#but surprise its a happy little ficlet!

[luveline]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐞𝐛 —send me an established relationship request for any reader and any character and I'll write a ficlet, 1k or less

reader pulling Hotch in by his belt loops trying to break the ice after they get into a disagreement

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! vaguely suggestive. fem!reader

You know why you argued, but you kinda wish he'd stop being mad. You're not mad anymore, and he's the one who started it so he should be the one to raise the white flag. Maybe. It was only a little fight! 

You sigh dramatically. Hotch doesn't budge, wiping down dishes with a cloth one by one. 

"I'm sorry," you say, your third apology overall. 

"It's fine." He smiles from over his shoulder. You believe him, but he's still put out. You understand not everyone can move from an argumentative mood into a happy one quickly and try not to worry about it much longer, though the urge to kiss his scratchy jaw has its hooks in you. 

You put away the plates after he's dried them and figure you'll just have to go for it. While he's not paying attention, you slip your finger into the snug of his belt loop and pull him toward you. He wraps his arm around your shoulder rather than elbow you, looking down at you with a mixture of nearly hidden surprise and pleasure. He tries very hard to keep a straight face. 

"Hey, baby," you say, "you come here often?" 

"I'm still annoyed," he says, warmth creeping into his voice.

"Yes, well. Me too. But I like you more than I'm annoyed at you and I'd really like to kiss you, so… can I?" 

Hotch looks down at your hand in his belt loop and does that thing older guys do, a sound between a scoff and a laugh with a nod to seal the deal. "I suppose." 

"Oh, you suppose," you say, leaning up to kiss his chin, your following words smothered in his skin, "you would suppose, Hotchner, you're such a supposer."

He laughs again and you glow, sure it had been a weak joke. His smile twitches under your lips as you kiss him, and his hand cups the back of your neck. Forgiven. 

"Sorry," he says between kisses. It's low but impossible to miss, and his tone is sincere. "I'm not trying to be unreasonable." 

"You're very reasonable. And you can make it up to me, if you like." You blink your eyes open to meet his dark gaze, smiling as his hand slinks down the curve of your back.

"Should I pull at your jeans?" he asks. His finger curves into your belt loop, his hand angled further down. 

You lean in for another kiss. "Yes, please." 

[teaandjumpers]

Senate Gossip Ficlet

“Well?” demanded Anakin, needing to know what the senator had said.

“She said—” Padmé hesitated and lowered her voice to a whisper. “She said he was an ass man.”

She paused again. “And that he—he,” she gazed at the wide-rimmed glass in her hand, gently swirling its contents in an effort to avoid looking Anakin in the eyes.

“He what, Padmé?” he asked, growing impatient.

They both glanced at the man in question. Obi-Wan was speaking with two other senators, Mon Mothma and a man Anakin didn’t recognize. 

Padmé had been regaling him with some recent gossip about his Master—apparently the Jedi were a favorite topic at senatorial retreats, the more scandalous the tidbits the better. 

It seemed that Obi-Wan was brought up on a late night talk with some other like-minded politicians. A woman, the senator from Cantonica, had mentioned that she had it on good authority that his Master was a very giving lover.

The thought didn’t sit well with Anakin, the thought of a group of snivelling senators, Padmé excluded of course, gossiping about Obi-Wan. 

But—

Anakin needed to know more.

Obi-Wan had glanced at Anakin a few times throughout the night, giving him warm, secret smiles. It warmed something in his chest, and he smiled back without thought, happy to have his Master close even if it meant attending a stupid war-time fundraiser. 

He watched Bail Organa walk past Obi-Wan, clapping a hand against Obi-Wan’s shoulder before making his way towards Padmé and Anakin. 

“Bail!” exclaimed Padmé, looking relieved. “What was it that Senator Sellale said about Obi-Wan?” 

Bail looked at her with surprise, then glanced at Anakin with uncertainty. 

“He wants to know,” said Padmé.

The man took a deep breath and sighed. “I believe the good senator’s exact words were that ‘he loves to eat ass,’” said Bail with little fanfare.  “And that he ‘eats it well.’”

Having delivered his proclamation, Bail spread his hands out in a what are you gonna do gesture and left. 

Anakin’s mouth dropped, and for a time, he and Padmé regarded Obi-Wan silently. 

Obi-Wan must have felt their attention fix on him, because he shot them a curious look, quirking a questioning eyebrow at Anakin.  

Padmé made a choked noise, burying the lower half of her face in her glass. Anakin distantly thought, with fondness, that it was the most undignified he had ever seen her. 

But he couldn’t even tease her about it, not when a sudden image of his Master, face buried between someone's cheeks, beard sopping wet with his own saliva as he eagerly laved at some whimpering senator’s hole, staked its claim at the forefront of Anakin’s mind.

It played on repeat, Obi-Wan humming against the sensitive skin of someone’s entrance, pulling back to admire his handiwork, and then diving back in, ready to paint some politician’s quivering hole with his spit. 

“Well, fuck,” said Anakin.

[cha-melodius]

hiyaaa! so excited for these prompts. firstprince hug prompt #3? 💖

(Firstprince and... alpine skiing? Idek, I blame the weather and the fact that I want the winter Olympics even though they're not for another year. Enjoy! read all the hug ficlets)

3: The way too excited, golden retriever filled energy hug where they literally topple you over.

Henry’s final trip down the course is, quite literally, a blur. The weather had turned during the last few skiers’ runs, and the snow is now falling hard enough to transform everything into a muffled world of white. The only things he can see through his goggles are the bright red lines marking the course—rapidly getting fainter as the snow covers them—and the gates that appear out of the whiteness mere seconds before he encounters them. The conditions are awful, but Henry had honestly been more afraid that officials would call for a postponement before his run than he’d been of the course itself.

He doesn’t know his time, or whether he’s ahead or behind the current leader, Alex Claremont-Diaz—an American who’s become a close friend over years and hundreds of competitions, a man that Henry’s fallen more than a little in love with—who’s been sitting in the gold medal seat since he descended the course almost fifteen skiers ago. All he knows is the slice of his skis through the snow and the way he whips around the curves, rocketing down the hill so fast he can hardly breathe.

By some miracle, he stays on the course. He pumps a fist in triumph when he crosses the finish line, not because he thinks he won—he’d be surprised, given the conditions—but because he made it in one piece. He fought his way down, tooth and nail, and he finished, which was far from a certainty.

He tears off his snow-crusted goggles and turns on his skis, looking for the clock through the falling snow, but what he sees first is someone barreling toward him, a blur of red, white, and blue that doesn’t slow down until they slam bodily into him, throwing their arms around his middle in a crushing hug. The force of it sends Henry careening backward until the quick releases on his ski bindings give way and they tumble to the snow in a heap, both laughing.

Because there’s no question who Henry’s assailant is—there’s only one person mad enough to tackle him like that at the World Championships, and certainly only one already within the barricades.

“You motherfucker!” Alex yells over the cheers of the crowd, still lying fully on top of Henry. “You fucking did it! That was incredible!”

Henry doesn’t believe him—that’s impossible, Alex was the hands down favourite to take the gold in this event—but sure enough, he tips his head enough to see his own name at the top of the leaderboard. When he looks back Alex’s smile is so blindingly bright, so happy for Henry even though it means he got knocked off the top of the podium, that Henry’s self control is stretched to its limits with the effort not kiss him.

Particularly considering that Alex is looking at him like he’s struggling with a similar internal conflict.

Henry doesn’t kiss him. Instead, he hugs Alex back fiercely, and smashes snow into his curls where his hat’s come off, and thinks maybe, just maybe, that tonight’s celebrations might even more special than he ever could have dreamed.

[wileys-russo]

handyman II l.williamson x reader

just a cute little ficlet based on this request here. handyman II l.williamson

"-love do you have to stop at every single display room?" leah sighed with a tired smile as you collapsed on yet another sofa you had no intention of buying. "lee it's all a part of the experience! come, sit with me." you patted the brown leather with a beaming grin that leah just couldn't say no to as she wandered over and sat beside you.

"now. imagine this is our home-" you started, gesturing to the made up room around you as leah hummed, watching you with a fond smile. "-that's my desk. i put it by the window so that when i work from home i can see outside and people watch." you started, gesturing for leah to continue.

"okay uhh, that's all our photo albums on the bookshelf there. we spent a weekend together making them, they have all of our trips together, special times in our life, dates, our wedding, our kids first moments and experiences." leah smiled softly as you gave her a look of surprise, the blonde not having mentioned children before with you, let alone so casually.

"we mounted the tv to the wall because the kids kept kicking a ball in the house and knocking it over, because someone lets them do it when im not home to tell them off." you teased, leahs happy grin in return making your heart warm at the thought of one day starting a family with her.

"babe this is really fun and all but if we don't shift it the paint warehouse will close and it's not open again until Tuesday." leah checked the time, patting your knee and standing, pulling you with her.

she kept a close eye on you as the two of you made your way through the rest of ikea, grabbing what you needed as leah subtly removed the random things you threw in that she knew you didn't, holding your hand and gently tugging you away as you continued to try and stop at every single room.

"no i think it's that one." you disagreed with your blonde lover who sighed, her patience wearing thin as she paused to calm herself. "it's that one baby, look at the label and the numbers-" she showed you the tag on her phone.

"no because thats a nine, and thats a six!" you argued with her, leah pinching the bridge of her nose. "fine! we'll get the one you want and when it's wrong you can return it on monday while i'm at training." leah decided, her thin veil of tolerance breaking.

you wanted to tell her off for the snide comment, but found yourself far too distracted by her muscles as she grabbed the last flat pack you needed and slid it onto the trolley, opting to roll her sleeves up to her shoulders earlier in the day.

leah impatiently turned around to tell you to hurry up as she wheeled off the trolley and noticed you weren't by her side, but seeing the way your eyes had lightly glazed over and were fixated on her arms a small smirk made its way to her face.

"when you're done drooling over me baby girl i think there's a mop a few aisles back to clean it up." leah teased, snapping you out of it as you hurried to catch up with her, punching her lightly as she stole a kiss, bad mood melted away.

that didn't last very long though.

"babe oh my god just read the instructions!" you groaned, dragging your hand down your face as your girlfriend shook her head stubbornly. "i don't need them, i'm telling you its missing a piece!" leah crossed her arms over her chest, glaring down at the half built coffee table.

"you're so fucking stubborn leah honestly." you grumbled to yourself, snatching the instructions off the floor where she'd tossed them aside, the comment not lost on your girlfriends ears who scowled at you over her shoulder.

"my god leah." you inhaled sharply, squeezing your eyes shut after they'd scanned the paper in your hands. "what?" she huffed, scowl still built into her features. "you've put the fucking top on the wrong way and the base is backwards." you held out the instructions toward her.

"what!" leah scoffed in disbelief, snatching them off of you, face paling as she realised you were correct. "just fix it. i'm going to start putting everything else away in the kitchen." you rolled your eyes, storming out of the room.

leah gave you your space for a few hours, focusing all of her energy into building as much furniture she could, now making sure to actually use the instructions.

the two of you had been bickering relentlessly all weekend over the tiniest of things and though you both knew none of the small tiffs meant anything, those few hours without them were much needed.

the two of you had just bought your very first home together.

you'd lived together for a couple of years, renting and falling even more head over heels for one another. but you'd moved in with leah and as much as she made sure to assure you the place was for both of you, it never quite felt that way.

so with leah extending her arsenal contract for a further three seasons and you running your own business, you'd sat down together and made the decision to buy a place that would be for both of you.

the day you finally got the keys leah carried you bridal style over the threshhold as you smacked her shoulder with a laugh, dropping you down as the two of you ran around the eerily empty house playing tag, giggling like giddy school children.

in typical fashion the very first night you moved in you'd had the absolute bare minimum, the moving truck with the majority of your belongings not due till the next day.

so you'd eaten pizza on the floor and slept in the living room on a cheap blow up mattress, spending the evening playing card games using the pizza boxes as a makeshift table while you watched a movie on leah's laptop.

not the most conventionally convenient first night and with the mattress all but deflating by the time you woke up it was far from the greatest nights sleep, and yet it was perfect.

"hello gorgeous. shall we call it a day?" leah murmured gently, hugging you from behind and softly kissing your neck as you busied yourself unpacking boxes in your bedroom, closing a drawer with a tired sigh and a nod.

"sorry for being cranky." you mumbled into her shoulder, turning around and hugging her properly. "sorry for being so stubborn." leah mumbled into your hair as she placed a kiss there tenderly making you smile.

"we've still not done any groceries!" you groaned in realization of the one errand you'd both neglected to remember today, so busy in your hurrying about from one place to another you realised neither of you had really eaten a proper meal all day.

"well we've got plates and glasses and cutlery now. so even a takeout can be eaten like a proper fancy meal!" leah joked, pecking your lips a few times before letting you go and pulling out her phone, collapsing on the bed.

you curled up into her side, head resting on her shoulder as the two of you browsed your options, leah claiming she didn't mind what you ordered but here she was shooting down almost all your suggestions.

"oh my god leah you choose then!" you laughed, sitting up with a shake of your head as the blonde grabbed the back of your jumper and pulled you back down into her hold. "i don't mind!" the girl assured yet again as you rolled your eyes.

"you say this and yet every single thing i've suggested you can come up with a reason not to order it. so what do you really want love?" your hands grabbed her face gently, thumbs stroking her sharp jawline with an amused smile.

"pizza." leah admitted with a sheepish grin and a pout. "we had pizza two days ago!" you smiled with a shake of your head. "i love pizza and pizza loves me." was all your girlfriend answered with a shrug before attacking your face with kisses, only pulling away to go and order your usual.

"-no a bit more to the left." you hummed, arms crossed as leahs shook, holding up the heavy photo frame which was filled with pictures of the two of you, the thing easily weighed half of her and it was huge.

"baby. with the most peace and love if you don't hurry up and decide where i'm mounting this i am going to shove it up your-" leah started and forced a smile, straining to hold it up as you again directed her to shuffle right then left, then up then down.

"wait stop right there! perfect." you smiled happily with a clap, ignoring her recent comment as leah sighed in relief, placing it carefully down against the wall on the floor as she moved to grab the hooks and nails.

"make sure its straight when you nail it in!" you chatsized, taking a seat on your lounge which had finally arrived, burying your head in your phone. "i'll nail you in a fucking minute." leah mumbled under her breath, you too busy browsing online for some prints for your guest room to hear her.

"baby its crooked." you moaned as leah finally finished, the defenders head slumping against the wall in defeat. "only joking." you grinned, kissing her cheek and smacking her bum as you sauntered past. "i could just...." leah made a strangling motion with her hands behind your back.

"i could hide a body, i've watched enough crime podcasts." the blonde continued under her breath as she packed up her tools. "are you plotting my murder again?" you smiled knowingly, tilting your head as you leaned in the door frame watching her.

"yes i am." leah rolled her eyes, snatching your drink from your hand and chugging it as your jaw dropped. "leah!" you smacked her chest as she sighed happily, handing you back the empty glass and sloppily kissing your cheek in thanks.

"i'd not say no to a sandwich either love." the captain grinned with a wink before disappearing into your bedroom to finish building the side tables she'd started earlier before you demanded her assistance with several other things.

"what am i now then? your little house wife?" you scoffed, following after her, the taller girl smiling cheekily as she swung a hammer around in her hand. "yeah. yeah you are!" leah nodded before squatting down to continue building.

"put a ring on it and maybe we'll talk titles then williamson." you teased, the older girls cheeks flushing red as you smiled and left the room. changing into an old pair of overalls you tied your hair up and grabbed a can of paint, moving into the spare room to continue where you'd left off yesterday.

you'd finished another entire wall by the time leah appeared, having finished the side tables and your tv stand after much swearing and yelling which you'd left her to, not wanting to push her any further despite how easy you knew it would be to wind the blonde up.

"sweets do you know where-" you didn't hear the rest of her sentence, too fixated on the tool belt strapped around her waist, her shorts rolled up and only in her sports bra as of course a heat wave had decided to roll in over the weekend.

"baby? did you hear me?" leah asked somewhat impatiently, tapping her foot and raising an eyebrow as you shook your head wordlessly, eyes roaming her body hungrily. "how do you not know-" leah started though she stopped when she realised what it was which was distracting you.

"now see i wouldn't have pegged you for a girl with a little handyman fantasy." leah smiled cockily, sauntering over as your arms hung limp by your sides. "that makes two of us. but you in a tool belt...baby it's doing things to me." you admitted with a nod of approval.

"would you like me to do things to you my girl?" leah breathed out with a grin, hands grabbing at your hips as her eyes flittered down to lock with yours. no more words needed the taller girl connected your lips.

unlike normal she didn't rush anything, the kiss was slow and sensual and she poured into it every ounce of affection and love she held for you, though as time passed and you seperated momentarily to catch your breath it grew messier.

your head span, feeling as though it was filled with cotton, in a drunken haze off the taste of leahs lips on yours and the way her tongue moved around in your mouth, teeth nipping teasingly at your bottom lip as she suddenly pushed you into the wall causing you to let out a small moan.

however it only took a millisecond before your brain switched back on and you shoved her away, leahs eyebrows creasing into a frown as you gasped, tensing as you felt something wet drip down the back of your neck.

leah opened her mouth to ask what happened but as you took a step forward the blonde swiftly covered her smile with her hand, biting down on her lip with a guilty look sent your way.

for behind you on the still dripping wet wall of paint was now a you sized smudge, the eggshell white now caked in your hair, neck and all down the back of you.

"we could tell people a bird took a shit on you? that's quite good luck!" leah joked, a pause passing between the two of you as your eyes narrowed and she took off, you hastily chasing after her.

you caught her in the kitchen, eyes locked as you circled one another around the island bench in the middle. "now baby really that was your fault." leah shook her head as you scoffed and lunged at her but she easily side stepped you, backing away out of the room as you advanced on her.

"come give me a hug then babe." you smiled, taking further steps toward her as leah looked around for an escape, darting past you and out the back door as you chased after her.

much faster than your girlfriend would ever give you credit for you tackled her onto the grass as she paused to try and evaluate her next steps, landing on top of her with a grin.

"you look a bit pale darling." you teased, grabbing your paintbrush you'd stashed from your back pocket, gently smacking her cheeks with it and painting her face as leah squealed but kept her mouth shut as to not invite any of the paint into it.

you rolled off of her and laid on your back, clutching at your stomach as your laughter echoed around the backyard. though now it was your turn to squeal as leah sat on top of you, wiping her face all over your overalls as you tried to push her off but she swiftly pinned your wrists to the grass.

"no leah its on your lips!" you laughed as the blonde dipped her head to kiss you. "i know!" she scowled playfully, gently kissing both your cheeks and your forehead leaving marks all over your own face.

"shower time?" leah grinned, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively and letting go of your hands as you hit her on the shoulder. "only if you keep the tool belt on." you smirked now making her throw her head back in laughter.

"you know baby i think that can be arranged."

[anjalikestodraw]

The matching sneakers (2025)

Both tiny ficlet and fanart inspired by Unraveled by @beauttifullife

As soon as Rio had closed the front door behind her she could hear the excited pitter patter of little feet. She had barely taken off her shoes as Nicky skidded around the corner smiling at her.

"Rio, you're home!" "Hey buddy!" she replied and placed her keys in the usual place on the sideboard in the hall. "I have a surprise for you!" he blurted out jumping up and down.

"A surprise?" Rio replied smiling at him with a raised brow.

"Yes, yes, yes!" he said bursting with excitement.

"Let her come in first, Nicky!" Agatha chided behind her son.

Agatha had come into the hall and was now standing behind Nicky an expression on her face somewhere between amusement and slight worry making Rio even more intrigued. She caught Agatha's eyes with a questioning look for a moment but Agatha only pressed her lips together quickly looking back at Nicky.

What was going on? Why would Agatha be avoiding her gaze? Looking back down at Nicky, she noticed that he had his hands behind his back, clearly holding something out of view.

"Alright, buddy," she said smiling cautiously, "so what's this big surprise?" Nicky, still bouncing up and down, slowly moved the item from behind his back and held it up with a big flourish: a nondescript shoe box. Rio narrowed her eyes and tilted her head in confusion.

