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wondernimbus · 5 years ago

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two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There’s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat. "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

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krabmeat · 3 years ago

Note

☊⏃⋏ ⟟ ⏚⟒ ⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⋏⍜⋏? ⏃⋏⊬⍙⏃⊬⌇ ⋏⍜⍙ ⏁⊑⏃⏁'⌇ ⏃⌰⌰ ⍜⎍⏁ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⍙⏃⊬. ☌⍜⎅ ⍀⟒⏃⎅⟒⍀ ☌⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⍀⟒⎐⟟⎐⟒⎅ ⎍⋏⟒⌖⌿⟒☊⏁⟒⎅⌰⊬ ⏚⊬ ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔? ⟟⏁'⌇ ⌰⟟☍⟒ - ⏃ ⍀⟒⏃⌰⌰⊬ ⏚⏃⎅⏃⌇⌇ ⏃⋏⏁⏃☌⍜⋏⟟⌇⏁ ☌⍜⎅ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ☌⟒⏁⌇ ⌿⎍⌰⌰⟒⎅ ⍜⎍⏁ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⎍⋏⎅⟒⍀⍙⍜⍀⌰⎅, ☊⏃⌰⌰⟟⋏☌ ⎅⍀⟒⏃⋔ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ "⌇⏃⎐⟟⍜⎍⍀" (⏚⎍⏁ ⟟⋏ ⏃ ⋔⍜⍀⟒ ⌇⏃⏁⟟⍀⟟☊⏃⌰ ⍙⏃⊬ ⟟⋏⌇⏁⟒⏃⎅ ⍜⎎ ☌⟒⋏⎍⟟⋏⟒⌰⊬ ⌇⟒⟒⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟒ ⋔⏃⌇☍⟒⎅ ⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⌇ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⊑⟒⍀⍜ ☊⏃⎍⌇⟒ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌿⏃⌇⏁ ⏁⊑⟒⊬'⎐⟒ ⋔⍜⌇⏁ ⌰⟟☍⟒⌰⊬ ☊⏃⌰⌰⟒⎅ ⟒⎐⟒⍀⊬⍜⋏⟒ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⎅ ⏁⊑⟒⋔ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ⋔⟟☌⊑⏁⊬ ⊑⟒⌰⌿⟒⍀ ⏁⍜ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌿⍜⟟⋏⏁ ⍙⊑⟒⍀⟒ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏁⟟⏁⌰⟒ ⎎⟒⟒⌰⌇ ⍜⎐⟒⍀⎍⌇⟒⎅ ⏃⋏⎅ ⎍⋏⎅⟒⌇⟟⍀⏃⏚⌰⟒). ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⍀⍜⏃⋔⟒⎅ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌰⏃⋏⎅⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏁⊑⟒ ⌇⋔⌿, ⏚⍀⟟⋏☌⟟⋏☌ ⏁⟒⍀⍀⍜⍀ ⏃⋏⎅ ⊑⟒⌰⌰⎎⟟⍀⟒ ⏃☊⍀⍜⌇⌇ ⏁⊑⟒ ⍜⎐⟒⍀⍙⍜⍀⌰⎅, ⌰⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⏁⊑⟒⟟⍀ ☍⟒⌿⏁ ⟟⋏ ⍀⏃☌⟒ ⌇⏁⍀⍜⌰⌰ ⎎⍀⟒⟒. ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⟒⋏⎅ ⎍⌿ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⏁⎍⋏⎅⍀⏃, ⏁⊑⟒ ⏚⎍⍀⋏⟟⋏☌ ⎎⌰⏃☍⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏃⌇⊑⟒⌇ ☌⟒⏁⏁⟟⋏☌ ⌰⍜⌇⏁ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ⊑⏃⍀⌇⊑ ⌿⟟⌰⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⌇⋏⍜⍙. ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⊑⏃⌿⌿⟒⋏⟒⎅ ⏁⍜ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⌇⏁⎍⋔⏚⌰⟒⎅ ⎍⌿⍜⋏ ⏁⊑⟒ ☊⍜⏁⏁⏃☌⟒⌇ ⍜⎎ ⏁⍙⍜ ⟟⋔⋔⍜⍀⏁⏃⌰ ☌⍜⎅⌇ ⏁⊑⏃⏁ ⏁⊑⟒⊬ ⋔⏃⊬ ⍜⍀ ⋔⏃⊬ ⋏⍜⏁ ⊑⏃⎐⟒ ⎍⌇⟒⎅ ⏁⍜ ☍⋏⍜⍙. ⍙⍜⋏⎅⟒⍀ ⍙⊑⏃⏁'⌰⌰ ⊑⏃⌿⌿⟒⋏? ⟟ ⍙⍜⎍⌰⎅ ⌰⟟☍⟒ ⏁⍜ ⌇⟒⟒ ⊬⍜⎍⍀ ⏁⏃☍⟒ ⟟⋏ ⏁⊑⟟⌇.

- ⟒⋏⎅⟒⍀⋔⏃⋏ ⏃⋏⍜⋏

𝚑𝚎𝚕𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜: philza, techno, Wilbur,(next few only mentioned)Mexican dream, schlatt, dream

𝚖𝚊𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜: they/them

𝚝𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: fire, death, arson, betrayal mention, being used, reference to drugs, slight cursing

𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚜: translation vvvvv

Can i be enderman anon? anyways now that's all out of the way. God reader getting revived unexpectedly by dream? it's like - a really badass antagonist god that gets pulled out of the underworld, calling dream their "saviour" (but in a more satirical way instead of genuinely seeing the masked man as their hero cause in the past they've most likely called everyone that helped them their mighty helper to the point where the title feels overused and undesirable). They roamed the lands of the smp, bringing terror and hellfire across the overworld, letting their kept in rage stroll free. They end up in the tundra, the burning flakes of ashes getting lost in the harsh piles of snow. They happened to have stumbled upon the cottages of two immortal gods that they may or may not have used to know. Wonder what'll happen? i would like to see your take in this.

- enderman anon

AHHH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I DONT KNOW IF YOULL EVEN READ THIS STILL BUT TY FOR THE REQUEST IT ISNT THE BEST QUALITY IM SORRY :[[[

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You almost don't recognize the sensation of grass against your calloused and rough hands. You were in the void playing solitaire with Schlatt and Mexican Dream, and the next thing you knew you were suddenly pulled harshly by the back of your collar, falling on your spine. The looming mask of Dream is what stood above you, but he looked different. Longer hair, smelly, wearing a stained lime green jumpsuit with ‘0001' sewn into it and covered in cuts, scars and bruises. But before you could even question why Dream was suddenly there, he stepped back into the void, the void slowly surrounding and consuming him the further he went backwards. His now bony hand is still tightly gripped onto the back of your shirt, so while struggling your body is also enveloped in darkness. All it took was one blink and there you were on a patch of grass, staring at the pale blue sky.

"Huh."

Was all that came out of your mouth. You were still shocked at the turn of events that just happened, but no longer grounded. A running river nearby stunned your senses. How long had you been dead? It felt like years, but when you look around at the familiar forest you died in, not much had changed except for a couple newly planted saplings here and there. The swirling ashes you remembered before you died had all settled and compressed into the soil.

The river showed a strange reflection of yourself- your features have clearly sunken into your skull and there's a streak of white hair coming from your scalp along with words in fancy gold letters on your arm reading,

"May thy woes and hurt of the past no longer eradicate the upwards of this lost souls future. Allow thine to be praised by Ender themselves and be granted another chance at mortality."

Scrubbing or picking at your arm did nothing, so onwards you went walking along the forest to what you remember being a bustling "community".

Each mound of dirt you saw only brought memories of your death, of the place and people who sought to treat you like you were disposable. And now that you’re alive, you hate that they technically ended up being right. Your death; alone in a forest. Running away from the unexpected attacker, ashamed and too prideful to die in the prying eyes of your enemies. It fills you with rage, all the lives taken by your hands and for what? You weren’t overreacting, you knew that for sure. And before you knew it, you stole some fresh flint and steel from a random chest and got to work.

You had always wanted to touch the fires you set. The soothing feeling you got from watching wood burn to char and ashes satisfied you. And it made it all the more euphoric to know it was trees of your manipulator's land. Running across the land, with flames as far as you could see when you looked behind you. The heat swirled around your neck and went into your nose, but the feeling was muscle memory at that point. You were still riding your high when a voice reached out to you, luckily when you were finally calm.

"What- Y/n? Hold on, is that really you Y/n..?"

You spin on your heels to the familiar manipulative British voice of a person you haven't seen in a long time.

"Wilbur?! Man, I haven't seen another person's face other than those two addicts in a while- you look different."

His eyes much like yours are sunken deep into his skull, purple-pink bags under his eyes and dull skin. Wilburs shocked lips fade into an opened mouth smile when he walks up to you with his hands momentarily confused on what they should do. Eventually, his right hand settles on clasping your left shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze.

“Y/n it is so good to see you! You look quite different yourself, wouldn’t you think-? Oh, look! We’re matching!”

The grey streak in your hair seems to make another appearance when Wilbur briefly smacks it with his middle and pointer finger.

“Ay, it’s nice to see you too Wil, but back up for a second alright? I've got something to ask you by the way…”

Wilburs head peaks in interest, urging you to go on.

“I’m guessing that little streak in your hair wasn’t a fashion choice- and if it was it’s a bit strange- but how’d you get it? You died when you blew up L’manburg! I mean c'mon, people don’t just, well…REVIVE!”

He starts to walk. You aren’t quite sure where, but stumbling along with Wilbur while his arm is draped lazily atop your shoulders seems to suffice.

“Ahh Y/n, you’d be surprised. The most WONDERFUL thing happened, actually! Years and years in my hell of a train station; do you know who was at the subway door when it finally opened, Y/n? Dream!”

“Wh- Dream?!”

Appalled, you try to stop in your tracks but fail when wilburs arm is still pushing forward. His storytelling voice dies down to curiosity and excitement.

“Wait, did he save you too? He did, didn’t he? Oh, this is wonderful!”

Wilbur emits eagerism and you suddenly realize what you could do with his desperacy to be socially accepted. Putting on the most exaggerated and animated voice, you speak.

“Oh my god yeah! Gosh, that Dream guy is my hero! Thanks to him, I get to have another chance at living again, and isn’t that just…swell.”

In all honesty you didn’t really try hard to sound sincere but by the look of Wilbur, it seemed to work just fine.

“Right?! I’ve been meaning to visit him in the prison if you’d like to tag along with me the day I go? I’m sure he’d love to see you, since he revived you and all.”

Oh, you were sure Dream wanted to see you. He wants a boon- a trade. Why else would he revive two of the most historically significant people on the server if not to make some sort of deal with them? Sure, Wilbur is as gullible and carefree as ever but you at least still had scraps of mental stability and level-headedness that made you all the more a force to be reckoned with. Not to mention Wilbur doesn’t know that Dream killed you, but telling him that now would blow your act. You decide to keep your thoughts to yourself.

“Yeahh, sure! I’d love to go, just tell me when.”

And that’s the end of that conversation. The two of you walk to wherever Wilbur is going. It honestly surprised you how he couldn’t see through your apathy. From what you remembered, he was keen on being wise about people and their intentions but you guess years and years in hell do things to a person.

Somehow, you’re stuck in your mind for long enough that only now do you feel the sharp winter air making the hairs on your arms and legs stand straight up.

“Wait, snow?”

The tundra was a drastic contrast to the void you were once in with schlatt and Mexican Dream. Instead of black as far as you could see, it was a blinding powdery white.

‘Mexican Dream would’ve liked it here, probably would have tried to snort the snow like coke.’

You weren’t built for the snow, though. Hell- you didn’t even have a memory of anyone living in a tundra when you were alive! Why was Wilbur even in the tundra? You didn’t have the energy to ask, still feeling brittle and tired, back aching from laying on the dry dirt longer than expected earlier.

“Yeah, just figured I’d show you around! Plus I already need to grab a couple things from an ender chest and this was the closest by. I’m a very busy man, after all.”

But why were there so many footprints in the snow? As far as you knew, Wilbur was the only one who lived out in the tundra- and he didn’t seem like the active type at all. There were strange shapes as well, large hooved footprints. However, all thinking comes to a halt at the same time Wilbur does.

“We’re here! You might see some familiar faces cause I live with people.”

Well, that answers the footsteps as well as the tall red-caped piglin hybrid giving leftover bones and raw meat to a polar bear.

“TECHNO! TECHNO, HEY!”

He tenses up for a second, you could tell he wanted to be left alone but that didn’t really bother Wilbur. But you recognize him. The name and the apparel- that guy is Technoblade. The same Technoblade who stood by your side while the two of you blew L’manburg up for the last time, and now the Technoblade who resides in a cottage shrouded in snow.

“Technoblade?!”

Hearing your voice being carried by the crisp winter air, he turns around immediately to see you and Wilbur a few feet away. Techno stood there dumbfounded, but he didn’t know why. He wasn’t particularly joyed or ecstatic to see you, but he was at the very least happy to see an old ally back.

“Y/n? Oh my god, now we’ve got TWO of you? We don’t have room for another one, alright?”

For some it might be hard to see the meaning behind his words. Luckily you’ve talked to him enough to where you can tell he’s being playful.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just build directly on top of your house. Besides, who WOULDN'T want to be near me 24-7?”

“Me-“

“Oh f*ck off.”

You would’ve thought that that was Wilbur due to the similar accent, but there was something off. The slight gruffness and age, yet still succeeding in sounding mellow.

“Phil! How’s my favorite old bird doing?”

He gives you a face. Not a happy one like you expected, rather a face that says ‘really?’ Probably because of the old comment. The two of you briefly hug, Phil’s tattered wings stretching out slightly.

“I’m doing alright, are you okay? Here, would you like to come in? It’s pretty cold outside, you probably haven’t seen snow in a couple years.”

He wasn’t wrong after all. You were freezing your toes off and were itching for lemon tea. The kind Phil used to make when he, Technoblade and Dream discussed plans on destroying L’manburg. Ah, the good ol days…

“Of course! We’ve got a lot to talk about- you still have that old chess board?”

“Yes, but first you have some explaining to do about the fire over in that tree, Y/n. You just got back and you’re already burning down forests?!”

“Did someone say fire?”

Techno has an eager stride in his step once he also looks back to see the raging lights of orange and red in the nearby forest.

“Don’t worry Phil! It’s just- ahh, a controlled burn..?”

Your tone of voice is unsure when a black crow shoots down from the sky into the snow in front of you. It’s left wing is charred and has smoke dancing from the burn. Philza looks at you with a stern glare.

“Oh my f*cking god…that’s it! We’re all going inside now, you too Techno. I don’t want you and Y/n going on a rampage.”

#krabs kreates #mcyt x platonic reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt x reader #dsmp x platonic reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #dsmp x reader #philza x reader #philza x y/n #philza x you #techno x reader #techno x y/n #techno x you

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whatgaviiformes · 3 years ago

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Fic: Firefly’s Glow - Part 8/?

