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mycharacterdump · 1 year ago

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𝐋𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄𝐓 '𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐄' 𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 a three - part symphony .

there's a blue light in my best friend's room there's a blue light in his eye i wanna see it shine there's a ship that sails by my window there's a ship that sails on by there's a world under it i think i see it sailing away i think it's sailing miles crashing me by crashing me by.

PART I. BLOOD

Things weren’t always this way.

When I was a kid the clouds didn’t hang like gallows, the summers were swelteringly hot and the winters bitterly cold in the throes of the Mojave but I found salvation in river water and the crackling of firewood in the den, there were bubblegum scented secrets and promises sworn with dirt stained fingers, adventures every corner I turned, I could hear a melody in everything — even the windstorms that battered on our window shutters, even in the arguments my parents had that echoed off the kitchen tiles, even in the deafening silence of night. Music was imbued in every sound and the whole world was a lengthy love ballad that I had the divine pleasure of dissecting.

The day that music died, I was on my bedroom floor trying to decipher my pre-algebra homework and snacking on a pre-assembled food platter that Mom always bought on her way home from work. She could never be bothered to make them herself like other moms at my school did. Every other week there was a food related fundraiser where all the normal mothers in their Suburbans and perfectly ironed collared shirts would strut up the front steps of The Meadows with fresh baked brownies and gingersnaps or some obscure casserole recipe for Thanksgiving, and I would arrive alone to my classroom with a plastic container of sugar cookies.

As much as I resented her for it, the sugar cookies were always a hit with the other kids. Still I wished she would put in more effort. Even if I wasn’t technically hers. I could’ve been, though, I realized early on. If she wanted to, she could’ve claimed me.

Dad was put in the driver’s seat when I turned three. That’s when Mom wanted to go back to work after spending the last nine years raising my older half-brother George and I. Dad tried his best but he seemed damned by the universe in nearly everything he did when it came to homemaking.

I overheard him once tell Mom jokingly that Mercers were cursed. Then I heard her agree.

Anyway, I was rail thin and still had a head full of dark brown hair that I always had pinned up in braids I learned myself, I walked through the front door and bright hazel eyes that hadn’t witnessed a shred of conflict. I was still dressed in my pressed blouse and navy blue skirt that had been my school uniform since I was five years old. I was kicking my legs around, colorful socks adorning my feet after I discarded my Mary Janes, the poster child for well-off, cautiously rebellious children everywhere.

My ears were plugged with a pair of earbuds that I had connected to my iPod. Dad let me buy whatever album I wanted off of our account for my birthday that year, so I wisely chose Avril Lavigne’s Goodbye Lullaby. While What the Hell reverberated against my eardrums I could faintly pick out the sound of the front door opening and slamming shut. That was a tell tale sign that George had gotten home from his study group — he and I had a terrible habit of being too rough with everything we touched.

He must’ve noticed I’d stolen the platter, because instead of ducking into his room so he could continue studying (The Meadows was brutal when it came to homework, I realized as soon as I gradated elementary), he barged into my room. I let out a theatric scream with my mouth full of broccoli and scowled at him.

“I could have been naked!” I cried out.

“God forbid I see you in a Hello Kitty training bra,” George snorted dismissively as he went to steal the platter. I held it away from him. “Don’t start, Lyo.”

“I’m still eating,” I hissed at him.

George and I never did get along. He was six years my elder and I think kind of resented me for being born. I took all the attention away from him and, since Dad took the reins, had less of a strict upbringing than he did with Mom. Plus I was just as smart as he was and it didn’t even take me hours of studying to get where I was already. That really pissed him off, despite the fact he had just gotten accepted to NYU Grossman and had taped the acceptance letter over my straight-A report card on the fridge so no one forgot.

Most people didn’t even register that we were siblings, as while we both possessed gangly limbs and a face painted in freckles and the same green-brown hue in our irises, we couldn’t have been more different otherwise. He had a head full of ginger hair that I always weirdly envied as I was given my birth mother’s dark tresses, and he had a paler complexion, skin ghostly white while mine was more sun kissed — which I thought looked better anyway, considering we lived in Nevada. His nose jutted out from the middle of his face and mine was flat in a way that my first grade teacher described as puggy and his eyes were round and puffy and mine were angular with a distinct curve.

We both considered this a blessing, even if I used to pray at night that I would wake up and we’d look more alike so the kids and teachers at school would see me as a real Mercer.

“You’re gonna need to start packing soon,” he chose to say while popping a carrot into his mouth. I narrowed my eyes at him. He didn’t falter. Why would he, after all? I was seventy-five pounds of attitude and a bit of arrogance.

“Why would I do that?” I asked in return. “Are we going to Disney Land or something?”

George chewed his carrot loudly. I flinched but tried my best to focus on the equation in front of me when he didn’t answer me immediately. “No,” he eventually said. “New York.”

“New York?” I echoed. He nodded. “Why are we going there? To see your stupid college?”

“Because Mom’s moving there,” he informed me.

I seemed caught off guard by this. I didn’t believe him at first, naturally. “Bullshit.” I denied.

“Not bullshit,” he said. “Don’t act surprised. You know her and Dad have been fighting since forever.”

I swallowed when he said this. I knew that much was true — Mom and Dad couldn’t seem to last a day without divulging into a petty argument over the most menial things. I had learned a long time ago how to drown it out and immerse myself in my own world. When I was really little I would try and intervene, thinking I could somehow save them from each other, but of course I was too small and my voice didn’t carry and I was always overlooked.

“I’m not going to New York,” I immediately denied.

“... Okay,” George said as he shrugged and left my room with the platter, kicking the door shut behind him.

And that was that. No one was putting up a fight for me. Not like they ever did.

I guess they thought I would feel grateful. It would be Dad and I, how Mom thought it should’ve been since the day I was left on their doorstep. And I wasn’t that upset over it being the two of us, more so that I had every gnawing doubt confirmed that she held no maternal instinct when it concerned me. Not even deep in the crevices of her psyche. Not even in her DNA, like they said most mothers did.

I was holding out hope she would take me in as her young.

In truth, she would’ve eaten me alive.

Dad encouraged me to help George pack — a symbol of good faith, I once thought, before I walked in on Dad collapsed in a puddle of his own tears and I realized that he himself couldn’t stomach seeing his first born and only son off. This time I felt this immeasurable guilt. Somehow, I’d convinced myself that this was all my doing. If I hadn’t been born or if my birth mother had wanted me, none of this would be happening. I had destroyed a family. The one thing my father ever wanted, I singlehandedly dismantled with my hands still too small to fit a human heart in them. How was I meant to fix him? I couldn’t even take his burdens for him, if just for a moment.