"They finally came!" he screamed as if that was supposed to mean something to Rio.

Nicky gave her a moment to react but when Rio still stood with a puzzled look on her face he opened the box to reveal a pair of white sneakers.

"Your shoes!" he explained, "with velcro, so you don't have to worry about falling over your laces anymore. And look!"

Standing on one leg he raised his other and held up his foot for her to see an identical sneaker just a few sizes smaller. He excitedly wriggled his foot nearly losing his balance.

"And mine are exactly the same. Now we can match!"

Putting his foot down again he shoved the shoe box into her arms the biggest smile on his face.

Momentarily lost for words, Rio took the shoe box staring at its contents, two brand new white sneakers lay in it, velcro fastenings and all. Returning her attention to Nicky who was eagerly awaiting her reaction, a warm smile crept onto her face.

"Oh wow! That's ..." she took one shoe out of the box looking at it, "...amazing!"

"Right? We'll look so cool!" Nicky agreed nodding eagerly.

She remembered only too well when the sneakers had come up, when she had returned from hospital and Agatha had to soften the story of how she had ended up all bruised and battered. She remembered his real concern and care for her. She also remembered how Agatha had suggested that Nicky could get her velcro shoes. Glancing up at the woman Rio let out a steadying breathe. Agatha was clearly holding back a laugh now, her lips pressed together in a thin line one hand on her chin as she watched the scene. Gingerly she looked up at Rio a smirk playing on her face. Agatha was enjoying this way too much. Rio stuck her tongue in her cheek shaking her head ever so slightly, which earned her a slight chuckle form Agatha.

Nicky seemingly oblivious to their little exchange pulled on Rio’s arm.

“Don’t you want to try them on?”

“Oh yes, we have to make sure they fit, don’t we?” Agatha chimed in.

Rio shot her another look but quickly looked back down at Nicky. He was beaming from ear to ear jumping from one foot to the other barely able to contain his excitement. And Rio couldn’t help it, she felt herself smile broader his joy clearly being infectious. Yes the shoes would have probably not been her first choice but apart from the velcro they weren't that different to her usual comfy sneakers. Looking between the sneakers and Nicky a warmth spread in her, and she felt oddly proud. He wanted to match with her, he thought they would look cool together. And it clearly made him so happy, and if there was one thing she had realised by now, she would do anything to make this little boy happy.

“Ok! Let’s try them, shall we?” Rio said and ruffled his hair.

“And then we can go to the park!” Nicky added clapping his small hands.

He expectedly looked back at Agatha waiting for her confirmation.

“Okaay, but we’ll take some healthy snacks! You’re not having ice cream for lunch again!” Agatha said a warning finger raised. “I’ll pack us all something while you try on your shoes.”

Looking back at Rio she mouthed a silent not very convincing Sorry! and vanished towards the kitchen.

Without any hesitation Rio handed the shoe box back to Nicky and sat down on the floor holding one hand out for the first shoe. Nicky took it from the box and passed it to her ceremoniously. Pulling back the velcro strips with a loud noise she slid her foot inside. They fit perfectly, of course they did. Agatha would have never gotten her shoe size wrong. Rio held out her other hand and received the second shoe from Nicky. Once both shoes were securely on, she got up and shifted her weight from side to side.

“They look great!” Nicky said mimicking her movements.

And Rio had to agree. She loved putting on pristine new white sneakers, untouched by New York’s dirty streets or busy rush hour on the metro, and these were practically sparkling compared to her worn out old sneakers in the cupboard. And they were comfy. Smiling down at Nicky she realised that they were both dressed in jeans and a light shirt.

“One more thing,” she said and crouched down in front of him. “We need to tuck in your t-shirt.”

Realising what Rio meant Nicky quickly tried to stuff his t-shirt into his trousers but struggled slightly in his excitement. Rio helped him and stepped back looking at the result for a moment.

“Perfect!” She concluded reaching for his hand. “Come on let’s show your Mom!”

She didn’t have to tell Nicky twice. Excitedly he pulled her through to the kitchen were Agatha had just finished packing some snacks and sandwiches to take with them.

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!”

Rio turned slightly putting her back against Nicky balancing playfully on one leg while holding out the other. Nicky quickly mirrored her, putting his hands in his pockets trying to put on a cool face.

Agatha looked at them for a moment smiling softly. And there it was, the look Rio loved so much. The look that made her heart flip ever so slightly. Yes, Agatha was having her fun with this little shoe prank but Rio knew that she felt the same warmth as her when it came to Nicky, and the smile spreading on Agatha’s lip wasn’t cocky anymore, it was warm and soft and full of love. Smiling back at Agatha Rio found her eyes for a moment. She would wear silly sneakers every day - hell, she would wear a duck costume for Nicky, for this family - if it meant she could make them both happy. And in this moment it seemed like Agatha could see that, too.

“Alright,” Agatha said clapping her hands together shaking her head slightly as if she was trying to focus herself.

 “Nicky, how about you get your bag from your room. And then we can go.”

Nicky nodded and ran down the hall towards his room. Agatha packed the little lunch boxes into a shoulder bag busying herself without looking back at Rio. Smiling to herself Rio rounded the kitchen island and encircled Agatha’s waist from behind halting her movements.

“You really enjoyed that.” She whispered into Agatha’s ear, pulling her closer against her.

“Maybe.” Agatha said a playful tone in her voice.

“Well I’m glad I can still entertain you.” Rio replied nuzzling her face into the side of Agatha’s neck.

Wriggling slightly Agatha turned around to face Rio. Draping her arms around her neck her face was suddenly more serious.

“You don’t have to wear them if you don’t want to.” She said searching Rio’s face. “I kind of just sprung them on you. Once the idea was in his mind, he wouldn’t let it go, so I just ordered them but if you don’t feel comfortable… we can always say they give you blisters.”

Rio raised an eyebrow at Agatha savouring her uncertainty for a moment. She liked to see Agatha squirm every once in a while.

“Or we could just conveniently …lose them.” Agatha suggested.

“As if Nicky would believe that. And anyway, it would break his heart.”

Agatha's face fell slightly, a tinge of guilt written in her features.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to put you in this… position. Honestly, if you hate them I could probably talk to him. Explain-“

Rio reached up and put a finger on Agatha’s lips shutting her up.

“Agatha” she said smiling softly while running her thumb over her lips. “I love Nicky. I love seeing him this happy. I’d do anything for him. And I actually kind of like them, they are really comfy.”

She looked down at her new sneakers and then back up at Agatha.

“And besides, it won’t be long before Nicky is too old for fun things like this, and he’ll just think we’re embarrassing. I prefer this.”

Rio froze realising what she had just said. Looking at Agatha she hoped she hadn’t overstepped a line.

Yes, they had been dating for a while now, but they weren’t even living together yet, and here she was talking about their potential future with a snarky teenage Nicky. Of course they had talked future plans, but only normal future plans, like whether they should go on a little holiday with Nicky during his autumn break, or what they might do for Christmas this year. But this was a future some years away, and while Rio had definitely thought about these things, she didn’t want to scare Agatha by going too fast.

But Agatha didn’t pull away, instead she just smiled at Rio.

“Oh, I bet you’ll always be his favourite.” She said scrunching her nose slightly pulling Rio closer.

Relaxing into Agatha’s arms Rio beamed at her and closed the distance between them planting a soft kiss on her lips.

“As long as I’ll always stay your favourite, too” she murmured against Agatha’s lips.

Agatha didn’t reply but instead pulled Rio closer kissing her again, this time more eagerly than before. Tightening her arms around Agatha’s hips Rio smiled into their kiss, feeling the warmth of Agatha’s body against her, and she knew exactly what her answer was.

[vilevenom]

This fic started out as a little 3K word ficlet, inspired by the smarmy little Hickory in a suit, drawn by the amazing @em-doods. It then turned into this 15K+ beast when we starting chatting about his other outfits.

Hope ya'll enjoy ❤️

Hold Me Tight, or Don't

Fandom: Dreamworks Trolls

Pairings: Gen, Hickory/John Dory

Summary:  Since leaving the troll tree, there was only one troll that John Dory kept unintentionally running into. Unfortunately, they weren't always exactly pleased to see each other.

Excerpt:

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

Link to fic on AO3

John hadn't really known where he was going when he'd wound up stumbling upon a grand building situated at the edge of the funk troll territories. He'd just been exploring idly, hoping he was heading in the right direction to get to where he'd been told the country trolls lived, so finding such an especially tall and extravagant building in what was basically the middle of nowhere had been startling, but intriguing. It rose up towards the sky, higher than any troll made structure he'd seen before, and its glass and metal walls glistened brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. The huge neon sign declaring "Jazzy's" was also something John hadn't seen before, so much like a moth to a flame, he wandered towards the building curiously.

"Woah there," an older, rather gruff looking country troll grunted at John Dory as he approached the front doors of the building, holding a hand out to stop him before he could go inside. He halted in his tracks, slightly on edge as the larger troll looked him up and down. "Haven't seen you around here before. What's yer name an' tribe?"

"Uh…it's John Dory. And I don't know what you mean by 'tribe'?" John offered, absently fixing how his goggles sat on his head as the other troll frown at him. He'd been to some of the other kingdoms. Was that what this troll was talking about?

"Y'know, yer tribe. Your genre? We don't take kindly to certain kinds of trolls 'round here," the troll practically snarled at John, rising up from his seat, as John took a step back and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey now, Axel," a well dressed purple troll came waltzing out the double doors of the building, a lazy grin on her face. She was wearing a loose, flowing red robe that practically hung off her frame, and wild blue hair seemingly floated around her face. "You tryin' to scare away fresh meat?"

"Meat?" John echoed quietly under his breath, suddenly very much wishing he hadn't even tried to approach this place.

"He won't tell me his tribe," the troll named Axel growled, still glaring down at John, only to deflate as this new troll placed her hand on his arm.

"You know that anyone who wasn't actually wanted around here would come up with a better lie than 'I don't know what you're talking about'," the blue haired troll said with a laugh, before turning a sharp eye towards John, who bristled slightly at the attention. "Besides…I'd say it's pretty obvious he's some kind of pop troll. Look at him, Axel. He's harmless." She chuckled and floated over to John, who swallowed thickly and suddenly wanted to be very far away from this place, but couldn't get his feet to move. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

"John Dory," John found himself answering before a thought could pass through his brain.

"What a peculiar name," she hummed, a placid little smile on her face. "My name's Jazzy, like it says on the building," she said, gesturing vaguely at the sign shining down on them, while stepping next to John and wrapping her arm around his shoulders, "And this is my casino. Have you got anything worth trading? Coins, you know?"

John frowned, but nodded a little, reaching into his hair to pull out a handful of assorted coins from the various areas he'd passed through on his travels so far. "Sorry, but…what's a casino?" John had a feeling he'd asked the wrong question when Jazzy's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across her face.

"Oh, well now!" she cooed, tugging John in close to her shoulder and pulling him along with her into the building, "Don't I have a treat for you!"

Jazzy steered him through the casino, and John quickly realized his earlier feelings of trepidation were probably well founded. He spotted some rock trolls who looked like they were about to rough up a couple of country trolls over a card game, a handful of trolls who just looked like they were on their last legs, and others who waltzed around in the most glamorous outfits John had ever seen. The whole place just had a general uneasy energy that John was not pleased to be in the middle of. Jazzy assured him that he was perfectly safe when she noticed that he was looking a bit on edge, though he had a feeling that she was lying through her teeth as she took the coins from his hand, spoke quietly to a troll behind a barred off counter, and handed him back some colorful plastic chips.

"Now…You know how to play cards, don't you?" Jazzy asked, steering John in yet another direction.

"Uh, yeah. Sure," John said with a small nod, grunting as he was pushed into a seat at a table with several other trolls already sat around it.

"Perfect! This is Lonesome Hold 'em. Real easy to learn. You get two cards that my dealer here will toss you," Jazzy gestured at a young looking techno troll sat at the top of the table, with a rather nasty looking rock troll stood just behind them, "Don't let anybody see them, alright? Then the dealer will flip over five cards, one at a time. You need to make a good poker hand out of those cards. Best hand wins. You've played poker before, haven't you?"

John nodded quickly, as he was garnering glares from the other trolls sitting around the table. He'd never been so happy about his grandmother having an addiction to five card Rummy as he was right now.

"Excellent! Now, you boys have fun!" Jazzy cheered, waving at the table before whisking off to somewhere else in the casino.

"Minimum bet is a tenner," the dealer said, nodding towards John, "The blue chip. You need to put one in to play."

"Oh! Right," John quickly tossed one of his chips into the pile on the table, offering a nervous smile to those around him, only to have glares returned to him.

The first few hands went rather abysmally, with John quickly losing a good handful of his chips as he figured out how the betting system worked, along with the tells of the other players. But, once he'd worked out the reactions for good and bad hands for each of the trolls sat around him, and what hands he should bet high on, he found himself starting to win. He could really see why his grandma had loved gambling so much; it was a thrill when you were winning.

Unfortunately, that did mean that the other trolls at the table were getting tired of losing. Some got up and were replaced by other trolls who wanted to test their luck against John. They would win one or two hands, until John figured out how they played, and he'd start winning again.

Luck truly seemed to be on his side, and he was beginning to think that perhaps this casino place wasn't so bad, right up until he showed up. A rather sleek looking green troll, with a smarmy little grin on his face, slicked back orange hair, and a sharp suit. He sat down across from John Dory at the table with a friendly little nod, though John immediately got a sense that this troll was not one to be trifled with. It was relatively obvious from the way he held himself that this was not his first time at the table, and John had a funny feeling that this troll thought he'd be an easy mark.

They played a few hands, with John losing the first couple as he got a feel for how this new troll played, until he began to win again. But then something seemed to shift, and the trolls playing style changed. Which was strange, since most trolls had a set way they played and superstitions they followed, and those were not something most gamblers would alter on a whim. It was something his grandmother had taught him when he was young, telling him that being able to pick up on tells and playing styles wasn't just good for cards, but something that would come in handy throughout his life. He already knew this would be one of those times.

A few more rounds passed, with the rest of the table clearing out except for John and the slick troll who offered a wide grin as John won another hand.

"My, my. Can't say I've ever seen someone pick up a game so quickly before," the slick troll hummed, drumming his fingers along the edge of the table.

"My grandma was real into cards," John offered, stacking his winnings up carefully in front of himself.

"Is that so? She must be quite the lady."

"She is."

The slick troll nodded, rocking back in his chair for a moment, before dropping the legs back onto the floor with a loud thud. "The name's Hickory. Figured I should be properly introduced to one of the first players to give me a run for my money."

"John," John stated bluntly, a little more aware of himself this time around, and not quite as willing to give him name freely.

"John? That's it? Pretty plain name for a troll such as yourself," Hickory said with a smirk, arching an eyebrow as they were dealt a fresh hand.

"What's that supposed to mean?" John asked, wrinkling his nose as he checked his cards.

"Oh, not much," Hickory said with a light laugh and a shrug, "You're just a real, hm…rugged looking troll. I figured you'd have a more interesting name."

John scowled as he tossed chips into the pot, shooting Hickory a glare. "It's John Dory. Happy?"

"Like the fish?" Hickory laughed, adding his own chips to the pot, "Well. That shouldn't surprise me."

John bristled, sitting up in his seat with a low growl. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Hickory shrugged, easy smirk on his face as he flipped over his cards. "I've got a straight. What about you?"

John blinked, not having noticed that the hand was even over. He flipped his own cards over. "Two pair."

"Looks like I win," Hickory hummed, scooping up his winnings. "Want to go again?" John scowled but nodded, tossing in his bet.

Hickory won a few more hands that way; riling John up to make him lose focus until the hand was over so he hadn't realized he was betting on garbage cards. But grandma Rosiepuff's voice rang in his head the third time he lost due to his own irritation, telling him to breath deep and calm down. He used to get riled up the same way when she'd beat him at Rummy when he was a little kid. She'd told him that if he didn't calm down, he'd never win, since anger would only ever lead to loss. Wise words that he should have listened to sooner, really. But that wasn't something he could focus on at the moment, with Hickory smirking at him infuriatingly across the table.

After taking a few deep breaths, John began to steadfastly ignore the barbs and jabs Hickory shot his way to try and get a rise out of him, and slowly he began to win again. As his pile of chip began to grow, Hickory's smirk began to fade, slowly being replaced by a scowl.

John lost track of time in the large, windowless room the poker table was in, so he wasn't sure how much time had passed before his pile of winnings was quite sizable and Hickory was down to a a small handful of chips. Enough, really, to get him through one or two hands more.

"I'd probably give up now," John said with a smirk, earning a sharp glare from Hickory, "I don't think your luck is going to drastically turn in one hand."

"You'd be surprised," Hickory snapped back, shoving his remaining chips into the pot as the cards were dealt, while John shook his head with a low chuckle.

But surprised John was. Hickory won the next hand. And the next. It didn't seem to matter what cards John was dealt, Hickory always had something better. Until, finally, John was down to his last few chips.

"I'd probably give up now," Hickory mocked, a cruel gin on his face as he flipped a chip between his fingers, "I don't think your luck is going to turn in one hand."

But Hickory made a fatal mistake as he flipped his chip in the air, causing his sleeve to shift just enough for John to spot a card tucked into it.

"You're cheating!" John shouted, slamming his hands onto the table and swiftly rising from his chair, causing it to fall behind him with a clatter.

"I… what?" Hickory choked, dropping the chip he'd been playing with, looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"I can see the cards up your sleeve!" John snapped, pointing at the offending sleeve, while the rock troll behind the dealer began to shift and move towards Hickory.

"I-what? No, I-" Hickory glanced between John and the rock troll, swallowing thickly as he slowly rose from his seat. He shifted on his feet, shooting John a glare that made the teal troll freeze where he stood. "I'll get you back for this," he growled, before tossing a handful of chips into the air, gaining the attention of several trolls in the vicinity. They began to swarm the table, half blocking the rock troll from getting to Hickory, who began to run from the table. John watched as he dodged other rock trolls scattered around the casino floor, before ultimately booking it out the doors.

John slowly picked his chair up from the floor and sat heavily into it as Jazzy swept over to him and several trolls dispersed the crowd that had gathered to scoop up the fallen chips.

"Thank you for alerting us to that crook, John Dory," Jazzy cooed, reaching across the table to pull what was left of the chips over to John while patting him on the shoulder. "These are all yours, sweetheart."

"Thanks," John muttered, quickly pocketing the chips. "I think I'm done playing, if you don't mind."

"Of course," Jazzy nodded slightly, "Would you like a room? We've got lots upstairs that are open."

"I-No thank you, ma'am," John said, offering her a strained smile as he rose from his seat. "I think this was a bit more excitement than I was really prepared for. I should get going."

Jazzy made a face at him, but ultimately nodded. "All right. You can exchange your chips at the cashier cage," she said, gesturing towards the barred off counter she'd gotten his chips from earlier. "Be mindful of which coins you ask for. Some will cost more chips than others," she added. With that she turned to the trolls that had followed her to the table, leaving John to his own devices. Quickly he scurried to the cashier cage, exchanging his chips for country troll coins, since that was where he'd been planning on going before he'd found this place, and headed out the doors.

He didn't mange to get too far from the lavish building, before he found himself being tackled face first into the ground and sat on by none other than Hickory, though he looked distinctly more disheveled than he had inside the casino.

"Not very wise to be heading out all on your own after pissing someone off during poker," Hickory hissed, digging his knee into John's back, making the teal troll wheeze.

"M-maybe you shouldn't've cheated then," John gasped out, wriggling beneath Hickory to try and get his arms free.

"Maybe you should've minded your own damn business," Hickory growled, grabbing at John's wrists to pin them against his back, wrenching his shoulders in the process and making John yowl in pain. "I've been working that place for months, and then you come along," Hickory grunted, his weight shifting against John's back as the teal troll kicked his legs up to try and dislodge his attacker, "and ruin everything."