Chapter 1: Part 1 | Part 2 Chapter 2: Part 3 | Part 4 Chapter 3: Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 Chapter 4: Part 8 You are Here From the Beginning: FF | AO3 Summary: Imprisoned by the Hood, Gordon dreams of his oldest brother and of fireflies - but of course the Hood had to steal that memory too, in addition to his baldric, his boots, and Virgil’s face. What else could he possibly steal? He discovers the answer is quite a bit, and Gordon has to learn to navigate his new world, its new dangers, and the overbearing presence of his brothers’ desire to help what they can’t fix. This part ~ 1.2K words – the sky, the stars, and the sea (or: Scott and John take care of Gordon) TW: Thunderstorms for this part, and slight drinking. Thanks to @godsliltippy for the read through. -----

Rain trailed down the villa’s windows with a steady pitter-patter as intermittently the grey sky growled with a fervent rumble in the distance. There was a difference to the way a storm sounded, striking instead a blanket of leafy, green canopy as opposed to the plains of their Kansas home – and this time it was joined in its chorus with the tossing of the sea waves upon the sandy beaches and rocky alcoves of Tracy Island.

Muted through the windowpanes it was, but Scott was listening for it. It was the sound of life-giving water returning to its home. Sky to sea. Eventually sea to sky, and back again.

The cycle helped him breathe through the weight in his chest.

The figurative one. Gordon was hardly heavy at the moment, more a feather’s breath sleeping soundly on the pillow his torso provided, rising up and lowering down with the motion of his lungs.

There was a reason Scott kept his breaths steady.

He pressed at the space between his eyes, where his nose met his aching head. Though the slumbering form shifted at the movement, Gordon did not wake. Despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but smile fondly down at the figure curled on top of him and the childish googly-eyed smiley face that grinned at him on the camo shirt above where Gordon’s injured right arm was sprawled over his belly.

The doll clothes had been John’s idea. After a quick net search by EOS, some call outs from the Space Elevator on John’s way to the Island, and finally a quick pallet pick up from the brand’s warehouse in Thunderbird 1 on Scott’s way home, they were now owners of a pallet of 6-inch dolls of randomized styles.

It had been easiest and quickest to buy them in bulk, and the clothes weren’t sold separately. They’d have some doll toys they could keep in Thunderbird 2 for future rescues when all this was over, and the rest could be donated to the children’s hospital on the mainland. But in the meantime, Gordon had picked a few pieces to wear, and the first order of business had been for his brothers to pry the damn dolls out of their packaging so they could get to the clothes, which were either pull over or Velcro.

Even with doll proportions where a good chunk of the size came from the large, non-anatomically correct heads, the apparel was still slightly oversized on their brother.

“How is he?” came John’s patient, dulcet tone from around the corner, clasping two half-full glasses of amber and raising an inquiring eye when he realized Scott was in fact not at their dad’s desk where he left him, but lying on the couch propped up slightly on one arm and with his long legs propped over the other.

“Exhausted,” Scott answered thickly, his voice low. “We were just going to rest a moment.”

And they’d needed it. Debrief had been…. Hard.

They’d made it through the details of the original rescue in the standard amount of time and dreaded the next part, though no one expected Gordon to flat out refuse to talk until Virgil left.

Virgil had paled at the statement, argued for Gordon to let him help until he was hoarse with it. And Gordon just shook his head. In the end, Scott agreed that they should do as Gordon asked, because he could feel how tightly Gordon was pulling at his collar.

Scott hated that look of betrayal in Virgil’s eyes as he stormed off, the “fine” breaking off with a brittle catch of air. He’d wanted to follow Grandma and Alan to make sure he was okay, but Gordon needed him.

And though he hadn’t understood it at the time, he did now.

His heart ached for Gordon.

It ached for Virgil too. He was going to be devastated.

“Hey, Scott. You with me?” John asked with a swirl of the glass, the ice clinking against the side. He gently nudged Scott’s legs back as he sat down on the edge of the couch. “Figured we both could use one of these after that.”

Scott hummed in agreement. Once Gordon had felt comfortable with just Scott and John in the room, the story had come tumbling out. Every painful and cruel detail.

He accepted the glass and shifted up just a bit to give John slightly more room. It was a more comfortable position for sipping, but not so far propped up that Gordon would start to slide. Just in case, he also rested his left arm across his stomach so he could support him if he did.

A crackle lit up the sky for a moment, and the cool burn of whiskey slid down his throat. “Helluva day,” he whispered, his breath heavy.

John nodded, brushing back the ginger hair that fell into his face. “We can fix this, Scott,” he stated, gaze sharp as emerald green abandoned the copper inside his glass to meet weary blue. “Kayo’s out pursuing leads, and I have EOS looking. We’ll figure this out.”

Scott watched a bead of condensation cling to his glass, much slower in its run through the cycle than its raindrop cousins outside. He rubbed it gently with his thumb, which came back wet while the glass appeared silkier, smoother and yet when he looked at the world through it, everything distorted in angled amber.

John coughed, then cleared his throat. “So, I had to tell Grandma.”

Scott frowned at him. “You heard what he said.” Gordon hadn’t wanted anyone else to know.

“Right,” John scoffed. “Have you ever seen Grandma take no for an answer? She cornered me on the way to the restroom. She said she gets it. She won’t reveal anything until Gordon’s ready. But Virgil’s really hurt.”

He knew that and despised that this was something big brothers couldn’t just put a bandage on and fix. “I don’t like having to keep this from him.”

“No one does,” John agreed, “but we have to trust in Gordon. It’s what he wants. For now.”

Outside the thunder clapped, the storm closing in on the villa with a rush of rain. Even after all this time, even with listening so intently to the storm build, the volume took him by surprise. Despite the exercises, there were times – too often than he’d like to admit – that thunder didn’t sound like thunder.

Air caught, just for a moment in Scott’s lungs. He forced the fear back down with a mouthful of fire, listened to the rain, focused on the cycles.

Above his fluttering heart, Gordon stirred. “Why,” he mumbled, “...th’boat stop?” He blinked groggily up at the ceiling, at John then Scott. “Oh.”

“Go back to sleep, Gordon,” John encouraged. “Sorry we woke you.”

“‘S’ok.” Gordon tapped to get his attention, and Scott looked down at the pressure, meeting small, but just as equally determined brown eyes. “Hey. Jus’ a storm.”

“I know, Gordo,” Scott whispered. “Sleep.”

Agreement was muffled into his shirt and faded quickly as the tiny grip went slack.

Eventually glasses were emptied, refilled, and finally abandoned as the storm blew through. And finally, when Scott’s lids lowered, John cleaned up and took over at their father’s desk to pick up the reports where Scott left off, keeping a watchful eye on his brothers as always.

#Gavii Scribit #Firefly's Glow #John Tracy #Scott Tracy #Gordon Tracy #Thunderbirds fanfiction #pocket!Gordon #thunderstorms #light alcohol #miltary!Bros

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snowflake-apocalypse · 4 years ago

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“English is a difficult language. It can be understood through tough thorough thought, though.”

“You need to stop.”

It’s been six months since the formation of Global Justice’s new aces, “Team Go-Possible”. Though, the rhyme and reason of it was wrong, Shego was actually enjoying the partnership with her former rivals. Dare she ever admit it out loud. The three grew to have a good dynamic, she thought. Between conversations about world events and the audacity of Club Banana creating a brach-off store, to the double-edged sarcasm they dished out to their adversaries in combat.

Team GP’s missions took them near and far around globe. This time, it was a nuclear power plant in the blustery Netherlands. Some madman claiming the greed of the world has grown to great. That he was the salvation it needed. His answer to said salvation? Implode the richest nuclear power plant in the world to prove his point.

This has got to be the seventh extremist kook we’ve taken on this month.. though the dude’s not wrong..

Kim and Shego are in route to the mountain side factory. Shego landing their sleek jet on an empty field with concentrated ease.“Okie dokie, let’s go get Mr. Doom Gloom before he turns the mountain side into a mushroom cloud-.” Shego powers their craft down, switching various instruments this way and that.

“-Don’t know about you, Kimmie but I’m looking forward to the bocca coffee. No stupid avalanche is going to ruin that.”

Double checking her equipment, Kim spares the woman a glance. “Heh, glad to know where your priorities are, Shego.-” Kim directs her attention to their mission control via comm link.

“-Hey, Wade you got a lock on our position?”

“Always do.” From GJ headquarters, the tech wiz of the team zooms his screen in on their target.

“That is the most creepy, heartwarming thing I’ve heard from you, Load.” Shego quips, donning her green and black cold weather apparel. When she accepted Betty’s offer, the one thing she swore is that she was keeping her colors.

“Uh..thanks? Anyway, I’ve scanned the interior of the facility, the reactor is located in the south side of the building.” Through the wrist-worn Kimmunictor, a holographic layout of the factory appears. Detailing the whereabouts of their target, only one heat signature appears on the layout. The reactor, they assume.

“Wade, this guy is working alone?” Kim quizzical asks, zooming in on the projection.

“From my latest update, yes. The building has been evacuated for safety. No other intel I’ve collected suggests multiple culprits.-“

Wade swipes through the limited file he has on their perp. He had an uneasy feeling about this caper, but couldn’t justify it from a hunch. “-But, please still be careful, you two.”

Shego, after getting one last solid look at the diagram, closes her hand on the blueprint. “Will do, dad. Thanks.”

——

Approaching the bolted door of the factory, Kim still voiced her concerns., “Y’know, I just wished we had more information on this guy.”

Shego directs a small concentration of searing plasma at the deadlock, freeing the door. “Yeah, well I wished they’d appear at GJ’s doorstep. Or just stayed home.”

Cautiously pushing the door open, Shego scans the left side of the interior, while Kim covers the right.

“Okay, Wade. It looks as empty as you said.- Wade? Wade.” Kim, only being met with silence, tries and fails to reach their partner. Somewhere along the trek, the so-called incorruptible signal was lost.

“Fan-freakin’-tastic. Guess the altitude is the weakness.” Rolling her eyes, Shego marches on. “Let’s just shut this joint down before we get any more surprises.” Despite her quiet tone, Shego’s voice echos throughout the vast building.

Creeping through the corridors, the women stay on alert. Passing abandoned offices, break rooms, only Kim’s quiet chatter fills the space. “Hey, about that coffee, you also want to stop at Portugal of the Little Ones?”

“Are you serious, Possible? You want to visit a tiny replica city in Portugal?” Shego raises an eyebrow in Kim’s direction.

“...Yeah.”

If you don’t stop making that damn face...

“..Okay, fine. Portugal.” Shego huffs in faux annoyance. The pair rounded the corner to the vast power center of the facility, the two spot the ticking time bomb.

“Bingo!” Shego exclaimed, running up to the reactor. Which had been armed with specialized munitions.

“This is new.. Newer. What the hell kind of explosive is this?” The younger agent puzzles.

The device, almost cybernetic, jet-black with a single blinking blue light. Upon closer examination, Shego makes out a faintly marked two-pronged arch on the surface. Gaping at the realization, she snaps of her shock.

“No.. No way...”

“What’s up? What is it?”

“This looks like a prototype product of Gemini’s splinter cell scientists. Before he broke off to W.E.E. It’s not on a timer, it’s remote detonation.”

“Gemini? Hold on, then how is some random guy get a his hands on-“

Before Kim could finish her statement, a man’s honeyed voice breaks through the atmosphere.

“Well, you always were the most observant of the team, Shego. Bravo.”

On the grated deck before them, stood a man. Medium build, piercing blue eyes, a mop of brown hair turning grey. All pulled together by a navy trench coat and tactical cargo slacks.

“Sorry, don’t think we’ve met. Unless I’ve taken you hostage or saved you from a flooding city before.” Shego deadpanned, hands resting on her hips.

Leisurely leaning on the rail of the balcony, a shiftiness displayed in his eyes. “Oh no, I didn’t expect you to be familiar with me. But I have been following the folly of Global Justice’s new dream team. I must say, you are quite the force to be reckoned with.”

“And we really don’t want you to find out why.” Kim interjects, conviction lacing her voice.

“-So if you could hand over the remote, shut down the detonation, then maybe we can reach an agreement.”

“Possible. Kim. Of all the people in the bloody world, I thought you would be one to know.. it’s never that simple.” Faster than her reflexes, the man draws a sleek laser-gun from his coat and fires upon the unsuspecting woman.

Center mass.

Direct hit.

“Gah!” With a cry, Kim covers the wound with her hand, bracing herself on her knees.

“Hey!” Shego booms. Hands ablaze, she charges their suspect... no, enemy now.

Kim, biting back the shock and pain, rises to her feet.

Damnit... Sloppy. Get up, Possible.

Kim averts her concentration back to the reactor. Without Wade, she scrambles to find a bypass way of disarming the bomb.

Firing scorching blast after blast, Shego dodges the rounds aimed at her. The room being filled with the leaden smell of burning metal, as the balcony gave way to the force of plasma.

“I swear, that god-forsaken organization is more concerned with the stock market and shiny toys than actual global security-and you! You radioactive madwoman, turn your back on your very profession! The Emerald Rage can’t even decide who’s side she’s on!” Anger and outrage boiling from the man the closer she got.

“Yeah.. y’know your twenties when you’re trying figure shit out... a lot of grey area and robberies in there.” Flipping onto the grate, Shego faces the man with a controlled fury.

“Oh, also I’m on my side and no one else’s. Which, coincidently is the side that doesn’t want a giant crater in the middle of the Netherlands!” Weaving between a few more shots, Shego disarms the man. She restrains him in a firm, plasma-fortified grip. Not enough juice for a second degree burn, but it sure wasn’t comfortable.

“Hello.” The welcome rolling off his tongue like an invitation.

Abruptly Shego is met with a viscous head-butt and a solid tungsten bracelet around her wrist.

“Grrr-! What the hell-!?” Collecting her wits, Shego paws at the metal. Kicking up the intensity of her powers in hopes of liquifying the substance.

Her foe stands back in smug satisfaction, watching her ferocity slowly turn to languid effort. Her flames spasmed, then doused like a candle in the wind.

Shego lightheaded and pale, collapses with heavy bang on the cold metal.

Crouching next fallen woman, he gingerly strokes her raven hair. Conceited grin never leaving his face. “Oh, my my. Did dear Mother Director not tell you about the adverse correlation between tungsten and the Aether comet? I don’t blame her. Must’ve been frightening for her to raise super-powered children, especially if she had no way of controlling them.”

The clamber drawing Kim away from her task, horror at watching the strongest person she knew hit the floor. “Shego!”

“No, no.” Motioning to the button on the detonator remote, he actives the explosives. Sending the entire right side of the structure up in blazing destruction.

Kim instinctively covers her head, in an effort to shield herself from the blast. Evading wooden beams and falling debris, Kim steels and drives on towards her ally.

