#i tried to use a different one and cried three times. none of the proper shortcuts worked and it kept changing my formatting | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

#Ben Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #Qui Gon Jinn #Time Travel #De Aging #Phoenix Posts #Uncle Ben and Little Luke

775 notes · View notes

saphflare · 2 years

Text

Actually no nevermind I'm not going to shut up about c!Owen and c!Magic because I AM NOT READY.

I'm not ready for Magic to face Owen, to stare across at someone she called protector, leader, caretaker, brother, friend... family, in the ways that matter. I am not ready for her to come to realize that the Owen that she has been living with for the last weeks, months perhaps, is not the one she loves and cherishes so dearly. I am not ready for how she will stare at him, perhaps with anger at him, perhaps with sorrow for those killed. I am not ready for her to realize all the ways in which he had deceived her and tricked her and hurt her and USED her.

How he used her name to coax information from the others to kill.

How he used her to get to Rasbi.

How he mocked her behind her back, taking her for a naive fool.

How he discarded all his bonds so easily

How he used the things, the people, he most prized and sought to preserve, used them to hurt and bloody and maim and kill.

How her beloved friend and confidante, the one she believed who would ultimately do all the right things, did not make that decision which mattered in the end.

How Owen had ultimately turned his back on all of them.

Believing none of them were worth saving.

I'm not ready for the heartbreak that will come with those realizations, her world turned upside. Seeing one of those pillars she leaned on, watching as it collapses on her. He condemned them all to burn, condemned her to a fiery death.

(I'm not ready if she still offers her hand, if she pleads with him to stop and despite everything and likely everyone else, if she still tries to reach out to him. I am not ready for when he will not take her hand with his own.)

And most of all, I dread how Owen will react. Will he turn the blade against her so easily, no tenderness nor care left in his aged eyes, his resolve towards the extermination of demons hardening him. No hesitation to add her to the list of those that he simply will dispose of. As if the time between them, the promise he made to them, to her, all those things that they built together, not mattering at all in the end. That he will hurt her, leaving a mark, a cut, a wound more visible than all the things he already have done.

---

His friendship with Apokuna certainly didn't matter all that much in the end. His grief, the years worth of tears as he cried over a friend, all cast to the side with his purpose rediscovered again. Easily throwing away his promises to protect and guide to chase once again as a hunter. To ready that spear in a familiar motion that stuck into the side of, perhaps, the one he cared the most out of all of them. Apokuna who he dragged and let be washed away to the bottom of a well source, doing his best to make sure no one will give him a proper funeral.

---

Or will he still care to a degree, this bond forged still worth something to dictate his actions. Will he show a softness, but still sheath of blade in her direction. A conflict, however brief, as he weighs this mutual friendship forged by trials against the insidious beliefs he has chained himself to. Will it matter at all, after all he has already killed three of them, not by some indirect consequence of a lever, not by the haze of panic in cutting a rope justifying it as survival. No he killed those three by his own hands, plunging a sharp blade through each of them by choice. Every moment he could have backed out, he didn't, no he planned, he watched, he let them be punctured by a blade.

Would he do any differently with Magic before him, so human and one of the best of them all? Magic whose faith in him was infallible, who would still cherish who he was, who gave second chances to people that might have never deserved her grace. Who might still care, still love him, even for all the things he has done.

---

Even if it didn't matter then, he hesitated before Apokuna, he gave him a chance, even if it didn't matter in the end. Even if it didn't stop him from holding the sharp blade in their direction. He still counted, he still watched the one he called friend once run from him. Owen standing longer than he should have as he finished the grace period, looking upon the hall where he last saw Apo with any joy in his heart. He still stood there for just a moment before finally giving chase.

(So perhaps then it mattered in some way, even if he denies it so strongly)

---

Would it mattered at the end of it all, with this actions that cannot be taken back and people that they cannot bring back? Would it matter when he gave up already on all of them, on himself most of all? Would it matter when that trust between them, all of them, has become so irreparably broken?

Would it matter at the end of all things?

#outsiders smp #outsiders owen #outsiders magic #outsiders apokuna #saph rambles #AHHHHHJDJDJFKKFKFKGGHHHHJJKKDJDJJ WHY WHY WHY I FUCKING ITS A TRAGEDY WHY IS IS ALWAYS A FUCKING TRAGEDY #HELLO I'M FUCKING IRRECONCILABLE AGAIN #would this count as doomposting because I fucking dread and I cannot get over this #I am not fine that Owen's greatly positive relationship is about to go down the fucking drain #i am so unwell and its fuckjng thr morning I CAN'T DO THIS #actual fucking bullshit of thoughts because I can't with this man that is CONDEMNING HIMSELF AND WON'T JUST LET GO #This post makes no sense and I did not post this with the intent of having it make sense because fuck tha #my brain is still stuck on that moment where I realize he doesn't think anyone deserves to be saved and I CANNOT AND EVERYTHJNG I-#WAHDJDKKDJHSHHHHHHHHHHH *curls up in the corner and just sobs*#i am irreconcilable #i fucking can't

38 notes · View notes

wri0thesley · 3 years

Note

Hey Nat, I'm kinda blaming you for my budding infatuation with Nanami and I was wondering if I may request Nanami and his s/o having their first kiss? It doesn't have to be long but I'm just feeling soft and with the way you write him it sounds like a treat once this reserved, professional man finally allows himself to give in

oh anon i am so... so very soft.... you cannot blame me for the nanami desire. he is simply irresistible.

date night - nanami x reader (3k)

you’re nervous about your first date with nanami.

warnings: none. fluffy, soft. neutral reader, some mentions of food and alcohol.

You cannot help but be nervous about tonight.

Your friends have made fun of you, talking about your hot date – Gojo thumping you on the back, Shoko looking at you with her tired eyes but a smirk on her face. Neither of them really get it, you don’t think – to them, Nanami is their former junior who is just a little too serious for his own good. A gloomy, stoic presence who they trust implicitly due to the good head on his shoulders, but who they do not really see as ‘a potential romantic match’. They know that you’ve been harbouring a crush on the former salaryman for months, and they’ve already tried to warn you off him.

“He can be so boring,” Gojo had said, swinging an arm around your shoulders. “Let me set you up with someone instead!”

Your face had heated up at the idea that Gojo didn’t trust you to make your own romantic decisions, but he was already halfway through listing the name of every eligible bachelor he knew (and a few who he said ‘weren’t eligible, but they probably could be, for you!’). You’d been able to do nothing but listen politely as you’d walked with him to his classroom, occasionally gathering strange looks from the students that were milling around in the corridors.

“Think about it!” He’d cried to you as he’d stepped into his bare classroom (you hardly ever see him doing any actual classwork in there; mainly, you see him lying on top of desks and making fun of his students) and greeted the three first years waiting for him. “You don’t wanna be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life!”

You hope his students don’t hear him, as you decide to go for a walk outside to clear your head.

You and Nanami have been dancing around the idea of maybe possibly being something more than friends for weeks. You’ve felt it, in the brush of his hand against yours, the way that his eyes seem to soften and his tiredness seems to lift when you’re near him. You’ve felt it, as you’ve passed him a cup of coffee and he’s relished the warmth emanating from the cup. In the soft way he speaks to you.

You’ve felt it when he’s held your hand as the two of you have walked together, not saying anything. In his scarf wrapped around your neck, smelling like him.

What you haven’t done, is go on a date.

And perhaps this isn’t a date the way you’d once have dreamed about it. You’re going over to Nanami’s place; he’s going to cook a meal for you, the two of you are going to catch up after he’s been gone on a mission for almost a week - the two of you are going to watch a foreign film he’s been able to get hold of, that you’ve been saving to watch with one another. You’re going to perhaps have a glass of wine together, or two--

You kind of do want to be stuck ironing Nanami’s socks for the rest of your life.

It sounds so silly when you say it aloud! You haven’t even kissed him, just brushed fingers and held hands and saved each other’s lives whilst on exorcisms together. But whenever you close your eyes and imagine your future, Nanami is always there, right beside you.

You breathe in deeply. You have to ignore what Gojo and Shoko and everyone have been saying. They’ve known Nanami for longer than you – they were his upperclassmen, after all, and you suppose it’s traditional to make fun of and quash your younger classmates a little. You just need to think about what you want, and what Nanami himself may want. Plucking uselessly at your clothes, nerves fizzing in your stomach, you elect to ignore the anxiety gnawing at you until you’re at least outside of Nanami’s front door.

Then, you tell yourself, then, I’ll allow myself to panic a little bit. Seeing Nanami’s calm, handsome face always calms me down. The minute he answers the door, I’ll forget that I was even nervous, and everything will be just as it should.

It doesn’t stop you worrying, as you get dressed and try and fluff your hair and rearrange all of your accessories whilst you get ready. It’s just an evening at his house, you try and keep telling yourself. He’s not expecting me to show up like a runway model, he’d probably hate that anyway--

Still. Having a crush on somebody is never easy, and Nanami can be so utterly unreadable at times, that you get dressed and undressed twice more before you settle on something in between casual and formal; that looks like you’ve made an effort, without looking like you agonised for hours to figure out what the level of effort should be. You’re clutching a bottle of wine and standing outside of his door three minutes early, wondering if he’s the kind of man who gets annoyed if you are there too early.

The door swings open, and Nanami is there, leaning on the door frame. He’s breathtakingly handsome, in casual clothes – an expensive looking sweater in soft grey that gives just a peek at the column of his throat, cuffed jeans. You’ve never seen him look so . . . relaxed. And the fact that he’s looking at you, his lips barely tilting, his tired eyes just a little turned up at the corners.

“You look nice,” he tells you, and you thank God that you went with this outfit. You hold out the bottle of wine for him, and his smile breaks wider as he looks at it. “You didn’t need to bring me anything, you know. I’m happy to be the provider this evening.”

“It’s-- it’s polite!” You insist, and Nanami steps aside to allow you into his house. He’s very proper, and you’d wanted to impress him – you think the young lady who had served you in the specialist store you’d anxiously entered had sensed your worry, and had been very kind as she’d picked something for you she was certain you’d like.

“You made a good choice,” he tells you, as he invites you into his hallway and you gratefully pull off your shoes. “This one looks fine--”

“I didn’t really choose it,” you admit. “I let the experts do it.”

He laughs, the sound like an early spring morning. You don’t think anybody else hears him laugh like that, and the comfort that the two of you share makes you feel soft and warm.

“Even more admirable, then,” he says. “Most people we know would just barrel in guns blazing and insist they knew the right way to do things.”

You both share a secretive smile, your cheeks warming. You can feel tension draining out of you the longer you spend in Nanami’s company. Something about him just sets you at ease.

When you’d first met him, you’d been frightened of him. He seemed so gloomy and intense, so utterly focussed on his goals – when you had tried to speak to him, he had brushed you off with short one word answers and you’d caught him looking at you when your back was turned as if he was waiting for you to slip up.

But as time had worn on . . . as time had worn on, Nanami’s edges had softened. You’d realised that he was willing to talk, when the participant had proved themselves to be worth talking to. He’d told you once, shrugging, that most jujutsu sorcerers just tended to be . . . odd.

“Not you, though,” he’d said, and your heart had leapt in your chest. “Well. You’re not odd in any way that isn’t charming.”

He’s not usually the kind of man who heaps praise on other people; that little compliment, you had carried with you like a flame in your heart. The first time he had held your hand, he hadn’t said anything. The first time he had walked you home, and met you for coffee in a morning a half hour before you were due to be at the scene of an exorcism; Nanami Kento shows that he cares about you in a hundred different little ways that aren’t as simple as telling you it out and out. You admire that about him. You’re so used to putting your foot in your mouth.

“Come sit at the table,” he says, and you follow him obediently. His house is tastefully decorated, somewhere between modern and traditional; he has shelves of books everywhere, and that makes you smile. You’ve heard him say, sighing; “When I’m done with all this, I’ll finally have time to get around to reading them.” The shelf in the very corner of the dining area is the only one that looks well-thumbed; even from here, you can see that it’s where he keeps his recipe books.

“I hope you’ll like it,” you settle into the chair that he pulls out for you. He moves into the kitchen with purpose, grabbing serving dishes and utensils and juggling them with a precision that makes you admire him all the more. “I’m very glad you were on time. It’s the kind of dish that needs to be eaten at the exact right moment.”

He whips the cover off the main dish.

You knew that Nanami was a foodie. His instagram is full of pictures of various places and treats he’s eaten – with a particular focus on adorable baked goods, especially bread, that had made you feel warm inside when you’d noticed. Still, the spread that he’s laid out before you would not look out of place in the most high-class of restaurants; the kind that you’d never had the money to afford to eat in, and you’d have been afraid of showing yourself up at the tables of. You stare at it, mesmerised; the vegetables, so bright and colourful and steaming, lovingly presented – the glaze of the meats, the bowls full of side-dishes that you can’t quite recognise.

There’s an anxiety in his face when he looks at you.

“Sorry,” he says, quietly. “I think I probably over-estimated. And over-compensated, I suppose, for not taking you out to a restaurant--”

“No,” you say, quickly. “It looks delicious. I’m glad you invited me. It’s just . . . a lot.”

“Yes,” his eyes rove over the table. “There are only two of us.”

“It’ll make good left-overs,” you suggest, and he brightens.

“That should have been my line,” he tells you as he retrieves the wine you’d brought. You can see that there was already a bottle chilling in a bucket by the table, but Nanami’s face is affectionate as he pops the cork and pours some into the wine glass by your plate. “I’m supposed to be the responsible one.”

“Sorry for stealing your thunder,” you take a sip of the wine.

“Just as long as you don’t make a habit of it.”

The food really is delicious. You could easily have had seconds, or even thirds – on an ordinary day. A day in which your stomach isn’t churning from how alone the two of you are. There’s a buzz in the air that isn’t quite tension; more, it’s a promise that there’s more yet to come. You and Nanami laugh over dinner, the conversation surprisingly easy when the knot in your insides is so tight. He talks about his old job, and you talk about your own adventures before you’d ended up in Tokyo – he smiles, and laughs, more than you’ve ever seen him do.

He seems so much more at home here. That’s silly, considering it is his home – but somehow, there’d always been an image of Nanami in your head as serious and unforgiving with his tie very tight and his suits perfectly pressed even when he was relaxing in his own rooms.

That image is quickly wiped away, by the way he looks as he rolls up the sleeves of his sweater to take the dishes away.

“Let me help you wash up,” you try and say, but he waves you away.

“I’ll leave them for after you’ve gone,” he says. “I’m not going to ask a guest to do that. Or maybe I’ll even be bold; leave them for in the morning.” His smile makes you feel weak at the knees, this time – a spot of pink high on those sharp cheekbones. Is he blushing, or has his face gone rosy from the wine?

The two of you migrate into the living room. His television is large, but not ostentatiously so; a row of DVDs are neatly in the cabinet beneath it, mainly drama films, period films and some foreign prestige box sets. The movie the two of you have been talking about is one of those – a Danish film about an ageing detective who takes on one last case. You had originally planned to see it together, when it made it to Tokyo cinemas; but one thing had lead to another, and before you could both get the schedules to work out it had gone.

He places the DVD into the player and you can’t help but stare at him; how the soft material of the sweater clings to his broad shoulders, how the jeans seem to emphasise his ass – he’s always in slacks, you’ve never really had the chance to ogle it before, but seeing it in front of you now you suddenly understand why he keeps it covered. Who knows what riots it might incite, if it were just out and about for anyone to see?

“You’re staring,” Nanami turns his head slightly, catching your eye. Heat rushes to your face – but he keeps your eyes pinned with his own for a moment, before deliberately dragging them down the length of you, sat on the sofa. You feel hot and warm and bothered by the way he smiles afterwards, as if he is saying that he likes what he’s seeing too. “You don’t need to be sneaky about it. I don’t mind.”

You swallow, your throat suddenly going very dry. Nanami moves across the room, sitting on the sofa beside you. Heat seems to be radiating off of him; there’s a comfort in having him next to you.

“You look uncomfortable,” he says, five minutes into the movie. He leans back, an arm coming to rest on the back of the sofa behind you. “You can lean on me, you know. I don’t mind.”

He looks inviting. His head is tipped to one side as he meets your eyes; there’s no challenge in his. Just a softness. A quiet affection. Perhaps a touch of nervousness – of trepidation, that you’ll refuse the offer. You hesitantly sidle closer, leaning your head against his side. His scent wraps around you; freshly cleaned laundry, peppermint, coffee, spices, some of the wine from earlier--

You fair go dizzy at it all, but not as dizzy as you go when the arm on the back of the sofa wraps around you, his fingers resting on your shoulder. How are you supposed to concentrate on anything, with him so close to you? With everything about him making you feel like you’re on a roller-coaster climbing upwards and upwards, hurtling towards the inevitable?

You try – oh, you really do try – to keep your eyes on the film and the subtitles scrolling across the bottom of the television. But the aged detective is not half as interesting as Nanami; as the way he focusses on the screen, as his face bathed in the light. As his hand, as it gently starts to stroke over your shoulder, as if he’s barely aware he’s doing it. As his tongue, as it darts out to nervously lick at his lips.

“You’re staring at me,” he says, and you flinch that he’s noticed. His head turns, pinning you with the full force of his gaze. “Are you not enjoying it? We can turn it off?”

How do you answer that?

The real answer: ‘I’m not enjoying it because I can’t concentrate on anything other than you, and how badly I want to be brave enough to kiss you’, feels too bare and bold. You bite your lip.

Nanami leans in closer to you, so close that you can see the flush on his cheeks. The slightly ruffled hairs falling over his forehead. You can count his eyelashes, almost--

“I’m not sure what’s going on either,” he admits, softly. “And I can speak Danish.”

The arm not around your shoulders moves, resting on your waist. You can barely breathe. He’s so close to you; so gorgeous, in the light. All of that former salaryman indifference seems to have gone; he’s not cold any longer, but boiling hot. You’ve been watching it slowly strip away from him since you met him, you think, but tonight might be the first time he’s been Kento Nanami with no pretension.

Nervous about his food, even though he knows he’s an excellent cook. Blushing as he realises you’re checking him out. Almost trembling, as his hand slides up and he cups your cheek like you’re made of porcelain and he’s afraid he might drop and shatter you at any moment. You blink up at him, honey-slow, so dazed by his touch and his presence you can barely make sense of what’s happening.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Nanami says, as a warning. Even now, he seems to think you might pull away. But you cannot, you do not; you just press yourself closer into him, your voice coming out very soft and small as you whisper;

“Please do.”

He does not need to be asked twice. His lips are so soft against yours. The wine clings to them, intoxicating and heady. The hand on your cheek tips your face further up, so he can keep his mouth pressed against you so sweetly. You pull back, your heart pounding.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” he’s saying, almost immediately, nervous that you have changed your mind – but all you do is free your arms, so you can wrap them about his neck and pull him in closer, to devour him the way you’ve wanted to for months.

The movie plays on, forgotten.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami fluff #writing #food for ts #alcohol for ts #Anonymous

532 notes · View notes

parker-razor · 4 years

Text

many a dream about you

afab!reader x mando (no y/n)

5.2k words, 18+, EXPLICIT!!

warnings: SMUT (extended warnings under the cut), mentions of injuries, unprotected sex (use protection!), very little editing

summary: when you and mando are forced to share a bed together, you end up having a dream that reveals more than you had hoped...

author’s notes: ahhhh! this is my first fic!! i’ll be honest, i got so excited i wrote most of this in one sitting. indulge me in some of my favorite smutty tropes about everyone’s favorite space dad!

extended warnings: oral (f receiving), wet dreams, thigh grinding, mentions of rough sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation... i think that’s it

*****

Stars, you were exhausted.

You had just spent three weeks on the Razor Crest with the only bed available to you being a cheap mattress that might as well have just been a sack stuffed with sand. On top of the little sleep you were running on, you had just finished loading three bounties onto the Crest and into carbonite while Mando patched himself up. Dragging three grown men onto the ship and freezing them took all the strength out of you.

You finally collapsed into the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, catching your breath and giving your muscles a well-deserved break. Your eyes flutter closed as your body decompresses from the hard work and no sleep it’s been put through these past weeks. Mando had hired you just a month ago to look after the ship while he was away on hunts. Not to mention the little green gremlin he had adopted as his own, who kept you company and looked to you to get taken care of. It was much better than the life you had known; growing up on the outskirts of Tatooine was hard enough as is, but when your little shop had been pillaged and ransacked, you had nothing left on the small, desert planet. Mando had shown up just in time, sitting next to you in a dive bar.

