#it's fine it's fine don't worry abou it

[kujakumai]

If you think about the futurism/technology acceleration implied by the manga-DSoD timeline too hard you will hurt your brain so bad. Yugi is depicted using a tablet and Mokuba has a smartphone a year after real-world Google was founded

[explosionkatsu]

Age doesn't matter Finale

Dad!Bakugo x F!Teacher!Babysitter!Reader

24

As the school week comes to an end, he eagerly looks forward to his weekend visit with his mother. Without fail, every Saturday or Sunday, he sets aside time to make the journey to his home. The time spent with her is precious to him, and he cherishes the opportunity to catch up on each other's lives, share stories, and simply enjoy each other's company especially now that he is looking forward to meeting his baby brother.

As Kazui walked into the living room, you couldn't help but smile. "You're early, Kazui-chan," you said, giggling as you tried to stand up from the comfortable sofa where you sat. "Okairi, sweety," you added with a smile, admiring his delicate features that contrasted his father's strong ones.

Kazui seemed worried as he threw his bag aside and rushed to your side. "Dad will scold you again," he warned you, concern etched on his face. "Please don't move that much, Mom."

"Don't worry that much, dear. You are all overreacting," you playfully pushed him but gave him a hug which he returned happily. You could feel the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his hair, as well as the gentle beating of his heart.

"We just don't want you to move that much," Kazui said, as he looked up at you. You couldn't help but notice how much he resembled his father and felt a pang of bliss.

"Oh, shush. I'm taking care of myself. Don't worry, okay?" you giggled, finally releasing Kazui from the embrace. You could see that he still looked worried, but you didn't want to trouble him further.

"Fine, fine," Kazui chuckled. "Have you eaten? Do you want me to prepare you anything?" His voice was soft and soothing, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for his care.

"I'm fine, dear. How was school?" you asked, taking his bag from where he threw it. You slightly bend down to grab it, feeling its weight already, and wonder how he managed to carry it around all day.

Kazui saw this and just took his bag before you could take it, making you pout. "It's pretty annoying," he scowled. You could see that he was tired and wanted to rest.

"Why is that?" you asked, curious about what was bothering him.

"A bunch of extras are clinging to me. I hate it," he replied, his eyes rolling at the thought.

Hearing this, you laughed out loud. "You have no idea how... how," you couldn't even continue your sentence, as you were still laughing.

Kazui looked at you weirdly.

Almost right on time, Katsuki walked in holding a bunch of groceries. "I'm back." He called out. As he turned to look at you, an eyebrow raised, seeing his son. "You're early, brat."

"And you're here," Kazui said raising his eyebrow, eyeing his Dad from top to bottom. "Are you supposed on patrol today?"

"Unlike you, I get to take a leave from work, brat," Katsuki smirked still holding the groceries.

"Now, now, you two." You stepped between. You that these two would start a fight, and also knew that your husband would spar with Kazui. "Katsuki, just put those in the kitchen, Kazui, go freshen up." You said, arms crossed.

"You're lucky your mom's here, brat." Katsuki grinned.

"I will beat you this time if Mom is not here." Kazui scowled as he headed to his bathroom.

" I swear to god, these two." You shook your head while watching.

---

Katsuki moved around the kitchen with precision, expertly maneuvering the pots and pans. The aroma of the delicious meal filled the air, making Y/n's mouth water in anticipation. Her heart swelled with gratitude for Katsuki, who always took care of her, especially now that she was pregnant with their second child.

As Y/n gazed in awe at Katsuki's impressive culinary skills, she noticed Kazui finally making his way down the stairs. His feet made a soft pitter-patter sound on the wooden steps, the noise echoing through the entire house.

When Kazui reached the bottom of the stairs, he couldn't contain his excitement and immediately sat down next to Y/n, eager to converse with his mother about how his training went at school.

At the sound of his son's footsteps, Katsuki turned around and caught sight of Kazui, a small smirk spreading across his face.

As he observed the scene unfolding before him, he couldn't help but feel a sense of joy welling up inside him. The bond between Y/n and Kazui was a beautiful sight to behold, and it filled his heart with an indescribable warmth. Watching Kazui interact with his mother, chatting with her calmly and genuinely, and tenderly placing a hand on her belly to feel the presence of his soon-to-be little sibling, stirred deep emotions within him.

As they all gathered around the dinner table, the room was filled with the sound of laughter and animated chatter. Y/n's laughter was infectious, and Katsuki and Kazui engaged in a lively conversation about school. Y/n couldn't help but smile as she watched her husband and son, bantering, and particularly relishing Katsuki's teasing, which never failed to bring a smile to her face.

At that moment, as they shared a meal, Y/n couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude. She was grateful for the love of her husband and son, and the little one growing inside her. As she looked around the table, her heart filled with a sense of contentment and a deep appreciation for the beautiful life they had created together.

She never imagined that her life would turn out this way. The journey seemed full of confusion and pain in the past, but in the end, everything worked out wonderfully.

A great husband and a great son.

He may be a little older than her, but age doesn't matter in love, right? 

-

1k words only. Its been a while, I'm sorry. But here is the finale. This is a bit rushed but I know you guys needed closure for this story lol. I do hope some of ya'all still liked this.

And for my other fanfics? It might take a while for me to update since I got a job now, its tiring but I really want to get back at writing. So, yeah.

Enjoy!

[lovingmayday]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

warnings : fluff, cursing, innacurate-ish depictions of hobie's speech

notes : hobie is about 16-17 here (and so is the pov). halfway writing this, im overwhelmed by how much of an extrovert hobie actually is 😭 btw, i know nothing of classical music concerts so beware! all of this just because i wanted to write hobie sneaking in your window but i didnt even get to fit it in 😭😭

Two words that you've used as an excuse and an apology when you couldn't join your friends at house parties, when a classmate asks you out, or when your phone notifications go crazy because you still weren't home at 5 PM — it was a tiring cycle.

You know they were simply looking out for you but you can't help but feel overwhelmed and exhausted for always being monitored and left out. You couldn't possibly ask your peers to adjust to your parents' standards, you thought it shameless because they already had a hard time with your folks reaching out and interrogating them about your school and social life.

With so much of your life being tracked by them, you deserve at least one thing in your control, right?

Hobie Brown, the school troublemaker. Skips class, vandalizes school property, and actively participates in movements against authority. Frankly, he just does whatever he wants. And he had your respect (+ jealousy). It must've been nice to be so free.

You and Hobie were never given the chance to befriend each other before — you had some classes together but he rarely ever showed up to any of them. You had no reason to approach him and vice versa.

Until, Wednesday — your cello performance. God, you don't know why you insisted to your parents you could handle commuting to the concert venue on your own with the heavy as fuck cello slung around your torso. You had your book bag with you as well because you had just finished school. The bus stop was a few more blocks away but you were tired.

You weren't paying much attention to your surroundings, busy focusing on your aching shoulder. So once you saw the pedestrian lane green signal, you didn't think twice before walking, failing to notice the bicycle riding full speed to your direction. Your eyes widen when a strong force pulled you back, making you stumble a bit and see the bike dart just in front of you.

"Aye, watch it!" you hear the cyclist exclaim.

You back was leaning against the tall figure, looking up to see a familiar face. You regain your balance and face him — Hobie Brown, the boy that just saved your life. "I-It was green– green meant it was safe to walk... I should've looked first, 'm sorry," you say quietly.

"Nah yeah, it's straight. He was the arse," he replies, hands in his pockets. "Dunno where he got the audacity to tell you off when he was in the wrong. Don't worry abou' it." He gives you a reassuring smile, noticing your still dazed expression.

"Thank you, Hobie," you say, a small polite smile on your lips.

He smiles back and nods, "'Twas nothin'." His eyes hover on the unignorable instrument case you were carrying. "Ya headed somewhere?"

"Uhh, yeah," you say, watching the pedestrian stop light turn red again and pouting a bit. You probably won't be late to the performance but you'd miss most of final rehearsal. "Nueva Hall. I have a cello performance in a bit."

"Nueva Hall.. That fuckin' massive, fancy lookin' museum along 5th Ave?" he asks, his eyebrows rising a bit from amazement. "Didn't know you were a big shot musician. Let me get for ya, then." He swings the case from your torso and starts walking across the street before you could protest.

"Hey!" you exclaim, running after him, dodging the other pedestrians walking past you.

"It's a bit distant from here, innit? Let me take you there, I got time. Wouldn't want you to croak before the big show," he jests, turning around and walking backwards. "If it's fine with you, [Name], of course."

You weren't too keen on traveling alone; you only did so so that your parents would think you were independent enough. You consider it for a few moments. "Are you sure I wouldn't be bothering you with this?"

"'Course not. 'Was the one who suggested, wasn't I?" He smirks before turning back around to walk properly and you catch up to his side. "What're you playin'?"

"Tchaikovsky, Rococo Variation. It's a cello and orchestra performance and I got to play cello," you say excitedly. "You're in a band, right? It's like a lead singer but cello!"

He smiles softly at your energy, feeling his cheeks warm up a bit. "How'd you know I was in a band?" he asks almost teasingly.

"I walked by one of your public concerts with my family. I would've stayed if my parents let me," you answer with a small laugh. "You were amazing, by the way."

"Thanks, mate. You're probably not too bad yourself," he says, chuckling as you playfully hit his shoulder.

It was safe to say you hit it off well, which was surprising since you didn't think you would. You thought your personalities would clash, you being at the quieter side while Hobie, you could hear his ruckus from another dimension (and there was a tiny part of you that was intimidated at him, at first).

You arrived at the venue earlier than expected — still late to rehearsals but not by much. "Hey, thanks again. I really appreciate it," you say to him just outside the concert hall doors.

He handed you your cello and waved off your thank you. "It was a pleasure," he teases and you roll your eyes. "Break a leg, [Name]." You thank him once again before he turns around to leave.

Seeing him walk away gave you an unfamiliar ache in your chest. After a much needed self-courage-boost, you let out a soft but loud enough "Wait." for him to hear. He turns around with a small smile and raises an eyebrow, silently asking you to go on. You wet your lips before taking a deep breathe. "Do you want to stay for the show?"

His smile widens, a handsome grin reaching ear to ear. "Finally. 've been waitin' the entire trip for that offer." He laughs and jogs back to you.

He sits at the back row. When he entered the room, he got a few stares and hushed whispers from the other audiences but he couldn't care less, his attention was unwaveringly stuck on you. It was just rehearsals but it overwhelmed Hobie to think about how you'd do in the real thing. He was entranced by you the entire time. The movement of your bow and the emotions you protrayed. It was magnetic.

Once practice was over, the musicians left the stage for a bit as audiences started to pour in. With guests on the older side with more formal attires, it was so obvious that he was out of place.

Meanwhile, you were panicking a bit because after you got changed out of your school uniform, you neared the stage's curtains to check up on Hobie. Your mouth gapes when you see him sat at the back row, almost directly behind your parents. Your parents! You forgot about your parents!! How did you forget about your parents??! They'd go crazy once they knew that you had invited this boy to your performance — you never invite your friends, let alone anybody, to watch your performances.

The second it was time for the musicians to come on stage, Hobie's head rises from his phone and looks for your figure immediately, smiling once he notices your wardrobe change. It was a simple long-sleeve black dress but it was pretty on you. Hobie thought so.

Your take deep breathes to calm your nerves before situating the cello between your thighs. You wait for the violins, the flutes, and the organ to start playing the intro before propping up the cello's bow. With your head held high, you play the first few notes — the position of your hands finding its own way around the fingerboard like muscle memory.

The music closes to an end, claps and praises erupt the venue. You smile and stand to find Hobie. He was already making his way to you. You leave the cello leaning safely on your chair as you scurry to the stairs of the sides of the stage.

"Hobie!" you greet as you reached him. "How did I do? Was I rushing? What'd you think of it?" you ask, rambling almost. If Spiderpunk gets his adrenaline from his fights, you get it from instances that make your heart feel like its about to burst into a million burnt pieces of flesh in your chest.

He smiles back at you, amused. He's never seen this side of you before. He's never seen anything of you other than your surface-level calmness and pliance. "'ts not usually my thing but I know to appreciate talent. Credit when credit is due and all tha' and, luv, you absolutely smashed it!" he exclaims as quietly as exclaiming can allow, placing both hands on you shoulders and shaking them.

"Thanks," you giggle out, placing your hands on his arm. From the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice your parents on their way to you, confused looks on their faces. Your smile falters as you gently loosen Hobie's hold on you, the adrenaline slowly dying down.

"[Name], amazing as always," your mother says, holding your hand in hers' and caressing your cheek with the other. "Who's your friend?" she quickly asks. Her judgmental eyes scan his appearance from head to toe, attempting to hide her expression with a faux smile.

Hobie was about to introduce himself when you cut him off. "–He's a classmate, Hobie Brown." You look into his eyes apologizing and almost pleading to him to go along with whatever you were about to say. "He came here by pure coincidence, could you believe that?!"

"Yeah, a friend gave me an invitation," he follows up seamlessly, a polite smile on his lips. "'Didn't know your daugh'er was performin'."

"Well, it's a nice surprise, isn't it?" you mother says, pulling you to her side.