Producing a small syringe from his coat, filled with a concentrated supply of the fatal alloy. He methodically pushed back the sleeve of Shego’s fleece, carefully injecting the liquid into her bloodstream.

“My father, Jeremiah Asbell had so much passion for his work. So much drive to create a better world. What did he receive for his endeavours? Scorn and betrayal by the very people he supported!-“

Jeremiah Absell.. Absell.. Dr. Absolute. Wait, he had a kid?

“-All to be handed back by some punk children who should’ve been left in a crater.”

As the tungsten courses through her system, melds with her mutated cells, Shego braces the pain gripping her body. She clenches her teeth, fighting for some kind of spark of her dwindling power.

Thanks, Betty. Chalk this up to another ‘I got your back, kid.’ move. Trust sure ran deep there.

With a flicker of ginger hair catching her attention behind a wall, Shego arduously motions her head to face Kim. Olive meets emerald eyes.

After all of the years they spent trading blows, like scorpions in a bottle, after the late night discussions they’d have when neither could sleep... they both knew that look. The look of unwavering determination meeting one of unabated stubbornness. With all of the unknown wild cards revealed, Shego couldn’t afford both of them being killed.

Mustering as much strength as she could, Shego discreetly raises her hand, stopping Kim in her tracks.

Don’t you dare.

#Kim Possible #Shego #Team Go-Possible #GJ Days #au #a softer world #global justice #Wade load #part one of.....

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toysoldiers-rwby · 4 years ago

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[CS] 12. Survive.

Cutting Strings

Characters: Penny Polendina, Winter Schnee, Aurora Glade, May Marigold Word Count: 7.5k

“All the world’s a stage, And all the men and women are merely players.”

Then when are we not in a play?

Read on Ao3

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Memory Defragmentation. 69% Completed.

Xanthic’s recovery was near instantaneous, there was less to adjust to as her prosthetics only consisted of her eyes. Aro was projected to recover by the end of the week. They had made major changes to Aro’s neural implants and minor changes to the connectors of Aro’s prosthetic legs and the legs themselves. There was no new incisions or other organic damage so it was just a matter of practice and familiarizing herself with the new software.

Aro decided to recover in her own home down in Mantle, an idea May and Winter was all too eager with. Penny saw an envious glare from Xanthic as they left… It took a moment to remember that she was a criminal, a prisoner in her own home. Possibly one of the most heavily surveillance areas outside of the military… Before turning away something in Xanthic gaze changed but she retreated into her large house all the same.

Penny moved most of the furniture in Aro’s living room before the elite graduates had a chance to help. They stared in muted amazement and perhaps flustered at the display of strength. Penny grinned up at them.

May slowly set Aro on her feet and helped her walk while Penny and Winter went over the schematics of Aro’s new legs. Or they were supposed to, instead they’d watch Aro attentively take a few steps into her living room and May rushing to her side as she started falling. The two laugh as May caught her each time. Penny watched May’s hands gently trail over Aro’s body. Sometimes they were objective, only wandering over her hands and arms to balance Aro. Other times they were selfish, wandering up her arms and to Aro’s wide shoulders, then her neck…

When they were lucky Aro would trip and their faces would be inches from each other. Aro would bring them closer laughing and pressing their foreheads together. May laughed too, but her eyes were a little focused on Aro’s lips.

“Stop being so sweet,” Aro would said pulling away with an odd smile, “I don’t deserve it.” Penny and Winter frowned, glancing at each other.

“I disagree,” May whispered. She cleared her throat, “Is blackmailing Ironwood supposed to be a turn off?”

Lingering exchanges like those was one of the few differences Penny was able to observe now that the four of them were dating. It was difficult to separate the platonic behaviors with romantic ones but perhaps using two women who pinned over each other for years was a bad example. The pair have always been affectionate with each other, their touches might linger a little longer now but… Aro wasn’t hiding behind her glowing eyes as much. All Penny found was unguarded emotion, her words were blunt and fumbling without Focus planning everything in advance.

“Penny,” Winter sang softly in her ear. She jumped and gasped in surprised. Winter chuckled softly. Her arms slowly wrapped around Penny’s waist and she bent a little to rest her chin on Penny’s shoulder. “You’ve been lost in your thoughts for a while now. Everything okay?”

“Just…” Penny leaned back into the embrace. Winter’s cool Aura was lovely against her heated skin. It helped calm down the flight mode Winter accidentally triggered, and the embarrassment that followed. It wasn’t skin contact but it was contact. “I’m enjoying the atmosphere generated by lovely company.”

“Oh, I’m sure that will change as soon as Aro can walk again,” Winter teased, eyes glancing up.

Aro scoffed signing a few taunting and rude gestures with a playful smile. Penny was a little surprised she kept her balance long enough for that. Her partner, leader, and girlfriend took a few steps forward before tripping over her slimmer prosthetics and nearly falling hard. As always May caught her in time.

May tried to separate herself from Aro but the huntress held her hand. Then linked their arms when Aro’s balance on her new legs faltered again. “You need to move your toes, doll.” May laughed.

“That’s so weird!” Aro softly yelled. Her ears flickered and arms waved a little, venting out some energy she couldn’t express verbally. She looked down in her feet with concentration. It took a few seconds for her toes to wiggle. "I haven’t had toes in years…" She mused softly.

Winter and May looked pained for a moment as Penny flicked through the schematics for a possible solution. “Your new legs still have the functionality of your previous ones with the added aesthetic benefit of being modular,” Penny said. Her old legs were military grade and militant in appearance. The ones Aro had on now mimicked organic civilian legs with her heavy body type. “Xanthic created some modules that mimicked your previous design as well as some suited for several other occasions.”

“Such as,” May scowled a little. Penny had noted her irritation spiked when she said the hackers name and chose to ignore it like the others did.

“Ball room dancing, sleep, swimming,” Penny listed.

Aro perked up, bouncing to her and pressing to Penny’s free side. “Show me!” She said, arms wrapped around Penny’s waist, fingers finding Winter’s and intertwining. Penny giggled as Aro’s wiggling ears brushed over her own. May sat on the floor, slotted comfortably between Penny’s legs and head poking through her arms to look at the Scroll. Penny lowered it a little so avoid May straining her neck and flicked through the parts.

“I haven’t worn heels in forever!” Aro said gasping softly at one module. She dragged two fingers on the screen to get study it from a different angle. Everything from the knee down was an elaborate design in Aro’s colors; soft pale green, aged or polish gold and deep royal purples. But the real highlight was the feet, designed to replicate fashionable and expensive heels, something you’d find in Winter’s closet. Aro’s smile dropped, a little sad as Focus turned off. Penny stared at her a little surprised. It didn’t flicker, just… deactivated. “I kinda miss wearing feminine clothes.”

“You like skirts and dresses?” Penny asked quickly. Her partner’s outfit usually consisted of an Atlas Academy uniform, customized to mark her status as a student of the Accelerated Program with the cord given to third and fourth years, her broiler suit for combat and work, or some kind of tailored suit

Aro gave her a sad look, “I love my public image but I hate being stuck with it.” Penny tilted her head and nodded, though she didn’t quite understand the perspective. She was constantly with Aurora, she wasn’t just a picture in a magazine or a gently stoic presence on screen. She never really looked into what the easily manipulated media thought of the… secretly former businesswomen.

“Perhaps new purchasing new apparel is in order?” Penny asked with a tilt of her head. Her simulators had a hard time creating an image of Aro in a dress or skirt, which only increased Penny’s desire to see her in one.

“Then let’s go shopping!” May said with a large smile. Winter groaned, pulling away from their cuddle but all three of her girlfriends laughed, mostly May who’s laugh was a little wicked, and pulled her back. “Come on! It’s been awhile since I got to dress someone up! They’ll need new clothes for Vale’s hot as fuck climate too. Don’t want Aro overheating again…”

“Let’s go,” Immediately Winter stood up, her strength nearly dragging all three of them onto their feet.

There was some look of regret on Winter’s face when May took them to large store in Mantle. Penny giggled at the former heiress of the Schnee Dust Company and pulled her in by her hand. Winter did relax seeing the various styles, they ranged from feminine to masculine, from Menagerie to Atlasian. At the counter they spotted a new but familiar tattooed face on her Scroll.

“Salutations Turk!” Penny said with a smile and wave.

Turk jumped a little but smile at the new customers, “Call you later, Tukson. My favorite patron and her mates found me,” Turk said. May looked away, a blush hard on her face for a moment. Her embarrassment only made her a target to the Faunus’ predatory gaze. “Right… Will do, see you soon.” They hung up and leaned against the counter nearly looking like a satisfied cat after dinner. “My brother says hi and to warn him next time you order… tasteful comics.”

“Sunstone came in?” Aro gasped with a light bounce.

“Yep,” Turk nodded. She studied Aro a little, eyes focusing on Aro’s usually displayed cleavage. At her side Penny could feel Winter tense, and when she glanced over there was a protective, perhaps jealous glare. Then Turk smiled, “You’re looking much better Aro. New tattoos causing any trouble?”

“Everything good, boss!” Aro said with a playful salute. “So far. My girls haven’t let me play around with Dust yet.”

My girls. Penny stared at Aro’s odd choice of words. It made her feel… conflicted at first. She wasn’t an object, she wasn’t a weapon, but soon the cherishing warmth and protectiveness in the tone droned out her insecurities. At least a little. Penny would have to further analysis the phrase and emotions. May seemed to be having similar thoughts and reactions to Penny, but stronger. She let out a embarrassed noise, quickly unlinking her arms from Aro and escaping into the racks of clothes muttering something about finding a new outfit.

“You were always the odd runt of the litter,” Turk mused looking back at Aro. It was then that Aro became a little stiff and guarded. Her ears strained out even if her shoulder didn’t tense. “Your humans are very cute though-”

“I’m choosing to ignoring your patronizing,” Winter interrupted with a hard glare. Turk didn’t seem fazed, instead they just raised a brow in odd satisfaction. Where all Menagerie Faunus like this? Was… Aro like this or did Focus hid it? The Specialist looked between them and Aro, “What your implying… the tattoos react to Dust?” She asked Aro with an accusatory look.

“Dust and Aura,” Aro said, voice defensively. Her eyes shifted away as she took a smooth step back with a shrug. “It’s not harmful-”

“You say that while it’s untested,” Winter said.

“It’s been through generations of testing,” Aro said in a near growl, Focus leaving only a glowing white pupil. She looked… a panicked with her ears pinned low at the angle Penny hated the most. The sudden outburst shocked her two girlfriends into silence. Their reaction caused Focus to flicker. It didn’t deactivate it shrunk and stayed. “… Sorry,” Aro muttered looking away and retreating after May.

Penny saw Aro burry her face into May’s chest pulling her girlfriend in for a tight and comforting hug. May looked at them, confused. “What happen?” She signed at them.

“I upset her, sorry,” Turk signed back. May glared hard at the Faunus and lead Aro further into the store. The tattooist and store clerk turned back to Winter, “I’ll give you this for free to make up for ruining your date. The ink for those tattoos are made from flowers that grows around Dust crystals and deposits.”

“Sounds… very traditional.” Winter drawled, “Thank you for the new information.” She briskly marched walked away with Penny following closely after her. She looked between the two Faunus who awkwardly avoided staring at each other.

“Are Turk and Aro friends?” Penny asked softly. Winter closed her eyes for a brief moment. The tension that had slowly drew her shoulders tight melted a little when Penny linked their arms together.

“Perhaps?” Winter said hopeful. Then her voice soured a little, frustration a little more than boiling, “Aro has certainly never spoken of her previous life before Atlas.” Penny blinked and briefly went through her memory banks, even the archived ones.

She couldn’t recall Aro speaking about her family. Ciel constantly worries about her family and visits them whenever possible. All the money from various betting pools were given to her family. Even Xanthic talks about her uncle. Aurora spoke about Menagerie but never touched upon her personal experiences… It reminded Penny of how she drew upon the information she was preinstalled with.

When the pair found Aro, her ears perked up and she smiled brightly at them. May looked a little distressed at her side, face a little red as she had a handful of lingerie instead of public appropriate clothes.

“Please talk her out of it,” May asked.

“Hm,” Winter pretended to be stoic. She stared at Aro’s glowing eyes, as if trying to determine if this was an honest or an act. Instead Winter turned her attention to May with a controlled and level stare. “The purpose of this is to buy clothes that would prevent Aurora from overheating in Vale. The current selection of clothing would work.” May’s eyes widen, the blush tinting the tips of ears. Aro grinned happily. Some of her un-Focused behavior such as the small bounce and flap of her arms broke through. Winter sighed and patted Aro’s head, “You need to wear some kind of jacket or shawl with it. Understand?”

“Yep!” Aro said, nuzzling into the palm, even rising to her new toes.

“And we are getting you real clothes,” Penny added. May let out a breathe, blood slowly returning to her limbs. Aro agreed but stuck out her tongue and Penny saw the glint of metal through it. She tried to remember if that was another new addition or not.

It took nearly an hour for Aro to relax enough for Focus to deactivate again. Turk would occasionally help, or try to.

“I tailor and embroider Dust into the cloths. I’m just covering a shift.” They said through the curtain. Turk’s didn’t trigger Focus, but they also avoided any familiar talk, instead talking fashion with May. “Lingerie and loose robes are quiet popular back in Minstral, especially during the summer. I could find that easily enough.”

“That… That’d be great!” May said as Aro stripped out of shorts and another loose sleeved but thin top. Aurora had a weightlifter’s build, muscles hidden under fat and sculpted in areas that didn’t store it. Such as her back and arms. She usually wore a sports bra or bralette, this time it was a simple cross back bra with a matching thong that held the huntresses attention for more than a second.

Her back was facing them with a full length mirror still showing her front, Penny had a hard time deciding if the faux modesty was habit or tactful choice. After nearly an hour of watching Aro dress and strip, Penny understood her partner’s selection of clothes to be more out of necessity rather than preference. Muscular back and shoulders made pulling shirts over her horns difficult. But her girlfriends didn’t step in to help quite yet.

They just… stared for a few minutes. Admiring the… muscles that flex with each small movement… every breath…

When it was clear Winter and May was too busy restraining themselves, Penny took a step forward. To help. Her curious hands didn’t linger over skin inches away from the tangle top. She wasn’t slowing down to archive the sensation of hard muscle under soft civilian skin. She was completely objective in her goal of guiding the shirt over Aro’s shoulders and neck. Except Penny’s slow touches acclimated her sensors to Aro’s warm body and she nearly shivered at the rush of cool air when her hands had to leave her girlfriend’s skin to make sure her horns didn’t cut into the fabric.

"Thanks, Penny." Aro said, giving their two other girlfriends a teasing glance. She gave Penny a light kiss on the lips as a thank you.

