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iveseenstrangerthings · 1 year

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waiting for forgiveness (part 2) - a Steve Harrington imagine

summary: this is part 2 to the imagine I posted called waiting for forgiveness (read here). premise was that steve and reader were falling for each other, but steve ended up making the mistake of kissing someone else at a party. Part 2 is all about them rekindling after a long period of consideration from the reader... hope you enjoy!! @eddiesguitarskills @queenanababy (tagging as requested! ♡)

warnings: some swearing

word count: 3.9k

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Two weeks have slowly dragged by you since that awful Monday when you found out about Steve’s kiss at the party. For the remainder of that day, you felt numb, your body would start into a series of fits and shakes when you got home from school. The initial adrenaline had worn off and you had spent your evening trying to calm yourself down, breathing deeply, having a warm bath and reading. Although, reading was pointless as you couldn’t concentrate on anything other than the conversation you’d had hours earlier with Steve.

The day after you found out, you had the conversation with Dustin. It was a cold, wet, miserable day for it almost being summer. You sat and watched the raindrops lick the windows of the library as they beat down, the dark clouds rolling over and blocking out any sunlight that was trying to peak through. You could hardly look at Steve that day, and Dustin knew straight away something had happened. You both went off to the library instead of going to your first period, you had to tell him.

“What a fucking loser.” Was all Dustin could say after you told him everything, you took a deep breath in as you felt you hardly stopped for breath as you were spilling everything that was said.

You couldn’t help but snort lightly at his comment, a small smile crept over your lips.

His face turned to morph into a shape of concern and sadness, he really felt for you. “So... what’re you gonna do?” His voice was quiet, possibly regretting asking the question, but he wanted to know. He was really rooting for the two of you.

Your shoulders sagged upwards for a while, the tension between your shoulders and neck becoming slightly painful so you let them fall back down. “I dunno Dustin.” You looked him in the eyes, his were willing you to go on. “I know how I feel about him. Stupidly, it hasn’t changed how I feel deep down. I’m so pissed off at him Dustin, so fucking pissed off.” You could feel yourself becoming more infuriated the longer you thought about it. “But I can’t help how I feel about him.”

He nodded understandingly and you were so grateful for him. That he listened. Without trying to defend Steve. He heard you, and you will forever be grateful to him for the gesture.

Now, two weeks on, you all sit round the cafeteria table. It’s a Friday lunchtime and the group is buzzing with shrills of excitement about the upcoming weekend. Everyone has resumed business as usual, apart from you and Steve, obviously. You’ve both managed to keep a positive front for everyone so nobody gets too suspicious. You’ve avoided group plans like the plague and the excuses for dipping out of group plans have been believable, however it is unlike you to skip so much time with everyone. Dustin has been piggy in the middle, but respectably, trying to encourage you to come out and spend time with everyone but also understanding your reasoning for not wanting to.

You and Steve still steal glances at each other, make fleeting comments and pleasant, small-talk conversation, but nothing like normal. Your stomach still clenches the way it always does when you see him, your cheeks flushing pink as he smiles warmly at you from across the corridor. You can’t keep this up, you think to yourself as you spoon a mouthful of pudding into your mouth. You need to talk, but you almost feel like you shouldn’t be the one to pull him for a conversation. Really, if you’re being honest with yourself, you haven’t got a fucking clue what to do. You’ve never been in this situation before and you’re almost just riding the wave that it is...

“...(y/n)?..” You’re broken out of your thoughts by El’s voice calling you from the opposite side of the table. Whilst you’ve been having an internal debate with yourself and turning your pudding to mush on your plate, El has been trying to get your attention.

You snap your gaze to meet hers and she tilts her head ever so slightly so that you notice the flick of concern that flashes across her eyes, unnoticeable to anyone else. She smiles warmly at you, “Are you gonna take a break from studying tonight to come to the arcade? We’re gonna meet at seven.” She’s sat with her arm looped through Mike’s.

Your eyes flit down to their entwined hands sitting on top of the table and then move up to Steve’s, whose eyes are trained on your own. You smile at him and then move back to El. “Sure.” You agree, already feeling a mixture of nervous, yet excitable, energy forming in your body. “I’d love to.” You say, however that last part you direct to Steve, who has now turned away from you and is back into small talk with Dustin.

✦✦✦

Seven o’clock rolls around fast. All you’ve been able to think about all day is later this evening, the arcade. It’ll be noisy, everyone will be there, it’s probably not going to be the most ideal situation to try and steal Steve for a while. But, even if you don’t tonight, it’s a step in the right direction for you both. Feeling normal again, out with the whole group.

He’s missed you being around. He’s not used to just seeing you at school. You’ve either been getting the bus to school or had a lift in from your mom. Some days, he’d only see you during lunch as you didn’t have many classes together. He’d go home and stare at the phone for a while some nights, willing it to ring or having to occupy himself with another activity so he doesn’t call you. So, he feels nervous as he pulls into the arcade car park. He can see the guys hanging around at the front, obviously waiting for everyone to get there before going in and deciding who’s battling who on Pacman first. He can’t, however, see you anywhere. He checks his watch, it’s only just before seven so you may still be on your way. Before he can give it anymore thought he’s stepping out and away from the car and wandering over to where Dustin is stood with everyone else.

“Hey guys.” He starts, “No (y/n)?” He asks, mainly to Dustin as he figures if anyone were to know where you were, it’d be Dustin.

“She’s coming.” Dustin gives Steve a wink and smirks widely at him, leaving Steve to roll his eyes and hope none of the others saw his gesture.

The group make their way into the arcade, and you soon arrive after getting a lift in with your mom.

“You seem nervous, sweetie.” Your mom comments as she pulls up outside whilst you remove your seatbelt. It hits the door with a soft clunk. She tucks a loose piece of hair behind your ear and rests her hand on your cheek. You lean into her gentle touch and smile, closing your eyes quickly. “You’ll be fine. Just go and enjoy yourself. You never know, maybe Steve can bring you home.”

You’re up and out of the car with flushed cheeks before your mom can finish the sentence with you in the car, she’s left laughing as you wave to her and blow her a kiss. You give your head a small shake and then turn towards the arcade, spotting a few of the guys on one of the machines close to the door.

Making your way inside, the smell of floor cleaner, candy and air con hits you hard, literally feeling like a pungent punch in the nostrils which make them flare ever so slightly at the inhumane mixture of smells. But, you love it all the same. The noise is also on another level, your ears ring within seconds of stepping in and your head snaps in all different directions as you react to the different sounds coming from different machines.

“Hey, guys!” You say, trying to sound extra cheery as you approach Max, Dustin and El.

The three of them turn to you and Dustin gives you a pat on the arm. “Hey! Nice to see you, I’m up next, with you. I said I’d wait and have the first go with you.” He nods towards the game machine and it’s one you haven’t tried before.

“Oh, awesome buddy. Thanks.” You’re aware you still have your hands in your jacket pocket and remove them, trying to make your body language seem less ‘I’m so nervous’ and more ‘I’m super excited to be here’.

The pair of you have a go together and laugh all the way through, neither of you taking it too seriously. Max and El have sloped off elsewhere to find the others, leaving just you and Dustin. “Is he here?” You ask when you’re sure the pair have left.

Dustin laughs through his nose and leans back against the machine, crossing his arms. “Funny, he asked the exact same thing when we arrived.” He has a smug look painted across his face and he raises his eyebrows. The fact he’d asked after you makes your heart leap in your chest.

Suddenly, you catch sight of him as he’s making his way across the arcade towards you both. Dustin has started to look at the neon sign advertising something by the ticket booth so is slightly distracted. You don’t know where to place yourself, where shall I put my hands? You’re thinking all sorts, and not just be natural. Just be yourself.

“Hey, guys.” Steve starts as he reaches you both.

“Hey, Steve.” Your reply is short and unlike you. There is no physical contact, as has been the case for the last few weeks. Also, unlike you.

Dustin swivels back around as he’s heard Steve’s arrival. He has the same smug, concentrated look on his face. Not one that’s annoying, just one that knows there’s two people in front of him who are head over heels for each other, just unsure on how to move on from a monumental fuck up. “Gonna go get me some tickets.” Dustin says, pointing his fingers in the direction of the booth, leaving the pair of you alone now to be surrounded by all the noise and bright lights in the vicinity.

Steve clears his throat quickly, almost like he’s got it all planned. “I was wondering if-” He stops as a group of smaller children cut between you, running straight in from the entrance. He widens his eyes, creaks his neck and then starts again, trying to move past the interruption. “I was wondering if you wanted to go and have a look at that movie?” He has his hands in his jean pockets and he’s gently swaying back and forth, onto the balls of his feet then his heels. As he reads the confusion on your face, he clarifies. “The movie I was talking about that I rented, a couple weeks back.” His cheeks crimson over as he realises you might have wiped that conversation from your memory.

Ah... the penny drops. Steve mentioned a movie, that he thought would be to your liking, in the car the morning you found out about everything, but you never got round to finding out anything about it. Quite frankly, you’d forgotten.

“It’s still in the video store. I saw it when I was there last night, covering Robin. Again.” He half laughs as he adds on his little dig to Robin.

You nod slowly, relieved that he made the first move. And so early, too. “Yeah, sure. Let’s go.” You nod towards the door and start walking off in front of him, but only slightly, so that he has to do a little quick step to catch up with you.

Outside, you both walk side by side now, the pace much slower. You’re so thankful that the noise is no longer so overwhelming, and you can listen to the slow murmur of cars passing by. The pair of you walk, just around the corner, to the video store in a comfortable silence. One of the reasons you know you’re so comfortable with Steve is that you often indulge in these silences together, and neither ever find it awkward.

You enter the store, and he shows you the tape, making small talk discussing the plot and characters, how an actor he hates got the lead role, but he still managed to enjoy the film. You take the tape to the desk and rent it out for a week, thinking that gives you plenty of time to pluck up the courage to ask him to come over and watch it with you, since he enjoyed it so much.

As the tape hangs at your side in the plastic bag, you both take a much slower walk back to the arcade. However, Steve changes the pace significantly by basically taking the most miniscule steps you have ever seen. You’re almost finding it difficult to walk so slow.

“How’ve you been?” He asks, tentatively. It’s the worst question to possibly ask, but it’s all he can muster up asking at this moment in time.

“Okay, sort of. I guess.”

He laughs, “That’s not so convincing, (y/n).”

You smile down at your shoes as you take another tiny step. “No, I know. Honestly though, it’s given me a lot of time to think.”

Oh no, he thinks. It’s never good when a girl says this to you, it means one thing to Steve: rejection. “Oh yeah?” He probes, his stomach erupting nervously he worries he might puke.

You nod, and bring your eyes up to meet his, as you know he’ll be searching your features for a giveaway into how you really feel. “I really do appreciate you giving me space.” You start, and his face falls slightly, you can tell he’s preparing himself for bad news. And the news you have for him isn’t bad news at all, but you don’t want him to think it’s all sunshine and rainbows now. “And, I have missed you.”

He softens immediately, his features soften, his posture softens, and he exhales ever so slightly, but enough that you can hear it. He can’t believe he’s hearing you say you missed him. He was expecting a ‘Fuck you, Steve Harrington, you’re dead to me.’

The pair of you continue walking as you let this settle into the conversation as the arcade roof looms into view. Neither of you particularly want to go back in, so as you meander closer to the arcade, he stops you by a small area of the car park that is close to the back. Close enough so that you can hear, through the walls, the whirring of machinery close on the opposite side, but out of view to anyone coming in and out of the arcade. “Can we talk?”

The sun is starting to lower itself over the horizon and the temperature is matching the descent of the sun. You pull your jacket around you, tighter, and you nod, stepping over to one side so Steve can come closer to you.

“I don’t think I ever really realised how much I was really falling for you.” He says, extremely quietly, it is almost a whisper. You pull at the inside of your lip with your teeth, waiting for a continuation, toying with the handle of the bag between your fingers. “Shit, not speaking to you, not spending time with you, hearing from Dustin how you cried down the phone to him, how you skipped some of your lessons and-” He cuts himself off, bringing himself to look at you, he wants to look you in the eyes, he wants you to hear him, he wants you to see how truly sorry he is. “And I am so sorry, (y/n). If that’s put a huge barrier between us now, I understand. I do. But I want you to know that I have never regretted anything so much in my life.” He speaks slowly, his words filled with true, genuine guilt and remorse. You dip your head and without warning a tear falls and hits the fabric of your jumper. Shit, you think, hoping he hasn’t seen.

“I want us to work on this.” He follows on softly, he has seen the tear, but he’s not bringing it to attention.

“I know.” Your voice is unsteady, wobbling with sadness as it sits deep in the base of your throat. Your vulnerability pooling out, and with that more tears come. Raw sobs wrench their way through your body now, silently, and you place your hand over your eyes. Your shoulders heave up and down as you continue to let out two weeks of pure emotions, which Steve feels in all their intensity. You’re trying your very best to get this outburst over with quietly, as Steve awkwardly stands there letting you do so, but when a sob fails to pass faintly and comes out as a choked cry, he feels he’s had enough of watching you break your heart.

“Hey...” He says as soothingly as he can and takes you into his arms. He wraps them around your shoulders, locking his hands together at the top of your back, letting your head fit in gently between his jaw and shoulder, nestling you in. He rests his chin on top of your head and moves one of his hands to the back of your neck, moving his fingers along the nape of your neck slowly, doing his best to soothe the shakes that are still plaguing your body. After a few moments, you place the bag down against the wall and bring your arms up from by your side to wrap them around him, keeping your eyes closed but breathing in his smell. The smell you find so comforting, the one you have missed so much. “I never want you to feel like this again.” He whispers into your hair. “I hate that I’ve done this to you.” His voice is now plagued with the same vulnerability as your own was just moments before. All you do is squeeze him tighter, not wanting to let go.

Eventually, you bring one hand from around his back and wipe the bottoms of your eyes, dabbing your cheeks. Then, you pull away and look up to him. His own eyes pooled with tears that are yet to fall, his nose is red and his cheek looks warm from where he’s been resting it on your head. Without really thinking, you place a hand on his cheek and glide your thumb along underneath his eye softly. Just like your mom does.

“I want to work on us too, Steve. I really do. I just felt so angry.”

“I know.” He replies, bringing his hand up to meet your own. Smoothly, you remove your hand and take a step back from him, leaning back against the wall. He stands in front of you, placing his now empty hands into his jacket pocket and shrugging lightly. “You have every right to be angry at me. I was expecting you to say you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

You laugh slightly, “Well, I did consider that.” You laugh again but he doesn’t reciprocate it, instead his face falls, a shadow flickering over his pupils to say that he had dreaded that outcome for the past two weeks. “We’re okay, Steve. I’ve had my time to be angry and upset, but it was a mistake. A stupid mistake, I don’t need to stay mad at you any longer.”

In this moment, his love for you blossoms into something stronger than he ever thought possible. He can’t wait to show you his love for you, make you feel his love for you and adventure through it with you. It’s something he should have been doing for a long time now, and he regrets that he has left it so late. But now, he hopes that you can both move along the right path.

He moves a step closer to you, keeping you against the wall. He swipes a piece of hair and tucks it against your neck, your cheeks flushing at the soft touch of his fingertips as they glide across your neck. It feels as though someone’s knocked the wind out of you and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You’re intently admiring each other, and the heat grows within you as you bask in the closeness. His eyes travel all over your features, down to your lips, back to your eyes, slowly down to your lips again where they rest for a short while.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.” He smiles, gently bringing his thumb to your bottom lip and tenderly applying a small amount of pressure so your lips part slightly. Your heart quickens and you worry he will be able to hear it being so close, as ridiculous as you know that is. If his fingers hover back over your neck, you are sure he will be able to feel your pulse radiating through your skin. “But I want to wait.”

You nod considerately, even though your body is screaming at you to retaliate. You swallow hard and ensure to keep eye contact locked with him now that his eyes have travelled back up to your own. “What if I don’t want to?” Your voice is small, you’re shocked that even came out your mouth. His thumb still sits below your lip, and he gradually brings his lips down to meet with your own. He kisses you softly, your lips moving together at a slow, but delightful, pace. Everything is laced with lust and longing, the way your lips hold each other before reconnecting is what you had been missing, he continues the kiss by re-joining your lips together after a discrete parting. When you pull away, his face is still lingering close to your own, and he plants a quick, delicate kiss on your lips before fully stepping back.

“We will make that do for now.” He places his hand back in his jacket pocket but extends his elbow out, inviting you to link your arm through his. You’re sure your cheeks will be burning hot; you can feel the heat spreading across them and you dread to think of the colour on display on your cheeks.

“Now can I whoop your ass at Dragon’s Lair?” He quizzes you as you both start to meander back towards the arcade door, the illuminous signs and impending overwhelming noise dissipates the air of sexual tension that hung between the pair of you just moments before.

You exhale through your nose, laughing. “If you wanna be back in the doghouse, sure.”

He pulls you closer to his side by bringing his arm further into his jacket as you enter back into the arcade, seeing Dustin over the other side. His face lighting up as he sees the pair of you enter, his face awash with utter happiness at the sight, finally seeing the pair of you with a genuine smile on your faces again. Steve knows he still has work to put in with you, he knows you’re going to be wary, but he’s adamant that he’s going to show you just how much you mean to him.

#masterlist #stranger things imagine #stranger things blurbs #stranger things preferences #stranger things imagines #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fluff #steve Harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington imagines #steve harrington x you #steve harrington comfort #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x fem reader #stranger things prompts #steve harrington imagine

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angelicyouth · 4 months

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hiii cuties!!♡~

oh… my god… i know that it’s been insanely long since the last time that i’ve been on here & i know how abrupt me disappearing was ((i’m so sorry!!)) but i promise that it’s not because i stopped liking south park or anything like that!! („o̴̶̷᷄ 𖥦 o̴̶̷̥᷅„)੭

it’s still one of my comfort shows & i still very much love it, but i’ve been having the longest writer’s block ever!! ((tbh i think i got majorly burnt out from how quickly i released things + how much i wrote in such a short span of time when i was still active))

i’m still not sure when i’ll resume youth or lavender again ((i promise i’m not abandoning them—i’ve had chapter layouts & the next part’s drafts written since forever but i just can’t get myself to pick it back up)) but i will post stuff when i do get the inspiration to write!! ୧(﹒︠ᴗ﹒︡)୨

as an apology for the abrupt hiatus, here is me marking my return with a new piece of work!! [x]

& if you’re still here, i just wanted to thank you for your patience + long-time support!! i haven’t read any of the messages i’ve received during my time away yet but i still want to say that i love all of you from the bottom of my heart ♡

#lala update!!#here’s me going from hiatus to semi hiatus ><#tbh its hard af for me to write for youth specifically because rereading it makes me cringe at myself #irrelevant lala talks ♡

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theredconversegirl · 3 years

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Sneaking Out | Ficlet 🍅🌸

Hey there,

Hope everyone is doing well! 💕

I’m sharing a little something that came into mind when I saw this au name on twitter last night. 😁 I hope some ss fluff helps warm your day/night! 💜

~Happy Reading!

Title: Sneaking Out Rated T Summary: all the characters live in the same building au / blank period / mostly dialogue / fluff & slice of life.

Links: Fanfiction | ao3 ——————————————————————————

When the "temporary" settlements are taken down, sixteen months post-war, and most of her friends end up moving to the same apartment complex, Sakura realizes it will be a lot more difficult to sneak out for the usual late night make-out sessions.

"We need a plan," Sasuke says after she confides her concerns to him that night.

He hasn’t noticed the changes – because a) he doesn’t care about people, b) he was away for quite some time, and c) he doesn’t really care – but she had. Every day there’s someone moving in and every day more familiar faces greet her when she’s leaving or arriving at her apartment.

"It shouldn't be as complicated as you think it will be." He tells her as though her worry is unwarranted. “We just need to use our skills; we are shinobi.”

"And so are all tenants from the 3rd to the 10th floor."

Sasuke sits down on her secondhand couch and sighs. “I can walk up the outer wall and get to your window."

"As romantic as it sounds Sasuke-kun, you could be easily spotted." The disbelieving look in his mismatched eyes prompted her to continue. "Masked chakra or not, someone could look out of the window or get on the balcony and see you.”

“Henge?”

Sakura snorts. “And that wouldn’t look suspicious at all.”

He glares at her and she glares right back. She gives up first, groaning as she starts to pace the room.

“Imagine the repercussions… we’d have to explain to Tsunade-shisou what you were doing climbing up a residential building wall late at night. You, Uchiha Sasuke, ex missing nin who spent the last four years plotting revenge—”

“Tch, I get it.” Sasuke averts his eyes, but doesn’t look fazed by the touchy subject. “You could take the stairs up to my place.”

“And risk bumping into someone?”

“Who takes the stairs when there’s that brand new metal box that takes everyone up and down here? It’s the first elevator in a non-governmental building and everyone wants to ride it.” He rolls his eyes and Sakura mirrors the action, because yeah, it’s ridiculous. They can do magic ninja stuff and people are excited by a mechanical thing that moves vertically.

“Well... Kakashi takes his sweet time climbing the stairs to his apartment. Lee says the additional exercise is a challenge. Tenten has to follow suit when he’s around. I saw Kiba taking the stairs with Akamaru once… I guess some people just don’t like the wait.” Sakura shrugs, not dismissing the idea entirely, just being realistic about the risks. “Besides, you wouldn’t want me bumping into Lee late at night.”

Sasuke frowns. “Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because…” Sakura trails off, the very valid reason she had vanishes at the sight of a jealous Sasuke.

He just… he looks so, so good when he’s confused and angry at the same time. His jaw ticks, his voice turns gruff, and that little pout that goes with the sullen glower completes the hottest bad boy look one can have. Why are they wasting time talking when they could be kissing? His conceited smirk snaps her out of her daze and she berates herself for falling for his trick – he knows how to distract her very well.

“Because he'd hog me until I allow him to walk me safely back to my door.”

Sasuke groans and lets his head fall on the pillow behind him. “I'll go down to you then, problem solved.”

“That could work, but we’d still risk Ino or someone from the hospital walking in on us.” He doesn’t say anything to that, but Sakura sees the question on his face from where she’s standing. “You haven’t been back long, so to put it simply, I’m needed in that hospital and they have the gift to need me when I’m off.”

Sakura watches with a satisfied grin as Sasuke’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He looks at her with respect and curiosity... And damn, forget about the bad boy thing because this makes her tremble with anticipation. That look is everything she’s ever wanted.

“You're my teammate.”

“Your female teammate, the one who has had a, uh, crush on you since forever. Stop smirking! The entire village knows.”

Sasuke cocks an eyebrow. “I thought you loved me.”

Did he just… goad her on? The bastard has the nerve to puff up his chest and look smug while saying that.

“That’s too personal!” Sakura hides her pink cheeks when she twirls around and resumes her pacing. When she completes a full circle, their eyes meet and she sighs. “Yeah, yeah, they know.”

Three circles later, Sakura has an a-ha moment and asks, “Are you good at teleporting yet?”

After Sasuke’s recovery and his brief trial that led to the end of the council, the Hokage authorized the Rinnegan research. Kakashi and Sasuke have been training together every other day since. Sasuke’s stamina is building up to a point he’s not completely exhausted after using his new ocular powers.

Sasuke’s mood changes immediately. The scowl on his face is telling and Sakura almost winces – he’s too proud to admit that he’s probably not quite there yet. Teleporting back and forth after training hours could drain him.

“What if,” Sakura says quickly, changing the subject. “What if we just don’t sneak out.”

“Then we won’t be spending time together?”

“But we do.”

“How so?”

“I mean what if we just don’t care if someone sees us going to each other’s apartments? We are two consenting adults and it’s none of their business anyway.” Sakura explains, chewing her bottom lip as she mulls over the various outcomes of not keeping their relationship a secret anymore.

It was not a premeditated decision to hide it in the first place. But when they have two loud-mouthed best friends, the news would blow up within hours and they just want some privacy.

It’s not like they’d be advertising their relationship or anything. And who cares if nosy people gossip about it? The only thing that matters is that they are together (and ridiculously in love).

“You know what, this won’t keep me away from you.”

“Oh yeah? You're going to forgo any social etiquette just to have your way with me, huh?”

“As if you'd complain!” Sakura scoffs and crosses her arms. “If I don’t do that, you will. And you know why? Because you’d miss me.”

Sasuke snorts but she pays no heed to it; she knows he would never admit to that if asked. And, she can see the blush creeping up the side of his neck and the tip of his ears. Adorable.

“You’d miss me and these sugar lips.” She swipes her tongue across her mouth and notices how his eyes darken, following the movement. “Tell me I’m lying.”

When he stands up, rather abruptly for a human but not for a shinobi, she’s forced to take a step back and crank her neck up to look at him. Sakura’s still not used to this Sasuke, tall and broad, who towers over her.

“Come here, sugar lips.”

He speaks with a rough, low voice, and what’s supposed to be seductive and hot-hot-hot, makes her giggle instead. Even though Sasuke’s just repeating her own words to annoy her, that’s something she’s never expected to hear.

“I can’t believe you said that. Uchiha Sasuke—”

“Shut up.”

—called me-mmph!”

He kisses her silly that night – and all the other nights that follow – putting to rest all her doubts and worries, because he does miss her and no neighborhood gossip will keep them apart.

#theredconversegirl writes #SasuSaku #ss fic #sneaking out #all the characters live in the same building au #some fluff

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lubdubsworld · 3 years

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Better Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~`Just to see you smile, I’d do anything. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taehyung x Oc

Rated 18 +

Post Divorce, Getting Back Together, Second chances, Angst.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Do you ever truly know what someone is feeling?

You could spend decades , breathing the same air, hands held , your fingers brushing ....connected physically and even mentally but a person’s emotions, they’re hidden away.

You only ever know what they’re willing to show .

And yet,

all of us build relationships, convinced that we know exactly what the other person will feel when we act a certain way. Buying her flowers will make happy....visiting him at work will take away that little bit of stress.

But sometimes, what we think someone feels, may not be what they truly feel.

And that’s when your actions, well intended actions..... end up with disastrous consequences.

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

“So....last night...” Jungkook’s teasing voice did nothing to ease the pounding in my head.

“I do believe you promised not to tease me about it if I drank two glasses of water, which I did by the way.” I told him firmly, trying to bring the words on my planner into focus as i squinted. Three meeting. Each two hours long.

kill me now.

“I wanted to ask HR to give you the day off but you have quite a schedule today. “ He said casually, leaning over me to peer into the planner . I glanced at his wrist resting on the table, the expensive rolex showing that it was a little past 9.

“ We’re planning out the Christmas campaign first and I have a meeting with Taehyung’s team in the afternoon so we can go over the contract see if they have any requirements and then the social media team in the evening at four to discuss promos and revamping the website.” I glanced up at him.

He gave me a smile before casually leaning down, lightly gripping my chin and tilting my face up. I felt the brush of his lips against mine, fleeting and gentle.

‘You’re beautiful.” He smiled.

I blinked.

And then took a deep breath.

“Your wife...” I said softly. “ I saw her today.”

Jungkook went completely still at that.

“She was waiting in the lobby on my way up. I didn’t know who you were married to and I was a little shocked and also little upset because....” I glanced at him. “ She was my best friend in college. “

Jungkook swore.

“Fuck.. I told her to stay the fuck away from my company. Did she say something to you?”

i shook my head.

“I didn’t greet her because I wasn’t sure if she remembered me. And I wasn’t sure if i was remembering her right. i didn’t know she was your wife till i heard someone mention it in the elevator on my way up. Did you know that she and i knew each other?”

Jungkook looked just a little guilty.

“When you first joined the company, she saw your resume on my cvomputer. told me a lot about you. She remembers you. Fondly. She wanted to come meet you but...things happened. “ He shrugged.

Things like infidelity and divorces .

“Ahh...” I smiled. “ Tell me i wasn’t another way to get back at your ex wife, Jeon Jungkook ssi...”

He made a noise of protest.

“no... No of course not Christ...it’s just...I’ll admit she made me curious about you. She spoke of you being spontaneous and fun and wild and I’d seen you as this demure, elegant woman in the office. i was curious. I wanted to know which one was the real you. “

“Were you curious before she cheated....or after?”

“ Jang Mi...this isn’t what it looks like .. I’m done with her. She fucked my best buddy and ruined my fucking life...” He sounded pained.

I frowned.

“It’s hard to believe she would do something like that. The Aera i remember had a very strong moral compass.”

“Yeah well, apparently, you can live whole entire lives with someone and never really know the person. Listen, do we really have to talk about my ex wife?” He asked, eyes shining with discomfort.

I shrugged.

“I’m not fond of drama. I won’t tangle myself in a relationship that risks hurting a lot of people Jungkook. That’s just not the kind of person I am. I’m sorry.”

He made a noise of impatience, shaking his head.

“We won’t be hurting anyone... We have fun together. We like each other. We’re attracted to each other...that’s all that matters....” He said sharply.

“ If we were in our twenties , without kids ....maybe. But that's not how it is now. I have a son, you have a daughter and I think I’m not completely over my marriage yet.” I said softly.

He froze.

