#Dialogue heavy this time!

[arcane-gold]

not to be dramatic but taking this screenshot dealt me psychic damage

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (7)- I Told You So

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 7- 5.5k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 6

As you were cleaning up the last of the dishes you had used for dinner, your mind roaming for something interesting to think about after your boring evening alone, the twins who you usually entertained on a Friday evening away at their uncle's house, you snapped back into reality at the sound of voices being raised next door, your brows furrowing as you wiped your hands clean, concerned at the noises coming from Wanda’s house.

The sound of the married couple arguing when the twins were away wasn’t a surprise to you, but the sheer amount of shouting was. Normally, you would hear a few raised words, mostly coming from Vision and the occasional slam of a door but tonight it seemed different, they both seemed to be screaming at one another.

You wanted to go over and make sure things were alright as the argument seemed to grow louder, the voices muffled meaning you couldn’t make out what was being said, but you reluctantly decided against it as it wasn’t your place to intervene, to make sure Wanda was alright. By the sounds of it, she was handling herself alright against him, a loud, hostile shout coming from a female voice before you decided to give them their space, not wanting the temptation to go on over there.

Grabbing Lucky’s lead, you quickly found everything you would need for a long walk with the bundle of fluff before heading out, your gaze trained on the house as you passed it slowly, listening to the continuous shouting, having to fight against every instinct that told you to knock on the front door and interrupt them. You hovered as the shouting suddenly stopped, a sense of panic trickling down your spine unpleasantly before it seemed to erupt again, your feet reluctantly taking step after step until you walked away from the house, trying to get rid of the worry building in the pit of your stomach as you roamed around Westview, taking a trip down memory lane once again to try and clear your mind.

***

Turning the corner to enter the avenue you lived on, your gaze immediately caught sight of auburn hair, Wanda’s despondent form slumped on her doorstep as she sat on the edge of it, her fingers deftly wrapped around a cigarette as she took a long, tired drag, seeming to try and lose herself in something other than the emotions forcibly drowning her. The sight of her stirred something inside you as you grew closer, your features softening but also filling with concern as you felt a prominent pain in your chest at how small and broken she looked, a lump forming in your throat when you caught her empty stare. The mesmerising green that hypnotised you were nowhere to be seen as her gaze lacked life, her inner demons clawing away at her and prying away any hope or happiness she had, your mind tormented at having witnessed her in such a heartbroken state.

“If you’re here to say ‘I told you so’, I don’t want to hear it,” she mumbles defeatedly as she lifts her gaze marginally to see your approaching steps, an onslaught of confusing emotions coursing through her as she somehow manages to feel her heart flutter and clench at the same time at your presence, a familiar ache growing unpleasantly in her chest as she wipes away the tears threatening to fall, not wanting you to see her like this. She didn’t want you to see her so lost and confused, to see how you were right. You had always been right. She couldn’t run away from it forever, no matter how hard she tried to stop the shame eating her alive. It slowly tore her apart everyday, even more noticeably when you had returned to Westview, only adding to the pain and longing she felt since you left that day twelve years ago. Why did you have to come back? Why did you have to rip open her heart again and let over a decade’s worth of anguish and agony seep into her blood, consuming her entirely and overwhelmingly. Why did you have to come back and remind her of how much she loved you- No, she didn’t. She never loved you, she didn’t. She couldn’t. She wasn’t like that, she was normal, she was…

Your mouth opened to reply to her but a deep, frustrated sigh escaped her, her head tilting back, looking up at the night sky as she blinked back the tears that were about to fall, her teeth biting down on her lower lip to stop it trembling as she felt bile rising up in her throat for denying everything once again. Why couldn’t she just say it?

She lowered her head from the canvas of the dark sky to look at you, the raw pain in her eyes taking you back at how overwhelmed by sorrow she was, the look soon fading to disgust and shame as she tried to hold the intimate gaze, unable to stop doubts and insecurities picking at her thoughts whilst your features softened as you attempted to comfort her, unsure of what to do as she gradually composed and collected herself.

Wanda hands pressed against her eyes as she focussed on breathing calmly, her throat tightening as the air managed to push past the lump that had formed there, shaky breaths escaping her as her mind continued to race, your approaching steps seeming to speed some of the thoughts up whilst slowing others, her heart splitting into two, unable to chose how to feel. She was just so tired, so tired of wanting to love someone she shouldn’t, so tired of feeling like she was trapped, the walls of expectations and reality closing in on her everyday and suffocating her, her only escape being something that seemed to inevitably push the walls in faster.

You waited patiently for her to calm down as you stood before her, carefully moving to sit on the doorstep with her, Lucky sitting on the floor by you feet as you managed to comfort part of her without doing anything, the warmth of your body being next to hers allowing something soothing to wrap around her heart that was crying out for help, her hands eventually leaving her eyes to wipe away the stray tears lingering on her cheeks.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” you softly whisper, keeping your voice calm and delicate for her, not wanting her to know the whirlwind of pain coursing through you at knowing she was struggling, your mind filling with memories of that sob you caused to rip its way out of her that day, the tears you caused in her eyes. You hated seeing her hurt, it was the one thing you couldn’t cope with, a familiar sense of dread crawling up your spine, ready to corrupt your mind. “I was going to tell you about someone I once knew,” you start off, a hint of nostalgia lacing your tone as she listens to you, her tangling thoughts soon fading as she focuses on you, on how she wants to lean into your body and feel your comforting touch again, the way your bodies always slotted against each other perfectly, your souls seeming to connect. She longed to feel that spark of electricity flow through her body at a simple touch from you, even just a brush of your shoulders as you sat so close, but she refrained from moving any closer, deciding to stay still and silent as she listened, a small sniffle filling the brief silence that amplified your concern for her.

“She’d always tell me how bad smoking was for me,” you murmur, tentatively moving your fingers to wrap around the cigarette that was hanging between her fingers, slipping it out of her grasp and dropping it to the ground, letting your foot crush it with the heel of your shoe, “How I should stop, how I should be thanking her for ‘saving’ my life because she was. She did save me.”

At your words, Wanda turns her head to look at you in the eyes, memories of the many meetings in the old convenience store car park filling her mind as you watched the nostalgia swirl in her eyes, her mind recalling the sheer excitement that would swarm through her stomach as she took those steps towards your truck, ready to feel free from the world. However, the reminiscent look swiftly faded to anguish, your shoulders slumping at the way her eyes flickered away from you, a visible glossiness coating them as she tried to stop more tears from spilling down her cheeks, the corner of her lips attempting to tug upwards as she whispered to you,

“You owe me a cigarette,” her voice wavered as she attempted to tease you, mimicking the tease you would always offer her after she ended your smoke early, earning a small, gentle smile from you as your tender expression encouraged her to look at you again.

Gazing into her eyes once again only stirred more emotions inside you both, your soft stare somehow seeming to still the storm raging on inside her head and heart, the lingering fog more manageable for her as she reluctantly let herself sink into the comfort you provided, a gnawing thought at the back of her mind desperately trying to convey to her that she didn’t deserve your care, not after the pain she caused you.

“I think you owe me more,” you whisper in a delicate tease, offering her a playful smile in an attempts to ease the pain in her, seeming to succeed as a timid smile graces her lips, her hands coming up to wipe away the stray tear that spilt whilst she kept her green on you, relishing in the safety your presence provided. You lost yourself momentarily in her eyes, both of you subconsciously leaning your bodies closer together as your shoulders brushed briefly, sending a spark through the both of you at the mere touch, an electric warmth flowing through you both as the gaze lingered longer than it should have, each passing second amplifying every emotion you felt.

You wanted to let your fingers graze the soft skin of her cheek, wipe away the other tear that trickled down her skin before cupping her face, letting her sink into your palm that was there to comfort and console her, but you knew it wasn’t right. You couldn’t do that to her, offer her that false sense of hope and safety knowing that it couldn’t happen again, you couldn’t do that to yourself. You couldn’t.

“I told you Wanda, I’m here for you,” you murmur, honesty lacing your words as a hint of pain washes over her face at the conflict coursing through her veins, the care you provided tearing her apart. She didn’t deserve your kindness, she didn't, you should hate her for everything, for the lies, for what she did to you, why couldn’t you just make this easier for her? Instead, you had to give her the one thing she craved, the care and look of love she had yearned for over the last twelve years. “Tell me what’s wrong,” you practically coo, her eyes fluttering shut in defeat as she battles between following her heart or her mind, her lower lip trembling slightly, only furthering your worry.

“I can’t,” she croaks out, reluctantly opening her eyes after she manages the words out, a hint of confusion but also realisation on her face as you watch her battle with her demons once again, that desperate look in her eyes as she begs you to not push it further, to push her to face the truth. “I can’t,” she whispers again, emphasising the pain it would cause her as she looks away from you, needing this conversation to end so she could escape the doubts picking away at her mind. “You should probably go home now, Lucky must be tired,” she tries to excuse, looking at the way the bundle of fluff lays by your feet, his head resting on his paws as he sleeps, the walk tiring him out.

“I’m not leaving you like this,” you say without hesitation, a serious tone seeping into your words as you look at her, noticing the way she avoids your pleading gaze. “You don’t deserve this Wanda,” you murmur, expressing your concern for her as she shakes her head at you, the part of her she despises dismissing your words.

“I’ll be fine,” her watery green meets yours, trying to persuade you to stop caring about her for once in your life, the raw look of guilt and regret swirling in her eyes making your throat tighten as you can imagine the thoughts playing on her mind like a broken record.

“I’m not leaving you, not again,” you murmur out, lowering your head slightly to try and meet her gaze as she looks away from you, hoping that you’d get the hint and walk away from her, letting her drown in misery on her own as she had done since you left.

“Please,” the word fell from her lip in a pleading tone, but even Wanda didn’t truly know what she was begging you to do. She wanted you to leave, to stop bubbling pain, hurt and conflict inside her but she also needed you to stay, to let her try and focus on the brief happiness, love and care you stirred within her, her head tilting to look at you, the lingering look her green gave you telling you what she wanted.

“I’m not leaving,” you whisper, highlighting your honesty behind your words as your gaze turned serious momentarily, needing her to know you weren’t here to hurt her again, despite the avalanche of pain your arrival back in Westview brought her. When she stays quiet, a hesitant look in her eyes, an idea pops into your mind, a nervousness growing on your face as the thought may not be the best idea, but you didn’t care if it meant she wasn’t alone.

“I’m not leaving, not without you. Come…Come with me,” you murmur in an apprehensive voice, her eyes widening a little bit at what you were suggesting before continuing, “We don’t have to do anything, we can sit in silence, or we can talk, or we can watch those sitcoms you love, I don’t care. We’ll do whatever you want just please don’t make me leave you alone like this, I can’t do it again.” At the rawness and regret seeping into your voice, she realised the sheer amount of torment the memory of walking away from her caused you, further confusing her as her features subconsciously softened at the pain in your voice, her mouth parting, unsure of what to say.

It wasn’t going to be a good idea, you both knew that as you longingly looked at each other, waiting for the other to say ‘no’, to not let this situation get any worse but neither of you did, you simply kept looking at each other as though the world around you was fading away, leaving you both to remain locked in the moment. All Wanda knew right there as you stared at her with a look that expressed more than what words could, was that she wanted you. She wanted your safety, your care, your comfort, just you.

***

Relaxing against your sofa, Wanda’s eyes travelled across the décor in your house as you wandered off to find the two of you a drink, trying to figure out what you were like now but failing as her focus soon switched to the bundle of golden fur heading her way, the corner of her lips inevitably tugging up at the dog’s actions. Her heart melted a little at the way Lucky effortlessly hopped up onto the sofa to join the other woman, his body circling a couple times in the spot next to her before dramatically flopping, his head moving to prop itself on her knee, sensing she needed a little comfort. His eyes looked up at her as her fingers naturally moved to pet him, her slender digits trailing up and down his soft locks as he sighed in a satisfied manner, pleased to be given the head scratches whilst a chuckle left her lips at his adorable state.

