Bros Before Hoes

Bros before Hoes

In which Duncan happens to find his neighbor cute, and his idiot roommates throw him a party because of it.

(AKA: The bros who drink together, sleep together)

Inspired by PPG/RRB fic on ao3

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

On a list of things Duncan would like to wake up to (women on the top, cops on the bottom), this is not it. Heck, this probably wouldn’t even be on the list. 

And by this, he means the completely trashed apartment littered with beer bottles, overflowing trash, and very questionable stains on the walls. Not to mention the dead bodies currently scattered around the living room.

Wait, not dead bodies, but Duncan can only wish.

How was this possible? He went to sleep at, like, ten last night and if he wasn’t mistaken, he had gone to bed while the house was quiet and the only people home were Geoff and DJ. So how the hell were there more than a dozen people in the living room and why did it look like an absolute shit show?

A groan emerges from the couch before a blonde head appears in sight. “Oh,” Geoff says when he sees Duncan standing there. “Sup, dude?”

“What— ” Duncan takes a breath. “ —THE ACTUAL FUCK HAPPENED HERE?!”

Geoff winces and raises a hand to rub his head. “Ouch, not so loud. I have a headache.” He whined.

So did Duncan. “What. Happened. Here.” Duncan narrowed his eyes and lowered his voice dangerously. Geoff laughs awkwardly and avoids his eyes.

“Oh, well, we sorta … kinda … uh,” Geoff gestures vaguely at the apartment. “... had a party?”

Duncan honestly doesn’t know how he could be surprised. This is what he gets for rooming with Geoff.

“How?!” He yells at him. Duncan wasn’t a really light sleeper, but he’s pretty sure he would’ve heard a party going on downstairs. “What time did these people get here!? How did I sleep through a fucking party?”

“Yeah … about that,” Geoff laughs nervously. “We sorta had a kickback last night but we knew you were asleep so we didn’t want to wake you up. Somehow, it became a game of ‘how quiet can this party be so Duncan doesn’t wake up' and we lasted the whole night! You didn’t wake up at all! Everyone was whispering and we had music playing at the lowest volume, and it was actually really fun. Super weird, but fun.”

Duncan is almost impressed. Almost. Trust Geoff to make a quiet party fun. “I’m not helping you clean up,” he informs him. He eyes a body on the floor that turns out to be DJ, cuddling an empty beer bottle while completely unconscious. 

“Aww, dude!” Geoff whines, “I hate cleaning! Come on, we kept it quiet for you!”

Duncan takes another look around the room and begrudgingly admits that it is kinda amazing that they managed to have a party without him waking up. It’s actually a little sweet that they took him into consideration. But still, fuck them.

“No.”

“Duncaaan,” Geoff groans, throwing his upper body off the couch. “C’mon, bro! Please? Dunky? Dunk-man?”

“Don’t call me that!” Duncan yells as he grabs his gym bag. “And this place better be spotless by the time I get back!”

He slams the door and a satisfied smile grows on his face as Geoff’s protests are cut off. Duncan turns to head down the hallway and nearly crashes with someone who lets out a high pitched squeal.

“Oh! I’m sorry!”

Duncan looks down and— oh hell, it’s her. Of all the people in the apartment for him to run into, why does it have to be her? Granted, she did live next to him— but still, why?

Wide brown eyes peer up at him and her head cocks slightly to the side as she blinks. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Huh?” He’s so close to her he can see the smattering of freckles on her nose. 

“Oh! Sorry, I just mean I see you around a lot because you’re my neighbor,” she stumbles, cheeks turning a little pink.

“Oh,” he says a bit more gruffly than he should. He tries his hardest not to check her out and fails. She must’ve just come back from a jog — her short brown hair is tied back and she’s wearing tiny gray shorts and a matching crop top.

“Are you going to the gym right now?” She asks, taking note of the gym bag slung over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Duncan grunts, staring at the staircase behind her. He will not be weakened by a tight fitting tank top, he will not. “I go early to avoid people, I hate crowded gyms.”

She makes a noise of understanding. There’s a beat of awkward silence, where she looks as uncomfortable as he feels before she sticks out her hand. 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I ever got your name.” She tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear and Duncan’s eyes follow it, wondering why the hell he thought the little action was so cute.  

“Duncan,” he shakes her hand, hyper aware of how soft and small her hand is as his big and callus ones swallow hers. 

“Courtney,” she dimples and Duncan’s stupid heart skips a beat. “Well, have fun!” She smiles cheerily at him and Duncan can’t take his eyes off of her. What the fuck.

“Thanks,” he mutters as he walks past her. He catches a glance of her as she opens the door to her own apartment. Damn it, she has a nice ass.

Duncan contemplates throwing himself down the stairs before he decides against it. 

It’s a waste, he figures. One flight won’t really do any damage.

***

By the time Duncan makes it home it’s evening. Stopping in front of his door, Duncan narrows his eyes as he hears muffled voices inside the apartment. Either Geoff and DJ actually cleaned the place or he’s about to open the door to the same shitshow as this morning. 

For their sake, he hopes the former.

He pushes the door open and the apartment abruptly falls quiet. The two occupants have frozen in fear, staring at the door with varying degrees of terror. DJ is cowering behind Geoff, who isn’t making a very suitable defense seeing as he too, is shielding away. Duncan’s eyes flit between them and he’s pleased to see a cleaning device in each of their hands.

The apartment isn’t exactly clean, but it’s not a complete mess anymore. At least they’re trying, he has to give them that.

“O-Oh hey man, you’re back,” Geoff coughs, hugging a broom to his chest. “We were cleaning, I swear!”

“I can see that,” he grunts, closing the door. “Sup, Malibu?” He greets the other occupant in his apartment. 

