#this might’ve been funnier if i hadn’t put so much effort into this and just like crossed out the titles and put lokius but

[lokiiied]

new score album dropped!!

[sincerelystranger]

author: the high school track&field AU that no one asked for

---

Lan Zhan likes to run.

He likes the simplicity of it. He likes the control.

From the depth of his breath to the length of his stride – whether he wins or loses, it’s really up to him and him alone.

Lan Zhan likes that.

He watches the track as he slows down from his cool down.

If pressed, Lan Zhan would admit that he likes the natural terrain of cross country over the strange rubber of the track, but he’s beginning to find that track has certain other appeals.

It’s fun to watch the other athletes, for one.

His brother on the pole vault, for example. The calm focus in his eyes as he runs. The graceful arc of his body as he flies above the bar. The split second of pure ecstasy that Lan Zhan can see on his brother’s face when he knows he’s made the jump – Lan Zhan never knew his brother could make that sort of expression. It makes him wonder what else he doesn’t know about his brother.

It’s fun to watch the sprinters as well. Everyone running on the track are called runners, but the type of running the sprinters do is foreign to Lan Zhan.

For Lan Zhan, running is like water. There’s rhythm – a smoothness – to it. For Lan Zhan, running is something to get lost in.

Not for the sprinters though. There is something violent about the way they run. The way the shoot out from the start and torpedo through the finish. There’s no time to get lost.

If Lan Zhan’s way of running is about holding onto control, sprinting is about losing it.

Lan Zhan watches Jiang Cheng tear down the track.

Jiang Cheng is the fastest sprinter in their school – probably in their entire prefecture actually. He holds the school records in the 100m and 200m and if sprinting if violence, there is no one more destructive than Jiang Cheng.

Lan Zhan’s a bit disgusted by it, really, if he thinks about it. Sometimes, he wonders why Jiang Cheng runs at all. As Lan Zhan sees it, there’s no joy in Jiang Cheng’s running. Even when he wins he seems dissatisfied.

So the mysteries of the track – the joy it brings his brother and the obvious dissatisfaction it brings Jiang Cheng – they are all part of the appeal that Lan Zhan is beginning to find.

The biggest mystery though…

The one Lan Zhan would never admit wondering about, even if pressed…

Lan Zhan squats down and stretches one leg forward. He tilts his head slightly towards his shoulder. From this angle, he can see his biggest mystery from the corner of his eye.

Wei Ying.

The boys’ cross country coach spent all of second year trying to convince Wei Ying to join the cross country team to no avail. Wei Ying said that long runs bore him.

Aside from Jiang Cheng, Wei Ying holds the fastest 100m and 200m times, but anything longer than 200m Jiang Cheng can’t even compete. (Sometimes Lan Zhan thinks that maybe that that’s why Jiang Cheng is always so dissatisfied.)

Lan Zhan knows Wei Ying doesn’t even like the sprints – he won’t run them unless someone is injured.

Wei Ying likes to run the 800m the best, and his time is so fast that the Olympic team recruits often come watch him.

Lan Zhan always likes to watch Wei Ying cross the finish line. He’ll come to the meet hours ahead of his race time just to watch Wei Ying.

Wei Ying sails through the end, the other runners far behind him, and when he crosses the finish, he always lets his arms swing back a little as he glides through.

It’s… beautiful.

If Lan Zhan was a little more stupid, he might admit that Wei Wuxian almost looks like he has wings in that moment. (He might admit that Wei Wuxian looks a little angelic - but he’s not stupid).

Lan Zhan knows more about Wei Wuxian than he’s comfortable admitting to, and it doesn’t help that Wei Wuxian probably only barely knows Lan Zhan even exists.

It doesn’t matter… Lan Zhan wouldn’t know what to do if Wei Wuxian noticed him anyway.  

He brings his leg back in and turns to stretch the other side. He turns his head and keeps looking at Wei Wuxian from the corner of his eye.

Wei Wuxian is laughing brightly. Talking and laughing with the other mid-range runners.

He’s always surrounded by people. Always bright and happy and having fun… and that’s why he’s Lan Zhan’s biggest mystery.

Because the way Wei Wuxian runs is very…

Lonely.

Wei Wuxian’s steps are light and his strides are long and his breathing is always under control. But he doesn’t seem lost like Lan Zhan.

Or…

Maybe he’s lost, but he’s lost in a different way than Lan Zhan.

Running is a quiet place for Lan Zhan. An easy question with an easy answer. The one place Lan Zhan can’t be found lacking in effort or ambition or any other strange standard his uncle’s set for him.

It doesn’t seem to be a quiet place for Wei Ying.

Maybe Lan Zhan doesn’t know as much as he thinks he knows about Wei Ying, or maybe he’s seeing things that aren’t there, but when Lan Zhan watches Wei Ying run…

It looks like he’s searching for something.

(As beautiful as Wei Ying is when he crosses the finish line, he doesn’t smile when he wins either.)

Lan Zhan stands as Wei Ying walks past him.

He knows it’s silly, but he feels himself hold his breath a little – stand a little bit straighter. He does his best not to let his eyes follow Wei Ying as he walks past.

He would be mortified if Wei Ying found out that Lan Zhan paid him any attention at all.