"Again," John wheezed, Hickory's weight shifting just enough that he could roll onto his side, dislodging the grifter entirely from his back, "Maybe you shouldn't have cheated!" He quickly scrambled to his feet, heaving for air as he rolled his now sore shoulders. "It's not my fault you decided to do something stupid and got too cocky while doing it."

Hickory didn't even respond to John Dory this time, simply letting out an enraged bellow as he ran at the teal troll. He tried to tackle John again, but this time he was ready, quickly side stepping the grifter while swinging his arm down into his back, causing Hickory to stumble and fall with a shout as his momentum worked against him.

"Look, I don't want to fight you," John said quickly as Hickory pushed himself up, turning to John with a scowl.

"No. You don't," Hickory snarled, raking his hair out of his face and shifting as though he was going to run at John again, only to freeze at the sound of his name being shouted from off in the distance. He groaned, then spat at the ground near John's feet, making the teal troll recoil slightly. "You're lucky," Hickory snapped, straightening up and fixing his rumpled jacket. He then turned on his heel and dashed off into the underbrush, leaving a rather bewildered John Dory behind.

Time passed, and soon John had mostly forgotten about the odd troll who'd tried to beat him up outside the casino. However, he most certainly avoided the area where he'd come across the opulent building in the first place. Although he'd found Lonesome Hold 'em somewhat fun, he didn't particularly fancy getting caught up in whatever was going on inside that building. He had enough worries in regards to keeping himself alive in the wilderness, he didn't need to unnecessarily add to them by getting into trouble with the trolls he'd seen hanging out in there.

After a couple of years of roaming around and through the country and funk kingdoms, he found himself coming across the rock troll territories. When he had first started exploring the different areas the various genres called home, he hadn't wanted to try traversing through the volcano ridden territories of the rock trolls, especially not after hearing the stories that the other nations would mutter about the rambunctious and rowdy kingdom. But, now that he was a bit older, and had his sweet Rhonda at his side (who was nearly as tall as he was already, so he was fairly certain most other trolls would leave him alone if she was with him), he felt more at ease about crossing into and exploring the rough terrain.

Happily, John was quick to note that what the other trolls had said about the rock trolls seemed to be untrue. As he reached what he'd been told was Volcano Rock City, the main settlement of the territory, he was approached by a grinning red troll, who thrust a piece of paper into his hands, declaring an invite to a party.

"Hey, man! Wicked critter. You should, like, totally come to this party that's gonna be a total rager later," they said with a laugh, before trundling off to hand his flyers out to other trolls nearby. John watched them walk away with a confused little smile, before looking over the paper he'd been handed.

"Huh," John offered the flyer to Rhonda, who sniffed at it and churred, earning a chuckle from John. "What do you think, girl? Wanna go check out a rock troll party? It might be fun." Rhonda simply growled in an excited manner, her back end wiggling as John scratched at the back of her head. "Yeah, okay. It couldn't hurt to check it out."

John would later come to regret saying that.

He arrived to the party as it seemed to be getting into full swing, with music blaring from huge speakers next to a stage where a band was playing, and trolls milled about in nearly every available inch of space. Some were dancing near the stage, while others were trying to talk over the music, while still others gorged themselves on the swathes of snack foods that seemed to be floating around the party in random bags and bowls. It wasn't quite like the parties he'd attended when he was younger, but it was similar enough that he felt right at home. Rhonda, on the other hand, seemed to become somewhat skittish and agitated at all of the loud noise. John cooed at her to try and calm her down, but when that didn't work, he left her near the outer edges of the party, where there were fewer trolls, and the music was a little quieter. He promised he'd be back for her in a couple of hours, tops, before heading back into the crowd.

Admittedly, John's first taste of the rock genre was going pretty smoothly, in his opinion. One troll commented on his goggles, noting that they'd be cooler with spikes, while another told him that his fur lined jacket was 'sick', but it would look better in black. And the music, oh, the music. It was so different from anything else John had heard before, but something about it really struck a chord with him. He found himself head banging along with a group near the stage, and a rather gnarly looking blue troll showed him how to throw up 'devil horns' and 'rock out' appropriately. It was absolutely fantastic.

That was until a green troll with wildly curly orange and black hair appeared in front of him.

"John Dory," the troll shouted over the music with a rather unwelcoming grin.

"Uh, do I know you?" John asked, frowning slightly as he backed away from the troll as he stepped further into John's space.

"You sure do, fish boy," the troll snapped back, grabbing the front of John's jacket and yanking him close. John's eyes widened as he realized exactly who he was currently faced with.

"Hickory?!"

"Got it in one."

John made to pull away from Hickory, but the grifter's grip on his jacket was unyielding.

"I think it's about time I paid you back for the trouble you made for me, back at Jazzy's," Hickory said, grin widening at John's obvious struggle to get away from him.

"What are you even doing here?!" John asked, grabbing at Hickory's hand to try and pry his fingers from his jacket.

"None of your business," Hickory hissed, before turning his head and bellowing out, "MOSH PIT!"

John gasped as a rush of trolls started to crowd in and around where he and Hickory stood, jostling them roughly. John could feel Hickory's fingers loosening in his jacket, but the grifter's gaze snapped back to him quickly as he began to slip away.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting away so easy this time," Hickory snapped, using the commotion and rowdiness of the crowd around them as an excuse to toss John to the ground. He shouted loudly, grinning as the trolls around them echoed the noise, before he pounced on John as he tried to scramble away.

They tussled through the crowd, Hickory obviously enjoying himself as he continuously shoved John into trolls who took no mind of him as they elbowed him, kicked him, and generally battered him ruthlessly as they moshed to the music blasting from the stage. Finally, John managed to stumble his way out of the crowd and fell to his knees, very much worse for wear, and fairly confident he had bruises littering about 90% of his body. Hickory, meanwhile, strode out of the crowd with nary a scratch, obviously quite used to the nature of mosh pits, and knew how to get out of them relatively unscathed.

"It's someone's first day in the scene, isn't it?" Hickory mocked as John staggered to his feet, clutching at his rather sore ribs.

"It was going fine until you showed up," John growled back, glaring at the grifter, who simply laughed at him. He bristled as Hickory approached him casually, an easy swagger to the way he was walking telling John that this troll didn't have a doubt in the world that he could and would get away with whatever he wanted here.

"Go home, pop troll," Hickory seethed at John, before reeling his arm back and punching the teal troll squarely in the face.

John stumbled back, spots already forming in his vision as he raised his hand to the now throbbing bridge of his nose, while Hickory smirked cruelly at him. The last thing he registered was the sound of Rhonda 's bellow over the din of the party, and Hickory quickly disappearing into the surrounding crowd, before his world went dark.

When John awoke, Rhonda was hovering over him, a worried little coo leaving her as he blinked up at the late evening sky. Slowly, he sat up to find that she had dragged him from Volcano Rock City into what looked like a forest. There were no other trolls around, though in the distance he could see the massive volcano that stood in the center of the city they'd left behind. He sighed and gave Rhonda a grateful little pat as she nuzzled up against his side, while gingerly touching his very tender nose.

"Maybe we keep avoiding rock trolls, huh?" he asked Rhonda, who churred unhappily next to him. "Yeah. I think it's probably best if we don't go back there."

And avoid it he did. John spent the next couple of years exploring the Neverglade trail, rather than continue through the troll kingdoms. Although exploring other genres was fun, a break from other trolls was more than necessary, he figured. Especially after his last run in with Hickory, which had really soured his urge to meet new people. That wasn't to say he didn't run into other trolls and sentient creatures while out on the trails, of course. He met many interesting characters over the years who had plenty of stories to share with him. Which did eventually lead to him learning about the various and notorious bounty hunters that roamed around; one of whom was described quite similarly to Hickory. A rather nasty sounding yodeling troll, who was one half of a pair of brothers with quite the reputation. Hickory was apparently known for his disguises and charming trickery, gaining the trust of his targets and drawing them away to somewhere secluded, where his older brother would inevitably ensnare them in a trap.

According to the hiker who had casually mentioned all of this to John, the brothers had a staggering track record with very few, if any, misses on their hit list. Which just made John somewhat confused as to why Hickory had let him go not once, but twice. Though, he supposed, that might have something to do with the fact that their encounters had little to nothing to do with Hickory's 'work', and capturing John wouldn't exactly be profitable to the bounty hunters. He decided to simply be thankful that he was unlikely to see Hickory again, and moved on with his life.

Eventually, John did find himself back in the kingdoms, with Rhonda now just big enough for him to ride inside, so long distance travel was much easier. He figured the coast would be the best place to check out, since he'd heard techno trolls lived just offshore and were pretty chill, and Rhonda loved a good beach. What he wasn't expecting to find was a community of trolls, who claimed themselves to simply be 'surfer trolls', living near the seaside. Their music was an odd sort of mixture of pop and rock, but it was catchy and fun, and John couldn't help but find himself humming along to the melodies.

They were friendly, too, inviting John to join in their dances and offering to teach him how to surf. He happily agreed to the surfing lessons, pleased when Rhonda jumped into the water after him to swim alongside their surfboards, much to the delight of the other trolls in the water. Anytime John began to wobble on his board, Rhonda would surface just below him, throwing him off and into the water, earning laughs from everyone around. John was fairly certain she thought she was helping, so he couldn't exactly get mad at her for accidentally sabotaging his lessons.

After roughly the tenth time Rhonda dumped him into the drink, John decided it was probably best if he leave surfing to the surf trolls and just enjoy the beach. So, he dragged his soggy self out of the water and propped his borrowed board up in the sand, as the other trolls had shown him to do, and turned to watch Rhonda continue to frolic in the waves. As he turned, however, he spotted a relatively familiar looking green and orange troll that immediately had his hackles rising up. Although he looked slightly different, with dreadlocked curls and baggy beach clothes, he just knew the troll he was looking at was Hickory. After all, hadn't that hiker told him that Hickory disguised himself frequently? It would explain why each time John had run into him, he'd looked different. The bounty hunter was casually chatting with a couple of other trolls just down the beach from where he'd gotten out of the water, and John had no doubt that Hickory was here for a bounty on one of the surfer trolls.

He decided that, for now, it would probably be best if he stayed back and just watch the bounty hunter. He was relatively certain that Hickory knew he was here, since Rhonda was sort of hard to miss. However, he did wonder if Hickory even remembered her, since he was also rather certain that the bounty hunter would've approached him by now if he had any sort of inkling that John was nearby. After all, they weren't exactly on the best of terms.

So, he sat and watched, noticing how Hickory kept gravitating to one rather pretty pastel green troll in particular. She had wavy pink hair with flowers nestled throughout, and appeared to have a rather easy going attitude, along with an absolutely phenomenal singing voice. John wondered, briefly, if perhaps Hickory was simply pursuing her in some sort of romantic sense. However, that idea was quickly squashed when he happened to spot a smaller green and orange troll half hidden in the beach scrub not too far off from where Hickory and the girl were. Likely the infamous older brother, Dickory, he'd heard about. That had to mean they were there for a bounty, and based on Hickory practically sticking like glue to the girl, it was most likely her.

A slow smirk crept across John's face as he watched Hickory and the girl chat, an idea forming in his mind. Another miss on the yodelers otherwise near spotless track record would certainly put John Dory in an even better mood than he already was.

John drew himself up from his seat on the beach, whistling for Rhonda, who bound out of the water with an excited trill, drenching the trolls around her on the beach as she shook herself off. He grinned as her antics drew the attention of everyone on the beach, including Hickory and the mystery girl he was following. A satisfied little chuckle escaped John as he spotted the way Hickory's expression soured upon spotting him. He eagerly waved at the bounty hunter, which only served to confuse Hickory, as he frowned and tilted his head, watching with dawning horror on his face as John practically skipped across the beach, Rhonda hot on his heels, towards the two trolls he'd been keeping an eye on.

"Hey!" John chirped, slapping his hand down on Hickory's shoulder and giving it a not so gentle squeeze as he reached the two, "It's been a while, man! How've you been?"

"John Dory," Hickory feigned cheer through gritted teeth, adjusting the yellow sunglasses perched precariously on his nose, "It's goin' swell, bro. Been real chill. What's brought you out to the beach?"

"Oh, you know," John let Hickory go, waving his hand through the air, while Rhonda flopped down into the sand behind him, "Just adventuring. Been out on the Neverglade trail. Heard some really interesting stories while I was out there." He glanced over to the pastel troll who was observing the two with open curiosity on her face. "Oh, I'm so sorry," John said with a light laugh, "How rude of me. I'm John Dory. You are?" He offered the pastel troll his hand, earning a soft giggle from the girl.

"Aquata," the troll hummed, taking John's hand and shaking it gently, "It's, like, totally righteous to meet you. It's wild to meet someone who knew Reef from before he came to the beach. How long have you two, like, known each other?"

John shot Hickory an amused look, earning a sharp glare from the bounty hunter from behind Aquata's shoulder. "Oh, I've known 'Reef' here for a few years. Met him pretty shortly after I started adventuring. He's always been a real character." Aquata simply laughed at John's anecdote, while Hickory fumed just outside her line of sight. It was incredibly entertaining to John, to watch the way Hickory's face contorted at John's antics.

"That's so rad! Reef is always so quiet about his past," Aquata sighed, turning a lazy smile on the bounty hunter, who quickly plastered a calm little grin on his own face.

"It's 'cause none of it matters, man," Hickory hummed, stepping up next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, "The past is, like, unchangeable. Why bother dwelling on it?"

"Deep," John commented, barely able to keep a laugh from escaping him at the way Hickory's expression twitched, like he wanted to scowl at John but knew he couldn't. "But, y'know, the past sort of defines who we are, so it's kind of important."

"Wow! That's so true," Aquata said, patting at Hickory's hand on her shoulder. "Hey, why don't I go get us some drinks? And you two can, like, catch up for a minute?" She twirled easily away from Hickory's hold with a breathy laugh. "I'll be back in a sec!"

The two watched her sashay away, before Hickory turned a sharp glare on John Dory. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," John hissed back, hackles up. "I can only assume you're here to kidnap that poor girl."

Hickory scrunched up his nose, placing his hands on his hips. "Kidnap is a pretty strong word, fish boy."

"It's accurate though, isn't it? That's what you do. Kidnap trolls and deliver them to whoever pays you the most coin. I heard all about you and your brother," he nodded towards the tall grass along the far side of the beach where he knew Dickory was hiding, "while I was out on the Neverglade trail. You two have quite the reputation."

Hickory snarled quietly under his breath, before sucking in a deep breath and slowly letting it out. "All right, fish boy," Hickory grunted, "What do you want?"

"I want you to leave this beach and that poor girl alone. I doubt she's done anything especially nefarious that would justify you and your brother dragging her away from her home."

"I can't do that," Hickory groaned, pushing his sunglasses up to rub at his eyes, "My brother would not like that."

John arched an eyebrow, an idea striking him as he reaching back to gently pat at Rhonda, who lifted her head with a curious trill. "Would your brother prefer it if I let Rhonda eat you, instead?"

Hickory blinked, quickly taking a step back as he eyed the armadillo bus, who stared right back at him. "What?!"

"You heard me. You can either take off, and haul your brother along with you, or I'll let Rhonda swallow you. She's eaten a few bigger critters out on the trail, so I know a troll wouldn't be much of an issue," John said, as Rhonda rose to her feet behind him and shook herself clean of the sand that clung to her carapace. He watched as Hickory eyed the critter, his demeanor quickly becoming more nervous and agitated. Of course John wouldn't really let Rhonda eat Hickory, though he did know she could. He'd just get her to store the bounty hunter in the weird pocket dimension trunk she'd developed over the last few months and drop him off somewhere in the woods. Not that he needed to know that, of course.

"You wouldn't," Hickory said with a shake of his head, swallowing thickly as a slow grin spread across John's face.

"Are you really willing to test those waters?"

Hickory looked between Rhonda and John once more, his gaze fleetingly darting off in the direction his brother was hidden, before finally settling back on John. "Fine. Fine! It's not like this was a big job, anyway. Just some rich arschloch who wanted a private, captive singer. We'll leave."

"Great," John hummed, his grin turning into a genuine smile. Even after Hickory had beaten him up a few years back, he really couldn't say he held a grudge against the other troll. As a matter of fact, he was growing just a little bit fond of the only troll that kept circling back into his life. Messing with him periodically was starting to be a bit like a game he got to play every couple years. "You know, this little game of kitty critter and mouse we've incidentally been playing over the last few years has, weirdly, been kind of fun. I hope you don't mind that I won this round." He offered Hickory his hand, at which the bounty hunter stared in mild confusion. "C'mon, man. You can't tell me you've never shook someone's hand before."

"…Not usually right after they've threatened to have their pet eat me," Hickory scoffed, though he did tentatively take John's hand.

"First time for everything, I suppose," John laughed.

"I guess that's true," Hickory hummed thoughtfully, gaze focused on their hands until he pulled his away. "You are a much more surprising, and dare I say tenacious troll than I gave you credit for, John Dory."

John's grin brightened considerably, another joyful little laugh escaping him. "Thanks! I'll take that as a compliment."

Hickory simply snorted quietly at that, a slight smile on his own face as John chuckled.

"Looks like you two had an excellent catch up," Aquata said merrily as she came trotting up to them with three cups in hand. She then offered Hickory and John each a cup of what looked to be fruit punch.

"It was pretty good, I think," John offered, shooting Hickory a cheeky wink, to which the bounty hunter simply rolled his eyes.

"Like, yeah, man. Wicked good," Hickory added, easily slipping into his laid back surfer persona. "But, like, totally bummer news. Johnny here reminded me of some family business I, like, totally forgot about. I'm gonna have to take off. Sorry, Aquata."

"Oh," the pastel troll seemed to deflate a little, though an understanding smile settled on her lips. "That's a drag, but I get it. You gotta do what you gotta do."

"Yeah. Maybe I'll catch you on the flip side," Hickory offered, handing his cup to John so he could tug Aquata into a quick hug. He then gave John a short nod, before turning and walking off into the beach grass where Dickory was hiding.

"So lame," Aquata sighed, rolling her cup back and forth between her hands, "He was gonna, like, take me on a trip to see Vibe City."

"I'm sure he's just as sad as you are that he can't take you there anymore," John consoled the pastel troll with an understanding frown, though inwardly he was quite pleased to have completely thwarted the yodelers mission. As well as, perhaps, come to some sort of understanding with Hickory. Or, at the very least, gotten more on his good side. Somewhat.

John hung around the little beach community for a good few months, both because he quite enjoyed the energy of the trolls that made their home there, but also to ensure that Hickory and Dickory were not planning on suddenly reappearing. Once he was well and truly certainly that Aquata was in no danger of being spirited away, John decided it was time to move on. He debated on visiting Volcano Rock City again, but ultimately decided he had his fill of socializing for a while, and headed back to the Neverglades to explore the trails once again.

Another year or two on the trails passed him by, with John eventually coming to realize that he'd been gone from the troll tree for roughly ten years. Far longer than he'd ever planned on, but time he felt was well spent, learning about the world at large and also about himself. Working out and past all of the issues that he'd let get so intricately wrapped around him that he'd lost sight of who he really was. He hoped that the time that had passed was long enough that his brothers would perhaps even forgive his past actions, and be at least somewhat happy to see him again.

And so, John Dory gathered as many supplies as he could fit into Rhonda, before taking off towards Bergen Town. He had hoped, over the years, that he'd hear news from one of the kingdoms he visited that the pop trolls had relocated somewhere outside the tree. That they'd somehow managed to escaped their prison. Unfortunately, no one had apparently seen any signs of other pop trolls until John Dory had come waltzing through. It didn't exactly fill him with joy to go back to his child hood home, knowing that his family had gone through so many Trollstices without him, all while he'd been galivanting around the world. But his grandma had always made sure they had the best possible hiding spot. Especially after what had happened to their parents.

He was sure they were fine.

Or, at least, that had been what he'd thought, right up until he scaled the wall of Bergen Town and spotted the decaying remains of the troll tree. His heart plummeted.