Bridgette is sitting by the counter, skimming through a surf magazine while stroking DJ’s pet, Bunny. She looks up with calm green eyes and gives him an easy smile. “Hey Duncan,” she says. 

“What happened to being clean by the time I got back?” Duncan asks his roommates pointedly.

“Cut us some slack man, we didn’t really wake up until Bridgette got here,” DJ says from his spot by the sink. 

Duncan ignores him with a roll of his eyes, plopping down across from Bridgette. Bunny hops over to him curiously and Duncan sets him with a glare. Yeah, he might have gotten DJ his pet after Geoff and Bridgette might’ve killed his last one (Geoff kept insisting it was lost while Bridgette said it was eaten by a snake that was eaten by a hawk or something), but that didn’t mean he wanted that thing closer to him. 

Duncan didn’t do cute things. 

So lost in his (one-sided) glaring contest, Duncan didn’t notice the change in conversation until too late. 

“Oh yeah, who’s that cute girl by the way?” Geoff asks. “You know, the one who lives next to us?”

“Oh, you mean Courtney? Short brown hair, cute smile?"

It’s a little embarrassing how quickly Duncan perks up, and from the corner of his eye he can see Bridgette give him a knowing glance. Duncan scowls warningly. Out of the four of them, only Malibu knows about his little problem— and Duncan would like to keep it that way, thank you very much.

Except the thing is, he forgets how much Bridgette likes a good romance. “Oh yeah! The girl that Duncan likes, right?"

The reaction is instantaneous.

“What?! Bro, you have a crush? No way!”

“Why didn’t you tell us? My boy’s growin’ up!”

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!” Duncan roars and Bunny leaps back in shock. 

Bridgette just grins and flips through another page of her magazine. Duncan is tempted to crumble it up. “Oh, you didn’t know?” She says casually. “He met her a few weeks ago and it was like love at first sight.”

It was not.

“You should’ve seen him! She stopped by to say hi, he said ‘nice to meet you’ and when she left he couldn’t get a word out for the next ten minutes. He just gawked at her, although, I guess I can’t blame him. She was cute.”

He did not.

“I’ve never seen him look so lost before, it was kinda adorable. I think he was blushing.”

He was not.

“Bro, I don’t think you’ve ever had a crush before, have you?” DJ asks.

“How would you know!" He shoots back indignantly.

DJ shrugs, unaffected by the rage that’s coming off of him in waves. “I dunno man, I’ve just never seen you show any real interest in anyone before."

Duncan is momentarily struck dumb. Shit, was DJ right? He’s had crushes, right? This isn’t so special. Of course he’s had his fair share of girls, dicked around with them like any other guy— but those had only been short flings, chicks he’d pick up in bars and fool around with until he was no longer interested. Has he never really had a crush before?

Geoff, thankfully, interrupts his spiraling thought process and slings an arm around his neck. “Dudes, you know what we should do?” He grins. “Let’s celebrate!” 

“Hell no!” Duncan shoves him away. “What are we even celebrating for?”

“Your first crush, dude!” Geoff beams and Duncan is this close to strangling the happy-dumb look off his face.

“It’s not a crush!” He yells.

“C’mon man, it’s Saturday,” DJ says. He even pulls out his puppy eyes, as if his sparkling round orbs are going to convince him. “What are you even gonna do today anyway, huh?”

Duncan grimaces and can feel himself actually give the idea some consideration. Why is he considering it again?

“We’ll get your favorites,” DJ adds. “It’s your party after all. You get to call the shots.”

Duncan winces. He takes a look around the room and sees their stupid faces beaming with excited grins. 

Duncan sighs. “Fine.”

***

One pack of beer, two bags of chips, and three pizzas later, and everyone is absolutely smashed. 

It’s at this point Duncan can say with complete confidence that he fucking loves his best friends. Sure, DJ can’t swim without a floaty and always listens to his mama and Geoff is way too happy and loud and can’t go a day without making out with Bridgette, but man, they’re just, like, such good people.

 Like, he just loves the fucking hell out of them. They’re the best guys out there, and have been with his shitty self since high school.  Duncan doesn’t know why he spent so long denying that they were friends— he wishes he could beat his younger punk-ass self for all the dumb things he said back then.

If only there was some way he could express how he felt.

“Hey, I fucking hate you guys,” Duncan says earnestly. “But, like, in the best way.”

They groan in acknowledgment and Duncan closes his eyes.

Girls are dumb. Feelings are dumb. Everything is dumb, but he doesn’t even care anymore. Why? Because he’s got his boys by him, and Duncan would fight the whole fucking world for them.

Yeah.

***

Duncan wakes up to something soft and fluffy smothering him. Fur is in his mouth, and he is suffocating on it because his head is pounding and he doesn't have the strength to pull away. 

Duncan groans, agonized as the fluffy thing slides off his face. He squints to see Bunny, furry butt in his face as it cuddles against him. You better not have pooped in my bed, Duncan doesn’t have the strength to threaten aloud. His mouth is tacky and his eyes are crusty and Duncan would very much like to wake up when the next century has passed, thanks. 

Duncan lets out an annoyed grumble and tosses the covers from his body. He’s about to roll over to the ground to do his push-ups (a habit he’s had since juvie) when he notices two things.

One: the sheer amount of nausea he feels. Duncan almost throws up if it weren’t for the deep breaths Malibu taught him to calm himself. Oh God, he’s definitely listening to her more when she goes on about him and the guys consuming poison. Hangovers are hell.

Two: the suspiciously familiar cowboy hat. 

“What the fuck?!”

His hoarse yell makes the other occupant in his bed jerk awake. “Man, keep it down,” DJ says. His bandana is twisted backwards. “It’s too early.” A hand appears to shove him back into bed.