Your father had yet to contribute to the conversation so you checked up on hi.. He was glaring at Hobie so harshly you could see burn marks starting to appear on his forehead. "Did you enjoy the show?" he finally asks, tone almost threatening.

Your cheeks start to flush in embarrassment. It wasn't uncommon for your parents to ask about the boys you talk to but it never felt any less humiliating every time it happens. You see each and every one of them get uncomfortable and you couldn't do anything to stop them because they'd think you were hiding something.

"Yeah, I enjoyed [Name]'s performance a lot. You must be very proud of her, Mr. [Last Name]," Hobie answers. You've talked to him long enough to notice the slight teasing in his voice. He smirks at you which makes your father's hands turn into fists.

"Honey," you mother calls, "We'll be late for our dinner reservation. It was really nice to meet you, Hobie, but we have to go." Her smile was still plastered across her face, you wonder why her cheeks hasn't hurt yet. She tells you to collect your stuff and you do so quickly. You bid Hobie an apologetic goodbye before you leave.

On the car to the restaurant, you were given the 'no boyfriends' talk again. You tried to respond with 'mhmm's and 'uh-huh's here and there but you weren't listening to a thing — having heard them repeat the same points many times before. You wondered how to approach Hobie the next day, thinking of stuff to say, how to bring it up, and how to act once he says he doesn't want to get involved with you anymore. It was a shame since you really enjoyed his company.

You wished that Hobie went to school the next day and he did, surprisingly. After classes, you catch up to him leaving the building to speak to him.

You were supposed to explain to him the situation but it seemed he was already up to pace and accepting. "The things is," you pause for a bit, "I really liked hanging out with you.." you confess.

"Hey, wait up!" you yell, running to reach him before he got too far. He paused in his tracks, hands in his vest pockets as he watches you catch your breath. "About yesterday..–"

"Nah, I get it," he interrupts you. "Strict parents and shit. It's cool if your folks don't want you hanging out with me anymore. It sucks but I get it." He was disappointed but chill about the entire thing which made your heart sink. You really didn't want to stop seeing him again. You wondered if he felt the same.

A small gentle smile stretches his lips. "I really liked hanging out with you, too. A lot. Best time I've had in a while, honestly."

You contemplate on what to say next — whether to let them out or not. You mouth gapes open, waiting on your next words. You were about to give him an apology but seeing his eyes, hearing that he liked your company maybe as much as you did, it made the decision so much more difficult. ..Fuck it. "I'd like to continue spending time with you.. even if it meant disobeying my parents. If it's alright with you, of course." You feel your ears heat up as you look down, scared of what the other's reaction might be.

It was rather obvious that Hobie didn't expect it, his eyes widening by a fraction. A big smirk appears on his face as he leans down to catch your eyes. "'Must've left quite the impression on you, huh?" he teases. He watches your eyes roll as you playfully shove his shoulder. "Well, I do love a good rebellion."

"It's not a rebellion."

"It's painfully close then, isn't it?"

[mwalani]

Charlie, Angel Dust, Adam and Emily X Reader - (Charlie, Angel Dust - part 1)

︴Notes - Hello! Again, not a request but I'm having a boost of ideas HAHAHS anyways yeah uh this is more of a self insert because the reader is basically me but uhm yeahhh I hope anyone can read it 🙏

︴Content - Charlie, Angel Dust, Adam and Emily headcannons with a reader who has insomnia but likes to sleep during the day, dislikes studying, forget things often, is distracted easily, is shy but gets talkative once comfortable around them, gets easily angry, is an ambivert and likes to do art.

Charlie would be worried about your health, especially since you don't sleep a lot at night.

One thing she noticed is that when you're awake during the night, you go and find something to do.

Most of the time you're drawing, writing or just playing games while listening to music.

Charlie understands that you have difficulty in falling asleep and all but she'd still insist on trying to help you.

You agreed even if you knew it wouldn't change a lot without proper medicine for it.

Charlie also saw that you usually didn't slept at night no matter what happened, but ended up sleeping during the day.

That made you not interact with a lot of them too often because they're usually sleeping when you're awake.

But there's always someone who woke up or didn't sleep yet to talk to you.

Sometimes you liked it, sometimes you didn't. Depended 100% on your mood.

One thing Charlie is a bit confused is when you told her that you didn't like studying.

That's not a problem, the thing is that you spend a lot of time on random things and then say you hate to study 😭

She understands you though, I feel like math isn't something Charlie really likes.

But she loves history, and it seems that you like it too!

Charlie never touched a video game before, but for you she'd try to learn just to make you company.

Also, she tries to only call you for hotel activities that doesn't require a lot of effort to do, because she knows you don't like it a lot.

Something that she can't help with, is how you get distracted easily and have a poor memory.

Charlie can't help because she's literally the same!

So you two end up forgetting a lot of things. But hey it's fine! It's not like someone remembered it to be mad!

Charlie was really happy when you finally got comfortable around her because she noticed you were really shy.

Which made her try to get you to participate on more activities with the other residents, but once she saw how uncomfortable you looked she gave up on that idea.

Though she's trying to make you be less shy! Even if it's with little progress.

Charlie sometimes get taken back by your coldness because you're usually chill and happy around her.

But when she asked you about it, she learned that you randomly get grumpy and tired of everything and that makes you get a bit sassy towards others...

That makes you feel guilty and she tells you it's totally fine, she doesn't take it to heart!

Probably gave you an anti-stress ball or something to fidget when she saw you scream at the couch because you accidentally bumped into it.

She loves to hug you, especially when you get angry and instead of screaming or whatever you just start crying.

It breaks her heart seeing crying like that, so it's her job to go and comfort you!

Angel Dust is worried about you, but he isn't the best example himself..

I mean, he's either doing drugs or coming back from his work during the middle of the night so he doesn't really have a sleeping schedule-

That doesn't mean he isn't going to try to help you.

Angel Dust isn't one to invalidate people's feelings, so if you got angry at him trying to make you go to sleep he'd stop.

But instead he would love to just, stay there, awake with you doing whatever.

He's genuinely interested on your hobbies, especially the drawing and playing games one.

Angel Dust probably wanted to try games but never had the chance you know? So when you find out about it, you ask him to play with you.

He'd be really happy with it, but also get (jokingly) mad at you for making fun of him for when he died to a zombie on Minecraft.

Angel Dust notices after some time how easily distracted you are, and honestly, it's a bit funny.

You're there telling him a random thing that happened to you, and then you stop and change the topic to why Charlie was running around the hotel.

Even forgetting about what you were saying before! Which makes him also notices that your memory is shit.

Like, I feel like Angel Dust's definetly going to help you with it, even if it's just placing some notes on your desk with things like "Finish that drawing" "We're playing tonight ;)" or things like this.

Angel Dust knows that you are shy, because when he went to talk to you he thought you were going to run away from how nervous and red you were.

At first he even thought you had a crush on him! I mean not like you don't but 🥰

Now you don't even shut up! And it's definetly a good thing for him, Angel loves to listen to you babble about any of your interests.

He also knows how to see when you're in your "Good mood" or "Bad mood".

When you're in a bad mood, you're usually more cold and sassy to everyone, but you apologize right after you come back to the good mood again.

You have a bad temper, and Angel Dust remembers to not get on your nerve because he doesn't want you to get even more stressed.

I mean, he saw you lose a pencil and then yell at nothing just to find the pencil right after.

But when you just, cry instead of scream, that makes him really worried.

If you allow, he's going to pull into a hug, or a cuddle. Whatever makes you feel better.

He even let you pet Fat nuggets because he knows how much you love him😭

[whirlwindimagines]

Fluffy oneshot of Vash proposing to his s/o 🥹

Well how could I refuse this request? <3 nice and cheesy just for you guys <3

‘It’s like the sun came out’

Vash x Reader

Vash fiddles with his prosthetic nervously, his arm was fine really but he didn’t know what else to do with his nervous energy. You were out shopping wanting to restock on supplies before the two of you headed out again.

He offered to secure a room for you both for the night, grateful for the alone time, not that he wanted to be away from you! Vash just needed some time to think. He stopped messing with his arm to dig through his coat pockets, almost dropping the small box when he pulled it out.

Opening carefully, he sighed with relief to see the simple ring still tucked safely in the ring box, this is what he needed time to think about. What to say to you, how to even ask you, he could count on one hand the number of times he’s almost had then backed out at the last moment.

What if you said no? He closes the box and sets it on the table with a sigh, Vash knew he was overthinking, he loved you and you, him. God, you would start shouting it from the rooftops if he even thought about doubting your care for him. 

Placing the box back in his pockets, Vash stood he agreed to meet you outside the hotel so he could show you the room and then maybe find a place to eat. Leaving the room and down the stairs, he spots you in the lobby his gaze softens as he watches you look out the window the sunlight casting a soft glow over you making you ethereal, he didn’t think he could be any more in love with you. 

You turn feeling eyes on you, and your eyes light looking over at Vash. Raising an arm to wave at him, he quickly joins your side. Grasping your hand in his and giving it a quick squeeze before letting go. You know Vash isn’t one for public displays of affection, he's worried about someone recognizing him and then using you to hurt him. You’ve told him time and time again, that it didn't matter who saw that you were proud and happy to be with him. Vash could be so set in his ways about that, but you knew he did it out of love, so you would respect his wishes. 

“Shall we eat?” you asked, taking a step closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his. “I saw a cozy little diner, in the middle of town and thought you might like it.” He blushes at your proximity after all this time, you could still fluster him over the littlest things it was sweet. 

Vash nods and the two of you head out of the hotel, side by side hands brushing every once in a while, he seems a little nervous, you're about to ask but he grabs your upper bicep, pointing towards the diner, “Is this it?” distracted, you nod leading him in and getting a booth in the back of the restaurant it's private which is perfect for the two of you. 

Vash helps you into your seat, and you roll your eyes at his wide smile as he sits across from you.  “Such a gentleman” you coo at him, as you pick up a menu, one of his hands goes to rub the back of his head with a nervous laugh, picking up his own menu. “I try,” he says hiding his face behind it.

A waitress comes by to take your orders and the two of you order something simple, the waitress leaves “What's on your mind? You’ve been spacing out a lot” you ask grabbing his hand across the table, he smiles at you nervously. “I guess I've just been thinking about us.” “Us?” you prompt, for a moment you are worried, what was going through his head? Was something wrong, was he unhappy with you? 

He must see the look on your face because his own face looks panic-stricken, he reaches for your other hand to hold them both in his, “Nothing bad! I promise! I was just thinking about how Lucky I am that you are so willing to stay with me and well put up with me.” He ends this with a chuckle, and you frown, “Vash I don't just put up with you, I love you. You know that don't you?”

Before he can answer, food is placed down in front of the two of you and Vash drops your hands, “Let's talk about this later, okay?” you nod, digging into your food and sticking to lighter topics, however, your mind keeps going back to what he said. The both of you finish quickly, the waitress comes back with the bill but before you can pay Vash beats you to it, giving you a cheeky smile as he does. 

Vash helps you out of your seat, and the two of you leave the diner heading back to the hotel. Vash grabs your hand swinging it between the two of you, and you can't help but laugh as he does. You want to ask, but you also don't want to ruin the moment. You yawn as Vash slows his pace, “Tired?” he asks, “It's been a long day.” you reply, as Vash stops his pace letting go of your hand in the process, he comes to stand in front of you. “Want me to carry you?” he teases.

You smirk, “Sure.” he starts to stutter, not expecting your answer you laugh waving your hand, “Okay.” he said quietly, turning around and crouching, now it's your turn to blush and you don't even know why. Placing your hands on his shoulders gently and then slipping them around his neck, you jump as he hooks his hands under your knees and stands. 

“Handsome and strong, I'm so lucky!” you tease, watching his ears go red, he pretends to drop you and you let out a yelp arms tightening around his neck, Vash laughs loudly at your reaction. You huff, but can’t help but laugh as well. 

Vash carried you back to the hotel, and you hop off once the two are you in front of the door, noticing that no one was around you lean in and give him a light kiss on the cheek. Vash opens the door for you and you head in while you thank him.

Leading you to the hotel room, you swipe the hotel room key from Vash’s hand with a smirk and enter the key in the lock to unlock the door. You head in with Vash on your heels, once in the room, you collapse on the bed with a groan. Vash sits at the end of the bed untying your shoes and yanking them off, “you don’t have to do that Vash.” 

He takes off your other shoe, “it’s fine you relax.” Once your shoes are off you turn on, you’re back sitting on your elbows to watch Vash take his own boots off, he turns to look at you and you pat the space beside you, “Want to continue our talk.” you ask quietly, Vash nods taking off his red coat he folds it and places it at the end of the bed before sitting beside you. 

Vash grabs one of your hands holding it in his, “I just been thinking about how lucky I am that you're by my side, that you love me even when I don't deserve it.” you turn to interrupt, but he shushes you so he can continue speaking, “Let me finish, I just want to thank you for sticking by my side no matter what, and that I want to continue to be by your side and you mine.” You rest your head on his shoulder, squeezing his hand. 