"No…"

Rhonda made concerned little churring sounds from where John left her near the base of the wall as the teal troll fell to his knees, but he quickly turned to shush her and tell her he'd be back as soon as he could.

Quickly, and as quietly as he could, he made his way through the town, making sure to stick to roof tops and shadows to keep any wayward Bergens from spotting him. Soon enough, he landed on the shriveled grass that surrounded the tree, dread and guilt rapidly filling his chest as he took in the carnage around the base of it. There wasn't a single soul anywhere to be seen, with pods laying shattered on the ground, scattered pieces strewn everywhere, alongside long rotted wooden carvings of what John assumed were supposed to be trolls. He hurried to scale the tree and ran to his grandmother's pod, hoping for some sort of sign or indication that his remaining family had somehow gotten out of this damnable place.

John was at least somewhat relieved to find his grandmother's pod still hanging securely amongst the branches, though the front door was limply hanging open, brokering no illusion that anyone was still living there. Gingerly, John crept towards the pod, not even conscience of the fact that he was holding his breath as he crossed the threshold.

The pod was a mess. Whatever had shaken the other pods from the tree had caused the cozy looking furniture to fall over, while any picture frames that had previously been hung on the walls lay scattered across the floor, the protective glass shattered into sharp shards. The thick layer of dust settled over every surface brought to sharp focus that whatever had happened to the tree had happened a long time ago, which only served to make the guilt in John's chest grow until he felt like he just might throw up. He should have been there to protect his little brothers. To make sure that whatever had befallen the tree didn't claim his family among the casualties.

Slowly, John picked his way through the pod, making his way to the bedroom he'd once shared with Spruce. Upon entering the room, he found it barely changed since the night he'd left. The beds were neatly made, as their grandmother always insisted, their posters were, surprisingly, still tacked up to the walls with little pins, and although any possessions that had once been on shelves and the dressers were scattered across the floor, John couldn't help but feel like he'd just stepped back in time. Seeing nothing of note that could tell him what had happened, he then moved on to the slightly larger bedroom that his three youngest brothers had shared.

What he found shocked him slightly. Where he'd been expecting a bunk bed and crib, he found a single toddler bed, and instead of two small desks crammed into opposite corners, he just found one, pushed up against the wall. He frowned as he approached the desk, finding childish little drawings that, frankly, didn't look like anything any of his brothers would've drawn. At least, not while he'd been around. The drawings were rough, like the artist had been pushing down on the crayons too hard. Simple little words like 'RUN', 'HIDE', and 'NO' were featured rather frequently throughout the drawings, while little figures that John assumed were trolls were being scooped into the mouths of what appeared to be Bergens. The drawings were dark, and frankly more than a little graphic and disturbing, as some of the crudely drawn trolls were being crushed between the teeth of the Bergens.

John felt tears welling in his eyes as he flipped through the plethora of drawings, a broken little sob escaping him as he came to a drawing at the very bottom of the stack, obviously from before all of the other scribbles, with a happy little blue signature that read 'Branch' across the bottom corner. Only two trolls were depicted in the drawing, labeled as 'Grandma' and 'Me'. The way Branch had drawn himself lead John to believe the sketch was from well after the band had broken up. There were no other drawings on the table, nor any scattered across the floor that depicted any of his brothers. It made John's heart twist in his chest. What had happened to his baby brother? And where were his other brothers when it had happened?

It was as John turned to leave the bedroom and explore the rest of the pod for clues that his heart stopped in his chest and all of the air left his lungs. There, carved into the wall and door of the bed room were the words 'THEY ARE GOING TO EAT US'.

It felt like the world was tipping as John fell to his knees in front of the display of complete and utter paranoia and despair that stood boldly in front of him. It was most likely that Branch had been the one to take a knife to the wall, since the lack of any other beds in the room and the drawings indicated he was the only one to dwell inside. But what had happened to their Grandmother? There was no way she would have let Branch near the knives, let alone take one to the wall and door. And if any of his other brothers had been around, surely they would have stopped him.

John's head spun, heaving as he emptied his stomach onto the floor of the bedroom, gagging as his body was wracked with shivers and tears fell down his cheeks in a torrent. His family - they had to be dead. It made so much sense, now, why not a soul in any of the kingdoms he'd travelled through had seen hide nor hair of another pop troll, besides him.

He didn't know how long he drifted around the pod in a daze after that, collecting up everything that wasn't broken or moldy into as many bags as he could feasibly carry. He then stumbled out of the pod, considerably less careful than he had been on his way up. But that didn't really appear to matter, as most of the Bergens roaming around the streets didn't seem to be looking for trolls. John vaguely thought that perhaps it had been so long since the troll tree had died that they didn't think there were any trolls left to even bother looking for.

Somehow, John made it back to Rhonda without being spotted, although he could barely recall the trip through Bergen town. She cooed at him worriedly, and he managed to scrape together enough wherewithal to give her a pat and tell her to head back towards the Neverglades, before he climbed inside. Once inside, he reverently set the bags of memories he'd collected down, crawled into his bed, and buried himself under a blanket. The near constant flow of tears had finally stopped, though where sadness and despair had only just had a chokehold on him, empty numbness had begun to take over. He felt like someone had pried open his chest and scooped out his heart, leaving him bereft.

After a time, though he truthfully wasn't sure how much, John could feel Rhonda come to a stop. Slowly, he dragged himself from the huddle of blankets he'd been bundled under and stumbled to the door, dehydration and lack of food making his head swim slightly. He'd definitely been cooped up in Rhonda longer than he'd intended. Which meant that the poor girl had been going for far longer than John Dory had ever driven her before. He felt a pang of guilt in his chest for his negligent behavior, and tumbled out the door, forgetting just how high it really was. John fell face first into the dirt, earning a churr of despair from Rhonda as she turned to watch her caretaker push himself up onto his knees. She turned to nuzzle at him, which John quickly returned, raising his arms to give her his best approximation of a hug.

"I'm sorry, baby girl," John murmured, the emptiness he'd been wallowing in slowly ebbing away to allow sadness to creep back in as he felt tears well in his eyes once more. "I'm so sorry. I promise I won't hole myself up like that again, okay? You deserve so many treats for being such a trooper." He hiccupped, a sob following shortly after. "I gotta make sure to take care of you. You're all I have left."

And take care of her, he did. She was a little worse for wear after having run what John would later figure out was nearly three days straight without stopping. He cleaned her up and made sure she had as many snacks and treats as she could eat, and let her rest where she'd stopped in the middle of the Neverglades for a week straight. Once he felt that Rhonda was well rewarded for dealing with his breakdown, he steered her to the nearest town and filled as many cupboards as he could with fermented juices, nectars, and barley. Anything and everything that he could get his hands on that would allow him to temporarily forget about his family and the state of the tree, when he wasn't taking care of Rhonda. Because as much as he wanted to drown himself in alcohol to forget what he'd seen, she needed him to take care of her, and he vowed not to fail another soul that relied on him.

Months passed before Johns supplies began to run low enough that he needed to venture back into a town to stock back up. Still feeling less than social, he decided to stick to the outskirts of most settlements, and avoided the larger cities all together. Rhonda seemed to love meeting new trolls who gushed over her, though, so John would stop in the little towns for a few days at a time so she could get her fill of social interaction. Meanwhile, John would fill his cupboards with whatever alcohol the town had to offer, and drink himself stupid, before the two would spend the next couple of weeks roaming the country side again.

It was during one of these spans between towns that John and Rhonda came across a little band of nomadic folk trolls, near the border of the desert where the country trolls lived and the forest that separated the rock kingdom from the others. The group was rag tag at best, their patchwork tents endearing in the way they were cobbled together in a multitude of materials and colors, while nearly every troll looked like they had rolled around in a meadow, with twigs and flowers sticking out of their hair that John could see even from a distance. Rhonda seemed especially interested in them, so John brought her to a stop near their encampment, and decided it was about time that he try to fill his social interaction quota once again. He was doing his best to get back into the swing of talking with other trolls again, but so far it hadn't exactly gone well.

"Hey there," he called to the camp, waving his arm above his head while trying his best to feign a smile.

Truly, the very last thing he'd been expecting was for a troll near the center of the camp to perk up at the sound of his voice and call back a confused, "John Dory?"

"Uh," John said rather eloquently, suddenly wishing he'd showered at some point in the last few days. He probably looked a mess and smelled just as unpleasant. The troll in question strode across the camp, John's eyes slowly widening as he took in the scruffy orange hair and beard of the familiar green troll he couldn't seem to stop running into. He didn't want to call the bounty hunters name, unsure as to what he'd even be doing with such a group. Surely a folk troll wouldn't fetch him much coin?

"What in the world are you doing here?" Hickory asked as he finally made it to John, a small frown on his face.

"Exploring," John offered bluntly with a small shrug, "What about you?"

"Trying to get away from my brother," Hickory replied with a shrug of his own, "You reek."

"Haven't showered in a few days," John sniffed, tugging absently at the bottom of his jacket. "What're you going by?"

Hickory scrunched his nose up and tilted his head, reminding John of a confused cuddle pup. "My name?"

"Yeah, but," John leaned in to Hickory's space, the bounty hunter gagging quietly at his smell as he did, "Can I call you Hickory? Or are you going by 'Reef' again?"

Hickory blinked, then snorted a quiet laugh, nodding his head slightly. "Oh, yeah, right. You can call me Silas. But, how about you go and take a shower, and then I'll introduce you to some of the group? You smell like you slept in a pile of garbage."

"Yeah, alright," John said, turning on his heel to head back into Rhonda. He did not miss the mildly concerned look Hickory shot him at his short, somewhat stilted answer. However, he really couldn't bring himself to care that much. Although he'd grown to think fondly of the bounty hunter over the years, they didn't really know each other. His apparent concern was appreciated, but John didn't really feel like he'd earned it.

John showered quickly, then took a moment as he dripped dry inside Rhonda to clean up a little. When Hickory had said he smelled like he slept in garbage, he hadn't really been that far off. Piles of food and drink containers had stacked up over time, and several dishes had been languishing in the sink, growing mold. John filled the sink with soapy water to let the dishes soak, and tossed all of the trash into a couple of bags to take out the next time he went through a town. Finally, he opened all of Rhonda's windows to let her air out, since her cabin was starting to smell a bit musty. It was while propping open her front window that he overheard who he assumed was Hickory talking to his baby girl.

"You're a good girl, aren't you? Does John Dory take good care of you? You certainly look nice and healthy. Would you eat me? No, you wouldn't. Noooo. You're too sweet for that."

John snorted into his hand at the babying voice the other troll was using on Rhonda, though it was obviously winning her over as she churred happily and audibly licked someone.

"Ah! Ew…Uh, thank you. I think," John heard the other troll say, mild disgust dripping from his tone, prompting the teal troll to slip back inside to stifle his laughter and get dressed.

Once he felt he was at least mildly presentable, he hopped back outside, finding Hickory covered head to toe in Rhonda's glittery spit, confirming that it had, indeed, been the bounty hunter talking to her while John was cleaning up.

"Making friends?" John teased, nodding towards the sparkly troll with a crooked little grin.

Hickory snorted, brushing glitter from his shoulder. "Trying to. I think I succeeded? She didn't eat me, at the very least."

"She might be marking you as prey," John offered, though he knew she definitely wasn't. She only licked people he liked.

"Well, isn't that a comforting thought," Hickory laughed, reaching out to wrap an arm around John's shoulders, effectively half covering him in drool as well.

"I thought the point of me going to take a shower was to get clean? Now I'm covered in slobber and glitter," John scoffed, following along with Hickory as the other troll began to steer him towards the camp.

"The shower was more to make you smell better. And you do! So now you have to suffer my glittery fate with me."

"That's fair," John said with a quiet laugh. He blinked at the sound as it left him, fairly certain it was the first time he'd actually, properly laughed since he'd gone back to the tree. He felt a little squeeze in his chest as he glanced at Hickory, who had an easy going little smile on his face as he lead John to a small group of trolls loitering by the camp fire.

John barely paid attention as he was introduced to several of the folk trolls, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries on auto pilot. Finally, he was lead to a log set somewhat near the camp fire, just the right distance from everyone else meandering around the camp to be somewhat secluded. A bowl of stew was pushed into his hands as Hickory sat down next to him with a sigh.

"They seem friendly," John commented idly, before taking a sip of his stew and immediately perking up. "Wow! This is delicious."

"Thanks. I made it yesterday, so the flavor's gotten better. Wasn't as good then," Hickory said with an easy smile, "And, yeah. They're real nice. Took me in without asking a single question. I've been traveling with them for a few months now."

"Oh, yeah? And you promise you're not trying to snag one of these poor, unfortunate souls to sell to some high paying douchebag?"

Hickory sighed, swirling his stew idly in his bowl for a moment, before shaking his head. "I swear to you, I'm not. The last year or two of bounty hunting was just…It was getting to be too much. My brother was taking worse and worse jobs for us, and I was getting tired of the constant run around. I also realized one day that I really don't know who I am."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Every time you've met me, I've been someone different. In the early days I could at least still go by my own name here and there, but I don't think anyone but Dickory has called me 'Hickory' in years. I don't even know my own likes and dislikes at this point, having to change my personality to fit whatever persona my brothers come up with at the time. I wanted to figure out who I am, without Dickory breathing down my neck, or our job putting pressure on me."

John felt suddenly stricken at Hickory's response, memories of his own little brothers complaining about the parts he'd forced them to play flashing in his mind. The only one who'd never complained was Branch, but he was only a toddler, so that was to be expected. He had always just been happy to be included. Which then brought the realization to the forefront of his mind that Branch would only be fourteen this year. The same age as John had been when they'd started Brozone.

He hadn't even realized Hickory had continued talking until the sound of his voice suddenly stopped.

"…John?"

John startled slightly, his nearly untouched bowl of stew almost falling to the ground as he lifted his head. He blinked, feeling tears he hadn't registered catching on his eye lashes. "Sorry," he breathed, setting his bowl aside quickly and rubbing at his face. He took a couple of deep breaths, trying to ignore the way Hickory was looking at him. "I gotta…Sorry, I just remembered something," he floundered, yanking his goggles down over his eyes as he rose from his seat. He then quickly took off towards Rhonda, ignoring her worried trills as he ducked through her door.

Perhaps if he'd been paying more attention, he would've noticed Hickory following close behind as he went inside. Instead, he pulled open one of his cupboards, grabbed a stout bottle of the strongest liquor he'd managed to find in the last town they'd passed through, and began to unceremoniously chug it down.

"Woah there!"

The half empty bottle slipped from John's fingers as he jumped at the sound of Hickory's voice, mildly irritated with himself at being so easily startled twice in a row by the same troll in such a short amount of time. He turned to glare at Hickory, forgetting his goggles were obscuring half of his face. "What?!" he snapped, stooping to scoop the bottle off the floor and putting it back to his lips to finish off what was left.

"Look, I know we don't really know each other that well, but you have to understand that this is concerning behavior," Hickory stated, hesitantly reaching towards John, "You just suddenly ran off and started trying to drink yourself into oblivion. What happened?"

"None of your business," John hissed, finishing off the bottle and reaching for another. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that Hickory really didn't deserve his terse behavior, but all he wanted to do right now was forget.

"Hey, now," Hickory stepped forward and placed his hand over the top of the new bottle, frowning lightly at John, "You have every right to tell me to leave, but you've got to know that I'm worried. I've seen trolls do some awful things to themselves over the years, and drinking themselves to death isn't really that uncommon, or fun to watch. Believe it or not, you've been one of the only trolls I've managed to run into more than once over the years that didn't have anything to do with my work, so I've grown kind of partial to the idea of getting to run into you more. C'mon, John Dory. Talk to me."

John sniffed, tugging the bottle away from Hickory's hand to take a swig, though he didn't try to upend the bottle like he had the last one. After a moment he let out a slow breath, shoving his goggles back up into his hair to reveal his watery, red rimmed eyes. "You reminded me of my brother."

"And that made you need to drink an entire bottle of fermented nectar?" Hickory asked, taking a step back from John, now that he was less worried he was going to dump another bottle down his throat.

"Yeah. It did," John sighed, shortly followed by a sardonic little laugh. He gestured for Hickory to follow him over to the couch, flopping himself down onto it as he took another swig of his drink. He watched idly, tears slowly dripping down his cheeks, as Hickory gingerly settled himself down on the couch next to him. "My youngest brother would be fourteen now," he stated, as though it wasn't out of left field and a rather confusing thing to mention, given the situation.

"Good for him?" Hickory offered, shooting John a confused look.

John gave another hollow laugh, shaking his head as he sipped at his drink. "He's dead."

Hickory reeled back in surprise as if he'd been slapped, one hand going to his chest, while the other moved to hover in the air over John's shoulder. "Oh. I'm so sorry," he breathed, obviously not quite sure what to do with himself now.

"Yeah…I finally decided to go back home. It'd been ten years, y'know? I'd been running from my responsibilities for a long time. So I tried to go back, but…no one was there," John paused to swallow down more of his drink, the liquor just starting to make his head go a little bit fuzzy, "Not a single soul was anywhere. The tree I grew up in was rotting from the inside out, and our pod was in shambles. I thought, for just a minute, that maybe my family had escaped, or run away, but then I found-" he choked on tears, covering his mouth to stifle a sob.

"It's okay, John Dory," Hickory said softly, letting his hand settle on John's back to rub gentle little circles there, "Let it out."

A moment passed before John managed to suck air back into his lungs, coughing quietly as he struggled to get the next words out. "My youngest brother, he was only four when I left. I found drawings of his on a desk. They were so fucked up," he wheezed, tipping the bottle back into his mouth once again. He hiccupped and shook his head as he continued, "Drawings of trolls getting eaten. And then I found words carved into the wall. There's no way, if anyone was around, they'd let him do that. My baby brother had to have been left all alone, before he probably got eaten, too." Another broken sob ripped itself from his chest as he doubled over his knees, clinging to the bottle in his hands like his life depended on it. He barely even registered Hickory still rubbing at his back and murmuring quiet little reassurances at him. "I should've been there," he finally wailed, sitting up and turning a wild look on Hickory, who sat back in surprise, "If I'd been there, maybe I could've done something. Maybe we could've escaped together, and-and…I don't know." He slumped back down, the bottle slipping from his fingers, allowing him to bury his face in his hands.

A few minutes passed, before he finally registered the feeling of fingers carding through his hair. Slowly, he lifted his head to find Hickory giving him the most sympathetic look he could muster through his stupid scruffy beard, his fingers gently combing along John's scalp before slipping through his hair. John wiped at his face, sitting himself up and somewhat lamenting the loss of Hickory's fingers as the bounty hunter tucked his hands back into his lap.

"Feeling any better now?" Hickory asked quietly, watching as John pulled his goggles off his head and tossed them aside.

"Got a bit of a headache," John admitted, rubbing at his forehead.

"That'll happen when you drink around a bottle and a half of booze, then cry your eyes out, without eating," Hickory said with a sad little laugh, watching John intently.

"Yeah," John sighed, grabbing a random rag from the floor to blow his nose, ignoring the way Hickory scrunched his face up at the action.

"Have you been doing this a lot? Drinking yourself silly when you think about your brother?"

"Brothers," John corrected idly, tossing the rag towards the rough proximity of his garbage can, "I had four younger brothers."

"I'm sorry…but that doesn't answer my question."

John sighed, rubbing at his eyes, noting that his vision swam minutely at the action. Apparently he'd managed to drink a bit more than he'd thought. He grunted quietly, shifting to sit back on the couch and stare up at the ceiling. "For the last few months, yeah. I ran away from my family when they needed me most, and they all died before I could get the chance to make anything right. You can't blame me for not wanting to think about that. Booze helps."

Hickory shifted on the couch next to him, making a quiet humming sound. "I get wanting to drown your sorrows, I do. I've done it once or twice. But, I can tell you from experience, it'll only make things so much worse in the long run."

"Pretty sure you're younger than me," John muttered idly, tilting his head so he could watch the bounty hunter from the corner of his eye, "Shouldn't I be the one giving you sage advice?"