Duncan is tempted to smack him away, but that requires effort and energy. None of which he has right now. He settles for a weak shove as DJ snuggles him like he would Bunny. Curse him and his incessant need for cuddling. “Why the fuck are you in my bed?”

Another groan sounds by his feet. Geoff yawns and rubs his eyes, lifting his head to look at them. He looks stupid without his ever-present hat on (he looks stupid with it on anyway) and is curled up like a puppy at the foot of the bed. Duncan is struck with the urge to kick him off before he decides that’s too cruel.

“Don’t you remember?” Geoff asks. “We all came in here to talk about our feelings.”

Duncan stares at him in disbelief. “No we did not.”

“Yeah we did, and it was magical,” Geoff responds, voice muffled as he buries his face into the pillow. “You wouldn’t shut up about the girl who lives next door.”

“Courtney,” DJ supplies helpfully.

Duncan stares in mute horror. How drunk did he get last night? He talked about feelings? And girls?

Who even is he?

“It’s okay Duncan. Mama always says that the more you deny the bigger the feelings are. You can keep pretending you’re not a softie. It’ll come out someday.” DJ pats his head, like Duncan’s green mohawk is supposed to be Geoff’s idiotic blonde mop. 

Duncan almost tells him to fuck off, but bites his tongue because DJ is too sensitive to be told that. Instead, he says, “And doesn’t your Mama say to never drink?” DJ reaches a hand out to cover his face and shoves him back down into his pillow. 

Wow, the bed feels amazing.

DJ tries to pet him like he would Bunny — all gentle and reassuring — but the big guy’s hand feels like a meaty deadweight hitting his face over and over again.

“I hate you guys,” Duncan mutters, shoving his hand away.

“Yeah, yeah, we know,” Geoff yawns. It sounds like he’s going back to sleep. That actually sounds like a pretty nice idea.

“You guys better get out,” Duncan grunts, feeling his eyelids grow heavy, “I’m warning you.” He lets himself sink deeper into his pillow. “Leave or die,” he mutters, eyes closing. The last thing he hears is Geoff’s quiet snoring.

They don’t leave, and Duncan sleeps peacefully.

My Rainbow

This took way too long, I have so much work ...

Rainbow — Arcoíris

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

Pepa has been having a couple rough weeks.

She was acting moody — well, moodier than usual — and her weather was completely haywire.

There was hail and showers, snow mixed with wind, and sunshine with thunderstorms. She had no idea what was going on with her weather, and Mamá was starting to get on her case about how crazy it was.

Pepa didn’t want to deal with another lecture about how she had a cloud and about how she had to calm down and control herself.

Pepa sits down to the breakfast table, taking a sip of café con leche to get rid of the cloud hanging over her head. She had woken up alone this morning and feels like she had gotten no sleep at all.

“Pepa, estás bien?” Julieta asks, concerned. Her hermana stands by the doorway of the kitchen, keeping an eye on Pepa while simultaneously watching to see if Agustín burned himself while cooking again.

Julieta is now a couple months pregnant, a small bump showing from her blue dress, and Agustín— being the doting husband he is— refuses to have his wife stand on her feet and work all day while she is pregnant. So, he has decided to take up cooking to help her out, no matter how many burns he received.

“No,” Pepa grumbles as she takes a sip of café. Her cloud lightens, but traces still remain. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night. Dónde está Félix?”

“He went outside to garden,” Bruno says as he joins the table. Thankfully, he didn’t have any rats on him, but Pepa still scoots away.

Agustín pokes his head out and winces when he gets a look at each of them. “Dios, did the three of you get any sleep? I mean, I understand Juli not sleeping because of the baby, and she looks beautiful anyway …”

Julieta blushes and Pepa and Bruno glare at their cuñado, a dark cloud materializing over Pepa’s head again. She went to get another sip of her café, only to realize its empty.

Frustration bubbles in her blood and the wind picks up. Bruno glances over in concern. Julieta frowns as she notes her mood swing. “Pepa, you should eat something. Agustín is done.”

There is a yelp, a clatter, then a curse of “Miércoles!”

Julieta sighs, “Almost done.”

She disappears in the kitchen, and a moment later reappears with with the food, setting them down at their respective seats.

Pepa glances down at the plate, and her stomach churns. It was just a normal breakfast, and a delicious one at that, but suddenly Pepa feels sick. Normally, she had a light meal because of her nervous stomach, but now, looking at the food makes her want to throw up.

She has to eat, so her Mamá wouldn’t begin looking at her with frustration, so she wouldn’t have to lecture her about being a Madrigal and controlling herself, and then Pepa would be sent out to do her chores and get the weather all wrong, which would set Mamá in a bad mood again and Dios, where was Félix clear skies, clear skies—

“PEPA!” Her family shouts, and Pepa snaps out of her anxious tangent she see wind and snow rushing around the room in a blizzard.

She freezes, and the wind dies down to leave flurries of snow drifting in the air. Pepa shrinks in her seat as Julieta, Bruno, and Agustín stare at her worriedly.

“Pepa, are you okay?” Julieta asks gently.

Pepa squeezes her eyes shut and rubs her temples. “Sí … I’m just in a bad mood is all. Lately, I’ve been feeling really moody and nauseous, and I haven’t been able to sleep right. And you know how Mamá is during the crops season. I’ve been so stressed and if I have to hear one more lecture—”

“Family,” the warm voice of Alma cuts through the air, and they all freeze before scrambling to get into their seats.

They sit down just as the matriarch enters the room in a surprisingly good mood. She doesn’t even notice the clumps of snow on the floor as she heads for the table.