We watched Mom and George climb into her sleek Porsche and cruise out of Jadeleaf Court where we had spent my entire life as a family, or else a crude resemblance to one.

The silence between Dad and I was deafening.

Life, as always, carried on. I went to school the next day without pestering George in the kitchen over breakfast. We were territorial about our shared love of Cap’n Crunch Berries. Now the family size box was all mine. It felt odd, sitting alone at the kitchen isle and scooping up the greasy cereal and shoveling it into my mouth without worrying about my older brother creeping up behind me so he could dump the bowl onto my uniform. Dad and I didn’t know what to talk about during the car ride to school. Normally there were interjecting voices complaining at each other that made us laugh to ourselves, because how couldn’t they see how wonderful the world was outside of their material worries? And when I came home at the end of the day, the house was silent. The peace was disturbing.

Kids at school weren’t shy to gossip. Some of them who lived in my neighborhood had witnessed Mom’s car leave and never come back, others heard whispers from their parents who worked with her at the dinner table and soon enough it was public knowledge that we were on our own. I tried not feeling ashamed; I tried embracing it, that we were taking on the world ourselves, but it was difficult when an invisible weight was placed on my shoulders every time I passed a group of people in the hallway and they’d side-eye me like I was some circus freak for not having a mother anymore.

One day, after I’d stepped off the bus (Dad went back to work full-time about a month after they left, so no more pick-ups), I was dragging myself home through the thick heat of the desert and drowning out my surroundings with music when I noticed a car pull up beside me. It was slim and black and there was a Chevrolet emblem reflecting the sunlight off the hood. I was never that interested in cars, but I did recognize this one. It was Mr. Echols’. He taught pre-calc, a class I had undertaken that year ahead of all my peers. I always thought he was handsome; he had short-cut black hair that began sprouting a few shakes of salt on the sides, these piercing blue eyes, and a cocksure demeanor that catered well to an audience of hormonal girls on the edge of seventeen. I also liked the way he would untuck his shirt at the end of lessons on long days and I could catch a glimpse of his lower stomach and happy trail. The boys said it was intentional. I thought they were all stupid.

“Lyonet?” Mr. Echols spoke up as he rolled down his window. I tucked some flyways behind my ear, wondering if he meant me and not some other Lyonet that happened to be walking down the same street as me. But he kept looking at me with his dreamy eyes and I almost sunk into the scathing concrete. Almost. I managed to swallow my quickly forming doubts about my appearance and nodded at him.

“That’s me,” I replied, my whole disposition a bit maladroit.

“What are you doing walking in this heat?” he asked, his mouth slanted as he flashed me a grin and jerked his head toward the empty passenger seat. “Get in, I can drive you home.”

I didn’t have the stomach to tell him that most doctors would conclude I was still too small to be allowed in the passenger seat, obediently rounding the front of the car and climbing inside. I fumbled around for the seatbelt before I could hear Mr. Echols chuckle and reach over, pulling the leather strap over me and buckling me in. I glanced up at him, my hazel eyes, the only thing I inherited from Dad, it seemed sometimes, crossing gazes with his own that I thought had more backlight whereas every time I saw myself in the mirror it looked like my soul had been carved out and I was some uncanny valley replicant of who once was Lyonet Mercer.

“What’s your address?” he then inquired. I gave him the answer in a too quiet voice. “What was that?”

“9236 Jadeleaf Court,” I repeated, a little louder this time.

Mr. Echols nodded and pulled away from the curb. I glanced through the rearview mirror and watched the stop sign I was at shrinking in the distance, the words warping from behind the heat waves.

It didn’t occur to me until he began talking that I still had music playing faintly in my ears. I quickly yanked my earbuds out and crumpled the wires up in my hands and he chuckled in a way that made me feel warm and my guts twist inside out.

“You couldn’t tear me away from my Walk-Man when I was a kid,” he said, giving a fond sigh as he cruised along the streets of Cherry Creek. “I’d rather have died than sit on the bus without any music. Of course, well, I listened to old shit. The Police, Van Halen, R.E.M, etc.”

I smiled at him. I liked hearing people talk about music — it was one of the few things Dad and I had left that wasn’t tainted by Mom and George’s leaving. “I love those,” I told him. He seemed caught off guard.

“Wasn’t aware kids knew them,” Mr. Echols said. He sounded earnest about it rather than condescending, which I appreciated. “Everyone in my classes is listening to Kanye and Jay Z and, uh, Nicki Mirage?”

“Minaj,” I corrected with a laugh that left my lips before I could stifle it. “I — I like them, too. But my Dad only listened to old rock when I was little. Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd and Sonic Youth and Def Leppard… Some Blondie, too. We would dance around the kitchen to More Than A Woman.”

Mr. Echols sported that charming grin again that made me sink further into my seat. “Wow, a man of taste. Or maybe just an old man like me,”

“I don’t think you’re that old,” I decided to return. Who knew I could be so playful? Nowadays I felt too drained to give anyone the time of day, let alone the sprite I used to possess.

He laughed, then leaned in closer and my eyes widened before he grabbed onto the glove box and opened it. A binder of CDs was revealed and his eyebrows perked up at me encouragingly. I reached my hands forward and slid it out of the compartment, immediately starting to browse his collection. I must’ve been smiling hard because he stuck his hand out to poke at my cheek.

“How’s that for old? Pop one in, we’ll drive a few circles around the neighborhood.”

In the end, we wound up doing three loops around the subdivision while jamming out to Ghost in the Machine. I would headbang and he would laugh and then join in when we came to a full stop. During the songs I did recognize, we would turn them into duets, and it wasn’t until the sun was cresting the horizon that he finally pulled up in front of my house and ejected the CD from the mouth of the player.

I grabbed my backpack up off the floor after unbuckling myself, not needing any help this time, and smiled brightly at Mr. Echols. I couldn’t remember the last time I had so much fun or felt so carefree. Not even my friends could coax laughter out of me most days where as once my voice was my most prized instrument.

“... Thanks, Mr. Echols,” I said at last.

“Rory,” he corrected me. I could feel my heart flutter. We had graduated to a first name basis already? I felt compelled to return the gesture.

“Lyo,” I returned and stuck my hand out cheekily. He rolled his eyes as if we’d been friends for decades and needed no introduction, but he eventually caved and accepted it, shaking my hand gently.

As I pulled my hand away and began to push myself out of the passenger seat, he grasped my shoulder in an attempt to stall me. It worked. Of course it worked. I looked back at him and cocked my head sideways curiously.