“Loving you is easy Vash, I don't want you to think it's not, it's the easiest thing I can do.” You reply softly, you hear Vash sniffle, and you turn your gaze to him giving him a smile when you notice the tears in his eyes. “You don't need to cry it's the truth,” you say lifting a hand to place on his face, holding his face gently. “Close your eyes,” Vash whispers you do so, without question you trust Vash with your life. 

He moves, and you place your hands on your lap as you hear him shuffle around the room. Before the bed dips beside you again, you don't open your eyes, “Hold out your hands.” you do, as he places a small box in your palms, “You can open her eyes.” Vash whispers his voice is shaky, opening your eyes and looking down at your hands you gasp softly eyes filling with tears. 

Sta in your hands was a delicate ring box, open and inside a simple golden band. You look at Vash eyes wide, as takes the box from his hands and takes the ring out holding it out to you, “You don't have to say yes right now, but would you marry me?” Vash lets out a yelp as you throw your arms around his neck holding on to him tight and start to cry.

“Yes! Yes, Vash of course!” you can hear him let out a shaky breath as he wraps his arms around you holding you tight. “Really?” he asks quietly his voice is strained; you can tell he's trying hard not to cry. You cup his face pulling back, smiling widely at him “Yes, I would love nothing more than to marry you.”

Vash grabs your left wrist pulling his hand off of his face, and with shaky hands of his own places the simple band on your ring finger. Once it's on you pull him into a kiss, he's crying a lot now but you really don't mind you know you are too. Pulling back from the kiss you smile brightly at him, as Vash does the same resting his forehead against yours. “Thank you.” he whispers against your lips, and you laugh softly, “You don't need to thank me, I love you Vash more than anything.” and God do you mean it. 

You close your eyes as Vash kisses you again, smiling into the kiss you press in close to him. Vash pulls back placing a soft kiss on your forehead, giving you a bright smile and pulling you close. The two of you resting in bed holding each other close, you admire the ring on your finger. You don't think you could be any happier than at this moment with Vash, you are truly thankful you met him, and hope to give him all the love he deserves.

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Disappointed

Pairings: poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You're struggling after you couldn't finish in sex. Your boys know better. Warnings: Discussion of sexual dysfunction. Series Masterlist

"Don't worry, Y/N," James's voice echoes in your mind as you lay awake in bed long after the boys have left. "We're here for you."

His words were meant to soothe, but they only serve to deepen the pit of unease that has settled within you. You turn onto your side, pulling the blankets tightly around yourself, trying to ward off the lingering chill of vulnerability.

The room is dark and silent—your own private sanctuary—but tonight it feels like a prison, the walls closing in with each passing second. A heavy sigh escapes your lips, the sound hollow and empty in the vastness of the night.

You want to believe them—to trust in their reassurances—but doubts gnaw at the edge of your consciousness, refusing to be silenced. It's not their intentions you question; it's your own response—or lack thereof—that leaves you feeling adrift.

"I'm sorry, love," Remus had murmured against your skin, his touch gentle yet insistent. "We'll do better next time."

But there was a rush—a desperate need to reach the peak they promised, to prove to them—and to yourself—that you could. That you were enough.

Yet despite their patient coaxing, the much-anticipated climax eluded you, leaving behind a trail of frustration and self-doubt. The memory of your failure burns brightly, a beacon signaling your inadequacy even in the most intimate of moments.

"You did great, Y/N," James had assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before he too retreated into the night.

Did I? you wonder now, staring up at the ceiling where shadows dance like specters of your insecurities. Did I really?

A part of you wants to scream, to let out all the fear and disappointment that's been building inside. But you swallow it down, pushing it back into the recesses of your heart where it festers, feeding on your uncertainty.

What if you've let them down? What if this changes everything?

"You were amazing," Sirius had said, holding your trembling body close to his. His voice was steady, grounding. But could he see past your facade—the tremors of desire masking an undercurrent of apprehension?

The questions are relentless, each one chipping away at the confidence you'd painstakingly built over time. With every replay of the evening's events, the reality of your inability to finish looms larger, casting a shadow over the shared laughter and whispered promises of earlier.

A strange and unyielding sense of guilt begins to creep into your interactions with the boys, a constant reminder of your perceived failure. Instead of seeking their company as you once did, you find yourself withdrawing—pulling away from their gentle touches and avoiding their lingering gazes.

It's not that you love them any less; rather, it's the fear of falling short again that holds you back, the nagging thought that you might never be able to give them what they truly deserve. And so you retreat further into your shell, putting distance between your heart and theirs—a protective measure against the imaginary blow you're certain will come.

"You okay, Y/N?" Sirius asks one morning at breakfast, his brow furrowed in concern when he notices how quiet you've been.

"Fine," you murmur, forcing a smile onto your face even while your chest feels like it's being crushed under the weight of unwelcome thoughts. "Just... tired."

But the lie tastes bitter on your tongue, and you can't help but wonder if they see through your facade. Can they sense the turmoil roiling beneath the surface? Do they know about the battle raging within you?

You begin to avoid those stolen moments—the secret kisses shared in hidden corners of the castle, the playful banter that would often lead to more intimate encounters. Each time James' hand brushes against yours, or Remus' gaze lingers a little too long, you pull away, making excuses about needing to study or catch up on sleep.

Your actions don't go unnoticed. The boys exchange worried glances, their brows furrowing in confusion and concern. But you brush off their questions, assuring them that everything is fine even though nothing feels right anymore.

As much as you crave their touch—the warmth of their bodies pressed against yours, the familiarity of their scent enveloping you—you can't shake the feeling that you're holding them back, that you're denying them an experience they should be having. It's this thought that haunts your every waking moment, planting seeds of doubt where there was once only certainty.

You see the way their smiles falter when you flinch away from a touch that was once welcome, how confusion clouds their eyes as you avoid sitting too close in the common room. And each time you make an excuse to leave early or decline an invitation to sneak off somewhere more private, the silence that follows is deafening.

"Y/N," James calls softly one evening, settling beside you on the plush sofa of the Gryffindor common room. His arm wraps around your shoulders, pulling you into his side for a cuddle like so many times before. But instead of melting into him, you sit rigidly, every muscle tense with unease. "I thought we could..."

"I have to study." The words are out before you can stop them, filling the space between you with a new kind of distance—one not measured by physical proximity but by the gulf widening in your hearts.

James blinks at you, surprise etched onto his handsome features. You've never turned down a moment of closeness before, and he's left searching for answers in the depth of your evasive gaze. As you rise from the couch and head towards the girls' dormitory, he watches you go, a frown creasing his forehead.

The pattern continues over the next few days, your laughter growing quieter, your presence less constant. Sirius picks up on it during one of your usual study sessions, the library's vastness suddenly feeling oppressive without the sound of your shared chuckles echoing off the stone walls.

"Something's up," he murmurs to the others later that night, his grey eyes clouded with worry.

"You think?" James retorts, a hint of sarcasm lacing his words as he runs a hand through his unruly hair. "It's been days since she's even looked at us properly."

Remus, ever the observer, nods in agreement from his place by the fireplace, his amber eyes flickering with concern. "We should talk to her."

So they do.

The following evening finds you curled up on your bed, a book open but unread in your lap as thoughts whirr relentlessly through your mind. A soft knock pulls you from your reverie, and before you can respond, the door creaks open. James peeks around the edge, his hazel eyes filled with trepidation.

"We need to talk, love," he says softly, stepping aside to reveal Sirius and Remus waiting behind him.

Your heart stutters in your chest as you sit up, setting the book aside. You swallow hard, nodding for them to enter despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. This is it, isn't it? The moment you've been dreading—the confrontation you've been hoping to avoid.

They move in unison, crossing the threshold into your sanctuary. Their presence fills the room, their silhouettes outlined by the warm glow of the setting sun streaming in through the window. Each step they take feels like an echo of the distance you've created—intentional yet painful, necessary yet heartbreaking.

"Y/N," Sirius starts, his usually confident voice wavering slightly. He settles on the edge of your bed, so close yet miles apart from where you're sitting. "We're... we're worried about you."

"Worried?" You laugh, but there's no humor in it, just bitter disbelief. How could they possibly be concerned when all you've done is hold them back?

"Yes, worried," Remus confirms, taking a seat next to Sirius. His fingers drum against his thighs, a nervous habit betraying the calm exterior he presents. "You've been distant lately. Not just physically, but emotionally too."

"And we want to understand why." James completes the thought, standing near the foot of your bed, his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze never leaves yours, searching for answers within the depths of your guarded expression.

At their words, something inside you breaks—a dam holding back weeks of pent-up emotions. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over as you look between the three faces before you. Faces that used to bring comfort now only serve as reminders of what you believe you can't give them.

"I don't..." Your voice cracks, and you have to stop, swallowing hard against the lump forming in your throat. You draw in a shaky breath, steeling yourself before attempting to speak again. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Disappoint us?" Sirius echoes, furrowing his brow. "Y/N, how could you—"

"But I am!" you blurt out, unable to contain the wave of desperation crashing over you. "You all expecting something I can't give!"

Confusion passes between the boys before realization dawns on each face. It's James who speaks first, his tone gentle, understanding creeping into his voice. "You mean... during sex, don't you?"

Your silence serves as confirmation, the weight of your admission hanging heavy in the air. The truth, once hidden beneath layers of fear and self-doubt, is now laid bare before them, exposing the raw vulnerability you've fought so hard to conceal.

"Y/N," Sirius begins, reaching out tentatively to brush a lock of hair from your face, "is this about... finishing?"

A single tear escapes, trailing down your cheek as you nod. Yes, that's exactly it. That elusive peak of pleasure that seems to come so naturally to them remains stubbornly out of reach for you, and you can't shake the feeling that you're somehow less because of it.

"I'm afraid," you whisper, your voice barely audible. "Afraid that one day, you'll grow tired of me, tired of trying... because I can't... I can't finish the way you do."

The boys listen carefully to your confession, their expressions filled with nothing but love and understanding. There's no trace of judgment in their eyes, only concern for the pain you've been shouldering alone.

"Y/N," James says softly, his voice a soothing balm over the rawness of your exposed fears. "You don't disappoint us—never have, never will."

He moves closer, sitting on the edge of your bed, his hand hovering just above yours as if asking permission to comfort. You give him a small nod, and he gently takes your hand into his, offering silent support.

Sirius shifts next to Remus, leaning forward so he can look directly at you. His grey eyes are intense, not with desire this time, but with determination to make you understand how much you mean to them—all of them.

"Our love for you isn't dependent on whether or not you reach climax," Sirius begins, his tone steady and sure. "It's about so much more than that."

"Exactly," Remus adds, his own voice a touch softer, yet equally reassuring. "We care about you, Y/N. More than I think you realise."

They remind you that their intimacy isn’t about performance or expectation; it’s about being close, about sharing something meaningful and intimate.

"It's not about reaching some end goal," James explains, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "It's about being together, experiencing pleasure and connection in whatever form that takes."

"And we do feel connected to you, Y/N," Sirius insists, his gaze never leaving yours. "Every touch, every kiss—it means something. It's real and beautiful, regardless of where it leads."

Remus nods, agreeing with the others. "And it's perfectly okay if you don't finish—we’d like you to, of course, but it’s okay if you don’t. That doesn't take away from the intimacy we share or how much we love you."

They tell you that your worth to them is far beyond physical pleasure, and they don’t need you to finish to feel fulfilled.

"You're not less because of this, Y/N," James assures you, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Your worth to us isn't measured by orgasm counts."

"That's right," Sirius chimes in, his resolve unwavering. "You fulfil us in countless ways, love. Don't ever think otherwise."

The boys' words start to seep into your consciousness, washing over you like a soothing balm. The weight on your chest feels a little less heavy, the knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly as their reassurances begin to take root.

"Everyone has insecurities," James admits, his voice barely above a whisper as he continues to hold your gaze. "Even us."

"Especially us," Sirius adds with a wry smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You should hear Remus fretting over his transformations or me worrying about living up to my family's expectations."

"And don't get me started on Prongs here," Remus teases, nudging James with his elbow. "He can be just as unsure of himself, especially when it comes to Quidditch."

Your eyes widen at their confessions, surprised by this glimpse into their vulnerabilities. You've always seen them as confident, almost untouchable in their self-assuredness. Yet here they are, sharing their own doubts and fears, reminding you that everyone—no matter how strong they appear—has moments of insecurity.

"That's what makes this relationship work," Sirius explains, his hand gently squeezing your knee for emphasis. "We navigate through those feelings together."

"For all of us, being intimate is more than just physical," James echoes, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks as he brushes a stray hair from your face. "It's about trust, vulnerability... allowing someone else to see us—not just our bodies, but our souls. And Y/N, believe me when I say we see you. And we love what we see."

"You trusting us enough to let us in—to share not only your body but also your worries... That means everything," Sirius says, leaning closer until you can feel his breath against your skin. His grey eyes reflect sincerity and warmth as he holds your gaze. "More than any climax could."

Remus nods, agreeing with his friends. "Pleasure doesn't always look the same for everyone, and that's okay. What matters is that we're here, together, caring for one another." He reaches out, placing his hand over yours and Sirius's where they rest on your knee—a silent vow of support and understanding.

