pepper looked entirely lost at his line of enquiry. "...nothing?"

"Impossible!", Donald snapped. "I wouldn't have agreed to this if I wasn't, if you didn't--", his words died in an unintelligible garble of noise, frustration spilling out of him.

"Mr. Duck.", a new voice spoke up, unfamiliar in tone and cadence, yet he couldn't shake the feeling he's heard it before.

"What?!", he responded, whipping around to face the newcomer.

To face--- Donald blinked a couple of times.

Was that... The head of Scrooge's board of directors? What?

"Mr. Duck, I undrstand that this is all a lot to rake in, but I assure you, we are doing nothing to you or your nephews - aside from providing them proper childcare, of course."

Donald's mind restarted suddenly and he glared. "How do I know you're telling the truth? You and your people have tried to kill me a dozen times!"

"Oh, no, Mr. Duck, I understand how you could have come to that conclusion, but that is not what we - what F.O.W.L. - is all about, not at all. We have not been attempting to kill you, as you put it, but rather to put a stop to your uncle."

There was something awfully calming, relatable even, in the old vulture's stance, in his tone of voice, the way he spoke. Donald huffed, regardless, glancing over at the kids again.

Huey was staring up at him, now, eyes big, tiny beak curving into a smile.

"So you can take over the world.", Donald scoffed, attention returning to the vulture. He didn't remember the guy's name, but he'd seen him before plenty of times. Always complaining about money spent.

Surprisingly, he didn't try to deny it. He nodded. "Indeed. To make it safer. For you, for me, for... Them.", he gestured to the children.

Pepper was humming a tune as she played with Dewey, Louie still securely wrapped in her arm.

"So that none of them have to go through what we did."

"...we?", Donald repeated, confused.

The vulture wasn't looking at him, anymore, gaze placed on something far off, distant. "Indeed. You are not the only one who suffered through a childhood of danger and adventure at the hands of their family."

Donald jerked back in surprise, eyes going wide. "What- you-"

"My grandmother. She always took me along, no matter how little I wanted to.", the old vulture sighed, gaze meeting Donald's once more. "I only want to ensure that this fate does not befall any more innocent children, Mr. Duck."

Donald glanced betweent he vulture and the children still expertly being tended to by Pepper.

Of course Black Heron had already given him a basic run-down of what had just been explained to him, but... Well, it was hard to argue with that look in the other's eyes.

Donald had seen it plenty of times; that haunted, hollow thing. Every time he'd looked in a mirror, they would stare back at him. Every villain, every menace, every danger he'd faced as a child.

Heron hadn't just made up a story to convince a poor, sleep-deprived Donald to join F.O.W.L. he realized.

Tension bled out of his frame as he stepped into the room. He knelt besides Huey, smiling as the child grabbed ahold of his finger.

"...I'm sorry.", Donald muttered, "I don't know what... I understand."

"That's alright.", the vulture answered, easily. "You were traumatized. I know from experience that trusting people can be hard after what we've both experienced in childhood."

Donald gave a quiet chuckle. It was nice to have someone who understood.

Of course, Della had been there - thinking of her made him wince with pain - but she'd never quite realized how much Donald resented the adventures she loved so much.

He reached down, pulling Huey into his lap.

The little boy giggled, gurgling a couple of indistinct sounds.

He would help make sure no other child had to grow up as he did. Especially these children.

His children.

-+-+-+-++

Wow would u look at that! I have no idea how i got here but i kinda like it lol

Poor Donald being put under a lot of pressure aint he? Idk what else to say tbh

If u liked it. Please let me know :D

If u didnt like it... I do appreciate constructive criticism lol

Yes, I made Pepper Agent 01 to insinuate that she was the first egghead that joined F.O.W.L.. I just thought that was a fun idea x3

#ducktales #dt17 #ducktales 2017 #donald duck #villain donald #no i didnt proofread this #yes this was first posted as a reblog but i kinda wanted it as its own post too #not beta read we die with the same fervor scrooge refuses to

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