Her attention remained focussed on him as she let herself slowly relax further against your soft pillows, her fingers mindlessly playing with tufts of fur as her eyes took in some of the photos on your wall, the one of a young Natasha and yourself standing out to her as well as one of you hugging an unfamiliar woman, a sense of curiosity stirring in her as she let her gaze linger on the framed photo.

Oblivious to your return, you paused at the frame of the door with her requested glass of red in your hand to stare at her, a strange sensation consuming you whilst you observed the other woman, a lump forming in your throat. It felt… teasing to look at her like this, the domestic sight of her almost mocking you for how you never got to have her in your life like this, the way she was curled up on your sofa, with your dog, in your house an image that would make you ponder and wish things were different. Why couldn’t things have just worked out?

The thought played on your mind momentarily before you pushed it away, remembering the only reason she was here was to be comforted and not left to suffer on her own, your mind clearing of any selfish thoughts or desires you had as it wasn’t the time. It never seemed to be the right time.

Sitting next to Lucky, a smile found its way to your lips as his tail started to wag, creating a sound similar to a beating drum against the sofa at his excitement to see you, his head remaining on Wanda though as he was far too comfortable to move, your gaze following his to the soft and less despondent look on her face, a small feeling of triumph floating through you at the lack of tears threatening to spill.

“I think he likes you,” you playfully whisper whilst sitting back, turning the tv on quietly to have some background noise as Wanda sipped on her drink, a small smile stretching across her lips, hiding some of the nerves building inside her at being alone with you in private, the alcohol attempting to ease them. Nodding to your words as she was unable to find the courage to reply, a silence seemed to brew between you both as your gazes locked onto the tv screen, mindlessly watching whatever show was on as your fingers stroked Lucky’s back whilst Wanda’s his scratched his scalp, neither one of you wanting to be the first to speak up, leaving you both to your thoughts.

Her mind naturally went to the earlier events of the evening with Vision, her jaw clenching as frustration wrapped tightly around her heart, spreading like wildfire at the words he had shouted, at the words she had shouted. The argument had started by a small remark from the blonde man, purposely irritating his wife about the cleaning and triggering over a decade’s worth of bottled up emotions to force their way out of her as she finally reached her breaking point. She couldn’t do it, she couldn’t live this life with him anymore, she wanted more. Wanda wasn’t a servant or a slave, she wasn’t put into existence to serve him his food, clean and take care of the kids despite everything that was engraved into her. She wanted more, she deserved more. She had dreams and ambitions, she wanted a life she enjoyed, a life where she woke up in the morning and was excited about the day ahead of her and the happiness that would consume her. She wanted a life full of love and excitement, a life with someone else, a life with… It didn’t matter if she wanted it, she couldn’t have it, she couldn’t have you.

Sitting next to you after all this time caused her thoughts to roam about your life as her eyes occasionally flickered over to the photo of the unfamiliar woman, a strange feeling of jealousy building in her as she wanted to know more about you, about your life in England. You had managed to move on, to be happy it seemed, how? It tormented her, the other woman never truly getting over what had happened between you as she threw herself straight into Vision more committedly, deciding to push the issue away rather than confront it like another aspect of her life, part of her wanting to know how to deal with it all as it all seemed to pile up and drown her now. Why couldn’t she move on? She needed to.

After drinking and sitting in silence for a while, the deafening lack of noise started to annoy Wanda, her hand lifted her glass to finish her wine in an attempt to build the courage to ask you a question, her gaze turning to you, inviting you to meet her curious green.

“Can you tell me about England?” She tentatively asks, breaking the quietness that had surrounded the room as you offer her a gentle smile, a wave of happiness growing on your face as you see her guard seeming to lower, becoming more comfortable and less overwhelmed than before.

“It… It was amazing,” you say in a whisper, smiling to yourself as memories over the last decade flood your mind, reminding you of how much you loved the place and the city you were in. “It was beautiful but in its own unique way,” you start off with, struggling to think of a way to describe it, “I loved it, the city of London, the people, just everything. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life there but things don’t always work out ,” the happiness in your voice clearly fades away to the end of your words, only further amplifying the curiosity in the woman next to you as she can’t help but admire your features, her green travelling across your side profile, appreciating your beauty before she realised she was staring, letting her gaze drift to Lucky who hopped off the sofa to leave you two completely alone.

“What happened?” she questioned a little cautiously, your smile dropping momentarily making the woman next to you wish she never asked. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me that,” she mumbled but you just shook your head, deciding there was no point in keeping it a secret.

“No it’s ok,” you softly murmur out, needing to say it out loud and get it off your chest, even if Wanda wasn’t the right person to be sharing it to. You needed to say this for yourself, to acknowledge that it had happened and move on completely from it. “I made the mistake of falling in love again,” your tone is gentle despite the hurt underlying it, Wanda’s attention focussed solely on you as she listens attentively. “Gamora, my best friend,” you say whilst motioning over to the photo of you and the dark haired woman, having caught Wanda staring at it a couple times, “Introduced me to a work friend of hers, Valkyrie. We hit it off instantly, it was um… passionate to start with before we both realised we wanted more. I wanted more with her,” you confess, the memories of tender nights with her, loving caresses and delicate touches filling your mind as a small smile made its way to your lips briefly as you remembered how deeply you loved her. That was always your problem, you loved too much. “Cut to a few years later and we were engaged, I thought I’d finally found the right person to spend the rest of my life with but it turns out she didn’t feel the same.”

Your gaze lowers from the tv to the floor as the haunting image replayed in your mind, a deep, frustrated sigh escaping you as it still angered and hurt you to this day, the knife in your back twisting violently as you try your best to vocalise another painful experience that would torment you forever.

“A couple weeks before the wedding, I came home early from work to surprise her but instead… I caught her in our bed with her maid of honour between her legs,” your voice wavers as you manage to get the words out, a bitterness lacing your tone as you felt the onslaught of frustration and hurt gnaw away at your thoughts, your eyes flickering over to hers momentarily to gauge her reaction.

Wanda’s features softened as she listened to you, knowing that you never deserved that, her heart physically hurting for you as you deserved to be loved right. She knew how caring, compassionate and tender you were, how you remembered the little things about people and made sure they were always alright, you should never have been hurt by Valkyrie or herself. You hadn't done anything wrong, you never had.

“The worst part was, she had the nerve to blame me,” you say in a breathless laugh, slowly exhaling to stop yourself from getting too annoyed, words falling from your lips freely, “She said she only went to Carol because it was clear I was still in love with someone else.” Almost instantly, you realised you shouldn't have said the words to her, a look of confusion swirling in her eyes before the realisation kicked in, a tension building in the room as you looked away in embarrassment and fear, not having wanted to send more racing thoughts through both of your minds.

“Were you?” She asks in a delicate whisper, a familiar ache tightly gripping both of your hearts as you both realise what you could have had, the different lives you could have lived if it had just worked out.

Part of her wants you to say no, begs for you to say no as insecurities pick away at her mind mercilessly, reminding her of how wrong it was to think of you in that way, to think of loving you whilst the other part did everything she was against. She didn’t have it in her to pretend anymore, she was exhausted from pushing it down, of lying to herself, berating herself for wanting something, for wanting someone. Despite how frightening and reluctant she was, she needed to confront herself, there was no use in coming up with another excuse or a stupid reason. She… wanted you, that’s all she ever wanted. She loved you.

All the doubts swarming her head were nothing compared to the yearning she had for you, everything seeming to click into place in her mind as she finally realised you were always worth the risk of loving. You made her feel like she was living, that she was lovable and that there was a reason her heart was beating in her chest, sending warmth through her when she’d stare at you. It was your eyes she wanted to get lost in as she relished in the sound of your laughter filling the room, it was your hair she wanted to play with mindlessly as you relaxed against one another, that inevitable spark going through her at the slightest of touches you’d offer her. It was you she wanted to love.

Catching the various emotions swirling in her hypnotising green, you hold the intimate stare whilst your features soften, pausing before answering as the shared silence expressed more than words could. Your lips parted as you went to answer her honestly, your heart beating wildly in your chest as longing evidently consumed your features, the movement causing her gaze to lower, drifting to your lips and unable to look away as you wet them subconsciously. All the other woman could think about was what it would feel like to kiss you, to kiss you like you were her lover this time, not holding back anything.

When her eyes flicker back up to your stare, all you can think of is the memory of how her lips felt against yours, your mind cruelly imagining the feeling of them crashing to yours now, despite how wrong it would be. If you concentrate hard enough, you could feel the ghost of them brushing yours tenderly, conveying every single ounce of longing the two of you felt into it, a kiss that would heal the wound of your heart or tear it completely into two.

“I think I’ve always been,” you confess, your heartbeat pounding in your ears at the brief silence that envelopes the room, feeling as though it lasted an eternity, time seeming to slow as you both subtly move closer to one another, confusion drowning you. You didn’t know what to do as you watched the gap between the two of you gradually lessen, your head tilting marginally as hers did, welcoming the advances as your lips got closer and closer, your faces mere inches apart as you gaze at her lips, not knowing what to you. You wanted to kiss her, you’d been wanting to for the last decade, but you couldn’t do it all over again if it meant getting your heart shattered once more, you wouldn’t be able to survive the heartache again.

Letting your eyes flutter shut, a small sigh escaped you as you paused, trying to stall as your mind raced, trying its hardest to make a decision on whether it was worth the risk, whether the broken bond could ever truly be fixed.

“We shouldn’t,” you croak out as you feel her lips ghost yours, the warmth of her body intoxicating, the feeling of her breath tickling your face almost nostalgic as memories of the many kisses you had shared filtered through your mind, every stolen kiss trying to ignite the fire in your heart.

“I know,” she whispered out, your faces so close you can feel her lips move as she murmurs to you, her words laced with conflict as she struggles to decide along with you, logic failing to win her over. She was married, she had a family and a life she couldn’t just throw away like it was nothing, despite not enjoying it, she had to be responsible as she wasn’t a young naïve girl anymore. The reason and sense gnawing away at her was soon drowned out by her emotions, Wanda deciding it was time she did something for herself for once, “But I’ve missed you.”

Her words stirred something deep inside you, a tenderness settling within you before it was dampened out by the fear seeping out of your chest as you couldn’t do this again. Not like this. You couldn’t survive the agony that would rip through you if she changed her mind or avoided the truth again, you were too broken to handle the knife being pulled out of your heart, to feel that brief moment of relief for it to just be thrusted in deeper, leaving an even bigger scar behind to remember her by. You were too scared to take the risk.

“I can’t,” the words are torn out of you as your hand moves to cup her cheek, your contrasting actions only adding to the hurt and rejection flooding through her, breaking the dam that was holding back her emotions as a tear falls from her eyes, further adding to your anguish. “I’m sorry but I can’t, not like this, not again,” you mumble out, meeting her broken gaze in a distraught manner, the warmth of your delicate touch burning into her skin as it was all too much for her, her lips trembling at the avalanche crashing down on her.

She wanted to scream, to cry and let everything out but all she could manage was a choked sob, a familiar tightening in her chest and lump forming in her throat making it impossible for her to do anything other than look at you with an expressive look of pain as the walls of despair closed in forcibly on her.