“And i don’t think you’re completely over your wife either.” I smiled.

He glared at me.

“Ex-wife.” He snarled.

“She makes you feel things, Jungkook. You need to sort that out before you start something new with someone else. I’m only saying this because we’re old enough not to

He growled and punched the desk.

“God, how can she keep ruining my life even when she’s out of it.” He muttered, stepping away from me and moving to the door.

I watched him storm out of my office and bit my lip.

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

By the time evening rolled around, I was exhausted. But the day had been productive and I was happy because the contract had been finalized, the theme had been decided and we’d also spent an amazing three hours redesigning the website. Although it wasn’t in my job description I had studied web design in college and the creative department always welcomed my inputs.

“You’re in a good mood...” Taehyung’s voice was a complete surprise and I turned to him, shocked. He was dressed in a black t shirt and blue jeans and sneakers and looked a whole decade younger.

I felt affection rise up my throat so fast I nearly choked.

“What are you doing here?”

“My agent told me you guys were incredibly cooperative today. She also told me you were quite possibly the loveliest woman she’s ever met and that I’m an idiot to have let you go.” He smiled.

I laughed, shaking my head and my gaze shifted to the small bunch of tiger lilies in his hand.

I felt warmth bloom in my chest.

“You remembered.” I said softly, pleased.

“Thirteen years since our first date. The lily to my tiger. ” He held the flowers to me and I grinned, pressing the flowers to my chest.

“Man I feel old.” I muttered.

“You are old.” Tae grinned and i grimaced, before tossing him a glare. .

“You’re supposed to say I still look as beautiful as i did thirteen years ago.” I said.

“But you don.t” He grinned impishly. “ You look a billion times more beautiful.”

I felt the atmosphere shift, the air charged with something dangerous and i looked away. Usually, this was when I would laugh and throw my arms around him. Pull him close and press my lips against his , slip my fingers into his t shirt and trace the skin of his back. Feel his hands on my waist as he lifted me up to twirl me around and kiss me just like that.

How often had we kissed that way? Thirteen years is a long time to count the number of kisses we’d shared.

We both stayed quiet, looking anywhere but at each other.

“I...there’s a reason I came.” He said finally.

I glanced at him.

“Oh?”

“The lawyer. Ms. Lee she ... recommended a relationship counselor”

I blinked, my breath catching in my throat.

“Taehyung we’re-”

“Just hear me out. Its not mandatory and it won’t affect the divorce in anyway. its just something the court offers all couples going through a divorce and we’re free to refuse it. “

“Did you?” I asked.

“Did I what?”

“Refuse it. Did you tell her no?”

He stared at me.

“No.” He said finally.

I exhaled sharply.

“Wow.” I whispered, feeling jittery and unbalanced. He sighed and came closer, reaching out to lightly grip my wrists. I let him tug me closer into a hug and held him tight, my heart pounding with anxiety.

“Mia.... I just... I’m not saying we should try to fix this.... relationship.” He said softly, eyes gentle and pleading, “ I just think this whole thing has taken a toll on both of us and maybe we can heal better if we get the help of a professional. Come out of this with closure. Instead of battling guilt and regrets everyday. Just ....it could help us move on. Don’t you think?”

You could never really tell what the other person is feeling.

I couldn’t tell what Taehyung was feeling right now?

Hope ?

Hope that we would fix our marriage....

or maybe hope that he would finally move on from me.. Maybe this whole thing was his final attempt to end things with me for good. So he could walk out of my life forever without any lingering guilt or regret.

I would never know.

I clung to him harder and somehow the pain of the entire two years we’d been apart, rammed into me at once.

I choked on a sob. Breathing became difficult and I felt myself gasping for air.

“Mia?” Taehyung’s panicked voice was the last sane thought that registered.

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

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can stay the night if you want. I’ll sleep in the spare bedroom . ” Taehyung whispered, seated on the warm fluffy blanket that he’d managed to dig out of the closet in the spare bedroom. i was already tucked into the bed, fingers clutching the satin lined edges .

i shook my head.

“I know how much you need your gazillion pillows. Go on... I’ll be fine.”

“i feel terrible. i pushed you into a panic attack.”

I waved off the guilty words.

“You didn’t . i was already a little frayed and i guess i haven’t really been processing all the stuff between us the way i should have. i just got a little overwhelmed.”

A panic attack. At the age of 32. The last time i had one I was twenty four. I wanted to crawl into the bed and never resurface.

Taehyung’s gentle fingers , stroking my cheek brought me out of my own head.

“I was so scared.” He said softly and my heart ached.

“I’m sorry i scared you.” I said apologetically, gripping his wrists lightly and stroking the skin there with my thumb.

“I really want to stay. i don’t think I’ll be able to sleep if I go home right now.” He whispered.

I bit my lips.

“Okay... but... You need to hug something. To sleep. “

He grinned at that.

“I’m old enough to survive one night without a pillow, Mia .” he chuckled.

I flushed, sinking deeper into the covers.

“Okay.”

“You don’t have to worry about the counselor thing. I’ll tell Lee we don’t want to do any-”

“No!!” I said quickly, a lot louder than I’d intended.

Taehyung blinked.

“I just... I realized that I haven’t been dealing with any of this...the right way. I’m so confused and disoriented all the time and I .. I don’t mind getting some help. To sort things out. Just for myself you know...without the pressure of trying to fix...well us.” I finished .

Taehyung gave me a wide smile before bending down and kissing my forehead.

“ Okay, Mia mine. Sleep well, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`

#taehyung fic #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfic #bts smut #bts fic

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eirenical · 3 years

Note

*drops by to yell about "post-canon Huo Daofu and Xiao Ge… time-sharing Wu Xie"* <3 <3

AHAHAHA-- RIGHT. So, @elenothar when I told you I wanted to hold on to this ask and let the fic percolate, I didn't think it would then CONSUME MY THOUGHTS for the next several days until I had to get some of it down on paper. O_o;;; So, this is shaping up to be longer than originally intended, and this bit is still on the rough side, but here's the first (1200+ word) scene? To gauge interest, maybe? (...oh who am I kidding; interest or no interest, I'm gonna write it anyway. XD) Enjoy? ^_^

It was quiet. The party that had raged and roared like a living beast for hours before now slumbered. Huo Daofu threaded his way carefully through the sleeping and unconscious bodies it had left in its wake to take up a careful perch on one of the few remaining upright pieces of furniture. As he settled in, the bench's occupant lifted his bottle to clink aimlessly against his, then briefly raised it before taking a pull. Huo Daofu obediently took a sip from his own bottle; there was little enough left in it.

Lowering his bottle, Huo Daofu let it dangle loosely from his hand as he leaned over to brace his elbows on his knees. It had been a long time since he'd indulged himself this way. A very long time. Beside him, Wang Pangzi leaned back to rest his elbows on the table behind them, tipping his head back. He was smiling. "Now *that* was a party."

The corners of Huo Daofu's lips pulled up in an answering smile before he even realized they had. They'd been doing that a lot lately. Smiling without his express permission.

They used to do that often. Before.

The smile fell from Huo Daofu's lips as though it had been washed away by a bucket of cold water. He'd been down this road before. He'd been down this road before, and it had only led him to heartbreak. He had no desire to travel it again now that he knew where it led. He looked up, gaze catching on the only other upright person in the room. Zhang Qiling. Xiao-ge. Wu Xie's Menyouping. Wu Xie's—

Huo Daofu tore his gaze away, closing his eyes to the sight and finishing off his bottle in one long pull. By the time he had finished, Pangzi's leg was a heavy line of warmth against his own, his outstretched knee lazily nudging into him. He laughed. "Now, where have I seen that look before, I wonder?"

Taking advantage of the few inches remaining on his side of the bench, Huo Daofu shifted away, frowning to discourage Pangzi from claiming the inches he'd ceded. Pangzi, of course, took no notice. Wu Xie had ruined his understanding of personal space, like he had for so many others… if Pangzi had had any to begin with. Pangzi had rolled onto his hip to face Huo Daofu, one arm propping his head up on the table, the other bracing his own bottle on his hip. He raised an eyebrow.

Huo Daofu matched that look, stare for stare, for as long as he could before breaking. He twirled his empty bottle idly back and forth between his hands, wishing he hadn't finished it, that he could take another drink in lieu of answering the question so clearly waiting in Pangzi's open expression. Finally, he sighed, leaning back against the table. Quietly, he said, "How do you let him go? When the mission is over, when the wounds are healed, and to the victor have gone the spoils… how do you let him go?"

Pangzi's snort ruffled the short hair at the back of Huo Daofu's neck, and he repressed a shudder. "Xiao-ge?" Pangzi's hand waved wildly across the room for a moment before he snorted again. "He's like a feral cat, that one. Happy to accept food and skritchings and pettings when it pleases him, but restless and aggressive if tied down to one place for too long. It's better for everyone concerned to let him wander where he will and when he will. Eventually you just…" he shrugged. "…learn to accept it." There was a brief pause, then Pangzi reached out and poked Huo Daofu hard in the shoulder. "Aiyo. You're not turning into another Sang Bei'er on me, are you? One Xiao-ge superfan is already more than we can handle."

Huo Daofu turned to face Pangzi, his face hardening. Zhang Qiling. Really.

As their eyes met, Pangzi's face abruptly softened. "Ah. Ah, ah, ah. OK." That last came out in English, and Pangzi reached out again, this time to pat the spot on Huo Daofu's shoulder that he had just poked a moment before. "Apologies, apologies. I misunderstood." Another pat.

If Huo Daofu could have moved further away without falling off the bench, he would have. He wasn't used to… this. Pangzi sat up beside him, finally, taking another pull of his bottle before turning his own gaze across the room. Zhang Qiling was still sitting upright, looking down at a boneless Wu Xie, who was sprawled across his lap like some oversized cat, with a softer look than Huo Daofu had ever seen on his face. His fingers slowly sifted through Wu Xie's hair and Wu Xie curled *closer* and— Huo Daofu's stomach clenched at the sudden sense memory of his own fingers sliding through that same hair. He dropped his head into his hands, doing his best to convince himself when Pangzi's overly heavy patting resumed moments later, that it was reassuring and not intrusive.

Softly, and with almost more sympathy in it than Huo Daofu could bear, Pangzi said, "I hate to say it, but I think you're very much barking up the wrong tree here. I don't have a great track record, myself, of being able to let him go. Exhibit A being me literally falling to my knees and begging for his life outside your very own youtiao shop, not all that long ago… in case you forgot."

Quietly. "I haven't forgotten."

How could he?

It had been years at that point, since Huo Daofu had last set eyes on Wu Xie, years since what they'd had had ended in a fiery explosion of tempers that had left a hole inside him that had still been only slowly healing when Wang Pangzi showed up on his doorstep. He'd seriously considered, then, leaving Wu Xie to die, had still been considering it days later when he joined them on that frantic rescue mission from which Wu Xie should not have returned. But being near him, supporting him, taking care of him, day after day after day… of being subject to that wry, unassuming smile and the dry sense of humor that they'd always shared… of having that body back in his arms, no matter how dire the circumstances… it had weighed on him until he'd reached a wary sort of peace with himself and an even warier sort of peace with Wu Xie. Huo Daofu had bid him goodbye on that last desperate mission fully expecting it to *be* goodbye, that having made their peace, they could let each other go, and Huo Daofu would be left to remember him fondly after his death, instead of with the bitterness that had so overshadowed their last parting.

But then Wu Xie had returned.

Whole.

Healed.

With Zhang Qiling at his side.

And now Huo Daofu was faced with a Wu Xie who had let *him* go… and he being unable to return the favor.

Pushing himself off the bench, Huo Daofu gave Pangzi a pat of his own in return. "Never mind, Pangzi. I'll find my own way." Softly. "I always do." And then before Pangzi could say another word, Huo Daofu turned and left. He had responsibilities. He had his pride. He was no longer 20 years old, willing to pine forever after the unattainable. It was time to let go. Angry words hadn't worked the last time, formed as they had been of barbed hooks that pulled both ways. This time, Huo Daofu would simply… wish Wu Xie well. And hope that that would be enough to cut the ties that needed to be cut, for both their sakes.

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weebswrites · 4 years

Note

How would the demon bros react to an artist MC who secretly sketches them and they find MC’s sketchbook~?

The Demon Bros: Finding MC’s Sketchbook

Lucifer

He goes to your room to check on you and sees your sketchbook lying open on your bed

He doesn’t want to invade your privacy, but he can’t help but take a peek at what it is you’re working on

He’s seen you working hard on something for the past few days and has been curious

He steps towards your bed and looks down at the page

It’s him!

His eyes scan the page, taking in how handsomely you’ve portrayed him, sitting at his desk working

He smiles and flips the pages to see what else you’ve drawn

It’s all him ? Reading, cooking, talking, existing. You’ve captured him in every light

You walk back into your room

“Lucifer!” you gasp, rushing over and shutting the sketchbook, in denial that he saw the pages and pages of himself

“What did you see” you ask him, standing on your tiptoes to try to intimidate him

He debates whether or not to lie, but knows how strongly you value honesty and communication

“I saw a few, but, they’re all incredible, MC. You don’t have to hide them from me”

You blush, “I just didn’t know if you’d think it’s weird that I draw you so much”

He leans down and kisses you, gently, whispering “It’s not weird at all, it’s quite flattering actually” against your lips

You spend the next bit of time going through your sketchbook, showing him the sketches and explaining how he made your heart race

Mammon

You two are chilling in your room on your bed, chatting about this and that

He reaches over to your nightstand and grabs the sketchbook, “Hey, human, what’re you always drawing in here anyways” he asks innocently

“Mammon no!” you try to grab the book from his hands but he’s already opened it

He goes silent, flipping through page after page of sketches and drawings of him, some colored, some not

“Mammon…I can explain…” you whisper, face red with embarrassment

He shakes his head no and continues flipping through each page, the silence in the room making you nervous

After he’s done looking he closes the book, “Mah human~” he says lovingly, and leans over and presses a kiss to your lips

“I shoulda known you were drawing The Great Mammon, what else would you draw?” he teased, kissing you again before returning the sketchbook to your nightstand

You giggle, “Exactly, what else would be so worthy of the pages than you?”

He teases you about it from time to time when he sees you sketching, but you know that seeing page upon page of himself in your sketchbook really struck a chord in his heart (sometimes he poses for you but tries to act like it’s just how he’s naturally sitting, but you both know that’s a lie) (and he looks at you with so much love in his eyes when he knows you’re drawing him, it fills your heart with such a warm feeling)

Leviathan

He’s on his fourth hour of playing through a new game

You normally play with him, but it’s not MPG, so you’re just watching him and refilling the snack bowl for the two of you when it gets empty

One trip back you stop by your room and get your sketchbook and favorite pencil

You drop the snacks beside him and sit on his bed, beginning to sketch the back of his head and body looking at the monitor

He doesn’t notice at first, but during a scene change when the screen goes black he sees you sketching, glancing up at him from time to time

“MC, what are you drawing?” he asks

“Uhh…nothing really” you stammer, hoping he didn’t catch on to your obvious lie

He does, of course, and pauses his game to come look

You try to hide your page, but don’t stop him when he sits next to you and lifts it from your arms

“Babe…” he whispers, admiring the work you’d done in such a short time, before flipping a page back and seeing another sketch of him

“I just…you’re my everything, Levi, and sometimes I see you and I just, have to capture the moment” you explain

“These are incredible, why haven’t you shown me sooner?” he asks, flipping through page after page of your work

“I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, thinking I was always trying to draw you

“I appreciate that,” he says, stopping on a page to admire a drawing from a few weeks ago of him reading a manga, “You have so much talent”

He showers you in compliments and after a brief kiss, goes back to his game, resuming the same position he was in earlier so you could finish your drawing

Satan

You were in the library on the couch, he was rereading a favorite book and you were sketching

You sat on either end of the couch, facing each other with your legs intertwined

You’d been working on sketching your view of this for about an hour, and were proud of how well it was going

Suddenly, Satan closes his book at you and meets your eyes as they were studying his face

“Can I ask what you’re studying my face so intently for?” he asks bluntly, never holding back any punches

And you didn’t either, “I’m…drawing us. And I want to capture your face as accurately as possible” you explain

He holds his hand out for you to hand over the sketchbook, and you do after a quick glance down to look at your work

He studies your drawing before flipping to the beginning and looking through each page, admiring each one

You watched as his eyes took in every inch of every page

“Satan?” you ask, wanting to hear his thoughts

“MC, I had no idea you had so much talent” he whispered, taking minutes on each page, sincerely admiring the time and effort you’d put into each drawing

“I hope it’s okay I draw you a lot, you’re always on my mind and I want to capture every moment we have together”

“It’s perfectly, kitten” he reassures you, a light blush crossing his face as he reached the piece you were working on currently again, scanning it before handing you back your sketchbook

“Show me your work more often, it’s beautiful”

You smile, falling even more in love with him than you thought was humanly (or demonly) possible

“I will”

Asmodeus

You’re a bit tipsy, whoops

“What are you always drawing in that sketchbook of yours, anyways” he teases, poking your shoulder

“Nothinggg” you defend yourself

“Then show me if it’s nothing” he smirks, getting off your bed and walking to your desk, flipping open your sketchbook to a random page

The random page happened to be a page with a drawing of him, sitting at his desk and applying a face cream

“Honey…is this a drawing of me?” he asks, voice soft

“Yeah” you say, getting up and walking over to him, wrapping an arm around his waist

“They’re all of you” you explain, scanning through the pages with your thumb

He takes a bit to flip through the pages slower, appreciating each drawing for a moment before moving to the next

After he’s done he closes the book and turns to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into him, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips

“Seeing myself from your eyes…it was amazing” he whispered, pulling away, “Your art is amazing”

“Thanks, Asmo” you say, smiling and kissing him again

He absolutely makes you draw him posing now, he’ll sit in any pose he can think of, in all sorts of cute or seductive outfits, letting you draw him for hours and hours

Sometimes he’ll wear an outfit, and well, the drawing doesn’t last long lol

Beelzebub

He doesn’t want to pry at what you’re doing, but you can tell by the way his eyes linger whenever you’re drawing that he’s curious

After you get a good portion of the way done with your current drawing, you scoot next to him

(You’re in the kitchen, because duh)

“Beel, can I show you what I’ve been working on?”

“Of course, my love”

You turn the sketchbook from your chest to his eyes, handing it to him

He takes it, carefully admiring the most recent few pages

His heart is beating fast, the fact that you saw him and wanted to draw him made him so soft

“MC…” he whispers

“Beel?”

“These are so good, your talent is undeniable” he praises you

“Thank you” you reply, heart warmed by his kind words

“You…always draw me. Why?” he asks

“You always stick out to me, love. You’re handsome and strong and the love of my life. Sometimes I get hit with a wave of appreciation for you and want to capture the moment” you explain

He smiles, blushing more before leaning in and kissing you

After a few kisses you two pull away, resting your foreheads together

“I love you, Beel”

“I love you too, MC”

Belphegor

You keep it Very on the down low when you’re drawing him

You know he doesn’t like attention on him, even when it’s from you, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable

One day he catches you

The two of you are in his room, he’s reading something on his phone and you’re sketching

You always told him it was for your art class, which was sometimes true, at least

“MC, can I see what you’re working on” he asks

You hesitate for a moment, “Belphie, I’m…I’m drawing you” you confess, lowering your head a bit

He just looks at you, “Oh…”

“If it makes you uncomfortable I’ll stop, it’s just sometimes you look so peaceful I want to capture it forever” you ramble

“Hey, MC, it’s okay. I trust you” he says, holding out his hand for you to give him the sketchbook

You do so, and study his face intently as he flips through the pages

He stops at one, and you glance to see which one it is

It’s one from a few weeks ago, he was mid-nap, hair messy and face perfectly calm

“You’re so talented” he commented, “this one in particular, the level of detail is impressive”

“Thanks” you say, letting out a sigh of relief and laughing a bit

“You should show me more often, I’d love to see more of your work. Even if it’s just drawings of me” he teases lightly

You smile, nodding, “Yeah, I will”

--------------------

A/N: wow I’m not doing too hot on posting every day am I lol, but I’ve gotten some really fun requests (like this one !! thank u anon I loved writing this so much) and they’re keeping me motivated

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcannon #obey me headcannons #obey me reader insert #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me x reader

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redhoodieone · 3 years

Text

Welcome Home

A/N: Hi everyone! This is an old fic that I’m re-posting for those who want to read it. Enjoy!

WARNINGS: Language and Smut.

I knew my family was different the moment I found out my adoptive father was Batman. I was just a ten-year-old girl when I snuck down the stairs at midnight for a drink of water and spotted Batman leaving a trail of blood from his study and calling out for Alfred for help. The moment our eyes locked, Bruce instantly knew that I was clearly aware of his secret. He had also confessed it was him who saved me from a shootout that my parents were involved in and that it was him, as Batman. I felt I owed Bruce my own life for saving me, and I vowed to keep my father’s secret and pray that he would return home safely every night back to me.

It didn’t help that I soon discovered my adoptive older brother Dick Grayson was Robin. Not only did I have to keep his secret as well, but it made it more impossible to not have a crush on him. I mean, Dick has such a charming personality, beautiful baby blue eyes, and a devilish smile that can make any girl crawl on her hands and knees. And that ass…

I later found myself becoming the second Robin once Dick left to assume his own identity, Nightwing. Bruce trusted me, and he saw potential in me the second I told him I couldn’t see myself being a hero forever. Perhaps he never really wanted me to be his sidekick and figured if I got it out of my system that I could resume my life as a sixteen-year-old and do normal teenager activities. As if my life was normal anyways.

But things changed as soon as I was finally embracing myself as a hero. Bruce had taken in a new kid, Jason Todd. He was a troublemaker, a rebel, and a mysterious kid, who had never even spoken to me unless he had to. I don’t think my age helped the situation either; I was a couple of years older than him and he may not have seen me as an equal. But of course, the dark haired, icy blue eyed, bad attitude boy was given the Robin title, and I was removed because of a patrol-gone-wrong situation.

Stupid Harley Quinn and her baseball bat. Who knew one hit to my knee could bench me for two months (Alfred added an additional five months of rest).

Then the unthinkable happened. The second Robin was killed by the Joker. Jason Todd’s death put Bruce into a depression, and he swore he would never put another kid’s life in danger. Our father and daughter relationship broke apart before my very eyes. I spent my remaining teenage years in the mansion isolated, except for Alfred’s loving company.

I had graduated high school on time and I quickly decided to go to Gotham University to escape the Bat family. Before I moved out, I discovered Bruce had taken in another kid, Tim Drake, who was currently the new Robin. Was I hurt? Of course, I felt I was somehow replaced. Would I miss the Bat family? Maybe. Maybe not.

I did in fact wish the new younger Robin good luck. When Tim looked up at me, his light blue eyes were so innocent and frightened about me leaving him behind. I didn’t know why he would be so upset about me leaving; wouldn’t he want all of Bruce’s attention without me hanging around the mansion?

Now I’m twenty-one-years-old, and I’m still a student at Gotham University. Alfred had just called and informed me Bruce wants me back home.

As I sit in a taxi while anxiously waiting to pull up to Wayne Manor, I honestly don’t know why Bruce wants me back at home. Alfred has kept me up to date about the Bat family incidents and activities I have missed out those few years such as:

Dick Grayson becoming a womanizer (I saw it coming) and how he’s juggling working as a police officer and Nightwing. He’s still the favorite and golden child in Bruce’s eyes.

Jason Todd is back from the dead, and he’s currently operating his own team: Red Hood and the Outlaws (who knew he was leadership material underneath that thick skull of his?).

Tim Drake is Red Robin (does the fast food chain restaurant know about his superhero name?), and he’s currently assisting the Teen Titans when necessary while simultaneously aiding Bruce with detective work.

Damian Wayne is Bruce Wayne’s unknown biological child. I think he’s about fifteen-years-old now; from what I remember the last time I spoke to Alfred. I met Damian once, when Bruce asked me to meet him once Talia al Ghul practically dropped him off at Bruce’s doorstep. The boy was a little shit: bratty, stuck up, and insensitive. Even though he is the spitting image of Bruce, minus the different colored eyes (Bruce has blue and Damian’s are green), Damian claims he is set to take over the cowl when Bruce is either dead or done. God help us all…

But I still can’t figure out why I am needed back home. Is Alfred sick? Is Bruce dying after fighting all these years? Is it one of my brothers?

I jump in surprise once the taxi comes to a hard stop. After paying the man, I grab my duffel bag and I climb the front steps that I suddenly remember jumping off them as a kid. Alfred scolded me many times, and I still did it because being bad was fun.

I scoff loudly, and I jump down the five steps that would have given Alfred a heart attack. Maybe I haven’t changed as much as I thought.

I find the wooden front door unlocked, which is odd considering Alfred always makes sure to lock it. As a matter of fact, Alfred hasn’t greeted me like he always does when I come home. Where is Alfred?

After I unwrap my scarf, I pull my hoodie over my head to be more comfortable in the warm house. Sadly, I forgot to do laundry yesterday, so I came home in just my black yoga pants and red tank top. What would Alfred say?

I kick off my shoes and walk to the kitchen barefoot. Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I notice a note on the counter that’s written for me. I unfold the note and stare at the nicest, well done cursive handwriting only one man can do here.

Dear Lady Y/N,

I sincerely apologize for not being there to greet you properly. Master Bruce had wanted me to take my holiday to London early, and Lord knows I can use a week to myself after stitching up countless wounds, tidying up bedrooms and Bat caves, and playing messenger between you and your father. I have a cooked roast with garlic mash potatoes in the refrigerator if you are hungry. Do heat it up and perhaps show your father and brothers how to use the microwave.

I dearly love you and the boys,

Love Alfred Pennyworth

P.S.

Look into the highest cabinet above the refrigerator, and you will discover a jar of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies just for you.

I grin widely, and before I can turn around and find the cookies, I’m stuck between the counter and a tall, hard body behind me. I freeze.

“Welcome home, Y/N. I missed you so much,” Bruce whispers in my ear. I can feel his hot breath above my shoulder and neck. The familiar smell of his expensive cologne fills my nostrils. His large hands rub my legs and grip onto my hips very hard. “Did you miss me?”

“H-hi dad. W-what are you doing?” I ask softly, but I know it came out like a whisper. One of his hands is holding my waist, while the other caresses my abdomen. It feels strange considering Bruce is supposed to be my father, and we shouldn’t be this close or even touching each other. But a part of me wants to keep feeling his hands on me and see what he does next.

“Holding you. Smelling you. Touching you,” he answers, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. He breathes harder when I press my backside against his front by accident. “It appears you want this too. Am I correct, Y/N?”

His hand pulls down my yoga pants enough, so he can reach into my underwear. Bruce continues to breathe hard from his nose when his fingers find my core. His thumb rubs fast circles on my clit, while he pushes two fingers inside me. I bite my bottom lip to stop a loud moan from coming out of me, but he appears he’ll have none of that. He stops fingering me.

“You better be loud, or I won’t let you cum, Y/N.”

Before I can beg him to keep going, he turns my face, so I can look him in those cold, pale blue eyes. “Please tell me you’re…not a virgin.” Bruce’s face is twisted in pleasure from just fingering me, but I can tell his lips are trembling and there’s a soft but pleading look in his eyes. This must hurt him as much as it’s hurting me.

“I-I’m not,” I confess, and wonder if he would change his mind if I said I was.

“Who was it with?” Bruce demands. He kisses along my shoulder to my neck before he bites on my soft spot. I hiss in pain and I grind into him again.

“Josh Mitchell. I was sixteen,” I answer harshly.

“Was he any good?”

Before I can answer, Bruce shoves the front of my body onto the counter, while he pulls down my yoga pants. My adrenaline is rushing, and I can feel myself wetting the counter from just his roughness. I can feel him unzip his pants and I can already imagine this thick, hard cock fucking me into oblivion.

“No, no he wasn’t good at all!” I cry out.

“Good, I’m actually relieved to hear that,” Bruce says, as he starts to stroke himself. “Do you want me to fuck you, Y/N?”

I want to turn around and watch him jack off. Hearing him pleasure himself isn’t enough. Bruce then jams two fingers back into my pussy and I whimper loudly. It has been too long since I’ve been intimate with a man. I need his cock now!

“I asked you a question, Y/N. Do I need to remind you who you are supposed to answer to?” he says seriously before adding a third finger inside me. I grip the counter and I breathe harder. I find myself rubbing my pussy on the edge of the smooth countertop for more friction, but he grabs my hips and stops me. “Now, do you want me to fuck you, Y/N, or should I leave you here, so you can dry hump the countertop alone?”

I growl louder, while my nails scratch the counter top. “YES! Yes, I want you to fuck me, Dad!”

As soon as those words left my mouth, I immediately wonder if I killed the mood. Why would I call him ‘dad’ when we’re about to have hot, rough sex in the kitchen? I need to apologize. I push myself up on my elbows and I shift my head to the side to apologize. I open my mouth to speak but stop when Bruce’s eyes darkened, and he growls as he slams his thick cock inside me.