He pressed his lips into a thin line before bringing his cell phone out his pocket. “Put your number in,” he said. “For emergencies. I know it’s just you and your Dad now. I wouldn’t want you to feel alone if anything happened to him.”

I blinked in surprise. I wasn’t sure it was allowed, but then again, I couldn’t find it in me to care. I accepted his phone and typed in my number and saved it under the initial L. I didn’t add any emojis. That seemed too risky, at least in my opinion. So did giving him a name that was easily identifiable. I didn’t want him getting in any trouble over a good deed.

I finally left the car and trotted up to the front door, a grin forming on my lips.

From then on out, I was beginning to feel like myself again. Maybe even a little better. I woke up early in the mornings like I used to and made breakfast for Dad and I — even if it was just bowls of cereal — and I would take my time in the shower so I could condition my hair twice to make it look extra shiny and smooth for when I got to school, plus I started paying for my uniforms to be dry cleaned like Mom used to have them done before and I convinced Dad to take me out driving. I wanted to learn as to not have that dependence on the bus anymore, since the kids were still ruthless and took pleasure in tugging on the braids that took me the better half of each morning perfecting and snatching my phone out of my hands to see what I was using as a means of ignoring them all. For private school snobs, they acted like fucking animals.

I was looking forward to the holidays. The entire summer and half of autumn had been the worst time of my life and I knew that with my invigorated spirit Dad and I could make something worthwhile out of what we were given. I didn’t even care if George planned on making time to fly out for Thanksgiving or Hanukkah; I had it covered from here on out. I was ahead of the curve. Acing all my tests, avoiding half the curbs upon rounding street corners, and keeping up with my appearance more than I ever had before.

I was nearly full grown.

PART II. FLESH

The first day of Hanukkah I had received a text message from Rory. We were communicating daily at that point, even on the weekends. He would ask me about school and my homework at first, then it unraveled into him divulging all the gory details about the affairs rampant in the teacher’s lounge, and eventually I would clue him in on the day to day student theatrics that took place in my other classes.

R: Think you can meet me at the end of the street?

I glanced away from my Korean coursework (Dad insisted that I take extra classes after Mom and George left) when I noticed my phone light up and I could feel a smile being woven on my lips.

L: be there in a sec

I rifled through my drawers for some after school clothes and settled on a shorter cut sundress and one of Dad’s hand-me-down cable knits, pulling my hair up into two messy space buns that sat square on the back of my head before tugging on my sneakers and rushing out of my bedroom, practically tumbling downstairs. When Dad called out asking what the fuss was about, I dismissed it with a simple Diggy’s outside. Diggy, or Diego, was a kid I’d befriended in the fifth grade and the only thing that kept us in the same circle was our shared adoration for Dungeons & Dragons. He was a cleric. I was a fighter. We worked well together, I thought. We always had each other’s back.

And it’s not like I didn’t want Dad to know about Rory — okay, maybe I didn’t, because I had enough wits to understand that we’d struck up an unusual sort of relationship but I didn’t know if I had the vocabulary available to explain to Dad that it wasn’t like what met the eye. I was an old soul after all, like he’d said from the time I was a toddler, and that meant mine and Rory’s were the same.

I wrote somewhere it was like we were forged from the same star. The more we got to know each other the brighter we burned together.

I spotted his car from my driveway and sped walk down the street. I kept readjusting my sundress and sweater, hoping one wouldn’t detract from the other as I approached the passenger side and ducked into the seat. Rory was watching me the entire time with a grin I could only describe as fond. It made my heart flutter, admittedly.

“That’s cute,” Rory said at first. My eyebrows leaned inward and he gave a chuckle. “What you’re wearing. You know you don’t have to dress up for me.”

Instinctively my face flushed and I touched my cheek which felt like it was burning. “I was just changing. School makes me sweat.” I blurted, then flinched at my wording. He was amused by it, at least. I kept cursing myself in my head until he reached out and brushed his fingertips across the back of my neck.

“I meant it as a compliment,” he reassured. “I like your hair this way. Let me guess, you appreciate old cinema as well as music?”

“... Is Star Wars that old?” I asked in return with a crooked smile. It took every ounce of confidence for me to summon anything more than awkward, disjointed laughter that I felt bubbling up in my chest.

“Guess not. It’s not technically cinema either.” he joked as he leaned back casually against his seat, his arm still slung over the head rest of my seat.

I glanced around for a moment, then cleared my throat. “So, um… What’s up?” I asked eventually. The tension between us was palpable. I nearly choked on it.

“Oh, that’s right,” Rory said, reaching behind me and pulling out a sloppily wrapped gift box from the backseat. My eyes widened, caught off guard by the sudden gesture. We were giving each other presents now? But it wasn’t even Christmas yet, so maybe I had time— “Happy Hanukkah, Lyo.”

I lit up. He had gotten me something for a holiday he didn’t even celebrate? I beamed down at the present before he coughed into his fist, prompting me to begin opening it. When I tore away the crinkled wrapping paper and slid off the lid, I was taken aback by the sight of his binder of CDs decorated with a bright red bow.

“Holy shit,” I breathed out as I reached to take it out of the box. “Is this—?”

“My personal collection,” Rory confirmed with a chuckle.

I started shaking my head. Manners dictated I did so. “I can’t have this,” I insisted first while still taking a peek at all of the CDs kept in their individual sleeves.

“Of course you can. It’s already yours. Plus, it’ll get much more use out of you these days than it will me,” he said, extending a hand to place upon mine. I could feel every nerve in my body being struck by pulses of adrenaline.

“... Thank you,” I said quietly. I didn’t think it through when I looked up at Rory and saw his blue-blue eyes and stupidly alluring grin and leaned in so I could leave a soft kiss on his pinkened cheek. I froze in place, knowing I must have crossed some invisible boundary that had been set up from the moment we became friends off campus, but while he didn’t respond at first eventually he placed a hand under my chin and tilted my head so our lips could meet.

It was gentle and tentative and everything I could’ve ever asked for out of a first kiss. All the other boys that showed interest in me before were too eager, too obnoxious and not to mention too grimy. Rory was none of those things — he was their diametric opposite, really. He was calm, he paced himself in everything he did, he was mellow and he had this intoxicating scent of cologne that he must’ve knew would drive all the girls in his class insane. It certainly had that effect on me.

He pulled away before I did. Personally, I could’ve kept kissing him until I lost my breath, but then I reminded myself we were still in plain sight and anyone passing by could’ve seen us and been thrown off. The last thing I wanted was some middle-aged mother witnessing us together and crying wolf over a situation I felt I had total control over, so I sunk back into my seat with the binder still in my lap.