When the conversation finally winds down, you feel lighter than you have in hours. Your insecurities haven't disappeared entirely—you know they may never fully go away—but for now, they seem manageable, less overwhelming. The boys' words echo in your mind: It's not about performance. We care about you. You fulfil us...

"Perhaps we should just spend some time together," suggests Remus, breaking the silence that has settled over the room. "No expectations, no pressure... Just enjoying each other's company."

"Yeah," Sirius agrees, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. "Sounds perfect."

James gives your hand a final squeeze before letting go, pushing himself off the bed to join Sirius. "Come on, then. Let's make ourselves comfortable."

What follows is an evening filled with shared laughter and whispered secrets, the four of you huddled together on your bed, talking about anything and everything that comes to mind. There's no urgency, no expectation of what might happen next; just the simple pleasure of being close, reaffirming the bond that goes beyond the physical.

As the night draws in and the glow of the setting sun fades, replaced by the soft light of the moon spilling through your window, you find yourself nestled between James and Sirius, Remus's arm thrown lazily over your legs. Their presence is warm and comforting—the best kind of anchor—and with every passing moment, you feel a little more grounded, a bit more secure.

"Thank you," you murmur into the quiet, your words barely audible yet carrying the weight of your gratitude.

There's a beat of silence before Sirius speaks, his voice low and laced with tenderness. "Always, Y/N. Always."

And in that moment, surrounded by their warmth and love, you realise the truth of their words. They love you, wholly and unconditionally, despite your flaws and insecurities. And perhaps most importantly, you haven't let them down. If anything, you've shown them once again why they fell for you in the first place: your strength, your resilience, your willingness to open up—even when it scares you.

[300yearschallenge]

"Are you sure we should be doing this?"

Charles Elias, Alfred and some of the village boys were stood in front of the cow pen belonging to Farmer Erik.

Out of all the cows in his herd he had one who he practically adored, and everyone in the village knew about it.

"Ah, relax," Alfred said with a smile, "It'll be funny. We'll just lead his precious cow away for a bit and let him panic a little before he finds it again."

Charles Elias looked from Alfred back to the cow and sighed.

She was a beautiful cow, to be sure, with dark brown spots and a gentle temperament to match. As if sensing his thoughts she turned and looked at him with her big, wet, brown eyes and let out a low 'moo'.

Charles Elias quickly averted his gaze.

"Let's just do this already." One of the boys opened the gate to the pen carefully and wrapped a rope around the cow.

For a moment she didn't make any move to follow him, but a tug on the rope was all the encouragement she needed to sleepily follow the boys as they shut the gate behind them and snuck off into the night.

"See?" Alfred smiled as the boys walked, some of them letting out relieved chuckles. "Nothing to worry abou--"

The cow suddenly let out a loud moo and pulled on the rope, looking back to her herd who was watching her go and responding to her cries.

A light flickered on in the Farmer Erik's house.

"Quick!" The boy holding the rope said. "Catch!" And threw it into Charles Elias' hands.

"Wait, what do you want me to--"

"Stay with the cow," Alfred said, "Don't worry, you'll be just fine."

Before Charles Elias could respond him and the rest of the boys gave a quick wave and ran off, Charles Elias with a mildly upset cow and a fast approaching farmer.

"Wha--" Charles Elias stared after them. "Wait! Come back!!"

The door to the farmer's home opened and shut with a bang, the distant light of a lantern shining out across the grass.

"Who's there?" Farmer Erik shouted. "You best not have hurt my cows!"

The cow let out an eager moo as she recognised the sound of her owner and Charles Elias grimaced, unable to think, unable to move.

All he could do was watch as the light of the lantern grew closer and closer, and wait for Farmer Erik's rage to reach him.

Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3

[tempe-brennans]

i don't have a choice (but i still choose you)

summary: you come back to joel. this time, for good

author's note: the angsty romanticism of vampires got to me. that's it, that's the author's note

Time is a funny thing. Mortals spend their entire lives worried about time.

As if it matters much in the end. As if their efforts will save them from the predetermined expiration date on their lives.

On the other hand, time doesn’t mean much to a vampire–a being with no expiration date. As years pass, it loses meaning in ways one doesn’t even realize it holds to begin with. Days bleed into months bleed into years–at some point, Joel had stopped keeping count of the span of his long life.

No matter how much time had passed, though, the sound of your knock was always the same, the smell of the blood pumping through your veins had never changed.

When he pulls his front door open, his breath catches in his still catches in his throat, just like it always had.

One year or two hundred and one, you could always stop him cold.

“Hello.”

Though he isn’t a fan of a cliché, Joel would say you haven’t changed at all. You haven’t aged, obviously, but, even your eyes are the same–still looking at him with that same soft expression that he’s never deserved.

The look he’s ached for on cold nights spent sitting up alone.

“Hi, Joel.”

He steps aside, let’s you walk into the space he’s claimed as his home in your absence.

He considered himself a strong man, but even he couldn’t bare to stay in the home he’d shared with you alone.

He watches you scan the room, your eyes landing on the animal carcasses carelessly discarded after he had finished with them. Your nose wrinkles in what he knows is disgust.

His ego bristles in response, walls coming up around him just in case you’re here to argue.

Joel plays it safe, speaks with a touch of disdain in his voice when he asks, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You turn to face him. “I wanted to see you.”

“Me?” He quirks a brow. “Why?”

Brushing past his question, instead you say, “Rats? Surely you can find better. Have you lost your touch?”

Joel kicks at the dust covering the floor with the toe of his house shoe. “They suit me fine.”

“Would you like something else?” The slight turn of your head, the way you simply offer your neck to him, even after all this time, sends a thrill down his spine that lands in the middle of his gut.

“No.” He shakes his head.

He can remember when he turned you. Vividly, he can recall the taste of you on his tongue. Often, over the years, the pair of you had repeated the act on each other, the eroticism of it too much to deny yourselves.

What he wouldn’t give to be in one of those moments again, on top of you, underneath you–he wouldn’t care–anything to savor the feeling of you once more.

“Why not?” you ask. “You spent the majority of the 1920s with your teeth in my neck.”

Joel smirks. “A different time.”

“It could be that way again.”

He shakes his head, chuckles softly. There’s condescension in his voice when he says, “Ah, yes. Alas, love has grown cold since those long, lovely nights.”

You shoot him a look. “Can we stop with the childish theatrics, now? You do know it’s me you’re talking to.”

You, who knows all his tricks and defenses. You, who could send them all bouncing back at him with a few choice words.

Joel shrugs, decides on honesty. “You tool the light when you left. I’ve learned how to make the best of that.”

“Joel, I…”

“Listen,” he starts, hoping to cut off your forced apologies. “You really don’t have to do this. Go home to your new love.” He smiles what he hopes is a charming smile. “I’m happy for you. Really. There’s nothing you need to worry abou–”

Annoyance begins to taint your breath when you cut him off, “I could never fight with him!”

“No?”

“No.” You sigh. “He was…kind and sweet and…simple, but…”

“But?” Joel prompts.

“Simple is nice…great, even, sometimes.” You shrug. “But, other times, you just want to come home.”

Joel quirks a brow. “Home.”

“Here.” You nod, pause for a beat. “You.”

He looks away, fixes his eyes on a meaningless spot on the floor. “The last time we spoke you seemed to feel differently.”

In the edge of his vision, he sees you shake your head.

“I was miserable, Joel, and young. I didn’t know anything. Besides,” you sigh, “most of what I said, I only said to hurt you.”

“I see,” he murmurs.

Your voice thick with unshed tears of your own, you say, “I do regret that, you know.”

The fight drains out of him like air from a balloon at the sight of your dejected face.

“I’m trying to apologize to you, Joel,” you say. “I don’t suppose you could make it easy for me.”

“I’d do anything for you, my love. Even still.” Joel answers. “Surely, you know that.”

There’s an affection in your eyes that tells Joel you do.

“I want to come home,” you murmur. “I want to stay. Here. With you.”

“Why?”

“Do you really not know?”

His chest aches, heart twisted up in knots as hope threatens to ruin the perfectly precarious life he has made for himself. Tears gather along his lashes, and he rolls his eyes towards the ceiling, swallows the emotion that wells in his throat.

Maybe he does know, and maybe he doesn’t, but one thing is for certain–he has to hear you say it.

He shakes his head, but fights the urge to meet your eyes.

He can’t see you reject him all over again.

You take two steps closer, inching into his space.

“I love you,” you hum, something like joy in your voice, and he can’t resist any longer. His eyes find yours, jaw going slack with shock.

“I’ve loved you for more than one hundred years now, and…,” you pause, step close enough to touch his chest, “I’d like to love you for hundreds–thousands–more. Up close.”

Gentle fingers find his cheek, run along the line of his face with such care it makes the tears spill over.

“Would that be alright with you?” You whisper the question, but Joel can hear you like you’ve screamed it. It hits him right in his heart.

He nods, a bit frantic.

“Yes,” he murmurs, voice thick with the emotion that comes with knowing–loving–someone for so many years. “Yes, it would. Please.”

You close the distance between you easily, lips finding his like a magnet finds it’s partner.

“I love you, too,” he manages to hum against your mouth. “I have for so long.”

The way you smile against his lips, kiss him harder–like you’re trying to get as close as you possibly can–tells him you know his heart.

Then again, you’ve always known him–better than he ever knew himself.

His arms wrap around you, grateful to have an eternity with you to show you he knows you the same way.

[kashvibatman]

"Potions class." I whispered softly, looking at my timetable.

Why hasn't Professor Figg written back to me yet?

I wondered, stuffing my timetable back into my sling bag.

Is he okay? He said he'll write back as soon as he reached and he should've reached a long time ago.

I was so worried in thought that I literally jumped when someone shouted my name.

"Y/N!" Poppy called as she rushed up to me.

"Hey Poppy. Where were you all this time?" I asked her, as we proceeded to the dungeons.

"Oh! I had promised to help Professor Jaggs with the nifflers you see after class!" She said cheerfully.

"I was wondering where you'd gone. Anyway its so nice to see you helping magical creatures Poppy." I smiled.

"You're one of the few who actually care and aren't afraid."

"Who is afraid of Nifflers Y/N?" Poppy asked rather surprised.

"Sebastian." I blurted out of nowhere.

Poppy looked at me unbelievingly.

"But wait...that doesn't make sense. He's always making trouble, breaking rules and in detention. He can't be afraid of something as harmless as Nifflers." She said disbelievingly.

"You're right! Sorry- that came out wrong. He isn't afraid. He just doesn't like them." I said remembering his exact words-

I don't lose 'myself' in the euphoria of their so called "cuteness".

"But that's even more impossible!" Poppy said laughing. "You cant 'not like' Nifflers. They're so adorable!"

"I told him the same thing. He said it's because he had some shiny toy when he was a little kid. A Niffler stole it and he never found a new one again... so that's why he has a thing against Nifflers." I said grinning.

"Hmm... that's understandable. Sebastian always has mysterious reasons." Poppy said softly.

"He's a Slytherin for a reason. But he's alright. Mischievous but respectful. Honestly some of his other housemates can be a headache sometimes."

"Yeah I like that about him too." I said.

"Anyway what's up Y/N?" Poppy asked looking me straight in the eyes.

"How do you mean?" I asked quickly, looking away from her.

Poppy simply smiled as she said gently,

"Something is troubling you. Even though its just been a few weeks that you've been here, I feel like I've known you forever. You're my best friend."

All I could do was smile back, as I stared at a crack on the stair we were approaching.

"He should've written back by now." I said out loud without any context.

"Professor Figg?" Poppy supplied gently.

I nodded taking a heavy breath as we entered the potions classroom.

"I'm sure he's fine Y/N." Poppy said gently touching my elbow. "He's one of the best we have and know at the job."

I took in another heavy breath and nodded giving her a smile.

"Y/N!" Natsai called from her potion station and approached us.

"Hey Natsai." Poppy and I chorused.

"How're you feeling now?" Natsai asked, patting my back.

"Better." I smiled.

"That was one hell of a duel you had with Rookwood yesterday. You're a great dueller. Hard to believe you're starting as a fifth year." Natsai patted my back, as I remembered my close encounter with Rookwood last afternoon in Hogsmeade where Natsai had accompanied me.

Someone nugged me on the shoulder as they walked past me while Poppy and Natsai suddenly became rapidly involved in figuring out whether it was Puffskien or cat hair on Natsai's robes.

I turned to see and found that the person who bumped into me was Sebastian.

He didn't look back but my eyes followed him to his place at the end of the classroom, his robes bilobing as he sped across.

He reached, turned and then looked at me- his brown eyes sparkling in the faint light.

He kept his bag on the seat beside him and then with both his chin and eyes, he gestured to the empty seat beside him.

I nodded.

"Lets take our seats before Professor Sharp comes and bombards us with more sarcasm than usual." Poppy said turning to me.

"Whose hair were they?" I asked as I read the instructions on the blackboard.

"We agreed they were Puffskien hair. Poppy is more knowledgeable about creatures." Natsai said, pulling her text out and Poppy left to bring a cauldron to her desk.

"Are you sure you're okay after last evening? Because something is bothering you." Natsai whispered.