I moan louder than I have in my entire life. His cock fills me up so much that I fear I won’t be able to walk straight for the next week or two. Bruce lifts my legs up and continues to shove me against the counter with every hard thrust. He wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to fuck me. The man is practically drilling into me with no kindness at all.

“Oh fuck! You’re so fucking tight. So wet and so hot,” Bruce groans out. With each thrust, I can feel he wants to let go and fuck me like he owns me.

“Go ahead, Dad. Fuck me. Fuck me like I’m yours and only yours,” I tempt him playfully.

Bruce growls and rams his cock faster into me. He keeps knocking the air out from my lungs, and I can feel my body pulsating against his. I grip the countertop harder each time, and I know my knuckles are turning white and becoming numb every second. With one hand on my hips, Bruce moves his other hand up my tank top to hold my tits.

“No bra? You’re a bad girl,” Bruce says in between panting.

“I forgot to do laundry,” I choke out.

“Excuses,” he manages to say, as he holds me up more, so he can penetrate me deeper. His cock is hitting a deeper spot in me. It must be my g-spot, because I have read about it but never actually felt it to know. I can feel myself clenching his dick tightly, and I know I’m getting closer to release. “You wanted me and your brothers to see your tits, huh?”

“Maybe,” I cry out louder than what I intended to. Fuck, what if one of my brothers hears me? They’ll really think I’m insane for fucking our father and for loving it every second. Bruce readjusts our position once more, so he can hit that spot continuously. “I-I think I’m going to cum!”

“Not yet, you better not!” Bruce growls, and drills into me harder and faster. With his powerful thrusts and the constant friction from the countertop on my clit, I know for a fact that I can’t last longer. His hands hold onto my hips while he fucks me harder than before.

I become a moaning mess. I can feel my mouth drop open because I feel liquid coming out from my core. Did I just squirt? What the hell is happening to me?

The sounds of skin on skin is louder because of my mess. I drop my head onto the counter while Bruce continues to fuck me. Before I can catch my breath, Bruce chuckles and lifts me up. “I just made you squirt. That has never happened before, has it?”

“No, that was my first time,” I answer breathlessly. He kisses my neck.

“You’re so wet,” Bruce grunts into my ear. Breathing heavily, he lifts my hips again, so he can rub my clit with his fingers. “You’re making a mess all over my cock. You’re such a bad girl.”

“I’m your bad girl,” I moan out, as I can feel another orgasm threatening to take over my body.

“Fuck yes, you are!” Bruce groans, and continues to shove his cock into my soaking wet pussy.

With every rough thrust, I know Bruce won’t last. I whimper once more when my pussy clenches his dick as he fucks me through my orgasm. A few more hard thrusts, Bruce pulls out and turns me over onto my back. He jacks himself off as I watch his cum spurt out all over my stomach.

Just seeing his hard, veiny thick cock before me turns me on once more. I lick my lips at how the tip of his dick glistens with his cum.

Bruce sighs heavily, and just when I think I should try to get up and clean myself, he pulls me up and kisses me. He shoves his tongue into my mouth, and we explore each other’s mouths as if this was our last chance to. He pulls away from me and rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re mine, Y/N. You belong to me, and the Batfamily. I don’t care who wants you, because you will never give them what you have given me. Do you understand?” Bruce asks, before giving me his famous bat glare.

“I understand, and I promise,” I swear before he kisses me once more.

“Good, now go wash up,” Bruce instructs before he helps me off the counter.

I grab a paper towel and wipe Bruce’s cum off my stomach before I pull up my yoga pants. As soon as I toss the damped paper towel into the trash, I immediately notice Dick Grayson is standing there at the entrance of the kitchen staring at me with fire in his eyes.

#dc comics #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne x y/n smut #bruce wayne smut #batman smut

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bomberqueen17 · 3 years

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chapter update on Peace-Tied

I started to post this three days ago and then didn’t? for some reason? so then i tried to do it this morning and it took me forever and i think my brain’s not working properly.

anyway. i couldn’t think of any warnings to put on this chapter because it’s all in-between things, and as i was writing it i was like “oh i’m gonna cut this down to a summary” and then I didn’t, so like, apologies for the pacing, this could be snappier probably but i just don’t have it in me. sometimes writing a shorter thing takes much longer than a long one and it’s a skill i haven’t currently the time to master.

so this is Chapter 7, which is here on AO3, and contains some remarkably oblivious grumpy pining on Roche’s behalf, and dwarves being dwarves. Oh and an intro to my headcanons about aen seidhe musical traditions.

After a little while, the elves stopped singing, and fell into conversation. They’d switched from elder speech into common, Roche could catch from the snippets that drifted back, because the dwarves were participating, and the two more social of the humans.

“When,” Iorveth said, turning his head to look back at the column, “have you ever,” and he was speaking to one of the dwarves. He broke off in laughter, and faced away again.

“Don’t be so mean,” Breniriel said, “Ruarigh does his best.”

“The only thing Ruarigh ever does his best at,” Iorveth turned back to say, “is fucking and buggery.”

“Don’t forget eating,” the dwarf, possibly Ruarigh himself, said. “I always devote my fullest efforts to eating.”

“Fair,” Iorveth conceded, and turned back. He was-- Roche mentally rolled his eyes at himself for bothering to note that Iorveth was very comfortable in the saddle. The elf had been a cavalry officer for years, one didn’t get that job by being shitty at horseback riding. But he was impressively fluid, dropping the reins to gesture as if it were nothing, rising in the stirrups to check the road ahead, turning his whole upper body to look back with an effortless shift of balance that didn’t interrupt his horse’s stride in the slightest.

Perhaps it was that the dwarf, beside him, looked so uncomfortable on his mount... No, Roche judged, Iorveth was just a beautiful rider.

It was fucking unfair that he couldn’t stop noticing these things, now that Iorveth had unfortunately moved to take up even more space in his mind. And his ass; he still didn’t hurt, after these hours in the saddle now, but somehow he was ever more aware of last night’s adventures, and a traitorous part of his body wanted to elide all the conversation that had happened afterward and resume those activities instead, terrible idea though it was.

#the witcher #my writing #fic update #peace-tied #roche is so cranky

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wille-zarr · 3 years

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The Mandalorian: “Kids, Cover Your Ears”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Seven ~ “Kids, Cover Your Ears”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated M for language; canon-level violence; near-death experience; angst

word count: 11.9k

chapter summary: not one to wait around on the mandalorian for rescue, you begrudgingly join forces with an unlikely ally, knowing it will take all of your wit and tenacity to outsmart the threats looming against you and the children

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: this is a repost as the first time i posted it, it didn’t show in the tags. opening italics are a flashback to the previous night. this chapter makes quite the narrative sandwich. begins and ends with fluff, but the middle filling? pure a.n.g.s.t.

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Seven: “Kids, Cover Your Ears”

“Tell me, Mandalorian,” you laugh, letting your eyes lazily dance along the outline of his gleaming Beskar, admiring the flickering flames reflecting back against it. “I have a question.” You didn’t need a mirror to know that mischievous glint in your eyes had returned. You could simply feel it: the up-to-no-good attitude radiating from within like a blazing warning beacon.

Happy.

You are happy. You haven’t felt this in so long, you’re simply drunk on it.

After several hours singing and dancing at Kuill’s homestead, your spirit- your heart- are bursting with bliss, like they might just erupt wings and soar up of your body, leaving the bounds of the physical realm for the mysterious realm of the Force.

The euphoria has pretty much eradicated any anxiousness you still felt regarding the day’s prior embarrassing events. Though, to be honest, as much fun as the dancing has been, the Spotchka is perhaps the most to blame for your loosened lips.

Which leads you back to your question for the Mandalorian.

He leans forward, resting both hands atop his knees, quiet, patient, and long-suffering as always when dealing with your jestering mood.

“Mandalorian-” you drop down to your knees, directly in front of him- “dance with me.”

He stares, neither speaking nor moving at your request. You might have wondered if he had heard you, except that he is staring directly into your eyes… At least, you assume it’s your eyes. A bit hard to tell with the, you know, helmet and all.

You chuckle again, rolling your eyes. “You know-” you motion circles in the air with your hands- “dancing: when two people grab hands and let the music dictate their movements?”

He jolts his head away, staring down at the dirt.

“I don’t dance.

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from bursting out into laughter at the frown in his voice. But you lose the fight, the grin stretching across your face despite your best efforts. “The Mandalorian doesn’t dance.” You say it as a statement.

He begins rapidly tapping his fingers against his thigh armor, probably hoping you’d just go away.

No chance of that, Mando.

With a smirk, you reach out and grab onto his upper arm, just below where his armored veneer ends, and you teasingly squeeze.

You open your mouth to smart off again, but the words fall flat when his gloved hand slaps down on yours, pinning it in place against his bicep. Your lips part. At first you thought he might throw your hand off- maybe you broke some Mandalorian code by, you don’t know, touching him or something. But you watch, blinking, as his shoulders relax, falling back into repose.

Yet his hand remains, holding your own hostage.

Neither of you speak.

Maker. This… is awkward. A running theme with your interactions, it seems.

“Well,” you clear your throat, flashing him a cheeky grin, “that’s okay, Din. I guess you got two left feet, huh?” You release his arm, but his own hand keeps yours pinned in place. You’re not sure what to do, so you tug, relieved when he releases his hold.

You leap to your feet, dusting your skirt off in hopes of appearing casual about the interaction. “Fine, so you don’t wanna dance-” you scrunch your nose down at him- “so I’ll just dance with Cara then.”

“Cara?” he grunts.

With one last snicker, you hop away from the Mandalorian, straight to where Cara is conversing with Omera, interrupting their conversation with your request.

“Cara, Din turned me down.” You throw both hands on your hips. “So, will you dance with me?”

“I think I need another Spotchka first.”

“Oh!” Omera laughs, grabbing both yours and Cara’s hands. “Come on!”

The three of you join hands, laughing and snickering as you join the others around the fire in a lively dance.

-------

Few things bring Cara more joy than tormenting her favorite people. But what brings her the most joy? Tormenting Din. And after observing his behavior last night at the bonfire, she has plenty of ammunition to hurl his way.

“Mando,” Cara calls out, increasing her pace to catch back up to her companion. “What’s the big rush?”

This, of course, is a baited question. Cara knows exactly why her Beskar-clad friend is moving faster than a Kowakian Monkey-Lizard that’s being chased by a Hutt.

And it involves one lively, plucky little friend of the Mandalorian.

And what kind of friend would Cara be if she didn’t take the preverbal knife and twist it just a little deeper, tricking him into taking the bait.

“She can wait, you know.”

The hitch in Din’s step brings Cara immense satisfaction. The Mandalorian, even hidden behind all that hard exterior, is damn easier to read than he thinks.

A dangerous, mysterious Mandalorian warrior- brought down by simple childish infatuation.

How amusing. But really not surprising.

He can don as much Beskar as he can physically strap on, harden the soft layer of human skin with an impenetrable shield. And yet, for all the advances in technology, they’ve yet to discover how to armor the heart against the blaster blot of a crush.

“We can’t waste our entire day here, Cara,” Din grumbles, shooting Cara a glance. “We need to get back to the homestead.”

“Don’t give me that look, Mando.”

Din shoots Cara another glare in response.

“Yeah, that look.” Cara grins. The Mandalorian is no fool. And yet, even with all his experience, he really is about as dense as his armor. “Are you really in a rush to return to the homestead-” Cara casually adjusts the rifle slung across her back- “or are you just fretting over your pretty little friend?”

The Mandalorian freezes mid-step.

“If you’re trying to keep it a secret, Mando-” Cara brushes past him and continues walking- “you haven’t exactly done a great job of it.”

Cara downgrades her grin to a smirk as Din’s footfall resumes behind her.

“I don’t know what that liquid is the Sorganians keep offering you-” a harsh huff of air follows- “but you should probably lay off of it.”

Her chuckle turns into a mocking belly-laugh. “Oh, you’re not getting out of this one, Mando,” she snorts. “While she was singing, Kuill tried asking you a question. You didn’t even look at him, much less give an answer.”

The Mandalorian spins around. “He did not-”

“Uh huh. He shuffled off, mumbling something about a ‘love-struck blurg’.”

The Mandalorian continues stalking forward, but he’d have to move much faster than that to escape Cara’s prodding. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Cara.” His tone is a warning, but she’s hardly afraid of him.

“Fine! Fine,” Cara sighs. The Mandalorian is making this way too easy. She really had hoped he’d put up more of a defense.

Cara lets the air hang silent a good thirty or forty long seconds- just enough to let Din think he’s off the hook. “You know,” she blurts, “you could have danced with her last night when she asked you, you damn Bantha-brain.”

“I don’t dance,” he mutters, a twinge of ire in his tone.

Cara huffs. “No, you just stare, apparently.”

The Mandalorian releases a long, heavy sigh, but does not respond.

“She’s pretty…” Cara voice takes on a nonchalant tone, “great personality…”

“And a lot of damn trouble,” he grumbles, hooking a finger in his belt and twisting around to face Cara.

“Well,” she puffs, intrigued by his reaction, “don’t get your Beskar britches in a stitch. If that’s how you feel, guess it’s a good thing she’s coming with me then.”

He faulters a split second before huffing through the vocoder.

“It is.”

Cara rolls her eyes. There is no talking him through this. Fine, be stubborn. Mando, you are a-

“On Taek,” his voice barges through her thoughts. “Since Taek…” His voice turns slow, languid. “She’s… just inexperienced, in over her head.”

“I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?” His words are careful. He crosses his arms, slowly, methodically.

Cara pauses long enough to gather her thoughts. With a shake of her head, she sighs, “when she was fighting me- sure, she wasn’t very strong or even good at it, but the way she instinctively moved and reacted, she’s been trained before, I’d say. She isn’t clueless.”

“What are you thinking then?” The Mandalorian shifts his weight, angling his helmet to the side.

“I don’t know for sure. But I certainly don’t think she’s exactly what she portrays.” Cara raises an eyebrow. “We should probably run her name through the databases. I’d be curious to see what shows up.”

“I already did.”

“Not surprised,” Cara chuckles. “And?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s impossible.” Cara stops in her tracks. “No one is recordless.”

Din sighs, brushing past her. “I know.”

“False or wiped identity.” Cara can’t help but smirk. “I’m impressed.”

“Just watch her, Cara,” Din mumbles through the vocoder, matching his pace to Cara’s. “And… watch out for her.”

“I’ll leave the ‘watching her’ part to you for now, since you seem to enjoy it so much.”

Even through a dark visor, the long-suffering, please-just-stop gaze was more than apparent to Cara. But, of course, she plans to pretend she hasn’t noticed.

“Mando, you truly ar-”

“Cara.”

The alarm in Din’s voice rips the words from her mouth.

“What is-” Cara freezes. “Hey!” She throws a hand on her hip, the other hand reflectively slapping against her blaster holster.

“This… is where we left the bikes-” Cara blinks, glancing around at the empty alley- “right?”

Din does not answer. He steps forward, swiftly circling around the perimeter, observing the surrounding environment, the neighboring alleys… but finding nothing.

“Were they stolen?” Cara growls, temper beginning to take control. “Damn! I ju-”

“Look.” Din lifts something up off the ground, and Cara’s heart plummets.

“Is that…?”

“It’s her bag.” Din’s voice is measured, dangerously cool. “And her purchases are still inside it.”

Cara sighs, knowing this… didn’t bode well. “She wouldn’t have left it willingly.”

Din angles his helmet to glare out into the far horizon. “No.” He shifts his weight, swinging around to face Cara. “No, she wouldn’t.”

Cara frowns at Din’s fluttering cape as he sweeps past her, stalking straight back towards the shops.

She sighs.

“What have you gotten yourself into…”

-------

“Don’t worry, kids!” you weakly chuckle, knocking your hat back out of your eyes. “Look, this is just a little… fun adventure.” You rest both hands on your hips. “I’ve been kidnapped before, and I’m still here. We’re… going to be just, uh, fine.”

“No!” Large, rolling tears race down Winta’s cheeks. “And- and we’re trapped here! With them! And-”

“Winta,” your voice turns firm. You toss her a warm smile, grabbing ahold of her shoulders. “If I’m not worried-” you pause to brush your hand across her cheek before pulling her close- “then you shouldn’t be either, sweetheart.”

Of course, you are worried. Terribly worried. Nearly freaking-out-wanting-to-shriek-and-jump-out-the-ship worried.

Okay, so panicking. You’re panicking!

You swallow, the dry walls of your throat sticking together, making it difficult to even breathe.

“Yeah, this will be fun!”

You flash Birdie a curious gaze, raising an eyebrow when you discover him grinning with glee. “Birdie, what about the current situation has you so excited?” you can’t help but prod. Damn, you want a slice of whatever has this kid beaming with elation because, kriff it, you might just start crying yourself any minute.

“The Mandalorian will find us,” Birdie chirps, spinning around the hull of the Razor Crest. “And kill them! Just like one of his adventure stories!”

“Birdie!” Winta hisses. “You don’t know that!”

“He will!”

“He might not!”

“But he’s Mandalorian!”

“He might die, Birdie!”

“No, he can’t!”

“YES, he CAN!”

“Kids!” you bark, separating the two of them before hands start flying. Stars, where’s an adult when you need one because you sure as hell don’t feel like being one right now. You kneel down on the ground between them. “Stop this immediately, both of you. Winta, go over there. Don’t talk, even look at each other.”

“Fine!”

“Fine.”

Both kids obey your orders, but that doesn’t stop them from tossing each other angry glares from across the room, each tempting the other to break your order first.

You sigh, roughly rubbing your face with both hands. Stars, what next?

You feel a little tug on your pants. You flash your eyes downwards, smiling wryly at the baby. His expressive eyes are visibly distraught from the heightened emotional tension in the room, and the blanket you had wrapped him in remains tossed over the back of his head like a protective canopy.

“Come on, kiddo,” you sigh. You reach down and toss him up against your shoulder, releasing a tight breath when he tucks his face into your neck for comfort. Such a trusting action would normally warm your heart, but instead, your wry smile turns bitter. These children need you for comfort, for reassurance, to tell them it’s going to be okay. After all, that’s what parents do- they promise everything’s going to be okay.

But that’s just it. You can chant the words over and over and over again until the air runs out of your lungs, your empty chest filling with a baseless hope. But words on their own are meaningless. They cannot change fate.

You- you can’t do it again. You cannot lie to another child.

Your hands begin to shake, the hollow ache of grief bubbling and swirling in your stomach, the excruciating anguish of grief and despair eating away at what is left of your confidence. How can you sit here, swallow back against your fear, and vow to these children it will be okay?

A tiny squeeze on your arm rips you back to reality, back to the children here now. You press your eyes tightly together one last time, throwing away your pressing desire to just break down. Peeling your eyes back open, you sigh at discovering Winta and Birdie pressed against you, wide eyes glued to your face, searching it for answers and guidance.

“Listen, I said it’s going to be okay, and it’s going to be okay.” You flash them a shaky smile followed by a sharp nod. “And that’s that.”

Your smile warms, relief flooding your heart as their faces relax at your promise, however baseless it was.

Maybe that’s all a parent really is. Someone who lies about the truth until you are old enough to face the bullshit for yourself.

“Chins up,” you sigh, jumping to your feet and placing the baby back down on his blanket. With a sharp whine, he takes it up in his hands, crawling back underneath it.

Kid’s got the right idea.

You take this moment to flail your eyes around the room, desperate for a shred of an idea, any idea on how the kriff to get out of this. Unfortunately, the Mandalorian’s weapons are locked away, as the Nar Shaddaa lady assured before leaving you alone with the kids in the hull. Everything- the escape pod, the ramp, all locked down.

Maker. This- your plans- are spiraling out of control. When this whole mess began, you had a few escape scenarios in mind, but they were wild and risky, per your usual style. They had to be scratched the split second the children were involved. You’ve never cared much if you take risks with your own safety. After all, what is life but a game of chance? But it would be a cold day in each of the seven Corellian hells before you ever, ever put a child in harm’s way.

You groan as you are punched with reality: you are completely and utterly dependent on the Mandalorian and Cara for rescue.

And, well, that’s just not good enough. If there’s anything you’ve learned during your miserable existence in this galaxy, it’s that you can never, ever rely on others as a first line of defense.

Gotta take matters into your own hands. You might not be much of a fighter, but, blast it all, these Nar Shaddaa gangsters have made one critical, critical error:

They’ve triggered a mother bear…. And there’s no coming back from that. You will fight for them. If things get out of hand- If things change… You exhale slowly, resigning yourself to your decision.

If there are no other options, you will give them that name- the one once so unfortunately, intrinsically linked to your own.

But you can face that name again for them. The children are worth it- worth throwing everything away for.

You are emboldened by this decision, the protective instincts flooding your system, renewing your resolve to get out of this mess for them.

“Well, kids-” you lower your eyes, meeting three innocent expressions- “ready for a little fun?”

“YEAH!” Birdie shouts, bouncing up and down.

“Shh!” you hiss, swiftly pressing a palm to Birdie’s mouth. “Ready for quiet fun, Birdie. Quiet fun.”

Birdie mumbles something through your fingers as you lead him over to the bunk compartment. With a grunt, you lift him up to sit atop the mattress.

“Winta, bring the baby over. I want you three to stay right here. Do. Not. Move.” You swoop your finger in the air. “And no fighting.”

“I never fight,” Winta snorts.

Birdie jumps up on his knees. “You do too!”

You open your mouth to interrupt another round of squabbling. “Kids, you have go-”

“Girl,” barks a voice from the cockpit. “Get up here. Now.”

You grit your teeth as the snarled demand of the woman from Nar Shaddaa reverberates throughout the hull. The baby whimpers, tucking his head back behind Winta, who doesn’t exactly look that much better herself. The sparkle- the zeal for adventure- has even been ripped from Birdie’s eyes.

“Do not move.” You point a finger again. “Winta, you’re in charge.” Birdie’s mouth drops open, preparing to object, but you slam a hand down on the control switch, entombing the children inside with a snap.

With a heavy sigh, you yank on the brim of your hat to lower it back down on your brows. Biting your lip, you begin to make your way up the ladder, dread building in your stomach at not knowing what exactly to expect.

“Get up here,” barks the woman again.

“I’m here. I’m here,” you respond lazily, your outer rim accent thickening as you slip into your Nar Shaddaa persona. You stroll into the cockpit, hands raised in the air in surrender. “What is- AHG!”

Her hand lashes out, fingers sinking into your upper arm, digging ruthlessly into your flesh. With a harsh shove, she heaves you to the floor. Your knees crash into the metal flooring of the cockpit, and you cry out as your hands catch the brunt of your fall. The pain reverberates through your joints, the ache lingering longer than you think you can bare. Your cry is cut off by your own hand pressing to your lips, not wishing to alarm the children hidden down below.

“Stay down,” the man seated in the pilot’s seat grumbles, flipping switches.

Oh. Oh, you are seething now.

Clenching your teeth tightly together, you begin to raise up off the floor. “This- AUF!” The woman’s boot smashes into your back, sending your head hurling towards the floor. You grit your teeth, raging as hot, sticky blood trails down your cheek from the impact.

“Really? Making us repeat ourselves?” The boot presses harder, pinning your cheek flat against the biting cold of the metal floor. “Stay. Down.”

You squeeze your fists together, so tightly that your fingernails are digging into the flesh of your palm, to keep from snarling back at her. You can’t be stupid- you can’t be prideful. Hold back. Hold on.

“Well-” the woman sighs, lifting her boot- “you are an annoying one.”

“Thank you,” you grumble under your breath, “cultivated talent.”

So much for silence. Hell, your stupid mouth is going to get you killed. This- oh stars. Oh stars, what can you do? How do you get out of this? The children, they-

“Where is she.”

Your heart clenches.

That…that voice- that voice! The holo-communicator!

Din!

“I said,” he growls, low and dangerously measured. “Where is she?”

You’re about to open your mouth when the boot presses down on your back in a silent warning. You bite your lip as hard as you can stand to keep from snarling an expletive.

Think of the children. Think of the children…

“First, Mandalorian,” says the woman, “we need to come to terms on an agreement.”

“Show me her,” the Mandalorian’s voice lowers. “Now.”

Your stomach flutters at the rage lurking in his voice, but you don’t have a chance to think beyond that. A hard hand yanks the back of your collar, dragging you up to your feet as you cough and choke against the grip.

“Fine,” the woman sighs, sounding almost bored with all of this- their terrorizing. She shoves you forward. “Here’s your girl. She’s fine.”

Coughing into your hand, you rapidly blink, your eyes finally coming into focus. There he is- shrouded in the blue light canopy of the holo-display.

Cough- “Man-” cough-cough- “Man-do!” cough.

The Mandalorian steps closer, reaching out as if he could just somehow touch you. You clamber forward, slapping your hands down on the base of the holo-display.

“Mando! They ha-”

“Are you hurt? Is that blood?” His voice is hard, dangerous, even through the crackling audio of the holo-display. “Tell me. Have they hurt you?”

“Din!” you cry, losing every ounce of your cool. “Din, they have the children!”

Dead silence.

Breathing heavily, you continue, “Winta, Birdie, and, oh stars! The baby! The baby, Din!”

The Mandalorian freezes, visor trained on you, his stare melting you down to a little puddle on the floor.

“Oh yes, forgot to mention that,” the man mumbles, leaning back in the pilot’s chair beside where you stand.

The hum of the holo-display reverberates throughout the room, the only noise outside of your harsh, panicked breathing.

“You-” the Mandalorian’s voice burns. “If you put one mark on them-” he takes a step forward- “there is no place you will be able to hide from me.”

“Don’t worry,” the man snorts, “we’re taking good care of them, right?” He shoots out a hand, twisting it around your arm.

“Kriff off!” you snarl, all your pent-up rage exploding like a bomb. You fire an elbow at his face. He catches it, twists you around, and pins it against your back. “Go to hell!” you scream, kicking and stomping your feet. He twists your arm further, and you yelp from the burst of pain.

“Let. Her. Go.”

“Or what?” the man snorts. “You’re not exactly here, are you?”

“Rea, stop antagonizing everyone,” the woman barks, clearly irritated with her partner. “Let her go.”

“Hmf.”

He heaves you forward, and your ribs crash into the edge of the display, sucking all of the air from your lungs like a vacuum.

Your name- you can faintly hear it- over and over and over again- slipping through the stars and fog and mist swirling around in your head.

“I-” you groan- “I’m o-okay.” You press a hand to your ribs, taking deep breaths against the aftershocks of pain. You clench your teeth.

Oh. Oh, you’re going to kill them. By your hand. You will kill them.

“Listen,” the woman takes over, pushing aside her partner, “we are sending the coordinates for a rendezvous point. You have my word-” she smiles, that sickly, fabricated Nar Shaddaa smile- “they will not be harmed further, if you come alone and bring the original datachip you took from Marek. That’s all we want.”

You hold your breath, awaiting Din’s response.

“I’ll do whatever you want.” His voice faulters, lowering even further.

He’s afraid.

“Good. Just remember-” -the woman smiles, that same phony smile- “one mistake-” she rests a hand on your shoulder- “and the deal is off.”

The Mandalorian shifts, twisting his head to find you- to stare you directly in the eyes. You hold the gaze, unblinking, sending him a silent promise through the connection, just wishing, somehow, he could receive the message.

Two seconds…

Three seconds…

Four seconds…

“I understand.”

And the holo cuts off.

-------

“No, no,” you mumble. “I promise. This isn’t blood.” You continue wiping the very-much-actual-blood on your forehead from where it collided with the floor.

“Sure,” Winta grumbles from the Mandalorian’s bed, his blankets thrown over her head.

“No, really.” You wince as you dab at a tender area. “Okay, it is blood. I, uh, was thinking too hard.” Tossing Winta a lopsided smirk, you tuck your legs under as you sit on the floor of the Mandalorian’s Razor Crest bedroom. “I was thinking too hard, and my brain started bleeding, that’s all.”

“Whoa, really?” Birdie grabs onto your shoulder, staring directly at your wound. “That’s weird!”

Winta huffs, but you smile over at her, sneaking her a sly wink. No use scaring the kids. Might as well be a little silly. After all, anything that calms them, it in turn calms you, right?

Rising up from the floor, you toss aside Din’s shirt that you had been using to clean the blood away. “I owe you one shirt, Mr. Metal Man.” You grin as the kids giggle at your words.

Twisting around on your heel, you throw open his drawers, pawing through the mess the Nar Shaddaa operatives left behind in their search for the datachip (and checking for weapons, no doubt). Not that they really made the mess much worse. Din did a fine job of that on his own.

The man lives like a kriffing Rakghoul.

You glare up at the wall, sighing at the bare space left behind from the now-missing vibroblades. “Mando,” you grumble under your breath, just barely loud enough for the kids to hear, “couldn’t you have hidden a blaster in your, oh, I don’t know, underwear drawer?” Your smile blossoms as their giggles turn into full-on roaring laughter.

“Hey, if the Mandalorian asks-” you fling his clothes right and left over your shoulders, adding to the mess already consuming the floor- “the Nar Shaddaa bad guys made this mess.” You lift up a flannel shirt, similar to the one you had “borrowed” previously. “Deal?”