Penny tensed for nanosecond. Her Aura flared across her processors trying to analyze and save the new sensation that buzzed across her lips but it was already overloaded with the feel of Aro’s back. The short contact wasn’t enough to decipher, so Penny followed Aro’s lips. She felt flexing muscles far beneath those soft lips, under her fingers she could feel Aura heat the ink on the base of her throat. Then a sound, hot breath across Penny’s face and a small tremble from Aro as her back hit the mirror.

“Penny,” Winter’s voice, lips and breathe grazed her ear. Penny was encouraged back by cool hands, but the new expression on Aro’s face had her craving more. She was dazed and flushed, heavy chest rising with deep breaths. The energy humming in the ink slowly faded, but it lured their eyes down and down.

May closed her eyes briefly, trying to keep them from wandering up and down her inked cleavage. “I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.”

“Oh you think!?” Winter snapped softly. When everyone managed to look Aro in the eyes again she work a smug grin that complimented the breathless and disheveled look.

“You look thirsty,” Aro signed. May let out a strangled noise. Quick glance and Penny could see her chest struggling for air, her neck and cheeks turning a lovely pink and growing darker. Winter growled in frustration, eyes hooded and hungry. Penny was busy trying to balance a power surge as her Aura flared. She wondered if it was illegal that the sign for thirsty was an index finger drawing down the throat, and what kind of punishment would be appropriate for the slow, teasing emphasis Aro placed on it.

“Ahem,” Turk cleared their throat from beyond the curtain. Everyone jumped a little. Penny was suddenly aware of how often their intimate moments were in public. Perhaps they’ll need to discuss that. “Here’s a few robes. Also we Faunus have sensitive noses… so either fuck and make it quick or hide the boners when you leave.”

Aro gave a breathless chuckle, making sure to avoid May’s direction as she shifted uncomfortably in place. "I’ll behave if you three behave," Aurora promised in sign language. Penny and May quickly nodded. Winter looked as if she wanted to rebel before shaking her head out of her heated daze.

“You’re advice has been noted but unnecessary,” Winter said. She reached out and pulled the new selection of clothes for Aro to try on, a little surprised when there was a little more than just robes. There were some outfits that suited Winter’s figure, Penny’s adorable and vintage aesthetic, and May’s current dress.

“Your welcome,” Turk sang as the couple heard their footsteps wander back to the front counter.

Penny tried to be more attentive to the difference in their behavior after that. Aro had always been physically affectionate, May was always easily embarrassed and Winter was always snuck in gentle smiles and touches when they were on military grounds. So the difference was very subtle, something she only noticed as the weeks passed.

At first it was small additional behaviors. Aro’s physical affections became lingering touching that danced over their skin. She loved to embrace her partners from behind, arms slowly wrapping around their waist, sliding down into a snug fit around their hips while her head found a comfortable spot on May and Winter’s shoulder, or in Penny’s case her head.

May’s reservations and fears transformed into an excited energy. Her embarrassment didn’t stop her from doing almost anything to get her girlfriends to smile. From horrible puns to outrageously clashing outfits during impromptu fashion shows during small shopping trips at the malls.

Though Penny found Winter’s dating behaviors to be the most… unrestrained of the three. Not always. Most of the time she was gentle with Penny, holding her hand and kissing her knuckles and wrist. When they were alone, Winter’s hands would travel up her arm and neck. The sensation would freeze Penny in place as her Aura raced through her system, temporarily overloading everything with a pleasant buzz. Winter’s thumb would graze Penny’s bottom lip and Penny would be chasing that soft touch for more and more until she was inches from Winter’s face.

This happened a few times a week. Gradually increasing in frequency as time further passed until finally Penny took action instead of reacting. The look and noise of surprise Winter expressed as her back hit the wall… As their lips finally met-

Winter groaned into the kiss, trying to match Penny’s force but her self-restraint protocols were barely in effect. Every push was matched in strength and a little more until Winter pulled away. When Penny tried to follow again there was a some resistance so she stopped with a frustrated huff and pout.

“You…” Winter murmured weakly out of breath. She tried to move but Penny wasn’t finished. She firmly placed her hands on Winter’s chest and pushed her back. Winter smiled, head against the wall with a laugh. Penny licked her lips. The sensation of touch was still new to her, her code always evolving as much as her hardware could allow and apparently after her first kiss with Aro the code readjusted. Or she never noticed her lips were just extremely sensitive. “Don’t you to need to breathe?” She said with a laugh.

Penny archived the image before her. Specialist Winter Schnee, the perfect soldier disheveled in a dark hallway of the Polendina Facility, gasping for breath from a kiss when the women could fight off a small horde of Grimm without effort. Neck exposed… throat flexing with each breath and swallow…

The sensation, reaction, behaviors, it was all still foreign and Penny was craving more.

“This is definitely romantic affection,” Penny whispered to herself. Perhaps her subconscious wanted Winter to hear it too. The smile on her lips was too addictive to be rewarding. She licked her lips trying to cherish the phantom sensation of Winter’s lips on hers. But her skin was cool, soft, her Aura buzzing and alive against Penny’s artificial skin. When Penny leaned in again, Winter was much more firm in stopping her with an index finger pushing on Penny’s lips.

“Slow,” Winter whispered in her ear. “We have two other partners to dance with.”

“As of right now, I’d rather have them watch,” Penny said with a frustrated pout. She blew the hot air building within her onto Winter’s neck. Penny wasn’t satisfied with the shiver that ran through Winter but considering all the new behaviors and reactions Penny discovered it was… close enough.

Penny did notice May and Winter took them much more seriously during training. They capitalized on every opening but didn’t do enough damage to end the fight. It slowly became a test of endurance, one that Penny would win if Winter’s didn’t have a Glyph for every occasion. It created so many variables it was frying Penny’s processors and slowing her reaction time. It was not the way Winter’s chest rise and fell, or the flush of exhaustion rising coloring her pale skin.

Penny smothered that line of inquires, sorting them for later and attacked again. During the rare moments Penny was able to keep up, Winter would use Time Dilation on herself or her summons.

“Agh!” A pack of blue and white Beowolves rushed at her. One shoulder slamming into her back. Penny felt the sharp pressure around her ankle. A shot from all fourteen guns of Floating Array freed her. Temporarily. The rest of the pack descended on the metal women suspended in air. Penny recalibrated her next shot, lengthening the duration. It wasn’t powerful, there was no time to charge it as the rest of the pack lunged. Weak but steady streams hit the second and third summons with just enough force to throw them off trajectory.

Within fractions of a second Winter redirected the fourth and fifth beowolves. Glancing blows didn’t slow their advancement. Claws white and misting blue nearly effulged her vision-

“Denied!”

Penny gasped, her body suddenly pulled down. Months ago her code wasn’t advance enough to feel wind breezing past her face as those sharp claws swiped inches out of reach. Aro’s arms wrapped around her. Penny braced for hard impact but her gyrostabilizer couldn’t detect the ground. Mix signals of false inputs confused her but she learned to ignore most of it. They’ll have to upgrade it before they’d leave for the tournament.

“Marigold!” Winter gave a frustrated yell. She stiffen as the Huntress was suddenly by her side, out of breath.

“Her upgrades made her a faster, alright?” May complained.

“Upgrades are meant to improve performance,” Penny said with a small giggle. She enjoyed contact from having her arms wrapped around Aro’s shoulders before she was suddenly pulled her chest.

Penny watched as those new tattoos glow a dull purple. The same color as gravity Dust. Penny barely had time to brace herself as there was a sudden increase in pressure. Even Aro grunted under the force. All around them, freshly summoned beowolves howled as they slammed into the ground, metal floor denting. Aro quickly released her teammate and Penny sprang off her thigh as soon as the gravity Dust was off. Before the beowolves recovered Penny sent her swords through them.

“You’re assistance is much appreciated, Friend Aro!”

“We aren’t done yet, Penn!” Aro crouched low. Combustion Dust locked in, a red and orange glow overpowering the passive purple. She smirked at their girlfriends. The elite graduates had recomposed themselves, giving them a combative stoic stare but a small and proud smile. Winter had only had one sword out but May was at her side, ready with the crossbowstaff. "We have a victory to secure against Opponent Schnee and Marigold!" With a blast Aro was rocketing towards them.

Penny landed hard on her feet, the density of her body almost bending the metal tiles of the training room. She reconfigured Floating Array. Seven blades hovering close to her body while seven guns charged to join in the rush. With her passive gravity and combustion Dust chambered in, Aro is faster and much more agile than Penny. The metal women decided to strike second, taking advantage of whatever opening Aro’s attack would create.

That problematic yellow glow of Time Dilation shined under Winter. Aro immediately increased her speed, a massive blast of combustion and several smaller ones to increase velocity. Floating Array roared like an engine, pushing Penny forward. She felt like she was chasing a bullet.

Suddenly Aro dodged in front of her, a black glyph under her previous path. “Good!” Winter said but she smirked as May appeared in a few feet in front of Aro, bayonet pointed at the hallow of Aro’s collarbone. “It doesn’t matter how fast you are if you’re predictable!”

“Now do better!” May yelled.

Aro growled at her. Even with her gravity Dust, a sudden change of direction at the necessary speed to dogde was unlikely. Instead Aro suddenly reached back without looking. She grabbed Penny’s blouse and threw her at May.

Penny felt an odd warp of gravity, like she was sling out of orbit. The huntress pair gasped, a black Glyph appeared in front of May in time to catch Penny and halt her attack. Time Dialation faded from their bodies as Winter rushed forward to protect May’s flank as prosthetic limbs and hard-light blades collided with her sword. May helped Winter push the attack back before Invisibility Field hid their retreat.

Penny was freed from the Glyph and landed on her feet. She stepped forward to protect Aro’s side. Despite all the training she was still the quickest to tire out. The civilian was already panting softly, sweat damping her skin and some even rolling down her neck. The steam venting from her legs didn’t help. Penny angled her guns up and behind before cooling off half of Floating Array.

Then they noticed a swirl of movement in the steam. Penny and Aro turned, looking up to defend or counter May or Winter’s attack. Instead Fiona appeared from the steam and took the opening to punched Aro in the abdomen. The blades of Robyn’s wrist mounted crossbow followed. In such tight quarters Penny didn’t have the space to maneuver Floating Array. She was forced to dodge away from Aro.

“Hey- Hey!” Xanthic yelled running up to the fight. She waved the steam out of her face. “If this is turning into a four on four match instead of a one on one can we have a breather?” The hacker asked. Ciel was the final one to arrive, freeing Robyn’s crossbow bolt out from her beret and putting it back on her head.

May dropped the Invisibility Field. The unauthorized and nearly rogue team of FRSM (Freshmint) stood besides their partners. Fiona with Robin and Winter with May, who was glaring at Xanthic’s newest accessory. A halo with an inner transparent cover to show off the circuitry, it hovered around her head with gravity Dust.

“Sure… if we get to break that ugly thing,” May said with a scowl.

“But it’s actually really functional,” Fiona protested softly. “I know… they… yeah. But they’re forcefully stuck together so you two need get over it.” Both May and Winter gave the tiny Faunus a fierce glare that had Penny flinching. She didn’t even buckle, or challenged them back, just gave them a soft pleading look.

With the anarchist pair on opposing sides of APCX, it took a bit of left and right to see that their appearance made a matching set. Penny and Ciel gasped, both their eyes growing wide with realization. The anarchists attitudes foiled each other to near staged perfection, their interest greatly overlapped, their intelligence set them at odds with many peers their age. Lately their behaviors were far too similar as if bad habits were resurfacing. All the hostility May and Winter had towards Xanthic…

Me and Glade have… history. Penny remembered Xanthic telling her once.

“You two dated?!” Ciel and Penny asked the hacker. With the information Penny got from Winter and May… the one relationship that let nearly broke Aro’s semblance, her voice was much… much angrier than Ciel’s. Penny could barely restrained her defensive protocals-

Xanthic sneered, cold and guarded. A look Penny previously thought as default and normal for her. “Dating is a nice word for horny ass teenagers.”

Penny wasn’t well practiced with negative emotions. They rarely surfaced in occasions where it was expected but jealously and anger caused her Aura to flare wildly. Several attack strategies, the instinct to defend Aurora bypassed several protocols.

But… Xanthic didn’t move to defend. She only stared down Penny, challenging her… Without any real fight, Penny realized. They got along like they were friends… but how much of it was an act under Focus?

“I’m not punishing you for what you did to Aurora.” Penny said looking away. She heard and saw the crackle of hard-light Dust. Her simulators could actually predict the defensive anger on her face but she tried to imagine the look of Ironwood’s face. With the protective glass and bright lights in the control room, Penny could only make our his silhouette.

You paired Aurora and Xanthic together, sir. Penny’s fist clenched tight and she looked back Winter. She tried to give a comforting look but with all the restrictions from the Military it was conflicted and nearly pained. Then stoic in a way a soldier needed to be. Meanwhile, May was furious, all attention focused on Xanthic.

“Break’s over!” Fiona called out. “Ready?”

“No…” Ciel and Penny muttered. Aro looked at them, resignation and sorrow odd with her glowing blue eyes. It seemed genuine but… everything did with Focus. “What’s the plan?” Penny asked softly.

“Survive and look good doing it,” Aro answered. Her voice was hallow. Penny’s head turned to Aro so fast there was no way she could have missed it before she looked at Fiona. “APCX, ready!”

For the first time Penny couldn’t focus on a fight. Her processors kept spinning the same information over and over again with no real goal. General Ironwood knew the damage between Aurora Glade and Ashley Xanthic and still paired them on a together.

Aro’s gravity Dust manipulation kept rendered escape impossible. Xanthic’s concentrated hard-light Dust weapons would take them out. It was an effortless and strategic show of force, picked to complement each other, just like how the Ace Operatives were handpicked to strength each other’s abilities.

Months of training created an automated defense but when Floating Array moved to cover Xanthic against May’s crossbowstaff… She hesitated. The strangled and pained gasp, the shimmering Aura threatening to break at the sharp blade and pressure. Xanthic was lifted from the ground, grabbed by the throat and slammed down.

Penny only watched and she regretted it.

She quickly fixed her defensive priorities. Defending Aurora and keeping Xanthic away wasn’t necessary right now. Neither was defending her… teammate Xanthic from opponent May. She was created, she wanted to protect people. Her swords angled in, blocking May’s next strikes and pushing her back.

No offensive move was made from APCX until Ciel intervened, chakrams soring in. May set off the explosive Dust when she blocked. APCX regrouped at Xanthic’s side. A pulse of gravity Dust brought lifted her back onto her feet.

“Why’d you stop her!” Xanthic scowled.

“Why didn’t you attack?” Ciel asked.

“Because it was the right thing to do,” Penny frowned at the pair.

“Discuss this later,” Aro said in a commanding tone. They all stood, back to back looking around the empty training room as Aro and Xanthic tried to sense out the Invisibility Field.

“You need a weapon,” Ciel threw Aro an annoyed glance. “You’re fast but they know you. There’s no way they’ll engage in melee, you’ve just been chasing them.”