It tore a gaping hole in you to witness her fall apart in front of you, took everything out of you to not let tears pour down your cheeks as she sobbed because of you once again, your body moving without care as your hand cradled the back of her head, encouraging her to collapse against your body in an embrace you both needed. Whispered apologies fell from your lips in an attempt to sooth the guilt ripping through you for hurting her, to fill the room with something other than her muffled cries as she gripped onto your shirt, unable to stop the barrage of tears spilling from her green at the way fear, rejection and heartache festered deep inside her, your caring actions not going unmissed but dampened out by the overwhelming amount of agony filling her. 

The two of you remained in the embrace of lost lovers until your cries eventually quietened, a despondent realisation clouding both of your minds at the fact the melody of your love seemed to forever be out of tune, your souls moulded for one another but just always seeming to meet at the wrong time, never quite aligning. 

---

Did I mention that this fic involves angst?😅

Sorry if this feels rushed/is all over the place, I've been really struggling with writing at the minute and this is the best I could do without throwing my laptop out of the window. 

Updates may take longer now as I managed to get a job and I'm returning to college next week, so apologies in advance! Also, I think we're nearly at the end of this fic but it depends on if I change my plan as I do that a lot :) 

I hope you enjoyed! 

Please leave any thoughts/comments/votes! They are greatly appreciated <3 

Ao3- LoveIsAnImaginaryDagger

Wattpad- LovePersevering2

[magnolia-sunrise]

two years after their violent meeting, Wolfgang decides to seek out the man who saved their life - hopefully to make a better second impression 🚬 (shoutout to mintt and julien for proofreading and feedback!)

[sophistired18]

Kryk ficlet about something something nail clippings, romance, dragons, and estranged family. Pt. 1/2(?)

Let me cut your nails.

"I wanna meet your sister one day." Yaku says offhandedly as he clips Kuroo's nails on their sofa.

"What??" Kuroo jolts, moving his hand suddenly.

"Hey stop moving!" Yaku grumbles as he yanks Kuroo's hand back.

"Why did you ask that??" Kuroo asks with a mix of confusion and shock.

Yaku pauses from Kuroo's nails and lets out a sigh like it's so obvious. It's always so obvious to Yaku.

"Well, isn't it kinda like a formal standard to get to know your partner's entire family before marriage or something?" Yaku says. Like it was obvious. As if it was obvious that he was reflecting on marriage and a future with Kuroo while doing something as mundane as clipping his boyfriend's fingernails. It was obviously, obvious.

Kuroo inhales. "Yakkun. Morisuke. What the actual fuck."

"What??!" Yaku lets out defensively. Because for some reason Kuroo is the unobvious one here. "Am I wrong though?" Yaku says like he's right. He is right.

Kuroo exhales. "No, you're not wrong." Kuroo grins in a stupidly sappy way. "You're just, so unromantic."

"Excuse me? Is doing my boyfriend's manicure because he needs one, badly I might add, not the most romantic deed ever?" Yaku huffs, but his smile grows wider. "Did I need to slay a dragon to prove worthy of your love and ask for your hand, your majesty?"

"And you say I'm the drama queen." Kuroo rolls his eyes. "And honestly, you're probably one of the only people I know that could kill a dragon, so maybe yeah, that'd be very romantic of you. That'd be really hot to see now that I think about it."

"Oh so I guess I'll just find a dragon then." Yaku remarks sarcastically. "But besides that, you're avoiding my question."

"Which one? The hot dragon slaying one or the manly manicure one?" Kuroo replies with a stupid question with an equally stupid grin.

"Neither, you dumbass." Yaku gripes, before jabbing Kuroo in the side of his torso. "I'm serious. I wanna get to know your family."

"You have met my-" Kuroo starts.

"ALL of your family! Besides Kenma doesn't count." Kuroo just gives him a look. "Okay, you're right, Kenma counts, but still! You know what I mean!" Yaku finishes.

"I know.. it's just, well, it's my sister, Mori." Kuroo groans.

"Look, I know you guys aren't close, but that doesn't mean I can't meet her! I want to know this part of your life." Yaku explains. "You've met all of my family, and they love you. Don't I deserve to get to meet yours too? I'm not asking for her approval or to love me, but.. I just think it'd be nice, you know?"

"Yes, you're right." Kuroo admits. "It's just that, she wasn't really a part of my life, Yakkun. I barely know a thing about her besides the Christmas photos my mom used to send. I mean you already know how I feel about my mom, and she is well, my mom. On the otherhand, my sister?? We're like practically strangers." Kuroo huffs.

"You guys don't have to stay that way." Yaku adds.

"Mori, I can literally count on my two hands how many family dinners I've had. I can count on one hand how many family dinners I've had with her attending them." Kuroo spits.

"And I still mean what I said." Yaku spits back. "You're a grown ass man now, and she's a grown ass woman! I'm pretty sure it's not impossible for the two of you to talk to each other! Besides! For someone who's managed to connect with volleyball maniacs from all over the world that you've barely met before, I'm sure connecting with your sister is absolutely doable."

This sucks. This sucks because Kuroo knows Yaku has a point. And Kuroo knows he should stop fighting on this because it's true. He does want Yaku to meet his family. He just never really felt like he ever received any kind of approval from his sister. And for some reason, he's afraid that Yaku won't get that approval because of him. And that's not fair to Yaku. But he's also not being fair to Yaku either.

Kuroo huffs. "I'll give her a call and see when she's available."

Yaku's lips form a wide smile. "Thank you, Tetsu." Yaku sets down the nail clipper and crawls onto Kuroo's lap. "Y'know, if you weren't being such an ass about this, I might be tempted to kiss you."

"But I'm an ass about everything and you still kiss me regardless." Kuroo smirks.

"Only to shut you up, jerk."

"Then shut me up. Or I could keep goi-"

Yaku shuts him up, and Kuroo can't help but think that it's the most romantic thing.

[slightlyunconventional]

long overdue second dbhwks fic (2.8k)

SLAVED AWAY at this for days (i didnt. i could have done it in one but i procrastinated so much it’s unbelievable. but heres some food) quite happy w how it came out too if i do say so myself,, hope u enjoy!! 🫶

-

“Sorry I’m late.” Dabi. He’s picked the damn lock again. 

“Oh my god, do you seriously not know how to knock?” Hawks calls back, practically skipping into the living room. 

“Don’t wanna stand around outside your door like a creep, thanks,” deadpans the villain. Hawks rolls his eyes.

“You look like more of a creep picking the lock, but sure. Come here.”

He takes Dabi by the hand and leads him toward the couch. His fingers are warm, like usual. God, has Hawks missed that. Between hero work, villainy, and conflicting schedules they’d barely had time to see each other and, man, was it miserable. It takes everything in him not to bowl Dabi over with an absolutely suffocating embrace - it’d probably kill the man. 

Dabi raises his eyebrows. “You cleaned?” 

Hawks had expected Dabi to notice, but not point it out, so he’s a little caught off guard by the halfway-question. “Oh, yeah,” he says, a fraction sheepishly, “Is it too much?”

“Mm, no, looks good,” Dabi smirks, “Makes a nice change from all the crap you’ve usually got lying around.” Hawks hits him playfully and he laughs, clear and smooth, not at all like the peals brimming with malice he’d usually hear from Dabi.

“Uuugh, I hate you, leave me alone,” he complains. When Dabi’s eyebrows raise again, Hawks pulls a face and adds, “I’m a busy man! I don’t have time to clean!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m flattered.”

He sits Dabi down on the couch, maybe a little too eagerly, and comes down to straddle the taller man’s lap. 

“You’re so pretty,” he whispers, before pressing his lips to Dabi’s with an urgency that only comes from being deprived of seeing one’s lover for far too long. Dabi loosens underneath Hawks and they quickly fall into a long practised pattern, all pretences dropped for this moment of touch-starved tenderness. Nothing exists outside of this room, everything is so warm, and Hawks melts even more when he feels Dabi smile against his lips.

“Seems like someone missed me,” murmurs the villain, voice sleek and low. The response is simply a hand laced through the dyed-black hair at the back of Dabi’s head, taking hold of him and pulling him closer with nothing short of absolute need. In turn, Dabi’s hands find the small of Hawks’ back, and heat begins to pool in his stomach as they slowly threaten to sneak closer to the bases of his wings. And his lips are warm, so warm, and he always seems to know exactly what to do with them to make Hawks collapse like putty in his hands. For a crazed villain who incinerates shit for fun, Dabi’s a fucking good kisser. 

…And a tease, apparently! Hawks knows that Dabi knows how badly he wants this, and how long he’s been waiting - yet he still seems to be taking his sweet time. He can feel the villain absently tracing circles into his back, with the same pace as his mouth is working against Hawks’. The little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing; well, two can play at that game. Hawks takes it as a challenge, takes Dabi’s scarred face between his hands, and takes control. He presses closer, kissing the man with some previously unseen vigour, practically forcing him to match the increased pace. A little wave of triumph passes through Hawks as he hears Dabi’s breath catch in the back of his throat, nearly silent, but they’re close enough that nothing can really go unheard. Feeling like he’s succeeded, Hawks goes to indulge further, perhaps elicit some more reactions like that, when he feels Dabi’s hand leave his back. Before he can register it properly, the hand is upon his chest, pushing with some insistence. Hawks pulls away, panicked.

“Oh, shit, fuck, sorry, was that too much?”

The arm Dabi has outstretched towards Hawks’ chest slackens slightly, as do his facial features. He doesn’t reply, but rather his lips part and his eyes glaze over, forming an expression so laced with vulnerability that Hawks is almost taken aback - though, he can’t dwell on the display for long, as he’s quickly instead watching Dabi bring his other hand, curled tightly into a fist, up to his own face and press it most firmly to the underside of his nose. His chest rises once with an inhale not unlike before, only this time a little louder and deeper, and he ducks forward slightly with two slightly-awkwardly stifled sneezes.

“hhahh-! ..hh’nGXT! kxNTsh! Ugh, fuck.”

“Oh!” Hawks says, a little surprised, “Bless you.” A part of him wants to chide the villain for holding it in like that, but he refrains, knowing full well he himself would stifle exactly the same.

Dabi hums in lieu of a thanks, and Hawks returns his hand to his boyfriend’s face and leans back in.

“Can I go back to kissing you now?” he murmurs.

Dabi rolls his eyes but drapes his arms lazily over Hawks’ shoulders, an invitation, yes, you can go back to kissing me now. Their lips interlock once again, picking up where they left off, with Hawks feeling absolutely on top of the world from the fact that he’s doing the work here, he’s the one kissing Dabi, not the other way around. He’s never been opposed to Dabi taking control, in fact he loves being ravaged by the man, but sue him, sometimes it feels good to be the one doing the ravaging. However, his elation at this seems to be poorly concealed, or perhaps Dabi just wants to knock him down a peg, because Hawks feels teeth closing on his bottom lip. Not so hard that it hurts, but just enough to tease an audible gasp from him as he tenses up on Dabi’s lap. He’s fairly certain he’s never needed someone all over him so badly until this point. Clearly it shows, too, since Dabi insists on being such a menace and playing the long game with him. Well, Hawks decides that’s not going to fly; he presses in closer, almost entirely closing the gap between them and slides his other hand behind Dabi’s head, not-so-subtly tugging him closer and kissing him harder, once more regaining the upper hand. He takes to gently thumbing back and forth against the base of Dabi’s neck, to which the man lets out, involuntarily, a little noise of satisfaction, finally accepting submission. Hawks is almost tempted to bite Dabi back, but maybe that’d be pushing his luck. Besides, this side of Dabi - soft, pliant, accepting - is one he rarely sees, and he’s kind of into it. It’s a good look on the villain. 