With a sly little giggle, Winta nods her head, lifting the blankets up for Birdie to join her underneath.

You shift to stand, and you pull on Din’s shirt to cover your blood-stained one. A gentle tug on your pants freezes you mid-buttoning. “Oh!” you gasp. Your eyes twist downwards, meeting the expressive orbs of the baby. His little hands are outstretched, pleading to be picked up.

“Of course, baby.” You pull him up against your chest, expecting he wished for more comfort. But instead, he stares, almost mournfully, at you, observing your wounds.

“I’m okay, little guy,” you sigh as you exit the bedroom and pace the hull a few times. He reaches his little three-fingered hands upwards, grasping for your wounds, but you push his hands back down with each attempt.

He squeals in protest. “Shh, I need to think, baby. I’m just a clumsy oaf. I tripped, is all,” you half-heartedly mumble, deep in thought. You need to focus. You need a damn plan.

Your thoughts are barely coherent, sloshing back and forth in your brain like a thousand loose marbles. If you could just… You freeze mid-step, mouth dropping open.

The back of the hull.

You see it.

A gleam.

A shine.

An… idea.

With a burst of a grin, you flip around, racing back into the bedroom. “Kids,” you hiss, dropping the baby back down on the bed. “Come! I need you to make a lot of noise. Scream; holler; just- noise.” Giggling to yourself, you rush back into the hull, freezing mid-way when you don’t hear them following after you. You twist around, discovering them still staring at you, wide-eyed, from the bed.

“Come on!” You wildly motion at them. “Don’t you want to be a part of an adventure?” You throw them a wink.

Birdie is the first to leap to your side, energy fueled by a promise of excitement. “Scream? Scream?” He grabs onto the fabric of your pants, yanking on them as he bounces up and down. “Why! Why!”

“A distraction.” You smirk, dropping down to meet his eye-level. He bursts into giggles as you ruffle his hair. “Think you can handle it?”

“But- but how?” You look over at Winta, finding her standing in the doorway as she bites her finger uncertainly.

You shrug, tossing both hands on your hips. “I dunno; doesn’t matter.” You sweep your hand in the air around the room. “Just scream about the, oh, refresher or something.”

“The refresher?” Winta snorts.

“I DON’T WANNA USE THE REFRESHER!”

“Stars, Birdie!” you hiss, slapping both hands over your ears. Maker, the sound certainly reverberates in this blasted metal ship!

Winta stares at you with large eyes, but you just raise your eyebrows at her. “Go on,” you mouth.

“Um-” Winta walks over and slides the partition covering the refresher open- “you’ve got to, Birdie! It’s the only one!”

“No! It’s stinky and gross, and I hate it!”

Heh. Kid would make a good actor.

“What the hell is going on down there?”

Just as you expected, the Nar Shaddaa operatives immediately check in on all the commotion.

“Um,” you mumble, rushing over and leaning up against the ladder. “The, uh, girl is just trying to help her friend with the refresher. He’s never seen one like this, and he’s…um, scared.”

You bite your lip to keep from snickering when muttered curses swirl down the ladder followed by the snap of the cockpit door clicking shut.

An impish grin stretches across your face, and you knock your hat back, amazed at how easily this is working out. “Well-” you turn to face the children, giving them a pointed look- “did I say stop?”

The children erupt.

And the baby, not one to be left out of the fun, takes it upon himself to begin wailing.

“Good, uh, good.” You cringe at the racket, fumbling over your feet in your hast to race to the back of the hull. “Keep on! Keep going!” You come to a halt, beaming up at your one-way ticket to rescue.

A blaster.

Of course, said blaster might still be clasped in someone’s hand.

And that hand might be frozen in carbonite.

But, hey, that’s a minor issue you’re about to take care of.

Grumbling under your breath, you begin punching away at the controls on the side of the carbonite block, unsure of what exactly any of them do. “Blast!” you hiss under your breath. “Come on, Carbonite Man! Unfreeze!”

You gasp. The block warms under your hand, shifting in color. Stars! He’s either cooking alive or unfreezing! Or is he- OH! HE’S MOVING!

You slap both hands over your mouth, gawking wide-eyed as Carbonite Man leans forward from the block like some sort of horrifying rebirth. So caught up in the terrifying visual, you barely register the kids abandoning their distraction technique to rush over and stand beside you. You stumble forward, reaching out a hand in the man’s direction. “Uh, sir, I- Oh!”

He drops down, coughing and sputtering and shaking against the floor.

“HE’S DYING!” Birdie shrieks against your leg.

“Shh! He’s, uh, fine!”

You hope, anyway. A dead body would be hard to hide.

You come back to your senses, swooping up the blaster the man dropped during the unfreezing process. You twist it around, pointing it directly at him as he coughs and shutters against the floor.

You blink, wide-eyed, as his body abruptly stops convulsing, resting stiff against the floor.

“Is he…?” Winta mumbles, voice quivering.

“Oh, blast!” His dark eyes shoot open.

Winta screams, clasping her hands over her mouth.

He groans, placing a hand on his forehead. The man, maybe in his early thirties, rapidly blinks, his eyes flittering around the room until they freeze, resting on your face.

Oh no.

He’s cute.

Had it been any other scenario, you would have jumped in feet-first flirting. The unruly stubble and the sweaty curled hair plastered to his forehead? Yes, please.

“Well, he-llo there, beautiful.” His lips slowly twist up into a smirk. “What’s a doll like you doing in my bedroom? I think I’d remember you.”

Maker. Why are they always cute until they talk?

“Where the hell do you think you are right now, bud?” you grumble.

He squints his eyes. “Uh… my eyes are actually pretty blurry, and I-” His expression plummets to the ground.

“Oh no.”

“Exactly.” You shove the blaster in his face. “Get up.”

“Wait, was- was I… carbonite?!” He leaps to his feet, throwing his hands in the air.

“Get back,” you growl, jabbing the barrel towards his ribs.

“Shit! Calm down with that blaster, lady!” The brief flash of anger in his face is swiftly replaced with horror. “Wait- where’s… Mandalorian?!”

“Calm down,” you bark, pushing as much authority into your voice as you can muster. “You’re on the Mandalorian’s ship, and you had better listen to me.” You tilt your head to the side, throwing the children a pointed look.

“Kids, cover your ears.”

They reluctantly obey, even the baby as he grasps at the ends of his ears, attempting to fold them down against his head.

“Now, let’s talk business.” You step forward, blaster corralling Carbonite Man up against the wall.

“Blast, blast, blast, wait, lady!” the man laughs nervously, throwing his hands out to the side. “I mean, come on! We can make a deal here, sweetheart.” He takes a step forward.

“Bold move considering I wield the blaster.”

“Drunk on power, are we?” His tone shifts into a smooth blend of irritatingly cocky confidence. “You like being in charge, sweetheart?”

“Maker,” you mutter under your breath. You bite your cheek to keep from losing your cool. After all, the kids will have enough lasting trauma from this situation without you adding to it by shooting this nerfherder in front of them.

“I mean, if you and those kids are his bounty-” he throws them a little wave; Birdie returns it eagerly before Winta slaps his hand down and recovers her ears- “shouldn’t you be pointing that thing-” he motions at the blaster- “at him?”

“Look-” you purse your lips, taking on a defensive stance. You didn’t trust this man to not do something stupid like rip the blaster from your grip, getting all of you killed. You step forward again, and he steps back, pressed up against the wall like a cornered womp-rat.

“Listen,” you hiss, using your authoritative voice again, “long story short, we’re being held hostage here-”

“By the Mandalorian? He took children? That dirty-”

“Just stop!” you groan, rolling your eyes. “And just listen. No, he’s a… a good man-”

“I beg to differ, ma’am.” He lifts an eyebrow, motioning wildly at the melted carbonite block from which he emerged.

“Really? You’re one to talk.” You snort and knock your hat back, shooting him an incredulous glare. “And why exactly is there a bounty on your head? I’m sure you’re just so innocent, such a good man.”

You inwardly cringe. You really are the last person in the galaxy that should be mocking a man fleeing a bounty hunter, all things considered…

“I’ll have you know I am innocent.” He crosses his arms.

“Really.”

“Yes, really.”

He shoots a glance at the children, all three of whom are watching him with intense fascination. Birdie looks like he’s found a new hero- a bit concerning, to be honest.

“Kids, cover your ears.”

“Aw,” Birdie whines, but they obey the demand once again.

“Tighter, kid…. No sneaking a listen…” He shifts back around to face you. “Ah-” the man slips you a wink- “let’s just say I had no idea the heiress was still married.”

“Oh stars.”

“But her partner sure informed me!”

“Dank farrick,” you groan, “you really are a banthabrain.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Enough of this.” You meet the children’s eyes. There’s no use forcing them to cover their ears at this point. They’ve overheard enough drama in just the past few hours to write an entire holodrama. You have to instead focus- focus on getting them out. If this man can be useful towards that goal, then he had better start talking- and talking fast.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we?” You smile, crossing your arms but keeping the blaster pointed at his head.

“I’d focus better without that blaster- hey! That’s mine!”

“Two Nar Shaddaa syndicate members are up in the cockpit.” Your lopsided smile drops. “They are holding us to get something they want from the Mandalorian. And if they find you, they will kill you. Catch my drift?”

“Kark. I didn’t ask to be unfrozen and dragged into this!”

“Then get in the freezing bay!”

“Now wait-”

“Are you afraid?” Birdie chirps, rushing over to grab the man’s hand.

“Birdie!” you hiss, jerking forward to snatch him back.

“Kid, to put it simply and in as few words as possible-” he drops down to Birdie’s eye level- “yes.”

Winta races over and grabs his other arm. “We can help!”

“Kids, you’re killing me here,” you groan as you snatch up the baby with your free hand before he can waddle over to join Winta and Birdie. “Look here, uh-”

“Pablo.” He smiles at you, sticking both hands out towards Winta and Birdie to shake. “Nice to meet you.”

They giggle as they take his hands. You lean all your weight to one foot, jutting your hip out. “Carbonite man, Pablo, whatever-” you purse your lips- “whether you want to or not, you’re stuck in the middle of this. You have three options.”

“One-” with the hand grasping the blaster, you lift a finger up- “help us, and I will have the Mandalorian release you.” Second finger. “I can refreeze you. Or three-” you smirk- “you get shot.”

“Dank farrick.”

“Well?”

Pablo turns his head, raising an eyebrow at Winta and Birdie. “Guess I’ll hedge my bets on the Mandalorian’s kindness.”

You release a long breath. Maker, you hadn’t realized how tense you’d been…

“Good. Well then-” you let a smile tickle the corner of your mouth- “got any ideas?”

-------

“No, that’s too dangerous. It’s a stupid plan.”

“Got anything better, little miss genius?” Pablo grumbles.

“Oh, and you’re a genius?” It takes all of your inner strength to keep your voice below a whisper. You feel your face warm with seething anger. “You’re the one who got caught by a bounty hunter!”

“And you’re the one who got kidnapped.”

“Stars!” you growl, shifting further away from Pablo, sliding across the Mandalorian’s bed. “Honestly? I hope they do kill you.”

“Don’t tempt me with a good time.”

You hand is raised in the air, prepared to shove him off the bed when Winta bursts through the doorway of the sleeping quarters.

“Someone’s coming!”

“Kriff!” you hiss, flying to your feet.

“Hey, hey, wait, where the hell-”

“Under the bed!” You slap a hand on the top of his head, shoving it down with force. “Go!”

“I can barely fit,” he growls. “I think I’m stuck- HEY NOW.”

“Move!” you hiss through your teeth, pushing on his ass with both hands.

A few more panicked wiggles, and he slips underneath.

“Here.” You slip him his blaster back. “Don’t make me regret this.”

He peaks up at you with a lopsided smile. “Never, sweetheart.”

You barely make it back into the hull before the female Nar Shaddaa operative steps down from the last rung of the ladder.

“We’ve finalized the last details of the rendezvous with the Mandalorian.” She throws both hands on her hips, rolling her shoulders forward, taking on a much more intimidating presence. “We should be arriving within fifteen minutes.”

Stars! Fifteen minutes… Within fifteen minutes…

Oh Maker…

Swallowing back your anxiety, you stroll over to where the children sit in the bunk compartment, climbing up and joining them. You take the baby up, setting him down in your lap. He stares up at the woman and coos as the other children tuck behind your back.

“And?” You are trying your hardest to use your professional, almost bored tone of voice, the one you used when discussing “business” on Nar Shaddaa.

“I’m just reiterating my earlier point-” she smiles- “that one wrong move, play heroics, and you know how this will end.”

You blink, keeping the mask on your face. “Good, well, thanks for the update.” If you stay calm… the kids will stay calm… If you stay calm… the kids will stay calm…

The woman huffs and does a quick visual sweep of the hull before spinning around, climbing right straight up the ladder again.

Hell.

The unfrozen carbonite block. Tucked away in the back.

The kriff. She didn’t see it. Bloody hells!

You’ll just have to blame Pablo for that one.

You groan, letting your head flop forward against the baby’s head. He coos against the touch, reaching up and clasping both of his hands against your cheeks.

“Baby, I know you miss your daddy,” you sigh heavily, rubbing his ear with affection. “I think you all need naps.”

“You need a nap.”

You twist to frown at Winta. She just shrugs.

Well, she might have a point. After a long day of plot twist after plot twist, well…

You can’t take many more of them.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Your eyes shoot up, your mouth plummeting to the floor.

“What the kriff are you doing?”

Pablo keeps his blaster trained on you, shrugging at your question. “Sorry, but I intend to do this my way, whether you like it or not.”

You grit your teeth, rage boiling in your stomach- only the fear of alerting the cockpit keeping it from spilling over and consuming Pablo alive.

“I- you- how dare-”

“Save it.” His face falls into the most serious expression you’ve seen from him thus far. He swoops along the wall, angling his head cautiously, peering up the ladder.

“The door’s closed. Stay quiet. Climb.”

“Are you crazy?!” You leap to your feet, marching over with little regard for the blaster trained on your head.

“Get back,” he spits, holding a hand up in warning.

“No,” you growl, ripping your hat off your head and slamming it against the floor. “Shoot me. You won’t! Shoot me, you kriffing coward!”

His hand launches forward, twisting around your upper arm. His fingers dig into the soft flesh beneath the sleeve as he yanks you forward to hiss in your ear. “Don’t do this, not in front of the children.”

The children.

Stars.

You- you lost your temper in front of the children. You peak a reluctant glance over at the bunk, horrified to discover sheer terror etched in their expressions.

You want to throw up.

But your pride, your temper, still speak for you when your lips open. “In front of the children? Says the man pointing a blaster at me,” you say through clenched teeth.

His eyes grow hard, and he shakes his head vigorously. “You’ll thank me later.”

You have no idea what’s about to happen, but your priority is the children. Their safety. Their comfort. Their lives.

You will get them out of this, somehow. Somehow.

“I won’t forget this, Pablo.”

-------

It took Pablo less than thirty seconds to override the locks on the escape pod. Who knew that there was an emergency feature that allowed for it to be manually unlocked? Certainly would have been handy information to have that one time a Gungan was chasing you on his freighter…

“Come on, doll,” Pablo whispers, shoving Winta as tightly against your body as possible. She groans, wrapping both arms around your leg. “I’m tired.”

“I know, babydoll.”

“Ouch!”

“Shh!”

“Maker,” you mumble, barely audible. “Who designs a coffin escape pod that fits one person?” You squeeze the baby against your chest, praying there would be room enough to shut the door with all four of you stuffed inside. He releases a little whine, leaning into you as tightly as possible.

“Listen-” Pablo dips his head down within inches of your ear- “they won’t know you’ve launched. I froze the pod’s system computers from this panel, so you should be safe.”

“How do I know you didn’t screw the pod up?” you sneer.

He cocks his head, dipping in even closer to your ear. You feel his hot breath brush against your ear.

“Trust me.”

“Kriff. Off,” you mouth at him. He has the audacity to smirk.

“What in the Corellian hells are we supposed to do when we land?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

Kriff, you want to smack that smirk right off his face…. You gasp when something cold presses into your one free hand.

“Take it.”

You look down, astonished to find his blaster in your grip. Your eyes shoot back up, honestly baffled by the gesture. This… this leaves him defenseless. “I could blast you right now.” A smirk tickles at the corner of your lips.

“Shoot me.” He grins, a bright, wide grin. “You won’t, you kriffing coward.”

And with one final chuckle, he seals the door shut, plastering the four of you tightly, but safely, within the confines of the escape pod.

“Here we go, kiddos,” you mumble, feeling light for the first time since this whole mess started. Yes. Finally… The kids will be out of danger… A thousand-pound weight lifts from your shoulders, and you sigh, letting your eyes fall shut.

“Let’s fly.”

With a jolt- a jerk, the pod releases, and you take over the controls, begging the force for a safe landing, if for any reason, for the children’s sake.

“He’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“Maybe not, Winta.”

Probably not.

-------

“I hate adventure.”

You reach down into the escape pod, pulling Birdie up to his feet. “Come on now, Birdie. You love adventure!”

“Not anymore!” Birdie screams at the top of his lungs. “It’s stinky!”

“I want to go home!” Winta cries, flopping down on the sand. The baby takes this as his emotional cue, dramatically flopping over into Winta’s lap and launching into high-pitched whining.

“Stars almighty!” You drop down to your knees and throw your hat off your head. “We’re safe! Look, don’t give up now!”

You know this isn’t a fair request. They’re children, for goodness sake. Tired, hungry, stressed children. But you have no clue, no clue, where you are on Arvala. No clue where Kuill’s is. No clue what direction to go or how long it will take. It’s hot, everyone’s hungry… And outside of one blaster pistol, defenseless.

You stare up into the sky, squinting against the blazing, unforgiving sun.

Sigh.

“Come on now.” You lumber back up to your feet, thrusting an arm out towards the horizon. “We’ll get home that way.”

Yes, the direction the Razor Crest was headed when you launched from it. Better than wandering around in circles.

You rest the baby against your hip, the other hand clenching the blaster with a steely grip. The children stumble into a line behind you, eyes drooping and shoulders low. You sigh.

“Let’s sing while we walk, how ‘bout?” you chirp.

They grumble an affirmative. You think so, anyway. Stars, you’re actually jealous of their freedom to show outwardly how they really feel, not have to worry about keeping up a tough face.

Being an adult, to quote Birdie, is stinky.

-------

Eh, everyone’s a critic. The children fall into a heavy silence after you finish the second song, so you give up on the singing. Well, maybe at this point, letting them process the day in silence would be better for them than anything else.

They need the- wait.

You freeze, dropping your body down to the dirt at the top of the hill. You jerk your arm in circles, and the children flop down beside you.

“The Razor Crest!” Winta gasps, eyes widening.

Resting a hand above your eyes, you squint against the sun’s rays, sweeping your eyes around the valley in which the ship is positioned. But what you find is… well.

Not good.

You see no one. Hear no one.

But the ramp is open, and there’s blaster bolt residue all along the sides of the rocks, the far cliff face, and even new marks on the Razor Crest itself. You bite your lower lip to stop it from trembling. At- at least you don’t see their bodies. That’s… good, right? Means they’re somewhere… fighting?

Oh, stars…

You shift back on your heel to stand, anxiously brushing your pants off. “Stay here. Do not move for any-” you point at them and raise your eyebrows- “and I mean any reason.” You are met by sharp nods of agreement.

You sigh, twisting around to slide down the hill towards the ship. Crouching down, you scramble from rock to rock, moving closer in towards the ship. You still hear nothing, not even from within the ship. You pause, frozen in place, for a good three, four minutes, just enough to make sure it was safe enough to approach closer.

If no one is in the ship, you can fly it off. Fly it to Kuill’s, get help, call the Mandalorian, anything.

You cautiously rest one foot at the bottom of the ramp, as if it was triggered with bombs just waiting to go off with one wrong step. You release a puff of air, standing completely motionless as the Arvala wind whips your clothes around. You shake your head, taking several more steps.

All seems good, so now you can-

“WATCH OUT!”

You leap back several feet, clumsily falling off the edge of the ramp with an oof. You don’t allow yourself time to feel pain. You clutch at the arm you landed on, gritting your teeth. Stumbling up, you slip on loose rocks as you race towards cover. Panting heavily, you jerk your head around in circles. You reach down to your waistband, grasping for Pablo’s blaster.

Wait- no, no! The blaster- Pablo’s blaster! You- you must have lost it by the ramp in your panic! Damn!

“LOOK!”

Your eyes tear up to where Winta stands at the top of the hill. She and Birdie are leaping up and down, motioning wildly towards the opposite side of the Crest where you sit. You spin around, expecting the worst.

And finding it.

Seven Corellian hells.

The Nar Shaddaa woman, dusted up and bloodied, is racing towards the Crest.

And she’ll have to pass you to get to it.

“Watch out!”

BLAST.

The kids shriek as the blaster bolts sail over their heads. “DROP!” you howl, leaping up from your position. “DROP DOWN- ARH!” You grasp your left arm, grinding your teeth as the blood begins to pool on the fabric, warm and sticky against your hand.

You spin around, tears dripping from the pain. She’s lifting it again. Aiming.

You dive, screaming as your bad arm crashes into the dirt. No, no. The world falls dark for only a second. But now you’re stuck- stuck behind a rock. She’s coming- coming closer. You can hear her boots, crunching against the rocks and pebbles. Crunching crunching.

Kriff.

You- you can’t breathe. The smell of burned flesh- your flesh- turns your stomach inside out.

No.

This can’t- this won’t be your end.

Tears of terror and pain and resolve flood your cheeks.

You have one option. One chance.

You will get to the Razor Crest first.

One deep breath. Stumbling over pebbles, you push for the ramp. Your eyes are fixed forward. Tuning out any other thought besides-

run.

A bolt whizzes past your right ear. You instinctively jerk left, falling over from the burst of pain blasting from your arm straight to your head.

No, no. You can’t- You have to get up. The children…

Rage seethes in your chest. Damn her. Damn this galaxy.

You belly crawl to the nearest rock, pressing up against it. What can you do? Oh, Maker, what can you do?

You peak your head up. She’s so close. Closer. Lifts the gleaming silver. Aim-

Wait, what?

You gasp, slapping your good hand across your mouth.

You- your eyes… is this real? It can’t… You blink. No, it’s real.

The woman is floating in the air.

“What the hell,” you hiss under your breath. “What th- OH!”

The woman goes blasting off, crashing against the Crest with an audible crunch. Winta screams. You rip your eyes away, staring up at the hill, just in time to watch the baby fall into Winta’s lap.

Oh.

Oh no. No. No.

The baby- the baby used the force.

Complicated. How do things keep getting more and more complicated?

Movement pulls your attention away. The woman is getting up- clutching her side in pain. She releases a guttural scream, eyes flashing flames at you.

Right between you. In the middle. The blaster.

Like a match being lit, you burst forward. The pounding in your ears is like the hum of machinery, pushing you on like you had no say in the matter.

But then she falls, tumbles over her own feet, and you grasp the blaster from the dirt. But she’s on you. A snap against your fingers, and you cry out as the weapon launches from your hand. She kicked it.

She wraps an arm around your neck, but you pull her down with every bit of your body weight- both of you screaming against your injuries and wounds, but neither giving in.

Side leap- roll. You launch at her legs, taking her down. She throws you off- climbing astride. You grab her wrists, tears bubbling in your eyes as the pain in your arm blackens the edges of your eyesight.

You freeze.

You don’t- you don’t feel pain.

It’s cold. Just feels… cold.

With shaking, trembling hands, your clutch the handle of the vibroblade- your vibroblade- jutting from your side.

She jumps up off you, twisting around on her heel. You kn-know… she’s… the children. The children. You think you can… faintly hear them.

It wasn’t smart. But you have to… Gritting your teeth, you yank the knife from your side. Flopping over as you wail, the pain held back like a dam releases all at once.

Face kissed with tears, you wobble up to your feet, swaying against the darkness encroaching your vision.

May the force guide your hand.

You swing back. The knife flies, slips right out of your fingers. Slices through the air.

The Nar Shaddaa operative collapses, the handle of your knife glowing golden in the sun’s rays.

This will be your legacy.

Not your arrests, rebellion, schemes, failures, betrayals.

No.

When you die, your legacy will be the golden knife shining from their back. Your legacy will be the three children that will live on another day.

You’re selfish. You’ve lived a selfish life. But somehow, you think, with the last three minutes of your breath, maybe, just maybe, you have wiped that slate clean.

“Valera,” you mumble. Stars, you see her face. That’s all you want. Yes, to hell with this life. Valera… Bright eyes giggle above your face.

Maker…. You’re hallucinating… You’re… you’re actually dying. Years of close calls, and now you’re dying.

“V-Va-Valera.”

You reach up. But it is not softness nor warmth you feel.

Cold.

Hard.

“She’s going into shock.”

Din.

His voice is a thousand miles away. You are buried a hundred miles below the surface of an ocean. You are only vaguely aware of arms sliding underneath you, lifting you.

You feel no pain. Only a dark light, hovering at the edge, consuming more and more of the bright light. A battle, life and death. And you are stuck between them.

You comprehend a few things. The soft hug of blankets beneath your body. The gentle give of a mattress. A deep voice, muffled above the water’s surface. Soft, affectionate fingers tracing your jaw, cupping your cheek.

You hear your name, clear through the fog, a desperate, pleading voice.

It calls out. You want to answer.

But the darkness wins.

-------

You don’t remember the first time you awaken. Or the second. Nor the third. But the fourth time-

You pry open heavy eyelids, as if the lashes were tied to lead strands. You groan- you feel so heavy, like there’s a pressure boring down on you from some invisible source. You wiggle against the weight; the soreness shoots up your side; your arm-

Oh!

Your eyes shatter the lead weights into a thousand crystal shards, blasting wide open when everything hits your mind at once.

Hell! What- are the kids…? Where are- wait!

You lean forward, lifting up from the bed like some rakghoul emerging from its grave. A mistake. You moan against the ache that quivers up your spine.

“Easy.”

Catching the movement of silver, your eyes tear over to the opposite side of the room... Din’s room. You’re on the Razor Crest.

“Din,” you breathe, groaning as you place your good hand on your forehead. “What- what happened?”

He tilts his head. “You were stabbed.”

“I- I think I figured that part out,” you grumble as you stare down at your body, laying back against the pillows.

He remains silent, moving across the room to stand at your side. He doesn’t go to sit or even speak; he just… stares down at you.

“What?” you grumble, perhaps a bit heavy on the aggression. But hey, you’ve just been stabbed and shot. You imagine you have the right to be grumpy for at least a week or two. Maybe three, if you push it.

“I’m trying to determine-” he reaches down, dusting your forehead with the hint of leather- “if it’s you or the drugs speaking right now.”

“Drugs?” A teasing smile blooms at the corner of your mouth. “Hey, what kind of drugs are we talking about here?”

He lowers down into the chair positioned beside your bed with a grunt.

“It’s you.”

You chuckle even through your aching exhaustion.

“I…” you drop the humor, voice lowering to a mere whisper. “What happened? I don’t remember…”

Din twists his head away from you. You fear he might not answer; you begin panicking, wondering if something horrible happened and-

“When we arrived,” he sighs, heavy, tired, “they refused to show us you and the children. Next thing I know-” he tilts his head- “a man emerged from the ramp saying you were safe and to shoot them.”

Pablo. Some plan! You roll your eyes, perhaps with a smidge of affection in your heart, if you searched very, very hard. Very hard.

“Then we found you,” he whispers, barely audible through the vocoder. He leans forward, resting both elbows against his knees and shaking his head.

“Ka’r’ika, you… ” He reaches out again, dusting of leather against your cheek. “I- you died.”

“I… I did?” Your eyes widen. “I- it’s… really?” You blink, humor taking over for your lack of words. You force a grin. “Damn, that’s… hardcore.”

Din does not attempt to mask the aggression in his tone.

“They died too quickly.” He leans against the mattress, voice dropping in volume. “They deserved to have it dragged out.”

Shivers spike up your spine at his words. Sometimes you forget he’s a hunter, running with his own, perhaps sometimes cruel, set of rules and codes. But quickly… was it quickly? You let your eyes slide shut, trying your hardest to forget to stench of raw, burnt flesh, the children wailing…

You launch forward with a gasp. “The kids! Are they-”

He pushes you back with a firm grip on your shoulder.

“Time has helped.” He leans forward. “Every time they tell the story, the details grow a bit more elaborate. A good sign.”

“Heh, no surprise there- wait a minute, how much time are we talking about here?”

“Three days.” He angles his head at you. “Been taking turns watching you.”

“Stars! Three days!” You blink, biting you lip. “I, uh, I’m sorry. I can go to my, um, own bunk now. I feel better…” You begin shifting, but a firm, yet gentle, hand presses you back down, fingers lingering a few seconds longer than necessary.

You sigh, letting your good arm flop down on your chest.

“Ka’r’ika…”

You turn your head to watch him; he taps his fingers rapidly against his thigh.

“You did well.”

A small smile peaks through your lips, and you slide your hand along the edge of the bed, seeking his. You grasp the cool leather, pleased when he returns the grip.