“I have wonderful news for all of you, and the future of the Encanto.” She turns towards Pepa, who instantly straightens. Her mamá’s eyes are warm and kind, unlike the usual stern look Pepa’s come to recognize.

“I am happy to announce that there is a new door is Casita.” Gasps filled the room and Casita clatters its confirmation. Alma nods, her eyes shining with pride and joy as she turns to her daughter.

“Congratulations, Pepi. We now have a new Madrigal in the family.”

Pepa’s jaw drops as all eyes turns to her, hardly able to breathe. She was pregnant?! Cómo … Cuando …

That explained her weather! Her mood swings, her nausea, her exhaustion. Not to mention when her and Félix—

Pepa stops, blushing, and her hands flutter down to her stomach.

A baby. A baby. Her baby— her and Félix’s.

Mamá is still droning on and on about La Familia Madrigal and the two new miracles and strengthening their community when Pepa abruptly stands up, mutters out an excuse, and rushes out of Casita.

She has to find Félix.

Fortunately, it doesn’t take very long, because as soon as she spots him, she calls out his name and races towards him, tackling him in a hug.

Félix laughs, spinning her around. “Qué paso, mi amor?”

“I’m going to have a baby,” Pepa says.

Félix’s mouth drops open and stares at his wife in disbelief. “Què?!?”

Pepa presses her lips together, a smile growing on her face as the sun glows brightly overhead. There’s no cloud in sight and for the first time the weather is clear.

“I’m pregnant,” she repeats. Her heart beats loudly as she watches her husband’s face turn blank, eyes growing round with shock as his gaze drops to her stomach.

“I’m going to be a papá?” Félix asks. A hesitant smile makes its way across his face.

Pepa beams, nodding her head as she blinks back tears of happiness.

Félix jumps forward and kisses her. Pepa laughs, smiling when Félix deepens the kiss and cups her face. Pepa fists his shirt, kissing him back.

The kiss feels like sunshine, bright and happy as their mouths move together.

Then it’s rain, heaviness growing in intensity like the onset of a downpour.

Then it feels like a thunderstorm, the anticipation building and building until the thunderous release of lightning cracks across the sky like a dazzling firework.

“Eh-hem,” someone clears their throat.

Pepa and Félix both pull away to see their family. Bruno crosses his arms in annoyance, and Pepa makes sure to send him a dirty look as well. Agustín is bashfully turned away, but could still be seen hiding a smirk. Julieta simply smiles, amusement glittering in her eyes.

“Having fun?” Julieta asks, making her way towards them.

Pepa rolls her eyes. “As a matter of fact, we were. Gracias, hermana.”

Julieta sticks her tongue out, retorting, “Por favor, you two will just break the bed later!”

Pepa gasps and Agustín lets out a horrified, “Juli!” as Félix and Bruno burst out laughing.

Pepa turns red, fogging over in embarrassment as her hermana laughs before pulling her in for a hug.

“Anyway, we just wanted to say congratulations — you ran away so fast we weren’t able to tell you.” Juli says and Bruno steps forward, smiling awkwardly.

Pepa returns the gesture. Things have been tense since the incident where Bruno made her create the biggest hurricane Encanto has ever seen on her wedding day, and Juli has often had to come in and play peacekeeper.

“Sí,” Bruno says. “Felicidades.”

Pepa nodded. “Gracias.”

There’s a beat, and Bruno deflates when he realizes that she’s going to say nothing more. Pepa feels a bit bad, but stubbornly kept her mouth shut. Thankfully, her husband swoops in before things could get awkward.

He claps a hand on Bruno’s back, nearly knocking him over with a yelp as his other arm comes around Agustín. “We’re to be tíos, hermanos,” he says. He looks over at Agustín, chest swelling. “We’re going to be papás.”

“Let’s just pray Agustín’s baby won’t be as clumsy as him,” Bruno says.

The man gasps and splutters indignantly as his family laughs. Julieta punches Bruno in the shoulder. “Ah, cállate. Our bebé is going to be perfect no matter who she takes after.”

Agustín beams, swelling with pride as he stares at his wife. She blinks back affectionately.

Pepa rolls her eyes at the sight, a smile tugging at her lips. Dios Mío, and they say we’re bad.

At the thought, she turns around to find her husband’s eyes already on her. Something in her heart tugs. It’s the way Félix just looks up at her— with pure adoration, like she’s the most wonderful thing in the world. He looks at her like the man seeing the sun for the first time, and kisses her like its his last day on earth.

His hand finds her stomach, the size swallowing it. There is a small bump— practically unnoticeable— but it’s there, and it’s theirs. Pepa can’t help but lean down to kiss him, and he leans up to kiss her back.

“Ugh, seriously?! I’m surrounded by couples!”

“No problema, amigo. I can always set you up with someone in town—”

“Dios Mío, no!”

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

The first time Pepa sees her child, she knew it had all been worth it.

Despite all the clouds and thundering and snow and the hurricanes, it has been worth it from the beginning because—

Dolores Adríana Madrigal is the most beautiful baby girl in the whole world.

(Agustín might disagree because of Isabela, but that didn't matter.)

She had bright eyes and beautiful curls just like her papá. She is just the perfect mix of Pepa and Félix as she slept in the little red blanket Julieta made her.

Dolores was a quiet baby for the most part, only crying when she wasn't being held and screaming when she was left alone. When they held her she let out soft gurgles as she stared at them curiously with big, brown eyes.

Pepa fell in love the instant she saw her. She could tell that Félix felt the same way too, from the broad smile that split his face whenever he saw his daughter.

Mamá’s lips move in prayer as she stares at her second nieta and clutch the pendant that held her husband. Agustín and Julieta lean over to see with baby Isabela, huge smiles on their faces.