Lan Zhan stays that way for a few seconds as Wei Ying walks farther and farther away from him. The shoulder that Wei Ying walked past feels a little bit hotter than the rest of his body. There’s a strange tingling in his back at the thought that maybe Wei Ying might have looked back at him.

He feels foolish, but also strangely satisfied with himself. It feels like a little achievement that he’s gone another day without letting Wei Ying know that Lan Zhan... knows anything about him at all.

It’s maybe creepy and strange but hiding his creepy and strangeness feels like an achievement so Lan Zhan decides to be satisfied with that.

He starts walking towards the bleachers to wait for his brother to finish practice, when he feels a hand on his shoulder.

“Lan Zhan!”

Lan Zhan turns, quickly brushing the hand off his shoulder before looking at the face of his assailant.

He knows it’s not possible, but his heart feels like its stopped in his chest.

“Ow,” Wei Ying says shaking the hand that Lan Zhan slapped away. “No – don’t apologize. It’s my fault, I surprised you.”

Lan Zhan hadn’t made any movement or sound close to an apology at all but…

“It’s Lan Zhan, right?” Wei Ying asks, his brows furrowing at Lan Zhan’s continued silence.

“Mn,” Lan Zhan finally says with a nod. He feels a little bit panicked. He feels like maybe Wei Ying read his mind and came to ask him to stop stalking him so much. He feels like if he gives any more information Wei Ying might find out everything and…!!!

“I’m Wei Ying!” Wei Ying says brightly, uselessly - because could there be anyone in the entire school that could possibly not know him? – “We’re actually in the same year, but I’m in class 3.”

Lan Zhan just nods again, because this still feels dangerous and he doesn’t want to give any more information than he has to.

Wei Ying doesn’t seem at all put off by Lan Zhan’s continued silence. “Me and some of the other guys on the team were going to go to the pool hall to hang out after – I just wanted to see if you would want to come with us.”

It’s too much.

It’s really too much.

Wei Ying knowing his name is too much. Wei Ying saying his name is too much. Wei Ying inviting him out is too much.

Lan Zhan really…

Lan Zhan takes a step back. “Mid-term exams are next week and the pool hall is an improper place for runners to… hang out at… there’s too much smoke.”

Wei Ying’s eyes go a little big and round at Lan Zhan’s answer.

Lan Zhan wants to hide in a hole. He feels like the biggest loser in the world and oh gods, Wei Ying is going to think he’s the biggest xueba in the planet. Wei Ying is probably regretting even trying to talk to Lan Zhan. He probably regrets even knowing Lan Zhan’s name. Oh gods…

Wei Ying is quiet for a few seconds…

And then suddenly…

He breaks out in a huge smile and he… laughs…

Lan Zhan feels embarrassment crash over him in waves. He moves to walk past Wei Ying. He doesn’t want to be laughed at – even if the person laughing at him is beautiful and fast and…

“Oh please don’t get it wrong,” Wei Ying says, quickly grabbing Lan Zhan’s wrist so he can’t walk any further. His words are still decorated with laughter. As much as Lan Zhan hates it, he can’t help but find it… charming. “I’m not laughing at you – promise. I’m not!”

Lan Zhan doesn’t move. He doesn’t make any noise. He looks at Wei Ying’s face out from the corner of his eye and he finds that Wei Ying’s face is open and honest…

“I didn’t… say anything funny,” Lan Zhan says.

“Yeah,” Wei Ying agrees warmly, “But it was funnier because I knew you didn’t mean to be funny.”

The waves of embarrassment ebb a bit.

“What was so funny?” Lan Zhan asks.

Wei Ying scrunches his nose a little, as he shrugs his shoulder to one side. “I can’t really explain it,” he says, “It’s just funny to hear someone my age saying that something is improper.”

Lan Zhan tries (and fails) not to stare at the way Wei Ying’s nose scrunches. It’s cuter than Lan Zhan ever imagined and Lan Zhan wants to… save it to his memory…

He shakes his head a little to clear his mind and he pulls his hand away from Wei Ying’s.

“That’s… boring,” Lan Zhan says.

Wei Ying smiles widely again. His eyes are prettier up close, Lan Zhan thinks. “I’ll find something fun next time,” Wei Ying says, “I’ll find a proper place to hang out so you have to hang out with me then, okay?”

He’s off before Lan Zhan can even respond.

Lan Zhan watches him as he runs towards his waiting group of friends. He feels little bit like he might’ve been run over by a truck. He feels more tired from this short interaction than he did from his practice.

He watches Wei Ying runs through the exit and out of the track.

Wei Ying crosses the threshold like it’s a finish line.

Both his arms swing back a little, his head tilts up slightly.

Lan Zhan knows it’s not possible, but his heart stops in his chest.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Crybaby.

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairing: Yandere!Bakugo/Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend has a savior-complex, and while you wouldn’t call yourself ‘sensitive’, you’re certainly not the most confident person around. What could go wrong?

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Unhealthy Relationships, and Abuse of Power. 

You always felt like a voyeur, at these kinds of things.

You weren’t new to galas, events, glorified parties stocked with Pro-Heroes that were held for no other reason than to prove how rich and beautiful and charitable they all were. Hell, you’d met Katsuki’s stylist before his parents, and you’d like to think you’d gotten good at navigating the dark, confusing terrain people like him treated like a second home. You were comfortable here, but you were still cautious. You were one of them, but you weren’t. You were surrounded by heroes, suffocated by heroes, but that didn’t make you a hero.