Hickory chuckled, combing his fingers through his wild, foliage filled locks, a few leaves cascading down to settle on John's couch. "Probably. Got any advice for someone currently running from their family?"

"Try giving them a chance," John sighed, reaching out to take Hickory's hand in his own. "You never know how much time you have left with them."

Hickory watched John with a pitying sort of expression for a moment, before giving a small nod. "Yeah, okay. I guess I can give my brother another shot."

John simply nodded, a sad smile on his face, before he tipped his head back and let his eyes slip shut. The two of them sat together on the couch with their hands entwined for quite a while, until someone came knocking on Rhonda's door looking for 'Silas'. Slowly, Hickory extracted his hand from John's and got up from the couch, the teal troll watching through half lidded eyes as he walked towards the door.

"I'll see you in the morning, John Dory," Hickory said as he got to the door, before disappearing through it.

John didn't stay until morning.

Once night fell, and all of the trolls in the camp were asleep, John crept through the tents until he found where Hickory was sleeping. As stealthily as he could, he tucked a small note under the edge of the bounty hunters pillow, simply stating 'Thanks for listening - JD', before sneaking off.

Back at Rhonda, he quietly urged her to move, leading her away from the camp, before climbing aboard and driving her away. As much as he appreciated Hickory offering an understanding ear, he didn't think he could really face him come morning. Or anytime soon, really. These burdens were his to bear, and it really wasn't fair of him to dump them on Hickory, who had his own issues to deal with.

And so, John spent the next several years roaming around anywhere and everywhere that Rhonda could go, trying to get a handle on his sorrow and work on being himself again, while also actively avoiding any green trolls with orange hair that he happened to spot. Something deep in his chest yearned to try and find Hickory again after that fateful evening spent in companionable silence, but he just couldn't bring himself to face the other troll until he could truthfully, and with his whole chest, say that he was doing okay again. And, perhaps then, they could actually start to properly get to know each other.

Everything seemed to finally be working out for John Dory, nearly ten years after discovering the troll tree in shambles. He managed to get himself sober, he was taking care of himself and Rhonda, and he was finally having fun travelling again. At least, he'd thought everything was going well, until one day while driving Rhonda through the funk troll territory and humming along to the radio, he suddenly felt like all of the joy was sucked out of him. He gasped at the jarring sensation and slammed on Rhonda's breaks, watching his hands on the wheel as they turned grey.

"What?" he murmured to himself, his heart jumping into his throat in a panic at the sight of his grey fur. He'd heard stories, when he was a child, about trolls turning grey, but he'd never actually seen it. He'd always chalked it up to being some sort of cautionary tale, especially after he'd fallen so far into the pits of despair all those years ago and had only ever dimmed in color.

He jumped from the drivers seat and hurried to look at himself in the bathroom mirror, finding what looked to be a ghost of himself staring back. He gingerly touched his face, feeling tears starting to well in his eyes, before he heard something on the radio. Someone declaring that the queen of pop had caused all trolls to lose their music. But that couldn't be right. All of the pop trolls were supposed to be dead.

But then something else came on the radio. Something that wasn't quite music, but had a bit of a beat to it. John all but ran to the radio to turn it up, listening as beat boxing, clapping and odd techno sounds soon changed to a single, clear voice singing a slow, but hopeful tune, which was shortly joined by a second. One that was distinctly older, but John could recognize any of his brothers singing voices.

"…Branch?"

John cranked up the radio even further and hopped back into the drivers seat, steering Rhonda towards where the radio station was broadcasting, all previous worries about his grey fur going out the window at the prospect of his baby brother being alive. He barely even registered when his colors came back, too focused on the prospect of seeing any of his family again.

It took longer than John would have liked to get to the rock troll kingdom. The drive typically took a handful of days, but with the right route and treats for Rhonda, he figured they could make it in roughly three. However, on the way, he found a rather startling note taped to his door. The signature said it was from Floyd, but it obviously wasn't, as his hand writing wasn't nearly so fancy. The note changed things, though. It made John realize that he'd wasted so much time wallowing in guilt ridden sorrow, when he could have been out looking for his brothers. And now, with the dire nature of Floyd's note, he'd have to put his plans to find Branch on hold until he figured out if his second youngest brother was truly in danger.

Mount Rageous was not a place John had ever explored before, given how much larger the inhabitants were in comparison to trolls. But he'd gone and found Floyd, trapped just like the note had said.

When breaking the bottle proved to be impossible, and Floyd brought up the perfect family harmony, John was hesitant. Not in saving his brother, of course, but to the idea of presenting the thing that shattered their family apart as the only way to rescue Floyd to their brothers. Not to mention, he still had no idea if Clay and Spruce were even alive, or where they might be if they were. But he agreed, and left Floyd to go and collect his brothers.

Now he really needed to find Branch.

Finding his baby brother had sent John's heart soaring to the moon. Getting him on board to help save Floyd brought him back down to earth. The itching feeling slowly crawling up his spine as they stood amongst a crowd of Bergens made him feel like crawling into a hole. But eventually, and with much cajoling from Poppy, Branch agreed and John steered Rhonda as quickly as he could away from Bergen Town and off in search of his remaining brothers.

Finding and convincing Spruce and Clay to join in their rescue mission had been tedious, but thankfully successful. John had his family back! All of his brothers were alive and well (for the most part). Sure, they'd fought, with John falling back into terrible old habits, almost breaking them apart yet again, but they were alive. Though he'd just about had a heart attack when Floyd nearly died in front of his eyes, even after they managed to pull off the perfect family harmony. But, somehow, they'd brought him back from the brink and John's heart hadn't felt so full in years, even despite the heart breaking news of his grandmothers death.

Eventually, his brothers did have to go back to their own lives. Reluctantly, after spending a few weeks in Pop Village (HOW had he never found it?!) while Floyd recovered from the worst of his injuries, John drove Bruce and Clay back to their respective homes. He then debated on staying out in the wilderness with Rhonda for a bit, before ultimately deciding that the best place he could be was in Pop Village, offering any help and support he could to his two youngest brothers.

Upon returning to Pop Village, he was surprised to find Hickory, of all trolls, chatting up with the Queen of Pop and his youngest brother. After the initial burst of joy he had at seeing the other troll after so long, knowing he could finally tell him how much their last talk had meant to him, he quickly became suspicious. Hickory was decked out in a cowboy hat and jeans. Certainly not what a yodeler would be wearing. The last time John had spotted the bounty hunter through a crowd a few years back, he'd been wearing lederhosen and a stupid little hat that John had immediately hated. It made John worry that Hickory had been dragged back into working with his brother, and that Branch or Poppy could be in danger. He hoped with every fiber of his being that that wasn't the case, but he had to be sure.

"Hickory!" John shouted as he jogged towards the trio. Unlike the last time John had approached the bounty hunter, he had no qualms in calling his name. If he was trying to trick the queen and his brother, he wanted that out in the open immediately. Even if it meant he'd have to save Hickory from the pop trolls, instead of the other way around.

Luckily, though, instead of panic or anger at his name being called, Hickory perked up and grinned widely upon seeing John approach. He lifted a hand in a wave, stepping forward eagerly as John came to a stop in front of them. "John Dory," Hickory said with a laugh, pulling the teal troll into a friendly hug, "If it ain't my fishy friend! It's been a dogs age."

John had to keep himself from melting into the hug, overjoyed that someone would be so happy to see him. The cold shoulders he'd received from his brothers had nearly broken his heart. Reluctantly, he pulled away from Hickory with an awkward laugh as Branch's voice asking, "Fishy friend?" caught his attention.

"Because he's named after a fish," Hickory offered, turning to Branch with a grin. "Call it a bit of a runnin' joke between us."

"I can't believe you know John Dory," Poppy chirped next to him, "What a small world! How did you two meet?"

It was Hickory's turn to look awkward, as John let a wicked grin split his face. "Hickory tried to fleece me at poker."

"Well," Hickory was quick to cut in, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully, "I feel like that's a bit of an oversimplification of what happened."

"Is it, though?" John snorted a laugh, enjoying the way Poppy giggled behind her hand at Hickory's obvious discomfort with how bluntly John described their first meeting. "As I recall, you were pretty confident that you'd be able to beat me. And then when you couldn't, you starting using cards tucked up your sleeve."

Hickory flushed, letting a stilted little cough escape him as he scuffed his heel on the ground. "I was just gettin' the hang of the whole gamblin' thing," he offered in way of explanation, but John wasn't having any of that.

"And the whole swindling thing, too, apparently," John added, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'm having a hard time believing that John, of all trolls, beat you at poker," Branch cut in with a snort, arching an eyebrow as he looked between the two.

"Grandma taught me Rummy before you were hatched," John said with a light laugh, reaching over to ruffle Branch's hair, much to the younger trolls chagrin, "I'm great at poker."

John couldn't help but notice the way Hickory was looking between him and Branch, seemingly completely bewildered at their interaction as his little brother shoved him away. John was tempted to let Hickory stew in his curiosity for a while, but was far too elated at being able to share his news with the other to bother trying to be coy. "He's my little brother," John said, realization dawning on Hickory's face, quickly followed by joy.

"That's fantastic!" Hickory crowed, yanking John into another hug, much to Poppy and Branch's blatant confusion, "I'm so happy for you!"

"Yeah," John laughed, squeezing Hickory back happily, before pulling away, "All of my brothers survived! My second youngest brother, Floyd, he's also in town right now. I just got back from taking the other two back home. They're all spread out, but they're alive."

"I, uhm, think it might be best if we let you two catch up for a bit?" Poppy interjected, leaning in towards where John and Hickory where practically huddled together.

"Oh! Excuse my manners, Miss Poppy," Hickory offered, sweeping his hat off his head and looking contrite, "That was mighty rude of me."

"Not at all," Poppy waved her hands in front of herself, smiling brightly, "I'm really happy to see you two reunite! You obviously have some catching up to do, so we'll just meet up with you again later, yeah?"

"That's mighty kind of ya," Hickory said, placing his hat back on his head, "I'll come an' find ya when we're done chattin'. How's that sound?"

"Sounds great," Poppy hummed, taking Branch's hand and tugging him away, even as he protested against leaving the two behind when he had questions, "Have fun!"

"We will," John called after them, waving until the royal couple were out of sight, before arching an eyebrow at Hickory. "Okay, spill. What's the cowboy get up for, and who are you after? I thought you were done with bounty hunting?"

Hickory blinked in mild surprise as John immediately launched into an interrogation, before chuckling quietly. "I am all done with huntin'," he sighed, wrapping an arm around John's shoulders and steering him towards the market, "Took a real long time, but I got out. I've got Poppy an' Branch to thank for that. In return, Miss Poppy asked that I visit Pop Village at least once a month to check in, an' make sure everythin' is still hunky dory. Mostly 'cause my brother wasn't too keen on me steppin' away again."

"So…you did find him again? After the folk trolls?" John asked, letting Hickory lead him to a set of table and chairs, outside a little cafe.

"Sure did," Hickory hummed, gesturing for John to wait as he trotted over to the counter and quickly placed an order. When he returned it was with two milkshakes in hand. He then sat across from John and slid one of the glasses across the table to him. "Picked up a real sweet tooth, hangin' out with Miss Poppy," he explained as John arched a perplexed eyebrow at the shake, "But, anyhow…yeah. After you vanished on me- thanks for the note, by the way- I kept to my word, an' went to go find Dickory. Didn't take too long, since apparently he'd been trackin' me. I told 'im I didn't wanna do huntin' no more, but he wasn't havin' any of that. Got real uppity with me, an' we had a pretty big fight. He apologized, but still didn't get out of huntin'. I spent the last nine or ten years bouncin' back an' forth like a yo-yo, tryin' to get out of the business. But then Queen Barb hired us to capture the Queen of Pop, an', well…here we are."

"So," John drew out the 'O' sound, his fingers curled absently around the cool glass of the milkshake, "That doesn't really explain why you're still in disguise."

Hickory let out a guffaw, shaking his head slightly. "Ain't no disguise. I spent a good bit of time with the country trolls, an' I finally figured out who 'Hickory' is. He ain't no bounty huntin' yodeler. He's a pretty laid back country troll, if I do say so myself. Which I do."

John felt a pleased little smile settle on his face as he reached across the table to place his hand over Hickory's. "I'm really happy you got to figure yourself out. And that you get to be yourself. And I'm sorry your brother never let you, before. Speaking as a bad older brother, myself, he never should've done that to you."

"I appreciate that," Hickory hummed, turning his hand over to give John's a gentle squeeze. "Now…tell me, where'd you run off to in the middle of the night, an' what've ya been up to since I last saw ya?"

John laughed heartily, drawing his hand away from Hickory to lean back in his chair. "I didn't really run off to anywhere in particular, honestly. I just didn't want to pile all of my baggage on top of what you were already dealing with. I just wound up back in the Neverglades. I sort of wished I'd stayed, though."

"Oh, yeah? Why's that? Picked up a taste for folk music?"

"No," John snorted, idly stirring his milkshake with his straw, "I should've stayed for you. I was only thinking about myself, but you probably could've used someone who actually knew who you were around, I'm sure. Plus, maybe then I could've helped you get away from bounty hunting sooner. Or, maybe-" John froze as Hickory reached across the table to flick him gently in the nose.

"Hey, now. Ain't no reason to go dwellin' on things we can't change," the ex-bounty hunter said with an easy smile.

John chuckled, tilting his head slightly with a smile of his own. "Yeah, but the past defines who we are. So, it's kind of important," he echoed his past self, causing Hickory to roll his eyes with a snort.

"That may be true, but what's really important are the decisions we make now. That way we can make sure that our future selves don't have no regrets about their past."

"You got so wise in your old age," John teased, propping his chin in his hand as he took a sip of his milkshake.

"You're one to talk, old man," Hickory shot back with a grin.

They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying their milkshakes, before an idea struck John and he reached across the table to flick Hickory in the nose, both for retaliation for earlier, and to catch the country trolls attention.

"May I help you?" Hickory laughed, rubbing at his nose.

"Yeah, actually. I was just thinking-"

"Don't hurt yerself."

"Shut up. I was thinking, if you come by Pop Village once a month to visit Poppy, where do you stay?"

Hickory frowned slightly, but shrugged. "Around. Usually someone's willin' to put me up for a night or two."

"Well, why don't you come stay with me?" John asked, drumming his fingers absently across the table. "Rhonda's even bigger than the last time you saw her. It'd be nice to actually get to know each other properly. And, y'know, see one another more frequently than every few years."

A slow smirk curled Hickory's lips as he steepled his hands in front of himself and leaned his chin on his fingers. "Why, John Dory," he hummed, "Are you asking me out on a standin' date?"

"What? No!" John sat back, nearly falling out of his chair in his haste, "I just thought it'd be nice! You can say no, if you think it'd be weird."

Hickory's expression softened as he dropped his hands back down to the table. "Never said I was opposed," he hummed, taking a sip of his milkshake, "I think that's a right fine idea. I usually come mid month, every month. It's when Miss Poppy has the most free time, in between all of the crazy holidays the pop trolls have."

"Great," John said, absently rubbing at one of his blatantly flushed cheeks before chugging down half his milkshake in one go. He let out a little breath as he set the glass down, glancing at Hickory who was simply watching him with a tender little smile. "It…it's a date, then."

For the next six months, Hickory arrived in Pop Village every month, just as he'd said he would, and spent the day with Poppy and Branch, catching up and gossiping about the goings on between Lonesome Flats and the village. He would then meander to where Rhonda parked at night, and spend the evening with John, swapping stories about anything and everything they had done in the years they hadn't seen each other, and generally getting to know one another. Frequently, Hickory would bring little gifts for John; simple little knickknacks or art he found and thought the teal troll would like, while John always made sure the food and snacks he had on hand for Hickory's visits were exclusively things the ex-bounty hunter declared were his favorites, or things he'd casually mentioned that he wanted to try. Both were always pleasantly surprised by the fact that the other had thought of them while they were apart.

And then one night, quite unexpectedly, Hickory slumped into John's lap while they'd been watching a movie, quiet little snores escaping him, and John felt his heart skip a beat in his chest. He'd never expected to develop feelings for the troll that had once punched him so hard that he passed out, but here he was, his face flushed the darkest teal it had ever been as he shakily let his fingers card through curly orange locks. He swallowed thickly, not letting a thought pass through his mind as he quietly whispered, barely audible above the movie, "I think I love you."

When the movie ended, Hickory woke with an undignified snort, earning a quiet laugh from John. "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah," Hickory grunted, sitting up and rubbing at his face, "Had a weird dream, though."

"Oh, yeah? Care to share?"

Hickory stretched his arms above his head, letting out a quiet groan, before turning to John with a curious little look. Hesitantly, he reached out and took John's hands in his own, brushing his thumbs gently over them. John simply watched him, slightly perplexed at the fact that Hickory was just staring at their hands, anxiety clearly growing in the ex-bounty hunter as his shoulders slowly started to creep up towards his ears and his expression began to scrunch up.

"Hey," John tried to soothe, tilting his head to try and catch Hickory's eye, "If it makes you uncomfortable, you don't have to tell me. I was just teasing."

"I know," Hickory was quick to reassure, lifting his gaze to meet John's eye, "I'm just pretty sure it wasn't really a dream. But, I can't be sure, an' I don't wanna freak you out."

John blinked, a tiny frown on his face, until it dawned on him what Hickory could be talking about. Slowly, he extracted his hands from Hickory's, ignoring the near inaudible noise of protest that left the ex-bounty hunter as he did it. Gently, and with mild trepidation, he cupped Hickory's face in his hands, doing his best to swallow down his nerves. "You can totally punch me, if this is out of line, okay?" he said, smiling crookedly at the way Hickory shook his head quickly at the offer. He then leaned forward and pressed his lips to Hickory's, taking mild satisfaction at the surprised, but pleased little sound the country troll made.

When John pulled away he licked his lips and quirked an eyebrow at Hickory, who looked a little dazed. "Was that…was that okay?" he asked, his thumb absently stroking along Hickory's cheek bone.

"Hooweee," was Hickory's only response for a minute, his gaze slightly unfocused as he lifted his hands to hold John's to his face. "Oh, uh…yeah. Yeah, that was great," he finally said, blinking to focus on John with a dopey little smile on his face. "I think I love you, too, by the way."

[the-mountain-flower]

Happy Day 1 of @crustables-fanart-week! Here's a little ficlet:

Day 1: Fall

I was shouting at him only a few minutes ago. I was angry at him, didn’t trust him, and for good reason.

The monster hunter didn’t seem to get the message. He’d asked if he’d hurt me. He dared to ask if how I was doing, after what he did. He’d seen right through my anger, and outright said how I was feeling like he could read my very soul.

I didn’t like that. Not one bit.

I didn’t want him there. As far as I knew, he was just another source of danger to the only people I ever cared for. I wasn’t going to give him any amount of trust, and I made sure he knew it. Apparently, even shouting in his face wasn’t enough to dissuade him.

When he fought the automaton, I could easily dismiss it as self-preservation. I didn’t like how he seemingly rushed in to try and save me, but it had attacked him first, even before attempting to grab me.

When it opened that door leading underground, the grinding noise of the ancient mechanics and putrid scent that rushed into the air around me startled me enough to start fighting again. It’s grip on my broken arm was strong, but no way was I going to let it drag me down to... wherever was down there!

I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d left me to my fate. I was used to fending for myself, and it had left him to bring me here. He had no reason to come after it.

Which might’ve been why I froze for just a second when that spear tore through its chest, shattering the glowing point at its center.

And I would’ve fallen. It still held my arm in its metal grip, too tight for me to remove with the limited time I had and diminished strength.

He surprised me again when he caught my wrist, stopping my descent despite the hunk of mechanical parts that had already fallen victim to gravity.

“Come on!” He said, like I would’ve needed persuading.

“Don’t!” I shouted back, “It’s still got my-”

I didn’t have time to understand what had happened until it was too late. Whatever Dainix had been using to hold us up must have failed, because my sentence was interrupted by a sudden, renewed pull by gravity assisted by the thing that had trapped my arm.