Bruno makes a snarky comment about how Dolores will probably be as emotional as her mother, and Pepa would have struck him down that instant if she hadn't noticed the tears falling down his face as he cries for his sobrina.

Félix keeps on pressing kisses on her face mumbling out endearments of mi vida, mi amor as Pepa hardly breathes, cradling their daughter.

Outside, the labor-induced hurricane slows as the sun tentatively peeks from the clouds.

She loves her.

Pepa gasps, then sobs in delight and happiness as the feeling hits her like a bolt of lightning; striking and electric and fierce as her heart pounds against her chest.

The sun shines, light fracturing off the dew to create the most beautiful rainbow over the Encanto, over Casita, over Pepa — over Dolores.

It is the happiest she’s ever been in her life.

🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️ 🌈 ☀️ ⛈️

Teenage Mercenary Aesthetics

So, if you don’t know this webcomic download Webtoon right now and read Teenage Mercenary!

Summary: At the age of nine, Ijin Yu lost his parents and was the sole survivor of a plane crash. Stranded in a foreign land, alone and amnesiac, Ijin was forced to become a child mercenary to stay alive. Ten years later, he returns to his home country, Korea, to reunite with his family and live a normal life. But the past has an awful way of dredging itself back up …

***

“What’s in a name? It brings meaning to the meaningless. Because a name gives recognition.”

***

First Meetings

Summary: May and Drew meet for the first time, and it goes about just as well as you expect it to.

……… | flirting, fighting, and explosions. Not necessarily in that order. |

DREW

………

Drew against the bridge that was facing the shoreline and watched. The girl in a red bandanna was flinging frisbees at her Beautifly — and failing.

“Amateur,” Drew said in his head. The Beautifly had just failed to complete the move Silverwind. “You’re too nervous, Beautifly is sensing it.” He thought.

“You’re not on the same wavelength. You’re rushing your commands.” Drew recited in his head. He watched the three guys cheer up the girl that had just sunk to the ground in defeat.

A rugged boy around Drews age with messy raven hair and a red hat was encouraging the girl enthusiastically, a Pikachu by side.

“Whatever,” Drew let out a breath and closed his eyes, flipping his green hair from his face. That girl could try her hardest to perfect Silverwind, and those guys can keep on being her personal cheerleaders, but by the end of the contest he was going to end up on top.

“WATCH OUT!” a feminine voice suddenly shouted at him.

A lazy smirk glided along Drew’s mouth like an unwinding ribbon, and he didn’t move a muscle. Drew held out a hand and let the frisbee fly right into it. The cold, hard plastic pressed against the palm of his hand as he heard the girl footsteps against the sand as she reached the front of the bridge.

“I’m sorry,” she panted when she came to a stop.

Drew leaned against the banister and spun the girl’s frisbee around his finger, scoffing, “Please don’t tell me you’re planning on entering the Pokémon contest with the cheesy act like that.”

Drew almost jolted when the words came out of his mouth. He was almost about to apologize before he stopped. He was Andrew Hayden, and Andrew Hayden never apologizes.

Eyes still closed, Drew tossed the toy at the girl's feet and jumped off the bridge, navigating his way to the girl and her personal cheerleaders with ease. Now closer, Drew could feel her offense rolling off her more than the waves behind her.

“You have no finesse. No moves.” Drew continued. The mean words wouldn’t stop rolling off his tongue.

“Hey, who are you to tell me that!” The girl raged on like a Toros.

“If you must know, I’m Drew.” The said person did a cocky flip of his hair, smirking. “Pokémon Coordinator.”

Drew let his eyelids rise and came face to face with the most stunning pair of blue eyes he had ever seen.

………

MAY

Green Guy opened his eyes, and May felt caught off guard when she faced the most stunning pair of eyes she had ever seen.

They weren’t emerald, exactly — they were a lighter, softer shade of green that May would no doubt ponder about later at night. But right now Green Guy — Drew — stared back at May with a strange expression on his face. His pupils are dilated, and May couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as his eyes drank in her every feature.

May felt, as accurately as possible, like a Goldeen out of water.

“Really?” Ash's voice cut through the tension, and both coordinators snapped out of it. “That’s just like you May!” Ash exclaimed happily.

Drew cringed like the very thought of being related to May was painful and Max and Brock practically fell to the ground.

“Please, no comparison,” Drew flipped his hair and held out his hand in front of him, as if he couldn’t bear the sight of them. May looked ready to order Torchic to use Ember on the arrogant excuse-of-a-coordinator.

Drew continued insulting May as Beautifly flew down and elegantly perched herself on her head, tilting her head with curiosity. “You and your Pokémon here,” the green brat addressed May, “you have no style.” He turned his head away from them pridefully.

And … that’s it.

With an animalistic growl, May dove for the boy, literally ready to tackle him in her rage. Luckily, (for Drew sake, everybody but the two thought) Brock lunged forward in the nick of time and grabbed the girl by her forearms, successfully preventing May from her attempts of murder.

Drew didn’t flinch as May struggled to get out of her friend's grip.

“HOW DARE YOU! YOU CAN MAKE FUN OF ME ALL YOU WANT, BUT DON'T YOU DARE MAKE FUN OF MY POKÉMON — MMPH!?”

Drew pressed his hand against May’s trap to prevent his eardrums from being injured. He tossed her a careless smirk, amused and not at all intimidated by her temper.

May squirmed angrily in Brock’s death lock. This guy — this arrogant, cocky, grass-headed guy — had the audacity to touch her after insulting her and Beautifly? He must be joking.

“Whoa, just calm down little girl. I know you want a piece of this —” Drew gestured to his body with his other hand, “but I’m not interested in children.”