You were a sheep among wolves, a hare in a nest of friendly, smiling vipers. You doubted they would attack, but you still made an effort not to look more edible than you had to.

Currently, you were using a tall glass of something red, cherry flavored, and still partially on fire as an excuse to put a hair’s width of distance between yourself and the rest of the party, eager to get a breath of fresh air before you went back to ingratiating yourself with the professionally elite. You’d barely let yourself relax by the time your small reprieve was cut short, ripped away from you by a pair of arms that easily found their way to your waist and pulled you into a broad chest before releasing you, letting you turn around to face your aggressor on your own. You weren’t surprised to find Katsuki behind you, a grin painted across his lips and his hair attempting to free itself from his attempts to slick it back, but his eagerness caught you off-guard, coming as a shift away from his usual noncommittal disposition. You didn’t mind, though, only laughing as he buried his face in your neck, pinning you between his body and the bar’s counter as if there was no one around to gawk and stare. It was hard not to love him, in moments like that, when he treated you like you were the only other person in the world.

“You got lost,” He explained, as if you hadn’t been there when you made the mistake of wandering off, assuming you’d be able to find Katsuki or, more realistically, he’d be able to find you. It’d taken him a little longer than you’d expected, but if the ferocity of Katsuki’s greeting was a sign, he’d been far more affected by the time apart than you. “I thought I’d have to wait until you washed up in the parking lot before lugging your drunk ass home, again.”

“My ass is tragically sober, I’ll have you know,” You huffed, stringing your arms around his neck, letting him lift you onto the bartop without argument. He didn’t try to pull away, but even if he did, you wouldn’t have let him. You were content to use him as a rock, a means to ground yourself in the ever-swirling room. You weren’t drunk, but you wished you were, if only because an ungodly amount of alcohol might’ve helped you separate yourself from the noise, the heat, the faces you vaguely recognized but failed to put a proper name to, out of costume. It was hard not to let it overwhelm you at the best of times, and although you desperately, desperately wanted to think you’ve gotten used to moving through a world so separate from the one you were used to, no amount of discipline and familiarization would make you any less disoriented. It wouldn’t make you belong here. “Midoriya took care of me,” You said, rather than trying to contemplate your situation in any more depth. “He kept me out of trouble while you got to make it. It’s a crime, really, an injustice. If I didn’t like you so much, I’d be tempted to storm off again.”

He chuckled, straightening his back, but not pulling away. “You look awfully happy for someone who just spent the last two hours dealing with Deku’s bullshit.”

“What can I say?” You shrugged, fighting not to smile. Katsuki’s fingertips drummed against your side curiously, and you went on before you could think better of it. “It’s not every day your favorite hero volunteers to babysit you.”

You realized your mistake the moment the words were off your tongue, the implication of your bais. Reflexively, you pulled away from Katsuki, your hands dropping to the collar of his suit as you moved to correct yourself, but surprisingly, Katsuki’s grin only broadened, his stare sharpening, taking on something other than the bleary affection it’d contained before. “I won’t take it too personally,” He assured you, his tone anything but comforting. “I know how much Deku loves his fans. I didn’t think you like that kinda thing, though.”

Whereas his expression darkened, yours seemed to fade. Not falling away completely, but receding at the slightest hint of information you didn’t want to know, instead. You weren’t sure which response he’d been aiming for. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing you should have to worry your pretty little head over,” He started, in a voice that was more than enough to assure you that this was exactly the kind of thing you would worry your pretty little head over. “He’s just… affectionate, y’know? With civilians - his groupies, especially. I’m surprised you didn’t get the chance to see it for yourself. I figured you’d already been to one of his hide-outs, by now.” He paused, absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair, acting like he didn’t care whether or not you were paying attention. Acting like he didn’t know he was making a threat. “It’s funnier than you’d think. Sometimes, one of us will bring an extra for ‘im. No one special, of course, but Deku’s standards aren’t set too high.”

You felt yourself go still, and abruptly, you were aware of every place Izuku had touched you, every glance out of the corner of his eye, every time he stood a little closer than he had to or let his fingers brush against yours when he could’ve kept his hands to himself. He’d been nothing but polite, nothing but pleasant, but… Katsuki wouldn’t lie, would he? He didn’t have a reason to.

It wasn’t like he wanted to scare you, right?

“It’s a good thing you got yourself away from him,” Katsuki went on, his eyes following the shape of your jaw lazily, eventually settling on your mouth. “I hear he likes the sensitive ones, y’know? I’m sure he would’ve liked you, too, if he knew how much of a…” He trailed off, finally meeting your stare. “Well, I don’t have to say it, do I?”

He didn’t. As soon as he felt silent, something sharp and hot began to prick at your eyes, sparsely at first, but the jabs grew more violent the longer you failed to drive them away. In a second, your head was bowed, and you were conscious of just how crowded the venue was, of just how distant Katsuki had gotten. In two, you were rubbing at your eyes and biting your bottom lip, and in three, you were sobbing, not prettily and not gently and certainly not quietly, your stifled cries and heavy breaths earning a handful of coos and hums from Katsuki, a hand soon cupping the back of your head, encouraging you to bury your face in his chest and hide yourself away from the rest of the party, your reputation be damned. It wasn’t like it mattered, it wasn’t like you mattered.

You could disappear, and no one here would care. 

