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ladythornofrivia · 7 months

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Lady with Teal Eyes || Aemond x Aunt!Hightower Reader (Part One)

word count: 2,733

author’s note: i’m sorry that i didn’t post much stories, as I’ve been reblogging and changing themes in my profile. i’m trying my best, but I’ll make up for it.

warnings: incest, cockwarming, teasing, sucking, p in v, rough play, flirting, wholesome moment, jealous aemond, possessive, roughness, mild manhandling, mild degradation, unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, second hand embarrassment, dark content, mentions of su*cide, Aemond being too touchy with his aunt, degradation, humiliation.

summary: Aemond meets his aunt for the first time, and there’s more than meets the eye. (there will be three parts).

There hasn’t been a day that you never left your homeland. All in prosperity. All in solitude, all in mindful thoughts that even the castle walls were unable to perceive. Oldtown is known for the oldest kingdom within Westeros.

We light the way, those are the words from House Hightower, a tall, silver tower with a green light of flames atop. Members of the Hightower court are known to be proud and resilience. Perhaps too greedy to your taste. Less fickle to their needs, their desires, their secrets, their ambition.

All minds think alike, as they said. But your mind is unalike from theirs.

There hasn’t been a single day where your life change—steady as it goes. But when your older sister, Alicent, sent a letter to you from a raven fled from miles, you instantly ripped the seal and unveiled her letters, written in neat cursive. In the days where you can recall that Alicent taught you to read and write, before accompanying your father, Otto Hightower, to aid the ailing king and his throne.

In King’s Landing, where Aegon has set and had trees felled after his conquest in Westeros. The stories of dragonlords and ladies has caught you into a slighted dot of peculiarity. But with your father, you knew that your father wanted more than being as the Hand of the King. Like any folk in Oldtown, he’s all in the same cloak of mind and heart as the rest. The only difference is he has resided in King’s Landing with the Targaryens, warming the throne with Alicent’s political stead.

With you, as Alicent’s half-sister, one thing you adored about her is her resilience, no matter how the power struggle may have been, Alicent held her head high, it inspired you to do the same cause, not for the greater good, but for you to steady your heart. With Alicent’s brown eyes, anyone would be easily swayed at her beauty. With your eyes like glowing water, the subjects were to assume that you’re either a sea creature in the ocean, or have been reincarnated as a woman. Common folks assumed that you’re a goddess sent by Maiden herself. But others theorized you’re born in the sacred pond within the forest.

Despite the nonsensical rumors, you carried out your duties dulled within life, but with your brother, Gwayne Hightower, entered in your chambers without a warning.

“Sister!”

“Good heavens, you gave me a fright,” you screeched, hand clutching over your chest.

“A word from the raven,” he resumed, pulling out the letter. “It’s from our dear sister.”

She hasn’t written you a letter for months. Understanding of her high authoritative position, thankfully enough you aren’t the queen. You couldn’t bear to think about gifting children into the world from your maidenhood.

“Alicent!” Departing from the chair, you snatched the letter from Gwayne’s hand and ripped the letter open, straightening the scrolled paper.

My dearest sister,

I regret to inform you that I cannot visit in the Oldtown due to personal circumstances that our father has been trifled with the matters in King’s Landing. As queen, I must fully prioritize my duties and smite the inconsiderate undutiful thought of others. My dear husband, King Viserys, has been unwell as of late, growing slower day by day, but still the same man who loves his histories and shed upon endless favoritism on his daughter and her plain-featured sons, as well his miniatures he rarely finished. As of this moment, we are preparing the feast for the upcoming celebration. Misery and dread and politics has been my company, and I’d be happy if you come to King’s Landing and stay here for more than a month. I also send Gwayne and his men to escort you back. I hope you still have the new dresses and jewels the seamstress sorted to your taste; I always know that you hated attire that itched your flesh or suffocating. Words cannot expressed about how I miss the sweetness of your smile and laughter. We shall meet soon.

Signed,

Alicent Hightower

Jumping with joy, your body lunged at Gwayne, locking him into a tight hug, slightly hopping in place with a big grin stretched onto your lips.

“Have my things ready, brother,” you said, hasting, forgetting about the silks and fabrics in your hands.

“But you need more time. You’ll stay in King’s Landing as our queenly sister instructed.”

“Send the maids, then. I can’t do this alone.”

“You mustn’t make haste!” Gwayne shouted as you ran off, never minding the silks on the ground only for him to pick up.

“The sooner the better,” you shouted back.

~~~

The trailed ship took no more than three days to reach King’s Landing. Alicent hasn’t mentioned anything particular to the celebration. But you have come to acknowledge that Alicent lessened the details.

By the time the ships rested at the shore, you rushed down to the clear path and greeted your father, who was rather cold and emotionless. Nevertheless, you gave the courtesy of shallow inclination of your neck bent down. Though your heart shattered at the motionless greeting; a chilled wind spiraled on your thickened sleeves.

“Father,” you said, grinning ear to ear.

“Queen Alicent awaits,” is all he said, then left without abiding on you.

“But—”

“Ser Gwayne, escort this lady in the Red Keep,” he wasn’t saying it with care.

This lady.

Months without communication and souvenirs, you’d ought it’ll soften your father’s resolve regarding onto the estrangement.

Another clash of heartbreak has struck again. But it comes as no surprise.

Both of you hadn’t spoke since of his second wife—your mother’s—passing.

As numb as it may be, the small pang in your heart resolved again as Gwayne Hightower escorted you to the high steeps close, reaching the royal grounds of Red Keep.

~~~

Infiltrating from climbing the steps until reaching the indoors, the green queen appeared.

Your sister.

“Alicent,” you rushed and clung her to embrace.

“Sister, how good of you to come,” Alicent replied.

The halls greeted you in cold and dreaded air clinging onto your sleeves, goosebumps flooded over your skin, the thick air of candles and torches has impaled your stomach. You didn’t like this feeling. These halls, darkened in heralds of statues and stars that your pupils recognizant.

Faith of the Seven.

Hightowers held their religion in the highest regard, while you, don’t cherish the ideologies of the religion, filled with fanaticism and hypocrisy. Even Targaryens have the queerest customs, of marrying brother to sister, relative to relative since Aegon I. It dire consequences of genetics and birth, and the fruition of a child birth into an unshakable world of politics and desires. According to the Citadel, in secret debate, those who are born of incest are nothing but sort of monsters lurking, a defect to a bloodline.

The Targaryens disagree—couldn’t care less, of course. As you often heard of keeping the bloodline pure.

Bloodline pure. People speculated that the Targaryens are closer to gods than men. Thus their words ‘Fire and Blood’ is in order. In Valyria, their source is magic and dragons, long before volcanic eruptions swept the lands and dragons into ashes. The last Targaryens resided in Westeros, and thus, their last kind is dwindling, hence creating pure bloodline. As theatrically hysterical as it is, you trudged along the halls.

“It has been so long since I saw you last,” Alicent began.

“It has, but we rarely sent letters as of late.”

“Being a queen is no simple task. Our father’s ambition has gotten stronger.”

“Your father,” you said bitterly.

“My dear sister,” Alicent resumed, her voice soothed. “Father is doing his best to stabilize the realm.”

“Cold, cruel and calculated,” you answered. “Your strength and dutiful as queen is one of the things I admire about you. But, sister, it feels as if my existence is no longer needed. I feel as if I’m useless. My mother received no love from your father.”

The doe-eyed look in Alicent’s eyes protruding. “Sister, I—“”

“Half-sisters,” you reminded. “Everyone thought I was some sort of creature that shouldn’t belong in the realm. I’m no fool; I could hear everyone whisper, even closed doors.”

“Creature or not, you’re still a Hightower. We share the same blood. Nothing will ever change between you and I.”

“But your father will never accept me,” you replied.

Alicent clasped her hands onto yours. “The next time we see each other, I’ll be visiting the Oldtown.”

“You said that the last time on our previous letters,” you chimed. “Let him stabilize the realm alone.”

“That is why you’re here. I needed time apart from the council and subjects,” Alicent reasoned. “Men are often ambitious with their politics and trifling over gold than their wives.”

“It appears so,” you agreed, huffing.

Ironically, Alicent served men, and still is. First Jahaerys, then Otto, then Viserys. Though you wouldn’t so recklessly give your personal opinion away to Alicent.

“We have yet to explore the grounds. We must rest at the gardens. I know how much you love staying in the gardens.”

Your cheeky smile was showing. “I do.”

Alicent squeezed your hand. “Let us be off. It’s considered bad luck if we let our food grow cold.”

“Never knew that it involves bad luck.”

“I’ve been told.”

“By who?”

Not once, Alicent answered.

~~~

“Make yourself comfortable,” Alicent said, indicating the spare chair, and watched you sat with ease, eyeing the lavish outdoors where the Weirwood stood as main view.

“Quite nice out,” you complimented.

This was Alicent meant when she said gardens.

“I chose this spot for a reason,” Alicent said as the servants settled the meal over the table—bowed and left. And the last servant entered, placing a stacked candied almonds and candied plums on a gold platter, alongside of Dornish wine.

Alicent watched your eyes lit up.

“I took the liberty of having the kitchen staff ready for your sweet-tooth,” she clarified.

“You know me well, sister.” You grinned.

“My lady,” a soothing masculine voice said behind you.

“Ser Criston,” Alicent addressed, glancing. “I’m occupied as of this moment.”

“There has been urgent matters regarding to your son.”

Puzzled, Alicent spoke with, “Which son?”

Appalled, your eyes darted at her. On the other hand, you never retain information from Alicent.

“Aegon,” Criston answered, eyes turning away. “I’m afraid his excursions have rather been…” Then his dark brown eyes flicked to yours, his mouth opened, choosing his words carefully.

“We’ll speak no more of it,” Alicent pleaded. “I’m under the liberty of entertaining my sister at the moment. Do ignore Aegon’s excursions for now.”

Somewhere in between the lines, you knew Alicent’s calm demeanor struck hard when the excursions take place, wrath kept within, as you read between Alicent’s lines furrowed on her forehead. Ser Criston glimpsed at you and bowed before withdrawing from the outdoors.

“My apologies,” Alicent said to you in a dreaded voice. “The excursions in the daylight hour upon King’s Landing hasn’t ended.”

“I never knew you had a son,” you said, munching on the candied almonds.

Alicent swallowed the contents of the food. “I mentioned it once before in the letter. That I was having a babe in my belly.”

You pondered for a moment. It was back when Alicent married Viserys and carried a child in her.

“But you never mentioned that it’s a son,” you commented.

“But I’m sure you heard Aegon’s name the moment he arrived into the world.”

Your teeth clenched. “I can assure you I did.” The Oldtown spoke of Aegon in high regards, but as you grew older, you never hear much of Aegon’s doings, hoping to meet your nephew, you waited, but as usual, you sister never once sent letters to offer you an invite.

“Things have been hectic for the past years, and I doubt that’ll cease. With the Iron Throne empty and with all that it stands, we’re keeping the place intact with politics and debate,” Alicent reasoned.

You stayed in silence.

“If you would like,” Alicent continued, “I would be happy to take you to the gallery. The Red Keep has been nothing but a dread. I shall escort you and give you a tour to the Red Keep unless you want someone else to—”

“No, I’d be thrilled if you were to accompany me,” you paused, then said, “sister.”

Alicent gently beamed at that.

~~~

When you and Alicent both went inside the Red Keep, the royal subjects and guards bowed before the green queen as their eyes lingered onto yours, and an incoherent of whispers were passed to your ears.

The sister of the green queen.

And as you ascended the staircases, from there, you saw the shaded eyes of violet and curled hair—a young girl, a few years younger than you.

“Mother, have you seen my—” The girl’s youthful stare darted to yours, backing away gradually.

“This is my sister, (y/n), your aunt,” Alicent introduced. “This is Princess Helaena, my daughter,” Alicent said to you.

“A pleasure.” As you made an inclination to your neck, smiling to the princess as you hadn’t realized that the others accompanied none other by two young men behind Helaena, both with Targaryen features.

Your heart stopped—leapt with warmth—when you first glanced at the tall prince with gold, lithe hair as his other eye covered with eyepatch.

“These are my other sons…” Alicent said, searching for the third son with a slight frown on her features. “Where is Aegon?”

“Drunk as usual,” Daeron rolled his eyes, crossing his arms.

“That blasted fool…” Alicent hissed, then smiled merrily in a way to appease herself. “I hope you and Lady (y/n) would get along.”

“Yes, I remember now! You’re that boy—that cupbearer in the council!” you said to Daeron.

Daeron beamed. “I am proud to serve my mother’s family in Oldtown. Ashamed we never met circumstances in the Reach, yet here we are!” he chuckled. “For my dear father’s name day contained in private ceremony, I’m glad you came.”

You sensed the sarcasm in the word “father”, but shrugged it off.

The dread of unwanted unwelcome washed away with glee. “Indeed. I shall look forward to the festivities.”

Aemond lifted and placed his kiss upon the back of your hand. A kiss placed with gentle fire ignited your dulled soul, envision with flames of blush blaring your dewy cheeks. “A pleasure to meet you, my lady.”

Breath caught in your throat, eyeing on his hand still lingering his intertwine fingers to your skin. “Likewise, my prince…”

For the first time in your life, the gentleness of a dragon has captured your heart and soul.

As for Aemond, with the slighted news of your presence, there’s nothing more than mere maiden who needs to be soiled with his perversions trapped and coiled and enflamed in between his legs. When he first laid his gaze on you, he pictured your flushed skin wrapped with his own, his lips captured yours as his presence trapped into your mind for eternity. But alas, with a wandering thought just now, it wasn’t like him. He mustn’t be capricious and avarice on the spot.

With your grand arrival, Aemond had already decided you’ll become his.

One day at the time, he reminded himself.

“It’s unusual for you to be courteous to someone,” Alicent commented.

“I never wish to scare anyone with my presence, mother,” Aemond said. “It is my duty as a prince to make our special guest comfortable.”

A hot tingle between your legs stirred as you eyed on him—on his lips—how rolled off words with his tongue, finding yourself imagining at the thought of your nephew tasting your folds as you ride him, warming the bed—riding him whilst lace and corset of your precious dress torn apart by his own rugged and young hands.

“He’s only being courteous like Prince Daeron,” you noted, clearing your throat. “Everyone must fulfill their role to the realm. We mustn’t decay our customs to rudeness.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed at your flushing features whilst you looked at Alicent in the eye, you speak with assurance yet your body wavered, dying for your hungered coil in you—the scorch caged within your dress to be set free.

You cannot fool me, my princess, he thought.

In the end, nobody can fool a dragon like him.

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lilacs-stars · 1 month

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a night to remember

this is part 2, recommended you read part 1 first! (to avoid confusion) pairing: james hook x fem!reader (requested) (note: reader is glinda the good witch's daughter) SUMMARY: one day, you find a mysterious note in your locker from a certain pirate. who knows where it'll end up taking you—and your interesting relationship with him. GENRE: very wholesome despite the intro (I swear), fluff, some teasing and banter, reader being oblivious, mutual pining, just relationship cuteness overall CW: not much, mentions getting tipsy (not from alcohol), one little dirty joke if you squint hard enough WC: 7.5k

A/N: the title was inspired by the song of the same name by beabadoobee and laufey (I recommend listening to it while reading, as it sets the mood nicely!) james hook is literally so gentleman coded you can’t convince me otherwise. also I randomly thought of male characters using "m'lady" and now I'm obsessed...this was made to be pure, feet-kicking and giggling inducing fluff, so enjoy! thanks again to the anon who requested this, hope you like it! please leave feedback and suggestions, hearing your thoughts makes me so happy! :))

You stare down at the drink in your hand, the realization of what it is slowly dawning upon you.

Mouth agape in pure disbelief, you glance up at the man sitting in front of you. The devilish glint in his eyes, rivaled only by the shine of his metal hook, sends chills down your spine—making it terribly clear why he brought you.

Oh god, you think. How in the world did I get here?

You make your way through the bustling halls of Merlin Academy, trying your best to not get jostled by the ruckus of the crowd.

Honestly, who puts people’s classes on the sixth floor and their lockers on the first? you mentally grumble, finally reaching the dreaded staircase that you climb up and down dozens of times each day.

After descending the five flights of stairs, you’re completely out of breath by the time you reach your locker. You tap the lock with your pointer finger three times, a magical device inside reading your fingerprint. It clicks open, and your locker door swings out towards you.

Reaching to place your books inside and take out some new ones for the rest of the day's classes, you’re shocked by something that slips out as soon as the door opens. A white piece of paper sways back and forth as it falls to the floor, right next to your feet.

You bend down to pick it up. Upon closer inspection, you learn that it’s not a piece of paper; it’s a small packet, stapled in the corner. At the top, in neat, printed letters, are the words “ENCHANTMENT OF MAGICAL OBJECTS: UNIT 3 WRITTEN TEST.”

Below it, a line is provided for the student's name. Scribbled down in a fancy, yet somehow still messy and barely legible font, is the name “James Hook.”

He left me his test? you question. You don’t even bother wondering how he broke into your locker; after that little incident where he stole your ring, you have resigned yourself to not being surprised at his so-called “bad boy” antics. He is a villain, after all.

This test was one that your class had been preparing for quite some time. It mainly centered the theory of enchantments, with the most difficult one being the Aiming Spell. Thankfully, you had taught Hook most of the material during your study session last week, specifically focusing on helping him improve his Aiming Spell (although maybe he got a little too good, considering how he pulled off that ring trick).

Your confusion regarding the test placed in your locker lasts only a second longer, until you notice that in the top right corner, a big, circled "87%" is written in bright red pen.

The number stays for a brief moment, before the red ink rearranges itself on the page, morphing into a “B+”.

Wait…that’s really good. For him, at least, you think. Is this really all because of your one tutoring session? You have always thought that you’re pretty good at teaching other people, but you never considered yourself a miracle worker. He must think it is because of me, I guess. Otherwise, he wouldn't have left this in here.

Even though you know you’re probably not supposed to, your curiosity gets the better of you, and you flip back the front cover to check what he got wrong.

As soon as you lift the top page, another piece of paper falls out of the test. This time, it’s smaller, a faint beige color tinting the sheet.

You reach down once again to pick it up as you notice that this one is actually an envelope. Glancing at the back, which appears to be empty, you flip it over to the front side. It bears a wax seal embossed with an emblem of two crossed pirate swords.

Carefully peeling back the top of the envelope so as to not rip the delicate paper, you pull out the note inside. There isn’t much writing on the plain paper, but it’s in the same handwriting as before. Very intrigued at this unusual occurrence of events, you read the few lines of text keenly.

“Friday, 6 pm. The Rogers Place.

Make sure to wear your fanciest dress.

Meet me there. I’ll be waiting.”

...What? You’re too stunned to even think. What is this? There’s no way he’s actually asking you out…on a date.

This has to be a joke, right? A study session was one thing, but this, this, meetup, is something entirely different. He even asked to meet you outside of school. You've heard before of the restaurant he mentioned, although you've never actually gone there yourself. Based on what you've gathered, it's a popular, rather formal place run by Eudora Rogers and her young daughter, Tiana, in memory of her beloved husband.

So why in the name of the heavens would James Hook ask you, someone who has no dating experience whatsoever, of all people, to go with him to dinner? “Wear your fanciest dress”? What is this guy thinking?

In utter disbelief, you flip over the note, checking the back to make sure you haven’t missed something. To your surprise, there is some writing scrawled on the back, which reads: “Your payment for helping me pass my test.”

Right…so…he’s asking you out on a—no, it’s not a date, you remind yourself, yet again. He’s simply doing a nice act to return the favor. This was probably the only thing that came to his mind. Silencing the little voice in your head that whispers, “Why would the first thing that came to his mind be asking you out to dinner?”, you stuff the envelope and note in your bookbag, holding on to the test to give back to him sometime.

As you walk down the hallway, rushing to get to your next class, you don’t see the figure lurking behind the corner at the other end of the corridor.

He smirks, knowing he has you right where he wants you.

This one? No, it’s too casual.

How about this one? No, it’s not fancy enough.

This? Too sparkly.

That? Not sparkly enough.

You sigh, flopping onto your bed amidst a pile of dresses. It’s a few hours after school let out, on the day you’ve been anticipating all week long. And, not surprisingly, you can’t decide what in the world to wear. After all, it’s not like you’ve been out on lots of not-dates to know what a typical outfit would be like.

You stare up at the ceiling, sighing again for what must be the hundredth time this night. At times like this, you seriously wish you had a roommate. You've always had your dorm all to yourself, and sure, it is really nice most of the time. You can relax and unwind in solitude, with no one distracting you or pestering you with trivial matters while you study. However, there are the rare few occasions where you long to have someone close, to help you out or give you advice.

After holding up quite a few more dresses in the mirror, you finally decide on the one with the fewest number of cons, from the mental list you made for each dress. Slipping it on—albeit with much difficulty, since who designed dresses to be so frilly to the point where you can't even find where to put your head?—you stare at your reflection, completely enamored by the person you see staring back at you. You’re not really used to wearing fancy things like this, which is probably the reason why you barely recognize yourself.

Twirling around, head over your shoulder as you keep your gaze locked on the mirror, you realize why people have always told you that you have a striking resemblance to your mother. Your outfit consists of a ballgown-style dress, which really is the only type you have in your closet. Even though it’s a bit uncomfortable, the fitted bodice making it rather hard to take a full breath and the off-the-shoulder neckline compelling you to constantly tug it up to prevent it from slipping, it still is absolutely gorgeous. The short sleeves complement the torso, and the full skirt, all puffed up with layers of tulle, swishes elegantly as you move around. The bodice is densely embellished with small rhinestones, mostly at the top, with the gems growing sparser farther down the dress. A few crystals are set into the skirt just below the waistline, creating a scattered, shimmering effect reminiscent of the stars in a night sky.

Even though you aren’t a fan of fancy dresses, you must admit, you absolutely adore this one.

Finishing off the look with some jewelry and accessories, you take one last look at yourself in the mirror. You've never been one to be arrogant, but it's still hard not to think that even though this is certainly not a date, maybe, just maybe, Hook might be a little more interested in you after tonight.

“Um…hi?” you say, timid voice rising into a question from your uncertainty.

After getting dressed, you made your way to the restaurant. Fighting the deep-rooted urge to get there early as possible, you took the long route, not wanting to be the first to arrive. I’ll make him wait for me this time, you decided with an evil little smirk, thinking back to the day of your study session and the long minutes you had agonizingly spent wondering if he was going to show up.

Now, you stand in front of the reception desk, peering up at a waiter ordering papers. Fiddling with the lace gloves covering your hands, you add, “I don’t know if my name is ion the reservation or anything…”

Honestly, you’re not quite sure what to do at this point. All Hook had instructed you was to show up at the restaurant at this time. Part of you had expected him to be waiting by the door, but now that you see he isn't, your nervousness rises.

“Are you Y/N?” the server questions, glancing down at something on the small podium-like stand.

“Uh, yes, I am,” you reply.

“A young man has made a reservation for the two of you. He’s already waiting for you out on the patio. If you’ll follow me,” the waiter informs you, grabbing a menu from his stack and leading you through the bustling restaurant.

You follow him, feeling incredibly bashful as you swerve around tables and people alike. You finally reach a large set of doors in one of the seating areas, which the waiter opens for you.

Stepping through the threshold, you sense the cool rush of the evening air welcome you out. The sky has already begun to dim, a few faint stars gleaming against the dark backdrop. Spread out in front of you is an array of tables, most of them small enough for only two people. The low lighting, coming solely from flickering candles and glowing lanterns strung throughout the area, paired with the singular rose set in a vase at the center each table and a faint, slow jazz song playing somewhere in the background, makes for the most romantic of settings you could have possibly imagined.

Your breath is completely taken away as the server leads you through the arrangements of seats. It’s sparsely crowded, with only a few couples seated here and there, each enjoying an amorous dinner.

The server stops at a circular, two-seated table close to the edge, overlooking a magnificent view of the city down below. A few feet in front ahead and sitting with his back towards you, the only object of your thoughts for these past few hours turns his head in your direction, probably upon hearing the clacking of your high-heeled shoes.

Although you’ve tried your best to convince yourself that this, in fact, is not a date, you simply can’t deny the way his entire expression light up at the mere sight of you. Hook stands up, unabashedly eyeing you up and down slowly, taking all of you in.

A small smile tugs at his lips as he takes your hand in his, once again bowing down to place a kiss on your ring—it appears that this has become a routine, which you can't exactly say you mind.

You don't miss how he pauses for just a moment, noticing the way your ring is still on your ring finger, unchanged from the place he left it. Holding your breath, your heart beats faster as you worry about what he thinks of it. To your relief, he doesn’t say anything, instead kissing the gemstone and straightening back up again, but not before ever so softly—yet still with obvious intentionality—brushing his lips against your finger, deliberately tracing your skin with an agonizingly slow pace as his warm breath sets your every nerve on fire.

“M’lady,” he breathes, standing to meet your gaze. His casual nonchalance is a stark difference from the way you struggle to regain your composure, hating how even the smallest of actions from him can elicit such a reaction from you.