May got immense satisfaction when Drew actually took a step away from her as she went in for the kill again, dragging a shocked Brock along with her. Pikachu quickly shot off his partner's shoulder to grab onto the leg May was prepared to kick with. Beautifully quickly dropped back down on the brunette’s head to calm her down.

May took a deep breath, shutting her eyes for a second. She focused on the comforting weight of Beautifly weighing down on her neck before releasing her breath.

“Who are you calling little? We’re the same age," May retorted.

Drew simply ignored her comment and flipped his hair, purposefully ticking her off further.

Max jumped into the conversation, sensing his sister was about to blow again. “May, don’t listen to him," he said, sweating at the way May was eyeing Drew like a Mightyena would pounce on its prey.

“Yeah, why don’t you show us all your great Pokémon,” Ash butted in.

Drew rolled his eyes and answered snootily, “Why, what good would that do?”

Drew flipped his majestic (please note the sarcasm) green hair and locked eyes with May again. “I think,” he continued slowly, “that you all should be on your way.” Drew didn’t take his eyes off the blue-eyed girl as he jabbed his thumb behind him to the five-star hotel none of them had noticed before. “This is a private beach reserved for people like me staying at that hotel.” Drew tilted his head to the side, slightly challenging May — challenging them all — to argue.

May dragged her eyes from the fancy hotel to the boy standing a few feet ahead from her.

She hated him.

Rivalry burned in the pit of her stomach and she made sure she channeled all that heat into the glare she was giving him.

“Let’s go,” Ash broke the silence, grabbing May's wrist and tugging.

“Pika,” Pikachu, who was still at May’s feet, agreed and jumped on Ash's shoulder as the latter turned away and walked in the opposite direction.

“Yeah,” Brock said, unlocking May from his death grip and following Ash. Max followed the others, not before glancing nervously between the two coordinators who were in the middle of a face-off.

“Would you stop glaring at me like that? You look like a Gible,” Drew broke the silence as soon as the boys left.

“No,” May snapped back, anger evident in her tone. Beautify flew off her head and hovered above her.

Drew ran a hand through his hair and let it rest for a moment on her. Then he flipped his hair out and walked right up to her, not stopping until he was inches away from her. “I’ll see you at the contest, May,” he said teasingly, daring her to push him away.

May felt her hands ball up on instinct and her face burned with anger and embarrassment. The girl willed her feet to move, but to no avail.

That’s right,” May heard herself say. “You’ll see me win.”

Drew’s smirk grew wider and he leaned closer. Sapphire and emerald eyes burnt into each other. Both coordinators just stood there, staring at each other, standing in each other’s personal bubbles until May finally had the strength to pull away. Both watched each other like a hawk as May backed away from Drew scowling.

“Come on Beautifly, let’s go,” May finally said.

“Beautifly,” her Pokémon agreed.

Still, the trainers would not move, nor remove eye contact.

Finally, Drew turned on his heel and left, heading back to the hotel he had previously pointed out earlier. May and Beautifly stood and stared at Drew’s retreating form and May was left to ponder what had just transpired, blinking.

“What in Arceus’s name just happened?” May thought bewilderedly. Beautifly startled her out of it by landing on her head once more and May smiled at her Pokémon.

“I’m going to pound that arrogant piece of green hair into the battlefield when I win that ribbon,” May murmured to herself.

The young girl turned around and broke into a sprint, shouting, “Hey Ash! Let's have a Pokémon battle!”

Hey so like I recently started getting into ikarishipping and I found your stuff and like???? It's so good???? I need more???? I wanted to request more fluffy hcs and stuff for them, but I totally understand if you don't wanna

listen

Ok, I know this isn’t a headcannon but I was inspired to write this little fic about them, so hope you don’t mind. This was sitting in my drafts for so long now until I finally worked up the courage to get it done.

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Dawn places the finishing touches on Piplup’s outfit, clapping appreciatively as her starter proudly strikes poses in his little cheerleader prince uniform.

“Let’s go show everyone your outfit!” Dawn picks up Piplup and beams as he chirps his agreement.

Dawn exits the room, heading out to meet Ash, Barry, and Brock to talk about the match today. It was the early morning of the Pokémon Sinnoh League, with Ash and Paul finally facing off. After a full year of battling and insults the two were about to meet in the semifinals.

Dawn makes her way down the hall, footsteps echoing. Ash against Paul … it would certainly be a battle to be remembered. It had been a long time since Lake Acuity. Since their very first battle. Ash and his team have only grown stronger since then, and so has Paul.

They all had.

“… I have one last thing to tell you,” a voice suddenly cuts across the lobby and turning around, Dawn gasps and ducks before Paul sees her.

Piplup turns around with a questioning “Pip?” and Dawn claps a hand over his beak. Piplup releases a silent squawk of rage before pecking her hand indignantly. Dawn shakes out her hand with a quiet hiss before pressing a finger to her lips and glaring in a ‘be quiet’ motion. Piplup glares right back before he settles down to eavesdrop. Dawn pokes her head over the counter to watch.

“Paul? Win this. Don’t underestimate Ash’s skill — then win the whole thing!”

Paul’s lips curve into a smile. “I will.”

Reggie hung up with a “Later, Paul,” before Paul turns around — only to meet Dawn’s startled blue eyes.

Dawn froze in embarrassment, a pink blush staining her cheeks once she realizes she’s been caught staring. Paul looks taken aback, staring at her with surprised onyx eyes.

Say something, stupid, her brain says as silence starts to creep between the two.

“Umm …” Dawn laughs nervously, and Paul turns on his heel and begins walking away. She nearly facepalmed herself. Really, that’s what she comes up with?