Both of us screamed as we fell. I only just heard the damning sound of the door closing behind us, cementing our fate as the ground swallowed us whole.

I didn’t understand it at the time. He could’ve left me to fall. He had every reason to, and no reason to try and help me. Instead, he’d subjected himself to wherever I found when I woke up.

Why did he do that?

Why did he fall with me?

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Remember to drink water, eat food, take your meds (if applicable), and get enough sleep. Love you all, and have a great [insert time here]! <3

[amhrosina]

matt would love this especially if frank and reader got it for him for a special occasion or just for fun!!

Spelling Out 'I Love You'

(Frank Castle x Reader x Matt Murdock)

Summary: It's Matt's birthday, and you and Frank make sure the day is extra special for him.

(Warnings: this is the fluffiest of all fluff pieces i've ever written, someone better be writing matt a healthy and happy relationship in dd born again!!!!!!!, i will RIOT if he has to be a sad boy for three seasons again!!!!)

A/N: Do y'all realize how hard it is to find pictures of frank where he's both smiling and not bruised up all over his face??? Nearly impossible!!! Anyways, I have no idea what those braille cookies say in the pictures, so I hope it's not something insane or rude lol enjoy this short ficlet!

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“Did you get it?”  

Frank’s excitement overwhelmed his ability to say hello, apparently. You scoffed, shoving the box into Frank’s hands before pulling your gloves, hat, and scarf off. It was unreasonably chilly for October in New York City, and you were already tired of the cold weather.  

“Of course, I got it,” you grumbled, pretending the adoring expression on Frank’s face wasn’t thawing your icy mood rather quickly. 

“And you checked the translation, right? It’s accurate?” He opened the lid, checking the contents of the box. 

“Yeah,” you replied, shrugging your coat off, “It’s accurate. I checked it myself before they added the final touches.” 

“It looks great.” Frank nodded, briefly meeting your gaze before turning back toward the brownies. “Do you think he’ll like it?” 

You stepped into Frank’s arms, snuggling into his warmth. His chin found its home on the top of your head as you closed your eyes and breathed in his scent.  

“I think he’ll love it.” You murmured, glancing toward the clock on the wall. “He’ll be home any minute now.” 

Sure enough, the familiar scuff of Matt’s shoes on the floor announced his arrival ten minutes later, and you and Frank struggled to act casual when he stepped into the kitchen.  

“Hey, birthday boy.” You smiled, grasping one of his outstretched hands. Frank quickly grabbed his other hand, gently pulling Matt to a halt in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Hey, old man.” Frank grinned, and Matt rolled his eyes. 

“You’re older than me, Frank.” Matt remarked, doing his best to not look too concerned at the sudden rush of affection from you and Frank. All three of you were touchy people, but it was usually in subtler ways. “What’s all this?” 

You and Frank couldn’t contain your excitement, pulling him toward the counter where his surprise was waiting to be opened. Frank gently set Matt’s hand down on the box. 

“Open it.” He encouraged, looking between your amused gaze and Matt’s unmoving hand. 

Matt slowly lifted the lid of the box, instantly overwhelmed with the sweet scent of chocolate and sugar. He smiled broadly, tapping the side of the box with the tips of his fingers. 

“You guys got me brownies?”  

“Yeah, but that’s not all.”  

You gently lifted his hand again and pushed it toward the top of the brownies, where little chocolate balls were arranged in an all too familiar pattern. Matt’s confused frown morphed into shock when he realized what you and Frank had done. He ran his fingers over the message a few times, gasping when he got to the end. He did it again, swallowing down the rush of emotions that were making their way up his throat. 

Written in braille, across his favorite type of brownies, was the message: 

“Happy Birthday. We love you.”  

“Oh.” He breathed, blinking away tears before they could be shed. “Oh, that’s lovely.” 

“Do you like it?” You asked, glancing toward Frank, who had a similar, hopeful expression on his face. 

Matt swallowed thickly, then swallowed again, nodding.  

“I love it.” He murmured as a shy smile overtook his face. “I’ve never gotten braille baked goods before.” 

“It was Frank’s idea.” 

“Careful, Frank.” Matt teased. “People might start to think you’ve gone soft.”  

Frank chuckled, cradling Matt’s head. “Let them.” He murmured before pressing his lips to Matt’s in a soft kiss.  

When they pulled away, noticeable tears had gathered under Matt’s eyes. You were quick to kiss them away. 

“We love you, Matty.” You breathed.  

Frank asked, “Do you want to open your presents now or after?” 

“After what?” Matt tilted his head. “Wait, there are more presents?” 

“You didn’t think this was it, did you?” You asked, smiling. 

“This is plenty.” Matt chuckled. “After what?” He asked again. 

Frank’s gaze turned molten, and you were sure Matt could feel the tension shifting in the air. “C’mon.” He pulled Matt toward the bedroom, tugging you along too. 

“There’s more?” He asked again to no one in particular. 

You giggled. “There’s so much more, Matty. You’re in for a long night. 

Tag List (1/2):

@xleiaorgana @mukbee @dilfs5678 @kokoterainonago666 @blackwidownat2814 @callsign-mama @minervadashwood @emiemiemiii @h4rrys @messymissy @mylifeispainandiloveit @mossexe @fightmilk @spikedhe4rt @fictional-hooman @merleisapartygod @babyslyth @legocity2 @quackson03 @certifiedhunter @deliciousfestsalad @dumb-fawkin-bitch @americaarse @thatgirljayy @hiyabyeyababy @theesexystallion @scoliobean @myguiltypleasures21 @dnxgma @evyiione @gpenguin666 @desert-fern @day-dreaming-goddess @rayray787 @ginnysculture @soft-emo-enby @purple-amaranthe @alina02 @thedevilwearsblack @violet-19999 @shoxji @layazul @lazyxsquirrel @honeysucklepotter

[shieldofiron]

hi i’m here to buy a munver ficlet, do you have any in stock?? 💳 anything will do 🤍

Eddie's getting used to it.

First it's the workout mixes blasting at 6 am because Jason has to get pumped for the day. This is pretty miserable, and almost nothing makes it better, except that Jason can ride him for hours, can go all night because his endurance is endless. In the end, Eddie has to give up cigarettes just to keep up with him, and then the 6 am workout mixes slowly make him less pissed off.

Then, it's the affirmations. Their mirror is covered in bright green post it's telling him, 'You miss 100% of the shots you don't take." He writes '-Wayne Gretsky - Michael Scott' underneath, which goes barely noticed. They're cheesy and annoying, until he's starting his first day at the studio and he finds a little green post it in his guitar case. "Go get 'em, baby." He stops caring so much about the post its. He starts to like the color green.

Next, it's the coffee. Jason's never had it before, and he goes kind of crazy with the weird creamers, oat milk and fancy espresso machines. But when Jason brings him a new concoction in bed with a kiss, he doesn't mind so much that their whole house smells like espresso. He starts to appreciate it as more than wake up sludge, when Jason makes it all fancy, presents it and watches Eddie try with light in his eyes.

Then it's the tattoos. He thought Jason would stop at one, but that addictive personality is hard to shake. Angel's wings spill out over his back, lyrics at his cuffs. Eddie has to stop him in Vegas from getting a tramp stamp, though he doesn't pull him back that hard. It's not a surprise when Jason buys a machine, first as a hobby and then, later, when he starts apprenticing. He likes the rush of it, the permanence and the impermeability. Eddie gets really used to kissing the shark that spills over Jason's left peck, like a benediction.

He was getting used to it, but mostly he doesn't get used to it. Jason's always changing, hungry for life, eating up new experiences like crazy. And Eddie's just happy to be along for the ride.

[trensu]

So this was originally a little ficlet i added to @gyroshrike's EXCELLENT angel dust fanart. You should check it out IMMEDIATELY. Anyway, I ended up writing it out into a proper fic so I could post it to ao3 here. and i thought i might as well make it its own tumblr post as well since the fic is done already. Enjoy!

“What do you mean no?” Cherri asks, annoyed. “This is the fifth fucking outfit you’ve shot down.”

Angel doesn’t know why he thought Cherri would be helpful on this shopping trip. He forgot that Cherri’s idea of fashion involves singed tops and torn up bottoms. He snatches the clothes from Cherri’s hands and throws them back on the rack.

“Ya keep pickin’ slutty clothes!” Angel replies, also annoyed. 

“That’s because you are a slut, bitch.”

Angel gives her a two fingered salute because he’s fucking cultured. Cherri cackles and flips him off in return. Angel marches to the other end of the store to the rack full of boring colors like navy, gray, and black. They don’t go with his coloring at all. It’s the only rack left he hasn’t looked through in the entire store, though. Cherri follows behind him, purposely shoving racks and mannequins to make a mess as they go.

“Well, I ain’t tryin’ ta look slutty this time,” Angel says as he aggressively inspects the rack of clothing.

“Good luck getting that cat in bed after your date,” Cherri snorts.

“It’s a first date! Husk ain’t like that,” Angel says, feeling a bit offended on Husk’s behalf. “He’s a gentleman.”

“Yeah, the drunk arsehole is a total gentleman,” Cherri rolls her eye. 

“He is about this kinda thing. He’s a classy guy, okay? So I’m givin’ classy a try,” Angel insists. He reaches the end of the rack with nothing to show for it. He growls. “Fuck this place, it ain’t got shit. Let’s go.”

“Fuck yes! About fucking time,” Cherri cheers.

After blowing off steam with Cherri, Angel sneaks back into the hotel. Not that he’d done anything wrong; he just doesn’t want to bump into Husker at the bar after the spectacular failure of a shopping trip. He’s stressed because he was running out of time to get an outfit together. He knows he gets catty under pressure. (Ha. Catty.) He doesn’t want to risk getting catty with Husker.

Once inside, Angel wanders the upper levels for a bit until he is absolutely sure that Charlie was nowhere around. He knows Charlie would be overjoyed to help but she's about as subtle as machine gunfire when she's happy. Angel wants his future upscale look to be a surprise for Husk.

Since Charlie can’t be considered, Angel is left with one last option. With extreme reluctance, he makes his way to Charlie’s room. He makes sure not to show anything but confidence and charm when he knocks on the door.

Vaggie opens it with a scowl.

“Angel. What do you want?” Vaggie asks in that flat yet annoyed tone she was so good at doing.

“Heyyy, Vaggie. Ya know that redemption thing Charlie always yaps about?” Angel starts. Vaggie’s scowl deepens, so Angel continues before she could say anything. “I was thinkin’ I should change up my look, so I ain’t so sexy and tempting. Looking like a prude is a virtue, ain’t it? You’re the biggest prude I know! Wanna help a fella out? For redemption and sh–uh, stuff?”

Angel bats his eyes at Vaggie, channeling his ‘I’m a sweet, naive virgin, please take advantage of me’ character. It’s a very popular character in his line of work. He is much better at that than at looking innocent but he figures it’s basically the same thing. Vaggie glares at him. Okay, slight miscalculation on Angel’s part, then.

“No,” she says, and tries to close the door. Angel catches it with two hands before it shuts completely.

“Wait!”

“I’m not helping you with whatever porno you’re doing,” Vaggie says. 

“It ain’t for porn!” Angel says. He’s not exactly insulted that Vaggie assumed it was a porn thing, but he’s not not insulted either. He’s got a life outside of porn, sometimes!

Vaggie stares at him. It’s an expectant stare. It’s a stare that clearly says Angel has to give her a reason to not harpoon him with that spear she carries everywhere. (It’s also super judgemental but that doesn’t offend Angel since Vaggie looks at everyone except Charlie judgmentally).

A small jolt of embarrassment hits him. He wishes it was a porn thing now. 

He doesn’t want to say it out loud, this tiny frail chance Husk gave him by asking him out. If he says it out loud, Vaggie will scoff. She’d roll her eyes and ask him why he’s even bothering to try. Does he really think anyone would seriously want to date a cokehead pornstar? This is a pipe dream and Husker will get fed up with him so fast.

(Vaggie wouldn’t say any of that, a part of Angel knows. Those were Valentino’s words, but he’s so sure that Vaggie must have thought it at least once. Everybody must think that about him at least once).

The longer he stays quiet the more Vaggie’s glare softens until she starts to look genuinely concerned. And, fuck, Angel can’t have that. He’d die (again) if Vaggie felt sorry enough to be nice to him. He pastes on his smile and keeps his tone girlfriend-ly.

“I got a hot date, Vaggie, that’s all,” Angel says. “Wanna try somethin’ a little different for it.”

Vaggie is not convinced by his nonchalance which makes Angel wonder if he’s losing his touch. His acting skills are second to none! She should be eating out of the palm of his hand with this performance! Instead, she marches out of the room and waves him along.

“Follow me,” Vaggie says in her drill sergeant voice that makes everyone who hears it straighten their spine and find themselves already halfway to a salute.

Angel learns that Vaggie approaches clothes shopping with the same tactical focus and determination she approaches any mission, which is weird but whatever. She stealthily leads him to the nicer side of town into a more upscale shop than Angel is used to. She marches through the shop without bothering to ask Angel for his input on anything. Still she manages to pick out a few outfits that went well with his coloring and in his size. Angel has never appreciated her observational skills more.

“Try these on and show me,” she demands, piling her pickings into both sets of Angel’s arms and shoving him into a dressing room.

Angel complies without protest. He sashays out of the dressing room like a supermodel four times before Vaggie nods in satisfaction on the last option. She actually smiles at him.

“This one. You’ll impress your date with this one,” Vaggie says without a hint of irony.

Angel smiles back and thanks her enthusiastically. He ignores how he hadn’t recognized himself in the mirror in any of the outfits. He ignores how uncomfortable the clothes feel on his body. The clothes are classy, just like Husker prefers. That’s what matters.

–

When Husker shows up at his door for their date, he does a double take.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Husk asks, confused.

Angel starts to lean flirtatiously into his space, a salacious come on right on the tip of his tongue. He catches himself halfway and quickly straightens himself with an awkward laugh.

“Just somethin’ I found in the back of the closet,” he lies through his teeth.

He’d devoted time to doing his makeup just right and making sure the clothes were crisp and clean. He still feels uncomfortable in them but all things considered, Angel thinks the final product came out pretty good. The way Husker looks at him now makes him wonder if he overestimated his looks for once.

Husk’s eyes narrow as he studies Angel. His gaze trails Angel top to bottom. It doesn’t feel very sexy but Angel supposes the point is to not look like a whore so this means he succeeded, right? 

“Sure,” Husk says, notes of confusion still in his tone. “You ready to go?”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course!” Angel stutters like a moron.

“Alright,” Husker says after a beat.

Husk gives Angel another suspicious look, shoulders tense and wings pulled close. Something shifts in his expression that Angel can’t read. He’s afraid it might be disappointment. Husker shakes out his wings and offers Angel his arm, which Angel accepts with relief.

“So, where ya takin’ me, Huskie?”

Husker tells him about a little place with good food, better drinks, and a live jazz band. As they walk out of the hotel, Angel almost cozies up against Husk, so tempted to rub his cheek against Husker’s furry ear. He catches himself again and over-corrects by pulling away from Husk until their linked arms are the only point of contact. Husk stumbles a bit with the weight shift. He shoots him another indecipherable look. Husker opens his mouth to say something but appears to change his mind and snaps it shut.

That’s okay, though, right? Husker wasn’t much of a talker anyway! Angel fills the silence between them with nervous babble. Angel is normally very good at conversation but tonight he keeps having to stop and restart mid-sentence when his stories get crass. Being crass is not good first date behavior. Husker grunts every now and then but it’s clear he’s only listening with half an ear. It doesn’t help Angel’s nerves at all.

The date goes downhill from there.

Husker finds them a booth when they arrive at their destination and helps Angel order their food and drinks. He points out several he thinks Angel will like.

Usually, he and Husker can pound back alcohol like nobody’s business. They sometimes make a game of it and those nights are some of the best Angel has because he gets to see Husker soften and relax in his company. However, Angel is an affectionate drunk and Husk has had to nudge Angel away more than once those nights. Husker is always sweet about it now, with gentle hands and amusement in his eyes. Husker always helps him back to his room afterwards like a perfect gentlemanly escort. Despite that, Angel can’t help feeling a bit stung at the rejection each time.

Tonight, he only orders one drink. He knows he can’t be getting too handsy with Husk on their date. He’s sure it would annoy him. He doesn’t want Husker to regret asking him out. With his focus strictly on keeping up his good behavior and watching his alcohol intake, Angel barely touches the food Husker recommended to him. 

Husker keeps shooting him these looks that make Angel anxious. With each glance, Husker slinks deeper into his taciturn demeanor. Of course, Angel overcompensates with his babbling. At one point, Husk has to shush him during the jazz show. Angel clacks his jaws shut in shame, because he knows how much Husker likes jazz and here he is ruining the experience for him. At least Husk is nice enough to hold Angel’s hands throughout the rest of the show, though he probably only does it to keep Angel from fidgeting too much.

When they leave the joint, Husker doesn’t offer his arm again. He doesn’t even walk very close to him. Angel's stomach churns so much, he’s afraid if he opens his mouth to speak, he’ll puke the two bites of food he ate earlier.

They’re halfway back to the hotel when Husk clears his throat. His hands are in his pockets as he trudges on, keeping his eyes on the crumbling sidewalk.

“You didn’t have to say yes,” Husk says, not even glancing at Angel or faltering in his steps as he speaks. Angel, on the other hand, halts in confusion.

“What?” Angel asks, not sure what Husker was talking about but the tone of voice made his stomach drop. Husk sighs, stopping in his tracks to finally look up at Angel. His face was closed off in his standard apathetic frown.

“When I asked you out,” Husker says, his tone going to his usual bored gruffness. He hasn’t used that tone towards Angel in a long time. Hints of panic start crawling up Angel’s veins. “You didn’t have to say yes.”

“What?” Angel asks again like a fucking idiot. He hopes he doesn’t sound as shaky and pathetic as he feels.

Husker’s voice goes flatter though his tail has started to twitch uneasily.

“You should’ve said no if you didn’t want to…be with me. We woulda been fine.”

“Huskie–”

And at last some of that soft, hidden sincerity crept back into Husker’s voice. Only a little bit, but it’s there.

“I’d still be your friend, Legs,” Husker says, gazing into Angel’s eyes and sounding painfully honest. “I wouldn’t abandon you over that.”

“No! I-I–”

Husker looks away with a bitter grin. Angel’s heart cracked at the sight.

“I’d need a day or two to lick my wounds, but I knew it was a long shot anyway. I woulda come back,” Husker shrugs when he finishes going for nonchalance, but his wings are once again curled protective and close, making his usual slouch look less like carelessness and more like defeat. Husker doesn’t wait for Angel’s response, instead choosing to continue walking back to the hotel.

Angel stands in place, floored by how badly he fucked up. He notices his breathing becoming erratic. He does his best to do the calming breathing thing Charlie taught them all. It works well enough to get him running to Husker again though Angel still feels unsteady and insecure. Most of him is screaming to fucking book it in the other direction because fuck, fuck, Angel hates feelings. But Husker also hates feelings and he basically threw up his guts at Angel despite it. The least Angel can do is return the gesture, right? He owes Husker that much.

“Husker, wait!” he shouts. 

Husker’s posture becomes more guarded but he doesn’t acknowledge Angel’s call. Angel catches up quickly (Husk can’t go too far too fast with those short legs, Angel thinks, helplessly fond despite the anxiety). Dodging around Husker’s wings that quiver with tension, Angel grabs the crook of his arm to bring him to a stop and place himself in Husk’s way. He lets go quickly at Husk’s glare but somehow manages to stand his ground.

“I did want! Husk, I wanted ta say yes, I wanted ta go on this date so much,” Angel says desperately, feeling a telltale burning around his eyes and hating himself for it.

The tension in Husker’s body breaks free as his patience caves to his temper. His wings flare open and his tail whips side to side aggressively.

“Then why are you acting so fucking fake? With the clothes and you treating me like I got the fucking plague! I thought we were done with that bullshit,” Husker snaps furiously.