Katsuki was the only person who’d even notice you were gone.

You didn’t try to hold yourself back, not from him. You clung to Katsuki the way a shipwrecked sailor might cling to a liferaft, your fists balling around his jacket and wrinkling fabric you’d almost forgot you’d never be able to afford, not on your own. He gave you a moment to pull yourself together, to prove that you didn’t need the stability he provided, and when you failed to, Katsuki sighed, contented. When he spoke, he was nothing short of calming, soothing, tender. Ever the caretaker, albeit a caretaker you shouldn’t need. “It’s alright, baby. That’s why I’m here, yeah? I need to make sure you don’t get in over your head.” He pressed a slow, languid kiss into the top of your head, but the gesture was far from comforting. You had a feeling he wouldn’t try to pacify you, not so soon. “Let’s get you out of here, alright? I think you’ve had enough fun for one night.”

You nodded, weakly, letting Katsuki tug you onto your feet despite your unsteady legs. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor, never daring to check if your muffled outburst had done any damage, nor did you try to reassure Katsuki or give any kind of verbal response, not when you already knew you’d be hushed and soothed into submission. You didn’t object, though. You didn’t have the right to.

Not when Katsuki always took such good care of you.

[shewhowantsmouseears]

The Little Peach, Chapter 11

Notes: As always, big thanks to my amazing editor, Drucilla!

Used an old storybit in here, I used to be so much funnier.

Summary: Pete and Panchito put a plan into action to help Mickey achieve his dreams, with Mickey himself finding some extra dreams along the way.

Precisely one day after Pete invited Panchito into his unique plan, Marsupilami was more than tempted to ditch his “newfound resolve”, but an equal balance of guilt-slinging and threats from Maurice convinced him otherwise. He was placed on “patrol” - walking all around the capitol to make sure everything was peaceful and taking out any danger. But in a city that was continuously peaceful, it really felt more like he was just stretching his legs. It would have been easy to merely walk and do nothing, as Marsupilami and Maurice had done most of their lives – grabbing what they could to eat, sleeping wherever a flat surface could be found, and moving on, moving on, moving on – but they were here to repay a debt to Mickey. That meant making an effort, although to what end Marsupilami wasn't sure.

Opportunity came accidentally knocking when he bumped shoulders with a passing villager, who politely excused himself, and then almost jumped out of his socks to see the lumbering Maurice at his side. “Don't mind him,” Marsupilami tried to calm the startled villager. “He looks like a mook, but he's more of a kook. We're the newest guards, sent from the royal palace!”

“Oh, so you are,” said the young man, a dark-haired horse who tried to awkwardly laugh to make up for his fright. “With that armor, what else could you be? We just don't see types like your friend around these parts...save for Pete, that is.”

How easy would it have been to say “Okay, goodbye” and resume laziness? Marsupilami wanted nothing more than to follow that instinct, but he surprised himself by staying put. “Actually,” he began,  fingers fumbling as he tried to articulate something that had been bugging him for sometime. “You mind if I ask you about the great Sir Pete?”

“Not at all, go ahead.” The man replied, sticking his hands in his pockets, lightly chewing on a long piece of straw. “Name's Horace. I've been here all my life, I can tell you anything about anyone. I make it my business to stick my long face into everyone else's business. What do you want to know?”

“When we first started this gig, we heard he got accepted right after defeating a bunch of Oni at the front gate of the capital. Did anyone else besides Jose and Goofy see what happened?”

“Nope, it was just them two. But he was let in right after – oh, the whole capital was hootin' and hollerin' like it was New Year's Eve! He walked on in all mysterious like, covered in head-to-toe with a big ol' robe, you couldn't even see his face or his head! According to the guards, he beat back the Oni with his bare hands! Can you believe it, one ordinary man against five super-strong Oni?”

Oh, it sounded unbelievable all right. “Huh... and Pete's been on the job since? Is that why he came here in the first place?”

“Yes siree, it was like he was sent from the gods above! He said he came here to guard the Princess and the Lucky Hammer, and he wouldn't take no for an answer! Not that her highness was gunna tell someone like him no. He's been a loyal man to her ever since! Why, no one's ever seen him take off his armor! Not even when he sleeps!”

Marsupilami scratched his head, nudging his helmet a little – the darn thing was rather uncomfortable, so he couldn't imagine sleeping with it on. Maybe Pete's had gotten stuck that way, but given how much Pete loved to complain about this and that, surely they would've heard about it already. “What a guy...I'll let you go after one more question. Where is he from, anyhow?”

At that, Horace paused, searching his mind for anything he might've missed, and came up empty. “Huh...well. Here I am bragging about knowing everything about anyone, and I got nothin' for you. Pete's never talked about his past, not once. Anytime someone's asked, he's always got the same answer – 'mind your own business'. After a while people just decided to be grateful he was around and quit askin'. I'm sure he'll tell us all when he's good and ready.” He offered another shrug. “I got my own question now... why are you so curious about Sir Pete?”

The lie came without much thought. “Why, he's a great man I admire with all my heart, and I hope to be like him someday!” Funny how doing something that would help someone required great effort, but telling a falsehood was as easy as taking a nap. Motivation was still a new concept to Marsupilami, but he decided it wasn't as scary as he first thought. “If you'll excuse us, we should return to duty.” He and Maurice bowed politely, and walked on. Maurice cocked his head at his partner, clearly curious about the entire exchange.