“We can’t seem to stay out of trouble-” you toss him a lopsided smile- “can we?”

“No,” he rasps. You are happy to hear amusement has returned to his voice. “You can’t.”

“Mando-” you scrunch your nose- “you can kriff right off.”

He laughs… stars, even more beautiful than the first time you heard it. Best watch out, Mando, now you will do everything in your power to pry open that tin can heart of his and pull that laugh out.

Your mood turns, your face dropping.

The baby.

Hell, he… he used the force. Surely the Mandalorian knew, right? How- how could he not? Do you bring it up? Ask? You twist your head, avoiding meeting the dark depths of his visor.

You will wait. You will wait and see if he brings it up.

After all, the children saw it too. They must have told him what they saw…

“What’s wrong?”

You blink rapidly, breath catching in your throat. “Oh, ah, nothing.” Biting your lip, you take a deep breathe of air. “I guess, I just wonder, you know, this is my fault. I should have- could have… I don’t know.” You will not cry you will not cry. “I’m a karking coward.” You bury your face in your hand.

“You’re a lot of things-” you rip your hand away, staring at him as he speaks- “but a coward is not one of them.”

You blink as he continues.

“You protected our children. Killed to do so.” He angles his helmet. “Didn’t run, stayed with me to take a Bateran down.” He blows a huff of air through the vocoder. “And a coward wouldn’t have risked their life for those women on Taek.”

“That was just a gut reaction,” you grumble, feeling your cheeks burn at the Mandalorian’s praise.

“Bravery as an instinct is stronger than a deliberate choice. It means it’s in your nature.” He shifts to stand, hovering over your body before stepping back. “This is the way.”

“Um, oh. Ok-ay.”

Pride, there was pride in his voice.

“Well-” you stop him before he can move further away from you- “what now for you, Mandalorian?”

“Delivering the chip to the client.” He steps over a pile of clothing to stare up at some piping running through the walls. “That should take care of any future issues, for both of us.” He hooks his fingers in his belt, stepping back away from the bed. “I redirected their beacon. Made it look like they were in a completely different sector. Kuill should be safe, protected.”

Your eye twitches, afraid to ask your next question.

“So, where is this chip to be delivered?”

“Nar Shaddaa.”

Oh.

Oh, hell no no nonono.

You didn’t spend months of blood, sweat, and tears running to get away from there only to go back now. No, no. You’re going with Cara. You’re going to Keolith.

Movement from the corner of your eye breaks apart your panicked thoughts.

Din, stepping over another pile of junk, stoops down to pick some of it up.

“It- I…” he pauses, several quiet, long seconds. “I could keep you safe- if you were to stay with me.”

You blink, thinking you hear a light strangle of air slipping under his helm.

“…Until things with Taek are cleared,” he swiftly adds, stuffing some shirts into a drawer.

“Din,” your voice is soft, barely audible. He drops everything to turn and stare at you.

“I’ve been lying to you.”

Silence.

“I- I can’t stay here- not with you, your son, these people.” Your voice grows louder with every word. “It’s too dangerous. And- and I can’t go back to Nar Shaddaa. I had to flee the planet with only the clothes on my back. I’m in a big, hot mess.”

You vigorously shake your head, avoiding looking in his direction. “If there isn’t already, soon there will be a price on my head. It doesn’t matter why. And- shit- I… it’s bad, really bad.” The words spill faster and faster.

“And I don’t mean cheap hunters!” You throw your good hand in the air. “We’re talking private, high-level hunters!” You slap your face into your hand, yanking on your hair as you groan.

“Hell, on Taek- I stalked you. I heard stories of the Mandalorian hunters. Expensive, efficient. I thought you were there for me.” Gulping back against your dry throat, you force yourself to turn and face him.

He stands motionless, watching you. His visor, that damn visor, bores into you like it could dig secrets from your soul.

Oh no.

A hunter. He is, first and foremost, a hunter.

You-you messed up. He wouldn’t- maybe you overestimated… He’s going to turn you in, collect-

“I know.” His voice is soft, gentle.

Your lips part, confusion etched in your furrowed brows.

“I knew you were watching me, trailing me to the cantina.”

Your eyes widen.

“I followed you to the courtyard that night,” he rasps, crossing his arms. “To observe. Maybe question you.”

“Poodoo,” you breathe, eyes wide open in disbelief. “And there I was the whole time thinking I was being sneaky.”

A small gasp escapes your lips when he suddenly steps to the side. He sweeps around the bed, stomping right over the clothes you had tossed on the floor only a few days prior. You startle, digging back against the pillows, holding your breath until he pauses right beside you.

“You’re staying with me.”

“W-what? Didn’t you just hear what I said?” You start to sit up, but his firm grip on your shoulder pushes you back, holding you there as he resumes speaking.

“I’m not letting you leave until it’s safe and this situation is cleared up.”

You know you can’t argue when he uses that tone of voice, but you can try. “But the hunters!”

“Will not hurt or find us. I will- I swear-” he rips his hand away from your shoulder, dropping down into the chair. “You will be kept safe. And- after that… I will return you to Keolith, or whatever you wish.” His voice drifts, softening towards the end.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes.

But no, you will not cry.

You grab his hand with yours, ignoring the sharp exhale of breath that slips beneath his helm. You desperately wish you could feel, squeeze, the soft flesh hidden away in leather. You want to touch the man inside.

But that thought scares you. It scares you because, you have a feeling, if you were to ask, he would do it for you.

You- you don’t want that kind of power. You can’t handle that kind of power.

“Interrupting anything?”

You rip your hand away, tucking it beneath the blankets.

“Cara!” you laugh, brushing off your discomfort.

“So, you live!”

“It appears so.”

“Feeling okay?” Her voice softens, dropping the jestering tone.

“Yeah,” you sigh.

“Good.” That mischievous glint returns to her eye. “Well, aren’t we going to be just one cozy little group, all together in the Razor Crest.”

“E-excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow.

A new person entering the room rips your attention towards the door.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but-” Pablo takes another bite of his apple- “hey! That bed could fit three, easily. Who wants to spoon me?”

“You!” you growl, wincing as you lift up off the bed. “You’re not spooning anyone tonight! How about we just freeze you back!”

Pablo throws his hands in the air, giving you a raised eyebrow.

“Hold the spunk, sweetheart.” He takes another bite of the apple, casually walking closer to you. “I’m a free man. Kids vouched for me. They love me.”

Din releases the heaviest, most long-suffering sigh you have ever heard from him.

Apparently, three days with Pablo hasn’t exactly made the Mandalorian a fan either.

“In exchange for his assistance, I messaged and had Greef wipe his Guild bounty, listed as dead,” Cara chuckles.

“Yeah, saving Mando’s girl got me on the buddy list. And Mando, you wouldn’t have caught me the first time if I wasn’t taken off guard.” He points a finger at Din. “Lemme know when you want a rematch.”

“I-I’m not his girl,” you mumble, heart beating faster at the insinuation. Oh stars… You dare not steal a glance at the Mandalorian.

“Oh good, I was worried,” Pablo sighs. “Didn’t want Mando to find out that you grabbed this tight ass when we were alone in here.”

“Pablo!” you yelp, growling through clenched teeth. Stars, you’ve had enough. “Remember our previous conversation? I’m going to bloody kill you!” You launch a pillow at him with your one good arm that he easily dodges. “Get over here, you coward!”

He flops on the other side of the bed, yelling and covering his face as you smack him repeatedly with a pillow.

“Damn- HEY- wa- ouch!”

“Blast-” smack- “you-” smack- “banthabrain!”

“Stop.” A strong grip pulls your arm back. “You’ll agitate your injuries.”

“I will not travel with him in the same ship!”

“I’m not too excited about it either, sister!”

“Go with Cara then!”

“About that-” Cara taps her chin- “my little craft might have been destroyed in the scuffle with the Nar Shaddaa creeps.”

“Oh.” You blink. “I’m-I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Wasn’t my ship,” she chuckles.

“We’re dropping them off,” Din sighs, rolling his head back as if to say, “how did I get into this mess?”

“If you can’t handle each other’s presence,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “I can freeze you both.”

“Grumpy old man,” you snort.

You turn towards Pablo, sticking a tongue out at him. He returns the gesture.

Cara grabs the back of Pablo’s collar. “Come on, let’s let her get some rest.” Cara swoops her hand towards the door. “Din, go get some sleep. I’ll stay and listen for her.” She leans in close to you, raising her hand to cover her mouth. “He wouldn’t leave your side.”

You feel your cheeks burst into flames, and you wish you could bury your head under the covers like the children.

“Fine.” Pablo spins around in the doorframe, tossing you a quick wink. “Later, sweetheart.”

Cara chuckles. “You too, Din.”

Letting his shoulders fall, he shuffles over towards the door, pausing just before the frame.

“Ka’r’ika, wait.”

You lift your eyes. “What is that?”

Your mouth falls open, the familiar golden gleam finally registering in your head.

Your knife.

“You should wield this with honor, Ka’r’ika,” Din rumbles.

You hesitantly reach out, taking it with a trembling hand.

“You earned the honor.”

You raise your head, a small smile on your lips.

“Teach me sometime?”

His hand lifts your chin. Skin, not leather, strokes just below your lip.

“As you please.”

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

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a/n: I know this chapter is incredibly long, so I really appreciate it if you made it this far! :D No, seriously, I really do! I write mostly for my own pleasure. I mean, that’s the “correct” answer to give, right? But I will be the first to admit I also write because I want my readers to feel what I feel- a shared experience. So, if my writing has in any way affected you- made you feel something- feel free to let me know in a comment! :D Think of your comments as the gasoline that fuels the writing lol! Comments here or Ao3 are always loved. 💜

See you next chapter! Where do we go from here, hmm? ;)

And I went ahead and bumped the story up to an “M” rating on Ao3, mostly for the language and violence. Just to be safe. Each chapter will include detailed warnings so you can make the decision on whether to read it or not.

Feel free to check out my bio for links to my masterlist, Ao3 account, and taglist!

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strawbunniiee · 3 years

Text

A Girl and a Ghost Ch. 3: The King’s Revenge

SOOOOO this is the part where the plot thickens :)

if anybody else wants me to tag them in these chapters so you know when they come out i will gladly do so andksnkfs

hope you enjoy! ive had tons of fun with writing these :D

dont mind me, just lettin my frendos know that this is a thing skfnkdjf

@salamifuposey @monsterbride99 aaAAA when i initially posted this i COMPLETELY forgot to do this a a a a a sorry

King Boo was furious.

How could that peasant, that foul impure abomination of a Boo do this to his beloved crown? It contained his power, it was so incredibly important to him...

And that filthy little purple haired brat! How could she so carelessly throw a rock at him like that?

He plopped his body down in a chair and marinated in his own rage for a few minutes.

After a few moments of enraged silence, he spoke.

"...I have got to get my revenge on those two. But... how will I do it?"

King Boo began to brainstorm a way to get the ghost Rabbid and his little idiot friend in hot water.

"Torture? No, no... one of them is a ghost. It wouldn't hurt him... Torture could be done with the little nuisance however. Perhaps a bit of childhood trauma will teach her not to mess with the wrong people." he thought aloud.

He spent almost fifteen whole minutes thinking of gruesome ways to get back at them, until it finally struck him.

"...Oooh, I know. I know exactly what to do now. It'll mostly affect that bloated rabbit, but I can still do some damage to his moronic pipsqueak pal."

He grinned maliciously and floated towards the doors of his manor.

"I'm about to open up some old wounds of yours, Tommy." he said to himself.

———

Meanwhile, Phantom was racing through the sky with Jawaii in his arms, panicking. He would never let King Boo lay his foul hands on her.

They were both absolutely dead silent the whole time until Jawaii opened her mouth.

"...Do you know that guy?"

Phantom halted for a moment and looked down at the young alien he held. "...Yes, I do, but I don't think I would like to go into detail at the moment. We have a very... rough history, I will say."

"Oh... I get it. It's okay, I won't pry. I understand." Jawaii said.

"Just remember that if King Boo ever tries to hurt us, I'll make sure he will regret it for the rest of his days." promised the Rabbid ghost. "I swear on it."

Phantom resumed his flight and soared down to the ground safely. He gently set her down in the grass.

"That was actually really fun! We should do that again sometime! ...without being scared off by an evil ghost, obviously. That would just make it less fun." said Jawaii.

"I'm glad you were entertained, I suppose... King Boo is quite intimidating. And rude." said Phantom.

Jawaii put her hands on her hips. "Well, yeah! I mean, he made fun of your weight! No friend of mine is getting made fun of like that!"

Phantom laughed a bit. "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't that harmed by that statement. I er, get that all the time."

She frowned. "Why do people tease you about that, that's dumb! Besides, I think you're perfect just the way you are!" She gave him a hug.

He hugged back and smiled. "Awww... thank you. I was born like this, I can't help it you see."

"You're a giant fluffy singing ghost bunny with a mustache, I have no idea how anybody could hate THAT! Cuz I don't."

"Oh, don't make me blush from all of these compliments!" said Phantom, smiling.

Jawaii jokingly grinned evilly. "Never. I'm gonna shower you in compliments 'til you DROWN!"

She cackled maniacally as she began relentlessly saying nice things about him with Phantom begging her to stop. Soon, it became a full-on flattery war to see who could out-compliment the other. They had a grand old time.

Eventually, the sun began to set.

"Oh yikes, I better get home. I had no idea we stayed out here for so long! Mom is probably having a heart attack as we speak!" said Jawaii.

Phantom was quite alarmed, his ears sprung up in worry and concern. "She's having a what?! Oh, poor child, I hope your mother is all right..."

She burst out laughing hysterically.

"Wh-what's so funny? I thought your mother was dying!"

"No, dummy! That was an exaggeration, I meant that she's probably WORRIED about me!" Jawaii continued giggling like a maniac.

"Ah. I see now... Thank you for correcting me!" Phantom joined in on the laughter.

They got themselves together after a moment.

"Oh yeah, mind if you could fly me over to my house..? We're kinda far away from home." said Jawaii.

"Of course!" Phantom replied happily.

Jawaii climbed on his back and the two flew home.

———

After flying back to town, Phantom gently set Jawaii down in front of her home.

"See you soon, my friend. I enjoyed showing you around Spooky Trails today!" said Phantom.

"Cya tomorrow Phantom! I had a good day today too!" She ran up to him and gave him one last hug.

She walked up to her door and waved goodbye to Phantom. He waved back.

"Moooom! I'm hoooome!"

Jawaii's stepmother Stella ran in.

"Oh, Jawaii! Thank goodness you're all right! I was so worried, where were you?"

"Sorry I came home late! But I spent today with a friend of mine."

Stella had a look of pleasant surprise on her face. "You made a friend? That's so wonderful! I know you haven't really ever had any friends, honey, I'm so happy to hear that you finally made one!" She smiled.

Jawaii grinned. "Yeah! I'll tell you allllll about him! He's the best."

They sat down at the dinner table with the food Stella made.

Jawaii dug into her mashed potatoes and ate it like a wild animal that had nothing to eat for the past 3 weeks.

"Honey, chew slowly. I don't want you choking!" said Stella.

"Sorry, Mom..." Jawaii said, frowning.

"It's okay. I don't want you in the hospital or anything, especially after you just made a new friend!"

"Oh, I've known him for a while, actually. We've been hanging out together a lot!" she smiled, her mouth still full of food.

"...Jawaii, sweetie, don't talk with food in your mouth.“

"Oh yeah! Sorry again Mom.."

"Anyways, that's why you've been out so much lately? I'm so happy for you, Jawaii!" Stella smiled.

Jawaii gulped down some water. "Yep! I'm glad I'm his friend too!"

They spent dinner talking about all of the fun adventures she and Phantom had gone on.

Jawaii however, conveniently left out any mention of them being in danger, she wouldn't want to worry her stepmother of course!

"Oh yeah! I meant to ask you this, but I got totally sidetracked but where's Dad? And where's Hakai?" asked Jawaii.

"Your father is out destroying planets again, and your sister is having a sleepover with some friends of hers." said Stella.

"Ohhhh. Wonder why Dad's out so late. Hope he's alright."

"I'm sure he's fine, hon."

Jawaii had another sister though, and her name was Roe. She went to a boarding school and wasn't home most of the time.

She stretched and yawned. "Hey Mom, I think I'm gonna hit the hay today."

Stella gave her a small look of surprise. "Oh! You are? Usually you're quite a night owl. Maybe you're just tired from all your little adventures with Phantom."

Jawaii smiled. "Yeah. Maybe. Anyways, g'night Mom! Love ya, don't let the bed bugs bite."

Stella gave Jawaii a hug. "Aww, good night sweetie. Love you too.”

Jawaii ran upstairs, changed into her nightgown, brushed her teeth and jumped into bed, quickly falling asleep after her long, tiring but fun day.

———

That same night, the Mushroom Kingdom was as quiet as ever when it was nighttime. The once colorful, cheerful inviting land was deathly silent, almost hauntingly so.

Princess Peach was safely tucked in her bed, sleeping peacefully.

But little did the sleeping princess know, this would not remain for long.

King Boo had finally made it to the castle after venturing there to exact his revenge. He knew how dearly Phantom loved Peach. Breaking them apart forever would be the ultimate punishment for stepping on his turf. He knew that either way, the plan would work. If Phantom didn't come to the manor, him and Peach would be separated forever. If he did, however, it would give the vengeful king the chance to trap him and Jawaii in his manor, to torture them and possibly even kill them somehow.

He knew he could kill Jawaii, that was no problem, but Phantom...? Could he possibly do it again? ...No, he's a ghost now. He can't be killed again. But the king knew that even if he couldn't die, he could still make him suffer for as long as he wanted. Possibly even for eternity.

He phased through the castle walls, not having any of the guards notice him. Then, he finally found her room. There Peach slept, defenseless, ready for the taking.

In the blink of an eye, he snatched her from her bed.

Peach immediately woke up and let out a shrill scream of horror, alerting the Toads guarding her door.

But it was too late. He had already burst out her window with her and was headed straight towards his mansion.

———

Tap, tap, tap.

Jawaii woke up very late that night to a tapping sound she heard at her window. She went over to it to find one of the Peek-A-Boos she had met in Spooky Trails, tapping away at her window.

"Hey... aren't you that kid who Phantom is friends with?"

Jawaii rubbed her eye and yawned. "Yeah. Why do you ask? And how are you at my house anyway?"

The Peek-A-Boo had a somber expression on his face. "Well... I have to tell you some... bad news."

Jawaii was horrified of what was about to come out of his mouth next. Did something terrible happen to Phantom?

"His love, Princess Peach was kidnapped by King Boo. And... Phantom is gone. He went off to go save her. Knowing King Boo, Phantom may not come back in one piece. ...The other Rabbids told me it was best to go tell you. That way, you would know where he is. You deserve to know..."

Jawaii was devastated. How could this happen?

She knew she had to save him. And if she couldn't save him... then she wouldn't let him suffer alone.

"...No. I'm not going to let this happen to him."

The Peek-A-Boo was taken aback in surprise by Jawaii's response. "...I dunno if you should go. You're only a kid. You could get seriously hu-"

"I don't care." said Jawaii.

She jumped into her closet and changed into her usual clothes, grabbed a lantern and ran out of the house and into the black, haunted forest that she met Phantom in.

#jawaiis cheesy fics #mario rabbids #mario + rabbids #mario + rabbids kingdom battle #phantom of the bwahpera #tom phan #rabbids #fanfic #fanfiction

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pines-troz · 3 years

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Weekend With The Warners Chapter Four - Animaniacs & Pinky and The Brain

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

TW: This chapter features a brief scene of vomiting near the second half. It doesn't go into great detail, but I would rather highlight this now in case anyone is squeamish or uncomfortable with that.

Word Count: 9,664

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/70318416

The golden rays of the morning sun seeped through the curtains of the hotel room. The Warner siblings slept peacefully in the queen bed near the door. On the other bed, Pinky stirred in his sleep. Crinkling his nose, the tall mouse awoke from his peaceful slumber. As Pinky batted away the sleepiness from his eyes, his gaze focused on the one thing he loved most in this world: Brain, still fast asleep making that cute whistling sound while he snored. The smaller mouse nestled his chubby head close to Pinky, clinging onto his chest with a fistful of fur on his right hand. Pinky watched as Brain’s body moved with each breath he took, utterly mesmerized by his peacefulness. The lanky mouse’s blue eyes trailed to the small river of drool pooled on his purple robe. Another trait of Brain he found to be absolutely endearing.

Pinky smiled at his sleeping partner. Brain was usually grumpy and grouchy when he was awake, but all of that melted away when he slept. Instead of a scowl, Brain snoozed with a contented smile. There was a serenity to the eloquent mouse’s face that revealed his soft and vulnerable side, the part of him he always tried to conceal. It was that softness combined with Brain’s desire to anchor himself onto his partner that captivated the taller mouse’s heart.

“Poit! Brain looks so adorable when he’s asleep!” Pinky thought to himself as he gazed at his partner with adoring eyes.

The lanky mouse was so enamored with his slumbering partner that he was compelled to shower him with love. Pinky quickly planted a kiss on Brain’s forehead, hoping this small gesture wouldn’t disturb him in the slightest. But the smaller mouse’s nose twitched upon feeling the tender kiss and his eyes fluttered. As Brain slowly awoke from his rest to find Pinky smiling at him.

“Good morning, Pinky.” Brain mumbled sleepily.

“Good morning Brain!” Pinky lovingly replied as he leaned in and nuzzled his nose into Brain’s. The smaller mouse chuckled contentedly at the affectionate gesture.

Brain’s eyes darted downwards to his hand, still gripped onto his partner’s chest. He noticed the pool of saliva on Pinky’s robe and blushed. Using the sleeve from his blue robe, he wiped away the excess drool from the corner of his mouth. After cleaning himself, Brain let out a huge yawn as he stretched out his arms. He slowly got up from his sleeping position and started to scratch his back, but stopped when he felt a warm hand caress his forearm.

“Oh Brain, don’t get up just yet. Can’t we spend five more minutes in bed together?” Pinky pleaded softly. Brain looked at his partner’s sparkling blue eyes. He would surely be a cad to refuse such an enticing request. Entranced by Pinky’s soft sapphire stare, Brain gave him a tired smile. Pinky received his answer when he felt his partner pull him close, resting his large cranium against his chest. Pinky’s cheeks warmed when Brain snuggled up to him.

“Ten more minutes, Pinky.” Brain responded with a blissful sigh. The pudgy mouse contentedly closed his eyes as he wrapped his arms around his partner. Pinky smiled at Brain and closed his eyes, cherishing the loving gesture. Pinky gently wrapped his arms around Brain. The bed felt so much warmer now.

The two mice held each other close. Brain wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he returned to his partner’s warm and loving embrace. Ten minutes, twenty minutes perhaps. But he didn’t care.

“You know Pinky, I could stay like this forever…” Brain sighed as he tightened his hold around Pinky, snuggling up to his partner. The taller mouse hummed in agreement. But Pinky soon thought of something that would go against his partner’s proclamation.

“But Brain, what about taking over the world?” Pinky asked softly with a worried expression.

There was a moment of silence before Brain came up with a compelling response. Liberating his right hand from underneath his partner’s back, Brain gently cupped Pinky’s left cheek and stared into his beautiful blue eyes. “How foolish of you to assume that I haven’t done so already.” He said with a sly smile.

Pinky’s brows shifted to a bemused expression while he took his left hand and placed it over Brain’s hand. “What do you mean?”

Brain hoisted himself over Pinky, pulling himself closer to his partner until foreheads touched. “To put it simply, you are my world Pinky...” He admitted right before he leaned in for a kiss.

Pinky was stunned to hear such a proclamation from Brain. He was aware of how important his dream of world domination was for the ambitious mouse. But for Brain to hold Pinky in such high regard made him feel all soft and gooshy. Once their lips broke away, the lanky mouse gazed into his partner’s rose-pink eyes.

“Naaarf.” Pinky purred as he felt Brain tuck himself underneath his chin once more. Both mice closed their eyes again and resumed their peaceful embrace, resting for ten minutes more.

But the intimate moment between the murine beaus was shattered when a big pillow fell on top of them with a quiet thud. Their screams were muffled as they were engulfed by the surprisingly soft darkness. The mice tried to escape, but the pillow was quickly lifted off of them. Pinky and Brain looked up to see Wakko, still in their blue footie pajamas, swiftly holding the pillow behind their back. Dot stood by holding her smartphone.

“Oops, sorry dads.” Wakko sheepishly apologized. “I was actually aiming at Dot because she was acting like a creep!” He explained while pointing at their little sister.

“I wasn’t acting like a creep!” Dot growled at the middle child, flashing her fangs. “I just happened to notice how cute they looked and wanted to capture the magical moment.”

“Ooh, could I see?” Pinky asked eagerly, clapping his hands. The Warner sister’s anger melted away upon hearing the mouse’s cockney accent. She turned to face the mice with a bubbly smile and sparkling eyes.

“Well, of course, Pinky!” Dot happily replied with a charming smile. She showed the mice a series of photos of them entangled in their embrace as they snoozed together. As she swiped her finger across the phone, each picture proved to be more endearing than the last.

Pinky’s blue eyes glistened as he gazed at the pictures. “Aww Brain, we look so cute together!” He gushed as he patted his partner on the shoulder.

Brain while secretly thought that Dot had a good eye for detail and captured their beautiful moments of intimacy, merely rolled his eyes and turned his attention towards the Warner sister. “Promise me that you won’t post those photographs on social media?” He begged with pleading eyes.

“You have my word!” Dot affirmed. “I already posted your lovely duet from last night on most social media platforms, which is trending last I checked.”

“You what?!?” Brain screeched with bulging eyes as color flooded his cheeks.

“Here, let me show you.” Dot explained as she pulled up the Insta-Gratification app on her phone. Brain and Pinky watched themselves sing passionately on Yakko’s palms while he zoomed around the room. Brain’s anger simmered down as he relived the magical moment from a third-person perspective. Even Wakko took a seat next to their rodent guardians as they watched the duet play out. Once the video ended, Pinky stood up and clapped. “Encore! Encore!” He chirped.

“And just look at these accolades.” Dot added as she scrolled down the comment section, which was flooded with colorful heart emojis, thumbs-ups, mice, stars, and various smiley faces.

Pinky’s eyes lit up as he gazed at the parade of positive emojis. The lanky mouse was thrilled that the world loved Brain’s singing as much as he did. Perhaps he should repurpose his social media account from teaching the world how to wrap their toes with various foods to one where he and Brain could sing along to Top 40 hits! Brain simply nodded at the praise. Despite his insecurity over his own singing, he preferred to be trending over a lovely duet with his partner rather than being assaulted by the various elevated mountain ranges on the globe.

“Okay, I’ll let this one slide.” The eloquent mouse firmly declared. “But from now on, all videos and photographs you capture of me must receive my consent before you showcase them to the world.”

“You got it!” Dot comprehended with a thumbs up.

The bathroom door swung open and Yakko emerged, still in his green pajamas. He had a toothbrush in his mouth and some specks of toothpaste on the sides of his lips. “What’s all the commotion?” He mumbled through the toothbrush.

“Dot was creeping on Pinky and The Brain while they were having a romantic moment!” Wakko shouted, pointing at their sister.

“Wakko assaulted Pinky and The Brain with a pillow and destroyed their moment of intimacy!” Dot cried out simultaneously, pointing at her sibling.

Before Yakko could act as a mediator between his younger siblings, Brain stepped forward and interceded. “Now now, Pinky and I understand that you two had no malicious intentions for startling us from our slumber. So please cease your quarreling and get dressed already.” Brain addressed the siblings in a slightly stern tone. “We have a long day ahead of us, and I’m certain that we’re all eager to have some continental breakfast downstairs.”

Yakko took out his toothbrush and pointed it at Wakko and Dot. “Alright sibs, you heard Casanova. Let’s get goin’!” Yakko advised in his ‘responsible-big-brother’ tone. He quickly turned his attention over to the mice and flashed a playful smile and pointing finger guns at them. Brain frowned at the realization that the oldest Warner most definitely peeked in on his romantic moment with his partner. Pinky eagerly returned the gesture by pointing his finger guns while making beeping sounds.

The mere mention of breakfast excited Wakko, who hopped over the bed and right into his suitcase to get dressed. Seconds later, he leaped out of the suitcase, dressed in his regular attire. Yakko ran back into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Dot noticed this and barged over to the door, angrily banging for her brother to open up. The doorknob jiggled and Yakko exited the bathroom dressed in his brown slacks.

“Patience, dearest sister,” Yakko playfully quipped as he walked past Dot. The Warner sister let out a humph as she strode into the bathroom. About a minute later, Dot emerged from the bathroom wearing her pink skirt. The girl smiled as she adjusted her yellow flower hair tie.

Pinky and Brain simply took off their robes and tossed them onto the bed. Brain climbed up the robotic suit and hopped into the pilot seat. After their run-in with those pesky punks from the previous night, the mouse knew that it was wise to take precautions and arm himself with his technologically advanced suit in case they were to run in any trouble. He guided the suit over to the nightstand to retrieve the hotel key, placing it safely into his pocket.