Before long, however, their rhythm is broken once again. One of the arms laying around Hawks’ neck begins to move, and the hand meets his shoulder. Hawks has a sneaking feeling he knows what’s coming (for the second time), as Dabi’s hand pushes against his shoulder - slowly, though, as if he’s really trying to prolong the inevitable. It really doesn’t seem like he wants to pull away, so Hawks does it for him, gently separates their faces, strangely endeared by Dabi’s reluctance - and it seems he did so at exactly the right moment. Being so close to him, Hawks can easily see the way his face immediately crumples, eyes flickering shut and lips parting with an inhale that sounded as though it had been waiting to be drawn for… a while. In a split second, he’s tugging the sleeve of his hoodie over his hand with some urgency, and Hawks catches the flare of his nostrils right before he pinches his nose, clamping the thick black fabric over the bottom half of his face. There’s hardly six inches between the two of them, so Dabi twists awkwardly to the side with a set of cruelly stifled sneezes.

“hh’GKTtch! ‘KXXSHh! Ugh, god– h-hahH’KGXt’sh!”

They sound harsher this time around, harder to stifle, probably.

“Bless,” says Hawks, “You okay?”

“Mm… yeah, just something really… stings,” Dabi replies. He’s knuckling the side of his nose with some force.

“You’re, uh, not getting sick are you?” Hawks asks, unable to conceal the tinge of nervousness that seeps into his tone. As much as he loves the man, he’s got some long days on patrol coming up soon, and a cold from Dabi would severely compromise him.

Dabi raises an eyebrow. “I’m not that much of an asshole, Kei.”

“Right-! Yeah, no, of course not. Sorry, I didn’t really think there.” Hawks grimaces internally at himself, and Dabi shakes his head.

“Ugh, Jesus, hold on–” He turns away again, breath wavering, “hehh’nGXKt!” A shaky exhale escapes from him as he releases his nose.

“So, what’s got you all worked up, then?” asks Hawks, teasing.

Dabi half-sighs, half-groans, and replies, “Don’t know, but I wish it would fucking stop.” As if for emphasis, the sentence is punctuated with an irritated-sounding sniffle.

“Well, it probably would if you stopped stifling like that,” Hawks says pointedly. That earns him a hazy blue-eyed glare… that doesn’t last long, since Dabi’s squinting again, and his mouth curls up into the beginnings of something akin to a snarl. Hawks smirks as he ducks into the crook of his sweater-clad elbow to muffle yet another sneeze.

“hehH’DSHHh’uh! What the fuck?”

At least he didn’t stifle it.

Hawks hums. “Bless you.” He sends a feather to retrieve a box of tissues, then decides the villain probably also needs some space, so he manoeuvres himself gracelessly off Dabi’s lap to sit beside him on the couch. 

“Very elegant,” Dabi remarks.

“Ugh, shut up,” he replies, elbowing Dabi in the ribs. The laugh this elicits almost straight away rises into a staggered gasp, that itself turns into a pair of hastily covered sneezes.

“hhahH’KXXTshuh! hh’huuhh’DZSHHhue!”

“Jeez, bless you.”

Dabi sniffles thickly. “Yeah.”

Hawks’ feather zips back into the room and drops a box of tissues into Dabi’s lap - the thicker, softer ones that the hero always insists on buying despite them being double the price of regular ones. 

“Sounds like they’re getting stronger,” Hawks observes, a note of concern in his tone, but then adds, more teasingly, “Not allergic to me, are you?”

Dabi scoffs and tugs a couple of tissues from the box. “I wish,” he says, scrubbing at his nose. “Then I’d actually have an excuse to avoid your annoying ass.”

“Wow, okay, that was so uncalled for. Just say you hate me at that point.”

It’s Dabi’s turn to elbow Hawks back. He probably deserves it. 

 “Ow, bitch,” he says in mock offence. 

“You’re the bitch,” comes the reply, from behind a handful of tissues (which are then promptly screwed up and tossed, flying in a neat arc, straight into the trash on the other side of the room). 

“Whatever, bitch. Are you done sneezing yet? This couch isn’t as comfy as your thighs-”

“Ugh, shut up, you are so weird,” Dabi interjects in fond disgust. 

“Oh my god, what if you’re allergic to my apartment being clean? Then I never have to clean ever again, hah!”

Dabi gives him a look. “You say that as a joke, but honestly, you migh-might be right…hh.. hehH’KXNTtsh’uh!”

Dabi’s expression falls midway through his sentence, brows drawing together and eyes narrowing as he gives into another sneeze, hastily half-stifled against the back of his hand.

“Seriously,” Hawks deadpans, eyebrows raised. That’s new, he thinks.

“Well, unless you’ve suddenly acquired a pet cat - which I doubt - then yeah, seriously,” says the villain flatly, though with a note of congestion starting to creep into his voice. “Last I checked, your place didn’t reek of fuckin’ –all of spring and then some.” 

Hawks suddenly remembers the air freshener he’d used–the only one he had, some floral one found right at the back of a cupboard, unused for entirely too long. He hadn’t had a clue what clean apartments were supposed to smell of, so he’d sort of just… went ham with it. Definitely a mistake.

“Don’t slander my choice in scents,” he teases, “Are you sure it’s… that?”

“Nothing else changed ‘round here, has it?” Dabi pauses to give his nose a brief rub. “I’m here practically every week and I’ve been fine, so, you tell me.”

Hawks will never not poke the bear when he’s got the opportunity, so he says, “So this does mean I never have to clean the place ever again, right?”

Dabi’s mouth falls open as he feigns offence. He says, dramatically, “Wow. That’s all you have to say? When I could literally die right now in front of you? I’m.. hah- I’m-”

Hawks snickers. “Bless you,” he sing-songs prematurely, utterly pleased with himself. It’s almost cute, the attempted glare Dabi gives him through his glazed over expression. Nobody can look menacing in the slightest when they’re trying not to sneeze (and that’s a fact!).

“Sh-shut uhhhp..” replies Dabi, his voice quavering. He lifts a hand slowly, bringing it to hover weakly before his face. His breathing is unsteady and his eyes half-lidded, and the crease between his dark brows deepens.

“Okay, point proven, idiot,” Hawks says with a laugh, “Just sneeze, this is torture even for me.”

The hazy glare returns, and Hawks clocks it. 

“Oh!” he laughs, giving Dabi a slightly bewildered smile. “Oh my god, I jinxed it. You deserve that ‘cause you’re mean to me.”

“I hahh-hate you-” Dabi responds breathily. He rubs at the side of his nose with two knuckles, pressing decently harder than is probably necessary. The bridge crinkles in irritation when the rubbing clearly has no effect. “Jesus, it won’t go away.”

“Mm, what a shame.”

There goes a third bleary glare from the villain. “I’d like to remind you wh-whose fault thhihhs.. was in the first place,” he says. Any malice intended to be behind his utterance is immediately negated by his breath catching and wavering through the words. Though, at a point, Hawks begins to feel a little… voyeuristic just watching Dabi struggle. Sure, he’s his boyfriend and all, and yeah, he’s definitely seen worse, but it’s easy to tell Dabi’s getting a little self-conscious about this… spectacle. He’s never been a fan of having things out of his control, especially not displays of vulnerability like this, and Hawks knows this, so why prolong it?

“Well, I guess there’s only one thing for it,” he says, taking matters into his own hands. 

“Fuck off- what–” Dabi gets out, as Hawks takes his face between his hands and begins to press kisses softly down the bridge of his nose. Hawks doesn’t let him twist away from it, trying not to laugh to himself about how dumb this probably looks. At least one of them is having fun. He considers pulling away with a “Gonna sneeze yet?”, but refrains - he’d probably end up on fire. He does, however, pause for a moment when he reaches Dabi’s trio of silver nose studs, hovering. There’ve been feathery, wavering breaths coming from his boyfriend consistently but, nothing has come to fruition, so Hawks decides–those piercings have always been sensitive, a fact he’d discovered about Dabi rather early on (and maybe, possibly sometimes used to be a menace). He plants a final, delicate kiss right upon where the three studs lie, and finally lets Dabi pull away.

“Oh, oh, fuck– s-screw you–hh’ehH’IIDTSSHh’uh! ‘kXXTS’SHhue! …Christ, you’re such an ass.” The pair of sneezes that result are harsh to say the very least. And even after all that, he still tries stifling the second– unsurprising, but at that point is it even worth it?

 “Sorry! I had to!” Hawks says, really trying to look like he isn’t laughing. It doesn’t work.

“You absolutely did not have to,” corrects Dabi. 

“Okaaay, okay, sorry. It was funny though.”

“Yeah, for you, maybe,” Dabi mutters, shaking his head, “Oh, fuck’s sake, hold on–”

“I’ll wait till you’re done to say bless you, this time,” says Hawks with a fond snicker. 

“Good plah-an–! hhuh’hHDSHH’SHuh! …Ugh, fuck.”

“Bless,” Hawks replies. He averts his eyes, a little sheepishly. Dabi pulls a face.

He asks, “What the fuck’s with the guilty face?” to which Hawks throws his head back with a groan and slides his hands across his face.

“I just wanted to do something nice,” he says, “You know, clean the place up a bit. Since it’s always kind of a massive mess.”

“Jesus, Kei, I don’t care about that,” says Dabi, breathing a laugh. “It’s you I’m here for, not your fuckin’ apartment. I can kiss you whether or not there’s crap on every surface.”

Hawks isn’t used to Dabi outright saying nice things, so his cheeks flush slightly hearing this. He’s unsure what to say. Thankfully, Dabi speaks again.

“Okay. Where didn’t you spray that shit?”

Hawks scoffs. “I sort of went crazy with it, uh… my bedroom? If that works?”

“Very forward,” Dabi replies, raising his eyebrows. “Almost like you wanted me in there.”

Hawks jabs him in the ribs but still smirks. “Yeah, maybe I did.”

[whosthere54]

I can’t find my original post about it but I did do a poll a while ago on what fic I should finish. Yes it’s been a WHILE but I finally did it so here’s the “If Icarus got that hug in family reunion” fic cause I can

Until Ao3 Works you get it here :]

The TWs for Family Reunion are Panic, Yelling, and Manipulation. Let me know if you believe anything else should be added and I’ll edit the list.

You know how it is, these themes will carry over to my fic so pls make sure to take care of yourselves first <3

“I never asked to be here at all. So why do I still have to face the fear of loosing it?” - Song: The fear of loosing this by Florist

Or - What if Icarus got that hug?

—=+=—

There’s a moment of silence between the two brothers, Rae glancing at Aax before speaking again.

“Do you… do you want a hug?”

They look up, surprise and confusion washing over them before they’re able to adjust their expression to something neutral.

“I… yeah. Please.” Their wings adjust on their back, draping themselves over their shoulders as they move their arms to cross over their chest.

Rae nods, glancing at Aax again who gives him a nod back. He takes a few test steps forward, when they don’t move he walks over to them. Aax follows, keeping a decent distance between her and Rae- letting him have space but making sure he’s safe. They can’t exactly blame him, like they said- the two don’t have the best track record when it comes to “talking” right now.

Rae gets close, and they instinctively take a small step back, feathers flaring for just a moment before settling again.

Rae stops, holding his hands out placatingly. He gives a gentle reassurance, a simple repeat of what they’d said before- another “we’re not here to hurt you” “I-I’m not mad.” and some other quiet reassurance they didn’t quite hear.

After a moment of hesitation, they take the next step forward- Rae immediately pulling them into a hug.

It was nice. They couldn’t remember the last time they had a hug from Rae.

Trying *so hard* not to let tears escape, they look at Aax over his shoulder. Though immediately regretting it when she just looks so… sad. Pity held in her gaze that makes them feel sick.

They hid their face against Rae’s neck, quiet shaky breaths the only indicator that they were trying not to cry. Rae sighs softly, and when he speaks again it sounds like he’s close to crying as well. “It’s gonna be okay Icarus… I’m still going to try- I promise I’m not going to give up on you.”