“Too be fair I have been running from May and Winter for years,” Aro mused lightly. Her teammates groaned at her and Aro only laughed and winked. The laugh was fake, it didn’t have that rich rumble. Then Penny noticed an extra glow. Her eyes were bright, completely engulfed by Focus but the tattoo was softly glowing. The ink had changed into a hard-light cyan color, raw Dust energy gathering bright between her horns. "And to be fair, they only know my life in Atlas." She said with an almost hallow evenness of her voice.

Grabbing the raw hard-light energy, Aro pulled out a long whip with a flourish. She ejected a fire Dust cartridge from her leg and applied it to the handle, changing the cyan glow to an ominous red. It traveled along the length on the next crack, a plum of fire bursting from the tip.

Fiona and May screamed, Winter and Robyn grunted. Invisibility Field dropped to reveal them scrambling away from the blast. Fiona grabbed May and shook her a little, "Can you not be a horny ass right now and fight?!"

“Sh-Shut it!” May scoffed, pushing the leader of FRSM off her. The four quickly disappeared again. Penny giggled. She saw a surprised look on all four elite graduates but a flush across Winter and May’s face before they retreated.

“Aurora,” Ciel sighed in annoyance, “Have you really been holding back all this time?”

Aro didn’t answer. She just looked at the whip in her hands and twirled it lightly, winding up for another crack. Once again May screamed and raced to get out of the blast, Invisibility Field faltering. Another crack and Winter was nearly sent sprawling to the ground. Apparently her Faunus traits allowed Aro to scent out the pair. Penny giggled at May and Winter’s blush when Aro tapped her nose and winked.

With additional range support, APCX had a brief advantage. They focused on May and Winter, attacking them while Ciel kept Robyn and Fiona at bay with Clockwork and her chakrams. Almost overwhelming them until a sudden buzzer sounded.

Penny frowned and looked at the board. No one took damage… but semblance and Dust used Aura. Aro’s attack had drained her Aura to 10%, similarly Xanthic was low from her previous hits and highly charged attacks.

Aro walked to the waiting room. Without her support the fight quickly fell into FRSM favor. Xanthic was the next to fall, a powerful elbow from Winter felt a little personal.

Ciel and Penny turned their attacks to Robyn, determine to at least defeat one of the elite graduates. But Clockwork worked both worked with and against them. It was an AOE semblance, unable to tell the difference between friend and foe. Everything within the area slowed, including the projectiles Floating Array fired.

When Ciel dropped the AOE, Robyn dodged or blocked the projectile. She laughed and shook her head, “That’s right girls, chase the birdie.” She beckoned the pair forward.

Out of FRSM, Robyn’s semblance was the least threatening in combat. Sensible teams would try to take advantage of that. The elite graduates used that thinking to their advantage. Penny and Ciel stood back to back, scanning the empty room.

Penny didn’t have Aro or Xanthic’s sensory equipment. She didn’t detect May or Winter in front of them until Invisibility Field was deactivated. May’s grin and heavy breaths was a sharp contrast to her partners even and stoic stare behind the saber pointed at Penny.

Penny took a deep breath and sighed, “APCX concedes.” She said. Winter gave a small smile, a proud one that made the defeat and… revelations a little softer.

After a quick clean up Fiona rounded up everyone outside of Atlas. “Excellent work everyone! I’m glad you two are recovering from the upgrades.” She smiled up at Aro and prounce a little at Xanthic to swipe up at the halo, making it wobble and spin.

Penny stood with May and Winter, trying not to glare at how well the two looked with their accessories. “This… explains your previous hostilities.” Penny murmured. They watched Fiona continue to play with the halo until she completely pulled it from Xanthic’s head. She laughed and ducked behind Aurora who laughed softly as the small Faunus deftly dodge the hacker’s grabs. “Are they friends?”

“Fuck no!”

“That isn’t your call, May.” Robyn quickly chided. She lead Ciel to the polymerous trio even though the officer seemed reluctant to join. “They’re stuck together and you two are making it worse.”

“If it makes you two feel better…” Ciel nervously started, “They act more like brother and sisters.” Penny nodded in agreement though she doesn’t understand the full context of that phrase. It was definitely not romantic, platonic? Maybe. May and Winter looked unconvinced so Ciel smirked a little, “Xan is the younger brother with the inferiority complex.”

“Fuck you!” Xanthic yelled at her. “I’m not inferior and I’m not fucking friends with any of you!” She said chasing a giggling sheep around a goat that was starting to get a little overwhelmed. Penny noticed for the first time Focus was deactivated with Xanthic. She gave Penny a helpless stare.

Penny giggled and pulled her out of the circle. Without a barrier Xanthic quickly caught Fiona but her halo was absorbed into her semblance.

“Thyme! Give it back!”

“Never!” Fiona laughed trying to free herself as Xanthic started to vigorously shake her up and down.

May scoffed at the scene, “You two only like her because she steals for Mantle.” She said glaring hard at her leader. Robyn didn’t shrink. If anything she straightened her back and looked down at May.

“It’s almost as if she’s trying to atone.”

“Fuck off!”

“May,” Aro’s voice was an odd type of commanding without Focus. It wasn’t charismatic like Robyn but harder like Winter’s. “Just be civil. You can hate her, forgive her, whatever.” She shrugged. Then Aro smiled at Penny and linked their arms pressing herself tight to her partners side. She looked back at Winter who tried to retreat without losing grace. “We’re stuck together because of Ironwood. No need to make it worse.”

It took a while for Winter to meet Aro’s gaze. She didn’t speak right away. Instead she held her hand out towards Robyn who took it with Lie Detector flaring at contact. “I would have stopped him if I had known,” Winter said softly. It glowed green.

Aro looked at Penny for a second then away. Penny wanted to be an observer again. For a moment she didn’t want to be reminded about the string of lies Ironwood had wrapped around her. Aro had looked at her with resignation Penny understood for all of her life.

“You would have tried to stop him,” Penny corrected softly. In the end even Winter was under his command. A tense silence fell over the group. Even the atmosphere was a little quiet as the sunset and military life slowed. They heard Xanthic’s footsteps as she walked up.

“We leave for one second and you idiots get all depressed. I didn’t even give you guys bad news.” Xanthic scowled. Fiona thrown over her shoulder but her halo back around her head. She threw her to Robyn who caught her with a smile.

“Fighting not enough of an exercise, lambchop?”

“That just got my blood pumping!” Fiona said with a large smile and ears wiggling. The two kissed briefly before Robyn set her down. She finally took in the mood and settled down a little, “Okay… so what did we miss?”

“Me and Penny should be asking that,” Ciel said with a scowl, “What other secrets you have?”

Xanthic scowled at her. The familiar and faux hostility calming the tense air a little. Then Xanthic raised a brow and posed with a superior smirk, “I faked my death and like to fuck random girls in the dance floor.”

Surprised glanced were immediately turned to Aurora who gave everyone a surprisingly fierce glare for how hard she blushed. “E-Excuse you?!”

“Here’s a real secret,” Xanthic said crossing her arms, “Ironwood has us leaving before the others.” Everyone gave the polymerous couple a sympathetic look. The fight from May quickly dissolved into near defeat while Winter was growing furious.

“What,” Winter scowled. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Wasn’t the end of the last conversation all about how he doesn’t need to tell you shit?” Xanthic scoffed rolling her eyes. They landed hard on Penny, “Perhaps if someone didn’t start something in the middle of a surveillance military facility Ironwood wouldn’t have seen it.”

“When?” May asked.

Xanthic gave her a confused glare, “When they made out in the hallway?”

“No!” May sputtered a little red from the statement and frustration. “When is APCX leaving you dumbass!”

“About two weeks from now. He was probably trying to spring this on us so me and Aro doesn’t have time to prepare. Ironwood is sending us to Argus first for some maintenance work. Then we’re to investigate the crimes going on in Vale.”

Penny didn’t really pay attention to Xanthic after the first sentence. She looked at May’s scared eyes and Winter’s conflicted glare. She could feel the resigned air around Aro, calming the normally excitable and happy women.

Their short time together continued to hang above their head even after getting ready for the night and nearly half an hour of restless cuddling on the bed. The huntresses were being rather selfish with their younger pairs. May held Aurora tightly to her, back turned to Winter and Penny. The Specialist ensured Penny was half laid on top of her, a hand brush over the nightgown… over where her belly button would be.

“Are you coming back…” May whispered. Penny nearly shot up and reached for her but Winter held her close. Penny shuffled, looking as Aro gently pressed May’s back to the bed and hovered over her. Sea-green eyes gazed down back at gold ones, both valuable and scared. May turned away, trying to wipe tears from her face. “Ironwood, the SDC, Atlas is slowly killing you-”

Gently Aurora took one of May’s hands. She kissed the tears smeared across her finger tips and then guided it to her neck. May’s hands slowly traced the tattoo. Her hands grew bolder, reassured by the deep purr Aurora let out. “What can I do if the ink on my skin isn’t enough to show my devotion to you and the others…” She whispered.

May grabbed a horn and pulled her down to a kiss. Penny watched Aurora slowly calm May’s desperate lips with her slow earnest ones. It didn’t stop tears from salting their kisses but Penny could remember warmth and love behind it.

Winter’s hand came up, cupping Penny’s cheek and gently guiding her eyes back to her. Penny held Winter’s hand, gaze on her neck. Part of her was scared to see tears spilling from the strongest amongst them. Slowly Winter’s hand pulled Penny’s face closer and closer, until their foreheads was touching and there was nowhere else to look besides blue defeated eyes. Penny almost wished she was crying instead.

“We won’t ask you to come back to Atlas…” Winter said. Her hands drifting over her button-less belly. “But please promise me you and Aurora will take care of each other. No matter what you two decide.”

Penny smiled, trying to lift Winter’s mood. She wasn’t quite sure it worked but Winter returned it with the small amount of energy she still had. “It is my duty as her partner.” Penny pointed out. Still she sealed the promise with a kiss.

Neither Aurora or Penny answered May’s question.

100% Complete.

Timestamped: Day 363 since creation. Day 136 of APCX’s formation. Approximately ██ since PAWM ██████ █████

#Penny Polendina #fic #cutting strings #pre-fall of beacon #Aurora Glade #winter schnee #May Marigold #pfenning #qued

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kangaroo-writes-trash · 3 years ago

Text

Day One - “Losing Control”

“Show yourself!” Is shouted, the deep, commanding voice booming down the cobweb-filled hallways of the dilapidated mansion. The source is a man in the unkept foyer, who stands at a few inches above six feet with a rather stocky build. Their left hand tightly grips the handle of a still-sheathed knife, their right hand tentatively considering the whip hidden under their wet, furred cloak. They wear a brown, undone jacket, with a cobalt-blue vest and white undershirt beneath that. The man stands with his back against the front door, his hazel eyes beneath circular frames taking in the broken room. At his immediate left and right are long dead potted plants, the floorboards covered in dirt and mud. A mat that reads “Welcome!” has been thrown to the side, drips of dried blood contrasting its green make. Within the centre of the room is a wide staircase that splits off to each side once it meets the far wall, both sides reaching up to the same second-floor balcony. Half of the banister has been broken outward, whilst the red carpet that lines the stairs hides long-standing bloodstains. Shattered furniture litters the room, from broken apart chairs by the long-abandoned fireplace in the far-left corner, or a splintered desk on the right. Even the brass chandelier that hangs from the high roof seems lopsided, with a few tattered pieces of apparel discarded across it. Hanging in the middle of the far wall, just above where the staircase splits, is a large painting untouched by the room’s chaos. A portrait depicting twelve figures. The man immediately recognises them as the family who once owned the estate. The well-respected father, with his wife at his side and their blue-eyed, white-haired son standing in front, whose hand is intertwined with a man he knows was once their husband. To the left is another family, another father with an uninterested-looking daughter. And to the right, another family, and more faces who seem displeased at being included. “Darling!~” Calls a playful voice from the second-storey balcony, the man pulling free their blade as their eyes shift to the upper-right. “Tsk, tsk! You’re supposed to need permission to come wandering in!” Leaning over the banister is a pale figure dressed in black, with long, dirtied black hair flowing over their shoulders as they smile wide. Crimson eyes staring through them, and two sharp teeth poking through. In the time it takes for the man to blink, the figure’s gone. They find them already halfway down the staircase, yet, they still move slowly. They’re lithe and feminine, barely five and a half feet tall, with their left hand tenderly running down the banister as they go. What the man had assumed at first to be robes, is in fact a black dress that stops just short of the shins. He’d think them a woman if it wasn’t for the noticeably male voice that comes from them. Their hands clasp their back, leaning inquisitively forward. “Oh, silly me. I’m the one who needs permission, aren’t I?~” “You’re ungodly.” The man replies, pointing their knife forward with a few small steps. The figure is without an ounce of age on their skin and only smiles wider as the blade is aimed at them. “Oh, what fun! You’re here to actually kill me, aren’t you? I rarely get your type anymore!” The figure stops a few feet away, their voice giving an air of... elation, at the idea. The man’s eyes flick upward for just a moment, to the painting on the wall, and the face of the white-haired son. The exact face that stares him down now. They squint, their cautious gaze turning to fury. “Ah! There it is, the infamous rage of the Penndragon’s...” A beat, accentuated with three sharp sniffs. “Oh, don’t look so surprised! I can smell the oleander on that vest of yours. And, the stench of that mutt sitting outside.” The man with the last name Penndragon tightens his grip at the mention of the animal he purposefully kept outside, daring to finally pull free his whip. He knows the figure could’ve easily taken advantage of him at that moment, but they don’t. He knew they wouldn’t. The way they stand, with their hands behind their back, and purposefully stood lower than they actually are - they’re taunting him. They want a fight. They’re enjoying this just as much as they enjoy wearing the face of the man he killed. “A whip, hm? Seems impractical. But... perhaps you’re simply trying to make me blush?” With a tense jaw and a burning heat within his chest, he begins to spin the whip from side to side in front of him, ignoring their wicked words while taking small steps forward. His enemy remains unmoving, watching with a grin that only helps to bolster the man’s anger. He swings the whip forward, having it lash against the pale white cheek of the one he came all this way for. He was aiming for their eye. Having tilted their head just barely to the side to avoid a more hurtful hit, the pale figure’s smile deepens, joined with a joyous laugh. They raise a finger to their cheek, their skin staining with a single drop of red... they can’t help but bring their tongue to taste, their pupils dilating at the shameful delight. “Oh, you really do want me to blush!~ All the others were oh so boring, but I think you and I could have some fun! Don’t you agree?” They offer half-suggestively, edging back slowly and allowing their hunter to approach just so that they can begin to circle them with practised sniffs. “Your family’s well-known... If you’ve got a vampire problem, the vampire will soon have a dragon problem.” They extend with a small giggle that makes the man feel sick. “You can have that one for free! Put it on a business card.” And in an instant, they dart forward just to get a sniff at the man’s neck, right before being thrown off with a grunt. “Ah!~ So strong! I love that about you! Oh, I do wonder, though, if you wouldn’t mind. Did you get everything you ever wanted, being an only child, Mr. Maddock?” The vampire twirls, leaving themselves wide open for an attack that doesn’t come. “I always wanted to meet a Penndragon!” They take a handful of steps back up the staircase they descended, ending up at eye level so that they can lift the left side of their dress with an infuriating wink. They uncover a pale left leg, and two hidden blades. An old-looking dagger, and a pristine, gem-encrusted rapier. “But, you know what I wanted most of all?” They pull both free with a flourish, returning their full attention to their guest. “I always wanted a Penndragon to come kill me.”