*****

You had never seen one of his kind before, and to be honest, you were overwhelmed with the way he carried himself. He was big, towering over everyone he passed on his way to the barstools. You wondered why he even bothered if he couldn’t remove his helmet to drink, but you’d never ask. He sat himself just a few stools from yours, and after stealing a few glances with flushed cheeks, you finally opened your mouth to say something.

“Bounty hunters like you must be pretty busy on a planet like this,” you said, trying to talk over the loud band playing in the corner. “Not too many upstanding people tend to find themselves here.”

Slowly turning his helmet to face you, the Mandalorian said, “What does that say about you?”

Damn, you thought, he was quick to the draw.

“It’s not exactly my choice to live here. I’d give anything to get off this ball of sand.”

He says nothing, just turns his helmet forward again. You figure that’s the end of that, at least you tried. You can now say that you’ve talked to a Mandalorian before.

After a few beats of silence, he finally speaks. “Anything?”

You whip your head towards him, trying to figure out where this was going. Of course you wanted to leave, but you didn’t want to come off too eager in case he wasn’t serious.

“I mean, what do you have in mind?” you ask, trying to act as calm as possibly, but you couldn’t help but get a little excited at the prospect of leaving.

“I have… a son. He’s very small and can’t take care of himself yet. I don’t like taking him hunting, but I can’t leave him on the ship by himself,” he pauses, piecing together his words carefully. “I need someone to look after him.”

“So, I’d be his babysitter?”

“And ship sitter. Just keep it clean, nothing complicated.”

You pretended to ponder his proposition, but you knew you’d say yes almost immediately. There was nothing left for you here; no family, no livelihood, no friends. This was the best deal you had gotten in a long time. Except…

“So, what do I get in return?”

“I’d pay you, as much as I can afford. But you’d have your own bed and food.”

You’re sold.

*****

You’re brought back to the present when you hear Mando’s footsteps ascend the ladder to the cockpit. The child is holding onto him, smiling when he sees your face.

“How bad are you hurt?” you ask cautiously.

“I’ll live. Just a gash.”

“Well, I got the bounties in carbonite. But I gotta say Mando, I don’t know if I can sleep another night in a row on that shitty mattress.” He says nothing, and you haven’t figured out if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.

“Not that I don’t appreciate you making room for me! I’m just saying, I think we both need a proper rest tonight, especially after today,” you backtrack. You hear him sigh, nodding his head in agreement.

“Alright. I passed an inn on the way back here. Let’s see if they have any vacancy, hopefully with a bed better than the one you have.” You blush, embarrassed that you came off as ungrateful.

Mando was a mystery to you. He was quiet, a man of few words. It was especially hard trying to read him without being able to see any facial cues or expressions. Nevertheless, something about him exuded strength. He was much taller than you, but he was also just… big. Especially with all the beskar adding a whole other layer of strength. You couldn’t explain the attraction you felt for him. Something about how he towered over you, his visor boring into your face made you weak in the knees. How could you feel this way for someone who you’d barely talked to, let alone never seen their face?

He made you feel weak, but for some reason you liked that. Growing up on your home planet, you had to learn to fight for yourself. You were strong, with curves and muscles that showed just how tough life had made you. You never let a man make you feel less than or weak, always ready to defend yourself. But you liked that Mando made you feel small. It made no sense, but it also made perfect sense.

Sometimes at night, you’d let your hands wander. One hand wandered up to your face, whether to bite down on a finger or cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet, and the other down the front of your pants. Being around Mando so much made it difficult to wait until after he fell asleep to take care of the burning need you felt for him. You had your fair share of flings with the boys in your village, but none of them made you feel the way Mando did. With the most subtle actions he could make a heat blossom in your stomach and goosebumps spread over your arms. Sometimes the way he’d fly the Crest made you clench your thighs together; he looked so in charge in that pilot’s seat. Rubbing tight circles on your clit, clenching around nothing while angling your hips just right, you would be sent into orbit at the thought of his hands taking care of you instead.

After you and Mando had packed up your essentials, you got Grogu into his pram and headed off to the village nearby. You had no idea what planet you were on, but the flowering trees brought some joy to you. In the past weeks travelling with Mando, you had seen so many new things. You had never once left your home, and things like trees and streams had you in awe. You would never get used to how it made you feel.

The village was small, and it didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles. You got to the motel, one of the larger buildings in the area. The lobby was small and surprisingly clean, much cleaner than the interior of the Crest. An older woman, the innkeeper you presumed, stood at the desk.

“We’d like two rooms. How much would that be?” Mando asked, not interested in entertaining niceties.

“So sorry sir, we only have one room available. A few of our rooms are under renovation, and there’s only one unoccupied that is fit to house anyone,” the woman said with a sickly sweet smile.

Mando sighed, obviously conflicted with the choice laid in front of him. He turned to you for your input.

“I- I don’t mind sharing a room. We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, I just thought it be nice to escape the ship for the night.” You rushed your words out, feeling shy at the prospect of sharing the room with Mando. He had his own quarters on the ship, and you had yours, if you could even consider them quarters. After a few beats, Mando put some credits on the desk, and took the key the woman was offering.

Pushing down the excitement you felt, you grabbed your things that you had set down and followed Mando to your room. It’s not like you hadn’t been living in close proximity with Mando for the past few weeks anyways.

But this was different.

And you didn’t fully realize why it was so different until you opened the door to your room and saw that there was only one queen sized bed. Your jaw dropped, as you looked to Mando for his reaction. Nothing, as usual. He just walked into the room as if nothing had changed.

How was this gonna go? Were you just supposed to… share? The bed wasn’t puny, plenty of room for the both of you. But this was crossing a line that you didn’t even realize had been established. You didn’t really know much about each other and hadn’t been acquainted for very long. Not to mention the burning need you felt for him growing day by day.

And now you had to share a bed with him. No big deal.

Grogu’s cries for attention brought you out of your reverie of thoughts. You picked him up from his pram and placed him on the bed, allowing him to take in the room. The love and affection for the child had grown immensely since Mando had first introduced the two of you. You were initially shocked at how silently affectionate Mando was with him. You had never expected him to be the paternal type. You had yet to learn how the curious pair had found each other; a small part of you wondered if Mando looked similar to the child under his mask.

Mando had set his things on the chair in the corner and mumbled something about using the refresher. And as quickly as the door shut, you heard the shower turn on and the sound of beskar hitting the floor.

The realization that Mando was maskless, naked, just a few feet away sent a shockwave through your body. Was he tan? Did he have blond or brown hair? Was he truly strong or did the beskar just add extra bulk? You imagined he had scars littering his body, with chest hair dusting his front. The thought of it trailing down beneath his pants sent a shiver down your spine. Stars, your mind was in the gutter.

The sun had set, and Grogu’s eyes started to flutter and shut on one of the pillows on the bed. You picked him up and cradled him, resting your cheek to his. You savored moments like this; the ones that made your heart warm and full of comforting joy. Grogu’s breathing slowed, letting out snores every once in a while. You heard the shower shut off, and carefully placed Grogu into his pram, closing the top for him to sleep in peace.

Mando stepped out of the refresher in a thin pair of sleep trousers, a similar shirt and, of course, his helmet. Your gaze made you realize that he was definitely not wearing underwear, not leaving much to the imagination. You felt your face heat up as you looked anywhere but at him, almost positive that your face has turned as red as the setting sun.

“Your turn,” Mando said as he sauntered to the chair in the corner. He placed his things on the ground, sat in the chair, and crossed his arms as if to get comfortable.

“You’re not sleeping over there, are you?” you asked.

“I… just assumed… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Your blush was back with a vengeance.

“I don’t mind. We got this room to relax, and you sure as hell don’t seem at ease with the way you’re sitting.” He said nothing for a few moments before sighing and standing to walk over towards the bed.

Oh Maker, this is actually happening, you thought. What act was more intimate than sharing a bed with someone? Well, there was the obvious one, but…

You scurried to the washroom, desperate to cool yourself down and collect your thoughts. This didn’t have to be a big deal, and if you kept acting all standoffish like you had been, you’d chase Mando away with the bizarre energy you were emitting.

You splashed cold water on your face to calm your blush, brushed your teeth with vigor, and changed into your pajamas. Granted, they were much scantier than the ideal, but you hadn’t expected to be sharing a bed, let alone a room, with the Mandalorian.

Stepping out of the refresher, you see Mando lying in bed with the lamplight on. Maker, you wanted to nothing but climb in with him and lay on his chest…

His chest. This was the first time you’d seen him without all that bulky armor. Through his thin clothing you could tell he was strong, with broad shoulders and contoured muscle. His helmet turned towards you, and what you didn’t know was that he was eyeing you in your not-so-modest sleep clothes as well.

What you didn’t know was how Mando gazed at you when you held the child, cooing at him as he gently tugged on your hair or stroked your cheek. His helmet protected him from you finding out how often he stared at you in adoration. Your curves, your smile, your silent strength. Stars, he thought you were the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. But what you saw when he looked at you was a silent T-visor staring at you with no emotion.

After a beat, your gaze met the floor as you walked to the other side of the bed, closest to the window. You crawled under the covers, waiting for some quick comment or a reaction from the man next to you. Finally, he spoke.

“Are you sure you don’t want me in the chair?” he asked.

“Stars, Mando, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’d want to be as far away from me as possible,” you responded, embarrassed.

“That’s- no, not at all. I, uh, just wanted you to feel comfortable,” he stumbled. You had never seen him so lost for words, so taken back.

“I promise, Mando, if anything I feel more comfortable with you next to me.” Oh Maker, why did you just say that? That was the most upfront you’d been with him. Just as you were about to take back your words…

“I feel the same,” he responded quietly. Stars, if your heart didn’t explode at his words.

It was quiet for a few moments, until you said, “Well… goodnight Mando.”

“Goodnight.” He turned off the lamplight and shuffled deeper under the blankets. You were unsure if you should stay as close to the edge as possible or be truly comfortable and let yourself get a little closer to Mando. Before you could make up your mind, exhaustion overtook you and you drifted to sleep.

*****

Mando stirred in your sleep, disturbed by something he hadn’t recognized yet. As he continued to drift in and out of sleep, he heard something that he wasn’t sure was a part of a dream or reality.

Quiet mumblings came from your side of the bed, mixed with indistinguishable groans. His instincts kicked in, becoming fully awake to survey the room for any threats. It took him a moment to realize that as you slept, you had moved closer to Mando – much closer.

Your leg was draped over his torso, with your chest pressed to his side and your arm resting on his chest. But what he noticed most was the way your hips rolled, your core grinding against the side of his thigh. Looking at your face, he could tell you were asleep. Your breaths grew heavier, quiet groans turning into moans. Mando felt his pants grow tighter, not know whether or not to wake you from your obvious wet dream.

Mando froze when he heard you say his name while your hips sped up. “M-Mando, don’t stop… Please…” Fuck, you were dreaming about him. He wanted nothing more than to rub the growing problem in his pants, but he knew that crossed a line.

As your breath started to hitch, he could tell you were getting close. Just as you were about to cum, you jolted awake, breathing heavily while taking in what was going on.

You looked down at the scene you had caused, rendered speechless. Flooded with humiliation, you jumped out of bed and ran to the refresher as Mando shouted your name. You slammed the refresher door and locked it, tears springing to your eyes. Fuck fuck fuck, this was bad. Did you just ruin everything? Mando must hate you now.

“Please open the door, I’m not mad. Let’s just talk,” Mando said through the door, not wanting to reveal how he felt behind a slab of wood. You said nothing, feeling utterly mortified. There’s no way you could look him in the eye (well, helmet) after getting yourself off on his thigh in your sleep. Fuck.

After twenty minutes of Mando trying to convince you that he wasn’t upset and he just wanted to talk, he gave up. Sighing, he pushed himself off the floor and went back to sit on the bed. Though the tension in his pants had gone down, he couldn’t stop thinking about the sounds you made. He looked down to see that you had left a wet spot on his leg, causing him to groan. He had to stop himself from thinking that way, at least for right now while you were upset.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom, you were in shock. You tried your best to recount what had happened, but it didn’t help that you were asleep for most of it. The dream you were having a blur; Mando on top of you, and the intense feeling of being filled to the brim. Then, you remember waking up to Mando staring down at you, putting two and two together, and that was that.

You realized that Mando was awake before you were, which means he was watching you… do that to him. He didn’t try to wake you up or stop you. He was watching you get off. That had to mean… he liked it. He liked seeing you like that. Right?

You slowly stood up from the bathroom floor, wiping the tears you didn’t notice had fallen down your cheeks. Taking a few deep breaths, you calmed your bedhead and opened the washroom door, rounding the corner to face Mando sitting on the bed.

He looked up from the spot on the floor he was staring at as he sat deep in thought.

“Are- are you okay?” he asked, uncertain of what he should say.

“I’m… I’m sorry. I was asleep and I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable,” you admit, eyes glued to the floor. A few moments of deafening silence pass, with you shuffling in the spot where you stood and Mando’s helmet fixed towards you.

“What did you dream about?” Mando asked quietly. The Mandalorian was normally so stoic and strong in his conviction that to hear his voice quiver in nervousness made your gaze shoot up to his.

“It’s… embarrassing. I don’t want you to think less of me.” Your face turned beet red, a trait of yours you didn’t realize you possessed until you met Mando. He was the first person to make you feel shy and flustered.

“I won’t, I promise. I just want to know… I need to know.”

“It was… about me. And you.” Mando rose to walk over to where you were standing, near the foot of the bed.

“What about us, exactly? You can tell me. Tell me everything.” You hesitated to meet his gaze, eyes wide and nervous.

“You were… on me. In me. All over me.” You felt yourself getting breathless as Mando got closer to you, as you retold your dream without getting too graphic yet still admitting that you had dreamt of him taking you.

“And was I gentle, or was I rough?” Mando’s voice grew husky, just as breathless as you. Maker, his voice made you weak at the knees.

“Gentle, at first. But the longer you went you got rougher. Much rougher.” Your voice dropped into a whisper as Mando found himself right in front of you, almost chest to chest. Your eyes dropped to admire his chest, what it’d look like without his shirt. You wanted to trace every scar that marked his skin, kiss him, bite him.

He grabbed your chin with his thumb and forefinger, drawing your gaze from his chest to his helmet.

“And which did you like better? Tell me,” he whispered through the modulator, but there was no filtering out how deep and raspy his voice had gotten, like you had never heard before.

“I… I was just happy you were touching me,” you whispered, in shock that this wasn’t just another dream. His hand drifted from your chin to your neck, caressing every inch of you. You closed your eyes, unable to believe that he was touching you without his gloves on.

Suddenly, both hands came to your waist and pulled you into his chest, your hands finding their place on his chest. You whimpered, never feeling so small, not knowing why you liked it so much.

“Do you want me to touch you, sweet one? Like I did in your dream?” he rasped.

“Please… please touch me, Mando.” He groaned at that, manhandling you so your back turned to the bed and quickly thrown onto the bed.

“I like hearing you beg, love. Beg some more for me.” You whimpered, flushed and embarrassed but in the best way. Mando yanked at your legs so they were hanging off the bed with him standing between your knees. His hands drifted from your stomach up to your breasts, squeezing them while his thumbs rubbed your hardened nipples through your shirt.

Unable to take it any longer, you sat up and yanked your shirt over your head as Mando did the same. His expanse of muscle was all you could think about, the thatches of chest hair made you want to run your hands all over him.

He dropped to his knees in front of you, playing with the waistband of your sleep shorts.

“Tell me, did I eat this sweet pussy of yours in your dream?” You moaned, unable to remember but wanting his mouth on you all the same.

“I want you to, but your helmet…” Mando grabbed the blanket that was at the end of the bed, throwing it so one end covered your stomach and the other fell near the middle of his back. Awkwardly, you saw him maneuver under the blanket to take his helmet off, and then your shorts.

Before you could say so much as a “please,” Mando’s mouth enveloped your cunt with his hot mouth. Your gasp was loud and ragged, not expecting him to feel this good. You felt him moan into you, licking from your hole up to the tip of your clit.

“Am I the one who made you this wet, my sweet one? You’re dripping onto the bed for me,” you heard him rasp under the blankets.

“Please, Mando, you feel so f-fucking good,” you gasp as he puts his mouth on you again. You reach under the blanket to grab his hair to pull him the exact spots you wanted his mouth to be. Maker, his mouth was immaculate. His tongue messily toyed with your clit, groaning in your cunt when you tugged his hair which sent vibrations everywhere.

When he found that one spot, just to the left of your clit, you started to feel that familiar tension in your stomach, the one you’d get when you’d touch yourself in the silence of night in the Crest. You tilted your hips just right as he sucked your clit into your mouth, letting out an animalistic moan.

As soon as you felt him hum into your cunt again, you were gone. You fell over a cliff higher than ever before as everything went utterly white, white in your vision and white noise in your ears.

Maker, you came so fucking hard. And through the whole thing, Mando licked and sucked at you, slowing down when you eventually came down. You felt like you were floating through the aftermath as Mando kissed the inside of your thighs, and through the reverie you were in you felt the tickle of facial hair on your skin. You smiled to yourself, finally able to know something about the appearance of the man you adored so.

Mando quickly put his helmet back on under the blanket before pulling himself over you, stroking your face with the back of his hand.

“Do you want more? Or do you want me to stop?” he asked. As spent as you felt, at the sound of his voice your body began rearing up for more.

“More. I need your cock, Mando, so badly,” you whimpered, feeling a brand new wave of wetness flood at the apex of your legs.

You picked your head up, finally wrenching your eyes open as you felt Mando start to take his pants off. You were very suddenly awake again when you saw his cock spring out. He was big, bigger than the boys you had taken by far.

“I- I don’t know if you’ll fit. I’ve never had a man bigger than you.”

“No, sweet one, you’ve only had boys. I can’t wait to be the first man who wrecks you,” he rasps into your ears as your hands wrap themselves around his neck and down his back. Stars, he was sexy, an odd mix of shy and domineering all at once.

He started rubbing the tip against your cunt, and suddenly you were on fire again. You had never tried to get yourself again after one orgasm, always too spent and high on dopamine to go again. So you never got to realize that once you had one, more orgasms were not very difficult to achieve. Until, Mando’s tip swirled around your clit and you could feel the coil tighten yet again.

“M-Mando, I’m gonna cum again if you keep doing that,” you whimpered, causing him to groan and only put more pressure on your clit.

“Then do it, my love. I want to see your face when you cum for me.” You let out a series of curses until you came again, slightly weaker than the previous one but it rocked through you. Before you could even come down, Mando thrusted himself into you in one go. You let out a yell bordering on a scream, feeling your pussy stretch itself to fit all of him. Stars, the burn of the stretch made you shiver.

“Oh f-fuck, my sweet girl has an even sweeter pussy,” he gasped as he started to thrust himself into you. “S-so fucking t-tight and w-warm, I’m not gonna last…”

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Mando’s thrusts sped up, slamming into you at an unfathomable rate.

“No no, look at me. Look at me while I’m making you feel good,” Mando growled as he grabbed your cheeks to make you look at his helmet. You tried so hard to keep your eyes open, but as Mando tilted his hips just right, jamming into your G-spot, you lost control over your body. You were saying something, but you were so far gone that you couldn’t decipher what it was.

“Is that- fuck- all you can say, pretty girl? Please? Please what? What do you need, fuck I’ll give you everything you want, just say the word,” Mando rambled, just as drunk on your pussy as you were on his cock.

“D-d-don’t stop, p-please don’t s-stop,” you uttered out, not completely sure if you were having one long orgasm or if it was building to something even bigger.

“I’m never gonna stop, baby, never wanna stop…” Without warning, an orgasm so strong racked through your body. You had never cum just from penetration before, but the way the hair at the base of Mando’s cock was brushing against your cunt as he fucked you sent you beyond the edge.

“Oh my fucking- stars, baby you’re so tight I can barely move… I-I’m gonna-“ Mando gasped as you felt him cum deep inside you, moaning louder than you thought he would.

You both gasped for breath, utterly exhausted from the best sex in both of your lives. Mando pulled out and laid next you on the bed, stroking your hair gently.