Maybe that causes some of their tears to fall, and maybe Rae holds them just slightly tighter.

When their knees shake and threaten to give out Rae adjusts them so they’re both sitting in the wet grass, not letting go of them. (Not letting them fall, even if it’s something as stupid as this.)

They hear Aax settle to sit nearby, facing away from the brother to scan for threats. It was comforting, they couldn’t do it themself and if Fable came back and did something to him they don’t think they’d be able to forgive themself.

They sit like that for a while, Rae occasionally murmuring soft reassurance not once loosening his hold. It was nice, a comforting pressure- a distraction away from the cave they were still sitting outside of. Rae seems to think of something then- adjusting slightly and causing Icarus to pull away. Not completely- just enough so the two brothers were looking at each other. Icarus tilts their head just slightly as Rae looks at them with renewed sadness- pity in his eyes causing them to look away, fidgeting with the hem of their sleeves.

“I… Icarus it’s four months today isn’t it…” He says it so softly and they can’t-

“Shut up-“ They mumble.

“Icarus-“

“No-no. He isn’t… he isn’t gone I can fix it I’m going to fix it! He’s gonna come back-“ They wrap their arms tight around their chest careful of the ever-changing wound still concealed.

“Icarus…” Rae tries again, but they cut him off just the same.

“No- if you’re gonna say what all of them have been saying I’m not- I don’t have to *mourn* him he’s gonna come back, I don’t have to think about it because when I fix it it’ll be fine… you can go back to normal and it’ll be fixed…”

Rae’s face contorted into something confused, and then shocked and it crumbles into something sad, he blinks tears away so he can see them clearly.

“Is that… is that why you’re working with him?”

They give him a weak laugh, head angled down so their hair covers their face- goggles having fallen to their neck earlier that day and they didn’t bother to put them back up.

“Icarus…” they can’t handle this. They can’t handle the way he’s talking to them, holding them so gently like they’re something that’s going to *break.* they can’t handle him looking at them like that- they can’t-

“You have to go.” They say their voice firm and monotone.

“Icarus no-“ Rae’s brows furrow slightly and his hands linger on their shoulders.

“Please”

And that makes Rae pause.

“I don’t… Icarus I don’t want to leave you alone here. I- even if I don’t… *like* him Fable isn’t here right now. I’d rather you at least have him here.” When Icarus frowns at that Rae asks another question that leaves them thinking- more than they should be. When they think it doesn’t usually lead to anything good.

“Icarus how long has fable left you alone?”

They shrug. They really haven’t been keeping track of the time he was gone.

“He’s… he’s busy. The faster he gets whatever he’s doing done, the faster we can get this over with.” They mumble. It feels like they’ve said the same things over and over and *over* again and it still seems like nobody understands what they’re doing even after they explain it. Geez how many times have they done this circle of conversations with the things in the past four months?

“So you’ve been… you’ve been alone out here most of the time?”

They shrug, and nod. (They don’t want to lie anymore. It leaves them feeling sick and *wrong*)

“Icarus…”

Aax gets up quickly, face contorting into muffled anger, motioning at them to get up as well.

Rae turns to them- “Icarus-“ but they shake their head, getting up and helping Rae up as well.

“You have to go-“ They repeat the words, this time fueled by anxiety.

“Icarus!”

“Rae!”

“Icarus!” Fable’s booming voice echoes through the small clearing and they back away muttering a quiet apology under their breath that only Rae was meant to hear.

“Are you alright? Are they… are they here for anything?” He pulls out the reaver and it takes all of their power to look away from the blade glinting in the rain dimmed light.

“I’m okay… I ’m-I’m okay.”

“We’re not here to fight.” Rae’s gaze lingers on them for just a moment to long that it makes their skin crawl, arms wrapping around their torso and wings pulling slightly tighter to their back as Fable sighs.

“Of course. I see that it is only the two of you.”

Aax moves to stand only slightly in front of Rae, trident out and ready to attack if necessary. His voice carries confidently actress the clearing, low and sharp. An easy enough warning to understand. “We wouldn’t be stupid enough to come just the two of us if we were here for a fight.”

“No. You wouldn’t be that… stupid. No one would be.” He looks at Icarus then, solid gold meeting heterochromatic gold and purple. His eyes are too sharp, and they look away, casting their head down again.

He turns back to Rae, head held high. “But why are you here?”

“I’m here for Icarus.” They look at Rae through unkempt bangs, eyes darting between Rae and Aax as if analyzing them for a threat.

“Because they don’t need to be alone out here with just you, isolated from everyone else.” His tone holds more anger with Fable than it had with them.

“I’m not alone.” They say, loud and probably too sharp. They wince at the sound of their own voice casting their eyes to Fable when he looks at them again.

“Yes.” He looks away, and they do too. “They have me, they have Ven, they have Arisanna…”

“Which don’t know where you are?”

They cast their eyes down once more shuffling their feet.

“This place is supposed to be a secret for a *reason*, Rae. To keep others safe.”

“From… what, exactly? We’re not the ones running around hurting people.”

“Perhaps not now.”

“You haven’t changed! You’ve always hurt people! I’m starting to remember more of that now! You’ve always been like this… and now…” Rae turns to them, his voice softening just slightly again. “Look, Icarus he���s not a good person!”

“Neither am I!” They hold their head up as they say that, regretting it immediately in the way Rae shuffles and glances between them, Fable, and Aax.

“None of us are good people right now, Rae.”

He starts talking, he starts talking and they try so hard to tune him out. They don’t want it- they don’t want him to say more stupid words that get them to comply because they’ll comply regardless of what he says. They don’t think he knows that, but they will. They don’t… like him. They don’t trust him. But they’re good at putting on a show, and they can pretend they do. (Maybe deep down they do. They try not to, they know he’s wrong and they know what he’s doing to them -they don’t want to acknowledge the fact that it *is* working- but they love him. He’s their dad after all, and when they have no memory of their childhood he’s something that they can cling to)

“You hit me!” Rae says, anger disappearing to leave a suffocating tone of sadness fear, and *betrayal* that lingered in his voice.

“I did.”

They just look between him and Rae feet shuffling against the grass, begging their head to go blank like it tends to do. They’re feeling too much and it’s too wrong and they’re thinking- thinking leads to questioning and questioning leads to things they don’t want to know-

“Where is she.” Rae’s voice wobbles with anger and unshed tears. They glance up to Fable as he turns to them- “Where…”

“Icarus, do you wish to see your mother?”

They blink, looking back up at him with a muted look of confusion. “Yeah…” they said it too quietly, too much emotion filling their voice that wasn’t supposed to be there. They can tell in the way they feel Rae’s gaze on them again. They try to cover it up- “Yeah, yes, yes.” But then Fable starts to walk towards the stupid fucking cave and-

“W-wait- wait” they stare with wide eyes as Fable creates a small opening, just enough for them to get through. “Uhm..” Rae glances at them again, Aax moves to stand in front of Rae, trident in hand face contorted into disgust and then anger. “Wait-wait where…” He pulls his shield out.

“It was the one place I did not think anyone would go.” He breaks a small hole through the stone, just enough that they would be able to walk through. Rae walks closer to him, while Aax lingers behind.

“Uhm…. Um…” They walk towards him, stopping about the same distance Rae is away from the entrance for a moment before moving up to stand beside Fable.

They don’t want to be here anymore- they don’t want to be that close. They don’t want to *see* it again- they can’t…

Their breathing shakes.

“Where are you… where is…” Aax moves quickly back in front of Rae. “Where is that? What are you…”

“She is in a pocket dimension. Just as Enderian had held her before.” He says his sister's name with a sneer. “I will bring you Rae, and I will bring Icarus to see her.”

They can’t breathe- they look through the space Fable had cleared into the cave. The first thing they noticed was that there was still blood on the floor… theirs or Centross’s they couldn’t quite tell. Their eyes fell on the slab, seeing their blood still dried on the smooth stone and splattered on the ground in front of it. Fuck they can’t breathe… their chest *hurts* they can’t-

They manage to pull their gaze away from the cave back onto Fable as he speaks again.

“I’m sorry, Aax, but I will not let you see her. I cannot take the risk.”

“Why… why does it smell like death in there?” They turn to look at Aax, his tone settling on a heavy undertone of sadness as they speak.

They try to bring themself to explain.

“It… it’s-“ Fable cuts them off sharply. “Because it is a place that I thought was of life. I was *foolish* enough to believe it was of life. But it is a place of death. This is where the first mortals were made by me. This is the place where I first mourned them when they *died.*”

“This is where… Centross… died.”

“And you’re taking him in there alone, just the two of you?”

“Yes. I know you do not trust me…”

Their chest aches. They have to take a moment to breathe through a wave of pain that courses through their chest, through their ribs. They tune back into the conversation a moment later when Fable says their name again, though they don’t pay much attention. Their mind won’t stop wandering, and the things won’t stop talking.

“If *anything* happens to him. Know that I will be hunting you to the ends of the earth.”

“As you should. Rae is important to you, as he is to me.” He turns and walks into the cave, but before they can even *think* about following him Aax stops them.

“Icarus. I need you to promise…”

They nod, trying to get their thoughts to work to the current conversation. “Yeah… I’m- he won’t-“

“Promise me he’ll be okay.” Aax asks, and they nod firmly this time.

“He’ll-he’ll be okay.” They can’t tell if they’re trying to reassure her or themself.

“Okay.”

Icarus turns to the entrance, hesitating a moment before heading inside.

“Are you ready?”

“We’re going… in?”

“Yes. I did not think Enderian had this power. I thought she could simply create the bubbles, but she could move if she wished it. If she had other abilities I now hold. She might have been able to escape at any time if she had known. If she could’ve held the same powers I now have .”

They have to take another minute to even out their breathing.

“She couldn’t escape. She- she gave them to me. She was trapped there.”

“Just as Isla was. But now we can move freely to see her.”

They nod lightly. “Okay.”

Fable inhales, “Here we go.” They teleport into the small pocket dimension.

It was a bright, glow stone blinding encircling the small space. As soon as they looked up at their mother- blonde hair blocking a face they couldn’t even remember- they felt an overwhelming sense of dread. It was almost like anxiety, the way it thrummed through their veins. Just a sense of something was wrong.

They couldn’t tell if Rae felt it, but when they got in there they knew he was more distressed, probably at the sight of their mother in a stasis chamber than anything else.

“Icarus I can… I can help. You don’t need him- I can- I can help her! I can help us…” They don’t know what to say, but they get cut off by Fable before they could respond.

“How, Rae?”

“I… I’m not going to tell you. I’m not going to let you do something else to her. Or screw up trying.” He spits the last part with lingering anger, tears beginning to form in his eyes.

“Rae…” He turns to look at them a moment before turning back to Fable as he speaks again.

“You will not give me the chance to help your mother? *My wife?* To bring her back to us.”

Rae doesn’t speak, he simply shakes his head.

Fable frowns. “No?”

“No.” Rae says softly.

“You’d have her stay here?” Rae’s expression crumbles.

The next time they look back at Isla, they can’t look away. This is the first time they’ve seen their mother in person. They don’t have any image of her in their memory other than the portrait that’s sat locked away in Fable’s house. She looks different, they can’t quite see her face but she seems so… tired. A lingering sense of sadness seems to be all she has in that small tube, and it almost physically pains them to see her like that. (To have her feel so similar to what they feel locked up in their house.)

“I have Enderian’s powers now. I could wield them.”

They look back at Fable then. “What?” They glance between him and Rae.

“You could do this! You could hurt her all over again!”

They frown. “He wouldn’t.”

“He did it the first time!” Stray tears are beginning to fall down Rae’s face now that make them stop.