“Something's not adding up,” Marsupilami answered, tapping his chin with both his finger and his tail. “If we want to help out Mickey, we need to figure out who we can really trust here, and if you ask me, Pete's not one of 'em. I got my hunches...maybe we're not cut out to be guards, but what's say you and me become detectives for a little while?” It would require more work – how dreadful! - but knowing it would help out the man who saved himself and Maurice made it bearable. Was this what it felt like, doing a hard day's work? How... new! And exciting! Maurice appeared to agree, given his grin and enthusiastic double thumbs up.

“I didn't expect any less from you, big guy. Next on our route... No one's seen any Oni around these parts for some time, but I need to learn all I can about them. And I might have an idea...but until we come across real clues, we don't tell Mickey, right?” Maurice nodded, miming a zipper motion across his mouth. “Good. Little guy's got enough on his plate already. We'll let him know what we know when we actually know something, y'know?” With the silent agreement in place, Marsupilami and Maurice headed further into the village, with an extra kick in their step. Maybe if this actually worked out for Mickey, they could give the whole “effort” thing a permanent part of their lives!

“C'mon, Maurice! The best ones to know Oni are the ones who used to fight 'em...we gotta find some retired samurai!”

~*~

As day was beginning to wear itself out and night was starting to welcome itself in, Mickey headed to the shared bedroom, ready to once again make a pretend effort to fall asleep before starting his search for the Lucky Hammer. He still hadn't found any clues, but ever since that late night chat with the Princess, it wasn't as depressing a thought as it was before – mostly because Minnie kept taking up his thoughts as if she owned the place. He often wondered what she was doing, if she was feeling better about her identity, and if he could get away with another secret talk with her. Since finding the Lucky Hammer could take years, maybe there could be years of talking with her as well. What a lovely thought.

But as soon as he entered the room, he found himself leaving it – via Pluto picking him up by the collar of his shirt. “H-Hey! Pluto! What are you doing?!”

Pluto walked out of the room and headed down the hallway, ignoring Mickey's flailing and protests.  He only stopped when he spotted Pete, siting down on his hindquarters. “Good job, mutt!” Pete clapped laughed loudly before opening his hands up to take Mickey. “We needed you right away, kiddo!”

Mickey tried to wipe off the hints of dog slobber on his sleeves. “This had better be important!” he then stopped, and looked up. “Wait... Sir Pete? What're you doing here? Am I in trouble?”

“Trouble? Why would you think you were in any kind of trouble?”

How could Mickey reply without possibly getting into further trouble? “Well, sir, whenever you talk to me, it's either to give me an order, or yell at me, or yell orders at me.”

“That was then, and this is now, and now is a time for a golden opportunity!” Pete rushed through Mickey's words, trying to cut him off at the pass. “I've been watching you, boy, and your story really speaks to me! Why, when I realized you wanted the Lucky Hammer to be a normal size...” He sniffled, wiping away a tear that wasn't there. “It just about broke my heart!”

“You...didn't realize that was my goal the first time we met?” This was going to be an odd night all around, Mickey could tell.

Pete paused, and then cleared his throat. “Sometimes the heart takes a while to hear things before the ears do. Listen, the important thing is, I'm going to help you get the Lucky Hammer.”

Mickey wanted to be happy about this cooperation, he really did, but... “I appreciate that, sir, I truly do! But you don't know where it is either, right? And the only one Minnie – I mean, the Princess can talk to about the location is her husband. You were there when Goofy told us!”

“Don't go tellin' me things I already know!” Pete roared so loudly he nearly knocked Mickey out of his hands – he then stopped, and then cleared his throat again, this time straightening his back as much as his shapely body would allow. “I, uh, don't like dwellin' on the past, is all. What we need to focus on is your future! If you do what I say, then I can guarantee the Lucky Hammer will be yours.” In fact, Mickey's casual admittance of the Princess' name had sealed the deal for him.

Mickey tapped his foot, thinking this over. “Hmmm...well, gee...I guess I shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.” Even if the horse had bad breath. Besides, it had to be better than sneaking around and trying to steal it – almost any plan had to be better than that! So without giving it any further thought, he allowed himself to be both hopeful and confident. “Okay, Sir Pete, I'm in! How do we start off?”

“I got our pal Panchito gettin' part one of the plan into action as we speak.” Pete replied as he began to walk with Mickey and Pluto tagging along. “Part two is all on you. You just need to go into the gardens, and follow your instincts.”

Mickey blinked, amazed at how quickly things had become confusing. “Huh? What am I supposed to do?”

“If I told you, they wouldn't be instincts, you dummy!” Pete snapped, fingers clutching in a visible effort not to squeeze Mickey like a stress toy. “Just...do what I say, and we'll all be happy! Now stay out in the gardens and don't come back until you get the answers!”

Mickey didn't bother to ask any more questions, mostly because he didn't want Pete to change his mind and swat him like a fly. Maybe if he tried thinking about this more positively. Sir Pete was older than him, therefore wiser, therefore he must know what he was doing. “If you say so...” He wondered what Panchito was doing, and tried to be confident about that as well – Mickey wasn't entirely sure about Pete's intentions, but he fully believed that Panchito was there to help Mickey out, so if Panchito was willing to work with Pete, all was well! What sort of brilliant plan had they come up with?