“I wish I could kiss you right now,” you croaked, voice almost gone from overuse. Silence fell over the two of you, and you wanted to take back your words, until…

“Close your eyes. And don’t open them. Promise?” he said.

“I promise, I swear I won’t,” you said, shutting your eyes with your heart leaping at the prospect of finally kissing him. After a few moments of the sounds of shuffling next to you, you felt a soft pair of lips meet yours. It was tentative at first, but after a few gentle pecks Mando caressed your face and kissed you with a passion so strong it took your breath away. You felt his mustache tickle your upper lip as he kissed like if he pulled away, he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

When he finally pulled away, you reminded yourself to keep your eyes closed as he put his helmet back on. You pulled yourself over him, almost in the exact position you had found yourself in when you woke up from your dream, except this time Mando’s arm was draped under your neck.

“I’m glad we finally did that,” Mando admitted after a while. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day you started living on the Crest.” You lifted your head from his chest and rested your chin on his right pec, gazing at his face.

“You mean that?” you ask.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You grinned from ear to ear, thanking the Maker that this wasn’t just because Mando was horny and he had found you getting yourself off on him. He had wanted you, too.

“For a minute I thought…I thought you’d tell me to leave and never come back. I was so embarrassed to wake up like that. But… I guess it ended up helping us out,” you chuckled. You heard Mando chuckle too as his chest shook a bit, warming your heart.

“I will never ask you to leave. I want you to stay, I need you to stay,” he admitted quietly. “Plus, I don’t know anyone else who would take care of Grogu so well.”

“Oh, Maker, Grogu!” you exclaimed, realizing Grogu had been closed in his pram in the corner throughout the entire… act.

“The device is soundproof, he didn’t hear a thing,” Mando explained. You let out a sigh of relief.

“I don’t know, with those ears?” you laughed, hearing Mando laugh with you.

“Maybe they’re more for balance rather than hearing,” Mando replied, causing you to let out a loud laugh, making joy flood Mando’s body.

“We can only hope…”

579 notes · View notes

muffindaddystyles · 4 years

Text

Request: Could u do one where y/n is a stripper but her and Harry are already together. So Harry and his friends all know y/n works at the strip club because she’s Harry girl and they all go up there and she gives him a lap dance?? Idk I just need something dirty😂✋🏽

Disclaimer: Public infatuation, spitting and teasing.

Do you ever see shit crumbling down infront of your eyes and said, "fuck it." before taking the step that could have a ominous impact on your life? Perhaps Y/N did the same. When she couldn't pay for her UNI she started working at a club as a waitress, scrubbing the awful stickiness of beers and alchol wasn't a nightmare for her at least.

She always admired the girls outdoing themselves on stage, something so fascinating about having men on the tip of their shoes and emptying their pockets just to have a watch of mere skin.

One night when the clock striked past 2 am and the club had barely three people her friend ushered her on the stage, it wasn't sexy and eroticaly mind blogging. She was trying to have fun (she's very socially akward and have a stage phobia). Rather, cute as she danced in her pink skirts and showy apron not caring when her headband slid down as she spinned around the pole with loud giggles.

What took her gasp away was a beautiful man sitting in the corner dimmed away from the bashing lights of the room. Hand adorned in gems and jewels wrapped around the crystal glass of beer as he sat man-spreading in a black suit, a white shirt underneath that gives the glimpse of his tattoos and an evident smirk of ferver for her that made her tummy scorch.

"Y/N!" The bartender shouted for her, "Take this order for the table 22, quick." She tumbles down two stairs hastily and it takes out a chuckle from his lips, his eyes following her constantly. The glass of another bevy is for none other than the man with emarld eyes and chocolate curls.

She approaches him with a bicker between her mind and heart to shut the fuck up, as she slides the glass infront of him without glancing up at him.

"Y'dance gorgeously." His voice sultry and so so supple she couldn't belive it came out from him. "Uhm thank you . . . but 'm not what you're thinking 'm." She fumbles with her apron back treating slowly and he raises his brows not in amusement but in acknowledgement puffering out his bottom red lip she oh so gonna think about whole night.

"Doesn't matter, eh." She nods, "like somethin' else?" Her smile. Harry think her smile lit up his previous grumpy mood and his eyes falls over her shoes, he didn't like that they were literally about to thread into patches.

"Nope. Jus' headin' out, take care, love." Fuck him. There's no way she wouldn't imagine about him, being there in her dainty loft.

He left a bunch of cash as her tip and it made her all blushy.

Their next encounter was rather funny. Bumping into eachother at a grocery shop and her collection of junk food, cans of sweet sodas and candies went flying infront of him making her feel giddy that what he'd think about him? A child of five ready to go back to school?

His apologies were cut short when he sees it's her and his eyes went glowy. She's completely a different person when not under the blazing lights, so soft and clean wearing a cream coloured sweater, curdoury lilac pants and spectacles perched atop her bunny nose.

Him in a rolling stones tee and slacks.

"Y'alright, there?" He asks her with a brush to her elbow and she nods, "oh, Mr. Gucci pants?" That was the point where their love story started not a clićhe one but Harry's head over heels for her to this day. She calls him Gucci pants to annoy him cause his trousers that had a visible gucci label on the hem of them.

Then after few months of them hanging out and their first kiss she got to know that he's the owner of the club she fucking works at. She didn't know what to do, is that okay to date something out of your status and league? Even boss? She ghosted him for weeks and realized that how much she missed him. His thoughts didn't seem to leave her mind at all, his lips and kisses.

They've a most healthy relationship, he doesn't stop her from working at club as a waitress neither does he feels remorseful when she gets angry for paying her extra replying with cheekiness, "can't wait to have our bank accounts together, i like to give y'me lovin' sweet bug."

Their sex life's a proper satisfaction for both of them, Harry's such a caring domineering to her and it makes her cry sometimes when she floats into her sub-space. She loves to have him inside her after rough nights and to have sex in the morning getting sticky due to him hardening while still inside her.

She's public shy so they never try anything outside (harry respects her boundaries and gives her space whenever she needs some) but giving him a blowjob in his car doesn't seem that scary, does it? And the fact she loves to keep him warm and wet in her mouth everytime. He exposed her to the world of sex toys and how to use them, she was hesitant in the start but now loves to play with herself while he caresses his cock infront of her.

She hates being tied up! Always wants to touch him and feel his velvety skin. He ties up when she's being a bad puppy.

She loves when he fucks her from behind on her knees studying and sometimes she likes him harsh too, to be pounded raw, it makes her panties soak with yearn to have him.

But, in general he's all pet names and kisses. Gifting her silks and making her matchas. Cuddles and hugs from behind. Though, he likes to be a small spoon with his face tucked between her squishy tits and likes to have back rubs by her when the work gets a load on him.

Today though she'd like to come out of her cocoon and do something bold to show him that she wanna put the same effort to turn him on as he does. She doesn't know that her only presence stiffens his dick.

Harry was along his friends in his usual spot away from the bustling crowd when the patter of heels distracted them making their heads perk up, "would you guys like something?" She asks them and Nialler who's already miffed bad hiccups, "another bevy fo' me." She rolls her eyes at him sticking her tongue out.

"Then fetch one for yourself." While they bickered Harry admired his girl. The curve of her peach and her fleshy thighs, the stocking she's wearing doing nothing to satiate his burn to fuck her right now on these tables infront of everyone. "Anddd what'd you like to 've, Sir." She dips her knee between his thighs near his crotch whispering sultry-ly in his ear and pressing her wet lips against his earlobe on purpose.

"You." He smiles bashfully running his hands under her skirt and thighs giving it lil smack making her squeal softly, "'m all yours to take." She smooches a kiss to his mouth and presses her panties clad cunt against his man-spread moaning subtly when he groped her ass to assist her in humping him.

"Get a room you guys!!" Their friends hollered and Harry was quick to take Y/N's hand leading her to a private room, "On the sofa legs spread fo' me." She doesn't listen to him and pushes him down instead crawling up his lap.

"No." She tries to use the most intimidating voice, "what? You sound like a kitten, baby." He teases her letting his fingers linger over her garter and she hisses when he snaps it. She pins his wrists between them telling him grumpy-ly, "I - said - no." Her neck stretches giving Harry more skin to plant kisses as she brought his hand to cup them against her pussy.

"Wanna fuck me 'n d'the dirty work yourself? Go on then." He murmures grazing her collarbones with his teeth and palms her chest, stroking the perked nipple again and again to make her wet than she already's. Except of undressing him herself she orders him because she's too far gone to do anything other than have his cock pounding inside her, "Undress." When he does so she wraps her hand around his huge prick and taps his cherry lips with her fingers.

Pulling at his foreskin for some time and coating it perfectly with his own pre-come she sides her panties with shaky fingers and sinks down on him completely, she loves this position. In this way he feels too big inside her, deep to her tummy and could embrace eachother cosily.

"This's what you wanted? To fuck yourself with me prick, to keep it forever inside you?" He grabs her from sides helping her ride him and she hugs his shoulders whimpering with each languid stroke of his thickness against her spongy walls, "yes, yes, yes." His balls slaps against her bum and she squeezes around him with a cry.

He tuts in a mean voice, "Look how 've turned me sweet innocent Y/N into a filthy girl whose cunt's always drippin' with me cum." Her hairline beads with sweat and she muffles her moans by bitting him, he yanks her.

"Let everybody listen how hard ye're bein' pounded." He growls spanking her ass to a plump redness, groping her asscheeks to push harder and it makes her squirt around him.

"More, more, please more." She says in a soft hoarseness thighs quaking around his waist from exhaustion and he chuckles kissing her temple rolling her sensitive clit with the pad of thumb to make her cum, "oh! Harry — " This time she moans without holding back and when she doesn't stop moving Harry takes the hint.

"Bug you're gettin' tired." He flips them. Pressing her thigh against the back of couch with a tight grip of his hands around, so tight it'll leave imprints. Looking down a whimper slips from his throat at the sight of her widely spread for him and her pussy lips wrapped around his rock hard cock, though the sofa is already ruined with their wetness he spits where they're connected.

The dirty, sloppy wet noises of them turns him on so bad and he laps at her nipples like a kitten would do drilling inside her vigorously it makes her gasp in pleasure, moan and cry his name.

She rakes her nails down his spine when he grinds down at her in rough circles, "I'm gonna cum." She cries out cramping around him and their bones rattles with each pound she receives from him.

"Come fo' me darlin', gonna count to three — " He caresses her jaw, kissing her again and again face expression bundling up with the wave of pleasure that's about fluid over him as she thrashes under him, head on the sofa and torso stretching out, "fuck, fuck, fuck." He mutters unloading inside of her in sticky white ribbons that spill out of her because he came alot.

Taking a breather they untangle themselves a little and she whispers snuggling into his neck, "might think we could crash at this sofa tonight." Wrapping her calves around him like a koala.

"But, 'm hungry too." She giggles when her stomach grugled angrily.

"Let's clean up and get fish 'n chips from the next shop." He pets her head.

"Amazing!" She chirps.

#harry styles smut #harry styles dirty one shots #harry smut #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #harry x y/n #harry x reader #submission

351 notes · View notes

guardianofrivendell · 3 years

Text

The Odd Ones Out

Kíli x OC (platonic)

Summary: Tullaina and Kíli were best friends from day one. Getting into a fight to the death together tends to do that to you. Of course, it wasn’t actually to the death, but Kíli kept insisting it had been a close call. This is the story of how their friendship started.

Warnings: bullying, young Kíli (Tullaina and Kíli are 34 and 33 in this one, which is the dwarven equivalent of a young teenager)

OC: Tullaina, you can read her character sheet here

A/N: My first oneshot with Tullaina! A big, massive thank you to @lathalea who helped me find the motivation to finish this and gave me the nudges and the kick to my butt that I needed to keep going! I love you!�� Also a thank you (and maybe an apology too) to @anjhope1 and @laurfilijames because they had to hear me nag and complain about this story over and over again :)

Kidizbuhâ. Friendship.

What exactly is friendship? What defines it? It’s something Tullaina always wondered about.

According to one of master Balin’s many books, it can be described as a state between two or more individuals, a mutual affection that is strictly platonic.

Your best friend is even more than that. They are that one special person who sticks with you no matter what. You talk about anything and everything, have fun together, comfort each other, and you accept one another with all their flaws. It’s almost like finding your One, but without the romantic love.

Tullaina had often dreamed of finding that one true friend...

Born and raised in the mountains of Ered Luin, she had a pretty normal childhood as a pebble. With only a few friends and a loving family, she was as happy as a young girl could be.

When she grew older, her friends’ appearance started to change.

They grew wider, more muscular and their facial hair started to grow out. Each of them turned into perfect examples of how a sturdy dwarf or dwarrowdam should look like.

Tullaina however stayed exactly the same. She grew in height, but kept her lanky figure. She filled out the appropriate places, but not as much as her friends or peers. Her freckles became more pronounced and the increase of birthmarks started to raise questions among those so-called ‘friends’. And on top of that, as if she couldn’t be ridiculed enough already, she lacked the pride of every Dwarf… facial hair. A fine layer of down hairs where her sideburns should be was all she could grow, and it was barely even visible.

There was no denying that she looked different than your average Dwarrowdam at that age.

And that’s when the teasing and bullying began.

One by one, she lost her friends, none of them wanted to be associated with the ‘elf child’ or khathzith, as they started calling her.

Everywhere she went, she could hear the dreaded word, whispered among the people of the Blue Mountains. And after a while, Tullaina started to believe them. Maybe she wasn’t a Dwarf after all?

No matter how many times her parents had tried to convince her she was of full Dwarven descent, a proud Longbeard, she never stopped asking whether what they said about her was true.

Maybe she was a late bloomer, like her mother sometimes said in an attempt to comfort her. When Tullaina’s tears had dried up, she usually told her daughter the story about her late auntie Marthosia whose beard only started to grow after she turned 30, and it turned out to be the most glorious beard of them all. The Dwarrows stood in line to ask for her courtship. And every time Tullaina would simply roll her eyes and thank her mother.

By the time she turned 30, there was still no trace of a beard or proper sideburns. Not that Tullaina had expected anything, but she couldn’t deny that there was a tiny sliver of hope left that maybe, maybe she was like auntie Marthosia after all.

Her mother eventually stopped telling the story and Tullaina had given up all hope. She started to isolate herself more, hardly leaving the safety of her home, losing herself in books and her own imagination.

The only time she would leave the house by herself was to visit the mines and bring her father his lunch when he forgot to bring it with him. Which happened a lot more than you would think. Tullaina suspected her father did this on purpose to get her out of the house more often, but she never said anything about it.

It was on one of those trips that she ran into Kíli for the first time...

Tullaina hurried through the small, slippery streets of the mountain city, her shawl wrapped securely around her head and neck, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

She was on her way back from the mines having delivered her father’s lunch, but she’d dawdled when the baker’s cat had crossed her path. It wasn’t her fault she absolutely had to pet it, right?

So now she was in a hurry to get home. And she would have been there in a matter of minutes, if her ears hadn’t picked up the teasing laughter coming out of one of the dead-end side alleys.

On any other day she would have tucked her scarf a little tighter around her, bowed her head a little deeper to avoid any unwanted attention, and definitely walk a little faster.

But it turned out today wasn’t like any other day…

There could be many reasons as to why she felt the need to investigate further. Some would call it being adventurous, fate, maybe even Mahal’s will if you want. But for Tullaina it was her sense of injustice that drove her to the alley.

There was something familiar about the laughter that made her suspect this wasn’t just some friends having fun. She tiptoed towards the corner of the building and peeked around the corner.

Her curiosity often got the better of her and her mother used to warn (okay fine, she guaranteed it) that it would get her into serious trouble one day. Who knows, maybe her mother was right after all...

At the end of the dead-end alley she could see three dwarves, at first sight probably not much older than she was. It was almost comical how they were all so different but clearly looking like they were up to no good: you had the short one with flaming red hair, the muscles and then one who was fairly normal at first until he grinned and Tullaina could see he was missing a front tooth. These three dwarves practically screamed trouble.

They were all looking at a boy who was standing in the middle of the trio.

The boy had shoulder length brown hair with no braids. He was taller than the others and had a slender build. He was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black trousers, and his unruly hair framed a kind face with large brown eyes. No beard.

And that’s precisely what they were bullying him about...

Tullaina could hear the insults they were throwing at him, she flinched because she knew them all too well - having heard them many times before - and something in her snapped. Before she realised what she was doing, she called out to them.

“Oi!”

All four heads turned towards her.

Well, that’s what you get for calling out to them, she thought. Now what? Quick, say something so they’ll know you mean business!

“Leave him alone!”

Oh wow, she thought, almost rolling her eyes at herself. Great choice, that’ll make them tremble with fear!

The boys started snickering, excited about the prospect of another victim. One of them grabbed the beardless one by the shoulder and pushed him forward.

The Muscles came up towards Tullaina and it took all her restraint not to take a step back.

“Aww Kíli, look at that, your girl is here to save you!”

“I said, leave him alone,” she repeated, trying to look confident by straightening her back and balling her fists at her side, but her voice gave her away. It earned her a chuckle from the dwarf in front of her.

“No, this can’t be his girl,” he sneered, removing her scarf, “Look at her face, not a hair in sight! It’s the same babyface as our dear Kíli. Who would’ve thought there were more of you khathzith?” (young Elves)

Oh, he should not have said that!

The familiar insult triggered something in her and her hands moved on instinct. She placed her hands on his chest and pushed with all the strength she had.

It took him by surprise, he didn’t have the time to brace himself and he fell on his back in the dirt with a grunt. Mistake number one.

One of his companions, the one with the flaming red hair lunged forward and pushed her in turn. Tullaina didn’t stand a chance with the force he was using against her lanky figure and immediately fell to the ground. She cried out when her arm scraped against a small rock. Mistake number two.

They started laughing at her, until the one who was holding Kíli cried out in pain.

When Tullaina looked up she saw him clutching his nose with both of his hands, tears springing in his eyes.

Before she could figure out what had happened, Kíli threw himself on the redhead with a loud cry of “Du Bekâr!” and something about not laying your hands on a lady. Or... that he shouldn’t have handed him a baby?

It wasn’t her fault that it was difficult to understand him with all the shouting and the curses being thrown around. If her mother was near she would’ve covered her ears. Luckily for Tullaina she wasn’t, at least now she could learn a thing or two for future use!

But this actually was the moment she should have decided it was time to go. Mistake number three.

They were all distracted and not paying attention to her whatsoever, the short one was still busy crying over his nose, the redhead was wrestling with Kíli and Muscles just stood by and watched it all happen for some reason. Really, what was stopping her from running? Her more reasonable side was yelling at her to go home. Let the boys fight it out themselves!

But she couldn’t leave this Kíli to himself now, could she? After he so valiantly defended her? No one ever stood up for her before, and here he was literally fighting for her honor.

No, she couldn’t leave him…

When Muscles finally noticed Tullaina was still there, he came towards her with a loud roar - or what should’ve been a roar, it was more a gargle really - and the decision was made for her. She was going to fight.

Well… It seemed her mother was right after all. Her curiosity got her into trouble.

One of the last things Dís had expected to see when she opened her door was a pair of young Dwarves, battered and bruised. Well… half of the duo was her youngest son, so their disheveled state shouldn’t come as a big surprise.

“Amad, this is Tullaina,” Kíli introduced his new friend with a wide smile, wiping a drop of blood off his chin with the back of his hand like it was the most natural thing to do. His left eye was a little swollen and starting to bruise. And still he was as chipper as ever.

Tullaina waved timidly, getting a bit uncomfortable. She had recognized the dwarrowdam as soon as she opened the door and suddenly it had clicked in her head who Kíli was. She knew how this might look and the last thing she wanted was to get in more trouble. Typical of her to befriend a prince of all people…

“Nice to meet you, Tullaina.” Dís smiled kindly to let her know she wasn’t angry. It seemed to relax Tullaina a little, her shoulders slacked and she returned her smile.

After the introduction Dís switched into full mother hen mode and ushered the two inside, so she could take care of their injuries and hopefully get some answers to the many questions that flooded her mind. For one, who Tullaina was. As far as she knew, she hadn’t seen the girl before. And Dis took pride in knowing everyone in Ered Luin.