“As a *mistake*, Rae.” He tries, but Rae isn’t having it.

“So what’s preventing you from making the same one?!”

Fable sighs. “Remembering what happened the first time. Seeing my wife’s face, and having it haunt-“

“She doesn’t want to be yours!” Rae yells, his voice echoing in the small chamber. There are more tears spilling down his face, and Icarus can’t help but take a step back as they take another shaky breath. They watch Fable's face, but he doesn’t seem to react. Simply responding calmly, anger quiet and reserved (as if that doesn’t scare them more.)

“She gets to make that choice. Not-“ Rae cuts him off again. “Does she?!”

Fable frowns, and his tone comes out just slightly more angry than he probably wanted it to. “Yes. When she is well, Rae.”

“You don’t get to make that choice, you tried to take that choice away from her. I won’t tell you shit!” Rae talks over what he tries to say next, words hitting their mark effectively when Fable sighs again.

“Rae!” They start, trying to maybe help in some way, try to get that information. But they go quiet as Fable talks again.

“I understand. If that is what you wish.” He inhales sharply again, and they are teleported back outside the bubble. Back into the cave.

They can hear Rae’s breathing shake, as he is ushered out of the cave by Fable. They take a lingering glance back, eyes falling on the slab, and then spot Centross died before Fable pushes them out.

They linger near the cave entrance as they hear Fable walk out behind them with a sigh. Rae goes to huddle next to Aax with his head down as he wipes the lingering stray tears from his face.

“Rae. When you are ready to help your mother and to fix our family, now you know where we are. You said it yourself, you can do that Rae. Bring her back to us. I have made mistakes in the past, but I have done my best to watch over *you* and your brother in her absence. I have protected you and your brother as best as I *could.*”

His tone changes then, more earnest, more desperate. It was all tinted with an undertone of anger a force perfectly covered as he says the words that hit their mark as Rae seems to cower as he says them.

“It was not perfect, I admit this, none of this has been perfect. None of this had been perfect. I have not been perfect, Rae. But *you* gave me a chance. All the same. As you have given so many others. *You* freed me from purgatory Rae. I owe you my life. You can do the same for your mother. You can give her a *chance.* When you are ready to give her that chance, we will be here.”

There’s a deafening silence as Rae takes a few steps back, eyes moving between Fable and Aax.

“We should go- we should go.” His voice sounds like he’s trying so desperately not to cry and something in them feels concerned, it does, but as Rae and Aax fly away all they can think of is that he didn’t say goodbye.

All they can think of is that he didn’t even look at him after they left the bubble. All they can think about is how he left them alone again without saying goodbye. He’d just said he wasn’t going to give up on them. That he wasn’t going to leave them alone here again, but that’s all they feel like is happening.

Fable ends up coaxing them inside. They take the confirmations and reassurance he gives them, ignoring the fact that they know that sometimes he’s lying to them. They ignore the things all yelling, ignoring the way they erupt again when Fable apologizes to them. Apologizing that he couldn’t remove Quixis from them. They ignore them as they say he just apologized for not killing them that day.

They just don’t want to think about it anymore. (They don’t want to remember… and that’s a concerningly familiar wish for them.)

Fable finally gets them to take their mind off it, changing their focus to the birds lingering at their bedside.

They eventually lie down, Fable leaving them to their own thoughts again. The things leave soon after that, sleeping or going somewhere else they still don’t exactly know.

The silence is so so much worse. They curl in on themself under the covers, their birds having fallen asleep a bit ago on the birch next to their bed, so they weren’t making any noise either.

There’s a lingering feeling they can’t quite explain. It’s something under their skin that just makes them want to cry. It’s the lingering feeling of their brother’s hug, his hands running through their hair and his arm wrapped securely around their back. Their wings try to compensate, wrapping around their curled-up figure tightly as their arms wrap around their chest and their tail falls over their legs.

They want their dad. As stupid as that sounds. They want their dad, they want Rae they want… they want Centross.

Four months.

Their hand moves to stifle a quiet sob.

They miss him- gods they miss him so much.

They miss him randomly interrupting what they were doing to get them out of their house. They miss talking with him, joking with him. They miss being *near* him, as pathetic as that sounds. His presence was always comforting. Something that made them feel *safe* and fuck they missed that feeling.

They miss his voice, they miss and they miss and they miss.

They *swear* they’re going crazy when they get the phantom feeling of fingers running through their hair, just closing their eyes and willing themself to just sleep as their breathing shakes through more muffled sobs.

It takes too long in their opinion. By the time they fall asleep, they’ve run out of tears. Sitting in heavy silence for too long until they finally fall asleep.

Maybe sleep isn’t much of a release, the only thing they see is the memories of their best friend, the happiness stained by a lingering sadness and guilt that follows them when they wake up in the morning because of the memory of the cathedral that the dream always ends with.

Soon.

That’s all they have to remember.

It will be over soon.

[hanzajesthanza]

actually wait. a full cauldron with water is really heavy. dandelion was right to ask her if she needed help. because milva did carry that full cauldron from the river back to the sand on her own. and making this more interesting is that when they have to take it off the fire later, both cahir and regis lift it off together. so milva is as strong as cahir and regis combined? a result of the draw weight of her bow? enough to knock out a man with her fists? i need to see her arms. for science

[seaside-writings]

Prompt #1,231

"All flags look pink through rose-tinted lenses,"

[lighthouseshepard]

chapter four is finally up!

[yyyeowza]

started writing my script for the next comic I’m making.. at some point Tim says “eep!” And I got sooo emotional cause he wouldn’t say that. except he would :( he would say that

[retourpresdetoi]

now i did not like Nosferatu (2024) for a variety of reasons. but let me tell you. seeing the purity-centered, pearl clutching, absolute disgust-first opinions dominate negative reviews has me feeling like i watched a different film. "this movie is for deranged sex-perverts" my biggest criticism was that it didn't go far enough! all that for a 2hr 12min movie and it was boring!

[gerbiloftriumph]

Lost and Found (ao3):

Grandpa’s story of the goblin caves started out familiarly enough, but as he spoke, the story started to twist and change. New friends, new conversations, and new ways to use old items transformed the tale, and the young king discovered new ways to be brave in the dark tunnels beneath Daventry.

(8/?)

~*~

“This has to be good enough. It has to be. Tonight is the night. I’m not putting everyone through any more suffering.”

Graham had quietly tested the key when he was sure no one was watching. It didn’t do anything for individual prisoner cells, but it did seem to lead to the main entrance of the prison. He hoped the little goblin who had dropped this key wasn’t getting in trouble for losing it. Still. This was what he needed. Well, almost all of what he needed: it still had two levers, still needed multiple people pressing on it to open it.

And Graham would take them all.

Yes, he and Acorn and Whisper could probably escape now, with Acorn’s solo strength on one lever and Whisper and Graham on the other. But he had no guarantee that the rest of the villagers would be safe while they were gone. That the goblins wouldn’t act in retribution. That something else wouldn’t go wrong while his back was turned. He was going to take every villager with him as he escaped. He had to.

(“That’s a lot of people to take with you, Grandpa. Your last story seemed more thought-out.”

“Yes, it was, in both regards. But this version’s different, you know. I suppose the goblins couldn’t be as cruel as I was imagining, but everyone still had so much more to say. I had to bring them all!”)

The goblin alarms were part of the problem. Graham remembered how, when he’d given Amaya various weapons over the last few days to clear her room and get some items, some alarm had been triggered and the mushrooms had pulsed bizarrely. The same sort of thing had happened at the top of the spiral stairs, when he’d trapped the goblin guard with the sticky spider web (the goblin was still there, actually, stuck and annoyed and the other goblins kept him stocked with gross goblin snacks that Graham couldn’t imagine eating himself).

(“Now, Muriel and I had been looking at those alarms,” Grandpa said. “We had determined that each mushroom alarm had a discolored square on the base, like a door, but no amount of clawing with my fingernails could do anything to open it. All I did was get mushroomy hands, which did not make me more of a fun-gi to be around.”

“Ew.”

“It did suggest they were somehow mechanical in nature. Now, if you traced the mushrooms by their lights, they seemed to all connect to a single point at the top of Acorn’s Jack and the Beanstalk tower, a command mushroom alarm, which, if deactivated, should turn off all the rest. I found this point without too much trouble—it made sense that the place where they’d put all my contraband was also the control point for the prison. There was a groove beside it which seemed like the perfect place for a lever. Of course, the lever had been removed by the guards to ensure the alarms stayed active. I didn’t have a way to make my own lever—until I’d gone into that dark basement and gathered the right items!”

“Nice. I knew we could handle that sticky problem.”

The little mirror king pulled out the mop with the sticky spiderwebby strings clinging to the mop fibers. He carefully slotted it into the groove beside the alarm mushroom. The lever did the job, and the little hatch popped open on the mushroom itself, revealing:

“This reminds me of a puzzle,” Grandpa said. “Look, a sliding block puzzle, to deactivate the alarm, how droll.” The two storytellers watched the mirror king work, moving little glowing fungi blocks here and there to connect the correct mushroomy circuit.

“You know,” Grandpa said, “I think this also seems like it could be a wonderful metaphor for something. Sliding block puzzles. Perhaps a metaphor for how tricky it is to rule a kingdom. Like, a metaphor for, oh, how challenging it is to listen to everyone and make decisions, and—”

“Grandpa, please, don’t,” Gwendolyn groaned. “That sounds like the worst idea ever.”

“I don’t know about that,” Grandpa mused. “I’ll think on it. Maybe I’ll use it later.” The mirror king, unaware as always about his chatty narrators, successfully deactivated the alarm.)

He tried pulling on the lever to remove it from the groove, but the sticky spiderwebs held it in place. The mop was no longer functional as a mop, although he didn’t have any plans to do any more chores anyway. No, he had bigger things in mind. Escape, for example.

Amaya was lying on her bed, ignoring him. “If I wasn’t in peak physical condition, I would not survive this,” she informed the ceiling.

(Grandpa hesitated. “Oh. I forgot something. Hang on.”

“Forgot something?”

“I was supposed to have bolt cutters by now. Let me just...um. They were lying on the floor and I tripped over them and found them and that’s that.”

“I think that’s cheating, Grandpa.”

“You heard this story a couple nights ago, you already know where and how I found them. We don’t need to retread that squishy moldy porridge ground. It’s fine. We’re moving on.”)

“Oh. I forgot I had these,” Graham said, pulling bolt cutters out of his pocket.

“Amazing,” Amaya agreed flatly. “Hurry up and get me outta here.”

The door swung open, and, happily, the alarms did not go off. Graham exhaled half the tension he’d hardly known he’d been holding. Amaya stepped out, brushing grime off her skirt (which remained as dirty as before she’d brushed her hands against it).

“Hey, you did good,” she admitted, jostling his shoulder. “I’m proud of you, king.”

Whisper applauded at Graham’s side.

“You really need to try to keep it quiet,” Amaya said, glancing at him.

“But how will our enemy know their doom is coming?” Whisper asked, and he struck a pose as though he held a sword, ready to strike some invisible goblin foe.

“Your moxie is already overwhelmingly apparent without the noise.”

“Whisper is just so happy to be free! We must celebrate our victory!”

“We’re not done yet, you know that,” Amaya said, starting to leave the room. “To start, we’ve got to get the others.”

“Yes, but we should celebrate the little victories anyway,” Whisper insisted, following close on her heels, his mane of excellence drooping a bit at her lack of excitement.

“Well...sure...and how do you propose we do that?” she asked.

Whisper paused, then flung his hand into the air dramatically with: “A jumping-up-and-down hug?”