"I am, Natty." I sighed smiling.

"Lets meet after school. Courtyard- 6pm okay?" Natsai said quietly as our classmates approached.

"Yes. See you!" I said, walking upto Sebastian, who watched me approach as he removed his bag from the seat.

"Hey." I said swinging my bag off my shoulder as I adjusted my robes and rolled up my sleeves.

"Some conversation with Sweet Sweeting on the way here huh?" He said snarkily.

"You saw us?" I asked surprised.

"I was right behind you." He said winking.

I looked at him disbelievingly.

"And for starters L/N." He said giving me a smug look. "I don't - 'don't like' Nifflers. I envy them." He smirked, locking eyes with me.

"So you sneak up on me too now?" I asked. "I understand my life cab be very interesting but please let me be." I say smugly.

"I'm not the King of Sneaking around for nothing." He grinned.

"Anyway." He suddenly turned serious.

"Where were you last evening?" He asked, cleaning his station as mostly everyone settled in.

"I had work to do." I said, sitting down on the stool, a little tired.

Work was our code word. That's how we both communicated when our work wasn't exactly legal or authorized or both.

Sebastian stopped working for a second as he glanced at me sitting on the stool.

"Did you not sleep? You looked awfully tired at dinner last night." He asked, as he cleaned his cauldron with a cloth.

"Isnt any topic regarding sleep a bit too rich coming from you?" I smirked tiredly.

"It takes a certain charisma to be working all day and night long and still look absolutely dashing." He grinned.

"Anyway I've never been one for sleep cycles. It's a very common Slytherin trait." He winked.

My head slightly ached now. I massaged it.

"Were you traveling far from Hogwarts?" He asked looking at me, as he began cleaning another cauldron for some reason.

I nodded, took a look around to make sure no one was around as I took a deep breath and said softly,

"Professor Figg has left me an assignment to investigate while he's away on other investigations. He said Ranrok's allies were spotted there and he wanted me to go and look for clues." I said looking into my bag for my potions text. 

"What place was this?" He asked attentively.

"Some castle ruins. East of Hogwarts. I flew on Highwing and it took about an hour to reach." I replied.

"You went alone?" Sebastian asked rather pointedly.

I nodded standing up to drink my refreshment potion. 

"Why?" He asked with his mouth slightly open as he stopped cleaning the cauldron.

"You could've written to me-"

"You had detention Seb." I sighed, still looking for my potions text.

"And I could've skipped it." Sebastian said simply.

"Then you would have got MORE detention." I said now hunting vigorously for my textbook.

"Which I am used to!" Sebastian said hotly.

But I couldn't reply this time. I had opened up my bag and my hands found the picture of Professor Figg and me when we had gone to the Ollivanders in Hogsmeade to purchase my first ever wand just months ago. He had suggested we took a picture so that I always remember the day I was reborn a witch.

I stared at it, as my chest became heavy with worry as my breath rate became rapid.

Sebastian gently tickled my chin with his quill as I squealed.

"Whats that?" He asked coming beside me.

"Nothing!" I said hastily, shoving the picture back in as I pulled out my Potions textbook.

"L/N are you okay?" He asked me.

"Yeah I am!" I say softly.

"I doubt." He sniggered.

"Why?" I asked dubiously, hoping he couldn't see my worried face. But I think he could thats why he thought I wasn't okay.

"Because you've got out your Charms textbook." He smirked, pointing at my book.

"OH Merlin!" I grumbled, finally pulling out my Potions text book and putting the Charms one back in as our Potions Professor came in followed by Sebastian's best friend Andreas who came up infront of him on our station.

"Now that you've cleaned up your cauldrons- (Oh no I forgot!- I thought) Today we will be brewing The Draught of Peace- a potion to calm anxiety and soothe agitation. Be warned: If you are too heavy-handed with the ingredients you will put the drinker into a heavy and sometimes irreversible sleep, so you will need to pay close attention to what you are doing." He said leaning against his desk.

Sebastian gently pushed one of his cleaned cauldrons towards me.

That's why he cleaned two!

I thankfully beamed at him as he gave me his- 'What would you do without me' look.

"You may partner up or brew alone. This class is of for 2 hours and a draught of peace takes 90 minutes to brew. You have good lot of time. Everyone in this room will leave after preparing the potion. If you don't..."

He paused, taking a good look at the class.

"You know what I'll do."

"What will he do?" I whispered to Sebastian.

Sebastian simply winked shaking his head.

"BEGIN NOW!" He said loudly clapping his hands, ushering everyone at their tables, and sounds of turning pages ran rampant all over the room.

I leaned over and placed my cauldron on the burner.

"Hey Sebastian, partner up with me?" Andreas asked.

"Umm no. You need to brew alone for once." Sebastian said airily.

I opened up my book to the index, to check the page number for the recipe of the Draught of Peace.

My head hurt to read. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. This was the last class of the day.

"Page 34." Sebastian whispered, turning on the burner under his cauldron, as he glanced at me.

I nodded with a smile turning to the recipe.

The Draught of Peace is a potion which relieves anxiety and agitation. Its ingredients are-

1) Powdered moonstone

2) Syrup of hellebore

3) Powdered porcupine quills

4) Powdered unicorn horn.

5) Valerian Root

EFFECT- Relieves anxiety.

SIDE-EFFECTS-

Overdoing the ingredients may result in a long or irreversible sleep.

CHARACTERISTICS-

Emits light silver vapour

BREWING TIME- 90 minutes

DIFFICULTY LEVEL- Advanced.

----

"Its an advanced potion." I said out loud.

"Hmm?" Sebastian asked, pulling out what looked like Moonstone from his supplies.

"It is indeed." Professor Sharp came up. "It is an ironically difficult potion to make, requiring that the brewer follows the directions carefully, because making a mistake could have drastic consequences. Adding too much of the ingredients, for instance, would put the drinker of the potion into a deep - and possibly irreversible - sleep."

"Right sir." I managed to say, kind of tensed.

"I've seen you in class Miss L/N. You're a talented potion maker. I feel you are tough enough to take on this potion. If you need any help, feel free to ask me."

"Thank you sir." I smile as he walked off.

"I can't believe there was no sarcasm in there." Andreas said.

I grinned as I read the recipe-

Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns green.

I take my moonstone and started crushing it.

"Can you crush my moonstone?" Andreas asked Sebastian.

"Seriously?" Sebastian asked dubiously. "Andreas the potion's just begun mate." Sebastian sighed, walking to his station.

I smiled again. Sebastian may be sarcastic, but he was helpful.

I finished powdering my moonstone and added it into the cauldron and waited for the potion to turn green.

Sebastian was still busy silently powdering Andre's moonstone without being caught by Professor Sharp.

I saw his potion had started to boil with green bubbles.

"Sebastian your potion!" I said quietly.

"OH Merlin right! Here- Andreas!" Sebastian cried softly getting back to his potion.

I read the next step waiting for my potion to turn green.

2) Stir until the potion turns blue.

So I had to wait till it turned green and then stir.

I read the next step.

3) Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns purple.

I decided to powder more moonstone meanwhile.

I powdered some with the mortar and pestle and I watched Sebastian stirring and his potion turned into a magnificent blue.

"Heyy that's a nice blue!" I say happily, getting on my toes to get a better look at his concoction.

"Thanks. It's as amazing as it's brewer." He grinned looking into his cauldron.

He read the next step and his face lost the glee.

"No! I haven't powdered more moonstone! The potion will be spoilt if I start now!"

"Put out the burner and turn it on when you're done adding!" Greg suggested.

"But that'll kill the potion." I blurted.

"Yeah!" Sebastian groaned, watching his blue concoction.

"Here use mine." I handed him my powdered moonstone.

Sebastian raised his eyes doubtfully.

"Mine hasn't turned blue yet." I said peeping into my cauldron.

"I can powder some more." I say sliding my plate of powdered moonstone to him and I dug into my supplies for more.

"Thanks." Sebastian smiled genuinely as he poured the moonstone in.

I nod, powdering more moonstone as my potion subtly hinted a change in colour.

I waited for it to turn proper green while Sebastian was still waiting for his potion waiting to turn purple.

"Yes!" I let out a sigh of relief as it turned green.

"Wow thats literally the Slytherin Green!" Sebastian grinned coming up by my side as he looked into my cauldron.

"You should've been a Slytherin." Sebastian murmured so softly that only I could hear as he stared into my cauldron.

"Just because my potion turned green?" I asked skeptically, pulling my book.

"Mine isn't the Slytherin Green. But I am a Slytherin.... somehow." Sebastian laughed, looking at me.

"Sebastian can you help me here?" Andreas asked, not looking up.

"Right. Keep going L/N." Sebastian sighed walking off to Greg.

I added in my moonstone.

Now I had to wait for it to turn blue.

Blue was Professor Fig's favorite colour..

The same sick feeling took hold of my stomach again.

A scene from last night's duel flashed before my eyes... That was a lot of Stunning charms I'd used yesterday.

"Y/N stir!" Sebastian whisper yelled, with one eye on me as helped Andreas.

"OH right thanks!" I say softly, coming back to the potion I was brewing.

I stirred clockwise till I got a navy blue like the Ravenclaws.

"Should I've been a Ravenclaw?" I smirked as Sebastian approached to peep into my cauldron.

Sebastian grinned, "Perhaps you shouldn't have been sorted at all."

"That would be.... well nevermind." I say, unable to look for the right words.

"Hah! Have I stumped the gifted one?" Sebastian said adding something to his cauldron that he shouldn't have.

"Seb what are you adding?" I asked instantly frowning.

Sebastian turned to his hand and watched in horror.

"Andreas!" He glared at Andreas.

"What?" Andreas asked innocently.

"Whats your pearl dust doing in my hand?"

"Well I was showing you the pearl dust, and then you forgot to give it back to me as you checked L/N's cauldron and then just absent mindedly added it in." Andreas said rather spitefully.

Sebastian was about to reply when Professor Sharp came to our opposite table.

"You're done for Sebastian." I blurted, staring at a black mass somehow looking like a huge alive bug crawling out of Sebastian's cauldron.

"I honestly don't know exactly how many Detentions I am supposed to report for tonight." He said rather confused.

"Where exactly did you leave your brain today?" I asked.

"I didn't leave it anywhere. It sort of just left."

"Could you please elaborate?"

"Dont worry it's very common." He said with a wink.

"What're you going to do now?" I asked peeping into my own potion.

"Add more detention into my bucket." He said tiredly looking at Professor Sharp with his back so close to  our table.

"Scourgify!" I suddenly cried pointing my wand at Sebastian's cauldron and the mess cleaned itself up.

"What're you doing?!" Andreas cried.

I didn't say anything, quickly piled up his stuff neatly at his table as he watched still with his mouth slightly open.

I pulled him over to my station gently just when Professor Sharp approached us.

"Any help needed Miss L/N?" Professor Sharp asked.

"No sir thank you. Sebastian is being very helpful. We're brewing together you see." I said innocently with a smile.

"Ahh so you two have partnered up then?" Professor Sharp said peeping into the cauldron.

"It looks good. Keep proceeding. For the first time Sallow hasn't blown up the whole classroom. He's been better behaved since this year. Finally he's caught on to his age." Professor Sharp said sarcastically as he walked away to the table beside ours.

There's the sarcasm. I thought as I turned back to our potion.

"You owe me." I say with a smile without looking at Sebastian, peeping into my cauldron.

"Big time." I heard the smile in his voice.

"Say what, I've been thinking. Anyway we always brew mischief together... how about we also always brew potions together?" He asked sheepishly.

"Always?" I asked smirking.

"Always." He said with a certainty in his tone I'd never heard or felt before.

"You could do the brewing and I could provide my charm and emotional support." He grinned leaning against the table, looking for my eyes which were set on the potion.

"I'd be perfectly content to have you around doing nothing. But I know you won't leave me alone with all the work." I say looking up deep into his eyes.

His head tilted slightly as his smile widened. His eyes again showcased his inner childish innocence.

"There's the silver lining." I grinned, gently pressing his nose, finally making him laugh.

[yellowwithalisp]

Can you do a hobie x scene reader and they make a kandi bracelet or something for him and he refuses to take it off

( HOBIE IS BACK! HEHEHE! Trying to get all my ask done! - yellow 💛🌻) "And, when was the las' time you gotten any sleep?"

Hobie asked as he walked over to the right side of me, leaning against the wall as I typed away on my computer.

"… I took a nap today. I'm fine."

I said as my typing quickened, I didn't even look up at him as I quickly typed away. All the lights in my room were off except for the light coming from a computer. My cat was resting on my bed as he looked up at us, letting out a small meow. Hobie looked at the cat for a moment before looking back at me. A worried look on his face as my eyes didn't leave the computer screen.

"… Wha' happened a' the lab really messed with you didn'' i'?"

I stopped typing for just a moment as silence filled the room. The rain hitting against the window grew louder.

"… My father did this Strings…"

I said as I pushed my chair back a bit and turned to face him.

"My father- was the one who green light The Sentinel Project, who hates mutants, and now. His own daughter is a mutant- and I don't know how to tell him that! Because the moment I do I know, that he's going to hate me! And now, I just found out that he's also made a drink that is poisonous to mutants!!"