As you study him, you notice that he had a significant wardrobe change too; instead of his usual pirate attire, he dons a dark maroon frock coat, embroidered with intricate swirls and designs. He definitely made an attempt at looking a bit more classy, with his hair neater than usual and the collar of his shirt tidily done. You could even swear that his hook looked more polished than usual, and that he carried the faint, odd trace of expensive cologne.

The server leaves the menu on your table and walks away with a polite nod of his head. Hook steps over to the chair opposite the one he had been sitting in, pulling it out for you in a manner that is far too gentlemanly for what you're used to seeing from him, gesturing at you to sit down with a wave of his shiny metal hook.

Overwhelmingly flattered, you walk over, smoothing your skirt beneath you as you take your seat. Hook pushes your chair in, before going back to the other side of the table to take his own seat.

Not sure what else to do, you pick up your menu and glance over it. “Decide what you’re going to order yet?” Hook asks you.

“No, you?”

“They already took my order, but I told them to wait on preparing my food until you had ordered as well.”

They already took his order? How long has he been here? you wonder. You glance at your wristwatch, seeing that it’s only a few minutes past six o’clock. Deciding to shrug it off, you go back to looking at your menu, despite not being able to fight the voice in your head that whispers about how you should've gotten here earlier, that he had probably been waiting for you, all alone, for quite some time.

“It’s so hard to decide,” you say with a halfhearted laugh, trying to fill up the heavy silence. You peruse the menu more carefully this time, marveling at how many different dishes are listed. Finally, after reading through the entire thing a few more times, you settle on the one that sounds the best.

After only a few moments, the server comes back around and takes your order. “A fine choice, ma’am,” he comments as you tell him your choice of entrée. You notice that all of the waiters here wear fancy black suits and come with a pristine white cloth draped over their arm. Huh, how fancy, you think to yourself. I never knew this place was so formal.

“So, Hook,” you begin, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Didn’t you read my note? It’s a thank-you for helping me pass my test. The teacher was very impressed with my score, you know,” he responds indifferently.

You give him a small sigh, paired with a gentle smile—your attempt at hiding the twinge of disappointment dancing in your eyes. “I did, but you didn’t have to treat me to dinner. A simple note would have sufficed.”

Hook looks at you, dark brown eyes wide and holding your gaze with an intensity you’ve never known. “Sufficed? I don’t want to just suffice. I want to give you a memorable night. An unforgettable experience.” “I don’t think I could ever forget a charming pirate with a hook for a hand,” you laugh, teasing him lightly. Instead of laughing along with you, Hook stares at you for another moment, studying you with slightly scrunched brows and an indecipherable expression on his face. You grow uneasy at his burning look, shifting in your seat as you wonder why he’s watching you so intently.

However, the tense awkwardness in the air lasts for only a minute, before Hook breaks into one of his famous smirks as he replies, “Oh, charming, am I? I know you can’t stop thinking about me, love.”

“Th-that’s not what I meant!” you cry, leaning across the table to give him a small push. He breaks into a laugh, his lips curling up into yet another genuine smile as he leans back just out of your reach. His mirthful expression makes you realize that he had been simply joking, causing your face to burn up as your mind replays your rather dramatic reaction. Honestly, you can never really tell whether he’s being serious or just messing with you.

“Settle down, love. Wouldn’t want you ruining that pretty dress of yours,” he responds, twisting to the side again to prevent getting smacked by you.

You two continue making small talk, still partaking in your teasing, only slightly annoying banter. Before you know it, a waiter is walking towards your table with two platters, one in each hand.

The server sets down the plates on your table, the dishes both looking absolutely delectable. Along with the food, he places two matching beverages in front of you two.

You thank him, and he bows again before leaving. Turning back to Hook, you watch with a slight arch of your eyebrows as he raises his drink in the air.

“A toast,” he says. “To continuing our little dates.”

You roll your eyes, not bothering to correct him this time. Lifting your own glass, you add, “And to you continuing to get good grades.” He smiles at this, before lifting the drink to his lips. Perceptive as always, you notice how his eyes follow your hand as you bring the glass to your mouth.

A sudden, fleeting doubt crosses your mind at his suspicious behavior. Glancing down at the drink skeptically, you notice its unique bright red color. You lower +it slightly and sniff it, then bring it down from your face, fixing a glare at Hook. “You think I don’t know what this is?”

“Oh, I know you do. That’s what I was counting on, at least.”

You persist with your glare. You've spent many hours reading up on different potions and elixirs, so you're no stranger to the drink in your hand. It's a popular one known as the Lovers' Lascivious Lure, a beverage with a fruit punch-like taste, plus a little kick. The real reason for its fame, however, is the touch of love potion that gets mixed in. Not enough to truly make someone fall in love with you or intoxicate them, but rather something that is favored by couples looking to get a little tipsy in love on their night out.

You set the glass down on the table, not breaking your gaze away for a second as you continue to glower at the person sitting across you.

“It’s rude to not drink after a toast, darling,” Hook says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I don’t care, I’m not drinking that,” you reply irritatedly.

“Fine. Your loss, love.”

You watch in complete shock, eyes blown wide and mouth agape as Hook brings his drink up to his lips again, tipping back his head as he gulps the entire thing down in one go.

“I’d drink yours as well, darling, but I’d hate for you to be forced to walk me home, instead of the other way around,” Hook spouts with a bit too much added expression, slightly swaying as the effects of the potion kick in.

You continue to stare at him, concern etched into your features, knowing full well that this drink is designed to be sipped slowly throughout a leisurely dinner, one with much idle conversation and flirtatious looks. Not to be downed all at once. You honestly don’t know what the side effects are to consuming a large amount very quickly, but you pray that the potion is weak enough so as to not cause actual harm—or any other effects—to him.

“So, love,” Hook drawls in a low tone, leaning in. “Anything you feel like telling me?”

“You’re the one who drank the liquid courage, not me,” you point out, fixing him with another look. “Honestly, I’m not sure how much longer you’re going to last like this.”

At your words, Hook’s dazed expression suddenly disappears, instead replaced by a very serious, stern face. “Oh, I assure you, love, I can last very long.”

You blink, a tad confused at why he said that with such a strong conviction. Brushing it off, you look down at your food again, your mouth already watering. “Come on, our food’s going to get cold, and it looks far too delicious to waste.”

Hook agrees, unrolling his utensils instead of shooting back a one-liner, much to your surprise. You’re even more taken aback at the way he drapes the white cloth, which previously held his cutlery, over his legs as he begins to eat, keeping up with his very proper etiquette. He does everything with utterly perfect decorum, from holding his fork and knife in the correct positions to cutting all his food into little pieces. You honestly don't know why this comes as such a shock to you; he has been employing rather polite manners all evening, after all. It appears, you realize, that you’ve always subconsciously believed the stereotypes that pirates are unruly creatures, which therefore must mean they eat messily.

Apparently, this pirate doesn’t.

You both make small talk as you enjoy your food, which is every bit as delicious and succulent as it looked. All the different components are cooked to a perfect degree; not raw or difficult to chew, but not burnt, either. Rich, deep, aromatic spices have always been the staple of this restaurant, and for good reason. You have no clue what flavorings they used, but whatever they are, they taste unlike anything you've ever eaten in your entire life, like an otherworldly meal sent from the heavens. To top it all off, the food also comes with piquant side dishes, followed by desserts that are absolutely decadent and make you melt with every bite you take.

After you both have had your share, Hook motions to the waiter for the check. You had slipped some extra cash into your handbag before coming, not sure what the expectation would be for who paid. As the waiter returns with the small black book in his hand, you turn to Hook.

“I can pay, if you want,” you offer.

Hook quirks his brow as he gives you a look, before reaching into his coat pocket. “Come now, don’t be ridiculous, love. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t pay for you? Especially considering that I was the one who asked you out.”

You blink hard, barely aware of your small nod towards him, your mind racing as the waiter gives Hook the check. You blankly watch him scribble a signature before handing it back, trying to process what he just said. “...asked you out…” Does that mean he actually considers this as a date? Especially since he offered to pay for you…Heavens, what is going on?

Your eyes trail the waiter as he leaves, just as Hook turns back to you. “All finished?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “So…what now?” You aren't quite sure whether or not he's planning on walking you home like he mentioned earlier, but you do know that you're not ready to part quite so soon. Averting his gaze, you instead choose to look down at the candle flickering in the middle of your table. It is now very dark outside, to the point where the flame’s meager light shines with a bright luminosity. Entranced by the fire, you stare intently at its dancing movements, attention fully consumed by how the flame appears to be practically alive.

“Now,” Hook says with a glint in his eyes, causing your head to snap back up, “I have something to show you.”

“Something to show me?” you repeat. “Show me what?”

“I guess you’ll have to wait and see once we get there, love.”

“Once we get there? Hook, where are we going?”

He gives a smug, knowing grin. “You’ll see. Just be patient, darling.” He notices the skeptical look you still have, so he adds, “Trusting me last time turned out good, right? So trust me one more time. I promise you’ll like your surprise.”

You consider his words, hating how he had a point. “Fine,” you huff. “Lead the way, I guess.”

You start to push your chair back to get up, but Hook chides, “Ah ah ah, no you don’t,” standing up himself before walking behind you. He grips the back of your chair and pulls it out for you, before offering his good hand to help you stand too.

Once again, you’re rather shocked at his well-mannered behaviors and courteous gestures. As you accept his outstretched arm, you wonder how in the world this is the same person who was, only a few days ago, leaning back in his chair with his feet up, flinging magical disks across the room.

Getting up, you hesitate for a moment, freezing in place now that you’re level with his eyes. You haven’t been this close to him since that pivotal day during your study session, and your breath gets taken away once again by the proximity.

His angular features and sharp jawline catch your attention, causing your legs to stagger as your gaze wanders down to his soft, plush lips, which definitely stand out amidst the rest of his chiseled face. You had never noticed how his eyeliner also traces his bottom lash line, making his eyes pop whenever he widens them, or how part of his hair swoops to the side and slightly covers his forehead. It dawns on you that you’ve always overlooked the two small silver earrings that dangle from his ears, or the chain around his neck with a cross on it, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Not aware of how you’re just standing there paralyzed, you commit to memory the small details about him you’ve never really seen before. Even though the inside of your head is alive and bustling with a plethora of thoughts, outside, you two stand in terribly awkward silence.

Hook clears his throat, snapping you back to reality. “Come along, darling. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted by curfew again.”

Tightening his grip on your hand, which still holds yours, he leads you through the entrance you had used not so long ago while bidding farewell to the waiter. You continue up the hill to the woods behind the restaurant, Hook refusing to give even a single hint as to what big surprise awaits you.

The trail through the trees starts off easy enough, although still rather difficult for you to traverse in your tight dress and voluminous skirt. If I had known I’d be taking a hike, I’d have worn something more suitable, and much more comfortable, you think, but ultimately decide to keep your mouth shut. After all, Hook had been spoiling you all evening. The least you could do was not nag him about every last thing.

The farther you go, the thicker the branches that block your path and scratch at your arms with their sharp claws get, and the denser the underbrush that tries to trap your feet and swallow you whole grows. After a quarter hour of consistent walking, the trail all but disappears, until only a small path carved by the footsteps of a few brave souls remains. You have to hold up the edge of your full-length skirt the whole way to ensure it doesn’t get all dirty and muddy; by the time you’re nearly done, your arms ache just as much, if not more, than your legs.

You and Hook travel mostly in silence, the sounds of your heavy panting and the crunches of leaves and branches underfoot filling up the empty air. You trail behind him, sometimes struggling to keep up, although he does happen to notice this and slows down his pace after the first few minutes.

Occasionally, Hook gives a short, crisp, “Watch out for the rock there, love,” or “The branches here are really low, I’ll hold them up for you.” You always respond with a clipped “Yeah,” or “Okay, thanks,” trying to mask just how out of breath you've gotten from the difficult climb. Early on in the beginning of the hike, you had to let go of his hand, favoring holding up your skirt instead. Still, in areas where the ground is rough or rocky, or the footing becomes difficult or rather steep, Hook always turns around and offers his hand to you and helps pull you up, or reaches out his hook from overhead for you to grab on to.

The noises of the night accompany you the entire time: the soft chirps of crickets, a few croaks from a frog somewhere out of sight, a creature or other scampering through the bushes, a rare call from an owl, and the whispering of the leaves above as a cool breeze passes through them. After a few more minutes of walking through a maze of nature with trees so thick—their only rival being the velvety blackness of the night—the pace of the trek finally slows down. You've long tired of always having to hold one arm ahead to ensure that you don’t get smacked in the face by an unsuspecting branch, so you're overwhelmingly relieved when Hook finally says, “We’re almost there.” “Finally,” you mumble between breaths. “I think my limbs are just about to fall off.” You can’t really tell in the pitch-black darkness, but you could have sworn that Hook gave a small smile at your words.

Once you reach a thick tangle of branches and vines that completely block your path, you both come to a stop. You watch as he pulls them back and to the side, even slicing through some with his hook. He beckons you forward with a courteous, “Ladies first,” a grin dancing on his features.

You walk through the clearing and onto a wide ledge overlooking the entire city. The view knocks the breath out of your lungs, despite your body already screaming at you for more oxygen. All thoughts of your strenuous hike vanish from your head, except for one that reminds you the arduous journey was absolutely and totally worth it.

From all the way up here, you can see the entire land. The shimmering lights of the large cityscape below you steal your heart, while the small village houses and mountains beyond them, creating the faintest of outlines against the horizon, capture your soul. This vantage point allows you to see everything; every bustling street filled with people rushing to get home after a long week, or frolicking around on a night out. Every house, every drawn-back curtain, but a mere speck in the constellation of human activity, a testament to the splendor of life. Twinkling lights sprawled below you paint a shimmering mosaic, reflecting the celestial canvas of stars hanging above you.

You stare in pure awe, almost forgetting about Hook as he approaches you from behind. “Enjoying the view, love?” he whispers softly, his voice closer to you than you expected.

You startle, turning backwards with a sharp inhale. “Oh…yeah, it’s just…breathtaking.” Unable to think of the right words to describe it, you decide to settle for an almost shameful understatement of the view's beauty.

You’re not quite sure if you imagined it, too caught up in your head, but you hear something that almost sounds like a soft, “Just like you.”

“Huh?” you ask, turning back around to face him.

“I said, I told you you’d like it,” Hook repeats, although you still hold your suspicions. “All you had to do was trust me.”

“And how can I be sure you aren’t planning to push me off the edge?” you question, teasing him.

“Well, you can’t,” he replies, walking over to the ledge. “But if I do, I’ll let you drag me down with you. If we go down, then we go down together.”

You giggle, choosing to take his words at face value only and not read into them too much. After all, your heart can only take so much in one night.

Hook crouches down, using his good hand to support him as he sits down in front of you, keeping one foot hugged to his chest as he dangles the other off the side of the cliff.

He glances over his shoulder at you, patting the space besides him. Cautiously, you walk over to the ledge, joining him on the ground.

You both sit there for a moment in silence, looking over the magnificent scene. You can tell that Hook finds comfort in the lack of conversation, but it feels too heavy for you, and so you decide to finally break it with the question that’s been on your mind this whole night.

“Hook?” you ask gently.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you bring me here?”

He turns his head slightly to glance at you. “I thought you’d like the view,” he replies, looking at you with a confused expression.

You take a quick breath, preparing yourself for the difficult words you’re planning to speak next. “No, I mean, why did you really bring me here tonight?” He opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off, adding, “And don’t lie to me.”

His mouth closes shut again and he hesitates for a moment, contemplating his next sentence carefully, before responding, “I’ve already told you.”

“What, that you wanted to thank me for helping you get a B-plus on your test? Yeah, that excuse won’t work on me anymore.”

“No, not that.” He turns his head back and runs his good hand through his hair, making his neatly combed style look a bit more windswept than before. “I wanted to ask you out on a date.”

“…What?”

“I already told you that it was a date, love. You just chose not to believe me.”

It’s your turn to whip your head to the side this time, now facing directly towards Hook, who’s still looking straight ahead at the scenery.

“I-I didn’t…truly…I thought you were just joking when you said that.”

He glances at you again, a roguish grin forming on his lips. “Oh, darling, I don’t joke about much. Especially not with you.”

Again, you choose not to read too deeply into his words, trying to break your awful habit of overthinking. Instead, you press on, wanting to gain as much information as you can from him. If nothing else, at least a few answers might help put your mind at a little more ease. “Why’d you want to ask me out? I’m not exactly…”

Your voice fades away as your brain catches up with your far-too-fast mouth, realizing that saying “I’m not exactly the most desirable person to date” may not do you any favors.

Hook turns to look at you with an expectant gaze, and you know that you can’t sweep your little slip-up under the carpet that easily. Gods, he’s observant. “…the most popular person at our school,” you finish.

“Hmm, true,” Hook concurs, tilting his head with a tone as if he’s never considered that point before. You were half-expecting him to disagree, more out of courtesy than honesty, so you’re a bit taken aback when he agrees with you.

“But I don’t care about popularity.” Ah, so there’s that socially obligatory politeness. You don't really believe his words at first, yet the way he says it so sincerely, so genuinely, makes you wonder if he truly is being honest.

“So why’d you want to take me out on a date?”

“Because, love, you’re different from what I’m used to,” he replies. “You’re kind, soft, pure. You intrigued me.”

You recoil at his words, a deep, writhing anger rising out of you. “What, you only went out with me because I’m so pure and innocent? So you could corrupt me?” you spit, having heard this little skit far too many times before.

“No, not like that. Not at all.” Hook twists his body to face you more, and although you’re still mad at him, you can’t deny the hurt and pain that swirls in his voice and eyes at your accusations. “You’re…you’re always trying to help others. You always speak softly, always smile. You’re untainted by the evils I've witnessed. You’re like an angel sent down from the heavens. You’re not like me, love."

Hook continues, “And I don’t want to change that. I don’t want to corrupt or hurt you. I want to preserve that. Every time I’m with you, you make me want to keep you safe from the troubles of the world, the cruel things I’ve seen.

"You make me want to be around you. I can't explain how, or why, but your presence alone compels me to change my ways. To be kinder, gentler, softer. For you. It's as if you're contagious, and well, I think you've infected me, love. Whenever I see you, or even think of you, everything feels just a little bit better. The weight on my shoulders feels a bit lighter, and nothing seems as bad as it used to, as it was when I was on my own.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...you've made me feel things that I haven't felt in a long, long time. Things that I thought my blackened heart couldn't even experience anymore. You make me feel like there's still goodness in the world...like there's still hope. Like I still have hope." You blink slowly, your mind and heart spinning alike as everything around you, as time itself, seems to slow down. You're unable to process all his words, unable to even begin to consider the implications of what this all means. “So, what you’re saying is…you only like me because I’m good?” you ask, touched by his sentiment, yet a little sad at the underlying meaning. Does this mean that if you want to stay with Hook, to maybe even be something in the future, you can't have any darkness to your soul? That you'll have to continue to be as righteous and morally correct as ever?

He gives a small chuckle. “Of course not, darling. I love when I make you snap, when you get angry at me. I love when the fierce part of you comes out. Just like it did now.” He reaches out his good hand to tuck a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing against your cheek as he keeps it there, not pulling back quite yet.

You can see the hesitance swirling in his eyes, the uncertainty in the way his hand lingers by your face. By some sudden stroke of courage, the origins of which are a complete mystery to you—maybe he had the love potion added to your food too?—you shift your whole body towards Hook, keeping your legs tucked together and off to one side.

“Kiss me,” you breathe.

“I'm sorry, love, wh-what?”

It feels strange to take command for once, but it sure is nice. “You heard me. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

His lingering hand cups your cheek as you both lean in, meeting each other in the middle. Hook’s lips are as soft and plump as you imagined, almost like brushing your mouth against the petals of a rose. Placing one of your hands on the ground beside you, you put your weight on it as you move even closer.

You’ve read of intense kisses, filled with passion and fueled by lust. But this isn't like that. It is slow, sweet, intoxicating you with only the purest of adorations. Your lips hover over his as you tilt your head to the side to prolong the embrace, getting swept up in the moment whilst being completely and blissfully unaware of anything and everything besides how his lips feel against yours, how his hook traces your body as he devours you like a starved man given his last meal. How he breathes you in like you're the very air that fills his lungs, like your sheer essence is the only oxygen he needs. You bring your hand up to his shoulder, leaning further into him as he moves his good hand back and tangles it in your hair.

It ends rather quickly, the entire kiss lasting but a moment, yet still filling you with the sweetest pleasure. In that moment, you realize why people spend their whole lives searching for love; it’s one of the most endearing, profound forms of joy that one can feel, and you're certain that you just felt it.

You pull away, noticing how his gaze lingers on your lips, before looking back up at you. He gives you a captivating, yet genuine smile, one that makes your heart to ache at how perfect he is, yet simultaneously yearning for his touch, his lips, him being wrapped up in another embrace with you and never breaking away. The newfound euphoria coursing through your veins and making your mind fuzzy causes you to return his smile with a wide, love-drunk grin of your own, a deep, wholehearted devotion emanating through your gaze as you study his features.

“Can I tell you a secret?” you whisper, staring into his eyes—eyes that reflect your own.

“Always, love.”

“You were my first kiss,” you confess.

Hook brings his hand back up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone. His grin grows, an endless affection swirling in his dark eyes as he replies, “I guess this really is a night to remember.”

You give a small laugh, lowering your forehead to lean it against his shoulder, seeking comfort in his hold. “You did want to give me an unforgettable night, after all.”

“Can I tell you a secret, too?”

You raise your head again to peer up at him with wide eyes, curious as to what he has to admit.

“That day, in class,” he confides, “I was enchanting those disks and sending them across the room so you’d come and talk to me. I saw how you went over to help that other kid who was struggling. So, I figured that if I struggled too, you'd come over and I could get a conversation with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “So you could cast the spell right?”

“Oh, no, not even close, love. That was all your work. Although I might have put in a bit more effort just to impress you,” he adds with a small smirk.

You move one of your hands closer to him, placing it on top of his and intertwining your fingers together. “Well, I suppose it worked.”

You lean back into him, kissing him blissfully yet again under the watchful smile of the moon glowing high in the sky, the stars glimmering and winking down at your young love. As you embrace, the city below bustles with the joys and despairs of human life unbeknownst to you, each person a thread in the tapestry of the world. Every soul but a speck of stardust in a cosmic dance.

And perhaps that is the greatest folly of human life. All the weight of one’s burdens, all the battles fought, all the hearts and souls that love and cry, together composing of but a fleeting second amidst the vastness of forever. And yet, each person gets lost in the preeminence of their own narrative, joyfully unaware of every grain of sand that disappears into the abyss as we shuffle closer to the edge of this mortal coil. But oftentimes, one’s deepest flaw is their greatest feat, as no imperfection comes without its own merit.

So maybe that very feature is, instead, the greatest feat of humanity. To love like you’ll live forever, and to weep like there’s no tomorrow. Maybe our ignorance gives us strength, the strength to keep going every day, pretending as if we somehow have an authority and power over the galactic strings of thread that weave together the fate of our universe.

The city below you, the world outside of the little bubble the two of you have created, moves on, unknown and unknowing of you both. But in this moment, nothing else matters. Nothing besides the love and affection you and him have grown to share.

end x

<- back to part 1

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a/n: I just had to end this with some philosophical musings haha (hey google, how do you write beginnings and endings?) anyways hope you liked this, I love making fluff like this :D I love seeing everyone's comments and reactions, all feedback is highly appreciated! until next time :))

do not plagiarize, translate, remake, or copy my works, including my writing and images, in any way.

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starryinkart · 6 months

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Hey guys!!! I said I would work on a Uzi human version to match with my N human version, so here it is!!! I decided to make her a mix of Japanese and Middle Eastern, since Nori means seaweed in Japanese and I’ve have a friend named Khan who was Middle Eastern irl!

Since you guys like the headcannons last time, have some about Uzi:

Uzi was born with blue eyes and black hair, like her parents had, though Khans eyes were a more icy blue. When Khan started to neglect Uzi, she decided to mimick the appearance of her mother instead, seeing her as a role model after everything cool she heard about her around the colony, dying her hair purple like her.

In this AU, Uzi knew her mother before she died for a short time as an infant. Of course, she doesn’t remember much, but she does remember the play dates she used to have with her cousin Doll anytime her aunt Yeva would come over.

Nori and Yeva were sisters, both genetically modified to have the solver inside of them, making Doll and Uzi cousins. Nori and Yeva knew the consequences of having offspring with the solver in their veins but were actively working on a cure before Noris demise.

Uzi, Doll, Lizzy and Thad used to be childhood friends, but after Nori died and Yeva began to pull Doll away from her cousin to protect her from any trace of the solver, Doll and Lizzy began to bully Uzi.

Uzi came out short, like her father Khan, whereas Nori was tall, partially due to the effects of the solver.

Uzi's favorite foods are Philadelphia Sushi Rolls, Shrimp Tempura Rolls, Shoyu Ramen, and Khan Plov (suprisingly)

Uzi's favorite dessert is Apple Cheesecake!