“I should go,” Rory said at last. I eyed him for a long time, still feeling the compulsion to bring him into another kiss. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t felt so aware of my surroundings until that very moment. Life had felt like I was wading through a pool of old memories and remnants of what could’ve been ever since Dad and I were left on our own.

“I — I liked it,” I said suddenly. He glanced over at me, seeming more wary than before, and it made me feel guilty. I had instigated it. I might’ve just ruined it, too. “And I like you. A lot. I know it’s strange because of our ages but — but no one’s really cared to try and, y’know, talk to me and even care about my life, like, ever. Ever ever. But I don’t wanna ruin this, either, so if I should stop just tell me—”

“Lyo,” he let out.

“No, really, it’s fine, I’ll go,” I decided as I held the box close to me and went to open the door. Before I could step out, Rory took a hold of my upper arm and kept me seated. I looked back at him. He seemed conflicted; not sure whether letting me go or having me stay would be the right choice. I knew it must’ve been difficult and I wished that burden hadn’t been plaguing whatever relationship we had.

His eyes met mine. Time stilled. “North Shore Inn,” he said. “it’s in Overton. Meet me there on Saturday. Ten o’clock.”

I’d never been to Overton nor heard of the North Shore Inn, but I wasn’t going to reject his offer. It might’ve been the last night of Hanukkah, however I knew that Dad would likely be asleep by then and I could sneak out with relative ease, and I was right. I didn’t know how I was supposed to dress — casual or showy? I lacked any of the tool to put on a face of makeup; Mom had given me the products she wasn’t bringing with her to New York, but those had long since expired and I feared the repercussion would be a horrendous outbreak, so I decided to make up for it by wearing one of my form-fitting tees and the most expensive cargo pants I owned. I covered myself up with an oversized hoodie after assembling my hair into buns and crept downstairs.

I was right. Dad was passed out in the recliner. Unlike most fathers, one glass of wine incapacitated him rather than a pack of beers, which was kind of ironic considering he was born and bred in France. He used to tell George and I he quit drinking for us. George never really believed him, mostly because Mom was hypervigilant every time he held a glass of whiskey at backyard gatherings that he would at best sip at to be polite before pouring it into the bushes. That was the Dad I remember. My Dad. I wondered often if George felt betrayed by him when I was born. Maybe that was why he refused to see him as anything but a pretentious wannabe philosopher — I just saw a man trying desperately to mend the wounds he created in his youth through the only means he knew how: not through hard logic but sensibility.

Not so many men in the world were that gentle and thoughtful. No one, I thought, except for Rory.

I biked across town, my calves straining by the time I had crossed the limit into Overton. After a while of aimlessly cruising around I spotted the glowing sign for the North Shore Inn. I could feel a pit form in my stomach which disconcerted me at first before I pushed it aside and pedaled forward. I ditched my bike near the fence and hoped no one on this side of town would feel compelled to grab it, sauntering around the premises until I stumbled across Room 44.

Holding my breath I stared at the metal numbers. Could this be real? It had to be, as I was more aware of every extremity I possessed not to mention all the organs that pulsed deep within the cavity of my chest. Finally, I raised my fist and left three quick raps on the door. A part of me didn’t expect anyone to answer. Maybe he’d changed his mind. Maybe he thought it was too risky, that I wasn’t worth losing everything for. I would’ve understood. It wouldn’t be the first time someone left me behind.

Then, the door came open, and I saw his smile and the whole world began spinning faster on its axis.

He told me I looked comfortable. I felt a blush encroach upon my cheeks so I reached down and tugged my hoodie over my head, revealing the tunic I had on underneath. His expression softened as he examined me; I felt like I was being picked apart surgically, all methodical and calculated. I was still a skinny thing. I found it difficult to eat the past few months, even more so than before. Hanukkah was supposed to have helped, but I felt too nauseous half the time thinking about Rory and the time we’d spent together. It was a good sick, I think. A lovesick.

After scrutinizing me for a while, he invited me to sit beside him on the edge of the motel bed. It was stiff and the duvet was noticeably cheap but I didn’t mind. All I could focus on was him. He reached out and placed his palm against my burning cheek. I swallowed hard. I didn’t know what to do, how to perform best for him — he’d surely had plenty of women, how was I meant to compete?

You can relax, he said, all breathy and full of tension. I obeyed as best I could. I let my shoulders go slack and I could feel my breathing slow, though it was more of an intentional thought than a natural response. Our eyes met for just an instant before his gaze drifted to where my lips were. I’d smothered them in lipgloss as I was heading out the door, so they shimmered and would taste like strawberries. Instead of engulfing me in a heated kiss, he moved his thumb over my mouth to smear away the lipgloss and then pressed his lips against mine.

My eyebrows furrowed but I didn’t protest. How could I? I figured I’d wanted this for longer than even I had realized in that one paralyzing moment. And I was paralyzed. For some reason it felt like I was no longer in control of the situation as he lowered me onto the lumpy pillows and groped parts of me that hadn’t yet been explored by anyone and left dry kisses on my face and neck. I squirmed around at some point, which must’ve upset him somehow as he grasped my wrists and pinned them above my head. My breathing quickened. I felt my heart rebel against me as it rattled in my chest. He must’ve felt it somehow, because he kept saying Relax, relax, relax, but I couldn’t.

I don’t know what happened. I thought I was ready for this. I felt ready until the moment I dreamt of had come to fruition and I could feel his hands all over me and his lips reaching places I had only ever touched in the dark. When I lowered my arms so I could place them on his shoulders in an attempt to ground myself it only seemed to irritate him as he held tightly onto my wrists and pinned them back above my head.

I tried to like it. I wanted to so badly. More than anything I wanted to find the beauty and pleasure in the act. The raw passion and the aching desire. But I just… Laid there. Almost entirely motionless, I stared up vacantly at the ceiling and counted each thrust he made, tears stinging my eyes as I hadn’t anticipated the intense panging below my stomach to radiate throughout my lower half. The room was eerily quiet apart from his grunts and curses he’d say under his breath.

Then, at some point, he lifted himself up from where he’d splayed atop me and he reached for the nightstand. I wondered if he was searching for a condom — everything felt so bare when he shoved himself into me. Instead of any protection he held up what looked to be a vintage Polaroid camera. His fingers unfurled and he pressed his palm against my cheek and whispered some words of encouragement before pressing down on the button. A flash blinded me. I grimaced and turned away. He forced me to look back up at him as he set the camera aside again.