“Cuz I wanted ta…I wanted ta be good for ya, Husk,” Angel chokes out, shoulders slumped in defeat. “You like classy. I wanted ta be a good, classy sorta guy for ya. I-I fucked up. I always fuck this shit up. I don’t mean ta do it.”

Angel stares at the poor excuse of a sidewalk they’re on, blinking back tears. Husker doesn’t say anything for a long time. Angel nearly loses his nerve and turns tail when Husker speaks again.

“You fucking dumbass,” Husk says. 

His voice is deep and warm and fond, the way it is on their drinking nights together. Angel’s head snaps to Husk at his words. That cocky little smirk– the one Angel first saw after Husk had pulled him out of his self-destructive spiral at the club and realized that if he wasn't careful he'd lose his heart to the guy–has replaced the angry slant of Husk’s mouth.

“Hey!” Angel protests with a cautious smile. Husk rolls his eyes.

“Don’t expect compliments if you’re gonna act stupid,” Husk says and offers his arm to Angel. “You’re already classy enough for me, Legs.”

Angel takes his arm and looks down at him slyly.

“But not good, huh?” Angel tries to tease but Husker doesn’t take it.

Instead, Husk looks at him intensely and says firmly, “If this redemption shit the princess keeps talking about ain’t total bullshit, you’d be the one to make it.”

“Oh,” Angel says, stunned, then adds to cover how hard it made his heart beat, “Husker, ya big ol’ flirt. I betcha say that ta all the pretty boys.”

“Fuck you,” Husk grins at him. Angel bats his eyes and lets his voice go all breathy.

“Oh, yes! Please, daddy,” Angel simpers. He adds a loud moan for good measure. Husker throws his head back with a rough, loud laugh. Angel knows immediately he wants to hear it again forever.

By the time Husk drops Angel off at the door of his room, the pair of them have relaxed significantly. Angel opens the door slightly to peek in on Fat Nuggets. After he makes sure his Nugs is sleeping soundly, Angel catches Husk’s sleeve before he could make a sneaky escape.

“Hey, Husk, can we get a do-over? A new first date? I want ta do it right next time.” Angel asks shyly. The corner of Husk’s mouth quirks up, making his golden eyes crinkle in a way that makes Angel’s heart melt.

“Depends,” Husker says with that charming smirk. “You gonna wear that stupid outfit next time?”

“Oh baby,” Angel says, plastering himself against the door frame in one of his sexiest poses. “I’m gonna wear my sluttiest dress for my handsome kitty. Everyone’s gonna wish they were you when they see us togetha.”

Husk snorts.

“When you put it like that…”

“You can put it wherever ya want, daddy,” Angel flirts. He’s only half-joking but he keeps his hands to himself to keep things light. Husker rolls his eyes in good humor.

“A do-over sounds good.”

Angel drops the pose instantly, beaming at Husk.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Angel’s heart flutters at the small smile that accompanies Husk’s assurance.

“Next week?”

Husker nods in agreement.

“Great!” Angel said, probably a little too enthusiastically.

Before Angel canlose his nerve, he dips down and presses a light, meek kiss on Husker’s cheek. When he pulls back, Husker’s eyes are as wide as saucers and his wings have puffed up in a way Angel hadn’t seen before. If Angel didn’t know any better, he’d say Husker was downright flustered. And oh god, Angel wanted to make him blush all over. Husker would be so cute in bed.

“G‘night, Huskie!” Angel says quickly and slams the door closed behind him.

After nearly tearing himself out of the uncomfortable clothes, Angel crawls into bed wearing only his boxer briefs. Next time, he thinks to himself in joy and disbelief. I get a next time.

He knows it will be perfect because next time he’ll be himself. Angel. Because that’s all Husker wanted. Just Angel.

He curls up around Fat Nuggets and allows himself one quiet, happy squeal.

[ruiningsalads]

Happy Friday! How about “Ha. Don’t think too highly of yourself. Just because I crave your company every now and then, doesn’t mean you’re my weakness. You’re not.” for Varric x Cassandra from the 'I'm weak for you' prompts?

ugh I'm obsessed with these two. this maybe wasn't exactly the prompt, but it's making me feel all the feels. a lovely little ficlet for @dadrunkwriting

Varric's head lolled forward, his chin resting against his chest despite the muscles in his shoulders screaming in agony. He was simply too tired to keep his head up, even though he would prefer to see what his captors were doing.

Their plan was the most hare-brained scheme he'd ever heard: capture the dwarf to lure his Inquisitor friend into a trap. He was touched that they thought he was important enough that Lavellan would rush in without thought just to save him; but he also wasn't in any hurry to remedy their misconception. After all, they might just kill him outright if they knew. So, he sat on the most uncomfortable chair ever made with his hands tied behind its back and imagined all the horrible things he would do to them once he had Bianca back in his grasp.

He also now knew better than to wander off alone to take a leak. Apparently, that was when people liked to sneak up on you and throw a sack over your head.

The sound of fighting outside his little room had his head snapping up. The meathead left to guard him drew a small, but wickedly sharp, knife as the door splintered open. There, her sword and shield at the ready, was Cassandra, and she was mad.

"Stop, or the dwarf gets it!" The idiot actually held the blade to Varric's neck. He felt the cold metal nick his skin, releasing a warm trickle of blood.

Cassandra's cold gaze flicked from the knife to the thug holding it. "Do you think that threat works on me?" she demanded.

"You seem awfully eager to get him back," the man leered.

"Do not mistake my duty for eagerness," she retorted as she took a step closer.

Varric hissed as the knife cut a little deeper, and she hesitated. The man laughed, low and mean. "Duty, eh? I'd say the only duty you're doing is--" But before he could finish that thought, Cassandra swiftly pulled a small knife from her belt and threw it. Suddenly, the blade at Varric's throat was gone as something heavy fell to the floor behind him.

Cassandra moved to untie him, not paying any mind to the dying man.

"Duty, huh?" he rasped, pressing a newly freed hand to his neck wound.

With surprising gentleness, she pried his hand away and peered at the cut. "It's true. My duty is to the Inquisition and its agents." She tsked and pulled a small vial from her belt, poured some of its contents onto a handkerchief, and pressed it to his neck. Immediately, he felt a sting as the cut began to heal.

"And here I was thinking you actually cared," he grunted through the pain.

Her eyes locked with his. "Whatever my personal feelings are, they cannot interfere with my duty." Maker, he was starting to hate that word. But then she reached with her free hand to stroke his cheek. "That does not mean I will sit by and let someone harm you, not if I can stop it. Understand, Varric, that I cannot allow myself to have such a weakness, no matter how much I care about you."

He grimaced. "Yeah, I got it. Thanks for saving me anyway." When he moved to pull away, she gripped his shoulders to hold him in place. Reluctantly, he met her eyes.

"I love you, Varric. Never question that. I am only trying to say... I just mean..." She sighed in frustration. "You're far better with words than I could ever hope to be."

"Just say that first part again," he murmured.

Her smile was more beautiful than anything he'd ever seen. "I love you, you meddlesome dwarf."

[generalluxun]

Touché- A Chlogami ficlet

So a discord server I am on is doing a fun thing with 750ish word fics for Pride Month. I figured I'd post anything I wrote here too. So without further ado.

Post Glaciator 2, things have been going better for Marinette. Chloé seems like a non issue, though she has been ‘excused’ from gym class regularly. Building up her courage, Marinette decides to attend fencing class again to get closer to Adrien. However when she arrives…

The two fencers lashed back and forth along the strip. Kagami’s bright red uniform stood out, the other fencer was dressed in a striking yellow.

The color of Adrien’s hair… Marinette sighed.

The match was intense. Kagami’s quick and controlled style versus her foe’s brute aggression. Marinette couldn’t imagine anyone else but Adrien giving Kagami such a fight, so she inched closer to the watching crowd to cheer him on silently. Other students gave her room in the semi-circle. He really is going all out… If he’s tired after, maybe I could go get him a water. Then he’d be so happy he’d ask me out. He’d propose over dinner. We’d get married and have three hamsters and a kid named Louis.

“Decided to come back?” A voice rippled on the edges of Marinette’s pink daydream.

“Yeah.” She wasn’t fully present.

“It’s good to see you here again.”

“Yeah.” She was drifting closer to the surface.

“Maybe we can practice a little when they’re done,” the voice was starting to register.

Marinette’s head craned around slowly to the person beside her. She recoiled in shock, throwing her hands up and dropping her foil. “Adrien!”

His smile was everything. He stooped to pick up her foil. “Hey Marinette.”

She lunged for it, they bumped heads and she backpedaled. Her world was reeling, “But- you- if- out there- here- who?”

“TOUCHE!” Mr. D’agincourt called, blessedly pulling attention away from Marinette.

On the strip Kagami stood over her fallen foe, with her saber’s point to her opponent’s chest. Theirs was thrust against her thigh, just shy of a legal strike. Both fencers could be heard gasping from within their helmets.

Economy of motion, Kagami withdrew her weapon and reversed its grip, offering her opposite hand to help her opponent up. The other fencer swatted the hand away, but then grabbed Kagami’s forearm and pulled themselves up with her aid.

D’Agincourt was effusive as he approached, turning to the fencer in yellow, “Splendid! Magnificent! Such progress in such a short amount of time! Control, control is the only thing you lack. You have chosen your partner well to learn that lesson.”

Kagami pulled off her helmet, sweat matted her hair but only served to enhance her austere beauty. She squared her shoulders under the instructor’s praise. Beside Marinette, Adrien noted lightly, “And I’ll end up with fewer bruises after each lesson.”

The unanswered question returned, “But if you’re here, then who-?”

The Fencer in yellow pulled off their helmet and shook out a long blonde ponytail.

“CHLOÉ?!?!!”

Annnnnnnd all eyes were on Marinette again.

Kagami smiled in greeting while the blonde demon rolled her eyes. Kagami stepped off the strip, turning the spectacle into a more private affair. She pulled off her gloves as she approached. “It is good to see you, Marinette. We have not had enough occasions to ‘hang out’ as you had suggested.”

Marinette was still stun locked. “But- you- how- her- here? SWEATING!”

Chloé smirked. “I think she’s broken.”

“Hsst!” Kagami chided, thumping her saber lightly against Chloe’s shin.

Adrien supplied, “Chloé started fencing with us a few weeks ago. Kagami brought her, and she’s really taken to it!”

Marinette’s mind was clearing, but still she was having a hard time believing. “But you hate gym class!”

Chloé chuffed, then grinned. “The games they play are ridiculous, utterly ridiculous. Stabbing people is more my style.”

To Marinette’s surprise, Kagami snorted in mirth.

Marinette looked back at her, “but… why?”

Kagami’s smile returned, triumphant. “Because, I win Marinette.”

“Win?”

Kagami’s smile broadened, with a hint of familiar smirk slipping in. “You called my manga nonsense. I wished to prove you wrong. Enemies to rivals.”

Kagami stepped sideways, hooking her arm around Chloé’s waist.

She added, “Rivals, to lovers.”

Chloé’s head snapped to the side, but there was color on her cheeks. She looked back at the group and leaned slightly into Kagami’s side.  “I have no idea what she is on about with her books, but I must say I like the outcome.”

That was too much, “You… two?!”

Chloé perked, an idea forming late. “She’s got a sword... Does this mean I can stab Marinette?”

Kagami hissed again, but squeezed the other girl, “Behave, or I shall be forced to humble you once more on the field.”

Chloé was already pulling on her helmet again. “I love it when you try.”

[baldurs-gape]

Hi I absolutely love your fics "Shores" & "Wish'n'bone"! I really like your characterization for both Astarion and Gale in your stories. I've read your past works when I was in the DBH fandom and it's a joy to see you in this fandom as well. I wish you a lovely day and I'm excited for future content!

YOU!!! I remember you from DBH! Oh man, what a blast from the past. It brings me so much joy that we've bumbled into another shared fandom. As you probably know from way back then, I love to reply to asks with a little ficlet of thanks. Think of it like a cat bringing you a leaf and leaving it as a gift on your doorstep.

One Night Only

Gods were cruel without even meaning to be. It wasn't intentional, they were simply unable to comprehend mortal desires and the passage of time. After the crown had been flung into the Chionthar, Gale had regretted it within days. He struggled with living in the Underdark, missed the sun fiercely but his love for Astarion was stronger. It didn't mean that getting used to such a change was easy. He tried, pushed himself and threw himself into his new life with as much vigour as he could. There was so much to study, so many vampire spawn to teach about the modern world. And yet the siren song of natural light still called. He saw it on Astarion too. Felt guilty because while he himself could go out into the sun if he wanted, Astarion did not have such luxury. Which was where the blasted crown came into play.

Locating it, retrieving the pieces and pondering its reassembly was all well and good but it wasn't the reality Gale wanted. Those long, dark days in the Underdark had been enough to help firm up his resolve. He didn't want the power of the crown, didn't want the alienating experience of godhood. As it turned out, Gale was a simple man with simple desires. Taking the crown, he shoved it into a bag and marched to the Stormshore Tabernacle with determination.

The bag landed at the feet of Mystra's statue in a gruff offering.

"I know you're not talking to me. But hear me out."

Nothing happened. Really, Gale shouldn't have been surprised but he was still disappointed. Leaving the bag there, he went back home, guiltily basking in the sunshine for as long as he could. What was unexpected was for Elminster to show up a couple of days after he got back.

"I have never seen anyone vex a deity more than you, Gale," he said by way of greeting. The fact he had literally walked into a nest of vampires didn't seem to bother him. "And the fact you do it with such lack of awareness is even more astounding."

"It's not just deities, Mystra isn't that special." Next to Gale, Astarion had his arms crossed over his chest in an open display of hostility. "I live with the man and if he doesn't vex me twice a day then I start worrying he's been replaced by a shifter."

Playing at being insulted, Gale raised a finger with a practiced "hey now" which was cut off by Elminster.

"I do not wish to get in the middle of a lovers' quarrel. Please remember, I am but a humble messenger of Mystra and have travelled far to see you."

Nose scrunching, Astarion shook his head. "Cheese and wine are in short supply down here. The closest on offer is three day old bulette blood."

Which was to say, Elminster wasn't welcome in their home and he considered Gale's private stash of treats off limits for their sudden guest. Something warm bloomed in Gale's chest at the protective aura Astarion exuded.

"As kind and generous as your offer is, I shall pass." Elminster pulled something from his pocket and passed a paper wrapped package to Gale. "A little extra from her, don't waste it. The orb shouldn't bother you anymore either."

As soon as the delivery was made, Elminster smiled. "It was good to see you. Maybe you'll find happiness this time round."

With that he was off and disappearing into the dark.

"Crusty old cheese fiend," Astarion huffed. "Just who does he think he is, waltzing into our home like that?"

"Mystra's Chosen." Oddly, saying that didn't hurt Gale. He didn't miss what he had, he sometimes missed what he'd thought he'd had. The two were very different thing.

Later, when Gale managed to get a bit of time to himself, he pulled the parcel out. Carefully unwrapping it, he stared at the amulet and the tag attached 'For the one you chose.' It pulsed with power and once upon a time it would have been his biggest wish to feed it to the orb which plagued him. Now, he examined it with suspicion and curiosity.

"What fascinating trinket are you poring over today?" As Astarion spoke, he walked up to Gale and hugged him from behind, hooking his chin over a warm shoulder. As he peered at the amulet, he hummed. "It's pretty."

"Pretty powerful." Gale gave up trying to inspect it for safety before showing it to Astarion, so he grabbed the tag and flipped it. "I don't trust it."

Eager hands grabbed for it, Astarion could never resist anything, especially it if had his name on it. He weighed the amulet and hummed. "Only one way to find out."

Before Gale could do anything as he turned, Astarion put the amulet on. It glowed a rich purple against his chest for a couple of seconds then became inert once more. Nose scrunching, Astarion looked down at himself.

"Well, at least it'll fetch a copper of two at some point."

All the magic was gone and Gale rached to touch the husk of an amulet that remained. As he brushed against it though, so did Astarion's hand. With a gasp, he froze and made to grab the pale hand.

"You-" Words eluded him and Astarion stared at him with amusement and rubbed at his chest absentmindedly. Gale tried again, "Astarion! You're warm!"

Both of his hand enveloped Astarion's newly warm ones. From there it was all too easy to lay a hand over his chest and feel the steady thump of a newly beating heart.

"Huh." Astarion stared at where Gale felt his heartbeat. "I thought something felt off. Assumed it was indigestion from spore infused blood."

A disembodied voice echoed in their heads.

The spell will hold until his next sleep, make the most of it.

A day. That's all they had. Gale wanted to rejoice and rage at the same time. If it was within Mystra's ability to cure Astarion of his affliction, she jolly well could have just done that rather than devise a spell that would remove it for a day. At least Astarion didn't seem to be taking such a dour view for a change.

"Well then, let's not waste it." He offered Gale and arm. "Shall we?"

Stepping out into the warm sunlight was a blessing and Gale almost missed the moment Astarion stepped out of the shadows. Face tipped up into the rays, his eyes fluttered closed and a soft sigh escaped his lips.

It was almost like their adventures all over again. Astarion could walk in the sun, needed no permission to enter an inhabited area. But more than that, he was living, breathing and warm, craved food and drink that had tasted like ash and vinegar for so long. Naturally, the first place Gale led them to was a tavern where he ordered anything Astarion desired. Just watching him eat, eyes closing in bliss as flavours exploded on his tongue was beautiful. As was discovering just what a sweet tooth he had. Pastries, cakes, fruits, they were all eagerly sampled and appreciated. Gale took such pleasure in bringing him new things to try, cost be damned.

"I don't think I can eat another bite," Astarion said, words muffled by a hand over his mouth as he tried not to burp. His other hand rested over his full stomach and he giggled. It was infectious and Gale laughed with him, on the verge of bursting with happiness.

"Let me show you some other delights."

That might have come out more salacious than intended because all Gale had meant was the wonders of ice cream and warming up lips with kisses between spoonfuls. Almost drunk on happiness, Astarion followed and they strolled the streets, hand in hand. As beautiful as the Underdark could be, its colours couldn't compare to the sun lit expanse of the living.

Alas, time couldn't stand still. They only had the day, sitting on a ledge near their return to the Underdark and they watched the sun dip below the horizon. Sighing, Astarion cuddled into Gale with a small shiver. The temperature was dropping now that there was no more sunshine to bathe in.

"Thank you." The words were a rarity to fall from Astarion's lips, to the point that Gale actually startled.

"Whatever for?"

"You must have done something to get me this. Whatever it was, thank you."

"You're not mad that it's just for one day? When it's probably in her power to make it every day?"

Softly, Astarion hummed and shrugged. "At least we got a day. It's more than I could have ever hoped for. Didn't think I'd ever see the sun again and live." A large yawn interrupted anything else Astarion was going to say and he snuggled more comfortably against Gale. They knew the spell was going to wear off when he fell asleep but Gale had hoped it would be a while longer yet. Judging by how Astarion forced himself to sit up, he had remembered too.

At every turn Astarion fought falling asleep. He got up, paced then sat down, tried not to slump, flopped back and stared at the clear sky. Prattling on about the stars, he kept yawning and stubbornly blinking to stay awake. Even when he settled against Gale's chest, he furiously tried to not fall asleep.

"Please don't let me go," he whispered and clutched at Gale's hand, pressing it against his still beating heart. "I don't want to go back."

Kissing his slightly sweaty forehead, Gale wished he could reassure and promise that it was all going to be fine. The best he could do was try and ease the harsh, bitter truth.

"I'll be there with you. I'm not going anywhere, not until you or time demands the breaking of our bond."

"That'll be the day I shall greet the sun again." As far as declarations of love went, that was probably as dramatic and deep as Astarion had ever been. It earned him another kiss which he yawned into.

Tucking him against his body, Gale desperately wanted things to be different. "It's okay. It'll all be okay. You need to rest. I'll watch over you."

"I don't want to."