Khan and Uzi used to have a pretty wholesome father daughter bond, but when Nori passed, he distanced himself from his daughter around the time Doll and Lizzy started bullying her, due to fear the solver may have developed in his daughter. Unfortunately we all know what eventually happens in the series and how Khan picked the worst time in her life to try and rekindle a bond with her.

Uzi has a scar on her left shoulder from N stabbing her with his wing in the Pilot, but honestly she doesn't care if people see it, unlike N who's self concious about his scars, and she thinks it looks cool.

Once she begins to be taken over by the solver, her thirst for oil is uncontrollable, though she HATES the taste of it.

Uzi's favorite anime is Chainsaw Man, though N thinks it's to gorey.

N taught Uzi to fly with her wings, and it went...as well as you could expect the first few times, but eventually she learned.

Sometimes Uzi has moments where she doesn't remember certain events in the day like what she ate for breakfeast or what she did that day in school, and her mind sort of blips all over the place ever since her solver powers were activated. She doesn't know this, but whenever that happens the solver is slowly getting acustomed to her body, putting her conciousness to "rest" while it tries out her body.

N and Uzi's favorite activity is to watch the sun rise together from inside an abandoned building they have made their "treehouse" of sorts. V doesn't know about it, and it's filled to the brim with comfort items, furniture and decorations for whenever they decide to stay out too late and no make it back home to risk burning up.

Uzi's favorite animal is cows!

Uzi and N spoon each other often, even when they were just friends, because the warmth of their bodies makes them feel safe and loved.

Uzi's favorite subject is Science and anything to do with being hands on. She likes learning and school, but just "dislikes" likes and doesn't know how to speak to them without being bullied her peers with a passion.

Uzi can be very motherly and protective, and is actually very nuturing and kind underneath her edginess.

She'll NEVER tell V this to her face, but she's grown to love V as a big sister of sorts and cares about her as much as N.

Her favorite color purple. She thinks it makes her and N match look cool but you didnt hear that from her.

She likes alot of metal and hardstyle types of music, but acutally enjoy's N's upbeat and pop music from the late 1900's and early 2000's human era more than she lets on.

She doesn't like when N uses his deeper voice and whispers in her ear...it makes her feel...weird. But in a good way- wait what?

She loves to draw and totally doesn't have sketches of her, N and V as superhero anime characters, her and N building a neural network together in her sketchbook. EW. GROSS.

>> PS. This is part of my Murder Drones Skin and Bones AU!

I didn't know how to end this, but I will say Im totally doing the other characters! Next is V!

____________________________________________________________

ALSOOOOO…

THANKYOU ALL FOR 1,000 FOLLOWERS GUYS!!!

IM WORKING ON A BUNCH OF STUFF LIKE ANIMATIONS ON YOUTUBE, MORE AU THINGS, AND WORKING ON MY ABSOLUTELY FANFIC! I'm hoping to expand more on my comics on Tumblr like my @thedarknessyouhold and the Murder Drones universe as a whole, so stick around for some awesome stuff coming soon!

My commisions are also open! You can find them on my KO-FI HERE and HERE !

You can ALSO find updates and sneak peeks sometimes as well!

AND my LINKTREE HERE!

#murder drones #murder drones fanart #murder drones uzi #uzi md #md uzi #digital art #fan art #starryinkartwork #mdsab

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blues824 · 2 years

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Begging can you do a jessica rabbit reader for the rest of twst boys 🙏 🥺plsss

This is gonna be a while… Gender neutral reader, red dress is now red outfit.

Riddle Rosehearts

He thought you were absolutely beautiful, and this man always got so flustered when you brought out your sparkling red outfit. You only ever wore it for a fancy occasion, like his birthday or a date night. He secretly loved seeing you in that outfit because you only wore it for him.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’, he absolutely melts. He has never had any affection shown to him as a child, so you even calling him a sweet nickname like that has him wrapped around your finger. Riddle would prefer it if you kept ‘honey bunny’ behind closed doors, because he goes red out of embarrassment at how much he likes it.

The way you were able to slip in suggestive and flirtatious words into your sentences was baffling to him because it always left him speechless. You thrived for the blush that was always present on his face. Don’t even get me started about how he almost passes out whenever you sing to him…

Trey Clover

He spoils you by baking things for you. Whenever you catch a hankering for something sweet, he will stop baking whatever he’s working on and start on your craving. If you offer to help him, then he will do that thing where he will go behind you, pressing your back to his chest, as his hands go on top of yours to assist you in mixing whatever it was.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he will call you ‘sweetie’ or ‘Mr/Mrs/Mx. Clover’. Very rarely do either of you call each other by your actual names, not even when you are upset with each other (which is a very rare occurrence). It’s only when you or him get hurt that you call each other ‘Y/N’ or ‘Trey’.

I feel like he’s pretty good at flirting, but nowhere as good as you were. He says things that can be taken multiple different ways, and so it leaves your imagination wandering. Indirect flirting, if you will. And that shit works too; the places that your mind has traveled because of his words are places you never thought you would be going to. You’re not complaining, though.

Ace Trappola

He doesn’t want to admit it, but he is a simp. He acts like he doesn’t think about you at every waking moment. He craves your love and attention, so he does stupid things to make you laugh. Speaking of your laugh, he loves it. It’s the most beautiful sound to him.

He likes calling you ‘babe’ because he’s basic and the last relationship he had was in middle school. You, however, call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, and it makes him have that big, dopey, lovesick grin all day. It’s his dopamine fix for the day.

This man tries to flirt with you but fails horribly. He does cheesy pick-up lines while you actually flirt and act seductive to try and fluster him. His face always ends up more red than the heart on his face, and you smile with victory every time.

Deuce Spade

He has most definitely told his mom about you. He is just so wholesome. Also, he is a simp, and if he had a t-shirt saying that then he would wear it with pride. You are up there in importance alongside his mother. He already thinks of you as his spouse.

Deuce doesn’t really call you by terms of endearment, but he doesn’t mind you doing so. He actually likes it a lot, especially the ‘honey bunny’ name because it just seems silly and adorable and it’s perfect for him (I think we can all agree).

Imma just say it: this man can’t flirt when he tries to. However, it’s when he’s not trying. Like when he places his arm on your seat when you sit with him in the Lounge, or when he gets you a bouquet of flowers because he thought you would like them. However, his mama taught him right in that this is the bare minimum.

Leona Kingscholar

This man worships the ground you work on. You were a beauty, and you were his. This means that he’s also very protective over you. He will escort you to your classes to make sure that you get there safely and without any issues. As you walk, he will have an arm around your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

Whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he will act like he absolutely hates it, but please don’t stop. It gives him reassurance that you don’t mind his slightly protective tendencies and that you view him as #1 rather than just casting him aside as his kingdom did to him since he was the second born.

Oh, you both flirt more than you hold a normal conversation. 99.99% of the things that come out of either of your mouths are suggestive and flirtatious, and everyone wishes that you both would get a room. Don’t worry, they’re just jealous that Leona scored someone as great as you as his significant other.

Jack Howl

Whenever he sees anyone eyeing you up and down with romantic interest, he’s the type to hoist you over his shoulder and carry you away, and you had to admit that you liked seeing the hot scowl on his face. As you were set down, you reached up and gently grabbed his face in your hands to reassure that you would never leave him.

When you call him either ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he is hit with mental images of a possible future with you. Since he came from a big family, I feel like he would want one (adoption or biological is a-okay with him). In his eyes, you were his mate for life. That meant you were already his spouse before making it official.

He gets so flustered whenever you start flirting with him because he just doesn’t know what to say in response. He just freezes up, but his tail is wagging so you can tell that he is absolutely eating that shit up. Also, please place yourself in his lap and lightly trace his muscles while praising him for how strong he is. It gets him riled up… if you know what I mean.

Azul Ashengrotto

He always dresses up, so if you decide to dress up as well then he will absolutely die. Especially in your signature red outfit; never fails to make his nose bleed at least a little bit. Do your sashay, pull him in by the tie, and greet him that way and he is just red.

Azul doesn’t mind being called ‘darling’ out in the open because it’s a very formal and sophisticated, dare I say elegant, term of endearment. ‘Honey bunny’ doesn’t fit in that category though, so please refrain from calling him that in public lest you make him feel like a flopping fish out of water.

If you start flirting with him, then he is done for. It’s the final punch to the face. He is passing out right then and there until someone (you) splashes cold water in his face. Then, once he sees that you were his saving grace, he’s passing out again because he thought he died, went to Heaven, and saw an angel. Good luck.

Jade Leech

If you ever decide to visit him in the Lounge, he will always make time to come and give you a kiss on the lips at your table before carrying on with his job. He might take his 15 minute break so that he can have time to actually come and talk to you.

He absolutely loves it when you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’ because it just has a very nice ring to it. In return, he loves to call you ‘my dear’ or ‘lovely’. When you both use your terms of endearment for one another, everyone wishes you would go and get a room

The moment you decide to flirt with him, he has a smirk on his face the entire time. He’s not gonna hold back either, so be prepared for lewd things to come out of his mouth (as long as you are comfortable with it, of course).

Jamil Viper

You make him flustered all the time. He always tells you that you are the reason why his heart beats; the reason why he continues on with the grueling work that he carries on his shoulders. Every single time he scores a point in his game, it’s always for you.

If you ever call him ‘darling’, then he responds by calling you ‘my shining star’ because of how he tells you that he wished on the stars for you to accept him as your lover. If you call him ‘honey bunny’, he definitely gets flustered and freezes up.

When you decide that you want to make him flustered, call yourself a little mouse who is at the mercy of a viper. Play his unique magic by saying that he has hypnotized you and now you feel as though you could never love anyone besides him. His face goes so red, it’s almost like you’re trying to kill him.

Vil Schoenheit

As one actor to another, he wishes that he could spend more time with you but his schedule keeps him busy. So, he just chooses to star as your main love interest so that the chemistry between the two of you in real life can be portrayed through the screen.

He loves when you call him ‘darling’ because it just sounds beautiful the way it comes out of your mouth. ‘Honey bunny’ is reserved as more of a code name between the two of you so that the public doesn’t know that the two of you are together.

When you both flirt with each other, it just sounds so smooth and sexy. The two of you go back and forth as though it were casual conversation that you were indulging in, while everyone who hears it gets flustered.

Epel Felmier

Everyday, he wonders how he managed to get with such a beautiful and wonderful person such as yourself. He always felt emasculated by the guys around him, so you being with him is reassurance that you saw him as a man.

Along with referring to him as ‘my man’, you like to call him ‘darling’ and ‘honey bunny’ which is something he loves. You would think that he hated it, but no. He actually enjoys it and will call you ‘love-cup’ just like Roger does with Jessica.

If you decide to be seductive and flirtatious towards him, he freezes up and doesn’t know how to respond. His face is red and there might be some blood trickling down his nose. He doesn’t flirt back because he can’t even speak since he’s too flustered.

Idia Shroud

You are wearing the pants in the relationship, and I hope you are okay with it. You take the initiative 99.99% of the time. Idia always wonders how someone like you is totally okay with being seen with a shut-in otaku like him.

He melts whenever you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’ because it reminds him of a married couple (which is definitely something he is striving towards once you both graduate). You loved seeing his cute reaction, so you call him those names more than his actual name.

Don’t expect him to flirt back when you act super seductive. He can barely talk to you without stuttering, so flirting is definitely out of the question. However, if you were to place yourself in his lap, he won’t refrain from using his sharp teeth to make little bite marks along your neck and shoulder.

Silver

Honestly, you both kind of live in a blissful fairytale life. You act like a married couple, what with how you both make sure that the other is safe or not injured, you kiss each other as one has to leave for class, and he has even taken you on a horse ride with you sitting in front of him as he wrapped his arms around you while holding the reins.

When you call him ‘darling’ or ‘honey bunny’, he knows that you are safe and out of harm’s way because you never called him by his actual name. He likes to call you ‘darling’ as well as ‘my love’, maybe throw in ‘my sleeping beauty’ to mix things up.

I feel like he’d be a bit flustered whenever you flirted with him, but he’s kind of indifferent towards it. I mean, half the time he’s asleep, so yeah. Kiss him like the prince does the princess in the story to wake him up and that’s how you get him. He’s already on his knee with a ring.

Sebek Zigvolt

This is actually very interesting because I feel like he’d go soft for you. Mans follows you like a guard dog, so you get scary guard dog privileges. He is your knight just as you are his fair significant other. He stays near you just to make sure that you aren’t hurt or injured.

He would prefer to be called his actual name out in public, but he might allow ‘darling’ because it shows others that you are his and his only. ‘Honey bunny’ is to greet him after a long day to let him know that he is home and in your arms.

Sebek definitely gets flustered whenever you flirt with him, but he will retaliate through little poetic notes that make your heart swoon. They lead you on a little treasure hunt to try and collect them all, and you have a lot of fun.

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bananadramaaa · 5 months

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Idk if you’ve got any ideas or backstory for Alastor’s sisters, but I love the designs for them and have kind of taken some ideas about them and ran with it, mostly about the eldest, Adeline, though:

• Adelice was definitely a protector of the whole bunch. Alastor helped protect the younger sisters and worried a lot about his older sister, but Adelice would make a target out of herself to make sure the younger kids faced as little of their father’s bad days as possible.

• Leonore and Bertilda (the younger two) still experience a lot of the family drama, but it’s a little less than what their older siblings do since they try to keep them out of the fire, so while the older two seem to mature way too quickly, the younger two stay kids for a bit longer. This, however does piss off their father, who takes every moment to ridicule them on their inability to act like their older siblings when their older siblings aren’t able to keep them out of the fire.

• Adelice also gives off Tiana from Princess and the Frog vibes. She’s got a Dream and she’s gonna work hard every day to make it happen.

• Alastor Worries™️ and thinks she’s pushing herself too much, taking on the brunt of their father’s anger, taking on so many jobs, and trying to get as much of an education as she can for as cheap as she can get it. So he becomes her Distraction, constantly dragging her off to parties and out drinking and listening to music. Anything to get her to chill tf out.

• He’s also a hypocrite though, considering he takes on a ton of “side jobs” by the time he’s 15 before he starts working in radio to try to help out their maman. He somehow manages to get all the fun jobs though. She’s out here working in restaurants and factories and he’s playing piano at the speakeasy and working at a nearby gator farm during the summers. And even the jobs that shouldn’t be fun, he manages to turn into a blast, like apprenticing at the butchers or working the graveyard shift at the cemetery. He thinks he’s so damn funny, while his bosses low-key wanna strangle him. This somehow makes him more likable as a radio host.

• Eventually, Adelice manages to find herself a nice, rich, Creole man who she and Alastor run through the wringer trying to test just how wholesome of a man he is before she’ll accept his hand in marriage. This man is confused, but he is dead set on winning her heart. He offers her the money to achieve her dream, he offers her the happy and stress-free life that New Orleans won’t afford her, he offers a life where she’s free and not trapped by anybody, himself included, and most importantly, he offers to take her whole family away from their father and the impoverished life that keeps them with him.

• Their maman can’t fathom a life without her husband, but she can see why they’d want to leave.

• Alastor doesn’t want to lose his sisters, but he knows someone has to watch out for their maman and he’s far to attached to New Orleans to leave it now.

• Before all his sisters leave, Adelice jokingly says she’s gonna name a son after him and he politely declines the offer.

• They move to Alabama or something and he never sees them again, but Adelice has a bunch of happy children that she loves who know all about him :)

• Bertilda also gets married, but Bertilda and her husband find themselves unable to have kids so they adopt a cute little red-headed girl and her green-eyed little brother.

• Leonore dates a lot of people before she finds the perfect gal for her and they move in together as “friends.” Their maman was a bit progressive in some ways and taught them not to judge, where most others would do when Adelice and Bertilda don’t make a big deal out of it when they find out about it.

• All three of them keep an eye on the news regarding New Orleans and whatever can be said about their famous radio host brother from far away.

• The only times the lot of them return to New Orleans is when they hear about Alastor’s death and their maman’s death.

I've talked briefly about them in this ask :3 And I really enjoyed reading your version of their story. It seems more wholesome compared to what I have in mind for them (like Adelice definitely won in this one) XD

#but we have some thoughts in common #ask #human au

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normal-internet-user · 2 years

Note

Tis I, 💜

I think my request got eaten maybe? But I just wanted to request the 2012 turtles with an adoptive human!older sister reader, who is very good at being a sister to each of the brothers unique needs. Example :

Skateboarding /being silly with Mikey (but not so much the others, baby brother privilege lmao)

Sparring /rough housing with Raph

Serious training / meditation with Leo

And actually helping Donnie or listening to him when he goes on his rants? Instead of making fun of him she gives him encouragement ?

And of coarse a cute lil bit with splinter wouldn’t upset me :) but whatever you can do with this! I don’t wanna ask too much. Hope you are doing well, love ya 💜

OMG hi Purple! Haven't heard from you in forever friend! Love the prompt, this is gonna be great!

2012 BOYS WITH A BIG SIS READER

When Splinter took you in, he was still a new father, the boys were still just tots and you were only around 4.

He'd found you lost and alone in the sewers, how you had even gotten there, he had no clue, but after discovering a note in your coat pocket asking for someone to care for you, he decided he would.

He raised alongside the boys, and there was never an issue.

You got along well with each of them and all four looked up to you as much as they did to him.

Splinter trained you in ninja arts, and you were patroling by fifteen.

By around that time, the boys had started their training, and Splinter often had you help him teach the boys.

You were Ane-chan to the boys, (Older sister, if it's wrong feel free to tell me.), And you always made sure to spend time with all of them growing up.

You'd make sure Donnie slept, and sit with him while he worked, and he appreciated how much you cared.

You'd let Raph vent to you, and you would rough house around alot, obviously he's a bit stronger than you naturally, so even if you won, it was usually sporting a few new bruises. He would always feel bad about it, but don't worry Red, Ane-chan can handle a few bruises.

You meditated often with Leo, and always listened when he info dumped about Space Heros. He always went to you if he struggled in training since he knew you'd do your best to actually help him.

You reserved all that pent up silly for Mikey, prank wars, staying up late with video games and moutain dew.

Honestly, I thinked you would have a moment like Po, where you find out you're adopted, and your just like,

"WHAT?"

Then you're talking to April and Casey about it like, "So, I just found my dad isn't really my dad."

Casey: "Your dad... the rat?"

*Nod*

Casey: "Are you-"

April: "That must have been quite difficult."

Moving back abit, when the Foot and Kraang start borderline harrassing the boys,

You're just about go kick Shredder's ass yourself,

Ain't nobody gonna mess with your Kyoudai. (Little brothers).

Obviously Splinter tells you to cool it,

But after that you go with the boys everywhere you can.

You never take away Leo's role as the leader but rather offer yourself up as the voice of reason and peace among the team.

You do your best to make sure arguments are settled in a healthy way,

While also trying to keep those idiots from getting themselves killed.

The first time you faced Shredder he was like, "Wtf how the hell did Yoshi aquire you? And why?"

You almost succeded in kicking his ass,

Emphasis on almost,

You got your fucking leg fractured.

You had to stay in a hospital up top for a while.

Ahem-

Obviously it would have been hard for Splinter to send you to school,

So growing up he just homeschooled you to the best of his ability, and you actually homeschooled the boys.

So when April and Casey show up, April let's you know it's possible to get a highschool diploma online.

You're all like, "Hell yeah, let's do this."

But then, ya know,

Highschool.

Splinter taught you how to cook, and you were the designated chef of the household, (Even if it was just algea)

Eventually, you taugh Mikey, so now you guys share the kitchen.

Now about that wholesome moment with Splinter,

I have a little drabble thought.

So, imagine you're around 13, and your job is to watch the boys and make sure they don't hurt themselves or anything.

For some more context the boys are around 9.

So, anyway,

Splinter is out, and you're babysitting.

The boys are wrestling, which isn't too unusual, they do that alot ya know?

But, someone's foot lands were it shouldn't, and now Donnie's wrist is swelling and all four of them are crying.

You panic, you pick up Donnie and bring him to the kitchen and put some ice in his wrist.

After that, you move back to the living room, and do your best to calm evryone down.

Now, Splinter knew he could hear anything happening for quite a distance, so when he hears crying and your panicked voice, he instantly made his way home.

He ran in, expecting the worst, and was relieved to find no one was mortaly injured.

After you told him what happened, he calmed you and the boys, and after checking Donnie's wrist, he put the boys to bed.

The entire time, you sat on the couch, waiting for Splinter to come and scold you. You felt guilty and ashamed.

After all, Donnie got hurt on your watch.

It was your fault.

Splinter sat next to you, and you curled into yourself with tears running down your face, "Is Donnie gonna be ok?" you sniffled.

Splinter put a gentle hand on your shoulder, "He'll be fine, my dear."

You wiped your eyes with your sleeve, "I'm sorry, Father. I- I messed up, and then Donnie got hurt and I didn't know what do to-"

"Hey, hey. It was not your fault. Accidents happen. What is important is to learn how to prevent the same accident from happening again."

"B-but-"

"Ah, ah. No buts. It was not your fault. Now go tell your brothers goodnight. And then we can read stories." You nodded, smiling softly as Splinter pulled you in for a hug.

You wiped your eyes and entered the boys' shared room.

Mikey shot up from his bed, "(Name)!"

You shushed him, tucking him back in, and giving him a kiss on the forhead, "Quiet down, Angelo. It's bedtime."

He huffed, and you moved around the room, making sure each of your brother was tuckes in nice and warm.

As you moved to leave, there was a soft chorus of, "Goodnight, Ane-Chan."

You turned and smiled, "Goodnight little brothers."

....................................

Whoops, got a little carried away with this one lol!

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #x reader #leonardo x reader #donnie x reader #raphael x reader #mikey x reader #platonic x reader #tmnt x reader platonic #older sibling reader #sister reader #master splinter x child reader

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asexualasshat · 7 months

Text

Y’all remember the tiktok trend where grown ups realized that they’d forgotten how to skip. Headcannon that one, a few years after Derry part 2, Richie is being a silly sappy little fellow. Starts skipping while he and Eddie are a park or whatever. He grabs Eddie’s hand to bring him along for the ride. And Eddie??? Understands the hypothetical concept of skipping. And yet his feet? Doing a sort of botched gallop.

And Richie LOSES IT! Starts roasting him. And Eddie is freaking tf out. He’s yelling but also still trying to figure skipping out. You can’t really tell if he’s yelling more at Richie or at himself. And he’s still galloping away. Richie is on the ground, holding his face in his hands to muffle his laughter.

Eventually, Richie gets up and he starts coaching Eddie. Twenty minutes later, they’re hand in hand, skipping down the path.

Richie didn’t have a choice but to tell the losers everything. And the groupchat?? LOSES IT! At first? Just roasts tf out of Eddie at first. Ben comes to his defence pretty quickly. And then asks “when was the last time you guys skipped? Are you sure you remember?”

And the accusations fly right back at Ben. Asking him if he can skip. And Ben??? In his office wearing his fancy designer work clothes???? Takes a video of himself skipping. And he sure can skip! When he’s done showing off he comes close to the camera and says “we just had a daughter. I’ve prepared.”

And again, they’re going wild. Within minutes, videos start pouring in. Bev is first, obviously immediately ready to support her husband. She’s a dazzling skipper. She’d win first prize in a skipping competition. The technique is impeccable.

Stan is next. He gets Patty into it as well, to know one’s surprise. Neither is perfect. Patty’s footwork isn’t perfect but she has pizazz. Stan is pure technique, to the point that it’s awkwardly stiff. But the pair are smiling and skipping so it doesn’t even matter. Their own daughter just toddles around in the background. Kind of embarrassing for her, but she doesn’t know what embarrassment is yet.

Mike is out in a field, phone probably propped up on his water bottle or a log. He’s mostly just frolicking around, but there’s a few solid skips in there. It’s gloriously cinematic.

Audra is on camera next, and bill can be heard saying “show me! I want to see.” She hangs in the air longer than any mortal should be able to. Her flowy dress flounces out. She giggles in response to bill saying “wow!” and “you’re really good!”

But then hepassed the phone to Audra. Of course they don’t think to stop filming in between, so you hear all the shuffling. Audra says “okay, show me!” And Bill?? The bitch can’t get his feet off the ground. There’s no elevation at all. Audra is losing her mind. She’s scream laughing. Bill looks devastated.

A moment after his own roasting begins, bill texts back “so does this mean I’m a bad dad?” And immediately it turns to dad comfort. Ben’s “kids don’t usually start to try skipping until they’re four. You have two years to practice!” And Stan’s “your son is going to see you learn and grow as a man. You’re setting a great example.” Its really quite wholesome.

Obviously someone filmed it in the park. The world sees the graceful pursuit of Eddie learning to skip. Twitter obviously loves it because it so so silly and sweet. Richie tweets something stupid like (and funnier than) “bet your husband can’t skip, either.”

And Bev, because she has notifications on for Richie, immediately replies with Ben’s video and saying “my husband could beat your husband”

More videos start pouring in. Stan keeps their video as a groupchat exclusive, but tweets from his rarely active account “Richie I literally taught you how to skip when you were 6.” Richie responds calling him a bitch.

Bill posts their video saying “watch me realize I can’t skip.”