When he finished all that I had left to immortalize it was a deep hollow made in my gut and a soreness between my legs. My vision was still bleary from the blinding flash of the camera. When I could focus on my surroundings again, he had lifted himself off of the bed and began pulling on his shirt and pants. Before I was able to reconcile with the disorienting shift in my emotions he’d asked me if I needed a ride home.

I shook my head. I may have felt weak and unraveled, but I didn’t want to leave my bike behind, nor did I really want to share any space with him alone again.

I biked all the way across Summerlin so I could get home. When I opened the door and snuck in through the kitchen, the time on the stove read 3:03 A.M. Somehow, it’d felt like longer. Exhausted but restless, I trudged upstairs and kicked off my shoes and entered my bathroom. I didn’t switch on the lights as I started the shower. I undressed in the dark. I didn’t want to face myself or see any of the damage inflicted upon me.

I stepped underneath the hot water and let it consume me.

PART III. PULP

I had deleted Rory’s number from my phone. He didn’t seem bothered, as I received no virtual or verbal complaint whenever I’d turn in my assignments at the end of class. Nor did he ever call on me, staunchly ignoring my very existence if it didn’t have to do with grading my work. I was still the best performer in his class. At the end of the semester he awarded me with a certificate, like the kind you’d receive in elementary school for participation or attendance, and told me to have a good summer. I felt the primal urge to beat him until his blood coated my fists and his face was unrecognizable. A puddle of bone and cartilage.

Not everything was so grim. Over Christmas, which I wasn’t certain we’d celebrate as we were missing Mom who was the only Christian (non-practicing, but still) in our household, Dad had surprised me by placing a large box in front of me after I’d opened the rest of my gifts. When I undid the ribbon and looked inside, a wide-eyed, bushy tailed sheepdog pup looked up at me like I’d hung the moon. I started crying. I didn’t stop. Dad came to console me, holding me against his chest as the puppy tumbled out of the box and joined us.

We named him Homer, because he looked wise and all-knowing underneath all his grey and white tufts and also because he ate the donuts that Dad had ordered the day before for Christmas breakfast.

On New Year’s, my Dungeons & Dragons party group chat lit up my phone with notifications about a small get together at Kira’s. She was our monk and also the first girl I had a devestatingly pathetic crush on when we met in the eighth grade. I told Dad I didn’t feel like going because I didn’t want to leave him alone, but he insisted I go since I’d spent the last few weeks locked up in our house.

“See you next year, kiddo,” he said as he pressed a kiss atop my head.

Despite wanting to have a good time, I mostly felt spaced out — just like I had since Hanukkah. I felt like a spectator more than a participant in the festivities my friends had arranged for us; there was a wide variety of food available that I felt no inclination to eat, music blaring from the surround sound system Kira’s parents installed in the basement where we dwelled for our weekly campaigns, and warm conversation about their collective years. I just sipped on the cocktail Kira gave me and sat on the couch, occasionally pitching in when it’d been a while since I spoke.

Eventually, Diego came to sit beside me. I offered him a halfhearted smile and nudged him.

“Everything okay, Lyo?” Diego asked in a way that I know he wanted to sound innocent but was made painstakingly clear he was genuinely concerned. “You’re kinda quiet tonight.”

“... Long day, you know?” I chose to excuse.

“Really? On New Year’s Eve?” he denied with a shake of his head. “You can be honest with me. I’m not gonna go telling everyone like Kira or Bo.”

I swallowed, unsure whether I should be honest or save him the trouble of having to try and mend the permanent wounds that were etched into my very being. “This year just sucked,” I said. “I wanna forget all about it.”

Diego’s lips pressed together into a thin line and he began nodding along. “Well. I get that,” he finally surrendered. “But you know we’ll always be here. Right? We’re a party.”

I forced a brighter smile. “Yeah,” I said quietly and clinked my cup against his.

When walking home after the clock struck midnight, not wanting Dad to wake up alone on New Year’s Day, I thought a lot about the past year of my life. I had lost everything; my family, my pride, my dignity, any hope of a semi-normal life going forward. I was stripped of my humanity and made to be a plaything. A porcelain doll with cracks where my red hot veins once resided under what used to be my living flesh. Maybe even worse — a ghost, whose words spoken could only be deciphered through the methodical sliding of a planchette across a board and whose presence had diminished from a bright spark to a softly flickering candle flame. I didn’t know who I had become. I certainly didn’t recognize who looked back at me in the mirror. My face was sunken in and devoid of color. I’d lose more weight, so all of my clothes hung off me like I was a stiff mannequin. I might as well have been. I had shown no real signs of life since that night at the motel.

Homer greeted me at the door. He was waiting for me. He was always waiting for someone. I suppose we all were; me, my Dad and this dog.

I turned sixteen that February. I was gifted more presents than I anticipated from my friends; a new set of die from Bo, a silver ring in the shape of a star from Kira, and a copy of the Atlas Obscura from Diego with a note that read: FOR WHEN YOU WANT YOUR OWN ADVENTURE.

Mom sent George with a card and a box of chocolates I hadn’t eaten or liked in years. I felt somewhat lucky that my brother was there, even if we didn’t always get along. It was nice knowing they hadn’t forgotten all about me. He picked up my birthday cake (strawberries and cream) and held up a disposable camera to take a snapshot of me blowing out the candles. I tried not to flinch when the flash went off.

George had gotten me a picture frame of our first day attending The Meadows. I was five and he was eleven, and despite the fact I knew he must have held some contempt for me even then he had an arm slung around my shoulders and he held me close to his side. We wore matching white polos and khakis, though we couldn’t have looked more different otherwise. Still, in the certain light we were captured in, I could see our eyes lit up the same kind of greenish-brown.

Then, he handed me a photo of an ultra sound. I glanced up at him in confusion. He was smiling. I hardly ever saw him smile.

“Rosie’s pregnant,” he announced. He sounded more happy than he ever had before, however I could still pick out the tremor in his voice. He must’ve been nervous as hell. “She’s due in September.”

Dad was overjoyed. So was I. I hadn’t expected Dad’s reaction to be so… Intense, though. He couldn’t stop crying. He hugged George so tight that he nearly turned purple. It was in that moment I knew that something was wrong. While Dad was naturally a very emotional being, there was a hint of sorrow in his expression when he pulled away and stroked his only son’s cheek, tear stains evident underneath his tired eyes.