~*~

Once Panchito had been told about the plan, he jumped in with both feet, excited about the idea and having his own spin on it. Pete had merely nodded along in an effort to make it go faster, and now Panchito was hiding around the corner to the bedroom of the Princess, ready to put everything into action. He waited until he was sure Clarabelle had left, then began to inch towards the doorway. The plan would work, and Mickey would get the Lucky Hammer, and then Jose would be so impressed by Panchito's part of the plan he'd be completely devoted to being Panchito's sensei!

That part was... a little cloudy on Panchito's end, since he wasn't sure how it would impress Jose at all, but Pete had insisted it would. When Panchito questioned it, he got the same response as Mickey did – to just shut up and do as he was told. Okay then!

At the door, Panchito cleared his throat and then knocked shove-and-a-haircut, two bits. “Your Royal Highness, pardon the intrusion!”

Through the paper door he could make the faint shadow of Minnie lifting her head quizzically, before shuffling over to the door and opening it, blinking slowly before turning into the rigid, cold Princess she was supposed to be. “Sir Panchito. What has happened? Is it an emergency?”

“Not a matter of life and death, no, but a matter of heart and mind!” Panchito struck a fist to his chest. “Mickey wishes to speak to you in private!”

“Mickey wants to speak to me in private?” Minnie had repeated the request, confused, accidentally slipping back into her casual speech. “What do you mean? He can talk to me anytime he wants. He's a dear friend – that is, you all are.” She was quick to catch herself, and then tried to straighten out her entire body, trying to look as authoritative as possible – as much as one could when wearing adorable diminutive nightwear. It was even pink and frilly. “No, no, good lady, this is a very private talk he wants to have.” Panchito lowered his voice to a whisper, hoping to make her understand quickly before he was caught. “Mickey has some special things he wishes to tell you.” He wiggled his eyebrows, emphasizing each word by pressing his fingers together. She'd yet to wash off the layers of make-up on her face, yet it was easy to tell the difference between the blush that was from powder, and the blush that came naturally. Minnie reddened and reddened more with every passing second. “Oh, my.” She finally said, eyes cast down demurely. “W-well...I suppose it would be rude to deny him such a request.” It was almost hard to hear her faint mumble, the cold front abandoned entirely. All of a sudden it didn't seem that important. “Very good!” Panchito clapped his hands together. “He'll be waiting for you in the gardens! Don't keep him waiting!” Although he doubted she would, judging by that shy yet eager smile on her dainty lips. With part one completed, Panchito suddenly raced off to complete his next step.