And later. Hours later. Many. Hours. Later. Audra posts a video to her insta story. She has taught Bill how to skip. Is it graceful? No. Does it have technique? No. Could you call it good? No. But goddamn he skipped.

Eddie holds it over him for weeks that he’s the better beginner skipper

#idk man this was originally supposed to be 3 paragraphs #I giggled so hard I blacked out and did this #it movie #reddie #richie tozier #fanfiction #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #it chapter two fanfiction #reddie fanfiction #eddie kaspbrak #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #Bev marsh #ben hanscom #stanley uris

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eliaskew · 25 days

Text

Found a post on Reddit talking about possible Marauders AU's and thought I'd throw my own hat into the ring so, here are some, specifically british shows/movies I think could be adapted into brilliant fics and AU's.

The History Boys-

A group of Sixth Formers from a poor area in Yorkshire achieve the highest grades in their A Levels that the school has ever seen. Consequently, the principal makes them stay an extra term so that they can prepare to get into Oxford and Cambridge universities (the most prestigious universities in the UK).

There's a wide variety of characters, including an eccentric "general studies" teacher who takes the boys on "special" motorbike rides and feels them up at stops, a young history teacher brought in to get them ready for Oxford, despite being a fraud, and the boys themselves who are all colourful and weird in their own ways.

The story has tragedy, heartbreak, exam stress, lots of very British banter and an excellent commentary on Queerness and Queen relationships. It's the British answer to the Dead Poets Society and has adaptations on the BBC.

The Full Monty-

Another British film, once again set in Yorkshire (both around the canon time period too). After the Thatcher administration, hundreds of miners in Yorkshire lose their jobs, as do many factory workers.

This film follows a dad attempting to raise money so he can fight his ex-wife in court for joint custody of their son, his best mate who feels insecure about his weight, a depressed young queer man looking after his mother and a few others besides as they try and fail to look for jobs now their steel factory is bust.

They see hoards of women watching male strip shows and decide to give that a try as a way to raise money. Hijinks ensue including stripping, intimidation of repo men, running naked from the police, terrible dancing, hilarious auditions for the troupe and more.

It's a commentary on class, desperation and male friendships which remain wholesome throughout. There is also a queer relationship between two characters which while not particularly explored in the film could be explored in an au.

The Importance of Being Ernest-

Oscar Wilde's most famous comedy where two upper class gentleman pull a long con on the people around them by each pretending to be a fictional "Ernest". Of course, the core of this revolves around the women they're interested in:

Jack Worthing invents a brother named "Ernest" for the people of his country home, while his friend Algernon Montcrieff creates an invalid friend called Bunbury. Both characters invented by these men as reasons to skive off their duties and pursue romantic encounters.

Jack is interested in Algernon's cousin, who has a fascination with men called Ernest and Algernon hears about Jack's ward and, seeing her as a way to raise himself out of debt, pretends to be Jack's non-existent brother "Ernest" to get in with her.

It's a comedy of errors entirely befitting of the Marauders era with a lot of British tongue-in-cheek humour, romantic moments and convoluted deception.

Derry Girls-

A more modern entry than most of the others on my list. Set in an all girls school (minus James the wee English fella) in Ireland it follows a group of girls and James as they go through the trials and tribulations of living in Ireland during the Troubles, school life, religious guilt and sexuality. Again, it's incredibly funny, heartbreaking in moments and highly relatable. Definitely a good choice for an AU, especially if one wanted to focus more on the friendship side than the relationship side of the Marauders fandom.

Sex Education-

Fairly self explanatory, a group for British pupils at a Sixth Form College discovering their sexualities, learning about sex in a way that wasn't taught at school. Very queer, very funny at points with moments of family troubles, harder topics and exam stress. Modern day as opposed to Derry Girls which is set in the 90's so more wiggle room if you're someone who prefers modern au's. Large and diverse cast with individual stories and character growth so another one that's perfect for including the entire Marauders Ensemble.

Good Omens-

An Angel and a Demon are both sent to earth, one to bring miracles, the other to tempt people to sin. Along the way they get to know and care about each other, forming a pact where they will occasionally help each other out on jobs since they're effectively cancelling out each other's usefulness.

6000 years later and the Antichrist is born, Crowley (the demon) has the idea for them both to raise the boy together so that he neither turns out good OR evil, which Aziraphale (the angel) agrees to. However, due to an entirely human mix-up at the Antichrist's birth, they end up raising the wrong boy.

And the Actual Antichrist begins the end of the world. Crowley and Aziraphale have to work together to find him, and stop it, despite the risk of their respective sides catching wind and punishing them.

This is essentially a very British 6000 year long slow-burn between two male presenting entities and would be ideal for an enemies to lovers situation.

The Holiday-

In fairness, I think I have seen someone do an AU of this film but I can't remember the name of the fic so I'm going to put this forward anyway.

A british Publisher finds out that the man she's in love with is marrying someone else after leading her on and becomes incredibly depressed by this. At the same time, in America, a producer has caught her long-term boyfriend cheating on her and though she is devastated by this, she cannot cry. Instead of both of them wallowing in there maudlin, they decide to go on holiday and end up swapping houses for a while.

There are cultural differences each must overcome including the british lady's drunke, widower brother stumbling into her house while she isn't there and entering a relationship with the American, and the British lady encountering an American composer whom she quickly falls for despite him being in a relationship already.

Very sweet, very touching with explorations of romance, self and belonging. Another wide cast of characters but more focused on the romantic aspect of the four leads.

BBC Ghosts-

Specifically the British version of this, because while the American version is brilliant, this is focusing on British media.

Allison and Mike are a married couple who are struggling with their finances. When a distant relative of Allison's dies they're gifted her Manor house in rural England with plans to turn it into a BnB and earn some money. The ghosts inhabiting the house, varying from a Tory Politician who died in a sex scandal, to a woman burned as a witch and a caveman who died on the grounds- aren't very happy about this and do their best to scare them away.

An accident leaves Allison dead for a few minutes before modern technology is able to bring her back and from that moment onward she is able to see and speak to the ghosts.

Various hijinks ensue where the ghosts and Allison must learn to get along despite the issues with the house, the failing BnB business and Button House being put on the map through various historical discoveries.

This would be another great one for an Ensemble feel, historical discoveries and shenanigans around the different ways each character was raised (and subsequently died.) Incredibly funny, very British humour and very on brand for the Marauders.

And finally: Twelfth Night (or really, any Shakespeare, Twelfth Night just happens to be my favourite and I'm incredibly biased)-

Another comedy of Errors. Sebastian and Viola, twins from Medici (if I remember correctly) are caught in a storm and shipwrecked, both believing the other is dead. Viola washes up on Illyria having been saved by a local captain and decides her best bet at survival is to put on Sebastian's clothes and pretend to be a man so she can seek employment under Duke Orsino.

Duke Orsino is head over heels for Countess Olivia, whom is mourning her family and also hates the Duke. Viola, as Cesario her male disguise, falls for Orsino, Orsino sends them to court Olivia in his wake, Olivia falls for Viola/Cesario and then Sebastian washes up with his pirate "friend" and all hell breaks loose and no-one is able to tell one from the other.

Theres a side plot involving the members of Olivia's household sending a man insane because he's a dick which is just as funny as the rest of it.

Very funny, lots of deception and a brilliant exploration of relationships, self-discovery, identities and queerness. It's not a stretch to see Viola/Cesario as trans, Orsino and Olivia as queer and Antonio (Sebastian's pirate "friend") as gayer than a bottle of crisps.

Plus, I think there should be more Shakespeare Au's and this one, while the plot is complicated, fits the Marauders characters brilliantly well.

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novthewolf · 10 months

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Could you please do George x fem!reader and they like grew up together and everyone thinks they’re dating and that leads to some kind of love confession please 😞🙏🏼

Would it really be so bad ?

Pairing : George Weasley x ChildhoodBestFriend!Reader

Masterlist : Here

Warnings : foul language, mild angst, crying, lots of fluff, english isn’t my first language.

Words : 2,1k words

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You grew up in Ottory St. Christopher, a small village where two other wizard families lived. One of which happens to be a huge family of red-headed pure blood. You only had one older sister, seven years apart from you. So most of the time, you would have to play on your own.

Fortunately for you, your neighbours had a pair of twins of your age, George and Fred. You spent so much time with them, you could have been their triplet! They loved your similar mischief, but you always had the capacity to see when to stop and the limits that couldn't be crossed, especially when it came to their baby brother Ron.

Maybe it was the reason you got closer to George in the first place. He was the most reserved twin, down to earth, and incredibly sweet. He taught you how to fly a broom, and you showed him some basic potion-making you had learned from Potion Kit for Little Wizards.

"There you go ! See ? I told you you could do it." You exclaimed proudly at his first-ever successful potion.

"Yeah, you've only had to show me six times..." He dismissed her with a coy smile.

"It doesn't matter; the most important thing is that you get it now." And then you kissed him on his freckled cheek.

From this moment on, you two started to share an increasing amount of physical touch : hugs, kisses on the cheeks and forehead, even holding hands ! Sometimes, you were found napping together on the couch during dinners or family events. All in complete innocence. Your parents thought it was simply adorable, commenting on how you two will end up together in the future. And you two always reacted with disgusted expressions and gagging noises.

The years went by quickly ; soon you went to Hogwarts, and you ran ammock over there instead. In school, a lot more people would notice the close relationship you two have. Your friends would always bring it up, but you always turned a blind eye, denying your feelings in the process.

"So what's holding hands ? We've been doing it since we were three; it doesn't mean anything."

"The kisses ? Oh, it's just a good-bye or good-luck kind of thing. It's what close friends do."

But over your fifth year, things started to take a different turn. You were feeling strange. It started small, like your thumb rubbing the back of his hands as you enjoyed the comforting warmth he offered you. Or the way your heart skipped a beat every time he called you 'love'. You tried your best to not think of what your heart was desperately begging you to understand. Overlook the way your cheeks lit up when George would give you his scarf in winter or how your ear would buzz every time you cuddled.

However, during that particular Quidditch game, you knew you were done for. George was, once again, giving his all to beat Slytherin's team. He kept swigging the bat as hard as he could, offering a great view of his still-developing biceps. Sweating, heave breathing, and red hair all over the place. You couldn't stop looking at him or blushing like a tomato. You almost didn't hear your friend nudging your elbow and yelling 'lucky you' through the roaring crowd. Confused but smitten, you didn't have the heart to answer her.

At the end of the game, a muddy George came running your way, arms wide open, to twirl you around in his arms. You saw his teamates sofetened faces, like witnessing a wholesome relationship between a couple. But all you could think about as you observed him talk about his exploits was :

God, I want to kiss him so bad.

You spent the aftermath of the game in your dorm, thoughts whirlwinding as you held your face in your hands and laid on top of your bed. What the fuck were you thinking ? The more you contemplated your feelings, the more you noticed some things.

Like, you realised that you never thought of dating anyone... No, really. When you envisioned your future, you always pictured you and George pranking and hanging out together.

"Y/N ? Are you alright ?"George opened your door with a low creak.

You yelled, absolutely not ready to hear his voice in such a critical moment.

"Of course I am." You stuttered, making him face your back. "I just have a headache, that's all."

"Do you want me to stay and cuddle ?" He offered you a step closer to your bed.

Like a spring, you jumped to stop him by dismissing his attempt. "No ! No, go back down and enjoy your party; you deserve it." You met his eyes and smiled. He was taken aback, of course, but you were not ready to snuggle with him yet. Merlin, what would you do if you couldn't hug him anymore ?

"Okay... I'll come check on you later. I'll bring you a snack." George whispered. His hand went and stroked your forehead and temple. He was so gentle, you couldn't help but nuzzle against him. The skin of his hand shivered, and you felt him halt for a second. You saw his soft red hair flash in front of your eyes as you felt his lips kiss the side of your forehead.

Later that night, you woke up to find a slice of pumpkin pie on your nightstand and a blanket covering your waking form. George was an incredibly sweet person; he always has been. And yet your heart couldn't help but race wildly at his caring nature.

However, scared you would ruin everything between the two of you, you never said anything... at least for a year.

Over the last few months, you've kept up the same loving habits you two shared, but you always welcomed them with a different spirit. You loved him so much. But there was no way of telling if he loved you too. Well, of course he did, but you knew what you meant. And you couldn't even try to catch hints! His tender attitude was always present; George was always caring for you.

It's always' been this way.

Nevertheless, all your confusion and eagerness to confess were nothing compared to the jealousy and fear you felt when Professor McGonagal announced the upcoming Yule Ball. Every girl will come to ask him out. And there wasn't anything you could do to prevent that. No, you would have to be supporting, like the best friend he deserved. You could do it, for him

"Hey, wonder why you still didn't get a date for the ball." Fred questioned his twin with a mouthfull of food. You were cheerfully dining with your friends in the Great Hall when suddenly the question popped up. And, surprising enough, you had lost your appetite.

But George didn't have the time to swallow his food that Alicia interjected in his place. "Well, girls are not going to ask a guy out for the ball when he's already dating someone. It would be instant rejection." She laughed while playing with the content of her plate.

George chocked on his food and violently coughed. You rushed to help him while slowly feeling your mind slip away.

He was dating someone. Now, you didn't just lose your appetite; you also gained the need to cry. George is seeing someone, and he didn't tell you anything? You were his best friend!

"Wait. You're dating someone when you didn't tell me ?" Fred shouted, not helping his poor brother in the slightest. Who, by the way, shot him the nastiest glare.

George was gradually catching his breath as you rubbed his back gently. And, before you could stop yourself, you asked the question that was burning your lips.

"Who are you dating...?"

The redhead turned your way, swallowing hard. He noticed your glistening eyes, and you saw confusion settle on his face.

"No one-"

"You, of course!" Angelina interrupted, matter-of-factly.

You must have been gawking at her for a while, causing her smile to fade. Your cheeks were turning pink, and you squeezed your hand into a fist before stuttering.

"W-We're not dating, Angelina."

"Really ?!" Lee's eyes were gushing out of their sockets. "C'mon, you're kidding, right ? You guys have been together for ever !"

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. George was muttering gibberish, embarrassed out of his mind. You peeked at him through your fingers and saw him at a total loss of words. Letting out a shudder, you pulled on your hair and decided to get out of here.

"I'm off to bed. Good night, guys." You sprinted out of your seat, your right leg getting caught in the back. The pain was sharp, and you hissed, but you couldn't stay. That's it. Tears started to run down your cheeks. Your friends called out to you, apologising and asking if you were okay.

The walk up the stairs was torture; flashes of the past kept rewinding in your mind. You couldn't face George or any of your friends; you totally gave yourself out! Wiping your eyes to see where you were going, you headed to a hidden secret passage.

But before you could close yourself off, you heard your childhood best friend call your name. He had been running up the staircase to catch up to you. You held the trap open but sat still on the side of the entrance.

"Y/N, come on, talk to me." He kneeled beside you and put his hand on your right knee, rubbing the sore limb. "What's going on ?"

When he looked at you with such worried and pleading eyes, you didn't have the heart to blow him off. So you try to offer him a satisfying answer while preserving your feelings.

"Just... It's just what they say, you know. I don't even know why I am so upset."

You looked up to observe his expression. George's lips parted as his eyes scanned your own. He didn't know how to handle the situation. You waited for him to answer but couldn't keep gazing into his eyes.

"Yeah, I-I know, right ? Can you believe they thought we were together ?"George laughed in disbelief.

"Would it really be so bad...?" You croaked, your tears clutching your throat. A sob escaped your lips, and you hid yourself by bringing up your knees.

"No, no, don't cry. Shh..." George didn't let you slip away. Instead, he brought you to his chest, and you laid on him. You started apologising to him for ruining everything. But he kept cooing to you, caressing your hair and kissing the top of your head.

Even when you had calmed down, you were too afraid to pull away from him, fearing you would lose him if you did. Still, you didn't expect him to speak up again.

"It wouldn't be bad. Merlin, Y/N, it's far from it. Being with you is the greatest thing I could ever ask for in this world."

You gasped but didn't let go, not yet. Even if you wanted to, George tightened his embrace, as if bracing himself.

"But... I'm so scared that my feelings would push you away. I couldn't bear to lose you. You're my best friend, and I just His voice shivered, and you swear you felt tears fall down on your head.

"George..." You started, grabbing on his strong arms.

"I love you so much." He finally sobbed, his teeth gritting. "Just, please..."

"George." You urged. Your body left his, but you still supported yourself on him. Heart beating like crazy, tears strained your face, but with the slightest smile grazing your lips, you went and held his face with your hands.

He looked so frail. Your favourite red head was indeed crying, and his breathing was abored. He loved you. You breathily laughed and shook your head. George tried to mumble something that sounded like an apology.

"No... It's okay." You smiled and kissed his cheekbone ever so tenderly. "I love you too. Well, obviously, I do." You giggled. "But, I mean, I like like you too." You stroked his cheek with your thumb.

His beautiful, bright smile lit up his face once again. You felt his warm skin under your fingertips as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against yours.

You stayed like this for a while, eyes closed, enjoying each other's presence. A few minutes later, George sat up and kissed the tip of your nose. You hummed in response.

"At least we won't have to announce we're together." George jested.

"Too bad, I was ready to fight other girls to have you as my date for the Yule Ball." You fakely lamented.

"Pff, you wish ! I would have thrown an amazing surprise to ask you." He assured you in a dramatising tone.

You laughed and hugged him one last time before getting up and making your way to your dorm, holding hands and giving a brand new meaning to this once-innocent gesture.

You'll have to thank Alicia and Angelina later.

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#george weasley x reader #george weasley #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #childhood friends #fem reader #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #hp fanfcition #g. weasley

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benedictscanvas · 1 year

Text

be still, my foolish heart [3] - jamie tartt x reader

pairing: jamie tartt x fem!reader

word count: 4.1k (we're getting into it folks)

series warnings: lots of language throughout, some allusions to smut but nothing explicit, a LOT of fucking fluff mostly ngl

a/n: you're still enjoying this?? you're a mad lot, you are. in all seriousness, i'm writing like i have a new lease on life so i'm really glad so many of you are liking this as much as i am. jamie is really torn, the poor boy, but i've got 12 chapters planned in total so strap yourselves in for a slow(ish) burn <3 <3 <3

series summary: when jamie gets called up to the england team for the first time, he’s terrified. enter you, all smiles and swearing, and suddenly his only fear is falling head over boots for you.

previous chapter | series masterlist | next chapter

---

chapter three - if i could hold you for a minute

“That’s a wrap, thanks boys, you were both great.”

Jamie nodded his thanks, giving his mate Rife a pat on the back that seemed to pass as a hug around here. Rife was quick to run off to the pitch behind them, getting back in on the passing drills, but Jamie hung back. Of course he did. He always fucking did, and he was getting quick sick of himself.

In the last week of being at England camp, he’d taken part in around 10 PR opportunities, all of which were open to volunteers, none of which he was obligated to do. But there were so few of them willing to take part and the smile on your face every time he hesitantly stuck his hand in the air was worth whatever embarrassment you might put him through. And, most of the time, you weren’t big on embarrassing PR moments. Mostly wholesome conversations with the team and stupid challenges that he’d found himself quite competitive with. When he won the competition to roll the 10p coin into a fork yesterday, he was buzzing.

The spelling bee had not been his finest moment, but you’d been very reassuring that people loved someone relatable, and what was more relatable than not being able to spell ‘mediterranean’?

You’d only been able to reassure him as such because he made a habit of sticking around afterwards. Asking if you needed any help taking down the camera equipment, because Tiff still hadn’t come back to work but you’d kicked Brian to the curb days ago. Now you seemed to be doing it all by yourself, and sometimes the way you rushed around made Jamie’s chest ache.

“Hey,” he said softly, gently touching you on the shoulder to get your attention. You turned from the equipment you were taking apart and boxing up, your whole expression changing for the better when you saw who was disturbing you, “Can I get that one?”

He points a thumb over his shoulder at the other camera and is rewarded for his kindness when he sees you physically sag with relief.

“Lifesaver, you are. Thank you, Jamie.”

You didn’t call him Just Jamie anymore. He missed it at first, the silly nicknames that had made you feel like fast friends, but then he’d realised that the way you said his actual name, soft and thankful a lot of the time, was better than any stupid nickname he could come up with.

“Nah, you’re good.”

He gets busy putting the camera away, following your lead as inconspicuously as possible by glancing over at your handiwork when he’s not sure where to put something. When you’re finished, he’s almost done. You come over to take the heavy case from him and he holds it out of your arm’s reach.

“As if. Lead the way, boss.”

You roll your eyes good-naturedly at him, then protest when he also snatches the box you’re carrying from you with his free hand. He tries to convince you to let him carry the third, tiny microphone box over his shoulder too, but you simply flip him the bird and lead the way to your office.

He’d carry you there, if you’d let him, because he knows the walk of a woman whose feet are hurting in her heels - Rebecca had taught him the signs. You were walking solely on the balls of your feet, trying to keep a normal rhythm but failing.

“You think Gareth will tell me off when he realises I’m using one of his star players to carry my shit around the place?”

He wants to argue that he’s not one of the star players around here, but he’s already learnt where self-deprecation gets him with you - an argument. Instead, he basks in the glow of the compliment inwardly as you open the door to your office and usher him in.

“I think he’ll wonder why the fuck nobody’s been hired to help y’ out,” Jamie says, then sees the determination in your face and course corrects, “Not that you can’t do anythin’ you set y’ mind to, of course. Sorry. Just hate seeing y’ rush about the place with your feet on fuckin’ fire.”

There’s definitely a visible wince on his face when he’s put the equipment down on the right shelves and turns to find you staring at him in disbelief.

“How do you know my feet hurt?”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think just anyone would notice,” he’s quick to reassure you, then hopes that doesn’t sound like he’s only one who notices anything about you, “It’s just that one of my mates taught me to notice when someone’s struggling on heels. Can offer her me arm then, like.”

“Hm.”

You look thoughtful, but he’s already put his foot in his mouth enough for one day. He can’t seem to stop when you’re around. Yesterday, he’d tried to ask you about your day but all he’d said was the word ‘day?’ as a question. He was still getting over that one.

Deliberately not flirting with you was getting harder and harder every time you fucking smiled at him.

“Anyway, you’re steering me off topic. I hope Tiff’s back soon,” he says sincerely, hovering by the door. Already, he feels he’s outstayed his welcome, cluttering up the place, “An’ if there’s anythin’ I can do until she’s back, then…”

Just let me know? Shout and I’ll come running? Let me convince Gareth to give you a day off so you can relax?

He doesn’t know what his intended end of the sentence was, but you nod like he finished it anyway. You’re looking at him pensively, not saying goodbye yet. Eventually, after a few moments of what looked like an internal debate, you flop into your office chair and stare up at him ruefully as you kick your shoes off.

“I’m so thoroughly fucked Jamie, you have no idea.”

There’s a thought in the back of his head that he’s supposed to be training right now, but he doesn’t even think about leaving. He won’t be able to stay long, but he’ll be damned if he leaves you when you’re pouting like that. He kicks the door closed and walks closer to your desk.

“Can’t be that bad,” he says, hoping its soothing not patronising, “Ted always says something like…a problem halved is a problem shared or somethin’. Lay it on me.”

Again, you’re looking at him pensively. He’s not sure he likes you studying him so closely, like you’re searching for something. He gives you a shrug and a smile.

“Okay, but I’m only taking two minutes of your time, I promise,” you sigh, “Really shouldn’t keep you from training with the fucking England squad for this.”

It’s the first sign of self-deprecation he’s ever seen from you. He hates it with a passion. Briefly, he wonders if this is what you feel like when he does it, if that’s why you always argue against him. Maybe if he plays this right, he can leave this conversation safe in the knowledge that the two of you have become proper friends.

“Oi. None of that, alright? If I’m not allowed, you’re fuckin’ not either,” he insists, firm as he catches your eye. You look surprised, but you nod with a small smile that he’s over the moon to see, “Good. Right. Let’s problem halve then.”

There’s a laugh on your lips that you’re keeping in and he definitely hasn’t used that expression right, he knows. Maybe part of him likes that, though, because he likes the amusement that’s creeping through the exhaustion that radiates from you.

“Gareth’s asked for Saturday to be ‘team bonding’. Something fun but also compelling, you know, pictures to get the public on side. I’m drawing a fucking blank, because I normally bounce stuff off Tiff, but now all I’ve got is a big empty office and no ideas.”

It all comes out of you in a rush. A totally new side of you he hadn’t expected to be let in on when he offered to help with the equipment, but somehow it felt like a privilege. You’d spoken every day for a week, yes, but just small talk, stupid talk that he often walked away from annoyed with himself. Still, he couldn’t have been doing too badly at trying to be your friend if you were willing to open up like this, and the thought made him proud.

Jamie still didn’t think he was very good at making friends. Maybe he could go home with a new one (if he could make himself forget how pretty you really were).

“Y’ literally couldn’t have asked a better person for this,” Jamie grinned, trying to alleviate some of the stress that had collected between your eyebrows, “Answer’s staring you in the face, you know?”