Pinky bounced over to the Warner siblings, where Wakko picked him up and placed him on top of their red hat. Soon everyone exited the room, with Brain closing the door behind him.

As they walked down the hall, Wakko and Dot skipped merrily down the hall while Yakko took Brain aside. “I know who you li-ike!” He sang to the tune schoolyard chant children use to tease others.

Brain looked over at Yakko and gave a feigned shocked reaction. “Well shoot, you discovered my deepest, darkest secret.” He drawled sarcastically. “I’m romantically enamored with the mouse I’ve been dating for the past few months.”

Yakko chuckled and back slapped Brain’s robotic suit. “For all the years that I’ve known you, I never assumed you’d be the romantic type.” He remarked.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me Yakko.” Brain retorted.

“Now you sound like you’re hiding some actual deep dark secrets there, Brain.” Yakko bantered. “Have you made any powerful enemies? Murder a man? Plague your internet history by visiting some saucy websites?”

The eloquent mouse released an exasperated sigh but decided that it was better to humor the boy by satiating his curiosity. “To answer your inquiries: The Yakuza are still on my trail, no, and yes, but I’ll have you know that I only visited those websites for research purposes.” Brain answered dryly.

“Uh-huh, sure. ‘Research purposes’.” Yakko replied with a sly smile and waggling eyebrows. He quickly retrieved a pen and notebook from his pocket. “Now before I forget, wherein that big old head of yours did you come up with those swoon-worthy pickup lines, and can you give this hopeless romantic some pointers?”

Brain let out another exhausted sigh. “I hate to rain on your parade, Yakko, but I’m not in the mood to instruct you on the art of wooing potential romantic partners.” He gently declined. “Perhaps some other time when we’re not mozying about in public.”

“Right, you don’t wanna freely give away your valuable advice to any curious onlookers.” Yakko understood as he put away his pen and notebook.

The elevator opened and Wakko, Dot, and Pinky filed in. Wakko held their foot out by the door while Yakko and Brain entered the elevator. Once everyone was inside, the elevator doors closed and they made their descent.

The mice and the Warners enjoyed a contented continental breakfast together. Yakko had a stack of pancakes covered in syrup. Wakko had three plates full of waffles, eggs, french toast, and bacon. Dot enjoyed a nice plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and buttered toast. Pinky and Brain both had a plate of eggs and onion bagels smothered with cream cheese.

After they finished their meals, they made their way through the lobby and exited the hotel.

Once they hit the streets, Wakko and Dot immediately grabbed onto Brain’s robotic hands while Yakko placed Pinky on his shoulder. He bounced in front of Brain and started to walk backward, casually placing his hands behind his head.

“So Brain, what’s on the docket for today?” Yakko asked with a playful smile.

“Well, I’ve already planned out an extensive schedule of engaging activities, with some input from Pinky.” Brain took out a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Yakko. The eldest Warner opened up the paper and read the schedule the older mouse created whilst Wakko and Dot sprinted over towards their older brother and looked over his shoulders.

10:00 AM - Visit the Library

12:00 PM - Lunch at Denny’s

1:30 PM - Go to the Movies

4:00 PM - Stroll through the Mall

6:30 PM - Dinner at The Puce Fedora

8:30 PM - Return to the Hotel

“Taking you kids out to Denny’s was my idea! Troz!” Pinky chirped while looking at Yakko.

“Well sibs, looks like we have a busy day ahead of us,” Yakko commented as he glanced at Wakko and Dot. “Then lead the way, my good man.” The oldest Warner addressed Brain with a dramatic bow, gesturing his arm towards their path.

Wakko and Dot then perched themselves on the right and left shoulders of the robotic suit, with Brain settled between the siblings. “Onwards!” Dot commanded, pointing out to the horizon. Wakko flashed an eager grin with their tongue bouncing out.

Brain looked over at the cheerful siblings on his robotic shoulders. “As you wish,” The eloquent mouse replied with an amused grin.

The group walked through the city streets, with Brain shifting the controls to keep up with Yakko’s pace. The mouse noticed the fascinated glances from the other pedestrians and onlookers that passed by. The mouse ignored their curious stares and kept his attention on Yakko, who was showing off his parkour skills to an easily-impressed Pinky. The taller mouse carefully held on tight as the eldest Warner demonstrated his great athleticism. Yakko swung on the lamppost and flung himself onto the mailbox and did a backflip, landing gracefully on his feet near the edge of the sidewalk. Wakko and Dot clapped at their brother’s performance. Yakko turned to his audience and bowed. Brain gave the eldest Warner an impressed smile.

“Egad Yakko, that was amazing!” Pinky praised. “Hey, I should give this parker thing a try!” The lanky mouse hopped off of Yakko’s shoulder.

“Actually, it’s pronounced Parkour, Pinky.” Yakko gently corrected the enthusiastic mouse.

Brain looked over at his partner with a skeptical expression on his face. “I don’t think that’s a particularly wise idea Pinky.” He warned. “You already pulled the muscle in your head, and the last thing I need is for you to injure yourself further.”

“Oh fiddleyposh,” Pinky dismissed with a wave of his hand. “I’m in great shape for someone my age!”

The tall mouse eagerly hopped from the sidewalk’s edge shouting “Parkour!” before landing flat on the street with a hard thud. The Warners and Brain winced at Pinky’s rough landing. The mouse tried to pick himself back upon his feet but felt hissed at the painful bruises from his fall. “I’m fine!” He assured the others.

Brain shook his head. Using the controls in his suit, he gently picked Pinky up with his metallic hand and carefully placed him in his coat pocket. The mouse steered the controls and continued to walk down the sidewalk, with Wakko and Dot perched on his shoulders. Yakko followed suit and kept up with the robotic suit at a casual pace.

Ten minutes later, the group approached the main grounds in front of the Central Library. The Warners oohed and ahhed as they walked through the Maguire Gardens, observing the trees and the shallow pools that lined the small stairwells. Their eyes scanned upwards beyond the trees that filled the park and to the building, whose grand tower was crowned with a mosaic pyramid.

“Ah, the public library.” Brain sighed blissfully as he gestured towards the building. “The beacon of literacy, accessibility, and community. A place where people of all backgrounds can easily access books and other materials for free use as well as utilizing other programs and services.”

“So in other words, they’re socialist book lenders.” Yakko quipped with a smug smile.

Brain’s brows furrowed at the smart aleck’s comment until he realized that the teen had a valid point. “More or less.” He answered while waving his robotic hand.

When they approached the doors, Wakko and Dot hopped off of Brain’s robotic shoulders and landed both feet on the ground. The siblings then held onto Brain’s hands, with Wakko holding the right hand and Dot holding the left hand. Yakko opened up the door and allowed Brain and his siblings to enter first.

Once the group entered the library, they were in awe of the beauty and grand scale of the interior. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot bounced along the black and white checkered tile floor as they marveled at the magnificent interior design of the library. Brain already took into account what kinds of shenanigans the Warners, and by extension Pinky, would partake in without his supervision. Bouncing around the quiet areas and potentially plotting revenge against anyone who would dare be rude to them. After careful consideration of the varying scenarios, he concluded that it would be best if they stayed in the children’s section, where the rules concerning indoor voices and energetic movement were not as strict.

The mouse guided the siblings away from the more austere sections of the library and towards the vibrant and inviting aura of the children’s section. They ventured over to the children’s section, which was more colorful and inviting. The Warners gazed at the various soft sofas, colorful posters promoting various library programs appealing to different age demographics, and gorgeous displays promoting new books. They learned from various TV shows and movies that libraries were mostly authoritarian places where silence was always enforced upon patrons by stuck-up librarians. But they saw many young children talking and giggling to their friends and parents at a reasonable volume and decided that libraries could be fun and weren’t as bad as the media made it out to be.

Brain noticed how entranced the siblings were and allowed a smile to escape. “Enchanting, is it not?” He humored. “Now that we’re here, I’m sure we’ll make the most of our time at the library. And the first order of business is to obtain some library cards.”

“Yay! More snacks!” Wakko exclaimed.

“No, Wakko, they’re not meant for consumption.” Brain told the middle child. “Library cards are used to check out books, movies, CDs, and other materials so you could bring them home for a reasonable period of time before returning them.”

“Oh,” Wakko noted, nodding their head in understanding. “I think I get it. So I use the library card to take out the library books, and then I get to eat the books!”

Brain simply shook his head, causing the middle child to let out a disappointed sigh.

The group approached the front desk and were greeted by a young librarian who had wavy brown hair in a loose ponytail, wore pink round glasses, a rainbow-striped long-sleeve shirt, a long magenta skirt and glittering star earrings. The Warners were immediately captivated by the librarian’s vibrant appearance. Perhaps not all librarians were uptight middle-aged snobs. Another library stereotype had been shattered.

The librarian noticed the mice and the Warner siblings walk up towards the desk and she immediately greeted them with a friendly smile. “Good morning!”

“Good morning Miss Librarian!” The Warners and Pinky chorused.

Pinky climbed out of the suit’s front pocket and hopped on the table. He approached the librarian with a friendly smile. “Yes, I would like to order a number four meal with extra cheese and no onions, and-” But Brain squeezed Pinky into his fist (a little harder than he intended) to shut him up.

“Forgive my partner’s inane ramblings,” Brain apologized as he placed Pinky into his coat pocket, giving him a gentle pat on the head to compensate for his earlier transgression. “My children here are eager to have their very own library cards.” The mouse said as he gestured towards the siblings. The mouse took another glance at the rambunctious kids clamored by the desk. The jubilant faces were evidence enough that they took no offense to his statement.

“Yes,” The small mouse pondered, “they are my children…”

“Alrighty, let me get you the registration forms and you kids will be all set!” The Librarian replied as she opened up the drawer in her desk and retrieved the necessary papers.

The Warners accepted the forms and quickly filled out their information. They handed their papers over to the librarian who typed in the information into the computer. After a couple of minutes of waiting, she authorized three library cards and gave them to the siblings. The Warners eagerly took their library cards, and Brain courteously thanked the librarian for her service.

Yakko played around with his library card in his hands, smiling at the prospect of taking out new books to read. Wakko licked his library card before giving an ambivalent shrug, placing the card underneath their red cap.

Dot eagerly grabbed her own library card and inspected it. The realization dawned on her that she could borrow any book she would like for free as well as picking out any book she desired from the library’s vast catalog. “So this is what true power feels like...” She said to herself with a devilish grin.

Brain noticed the Warner sister’s excitement and flashed his own manic grin. “Yes! Let the power of book borrowing privileges seep into your very soul!” The small mouse encouraged. He let out an evil laugh and was surprised to find Dot joining in with her own dark chuckling.

Pinky watched the two chuckle and an astounding realization came to him. “So that’s what King Arthur meant when he said ‘having fun isn’t hard when you’ve got a library card’! Narf!” The lanky mouse exclaimed.

Brain ceased his laughter upon hearing Pinky’s misquote. “Pinky, King Arthur never said that, and there was certainly no mention of library cards in any variation of the Arthurian Legend!” He berated. “That quote was from that Arthur cartoon you’re so fond of!”

The lanky mouse took a moment to register that information. “Oh, I guess it is...poit!”

Yakko tapped his sister’s shoulder, who immediately turned to face her older brother. She joined him and Wakko as they started to explore the children’s section. Pinky hopped out of Brain’s pocket as he journeyed over to the picture book section.

Yakko and Dot excitedly explored the shelves, eager to pick up some books for leisure reading. Wakko trailed behind as he did not share the same enthusiasm for reading as their siblings. As the middle child darted their eyes around the many shelves, he spotted a few circular tables near the reference desk, all of which had scrap paper and a box filled with colored pencils and crayons.

Wakko immediately went over to the coloring table. He decided that he would spend their visit drawing. The middle child took a blue colored pencil and tapped their red hat, thinking of a perfect picture. After a moment of pondering, he became inspired. Taking a sheet of paper, Wakko grabbed a handful of colored pencils and went straight to work. He was determined to make an artistic masterpiece worthy enough to be displayed on the refrigerator door. The middle child was so focused on their work that he failed to listen to the pattering footsteps encroaching the table.

“Aren’t you gonna look for a book?” Yakko asked his younger sibling.

“Maybe later,” Wakko answered with a twinge of worry in their voice. Truth be told, he didn’t want to go through the stress of picking out a book he knew he wasn’t going to enjoy or take the time to finish. Instead, Wakko turned their attention back to the drawing. The middle child settled down at the table. “I’ve got some drawing to do!”

“Okie-Dokie,” Yakko replied, holding his hands behind his back as he strolled through the children’s section.

Over in the teen section, Dot perused through the shelves to find any popular YA novels but found the process to be quite arduous. Teen romances were either hit or miss, dystopian novels weren’t her cup of tea, and she greatly disliked any books told from the first-person perspective. However, the Warner sister managed to spot a few poetry books that seemed promising and a couple of mystery novels with intriguing set-ups. Dot sauntered over to one of the leather chairs and made herself comfortable. She opened up one of the poetry books and began to read.

Unbeknownst to her, Brain took a quick glance over the shoulder of his suit to see her silently reading. The mouse was impressed to learn Dot’s bookish nature and her willingness to engage in more challenging reading material.

The mouse then walked towards the nonfiction section to find Yakko browsing through the 900s books. The Warner brother picked up a book and inspected it, but ultimately decided that it didn’t catch his interest and returned it to its original spot.

“Find anything of interest?” Brain addressed, trying to act as casual as possible by leaning on the shelf but figured that he looked like a complete goober.

“Not yet,” Yakko answered. “but hopefully I’ll find some books on a specific person or time period to write some catchy educational songs about them.”

“Good to know,” Brain nodded. He swerved the controls of the suit and continued to explore the shelves, allowing Yakko to resume his search for decent books.

The mouse ventured into the fiction section in search of a particular novel in mind. Using the signs indicating the first letter of the last names, Brain moved towards the shelves where all the authors with last names starting with the letter S. With a pointed finger, he guided the metallic hand over to find a particular novel from a particular author.

“Come on, come on…” He muttered as he trailed through the So’s over to the Sp’s until he landed on the book by Johanna Spyri. “Aha!” Brain cheered as he retrieved the book from the shelf and laid eyes on one of the greatest pieces of literature. He gazed at the illustrated little girl with curly brown hair in a red dress playing with two white goats on the grassy mountains of the Swiss Alps. “Heidi!”

Gripping the book close to the robot’s chest, Brain decided to check to see how Pinky was faring. He hoped by Odin’s beard that his eccentric partner wasn’t causing too much trouble on his own.

When Brain emerged from the fiction section, he was pleasantly surprised to find Pinky running up to him while lifting two books above his head. “Oh Brain, can I please get these beautiful books!” He asked as he dropped the books to show his partner. One had a picture of a family of bunnies wearing sweaters while the other book featured a parade of colorful elephants holding their tails together as they marched across a grassy plain.

“Of course you can, Pinky,” Brain answered. “And need I remind you that despite your child-like mannerisms, you’re a grown adult with agency.”

“That’s odd, I don’t recall having an agent.” Pinky mused aloud. “Brain, do you think James Bond would be interested in being my agent? Or maybe one of the Spy Kids could be up for the job!”

“No Pinky,” Brain groaned as he massaged his forehead. “what I mean is that you are an independent individual who is capable of making decisions of your own free will. In other words, you don’t need my permission to take out whatever books you want.”

“Oh, okay!” Pinky chirped with some comprehension of what Brain told him.

With a shrug, Brain walked over to the table where Wakko was hunched over as he worked on his illustration. When the middle child spotted the mice approaching, he quickly turned their picture over flat on the table.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Wakko?” Brain pleasantly asked. Pinky sprinted to catch up with his partner while carrying his books. Brain noticed his partner doing his best to lift up the books and quickly confiscated them from his tiny paws, placing them underneath his library book.

“Yep!” Wakko eagerly nodded with their tongue out. “I’ve been working on my magnum opus! It’s still a work in progress, but I’ll show you once it’s finished.”

“Ah, I see,” Brian noted with a smile. “Well, aren’t you going to find a book or two while we’re still here?” The pudgy mouse inquired.

“Nah,” Wakko answered with uncertainty. He tucked their hands into the sleeves of their sweater and kneaded their fingers through the soft cotton.

“What’s wrong?” Brain asked.

Wakko nervously wrung his hands through his sweater sleeves and looked up at the big-headed mouse. “If I tell you, can you promise not to tell anyone else about this?”

“You have my word.” Brain solemnly replied.

“Books can be kinda intimidating, you know?” Wakko blurted out. “There are too many words, and they don’t grab my attention.”

Brain looked at the child with concern, raising his bushy brow upwards. “Well, I’m certain that there has to be at least one book that’s tailored to your interests.” He insisted. “What types of genres do you enjoy most?”

Wakko rubbed their chin as they pondered. “Well, I did try to read some sci-fi and fantasy books, but they were too wordy and I couldn’t understand what was going on. And Yakko tried to give me a couple of easy-reader books, but they were too boring!” The middle child let out a dejected groan. “I don’t get it. Dot’s younger than me and she can read all these heavy young adult books and I can’t even bring myself to read a lousy chapter book!” Feeling overwhelmed, Wakko buried their head into their sweater sleeves.

Pinky was saddened by Wakko’s plight and decided to help them as best as he could. After a moment of thinking, the mouse thought of an idea. He looked up at the middle child with an optimistic grin as he showcased his library books. “Oh Wakko, you should try reading these wonderful board books. There aren’t a lot of words and you can look at the pretty pictures! Zort!”

“But those are baby books!” Wakko complained. “I don’t think there are any books that are made for me!” He then buried their face in the crook of their elbow and let out a hopeless sigh.

Brain gazed at the downtrodden Warner sibling and pondered. He needed to figure out a way to alleviate the middle child’s dilemma. The eloquent mouse scanned the library shelves and found a section dedicated to graphic novels. Perhaps those books should suit Wakko’s needs and capture their attention.

“Pinky, are you pondering what I’m pondering?” Brain whispered to his partner.

“Sure Brain, but did they ever show us how to get to Sesame Street?” Pinky mused aloud.

“While that’s an admittedly fascinating rumination dear Pinky, we have more pressing matters to attend to.” Brain stated as he gestured his head towards Wakko.

The smaller mouse approached the middle child and gently placed his robotic hand on their shoulder. “I think I found some books that you might be interested in.” Brain gently prodded. Wakko hesitantly followed the mouse over to the bookshelves full of graphic novels.

Brain glided the metallic finger across the various book titles until he found one that would interest Wakko. Hilda and the Troll. The mouse took out the graphic novel from the shelf and handed it over to the middle child.

Wakko’s eyes shone brightly as he stared at the book’s cover, which featured a young girl with blue hair wearing a black beret standing in front of the snowy mountains with her cute animal companion. He gingerly opened up the book and was immediately captivated by the artwork.

“What is this?” Wakko asked with wonder.

“Why, dear Wakko, what you are holding is a graphic novel.” Brain answered with an encouraging smile. “A literary phenomenon that utilizes comics content to tell cohesive stories similar to typical novels.”

The middle child carefully read the page, following the text and admiring the illustrations “Woah, this has easy to follow words and pictures!” Wakko exclaimed. “And they’re real books?”

“Graphic novels are novels, Wakko.” Brain reassured the child, patting their head with his robotic hand.

“Great! I’m gonna take ten!” Wakko cheered. He perused through the shelves and picked out a handful of books that piqued his curiosity. After taking out the rest of the Hilda series from the shelf, he picked out Roller Girl, Ghosts, and three books from the Dog Man series. Wakko wore a jubilant grin as he gathered their graphic novels while Brain and Pinky smiled at the middle child’s revived enthusiasm for reading.

Meanwhile, in the teen section, Dot was invested in her book. Yakko saw his sister and decided to sneak up on her. He tip-toed over to the teen section and carefully approached the couch. He had his arms out, ready to scare his little sister-

“Hey Yakko,” Dot said as she looked over at her older brother. Yakko brought his arms down and snapped his fingers in defeat.

“So I see you have your books,” Yakko mentioned, trying to change the subject.

“Yep!” Dot chirped as she hopped off the couch. “How about you?”

“I picked out a few books,” Yakko explained as he held them up. “One on European architecture, another on the Renaissance, and a book on the Sixties.” The oldest Warner also held up two paperback books from his stack. “I also picked out a couple of those Captain Underpants books for Wakko just in case.”

Dot nodded in approval. “Speaking of which, we should probably find them.” As the brother and sister walked back together, they were pleasantly surprised to see Wakko carrying a pile of books.

“Since when did you become an eager reader?” Dot asked playfully.

“Ever since Brain showed me the magical world of graphic novels! They’re like comic books, but formatted like a novel.” Wakko explained with the confidence of a college professor.

“Nice!” Yakko replied, elated by his sibling’s excitement. “I also got you a couple of books that you might like.”

Wakko looked at the Captain Underpants books and smiled. “Oh cool! I can read those too.”

Pinky and Brain quickly joined the Warner siblings. “So is everyone all set?” Brain asked.

“Uh-huh.” The Warners chorused while nodding their heads.

“Excellent! At this rate, we’ll be able to check out our books and arrive at Denny’s at a much earlier time than I had planned.” The big-headed mouse mentioned as he started to leave. The siblings eagerly bounced behind.

- - - - -

The group arrived at Denny’s at around 11:45 AM and were quickly seated in one of the booths. As they waited for their meals, the Warners and the mousey couple decided to pass the time by swapping stories.

Yakko divulged some unusual anecdotes, from a wild goose-chase over who stole Wakko’s donuts from the designer donut shop to the crazy hunter who turned out to be Chicken Boo in disguise.

The mice listened carefully to the ‘whodonut’ story. While Brain was not the least bit surprised to find out that Wakko was the one who consumed the box of donuts, Pinky thought it was a plot twist for the ages. However, Brain was shocked to learn that the hunter bent on capturing all of the Animaniacs cast members was none other than Chicken Boo. He and Pinky admittedly didn’t spend as much time with the giant chicken during the show’s original run, but Brain must have suspected the twinge of jealousy in the poultry’s eyes when the mice and the Warner children received carts full of fan mail on a weekly basis while he only received a few letters during the five years the show was on the air. The latter story prompted Brain and Pinky to explain their run-in with their weirdly deranged former co-worker. They were heading back to the lab from a candle-lit dinner date, holding hands when they were spotted by a peculiar man with a mustache. The mice were able to evade capture by using decoys. Brain put a nice paint job on his spare Noodle Noggin doll and retrieved old Pinky plushie made in the nineties to trick the hunter into thinking that he caught them.

Dot engaged the mice in one of her other anecdotes where she consumed a kawaii cupcake that turned everyone and everything into an adorably cute version of themselves. Pinky and Brain also remembered that fateful month and told the Warners about how their reactions to their cuteness.

When the mice first took a glance at their kawaii forms, Pinky was overwhelmed with excitement at how cute Brain was and wanted to show the world how cute he was. Brain was inspired by Pinky’s proclamation and tried to use his and Pinky’s cuteness to take over the world. But the mouse was dismayed when he learned that it had no effect in an already cute world. Brain spent the rest of the month thinking about his new form was reminiscent of the disgustingly saccharine artwork from the ‘Pinky-Winky and Brainy-Wainy’ pitch he heard from a pair of aspiring TV writers during a failed scheme from the nineties. It didn’t help that Pinky remembered the theme song and kept singing it.

“They’re Pinky and Brainy! They’re Winky and Wainy!” Pinky gleefully belted out.

Brain placed his hand on Pinky’s cheek, ceasing his singing. “Quiet Pinky or I shall have to hug you.” He commanded, which elicited some chuckles from the Warners.

As they shared their stories, Wakko eagerly read one of his graphic novels. Brain was pleased to see the middle child so invested in their library books.

By the time they got their food, everyone was mostly content with their food. As they ate, Brain noticed how Dot grimaced as she consumed her lunch. When Yakko asked her if she was okay, the Warner sister shrugged it off. But the big-headed mouse could see the pain she concealed with her adorable face.

Once Pinky finished his meal, he excused himself to use the restroom. A few minutes later, Pinky was skipping towards the booth when a middle-aged man and woman were appalled by the fact that a mouse was in the restaurant. The woman shrieked while the man violently kicked the poor mouse into the drywall.

Brain and the Warners were horrified by the assault. The smaller mouse quickly approached his partner, gently plucking him from the wall and cradling him in his robotic hands. Brain exited from the driver’s seat, scurried down the right arm, and carefully draped Pinky over his lap as he inspected his injuries.

“Pinky, please speak to me!” Brain cried out.

“Naaarf…” Pinky uttered. He looked over to his partner and cupped his chubby cheeks. Brain was relieved that Pinky was okay.

The Warners sadly gazed at the mice with sympathetic eyes. They then turned their attention towards the perpetrators and snarled. The careless couple exited the restaurant with no remorse for what they’ve done. The siblings retrieved their weapons; Yakko took out his pen, Wakko retrieved his wooden mallet, and Dot flashed her flamethrower.

Pinky and Brain watched in astonishment as the children busted through the doors and followed the couple. The mice heard two frantic screams followed by childish giggling from the siblings. After five minutes, the Warners returned to the table as if nothing happened.

“How are you feeling, Pinky?” Wakko asked.

“A lot better, actually! Troz!” The lanky mouse answered with an optimistic grin.

“What happened back there?” Brain inquired.

“You don’t want to know,” Yakko replied.

“Let’s just say that those bozos won’t be bothering Pinky anymore.” Dot mentioned cryptically. With a gentle hand, she carefully caressed Pinky’s head. The mouse smiled as he accepted her loving touch.

Brain gave a warm smile at the siblings. “Thank you for standing up for Pinky.”

“Of course!” Yakko assured. “After seeing you stick up for us last night, it’s only fair that we return the favor!”

The rest of their meal went off without any further issue. Brain rewarded the Warners for their solidarity by allowing them to pick out as many deserts as they so desired. Wakko had one of each, while Yakko picked out brownie cake. Dot graciously declined the offer, instead of ordering another glass of water. As Yakko and Wakko contentedly enjoyed their desserts, Dot continued to look a little uneasy as she sipped her water.

After Brain paid for lunch, the group was on their way to the movie theaters to see an animated movie featuring the Furbies which was most certainly attempting to ride off the coattails of The Lego Movie. Yakko and Wakko were excited to go to the movies when Brain informed them that the theater will have assigned seats and comfy reclining leather chairs. Yakko was especially elated by this. They’ll have fewer chances of coming across a man spreader and have a more comfortable movie-going experience.

While Yakko and Wakko excitedly bounced around on their way to the movies, Dot was unusually quiet compared to her older siblings. The Warner sister walked at a slower pace, clutching her stomach and looking down at the sidewalk.

Yakko knew that something was up with his sister and decided to intervene once more. “Hey, you doin’ okay sis?” He asked concernedly.

“I don’t think I’m feeling too good…” Dot admitted. She then felt something rise up from her stomach and started to panic. The girl spotted a trash receptacle and sprinted towards it. Gripping the sides of the can, she threw up straight into the trash.

Yakko, Wakko, and the mice winced as they watched the poor girl spew out her lunch.

Once she finished, she felt woozy. Brain took out the folded handkerchief from his suit pocket and offered it to Dot, who graciously accepted it and wiped her mouth.

Overwhelmed with guilt, tears began to stream down Pinky’s face. “Poit! I’m so sorry Dot, this is all my fault!” The tall mouse cried. “This wouldn’t have happened if we went to The Cheesecake Factory instead!”

“It’s okay, Pinky.” Dot assured, trying her hardest to sound confident. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

Brain tied his best not to give in to stress and remain in control over the situation. “Okay, new plan: we need to return to the hotel right away so you could rest.” He addressed Dot and the rest of the group.

The mouse consulted the map app on his smartphone and was thankful that it was only a ten-minute walk to the hotel from their current position. He looked over at Dot and realized that she needed some ginger ale after what happened. Fortunately, the group just so happened to be standing right next to a convenience store. Brain picked up Pinky from his shoulder and placed him next to the Warner siblings.

“Pinky, you watch the kids while I go inside the store to fetch some ginger ale and crackers for Dot.” Brain explained as he dashed through the front doors.

“You can count on my Brain! Troz!” Pinky responded, giving his partner a serious salute. Once the smaller mouse entered the store, he shifted his attention over to the Warners.

Yakko and Wakko comforted their sister as they waited outside. Dot just stared down at the sidewalk, propping her head in her gloved hands.

“Why did this have to happen?” She thought to herself.

The girl felt Yakko’s hand ruffle through her hair while Wakko’s hand stroked up and down her back. Pinky, despite his short stature, went over to her knee and hugged it with all his might. Dot looked over at the lanky white mouse, giving him a grateful smile. She released her right hand from under her head and gently patted Pinky.

The group was alerted when Brain exited the convenience store with a brown paper bag filled with a liter bottle of ginger ale, a box of salted crackers, and plastic cups. Additionally, he held a cold can of ginger ale in the robot’s right hand. Steering the controls, Brain knelt the suit on one knee and offered the ginger ale to the Warner sister, who wordlessly accepted it. She opened up the soda and took a generous sip. With the necessary goods purchased, the group started to make their way back to the hotel.