But getting the information out of these two turned out to be a lot harder than Dís had initially thought.

She told them to sit down at the dinner table while she got everything she needed to clean their wounds.

At first sight it was only Kíli’s busted lip that needed attention, their bruises would heal on their own.

When the only daughter of Thraín asked her youngest how he and his new friend got their bruises and Kíli his busted lip, he only shrugged his shoulders.

Kíli clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

And that worried her, because if there was one thing Kíli liked to do, it was talking her ears off about what he had done or discovered while out with Fíli or by himself.

She guessed he probably stood up for Tullaina and had valiantly defended or even rescued her, in which case Dís wouldn’t hear the end of it. So the silence of her youngest was rather alarming, to say the least.

In the end, it was Tullaina who reluctantly explained to her that she stumbled upon Kíli and a couple of other young Dwarves, who felt the need to mock the young prince.

Dís’ eyes widened and her hand that was cleaning the dried blood around his mouth, froze midair. The cut on his lip had finally stopped bleeding, and it looked a lot worse than it actually was.

“Kíli, that is still no reason to start a fight! And certainly not in the presence of a lady.”

Kíli straightened his back at the scolding of his mother, but didn’t contradict her.

“He didn’t start the fight, Lady Dís, I did,” Tullaina answered before Kíli could stop her.

The large Dwarrowdam frowned, and she absentmindedly started stroking her beard. She was happy Kíli seemed to have made a friend who was not Fíli, but if she turned out to be a troublemaker…

Her sons definitely didn’t need help in that department.

“Now why did you do that, nadanê?” she asked her. (my child) “Amad, please just let it go,” Kíli said before Tullaina had the chance to explain. “I wasn’t asking you, Kíli.”

Tullaina hesitated. What if lady Dís blamed her for his injuries, or getting him into the fight in the first place?

Her new friend obviously didn’t want his mother to know about the bullying and she understood that better than anyone. Tullaina herself had kept a lot from her mother, the things she had to go through, all the insults, the name calling, the laughter…

But she also knew her new friend needed someone he could talk to. When it gets too bad, you need to vent, let everything out. And since she wasn’t sure she’d be welcome again in Lady Dís’ house after today, it might be better to tell his mother what had happened.

“They were teasing and bullying him about stuff they used to bully me for as well,” she finally caved.

“And what might that be?”

“Our lack of dwarven features,” Tullaina answered, as she lowered her eyes. “I’ve been bullied and made fun of for years because I don’t have a proper beard, and don’t look like most other dwarrowdams… So you see, my Lady, I couldn’t just stand there and watch. But they would not listen! So I pushed one of them and started the fight.”

“I see,” Dis hummed, before she placed her hands on Kili’s and Tullaina’s knees. “You did what you felt was right, and that is very admirable. Nadanê, never let anyone make you feel inferior. No matter what you look like, what you have or do not have. It’s what’s inside that matters. You’re both courageous, headstrong and maybe a little reckless too, but that’s alright. That sounds like a true dwarf to me.”

Tullaina smiled in return. It wasn’t a lot different from what her own mother would say when she tried to comfort her, but somehow when Lady Dis said it, it added more weight to it.

“Now tell me about the fight?” Dis smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

Kíli’s head shot up and his eyes sparkled, and Dis knew that look all too well. Now she was going to hear every single detail about their little adventure.

“So I found myself surrounded by, I don’t know, ten, maybe twelve other dwarves-”

“Three. There were three Dwarves, Kíli,” Tullaina interrupted with a straight face.

“It’s not like I was counting them!” he said to Tullaina, before he turned to his mother again. “I was too busy fighting for my life!”

“I bet you were,” Dís chuckled.

Kíli explained how he was trying to find a way out so he could run home, but they wouldn’t let him.

“And then Tullaina showed up and she came to help me, Amad. She gave the biggest one a shove, can you believe?! But then one of the other dwarves pushed her to the ground! You and uncle always told me I should treat all dwarrowdams with respect, right? But I don’t think his parents told him, because why would he do that? Anyway, then Tullaina hurt her arm,” Kíli paused his rambling and grabbed Tullaina’s arm to show the scratch she got when she fell, but she immediately pulled her arm free and muttered something like ‘i’m fine, it’s nothing’. Dís made a mental note to clean it later.

“So I had to defend her honor! Fíli will be so proud of me when he hears about it, I punched that atnuzab right on the nose!” (prick)

“Then how did you get your lip cut and your eye so bruised?” his mother asked him, already knowing the answer, but playing along. It was better to let him continue his story, but it was Tullaina who cut in.

“It turned out the atnuzab knew how to hit back,” she grinned.

“And that’s when the fight really took off,” Kíli continued enthusiastically, a wide smile on his face.

While Dís took care of Tullaina’s arm, he explained everything in detail, waving his arms in excitement, while the girl filled in the blanks or corrected him, which happened surprisingly often.

Dís chuckled every time it happened. It was refreshing to see Kíli being reprimanded for not telling the truth or exaggerating by someone his own age. Who knows, maybe Tullaina will turn out to be a positive influence on her son and his vivid imagination?

“And then he ran off, crying about his bloody nose,” Kíli cackled, holding on to Tullaina’s shoulder to keep himself up since he was laughing so hard.

“Which I believe you gave him?” Dís commented.

“I did,” he said proudly, wiping a tear away. “A true warrior I was!”

“Or tried to at least, did you forget you tripped over your own feet? Twice?” Tullaina laughed, recalling both times she had to help him up before the bullies could get to him.

“I was creating a diversion!”

Tullaina raised an eyebrow at that in disbelief, but decided to let it slide.

Dís shook her head at their friendly banter and left for the kitchen, taking the bowl and the dirty rags with her.

Tullaina watched her leave and smiled to herself. Isn’t it strange how one hastily made decision had changed her entire day? It had been ages since she laughed this much, it was amazing how quickly she felt comfortable in Kíli’s company. Was this what true friendship felt like?

When she looked back at Kíli, she caught him already staring at her.

“What?” she asked with a frown.

“Thank you,” he said. “You came to help me and I’ll never forget that.”

Tullaina felt her face flush at how sincere he was, his big brown eyes looking at her intently.

“Don’t mention it,” she grinned, playing with her fingers in her lap.

They sat side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, their hands tucked away under their thighs before Tullaina spoke up again.

“You know, I need to thank you too,” she said, bumping her shoulder against Kíli’s.

“Me? What for?”

“Defending my honor.”

Kíli gave her a broad smile and puffed out his chest. “It was the right thing to do. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.” He placed his hand on his heart to emphasize his words.

Tullaina believed him. Kíli seemed that kind of person who would rather follow his heart than his head, someone who would act on impulse before thinking about the possible consequences.

“Besides, friends take care of each other right?” he continued, pushing himself off the table.

Dís returned from the kitchen with two slices of cake in her hand.

“I believe you’ve more than deserved this,” she smiled. “A good fight works up quite an appetite.”

The two new friends eagerly accepted the treat, and while they were eating Dís watched them carefully. She had noticed how these two interacted with each other; as if they had been lifelong friends, even though they met mere moments ago. Yes, this wouldn’t be the last time she saw Tullaina. Dís was sure of it.

That reminded her of something…

“How come I haven’t seen you around, Tullaina?”

“I like to stay home, inside, where it’s safe,” the girl looked down in embarrassment and whispered. “There... there are no bullies there.”

“Then why were you even out there in the first place?” Kíli wondered.

“Kíli!” Dís chided him. She gave him a stern look but he didn’t even falter and looked at her expectantly.

Tullaina chuckled. She kind of liked Kíli’s cheekiness and lack of filter when he spoke. It was a nice change from the usual harsh words and sneers she had to hear from others.

“It’s fine. My adad works in the mines and I sometimes bring him his lunch,” she explained to Kíli.

“He does? I know where that is!” he said enthusiastically. “You know what? Next time you have to go there, I’ll go with you!”

“That’s a great idea, Kíli,” Dís agreed, she couldn’t be happier that her youngest had found a new friend. He was starting to get lonely now Fíli spent more time with Thorin. Tullaina might be exactly what he needed to stay out of trouble.

But Tullaina shook her head. “No, I can’t ask that of you! I’m-I’m sure you have much more important things to do.”

“Nonsense,” Dís waved her concern away. “You’re always welcome here, Tullaina.”

When Tullaina said her goodbyes - her mother will be worried sick by now - she had to promise Dís to come back the next day.

Kíli caught her off guard a bit when he hugged her, squeezing a lot harder than she expected him to.

“See you tomorrow,” he said, and then his eyes lit up and a face-splitting grin appeared.

“What?”

“I can’t wait for you to meet my brother!”

Kíli taglist: @elles-writing @sxperncturalimpala67

Permanent taglist: @roosliefje @kata1803 @entishramblings @artsywaterlily @sleepy-daydream-in-a-rose @marvelschriss @aduialel @anjhope1 @kumqu4t @myrin1234 @moony-artnstuff @dark-angel-is-back @the-fandoms-georgie @lathalea @xxbyimm @sokkasdarling @katethewriter @aredhel-of-gondolin @leethology @thepeanutcollective @elvish-sky @emmapotato88 @kirenia15 @vicmackeybullshxt @hey-its-nonny @moarfandomtrash

If your name is scratched through, it means I couldn’t tag you! You might want to check your settings ;)

#Tullaina #Kili x OC #Kili #Ered Luin #Kili oneshot #My OC #Dwarf OC #The Hobbit imagine #The Hobbit fanfiction #The Hobbit #Kili x reader #Young!Kili #Young Kili #Dis #The life of dwarves #Guardianofrivendell oc #Tullaina x Kili #The Hobbit x reader #The Hobbit oneshot

200 notes · View notes

stxrrywildflower · 4 years

Text

can’t help falling in love (three)

pairing - george weasley x reader

summary - you invite george to be your date to your sisters wedding

warnings - mentions of family/home issues, fighting, deep talks, mentions of anxiety

word count - 3.7k

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“george i don’t think i can do this,” you breathed out. “i haven’t had a proper meal like this with my family in years.”

george woke you up just a few hours ago. he knew you didn’t want to sleep for too long but also realized how much you needed your rest.

you got dressed right away, probably getting ready far too early than you needed to, but you were just so incredibly nervous. you knew there was a strong chance the conversation was going to be turned to you and or george.

still at the desk, george stopped his tinkering immediately, setting down the supplies he was working with to turn to you.

“is everything alright love?” george didn’t want to make any assumptions on your emotions at the moment.

your eyes darted back and forth. “i-i don’t know,” you admited.

george was up and out of his chair in an instant. he took a seat on the bed, patting the space beside him for you to sit down.

you took a seat where he motioned for you to do so. you didn’t say anything at first, not exactly knowing how to put what you were feeling into words. george seemed to understand as he didn’t push you to say anything or start a conversation.

“i just don’t know how i’m going to deal with being with my family. i know it’s stupid for me to get worked up over this but it’s just tough.”

“y/n it’s not stupid. we don’t have to go to this dinner. i have a multitude of excuses i’ve used at hogwarts that can be applied to this as well. and there’s always the prank option, i’m sure i can stir something up if needed,” george started. “your feelings and your well-being matters more then a dumb meal.”

you thanked him quietly, mind still swirling with your thoughts about the night ahead.

“and i swear, if anything happens during dinner that makes you uncomfortable, we’ll leave. you do not owe them anything, especially with the way they’ve treated you.”

“but they’re my family...” you trailed off, feeling slightly guilty.

george moved his hand up to your cheek, turning your head to look at him. “hey, none of that,” he spoke. “yes they may be your family but that does not excuse their attitudes. you deserve more than that y/n.”

“now come here,” george smiled softly. he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you close to him as his hand moved to run up and down your arm. you leaned into his touch, resting your head under his chin as you allowed your eyes to flutter shut.

“thank you george,” you mumbled, hand moving to stoke the back of his palm. “it means a lot.”

“always y/n. but seriously, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. i’m sure there’s some place to eat we can find around here,” george offered.

you shook your head. “i think i can make it through.”

george hummed in response. “alright, love. should we head downstairs?”

“yeah let’s go,” you stood up, extending your hand out to george who took it to get up as well.

you took lead in going downstairs first and made your way towards the living room.

“grammy!” you exclaimed, moving forward to hug your grandmother who had just arrived. “ah there’s my favorite little witch,” your grandmother beamed.

you smiled at the nickname. it had been a common one since you got your hogwarts letter.

george barreled down the stairs right after you.

“a weasley!” your grandmother exclaimed. she noticed right away from the ginger hair and familiar facial features. “i can’t believe you brought a weasley home. ah that’s so exciting! now which one are you?”

“george,” he answered with a smile, also moving to hug your grandmother. “fred and the others are back at school.”

“ah george, you and your brother always mix me up. it’s really good to see you, i hope your family is doing well.”

“they are, thank you,” george replied.

you didn’t have time to delve in your conversation about school as your normally would. your grandmother loved hearing about hogwarts, it had been awhile since she was there. while your houses were different, she was a ravenclaw, she still found the different changes extremely interesting.

“dinner!” jasper, your sisters fiancé, had called as he walked in the room. “hey y/n.”

“hey jasper,” you greeted with a small wave. “this is george by the way.”

jasper greeted george with a firm handshake before repeating his prior message. “i think your mum wants us in now so i would hurry.”

you and george took a seat at one end of the table. he was to your left, claiming he was ‘too tall’ to sit in the middle. you didn’t mind, george was your guest after all.

“so cress, what’s your plans for tomorrow?” your mom asked.

you zoned out for the majority of the conversation, not really wanting to listen to your sister go on and on about everything. george didn’t really pay attention either, choosing to rather turn to you and talk about summer break. it wasn’t for a few more months but he figured it would be a good topic to discuss.

“you’re coming home with us again, right? i honestly think my mum is planning on it unless you tell her otherwise,” he spoke.

you nodded. “i think this has been enough family time for the year. as long as i’m welcome i’m there.”george grinned, clearly satisfied with your answer.

“george,” the conversation was then turned to your mock-boyfriend. “why don’t you tell us a bit about yourself? i feel like we haven’t had any time to get to know you.”

“well,” george started, turning to face your family. “i go to hogwarts with y/n. i’m a middle child and a twin so technically i have four older brothers when you factor in the fact that i’m the younger twin. y/n and i are in the same year and same house so we have a lot of classes together-”

“wait houses? which one are you two in again?”

“gryffindor,” george answered with a smile. “it’s the house of the lion. i think our three house traits are courage, chivalry, and determination.” he turned to you for confirmation on the last part to which you nodded.

george ran through the rest of the information like it was rehearsed. your entire family seemed pretty enveloped in his story, all except for cass who was visibly becoming more agitated by the minute.

“anyways!” cass soon interrupted. george raised an eyebrow towards her, clearly taken back by being cut off. you leaned across to rest your hand on top of his. “don’t worry about her,” you whispered.

“jasper, is everything ready with your wedding party?”

you frowned. a wedding party was the one thing you didn’t thoroughly explain well enough to george.

george turned to you for that exact reason, asking with a confused tone, “what’s a wedding party again?”

“you don’t know what a wedding party is? geez do you live under a rock?” cress scoffed from the opposite end of the table.

“cress,” you warned, already feeling your blood pressure rising. you could handle a few bitchy comments but when she came for george, well that was a different story.

your sister narrowed her eyes at you. “what?”

“george comes from what we can a pure blood family. both of his parents are wizard born meaning he is a one-hundred wizard. they don’t know about a lot of the things we do. so if you could calm down and cut him a little-” you tried to explain only for your sister to have finally had it.

“god, can you just shut up about magic for once? we get it you have powers but can you please stop talking about it. this is supposed to be my weekend and my special day. you’re ruining it y/n. god, you shouldn’t even be here.”

the table went dead quiet, no one quite knowing how to reply to the outburst your sister had nor your reaction.

instinctively, you turned to george. his eyes met yours and he just knew. with a gentle hand, he guided you up and out of your seat.

“thank you for dinner, it was lovely.”

with that, george was leading you out of the dining room with his hand on the small of your back.

you made it outside and to a more private section of the yard before you broke. a combination of tears and sobs racked your body. you were far too emotional right now to even feel embarrassed.

george held you close to him, both arms wrapped protectively around your body as you cried. he didn’t mind that his jumper was getting stained with tears, it was more important to him that you were okay.

“i hate it. i hate it so much,” you sobbed. “she hates me so much for no good reason.”

“shhh, it’s okay,” george murmured. “let it out.”

you didn’t know how long the two of you were out there. everything just felt a little fuzzy at the moment.

your tears eventually dried out, a range of hiccups following. george, in turn, moved his hand to run up and down your back. “sorry to let it all out on you.”

“hey,” george pulled away to get you to look at him. “none of that. it’s okay y/n, i promise.”

you nodded, letting out a deep sigh as your head fell again.

george thumbed away the final few tears that fell down your cheeks. “i’m here for you always. i just want you to know that.”

you squeezed his hand gently, conveying a silent ‘thank you’ as you don’t exactly trust your voice at the moment.

“why don’t we go for a ride,” george offered. “to clear your head.”

through teary eyes you looked up towards your friend. “george, neither of us can drive well enough for it to be considered legal. besides, we don’t even have a car.”

a wicked grin passed over george’s face. “i might have planned ahead,” he spoke.

you quirked an eyebrow. you weren’t entirely surprised at his words but you were a little nervous.

“i might have snuck our brooms in our luggage....”

you smacked his arm gently. “george! mcgonagall said no magic. did you even listen to what she said?”

“hey hey hey, brooms aren’t technically magic,” he started. “kids are learning to fly and play quidditch even before they go to hogwarts.”

you thought about it for a moment. “i mean when you put it that way,” you trailed off. george jumped up the second you finished speaking, extending his hands out towards you to pull you up.

george raced inside and up the stairs, returning just moments later with your coats and familiar broomsticks you used for quidditch.

“if mcgonagall finds out i’m blaming you,” you commented.

“fine by me. i’m sure she won’t be surprised.”

you left the house once again, not bothering to stop back in to tell your family where you were going or when you would be back. frankly, you didn’t really care either.

the london air met you with open arms. it was pretty dark out allowing for you and george to be practically unseen on your brooms. you followed george’s lead up into the sky until you were at a comfortable distance to go side by side.

“so!” george shouted. “where do you want to go?”

you shrugged. “don’t know! i’m following you.”

you flew around for close to an hour, diving up and through the clouds and back down again. as the city slowly shut down for the night, george stopped again.

“you want to go talk somewhere? i may know a place,” he spoke.

“let’s go.”

george flew down to the famous london bridge. your eyes widened slightly as his plan clicked in your mind.

you touched down at on one of the top platforms which was thankfully out of view from anyone not in the air. in other words, you were practically hidden.

“damn georgie, didn’t think we would be up here. how much trouble would we be in if we got caught?”

“don’t know,” george spoke. “and don’t want to think about it. all i know is that no one can see us so we should be fine.”

after laying your broom down, you took a seat next to george on the roof-like platform. he was clearly deep in thought, knees drawn up to his chest with an arm wrapped around them.

“what’s on your mind?”

“eh it’s nothing, just thinking about some family stuff,” george answered.

“everything alright?”

“yeah yeah yeah, everyone’s good. besides, this was supposed to be for you.”

you frowned at that. “george, come on. you can talk to me about anything. you’ve done the same for me. what’s on your mind?”

“i don’t want to bother.”

“george,” you warned again. “if this makes you feel better, i could use a distraction.”

it took him a few minutes to say anything. you didn’t mind at all. george’s insecurities weren’t exactly something new, it took him a bit to muster up the courage to even admit he had them.

just as you had moved onto watching the people below on the bridge, george finally said what was on his mind.

“i just feel like i’m always second best, you know?”

you turned to him with slight sympathy in your eyes though you did understand, to some extent, exactly what he was saying.

it’s always been ‘fred and george’ and never ‘george and fred.’ you said it that way, teachers, parents, other kids did too. everyone knew them as fred and george and not the other way around.

sure it was something as simple as name flow but it did get to him at times. almost like he was placed behind his brother.

“it’s just i-i come from a big family-”

“no kidding,” you joked. “sorry sorry, continue.”

george smiled at your words, the corners of his lips upturning. it made your heart full seeing him happy.