Truth be told, Gale didn't want it either but it wasn't like they had a choice. Against him, Astarion jerked awake just before he nodded off. It was a futile battle, each desperate grasp at wakefulness was prolonging the inevitable. Gale buried his nose in white curls and clutched at Astarion tighter, palm still against his chest. He could feel the way Astarion went lax, how his heart slowed down, beats further and further apart, more and more faint until it stilled once more. In the cool night air, his body lost its warmth. Only the habitual breaths he tended to take gave sign that he was more than a dead body. Eyes squeezing shut, Gale tried to will away the tears. They had a day together in the sun, it was going to have to be enough for now. But he'd been given a new avenue to explore. One god or another was going to listen to him and give Astarion the freedom he deserved, even if it was the last thing Gale ever did.

[cyanide-latte]

TWST Ficlet: Happy Birthday Kingsley!

Words: 1.4K

Warnings: none

Characters: Kingsley Tyr ( @tixdixl 's OC,) Copper Benoit and Jackie the monkey (my OCs,) Gia Yugo ( @ramshacklerumble 's OC, briefly mentioned,) and Sebek Zigvolt

There was something rather…morose about the Diasomnia dorm, Copper Benoit reflected. Dignified, but morose. He supposed the sense of that came from the green flames that burned in the sconces along the walls and the candles in the occasional chandelier. It was meant to honor the Thorn Fairy's own fire magic, he knew that, but Copper couldn't help but also think that the green flames meant something quite different in his particular circle, and therefore carried a slightly different mood for him.

A small whoop by his ear and tiny tugs at his hair broke his musing as they walked along.

"Oi, calm now, Jackie," he muttered, but the monkey shifted his weight on Copper's shoulder and stood on his little feet, leaning like he was about to climb onto the young man's head. "What's up with you—ah, Sebek!"

His fellow freshman had rounded the corner, walking stiffly upright and serious as ever, and when he saw Copper there was a brief flash of surprise across his face before he relaxed the barest fraction.

"Benoit," he said, always speaking a little louder and firmer and with more direct eye contact than was necessary, like he was overcorrecting at all times. "What brings you to Diasomnia? Normally visitors aren't allowed in without being checked at the front gate."

He said this last with a slightly testy edge, as though to remind Copper that he too, was subject to scrutiny even if they had good rapport. Copper tried not to be too surprised; Sebek took his duties as one of Malleus Draconia's bodyguards more seriously than was expected of anyone.

"Ah, no worries, the boys at the gate let me in after I answered their questions," he said, turning slightly to face Sebek and lift the package in his arms for emphasis. "I just need to drop this off with Mr. Tyr."

Sebek immediately narrowed his eyes and scowled in irritation, drawing an anxious chitter out of Jackie.

"Hmph! Tyr? I won't ask what business you have with him, but I suppose if you're looking for him, he's probably shut up in his room."

Copper nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral as much as possible. He considered both Sebek and Kingsley to be allies, possibly individuals he could potentially call his friends, but you couldn't be around either of them for more than two seconds without being aware of their mutual animosity for one another. This proved to be plenty of reason on its own to avoid saying exactly why he'd come all the way here, as he couldn't predict how Sebek might respond.

"Thanks, Sebek," he said, nodding and turning away. "Good to see you, I'll drop this off and be on my way."

He hadn't gone very far when he heard a quiet mutter that sounded like "be careful", but when he paused and looked back, Sebek crossed his arms and added in a quick, louder tone, "K- keep hold of your monkey, too!"

"Aye, don't worry, Jackie'll behave," Copper said with a shrug and a light chuckle, even as Jackie grumbled and twisted around to keep watching Sebek. He gave it a couple more strides before, just for good measure, he hissed at the monkey, "You make a liar outta me, I'll hand ya t'Vil and say 'have at' for a few hours."

Instantly Jackie became the picture of domesticated innocence and sweetness, and Copper felt satisfied that he would stay that way. At least for a couple more minutes.

They reached Kingsley's door in record time, and Copper adjusted his grip on the box so he could free up a hand to knock on the door.

"Oi, Kingsley, it's me. You in? I'm here, like I said I'd be," he called out.

There was a considering pause, and then a brief, "Enter."

Copper opened the door and stepped in, unsurprised to find Kingsley seated at a desk and turned to face him, mask still on his face. As Copper looked briefly around the room to take it in—and found he was unsurprised at how militant Kingsley's side of the room seemed to be—he smelled something unexpectedly sweet and appetizing. Apparently Jackie smelled it too, because he gave a little hop and stood upright on Copper's shoulder, letting out a warbling trill.

"Oh don't you even think about it," he warned, but Kingsley seemed to already be considering this and placed a hand over something covered in foil on the desk.

"They're from Yugo," he remarked, staring down the capuchin. "Not for Jackie."

Normally he might have gotten a hiss of thwarted displeasure, but Kingsley had already been moving as he spoke and, with the same deadly accuracy he threw his hand axes with, he pitched something at the monkey. Jackie caught it and left out another troll, hopping from Copper's shoulder to his head and dangling his new prize down in front of his master's face.

"Woe," Copper remarked as he looked at the apple before the monkey yanked it back out of sight. "He's got your number now, ya furry blackguard." In truth he felt a smidge of affection at the display and thus used it as an opening to proffer the box he held to Kingsley. "As I promised. Whether or not you're concerned with celebrating, least I can do is acknowledge the date today."

"January fourteenth," Kingsley said pointedly, but he took the box anyway. It was plain, unwrapped, but it rattled slightly and he gave Copper a sharp, questioning look.

"You remember when ya first approached me and we talked?" Copper asked, folding his arms. "What I pointed out to you?"

A flare of recognition in the Diasomnia freshman's eyes, then a nod.

"I should be careful not to tip my hand," he said, the words a little hushed.

Copper nodded, then gestured to the box. Without a word, Kingsley started to open it, methodical and precise.

"The phrase is used in card games mostly," Copper said, watching as Kingsley revealed three sizable cups carved from wood and wrapped with leather, and a large velvet pouch with its drawstrings pulled closed. "And most people turn to chess for a game of strategy. But if you're going to be running with pirates—" here Copper took a moment to smile wryly and flip his hand in a sweeping gesture to indicate himself, "—then I say ya need to learn our game. Liar's Dice."

Kingsley gently lifted the velvet bag, listening to the soft, churning rattle-clack of dice spilling over each other and clicking together. "A bluffing game," he guessed without looking up from the bag.

"And a battle of wits," Copper said. "Given the fact everyone downstairs seems to be settin' up for a party…"

"Pointless," Kingsley commented without an ounce of affect, and Copper had to restrain the urge to roll his eyes before he continued.

"Then whene'er ya wanna learn or test out your skill…well, I'm not hard to find."

Jackie gave a chirp at this, and Copper held out his arm so the monkey could hop onto it. Kingsley looked up as Jackie moved, and the monkey reached out to him, holding out a small object and making soft cooing sounds. Kingsley gave him a look, but accepted the object anyway, setting the box aside and turning this new thing over.

"A new whittling knife," Copper explained, seconds before Kingsley opened the blade. "Jackie wouldn't leave the Mystery Shop without it, and Sam…encouraged it be given to you as well. Cups for Liar's Dice like those you've got can be carved, personalized. And, if ya don't care to, never hurts to have a new tool, right?"

Kingsley said nothing, but he looked up at Copper with a nod and, if there was no change to the set of his mouth or his brow, his eyes said plenty. The Pomefiore freshman gave a crooked little grin, brought Jackie in close to his chest, and offered Kingsley a brief salute.

"Whenever ya feel like it," Copper said as he turned to leave. "Ya already know the first and most important point anyhow. Never tip your hand."

And though he didn't see it and doubted it was an actual physical thing, Copper got the faintest impression by some subtle shift in the air that perhaps, in his own way, Kingsley was giving him a grim, lethal smile, pleased enough.

Yes I wrote this and immediately pictured the Protagonist Trio (Kingsley, Gia and Copper) playing Liar's Dice with Grim. Also I headcanon that Sebek keeps intentionally acting like it's not Kingsley's birthday, but also, he probably doesn't genuinely know that Copper is forming a friendship with Kingsley. So there we go. Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @elenauaurs @inmateofthemind @ramshacklerumble @tixdixl @winterweary

@distant-velleity @rainesol @thehollowwriter @theleechyskrunkly @twst-migraine

@jovieinramshackle @natsukishinomiyaswife @the-trinket-witch (DM me if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist for my TWST OCs stuff)

Dividers used

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Lindir x OC

At the last hour, @fleurdemiel-145 has sent in a slew of prompts. I'm always happy to write for someone, so here is my short ficlet about Lindir (who might be Maglor, who knows?) meeting his salvation.

Prompts: ennemies to lovers, soulmate, mythical creatures, fairytale, one bed, mutual pining, meet cute...

Why didn't you say so ?! - Are you very sure ? - What's the next step ? - Oh you ARE strong ! - Make me...

Pairing: Lindir x OC

Words: 1,6k

Warnings: Solitude, trauma, carrying a woman down a hill

“Don’t be daft, honey!”

Zahra pulled her shoulders up as if that could protect her from the devastating blow of her friend’s cold, cutting words.

“It’s just a book!” Standing at the foot of the small hill, girded in swirling mist, the group with which she’d set out on this hiking trip stared up at her impatiently.

“You can go ahead without me,” she called back stubbornly. “I’ll catch up soon enough.”

She called them “friends”, but—at the end of the day—they were just a ragtag group of people who were all desperately trying to outrun their respective lives and problems by trekking through the wilderness in search of a peace that stubbornly evaded them.

Huffing and puffing, the others ultimately left without a second glance, leaving Zahra behind as she stood, perched precariously on a small rock, overlooking the rolling fields pensively.

At their last stop in a sleepy town, three days ago, she’d drifted into a cosy bookshop where she’d found herself inexorably drawn to a dusty, evidently well-read second-hand edition of local fairy tales.

Once upon a time, she’d loved that kind of story, and she’d been unable to withstand the instinctive attraction of a fond memory from her past.

An avid reader whose imagination knew no bounds, Zahra had consequently devoured the tome at once to the point where her companions had started mocking her for trying to read even while walking.

At first, she’d been well aware of the whimsical nature of the charming, fantastic tales, but—as the road wound on and on through dense forests and across gurgling streams—it became increasingly harder to draw the line between the landscape unravelling under her weary feet and the scenes of drama and doom playing on repeat in her mind.

When the group had halted in a sunny clearing earlier in the day, she’d skimmed through a narrative she’d already read thrice to pass the time, and—looking up from the yellowed pages—she’d suddenly glimpsed the silhouette of an old ruin on a nearby hill.

Even now, as she struggled up the steep, slippery slope, Zahra couldn’t quite believe how perfectly the description in the book matched the forlorn spot beckoning to her.

The rational part of her heart and soul winced as she looked around hopefully—her friends were right, there would be no mystical king of yore holding court in his hall of fog.

She was simply wasting everybody’s time.

“Hello?” she called softly, feeling utterly foolish.

The air around her seemed to ripple and flicker for a moment, and then a warm, melodious voice said something in a language she didn’t understand.

“Hello?” she repeated and stepped through the curtain of wavering grey. The bleak weeks she’d spent on the road had made her wary, though, so she gripped the small utility knife she’d taken from her belt a little tighter.

Too often, her sweet, trusting nature had led her astray in the past, and she’d learned how to survive on her own the hard way.

The mist parted, and the most beautiful creature she’d ever seen stepped out as from a different realm.

Tall and ethereally slender, the vision of dark hair and pale skin seemed to glow from within. At a glance, she could discern the unusual shape of its ears and the alluring curve of its smile, and her heart started pounding in her chest.

Half-dream and half-nightmare, the anthropomorphic being kept walking towards her, dark eyes alight with ancient wisdom and long hair flowing in a non-existent breeze.

Zahra gasped in surprise and shock.

“No, no, don’t distress yourself!” the being exclaimed, lifting two long-fingered hands to show that he—for his build and demeanour suggested a male—was not even trying to reach for the impressive sword hanging from his narrow hips.

“It’s been a long time since last someone came here,” the stranger mused in the same pleasant, oddly enchanting voice. “Who are you? I heard someone call you ‘Honey’. Are you a beekeeper?”

At that, she scoffed in disbelief. In the stories, fairies and cursed princes were usually smart and suave—they didn’t ask silly questions.

“Well, are you?”

She shook her head. “I’m neither a flower—for which I was named—nor am I a beekeeper. That’s not how names work.”

“It is where I come from. So tell me, Lady, what brings you here?”

Zahra blew up her cheeks—how was she to tell this fantastical apparition that she’d been led into a wild goose-chase by an old book?

“Who are you?” she asked instead of answering, suddenly aware that she’d put herself in tremendous danger. No doubt, her friends had already continued their way without her, and if this beautiful man was not a mystical fairy king but a very mundane murderer, she’d be in serious trouble.

“They once called me Lindir.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure? Are you very sure? I’ve never heard that name before.”

“I’ve not heard yours at all,” he gave back sharply, his dark eyebrows puckering to mimic her expression of bated hostility in the face of an unexpected ambush. “I am who I say I am, at least partially.” “Are you cursed?” Zahra asked, deeming that caution was a luxury she could dispense with in the current situation. “Or why are you all alone here?”

“My people have left, yes,” Lindir replied, a shadow of age-old sadness and undeniable guilt rippling across his handsome face. “And I don’t know how to join them.”

“Why didn’t you say so?” she cried out, letting her rucksack slip from her shoulders and extracting the accursed book from it hastily. “I know exactly how to help you.”

His dark eyes zeroed in on the cover, and his stern mouth fell open in astonishment. “You’ve found it,” he gasped. “I’ve been looking for that!”

“It was not for you to find,” Zahra, who’d read more fairy tales than she’d ever admit, informed him haughtily. “According to the legend, someone else has to help you.”

“And I have to accept that help,” he groaned, lifting a pale, slender palm to his forehead dramatically. “Oh, the Valar really have an odd sense of humour.”

He sighed before turning his compellingly deep eyes back on her distrustful face. “What’s the next step then, oh Mistress of the Book?”

Used to being ribbed, Zahra curled up on herself once more.

“Sorry, that was unnecessarily cruel. It seems that I’ve forgotten how to be civil, even to the fairest of maidens. Ages of loneliness will do that to you. Forgive me,” Lindir admitted sheepishly as he extended a conciliatory hand to her.

As her mystified gaze swept along the horizon searchingly, Zahra debated whether she wanted to catch up with her so-called friends at all. All her life, she’d yearned for an adventure, and she was loath to forego the one that had fallen into her lap in favour of her travel companions’ insipid conversation.

“We have to find a place to sleep tonight,” she declared, wishing she had a map to see how far it was to the next village. “Do you have any money?”

Lindir shook his head, bemused and a little ashamed. “What are you even?” she asked as she pondered the perilous descent down the hill ahead of them—the light was fading fast, and the verdant grass had been as slick as mud on the way up already. She didn’t want to think of how undignified any attempt at getting down again would be.

“I’m of the—” he bit his lip. “I guess you’d call me an ‘Elf’? Is that correct?”

“Long hair, pointy ears, otherworldly beauty—yeah, I think that might be the right term,” she acquiesced quietly, her mind still consumed with purely logistical matters.

“Then I’m well afraid that one room is all we can afford,” she finally scoffed, eyeing him critically.

“I don’t mind sleeping with the horses,” he replied with an air of noble self-denial that made her chuckle under her breath.

“There are no steeds, good Sir. We’ll have to walk…well, first, we must get off this blasted hovel!” Zahra grimaced in dismay.

“Allow me,” Lindir smiled. “I’m quite strong. In the absence of equine support, I’d be honoured to serve as mule and destrier to Milady.”

His pompous tone made Zahra laugh anew. “You’re a funny one,” she giggled and then squealed when he lifted her into his arms and bore her down the hill effortlessly.

“My,” she breathed. “Oh, you are strong indeed!”

When they reached even ground, she expected to be thrown back on her sore feet, but Lindir kept going as if she and her pack weighed nothing at all.

“Set me down,” she prompted. “I can walk!”

“If we’re to share a room tonight, we might as well get better acquainted,” he replied calmly as his stride grew bolder with every step. “What is your name?”

Breathing in his clean, slightly floral scent, Zahra realised that she felt as inescapably drawn to him as she had to the book. Mayhap, this laughably improbable meeting had been fated.

“Very well,” she said, leaning back in his gentle embrace. “Tell me all about you and your people!”

Lindir sucked his teeth. “Make me,” he teased. “For every question I answer, you shall owe me an information in return. We have miles to go before the next settlement, so we shall have more than enough time to find out why you were chosen to find one who’s evaded detection for so long. Let’s start with your name!”

@fellowshipofthefics One more

Thank you so much for reading, my beloved!

⤻ Masterlist

[roublardise]

2024 AMVs wrapped up w/ commentary 🫶

after a full year without posting any amv (due to focusing on The Way Home), i came back in the game in march 2024 !! 🌈

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Ruby 1.0 - Maybe I am (post - yt) and i came back with Ruby!! as i also shared my Ruby 1.0 scenepack. i made that one under an afternoon or so, basically to remember how to edit and have some fun!

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Destiel (15x18) - On brûlera (post - yt) this one had been a wip for SO LONG 😭 it was technically the first time i tried to merge shots together, with the longing destiel looks that have patiently waited 3 years in my drafts . i'm sooo happy with the second verse, with the little cas pov and voiceovers over him praying 🥰 so galaxy brain of me to go with internalized homophobia for this part. if i may say so.

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Jo Harvelle - My mother's loaded gun (post - yt) another wip that i got DONE!!! 🙏 Ola @mrcowboydeanwinchester's song is so so inspiring i KNEW i wanted to do smth with it as soon as i listened to it for the first time!! i had very high expectations for myself, which made it hard to work on at first. so i ended up taking a bit of the song rather than all of it . i love my "salt & burn" typo tbh, and it was such a pleasure to dig into Jo's relationship with Ellen that i, personnally, do not think about enough

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Bela & Dean - 911 (post - yt) i did a bela episodes rewatch and that's what came out of it. i love her so so so much and i love patricide!dean thoughts so. i had so many more dean's lines that i wanted to include, but i also didn't want the video to end up being like, "dean ft. some of his parallel with bela". i wanted a video about Bela AND Dean. so i had to work around how little scenes Bela had compared to Dean, to make smth equal # feminism . i was SO surprised by its popularity on yt, it's my most viewed amv by FAR?? thank you people on yt & thank you for your uncomprehensible comments

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Destiel (widower arc) - Dark Paradise (post - yt) before i started video editing, i had made a 0 note edit of the widower arc with this song. i think i was considering making an update version with like, read-able lyrics, but i ended up making the amv instead . i am SO PROUD of that one i LOVE IT SO MUCH!!!! i'm very frustrated that somewhere along the way the exporting fucked up and i got glitches on the shots (some glitch effects are deliberate. these are NOT 🥲). i worked on my timing with the previous amv, and the improvement is clear here!! . it's one of the amv where i had an actual direction for the coloring. i wanted smth sepia-like, but depending on which screen you're watching it can look much more orange than i wanted. i still love it. i love my typos, i love my voiceovers, i love the timing, i love this one soooo much 😭💖🔥

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Cassie/Jo - Naked in Manhattan (post - yt) believe it or not this is my first jocassie fanart!!! i actually have some ficlet/poem notes on my phone, but i never managed to put it together. so i was glad to finally be able to put smth together for them 💞 . it had been a while since i've done an amv for women who have never met in canon, and i had forgotten how challenging it was lmao. it was so fun to figure out how to make it work as if they were really interacting, and i think i succeeded!!! jo's sole line at the end always get me

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Kriple era ladies - Mean girls (post - yt) aaaaah i can't beging to explain how much FUN that one was to make!!! i never thought i'd try my hand at smth with multiple characters like that. originally i wanted to put even MORE evil-ish women, but i couldn't just make it all fit if i wanted them to like, shine on their own and go off with ✨ voiceovers ✨ i did a song break as well and i looove those 😍 quite happy with it being my last work of 2024 😊

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so it's a total of 7 amvs for 2024 🥳

and there's another one i've been working on a lot in the last months, which is due for Jan 24th 👀😇