Graham held his breath again, sure Amaya was going to thump the knight and walk away, and yet, she frowned, and said, in the most world-weary voice he’d ever heard from he: “Ugh, fine.”

“Huzzah!” Whisper cheered. “Smash and flash, making it happen!” He grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side, and bounced up and down. His cloak fluttered around them.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” she said after a second, and pushed him away, though there was just the hint of a laugh in her voice. “You’re ridiculous.”

“...ly good looking,” Whisper corrected.

The king, knights, and blacksmith hurried down the tunnel, aiming for the Feys next. Behind him, Graham heard Whisper still trying to connect with his blacksmith beau: “So, come here often?”

Amaya seemed taken aback. “What, to this dark cave where we were imprisoned?”

“Um, yes?”

“Nope, this is a first.”

“Oh. Well, me too. Sooooo....”

“Can we not do this right now?”

“Oooh, so we can do this later?”

“Whisper.”

“I should have started with the Hobblepots,” Graham groaned.

“No, we can leave the Hobblepots,” Acorn growled. “Chester can just stay there.”

“Acorn, be nice.”

“I don’t want to.”

The Feys were just as easy to free as Amaya had been, and Wente carefully held his wife’s hand as he guided her through the cell door to freedom. Again, no alarms went off, and all seemed well.

“Oh, Graham, it’s wonderful to see you without bars in the way,” Bramble said, grabbing him in a tight hug. “And you’ve got some friends with you this time!” She smiled at the two knights.

Whisper was too distracted fawning over Amaya to notice, but Acorn bowed to Bramble. “Why, Mrs. Bramble Fey. Always a pleasure.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” she said. She had one hand over her belly protectively, and Acorn noticed.

“That’s right. How’s the little one doing down here?”

“Good now, thanks to our king.” She put her other hand on Graham’s arm, reassuringly, beaming up at him.

“Have you found out if it’s a boy or girl yet?”

“Oh, we want to be surprised. But either way, we like the name Taylor,” she said, and Wente nodded.

“Hmm, now I don’t know which color to pick for the baby booties. Obviously, I’d never go pink or blue, traditional is blah, but. Taylor. I don’t know what fits that name best. Maybe a warm linen color, but what embroidery...” He stared off into the distance, muttering options.

“No need to knit us anything!” Bramble laughed.

“But ya know I wanna,” Acorn said. “You Feys always manage to soothe the bull with those nice sweet treats, I gotta return the favor somehow.”

“Oh, you’re much too sweet, even for us bakers!”

“Guys, this isn’t exactly the time for a cell-abration,” Graham interrupted, glancing at the hall as though a crowd of spear-carrying goblins were already marching along it. “We really do have to get moving. I don’t want us caught out here.”

As he hurried down the next tunnel toward the Hobblepots, the pack of villagers behind him, he heard Acorn and Bramble still quietly chatting together:

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Acorn said, “I’ve always wondered. What’s it like to carry a baby in your belly?”

Bramble said, “Oh, it’s probably about the same as carrying a squirrel in your belly.”

“Oh, ahah, yeah, Princess Madeline loves how squishy it is.” He thumped a hand hard against it, and it rang dully as his gauntlet hit armor.

“Speaking of that, where is Princess Madeline? Did she escape the clutches of these hoarders?”

“Who knows. She had trumpet practice tonight.”

Bramble lowered her voice, and Graham barely heard her next words: “King Graham’s doing the best he can, of course, the dear, but I wonder if Princess Madeline could come and help us too. She’s so good at getting out of little scrapes like this.” Then, with passion: “Even though a compassionate lady like herself should not involve herself with racketeering!”

“That was just one time!” Acorn changed the subject: “Hey, maybe we should meet up for belly day. How’s your Thursday looking?”

“Much better than it was an hour ago, if we get out of this.”

“I know we will,” Acorn reassured her. “Graham’s got this. And so do we. ...oh, except.” His voice dropped two octaves and thirty degrees, and he said, “Chester.”

“Sir Cumference,” Chester said, just as chilly.

“Did I miss something?” Amaya asked, looking between the knight and the alchemist.

“Don’t ask,” Graham muttered, lining up the bolt cutters with the padlock on the cell door.

Acorn leaned against the tree trunk bars, arms crossed, glaring at Chester. “Soooo, I hear your lease is almost up,” he muttered, almost but not quite casually.

“What did you say?” Chester said.

“Oh, nothing.” He paused, then: “How old are you, again?”

“I still have many more snacks left to hit my belly. You needn’t worry.”

“Oh good, I’m a worrier,” Acorn grumbled, as the Hobblepots tripped out of the cell to freedom. Of a sort. Freedom from their cell, at the very least.

Chester shook Graham’s hand. “I saw my life flash before my eyes. Now I’m hungry again. I’ve eaten a lot of delicious things. Thanks, Graham.”

“Well! We’re all here!” Muriel looked at the crowd of people.

“Yeah, all of us,” Amaya said. “And there’s a lot of us. This isn’t going to be easy.”

“Which way, Your Highness?” Bramble asked, bobbling forward in a nervous little half bow.

“You don’t have to call me that,” Graham said distractedly, shoving the bolt cutters back in his cloak.

"Of course, Gumdrop.” She eyed the crown, her face distorted in its shiny curves. “But, again, where to now? I don’t think we should just be standing here like this.”

“Ummm.”

Graham stared at the group. The group blinked back. And only now did he realize just how many of them there were, jostling each other and muttering and wondering and worrying and standing in the open and watching and waiting and....

There were two knights, two bakers, two alchemists, one blacksmith, and one very ragged king, all out of their various cells but by no means safe. This...this was a terrible plan.

No, more than that, he had no plan. Not really. Not faced with all of them. How was he going to get them out? How could he possibly manage this quietly? Carefully? This had been a terrible idea. There were too many people, they were going to be caught, and who knew what the goblins would do to them this time, and...

(“I froze up,” Grandpa admitted, as every single mirror villager stared at the mirror king. “Paralyzed by the decision. Perhaps I had pulled the final rabbit out of my hat. No, it was worse than that—I didn’t even have a cap anymore! Just a crown, and all that a shiny hat entailed.”)

Amaya lightly punched his shoulder. “Hey. You’re thinking way too much, Graham. Your gut has led us this far; let’s not second guess it now. Come on! Let’s go!”

He rubbed his arm. “R-right. Um. This way. But, quietly. Let me lead.” He wished he could shove them all in his cloak pockets, but it topped out at two people and was near tearing anyway, and then he wouldn’t be able to carry anything at all. This was just going to have to work as it was. They were going to all have to be brave and clever and kind and…and…oh, boy.

“You are the king, Sire,” Muriel chirped at his side. “We’ll do what you tell us to.”

“Mmmostly,” Chester said under his breath.

[druckkugelschreiber]

Not taking Lucanis anywhere with me right now, so I can manage my hyperfixation and I find myself in combat more often than not saying 'wish I had Lucanis right now' :/

I miss him. At least he's in the lighthouse

[miodiodavinci]

anyway probably my favorite thing about fafnir is the ever present gap moe of this incredibly sad and tired looking corpse man acting and behaving like a nervous little creature in a shopping mall, or perhaps a teenager who has been miraculously hired onto their first job despite having None of the qualifications w

my other favorite thing is the fact that he can do this w

[lenievi]

Spones Day 2023 fic

Canon divergent universe where TMP never happened. Takes place a few years before TWOK (but if TWOK happens is in the stars). Kirk has retired from Starfleet (just so you’re not confused), because I like that tidbit from Generations.

#McCoy didn’t know they were dating #first kiss #strangely proactive Spock

~1000 words. | G

---

The door to the Transporter Beam-up Center opened, and mixed groups of various species started to come out. McCoy moved to the side to not stand in their way, his eyes scanning the crowd for Spock’s familiar face. It was a few minutes before he heard, “Doctor McCoy.”

McCoy startled. “I need to buy you a cowbell.”

Spock lifted an eyebrow at him. “You’ve been saying that for years, Doctor, and I’m still waiting.” He raised his hand, fingers spread in a Vulcan salute. “We meet again.”

McCoy blinked and looked at his hand. His third finger quivered as he tried to connect it with the fourth one, hoping to form a V, but with no success. He gave up, shaking his fingers a bit, relieving the slight pain in his ring finger. One day, one day, he would succeed.

Spock held out his hand, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. 

McCoy glared at him. “You could’ve done it from the beginning.” He clasped Spock’s hand, soaking in the warmth he hadn’t felt for three months. “How was the trip?” He let go.

“Commanding a ship full of cadets on their training voyage is hardly a trip, Doctor.”

“You visited Vulcan before that, didn’t you?”

Spock gave a stiff nod. “Sarek sends his regards.” He beckoned toward the exit. “Shall we?”

Spock led him to a nearby restaurant.

Even after three years, it still felt odd whenever Spock invited him out. Sometimes to a science or technical museum, sometimes to a restaurant, sometimes to an arboretum. Just the two of them. If anyone had told him that ten years ago, five years ago, hell, even three years ago, he would scoff and tell them not to drink anymore. But Spock kept reaching out, and McCoy kept saying yes.

“Have you spoken to Jim recently?” McCoy asked after they ordered. He kept his eyes on the tabletop, not wanting to see Spock’s judging expression.

“Not since before my trip to Vulcan,” Spock said. “He acquired a dog.”

McCoy raised his head. “Jim has a dog?”

“His name is Butler.”

McCoy blinked.

“You would know that if you called him,” Spock said, his eyes piercing.

“Well…” McCoy wet his lips. “He could call me.”

“You informed him rather vehemently you didn’t want to see him unless he comes out of retirement.”

“You can’t tell me you think he can just live on a farm in Idaho and be happy.”

“That is not for us to judge.” Spock sipped his tea. “He appears to miss you.”

McCoy’s stomach did a funny flip. He reached for his glass of water and clasped it in both hands. His argument with Jim was ugly, and they hadn’t seen or talked to each other for two years.

“So, uhm…” he started but was saved by the waiter bringing their meals. The plates were placed, and McCoy grabbed the utensils. He should not think about Jim. Spock had always made it clear that they should resolve it themselves and did not wish to discuss it.

“It’s good to see you, Spock,” he said instead.

Spock smiled. 

They dug into their meals.

“My father offered me to work with him and accompany him to Ensis,” Spock said between bites.

McCoy frowned. “You want to leave Starfleet?”

“It would not immediately come to that, but it is an option I am considering.”

First Jim. Now Spock. McCoy had stayed in San Francisco because he wanted to stay close to them. Then Jim left. He stayed because Spock would have someone welcoming him back whenever he left on a training voyage. He stayed because… because he… 

He swallowed.

“I wanted to ask for… your opinion,” Spock said, his eyes focused somewhere behind McCoy’s shoulders. 

“My opinion?” McCoy put down his utensils. He didn’t feel hungry anymore.

“I have… always appreciated your company, Doctor.” Spock frowned. “Leonard.”

McCoy's heart skipped. He didn’t remember the last time Spock used his name.

“In the last three years, perhaps before that, the appreciation evolved, changed.” Spock looked him in the eyes. “I do not enjoy the thought of not seeing you for months.”

McCoy didn’t know what to say. His mind was flying at warp speed. The almost realization a minute ago. Every time Spock invited him to go somewhere. Every time McCoy invited Spock to his apartment, sharing meals, cooking together. The soft brushes of their shoulders, as they passed each other in McCoy’s narrow kitchen. The soft brushes of the back of their hands, as they walked down the streets or halls of the museums. Spock’s fingers on his elbow, demanding his attention. So common, so frequent that he didn’t even notice them anymore.

“Are we dating, Spock?” McCoy blurted out.

“As there hasn’t been an official agreement, we are not.”

“Do you want to?” McCoy asked before he could think about it.