You glared at him. Okay, not the right thing to say. He hoped you’d forgive him when he pointed behind you and you turned. The back wall of your office was entirely made of glass, a window that overlooked the huge indoor swimming pool that the training complex housed. When you turned back to Jamie, you just looked confused.

“The pool?”

“Not just the pool. Pool party. Footballers go fuckin’ crazy for ‘em, trust me. Y’ can’t lose, cause you’ll get a load of pictures of us lookin’ relaxed an’ fun an’ shit. Never know, some people might enjoy the fact we’ll be half naked. Win-win.”

You nodded slowly, still thinking. The furrow in your brow was lifting. Jamie wanted to high five himself far too enthusiastically.

“I’m not one to exploit you lot for your looks…” you begin, and yeah, Jamie knows he maybe shouldn’t have added that bit. Maybe that part of him he was trying to bury wanted to fluster you, “But the rest of what you said was good. Really good.”

“It was?”

“Don’t sound so shocked, Jamie! Thought you footballers were meant to have massive egos, huh?”

He knows you’re kidding around, but even the insinuation that he didn’t have a massive ego would have made almost everyone back home laugh. A lot. He liked glimpses into what you thought of him.

“Yeah, well, I’m hidin’ it under me hat,” he joked, a shit joke that you still laughed at, “If you get us some of those floaty things too, the ones kids have at their birthdays? Fuck, do you think we could get an obstacle course?”

He hears how childish it is when he says it, feels the pink blooming across his cheeks. He’s expecting a response that he’d usually get, something kind but placating. Instead you jump up and round the desk, giddy.

“Yes! The ones with a slide at the end, you’re a genius! Thank you so much, I really mean it, I’m going to go and run it by Gareth right now,” you’re already grabbing a notebook and pen, your diary, ready to rush out of the door. He might not have found a solution so quickly if he’d known it would cut your conversation short.

“Might want your shoes, love.”

That nickname just tumbles out of him. Now his face feels like it’s gone up in flames. You don’t react, not that he can see with you rushing back to put your shoes on with a muffled thanks spoken under the desk. You’re rushing out of the door when you shout back to him.

“Find me later and I’ll sneak you an ice cream!”

He chuckles, left alone in your office. It takes him a few moments, but when he catches himself stood there grinning to himself, he’s quick to jog out and in the direction of the pitch. There’s nothing like penalty practice to take his mind off the butterflies in his stomach.

---

You were true to your word. Even though you hadn’t been able to source him any ice cream later that day, much to your own annoyance however many times he told you it was fine, you’d found him in the hotel first thing Saturday morning with a Mr Whippy.

“I snuck out to an ice cream truck to finally keep my promise,” and you look so excited, that Jamie eats his Mr Whippy at 8am in the morning and enjoys it immensely. He begins to ask what ice cream trucks nearby are operating at 8am, but you shut him down immediately.

“I think you’ll really enjoy the pool party later,” you say once you’ve both finished your ice creams, because of course you got one for yourself too. Watching you eat your ice cream so quickly made him wonder if your promise had been for him or for yourself, “Pulled out all the stops. Gareth was thrilled with the idea.”

“Yeah, he pulled me aside yesterday about it. Y’ didn’t have to give me any credit, y’ know?”

“Uh, yes I did. It was your idea, idiot.”

It hadn’t even crossed his mind at the time that you might tell anyone he’d thought of it. Gareth had been really nice about it yesterday, said something about leadership qualities that Jamie wishes Roy had been around to hear.

You rushed off again after that, but he was pleased to notice as you speed-walked away that you were wearing flats today.

Jamie spent the rest of the morning with some of the lads he’d gotten on with best so far. Even though he’d sorted things with the City boys and spoke to them often, he was surprised to find that the ones he’d become closest to were the others from the smaller clubs in the league, lads who’d also come to camp on their own without any club teammates. Rife was one of them, even though he was West Ham, along with Pattinson, or Patty, and Gondo. The four of them would sit in Rife’s room, cause it was biggest, and just piss about really. Patty had ended up flooding the bathroom once.

After a morning spent playing Mario Kart on Gondo’s switch, which Jamie was fucking great at, even if he said so himself, the four of them made their way out of the hotel and walked over to the training complex.

“I heard it’s a pool party,” Patty said, eyes lighting up, “Hope so. Fucking class idea, that.”

Jamie could feel himself talking before he registered it.

“You know Y/N? Think she’s the one who planned the whole thing,” he supplies, watching as the three boys nod appreciatively. He hopes at least one of them will thank you for your hard work at some point during the afternoon. Rife gives him a funny look as they enter the pool, but Jamie takes no notice.

They’d clearly gotten carried away with their Grand Prix, because everything was in full swing by the time they’d gotten changed and entered the pool area. There were unicorn rubber rings that some of the boys were jumping into the water with, a huge obstacle course over to the left that people were racing on, both the team and some of the backroom staff were joining in. Jamie was amazed you’d been able to put all this together in just a few days and he was proud of himself too, for the idea. It was something he thought he might text his mum about later, so she could be proud of him too.

It didn’t take him long to spot you, likely because he was actively looking for you. You were stood by yourself over by the inflatable obstacle course, holding something on the wall, but watching the scene in front of you with a bright smile. Rife nudged him in the back of the shoulder and looked over at you.

“Fuck off,” Jamie mumbled, but he was walking over to you anyway and he knew Rife was decent enough not to say anything to the other lads and turn it into a whole thing. It wasn’t a thing anyway. He was just trying to do the right thing, like he always was nowadays, by going over to thank you for putting on such a fun time for everyone.

“Pool party, eh? Musta taken some kind of hotshot genius to come up with that one,” he says as he comes to a stop next to you against the wall. You screw your eyes shut like you’re thinking.

“Think it was just a run of the mill genius, if I remember,” you tease, and your bright smile is always blinding but he can’t help but wish it was only ever directed at him, “A run of the mill genius who is late, I might add.”

“Ah, you know it takes a lot of effort to look this good,” he says, gesturing down at his bare chest and black swim trunks. He hopes, because you didn’t know him during his prick days, that you know he isn’t being serious as he would have been a few years ago. There’s still a tiny whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears when your eyes travel down his body and back up again.

“I can only imagine,” you say, a blatant lie when you look as good as you do in your wrap dress, Richmond red this time. He’d think you were doing it on purpose if that wasn’t outlandish, “Now, go on, go and enjoy it! We’ve only got the obstacle course for three hours and no one’s been able to pry King away from it.”

Sure enough, when Jamie glances over, King is pulling Gondo over to race him because ‘no one’s ever gonna beat my record’. Even though that’s his cue to stop spending his team bonding time chatting to you, he can’t help but let his eyes drift to the air hose that you’re holding against the wall.

“Is ya arm not crampin’?”

You try and angle your body so he can’t see your arm.

“All good!”

“Excuse me language, but what the fuck are you holdin’?”

Your sigh comes out frustrated and you relent as you turn and switch arms, shaking out the other one vigorously.

“It’s the air pipe or whatever you call it. For the inflatable. It has to go through this window to the pump on the other side at this exact fucking angle otherwise it doesn’t stay inflated. Found someone with a cheaper rate and this is what I get, the little fucker.”

He has to really fight not to chuckle when you spit out the last bit, because you’re clearly enraged about this very fun pool party. However funny he finds it, however, he can tell that you won’t take any jokes well, so instead he holds up a single finger and legs it out of the pool area.

It’s only a short jog down to the dressing room, where he finds a roll of duct tape in the first locker he checks. Footballers have all sorts of uses for the stuff. He practically sprints back to you with it in his hand and the prospect of solving an issue for you has him floating through the corridors.

He enters the pool area again and knows that he’s bounding over to you like an excitable puppy.

“Hold still, yeah?” he says, more out of breath than he’d hoped, but you’re staying still because you look a stunned by his sudden exit and return. He takes the opportunity to start wrapping the duct tape around the pipe, securing it to the wall with a few small pieces, then strengthening it with a longer ones. He takes one glance at your face, far closer to his than its ever been before, and decides he shouldn’t look at you.

Not with your parted lips and sparkly eyes and-

“Right, try takin’ your hand away, if ya would?”

You do so slowly, but the pipe holds in place, same angle, the obstacle course finally self-sufficient. The sound you let out can only be described as a squeal of glee, hands clasped in front of your beaming face.

“Running out of adjectives for you, Jamie Tartt,” you say happily, reaching out to push him in what he assumes is an affectionate gesture. He’s consumed by the sparks that follow your touch, so much so that he doesn’t correct his balance in time, and the floor around the pool is wet. A startled yelp leaves him as he falls backwards into the pool, arms flailing in what he assumes is not a sexy way.

He sees you with your arms stretched out, reaching out for him with your face an absolute picture, when he surfaces, running a hand through his hair as he gasps. When he looks around, most of the team is laughing and he joins in, shaking his head at some of them who are pointing.

“Hope one of you fuckers got that on camera,” he calls out to the other side of the pool and he gets a thumbs up along with more laughs from his teammates. He turns back to you as all the laughter dies down, sees you sporting a look that’s 50% guilt and 50% amusement.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie,” you breathe out, but it’s followed by an immediate giggle that you try to cover up. If you were in a swimsuit, or a bikini, god forbid because he might actually lose it, he’d pull you right in after him. As it is, he just tamely splashes your ankles.

“I’ll getcha for that. An’ after I just helped you, too.”

You grin.

“I’ll make it up to you. Right now actually,” he sees a new mischief on your face that scares him, “Hey! Make sure you don’t get this one, alright? I fucking mean it!”

The cameraman you’re gesturing to nods and looks scared, pressing buttons on his camera. Jamie’s still looking up at you from his spot treading water in the pool, a mixture of anticipation and pure fucking awe on his face.

“It’s a pool party, right?” you grin, then jump into the pool next to him, still in your dress. The whole place cheers as you come up to the surface, laughing and flicking your hair out of your face.

Jamie feels like all his breath has been stolen from him as he watches you try to keep the skirt of your dress from floating upwards too much. He’s totally transfixed. Can’t believe his luck when you’re looking at him again. “We’re even?”

He can’t find words, so he just nods. You swim closer to him, taking a glance on your way, at everyone else presumably to check the attention had turned elsewhere. When you’re sure it has, you whisper to him.

“I know all you’ve done since getting here is be my personal knight in shining armour, but could I ask one more favour?”

Again, no words. He wants to reach out and curl his finger into one of your wet strands of hair. Wants to dunk you under the water. Wants to kiss the living daylights out of you.

Oh fuck. He just nods again, dumbstruck

“Think you could give me a boost? I didn’t think about getting out of this pool gracefully.”

You gesture to the side of the pool. Jamie wonders if he’d died on the way over to the complex earlier and now he was in heaven.

“Uh, yeah. If you’re sure?”

“Please,” you confirm, swimming over to the side and he follows, just like he always does, watching as you brace your arms against the side. He gulps as he places two tentative hands around your waist, then tightens his grip as he pushes you upwards until you can turn and sit on the side of the pool. The hem of your dress brushes his chest in the process and he almost swallows some of the pool water.

Once you’re sat on the edge, feet dangling, he’s just a few inches away from being able to rest his head on your knees as he stares up at you. He feels like his heart is running away from him. You lean down to thank him softly before you stand up, wringing the water out of your dress as you strike up a conversation with one of the coaches on the sidelines about your recklessness.

Those fucking butterflies are fluttering up a storm in Jamie’s stomach, crowding his chest, getting in his head. Yeah, he’s found you attractive from day one, wanted to be your friend from day two. Now he’s that stupid word that Colin always uses to describe Dani when he has a new girl, but he just can’t remember it.

It comes to him when he’s staring at his bedroom ceiling late at night, thinking until he makes his head hurt. Smitten. He’s fucking smitten.

next chapter

---

if you read this far, as usual, i fucking love you <3 also, this chapter is partly based on something the actual england team did before the euros a few years ago, if anyone knows what i'm on about i love you even more ahaha

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt fluff #jamie tartt series #be still my foolish heart

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impulsivefanwriter · 1 year

Text

Ninjago Fic Rec Week — Day 1: Canon &/or Lloyd

Lloyd

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1441819 — The Grass is Always Greener (Series)

A fantastic series by the extremely talented @sunnylighter (go shower their blog in love) featuring a crossover between the show and movie with many amazing instalments (and a great Monkie Kid crossover fic too) that includes elements from S2-S4 and a ton of great head canons, jokes, moments to laugh or cry, and an overall great time

https://archiveofourown.org/series/2178393 — Green Empathy (Series)

Love movieverse Lloyd and think he's a sad little meow meow? Then this series featuring him with empathy powers is perfect for you!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20742584 — Oh, haven't you heard?

A fantastically hilarious movieverse fic featuring our beloved (secretly) son of a warlord vs. the crack of Buzzfeed Unsolved

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29490180 — Home Is Where You Are

Movieverse Lloyd gets stabbed and his cousin Morro wants to stab people as a result

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30888539 — Who’s the New Guy? He Looks Awfully Green

Even more Movieverse Lloyd being a sad little meow meow, this time with him finally finding friends and hoping to his grandfather they don't find out he's the Lloyd Garmadon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26722576 — Kind

A bawler in the most wholesome way; a movieverse fic featuring the "words people think about you appear on your skin" AU, staring Lloyd Garmadon, AKA the second most hated person in the city. Seriously, this one shot fic is amazing and is so worth the read

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13626984/1/The-Idiots-Guide-to-Not-Despising-Your-Cousin — The Idiots’ Guide to Not Despising Your Cousin

Lloyd takes his reformed 'cousin' Morro on a road trip of hell to recreate the scene from Sharknado. Hilarious shenanigans and begrudging cousin bonding ensues, complete with an emotional shouting match, a rocket launcher, and a stolen shark

Lloyd & Canon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41654502 — Let's Dye This World

Lloyd wants to dye his hair pink. What could go wrong? (Nothing. Nothing at all)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/36502231 — And the Vocab Word of the Day Is...

Someone's taught Zane a word he shouldn't know, and thus we have this hilarious one-shot

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26238865 — An Impromptu Little Brother

You want RG siblings fluff? You've got it! This adorable fic showcases the sweet bonding of S1 Kai and Lloyd

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44929669/chapters/113050273 — On the Outside

You want even more "Lloyd gets adopted by his siblings and finds a family" fluff? Well, this one also includes some angst, but in a hurt/comfort way, and includes bonding with the entire team

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13837338/chapters/31823022 — All I Want for Christmas is You

Lloyd has never celebrated Christmas before, and is desperately trying to hide it

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13548435/1/Warning-Fire-Hazard — Warning: Fire Hazard

As the favourite great-grandson of Firstborne, she decides to teach him a fun dragon trick... fire-breathing. Obviously Lloyd uses this new trick responsibly

Canon

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25916767 — Cool Down

A fantastic fic about Zane's element as a counterbalance to Kai's in stressful situations, and how a hug can go a long way

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43938129 — Cold Hands, Warm Heart

Zane's never been in a snowball fight before, and Kai & the others decide this will not stand. Fluff ensues in this beautifully written adorable found family fic

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28433430/chapters/69674970 — Nature vs. Nurture

S2 Megaweapon shenanigans with the OG4 getting turned into kids again after Child's Play... but this time, without their memories

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32716111/chapters/81165256 — Habits of Home(lessness)

A "5 times + 1" fic about Jay being incredibly concerned and confused by the mysterious habits of his team

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27700081/chapters/67792351 — Your Mistakes Are Yours to Keep (BEING REWRITTEN)

Post Skybound angst my beloved <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28467426 — For When You Need Love

So many platonic kisses; an amazing collection of small 1-on-1 bonding moments between every member of this team of found family ninja. This is one of my comfort fics

https://archiveofourown.org/works/15544857/chapters/36085881 — powersurge

What would an outburst of elemental power look like? A fantastic collection of short stories featuring each of the ninja in a stressful situation and a boatload of interesting headcanons, that's what

https://archiveofourown.org/works/35446993/chapters/88356208 — *Wu voice* "Ah, gotta get my kids."

A great fic (and amazing prequel/summary animatic by the very talented @a-big-chicken-nerd) featuring Sensei Wu helping his students after each lose control of their elemental powers on what should have been normal patrols across Ninjago

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39091860/chapters/97792278 — Walk a Mile

A fun bodyswap fic featuring Kai & Jay learning to tolerate each other

https://archiveofourown.org/works/47781802/chapters/120452491 — Real Life (Dragons Rising S1 spoilers)

Can't really say what it's about for spoilers but it's a new character bonding with an old one and it's sweet <3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12407508/chapters/28232733 — Chips and Salsa

Good ol' Glacier shipping at its finest in this wonderful fic; a secretly pining Cole brings his crush Zane to his house while trying to get over said crush. Lou knows his son's attempts won't be sucessful. Shenanigans, dancing, pining, and apology pancakes follow

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28905537/chapters/70915611 — Between the Scenes

A collection of great stories between episodes and pre-pilots to 'fill the gaps' the show doesn't cover

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13520844/1/There-s-Insurance-For-That — There's Insurance For That

A hilarious fic about Skylor learning all the places the ninja are banned from and the reasons for said bans

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poppitron360 · 4 months

Note

*slides you a 20 [whatever currency you're using] bill* now tell me about how you got to ship valzhang and what you like most about it, along with your headcanons and scenarios

...please<3

THANK YOU SO MUCH I LOVE YOU.

Okay sorry for taking long to reply I needed to schedule 3hrs out of my day to respond to this because I have a LOT of thoughts- Valzhang was my otp LONG before Valgrace. Be prepared for a lot of caps lock, keysmashes and exited ramblings.

We are phenomenally deprived of Valzhang fanart/fanfiction and that is a CRIME. They are so fun and cute to draw next to each other because they’re just so different- I love how Leo looks SO FUNKING TINY next to Frank.

But seriously, we are lacking. I searched up “Valzhang” on Pinterest earlier and there is NO JOKE only 5 pieces of fanart on there. We need to step up our game!

I’ve already posted this, but here is some Valzhang fanart I drew a while back-

So, how did I come to become the No.1 Valzhang Defender, you ask? Well…

Reading TLH was going slowly (bc of Spotify Audiobooks and their stupid listening hours feature), but I needed to shovel content into my brain like popcorn and so by the end of the first book I’d known all the spoilers and I knew that Frank and Leo would have a rivalry- and I was already SUPER attached to Leo, so I was prepared to HATE Frank.

So imagine my absolute frustration when I read SoN and found myself absolutely falling in love with this massive softie. I tried not to, I really did, but I couldn’t help it.

So, naturally, I was COMPLETELY on board with them becoming besties.

I was also all for their rivalry because it had so much potential for Leo angst- he’s already antagonising himself because of his powers, so someone else treating him like shit would only make him feel worse- thus I have more ways to cathart my own pain through fictional characters, so either way, it was a win-win for me.

But the blossoming bromance we got from it-

Oh my gods.

I already made a post about my feelings on Valzhang and how Caleo is just a shitty re-cycled version of them, but NO WAY was that all my thoughts, so here goes (and bear in mind I am only on HoH so this isn’t even their arc as a whole):

*Clears Throat*

*Shuffles note cards*

*Clears throat again*

*Deep Breath*

1. FRANK IS NO LONGER AFRAID OF FIRE BECAUSE OF LEO!!!!! I mean HOW CUTEE IS THAT!!!!!! He thought that there was nothing worse than fire, he was terrified of it, it was his biggest weakness. And then he met this tiny annoying hyperactive boy who is the MOST UNLIKELY OF FRIENDS- And he taught him to not be afraid. Like there is a moment where his trousers are literally ON FIRE and he doesn’t freak out because Leo taught him to not be afraid anymore. AND IT’S NOT JUST BECAUSE OF THE POUCH!!!! Frank learns to trust Leo with his life- and there’s that moment in that scene where he’s faced with a choice to give him The Stick or not, and he chooses to trust Leo. He learns that fire (Leo) may seem scary and intimidating, but it can also be good and warm and wholesome and healing.

2. AND IT GOES BOTH WAYYYS!!!!! Leo was afraid of opening up to people, of letting down the mask and letting people see the real him. Sure, he did it a bit with Jason and Piper, but notice how in TLH, he only does it bc he didn’t have a choice. He used his fire powers to save them, and then Jason sort of just pieced together what happened the night Leo’s mom died. The first time he actually TELLS someone about it was when he tells Frank- someone who he thought was big and intimidating and so was putting his defences up with the jokes. To him, Frank looked just like someone who would’ve bullied him in the foster homes, he was the last person Leo thought he’d open up to. But he does, and Frank comforts him. They realise they’re not as different as they thought, and bonded over similar trauma and dead moms.

*Takes another deep breath*

3. LEO REALLY IS SO BRILLIANTLY TINY NEXT TO FRANK. IT. IS. SO. CUTE. Unlike Calypso and Leo, who were not planned out, Frank was WRITTEN to be Leo’s rival. They are exact opposites. The Yin and the Yang. The Sun and The Star (lol). They both juxtapose each other so beautifully- on the surface they contrast and clash but looking deeper they actually parallel each other but ultimately they compliment each other both in flaws and in strengths!!!! (*steadies myself on table* “Whoa, flashback to GCSE Eng Lit- using the same analysis structure. Are you proud of me, Miss Cox?”) But seriously, they initially are rivals because they look like complete opposites- tall/short, muscular/built like a twig, calm and careful/reckless and loud, animals/machines, Roman/Greek, Outwardly confident/Outwardly insecure, etc, etc.

4. But, as I said, looking deeper, they actually have a lot in common. Not just losing their moms, but Leo’s just as afraid of fire as Frank is. The only difference being that Frank’s afraid because of how it could hurt him, Leo’s afraid because of how it could hurt others, which directly contradicts Frank’s initial impression that Leo is self-centred and egotistic. Honey, that’s just an act. They’re also both very insecure, and both feel like the least useful member of the seven, and struggle to feel accepted. Because of how Leo felt threatened by Frank, he put his defences up and lashed out with his jokes, attacking Frank where he was most vulnerable, ridiculing him. They completely misjudged each other at first, and had an ANTI-meet-cute (Leo firing on New Rome) and it took a while for them to take down those walls that they’d built up, making it a lot more meaningful when they do open up.

And now we get onto specific hcs/scenarios I have, and I have a LOT of them:

1. Nico reveals to Leo that Frank’s mom is in Elysium because she gave her life in war to save others, whereas Leo’s mom is not, and instead is in Asphodel, despite all the little things she sacrificed in order to raise him, knowing he’d be important to the fate of the world. This causes a lot of resentment and jealously for Leo, as Frank has the one thing he desperately wants- a chance to see his mom again, make things right, get closure. Frank is annoyed by the fact that Leo is suddenly acting so cold and angry towards him, until Leo finally explains why.

2. Leo’s lactose-free mac n cheese is Frank’s favourite thing on earth. He has some sort of magic ingredient that makes the fake cheese not taste so plasticky, but he refuses to tell Frank what it is so Frank has to keep begging him to make it. Leo also makes it high in fibre and carbs, so it’s good workout food. Leo makes sure all his meals are Frank-Friendly.

3. I need to see them in battle together. Frank is incredibly anxious and overprotective of his tiny reckless bf/bff. Leo’s just a ball of freaking energy bouncing around going “ahahahbahjabkakdfkajkjaaa” and Frank’s like “Leo, no, those have teeth-“ He’s fine though.

4. As much as Frank acts like he hates Leo, he would risk his life for him in a heartbeat. I imagine Leo gets injured in battle and Frank drops whatever he’s doing and just fucking RUNS to help him. I can vividly picture him transforming into an elephant and scooping an unconscious Leo up in his trunk, and carrying him over to the medic tent. Yes, he’s currently being fired on by so many enemies, but nothing matters except getting Leo to safety.

5. Frank helps Leo with his machines. He can turn into small animals and get into tiny spaces, and he can become desert creatures, so the heat in the engine room doesn’t bother him.

6. Frank often finds Leo asleep on top of his blueprints, his welders-goggles askew, and he turns into a cat and curls up next to him to keep him company.

7. Also, when Leo skips meals because he’s spent too long working and he’s lost track of time, Frank makes sure to bring him food and water and his ADHD meds… and then he asks him to make him some mac n cheese.

8. Frank knows about PTSD from seeing his mom and her military friends, and so is often there to comfort Leo when he has flashbacks to the night his mom died, or one of the other miserable things that happened in his childhood.

9. All the things that used to freak Frank out about Leo (Leo making fun of his insecurities, Leo’s fire, the whole Sammy thing-) they are now 100% comfortable joking about together. Before, Frank would get upset when Leo ridiculed him, but now Leo does it as a sign of affection rather than as self-defence, and Frank can tell the difference. It is their love language.

10. When I write fanfiction, I often write important scenes when I think of them, and then write around them. Sometimes, it’s just one or two lines, for example I found this in my notes app the other day:

“I hate Hera,” Leo said, “She yeeted my dad off a cliff.”

“Yote,” Frank corrected.

And I had nothing written around it, nowhere to put it, it was just lying there. Anyway, that was important to share.

11. Also, I have this:

“I’m hugging you now,” Frank said, pulling Leo into an embrace and squeezing him tight.