“That was Reggie you were talking to, right? So, is he coming here today?” Dawn hastily tries to cover up her lack of verbal skills by asking him a question, but she must’ve said the wrong thing because Paul begins walking faster.

Dawn felt stupid. Of course Reggie wasn’t coming, Paul was just on a phone call with him, and Veilstone City was too far to make it in an hour. Before she could wallow in her own self-pity, Paul spoke up.

“So, how’s he doing?” Paul practically sneers.

“Uh, you mean how’s Ash?” Dawn asks. She exchanges a questioning look with Piplup before realizing Paul is almost at the door. She runs after him. “Wait! If you ask a question, don’t you want to hear the answer?”

Dawn catches up with him, falling in a step or two behind him. The brisk morning air hits her face and clears her head. “Ash is doing some last minute training with his Pokémon. Want me to get him?”

“Please don’t. No need.”

“Why did you ask about him then?”

“ … I don’t know.”

Oh great, Dawn thinks sarcastically. Dawn realizes she’s fallen behind him and hurries to catch up.

What do we even say to each other? She thinks nervously. The awkwardness is probably one-sided as she doubts Paul cares about that sort of thing, but it’s all Dawn can think about. 

As a coordinator, Dawn prides herself on being able to entertain the audience and appeal to the judges. Her entire career depends on people’s opinions and how they view her. 

But Paul? Paul was unreadable. She had no idea what he was thinking, much less feeling. 

Should she just peel off, say she forgot something? But they were walking in the same direction. Should she ask him about his Pokémon, if he was ready for his battle? But would Paul get defensive and snap at her? Would Paul even notice if she fell back and walked by herself?

“I just don’t like him,” Paul says suddenly. Dawn’s head whips up. Was Paul actually talking about his feelings? Verbally expressing how he felt? In front of her?

Dawn suddenly felt like she’s walking on a live wire. 

“He talks just like my brother. Friends, trust … my brother says those things all the time too.”

“But Paul, Ash isn’t Reggie. Ash is Ash, and that’s that.” Dawn protests.

“PAUL!”

“Hey Dawn! Paul!”

The two look up to see Barry and Ash racing towards them with bright grins on their faces.

“Look, Ash is like any other trainer I’d have to battle in the quarter-finals … and I’m going to have to beat him if I want to win the Sinnoh League.”

Dawn stares at Paul with an open mouth. Wow. She had no idea Paul felt those things — that he is even feeling things at all. She knows Ash, his nervousness for the battle manifesting in his training and his determination. But Paul is feeling things about the battle too. 

Dawn feels his determination, his strength for what is ahead. The way he speaks and how his eyes focus up ahead — past her, past Ash — as if there is more waiting for him to achieve. 

It makes Dawn realize that being the Sinnoh Champion isn’t just Ash’s dream — it was Paul’s too. The way Paul trained his Pokémon and how he let go of Chimchar — it was ruthless and wrong, but suddenly Dawn realizes it was for a purpose. Paul wasn’t power-hungry for no reason. 

Paul is ambitious and determined and focused and level. His strength to push past things and focus solely on his goal is what makes him powerful, not his Pokémon. His ambition drives him to do better and his determination is what forces him to never stop. This battle with Ash is a stepping stone to something greater, and Paul is going to do everything he can to beat him. 

And Dawn could respect that. 

*** 

Ash and Paul’s battle is as heart-pounding as Dawn expects.

She’s cheering for Ash, calling out encouragement as Piplup cheers and Brock yells. She is rooting for him because she’s his friend, and one little conversation with Paul won’t change that. 

But still, between Barry screaming in her ear and the roaring audience, a small part of her thinks she wouldn’t mind it if Paul won.

Icebound

icebound definition: surrounded, obstructed, or covered by ice.

In which Zane uses his element against the Overlord to save the city and his friends. Because it wasn’t about numbers, it was about family.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

It is the end, and Zane knows it.

The Overlord is conquering Ninjago City, webs of gold stringing across buildings like Christmas lights and tying up his friends like flies. They struggle, but it is useless under the might of the Overlord.

Zane flips out of the way of a golden band reaching to ensnare him and lands on a roof. All of his friends are tied up, and only Zane is free. He knows what he has to do. He is the only one who can.

“Support me, friends. For one last time.”

He takes a running leap off the ledge, and Jay flips midair so his feet plant squarely on top of his. Then Cole, Lloyd, Kai, Sensei Garmadon, and Wu.

He soars, flying straight at the Overlord, and grabs onto his golden fangs.

Immediately, he feels its power, and its agony. Pain rips into every crevice of his body; his jolts rattle and shake and his wires spark under his skin.

“Let my friends go!” Zane shouts.

“Go where, Doomed Ninja?” The Overlord sneers. Its eyes, red and hateful, glare into him.

Zane writhes under the immense pain and power. His body cannot handle it, he knows, and he feels himself falling apart under it.

“The Golden Weapons are too powerful for you to behold. Your survival chance is low.”

But Zane isn’t trying to hold them. He’s trying to destroy them.

He thinks of his brothers. He thinks of PIXAL. He thinks of his father. He thinks of an old man with long white hair as pure as snow and ice blue eyes that visited him a long time ago, who had come and left as quickly as winter did and had breathed that power into him because he saw him worthy of it.

“This … isn’t about numbers … It's about family!”

The golden webs holding the Ninja fall and they escape. He can hear them screaming, telling him to let go, and he thanks them for that. Wu and Garmadon grab onto them and yank them back, away from the oncoming destruction.

His core — his heart — started reaching critical mass. Frost began creeping upon the Overlord’s fangs. Something blue and blinding in his heart freezes under his power, and Zane embraces it. It's his power. His choice.

“I am a Nindroid. And Ninja never quit. Go Ninja … go!”