#whumptober2021 #no. 1 #Losing Control #altprompt #writing #oc #The Empty Mansion #vampire #au #draft

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yamadadzawa · 4 years ago

Note

Oooh thank you for taking prompts, that’s so cool of you! Can we get an Aizawa accidentally finding out his resident problem student Midoriya is an orphan and/or homeless and adopting him with Mic? All the specifics of the hows is up to your own creative liberty! Bonus if they find out about his past trauma and quirklessness but idk if that would fit given it’s a short one shot hehe

Thank you so much for this prompt!! Yours was the first I received, and I finally got some inspiration and time to write a piece. I’ll share it below, and will post a link to the fic on ao3 separately!

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A Fragile Promise

General Audiences | No Warnings | M/M

Aizawa Shouta & Midoriya Izuku, Yamada Hizashi & Midoriya Izuku, Aizawa Shouta/Yamada Hizashi, Yagi Toshinori & Midoriya Izuku (mentioned)

Aizawa Shouta, Yamada Hizashi, Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori (briefly)

Alternate Universe-Canon Divergence, Homeless Midoriya Izuku, Not Dead Midoriya Inko, Disappeared Midoriya Inko, Protective Midoriya Inko, Parental Aizawa Shouta, Parental Yamada Hizashi, Aizawa Shouta & Yamada Hizashi Adopt Midoriya Izuku, Dadzawa, Dadmic, Sensei | All for One is Midoriya Izuku’s Parent, Dad for One

Shouta notices the shift shortly after the students return from their internships. He doesn’t see it right away. It seems the Problem Child’s internship was good at giving him a boost in confidence—something that has suddenly dropped in the last few days. Midoriya’s usual bubbling energy is subdued. He still greets his friends each morning with a bright smile and brighter words. His performance in class hasn’t wavered, and he’s still giving hero exercises that plus ultra effort.

But something is missing. His smiles don’t stretch quite as wide, his voice is a fraction lower, his hand is slower as he takes notes. Instructions for practical exercises are followed by silence, where once Shouta could count on the thrum of mumbling words from Midoriya. It’s like something is just wrong enough for Shouta to notice, but when he tries to pinpoint what it is, he gets turned around and lost.

Fortunately, Shouta is a stubborn man, and he listens when his gut tells him that he shouldn’t let this go. He keeps a mental list of things that don’t make sense with his Problem Child. Day in and day out, it grows. Deeper, darker bags under his eyes. A gaze that darts around corners, lingers on his belongings, narrows when others get too close to them. A growing lag in his energy, shaky hands. Lips bitten raw, cuticles torn red. His uniform, once mostly meticulous, now consistently wrinkled, and occasionally stained. There are a few possible answers that linger in Shouta’s mind, poking and prodding at him every time he sees Midoriya. But nothing concrete. And then Yagi comes to him near the end of the day that week, and that nagging feeling that something is wrong grows.

“I think something may be wrong with Young Midoriya,” Yagi confides in him. “But when I tried to ask, he quite cleverly avoided the question, and now I fear he’s avoiding me.”

“You think I’ll have better luck?” Shouta raises a brow at the man. It’s no secret to anyone that Midoriya is Yagi’s favorite, and vice versa.

“Perhaps,” Yagi nods, sounding somewhat reluctant to admit it. If the topic of their conversation wasn’t the wellbeing of one of his students, Shouta would be tempted to smirk. “His respect for you is...different. Than it is for me.”

Shouta snorts. “His fear, you mean,” Shouta huffs, rolling his eyes when Yagi blanches and coughs quietly. “I know my reputation among the student body, Yagi.”

“I assure you, that is not what I meant,” Yagi insists. “I only meant...well. Young Midoriya’s respect for me is closer to hero worship, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true,” Shouta inclines his head.

“His respect for you is for his teacher,” Yagi continues. “My hope is, that will be the difference.”

Shouta passes a hand through his hair and considers that. “Alright, you’ve got a point,” he admits. “And I’ve noticed something has been off for about a week or so now. It started a few days after the kids got back from their internships. It could be what happened in Hosu with Stain-” Shouta scoffs when Yagi tries to hold back a shocked cough. “I’m no fool, Yagi. I can piece together what actually happened. But I don’t think that’s it. Or at least, that’s not just it.”

“Keep me posted, please,” Yagi frowns, and Shouta will never admit out loud that he hates seeing that expression on the man’s face.

“Yeah, yeah,” Shouta waves a hand, dismissing himself from the conversation and tucking his face into his capture weapon as he walks away. He needs to find Midoriya.

Of course, when he reaches the classroom, his Problem Child is nowhere to be seen. A few of the students linger around, including Iida and Uraraka, and they look as confused as him when their eyes catch on Midoriya’s empty seat. So he snuck out without them realizing it, Shouta thinks, mildly impressed. He sees no reason to stick around if Midoriya isn’t here, so he turns on his heel and walks to the teacher’s lounge.

Hizashi is waiting for him when he gets there, sprawled across one of the couches, already changed out of his Present Mic apparel and dressed down, hair in a loose bun. “Midoriya gone already?” He asks.

Shouta sighs and nods. “Looks like he slipped out without his friends noticing,” Shouta answers, dropping down onto the couch across from him with his head draped over the arm. “Part of me wants to make a home visit, but at the same time, that could make things worse if I’m not careful.”

Hizashi is silent for an uncharacteristically long time, so Shouta lifts his head to look at his husband. Hizashi’s eyes are narrowed, fingertips pressed together, teeth pressed down on his bottom lip. Shouta sits up and leans forward. He knows that look. “‘Zashi? What are you thinking?”

“Come with me,” Hizashi says, in lieu of an answer. Shouta nods, though, and does as Hizashi asks. If showing him is easier, if Hizashi can’t quite find the words, that’s fine. Shouta will trust him.

-----

Shouta begins to piece together what Hizashi was thinking as he follows him out of the car, and into the unsuspecting building across the street. It’s packed full, which isn’t a surprise given the population of the city. Shouta isn’t as familiar with this food bank as Hizashi is, so he lets Hizashi keep the lead once they’re inside. It takes them a few passes around the space before Shouta’s eyes catch a hint of green that looks familiar. Midoriya is alone, tucked in at a table in the corner, with a tray of food.

“You were right,” Shouta murmurs to Hizashi, nudging him and directing his attention towards their student.

Hizashi sighs sadly. “I was hoping I wasn’t.”

Shouta hums and reaches down to squeeze Hizashi’s hand, lacing their fingers together as he walks over to Midoriya’s table. He’s careful to approach from the side, where Problem Child will be less likely to see them until they’re close. He’s impressed when those green eyes snap their way sooner than he expected, and in any other situation, that wide eyed look on his face might be funny.

Shouta doesn’t say anything as he slides into the seat across from his student, but Hizashi does murmur a gentle “Hey there, little listener.”

“Yamada-sensei?” Midoriya asks, curiosity overriding his panic, eyes flitting over his teacher, then to their joined hands.

“Yeah,” Hizashi smiles. “This is my incognito look. Works surprisingly well.”

Midoriya gives them a wobbly smile, then looks down at his food, pushing it around on his tray instead of eating. “How, um,” he stops and swallows. “How much trouble am I in?”

“None,” Shouta says simply, as if the question doesn’t surround his heart with ice. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“O-Oh,” Midoriya’s brows do something funny there, clearly not expecting that. “But, um. But I’m…”

“You’re what?” Hizashi asks kindly, leaning forward to rest his chin on his palm, squeezing Shouta’s hand. When Midoriya doesn’t really answer, Hizashi hums. “Maybe this will be easier. Midoriya, do you have somewhere to stay?”

Problem Child shrugs, eyes still locked on his food. Shouta sees the way his hand shakes, knuckles white as he squeezes his chopsticks.

“Hmm,” Hizashi hums. “Maybe not the right way to ask. Midoriya, do you have a house or apartment to go home to?”

This time, Midoriya doesn’t answer, but the color on his cheeks and the tears that adorn them are enough.

“Oh, kid,” Hizashi voices their heartbreak, and releases Shouta’s hand to stand and slide into the seat next to Midoriya instead. His movements are carefully telegraphed, as he wraps an arm around their student and pulls him in close.

Shouta frowns and looks around the room, trying to spot anyone who looks like Midoriya. “Kid, where’s your mom?” When he turns back around to face Midoriya and Hizashi, the kid has gone pale and rigid in Hizashi’s embrace. Shouta meets Hizashi’s eyes, a silent conversation between them, and Hizashi takes back over.

Hizashi shifts to try and catch Midoriya’s eye, though the boy is doing a good job of avoiding that. “Midoriya, did your mother...kick you out?”

A firm head shake, those green eyes flashing indignantly. And that’s certainly something. “Kid, why isn’t she with you?” Shouta presses. More head shaking, slower this time, eyes guarded.

Shouta has two options here—he can continue to push, and risk the kid closing off completely, or he can let it go, and salvage what he can of this. He opts for the latter, albeit reluctantly. “Alright,” he sighs. “I won’t ask you about your mom anymore. If,” Shouta pauses, waiting for Midoriya to lift his head and meet Shouta’s eyes. “If you’ll agree to come stay with Hizashi and I. At least for now.”

Shouta is used to his Problem Child being extremely easy to read. He doesn’t know what to do with this Midoriya, who looks back at him with a wall behind his eyes that Shouta can’t see over. The only reason Shouta knows his anxious student is still behind that wall is because Midoriya’s nervous habit of twisting and pulling at his fingers prevails.

“You won’t be a burden,” Hizashi murmurs. “We’ve got a guest room, and plenty of food to feed three people.”

Shouta can tell they’re close. “And cats,” he adds on, mouth twitching when Midoriya’s fingers still and some light peeks through in his eyes. “Three of them.”

Midoriya ducks his head down, biting at his lip and pressing his hands against the table. Shouta knows they have to be patient here, and wait him out. Thankfully, it pays off.

“Okay,” Midoriya whispers.

-----

Midoriya is predictably skittish when they get him home. He keeps his bag hugged tight to his chest, and looks like he isn’t sure whether he’s allowed to put on the slippers Shouta nudges his way. The cats, of course, are good at breaking that tension.

“This one,” Shouta stoops down to lift up the biggest, a deep gray Maine Coon. “Is Umbra.”

“Just a warning,” Hizashi grins. “He doesn’t really seem to understand that he’s big and heavy. He’ll lay on your back or your chest and crush you.” Hizashi’s grin widens when he earns a small giggle from Midoriya.

Umbra hangs limp in Shouta’s grasp, though he watches Midoriya, and is quick to thump himself against the boy’s legs after Shouta sets him down. Unsurprisingly, the smallest of the other two cats is quick to try and steal Midoriya’s attention. Midoriya gasps when he sees her, crouching down to get a closer look.

“Ah, yeah,” Shouta says. “That’s Iris.”

“So small,” Midoriya whispers, trailing gentle fingers over her back.

“She’s a Singapura,” Hizashi crouches down to pet her too. “Or at least, that’s what we’ve been told. She was a stray, so we took her in. This is apparently as big as she gets.”

Midoriya looks between Umbra and Iris, and he doesn’t even need to say anything. Shouta snorts. “Yeah, it’s sure something.” Midoriya looks past Shouta and spies the last cat, a grouchy, gangly, and orange bastard. “That’s Bean. He’s not exactly the friendliest, so it might be best if you…” Shouta trails off, staring as Bean prowls over to Midoriya, and bonks his head against the boy’s cheek.

“Huh,” Hizashi says, grinning widely.

“Huh,” Shouta echoes.

Midoriya beams at Bean, and holds his hand out, letting Bean rub against his knuckles until he’s satisfied and walks away. Midoriya turns that smile towards Shouta and Hizashi, and Shouta knows they’re done for.

-----

Having been in Midoriya’s position once, Shouta knows to camp out on the couch. He’s not at all surprised when, around three in the morning, his Problem Child creeps through the living room with his bag on his back.

“Midoriya,” Shouta calls gently.

Midoriya yelps and jerks back, frantic eyes searching for Shouta in the dark, guilt flooding them when they lock eyes. Shouta sighs softly and pats the couch next to him. Midoriya’s shoulders droop, and he shuffles over, dropping down onto the spot.

“Was it something we did?” Shouta asks, being sure to keep his voice kind.

Midoriya sniffles quietly and shakes his head. Shouta hums and leans back. He has a thought, and wonders...

“Is it...your mom?”

There’s a sharp inhale of breath, and then no sound at all as Midoriya holds it and goes perfectly still.

“Izuku,” Shouta murmurs. “Please.” He doesn’t say anything else, and for once, it’s a feat. He doesn’t usually have to bite his tongue to stop the flow of words from passing his lips. But right now...he needs to wait.

Minutes pass with no sound between them except quiet breathing, and the occasional sniffle and hum from Midoriya. Until, finally, nearly ten minutes later, Shouta’s patience pays off. Midoriya pulls his bag into his lap, and unzips a compartment on the front. There’s a faint rustle, and then a hint of white in the darkness.

“Here,” Midoriya whispers, holding out a piece of paper.

Shouta takes it between careful fingers. He can just make out the writing from the glow of the window.

I have to draw him away. Don’t tell anyone. Don’t look for me. I will come back.

“Him?” Shouta barely breathes the question, unsure whether he’s scared that the boy or the paper will fall apart.

“I don’t know,” Midoriya replies, matching his tone. “I don’t know.”

Shouta sighs shakily, curling a hand across his mouth, fingers clenching against his jaw.

“S-Sensei,” Midoriya whispers. “Promise me, please. Promise me you won’t look for her. She said, said not to. She’ll come back. But I, we can’t, can’t look for her.”

Shouta closes his eyes and exhales shakily. “Alright, kid. Alright.”

It’s the worst kind of promise Shouta can give a child—one he’ll have to break.