“i mean ron and fred are the closer siblings and then then the three older are the same. bill and charlie are off working and percy has his job at the ministry. i know ginny and i are closer but just when you look at the percentages, i always just feel like i’m kinda forgotten.”

it went quiet again. george had just revealed a lot about how he was feeling and you wanted - needed - to chose your words carefully.

“sorry i know that sounds stupid,” he apologized, partially to fill the void.

you turned to him. “it’s not stupid george. like you told me earlier, your concerns are valid. i’m really proud of you for admitting that.”

“i’ve guess i’ve just always felt kinda like an outsider at times. fred and i are always the odd ones out but even then he feels more included. and then you know about my issues with separation.”

you nodded. george wasn’t exactly open about him getting really bad separation anxiety. he’s spent his whole life with siblings and a twin. being around people all the time made it difficult for him to be away from it all.

“and that’s understandable, george. you shouldn’t feel bad for something you can’t control,” you offered.

george hummed at your words. “it just doesn’t help that mum has always compared me to percy if i bring it up since he’s such a ‘model brother.’ just because i’m not the best academically and struggle with something doesn’t mean i should be dummed down, right?”

george almost didn’t believe his final words. george found himself repeating ‘right?’ over and over to himself as if to reassure it in his mind.

his voice fell off, all signs of an incoming sob becoming apparent. you reached out to grab his hand, pulling him a little closer before bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles.

“george i mean it when i say you are are one of the smartest and strongest people i have met. i would be lying if i said your brain didn’t work a different way from other peoples but that’s what makes you who you are. you shouldn’t change for other people, i promise.”

with that, the first wave of tears flowed down george’s cheeks. his words meant more to him than you would ever know.

“have i ever told you why cress and i don’t get along? i’ll only tell you the story if you want a topic change.”

“yeah that would be nice actually,” he agreed, hand still loosely interlocked with yours.

you took a deep breath. george knew about your family issues but like you’ve said before, no one knew the extent of it.

“cress and i have a pretty big age gap. i mean that’s obvious. she’s getting married tomorrow and we’ll i’m still learning how to make potions and playing quidditch at school,” you started. “but since i’m muggle-born, it’s common for wizard abilities to skip around.”

george squeezed your hand gently, a silent reasurrence to your next sentence.

“well, i wasn’t born yet but when cress was ten, she didn’t get a hogwarts letter. barely even knew about the school either. and then when i was finally ‘of age’ you could say, i got my letter. i can’t even put into words how angry cress was. i swear she screamed at me for a full day straight and refused to talk to me for a good month. she made it seem as though i was the worst person alive for getting these abilities.”

“but you aren’t,” george jumped in. “it was a rare chance for either of you to even inherit your grandmothers powers.”

“exactly,” you agreed. “and it’s just so frustrating because i didn’t ask to be born like this. i didn’t chose to be thrown into the wizard life. i didn’t agree to get a letter to hogwarts and she just has never understood that. it’s turned into a one-sided sibling rivalry ever since.”

“i’m sorry y/n. you truly don’t deserve that,” george spoke.

you shrugged. “it’s taken me awhile and tonight may have been a little contradicting of that but i’m trying to move past it. in no way do i plan on restoring our bonds but i can at least act civil.”

george agreed instantly with your words. the conversation died down after that. both of you had gotten multitudes of feelings off of your chests and the aftermath of it was hitting a little hard.

you stayed on the bridge until it became near unbearable to. it was still pretty cold at night. george’s cheeks and nose were flushed pink, a key attribute to your reasoning.

“are you ready to go?”

“yeah yeah, let’s go back.”

after mounting your brooms once more, you descended back into the london night.

you arrived back to your home after midnight, touching down softly in the backyard almost silently.

the house was quiet by now, most of the lights being turned off as people slowly started heading off to bed. your dad and jasper were the only two still awake, sitting on the deck together and talking. you were sure it was about the wedding.

they were clearly startled by your presence, neither used to seeing magic let alone people flying on brooms. your dad got up first, opening his mouth to speak as you and george stepped up into the deck.

“look y/n-”

george held up his hand, your dad going quiet the moment he saw it. “leave it.”

with that, george grabbed your hand gently as you headed inside. “do you want to go up to bed?” he asked. you nodded, “yeah that sounds nice.”

you reached your shared room rather quickly, george taking your broom out of your hands to put away. your brooms were placed back into their concealment. to be honest, after seeing how they were packed, you realized how you didn’t notice george brought them at first.

“i’m going to go get changed, are you alright?” george asked.

you nodded. “go ahead, i need to change too.”

george exited the room before returning a few minutes later, dressed down in a pair of flannel pants and his most recent christmas initial sweater. “cozy?” you mused. george hummed, “very.”

you, on the other hand, were still cold. london at night, especially on the top of a bridge, was absolutely freezing.

the two of you got further ready for bed in silence. george closed the door and turned off most of the lights as you tidied up some of the mess from the day.

subconsciously, your mind had drifted as you were folding your clothes. sure you and george had your deep talk but there were still unanswered questions you had, especially with everything going down tomorrow.

“y/n?” george’s voice cut through your haze.

you hummed, turning around to face him. “are you coming to bed?” he added.

“yeah, sorry.”

“no need to apologize,” george spoke.

he flipped the covers forward, patting the spot next to him in bed for you to lie down. you slid in beside him, only leaning over to turn off the bedside lamp.

“are you cold? i can practically feel your chattering from over here,” george teased.

“freezing,” you answered.

george shifted slightly to face you, opening his arms with a small smile barely visible in light only peaking in from the moon. “come here.”

in an instant you were burying yourself in his chest, his natural body heat warming you up in an instant. george chuckled quietly, “is that better?”

you moved your head to rest on his chest, arm falling across his stomach. he, in turn, wrapped his arm around to rest on your back and pull you closer to him.

just as your coldness had melted away, so did your mutual doubts about the awkwardness of sharing a bed. it was comfortable actually, being wrapped up together.

“thank you for tonight georgie,” you whispered.

“thank you y/n,” george repeated. “sleep good, alright?”

you hummed, mumbling a ‘goodnight’ before slowly shutting your eyes.

despite being near exhausted from the entire day, your mind was still racing. everything just felt wrong and you needed some - any - reassurance that something was going right.

“hey george?” you eventually spoke into the darkness, unsure if the man you were literally laying on top of was even awake.

it took a moment for him to respond, his slight shifting being a key factor.

“yes love?”

“you’re my best friend, you know that right?”

george chuckled quietly. “yeah i do. and your mine as well.”

⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢⌢

tagging - @goldenxreid @wilburxpancakes @sunlightgalaxy @criminaly-supernatural @blakes-dictionxry @mrs-dr-reid @weasleytwinsfav @theguppienamedbae @fadesbrina

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fluff #the weasley twins #weasley twins #gryffindor #fred and george #fred and george weasley

119 notes · View notes

all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa · 4 years

Text

Lie Lie Bye

Alya sighed as she looked at the Akuma shelters Tv. She wished she was out there. The footage would be so good for her blog. It was easily the strongest akuma ever. Lila had everyone go to the shelter though. She was worried about her getting out and targeting them. Alya wasn't too worried. They took everything but her clothes and hid them after locking her in that closet. Plus they were pretty sure she kept the pin in her purse so she could not transform. Alya took notice of the fact ladybug had yet to show up. Everyone was getting nervous untill Chloe shreeks "that is Ladybugs kwami" Alya sighs again thinking 'when did that brat get here she was not with the class.' There was a loud bang as the camera shook then fell facing were the reporter ran. The reporter and crew are shown trying to free Marinette from a fallen building. 'Ugh why is it always her. Bet she would not be helping her if she knew what that girl had done.' Alya thinks. The Tv switches to another live stream. The fight is long and hard. Chat manages to defeat the Akuma. Tikki purifies the butterfly befor passing out. Chat stops in front of the reporter "Ladybug is missing possibly hurt. I have to go"

"As many of you saw our fellow reporter trying to free one Marinette Dupain-Cheng rubble earlier today. What you did not see was the brave action taken by this young woman. Marinette was seen assisting many injured people who would most likely have died without first aid befor the incident. Marinette saw a little girl that had been separated from her mother and mother and dived to shield her from the colapsed building. Now to the reporter who found her"

The reporter from earlier in the day stands in front of a hospital. "The brave young woman you saw earlier today is undergoing a life saving surgery. The surgery is the first of it's kind. It is extremely risky. It has been determined that the surgery is the only way Miss Marinette Dupain-Cheng will survive. Marinette was injured protecting a young child barierly four years of age. I need a moment -"

The camera switches "Take your time Nadia. Marinette Dupain-Cheng is a wonderful, amazing, and kind girl. I speak from personal experience. Everyone here at Tvi has her best wishes in mind. The people she helped are being checked on in the hospital. The child has only scraps and bruises thanks to-" Alya cuts the tv off. Her phone started going crazy.

"Chill guys the cure will fix everything" Alya sends to her panicking freinds.

Chloe responds "Unterly redicoulous. Alya you had a Miraculous. You know they have timers. You should-" Alya does not bother reading the rest of Chloe's text. "Quit trying to make us feel bad for that lieing traitor." Alya sends back. Then her phone goes silent afterwards. Shrugging she goes to bed.

It had been a week and ladybug has not showed back up only her kwami. There had been a hand full of minor akumas. They did minimal damage. Paris thanks luck for that. Two weeks and a temporary ladybug shows up. Chat appears less but on time for every akuma attack. The Akuma class have become outcast because of their behavior around the subject of the hospitalized hero.

Week three

"Are you sure you are ready to return?" Kagami asks handing the earrings to Marinette. "Do I have a choice? We are in the Akuma class after all." Marinette responds while making a jester to Chloe. "Utterly ridiculous they try to stop Mayrue they nearly killed ladybug and countless others." Chloe snaps out. "Once we get Hawkmoth we can bring justice for our bug" Luka states continuing a melody. They had all become permanent heros with new costumes after Marinette was allowed visiters. Now that she is allowed to leave to hospital they decided to meet up at her place. Chat/Adrian was invited but he could not be around Marinette for very long without crying. He had gotten better as she got proper prosthetics but originally any time he saw her mechanical, technological parts he cried. Now though Marinette looked and felt almost completely normal if not for the massive amount of strength on her right side. He did explain why he could not do anything to stop Lila and how much he regretted it. Marinette understood and had forgiven him but he had not forgiven himself. Kagami had to be held back by both Luka and Chloe as to not hunt down Gabriel for having Lila spy on his own sun and the fact Lila was blackmailing Adrian by stating one sentence from her would have him under house arrest was enough to have Marinette seeing red. Though the crying boy snapped both the girls out of it.

Chat running by the bakery yelling Akuma was enough to snap Marinette out of her thoughts. Kagami and Marionette went one way while Chloe and Luka went another. They had learned quickly splitting up in groups offered advantages. However not long after heading out Ryuuko pulls Ladybug down within sight of the akuma but also within sight of Hawkmoth. "Inform the others I will keep him busy." Ladybug explains.

The others quickly take out the Akuma but Hawkmoth is quick to make his move too. He manages to stab ladybug through her right shoulder. Marinette felt the pain as one normally would but as soon as Hawkmoth turned his attention to her teammates she pushes forward ripping off his miraculous. Chat rushes forward knocking Gabriel out with his staff. Queen Bee holds chat back and Luka holds Kagami back. Ladybug falls back just barely able to cast the cure befor passing out. Adrian collects all the things related to the miraculous and turns them in. The team decide to reveal their identities as to clear Adrian name and help with the lawsuits Marinette is preparing.

"The broadcast is supposed to air 30 minutes after class starts." Adrian was nervous. This was the first time he were coming back to class since Hawkmoth was defeated. Gorilla and Abby were their fulltime bodyguards now.

"Yeah I'm just hoping the principal corporates with the police." Marinette responds. Adrian nods. They enter the classroom. Many of their classmates say harsh things about the so called traitors but none come close to them in fear of their bodyguards.

When it comes time for the broadcast Ms Bustier makes it a class activity because why not? Only for the class to stare in shock at the the back row of their class. Marinette, Adrian, and Chloe continue to ignore their class as they ask questions. Ms Bustier tries to scold them for "not taking part in class discussion"

"Why the hell should my client disclose any information to a bunch of incompetent self righteous idiots who nearly killed ladybug!" Chloe's bodyguard snaps. Nino looks horrified. Juleka covers her mouth in shock. The pen in Nathaniels hand snaps. Ms Bustier looks taken back "My students wou never-" the door slams open. "Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi are to come with us impatiently. If you refuse we will take you by force. You have been deemed a threat to those around you" The man said. He clearly was not an officer but the man behind him is. Alya yells something about diplomatic immunity. "Alya Cesaire and Lila Rossi you are under arrest for attempted murder." The officer states while the man beside him just looks exasperated. "We only did it because we thought she was Mayrue! We only locked her in a closet!" Someone yells. "A closet in a building you knew the Akuma was targeting. If she had not of sent her Kwami through the air vents the Akuma would not have been stopped. If she had not gotten out dozens of people would have died including her. In case you have forgotten the miraculous cure did not fix anything that happened during that time because there was not a ladybug to case it so those people are still healing." The man states. "She looks perfectly fine now" Kim says. Chloe takes off part of Marinettes mechanical are and "yeet"s it at Kim's desk were it breaks in two. "Life saving risky surgery" is all Chloe says while picking up and returning Marinette hand. "As for the rest of you. You will give statements then head straight home unless told otherwise. Your parents are being contacted as we speak."

Nino, Nathaniel, Sabrina, and Juleka were allowed to stay. Ms. Bustier had to leave for the day. As it turned out the only one that had any idea what had happened was Nino who thought he had convinced his girlfriend not to act on what Lila said. Nino had no idea anything had happened that day until that moment. He believed Marinette stayed to help people because that is who she is. Ms. Bustier is fired as a teacher and brought up on charges of neglect as no teacher or adult for that matter could be that blindof all of what went on inform of them.

Nino gains temporary Miraculous. Nathaniel becomes Foxie. Juleka becomes Bunbun. They all continue to be heros for different reasons.

The classmates directly involved go though the justice system. Those that helped plan or just knew about it were sent to different schools for troubled teens.

585 notes · View notes

thejakeformerlyknownasprince · 4 years

Note

Have you noticed the thing in fanfics of children's lit where the writer gives the protagonist new parent figures? The parent figures say things like "no child should have had to do x!". PF's don't prevent protagonist from doing heroism but might ground them for it after. Under their care, the protagonist is likely to get a job, often at the business of the PF. Seems less common for the Animorph (more in ATLA and Harry Potter), but if you have seen this, what's going on? Why do writers do this?

Why do writers do this?

Welcome to the fandom renaissance, Nonny! My best stab as to what’s going on here is that we’re seeing fewer and fewer shipping wars due to a whole range of forces from “the average age of fandom is increasing” to “there’s an ongoing post-monogamy societal shift.” BUT that there’s still a desire to see relationship-building fic go in the gaps where (for instance) Pro-Jacob Anti-Edward fic used to go. So instead of writing about Edward and Bella’s romance, people are writing about Edward and Carlisle’s mentorship, or Leah and Rosalie’s friendship.

What’s going on?

Again, a stab in the dark: it’s a really fun story premise, one that can get away from the way ships are sometimes fraught with baggage. Found Family is intensely cathartic, in the sense that it takes characters who are miserable and/or lonely in canon and allows them to build loving relationships with each other. It also (IMHO) reflects that trend among Millennial Whippersnappers to move away from nuclear definitions of “family” and toward embracing everything from polyamory to sexless romance to adult adoption.

Not only that, but it’s awesome in that it lets writers play so much with foils. Stranger Things obviously does this Up to Eleven (pun intended): Steve’s an arrogant jerk when he’s interacting with Nancy but a dorky sweetheart around Dustin, Hopper’s at his worst around Joyce but at his best around El, Billy’s evil to Max but might be redeemable around his mom, etcetera. This premise gives fan writers the chance to get wildly different characters into a room together — what if the Tonks family adopted Neville Longbottom? — and start playing out the fun potential.

Why Avatar and Harry Potter (but not Animorphs)?

In a word: FOILS. Both AtLA and Harry Potter are series filled with good, bad, and ugly mentors, and both series have contrasts between the good and the bad. For AtLA, it’s no accident that Zuko finally reuniting with his father in S3E1 is intercut with the scene of Katara finally reuniting with her father. Katara’s fam airs their grievances, talks things out, yells, cries, apologizes, forgives, hugs, and affirms their ongoing love. Zuko’s fam deals with having 500 times as much baggage by... Zuko kowtowing silently on the floor while Ozai talks about everything but their problems with each other. After that sequence, the desire to get Zuko into a room with Hakoda for some proper fathering is practically overwhelming, and many brilliant fan writers have obliged us by doing exactly that.

For Harry Potter, there’s no scene that’s as in-your-face with the contrast between healthy vs. unhealthy disagreement with one’s father, but there are still plenty of mentor foils. Sirius and Petunia are probably the clearest examples. Sirius is a raging mess who (on the surface) has nothing to offer Harry: he’s an ex-con with a drinking problem and untreated mental health issues who spends much of the series homeless. Petunia has her shit together and (on the surface) is the perfect guardian for Harry: she’s a wealthy full-time parent who lives in a large suburban house, and is both his closest surviving relative and his legal guardian. But of course all Harry needs from a parent is love and support, and Sirius offers that in spades while Petunia has none to spare. Again, the desire to rip Harry away from the Dursleys and ship him off to go be a Black is overwhelming, and many beautiful works of fan fiction have done exactly that.

Animorphs... doesn’t have mentor characters. Like, none. Elfangor dies, Toby does her own thing, Erek can’t be trusted, neither Ax nor Jake wants to mentor, and all adults are possible controllers. Eva’s the closest we get, but by the time she’s free, everyone (especially Eva) recognizes that the Animorphs are already more experienced than her. We don’t even see a dynamic like the Teen Titans show where the villains mentor the heroes — Jake and Marco might occasionally parallel Visser Three and Visser One, but they don’t learn from the vissers the way that Robin does from Slade or Raven does from Trigon. The kids just... find their own way. So while people have written fic where Elfangor or Eva or Mertil or Tom mentors the team, there’s not this in-your-face missed opportunity for the kids to get the parenting they deserve in Animorphs the way there is with Harry Potter and Avatar.

Have you noticed the thing?

Personally, I love this trend. I’m not much of a shipper — I’m not fond of “will they or won’t they” romantic premises, and actively dislike “they will because they’re soulmates” premises. My favorite Ship Dynamics are all platonic. Like, my faves include (but are not limited to):

Grubby Semi-Feral Mentee and Aloof Socially-Incompetent Mentor Bond with Alarming Speed Over Niche Magical Interest (see: Briar and Rosethorn in Circle of Magic, Boy 412 and Marcia in Septimus Heap, Jason and Bruce in Batman, Wart and Merlin in The Once and Future King)

Well-Intentioned Loving Parent Irretrievably Fucks Up Child, Copes with Fallout (see: John and Dean in Supernatural, Adam and Cal in East of Eden, Soichiro and Light in Death Note, Elaine and T.J. in Political Animals)

I’ve Only Known This Person With Extremely Specific Shared Trauma for 10 Minutes But If Anything Happened to Them I Would Kill Everyone (see: Toph and Zuko in AtLA, Luke and Annabeth in Demigod Diaries, Ax and Tobias in Animorphs, Spike and Angel in Angel, Parker and Eliot in Leverage, Johanna and Finnick in Catching Fire)

Saving the World Sucks But At Least My Ultra-Competent Siblings Are Suffering With Me (see: Edmund and Lucy in Chronicles of Narnia, Sam and Dean in Supernatural, the Hargreeveses in Umbrella Academy, the Crains in Haunting of Hill House)

Just Because I Tried to Kill You That One Time Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Help You Hide a Body, JFC We’re Still Family and I Don’t Know What You Take Me For (see: the Robins in Batman, Septimus and Simon in Septimus Heap, Kyle and Ian in The Host)

We Were the Weird Cousins At All the Family Reunions and We’ve Only Gotten Weirder Since (see: Kate and George in Story Time, Jake and Rachel in Animorphs, Po and Bitterblue in Graceling Realm)

#fan fiction #animorphs #animorphs meta #animorphs fic #animorphs fandom #fan meta #fandom #harry potter #avatar the last airbender #ship dynamics #found family #atla #Anonymous #ask #mentoring #i write sibs not romance

192 notes · View notes

pluto-art · 4 years

Text

Softly - PatB Fan Fiction

Type: Hurt/Comfort Rating: PG Summary: Baby Brain has known little but pain and misery in an unloving world, but when he gets paired up with a new lab student things change in a way he didn’t expect.