“Do you need any help, sis?” Yakko asked.

“No, I’m good.” Dot assured him. She was tough. After all, she was the one who marched to grant toons the right to vote and managed to sing an impressive song about the First Ladies of the United States in under two minutes. Dot was also strong enough to open up any jar lids for Wakko. Heck, she even saved Yakko’s life on Halloween night for crying out loud! A far cry from the sickly waif she played in Wakko’s Wish. While Dot knew how supportive and loving her older siblings were and she greatly respected the mice, the last thing she wanted was to be pitied by them.

But the girl stumbled. She almost tripped, but managed to catch her footing and placed her hand on Brain’s robotic leg for support.

Brain noticed this and immediately used the man-suit to pick her up, cradling her in his arms, an act that surprised Yakko. Brain gently adjusted his arm to properly carry her. Dot was too exhausted to put up a fight. Pressing the cold soda can to her forehead, she closed her eyes and surrendered to his concerned affection. Pinky made his way down the robotic arm and gently stroked Dot’s hair. The Warner sister gave a small smile, cherishing the care she received from the mice.

Brain gazed at the Warner sister with worried eyes as he continued to walk back over to the hotel. Yakko and Wakko shared worried glances before catching up with the mouse.

The group made it back to the hotel without further incident. But the somber mood from Dot’s sudden illness had rendered everyone, even the talkative Yakko, speechless. Brain couldn’t help but think of how strange it was to see normally energetic and loud Yakko and Wakko this quiet. It was an unnerving sight.

When they arrived in front of their room, Yakko retrieved his hotel key and opened up the door. He allowed Brain, who carefully held Dot with the metal arms, to walk in first. The oldest Warner watched as the mouse brought his sister over to the bed. Brain moved the covers with one arm and gently lowered Dot with the other. Once she was in bed, she placed her magenta robe on. As she laid down on the bed, Brain placed the covers over her and adjusted them to her comfort.

Yakko was still standing by the doorway, feeling surprisingly out of place. Normally he was the responsible one. Always taking care of his younger sibs when they were sick, making them breakfast, or enchanting them with bedtime stories. While he didn’t ask to play the part of the parent, he adapted to the role to the best of his ability. And for someone who had to watch over Wakko and Dot for over sixty years, Yakko thought he did a pretty good job.

So why was he feeling weird about having an adult he knew to do his job for him?

Brain placed the groceries on the nightstand, taking out the ginger ale, plastic cups, and box of salted crackers. Once the mouse emptied out the paper bag, he placed the library book bag on his bed and rode the suit over to the other side. After he parked the robotic suit, he got out of the driver’s seat and hopped onto the mattress.

“Pinky, you’re in charge of supervising Yakko and Wakko.” Brain ordered. “Why don’t you take them to the movies while I’ll stay here and keep a vigilant eye over Dot.”

“Sure thing, Brain!” Pinky said confidently, giving him a thumbs up.

“Uh Brain, I can stay and help too,” Yakko interjected, trying his best to mask his worry.

Brain noticed the boy’s willingness to help out. He tried to come up with a gentle way to assure him that his sister would be fine under his care.

But before he could speak, Dot spoke up. “It’s gonna be okay, Yakko. I don’t want you to feel bad because I’m feeling under the weather. Now go on and have a fun time with Wakko and Pinky.”

“You sure?” Yakko asked. “Cause I don’t mind staying here.”

“Yakko, I understand how concerned you are of your sister’s well-being, but I promise you that she will be cared for under my vigilance.” Brain consoled.

“But-” Yakko tried to make an argument but was quickly cut off by his little sister.

“Brain’s got it under control.” Dot said a little more firmly. After seeing the worry in her brother’s eyes, she knew that he meant well. “Please Yakko, have a fun time, for me?” She softly told him whilst batting her eyelashes.

Yakko realized that Dot was weaponizing her cuteness to her advantage and that even he was not immune to her adorable charms. The last thing he wanted was to upset Dot while she was still ill. While the Warner brother didn’t want to leave her, he had to respect her wishes. “I will, sis.” He sighed. “But just call me if anything happens, okay?” He proceeded to playfully ruffle her hair.

“I will,” Dot replied, giving her brother a small smile as she gently shoved her brother’s hand away.

Wakko approached her and carefully squeezed her hand. “Feel better, dearest sister.” Wakko consoled before letting go. He then took Yakko’s hand, tugging him towards the door. On the way, he picked up Pinky and placed him on their red hat.

“Take care, Dot!” Pinky happily called out.

Dot giggled at the taller mouse’s enthusiasm. “Thank you, Pinky!”

“And don’t worry Brain, I won’t let you down! Narf!” Pinky addressed with a wave.

“I know you won’t, Pinky.” Brain confidently replied as he waved back. Pinky smiled at his partner as Wakko carried him out of the hotel room. The smaller mouse gave his partner a soft smile.

Once the door was closed, Brain turned his attention towards the Warner sister.

“Now, is there anything I can do for you?” Brain asked softly.

“I’m all set for now.” Dot answered. “On second thought, could you turn on the TV?”

With a click of the remote, Brain turned on the television set and the image of reddish stars decorating the darkness of space accompanied by soothing piano and synth music. The title of the program slowly appeared on the screen: Cosmos.

“Wait, don’t change the channel!” Dot cried out. “I love this mini-series!”

Brain was surprised. “You’re an admirer of Carl Sagan’s work?”

“Of course! Where else would I get my scientific knowledge from? Mr. United States-Canada-Mexico-Panama?” Dot quipped.

The small mouse couldn’t help but chuckle at the Warner sister’s snide remark.

“And besides, I’m the witty one.” She playfully added.

Brain smiled. “Well, I’m glad to have found someone who appreciates the sciences as much as I.”

The smaller mouse and the girl turned their attention over towards the flat-screen television as they watched Carl Sagan discuss the hundred billion galaxies within the universe. Twenty minutes into the show, Brain heard the soft snores. He turned to find Dot fast asleep in her bed.

The mouse sighed in relief, happy that she was resting, and used the remote to lower the volume.

Brain then walked over to the book bag and retrieved Heidi from the pile of library books. Walking over towards the other side of the bed, the chubby mouse plopped next to the pillow and began to read. After a few minutes, Brain was becoming invested in the story when he heard his phone vibrate. He placed a bookmark in between the pages and trotted over to his smartphone. The moment he turned on the device, a text message from Yakko appeared on the screen.

Is Dot okay?

Brain understood the boy’s concern. As he reread the message he pondered over how Yakko had single-handedly raised his younger sibling for decades in the confines of the water tower without adult supervision or any assistance from the outside world. Brain could not imagine the emotionally harrowing task of having to tend to the needs of his siblings at such a tender age. After years of being the sole caretaker of Wakko and Dot, it would make logical sense for Yakko to be incredibly concerned over his sister’s well-being.

But Brain wanted to assure Yakko that he no longer had to worry about carrying the burden of responsibility on his own. The eloquent mouse opened up the text message app and thought of an appropriate response to send. After coming up with words of comfort, he decides to type out his message.

I commend your concern for your younger sister. Dot is taking a much-needed nap at the moment and she will be okay.

Brain stared at the message with critical eyes. After a moment of musing, he concluded that it sounded too serious. He decided to spruce it up a bit with a smiley face, just as he always does with his usual emails and text messages.

I commend your concern for your younger sister. Dot is taking a much-needed nap at the moment and she will be okay. : )

The mouse nodded at the message and pressed his paw on the send button. In seconds he saw the text message turn blue, indicating its arrival on Yakko’s phone.

Putting aside his smartphone, Brain took another glance at the sleeping Warner sister and smiled at the peaceful sight. With everything under control, he opened up his novel and picked up where he left off.

AN: This chapter was also originally supposed to be longer, but I decided to divide it because it was too long.

More fun shenanigans in this chapter. I wanted to explore Brain and Pinky slowly going dad mode in certain scenarios, with Brain being the more responsible dad while Pinky is the more doting parent. The library scene mainly started because I was curious as to what kind of books the Warners like to read.

I also wanted to explore more of the siblings in this chapter, especially their vulnerabilities while keeping true to their reboot characterizations. With Wakko, I wanted to touch on their insecurities a bit when compared to their siblings. With a capable and confident character like Dot, I wanted to put her in a situation where she allows herself to be cared for while acknowledging her strengths and intelligence. Then we have Yakko starting to question his own abilities as a parental figure to his siblings when he sees Brain taking care of Dot. This issue will be further explored in the following chapter, but I hope I’m doing my best to expand on these otherwise comedic characters.

Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #fanfic

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celosiaa · 4 years

Note

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm. Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all. Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma fanfic #martin blackwood #hurt/comfort #cw nausea #cw seizures #cw misgendering #trans martin #jordanian jon #background timsasha #my writing

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bonjour-rainycity · 3 years

Text

Odin’s Ward ~ Chapter 9

Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637789805440368640/odins-ward-chapter-8

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Word count: 5473 (wow I’m so sorry)

Warnings: None

Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24

Y/n’s POV

Loki and I do our best to make the remaining days count. He does as promised and keeps me in his bed as much as he can. When we are absolutely required to be somewhere, we attend together if possible and rush through our events if we must be separated. Every moment we spend together only does more to convince me that leaving him could be my undoing. I just can’t fathom seeing my best friend every day for half my life only to suddenly have him ripped away from me.

The sun is just beginning to rise. Normally, I would enjoy the sunrise, as it is a thing of beauty, but today, it may as well be an axe swinging to sever my head; today is the day I leave.

Loki’s arm pulls tighter around my waist. I wonder if he slept. I barely did, and not for sexy reasons. The dread kept us up most of the night, leaving very little energy for intimacy. Still, it was wonderful to spend my last night here in his arms. I know even at this early point in my life, that I will cherish him forever.

As long as I live, I will never love another as much as I love him.

Sighing, I turn to look into his eyes. We can ignore the day no longer. After a moment, Loki leans forward to kiss my forehead.

“Let’s get dressed. There’s something I want to show you.”

Confused but willing, I am soon dressed in what I wore yesterday. I’ll have to change into something more formal before I go to meet Father, I remind myself, doing my best not to cringe at the quickly approaching reunion.

I expect Loki to reach for me so we can teleport to wherever he wants to go, but instead, he offers his arm and we begin a slow and silent walk through the castle. The world is still asleep, save for a handful of servants rushing to get the palace ready for the day. They bow quickly to Loki as they go along but otherwise avoid eye contact, knowing better than to stare at the prince escorting a woman so early in the morning.

“Does it bother you that they don’t bow to you as well?” Loki’s sudden question breaks the heavy silence.

“No,” I answer honestly, having considered this before today. “I haven’t done anything to earn their respect. I don’t employ them, I don’t protect them, and I don’t command them. Why should they show deference to me?”

Loki lets out an odd sound, halfway between a scoff and a growl. “They should. You are the chosen of an Asgardian Prince.”

I stop walking and turn to give him a soft smile, doing my best to keep the sadness out of my eyes. “Not officially.”

He places a hand on my cheek sweetly, but there is regret in his voice. “Would that I could, Darling.”

“I don’t doubt you. I never have, and I never will.” The words leave my mouth without thought. For some reason, I just know he needs to hear this. And besides, it’s true.

A strange mixture of relief, love, and pain colors his face, although he is quick to mask it with a pleasant expression and a kiss on my hand.

We resume walking and are soon in a sort of attic located in one of the castle’s turrets. Loki releases my arm in favor of grabbing my hand and pulls me deep into what seems to be a storage room. He stops before an unassuming object hidden amongst the clutter.

“An old painting?” Surely he must understand my confusion. It’s just a shabby painting of a dusty blue door.

Loki grins with a hint of that trademark mischief and my stomach flutters. Not taking his eyes from mine, he reaches straight into the painting and pulls on the handle of the door.

“An old, magic painting,” I smile, catching on.

Loki’s grin does not last long, and apprehension gnaws at me. Why is he showing me this?

“Loki?”

He exhales loudly, running a hand over his face, and it becomes apparent that he does not wish to say what he has planned.

But he does.

“Y/n, you know I love you, but I—” he falters, giving me time to register the shop pain I feel stab in my chest. With a tightly clenched jaw, he gets the rest of the words out. “I cannot continue to be in contact with you once we are separated.” He looks me in the eye then, the hurt clear on his face. Loki so rarely openly shows his emotions, so I know how deeply he must be feeling right now.

I try to plaster my expression into something resembling an impassive calm. “I understand.” Despite my efforts, tears prick at my eyes and soon run down my cheeks.

Loki pulls me into a hug, tucking me securely under his chin.

“I understand, I promise,” I cry into his chest. “As terribly as it will hurt to never see you again, I think it would be somehow worse to hold on.”

“Yes,” he breathes, unable to put any strength behind the word. “However.” He clears his throat and pulls back slightly to look at me, his voice sounding somewhat stronger. “This painting is connected to you. Should you experience an emergency, write a letter and picture it appearing inside this door. I have a simple spell surrounding the painting that will alert me whenever something is placed inside the doorway, such as a letter from you.” His previously formal tone softens, and he looks me earnestly in the eye. “I shall check it straight away.”

I squeeze his hand in thanks, touched that he would prepare this and offer his eternal aid. I lean against him in silence.

The tolling of bells alerts us, and I squeeze my arms around him once before pulling away.

“We should get back so we can get ready.” I chuckle, though no humor lies within me. “Can’t have the whole castle know we’re screwing, right?”

His snort matches mine in terms of gaiety, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless. “The way you were shouting last night, I’m sure they at least have their suspicions.”

A surprised scoff bubbles from my throat and I lightly smack my lover on the arm.

He smirks, true mischief in his eyes once more. “Not that I’m complaining. No, I adore every noise that comes from your mouth, especially when it’s wrapped around my—”

“Oh-kay! I cut him off, actually laughing now. “We get it, we get it. You’re a sounds guy.”

He scrunches up his face in confusion as we begin our descent down the staircase. “A ‘sounds guy’? Whatever does that mean?”

I shrug one shoulder. “You know. The noises your partner makes during sex turn you on.”

HE shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Dearest Y/n, wherever do you learn all these terms?”

“Books.” Duh.

He scoffs. “You and I must favor entirely different literature.”

I grin, stepping backwards off the last stair so I can tug on his hands. “That’s what makes us so fun.”

And, for just a few moments, we’ve forgotten what lies ahead.

{***}

“Lady Y/n, I am here to escort you out of the castle.” The guard’s voice is gruff and uninterested as he speaks through my door.

“Just a moment,” I call, stalling for time. “Dagmar, are you sure this dress is right?” I turn to my maid, who surveys my appearance with a careful eye. “Yes, My Lady. All of my research shows that this is the appropriate dress for a woman of your status in Alfheim.”

I wear a long, pale white dress that sweeps to the floor. Think golden ropes criss-cross the bodice and encircle my arms, the sleeves are long and elegant. The dress is entirely impractical and much too light for my complexion, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m not exactly focused on impressing anyone at the moment.

The guard knocks again impatiently.

“I’m coming,” I huff, annoyed.

Aware that I am unable to delay the inevitable any longer, I turn to Dagmar. “Thank you. I mean it.”

She curtsies deeply. “You’re welcome, My Lady. I wish you the best of luck and all the happiness you may find in Alfheim.”

With that, I steel myself and stride to my bedroom door.

{***}

The walk to the horses feels like a death march.

Nobles and prominent Asgardians line the path, doing their duty of seeing off the King’s Ward. Some look uninterested, others gaze at me with hostility, some with fondness. I can’t focus on more than my breathing. If I lose focus, I worry it will become erratic with nerves.

At the end of the long, straight path lies the Royal Family. Thor, Odin, and Frigga look pleased. Loki sports complete indifference and keeps his eyes from mine.

When I reach the King, Odin begins to speak. His speech is loud and meant for the Asgardians making up his Court, not for me. “Lady Y/n, it was with open arms many years ago that I welcomed you into my home and family. I am happy to have provided you with an exceptional upbringing and the finest amenities Asgard has to offer. It is with great pride and a touch of sadness that I now send you back to your father, as I have come to have much fondness for you.” Lie. Several Asgardians dab handkerchiefs at their eyes in showy fashion. “Still, I know you are off to your home and you will be well cared for. My family and I hope to meet you again in the future, and encourage you to remember how Asgard has helped you when you one day sit in a position of power.”

I curtsey low as protocol dictates, though because I have ever-dwindling respect for Odin, the action is an empty one. “Of course, Your Highness. I extend my deepest gratitudes to you and your family for taking such wonderful care of me all these years and for sharing what you have. I, of course, will always keep Asgard and its people close to my heart.”

Speeches done, a servant arrives to help me onto my horse. On the way, Queen Frigga takes my hands and squeezes, looking kindly into my eyes. “I have complete faith in you, my dear. Please know that I have thought of you much like a daughter all these years, and although it breaks my heart to see you go, I know you are off to greater things.” She pulls me towards her conspiratorially. “You will be magnificent.”

My breath hitches and tears prick at my eyes. I’m touched. “Your Majesty, I have always had the highest respect for you and truly appreciate every way you guided and helped me through these years. You’ve been a wonderful mother figure, and I do hope to see you again.”

Tears appear in her own eyes, though she hides them well. She squeezes my hand once more before releasing me to the servant who fulfills his duty of getting me safely onto the horse.

I ride with Thor on my left and Loki on my right. As we leave, the people cheer and wave, though I don’t hear much over the ringing in my ears.

“Look, Lady Y/n, commoners have come to see you off! They adore you.” Thor’s comment piques my interest enough for me to crane my head around his tall form. I’m shocked to see that the spaces behind the lines of nobles are packed with Asgardians from the villages, all waving and smiling. Hesitantly, I wave back, and their cheers increase. Huh, who knew?

Thor encourages his horse to pick up speed, and Loki and I do the same, careful not to look at each other. We race from the castle and across the Bifrost. The wind whips my face, but Dagmar’s intricate braid ensures my hair remains neat and presentable.

All too quickly, we arrive at the end of the bridge. Thor moves to help me off the horse, but Loki huffs and steps in front of his brother, lightly gripping my waist. He still doesn’t look me in the eye, but his fingers linger on the soft fabric of my dress.

Thor grits his teeth, crossing his arms irritably. “Come now, brother, this is no time for possessiveness. You know Lady Y/n belongs to you no more now than she did back in the palace. It is time to let all this silliness go.”

Both Loki and I ignore him, but I can see the anger brewing beneath Loki’s surface.

The three of us enter the golden dome, and the closer we get to Heimdall, the faster my heart beats. I throw my braid over my shoulder and square my shoulders, doing my best to put on a confident air. Fake it till you make it.

Heimdall greets us with respect and instructs us on where to stand. I have only traveled by Bifrost once before, and that was when I was very young. Fear of the unknown brings a shake to my hands. Discreetly, Loki takes my hand in his, and I let out a breath, grateful for him even if our time together is shrinking down to seconds.

Without warning, light encapsulates our figures, threatening to burn my closed eyes. In the next breath, my feet his solid ground. The impact jolts through my bones and I stumble, unprepared for the force of it. Both Thor and Loki reach for me, having anticipated me being unbalanced. Again, Loki shoots his brother a withering glance. Once steadied, I take in the room. It’s not near as grand as the room in which Heimdall resides, but I can tell that this space holds great importance.

The boxy room is a pale, silvery white, much like the color of my dress. The podium we landed on is adorned with light-colored jewels that glow faintly. Eight guards in decorated silver armor stand in front of the exit, blocking our path. Immediately, they drop into low bows, their attention clearly focused on the two princes on either side of me.

“Rise, valued allies,” Thor speaks, and I can feel Loki’s annoyance at Thor delivering the command. Thor releasing the guards from their bow shows his rank to be superior to his brother’s when in fact, neither is yet a crowned prince.

A man clad in ornate silver robes steps forward. In taking in the room, I hadn’t noticed him before.

“Exalted Princes of Asgard, we are humbled to be in your presence.”

I do my best to hold in a huff. I’m right here! Isn’t anyone excited to see me? After all, this is my home…supposedly. I do my best to shake the bitterness off, but am largely unsuccessful.

“And we are here to complete a task.” Loki’s voice is cool, detached, and my heart begins to ache. A task, am I?

“Of course.” The man in robes snaps to attention. “If you will follow me, I will escort you tot he Chief Diplomat.”

The man, who still hasn’t introduced himself, turns and begins to lead us down what seems to be a very long and very wide tree branch. The guards follow behind.

With each step, I hear the blood rush in my ears. My stomach feels unsteady, and I must keep blinking in order to hold my focus. Get it together, Y/n. You cannot seem as frightened as you are. Hold your head high like you were taught and walk with all the confidence you can muster. You need to make a good impression on these people. I do my best to take the advice I just gave myself, and begin to feel slightly better.

That optimism disappears the moment we enter the castle.

The tall spiral stretches into the sky, its silver color looking rather dull in comparison to the sun. Based on its color and shine, I guess that it’s built to look grand in the moonlight, not the harshness of day. I can’t help but compare the building to Asgard, which feels much more like home to me than this place. The man leads us on a path to what I assume is the throne room, but no true monarch reigns here; Odin and his family rule all nine realms, but they have a stronger hold on some than others. And although he is not a ruler, he is the highest ranking official in Alfheim, so it is my father who occupies the throne.

I gulp.

He looks like me, I suppose. But he is of much taller stature and his eyes are a deep brown. Marks and wrinkles line his face, showing his age, his years of battle, and the stress of his job. As Chief Diplomat, he wears not armor but sweeping, heavily decorated robes. They are the palest, purest white one can imagine and adorned in shining braided gold ropes, much like the ones on my dress.

He stands and begins to walk forward.

“It is customary, I believe, to kneel when addressing Princes of Asgard.” Loki surprises me by being the first to speak, his voice a calculated mixture of cool authority and apathy.

A flash of hardness enters my father’s eyes before he breaks into a bright smile. “Of course. Please accept my apologies, Your Highnesses.” He kneels, bowing his head in deference to the men at my sides.

I have yet to be acknowledged by anyone.

Unable to stand it any longer, I clear my throat.

My father looks at me for the first time. Once Thor gives him the okay to rise, he puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me over. “Hello, my child. Welcome home. You hardly look as I remember.”

“That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for many years.” I’m a bit disconcerted by the resentment in my voice, and I can see that it makes everyone else uncomfortable too.

“Yes, well…” My father clears his throat and looks away, removing his hands from my shoulders as he takes a step back. “I am glad to see you now.” I can see the truth in his eyes, and my heart softens slightly towards him. I don’t have many memories of my time in Alfheim, but I know that my father was kind towards me…when he was around.

“Your Majesties,” my father steps back so he can see both princes once more. “I extend my deepest gratitude for you seeing my daughter safely to my home.”

“We do it gladly,” Thor answers, smiling at me with fondness. “Although I am saddened to have her leave Asgard, I know this is her home and she will have a wonderful life here.”

Loki says nothing, his mouth set into a hard line. My father seems uncomfortable under Loki’s gaze and turns his full attention to Thor.

“She will. I have a most prestigious marriage lined up for her, and once a wedding has been planned, I will be sure to extend an invitation to her gracious hosts.”

They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Anger wells within me, shouting for attention. I take a deep breath in the hopes of calming myself. At the noise, Loki’s eyes dart to mine, the first time he’s truly looked at me since the early hours of this morning. Now, panic seizes my body and desperation strains my chest. Our time is almost out.

“My family will be thrilled to attend if we are able. But now, I’m afraid, my brother and I must return to Asgard.” Thor’s words show a clear intention of leaving, and my eyes go wide. Just as my father dips into a bow, I hear a strangled voice call out a single word:

“Wait!”

I’m shocked when the echo tells me the voice was mine.

All eyes are on me, with clear confusion and annoyance emanating from my father.

I swallow, hurrying to think on my feet. “It is customary, I believe,” I accidentally repeat Loki’s words from earlier, and I can see the twinge of pride in his eyes, “to extend an invitation of supper to my escorts.”

The hard line of his mouth tells me that my father is not pleased, whether with my habit of speaking freely or the possibility of continued scrutiny from his rulers, I don’t know. He quickly schools his expression though and enthusiastically agrees.

He certainly is a diplomat.

“My people and I would be honored to host you.”

Thor beams, amiable as always. “We are delighted to accept! Forgive our armor, we were not prepared to dine.”

Loki smirks and, with a flash of green light, is dressed in proper Asgardian dinner attire.

Father stares on in shock. “Well,” his voice is dry, and I can hear his fear. “The rumors are true. A sorcerer stands before me.”

Loki’s smirk deepens, and he clasps his hands behind his back in a false show of humility. Really, the stance just makes him look all the more powerful.

With clear effort, Father returns his tone to lightness. “If it pleases Your Highnesses, I will have my servants escort you to rooms so you can prepare for supper as you like. It will not take long for the food and hall to be ready.”

“Yes, that would be nice,” Thor agrees, offering Father a kind smile.

I can tell Father readily accepts this after Loki’s thinly-veiled hostility. “Wonderful! Y/n,” he is the first person aside from Loki to use my familiar name, and it momentarily strikes me. “Your handmaiden, Ragna, will escort you to your chambers and ready you for dinner.”

Ragna, a sweet-looking girl in her middle teens, steps forward and curtsies first to the princes, and then to me.

The first time someone has bowed to me. While it makes me a little uncomfortable, it also gives me a faint thrill of power. I immediately understand why Loki likes it so much.

Ragna sets off, and I realize that I am meant to follow her. I do so, forcing my feet to take action. From behind me, my father assigns groups of servants to Thor and Loki, and they are led down a parallel hall. I feel a jolt of panic at being separated from Loki. What if this is simply a distraction so they can leave without my knowledge? But I force myself to calm with deep breaths, trying to convince myself that that outcome is unlikely.

My handmaiden and I do not speak as I am led through the intricate, winding hallways. We climb many sets of stairs, telling me that we are heading up the spiral of the castle. Finally, on a floor high above the ground, we reach my chambers. She holds the door open for me and I step in, observing my new living space.

My chambers extend over a series of five rooms: a bedroom, bathing room, sitting area, tea/dining room, and what seems to be a personal library. Each room is long and narrow, most likely to accommodate for the height of this part of the castle. The room itself is that same pale, silvery white that Alfheim seems to favor. My bedding and couches are green, just enough to remind me of Loki and his chosen color, but it is completely the wrong shade. It’s much too light and like the green found in grass, not Loki’s ornate and deep emerald. It’s all wrong. My chambers are beautiful, and certainly more decorated than my room in Asgard, but I find myself missing my previous chambers with their warm, welcoming oak walls and deep purple accents. My eyes catch a table in the sitting room, and my heart sinks upon realizing that my magical flowers are not there. But why would they be, I question bitterly. Those belong on Asgard, along with everything else I treasure.

“Are your chambers to your liking?” Ragna has a high-pitched, timid voice, and I can tell that she fears me. I wish she wouldn’t.

“They’re lovely,” I breathe, trying to keep the pain out of my voice. This is your home now, Y/n. Better get used to it and just let Asgard go.

But it hurts.

Ragna can sense my displeasure. “The Chief Diplomat did not know what you favored, so he ordered the room to be decorated grandly, but in Alfheim’s neutral colors. If something is more to your taste, let me know and I will have it changed immediately.”

I think on this. Of course, redecoration is pointless depending on the date of my wedding. After that, I shall share chambers with my husband. “Will I be in this room long?”

Ragna nods. “Even when you are married, you will keep these chambers. You husband to-be has his own as well, and you will meet him in his chambers when he calls for you.”

It is not only her phrasing that makes my stomach twist. “He’s here in the castle now?”

“Of course. He must work closely with your father to learn all he can so he is prepared when the time comes for him to take over as Chief Diplomat.”

I scowl. “And he did not think it polite to greet me?”

Ragna shrinks under the harshness of my tone, and immediately, I feel bad. When she speaks, it’s through a wavering bottom lip. “I am sorry, My Lady.”

I sigh. “No, it is I who must apologize. My day has been long and the nerves from returning home seem to have gotten the best of me.”

Ragna smiles, and the beginning of trust shines hesitantly on her face. “All is forgiven, My Lady.” She pauses, then seems to overcome her nerves. “Would you allow me to re-do your hair? It is lovely, but wrong for our traditional style.”

I nod and follow her to the dressing table, doing my best to not seem attached to the Asgardian braid.

Ragna allows me to stay in the dress, praising my previous maid for ‘nailing’ Alfheim attire. “It shows your rank,” she explains, smoothing my dress out from below me. “The higher in status you are, the lighter your clothes.” I take notice of her light brown dress. Seeing my gaze, she nods. “I am a servant, so my dress is brown. But,” I hear pride color her voice. “I am a handmaiden to one of the highest figures in Alfheim, so that elevates my rank. If I worked in the kitchens scrubbing dishes, my dress would be dark brown. The kitchens are one of the lowest places you can go.” I hear resentment in her voice, and wonder if she once occupied a position there.