#bnha #mha #bnha fanfic #mha fanfic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #midoriya izuku #dadzawa #dadmic #dad for one #my writing #my fic #crossposted to ao3 #Anonymous

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omgkalyppso · 4 years ago

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22. “Wanna see firsthand how flexible I am?” for the fe3h pair of your choosing? askjhg my mind went right to sylvain but it's up to you

Okay, okay, okay. So this got away from me. The full thing is extremely nsfw, rated E, on my ao3 and can be read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30829016

I don’t even get to the prompt with what I’m sharing here, but take the first segment:

The ballroom was full. The old and the young mingling both on the floor and at the wallward tables, with airs of celebration and whispers of truth. The event was as much a political playing field as any structured meeting or hushed agreement, but unlike the latter two, Lorenz had been invited in. His father yet controlled Gloucester, and under Dimitri’s reign it felt unwise to usurp the natural conclusion of Count Gloucester’s litigious career when already the commonfolk were mourning a war, their country, and so many of their other Great Lords.

It was a party, anyway, and it was so rare to see so many of his old friends in good company, together. He had been excited when he’d chosen his apparel, violet and navy and red. Red roses trimmed the edge of his blue jacket, with tails and train that extended to his knees, while a pattern of pale while roses decorated a pale yellow waistcoat, buckles and buttons outfitted to match, but after the attention of frolicking about had started to fade, flowers offered or given to each single young lady in a display of garish pageantry, there was little left to do but dance, with most everyone but whom he wanted.

Sylvain spun Marianne, the pair of them laughing with a joy that was long deserved and hard earned. She wore yellow, a happy sight if ever there was one, while Sylvain’s coat and pants were green and teal, with a silver vest, cravat and shirt beneath, with sleeves that flowed out at the wrists, so that he shimmered and caught the light, an alluring bauble, even for the lords and ladies who knew better.

“Lorenz.”

He gasped as he returned his attention to Hilda; his rose a lie tucked into her pink hair.

“You’re staring,” she warned, kind and sympathetic.

A smile curled his lips, bittersweet about the reality of their circumstances, but appreciative of her sentiment. He dared not search the tables for signs of his father, her family, or worse, Sylvain’s.

“My apologies. Would that I could will away all distractions, to focus upon the prettiest flower in the room.”

She grimaced, but he was relieved by the familiarity of it. Silently, he watched the dance of her earrings more closely than his own steps; silver wyverns with opalescent wings that shimmer with each graceful turn, catching the pink of her hair and dress, silently signaling her and Claude’s connection.

“I wouldn’t wish for you to be alone with me, Lorenz.” Startled, Lorenz opened his mouth to speak in his own defense, but Hilda shook her head, smiling more sincerely. “At least he’s here.”

“That is some comfort,” Lorenz confessed.

“He looks handsome tonight.”

Looking again, Lorenz caught sight of Sylvain resting a hand on Marianne’s side as they tried a few steps of more complicated footwork. He cannot hear their words over the crowd and the music, but the tenor of Sylvain’s voice is obvious as Marianne chimes gently for him to wait so they can start again, fumbling at his instruction.

“So do you,” added Hilda, pulling Lorenz’s attention back to her, and he realized he’d already forgotten what she was saying.

He recovered swiftly, smiling with a fond roll of his eyes. As the song fades, they separate to applaud the band, and then the music resumes, a slower orchestration. He reoffered his hand, plaintive.

“People will talk.”

She was teasing him, but there is truth to it.

“Better they talk about us.” He teased back, “Besides, would you really want a more ignorant suitor? Who would seem a finer match than I?”

Across the dancefloor, Ingrid yelped. Sylvain vested her in arms for a three-quarter lift that left him laughing and her humiliated as the room turned to the source of the noise. Shoving him, Ingrid is scolding her friend, setting his square glasses askew, a recent, and apparently sorely needed addition to his usual accoutrements. He has played the dashing gentleman for years, but no one is surprised to see him castigated like an unruly child. Lorenz has learned through frustration and intimacy that either truth is so much more haggard than that…

Lorenz wondered how Sylvain might dance with him, if he did, and whether he would be as vocal and competitive as they had once been, or whether it could be soft and sweet … if only for a few minutes.

With an exchanged nod, Lorenz dipped Hilda, shutting his eyes to the opposite wall of vested onlookers. Following that, he led her, step by step, to the opposite end of the hall, facing purposefully away from Sylvain.

“What are you going to do?” whispered Hilda, once they were far from the band and most of the others. There is less privacy here, and their voices are liable to be heard despite and because there are fewer dancers surrounding them. Lorenz is too heartbroken to care.

“What else to do?” he asked, melancholy. Lorenz was hushed for secrecy but not silenced as he should be, and confided the rest, “Wait out our fathers, and see what comes next.”

#long post #my writing #i'll make a prettier post to put this in the sylrenz tag in a minute

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gwenpendragns · 4 years ago

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Ship questions for oc you rarely talk about

We’re going to do them for Naomi-Uzume Weasley because I love her and nobody really asks about her much. Under the cut bc she long!!

PRE-RELATIONSHIP

How did they first meet?

They first meet in fifth year, on the train to Hogwarts.

What was their first impression of each other?

Because of the fact that they’re literally soulmates, the bond is everpresent so there’s this underlying pull of intrigue and curiosity. They’re clearly attracted to one another but don’t understand why, really. Draco things she’s intriguing because she’s very different from the other Weasleys and Naomi thinks he’s a prat.

Did any of their friends or family want them to get together?

Nope. Nuh-uh. I mean, the Weasleys have an understanding that it’s going to happen whether they like Draco or not, and Molly, Arthur, Bill and Charlie are all accepting of it, as long as she’s happy. Ron, the twins, and Ginny are all uber protective of Naomi, so while they are very against Draco they try to keep their opinions to themselves, but whenever he steps a toe out of line in terms of Naomi, they’re immediately on the offensive. The Malfoys think she’s scum, but Narcissa just wants Draco to be happy and loved.

Who felt romantic feelings first?

Again, because of the bond it was kind of instantaneous, but I would say it affected Draco a lot faster than it did Naomi.

Did either of them try to resist their feelings?

Oh they both did, but Naomi resisted it a lot more, because of who he is and where he comes from and who her family is. She thought it was a mistake.

If you had told one of them that the other would be their soulmate, what would they think?

Well, this is just the plot of the book, fam.

GENERAL

Who initiated the relationship, and how did it go?

Draco, once he accepts the bond he’s constantly chasing after her, wants to know how her day went and what she’s doing. I headcanon Draco as being super soft to someone he loves, hence him being a simp for Naomi. Naomi is very annoyed at first, and while she keeps up an irritated front she secretly loves all of the attention, and begins to count on it.

Did they have an official first date? If so, what was it like?

Nope, they have no time for that. First Umbridge, then Draco has the mark - there is simply no time for dates in the midst of war.

What was their first kiss like?

Angst-ridden, tears. Naomi iniates it. That’s all I’ll say on the matter...

Were they each other’s first anything (kiss, relationship, etc.)?

They’re each other’s first time but both have kissed others and been in relationships before. They’re each other’s first real, commited relationship, though.

What’s their height difference? Age difference?

Book!Draco is around 6′0 and Naomi is 5′8 so it’s a couple of inches, which is pretty perfect. Draco is a Gemini, June 5, and Naomi is a Taurus, May 6, so they’ve got a month between them. I’m a whore for the girl being older, fight me.

What’s their relationship with each other’s families?

Um, Yikes.

Who takes the lead in social situations?

Draco, 100%.

Who gets jealous easier?

They both get pretty jealous because of the way the bond affects them but Draco is definitely the more jealous of the two.

LOVE

Who said “I love you” first?

Draco, but it is not a fluffy admission, let me tell you that much.

What are their primary love languages?

Draco’s is gift giving and physical touch; Naomi’s is physical touch and acts of service.

How often do they cuddle/engage in PDA?

They aren’t big on kissing or like groping in public but when they are in a relationship, they are constantly holding hands or touching one another. Huge cuddlers, they love to be in contact as much as possible.

What are their favourite things to do together?

Honestly just being together but probably Draco playing the piano for Naomi, or them both reading beside on another.

Who’s better at comforting the other?

Naomi is way better at comforting Draco, Draco tries his best but he’s always a few steps off.

Who’s more protective?

Draco, he has to be, his family and associates are all out to forcefully mark Naomi.

Do they prefer verbal or physical affection?

Physical affection, they aren’t good at voicing their emotions. Which makes verbal affection a very big plot point for them (see “I love you” admission for reference lol).

What are some songs that apply to their relationship, in-universe or otherwise?

Sofia by Clairo; Please Notice by Christian Leave; Little Lion Man by Mumford and Sons; I love you by Billie Eilish

What kind of nicknames do they call each other?

Love, sweetheart, Drake, Nomes.

DOMESTIC LIFE

If they get married, who proposes?

Draco proposes, but it was a conversation they’d already had on multiple occasions.

What’s the wedding like? Who attends?

All of their families come, and they basically threaten to hex anyone who starts shit. They have it at the Burrow, because Naomi loved Bill and Fleur’s wedding. It’s quite upscale with decorations and apparel because Draco is a fancy boy. Their wedding colours are emerald green and pale pink. Naomi’s dress is ivory coloured with a lace bodice, sheer boho-inspired sleeves and a tulle skirt; Draco wears a dark green tuxedo. Draco’s best man is Blaise Zabini and Naomi’s maid of honour is her best friend, Laurie Creevey.

How many kids do they have, if any? What are they like?

They have two kids, the first is a girl named Moreya Delphini Malfoy whom I explained in detail here. The second is a boy named Scorpius Horace Malfoy (Horace is in honour of Naomi’s late father, Horace Weasley). Scorpius is a Slytherin who is gentle and socially awkward but fiercely loyal and incredibly intelligent.

Do they have any pets?

They inherit Draco’s parents’ Albino Peacocks. Draco keeps his eagle owl (Pollux) until he passes and Naomi keeps her pet Burmese cat (Nox) until he passes as well. They end up getting a pair of Bengal cats named Atticus and Winnie, and each of the children have their own pet owl.

Who’s the stricter parent?

Draco, obviously.

Who kills the bugs in the house?

Naomi, Draco is a tad bit of a baby when it comes to bugs

How do they celebrate holidays?

They have two seperate Christmases (one at the Malfoy Manor and one at the Burrow; they alternate every year who gets the actual date) and smaller holidays are spent with just the four of them.

Who’s more likely to convince the other to come back to sleep in the morning?

Naomi pulls her puppy eyes and begs Draco for just one more hour. She thinks he works himself too hard. Draco acts annoyed but secretly loves it.

Who’s the better cook?

Draco, surprisingly, he took some muggle cooking classes after the war and also spent time watching the elves at his manor cook when he was a child.

#oc: naomi weasley #pairing: dracomi #otp: i've been waiting on you #type: asks

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copiouscouples · 4 years ago

Text

I’ll Not Have What She’s Having

Chapter 4 from One Bride for One Brother: A Tale from the Stockholm Files

Loosely based on Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Follow on FF.net or AO3

“Don’t you look beautiful!” The Mikkian woman told Rey as she arranged her pink head tendrils and smoothed the wrinkles out of her lacy, white dress.

“Um,” Rey mumbled, knowing she should return the compliment but not finding her vocal cords strong enough to utter any words. She was still in a state of shock. A lot had happened in the past twelve hours. Mainly, that she’d made a hypocrite of herself. How silly to think she could say something as bold as I will never marry you. Yet here she was in the dressing room of a 24 hour wedding chapel in Coruscant standing next to another bride-to-be. And she’d never looked better she admitted as she eyed herself in the mirror. She was squeaky clean from her head to her feet. Even he dirt and grime underneath her pink toenail was gone.

Coruscant Wedding Bells Chapel was a full-service chapel for the more elite equipped with a spa, a hair salon, and a bridal shop. Her body had been scrubbed and plucked, her nails manicured, her hair curled and styled elegantly, and her frame shoved into the silkiest, softest material she’d ever felt against her skin. For the first time in her nineteen years, she experienced the miracle of well-made, fine apparel. She had curves!

Yet it didn’t matter how nice she looked because she was being sent to her death. She was marrying a barbarian who would make her life and everyone else’s around him miserable. But what choice did she have? Her hands were tied. If she wanted to ensure Finn’s safety, she had to follow through with Kylo’s plan.

“Oh, poor thing! You look pale as a ghost! Don’t be nervous. Tell me about your guy while we wait. That’ll take your mind off your nerves.”

My guy’s six foot three with dark brown hair, a ferocious temper, and homicidal tendencies who’s forcing me to marry him so my friend can live. Yeah, that wasn’t something she could share to a stranger she’d just met.

“Um….I….we…he…” Rey spluttered.

The Mikkian woman smiled and patted her hand. “How about I tell you how I met my Joplu instead? I came to Coruscant a little over a year ago. I’d had a falling out with my family. Let’s just say we couldn’t agree to disagree. When I got here, I was mighty lonesome. I only know a handful of languages and there seemed to be a zillion different species living here. Then, one day I was craving food from home and stumbled into the only Mikkian restaurant on the planet. That’s when I met Joplu. He was my warrior. My Jedi with shining lightsaber. Not really,” the woman said as an aside. “He’s just a chef and restaurant owner. But finding another Mikkian in this crazy city…I don’t know. It felt like coming home. He’s not as talkative as me, but he’s kind and I know he loves me. And I’m just so excited I’m about to burst! Oh, I’m Teblee by the way. What’s your name?”

“R-Rey.”

The door opened to the dressing room and a professionally dressed woman with an earpiece said to the room of five women, “Teblee? Rey? You two are up next. Please line up in the hallway.”

“Oh, that’s us! It’s very good to meet you Rey! I hope you and your groom will be just as happy as me and Joplu!”

Rey mindlessly followed the wedding coordinator down the hallway. She stopped where the woman indicated and watched as Teblee bounded down the aisle to meet her smiling groom, a green Mikkian with head tendrils that stopped just above his ears.

Her heart beat rapidly as she realized that in minutes it would be her standing up there with Kylo Ren. She wanted to run, to flee, but he had made it abundantly clear that there was no scenario in which she escaped that Finn survived. He would not be freed until they were legally married. She would have to find the strength within herself to do this. To say I do to that beast.

The officiant had barely uttered “You may now kiss your bride” before Teblee had jumped upon her new husband. Their lips and bodies practically merging into one person before her eyes. Rey blushed at the passion before her. She could not imagine feeling that way towards anyone and especially not Kylo Ren.

Coughing at the still smooching couple before him, the officiant crooked his finger at the wedding coordinator “I believe we’re ready for our next couple.”

The jubilant couple broke apart, laughing. Teblee waved at her, saying “Good luck! You’ll do fine!” before rushing out the door with her new husband.

At the end of the aisle, she watched as Kylo found his place next to the other man. A bouquet of fire lilies was placed in her hands and with a gentle shove she was set down the aisle to her doom.

Just get through this and Finn will live. Just get through this and Finn will live. She repeated to herself.

Looking at the man looming above her as she came to a stop at the end of the aisle, Rey felt tears prick her eyes. This wasn’t what she wanted. The unfairness and injustice hit her full force. But there was no way out. She was stuck.