In bed that night I couldn’t find sleep. I tossed and turned underneath my blankets as I thought about Dad and George and even Mom. What had become of us all this past year? Mom was living in New York, the life she had always wanted yet couldn’t quite achieve entirely because there would always be a tether through George to Dad, and at the end of that tether was me, someone she couldn’t escape no matter how far she fled. Then there was George, a budding med student whose future had shifted drastically in an instant, all thanks to a bright pink line. And finally there was Dad, who was himself but not at the same time. Almost like an exaggerated iteration of himself; someone putting on a performance. It was unsettling, if I’m being honest. I wanted him to be happy because it had been so long since I’d seen a genuine spark in his eyes — but I’m not sure I wanted it to happen like this.

I scooted out of bed eventually and trodded halfway down the stairs before I heard muffled conversation. My eyebrows knitted together as I sunk onto the steps, resting my head against the railing as echoing voices chorused throughout the first floor. I could hear distress emitted from George’s lips, and a solemn silence was held for a couple beats before a sob broke out. I could hear it then: I’m sorry, I’m sorry, my baby boy, I’m so sorry.

I knew it. I knew something was wrong. What had Dad done?

I crept back up to my room. It felt intrusive to try and insert myself into their conversation and I didn’t want anyone pissed off at me. So I forced my eyes closed and willed for sleep to come, even if I had an endless cacophony of thoughts ringing in my head.

Morning light filtered in through my blinds, bleaching my walls and carpet a soft yellow. I grimaced as the sunbeams struck my eyes and I rubbed the last of sleep out of my vision before pushing myself up onto my elbows. The house was quiet. I wondered if I was the first awake, if my body didn’t let me sleep for as long as I wished it would’ve, but then I heard rummaging and I figured it was the sound of Dad helping George gather his things so he could depart to the airport.

I pulled a cardigan I’d tossed over my desk chair over my head and went to assess whatever damage had been wrought the night before. I braced myself for what was coming. My breath was stifled in my throat as I walked downstairs and glanced around for any sight of Dad or George. Eventually, I wandered into the living room and saw them both sat on the couch. Cups of steaming coffee were left untouched on the center table.

“... Morning,” I spoke up.

“Lyo,” Dad assumed a smile as soon as he noticed me. It wasn’t his natural smile, though. There was a shadow of melancholy encompassing his expression.

George glanced up at me. He looked thinned out. Defeated. More so than he usually did when he’d come home with pages upon pages of notes to study for school. Light didn’t reach his eyes and it made me feel sick.

“What’s wrong?” I immediately asked. I didn’t want to engage in small talk — if something bad had happened, I deserved to know without anything impeding it.

Dad visibly swallowed and motioned for me to sit in the empty spot beside him. I eyed him and George warily as I walked ahead, advancing until I was seated between the two of them. As soon as I sat I could hear my brother inhale shakily.

I can’t remember exactly what happened next. All I can recall is hearing Dad say I’m sick, and then take a breath before elaborating while my world spun out of orbit. Something about cancer. Renal cell, I later discovered. Eight months to live with treatment, give or take. As a result, I couldn’t stay in Summerlin. He couldn’t take care of me anymore. So George would. He and Rosalie, in their new rental in Avalon — I guess that’s where they’d been that whole time. I never cared enough to ask.

I rejected the idea at first, of course. I wasn’t going to let my dad rot while I pretended I could live a normal life across the country. How could I? He had done everything for me. Maybe it was my turn to do the same for him. No, it was definitely my turn. I didn’t care how much I’d endured since Mom and George left. They left. And it was up to me to pick up the pieces of the life we had that they shattered with little remorse.

But then Dad was guiding me upstairs as I fought back and cried. George kept asking me the same questions about what I wanted to take with me and what I could stand to live without until Dad could pack it up properly and send it to New York. I didn’t answer; so he opened up my dresser drawers and tossed whatever he could into my suitcase. I hadn’t used it in years. It still had Hello Kitty stickers plastered on the shell.

I was forced out the front door still in my pajamas when the taxi pulled up to our driveway. I kept reaching out for Dad, expecting him to reach back, but he just watched from a distance as George forcibly placed me in the backseat and tossed my suitcase into the trunk. As the house I had grown up in shrunk in the distance, so did the image of my father, distorted by the waves of heat that encompassed the atmosphere.

I felt worse than I ever had. Worse than when I found out my own blood came from a stranger, or when my flesh was desecrated. I felt like I’d been ground to a pulp.

EPILOGUE

After enduring a hellish four months in Avalon, trying and failing miserably to integrate into the teenage social scene at my new public school, I received a phone call from my Uncle Remy. He was Dad’s older brother who had moved from Chicago to Summerlin so he could watch after him as he got sicker. And he did. He could hardly manage a conversation when I called. Normally the line went quiet and I assumed his drug cocktail had caught up to him and made him drowsy, so I always hung up first. At some point George told me it’d be easier if I gave him space — I almost rung his neck for even suggesting that. Rosalie was the mitigator in our household. I’m sure I would’ve been cast out onto the streets if it weren’t for her.

Uncle Remy said that Dad was deteriorating by the day and that we should all take time out of our schedules to visit. I gulped down the fear and the anger I felt forming in the base of my throat that made me want to cry out and I carried on the message to Mom and George. Of course, Mom made some excuse that Dad wouldn’t like to see her anyway. I tried my best to talk reason with her. He still loves you, I said. He loved the idea of me, Lyonet. He needs his real family. Not someone who pretended to be a part of it. she replied.

She thought she was being the bigger person. I knew she was a coward.

George made up an excuse as well. His daughter, my niece Maia, had been born a few weeks prior and med school was royally kicking his ass. He would try and catch one of the last flights out at the end of the year. Make a holiday of it for himself, the baby and Rosalie. He was being willfully ignorant. He knew that Dad wouldn’t survive until the winter.

I boarded the plane by myself. I watched as we cut through the cloud cover and ascended high enough to where you could pick out faint speckles that were meant to be stars. If I were raised any differently, I’d had held out hope that if we lifted ourselves high enough we would somehow reach heaven — but I didn’t. No one in the faith I once shared with Dad postulated about fancy castles erected in gold and white or some eternal gathering of loved ones around a dinner table full of food and wine. It was about a oneness with God. I felt no such thing on earth, so I didn’t count on it for the afterlife, either.

Uncle Remy picked me up from the airport. We didn’t talk much because in reality we didn’t know each other very well. I could only pick out faint, bleary memories spent at a cabin in Illinois that my mémé and grand-père had bought when they first immigrated to the States, where he would toss me over his shoulder and sprint down the boardwalk before launching me into the stifling cold lake.

He didn’t seem as lively now. Then again, I doubt I did either.