He is the Master of Ice. He was built to protect those who cannot protect themselves. He stands for peace, freedom, and courage in the face of all who threaten Ninjago.

Frostbite burns his skin away; jolt and wires freeze under the cold; until he is left completely bare.

The last glimpse they get of Zane is him surrounded by a blizzard of his own making, bright and beautiful like a supernova. Burning blue and white with the terrible brilliance of his own determined choice.

Zane died; not as a machine, not as a human, not as a tool of anyone or anything — but as himself. Zane died to save the ones he loves.

And woke up as something completely different.

❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️🩵❄️

PIXAL climbs her way up the steep cliff side, careful to place her foot in secure crevices in case she slipped and fell from the icy mountain. Heavy snow blinded her vision as the blizzard whipped around her, but she kept her pace steady and sure.

It had been months since she had left Ninjago City and began her search. Months since Zane’s death and memorial. PIXAL knew, logically, that she should be back there, properly mourning him. But she could not.

He had never given up on her, not when she was under the Overlord’s control or when she was struggling with the newness of emotions.

And that meant she could never give up on him.

When she had first met Zane, she became more than a machine meant to function. He was vital to her, and she was a part of him.

She carried half his heart, and against all logical explanations, she knew he was still alive.

She did not tell the Ninja of her suspicions: the immediate aftermath of Zane’s loss had been devastating. She’d watched as the team fractured, splitting at the seams as they all fled their separate ways, too heartsore and dizzy with grief to do much otherwise. She did not tell Cyrus Borg where she was going either, for she knew if he begged her to stay, she would.

If she had told them she had seen a snowy wraith emerge from the destruction of the frozen, apocalyptic atmosphere on the rooftop, she would have been told she had imagined it due to her grief.

And while she was grieving, she was not imagining it. She is a Nindroid, and she did not have an imagination. PIXAL was built to observe, to analyze, to collect data and gather information. She built theories and hypothesized, not assumed.

So she followed the signs. She kept track of all weather anomalies that happened across Ninjago — sudden snowstorms, cold drops in temperatures that swept through small villages and towns. It led her all across the country until it ended here, with her climbing up the frozen, snow-peaked mountain.

Finally, PIXAL arrived at her destination.

The Ice Temple.

Slowly, she makes her way towards it. Her sensors indicate the temperature dropping the closer she gets. For a normal human, they would have already gotten frostbite without the proper equipment and numb with it, but PIXAL was made of metal. The cold did not bother her.

She peers into the glacial architecture, but does not enter. Or more like, she is unable to. It feels as if there is some sort of force of winter that is keeping her at bay.

“Zane?” Hope finds its way into the desperation of her voice. Freezing winds whip her hair out of its ponytail and against the purple circuits on her cheeks, but she barely notices. “Is that you?”

There’s nothing except for the howling wind, then her eyes catch movement. Slowly, almost like a ghost, a figure starts to come closer, making a shape against the blizzard.

If PIXAL had lungs, all the air would have rushed out of them.

A being made of pure winter floated in front of her. Formed of ice and frost and molded by the wind, it stood there and looked at her. Opaque ice carved the face that has been imprinted in her memory drives, the one she had traveled across the entire world to see again.

It was frozen, and beautiful, and Zane.

Inside her neural drive, alarms were blaring into her system, flashing behind her eyes. Warning: Severe weather alert. Temperature reaching sub-zero levels. Retreat into a warmer climate —

PIXAL shut off the notifications.

“Hello,” she says. Zane does not move. She dares a step closer. “Do you recognize me?”

He says nothing, so PIXAL continues on. It feels like their roles were reversed when they first met: she, the one struck speechless by the other’s beauty. Him, stoic to it all.

“I’m PIXAL, the Primary Interactive X-ternal Assistant Lifeform. I’m a … friend. I came searching for you to bring you home. There are things about you that you don’t understand. That you have yet to discover. I am here to help you remember.”

Zane is quiet, but she senses that he is listening. Something glowing in her chest aches.

“It is alright if you don’t remember me,” PIXAL says. She cannot cry, but is she would she could. She is still new to emotions, and many are overwhelming her: joy and grief and something fierce and pure deep in her heart. “I remember you. And we are still compatible.”

Zane tilts his head and drifts closer. The snow slows its fall, the wind stopping altogether. Snowflakes gently coat her hair. Now that he is closer, she can see the differences that make him unlike the old Zane: he doesn’t have the one dimple on the right side of his cheek, or the small beauty mark on his collarbone, or the tiny scar on his index finger from his shuriken.

But he is still Zane, even as an icy spirit.

She held out a hand. “Your brothers miss you very much. Will you come back with me, Zane?”

He is silent, staring at her. Unlike before, it is impossible to know what he is thinking. She gazes up at him, imploring. His eyes have no irises or pupils, so she is simply staring up at pinpricks of pure blue light.

Slowly, his hand reaches out of her.

BANG!

A loud sound echoes across the ice, and out of nowhere chains of Vengestone come flying out and capture him.

Fear slams into her. “Zane!” PIXAL cries.

Ice races out from his body and across the chains as Zane struggles, but no matter what, he can’t break them.

PIXAL whips around to face the assailant.

A man in his thirties, wrapped in a thick parka to prevent the cold and wearing a red mask. He has shoulder-length brown hair and is wearing a dyed red straw hat, and under it she can see he is hiding an eyepatch.

“What are you doing?” PIXAL shouts. Anger — an emotion she rarely feels — burns through her.

The man lowers his gun and pulls out another one before she can even blink.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Just following orders.”

Before she can question what that means, he fires. A net tangles her limbs together and brings her down against the cold snow. Before she can fight against it, electricity courses through her.

And then everything went black.