This started out as a mini story in a Discord server and got... a little out of hand. What you see here is how much I typed out in the server.

He hadn't been there long. Two... maybe three weeks? The cold metal had finally become familiar beneath his feet, and the strange blocks, though generally tasteless, kept him alive. There wasn't much that made his new living quarters interesting; there was only so much one could do in a pile of aspen shavings day after day. Occasionally, they would hook up to his cage some sort of liquid that wasn't his usual watery fair. He could never decipher or make heads or tails of the words on the sides of the bottles, saying things like D-D-T or S-N-I-P-P-L-E. The only distinguishing feature to him was that sometimes they tasted terrible, sometimes quite flavorful, and sometimes they tasted like nothing at all. Almost all of them turned his stomach. Driven to thirst, however, he'd play their cruel game. Choice was not something that existed in this crisp, sterile world; at least, not from a personal standpoint. When it did exist it meant the difference between a shock and a treat; a yellow light or a red light; a warm room or a cold one. Choice was manufactured.

He still cried almost every night. He tried to quiet the tears, but they didn't always listen. The others heard him. One or two laughed cynically. Most said nothing; they'd shed their own fair share and would again sooner than later. A single kind soul, a mother rat some doors down from him, occasionally whispered to him a lullaby or two when everyone else but them were asleep. They were songs she sang to her own children to quiet their tears, and she had no less compassion for this unfortunate soul, who was even worse off than her own brood -- he didn't even have any parents to nuzzle up to. Had she her way, she would have mutilated every last living human being in the facility. It was bad enough that they were tested on mercilessly as adults. To do so to children was simply insidious. Alas, she was simply a rat, and so could only dream of days when she wasn't.

Not that BR-41N (that's what they called him; no one had real names here) hadn't tried to be friendly with his captures. Aside from a particularly nasty poke from some long, thin, prickly object inserted into his thigh the first day (it had stung; oh, it had stung...) the proceeding couple of days had consisted of simple maze runs and treadmill exercises. Nothing too elaborate. As a child, he'd been used to running around a lot in the field, and sifting through the labyrinths reminded him of the long grass he'd play hide-and-seek in back home, except at the end of them was a tasty prize: a piece of cheese. He liked cheese. In the wild, it was hard to come by, but here they gave it to him generously, provided he finished the courses, which he always did. The fourth day followed in much the same way, but the fifth day brought something different: a sudden shock and a broken tail. That had changed his view of things. Perhaps the harsh awakening wouldn't have been so terrible had it not been followed by other unspeakable things -- poisoned food; friends made that, the next day, would never be seen again; more shocks given as punishment for choosing an incorrect panel; injections that made him see things he'd never seen, monsters and strange colors and other scary things that kept him awake at night; loud noises that came out of nowhere; and often, quite often, the terrifying echo of squeaks, barks, and meows that made up the daily music of Acme Laboratories. He hated it. He hated all of it. More than anything, he wanted to go home. He missed the warmth; the love; the soft whisper of the wind that traveled through his ivory fur. He wanted all of it back. But life? She was a harsh mistress. And no amount of crying, screaming, or pleading, seemed to ever make her turn an ear.

As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks... months, more than just a tail was broken. Trust was broken. Hope was broken. Spirit... was broken. If there was any love, if there was any future, it wasn't here. Kindness had proved unfruitful, and patience had run its course. He didn't find reason to be willing, nor show charity, towards those who made his life a living hell. What reason was there? What profit was in it? Time had told him, quite bluntly, there wasn't. It had taken him a full month to admit defeat, but admit it he did, and cynical he became, 'til every hand that reached in to grab him was ripe to be bitten, every shot that punctured his stomach was the unwelcome norm, and every newcomer that tried to strike up a friendship was easily ignored. The latter-most was simply wasting their time. He could read the colors on the cages now. He knew that a red mark meant "death". He only wondered why he, as of yet, had never been given one himself. It was as if life itself was laughing at him -- keeping him as witness to the horrors that went on inside the dragon's cave, yet never giving him the satisfaction of death.

And so the third month dawned, chilly and barren, or so the scientists said. Autumn had come. Not that any of the residents within the thick, cemented walls could see it. But the laboratory personnel spoke of it -- gold and crimson leaves, hot chocolate, dried wheat fields. He could almost smell the corn; could almost feel the breeze.... Days passed. For the first time, they gave him a cage mate. E8-WN, they called him. He was kind, but BR-41N had little love left to give. Besides, he had the red tag. It seemed they had only placed him here temporarily due to a lack of space. The next day he was taken to the back. The tiniest shred of pity nipped at BR-41N as he watched the little peach-furred mouse be carried into the surgical room, a curious look on his face. Another emotion was also present within him: jealousy. On the 17th day of September, a new thing happened -- a thing that, for the first time in a while, made the little mouse turn his head.

The school year had started, and, as such, fresh meat was welcomed into the laboratory in the form of fourteen college students looking to continue pursuits in medical science. They were all very quiet during the tour, one or two of them occasionally lifting a hand to ask a question about course materials or contact information. They were each, it seemed, to be given a subject: an animal from the laboratory to study, train, and conduct experiments on. Rats, mice, and hamsters had already been picked out for them, and each was given a black-coated subject or a brown-furred captive to take charge of. Each student's rodent was to be kept in the lab at all times, and specific instructions were given them as to the proper handling of the creatures. At least two experiments were to be conducted on them daily, three if possible. They could spend as much time with their charge as they wished, so long as they got their homework done. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents. Four months to finish their work. Simple.

As it stood, however, there had been a miscalculation. Fourteen students. Fourteen rodents.... No. Not fourteen. Only thirteen. There'd been an error. They'd forgotten to set aside an extra subject. The unfortunate student without a charge was a college girl named Rachel. All other rodents were going through tests conducted by various personnel in the lab, set aside specifically for said conductions that couldn't currently be tampered with. All except one....

"So, um, Rachel," their teacher said, checking his student list. "You may have to share with... Peterson.... You know what? We might... actually have an extra for you. Hold on. Let me ask...."

And he departed into another room, calling for a "Jackson".

"Jackson! Can she use BR-41N? I don't think he's going through any rigorous testing.... Yeah? Okay. Yeah, that would work out perfectly. Thanks."

He turned back to his brood, many of whom looked quite eager to jump in to these intriguing studies, others looking downright bored.

"Okay. We have one for you. His code name is BR-41N. He's not going through any major testing, and he's generally given the usual works -- labyrinths, shock treatment, all that. But, um... he bites. Really bad. So... you'll have to watch it, all right?"

"Okay," Rachel nodded, looking a little nervous.

"All right. Umm.... Good. Yes. So, let's head back to the main campus, and... we'll start your work tomorrow."

And they left.

BR-41N had only heard part of all this, and had understood none of it. He shivered in his cage, taking a moment to drink some water out of the bottle that hung there. While the arrival of such a large group intrigued him, especially since it consisted of a much younger set than normal, it also made him nervous. Was it a sign of good things to come... or bad? Or just more of the usual fair? One could only wonder. For now, he was simply grateful that the cheese they'd given him today was, for once, not laced with drugs.

She came by on a Tuesday.

It was an hour after a cosmetics test that he heard a knock on the table. His skin still burned. He was cowering in a far corner, and looked back over his shoulder hesitantly.

Rachel stood there, smiling at him.

"Hello, little one." He stared at her, nonplussed. "I guess you're my charge. You gonna say hello?"

And she opened up the door of his cage.

He shuffled back further. He knew all too well by this point that the opening of a door meant one of two things: food or torture. Considering the fact that she didn't smell of food, he had to assume it was the latter.

"It's okay. I'm not gonna hurt you. Well, hopefully not...."

Although he didn't understand a word of what she said, her tone was calm; soothing. No one in the lab ever talked to him like this. He couldn't help but stare curiously.

She held her hand up to the entrance and made a soft, squeak-like sound with her mouth. He frowned at her. As if that was going to convince him. He turned away.

"No? I don't blame you," she replied, taking a look at his clipboard. "BR-41N. What kind of a freak name is that? Mind if I call you Brain? Or Brian?"

No response.

"We'll go with Brian. Brain sounds kinda weird."

Brian it was.

She kept the door open, and he braced himself. Any moment now, gloved hands would be protruding into his enclosure to wrap themselves firmly about him, not tight enough to choke him, but secure enough that he couldn't escape. But the hand didn't come. If anything, she pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested her arms upon the table on which his cage sat. She was... giving him a choice? He stared at her, unsure how to react.

"Come on, sweet heart," she cooed, rubbing her fingers together encouragingly.

But he wouldn't budge. If this was some new trick, it wasn't going to work. He wished she'd just grab him and get it over with. Sooner or later, she'd have to. It was only a matter of time. And so he waited....

She sat there for a full twenty minutes, trying her best to get him to come over, but he refused to budge, and so she gave up. As expected, she still ran him through a maze, but instead of reaching in to grab him, she found a clear tube and scooped him up in it, covering both ends before depositing him into the run as such. It was... odd, but less invasive than what he was used to. He rather wished the others would do it that way.

Via the same method she returned him to his cage at the end of the test. As usual, he took to the corner, assuming his usual cowardly pose, but he turned to look at her as she spoke.

"Sorry about that. Nice job, though. See you tomorrow."

And so went the next day... and the next, always with the same introduction: She'd open his door, pull up a chair, and offer her hand to him. After twenty minutes of nothing, she'd scoop him up in the tube, deposit him in the maze or whatever other test he was to perform that day, and return him in the same manner. This went on for four whole weeks, always with a kind word, never coupled with a harsh prod or poking of his skin. He came to somewhat look forward to her almost daily visits, not because he trusted her (the one time she had tried touching him [with gloves on, of course], he'd given her a fair warning in the form of a bite), but because it was the only two hours during the day in which he knew he wouldn't be fed poison, given a shot, or made to inhale cigarette smoke. The other students joked with her. By far, she had the unfriendliest mouse out of all of them, and they found her kind advances a waste of time.

"Just pick him up!" a tall boy said.

Most of them had no problem with handling their subjects by the tail; at least, the boys generally didn't. The girls were kinder, but even they didn't take the time to get to know their animals intimately. They also were given the harder tests to conduct on their critters and so tried not to get attached.

Whereas most of the rats, mice, and hamsters given to the students would eventually be killed in some way or other at the end of the semester, via through vivisection, gassing, cancer, or some other method, BR-41N, or... Brian, as Rachel now called him, was not scheduled to be offed anytime soon and so could not undergo such rigorous experiments. As such, she got both the easy job of conducting very simple tests on him, and also the hard job of trying to work with the most hostile mouse in the entire facility.

"He's never gonna warm up to you," one of the other students said.

Rachel took it as a challenge.

"Watch me," she said.

But Brian was proving to be a much tougher can than expected. By the sixth week, he still hadn't even bothered to venture near the cage entrance when she sat near it, even with tasty treats in hand. He simply didn't trust anyone. Not anymore....

October came and went, to be replaced with a frosty November. Whenever Brian saw Rachel now she had a cup of tea in hand, the better to ward off the coming winter chill. Still she tried; still he refused to relent. Until the 9th....

It was late. She hadn't been able to get to the lab until 8:00 PM due to unfortunate series of events that involved a fender bender, two appointments, and a last minute essay. When she got to the lab she was tired... and not at all in the mood to deal with Brian's B.S., and he knew it.

"'Sup?" she asked him wearily, setting down her things in a huff. Only a handful of other people were still in the facility at this hour, none of them students. Fine by her. She preferred the quiet anyway. "We're gonna do something a little different today, bud."

Indeed.... He perked his ears up at her exhausted tone and the fact that, for once, she didn't open the cage door. But she did still slide the chair up to his table.

On the opposite side of the room was a television on a rolling stand. Normally, this was used for surgeries and other experiments. Once in a blue moon, however, someone would use it for recreational purposes -- to watch the local news when there was time to kill. Most fortunately for Rachel, it also came with a VHS player. Into it she popped a tape, before sitting down in the chair and grabbing her hot cup of peppermint tea. Despite himself, Brian took a whiff of the tea, whose scent had wafted into his cage and tickled his nose. It smelled good.

The film began to play. Brian didn't know the name of it, but whatever it was it was made up of very pretty pictures and featured a lot of dogs... and snow (at least at the beginning). It was rather soothing. Still, he didn't move from his spot, save to grab a lab block at one point to munch on, more to pass the time than anything. His stomach was still a little unsettled from earlier. Privately, he was a bit ticked off at the girl. Had she been a bit earlier he might have avoided the shock treatments. Not that they would have withheld them regardless.

It wasn't until the second song that his attention was at last caught.

"La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...."

Sweetly did the animated woman sing her little song, and Brian, captivated, perked his ears. He looked up at the television. She was still singing. He stepped forward, bit by bit, until he was right up to the closed door, two little paws coming up to grasp at the bars of his cage as he stared, entranced, at the screen.

"La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper, La la lu, La la lu, La la luuuuu."

And so it ended, all within the span of a minute, if that, but something had stirred with him -- a remembrance of home, and warmth, and what it was like to be loved.

He was still clutching at the bars when he noticed that Rachel was smiling at him, and he promptly sped back to his corner, embarrassed.

"Atta boy," she whispered, still grinning softly at him.

He refused to look at her. He wasn't touched by it or anything. He wasn't....

"It's okay. Don't be embarrassed," said the girl. "I like that song, too."

Brian stayed in his corner the rest of the movie, but the song never left his mind.

---

The next day proceeded as normal. Once again, Rachel sat by his cage. Once again, she had brought a treat, albeit one he'd never seen before, nor smelled, for that matter. It was small... and white... and fluffy, and it smelled sugary and sweet. He wanted it. Oh, he wanted it so very badly. But nothing that ever came from the fingers of a scientist, even a soft-spoken one, was innocent. And so he refused, his back turned to her.

"Stubborn butt," said Rachel, and by her tone alone Brian could tell that it was a snide comment. He ignored her.

"Here."

As had occurred many times before, she left the treat in his cage near the entrance, closed the door, and sat to watch him. His eyes shifted towards the treat. It sat there, staring at him, mocking him. Eat me, it said. No, he thought. Oh, but it smelled so good....

Rachel sighed. So did Brian. She rested her head in her arms, exasperated. Maybe it really wasn't worth it....

Brian licked his lips. Perhaps....

He took a step forward. Rachel remained where she was, head in her arms, not looking at him. He moved another step. She was still as a stone. Patter patter patter patter patter... GRAB. He swooped back to his corner as fast as possible, marshmallow in his mouth. Rachel looked up... and chuckled. Brian dug into the treat, enjoying every second of it as teeth sunk into the savory delight. He'd never tasted anything this good before. It was better than mother's milk; much better than lab pellets; better than cheese....

"Silly little thing," Rachel giggled, smiling as he filled his cheeks with pleasantness. "Wait 'til you see what I bring you tomorrow."

Tomorrow, he was to find out, brought a piece of a doughnut, and the day after that a waffle. He'd never been this darn spoiled before. On the fourth occasion, he was, for once, already at the door, waiting to see what she'd bring. Lady and the Tramp and sugar, it turned out, were the keys to his heart, although he still wouldn't let her touch him. If her hand so much as brushed his fur he was back to his corner in a rush, although, this time, he didn't try to bite her first.

Rachel laughed when she saw the two little paws clutching at the gated entrance.

"You like 'em that much, huh? Here ya' go."

He stepped back to allow her access to the gate, and watched carefully as she placed something savory and smelling of salt inside. He sniffed, investigating as she closed the door. He took a tentative bite. Mmmmm. Yes, this was acceptable. Grabbing it, he rushed back to his usual corner and chowed down.

"Good. A fellow bacon appreciator," Rachel nodded, satisfied.

He ate the entire piece, licking his lips and proceeding to clean himself afterwards. That had been a bit messy. Good, but messy. If there was something he still valued, it was cleanliness. He could at least retain some form of dignity. The state of his fur was one of the few things he still had control over. Unlike some of the other unfortunate chaps, he'd never had to endure surgery or a shaved stomach.

Two little pink ears perked up as his cage door was opened yet again. More treats? No. Just Rachel, hand offered to him once more. Brian sighed. She just wouldn't give up, would she?

A second glance made him aware that she did, in fact, have something in her hand -- another marshmallow. Hmph. Sneaky. And yet, he'd be lying if he said he didn't want it....

"It's okay, little one," Rachel cooed, hand still outstretched, that plump marshmallow beckoning ever so tantalizingly. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I promise."

Brian sighed. He looked down at the floor, then over at her hand.

Rachel's eyes widened a touch, but she otherwise didn't reveal her surprise as Brian moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, towards her hand....

He stopped at the entrance, debating. Dare he...? It was a risk. He'd never willing done this, not since he'd been captured. It was a stupid decision. Stupid. And yet....

Her hand shifted a touch, and Brian shifted nervously with it. Rachel waited with bated breath.

He stepped forward....

In a flash, he'd grabbed the 'mallow from her hand and retreated to the back of his cage, not daring to even think about what he'd just done. It was foolish. It was dangerous. And yet, she hadn't tried to grab him, or even pet him. She'd just... given him a choice. And he'd taken it. Somehow, for some reason, he'd taken it.

Rachel smiled.

"Atta boy."

---

Perhaps it was the mere fact, the tantalizing realization, that he had a choice in the first place, that drew him back, but over the course of the next few weeks, things changed.

It had started slow at first. A light brush of the whiskers here; a sniff of the hand there. But, eventually, Brian, of his own accord, stepped into her hand. And she didn't close her fingers about him harshly, or strangle him, or pick him up by the tail. She simply... let him be. It was kind. It was unobtrusive. It was respectful. And he appreciated it.

No longer did the other students make fun, or joke that she'd never gain his trust. If anything, they questioned her.

"How the heck did you do it?" they'd ask, curious.

Even more confused were the scientists themselves. Not that anyone had tried very hard to gain the little mouse's trust. He was, in their opinion, not worth the time.

But he was to Rachel.

December came, and with it a complete turn-around in Brian's behavior, albeit towards one particular individual.

He eagerly rushed into her hand now. No need for the transportation tube. She could carry him on her shoulder to the maze area and pick him up with her bare hands as she placed him in the labyrinth, although she still made sure to let him take the first step and would, more often than not, simply offer a hand instead of plucking him from her shoulder. He still appreciated this.

Every weekday was now a day to look forward to. Sure, he was still tormented by the main personnel, but for two or three hours, two or three sweet hours, he didn't have to worry about anything. On the days he suffered from a stomach-ache, she'd hold him close to her chest and do her best to rub the pain away, offering him tea to ease his suffering, and if he fell asleep on her shoulder and woke up, shaking, from a bad dream, she'd rock him back and forth, singing "La La Lu" to him until the nightmares went away. On those rare nights, when she could only work late and no one was around, she'd bottle feed him. He'd been hesitant (and a little embarrassed) at first, but any reminder of home was difficult to ignore, and so he ended up embracing each form of love and affection with open paws, clutching tightly to her chest some days, as if this hug would be his last. For all he knew, it could be. He'd gotten used to her visits, but what if she left and never came back? He didn't want that love to leave....

December 14th.

The end of the semester was approaching. Rachel had told him, time and again, that she was leaving soon; that she would miss him; that she'd try to come back for the next semester. Brian understood none of this. He was a mouse, after all. Human language was foreign to him. The most he could understand was the occasional word -- his name, Brian, and various names of foods and tests -- and basic inflections that he knew signified concern, happiness, or contentment. But he didn't understand "leave", or "semester", or "miss". He could tell something was wrong, that she was sad, but as to why, he did not know.

A week from the last day of the semester, she brought a surprise: a movie. It had something to do with a rat, and food. He liked it for those things. He wished he could understand the words. It seemed interesting. He sat on Rachel's shoulder the entire time, at least until the end of the film, during which Rachel offered her hand to him. He accepted. She brought him up to her chest, nuzzling him close.

"I'm going away for a while, but... I'll try to be back next semester."

She petted him gently. He stared up at her, curious and concerned. Why was she so sad?