“O- Okay, big guy,” Leo said, his voice muffled in Frank’s chest. His tiny body was practically swallowed in Frank’s bear-hug. He squirmed and fought and wriggled, but his weakling arms worked about as well as spaghetti against Frank’s brick-like build.

“No,” Frank insisted, “I will smother you with love and affection.”

“Get. Off.”

“No.”

“Let go of me, Zhang, or I’ll burn you.”

Frank let go. Leo rubbed his bruised arms.

12. I ship them platonically, but the joke-flirting is 1000% a thing they do. Hazel is the main pedaler of this, and often introduces them as “My boyfriend Frank, and Frank’s boyfriend Leo.”

13. Frank reluctantly admits to Leo that he likes Taylor Swift. Leo is obvs a swiftie, so absolutely goes MENTAL at this news, ofc ridicules him mercilessly for it, despite how hypocritical it makes him look (“This is not about me!”), but still insists they sit down with Hazel and make friendship bracelets (Frank no longer has the heart to tell him that he wasn’t actually a huge fan, just had a couple of her albums and liked her songs, unlike Leo who knows every word to every song, all the lore behind it, and Tay’s favourite colour, star sign, and shoe size.) AND I KNOW I HEADCANNON EVERYONE AS A SWIFTIE SHUT UP LET ME PROJECT.

14. Frank buys Leo fidget toys he think’s he’ll like. Sure, Leo can make his own, but it’s the sentiment that counts.

15. And they stay friends after the War. Frank frequently visits from New Rome University. They have long iris messages where they gossip and talk shit.

16. Leo becomes godfather to Frazel’s children. Absolutely SPOILS THEM ROTTEN (I also have a shit-tonne of hcs about Leo babysitting Percabeth’s kids, so lmk if you’d like to hear that.) Will visit the Zhang-Levesque household on the weekends, makes the kids gifts, teaches them how to safely use a fire extinguisher, helps them prank their dad.

17. I know Jason is meant to be Leo’s best friend BUT if Valgrace was cannon then that would leave room for Frank to be the BFF. NO BUT, YOUR HONOUR, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND- They started out hating each other, but then became INSEPARABLE once they took the time to get to know each other and realised they were actually really cool people. It’s not enough for them to be friends, they need to be BEST FRIENDS. They need to be their ONE AND ONLY. They need to knock on each other’s cabin doors on the Argo II at 3am and have long discussions about Their Feelings. They need to be 100% comfortable with each other and tell each other everything. Yes, Leo is annoying but he is Frank’s annoyance. Yes, Frank is a goof but he’s Leo’s goof. BEST. FRIENDS.

They’re just such an unlikely pairing, I love them sm.

Thank you for sticking with me, I will not apologise for my ramblings, you were warned, but if you did make it to the end, here, have a sweet 🍬 You are clearly just as dedicated a Valzhang stan as I am (It is currently 00:54am where I live)

I will probably have a lot more Thoughts and Feelings coming your way soon, so don’t think for a second that I’ve got it all out of my system. I still haven’t finished the series yet, and I know that as soon as I post this I’ll think of something else that I should’ve added, but I hope this was enough for now.

(Also, I’m British, so I’d use a £20 (“twenty pound”) Note, in case you were curious.)

Again, thank you so much annon for the Ask- as you can see, I LOVE VALZHANG.

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jiminrings · 2 years

Text

maybe me

pairing: jimin x reader

wordcount: 9k

glimpse: maybe it’s stupid of jimin to take on everything at once, all by himself. maybe it’s rash of him to book a long-term stay at a luxury hotel, even if it comes with a family discount. but maybe, just maybe, jimin would have nothing to lose and everything to gain if he lets you in.

alternatively, jimin’s a single dad who would do anything for his daughter, even if it means taking advantage of your trust.

[ part one, intermission, part two, intermission 02, finale ]

[ angst, dilf jimin is all over the place but he’s trying his best, wholesome fluff, emotional baggage, allusions to anxiety, moral dilemma regarding stealing, more angst BUT also eventual redemption in the next parts :) ]

notes: peter, the horse The Dilf is here o_O this series is finally out of the backburner and i can’t be any more relieved!! gentle reminder that it gets even more angst from here (so pls take a break when necessary!!) but i promise that there’ll be redemption <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!! even replying to this post sends me over the moon :) | series masterlist

Jimin can’t afford to have pride nowadays.

What he can afford, however, is crippling anxiety as a single dad to his ten-month old daughter and the overwhelming urge to restart and relocate to the big city where the two of them could have a better future. Those two things specifically, plus whatever his daughter sets her eyes on at the grocery store.

“Do you want this, Yuri?” Jimin looks down on her strapped to his chest with the best baby carrier he could buy, squinting at the label of the item she was so fixed on staring upon. “A sixty-six count pack of Ziploc brand sandwich bags featuring Lightning McQueen?”

Jimin attempts to think about it — like really think about it. His mind’s about to drift how Yuri’s already watched a few movies to enrich her brain (maybe talking cars isn’t the best idea yet) and she can recognize when Cars is on because of the ka-chow! he says under his breath whenever Lightning says it. He was just about to think how he could possibly rationalize purchasing so many sandwich bags until he doesn’t have to.

Yuri’s smiling up at him, all with tiny little teeth and dimples, and suddenly Jimin doesn’t have to think anymore; he puts the pack of sandwich bags with talking cars on them (that he has no real use for) in the cart.

It’s a relief that he could still afford these types of things.

Jimin would not stop at anything to provide for Yuri, giving himself a pat on the back for being wise with his money before she came along. He granted himself luxuries before there was her, but nowadays, luxury was merely defined as having the same things that mattered for his daughter. White noise machine with Bluetooth feature, surround-sound, bass boost, and reverb? Check. A crib that you can turn into a co-sleeper then a proper bed when she grows up? Check. A dispenser that warms up baby wipes? Check.

The moment Yuri was born, Jimin was no longer the skilled and reliable paralegal in a high-end law firm. The moment she first cried and was handed to him because his ex didn’t want her, Jimin became the anxious, yet extremely dedicated and loving, single dad.

Either he was extremely smart or extremely impulsive for doing everything he’s done the past week and despite it all, he’s here grocery shopping with Yuri and laughing as she keeps testing her grip strength on whatever they walk past.

It’s as if Jimin didn’t terminate his lease two hours ago and the moving truck he rented is parked awkwardly outside.

It’s as if he doesn’t have the tangible extensions of his and his daughter’s life right outside the store, from the boxes of his clothes to Yuri’s co-sleeper.

Jimin can afford sustaining himself, his daughter, and his quality of living for ten straight months without working. But if there’s anything that the past week has taught him, his worrying akin to when it was Yuri’s first night home and he didn’t know if he was doing anything right, Jimin can’t afford pride.

His phone rings in his pocket and it jolts him, almost making him cuss. He knows for sure that it’s the call he’s been waiting for since this morning, eyes closing in relief.

He can’t afford being prideful because he called the last person he’d ever build up the courage to ask for help — his half-brother.

“Jimin? What’s the matter, are you alright?” Namjoon asks, unbothered to mask his worry. “You called like 52 times.”

They don’t hate each other, they really don’t. They know each other because they lived under the same roof for years. There’s no animosity between them, just the overwhelming feeling of not knowing how to act around each other.

Between Jimin and Namjoon, there was respect. Perhaps, too much respect and formality that they’ve never breached the territory of acting how real, whole brothers do — warm and unreserved.

But it’s okay, it’s okay now that Namjoon answered. It’s always been okay with them and Jimin doesn’t want to jeopardize that by asking what he’s about to, but he has to take his chances. Whatever it is that his brother says, it’ll be okay too. Everything he’s been doing the past ten months, especially the past few weeks, is all for Yuri.

“Namjoon, you’re the personal assistant of a hotelier, right?” Jimin asks, holding Yuri’s tiny hand for comfort. “A-and you have benefits, correct?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Namjoon breathes out, still a little shell-shocked because he doesn’t know what this has to do with anything. “Are you okay? Is Yuri okay? Why did-…”

“Thirty-percent off for company employees when they stay at any branch of the hotel for less than a month,” Jimin recalls, proving that he was clearly listening the time Namjoon told him about his job. “And fifty-percent off for company employees who want to have a long-term stay.”

“Yes? What does this have to do with your missed calls?” Namjoon blinks rapidly, literally unable to read between the lines because Jimin barely gave him any to begin with. “Is my niece okay?”

Jimin’s heart briefly warms at Namjoon’s acknowledgement for Yuri but he shrugs it off for the meantime, remaining focused.

“And because you’re working directly under your hotelier, that benefit can be transferrable to family, right?”

It takes one, two seconds before Namjoon realizes that his half-brother wasn’t just rambling about his employee benefits out of nowhere.

In the cookware aisle where Yuri keeps pointing at the Le Creuset heart ramekin that he already knows he’s going to buy without a second thought, Jimin proves for the millionth time that losing his pride is no problem if it’s for his daughter’s sake.

“Namjoon, please. I need your help,” Jimin humbly admits. “We’re family, right?”

( ♡ )

Jimin loves hotels.

The moment Namjoon agreed to let him use his employee discount for a long-term stay at the hotel he works at, he hightails it out of the grocery with a lighter aura. Yuri perhaps notices it, being more calm now because as her head is pressed to his chest, she could feel how his heartbeat’s relaxed.

Jimin takes the four-hour drive to the city like an absolute champ, Yuri even more so now that she’s tucked to her car seat and reunited with her emotional support blanket with her name hand-stitched by Jimin himself. It wasn’t the best, really. The stitches are clear but the tension is off, the characters only understandable if you take a good second to stare and tilt your head because the alignment was lopsided. It wasn’t the best but it was Jimin’s best — that’s good enough.

He figured that doing a fifty-percent discounted stay at a hotel, a luxury one on top of that, would be a hundred times better and cheaper than renting a temporary place in the big, expensive city until he could find his bearings. Jimin didn’t need to pay utilities, breakfast would be taken care of, amenities were free, and he didn’t have to worry about the safety of the area; it’s practically equivalent to a vacation.

The moment Namjoon met him and Yuri by the lobby, Jimin feels like he’s been transported back to his childhood home where the couches were lived-in and the floors were warm from the paths of their steps. Namjoon only had ten years on him and yet he was always dignified in his eyes; sturdy to the point of stiff, yet polite when necessary.

Jimin didn’t feel that composed, calculated persona when he saw Namjoon time this though, not at all. With all his worry that he had never seen before on his half-brother, Namjoon embraces him. Fully hugs him tightly and he could even hear a relieved sigh, pulling away when he hears Yuri’s squeal.

She’s smart, that much he’s figured. Could already stand stably on her feet for a few seconds without assistance and say coherent mumbles here and there that would soon turn into actual words. In fact, Jimin just realized now that Yuri could also place faces, recognizing Namjoon whom she only saw probably five times ever.

“What’s with the sudden move?” Namjoon furrows his brows at him, taking Yuri from him without a word and he lets him because his arms were starting to cramp from driving.

“Came to me in a fever dream, actually. I didn’t know you could have that with two-hour naps even without a fever,” Jimin shudders at recollection of the haunting thought that came to him a few weeks ago. “A talking whale cussed me out and told me I was being a shitty dad by not giving Yuri the best I could.”

“You’re not a shitty dad,” Namjoon corrects him albeit softly, the conviction there but not as energetic because he didn’t want to jolt his niece awake.

“Eh,” Jimin shrugs, lightly laughing upon the realization that holy shit, this is the most unplanned, casual, yet deepest conversation he’s had with Namjoon. “I try my best, I guess.”

Namjoon reserves the other words he has in mind and instead digs his hand into his pocket, pulling out a keycard to the room that Jimin begged him for. “Have you eaten dinner already?”

“Nope. I fed Yuri at the rest stop, was supposed to eat dinner, but then we had to leave early because I remembered that I double-parked,” he chuckles, only dawning on him now when he looks around and barely sees people in the lobby that it was already late into the night.

Namjoon, who’s been itching to go home since four in the afternoon, suddenly lost the pressing urge to crash in his bed despite being ten in the evening. God, Jimin really is selfless. If he felt sorry for him awhile ago when he suddenly called him for a huge favor, he feels even more sorry now. The weight of Yuri in his arms reminds him that this is all the weight and more that Jimin’s carried alone for ten months and counting, heavy enough to make Namjoon think that holding off from going home a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

“I’ll call room service up for you. Your dinner’s on me,” Namjoon softly smiles, genuinely, and Jimin could almost pass out from the fraction of the brotherly warmth he— they could’ve had all this time if only they became close. Not just okay, but actually close.

“Thank you, Joon,” Jimin slightly bows, a force of habit that his half-brother wants him to get rid of. He’ll tell him off eventually, but not now when it’s clear he’s had a long day.

Barely thirty minutes since Jimin stepped foot into the hotel yet he could already tell that his stay here would be undoubtedly life-changing. It’s a new experience; a new, terrifying yet ground-breaking experience for him and Yuri to go through, but atleast they have each other.

When Jimin feels like drowning, Yuri drains the water for him.

The moment he taps the heavy metal card to the door, Jimin sighs in relief and thanks whoever is listening. The room exceeded his expectations and more, making the mental note to appreciate it later and instead instruct the bellman where to put the boxes for now with a gracious tip. Jimin still has so much things to unpack, calls to make, and arrangements to handle, but when Yuri yawns, he’s reminded of his first priority.

He sets her down for now on the middle of the large and pristine bed, unpacking and installing her co-sleeper first before changing her. Jimin could only hope that Yuri doesn’t take the drastic difference of environment too roughly, but nonetheless, he comes prepared because he’s already stacking the fridge with the coffee he brought.

When he sees Yuri sleeping soundly in just a matter of minutes (even without the white noise machine), Jimin knows he did a good job today.

He did a good job doing everything that he had to do in the past month and unexpectedly, so did Namjoon by being the reason to why Jimin could not stop gushing at all the free stuff he could take home.

The only problem at the moment is that home isn’t defined, but he’ll just have to worry about it tomorrow.

Jimin gives himself too many pats on the back for even thinking of the accommodation. Even the hair and shower products here were luxury, none of the unbranded, minimalist (is it really minimalist or is there little thought and budget put into it?) products that some hotels carry.

In fact, the sudden reprieve Jimin has from having the most stressful 72 hours he’s had after some time makes him feel invincible. Oddly brave. Oddly too courageous that before he knows it, he’s turning the hot water on and even more oddly, doesn’t rush his shower; even has the balls to exfoliate properly and put a leave-on body mask.

He’s fifteen minutes into his sudden self-nurturing moment until he hears Yuri squirming around, a murmur here and a low gurgle there.

Then she really starts to cry.

It’s the type of cry that makes him want to redo the last fifteen minutes and turn on the white noise machine before he went to go shower. It’s the type of his daughter’s cry that makes his stomach sink because it reminds him of the inkling feeling that shit, maybe he is a bad father. The type that makes him rethink of the sudden move and his performance as a dad the past ten months.

Jimin suddenly feels panicked again, the lavender and cotton scent of the mask on his scalp turning cloying to him as soon as he hears Yuri sob.

“Yuri, baby? What’s the matter?” he yells out as if she could answer, cussing himself under his breath.

“I-I just-! Appa just put on his scrub! It’s the leave-on type!” he yells out again for her to hear past the thick glass pane, having hope when her cries decrease in volume. “Five minutes? Can you give appa five minutes, Yuri? Please, baby?”

Jimin gathers his wits, strengthening his resolve. His plea was basically useless because Yuri cried even louder. The 4-7-8 breathing method he used to do when he stumbled on dead ends when researching case material as a paralegal is barely helping now, trying his best to ignore the sinking feeling of inadequacy.

His mom told him about this before. Yuri’s at that age where she just cries because she wants to! It’s okay, Jimin. She needs to know that she can soothe herself!

Five minutes, okay. For five minutes, Jimin would remain in the bathroom and try to relax, letting Yuri gather her bearings and soothe herself. Five minutes won’t hurt that much.

He’s jittery inside and now he doesn’t even get to be awed at the luxury shower products doing wonders for him, instead worried how Yuri will do in the 300 seconds she’ll be left alone.

It barely registers to Jimin how this must come across to the guests around him. He’s immune to Yuri’s cries to the point that he doesn’t fully grasp just how loud she can get.

You aren’t. You’re not immune to the cries at all.

You’re only supposed to be making your rounds before you go home, an unneeded routine that you do anyway because lately you’ve been procrastinating driving back to your own house.

You’ve just gotten out of the elevator when you hear a baby crying so loudly and clearly from the end of the hall that you just can’t ignore it. Even the room service staff who’s coming from the other hand is just as surprised, his cart coming to the direction anyway. Your assistant, Namjoon, personally instructed him to bring food to the door.

You’re a familiar figure to the employees, obviously because you’re the hotelier and come from a famous family of one. It wasn’t exactly the norm for the actual head of the hotel to do the rounds herself or appear and oversee operations regularly in general, but what shocked your employee the most was that you heard it too; it wasn’t just a trick of his mind that there’s a baby loudly crying through the soundproof walls.

“Why’s nobody soothing the baby?” you wonder out loud, brows knitting in confusion. You’re worried, that type of cry coming from a baby, or any cry in general, anchoring a sinking feeling on your chest.

“I-I don’t know either, Miss,” Seokjin, his nametag reads, replies. Not only is he worried about the baby who just won’t seem to stop crying, he’s also nervous because he can’t believe the hotelier is talking to him directly.

“Could it be that no one’s there? Just the baby?” your mind runs, bottom lip trembling. Situations like these worried you beyond explanation, your heart softening in recollection. “I-I mean, what if the baby isn’t okay?”

You wait for two minutes. You and Seokjin freeze and wait for two minutes and the crying still doesn’t stop, setting off all the alarms in your head that it makes you dig for your own card in your bag.

You screw your eyes shut and tap the master key, hoping that you’re in the wrong and not right about thinking of worst case scenarios. As soon as you open the door and quickly scan the room, you’re relieved when you see a cute baby crying her lungs out on a co-sleeper. You come to her just in case, holding her up and assessing for any indications of what could’ve made her cry this hard.

There’s luggages, boxes, and shoes. Chelsea boots that clearly don’t fit a baby’s feet.

Oh.

You’re in the wrong.

Jimin emerges from the bathroom with a towel on, still dripping wet. He thought his fatigued mind was playing tricks on him when he heard the door click, but as soon as his eyes adjust and he sees you, standing in his bedroom holding Yuri; someone he does not know at all holding a keycard different from his — he loses almost all sense.

“Who the fuck are you?! Why the hell are you holding my daughter?”

Your eyes widen, not only because you misread the situation completely and there’s a half-naked handsome guy in front of you, but also because you let your instincts overtake you again — this time overstepping into a guest’s room.

Jimin thinks your face is familiar but he can’t focus on that when all he could do is panic, his mind all over the place that he only belatedly realizes that Yuri has stopped crying since.

“Why are you— no, who are you?” you return the question, your panic for what the situation seems like suddenly returning.

“What the fuck? Did you just break into my-…” Jimin’s veins are about to pop out when he tries to register everything — from the way you’re dressed elegantly and sophisticatedly not like the employees, to your keycard being a different color than his yet managing to open the door, to how you’re just as concerned as he is and not trying to flee.

Oh.

Jimin thinks that he contributed to you doing your wrong.

“Miss Y/N!”

Namjoon’s voice bellows from the hallway, letting himself in after Seokjin quickly filled him in on what happened. He’s sweating and heaving, wild eyes flickering between you and Jimin, and then Yuri now that she’s suddenly awake, throwing her a little wave.

“Namjoon?” you and Jimin ask at the same time, staring at each other.

The two of you no longer look hostile but there’s more questions raised than there are answers given, your gazes syncing to look at Namjoon who’s still catching his breath.

“Oh, I see,” your assistant breathlessly chuckles, nodding to himself. “I-I see. I think I know what happened here.”

“Do you know this guy?” you’re first to ask, a hesitant look flitting to the man who’s still half-naked and dripping wet in his towel.

Namjoon nods, straightening his posture before looking pointedly at Jimin. “Yeah. Jimin, this is our hotelier — my boss,” he emphasizes, coughing and gesturing to his lack of modesty that it prompts aforementioned to cross his arms, unintentionally highlighting his defined biceps.

“Miss Y/N, this is Jimin,” he smiles, trying to diffuse the tension. You and Jimin both want to sink to the floor out of embarrassment, leaving Namjoon the odd one out because he knows now that his plan of coming home in the next five minutes is soiled. “He’s my half-brother.”

You admit that it’s rash of you to enter yourself in the situation. You may have overstepped your boundaries as both a hotelier and a stranger, but that didn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t attempt to save face.

“So you’re her dad? Can I see some ID?” you clear your throat, finally being able to look him in the eye when you turn because he’s not only covered by a towel this time.

Jimin shakes his head, half in disbelief and half in amusement. He doesn’t even have to prove anything to you at this point, already being verified by Namjoon and yet for some reason, he still indulges you.

He runs his hand through his hair that’s still damp, walking across the room to get to his wallet and fetch his driver’s license.

“Her name’s Yuri and yes, I’m her dad.”

Yuri?

The name puts a knot on your throat, the melancholic taste of it making you cough. You just freeze as you always do, eyes still staring and hands still grasping Jimin’s ID.

Your eyes focus after a few seconds, having to physically shake your head to get the thought away. Looking at it, you have enough proof that he’s just so handsome even against the light in shitty license processing offices.

“And the baby’s?”

“Yuri’s identification?” Jimin clarifies, eyebrows furrowed because your question doesn’t seem that rational to his brain. “Yuri’s ten months old. She doesn’t exactly have a driver’s license yet.”

“Fucking dumbass,” Namjoon mutters, knowing that Jimin was completely serious and not joking at all. In fact, he looks slightly appalled more than he is concerned because he just swore while carrying his daughter (he does it too sometimes), but gets over it when Namjoon fills in the very large gaps in his thought process. “Birth certificate. Miss Y/N’s pertaining to Yuri’s birth certificate as her identification because of course, she can’t exactly drive a four-wheeler yet, yeah?”

If Jimin notices that this is the first time Namjoon’s been beyond casual, perhaps even snarky with him, he keeps his excitement at bay.

“Oh! Yeah! Birth certificate, I have that. I have that,” Jimin trails, looking for his binder of Yuri’s important documents. They all sit right inside the bag he used to take to work, his most prized law documents that used to occupy the space just stored inside random boxes now. “Right here.”

It’s a little sad, seeing that Jimin’s entire life and his daughter’s by extension fits into this standard hotel room.

Something about the scene incites pity from you, regardless if Jimin doesn’t want it. He looks composed at face value if you were to block the mess that’s happening around him, his charm undeniable.

The whole day’s been heavy on him, his night even longer. He’s better after his long-overdue, makeshift, and unexpected pamper shower with a surprising twist of events.

Namjoon didn’t want to leave the two of you alone because he’s quite literally the buffer, but even before he glanced at the side of your face with the same sentiment he uses at your drawn-out meetings, you already knew when to leave.

“I’ll be taking my leave. I’m sorry, by the way,” you excuse yourself, turning your head down in acknowledgement. “Thank you for choosing to stay here. I hope it’s up to your standards.”

“It’s — oh, oh! No need for that, please,” Jimin quickly corrects you once he recognizes your tone of remorse. The whole incident happened just fifteen minutes ago and yet he already moved on from it; he wishes you could too.

Come to think of it, it’s slightly funny.

“Good night, Jimin,” you smile slightly, your intent being mirrored instantly.

“Good night, Y/N,” he chuckles, a split second decision to not use the same title Namjoon uses for you because he’s not your employee. Speaking of, he brings his half-brother to a side hug, using it as a handoff so he could get Yuri back in his arms. “Night, Joon.”

You make a mental note to give Namjoon an incentive the next day, knowing that he’s been worked to the bone from this day alone.

The baby in Jimin’s arms sleepily wakes up for a moment, looking at you with big, shiny eyes that held the happiness to her dad’s heart before she settles back.

The tiny smile sneaks to your lips before you could even think about it, hand twitching at your side to give her a little wave even if she’s already asleep.

“Good night, Bambi.”

( ♡ )

You make your rounds even if it's unneeded, the exceptional hotel managers you've hired easily being able to do this for you.

But there's something about overseeing that you like; something to do about being able to observe and do things about it.

You’re a dedicated descendant of a family who heads a large hotel conglomerate, trivially committed to getting in touch with day-to-day operations — perhaps boredom is synonymous to dedication.

Namjoon says it’s nice having you around here, boosting team morale and all. Your hotel’s known for you being seen around by guests as if it’s a normal occurrence, a different experience from all the other hotels they’ve been in.

It may be nice having you around but you know to yourself that you’re unneeded around here. That this place would just run fine without you. Having the higher-up casually fill up Excel sheets is unusual, but it isn’t groundbreaking. Namjoon tries to convince you otherwise but you know when he’s trying to butter you up.

Trivial is the word when you take the scenic route to go to the hotel breakfast and see how things are going. Silly is the word when you line up to get your eggs benedict when you could’ve just turned any of the kitchen staff to your beck and call.

Surprised is the word when the guy in front of you turns out to be Jimin, his head turning to greet you fully because he recognized you from the corner of his eye.