I tossed my hands up into the air before I put them back into my lap turning my head away to face my computer screen again before I looked over at Hobie.

"I don't know if I can't stop him Strings…"

"Hey, hey - whoa, whoa, whoa," Hobie interrupted. "Listen, i know a couple things abou' complicated relationships with your ol' man."

Hobie took a deep breath, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"Look, we've all go' our problems, and you've gone through some things." Hobie said, taking a seat across from me.

"Bu' you're forgetting one importan' thing. You've go' us. You've go' me. And all the x-men tha' are rooting for you."

He paused for a moment, taking in the storm outside.

"And you've go' your powers. Yeah, i know some people are scared of you. Bu' that's because they don'' know you. They don'' know the real you."

"Hobie, he's going to hurt people… Lots of people! And I don't know how to stop him!"

I held up my hands in front of me. "If I ask to go to Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters, he'll find out- and I don't know what he'll do to me…"

"And tha' brings us righ' back to tha' importan' thing i keep mentioning."

Hobie leaned forward, resting his chin on one hand.

"I' doesn'' matter wha' your old man thinks. And i' damn sure doesn'' matter how many people hate you."

Hobie leaned back and put his hands behind his head, as if trying to convince me through his sheer level of confidence alone.

"Because no matter what, no matter where, i'm going to be righ' there. For you."

I watched him before looking back at my computer, Hobie did the same. It was playing the Daily Bugle on it. J Jonah Jameson was talking about this world's spider-man, universe 11052.

"… Part of me wants to ask to run away and go live in your world Hobie.“

I said softly as my eyes didn’t leave the computer screen. Hobie raised an eyebrow.

"You can’' jus' go missing. Your father would notice." He leaned in a little closer, speaking in a quieter tone.

“And you said i' yourself, your powers aren’' controlled yet, if you try to teleport, who knows where you’ll wind up. If you go missing and you don’' show up again…” Hobie’s mind started to trail off in dark places. Hobie paused for a moment, his expression growing stern.

"I could tell you to jus' try and hide i' from your dad. Tha' you should be careful and never use your powers in public."

He watched the video with me for a moment as he took in the scene. A new wave of guilt set in for him.

"Bu' i’m no' going to say tha'. Because even if you could pretend to be normal, i know tha' inside, you wouldn'' feel normal… I' would only be a matter of time before i' comessy ou'. And then, your dad’s going to find ou'."

As we continued to watch J Jonah Jameson, the sound of thunder rolled in. And then, rain started to pummel the window. It was getting late at night. I listened to him but shook my head.

“He hates mutants, I hear him talk about it all the time- he says if he could get rid of them for good he would!”

I said as my voice quivered, tears started to form in my eyes as my hands trembled.

"Hey." Hobie sighed. Hobie crouched down a bit so we'd be at eye level.

"I'm going to say wha' i jus' said again. He migh' say tha'. He migh' even hate the though' of a mutan' in his family. Bu' he doesn'' hate you."

Hobie tapped my knee.

"He's your dad. Like you said. And i know i' migh' be hard for you to believe, bu' he wonts what's bes' for you. And if he can'' accep' you for who you are, that's no' your faul'."

I turned away from him as I wiped the tears away from my face. Hobie put his hands on either side of my shoulders.

"He can’' hate mutants forever… because you’ll show him how good mutants actually are. They aren’' the monsters he thinks they are… you’re no' the monster he thinks you are."

"What if he doesn’t want anything to do with me..?"

"If i' comessy down to it- wha' would you choose? would you rather stay a' home and keep your powers secret, and risk him destroying your life? or would you take a chance and talk to him abou' going to Xavier School?"

Hobie paused for a moment. Trying to find the right words to say.

"Because if that's wha' i' comessy down to, then you need to make tha' call. Bu' remember, no matter wha' happens… It's no' your faul'. All you're trying to do is help him understand."

Hobie took a breath before standing up. "You still go' the stuff for a kandi bracelet?"

I blinked as I turned in my chair more to face him.

"Yeah… Why?"

He smiled as he put his hands in his pockets. "Let’s ge' your mind off of this for now."

He said as he walked passed my bed, giving the cat a few headpaps before pulling out my box that had my beads in it.

"We’ll both make one. Tha' woy, you’ll still have me around when i’m no' here."

He said as he pulled out two guitar strings out of his pocket.

-

"So, that's who that’s from?"

Miles asked as Hobie crossed his legs over each other as he looked at the bracelet on his arm.

"Yeah, her nickname for me is strings so she has tha' on i'. And mine has power on i' for her powers."

Miles's eyes shifted away for just a moment.

"So… what happened to her?"

Hobie’s eyes closed as he took a deep breath. "Talk with her dad didn’' go well, so i helped her ge' her things and moved her to Xavier School where-" Hobie pointed to Miles. "She is now an X-Men."

He said as Miles looked down at his bracelet. "I hear she kisses her’s before going on a mission."

"And do you do that with yours?"

Gwein piped in as Hobie smirked, moving his hands behind his head.

"Na, I kiss the real thing."

[loveackermannn]

☰ FOREVER AND EVER. –.ೃ࿐ 𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐢 𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧. – (! mentions of post-war from s4 ! also i recommend listening to this song when reading ! or any of the songs by that artist, it really does fit this drabble a lot and i wrote it to that song ! very soft and mundane. okay that is all, i hope you enjoy < 3)

i want to take care of post-war levi so bad..

he deserves it after all he's been through, showered with lots of love and kisses, pampered on his bad days, cooked for when he comes back home from a long day at the tea shop.

but deep inside, he feels as though he shouldn't be treated this way. he's afraid of the burden he's caused you to deal with such a broken and unfixable man like him – but you're not going anywhere and you've made that very clear.

"it'll only be trouble for you. please don't," he says softly as you continue to change the bandages around his healing leg. it had been months since the war ended, yet the recovery process has taken much longer than he expected. now, here you were, on your hands and knees, discarding of bloodied gauze when you should be out there living freely like you've always wanted.

but the truth of the matter, is that this is where you wanted to be, for the rest of your days.

"it's not at all, my love. stop talking like that," you gently scold with no malice and levi could only clutch tightly onto his hand – the one that reminded him of what he once lost. this was quite the habit he's picked up and everytime your eyes glanced down to his lap, you wasted no time in placing your own palm over his. soon enough, you could feel the tension escape from his grip, relaxing the moment your skin touched his.

he was so physically deprived that he had begun to forget what it felt like to actually feel wanted and needed. and not the kind of want and need where he had to kill for an end goal – to be wanted and needed by you was all he cared about. he loved it, indulged in it even.

though, a part of him refused to be granted such love and care from one person, let alone by you.

"i can't help it. you don't have to be with me, you know that right?" just as you always have done, your hand met the tops of his hands, soothing his worries with just a simple touch. your thumb drew messy patterns across his scars and callouses – never hurried.

"but i want to. this is no obligation for me, you're stuck with me for a really long time. i hope you're okay with that."

guess there's no stopping you there.

you hear him inhale slowly, as if readying himself to speak again, "but we won't do many things that other couples get to do. we'll be confined to this shitty cottage for a while.."

"that's okay with me. i'd rather be here with you than anywhere else."

"but you wanted to travel. you always talked abou-"

"that can wait. trust me, we have all the time in world to do all of that. the world will still be here, even when we're grown and wrinkly," you chuckle as you flick your finger against the point of his nose.

he didn't hold back his snort at you gesture to lighten the gloom on his face – you always knew what to say.

"yeah, i'll be all old and stuck in my chair. you'll have to wipe my ass when i can't do it anymore," he says flatly, but amusement was evident in the hues of his eyes and on his face. he really did love seeing you smile at his dumb, silly jokes.

"of course, i'll do that for you," you rest your cheek on the plush of his thigh and you feel his hand come up to meet the back of your head.

"i was joking."

"well, i wasn't"

"that's digusting, come here," without effort, he lifts you in his arms and planting you onto his lap – and you were quick to want to squirm off, but he didn't let you go anywhere.

"levi! i wasn't done changing your bandages," you frown as your efforts deemed useless in his secure hold. you couldn't resist anymore and you mentally noted that he didn't hiss out of pain like he used to.

"that can wait. it doesn't hurt as much, you're fine," he says while burying his scarred face in the crook of your neck. small breaths exhaled onto your soft skin and you didn't stop yourself from threading your fingers through the raven locks of his hair.

"i just want this to last a little longer."

[hrhmiat]

Thoughts on Mia's blow-up at Michael in book 8

After a conversation with my friend, whose preference for being tagged here is uncertain, so I'll just keep her anonymous, but I have to give her major kudos!! (you know who you are ;)) I've just realized why Mia reacts so spastastic to the whole Judith Gershner situation.

But before diving into that, let me share my initial thoughts before coming to the realization and understanding of Mia's outburst: When I reached that part in the book, I couldn't comprehend why she reacted so strongly. I mean, I knew sex and losing her virginity was a big deal to her, but the thought never crossed my mind of the reverse. If Michael had had sex with anyone else. I mean, I honestly didn't think Michael had it in him, tbh. lol. (but then again, he's a hot nerd so who can blame him) Was I just as shocked as Mia? YES!!!! YES, I WAS!!! Also, I don't think Michael even handled it well. He was just so not sensitive in parts of their conversation. but then again, Mia was freaking out, and that, in turn, threw him off. (Also, he's what, 19?) Though, he did keep his cool for the most part .... till the very end where he lost his cool for a second. In fairness, Mia was going crazy.... with crazy eyes, as he pointed out. He was worried about her; he had never seen her so upset before. I think Michael *knew* this would happen, that THIS would upset Mia. That's why he didn't come right out and tell her. And like he said, it's not like Mia asked about it. I think if Mia asked, he would have been upfront with her. He's not a liar. How was Michael supposed to know that Mia treasured her "precious gift" of virginity? She never talked about it with him. I don't think they talked a whole lot about sex because she was uncomfortable with it, and Michael wasn't going to push her (only push the boundaries with his hands when they wandered in their makeout sessions.) Sure, they had their three-month "talk," religiously but that was more or less like... Mia:"I'm not ready" Michael: "Fine. We'll reconvene in three months." It's not like Helen goes around preaching abstinence. I get not wanting your daughter to have sex at 14 and telling her she should wait, but that isn't the same as what Mia was reading in Tina's books about purity, and you're only worth is your virginity crap. Like I think if Helen knew what Mia was reading she'd have a serious sit down heart-to-heart with her daughter and tell her she's worthy no matter what. Those books did so much damage to Mia!!!! I think when Michael was fooling around with Judith, he was upset that Mia liked Kenny, not him. He was upset at himself that he didn't make his move at the movies and ultimately upset that he fell for his little sister's best friend, a girl who should more or less be like a sister to him, but he's gone and fallen hard for her. I think he was at a very low point when he and Judith were studying. Did he make the first move? Did Judith? I honestly think Judith did since she had a boyfriend. Did Michael regret being with Judith after? Abso-fucking-lutely! Why else would he try and forget about it? "It was before you and I even started going out...." (I didn't want to think about how stupid I was for being so upset you didn't like me) "I didn't think- I mean, it was so long ago-" (yeah... I didn't think you liked me.... so I slept with her.... and now I'm trying to block it out of my memory, Mia) Another thing is, I think Michael honestly forgot as time went on... like in his mind, it was just a fact that he slept with Judith and thought at some point he had told Mia since Michael said with a straight face and no hesitation, "No, of course not. You know that" after Mia asked him, "are you not a virgin?" Then, when Mia was like, "NOOOOO, I DID NOT KNOW THAT!" He got VERY aware, VERY quickly, that they had NOT talked about his past because he knew she was jealous of that person and didn't want to upset her. I think if they were THAT serious about having sex in the past, I think Michael would have told her, but he knew she was never serious, so why bring it up if she didn't want to discuss it with him?

Anyway... I've always sided with Michael and Lilly on this one—why the heck did Mia explode the way she did?

Well, the discovery dawned on me that while Mia was struggling to process Michael's surprise news about him leaving for Japan for a year OR MORE, the discovery that he's not a virgin, a detail he's kept hidden from her throughout their relationship, triggered her beyond her capacity. I truly think it took her back to when the other people she trusted in the whole world (Her mom and dad) had betrayed her trust when they told her she was a princess. Not saying this is as shocking as her parents lying about her being a princess all her life, but she trusted Michael and he betrayed her trust by not telling her one of THE most important thing she cares about. This is why she said he lied (even though he didn't). Omitting the truth is the same thing to her. Anyway, let me know your thoughts if you disagree or agree or want to add anything else that I missed! Loved to hear everyone else's thoughts!

[bugzbun]

The Nanny x reader (GN)

Fran Fine strolled through the park on a beautiful, sunny afternoon. Her heels clicked with each step she took on the path. She couldn't resist the allure of fresh air and greenery, even in the midst of her busy life. (Not according to Mr. Sheffiled but what did he know.) As she walked, she noticed a young person sitting on a bench, looking a bit lost and honestly, a little upset, quietly muttering to themselves.