"I'm going to miss you...," she whispered. And, for the first time, she kissed him on his fuzzy white head. "I love you...."

He didn't understand the words, but he understood what they meant; how they felt.

Slowly, gently, he nuzzled close to her... and licked her fingers. It was the first time he'd shown genuine affection outside of nuzzling since he'd been captured. I love you, too....

He didn't understand it, but... there was something in the air that told him something big was coming. Something new. Something was going to be different....

December 18th came just like any other day. The semester was coming to a close. Many students had already finished their courses and gone home for the holidays. The occasional class still lingered on, including the medical science class. Most all had completed training and experimentation on their subjects for the season and were simply spending the next few days filing reports and filling out last minute essays. Some of the rodents wouldn't live to see the new year. Others had already been subjected to vivisection by their handlers and were far from the lab by this point. Subject BR-41N was one of the few who'd been given the same sheet on their clipboard day after day, week after week: a run of the mill of the usual, simple, non-invasive tests, along with an injection or two. But today was different.

As Rachel stepped up to Brian's cage, sipping at a hot cup of tea and smiling as her charge ran up to the bars to greet her, she frowned as she pulled up the clip board. His tag was yellow. Not the usual blue, but... yellow. She set down her cup, ignoring Brian's squeaky pleas to be let out as she looked over the sheet carefully.

Subject Reserved for Project B.R.A.I.N. // Invasive Study -- Cognitive Psychology, Neuroscience Psychology // 4:00 PM - Dec. 20

There was a pause, in which the dip in Rachel's brow furrowed ever deeper, her eyes roaming about the page scrutinizingly, before she slipped the paper out of its holder and headed back out the way she'd came, Brian looking curiously after her.

She marched all the way to a back office, in which sat one of the laboratory heads: Jackson. He looked up over his square-rimmed glasses as she knocked upon the exposed inner door frame.

"Yes?" he asked, sounding bored.

"Hey. Um.... I think you gave my subject the wrong paper."

"BR-41N?"

"Yeah. He got a yellow."

She stretched out her arm, offering the paper as proof, but he didn't take it. Instead, he looked up at her, fingers meeting at their tips, and said:

"No, I gave you the right paper. That's for BR-41N. His procedure is in two days."

His tone was flat and laced with a thin layer of poison, as if her daring to question him was a challenge.

"But... I thought he was just doing mainly labyrinth tests."

"Ms. Field, I thought you were told...?"

"Told what...?"

"He's been scheduled for this procedure for months. We wanted him fresh and so have eschewed more invasive tests until now. Frankly, you've been spending a little too much time with that mouse. He's gotten too friendly. We're not in the business of developing attachment here."

He said all this with a straight face, completely emotionless. Rachel swallowed thickly.

"Sir, I've... been going over this test. It's... very dangerous."

"Yes."

"It could kill him...."

"Yes?"

Rachel simply stared at him, uncertain of what to say next. He wasn't working with her here....

"Look.... What did you expect? You're studying medical science, correct?"

She nodded.

"Okay, well," he continued, a small chuckle of sarcasm escaping his lips as he said it. "Y-You have to realize that... this is a laboratory. We can't keep every subject. And these tests come with a lot of risks."

"Could you possibly do the test on another subject...?" Rachel asked, choosing her words carefully. "Brian is still kind of young, and..."

"Brian?"

Shoot.

"Sorry, I mean... BR-41N."

"You can't start... naming them, Miss Field. That's when you start getting attached. Understand?"

"I know...," Rachel mumbled, cheeks reddening as she looked down at her shoes.

"And the whole point of using him at this age is because his mind is younger. He's fresh."

"But he's just a baby..."

"Yes? And? A lot of the other students are working with infants."

"This one is...," Rachel began, than stopped. Already she'd said too much.

"Miss Field, if you don't prepare him for the procedure, someone else will. Now, you can either do your assignment or lose your credits. It's your choice."

Rachel sighed. Still holding the paper, she let her arm fall dramatically to her side.

"Fine...."

And she turned to walk off. But...

"Miss Field?"

She looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Yes, Sir," Rachel replied, after a hefty pause, and headed back to her charge.

---

Brian didn't understand why Rachel was so quiet that day, nor why she cuddled him so much. She whispered to him something about "breaking out" and "night", but he didn't understand what those things meant, although he heard the urgency in her voice. As a result, he was a little more uptight the rest of the afternoon.

Before leaving, Rachel kissed the top of his head again, before setting him back down in the cage and hooking the door. Her good-byes were all but gibberish to him, although he recognized the word "tomorrow". So he'd be seeing her tomorrow. That was good. At least he had a time frame. He was naive to the rest....

---

December 19th 9:15 PM

BR-41N cleaned his whiskers, pondering.

She hadn't shown up today. Strange. "Tomorrow". She's said "tomorrow". Today was tomorrow. Why hadn't she come?

To his left, in a far corner of the room, someone sneezed in their cage. Brian frowned sadly. It was that hamster again. Whatever they'd given him had put him into a sneezing fit for an hour. Now and then he relapsed.

He yawned, stretched, and made for the food dispenser, when he suddenly heard a sharp click of a door being opened and abruptly snapped shut. He turned in the direction of the door. A light flicked on. Brian smiled.

Rachel's feet slid across the floor in haste. Instead of her usual student lab coat, she was decked out in her normal clothes, complete with backpack. Her hoodie was up, obscuring her hair, save for a few strands that stuck out here and there, as well as part of her face. She moved with purpose, albeit a little covertly, looking over her shoulder every now and then, as if expecting someone to grab her at any minute.

Set in a wall above the entrance to the room, a camera followed her. Rachel's eyes shifted at the sound as she moved towards Brian's cage. She knew she only had five, maybe ten, minutes at best.

Opening the cage door, she held her hand out for Brian to step onto. He hesitated. Something didn't smell right....

"Come on. We're busting you out of here, dude," Rachel whispered.

Brian cocked his head at her questioningly.

"Listen, they're going to put your through that splicer if we don't get you out of here, so come on."

There was an urgency in her voice that, despite his misgivings, compelled him to move forward. He trusted her too much by this point.

"Atta boy," she praised him, tucking him in her shirt pocket.

He peeked out, paws clutching at the edges of the pocket interestedly.

"Let's go," Rachel whispered, turning back to the door and stopping as she realized that someone was already standing there....

Framed in the metal doorway was a woman, thirty-five... maybe forty-something in age. Her arms were crossed, and the expression on her face seemed as taught and firm as the scrunchie tightening her poofy auburn hair. Her long lab coat was still settling; she must have only just gotten there. Rachel recognized this woman. Lana, her name was -- she was one of the head managers at the facility. Jackson had obviously tipped her off.

"Fancied a night stroll?" she asked, tone dripping with sarcasm.

Rachel remained frozen in place, a hand subconsciously cupping her shirt pocket. The gesture didn't go unnoticed.

"You know you're risking a lot for this. That's all your credits down the drain."

"He's worth it," Rachel answered, resolute.

"He's not. You take him and they'll just get another subject."

"At least I'll have saved this one."

"We'd still rather you not take an asset that's been reserved for months for this procedure," Lana nipped, taking a step forward.

Rachel took a step back. Her eyes shifted to a door to her left. It led to several other testing rooms and then back out into the main hallway. Some of the doors had security locks. It was the long way around, but if she was fast enough....

"Rachel...," Lana spoke, tone threatening as she advanced. "Put him down."

With each step Lana took towards her, Rachel moved two back. She could feel herself starting to perspire. Gosh, this was a stupid idea....

"Rachel...."

With a hand cupped over her shirt pocket, Rachel darted in the direction of the door, opening it up in a flash and slamming it shut behind her. Already she was racing for the opposite end of the room, where another door stood.

Brian jumped as an alarm went off, followed by red lights that flashed all throughout the facility. Rachel was already in the next room, her heart racing. She could hear the panicked footsteps behind her, mimicking her own, and hoped upon hope that she was faster than her pursuer.

Rachel picked up her pace as she entered the next room. This one, she knew, required an employee badge to open. All of the students had been given security badges, of course, primarily for general access to the entrance and main rooms. They worked on some doors in the facility. Some, but not all. She'd never been in these rooms. Privately, she prayed that they'd open for her.

Slamming her badge up against a wall panel, she bounced up and down on the balls of her feet nervously.

"Come on. Come oooon! Take it!!"

It did. The door unlocked, and she swung it open in haste to make for the next locked door, which also granted her entrance.

She was faster than Lana, but it didn't mean the woman wasn't hot on her heels. Brian shut his eyes tightly, huddling against Rachel's chest on the inside of her pocket as she darted about, her hand still cupping him securely. He knew, somehow, that this was about him. His ears rotated this way and that at the duo of clicking feet racing down the linoleum flooring. Who would win? Who was he most valuable to?

It wasn't until the fourth room that Rachel started to panic. Yet again, she'd reached a door asking for proof of access, except this time... her badge was not accepted. She shook the door handle feebly, knowing it wouldn't open; knowing this was the end of the line. Despite himself, Brian peeked out of the shirt pocket, just in time to see Lana as Rachel swiftly turned around to face the woman, who stood at the opposite end of the room, hair askew and chest heaving as she glared at Rachel and her tiny charge.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Lana huffed.

"Why do you need him?! Just let me take him and get another subject!" Rachel bit.

"We let you get away with it and you'll set a precedent! You know that!" Lana snapped right back. "And we don't want to waste any more time. We've spent too much money on this project."

"He's just a baby!"

"All of them are meant to be expendable! Hand him over!"

"No!"

Brian's ears flicked. Rachel held her breath. Was it just them, or did they hear... more footsteps?

"You won't have a choice," Lana said flatly, expressionless as she was joined by not one, not two, but five other lab hands, one of the them Jackson, all of them full-time personnel.

"Rachel.... Hand him over," Jackson said, holding out his hand expectantly.

Rachel glared daggers at him, even though she was fully aware of the impossibility of the situation. Like the mouse she was trying so hard to protect, she was trapped, her back against the wall, literally. They were going to take him. They were going to take him and there was nothing she could do about it....

"I told you not to do anything stupid," Jackson continued.

"Please...," Rachel pleaded, breathing heavily. "Please, let me take care of him. I'll train another in his place as compensation, I swear. Just... don't hurt him."

"And then you'll grow attached to that one and try and kidnap it. We've seen it before. You're not the first," Jackson reprimanded.

"Good," said Rachel. "I'm glad I'm not."

Privately, she wondered why she'd ever signed up for this in the first place. She wanted the degree. She wanted it badly. She also loved animals, and knew that following her passion came with sacrifices. What she hadn't counted on was how difficult it would be to accept that. It wasn't feasible, she realized. In fact, it was darn near impossible.

She looked down at the infant trembling in her pocket -- at this little creature that had captured her heart and locked it away, far away from any hopes and dreams of graduating in the medical field of her choosing. "He's not worth it," Lana had said. Was he not? Brian looked up at her, those glossy little eyes staring at her expectantly, trustingly. She smiled sadly at him and, for the last time, cuddled him close, before looking up at the troop across from her.

"If you want him, come and get him," she challenged. They weren't getting him without a fight.

And they rushed at her.

She tried to escape. Oh, she tried... and failed. They grabbed her by the arms as she wrestled against them, cheering Brian on as he somehow managed to escape from her pocket and slip underneath one of the shelving units in the room. But Lana caught him, Brian squeaking as his tail snagged between the beaker and the small metal panel she'd captured him with. He stared at Rachel, his desperate, panicked expression the last thing she saw before being knocked out.

-------

- Two Years Later -

The plan had failed. Rather spectacularly, he might add....

It was the first time in Brain's memory he could ever recall being caught red-handed by any of the personnel at Acme Labs. It was a miracle he and Pinky had managed to escape, but, despite his best attempts, they'd been separated in the process.

He made for a facility some yards away from the main laboratory, sweating as he squeezed under its front door and immediately hid under a cabinet to his right. Lights flashed now and again beyond the windows, desperate voices accompanying them as the scientists searched here and their for the escapees. Brain silently prayed that Pinky had somehow found a suitable hiding spot.

In his position under the cabinet, he backed up against the wall and slid down it, a paw clutching at his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. After a few seconds, he gulped, sniffed, and buried his face in his knees. Stupid. Stupid.... He'd jeopardized their whole mission. What if they'd captured Pinky? What would they do to him? And even if they did escape, where would they go? He'd ruined everything. Everything....

In his haste to remain undetected, he'd neglected to realize that this room... was not entirely devoid of life. It was a small area -- a security office, to be exact. Numerous monitors took up space on a desk, at which someone sat. They slid out of their chair and stepped over to Brain's hiding place. He noticed... and shivered.

Whatever, whomever, it was got down on their knees to peer at him from just outside the dresser.

"Hello...," they said.

It was a woman. Her voice was soft, and kind, but Brain turned his head away from her prying eyes. Typical. In an effort to not get caught he'd inevitably been ratted out. He immediately considered making a run for it, but, for some reason he couldn't explain, he didn't.

"Hey.... Shh. Shh. It's okay, little one. It's okay," cooed the woman. "You wanna come on out...?"

And she held out a hand to him. She didn't try to grab him, or scare him out. She simply... gave him a choice.

But it had been too long. He didn't recognize her, neither she him... until she noticed the tail. Then she knew.

"Brian...?" she breathed, eyes growing wide.

He stared at her, nonplussed, still shivering.

"Brian, it's me. Rachel," she beckoned, her hand still in place. But he didn't move. If anything, he frowned at her. "Brian"?

And she tried everything -- talking to him soothingly; offering him a treat from her pocket. Nothing worked. Brain simply hid his face once more, willing her to go away; to leave him be; to, hopefully, not report him to the authorities if they came to call.

Rachel sighed. She sat up for a moment, thinking, and blinked. Struck with a sudden idea, she rested her hands on her lap... and began to sing....

“La la lu, La la lu, Oh my little star sweeper, I'll sweep the star dust for you...“

Brain blinked... and lifted his head, ever so slowly....

“La la lu, La la lu, Little soft fluffy sleeper, Here comes a pink cloud for you...“

He stood up... and walked forward, right to the edge of the cabinet. She was still singing.

“La la lu, La la lu, Little wandering angel, Fold up your wings, Close your eyes...”

His mouth was fully open now, his round eyes glossy and getting ever shinier. He couldn't pull his gaze away from her face.

“La la lu, La la lu, And may love be your keeper...

La la lu, La la lu, La la lu....”

Rachel stared at him, smiling. He had completely stepped out from under the cabinet by now, his little body trembling slightly.

"Hello, little star sweeper," Rachel whispered to him.

Breath hitching, Brain ran onto her lap, up her shirt, and clutched tightly to her chest, only a second or two going by before he felt those familiar hands hold him gently, securely.

"Oh, Brian...," she choked, kissing his head. He didn't even flinch.

"Why didn't you come back?" he asked, unable to hold back his tears.

"I couldn't," she answered honestly. "But I was able to keep an eye on you from here."

He sniffed and pulled back a little to look around the room. It was, indeed, a security office, and a fairly high end one at that, decked out with all the works.

"I'm an artist now, but in my part time I take the night shift. They at least let me come back for that, probably 'cause Jackson and Lana are gone now," she chuckled softly. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you this time...."

Brain looked up at her, suddenly understanding. All that time they'd never been caught; never been reported. All those months and years that the camera had simply turned a blind eye to their antics. He thought it was simply negligence. Now he knew why.

"Thank you...," Brain whispered. "And it's... Brain now."

"I know," she smiled. “I still watch tv, ya' know. I just still remember you as my 'Brian'. I'm sorry, Brain."

He couldn't help but smile. All this time....

"Come with me?" Rachel asked him.

"Where?"

"Back to my place. I'll hide you. You can have the guest room, if you'd like."

A sharp knock at the door startled them both, and she quickly ran to her desk, Brain in her hands. She lifted him up and under the desk.

"There's a hidden panel in the roof! Get in it!" she whispered to him urgently.

He found it, albeit with a little difficulty. He pushed at a little area that looked as if it had been cut into... and down shifted a small cubby in which she kept an assortment of odd bits and bobs that were probably not supposed to be in her possession -- special looking keys and badges, among other things. He slipped into it, and Rachel pushed it closed before walking over to answer the door....

Another barrage of bangs thundered at the entrance as Rachel opened it, a hand on her hip as she held the door ajar, doing her best to look as ticked off as possible.

"Sheesh! Gimme a minute to finish pouring my tea! Gosh...."

Outside stood two gentlemen, both in lab coats, looking frantic.

"Have you seen a mouse?" one of them said. He was taller and appeared to be the leader. "White. Large cranium. He was with a companion."

Rachel shrugged.

"Is that what you guys have been looking for?"

"You haven't seen them on your cameras?" the second man asked, panting a little.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I haven't seen anything."

The men exchanged glances.

"We'd better search the place, just to make sure," the leader said, and without further ado they barged in and began searching every nook, cranny, drawer, and trash can they could. They failed to find the hidden cubby, however. "Can we ask you to roll back the footage?"

"Sure, but you're not gonna find anything," Rachel shrugged again.

They did as permitted, scrutinizing every bit of film captured within the last ten minutes. Although they managed to catch one or two glimpses of the mice leaving the lab, as expected, they couldn't find hair no hide of them on any other roll. Behind their backs, Rachel smirked. Smart little guy. Even on the run, he'd purposely made sure not to walk in the path of the cameras.

After several more minutes of scrutiny, they finally gave up, heading for the door in a huff.

"Sorry for your time. Report to us if you find anything," said the leader.

"No problem," Rachel said, shutting the door with a snap behind them and sighing deeply. Yeah, right..., she thought.

Going back to her desk, she pushed open the hidden cubby. It lowered down and Brain immediately jumped into her hand, breathing rather heavily.

"Sorry, little one," Rachel apologized. I can imagine it's pretty stuffy in there...."

He gave her a look, albeit not a very harsh one. He had no reason to complain.

She raised her hand, allowing him to jump up onto her shoulder.

"They'll be back later to go over more footage," Rachel warned, sitting down at her desk and leaning back in her chair.

"I know," Brain said, licking at his paws and smoothing out his frazzled fur.

Rachel jumped a little and stared at him.

"Heh. I forgot you guys talk now...."

"Is that a problem...?" Brain asked, a little nervously.

Rachel smiled.

"Not at all."

She reached out a hand to scratch at a spot behind his ears.

"What are you...? Ohhhh-ho-ho-ho...," Brain melted, reeling a little at first before giving way to a goofy smile and a thumping foot as he pressed into the touch.

"Still got that little sensitive spot, huh?" Rachel chuckled, her scratches evolving into a head massage.

Brain practically fell off her shoulder, Rachel catching him in her hands and raising him up to eye level, the better to get a good look at him. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. How demoralizing.... But Rachel simply beamed at him.

"You know... I really missed you."

"I... wish I could say the same...," Brain confessed, shuffling a foot. He imagined he had thought of her often, as an infant, but over time the memories simply... faded.

Rachel didn't look upset, though.

"I understand. It's okay. I still love you."

"I...," Brain began, then stopped. No. He couldn't bring himself to say it. Even with Pinky he couldn't ever admit such a thing, and he loved Pinky most of all.

"You don't have to say it. I know you do in your heart," Rachel said, and she kissed him tenderly on the top of his head.

His ears flattened as she did it, and he almost immediately smoothed out the area where she'd kissed him, but he couldn't hide the blush tickling his cheeks and ears. Her behavior was cheesy as all get out, but privately he knew she was right. He did care, even if he'd never admit it.

Just then, something, or... someone, slipped underneath the door. A white-furred, lanky somebody.

"Pinky!!" Brain yelped.

Brain leapt off of Rachel in a flash, landing hard on the floor and limping a little as he ran into Pinky's outstretched arms.

"Brain!!" Pinky shouted right back. "Oh, I thought I'd never see you again!!"

He twirled him around in a circle or two before Brain became aware of what he was doing and promptly pushed himself out of Pinky's grasp, clearing his throat, once again embarrassed.

"Y-Yes, well.... I'm... glad you're safe, Pinky," Brain replied awkwardly, patting his companion on the head.

"Ohhh! Who's this, Brain?" Pinky asked, pointing up at Rachel, who still sat in her computer chair, smiling down at them both.

"Umm.... Pinky, this is Rachel. She's... an old friend."