"Oh, hello!" Jimin greets, Yuri flush against his chest with a baby carrier. He’s still dressed in his sweats but looks graceful nonetheless, as if he’s always lived here. "It's me, Jimin. The guy with the crying baby yesterday? You met me while I was wearing a towel."

He wishes you remember him still because your eyes look unsure, but to his surprise, you laugh lowly.

"Yes, Jimin. Hi. I didn't exactly forget you."

Yuri vocalizes with joy, reminding you how pretty she is especially when she’s awake and not shrieking. She’s always attached to the hip with her dad, making you wonder if Jimin has a stroller that he could set her down at.

"Sweet," he grins, tilting his head so Yuri can play with his hair gently. She’s learning the careful grasp nowadays, his hair a worthy enough subject. "By the way, I have some serious concerns."

Jimin gestures for the both of you to step out of the line but you do it even quicker, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Is your daughter okay?"

He’s pleasantly surprised that your train of thought heads to his daughter first, a faint blush gracing his cheeks.

"Yuri? Of course! I'm concerned about her but this doesn't exactly concern her," he waves off, bouncing her up and down. She calls for him, repeating abba (it should be appa!) in glee but the P sound’s gonna come soon enough.

"It concerns me. Well wait, now that I think about it, it concerns her, y'know? Because it has something to do with me and I'm her dad so by extension, it concerns her. Actually it's-..." Jimin stops himself, exhaling with his eyes downcast in embarrassment. "I'm rambling."

“It’s okay,” you assure him, hand twitching at your side because the sleeve of his shirt is twisted and you have this unspeakable urge to fix it, but he beats you to it. “I have all the time.”

Jimin chuckles heartily at that, but you don’t know exactly what was so funny about it. He walks ahead of you to lead you to his booth, Yuri’s diaper bag placed on the middle of the table to act as his reservation.

He makes sure to have you seated first. He was about to even pull a chair for you but it’s a goddamn booth, further embarrassing himself so he resorts to just putting his hand out.

"The hotel breakfast," Jimin sighs with a shake of his head, strapping Yuri to her high chair. "Do you plan to switch it up?"

"I'm sorry?" you stutter, expecting everything but that.

"Apology accepted, but not wholly," he purses his lips, squaring his shoulders and clasping his hands together while he stares at you intensely. It stays like that for awhile, making you confused for different reasons at the same time. Jimin breaks when you blink at him slowly, almost as if you’re close to tears from thinking.

"What's up with the same menu for breakfast again and again? The scrambled eggs are cute but I've been feeling the butter in my throat too much now," he says all in one breath, chest deflating in relief once he got it out.

You remain glued to your seat, lips parting open briefly but you don’t know what for because you’re rendered speechless.

"Here's what I'm thinking," he murmurs, holding his hand out for Yuri to play with because she likes feeling included in conversations. "French toast and naan. It'll be a hit with everybody!"

He’s been thinking about this for the past two mornings, daydreaming of what you could do to improve the menu while he spoon-fed his daughter.

"About the naan, what if there's a separate table dedicated for making your own dipping oil? Oh, oh, and I suggest a table for baby puffs! Not only would the babies love it, but adults too. I snack on Yuri's puffs when I'm too tired to cook. It's amazing, you should try it!" Jimin gushes, rifling through the diaper bag to retrieve the familiar packaging. "Here, open your hand."

"Jimin-" you snap out of your unintentional bout of silence, once again being pushed into it when Jimin grows impatient and pries your hand open with delicateness yet the same amount of eagerness as his daughter.

"Eat first."

Jimin still doesn’t let go of his hold on your hand, angling it to pop the puffs right into your mouth. He lets go of it once he sees you tentatively chew (you have no other choice but to), happily humming as he hands one to Yuri before he treats himself to some.

Surprisingly, baby puffs do taste good.

Your attempt to be prim and proper while chewing a godsend delicacy almost goes down the drain, willing yourself to clear your throat and not sound too amused.

"I'm not the chef around here."

"Okay?" Jimin scoffs playfully, narrowing his eyes. "You're the hotelier. You can make it work."

Jimin’s suggestion is not… trivial. It makes actual sense. He did bring it up to you in such an unorthodox and forward way, but past that, you know where he’s getting at.

"Believe me, changing up your breakfast menu will have your hotel named as the best in the world."

"It already is," you murmur. You do want to become humble, but condensing the whole excellence of your hotel to a mere breakfast menu makes you a little bit defensive.

"Source?" he raises his eyebrows, prying your hand open once again to put some puffs on your hand and you don’t even have the pride to deny him; they do taste good.

"Architectural Digest. Condé Nast Traveler. The-..."

"Wrong," Jimin boos loudly. "You forgot me. I haven't proclaimed it yet.”

Endearing would be the word for Jimin. Annoyingly endearing. He’s not cloying but he does invade your senses, even from a distance. He smells like baby powder and talks like the two of you have known each other your whole lives.

"I wonder how you react when your coffee order's wrong," you tut, pressing your tongue to your cheek.

Jimin breaks out to laugh, setting off Yuri to do the same. You don’t feel like you’re intruding — you feel like you’re included. Their eyes crescent and their heads throw back, and if only you had the chance, you’d take a picture of them for him to keep.

"I said, trust me. Take it from a paying, long-term tenant in your hotel,” he soothes you with his words, waving you off jokingly once he got over his fit of giggles.

"You've only been here three days and you're utilizing Namjoon's fifty-percent off discount."

"It counts," he gasps. "Take it from me as a girl dad. As a hot, stressed-but-still-hot, single dad of a baby girl named Yuri."

"Okay, hot single dad of Bambi," you smile, ignoring the fond yet slightly confused look of Jimin at your nickname for his daughter. "I'll think about your input."

"The dining area's gonna be rearranged?"

Namjoon looks up from his phone, the groupchat he was in that you weren’t a part of (your employees are still intimidated by you) pinging repeatedly.

He skims the messages, the furrow in his brow going deeper. "I'm also gonna say that the menu should be changed everyday?"

"Yes, Namjoon."

"Miss Y/N," he clears his throat, trying to word his thoughts in the best way possible but falling short. "Since when were you so interested about free hotel breakfasts?"

You look up from the game on your phone, a little break that you granted yourself because you were getting a little cross-eyed from looking at company projections.

"Since your brother cornered me to give some very passionate inputs about our breakfasts, that's when."

"He did what?" Namjoon’s eyes bulge, his phone almost falling from his grasp while he attempts to get out of your office in an instant. "Excuse me, I just have to sort-…”

"Ah, easy," you chuckle, gesturing for him to stay inside. "It's okay, he didn't offend me that much."

"Still. Jimin just has little filter to him most of the time and-..."

"It's okay, Joon," you shush him, reaching across your table to get your snack bowl. “Baby puff?"

Namjoon’s still wary but he looks down on your outstretched palm, taking it from you. He’s still a little agitated and dazed when he puts the tiny puff in his mouth, the crease on his forehead relaxing.

"Oh. That tastes nice."

( ♡ )

It's in the rooftop garden that you see Jimin and Yuri again.

Eating breakfast with Jimin and Yuri has recently turned into a routine, the hour and a half of conversation in the morning conditioning you to look for them more and more. He did get the french toast, the naan, and even the baby puffs that he asked for and more. You were a part of their mornings as much as they were in yours, the two of you in opposite sides of the booth while Yuri was at the end of the table with her high chair.

You unconsciously seek them, unbeknownst to yourself that you started looking for two familiar mops of hair at every facility in the hotel. Mornings were your common denominator, the rest of the day reserved for each other’s hectic schedule.

Jimin’s been busy being out and about looking at open houses, doing a job search on the side that’s still in line with working in law but would allow him to work remotely and on flexible hours. He wants to hold off working until Yuri turns one year old, but the truth was that he just can’t keep doing this up without a stable career.

He seeks you unconsciously too, looking for a familiar figure that’s dressed in true high-end clothes without the obvious logo. He deducted that wherever Namjoon is, you were too — Jimin barely noticed that he’s been texting Namjoon more frequently now, specifically if he wants to hang out during his break and where he is.

When you see him, Jimin's clothed in a thin sweater while Yuri's bundled up, knowing a cashmere sweater when you see one.

"No one's allowed to be out here this late."

Jimin doesn’t have to turn his head to know that it’s you, having expected for you to approach him because your breakfast earlier was cut short because you had an urgent meeting to attend to.

"I know, sorry. I suddenly couldn't read when I saw the sign," Jimin apologizes insincerely, accompanied by his chuckle that’s uncharacteristically low tonight. ”By the way, I didn't pick the locks or anything. I took the fire exit."

"I figured,” you hum, looking down the both of them. They’re sat by the edge of the pool, Yuri placed gingerly on his lap with her socks on (he’s not gonna risk it) while Jimin’s sweatpants are folded upwards haphazardly, his calves dipped into the warm water.

You hesitate if you want to intrude in their moment because after all, this is the only time the two of you are alone outside of your usual breakfasts. You feel like you don’t fit in, still in your fancy work clothes and in your heels while Jimin’s dressed for sleep.

He senses your hesitation, looking up at you as you’re still in thought. Jimin fishes a spare towel he keeps in his pocket (in case the usual towel he slings on his shoulder for Yuri no longer does the job) and lays it beside him, not wanting you to get your clothes dirty.

The night’s cold but you’re so warm, looking down on the towel with much appreciation in your eyes that Jimin chuckles and just nudges you to sit down already. He puts out a hand to set your glass down that he’s seen you nursing while walking throughout the floor at this time of the night, the smell of it familiar.

"Yuri was fussy. Gave her a bath, changed her diaper, warmed her a bottle, sang her a lullaby, checked her socks. Nothing worked," he explains even without you asking, cradling his daughter to the crook of his neck. "Went outside the balcony for fresh air but there was someone smoking next door."

You’re about to apologize for something you didn’t do but Jimin interrupts you, glancing upwards at the sky that he hasn’t taken the time to look at for so long.

"Ta-da. Rooftop garden does the trick."

"Scotch?" you hum while offering, your glass with a tall serving of it already halfway finished. Jimin shakes his head, a shaky sigh leaving him.

"Can't, I'm on the clock. Have been for ten months," he says it matter-of-factly but the undertone of melancholy doesn’t leave it, looking down back at your glass. “You can drink around me if you want to, though. I don’t mind.”

You smile tightly, grasping the glass in your hand but turning away your head as you take a sip because you didn’t want to rub it on Jimin’s face. He looks at the back of your head as you do, stifling laughter because you do it so quickly since you didn’t want to be disrespectful.

When you turn back, Jimin’s gaze is back at Yuri, the way his eyes sparkle still apparent in the dim lighting.

"She's pretty,” you mumble, admiring the way she looks angelic even with faint tear tracks on her cheeks.

"Thank you. All from me," Jimin quips, running his thumb on her cheek as he resists the urge to bite into them because he’d wake her up. “I’m glad she looks like me."

The question is just hanging over both of your heads in the thick air, his reply being the perfect introduction for you to finally ask. You’re not in the position at all to ask about it, but in the same way Jimin beckoned you to sit right next to him, you felt that it was right.

"How about her mom?” you whisper, looking down on your rings to avoid his inquiring gaze. "If she looked like her mom, would she still be pretty to you?"

Jimin knew you were going to ask him eventually about the other, yet absent, person in the equation, but he didn’t know you’d ask him this way — a question if he would still love Yuri if she didn’t look like him.

He nods solemnly, looking down at her. ”Of course. She's my flesh and blood, my daughter. She'd still be pretty to me, even if she looked like... the woman who birthed her."

"Sorry," you apologize once you register Jimin’s tone that isn’t light as it usually was. "Sensitive topic?"

"I've moved on," Jimin smiles albeit bitterly, never quite reaching his eyes. "I hope that when Yuri gains consciousness, she moves on too."

It’s a prayer he makes even if he isn’t particularly religious. It’s a wish upon a shooting star in a sky he barely looks at. It’s too much to ask for, to hope for, but Jimin still does nonetheless.

"Moving on is tough, though," you answer, running your finger along the circle of your glass. “Some people don't move on at all."

"Not when it's unfair," Jimin pokes his tongue to his cheek, a pained scoff leaving him. “Not when it's cruel."

Jimin’s a dam that just endures, taking typhoon after typhoon. He reserves and represses and in odd moments, in crucial and unguarded instances, Jimin catches himself slipping.

"Yuri’s mother doesn’t want anything to do with her," he speaks thickly, hand moving to cover her ears even if she’s sleeping and yet to comprehend. "She’s the heiress of her parents’ law firm. Also used to be my girlfriend of five years, actually," he laughs without the humor behind it, pursing his lips at the thought.

“She’s a lawyer. I’m a paralegal that knocked her up.”

"Jimin,” you call him when you feel that his gaze goes too far, too disconnected to realize that he’s here now with Yuri well and safe in his arms. It may be only his arms that cradle her, but it’s with love that fills in for two people and more.

"Is that Japanese scotch?" he suddenly quips, peering to your glass. He seems pleased when you confirm his guess with a gasp, smiling to himself at the minuscule victory. "Can I have a sip?"

You nod, offering your glass to which he’s eager to take. He’s just about to when he realizes that there’s a weight on his lap, one that wouldn’t blend well when he drinks.

"Can you uhm, can you also hold her while I drink? Just a little, I promise."

Without even thinking of it, you agree.

You take Yuri into your arms and press her to your chest, not having Jimin to correct you on how to hold her because you did it correctly and she didn’t even fuss.

"I'm here because I'm in between things. Haven't worked for ten months, sold my apartment to try and relocate to the city, I need to figure out where we are going in life because Yuri's turning one year old soon, and my backup plan doesn't sound too bright,” he confides in you after he takes a sip of alcohol, the all too familiar yet distant burn in his throat washing him over in nostalgia. It hits him harder than he expected.

"What's your backup plan?"

"Live in a cruise ship because the cost of living is cheaper."

"That actually sounds kind of smart,” you chuckle in delight, shaking your head. Jimin does tend to think out of the box, you easily bet that he was an excellent paralegal before he had Yuri.

"Yeah, except the fact that I get seasick easily and I'm scared of the ocean."

The admission of his fear pries an unexpected laugh out of you, covering your mouth as to not jolt Yuri awake.

"Not funny," he deadpans but the amusement on his face is visible. “You know how I want to take Yuri to an aquarium so bad but the aquarium glass for ceilings terrify me?"

You snort, visualizing an image of Jimin shaking his boots looking at stingrays overhead him. "Her Uncle Namjoon can take her then."

"He can, but I don't want to be indebted to him more than I already am,” he sighs, having considered the idea before.

"She's his niece,” you reason, the sentiment behind it already apparent.

"Only half."

"He loves her, though. I can tell. You can tell," you shrug, the solution in your head still unwavering. “He told me about Bambi a couple times already. Even before you went here."

"He does?" Jimin sounds genuinely surprised, schooling his expression to look unfazed. It’s apparent to you that the both of them don’t know each other closely. “He loves my daughter because she's his niece; of course he would. But as brothers? I don't think we're quite there yet."

You make a noise of disapproval, knowing genuineness when you see it. You know to yourself that Namjoon’s a sincere employee and an even more sincere person.

"Are you older or younger?"

"Younger," he answers, furrowing his brows because he senses that Yuri’s bound to wake up soon. “My — our mom remarried after his dad died.”

You can’t react accordingly because true to his instinct, Yuri does fuss. The way she fusses makes it known to Jimin that if he doesn’t take her back to their room and on her co-sleeper, she’ll fully wake up and throw a tantrum.

"That's enough of my baggage for one night, don't you think?"

He concludes it at that, looking at you with a somber smile. He exchanges your scotch for his baby, skillfully standing up before helping you do the same. You dust off the towel he lent you but he waves it off, telling you to keep it the next time the two of you talk like this again.

Jimin’s an enduring planet and Yuri’s a young moon, the way he looks at her enough for you to know that she’s lucky to have him as a dad.

"Good night," Jimin bids you goodbye, pressing Yuri's forehead to his as if they’re telepathically exchanging thoughts. "She says good night too."

( ♡ )

Jimin's reminded to never drink again after just five sips of scotch.

He woke up with an existential crisis, something that hasn't him in a state this bad before. He's raising his ten-month old daughter alone, there's neither an apartment nor a house attached to his name, has no job, and he's living in a hotel.

It makes Jimin claustrophobic, making him realize that he's close to the end of his wits and probably has been for a long time. Has he really been this lost all this time? Has he really been acting this pathetic despite having a daughter to raise alone?

It's so hard to breathe, carrying Yuri close to his chest on top of that. He smells her hair to try and ground himself, but even the scent of his daughter mixed with his perfume barely does anything to calm him.

Then he gets the call from his dad. He’s so numb; the tips of his fingers prick with electricity but he doesn’t feel, his ears ringing at yet another reminder of one of the multiple responsibilities on his shoulders.

"Jimin, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," his dad sighs remorsefully. “They're calling me in for some tests again."

Right, Jimin almost forgets. He's supporting his dad secretly.

It was a dire situation, something that only the two of them know. Three if you count Yuri and her attentive eyes whenever he's on the phone.

His dad's been feeling sick for quite some time now. No one's quite sure of anything, making the whole process complicated and extensive; whatever it was, it's only between him and his dad for the time being.

Jimin was sure of two things — a) that his mom has a frail heart and hearing about a possible threat to his dad's health would be detrimental, and b) that the funding should come from him because at the end of the day, Namjoon shouldn't be responsible; after all, Jimin is his father's son, not Namjoon.

It's overwhelming, just so overwhelming that as soon as Yuri fusses as soon as she wakes, calls him appa with a B, and lightly cries, Jimin does the same.

She must be hungry, making him go on autopilot to prepare her bottle but when he opens the tin, he sees more of his distorted reflection inside the cylinder than the actual formula.

Fuck.

Jimin prepares Yuri’s bottle anyway, a lump stuck to his throat as soon as an idea forms in his head. Neither the lump nor the idea leaves him and it pricks the tears from his eyes more, keeping his daughter preoccupied because now she suddenly stopped crying to observe his instead.

He’s chipping at the ends and the very core of his whole mind is raw. All he has are doubts and insecurities and the way Yuri looks at him, like she trusts him even if he’s hugely lacking as a dad, doesn’t console him.

Jimin comes down and meets you as per usual, giving you a side hug and coming into the booth with ease as if there's no tension in his shoulders and in his mind.

He thinks he’s doing a good job at acting casual but you could see how vacant he looks, his eyes missing the usual glint of playfulness that he bore. You give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that it’s his fatigue from the night before; maybe it’s just the hangover from the few sips he had from your drink.

"You and Bambi look a little rough," you observe, piping in as soon as he settles down. “I’ll fill our plates. Just sit here."

Jimin looks at you with an unknown emotion, eyes wide and glassy. You can’t read him and neither can he, the brief moment of vulnerability being cut short when he thanks you.

You walk to the tables, filling the tray with two plates for you and Jimin and one bowl for Yuri like it's clockwork. It's easy for you to fill it all up from memory, to adhere to a routine you've built in just the three weeks you came across Jimin and his baby.

It's hard for Jimin though.

It's hard because this one particular thought never leaves him, the only one he ever had as a solution to quell the anxiety he has that peaked just this morning.

Your bag's right on the table; small, open, and expensive right in front of him, taking your position while you get breakfast for him and his daughter.

Jimin screws his eyes shut, taking several exhales that don't even placate him. He looks outwardly casual, dipping his hand in there as if he's just looking for mints and as if he's known you enough to literally stick his hand where it doesn't belong. As if you trust him.

And that's the thing — you do trust him.

Jimin spots your wallet and opens it as if it's his own. Counts the bills mentally as if he's just counting ducks and takes half of it, thumb swiping quickly. He’s never done this before.

Yuri somehow knows because as soon as Jimin's thumbs through your banknotes, all of them in the highest denomination, her bottom lip trembles, a shrill cry following soon after.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry, Yuri,” he whispers, screwing his eyes shut. God, this is wrong and yet he can’t stop. “This is bad but it’s a justified bad. Don’t be like appa. Don’t steal like me, okay?”

He whispers the last part because even he can’t fathom himself actually doing it, chest becoming heavier by the second. He folds the money in half and stashes it inside Yuri's diaper bag, heart still beating erratically even if he’s already hid it.

“Appa's taking care of a lot of things a-and things are tight, especially with your grandpa's situation, y'know? And you’re running out of formula and we need to stock up before there’s a shortage again," he explains, voice trembling as well as his hands.

Yuri isn’t soothed, however. She throws her head back while calling for Jimin again and again like she’s the reflection of his conscience — his conscience that he’s already tainted the moment the idea went into his head.

“Don’t cry, Yuri. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Y/N, fuck,” he whispers over and over again, the tears in his eyes threatening to spill whenever he repeats your name.

You come back with the breakfast, barely noticing anything except that Jimin looks even more spent than five minutes ago since you last saw him. Yuri had already started calming down before you approached the table and stopped completely when you set her bowl in front of her, your eyes curious to why Jimin can’t even meet your gaze.

You realize it later, when you fish your card from your wallet because you need Namjoon to run some errands for you.

It's lighter, barely noticeable. The set of bills you've had in it isn't as thick than the last time you saw it, but you could easily chalk it up to you seeing things, or lack thereof.

It hits you completely when you see your crumpled withdrawal receipt in the bottom of your bag instead of your wallet, having a habit to use the paper as a makeshift clip for your banknotes. It would only sink to your bag if somebody had touched your wallet and took your money; it couldn't have been you because after all, you haven't done anything today that required you to pull out your cash.

Then you know when you have someone pull up security footage for you.

You see it clearly despite the slight grain; Jimin and his hands inside your bag, casually rummaging through it as if you're good companions and know each other.

The thing is — Jimin doesn't know much of you.

The security technician is appalled, even more appalled than you are and huffs when he follows your gaze. He's about to press on his radio and bark out orders when you gently put your hand before him, solemnly shaking your head.

It’s okay.

It's for Yuri.

You keep to yourself, thanking your employee before you gather your things and exit the room.

Namjoon's been looking for you and he's a little perplexed to why you would go to the surveillance room of all places, catching up to you as you walk across the grand lobby.

At the corner of your eye, Jimin enters the hotel, holding a sleepy Yuri and a plastic bag of what you can discern to be his daughter's needs.

Jimin tries to catch your attention and attempts to walk alongside you and Namjoon — you pretend not to notice.

#and how r we feeling :O intermission is up next!! <3 #jimin imagine #jimin oneshot #jimin oneshots #jimin angst #jimin angst imagine #jimin x reader #jimin x y/n #jimin au #single dad jimin au #dilf jimin #park jimin imagine #park jimin oneshot #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin x you #bts jimin imagine

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dumbbitchenergy17 · 1 year

Text

Clan of Three- Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen: Tragedy

Plot: A Mandalorian, an infant with a history of the jedi, and a teenager with similar powers with an undiscovered lineage. An unlikely group to travel the galaxy together.

Word Count: 6.7K

Pairing: Father Figure!Din Djarin x Platonic!Teen!Reader

Warnings: fighting/violence, injuries, blood, massive angst, PTSD, some wholesome moments but still mainly sad

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The Crest is relatively silent the coos coming from the child as it fiddles with the ball given by his adopted father. The said father steers the ship toward the planet Tython after their interaction with the jedi, Ahsoka.

“Grogu,” Din calls out and Grogu perks up looking at the Mandalorian with wide eyes which makes the man chuckle. Din holds out his hand looking at the child, “Give me the ball.” He says and Grogu shakes his tiny head pulling the item closer to his chest.

“Grogu, give me the ball. Come on.” Din sighs reaching over and pulling it out of Grogu’s grasp as he cries out before Din holds out the ball between his fingers, “Okay, here we go. You can have it, just like before. Grogu, come on. You can have it. Come on.”

The small child holds out his hand before the small ball shoots from his hand into the Grogu’s, “Dank farrik!” Grogu instantly recoils hearing the curse as Din does damage control, “Hey, no. I’m not mad at you. You did good. I just… When the nice lady said you had training, I just…” Din sighs looking over the child, “You’re very special, kid. You and the girl...”

Din looks over at the small child that coos at him, he was like a father to him same as the girl that was in the main hull relaxing. The fight between you two had left you both raw and vulnerable, but with your injury, everything just became too real. His hands and parts of the ship were stained with your blood though the evidence was gone, he seemed extra protective over you. Making sure you were feeling alright even if it was the small ailments, giving you and the child the larger rations, even when you slept he watched over you his hand resting on your wrist or your neck just to give him some sense of relief feeling your blood pumping under your skin. He thought he lost a part of himself that day. He didn’t have much, to begin with, his ship, his creed, but you and Grogu…you snuck your way in and he was hooked. Wrapped around your finger and he would tear apart the galaxy to keep the two of you safe with him. Neither of you brought up the fight pushing it aside for more pressing matters but you both could feel the regret that came from each side. Din never spoke up about Nevarro either, your memory completely fuzzy, he didn’t tell you of the fear in your eyes, your screams that filled the hull, how you cried out that your life was over, he didn’t tell you how you called him dad.