Fran stood for a bit, watching as the person she hasn't met yet, sigh and run a hand through their [h/c] hair, before she approached them with her signature confidence and warmth, Fran struck up a conversation.

"Hey there, sweetheart, are you new in town?"

The young person looked up, startled by Frans sudden presence, their eyes filled with surprise and relief at the brunette woman who held a kind smile on her face.

"Yeah, just moved here. My name's [Y/N], and I'm trying to find a job." They started, with a sigh. "I'm having no luck."

Fran thought for a moment before she smiled kindly and sat next to [y/n] on the bench. "I'm Fran Fine. Nice to meet you, [Y/N]. Don't worry, we'll find you something. You've got that spark. Tell me, what kind of work are you looking for?"

[Y/N] explained their skills and aspirations to Fran, who listened curiously and as it turns out, [y/n] was a rather remarkable cook! Describing all they knew to make to Fran. With this knowledge, Fran's mind started racing with ideas. 

She knew Niles didn't really like to cook. (In the last season, its quoted that he hadn't made a meal in 6 years, a year before Fran started working and was secretly ordering takeout.)  So why not bring in someone to help? Fran was sure with a little convincing and with Niles on board, she knew that would be a given, Mr. Sheffield would surely agree to it. 

With that, Fran gasped excitedly, waving her hands frantically at her brilliant idea, "Doll, Why don't I ask my boss?" 

[Y/n] blinked at Frans sudden enthusiastic outburst but couldn't help but smile a little, "You think he'll hire me?" 

"Honey you just leave him to me." Fran started, pulling out her compact mirror from her handbag, opening it and smiling at her reflection before swiping her pinky across her teeth. "Just let me work my magic, he wont say no to me."

She winked, while closing her mirror and placing it back in her bag, before standing up and dusting herself off, adjusting her skirt. The two exchanged numbers and Fran promised to call as soon as she could. 

With a wave, the two said their farewells and Fran made way to the Sheffield residence, with a skip in her step. 

Fran Fine arrived at the elegant Sheffield residence with a sense of determination strong in her. She knew that convincing her boss, Maxwell Sheffield, to hire [Y/N] as the new cook wouldn't be easy, but she was determined to make her case if it was the last thing she'll do.

As she entered the grand foyer, she was greeted by Niles, the butler, who raised an eyebrow at Fran's unusually determined expression. "Ah, Miss Fine, what has you so fired up today?"

Fran flashed Niles a confident smile as she removed her coat and hung it in the coat closet next to the door. "Niles, darling, I've got a brilliant idea, and it involves Mr. Sheffield. Is he in?"

Niles, always amused by Fran's antics, gestured back towards the study. "He's in his office, Miss Fine. Good luck with whatever scheme you've cooked up this time."

Fran chuckled softly and made her way to Maxwell's office. She knocked lightly on the door before entering.

Maxwell Sheffield, a refined and composed man in his mid-40s, was sitting behind his desk, engrossed in paperwork. He looked up, a hint of surprise in his eyes at Fran's unexpected visit.

"Ah, Miss Fine, what brings you here?"

Fran entered the room with her trademark flair and confidence, striding over to Maxwells desk and sitting on the edge with her legs crossed. "Mr. Sheffield, I've got something to discuss with you, and I think you'll love it. It's about our kitchen."

Maxwell raised an eyebrow at this. "My kitchen? What's going on, Miss Fine?"

Fran began to explain her encounter with [Y/N], their impressive cooking skills, and how hiring them as the new cook could be a game-changer for the Sheffield household.

"Just think about it!" She said, spreading her hands out in front of her, (think SpongeBob saying "Imagination") as to paint a vivid picture of delicious meals.

"You could have whatever you desire!" She exclaimed, thinking about the desserts [y/n] had mentioned they knew to make, Fran could feel her mouth salvitaiting, she could really go for a chocolate right now. She dissmised the thought, she couldn't get distracted.

Fran continued, "Mr Sheffield, Imagine all that plus a happier Niles who wouldn't have to worry about the kitchen anymore." She stated with a smile, and like she expected, Niles, who was listening in, opened the door to the study. 

"I agree with Miss Fine!" Exclaimed Niles, before clearing his throat. Maxwell listened intently to Fran and rolled his eyes at Niles.

But his skepticism started giving way to genuine interest. He admired Fran's passion and dedication, and he couldn't help but be intrigued by the idea.

Fran looked at Maxwell with hopeful eyes. "So, Mr. Sheffield, what do you say? Can we give [Y/N] a chance?"

Maxwell leaned back in his chair, considering Fran's proposal. "Fran, I must admit, your enthusiasm is infectious. Let's meet this [Y/N] and discuss the possibility. If they impress us as much as you say, we may just have ourselves a new cook."

Niles silently cheered before walking out to avoid any comment from Mr. Sheffield as Fran beamed with delight.

"You won't regret it, Mr. Sheffield! [Y/N] is a sure culinary genius, and I have a good feeling about this."

Maxwell smiled. "Very well, Fran. Let's arrange a meeting. But, remember, if this doesn't work out, it's on your shoulders."

Fran nodded enthusiastically. "Deal, Mr. Sheffield. You won't be disappointed."

And so, the wheels were set in motion, thanks to Fran's determination and charm. The prospect of [Y/N] becoming the Sheffield household's new cook brought excitement and anticipation to the grand old household. 

A/n: I've been rewatching The Nanny. This is just for fun.

Ofcourse I don't own any right to any characters names used, ect.

Next part here

[frankencanon]

jiang cheng sees dead people au

after everything, jiang cheng finds himself experiencing frequent minor qi deviations — not that anyone realizes, since most of the time zidian will discharge the excess volatile qi to stop the qi deviation in its tracks before it can get too severe.¹

unfortunately, so many minor qi deviations have had a negative effect on his mental health — specifically, the worst problem would arguably be the hallucinations of his dead family.

it was something that started small but slowly got worse — at first, just whispers of speech that sounded eerily like his parents... eventually, full-on vivid hallucinations of his entire family — his parents, his sister, even his brother...

astonishingly, there actually is a possibility for a cure — it wouldn't be easy, and it wouldn't be quick, but there exists a solid chance...

alas! jiang cheng refuses to even consider it. he knows he should, but he simply cannot bring himself to — not when this is the closest thing to his family that he has left.

and sure, he has jin ling! but jin ling is naught but a baby at this point — he treasures him, of course, its his only sister's son afterall! but as much as it sickens him to admit, he would forfeit that little baby's life in an instant if it would get him his family back... even just one of them.

but time goes by, and jiang cheng grows to love jin ling as a son — as unwilling to give him up as he would be with jiang yanli herself.

but the thing about raising a baby, is that you don't really filter yourself around them. afterall, why would you? it's not like they're going to remember any of this anyway, not when they're still this small.

but. but. the act of not filtering yourself around a specific person... it can be habit forming. you can forget yourself. when alone with them, you can completely forget that you would normally censor these things around other people. afterall! you've never stopped yourself from doing it around them ever before!

this is all to say this: jin ling grows up with an uncle (father) who talks to people who aren't there.

over the years, there's a lot of confusion over it — times when jin ling thought, maybe, that he was talking to their ghosts... until he gets a little older, and actually learns about ghosts and how they work, and realizes that it can't be that...

he never asks his uncle about it, because ever since he was small any time that he would try to mention it or bring it up, his uncle would get angry and defensive; he would lie and insist that jin ling had heard wrong, that he hadn't been talking to anyone, that he had no idea what he was talking about...

eventually jin ling learned to stop asking... but he never stopped wondering. afterall, how could he? when jiang cheng would address those not-ghosts as a-die, a-niang, a-jie, and — most damning of all — wei wuxian.

he got older. his uncle stopped denying it, but would still avoid any questions about what they were...

(jiang cheng didn't want to admit to his nephew that his dear uncle was crazy and saw dead people... didn't want to worry him...)

but as time passed he slowly eased up enough that jin ling could mention it sometimes, offhand and casual-like... say things like, "is grandmother bothering you again?" or "you should listen to mom more!"

(jin ling may not know their personalities first hand, but he can infer things based off of what his uncle would say and how he'd re/act, the faces he'd make...)

time passed by, and he got older. eventually, jin ling learned what was wrong with his uncle. he learned about hallucinations and what they were, how they worked... he understood that the people his uncle saw and spoke to weren't real, they weren't there...

but he didn't do anything. afterall, uncle had always been like this and he seemed fine. some of the hallucinations bothered him, sure (*cough* madame yu *cough*) but others... jin ling can't even imagine trying to take jiang yanli, his mother, away from jiang cheng...

he knew about what caused the hallucinations, too — afterall, how could he not? jiang cheng raised him and would frequently endeavor to spend as much time with him as possible. it's only inevitable that eventually, one day, he would witness his uncle having a qi deviation.

it would either have to be during a time when he wasn't wearing zidian so the spiritual weapon could not ease his qi — perhaps while sleeping or bathing? — or the qi deviation would have to be severe enough that it overpowered zidian's attempts to mitigate it.

during this time, jin ling would finally find out about his uncle's frequent minor qi deviations. maybe it was while he was trying to sleep or bathe, and so when jin ling sees/shows up/happens upon him, jiang cheng has to ask his nephew — through gritted teeth slick with blood — to bring him zidian, quickly.

jin ling would watch as jiang cheng slid zidian on and it immediately started sparking harsher than he'd ever seen it do before. and he would be concerned, of course, that the sparks would hurt his uncle — and so to stop him from ripping it back off, jiang cheng would then have to go through the mortifying ordeal of admitting to your nephew that you secretly suffer from frequent minor qi deviations.

and of course, after that, jin ling would never be able to forget. and so any time he saw zidian going haywire with wild sparks, he would assume (correctly) that his uncle's qi was veering into the danger zone, and so out of fear for his uncle's safety and sanity he would do his absolute best to help his uncle calm down before he hurt himself.

of course, this gets interpreted incorrectly by outsiders — they see sect leader jiang getting pissed off, zidian throwing off sparks, and they see little jin ling frantically trying to calm his uncle down, fear clear in his eyes... it doesn't paint a good picture, suffice to say.

for years and years and years, no one outside of jin ling is aware of jiang cheng's struggles with hallucinations and qi deviations — right up until one day, wei wuxian is raised from the dead.

and, well... it's one thing to try to hide something from strangers — but siblings? they're a lot harder to fool.

(that's not entirely true — jin ling may know the most, and he may be the only one that jiang cheng is even semi-open about it with — but he's far from the only one to ever suspect anything, to notice anything. the closer a disciple is to jiang cheng, the higher up they are, and/or the more they interact with him, the more likely they are to know something is up — to notice the little things jiang cheng does that he thinks no one notices... but they do — they do notice. they just... choose not to say anything. to trust in their sect leader, who has yet to ever lead them astray.

...but they're not the only ones to notice something's up, and unfortunately the next person is a lot less nice... afterall, what with jin ling and all it is only inevitable that jiang cheng will end up spending a fair amount of time with jin guangyao... and, well... let's just say that the scene in the temple goes a lot differently in this au — what with all of the additional secrets jin guangyao has undoubtedly been gathering on jiang cheng...

maybe this is when wei wuxian and et all finally find out. maybe wei wuxian's been suspecting for some time that something's up with jiang cheng but he couldn't put his finger on quite what...

until jin guangyao unflinchingly announces it in front of everyone in the temple, without hesitation. he's been waiting to use this information, this blackmail, for a while now... and finally, the opportunity has arisen.)

---

¹idea for jiang cheng's qi deviations and zidian's effect on them from anonkun's "hating the hand life has dealt us" on ao3 (strongly recommend)

(it's a sort-of crossover fic with svsss about the og shen jiu being reincarnated as jiang cheng except when jiang cheng regains his memories of being shen jiu he flat out rejects them to the point of accidentally developing a sort of dissociative identity disorder where he sees himself and shen jiu as two separate people just inhabiting the same body)

[naavispider]

OR, ORRR, ok what if that who drabble was a memory he relive in a dream turned nightmare 🫢 the moment Quaritch comes back, ready to bring Spider into a world of pain, he wakes up with a jolt in the forest, maybe a month or two after that incident, hyperventilating as some squad members stir.

Miles was the watchman and catches Spider having a bit of a panic attack. (Yes I’m asking for a bit of comfort it it’s possible, maybe Spider even being all reluctant and going “you’re not gonna…hurt me again, right?” 😭)

This response is about a follow up I wrote to Noodle, imagining that the whole finding-a-dissected-Na'vi-in-the-Bridgehead-labs thing was a nightmare 💅🏻 Sorry it's taken me so long babe 💞

"Please!" Spider yelled as the door slammed shut behind Quaritch, leaving Spider, achingly, desperately alone again, on the cold hard floor of the Bridgehead cell. "Don't leave!"

He couldn't do it. He couldn't be left like this, not again. His mind mulled and churned and thoughts became fears until he couldn't think straight. His hands were clammy, his chest heaved with agonised breaths of air that simply weren't enough. "I'm sorry!"

He cried out, and then hands were on him. Large, strong hands. Hands he knew to be Quaritch's - but Quaritch had just left. He was alone. He was hurting. He was terrified.