As Ragna continues talking to me, her voice becomes more confident and chipper. I can tell she is pleased to be here and will become even warmer to me with time. Perhaps one day, when my resentment and fear fades, I will have a friend in her.

A bell rings; Ragna straightens in response. “That signals dinner. I will escort you there and remain standing a few feet behind your chair. Should you need anything at all, simply wave your hand, and I’ll come to you.”

“Alright, thank you.”

She beams at my thanks. Perhaps servants aren’t treated as well here as they are in Asgard.

I follow Ragna down countless flights of stairs before she takes a hallway on our right. After a left, we enter a large dining hall, comparable in size to the one in Asgard. Due to my long descent, I am the last to arrive, and the men all wait standing behind their chairs. As they are higher in rank than my father, Thor and Loki take the heads of the table, my father and I are meant to occupy seats in the middle. Once Ragna pulls out my chair and I am seated, the men sit as well.

Interesting, I think. In Asgard, you just sit and eat, regardless of who is there. Yes, you stand for royalty, but you don’t wait for everyone to be in attendance. Just one of many new customs I’ll have to get used to.

The table is fairly long and feels much too big for the four of us, but soon the food is brought out and I wonder if the table is long enough. Roasted boar and hens and something else I don’t recognize are the main dishes, with countless varieties of fruits, vegetables, and breads surrounding them.

Thor grins and begins an easy conversation about how our friend Volstagg would adore the meal. Father extends an empty invitation of hosting him sometime, and Thor gives a pleased response that holds as little meaning as did Father’s invitation.

I take advantage of their distraction and glance at Loki. He wears a mask of apathy, but I know him well enough to see past it. His hand grips his knife too tightly and he stares blankly at his food, not eating. It is plain that he is in as much distress as I am. But we cannot allow it to show, because if Father finds out that I have been sleeping with Loki, all will be ruined, including me.

But would that be so bad, a rebellious voice within me questions. You wouldn’t have to marry that guy—my face scrunches as I realize I don’t even know his name—and you would be sent back to Asgard.

Inwardly, I sigh. No. Your duty is to your family and your realm, not to your heart and desires. Besides, it’s unlikely that Asgard would take you back. In hopes of covering my quickly tanking mood, I drink from my water.

Dinner is filled with casual conversation that holds no real meaning. I don’t know why I forced the invitation, as this is no true time with Loki. Still, I just can’t bear to see him go and will stall for as long as I can.

But time moves on and runs out all too quickly.

Before I can prepare myself, Thor is standing, and the rest of us must follow.

“I wish not to worry our parents any longer. Brother, we must return to Asgard.”

“Of course, I apologize for having kept you so long,” my father begins politely. But I don’t hear the rest of the conversation.

He’s leaving. He’s really going, he’s going to leave me here. My breathing picks up as panic sets in. I try to swallow, but can’t get around the huge lump in my throat. A white-hot feeling burns in my stomach, and I bite my lip, begging myself to calm down.

My footsteps drag as I follow Father, Thor, and Loki to the entrance of the castle. The same group of guards and the man in the ornate robe wait to escort the princes back to the Bifrost Room.

Thor turns to me, smiling kindly. “Lady Y/n, I am so glad to have met you. I wish you all the happiness in the world.” He bends to kiss my hand and then steps aside, allowing Loki the opportunity to do the same.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he nods curtly and turns on his heel, striding towards the exit.

I know why he did this. I saw the pain in his eyes and the strain in his shoulders as he fights the urge to run to me.

That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Without another word or glance my way, the princes leave.

A sense of numbness takes over. He’s truly gone.

And although Loki has completely faded from view, I do not take my eyes off the horizon as I speak. “When will I meet him?”

“Your fiancé?” Father’s voice is gruff and disinterested. “Sometime soon. He is a very busy man, you know.”

“Of course.” My words are polite but my tone is dead.

Father looks at me worriedly, unsure of what to do. “Perhaps sleep will do you well, my child. You have had a long day.” He gestures to Ragna, who flits to my side and carefully leads me to my chambers.

I keep it together as she helps me out of my dress and into my night clothes. My expression is blank as she brushes my hair and removes the makeup from my face. I mutter a polite, “thank you,” as her dismissal. She curtsies and leaves.

It’s the feeling of the cold, empty bed, so foreign from the warm embrace of Loki in his own bed, that breaks me.

I sob well into the night.

A/n There ya have it! Sorry it was sad :( Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!

Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637989270079078400/odins-ward-chapter-10

Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606

#loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki x reader fanfiction #thor #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader-insert #loki reader-insert #thor fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki x yn #loki x female reader #asgard #loki odinson #loki kaufeyson #loki friggason

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peaches-writes · 4 years

Text

relax—i’m nervous too

description: something short and sweet member: jeongin / i.n. word count: 2.2k genre: fluff, implied best friends to lovers au, first date au, summer au notes: innie went on vlive then i remembered that this has been sitting on my drafts since i posted hwang’s guide to gardening lmao

You wonder if you should hold Jeongin’s hand as you walk down the natural slope of the road, eyes fleeting down to his hands hidden inside his long coat’s pockets. You are, after all, in the middle of quite a packed crowd on this particular Sunday—it’s dangerously easy to lose each other (especially you since you haven’t been exactly the most attentive to the people coming from the opposite direction)—and the sidewalk’s quite steep since it’s, first and foremost, a hill. Also, it’s not like you haven’t done it before; holding onto Jeongin in any way is a long-established habit of yours formed at the first instance he declared you as his best friend years ago.

Holding onto Jeongin in this situation, from a casual standpoint, is the most logical thing to do—except this situation is anything but casual. It’s your first date ever and your first date with Jeongin, your best friend since forever. Holding his hand without permission, along with the other kinds of skinship that you used to initiate for this matter, meant nothing that can easily be misinterpreted before but now it’s suddenly everything. I don’t want to seem too clingy, you frown to yourself absentmindedly, almost tripping on your walk in the process.

Jeongin immediately seems to notice even when he’s walking slightly ahead of you, turning around and placing a concerned hand to your upper arm that does nothing but fluster you more. He doesn’t tell you but he’s noticed this entire time that you seemed really nervous and it’s not helping his own nervousness at all.

“You okay?” He takes a step closer to you in order to avoid bumping into other people as the two of you stop in the middle of the crowd, pure concern in his eyes since it’s the second time you’ve tripped on nothing.

Unconsciously, the two of you both contemplate if the question’s asking if you’re okay from your small accident or if you’re okay despite acting a bit off and distant.

Quickly recovering, you muster up a smile. “I’m fine.” You take a step forward, a gesture that you continue moving. Assured, he follows and the two of you resume walking, his hand immediately sliding down to yours when you try returning them to your own coat pockets.

“I noticed.” He points out sheepishly, as if he’s still unsure if he should bring it up. “Relax—you’re making me nervous too.”

“Sorry.” You squeeze his hand as you steal a glance in his direction, catching the way he briefly returns your look with a small smile. He’s flushed red, nervous too, while trying to look past the people ahead of you for the building you’ve been looking for. “I was just—overthinking about holding your hand. It’s silly, I know.”

But he shakes his head no. “It’s not, I was wondering the same thing, too.” He then touches the nape of his neck with his free hand, chuckling to diffuse the awkwardness.

Somehow, it calms you down knowing that you’re on the same page.

“Oh, hey, we’re here.” Jeongin points to an old building across the street, showcasing endless racks of clothes and trinket shops. There’s no sign or any identification for the building itself, Jeongin just knew from the old cinema next to it that serves as a landmark.

Thank God the road to this particular shopping district is closed on the weekends.

The two of you cross the street along, careful of avoiding the chalk drawings and the people squatted over them on the ground. You make a mental note of this—and the flyer for a music festival later posted on the streetlight that meets you at your destination—for later.

“Try this one!”

“This one suits you!”

When you’ve completely mastered how to efficiently navigate the maze that is the thrift shop you and Jeongin found yourself in (which only took some 30 minutes actually), the two of you immediately tackled the shops with clothes and shoe racks that caught your eyes. Exchanging clothing suggestions, buying trinkets you don’t actually need but found too adorable not to buy, thinking of what you could do to upgrade certain pieces, trying to haggle for some of the more unique pieces you’ve found (with decent success), and playing with the occasional toys you found on display in your way, you feel more at ease with each other now—as if it’s just another hangout and not your first official date.

“I like this denim so much. I think we look rather cute!” You stand in front of a full mirror next to Jeongin who looks back at you through your reflections with a matching denim jacket you found hanging above your heads while you were looking at jumpsuits. “We can paint these and put the pins we bought on them and—“

You stop yourself from talking immediately when you notice Jeongin trying to stifle a giggle, making you laugh. Instinctively, he covers his face in embarrassment, “What?”

“You’re smiling so much!” You can’t help but smile now too, turning your head to him so that you’re looking directly at him and not through your reflections. “What’s getting you all so giggly?”

He initially shakes his head no, teasing with a smile, but you insist. “...You said ‘we.’”

Your heart melts right there and then. “Well, yeah, they’re matching denims after all?” You tease despite knowing what he meant. “I’m not going to layer these on myself.”

You’ve done a lot of things together, there’s no doubt about that, but now it’s just a little bit different—but for a good reason. It makes you feel strangely excited.

“Okay, yeah, I agree, we do look cute in these. You, especially.” He concludes, a wide grin still on his face, before taking out his phone and putting an arm on your shoulder. “Can we take a pic?”

He ends up snapping a handful photos of the two of you, making a mental note to change his wallpaper later when he gets home.

“Do you think the auntie can give us some kind of couples’ discount.” You joke as you shed off the jacket, feeling more light and free now that you’re doing something with Jeongin.

“You’re doing it again!”

“What?”

“’Couple.’”

You roll your eyes playfully, elbowing him on his side as he takes off his jacket. “You asked me on this date and you’re suddenly nervous about the word ‘couple’?”

Even though, it’s your turn teasing him now, you did feel the same jittery feeling of calling the two of you a couple. It’s such a long jump from calling each other best friends, especially since you’ve grown accustomed to it for years.

“No, I like the sound of it.” Jeongin is quick to defend himself when he’s fully recovered from your sudden attack. You laugh because it took him a while.

Also, you did manage to get a discount after that.

On the way out, you spot a corridor that leads to an adjacent building. Tugging on Jeongin’s arm, you excitedly point it out, specifically the paintings hanging on the walls that peek out from your limited view. “Should we check this out?”

It’s not like the two of you had anything planned specifically for the day besides checking out the thrift shop—you wanted to eat lunch in between, of course (since it’s nearing 2 PM) but somehow you didn’t want to sit down yet.

And Jeongin seems to agree. “Yeah, let’s go.” The two of you then make a turn, heading to the mysterious corridor instead of back outside.

Walking in the other building, it immediately dawns on the two of you that it’s the old cinema Jeongin referred to as the thrift shop’s landmark, remodeled into a more open space with art galleries, snack stands, and other upscale stores, especially him. It suddenly made him extra nervous as the two of you look around while walking over to the art gallery that has caught your eye, displayed at very center where the light from the clear ceiling seems to be focusing its light on.

Jeongin wanted to check this place out for the longest time since he asked his dad where he could take you on a first date. Watching a movie at the old cinema would’ve been your second date—if you agreed to it, of course—but here you are.

“We can eat lunch here afterwards.” Jeongin points to a couple of mall restaurants as the two of you approach the displays. He also notices that there’s still a theater on the highest floor—he’s noticing a lot of things, actually, taking notes for later. “Or maybe check out the jewelry shop over there.”

“Lucky I spotted the corridor, ‘no?” You briefly look at him from examining a painting of a girl and flowers, a proud smile on your face. “It’s really cool—especially if you think about how it used to be a cinema!”

He nods in agreement, matching your slow pace of moving from painting to painting to appreciate the details of the work on display. “You know, my parents used to go here a lot.”

“Really? Is that how you knew about the thrift shop?”

“Yeah...” He then briefly ponders over telling you the rest. “...They also went on their first date here at the cinema.”

Oh.

“Was that too much?” He asks, following with a nervous chuckle. Are you supposed to say that on a first date? All the gears in his head turn to panicking internally. “It’s just—“

“No, it’s not—I’m—“ You stutter out, looking at him fully now instead of the paintings. You’re almost done circling around the entire display, anyway. “I’m honored...is that the right word? Like I feel really happy—like I can boast this to Seungmin and the others and go, ‘yup, Jeongin took me to a very special place for our first date last summer’ when school starts again.’—I can say that, right?”

“It’s...it’s not weird or anything?”

“Why would it be?” You shrug nonchalantly, curious as to where this conversation is going. “This is like your parents’ cool date suggestion or something.”

“If you say it that way, it makes it look like our date’s very unoriginal.” He pouts in frustration, making you giggle.

Shaking your head, you counter, “No, it doesn’t because even when the place is the same, it’s still ours in a way—like, did Mr. and Mrs. Yang buy matching denim jackets and questionable statement pins at the thrift shop? Or checked out this amazing installation?”

“No, definitely not.” You manage to return a smile on his face. “In fact, they didn’t go on a Sunday so they couldn’t enjoy the night music festival.”

“You caught that too?” His eyes widen.

“Do you want to go later?”

“If we can draw on the road too with chalk!”

It fully sinks on Jeongin that this is, in fact, your very first date and, hopefully, the first of many. He suddenly feels excited to tell his parents later all the things they missed out on this shopping district when he gets home later. “Okay, deal. Let’s eat first, though, I’m starving!”

“Chicken?”

“Chicken, yes please.”

You leave the cinema-turned-mall late since you both decided on drinking iced coffee and eating fries after your meal. Returning to the outside world somewhere around 5 PM, hands now naturally clasped together, you buy chalk on a nearby stationery store then cross the street, finding a spot after 10 minutes amidst the long stretch of already painted road.

It’s almost the end of the day so most people are on the other lane, waiting for the night music festival under tents set up by the organizers. Still, that didn’t stop the two of you from doodling along with some children, couples, and friends.

“What are you doing?” You ask after a while, peering over Jeongin’s shoulder curiously.

“I’m drawing a fox and a rabbit.” He points out, the mismatched colors he’s used used making you laugh. “Guess who’s who.”

“We have red and white colors here—where have you ever seen a pink fox and a pink rabbit?” You chuckle, glancing back at your own own work of making a bouquet of flowers.

“Just this morning when you were blushing so hard about holding my hand—” He teases cheekily, earning him a slap on the arm. “—Hey, I mean, I was too!”

“You talk like you weren’t so giggly about me referring to ourselves as a couple.” You’re the one pouting this time, but lightheartedly. “I’m erasing your card on this bouquet.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Yes, I can!”

The playful banter eventually makes you laugh that you almost stumbled and accidentally sat down on the road before Jeongin steadied you with his dust-free hand on your arm. When you’ve recovered, you go back to working on your chalk drawings.

“Hold on, let me take a photo.” You whip out your phone once the two of you are done, standing over your drawings and giggling all the way. Jeongin drew, as mentioned, a fox and a rabbit walking around buildings and under ‘Jeongin and Y/N were here’ in big letters. You, on the other hand, drew a bouquet with a message and two people in matching denim jackets. “This is so cute.”

While you take photos, Jeongin decides on reading aloud the note you’ve written along with the bouquet. “‘Jeongin and Y/N’s first date, summer ‘20. Let’s make more memories like this together!’” He then turns to you, now done taking photos. “We’re going on a second date?”

“Aren’t we?” You look up at him despite the feeling of heat rising from your neck. “Today was fun—not disastrous like they say about first dates, we can accidentally do those later.”

You really are looking forward to a second date now—and a third, fourth, fifth...

Meanwhile, it feels like a weight is lifted of Jeongin’s chest and his first instinct is to pull you into a hug. “I’m glad.” He rests his chin on your crown. “Let’s go on that second date soon.”

“And go back here in the future, I like it here.” You hug him back, relieved that you’re still, even at the end of the day, on the same page. “Maybe they do have really good movies at the old cinema, we didn’t check.”

Jeongin only chuckles at this now. “Sounds like a promising future date.”

Later that night, the two of you enjoy lively music at the night music festival, jumping around, dancing, and singing to the songs both familiar and unfamiliar.

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blkmxrvel · 4 years

Text

All Grown Up (PT. 1)

Pairing: Brie Larson x CollegeStudent!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2k

Request: -

Summary: You’re In college, You’re dating Brie. Yeah there are some people who are gonna talk shit, but everything’s going to be alright as long as you have her… right?

Warnings: Fans being assholes, Angst, break ups, Heart break. Not edited.

A/N: So, I’ve had this in my drafts for almost a year. Haven’t even looked at my docs since the last fic I uploaded. I wanna get back into writing since my life has calmed down quite a bit since October, so I just decided to post the furthest along fic in my WIPs. I may write part two, and finish the concept but I’m not too sure. And I may finish the requests in my inbox, but I’m not too sure about that either. For now, I just hope you enjoy this :)

You were walking hand in hand with Brie, your head down as to avoid the blinding lights being flashed in your face. Your body was up against hers and you pushed through the crowd, the loud yells of the paparazzi flooding your ears.

Brie! Do you have any response to the people who have called you a pedophile?! Any comments?

Do you think this relationship is going to work?

Why are you dating a gold digger!? I mean she’s practically a prostitute!

Brie usually could keep her cool when it was her getting the heat, but that made her lose it. She drew the line at you.

She snapped her head around towards the man, eyes wide and furious. “What the fuck did you just say?” You pressed your hand on to Brie’s chest pushing her to keep walking.

“Let’s go, Brie. Don’t pay them any mind, they don’t know anything.” She listened, albeit reluctantly, and made her way into the building.

From the moment you and Brie had started dating, people couldn’t stop having an opinion on it. You were in college, finishing up your degree when you had first met her. She was 13 years your senior but that didn’t really matter to either of you. There was something about one that pulled the other toward them, besides you were more attracted to older women anyway.

You had done your best to ignore all of the comments being said about you both. The only people who really knew what was going on between you and Brie were….you and Brie. And you figured that it should stay that way. There is no need to justify or explain yourself to people who were just onlookers. At the end of the day, you and Brie were the only two people that mattered.

None of your close friends and family made any comments or passed judgement either, they were completely fine and loved the two of you together. The only ones who said anything were even impactful on your life, so it shouldn’t matter at all.

You walked past the theater doors, smiling at all of the familiar faces. It was the Avenger: Endgame movie premiere, and of course you were Brie’s plus 1.

Brie barely even had a chance to breathe before an interviewer was flagging her down.

“Brie and Y/N! Hollywood’s best couple, beautiful as always! Are you excited for the movie?"

Brie was the first one to speak up. ”Super excited! I’ve never seen anything pieced together, just the individual scenes, I can’t wait to see what the whole thing looks like.“

"You’re not the only one! What about you, Y/N?” The interviewer held the microphone to your face, smiling encouragingly at you.

“No, yeah. I’m stoked too! I’ve always been a fan of Marvel, comic books and the films and it’s a bit overwhelming to be at an actual premiere.” Brie’s hand came to rub over your hip, smiling down at you. “I’m supposed to be at home studying for an exam, but this is easily more important in my book.”

Laughs rang out as the reporter agreed. “I second that. Well I hope you too have a great time watching it! Congratulations, Brie on all of your hard work! You were amazing in Captain Marvel and I’m sure you’ll be just as great in this, if not more."

"Hey!” You squinted playfully at the reporter. “She’s taken!” You placed your body in front of Brie’s, failing to hold in the laugh that was expelled from your body.

The interviewer had left eventually, and you and Brie continued your walk down the red carpet. Pictures were taken of Brie by herself, with you, and some with her castmates.

As you walked towards the main auditorium with your girlfriend, you began to feel eyes on you and hear hushed whispers. Looking around, you saw fans more than likely whispering things about you and Brie. It was pretty obvious, they were giggling slightly and rolling their eyes when you looked that way.

Just because you were dating someone who was so used to the limelight, didn’t mean that you were automatically comfortable with it too. You were 21 for god sakes, there were so many things that you didn’t like about yourself. You hated how people could judge and make assumptions on someone they didn’t even know, you ignored the comments, yes. But that didn’t mean the pressure didn’t eat away at yourself esteem.

“Baby, you alright?” Brie had stopped while walking inside, popcorn in one hand your face in the other. “You’re doing that thing again.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “What thing?”

“The thing where you go silent and press your body into me when we’re walking. Plus your hands are clammy and your eyes keep darting everywhere.”

You secretly hated how Brie knew you so well, but after a year and a half of dating, what could you really expect?

“What’s wrong?” She asked again, her lips coming to kiss your forehead.

“I can feel people staring, and then when I look up their whispering and giggling. They don’t do anything to cover it up!” You leaned into Brie more at the confession.

“Who was it?” Brie’s body pulled away from yours as she searched then hallway with squinted eyes. “I will fuck them up."

You giggled, pulling Brie back toward you, resuming your walking until you got into the theater and sat down in your seat.

"I just…I’m trying not to imagine what they’re saying. The things they say out loud are bad enough.” Brie frowned before pulling you from your seat into her lap.

She kissed your cheek, then your nose, then your ear. “Don’t think about that, baby. Whatever they’re saying is incorrect. They don’t know you.” She wrapped her arms around your middle and pulled you down so that your head was on her shoulder. “They don’t know how hard you work, how smart you are, how brave and resilient you are. How much I love you. They don’t matter because they aren’t here. Just try your hardest to block it out okay?"

You nodded, lifting your head up. Your eyes worked a little hard to find Brie’s eyes in the darkness. The movie hadn’t started yet, it was only the trailers.

You found her eyes, holding contact as you smiling a toothless smiles. "I love you. So so so much, Brie.” You leaned in and sealed your words, your girlfriend kissing you back eagerly.

“I love you way more, baby.” She said when you pulled away. “Forever and Always.”

—-

Finals were a complete bitch, you’d decided. Whoever came up with the concept of a huge exam on everything you’ve learned and making it a big portion of your final grade could suck your ass.

It wasn’t like you could slack on this one either, no. This was your first final of the first semester of your last year of college. You were graduating early and you couldn’t mess this up. You had no choice to but to do well.

You sighed as a rattle of keys came from the outside of your apartment. Brie was home. You were excited, but so fucking stressed that you didn’t pay any mind to Brie.

“Hey Y/N!” That was weird, she never called you by your name usually, oh well. You chalked it up to a one time thing and focused on your work.

“Hey, how was your day?” You flipped the page, eyes glancing up to your girlfriend briefly.

“Pretty good actually, the scenes went really well.” Walked over to the couch, plopping down as she sipped her drink. She smiled down at you. You were still in your pajamas, a t-shirt two sizes too big and your hair unruly.

“Well I’m glad at least one of us had a good day."

"How long have you been studying?” You shrugged going over the flashcards in your head. “What time is it?”

Brie glanced at her watch, taking a minute to read the time. “Quarter till 10.”

“Then like 12 hours almost, I started a little bit after you left.” At that Brie’s eyes were as wide as saucers.

“12 hours!? Y/F/N, that is way too much. And knowing you, you haven’t taken a break besides to pee, which means you haven’t eaten in 12 hours."

"Hey, everything as a price- hey! Stop! What are you doing? Give it back!” You got up onto your knees and tried to snatch your book back from Brie, who held it way above your head.

“Brie, come on! I need to study!” You pouted as you stood in front of her.

“You’ve studied enough, baby. You need to eat and rest. A rested brain is a passing brain.” You hugged again, reaching to grab your book again, failing when you fell right into Brie’s lap.

“I’m never gonna walk if I don’t pass this class. I need to graduate at the end of the year.” Brie pushed you back up and held your face. Her reys started right into yours and her furrowed her eyebrows.

“I know, and you’re gonna pass. You’re going to ace all of your exams and finals and graduate with the Magna Cum Laude.” She kissed your cheeks, smiling brightly. “You’re going to walk across the stage, grab your diploma and your certificate, and you’re going to walk off a graduate, my little graduate.” She kissed your lips this time, allowing you to melt all of your worries away.

“I know I’m too hard on myself,” you began when you pulled away. “But there’s just so much at stake. Graduating 2 years early is already a risk but doing so when you’re in the public eye and everybody hates you? It’s a different breed."

Brie nodded in understanding. "I know, baby. But you gotta give yourself more credit. You’re going to graduate and you’re going to hear my loud ass cheering for you the whole time.”

Your eyes lit up at that. You hadn’t expected that. “You’re going? I thought you were going to be filming the day of the graduation?"

Brie shook her head, hands coming to rest on your thighs. "I was, but I convinced them to give me a week off to see my girl graduate.” Brie smiled widely at you and you wiggled in your seat. You were giddy because Brie getting to be at your graduation, cheering you on and letting everyone know that she was proud of you, was worth all the stress you were putting yourself through.

“You promise?” You held your pinky up, heart racing racing when Brie interlocked hers with yours and kissed the back of her hand.

“I promise, princess."

—-

"We need to break up.” You had almost dropped your glass. Your heart fell into your stomach and it felt like the wind was knocked out of you.

“What?” Your voice was shaky at your addressed your….girlfriend?

“I’m sorry, I just. I can’t do this anymore.” Your heart began beating faster as tears sprung to your eyes.

“Brie, you’ve got to be joking. Please tell me you’re joking.” You let the tears fall, your fingers in a vice grip against the counter.

“I’m not, and I’m so sorry I led you on like this, Y/N. So sorry that I let it get this far. The age gap is just too much. You need someone your age. We both do. We’re just…. Two people with two different experiences.”

You sink to the floor, no longer caring about what you looked like. Your worst nightmare was finally coming true. You tried your hardest to tell yourself that the age gap between you and Brie didn’t matter. She tried her hardest to help you rid yourself of that fear. And here she was, breaking up with you over that exact reason. Was it all a lie?

There was no point in arguing, Y/N concluded. No point in trying to convince Brie to stay with her, maybe change her mind and snap her out of it. No matter how bad it hurt, how bad she wanted Brie to stay, it was never going to work out. They were never going to have a real love.

“Okay.” Y/N nodded, wiping the tears from under her eyes. Her heart hardened immediately. She stood up on shaky legs and a broken heart. She couldn’t let Brie see her care too much.

“I’ll leave. I’ll probably send Scarlett or Chris to come and get my things. If you could just put them all in a box for me that’d be great.” She grabbed her book bag and her books, making her way to the door. “Just things that I bought, nothing you bought me. Please.”

Brie felt her heart shatter at her broken ex-girlfriend. This was hurting her too, but it had to be done. She was crazy to go after a girl so much younger than her and think that they would actually last. Y/N deserved better.

“Okay,” Brie wiped a tear from her eye and clenched her hands when she saw Y/N reach for the knob. “We can still be friends, you know. This is the end of the relationship, but it doesn’t have to be the end of our friendship. We were friends first.”

A chill ran down Brie’s spine at the bitter chuckled that left Y/N’s lips. Her free hand came to run through her hair while the door squeezed the knob. “Well we ruined that friendship when we started dating. And besides, I can’t be just friends with someone I wanted to spend my life with.”

Brie pouted, and Y/N almost smiled, almost. “Don’t say that. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life with me, that’s all in your head. You’ll find someone else. I’m sure.”

Y/N nodded her head once, a nod of hurt, acceptance and realization. “Yeah, whatever you say, Brie. Have a nice life.” Y/N opened the door as just like that she was gone.

Brie felt the wind being knocked out of her. She immediately fell to the ground, sobs and desperate breaths wracking through her body. She had done it, she let Y/N go. And it hurt, it hurt so bad.

What had she just done?

–

Neither Y/N nor Brie had gotten much time to grieve and heal, because once word got out about the break-up. Everyone was asking about it. Y/N would get stopped by everyone on campus asking why they broke up; if it was because Brie realized what a gold digger you were, or if she was only in it for the Sex and companionship. None of the questions were positive, or in the slightest bit respectful. Y/N didn’t know what she expected, everyone hated her and Brie together. If they didn’t like and respect her then, why would they do it now? Y/N just stuck herself. School, work and home was all she focused on. Without Brie, it was all she had.

Most of her nights were filled with what went wrong, and what the absolute hell was wrong with her. Y/N blamed herself. If was maybe a little bit older, or maybe not in school or carried herself better. Maybe then Brie would’ve liked her enough to stay. If she acted older maybe then age wouldn’t matter. She didn’t really know, and it was killing her. But she had to live with it, live with the self-sabotaging demons in her head.

Brie wasn’t doing much better either. She was in the public eye constantly. Everyone was asking her about the break-up: in interviews or at parties, award shows and meet and greets. It was exhausting, heartbreaking. Brie doesn’t even know why she broke up with Y/N. She thought it was for the best, that it would be better than way. But all it did was cause her more pain.

She regrets it, regrets it all. She just feels so stupid that she let the thoughts and opinions of other get into her head. She hates how she allowed their words to fuel her insecurities and sent her down the wrong path. She could only blame herself though. She had the choice to tell everyone to shut up, to make the announcement that her and Y/N’s was just that: her and Y/N. And that everyone else should just shut the fuck up and go somewhere. But no. She allowed herself to be consumed in all of that and it led to her losing the love of her life. She had to do something.

#madi writes #brie larson #brie larson x reader #brie larson imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers

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