~*~

And so Mickey went to the gardens, although he wondered why Pete had said “follow your instincts” as if he was going to run away at the last minute. He did his best to dismiss all his worries, and walked into the tall grass. Mickey wasn't sure where exactly he was supposed to meet Minnie, as the simple garden for her was an entire landscape for him, but as he walked deeper in he found a familiar clearing – the same spot where he first met Princess Minnie. But now it was covered in a thick, silk blanket, a golden candle-holder in the middle holding up two flickering red candles. Petals of various colors had been strewn about. Mickey was immediately suspicious. “Oh my goodness. Did you do all this?” came the sweet voice of the princess, who was now walking into sight. Instead of washing off her make-up and undoing her hair as she was supposed to before going to bed, she'd added on even more touches to her face and her hair was tied up in even more elegant curls. It was as if instead of donning the look a princess should have, she'd gone the extra mile to make sure she was looking as beautiful as she could make herself. She'd made an effort – which made Mickey's heart jump into his throat, until he realized what it was she'd asked. “Uh,” Mickey struggled in his throat, looking around. “I guess? In a way?” This had to be Panchito's doing, but what the rooster was doing, Mickey couldn't guess. “It's lovely,” Minnie smiled, sitting down on her knees and smoothing down her flowing robes, this one white with a pattern of red roses stitched on, creating the illusion that the petals were fluttering with every move she made. “I hope you didn't go to too much trouble.” “It wasn't any trouble at all.” Literally. What was he getting into? “That's, uh, that's a nice kimono you got on. Ain't seen it before.” “It's for special occasions,” Minnie replied, her eyes timidly turning away for a moment, hiding her lips behind her sleeve. Mickey's mind reeled - special occasion? Why was this a special occasion? Weren't they just there to talk? “I...I was told you have some special things you wanted to tell me.” “Uhhh...?” Mickey stretched the word out as long as he could, trying to decipher whatever was being presented to him. As his eyes bounced all over, he noticed a rustling in a nearby cherry blossom tree. At first, worry seized his body, and he made a motion to grab the needle of a sword on his belt – was it one of the Oni King's minions? Nope – it was Panchito, who now hung upside down from one the branches, holding up a long piece of paper with hastily written words. Say “You're so beautiful!” Mickey blinked rapidly in honest confusion. “You're...so beautiful?” He said out loud, and it took him half a second to realize what he'd actually said and who he'd actually said it to. Minnie giggled, oblivious to what was happening in the tree or the panic flowing through Mickey's head. “You're always so sweet, Mickey. I've had so many people give me compliments, but it's... just different coming from you. Like you see me as Minnie, and not just the princess.” “Oh. Well. Um.” Mickey fumbled, trying not to watch Panchito write something else on a new layer of paper. “I think we'd be friends even if you weren't the princess. You've always been real nice to me.” Okay, so they were complimenting each other. It was nice, but how was this going to get the Lucky Hammer? Minnie wasn't going to reveal its location over idle flattery. … Right? “I feel the same way!” Minnie chirped, her enthusiasm growing while she lost some of her proper royal demeanor. “Size, titles, none of it matters. The friendship we have is so much stronger than that. You always know how to cheer me up, and make me feel like a real person.” Did he really have such an influence over her? Mickey momentarily pushed aside the thoughts of the hammer, more than happy to indulge in this time of sweetness. “I only give as good as I get, Minnie! You make me feel ten feet tall! Everyone else always takes pity on me or tries to do things they think I can't do. But you let me try stuff. You let me...” Panchito was finished writing. “Um... You let me...” Minnie waited patiently for him to finish the sentence, but Panchito had gone on a different tangent. Say “I want to be with you!” Be with her? But he was with her already, they were right there, talking and - And then the entire idea of the plan hit Mickey with the force of an exploding mountain. THIS was the plan to get the hammer?! He was supposed to – supposed to – seduce the princess?! Was Panchito out of his mind?! “Mickey?” Minnie asked gently, lowering her head slightly to get a better look at her companion. “Is everything all right?” The revelation of Panchito's plan had caused Mickey's entire face to go as red as the roses on Minnie's kimono, and his tiny body trembled with great force. “No!” Mickey shouted, intending to tell Panchito before correcting himself. “I mean, yes! I mean, that is, uh, I, um...” He wanted to make plans to kill the rooster in his sleep, but this matter had to be resolved first. “I don't know what I was thinking.” He struggled to make his voice stern, hoping that he'd make himself clear to Panchito, who was now pointing at the same words over and over in an attempt to make Mickey say them. “I must have been thinking something crazy. I must have hit my head. I was thinking about things that would never, ever happen in a million years.” He finished with a curt glare to Panchito. The rooster stuck his tongue out. Minnie's body sunk with every negative thought, oblivious to the plan being made and defied all around her. Had Mickey been paying better attention, he might have picked up that Minnie thought of him just as fondly as he thought of her – perhaps even more. It was why Panchito had been so confident of the entire idea in the first place – he'd noticed the wistful gazes Minnie had whenever she looked upon Mickey, the sheer delight in her voice whenever she spoke of him, and the daily excuses she thought up so she could spend more time at his side. Clearly Pete had noticed it too, since he'd help come up with this scheme. But being a princess, and a lady, it was only appropriate for the man to make the first move, so to speak. Which wasn't all that helpful when the man in question had a mixture of self-loathing and obliviousness. So in this moment when Minnie believed Mickey was giving up on telling her how he truly felt about her – which was what she had desperately hoped was the special thing he wanted to say – her heart felt as it'd begun to rip in two. Yet one of the things that had won Mickey over was that she didn't take things lying down. She did want to find out who she was, the real her, so she pushed away the thoughts of being a Princess and indulged in the thoughts of being Minnie. “I want to hear it!” “Huh?” Mickey had been so caught up in telling Panchito off he'd forgotten Minnie was even part of this. “Hear what?” “I want to hear what you were thinking.” Minnie placed her palms on the ground, lowering her head as much as her body was able. “I promise you, I'll listen to everything you have to say. You can trust me! Can't you?” “O-Of course I can trust you!” Mickey stuttered, but to his relief Panchito appeared to have given up on that one train of thought, as he'd tossed the paper aside and was writing something else. “Minnie, I'd trust you with anythin'! But, well, there's just...somethin' weird goin' on, and...” Panchito was finished. Maybe, Mickey prayed, this was something far more reasonable. Say “I love you!” Panchito was a dead man. “...and some people have rocks for brains.” “Mickey, please don't say that about yourself!” Minnie cupped her hands, which was the usual signal that meant Mickey was allowed to walk onto them. “I wasn't.” Mickey muttered under his breath, seeing Panchito now writing something else. “You're not dumb at all!” Minnie insisted, lifting Mickey up so they were closer together. “You've always been very clever! You always find your own way to fix things! I'd say you're smarter than every man in Japan put together!” Mickey would have been immensely flattered by such words, but Panchito kept distracting him. Now the rooster was flinging several papers in a row, each suggestion worse than the last. Mickey could only hope his eyes were getting the message across. Say “I wish I could take you into my arms!” No! Say “I wish I could kiss your lips!” NO! Say “I wish I could be at your side forever!” PANCHITO PISTOLES FOR THE LOVE OF -  “I wish you could be at my side forever.” “I AIN'T SAYIN' – what?” Hold on a second, that last one had been said out loud. Mickey abruptly paused, looking back at Minnie's face. His ears were big for his body, little for anyone else's, but they worked very well. He was certain she'd said something. “You...you can stay here forever, with me,” Minnie was saying, her voice now as soft as the evening wind, one of the ribbons coming undone in her hair.  She wished she could hide as she said this, but if Mickey wasn't going to make any moves, then it was up to her, no matter how embarrassing it got. “I know your size makes you so unhappy...but I'll do all in my power, every single day, to make you happy. I'll make up for all the happiness you ever deserved in life, and for the rest of our lives. If you'd allow me...I want to take care of you.” She closed her eyes, as if worn out by expressing her deepest desires. Mickey was tempted to pinch his arm to see if this was a dream, but he convinced himself that if this was a dream, Panchito wouldn't have been it, especially not obnoxiously giving two thumbs up. Mickey's heart pounded in his chest, a hard drumming that he would've believed the entire kingdom could hear. There was no way Panchito's ridiculous idea had worked – so, somehow, someway, he must have stolen her heart before this night happened. How he did it, Mickey couldn't fathom or guess. Around Minnie he was simply Mickey – nothing more and nothing less. And to be honest, he hadn't a clue about his future. He had refused to go home until he was of normal size, and if he wouldn't ever be normal sized, then where was he to go until the end of his days? A lump formed in Mickey's throat. He missed his parents deeply – but he also cared for Minnie deeply. The offer was more than tempting. He couldn't possibly give her what she deserved, yet she didn't care. It was a strange sort of happy mindboggling. If he had nothing to lose anymore, then, well, why not? “I like you,” Mickey blurted out, and regretted it only because of how childish it sounded. One didn't answer a potential confession with “like”. It was just the first words that popped into his head and had the power to leave his mouth. “I like you a lot.” As if that was any better! Then again, it wasn't as if he'd ever practiced or rehearsed for such a moment, since said moment had always bordered on the impossible in his mind. “You don't really...have to worry about all that happiness stuff. I'm happy enough when we're...together, y'know? Just being around you makes everything all better. So, you just be you, and I'll just be me. Like we've always done.” It wasn't a wholly definitive answer, but they were both still young, and Minnie accepted he would need time to think it over. For now, she was greatly pleased by what she had heard. She lifted her hands up and kissed Mickey atop his head – it couldn't be said if her lips had knocked him over, or if Mickey was so struck with lovesick stupor that he fell onto his back. Either way, Minnie giggled, and Panchito believed his plan to be a surefire success. Wanting to give the young ones some peace and quiet, he swung from tree to tree like a monkey until he hit a window, wanting to find Pete and tell him the good news.