My house didn’t feel like my house when we arrived. I stepped in through the front door for the first time and months and everything felt changed. I was brought up to my old bedroom first since Uncle Remy said Dad was still asleep. When I entered I could feel my stomach bottom out. Old posters still hung crookedly on the pink painted walls and my shaggy rug I got for my eleventh birthday was splayed out underneath an empty desk and chair. There was even a small family of stuffed animals that resided on newly installed shelves.

I sat on the edge of my old bed and put my head in my hands. How was this happening? What had become of my life? I lost everything and I was only sixteen.

Half an hour later Uncle Remy knocked on my door and told me that he’d woken up. It was like I was moving through a pool with how slow each movement I made was, wading endlessly through a vast body of water that could’ve sunk me at any given moment. I eventually made it across the hall to where the master bedroom was. I could hear the soft humming of medical equipment and canned laughter emanating from the TV. When I opened the door, I saw Dad in bed, but it didn’t look like him, not really.

He was deathly pale. There was no more glow in his skin and no light reached his eyes. The beard he had prided himself on growing out for the first time in his life had been shaven, so his face was clean but it didn’t make him look any more like himself. His chest lifted and fell in uneven pants as he tried to catch his breath. It felt wrong looking at him. There was no dignity in this kind of death.

“Lyo?” Dad rasped out. A weak smile twitched in the corner of his mouth and tears began accumulating on my waterline as I saw him. “C’mere, my wild girl.”

I walked across the room obediently and went to sit at his side. “... Hi,” I said, the word strained.

“Good to see you,” he replied — I could tell it took half his energy just to conjure up a sentence when at one point in time you could never get him to stop talking.

“You too,” I returned. I forced a smile. I had no other choice, even if it was evident I was on the brink of falling apart.

Dad lifted his hand up and wiped away the stray tears that escaped. “So grown up,” he noted. There was a sense of awe in his words, like he hadn’t watched me grow from the time I was left on his doorstep. “Just like your mother, I think.”

“... Yeah?” I said as my eyebrows pinched together. I didn’t know what to think of that assessment, as I never knew her. I hadn’t even seen a picture of her. I wasn’t sure Dad had one, anyway. She was an elusive creature from what I had heard.

“Always have been,” he hummed. “I… I wanted to tell you about her. Before. But… I didn’t know how.”

I shook my head at this. “You don’t have to say anything,” I assured him. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” he insisted, pressing his lips into a frown. “You deserved answers. You deserved more.”

“So did you,” I returned as I leaned my cheek into his open palm. A saddened smile pulled on the corner of my mouth while we gazed at each other, drinking one another in for what I knew in my blood and in my bones would be the last time.

Dad stroked my cheek gently. Always gentle, always kind. Always an angel, never a God. “I got everything I wanted.” he said, and he sounded very decided on that matter, so I didn’t argue.

We sat in silence for a while. I couldn’t resist reflecting on my life in Summerlin that was coming to a close. With Dad gone, I would have no reason to be there anymore. All of my friends were planning on spreading out across the country to attend different schools and soon enough we’d fall out of contact and never see each other again. No other family lived there. What I had left would be returned to ashes and dust.

As Dad began waning in and out of consciousness, he mustered up the strength to ask me one last thing. “Sing,” he said, losing his breath after.

I swallowed and nodded, looking down at our touching hands as I beckoned the words out of my throat.

She wore faded jeans and soft black leather She had eyes so blue they looked like weather When she needed me I wasn't around That's the way it goes, it'll all work out There were times apart and times together I was pledged to her for worse or better When it mattered most I let her down That's the way it goes, it'll all work out It'll all work out eventually Better off with Him than here with me Now the wind is high and the rain is heavy The water's rising in the levee Still I think of her when the sun goes down Never goes away, but it all works out.

He died two days after I left.

Rosalie told me to go to homecoming after the funeral, which was a horrid affair I’d rather not detail. I wanted to scream at her: I don’t want to dance and make friends. I want to be in the ground. I want to be dead. But I knew she’d just tell my psychiatrist what I said, and I was convinced in my rampant paranoia he was out to get me, so I stayed quiet and let her dress me up in her old sheer red dress she never got to wear to prom and decorate me in a thin layer of makeup so I wasn’t too overwhelmed.

The dance sucked. I never attended homecoming or any other school sanctioned events at The Meadows, always forfeiting them in place of a Dungeons & Dragons session at Kira’s. Somehow I got caught up in a crowd that shuttled me to an afterparty. I knew I didn’t have much of a choice in going; Rosalie would be worried if I came home too soon.

So I drank the bad Kool-Aid cocktail made in a punch bowl and swayed my hips to the music that blared overhead. It wasn’t until a taller, broad-shouldered male approached me that I felt dwarfed for the first time since — well, since Rory, who had never even attempted to contact me after the whole town found out about Dad’s cancer and subsequent passing.

He spoke at me with alcohol laced breath and I endured it because I didn’t know any better. Even though I felt a deep urge to knee him in the dick and escape, I let him say whatever he wanted and think I was impressed, which apparently was an easy feat, as soon enough his hands were on my hips and we were dancing together and I was a bit too tipsy to care what happened next.

I half-expected for him to escort me upstairs or even shove me in a bathroom and take me there, but just as he began hitching up my dress I could feel it. The pills I’d taken from the clique of stoners I befriended at the dance had caught up to me and were beginning to trigger the first seizure I’d had in years. I slid out from underneath the stranger’s grip and he started loudly complaining, but I was lucky enough that he didn’t feel the need to trail after me.

I stumbled through the crowds and then the kitchen, the harsh overhead lights momentarily blinding me before I located a closet and tripped inside, praying for some sort of relief. It didn’t last for long, because someone began knocking on the door as soon as it was closed.

“You alive?” the person asked.

“Yes!” I returned, wanting them gone just so I could wither away in peace. “Just — fuck off!”

The door opened then and as I looked up at the person I could feel the size of my heart increase by tenfold. My whole body was lit aflame. I had never felt anything like it.

I could remember striking up a small conversation with him before I lost consciousness, but my final thought had been how, for the first time since Dad and I were left on our own, I could hear a symphony.

there's a world outside my doorstep flames over everyone's heart don't you see them shining? i want to hear them beating for me i think i hear them waves crashing me by.

#lyonet — character study.#self-para #10.2k words

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cut-small-but-deep · 2 years ago

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AC Unity: Voilette Eloise Robideau

She's the reason why I've started this Assassin's Creed OC thing. And this was one of the first games I started playing, which is how I got obsessed with Assassin's Creed in the first place.

( the picture on the right is a French halberd)

Voilette Robideau was born on the third of Avril, 1768, to Charles Robideau and Babette Robideau (neé Brier). The family lived in Saint-Denis, close to Paris, and is the city where monarchs are buried. Courtney Miracle is her ancestor on the patriarch side.