The tips of Spock’s ears darkened. “That was the matter I wanted to discuss today. In order to answer my father’s offer, I first needed an answer from you.”

“Why?”

“I have already told you. I would have… missed you.”

McCoy could not hold back his smile, his cheeks growing hot.

“If you did not answer positively, creating a physical distance between us would be a logical thing to do.”

“The distance wouldn’t help,” McCoy murmured.

“Perhaps.” Spock inclined his head. “But it appears we do not have to test it.”

“But your father –”

“My father is aware.”

McCoy opened his mouth and closed it. “You…” He wet his lips. “You talked about us with Sarek?” Us. There was an us.

“My father thinks highly of you,” Spock said. “Mother too. She’d like it if you accompanied me next time I visit Vulcan.”

McCoy blinked.

“You don’t have to give me an answer today.” Spock bit his lower lip. McCoy hadn’t seen that habit in years. “But I would like to kiss you.”

McCoy nodded, lost for words. His heart beat loud in his ears. He raised his hand.

Spock leaned across the table and pressed their lips together.

[hcdragonwrites]

Letters (a @journey-to-the-au Drabble)

I made another thing (yeah I couldn’t help myself but this one is shorter I think. I hope you like it!) I just. Brain fire.

Inspired by <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/journey-to-the-au/722003448742248448/may-we-hear-about-the-yaogui-attack-0-apologies" >This Post </a>

(Also I suck at linking things I’m so sorry.)

Liu crossed out the line on the parchment before him, splashing ink onto the stone beneath his feet in an frustrated spray.

“No that doesn’t sound right either!” He gritted his teeth, growing frustrated. General Liu, one of the Four great Generals of Flower- Fruit mountain and friend to its King Sun Wukong, had a dilemma.

He set the brush down, still getting used to holding it in his hands. Wukong makes this look so easy! But things of the unmonkey nature came easily to Wukong- how could they not ? He had mastered the mysterious arts that had given him such power, had defeated the demon who had first claimed Water- Curtain Cave in his absence (and more beside.) Wukong had walked among the men of the world and had claimed treasure from dragons.

Wukong would be able to hold a brush with ease and write words with a steady hand. The general tugged at his fur and looked about himself. Rolls of parchment lay about him like discarded rinds of watermelons. All the failed attempts to transcribe what his heart was trying to speak. He tugged more, hairs coming free.

When Wukong spoke of his experience in the world abroad their mountain, he had mentioned how the important people within that strange world of mortals and immortals would communicate through scrolls and parchment.

“It was too quiet at times for my liking!” He reminisced once, splashing some wine as he gesticulated upon his throne. “What silence! What needed to be written that couldn’t be communicated with a clear voice?” He would then call for one of the troop of his subjects to retell a story, for Wukong loved the telling of a yarn through voice and act.

Liu had understood why one would want words written down however. The things he wanted to say- to tell- either fled him like mist before the sun or stuck in his throat like a peach stone. The Marshal scratched behind his ear, brushing the notched edge and remembering. Remembering her.

Rin Rin.

Liu had never been one for such deep hesitation as he was now. In all the Aolai country, among and betwixt the unicorns and the phoenixes who preened and called themselves the most beautiful, where the leopards and the tigers roamed and boasted their own majesty, Liu had faced all that threatened his home with bravery. He loved this mountain, from every blade of grass to every luminous stone deep in Water-Curtain Cave. He thought none of the beasts or birds or celestial bodies in Heaven was more beautiful than his home.

Except Her.

He wanted to tell her. Tell Rin Rin how she rivaled all the clouds in heaven for her softness. How no flower could compare to her eyes and how they shined like the sea when the sun hit it. Her smile could make the trees cry and her anger could chase the stripes off a tiger.

Liu was afraid. Not afraid of her. Afraid to miss this opportunity! His tail lashed and sent a bit of paper skittering over the stone floor, knocking into several stone bowls of almonds.

The mountain was a paradise. The waterfall that crashed beyond, the pine forests that dotted the slopes where their needles spiced the air. He had faced tigers and demons, fought and thrown himself into situation after situation of danger without a second thought for himself.

Now he was hesitant. He acted as he had on that day Wukong had found Water- Curtain cave: hesitant. Marshal Liu had not been hesitant since that time- so why had he returned to this state ?

Liu looked down at the paper and groaned.

“I just want to tell her how beautiful she is…”

Steps approached from outside Liu’s room.

“So this is where you’ve been!” Wukong called, stepping into the room with a frown on his face. “I have been waiting for you in the Throne room for hours! Sentries have spotted what look to be the makings of a camp. We have a troop of creatures lurking in the shadow of our mountain and I need my Generals— what is all this stuff ?”

Liu didn’t bother to cover up his failings- he just lay his head on the stone table and glared at the brush.

“You only called for a meeting a few minutes ago, my king.” He replied from the table.

“Minutes- hours. It has been too long! What have you been up to in here?”Wukong picked up a paper scroll, the feathered crown on his head bobbing.

“You are as pretty as a … hmm. You never finished this one Liu!”

Liu moved his face to flatten into the stone table, feeling his cheeks burn and his ears itch. Of course my king would start reading them.

Shuffling paper noises sounded again as Wukong picked another scroll up.

“My heart becomes a candle when you are near—“ he frowned. “You crossed out the rest in a mess of black.”

Liu wished he could dissolve into the stone.

“You smell as sweet as a magnolia flower- your eyes are the shape of stars —“

“Please My King.” He begged. “Spare me.”

“You wrote them Liu! I am only reading.”

“And I ask for mercy, please.”

“Seems you’ve had trouble finishing whatever you were trying to say.” Mused the Sage.

“None of the words formed well enough on the paper.” Marshal Liu sighed. There came a shuffle and a brush beside him. He lifted his head to see Wukong had crossed his legs beside him, a shoulder companionably against Lius. The Monkey King twirled the brush between his fingers, unrolling a new scroll of parchment.

“If I help you Write your love poem to Rin, Will you stop mooning so sadly ?” Wukong cocked a brow at his general, side eyeing him in a way only a friend could.

Marshal Liu felt his pride pricked, just a bit. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Liu- you have been my friend for countless years. Longer than most monkeys usually live.” Wukong dipped the brush into the inkwell, checking the ink stone and grimacing at its diminished size. “I know you from the tips of your ears to the ends of your fur. We have fought and bled side by side. You may be a master at strategy and planning but. My friend.”

Wukong turned his whole face to stare at Liu. “You suck at hiding how in love you are with Rin Rin.”

The Marshal sat up, opened his mouth to defend, to deflect —

Wukong, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, waited. His face set in a neutral and very are you really going to argue with me? expression.

Liu closed his mouth, tugged at his fur and set his chin on the stone table. “She makes me feel so—-“

“Mhm.”

“She’s so—!”

“Mhm…”

“I just can’t get the words out!” The Marshal admitted finally. “Each time I start to tell her, I freeze. I’ve tried so many times!”

When Rin and He had shared a sweet patch of strawberries he had tried to say how he loved her.

When Rin had been tending to a scratch on his face, chiding and reprimanding him for his recklessness again. Her anger had made him want to hold her and reassure her that he was fine.

When they had decided to stay out late, tails curled together as they counted the stars. Liu had wanted to compare her to each one.

And each of these times his words had either fled him or had refused to come out.

“And you thought to write them out because they keep getting stuck.”

Liu nodded.

“Give me the words and I’ll write them down.” Wukong set the tip, ready. “If I write this for you, then will come and put your mind back to keeping our mountain safe?”

Guilt itched beneath his fur. “My King i'm sorry—“

A affectionate rub of Wukongs head against his own shut the general up as the king tugged at his ear in play.

“Liu. I may not understand the power of what you are feeling,” Wukong cut off, tail thumping against the Marshals “but that doesn’t mean your feelings aren’t important. And … seeing you so distressed makes me distressed. I can help my friend in this simple task at least.”

Liu felt a warmth well from him. For all his Kings boasting and prideful proclamations, Wukong cared for each of his subjects - even in the face of his incomprehension. He would do what he could to ease his friends, his subjects, his families struggles. Wukong began to write as Liu began to speak, his face warm and his hands slowly beginning uncurl from his fur.

After just an hour with Wukongs transcribing and Liu describing, the confession was complete. Liu clutched the scroll and strapped it to his side.

He had been able to attend the Council with a lighter heart and a smile on his face. The discussion and the plans to increase patrols along the pine forest to the west of Flower Fruit Mountain had been unanimously agreed upon as the troubling information came to light.

The scouts' reports had indicated that there had been activity - a half made campfire kicked over and cold with bones from what looked like a small deer- not a few leaps and bounds from the slopes. Liu had frowned at the description of the tracks- five footed, fur and the scent of musk in the air. Another band of Monkeys … but they seem to be scouting us as well.

When Liu had this brought to attention, an immediate patrol had been sent out to gain more information on how many may be circling their home. The unspoken kept being danced around but all in that council chamber had a suspicion. Demon Monkeys….

Until they knew further who and what they were facing, Wukong wouldn’t risk a war troop to prowl the nearby hills and leave the rest of his family and people exposed.

Liu had a bit of time beneath the growing moon of night to find Rin Rin now. Before his nerves left him. Wukongs handwriting had made the words look better, flow better, feel better to the Marshals eyes. His King had sat through his flowery language, and had written it all diligently if with a little bit of snorting at times. (“Don’t compare her to pine nuts!” “But she smells of the pines and the wood and everything I love!” “…. But pine nuts ?”)

If his words failed him, Liu had them written down. If they stuck in his throat, he could pull them apart with the help of his letter. His heart was thumping, his fur was sticking out a bit as electric nerves rolled on his skin. Liu was in full armor having come from council, and it jangled softly in the night air. But it was a comforting jangle- a separate staccato rhythm against his body.

As the moon rose outside of Water-Curtain Cave casting the spray in silver light, Liu gazed out. Some other monkeys mingled in the cooling air enjoying the clear night. Tending to loved ones by either grooming fur, sharing ripening fruits from the many orchards across the vast mountain, or cuddling down in the soft grasses to gaze upward. Liu greeted each in turn, butting heads or brushing hands. Pride welled in him, making Liu stand taller. This was his home- his family. The peace they lived in was hard won and protected by their King and his Marshals- and that peace was precious.

A small bundle of babes shot past, one carrying a lychee fruit as a prize to be kept from the others. A pair of older simians gazed into the waters of the pool, leaning into each other. Liu would fight a thousand demons, all the celestial beings in the world, to keep this peace. He would tame dragons and pull the moon down from its boughs in Heaven to preserve this peace.

Liu turned, green eyes seeking. There, just beneath the pomegranate tree overlooking a mossy spray of water, he spotted the cloud gray of Rin Rin. Even in the shadow of the tree he could see her moon flower perched behind her ear, the fur perfectly groomed in wonderous swirls. He wished he had a bouquet of moonflowers to bring her or a cup of tea to present to her. He wanted to come bearing gifts and to tend and tidy her hair and weave flowers throughout it.

He came bearing his heart instead.

Said heart thumped against his chest. Steady Liu.

Liu took a moment to groom his finger through his fur, his tail, and to dust at his armor. He grabbed at a small patch of pine needles, snapping them between fingers and briefly rubbing the tips over his fur. He wanted to look his best to smell his best to be his best.

Then, gathering himself and tapping the scroll's top at his hip, Liu straightened and stepped forward.

He would tell her how much she meant to him. He would show her how much she was worth to him- between the words he had been able to wrangle and place onto a page.

Liu would never get the chance to unwind that scroll however. The night air that had been full of gentle chatter and warm conversation was broken by screams as the mountain's peace was shattered into a thousand screams of fury and fear rang off the mountain.