"PLEASE!" he called out again, grasping for the touch in the dark. Distant noises floated towards him, but it was hard to hear anything past the sound of his sobs and the hissing of his exopack.

But wait... He was in a cell, inside... why was he wearing an exopack?

He flung his eyes open, drenched in sweat and clinging onto Quaritch's protective arms. His head span as he tried to figure out what happened, through the haze that his brain had become. Quaritch was there, shushing him. He was sat on the mossy floor of the forest, plants and bugs glowing around them.

It was bewildering - it had felt so real. All he could do was try to get his breathing back under control as relief flooded through him. He was safe, he was with Quaritch, the squad were nearby, and they were in the forest.

"It's okay... you just had a bad dream," came Quaritch's voice from above him. His face was pressed into Quaritch's chest, though Spider didn't remember getting there consciously. The sound of the recom's voice was steady, authoritative, yet laced with worry. Not yet capable of saying anything, Spider focused on the words. "It's alright kid, you're fine."

His fingers gripped Quaritch's arm as a headrush overcame him. He had become dizzy from hyperventilating. He tried to match the steady rise and fall of Quaritch's chest to regulate his breaths.

Eywa, he'd never had a nightmare this bad.

Slowly, his grip on the recom's oversized limbs relinquished, and Quaritch moved his arm to stroke Spider's back firmly. "Jesus, kid. That was one Hell of a night terror..."

Spider's head had finally begun to clear. "Sorry..." he mumbled. This was just pure embarrassing, really. "That was... I've never..."

Quaritch waited him out, but it was difficult to put into words how real it had felt. The dead Na'vi, laying face up on a table with his insides spewn out. Rotten. Decaying. Blackened flesh. A cavity of a torso.

Quaritch would never do that. Of course it wasn't real.

"That was shit," he settled on.

He was still under Quaritch's protective hold, so he gently released the man's forearm and pushed himself away slightly, finally bringing Quaritch's concerned face into view. The Colonel noticed the change in the boy's demeanour, tilting his head as if to encourage Spider to continue speaking. Spider noticed the furrow of his brow, the worried creases surrounding his golden eyes, and most tellingly, the way his ears were alert, pricked up and scanning for even the smallest sounds, utterly focused on Spider.

"You wanna talk about it?" Quaritch asked slowly.

No, he definitely did not. Spider shook his head.

"Was..." Quaritch seemed to steel himself for what he was about to say. It looked like the words weighed heavily on his heart. "Was I in it?"

Spider pushed himself back further, allowing him a sturdier position on the soft, luminesent moss beneath him. It also meant he could support himself fully without having Quaritch's hands on him. He looked deep into the recom's eyes, almost scared for what he would find there. "Yes," he said eventually.

Quaritch nodded. "Tell me."

Spider took a breath, unsure if revealing the truth would help either of them. But Quaritch was staring at him so intently, he couldn't help it. "I... we were in Bridgehead. I sneaked off and found..." Spider took a deep breath and forced away the images of the warrior on the dissecting table. "A Na'vi warrior... in the labs. He was..." He stared hard at the teal coloured glow of the moss beneath him to stop the images. "He was gutted... experimented on. And... and you knew about it"

Quaritch seemed to expect what was coming next.

"You... you took me back to the cell. You were going to leave me there. Again."

Neither of them had forgotten the days of confinement Spider had been subjected to in that place. Neither of them wanted to relive it.

"Spider..." Quaritch whispered.

It was strange hearing him talk so softly. Quaritch had almost always spoken to him in his strong, squad leader's tone of voice. Even when Spider had messed around, Quaritch never really deviated. He didn't shout, and he certainly didn't whisper.

"You know that - back then - those were different times. You weren't ready to talk. You couldn't be reasoned with." Spider hissed at that, but Quaritch ploughed on. "Not like now. You and I, we're good together. I'm sorry for the way it went down... at the beginning. But I ain't making no apologies for what it led to. You and me, kid. That's all. That's the only thing that matters."

Spider raised his eyes to look at Quaritch once more, uncertain of the man's words. If that's how Quaritch felt, great.

Spider wanted to feel the same, he really did. But he could not forget his trauma.

He nodded, if only to pacify the recom.

"It's late. You should go back to sleep."

"Can I have a tablet?" Can I lay next to you?

Quaritch exhaled, nodding seriously as he reached into his pack for the spare holopad that Spider was becoming increasingly dependent on to fall asleep. Spider took it gratefully, watching as Quaritch got up to return to his own resting spot against a tree trunk.

Somehow, the knowledge that Quaritch was on watch duty for the camp provided a reassurance that Spider didn't know he was missing. As he laid back on the soft ground, he felt comforted knowing that if he did slip into another night terror, Quaritch would be there to bring him back, with gentle hands and a strong embrace.

[maelstrom-of-emotions]

Watch as I make this unnecessarily dramatic, this wasn't even supposed to happen, but the idea ran away from me, and so here we are, but don't worry, Louie will get the hugs and cuddles he deserves...eventually. I'd suggest you read Part One and Part Two before this, otherwise, it probably won't make sense. ⁂

The day felt unusually long, a rarity, especially when Scrooge McDuck was in the picture. The only times time ever seemed to stretch were during close brushes with death, pulled out like taffy.

Dewey wasn't a fan of that conclusion.

He couldn't wait for nightfall, couldn't wait to unearth the problem, couldn't wait to annihilate whoever had hurt Louie. He just wanted to set everything right, make it all go back to normal.

Dewey attempted to keep his touches nonchalant. There was no need for Louie to suspect anything amiss, although that would've been fine since Dewey was generally a fan of physical contact. But he'd messed up a bit, nearly knocking Webby down in his haste to sit next to Louie—a less than stellar moment.

On a regular day, Louie might've narrowed his eyes and shot him a suspicious look, but today, just like the past few days, it was as if his brother hadn't even registered what had happened, simply staring blankly at the TV.

The ache in his chest intensified. Louie was supposed to play the nonchalant and careless card, not actually embody it. It took everything in Dewey not to shake the answers out of Louie, everything in him to snap at his older brother. Who cared about plans? Louie was hurt, had been hurt for a while now, and Dewey didn't know where to put the band-aid because he didn't know where the wound was or who had cut it.

Huey seemed to read Dewey's mind because when Dewey got up to grab snacks, Huey followed him, giving him "the look." The one he'd borrowed from Uncle Donald, the one that said, 'I know what you're thinking, and no, you can't do it'—but Dewey had never been great at following scripts, especially in situations like these.

"He's hurting," Dewey declared through gritted teeth. It felt like Huey had momentarily forgotten the gravity of the situation. This wasn't some Mark Beaks internship or a hunt for a far-off treasure. This was their brother, the one they'd sworn to protect. The brother who'd composed a national anthem for him, schemed to get him his favorite set of playing cards, listened when needed, and stood by him as a best friend.

"I know," Huey replied, sounding exasperated, as if he were tired, tired of the world, tired of the situation, tired of Louie. "I know he's hurting—"

"Really?" Dewey retorted, unable to contain the anger coursing through him. His voice took on a mocking, cruel edge. "Do you? Because you sure don't seem to act like it! He's our brother, Huey, not some stupid science project. Do you realize how hard it is to watch him hurting? Do you realize how many times he almost died today?"

"Of course, I do," Huey asserted, his voice growing sharper, harsher, defensive. "It's like you said, I'm the only one keeping a tally of these mishaps. Do you think I haven't noticed? I'm as concerned as you are—"

"Oh, don't give me that," Dewey interrupted, his voice getting louder. He didn't care if anyone heard them. "I'm the one who's trying to help Louie, I'm the one who supports his schemes, I'm the one who believes in him. When have you even noticed? If you're really keeping track of these things, you would have noticed that he was hurt ages ago, but you didn't! Because you don't care!"

"For the love of the stars, what on Earth are you talking about, Dewey? You're not making any sense—" Huey's voice was getting louder too. Fine, if he thought he could outshout Dewey, he had another thing coming. Dewey was known for being loud.

"No, we never make sense to you, do we? It's always you who has the facts straight. We're always the ones who can't see the bigger picture, can't see it through your eyes. You talk about fairness but you never give us a chance, you don't even care! You don't even trust us, do you? Do you?"

"That's not true, Dewey, and you know it—"

"Do I? Frankly, big brother, I'm not even sure what I know anymore. All I know is that you've been putting off Louie when we should be comforting him. Instead, you're making some dumb plan that's probably not even going to work. When have your plans ever worked in a situation like this? And you still continue to—"

"Because it's the only thing I am confident in, okay?" Huey's voice cracked on a sob, and Dewey immediately clacked his beak shut, feeling his own eyes water.

"Huey," he whispered, his hand reaching out to grab his older brother's shoulder, but Huey shook his head and so he let it fall against his side again. He suddenly felt heavy, feeling the weight of exhaustion to his bones. 

"I had to watch you walk out on a plane wing, Dewey. You could have died, a-and I couldn't have done anything to stop it. Louie's hurt, and I don't even know the reason. You think I don't care? Of course I do. It's just that I don't seem to be able to do anything to stop you guys. Louie's schemes could get him hurt or worse, your antics could kill you, and you both are the only ones who seem to be able to protect each other. It's like you don't even need me."

"You know that's not true—"

"I'm not even sure what I know anymore," Huey whispered, parroting Dewey's words from earlier. He found that he didn't have anything to say, which Huey took as a sign to keep going. "You may have been safe that time, but who knows what will happen the next time? Louie's already hurt, I just, I don't want to shatter him further—"

"You won't know that by avoiding him," Dewey said softly, but winced it came out a little condescending. He wished Louie was here; he knew how to modulate his voice.

"I know that, Dewey, and let's be honest here, you weren't much better!" Huey shouted suddenly, and Dewey felt the rage rise once more, a seething surge akin to molten lava coursing through his veins.

"When did I ever say that I was? Stop putting words in my mouth—"

"Both of you, stop fighting!" Louie's voice sliced through Dewey's rant, his voice tense. They both turned to gaze at their younger brother, his eyes red-rimmed, holding the unshed tears like a storm on the brink. Oh, right, Louie hated conflict, and suddenly Dewey felt like the worst person on the planet. He was supposed to help Louie, not make it worse, why did he have to open up his big beak?

"Louie," Huey began, his voice a mere whisper, raspy and hoarse. Dewey felt a pang of hurt shoot through him at the sound. He had aimed to aid one brother, and now, both of them were wounded.

"You both were taking too long," Louie said, his voice carrying a weight that made Dewey's heart hurt. He showed no sign of having heard Huey, as though tethered to a world beyond their immediate turmoil. His eyes, glossy and wet, fixated somewhere beyond Dewey's shoulder, avoiding eye contact, as though it might shatter him. "I heard shouting."

"Lou," Dewey murmured softly, a fracture forming within him without clear cause. He wanted Louie to meet his gaze, to return to a semblance of normalcy. He longed for the sanctuary of their houseboat, where fear didn't loom every other moment, where the gravest concern was the capricious weather, where his brothers existed in a cocoon of safety untouched by the traumas that now haunted their nights. 

But Louie shook his head, still avoiding eye contact, his weariness mirroring the exhaustion that had settled into Dewey's bones. "I'd suggest you carry the talk over to the bedroom, at least in that case they won't hear the screaming." It might be a joke, but Louie's tone is flat, drained of the energy to maintain pretenses. Something in Dewey's chest just snaps—

"Louie," his voice isn't firm or authoritative, just broken. "Louie, look at me, please."

And Louie does, and he appears so adrift, uncertain how to navigate the conversation. It's a disorienting sight, so unlike the Louie that Dewey knows, and something in his heart shatters further. "Louie," he finds himself saying, unable to think of anything else. "Louie, you're not okay."

Louie remains silent, his gaze a haunting reflection of weariness and loss, reminiscent of a stray kitten that has wandered through the shadows of life, its eyes carrying a wariness born from unspoken hurt. The weight of exhaustion clings to him like a shadow, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions too deep for Dewey to swim in.

"Louie," Huey speaks up, a gentle disturbance that draws Louie's gaze to him. Huey sends Dewey a hopeful look, and Dewey, understanding the unspoken plea, nods. "We need to talk."

"We should," Louie agrees, surprising Dewey. "But not now."

"What the hell?" The words spill forth before he can restrain them. "Louie—"

"We'll talk after dinner," Louie says, his voice meek, a delicate whisper that leaves Dewey unable to muster further protest.

"Okay," he says simply, the word hanging in the air like a fragile thread, because it's all that he can do. "Okay."

Huey nods, trails of dry tears staining his cheeks, reminiscent of the winding paths traversed by lost travelers through desolate landscapes. Like the path Dewey can't seem to make head or tail of, where everything seems to be leading to a dead end. 

Louie doesn't say anything further; he merely retrieves a bag of chips and a can of Pep! before heading towards the door. But before he can open it, he turns to them, his gaze intense and calculating in a way Dewey hasn't witnessed in days. "I think you both need to talk more than me, though. What you guys have is more important."

Before either of them can question what the hell Louie meant by that, the duckling swiftly exits, just as quickly as he had arrived, leaving behind a silence that hangs in the air like the echoes of unsung melodies.