"Nice to meet you, Pinky! I've heard a lot about you. Well, maybe not heard, but... I've seen you guys on the tv a lot!" Rachel said, beaming.

"You have?!" Pinky gasped, clasping two paws to his face in surprise. "Did you hear that, Brain? We're famous!!"

"Pinky, we've been famous many times, all of them never lasting as long as I'd like...," Brain recollected.

"Well, yes, Brain, but never to a friend!"

Rachel smiled and leaned forward a little.

"I have a proposition for you guys."

"For both of us? Is that legal, Brain?" Pinky whispered to his cage mate, looking concerned, to which Brain facepalmed.

"Proposition, Pinky, not proposal."

"Ohhhhhhhhh. Well, that's different then, isn't it?" Pinky said, nodding eagerly to Rachel.

"How would you guys like to come room at my place? Just for as long as you need until you can get off your feet."

Once again, Pinky gasped excitedly.

"Can we, Brain?!"

"Well...," Brain pondered, hesitating. The offer, though generous, made him feel rather... helpless and awkward, as if he was intruding.

"You're welcome to any of the food and stuff. I've got havarti," she smirked.

Pinky gasped again.

"Oh, please, please, please, please, pleeeeaaaaase, Brain?!?" Pinky pleaded again.

"You're... sure you wouldn't mind?" Brain asked. "I'd hate to intrude...."

"My house is yours," Rachel said genuinely. "And it comes with a pool table," she added, winking at Pinky.

Pinky was doing his utmost to contain a squeal, biting his lip and practically bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Brain rolled his eyes.

"Oh, all right...," he relented.

"YAAAAAY!!" exclaimed Pinky, jumping into Rachel's outstretched hand, followed by Brain, as she lifted them up onto her shoulder.

"You'll have to hide in my backpack on the way to the car," she said. "The next guy is about to swap out with me."

And she pulled her backpack up from off the floor and plopped it onto the desk, opening it up. Pinky sprung off her shoulder as if it was a diving board, plunging into the depths of the backpack, which, by all accounts, wasn't very deep. Pinky didn't seem to mind, though. He had fun "swimming" around amongst the snacks, car keys, pencils, wallet, and little sketchpad all the same. Brain simply shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. What an idiot.

Rachel was as good as her word. They were given the guest bedroom, along with access to the rest of the house, food included. Provided they didn't draw too much attention to themselves, they were allowed to tinker and plan all they liked within the safety of the back room, and lie low they did, for Acme Labs was on the hunt for a good number of weeks before they gave up on finding them entirely.

Pinky was quite fond of the seemingly unlimited amount of cheese available in the fridge, along with the plethora of movies Rachel had at her disposal. He was often to be found in front of the television, and if he wasn't there he was by Brain's side almost constantly. Brain was most grateful for the space in which to concoct experiments and conjure up plans for world domination, although he had to improvise more often than not, seeing as he didn't have all of the lab's equipment at his beck and call anymore. It was something he sorely missed, but he couldn't say he minded the warm bed and good food that came with their new living quarters either. It was... nice.

Once in a blue moon (which ended up being once a month), Pinky would request Lady and the Tramp for movie night, not just because he liked it, but because of Brain's unusual reaction to it. He liked to watch him subconsciously lean up against Rachel as they sat next to her, eventually breaking down into a fit of silent tears as "La La Lu" danced around the room. Sometimes Rachel would pick him up, holding him close and massaging his head as he calmed against her chest. Oftentimes, Pinky would join them, cuddling up next to Brain as they nuzzled together in Rachel's warm hands.

"I love you, Brain," Pinky would mumble sweetly, giving him an extra squeeze.

"I love you, little one," whispered Rachel, petting him softly.

I love you, too, said Brain in his own little way, holding them both just a tiny bit tighter, a smile creeping its way up onto his face. It was nice, being loved....

~ I love you, too. ~

The End

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

The ending of this is meant to be sort of an alternate to Pinky, Elmyra, and the Brain. What if they'd ended up there after running away from Acme instead of at Elmyra's?

I didn’t realize until after writing this that it makes no sense for Rachel to be cool with Brain talking one minute, only to be surprised by it the next. It’s a glaring error on my part, but I left it in as a reminder to myself that I need to be more careful. Lol.

Technically, this whole thing is a self-insert, although the name of the girl is not my real name. It’s actually the cognomen of my very first rat. Ha-ha. But the personality of the character is me -- how I talk; act around animals; and most likely what I’d do if put into this situation. The exception is the chase scene. I don’t think I’d act that... panicked? Who knows, though....

This is kind of a way I show compassion for Brain, seeing as I cannot, of course, give him an actual hug. I love Brain more than any other fictional character I’ve ever had the pleasure of watching on screen. It’s not a romantic love or anything. Certainly not. It’s more... maternal. The desire to love and protect is strong. That combination of: individual with a tragic backstory + laboratory setting + main character who happens to be a mouse = the perfect concoction to turn my heart to mush. I owned rats for many years and have a great love for animals, and tend to get attached to certain fictional characters, so here you have the result. He’d be as averse as ever to physical affection, but if I could hold Brain in my hands, plant a kiss on his head, and tell him he’s loved. I would. Thank God for Pinky.

#fan fiction #pinky and the brain

92 notes · View notes

uniarycode · 3 years

Text

Takari Week 2021 Day 5- AU

Medieval Fantasy AU: Takeru is a young boy who tames a Pegasus and goes to live in a castle in the sky, with an army of Celestials, and a young prophet.

Wordcount: 3370

Written as part of @takariweek

Takeru didn’t have many memories of being on the surface, they tended to involve either his brother, his father or Pata. The former two he missed dearly, the latter seldom left his side these days.

He’d been four when he met Pata, he’d found the foal frolicking in a field, doing summersaults over the meadow. It was against the rules to interact with creatures you did not recognize, but the Deep Ones had not been seen near his village in generations, and Takeru was couldn’t help but take the risk. And Pata just seemed so friendly. Takeru had shared some herbs he’d found, and that had been enough to earn the foal’s undying loyalty.

Pata had been his secret for a while, it may seem difficult to hide a horse, but Pata could fly, most did not look for horses in the trees or on rooftops. Some that did thought they’d gone insane rather than believe their eyes. Pata became Takeru’s closest friend, his chief confidant. Without knowing the proper name for a flying horse, Takeru had decided to call him Pata, based on the gentle sound of his wingbeat. The name stuck.

He was six when Pata had been discovered. He and his brother were gathering some goods from the market, when some bigger boys from the next town over had begun attacking them, attempting to force Yamato to hand over all their money. When Takeru had cried for them to stop, it was Pata who had answered his call, galloping straight at the boys, and scaring them away instantly.

Such a large commotion could not go unnoticed, and immediately the villager’s opinion of him became divided. Some treated him with scorn, as a devil that possessed authority over monsters, others with reverence, as a sacred omen.

The priest showed up at his door a few weeks later, flanked by two outsiders, cloaked in armor and robes the likes of which far outshone even the knights of the capital. Takeru had been scared at first, until one of the knights, a woman, had summoned her own steed and told him he was very special.

She’d explained to him that they were Celestials: the goddess’s chosen. That since he had bonded with a Pegasus, that he too must have been a Celestial. And that the Deep Ones and the celestials were fated enemies.

After that, there had been questions, they asked him how he had met Pata, whether he’d ever road the horse, what his dreams were like, if he’d ever traveled outside the village.

Far more questions were directed at his parents, they asked his lineage, where his parents came from, where his parents’ parents came from, at one time they’d even accused his momma of having stolen him from another woman.

Takeru didn’t understand it at the time, but things were very complex. Celestials did not like outsiders, but since he’d tamed a Pegasus he couldn’t be an outsider. But they could not say the same about his family.

In the end, his mother had been allowed to accompany him to his new home, and his brother and father had been left behind. Even when he was old enough to ride Pata freely, he’d been forbidden from making contact with them, and he’d quickly learned how big the world was when he tried to anyway.

Life was hard with the celestials. On the ground, they said that the goddess lived in a palace in the sky, guarded by her knights. Inside the sanctuary, the tale was similar but different. The one they protected was a prophet, who died and was reborn every one hundred and eight years. And while they had many knights, the Celestials regarded their entire race as chosen ones, the only ones worthy of serving the prophet and able to defeat the king of the Deep Ones.

Being born on the surface made Takeru inferior in the eyes of the other children. That alone earned him hardship, but he had also bonded with a Pegasus at a record age. Despite having no proper training, he was years ahead of his peers, and that brought him further scorn.

***

At eight, Pata had turned into a stallion, and that had brought a conundrum for the Celestials. By right and custom, Takeru was now a squire. The next youngest squire had recently turned twelve, the eldest squires were eighteen. Takeru was simply too young and small to perform the duties provided by most squires.

He could clean the stables and feed the Pegasi, although still at slower speeds than the older squires. But he could not carry weapons for a knight, nor was he tall enough to help them into all of their armor, nor did anyone trust him to ride Pata more than three feet into the air. He was never picked to accompany a knight on a campaign or a quest.

Then he had been given a new duty. One that none of the other squires talked about. As he’d been summoned in front of the elders, they informed him he would not talk about this duty, that it would be taken with him to the grave.

That was the first of many rules.

He was told he would be delivering food to a guest, as well as refreshing the oil on their lamps. He was not to talk to the guest he found. Nor would touch her. Nor would he touch the food, only the tray used to bring it to her. He would set the tray in front of the guest, fill all the lamps in the room, then stand in the corner until she had finished eating, retrieve the tray, and leave.

And of course, no harm would come to the guest.

After he had accepted one of the elders objected, then another, then another. They were all overruled, and a knight directed Takeru to the kitchens.

It seemed silly, to have a knight guide him around, but send a squire anyway. Takeru followed the knight into the castle, through some twists and turns, to a small door guarded by two more knights.

They reaffirmed his directions, then let the door open a couple of feet, barely more than he could fit himself and the tray through. Even then, he was not at the guest. He had to walk down three more hallways before he found her.

He opened the final door to reveal a girl who looked no older than himself, to his shock. But he was a squire now, he couldn’t show such a weak reaction. The rest of the room was fancy, if cramped. A large four-post bed, a single dresser for clothes, no chair nor desk nor anything else. On the walls hung lanterns and tapestries, and in the corner of the room, there was a lectern with paper, a pen, and a chute.

He walked over to the guest and set the tray down in front of her when his eye caught a tapestry draped across the wall. So deep in the bowels of the castle, this room had no exterior light, and he moved to get a better view in the flickering lanterns.

The tapestry itself displayed a great battle, many knights fight deep ones and a strange giant monster. On the edge of the tapestry were eight symbols he did not recognize, perhaps they were words in an ancient language? Each one held a separate color: yellow, pink, red, purple, blue, green, grey, and orange.

The lantern flickered, reminding Takeru of his duties. He turned back to the tray, remembering he’d left the oil there, only to jump in horror as he saw the guest, one hand on the canister full of oil, bringing it to her lips.

“Stop!” he cried, “You’ll get sick if you drink that.”

The girl turned to him; eyes wide at his outburst. Takeru realized his mistake, raising one hand to his mouth.

“You can talk.” She said, “I’ve never talked to anyone before, except my cat. But she doesn’t like talking back.”

Takeru felt his heart speed up. He’d already broken the rules, but the guest seemed so excited. Why wasn’t he supposed to talk to the guest if she wanted to talk? His mom would yell at him for being rude.

“Yeah, I can talk.” He thought for a second. “How’d you learn to talk, if no one talked to you before.”

“Learn?” she asked. “I always knew how to talk, like how I know how to breathe or eat or write.” She said as if it were obvious.

“You know how to write too?” he asked in amazement. All the other squires knew how to write, but none of the teachers ever bothered to explain it to him.

“You don’t?” she asked. “So you can talk, but not write.” Her face twisted into a smile. “You’re an odd one.”

That was true, he was the only celestial who wasn’t born a celestial, he became a squire at such a young age. But somehow when she pointed it out, he felt all funny.

“You should eat.” He said, “You must be hungry.”

“I don’t want to eat. I want to talk. Everyone else left when I finished eating, you will too, won’t you?”

He blushed. “I-I’m supposed to.”

“And I don’t want you to leave. If I never eat you have to stay.”

That didn’t sound too bad, but he did want to see his mom and Pata again at some point. “If I take too long, they’ll probably never let me see you again. Then I won’t be able to talk to you anymore.”

“You have a point.” She said, grabbing the utensils and beginning to shovel food into her mouth. “Whurts your name. Everyone has a name, even my cat. She won’t tell it to me though.” she said, not bothering to swallow before speaking. Takeru’s mom would have called it rude, but if it's what it took to keep her eating, he could accept it.

“Takeru Takaishi.” He said, beginning to fill the lanterns around the room. “What’s yours?”

“I have many names. Guiding Star, Eternal Shepherd, Prophet of the Goddess. I like Hikari the most, though.”

Takeru ended up spilling some of the oil, he quickly tried to recover himself. “You’re the prophet? What are you doing in a place like this?”

He could have kicked himself. The room, while cramped and locked away, was still far better than the dormitory he shared with the other squires or the cold tower they’d relocated his mother into. And she had said that both were fancier, if not larger, than their old home on the surface.

“This is where I’ve always been.” She replied. “And you? There’s something mysterious about you, I can tell.”

Should he admit it? Somehow he felt he could trust this girl, she was the prophet after all. “I lived on the surface before, unlike the others. Everyone says Celestial’s are stronger than the surface dwellers.”

That earned him a laugh from Hikari. “Do they? How quickly they forget. The only reason this castle exists is because they were too scared to fight the Deep Ones themselves. They chose to flee to the one place they could not be harmed before mounting any resistance.”

Takeru looked at her, blinking. “How’d you know that, how old are you?”

“Eight. But I just know that. Like how you know to talk or write.”

There was a clatter of metal against porcelain. “Oh, I guess I’m done.” She looked down. “I was having so much fun, I must have forgotten to go slowly.”

“It’s okay.” He said. “You were probably hungry anyway.”

He lingered like that a few minutes more, neither of them talking beyond pleasantries, before he finally excused himself.

The next day he was not chosen to bring Hikari her meal. But he was the day after. That pattern continued for a couple of weeks. Eventually, Hikari admitted that whenever someone else brought her meal, she would send a letter to the elders insisting it was him who came instead.

The elders must have gotten the hint because Takeru began to visit Hikari as part of his daily routine. No one but the elders and some of the knights knew his task, but all of them regarded him differently. Like back when Pata had first been discovered. Some looked at him with reverence, some with scorn.

He and Hikari talked about everything they could, sometimes they even talked about the same things on different days. Hikari was very knowledgeable about the outside for someone who had stayed in one room her entire life and never talked to anyone. She claimed the knowledge was natural, instinctive.

One day he’d been talking about his brother, how he’d left him behind to join the celestials, and how much he missed him.

Hikari had held out her hand in response, Takeru had hesitated at first, he wasn’t supposed to touch her. But then he also wasn’t supposed to talk to her. When he took her hand she closed her eyes and began to describe a scene for him.

A young blond boy who worked the fields by day. He stayed separate from the other kids when they gathered, but kept himself close enough to watch them play. He’d fashioned a flute out of a reed, and played it only when he thought no one else was around.

She told him that his brother missed him very much.

After she released his hand, she confessed to having a brother of her own. But as she’d not been two when she’d been moved to this room as part of her duties, and she was worried that her brother had forgotten her. However, she could scry her brother at any time and learned he’d recently bonded with a Pegasus so that in a few years he’d have the qualifications to serve her himself.

***

That time came when Takeru was eleven. He’d not known, which boy to look for at first, but when a fourteen-year-old with the same dark hair as Hikari had joined the squires and the very next day he had not been told to bring Hikari her meal, he was smart enough to figure it out.

Having someone else to feed Hikari also allowed Takeru to leave with one of the knights on a quest or two. He was still the youngest of all the squires, but he had more years of training than all but the eldest. Some knights still shunned him due to his birth, but those who were willing to take him along were also quick to ask for him again, whenever he wasn’t needed to keep Hikari company.

It was after one such quest that he’d found Hikari ranting, complaining about her brother’s seeming vow of silence. It was at this point Takeru had admitted there was a rule against speaking in her presence.

“You break the rules? Every time you visit me?” she asked.

“I like you more than the rules.” He said, “Besides, you’re the Prophet. You’re probably the most important person here. You should make the rules.”

“I did make the rules.” She said. “In my past life. The past prophet always makes the rules for the next incarnation.” She looked at him “Is that odd?”

Takeru shrugged “I don’t know anything about my past life, I’m not a prophet though.”

She nodded. “Did you break any other rules?”

“I’m not supposed to touch you.” He admitted. “But you were always the one who asked.”

“That’s because I like touching you.” She said. “You make me feel nice, like watching the clouds part, or the first sunbeam cresting a mountain to welcome the new day.”

Hikari tilted her head. “Why would I tell no one to talk to me or touch me if I want to talk to everyone and I want you to touch me?”

Takeru shrugged. “Are you sure you made the rules, maybe the elders changed them?”

She shook her head. “They wouldn’t dare. They do not know how my gift works; I don’t even know how my gift works. For all they knew I would know as soon as they tried it.”

“I don’t know.” Something caught his eye. “But if you can’t talk, that doesn’t mean you can’t communicate.” He pointed at the lectern in the corner. “How much paper do you have? Taichi knows how to read and write.”

“The paper and pen are blessed; they don’t run out.” She said. “That might work, but if Taichi won’t talk to me, why would he write to me?”

“It’s not against the rules, is it?”

His scheme had ultimately proven successful, although it had taken a few days to get Taichi on board. Soon enough the siblings were truly reunited, and Takeru had never seen Hikari or Taichi looking so happy.

***

When he was fourteen, Hikari’s demeanor changed. She became more withdrawn, more distant, even to him. He couldn’t ask Taichi directly if it were the same, no squires were supposed to know who anyone else in charge of Hikari was, but he could tell that the older squire had grown more somber as well.

He confronted her directly. It took a couple of days, but he wore through her resistance.

“Takeru, you break the rules every time you come here, right?” she asked.

“I do.” He said, “But they were your rules, and you wanted me to break them, right?”

“They were.” She agreed, “I think I understand now.”

“Understand?” he pressed “That I talk to you because I enjoy it?”

“No.” she said. “Why I would make rules I barely tolerate and enforce them on myself.” She looked at the tapestry. “I think, I think I needed someone who could break the rules.”

He reached out and grabbed her hand, “Hikari, what is going on?”

“Promise me.” She said, “Promise me you’ll break the rules for me. No matter which rules. Please Takeru, you’re the only one I can trust with this.”

“I do.” He pulled her into a hug. “I’ll break whatever rule you need me to. I swear. Just please, let me help you.”

Her tears began to stain his shoulder. “Kill me.”

His blood turned cold. “What?”

“Kill me. Please Takeru, everyone else here, they think I’m a saint. They won’t let me so much as stub my toe. Even my cat won’t scratch me. You are the only one who can do this for me.”

“Hikari, I don’t understand. What is going on?”

She took a deep breath. “I had a vision. The Deep Ones were back. I watched them conquer nation after nation, I watched as even the Celestials fall. I watched them kill Taichi, I watched them kill you.” She swallowed. “And I saw all that because I was there. I was leading them, I made it happen.”

“Hikari you would never.”

“I will.” She insisted. “I’ve never been wrong before. I’ve never heard of the prophet being wrong before. This is the only way I can think of, I need to give up on this life and hope for the next one.”

Her arms squeezed tighter around him. “Please Takeru, you’re the only one I can ask.”

“No.”

“No? No! But you promised! You promised me you’d do anything!”

This was the first time he’d seen Hikari get mad, and it scared him, but still he did not relent. “I promised you I’d break every rule for you. And I will. If you tell me not to visit you again, I will break that rule. If you decree that I must kill you, I’ll break that rule as well. If it’s a rule that the profit’s visions must come to pass, then I’ll break that rule too.”

“You’re being stupid.”

“Ahh, Hikari. I’m afraid that I must break the rules of logic as well. I made a promise, you see.”

She scoffed at him, but for the first time in weeks, she was wearing a smile.

#Takari #takari week #digimon #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #Patamon's kinda there #Tailmon is there but she's invisible #that never comes up #This has a lot of outline in it #but I also wrote it all in the last 12 hours #so :/

14 notes · View notes