It was because of this he missed the other good news.

“You know...” Minnie said slowly, coming to a decision that was weighing less heavily on her with every passing second. “My father said I could only give the location of the Lucky Hammer to my husband.”

“A-huh.” Mickey wasn't paying that much attention, still gobsmacked in all the best ways over what just happened.

“So, in a way... you might be my husband some day!”

“A-huh.” His brain still wasn't firing off any synapses.

“Which means I could tell you where the Lucky Hammer is, and then if we ever get married, you can use it all you like!”

The usual “third time is the charm” gag didn't work this time, as Mickey popped back into reality with those words, sitting up so fast his tail smacked his back. “What?! Really?! You can tell me?”

“Being a good Princess means finding a solution when all hope is lost,” Minnie replied, smiling with a hint of pride. “And I know you won't tell anyone else. So as far as I'm concerned, it's as if I've never said it at all.” Satisfied with this loophole, she glanced around to make sure they were alone, and then leaned in to whisper into Mickey's big-little ear.

Mickey leaned in as best he could – for a good moment he thought she might kiss him again, and that thought nearly blocked out what she was actually saying – and when he heard the secret, his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. “There? It's hidden there? Why would...” But even as he said it, he knew the answer. No one would dare enter that place, or at the very least not without the Princess being there. It was perfect, and Mickey knew in that moment he'd never get near the Lucky Hammer – while he'd been worried about his morals dying a pitiful death, there was enough conviction left in him to know that was absolutely forbidden place. Why, it was safer than a vault with locks – this location was safeguarded by morals and decency!

“Well...it's a good spot.” Mickey concluded, and while he was disappointed that the Lucky Hammer was once again so close and yet so far, he was also relieved he'd no longer have to sneak around like some petty thief. Now he could live out his days and wait until...

…Suddenly he realized what he'd just agreed to.

“Once the Oni King is defeated,” Minnie continued, oblivious to Mickey's mind utterly collapsing, “I'm sure we'll both be ready to give marriage real thought! Won't that be nice? And by then, I'll be the sort of person that can be both a Princess, and myself. I'm sure of it.”

Mickey looked away, his cheeks apple red, but he found he didn't have the words to deny her – perhaps because a part of him didn't want to. “R-Right, of course. Might take a while... but, uh, I'm willin' to wait. We should probably get to know one another better and all that.” Perhaps when he next saw his father, not only would he be average-sized, but a husband, and the Princess' husband! Wouldn't that make him Emperor someday? If that didn't make his father proud, nothing would! Sure, it would be a lot of responsibility, but maybe defeating the Oni King would take years and years. By then, Mickey would know what it was like to be a good ruler – what a leap, to be a samurai without a master to co-ruler of all Japan! He began to smile without thinking about it.

“I can only imagine liking you more, the more I get to know you.” Minnie nodded with her own charming smile to match. “Like how I know you won't tell a soul what I told you. It'll be our secret, okay?”

Mickey placed a hand on his chest and bowed deeply. “Of course, Minnie. I promise, as your faithful guard and as a member of the Duck clan, I will never tell anyone where the Lucky Hammer is.” A promise made by a samurai – the second, he remembered, the first being the one he made to his father. He'd keep them both, and at long last, the guilt and worry he'd been carrying on his shoulders began to fall away. All was well, and he was truly happy.

The peach-sized man and the not-so-cold Princess talked for a long time in the gardens, honestly believing all their troubles were now far away and could be easily dealt with.

They were wrong, of course, but how were they to know?