Rey mentally steeled herself. She wouldn’t let this walking human atrocity see her cry. Yes, he was getting his way. She was marrying him wasn’t she? He’d won the battle, but he wouldn’t win the war.

The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur as they said their I dos. There was no passionate kiss a la Teblee and Joplu for them because Rey made sure to turn her cheek just in time. She tried not to think of how his plush lips felt against her skin.

Then, they were on their way back to the ship. She’d insisted on seeing Finn being set free before they left Coruscant.

As Finn stumbled out of the confining room he’d been trapped in for over a day, she rushed over to hug him and whispered, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’ll find a way to get back to the Resistance if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Rey,” Finn said, his voice a question. He looked confused and worried at the same time.

“That’s enough hugging,” Kylo interrupted, grabbing Finn and placing him in the hands of the stormtroopers who roughly carried him off the ship.

Rey watched as her friend was deposited on solid ground before the stormtroopers turned and reboarded. Within minutes, they were leaving Coruscant and Rey was alone with her new husband.

Once dressed and fully groomed, Kylo sat anxiously waiting for his turn to get married. There were a handful of other men in the dressing room along with him, all dressed to the nines, all displaying varying degrees of worry. Not him. He knew that Rey was the gal for him. She might not think they had a lot in common but they did. They both used the Force. They’d both experienced loneliness in their lives. They were both stubborn, he thought as a wry grin broke out onto his face. And what they didn’t have in common was to their advantage. She was weak where he was strong and vice versa. No, he wasn’t worried about his choice in mate, maybe mildly concerned she’d run away before their nuptials, but that’s why that treasonous ex-stromtrooper of a friend of hers was under lock and key until she was his Mrs.

Finally, it was his time to be wed. He took his place next to the officiant and watched breathlessly as Rey made her way to him. She looked radiant like a heavenly being in the white, silky gown that clung to her form. They’d curled her hair and he found he liked this new look on her. He thought she was beautiful no matter what she wore or how her hair was styled, but there was no doubt she looked a vision tonight.

For a moment, he thought he saw the shininess of tears in her eyes, but then the steeliness in her gaze returned and he thought he must have been mistaken. She may be unwilling to marry him now, but he’d spend the rest of his life proving she’d made the right decision.

The vows went by in a blur. He hardly recognized what he was saying.

Before he knew it, the officiant was saying “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss your bride.”

The moment he’d been waiting for. He’d be lying if he said he’d never thought of what it would be like to kiss her, to taste her sweet, berry lips. Bending his head, he dipped down to do just that when he was met with a hard smack of cheekbone instead. Undeterred, he pressed a light kiss on her smooth, delicate cheek.

They walked down the aisle to the exit and as soon as they hit the door and made their way outside, she turned and said, “I want to see Finn released.”

“Let’s have dinner first. There’s a good restaurant…”

“Now,” she commanded firmly. “You promised if I married you you’d set him free.”

He swallowed her words bitterly. This wasn’t exactly how he pictured the start of their marriage but maybe once they’d settled the Finn business they could get on with their lives.

They made their way back to the ship and he ordered the guards to set the prisoner free.

He did his best to hold his fury in check as he watched Rey willingly hug another human. And not just any human, a man. Did she love Finn? Jealousy rose in him and he moved to part the two.

“That’s enough hugging,” he retorted before handing the man over to the troopers to be escorted off the premises. He was looking forward to being alone with his bride and this man was killing the mood.

He watched as she made sure her friend made it safely off the ship. She waved from the window at him and continued to wave until they’d taken off and the other man was but a tiny speck in the distance.

“They’ve brought some food to our rooms. Let’s retire there to eat.” And do other things.

Rey obediently followed him to the quarters that were now theirs. When the door closed, she turned to him with a fear and nervousness in her eyes. In a braver voice than her eyes portrayed, she murmured, “I’ll live alongside you, but I won’t sleep alongside you.”

#reylo #star wars #kylo ren #rey #reylo fanfic #his and hers fanfiction

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j-is-a-cat · 4 years ago

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MMMMM CHRISTMASSSSS

I really only like it because of the decorations lol.

Also to be totally transparent I pretty much stole the sweater design off of a Christmas sweater I found on Pinterest. I would attach the photo, but I deleted it off my phone. If you wanted to find it, look up gay Christmas sweaters. You will know it when you see it because again, this is basically the exact same shirt with just a few minor changes lol. I also heavily referenced some stock images of Christmas presents and a snowflake design on a different sweater.

{IMAGE DESCRIPTION}

A white cat with brown paws and two large brown spots on her head standing behind some Christmas presents. Her arms are outstretched above her head, and she is facing slightly upwards. She is wearing a black Christmas sweater with a fluffy white trim. The sweater reads "Don we now our Gay Apparel" and the letters alternate with the different colours of the rainbow. Below and above these words are a row of pictures that alternate between a pine tree and a stylised snowflake design. These also change between each colour of the rainbow. Above/below each of these patterns is a pale green stripe. There is also one row of the patterns on the sleeves, with the two lines as well. She is also wearing a Santa hat with the bottom half green and the top half black. She has pastel pink hair, with deep brown roots showing through.

There are Christmas presents in the foreground of the image. Each present has a unique wrapping on it. They are, from left to right:

- Green wrapping with Red polka dots and a glittery gold ribbon

-Green wrapping with diagonal thin gold stripes and a glittery silver ribbon

- Red plaid wrapping with a deep red ribbon that has a gold stripe on each side

- Green wrapping with a red ribbon

- Red wrapping with large silver polka dots and a glittery gold ribbon

- Glittery gold wrapping with a glittery silver ribbon

Behind the cat, small red, yellow and green fairy lights are hung on the wall. A large circle is behind her. It is glittery and fades from a pale gold to a light red. Above her, red text reads "IT'S NEARLY CRIGMUZZ"

#christmas #christmas art #christmas spirit #doodle #art #digital art #artists on tumblr #cute art #furry art

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bonepriests · 5 years ago

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For Sinbreaker || @leggo-my-eggo-sum

god the limitation to ur front page huh...you have really strong dragons or dragons that plain adhere to a very specific theme so this will take on a kind of even more nitpicky tone than usual. hard mode.

Vicheriko is...safe. That’s the best way i can describe this look. A monochromoatic gold/white-gold outfit on a pale gold dragon. If you wanted to throw some contrast in, i would get some pure white in there, or black, or even go really crazy and get some blue in there since he’s got that bright teal eye. Maybe swap their daisy apparel out for the seapetal or whatever that darker blue one is call=ed stuff???

i love NACL we stan their concept -- I think my quibble comes in with their color scheme. That green is so localized and bright, and that purple hardly feelslike it has a place in their color scheme despite the art of the accent being lovely. What’s going on here is like...a situation w almost an ultimatum? a dragon with different base colors that are more hospitible 2 their colors or different colors for the accent.

the vines def go because they have a little more yellow in them tho! more likle that and it all would click together.

HONESTLY I had a hard time deciding on a dragon for this last spot and it eventually came down to AM. I think he really has something going on and I can’t knock that, but I wonder how he;’d look if you bailed on the silks and went for smth more front-heavy like the boneyard tatters? that’s a pretty big ticket item tho :thonk: Something to make things a little more sleek, yknow?

also

i have nothing to say about leuko i just want people to look at her and would murder for a copy of the custom accent u got for her and it makes me so happy to know she’s a perma in ur lair

#lair reviews

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homeforchristmas-au · 5 years ago

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Character bios/descriptions

Here’s some descriptions of the sides in this au cos i wanna talk about them like all day lol

Patton Sanders (formerly Shepard):

Age: 29

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 5’6”

Straight chestnut brown hair, chocolate brown eyes, hint of a tan but nothing too extreme, rectangular glasses with black frames, usually wears clothes that are comfortable (especially oversized jumpers), loves wearing beanies (often steals Logan’s, who hesitantly allows it) (mostly cos he’s really freaking cute in them)

Really good with kids (ofc) and is such a people person, but can get shy around older people (specifically men old enough to be his dad)

Very good at reading emotions and knowing what people need, whether it’s a hug or alone time

Has asthma, but it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be

Is an only child to a mother and father, but ended up running away cos his dad became really overly aggressive

His uncle on his mothers side is Emile, who is married to Thomas, and they both took Patton in once it became clear that emiles sister and her husband were unfit parents (although Patton’s mom was much better with Patton and actually helped him run away) which was when he had his last name changed to Sanders

He met Logan when he ran away and they both went to emile and Thomas’s house together (I actually wrote the story of how they met for 25 Days of Ficmas on my main blog uwu)

They started out as friends for a long time until Patton found himself falling for Logan, who revealed that he had been crushing on Patton for quite some time

Their relationship started out rocky as neither of them knew exactly how to date (theyd dated other people before, they were just remarkably bad at it) but they made it through in the end

Logan Sanders (formerly Adams):

Age: 28

Pronouns: he/him

Height: 5’11”

Curly, light brown hair, amber eyes, moderately fair skinned, a lot of freckles on his face and arms, round glasses with silver frames, dresses much differently depending on if he’s home or in public - at home he’ll wear T-shirts and casual lounge pants and beanies and stuff, but in public typically sticks with a polo shirt and jeans, sometimes with a necktie depending on the setting

Has a tendency to put up a cold exterior around strangers or when in a public setting, but around loved ones he’s much more relaxed and casual, but still usually struggles to express his feelings.

He’s an amazing father, although sometimes he doubts this despite how much his kids absolutely adore him (he also has a tendency to doubt his own intelligence, even though he’s incredibly smart)

Is autistic, on the high functioning end of the spectrum, and has worked with professionals for basically his whole life to work on reading social cues and such, which he’s much better at now

Has three younger sisters - from oldest to youngest, Ellen, Renae, and Ashley. Logan being the oldest sibling, he’s always felt quite protective of his sisters. Can and will physically fight the whole planet for them

Their father died when Logan was 16. He was completely distraught over this and ran away from home. It was the most reckless, impulsive thing he’d ever done, but he doesn’t regret it for a single second, because that was how he met the love of his life

He did end up going back home to his family, because he knew they needed him

Virgil Sanders:

Age: 4 (birthday December 19)

Pronouns: he/him

Height: idk however tall four year olds are

Floppy black hair, gunmetal blue eyes, about as pale as a vampire, always wearing something purple (most notably the light purple polo shirt Logan couldn’t resist getting him, as well as his dark purple jumper that’s a size too big)

He’s fairly shy, though Patton and Logan tend to avoid calling him as such (they typically say introverted), but once he warms up to new people he’s a delight (it took him quite some time to fully trust Janus, but even from day one it was clear they connected on some level). He adores insects and arachnids, and much to Patton’s dismay, his favourite is spiders. He wants to be an entomologist when he grows up, but he can never remember the word for it, so he says “bug scientist”

Is suspected to be autistic but has yet to be tested for it

He was adopted by Patton and Logan when he was an infant. His mother was sixteen years old and had to give the baby up, due to her parents insistence, plus she knew she was unfit anyway, and it didn’t help that the father completely abandoned her. Patton and Logan matched with her in the adoption process when she was three months pregnant and it was quite the journey from start to finish

Roman & Remus Sanders:

Age: 8 (birthday June 14)

Pronouns: both he/him

Height: uh average

Both fairly tanned having spent over half their childhood in the sunlight, Roman has short dark mahogany brown hair and forest green eyes, Remus has longer, curly dark mahogany brown hair with jade green eyes, they both have dark freckles, Roman’s mostly on his cheeks while Remus’s are basically all over his body, and Remus has a gap in his extremely crooked teeth as well as green braces. Roman has all manner of Disney apparel, but he especially loves wearing his white Mickey Mouse shirt with the long red sleeves, and he’s also unafraid to wear traditionally “feminine” clothes like dresses and skirts. Remus... prefers not wearing clothes at all honestly but Logan and Patton insist on it, so he tries to wear as few clothes as possible, usually his neon green tank top and dark brown cargo shorts

They’re very different from each other but they do have similarities and can work well together. They pretty much never admit it but they do love each other despite their differences and near constant bickering.

They’re both dramatic, but in somewhat different ways. Roman is dramatic in that way that’s like “I’m literally tinkerbell because you have to give me attention or I’ll die”, while Remus is more like “this little tiny thing inconvenienced me so I’m gonna overreact and formulate murder plans against whoever/whatever dare make my life unbearably difficult”. They’re also both very creative, but of course they have different views on creativity (I doubt I need to get into specifics). They also both love Disney, but roman is more into classic Disney while Remus prefers Pixar

They both seem to exhibit traits of ADHD but haven’t been tested for it yet

They were around three years old when their mom and dad both died in a car accident. It was two years after that that Patton and Logan decided to adopt them both, despite only planning on adopting one child. Virgil was a year old at this time, and they wanted an older kid, and they ended up with two. And really that was fine by them, they just knew that this was it; no more kids, at least for a little while

Janus REDACTED

Age: 15 (birthday February 3)

Pronouns: he/him/they/them

Height: 5’7”

Medium length light golden brown hair, two different coloured eyes (right - cognac, left - chartreuse), fair skinned with a red birthmark taking up most of the left side of his face, missing right leg where he had to get an above-the-knee amputation, which causes him to need forearm crutches, he usually wears clothes that cover as much of his body as possible, and he oftentimes - if not constantly - wears foundation and concealer to hide his birthmark, although Patton and Logan insist it’s not necessary

He tends to avoid people when possible, since he’s developed quite the trust issues over the years. Going from foster home to foster home has made it difficult to allow himself to get close with anyone. In spite of this, he always seems to find himself bonding with the kids in his foster families. Especially the Sanders family when they first took him in (their original plan was to simply foster him... that plan fell through as they very quickly decided they wanted him to be part of their family)

Overall they’re a sarcastic cynic with a knack for storytelling, and while they seem cold and reserved on the outside, completely uncaring about the world around them, really deep down they just want to feel loved by someone, they want to feel accepted and like they’re really part of a family, like they’re actually wanted

They developed a bit of trauma from their birth family situation but a lot of it has been worked out, although they still have issues to work through even after all this time

They were ten when their dad got blackout drunk, forced them and their mom into the car, and started driving. Janus still has no idea where he was trying to go, but they never made it. They got into a monumental car accident, and Janus was lucky they made it out alive, although it costed them their leg. Their mother died unfortunately and their father was on life support last they heard. They never found out if he woke up or if he was taken off of it, so they have no idea if their dad is dead or alive. They tell themself they don’t care, they don’t wanna know either way, but they do. They feel like they shouldn’t, since their dad hurt them and got their mom killed, but they did have fond memories of their dad, which made the entire situation that much worse

So yeah on the happiest of notes there’s the main fam-ILY!!! :,)

I might continue this post with descriptions of the entire extended family, who knows!!!! :D (let me know if I missed anything in the tags btw, although I reached the limit so oof if I did)

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