Buir…father…dad that’s what you called him. Maybe in your weakened state from the blood loss, your words weren’t what you meant. You probably saw your biological father in those moments and thought things were normal. Or did you see Cobb, the Marshal of Mos Pelgo the town you were raised in by the man? He was a father to you as well, teaching you to defend yourself, be smart, and use your head. The one who saw you grow from a child into this young teen before you were snatched away by the empire. But the same could be said about Din he had taught you the ways of the Mandalorian, his creed, the words spoken long ago on the desolate planet. You had grown strong in many ways with the guidance of many different people but he wouldn’t know who you truly called out to that day.

“We’re gonna find that place you two belong and they’re gonna take real good care of you,” Din says to the Grogu who babbles back as if he understands him. A beep from the console pulls Din away from the child seeing the ship entering the atmosphere for the planet, “This is Tython. That’s where we’re gonna try and find you guys a Jedi.” Din says to the child who looks seeing the planet growing closer as he begins his ascent. “But you have to agree to go with them if they want you to. Understand? Plus, I can’t train you. You’re too powerful. Don’t you wanna learn more of that Jedi stuff?” Din says and Grogu makes a noise of disagreement, “I agreed to take you back to your own kind, so that’s what I need to do. You understand, right?”

Flying over the large plains towards the mountaintops he sees the pillars of stones surrounding one larger one in the center, “Looks like that’s the magic rock I’m supposed to take you to down there. Sorry, buddy. I can’t land on the top. Too small. We’re gonna have to travel the last stretch with the windows down.”

Landing the ship in a clearing at the bottom of the mountain Din grabs Grogu before climbing down the ladder to the main hull. Looking into the hull he spotted you sitting in front of your cot your face buried into one of the books. The cover is an old leather bound together by some material. It looked like it was falling apart but the way you handled it was as if it was the most precious item you’d ever encountered.

“Kid,” Din’s voice pulls you from your reading and you look up seeing him and Grogu waiting at the ramp door, “You ready?” You nod standing putting the text in your bag slinging it over your shoulder, your blaster and vibro-knife were already holstered on you and you finish up by attaching your saber to your belt.

Exiting the ship the breeze blows through your hair and you take in a breath of the fresh air, “Let’s go kid,” Din says before passing the kid off to you. You rub his ears small giggles coming from the child and quickly Din scoops you up into his arms as his jetpack takes the three of you to the skies. Grogu whoops in excitement the wind blowing in his face as he looks around at the ground far below you.

A rocky dome lies in the center of several stone pillars that circle it. You guys hit the ground being put down as you hold the child looking around at what is meant to be the seeing stone, “Well, I guess this is it. Does this look Jedi to you?” Din says as you spin around looking at slanted rocks pointed upwards towards where this rock rest in the center. Placing the child down as it looks around in wonder as you draw closer to the rock. Your fingers brush the inscription that seems to circle around the seeing stone.

The writing in a language you have never seen before, “Looks like it, these inscriptions I don’t know what language this could even be.” You say looking up at Din as he scoops up Grogu before placing him on top of the stone,

“I guess you sit right here. Okay. Here we go.” He says before glancing at you, “I guess you both take turns...This is the seeing stone, are you seeing anything?” The child coos looking at a butterfly that flaps by trying to reach out to it, “Or are they supposed to see you? Maybe there’s some kind of control or something.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” You call out as Din circles the rock trying to find some switch for this jedi relic, “Oh, come on, kid. Ahsoka told me all I had to do was get you here and you’d do the rest.”

The sound of something entering the atmosphere and you move towards the edge of the mountain top seeing a starship circling around them before heading towards the nearby clearing where the Crest was, “Din…” You call out and you see he’s right beside you seeing the same thing.

“Time’s up, kid. We gotta get out of here,” Din says as you both turn to grab Grogu when a force field surrounds the small child, his eyes are closed in concentration the inscriptions glowing a bright blue, “We don’t have time for this. We got to get…” Din moves forward trying to grab him but a force pushes back on him and he steps back, “Hey! Snap out of it, kid! We got to get out of here!” Din calls out and you move forward feeling the immense sensation of the force running through you as your hands press against the barrier feeling a bit of it give as you try reaching forward before you are pushed back as well.

“I’ll see if I can buy you some time,” Din says unholstering his blaster before looking at you, “Watch after him.” He says and you go to speak but he’s already moving down the mountain and you peer down trying to see who had arrived. Turning back to the seeing stone the energy barrier around Grogu as you step forward again.

“Come on kid…we really need to get going. Grogu come on wake up!” You call out but he seems to be ignoring you and you put your hands against the barrier pushing forward and trying to reach out to him. A ringing fills your ears as part of your hand breaks through the barrier as the noise grows louder.

“You can’t run from destiny. Din Djarin…his creed…Mandalore will fall because of you,” Moff Gideon’s voice rings in your head as flashes of Nevarro burning and the planet you’ve never seen is bombed from the sky screams filling the air.

“Tatooine may be where you were born but your blood, that is not. Features old but familiar…qualities of those from Mandalore.” A cave of water surrounds you from a planet of glass as the cool water drenches your clothes.

“Te oya'la pirun” Ripped from the cave hands grasping at your arms and legs dragging you further out, guiding you forward. Whisper of words called out as armor is forced onto you weighing you down.

“You have a much more important role in this than you think you do…That can alter your dear Mandalorian’s Creed.” The metal cools your skin as it stares back at you, lines of them standing tall looking forward at you almost waiting for your command. You keep pushing forward your second hand breaking through the barrier.

“Ibic cuyir te ara.” A cry rips through the air, a man holding a woman as sobs pour from him as the life fades from her. You can feel the energy of the weapon that caused the damage it seemed to suck the life out of the room. It’s a dead weight on your belt as you continue moving forward, your vision catches a reflection and you hesitate beskar dons your body it glistens in the sun crafted and molded for your body. The shouts of victory but the screams of innocents as you are brought towards a crowd in a large hall in a once great city. It seems to stretch with each step as the Mandalorians fill the hall quickly part for you.

As you go to move you look around in confusion before a hand pushes you forward as they turn to your attention and you recoil seeing their appearance. Mandalorians drenched in blood standing over bodies of people of different planets. Men, women, and children of all ages lie on the ground. You see Cara, Greef, and Cobb amongst the crowd their bodies mutilated with their eyes lifeless watching you. The few friends you made on Sorgan…Omera and her daughter Winta lie in a bloody pile the mother clutching her daughter in their final moments. Your parents lay dead in front of the Armorer and Bo-Katan as they watch you their armor too covered in blood and the battle. Your stomach grows weak spotting the pram of the child it lies on the ground speckles of blood decorate it as it lies empty. Your steps grow weaker as you make your way through the bloodbath. Large windows surround the hall and the sounds of explosions as fire lights up the night sky the glass shattered as screams and gunfire fills your ears. A throne stands before you and you spot a man kneeling before it as the person behind you makes you walk past him before turning to face them.

Looking down at the man you freeze. You see Din but it wasn’t him, you recognize his armor but he lacked his helmet his features unrecognizable. Blurring and changing the man if he was human or not. His hair changes all shades and textures, and his skin merges from different hues. But what confused you was the blood that covered his armor, the shiny beskar caked in blood and grime as he stares up at you. You’re pushed forward as he bows down offering his neck and you try to move away but a hand rest on your shoulders as a weapon is placed in your hands. The hands guide yours to raise it up as you fight against it but can’t break free from it. You hear the sound of the blade activating the dread causing a weight that almost makes you fall. You try pulling away from this from hurting Din….from hurting anyone. You didn’t want anyone hurt…they should be alive, not dead.

You feel the breath against your ear as the weight of death adds to the beskar that once felt light now crushes your chest as you run out of air. The weapon is raised high as you look down at Din unable to stop. Moff Gideon’s voice whispers as you bring down the blade.

“It ends here Mand’alor.”

Your body hits the ground as you gasp for air feeling hands grab your shoulders you instantly try fighting off them but they grab your wrist holding them away from your body, “Kid it’s me..stop it!” Din’s voice clears away all fears as he kneels in front of you and looks at your frightened expression.

“Everyone was…there was so much blood…and you…the Mandalroians…Gideon.” Your words were a jumble as you try explaining what you saw. Din’s hands grab your face, “Hey calm down just breathe...I’m fine everyone’s fine.” He says his modulated voice calming as he makes you look at him. You slowly nod before the sound of blaster fire makes you jump, “Come on we have to go now,” Din stands pulling you to your feet as he looks at Grogu who is still surrounded by the force field.

“Time to go, kid!” Din says moving forward but his steps are pushed back by the force as he puts his hands up against the barrier, “That’s it, kid. We got to get out of here!” He grunts his voice straining as he pushes forward before he’s thrown back hitting the ground with a loud crash. You quickly run over to him helping him up as he groans in pain, “What are we gonna do?!” You ask from your view you could see the transport that was expelling troopers and they seem to be fighting someone down there. Had Din found an ally? Helping him to his feet you both look over the ridge down to the battle, “You stay here I’m going to protect you too,”

“But I can help!” You start but he shakes his head grabbing your shoulders, “No! You stay here and watch after the child, you only fight if any get past me.” He says but you’re eyes are still glued to troopers making their way up the mountain,

“Y/n!” Hearing your name snaps you back to face him, it was a splash of cold water hearing your name come from his mouth, you were so used to kid or the very brief time he called you cyar’ika you think that’s how you say it. You never learned what it meant but he started to address you as that too. But you’re name wasn’t something you haven’t heard in a while. “I need you to focus…you don’t let anyone get to you or the child,” Din says and you nod and he pulls your blaster from your waist forcing it into your hands. His hand moves to cup your face looking deep into your eyes so that you could almost see them through the visor of his beskar helmet.

He pulls away before pulling out his own weapon, “Just stay there. I’ll be back soon.” You watch Din leave heading down the mountain as he quickly engages with stormtroopers. Turning back you see the forcefield down and the child asleep on the rock probably knocked out for using such a large amount of force. You quickly scoop up the child fixing the strap of your satchel as it almost slips down while holding your blaster in your free hand. You should contact Din telling him you have the child you holster your blaster and grab your comm, “Din I have the child should I head to the Crest?” You ask when a large explosion shakes the ground. You run toward the edge of the ridge looking down and seeing the large plume of smoke that fills the air right where the Crest was at. A wave of sadness fills you seeing the one other thing you could call home be blown to smithereens. All those memories in that ship were gone in just a moment.

“Ki-..Kid! get th-..ell…there now!” Din’s voice crackles through the comms before cutting off and you step away from the ridge getting closer to the seeing stone when four large thuds and you stare at four armored troopers, their black armor frighten as you spin around as they stare at you but they didn’t seem human at all too tall…they were droids. You clutch the child closer to you as he whimpers, you whip out your blaster firing at one of them but the bullet bounces off its armor the same as if it was beskar. You fire again before side-stepping trying to book it between the two of them. An armored hand grabs the back of your collar and you’re thrown to the ground. Your head smacks against the seeing stone and you crumble to the ground your vision goes black as Grogu cries out hitting the ground though his landing is softened by your body.

Din sprints up the hill the blood pumping through his veins, why didn’t he grab his jetpack he would have been there by now?! It’s too late to turn back. Get to them both…save the child and the girl. Fennec follows close behind as they reach the top just to see four of the troopers, one of them scoops up the crying Grogu while another grabs you as you lay unconscious in its arms blood paints the side of your face. They shoot up into the air as Din watches in horror as you both disappear from him.

“They’ve got the kids. Don’t let them get away!” Fennec calls out into her comm as Boba Fett follows after the troopers in his starship, “Affirmative.” His screens beep as he gains a lock to attack, “I have a lock.”

“Stop him. I don’t want them hurt.” Din says and Fennec quickly speaks into the comm, “Abort pursuit. Disengage. Do not harm the kids.”

“Copy. I’ll do a loose follow, see where they’re headed.” Fett says Slave I following the troopers into the upper atmosphere flying through the clouds his eyes widen spotting the large cruiser, “They’re back.” He whispers,

“Who?” Fennec asks as Fett watches the imperial ship, “The Empire. They’re back.”

“That can’t be.” Fennec shakes her head…there’s no way in the galaxy the empire would be in New Republic territory, “The Outer Rim is under the jurisdiction of the New Republic.”

“This isn’t a spice dream.” Fett responds watching the ship with his own eyes, “I can see the Imperial cruiser with my own eyes. Heading down.” He says as he has no choice but to return as the Imperial cruiser jumps into hyperspace.

Din wasn’t able to describe the guilt that ran through him as he sifts through the pit of ashes that is the wreckage of his ship. Your satchel with your books and blaster rests on him as he kneels down into the charred soil pulling out the joystick ball that the child once played with before placing it in his pocket. His hand also pulls out the beskar spear that was not damaged by the large blaster fire. Returning to Fennec and Fett holding the spear, “This is all that survived.”

“Beskar.” Fett comments before holding out his wrist and a hologram of his chain code appears, “I want you to take a look at something. My chain code has been encoded in this armor for 25 years. You see, this is me. Boba Fett. This is my father, Jango Fett.” Din reads the Mando’a script containing his family lineage, ‘foundling’, ‘mentor Jaste’, ‘father Fett’, ‘Boba Fett’, and ‘Concord Dawn’.

“Your father was a foundling.” Din says and Fett nods, “Yes. He even fought in the Mandalorian Civil Wars.”

“Then that armor belongs to you.” Din says recognizing Fett and his father as Mandalorians, Fett is pleased with the return, “I appreciate its return.”

Din looks over at the Mandalorian and the assassin, “Then our deal is complete.” “Not quite.” Fett comments and Din gives him a confused look, “How so?”

“We agreed in exchange for the return of my armor, we will ensure the safety of the children,” Fett says bringing up the promise he and Fennec had given, “The kids are gone,” Din says sadness lacing his voice.

“Until they are returned to you safely, we are in your debt,” Fett explains with the recent kidnapping the two were in debt to the other Mandalorian. Din was thankful for their help but they would need more to get the two of you home safe and their first destination already in mind.

“Cara Dune, Marshal of the New Republic.” Din’s voice rings out in the office. The newly placed Marshal of Nevarro City getting upgraded for the New Republic, “I heard rumors you might have gone legit.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cara says bringing her feet off her desk the metal badge given by the New Republic shines in the sunlight, “I need your help.” Din gets straight to the point as she looks past him to the other man in the Mandalorian armor and the helmeted assassin.

“Name it.” “I need you to locate someone in the prison registry.” Din says and Cara nods moving to the computer, “Let’s see what I can do.”

“Ex-Imperial sharpshooter, last name Mayfeld. Apprehended near the Dilestri system on a derelict prison ship.” Din gives details of the short-lasting partner who betrayed him.

“Migs Mayfeld,” Cara says reading off his file, “Serving 50 years in the Karthon Chop Fields for springing a prisoner himself. Accessory to the death of a New Republic officer. Huh. Sounds like a real piece of work.” She says and Din nods, “What do you want with him?”

“I need to spring him to help me locate Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.” Din says and Cara sighs her hands tied, “You know how I feel about the Empire. But these stripes… mean there are rules I need to follow.” She says.

“They have the kids,” Din says and the ex-shock trooper is already on board with this information.

Footsteps echo through the halls as the man grows closer to the brig being flanked by two stormtroopers, entering the cell he spots the small child holding his fist up in the air as the two stormtroopers that were meant to escort him were being thrown across the room hitting one another. “Set to stun.” The escort stormtrooper beside the man order but he holds a hand up, “Wait.” The man watches with interest as the child hurls the two troopers against the wall before collapsing in exhaustion. The two troopers hit the ground groaning in pain as they push themselves up and take their wounded selves out of the room leaving just the man and his escort.

“You’ve gotten very good with that. But it makes you oh-so sleepy.” He says before pulling something from his belt and igniting it as the light seems to drain from the room, “Have you ever seen one of these? From years past?” He waves it near the child as it tries reaching out with the force but is too weak to move the weapon though it does shake slightly, “Oh, uh-uh-uh,” He chuckles deactivating the weapon, “You’re not ready to play with such things. Liable to put an eye out with one of these. Looks like you could use a nice, long sleep.” With a nod, the trooper next to him fires a stunning round on the child as it falls back down. “Put it in shackles.” He orders before turning to leave the comms officer, “When we come out of hyperspace, send an encrypted message to Dr. Pershing. Let him know we have got our donors.”

“Yes, sir.” She nods letting him pass by as he heads off to another part of the brig as the sounds of fighting and yelling fill the hall. The door to the room was guarded by four troopers unlike the child’s which was just a pair. Entered the room which was more of an interrogation room as the girl was strapped to the interrogation chair, cuffs already restraining her abilities but it seemed like it wasn’t early enough. A trooper is pressed against the wall clutching his arm as he screams in pain while another lies dead on the ground, his armor crushed around his body his limbs snapped in a horrid way. Your body shakes on the tilted chair as you snarl seeing Moff Gideon enter the room.

“I swear I’ll rip you apart and have your guts paint the kriffing wall!” You hiss spitting at him and he watches the rage in your eyes the blood on the side of your head getting in your eye. Your eyes widen instantly and you lean as far back as you can as the weapon is activated and pointed right at your throat. The black blade hums in the air as the light around it seems to drain. He seems to notice the look of fear in your eyes but the recognition there as well.

“Looks familiar, doesn’t it? Family relics though what would you know about your family.” He says as he waves the weapon around in front of you, and one of the troopers comes by him producing your own saber. “It’s interesting you had this completely unaware of who you really were…it’s quite hilarious your situation. Being a Jedi…meeting the Mandalorian..it’s just all…pieces of the unfinished puzzle.” He says his words cryptically as the blade retracts back in and he steps forward watching you with a close eye.

“What do you dream of Y/n L/n…a normal life back on Tatooine with your parents? Or is it during in Mos Pelgo with your unofficial father Cobb Vanth…or is it your time with the Mandalorian? Din Djarin…is it of the planets you explore…do you join his creed,” He says and you glare back at him but can’t ignore the lingering fear that brews in your stomach. He steps back shaking his head, “No that’s not it…it’s this you dream of,” He holds up the weapon and you shiver at the action, “You fear it but…you crave it. You don’t know why but you can feel it. Can you sense its strength…the power it holds.” He says and he knows he hits the nail on the head.

“What do you want from me…more blood? To be your damn donor.” You spat and he grins shaking his head, “No…I’m after that with that green little creature. I only needed your blood to be certain I was right though we did try,” Gideon says, “I want what you can offer, what your bloodline can offer that I can’t get. You have something many wish they have but can never obtain.”

“And what is that.” You glare and he steps forward staring deeply that you feel sick.

“Power. The power to lead and they would follow blindly…and you don’t even know it.” He says as a sadistic and power-hungry grin spreads across his face before he steps back.

“You’ll learn soon enough what you mean to me.” He says as he leaves you, your threats to tear him and anyone else apart fills the room but quickly muffles as the door closes.

Gideon stands on the bridge watching the stars fly past them as they travel through hyperspace. They had gained both assets his plan worked in his favor. The sound of footsteps draws close to him, “Sir… You should see this.” The comms officers inform him and he turns from the large open windows to the bridge’s large table as a transmission comes in revealing the Mandalorian, Din Djarin.

“Moff Gideon. You have something I want,” He speaks the words a direct copy of the words he said to the bounty hunter on Nevarro about the two in his possession, “You may think you have some idea what you are in possession of, but you do not. Soon, they will be back with me. They mean more to me than you will ever know.” The transmission ends as Gideon stares straight ahead a grim expression on his face. The others in the room could sense the anger coming off him and even they were worried. What lengths would this Mandalorian go to for a child and a girl? Gideon grasp the weapon on his belt in anger not even turning to the comms officer that was still beside him,

“Fetch the girl.”

You weren’t sure what day it was anymore. Your body is weak from the lack of food and water that hasn’t been given. You cough at the dryness in your throat from screaming in the empty room…well not empty the dead trooper was still in the room but otherwise empty. Your wrists were probably bruised and raw with how much pulling you’ve done but it was the only thing you could think to do to try and break free. You had absolutely nothing, your knife and saber taken leaving you to just your wits. The sound of footsteps draws closer as you steel your face as they stop in front of the door and it opens revealing a pair of troopers who enter.

“Try anything and you’ll end up like your friend.” You spit though your threat is empty as they draw closer and you see one of them holding a small case and producing a needle making you thrash in the chair, “Touch me and I swear to the Maker I will kill you!” You shout as they draw close to you and you slam your head forward into one of them making them groan in pain. Your vision rings and a hand slams your head back onto the metal rest as the needle digs into your neck and you feel the burn of the liquid. The cuffs release around you as you hit the ground unable to catch yourself. Your vision blurs before going dark the last thing you feel is hands looping around your arms.

You groan in pain feeling your body be dragged as you slowly blink your eyes open right as you’re thrown to your knees. The multiple officers are on the bridge working away as the two troopers stand guard and you hear footsteps your vision is blurry but slowly clearing up as they stop in front of you. A cold hand grabs your chin pulling your head up and you stare right back at Moff Gideon, “There...the dear princess is awake..” He says and you spit right in his face and a frown covers his face as he pulls back producing a cloth to wipe the spit off. A harsh kick to your side makes you gasp for air as you fall to your side but are quickly brought back to your knees.

“I see your anger comes from your beloved Mandalorian,” Gideon says looking down as you glare back at him, “Or is it from Bo-Katan the ruthless savage she is…you hold no decorum from the late Duchess Satine.” He says the last name is one you’re unfamiliar with. “How would they think seeing their own with this behavior.”

“What are you talking about.” You spit glaring up at him and you see the grin forming on his face, “It is an unbecoming attitude for an heir to the Mandalorian throne.” He says and the room grows cold as you stare up at him. No, that wasn’t…it couldn’t be. He could see the confusion and almost shock on your face.

“Shock I see? Maybe your father would still be alive if he reveal his ancestors to you. You both might be in a better situation,” Gideon says, and hearing your father you lunge forward but are slammed to the ground.

“Speak of my father I will rip you limb from limb Gideon!” You hiss the knee digging into your back as your hands remained shackled behind you. The metal grating presses deep into your cheek as you threaten the man.

“It is only the truth, my dear,” He chuckles, “Let me simplify things for you. Your father was a Mandalorian born and raised on the planet Mandalore, and your grandparents were quite respectable people of the time…Duchess Satine Kryze and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your father escapes the purge following his mother’s death before finding himself in Tatooine…he finds your mother and then you appear. But you were no ordinary child how could you not with a Jedi Master as your grandfather? Then little you watch your parents die to travel to Mos Pelgo meeting Marshal Cobb Vanth only to be kidnapped for a bounty that I sent. Lucky for you that you weren’t killed but met the Mandalorian Din Djarin and I’m sure you know the rest.” Gideon says as he moves forward and you pulled back onto your knees.

“You’re lying.” You say shaking your head…you couldn’t be..but it all made sense. What’s been told…what you’ve dreamed of. You always believed were from Tatooine but you were wrong. Everything you knew your life…you were Mandalorian.

“I’m not. So you understand why I need you…the empire wants Mandalore and having a Mandalorian who is also a Jedi? Why you’re just recreating history!” He laughs before pulling the saber from his belt and igniting it in front of you and you flinch back.

“Oh no reason to be afraid, the Darksaber is a powerful weapon in the right hands just like your own saber. When won in ritual combat whoever wields this blade has the rightful claim to the Mandalorian throne. Did you know the creator of this was a Jedi and a Mandalorian now it seems like you fit the bill don’t you think.” He says as you look at the sword before him.

“So what? You want me to have this stupid sword and what rule Mandalore?” You spat and he shakes his head and laughs. “Oh no, you’ll just rebel against the empire and the Mandalorians will gladly fight alongside you. No, what I need you to do is just say yes.”

“Say yes to what?” You say looking up at Gideon “Think of it as a proposal of sorts,” He says and you feel nauseous your stomach dropping, “You lay claim to the Mandalorian throne by blood right but I will rule, they wouldn’t fight its Mand’alor if they are producing Mandalorian children.” You were truly nauseous you weren’t sure how bile hasn’t left your mouth. He was sick…you were a child and he wanted you to..oh maker you were going to be sick.

“You’re sick.” You gag looking away from him. If you look you would surely lose your hold on your stomach. “I swear to you I would rather die than agree to anything you say.” You spat and he frowns and he motions for the troopers. Hands pull you up to your feet as you look up at him a look of murderous rage in your eyes.

“That was the diplomatic option Y/n…makes it easier for everyone,” Gideon says a disapproving look on his face he surges forward as the blade drives straight into your body. You jerk as his free arm holds your shoulder as you stare at him with wide eyes still not registering the action. He pulls back and that’s when you feel the saber leave your body as you fall back hitting the floor. “This is the non-diplomatic option,” Gideon says but your ears are ringing as you feel the immense burning happening as your body is sent immediately into shock.

“Put her in the brig and let her die a jedi,” Gideon says as hands grab under your armpits and drag you out of the bridge the last thing you see before your vision goes dark is Gideon with the Darksaber watching you the aura coming off of it is like waves crashing down on you. You felt something at that moment when you came in contact with it. Your vision goes black your last thoughts of the child and the Mandalorian you’ve grown to love.

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