Her father thought that they wouldn't survive, due to how much pain her mother was in, and according to the local doctor, Voilette was stillborn. Though, fortunately, both her and her mother survived, thanks to her father.

Growing up, due to her father still attending university, and the family being farmers, they starved for couples of days a week due to not being able to fend for themselves. All of the farming they did would soon go to the French soldiers who came back from the American Revolution. Though, when she was 12 years old, fortune came to them once he graduated, as he got a job in the inner government in Versailles.

Babette died giving birth to Voilette's brother, when Voilette was just 4 years old. Charles, then, would name him Lucas. For those 6 years until she was 13, she would mainly take care of Lucas, making sure he would be fed every day even as he grew up. When Lucas was old enough to help around the farm, their father would be gone for months at his new job, until one day, he came home with an aristocratic woman, Justine, who would soon be their step-mother.

Justine would do anything to get to the highest court, to Marie Antoinette herself. She would be sleeping with many men that had those sorts of connections, and they would vouch for her. Because of this, she would also bring home some of them to the house when she knew their father wouldn't be back for days. During the times, and when she wasn't around, Voilette would be sexually abused, doing whatever the men wanted her to do. Lucas tried to defend her honor and person, but failed as he was also abused by them, but not sexually.

When Voilette became 15 years of age, her father, during his travels, caught a horrible fever, passing in bed at home. Lucas, at just 11 years old, would now have to be taken care of by Voilette alone, as Voilette now had to listen to her step-mother.

Through some connections, Justine was secretly a contact of the French Rite of the Templar Order, knowing François de la Serre himself. So with these connections, they were able to move out of the farm in Saint-Denis, and into a nice house in Paris.

Justine didn't help out more than that, and Voilette was forced to fend for herself and Lucas, doing whatever she could to make that happen. She also became a lady of the court, making it to Paris and Versailles connections. Also during this, she became friends with Arno Dorian while Élise de la Serre, his childhood friend, and adopted sister was away.

In 1788, Lucas was already 15, getting his proper education and living somewhere with no worries, while Voilette had to keep an eye on Arno, seeing that he picked being in the slums of Paris rather than in the luxurious streets it had to offer. This was also the year that she found out Charles was a deep contact with the French Assassin Brotherhood, and was initiated into the Brotherhood months later. From this, she would be mentored by one of the other Master Assassins as Pierre Bellec was out of duty for the time being.

~~~Assassin's Creed Unity Events~~~

In May of 1789, she went to a ball with Justine to celebrate Élise before she went back to Paris. During this, she was also there to watch Mirabeau, one of the other contacts of the Brotherhood, and to also watch Élise, wanting no harm to come to her. Though, she accidentally witnessed a romantic scene between Arno and Élise and quickly went to the outsides of the palace instead.

Hiding behind some pillars, she witnessed François's death, but not who did it. Though, when Arno was framed for it, she quickly escaped back to the palace and had Mirabeau leave the place at once with her, regretting to help Arno with that scenario.

The next time she met Arno was after his ceremony, and from there, she was asked to be his swordsman and partner, even though Arno tried to persuade the Order that he's fine without her.

For a few missions, she assisted him with the Women's March Movement with Théroigne de Méricourt, but not the others after that, as she had her own problems to deal with. She would send him letters though about current events that he might be able to do, but he never wrote her back.

Some of her missions dealt with some not so popular historical figures, and even contacting her brother to see if he needed anything.

On the 4th of January, 1791, she would meet Arno again with Bellec to take down Arpinon, a Templar extortionist. With this, he was accompanied by Charles Gabriel Sivert. After the assassination, she agreed with Bellec that they shouldn't go after Sivert, but when Arno started persuading the Assassin Council that he should do this, she changed her mind, helping him out with this assassination too.

She would then meet him at the Café Théâtre, telling him that he should take ownership of the place, and that there are many other Cafés that can be used as safe houses for the Brotherhood, if he's interested. This brought their friendship closer, and she would be a close contact of his, to where he would start write her letters back, giving his opinions on her missions. Sometimes, he would come to assist her on these little missions.

For her residence, it's not as big as a Café, but it's somewhat big enough to be called a "poor home" by other people. She uses this home as her own headquarters, and to gain her own income. Here, she would also train herself smarter and harder to become a better assassin, which is where the income comes from; She's a personal trainer for other Assassins of the Brotherhood.

The next time she and Arno met was when she found him at the Cour des Miracles, and she met the historical figure, Marquis de Sade. After Arno took De Sade's advice on following his target, she had the following short conversation with De Sade:

( Dialogue Text )

"So you are the lovely Voilette Robideau. Enchanté."

The Marquis kisses her the back of her left hand, hoping it would make her blush, yet that didn't happen.

"I've heard your stories, Marquis. Don't take this the wrong way but, I don't have any intention of being one of your... troublesome little ladies. If you'll excuse me, I must assist Monsieur Dorian with his task."

When she tries to walk away, he instead pins her to a nearby wall. His breath makes her really uncomfortable and also his stance, and the way he smirks like a predator catching his prey.

"Arno surely doesn't need you now. Besides, a lady like you shouldn't be into these kinds of things."

"A lady takes pride in what she is interested in. I am interested in these sorts of things, and surely you'll agree when I say I was trained to learn what he has."

"Mmmmm you're a little teaser, aren't you?"

"Alphonse, I won't say this again. If you don't back away, my boot will be shoved straight up your derrière, and you won't like it."

"Kinky~ I like you a lot more now~"

She rolls her eyes at his flirting remark, actually doing what she said she would, keeping a hold of her necklace as she pushes him away. He groans in pleasure though as he lays down, his ass sticking up on the air in pain.

"You are the worst flirt I've ever met in my life. Désolée, but I really must go. (I am sorry)"

( End of Dialogue )

When she went to find Arno, he had already done his task of assassinating Le Roi des Thunes, and Marquis de Sade took over that role. Hesitantly, she went back with Arno to De Sade to learn about that fact and that he has a pin with a poison tip made by a silversmith named François Thomas-Germain. She took the pin from de Sade, and quickly rushed away before de Sade could do anything else, to Arno's confusion.

She went to the Council to report this to them with Arno, and placed the pin in a safe and secure place with Arno, telling him also why she ran away so fast from de Sade.

While Arno was busy finding Germain, she was busy finding a deeper contact within the Templar Order, an associate who knew her step-mother, and gave her a vital information after she threatened to stab his neck with her dagger. She went back to the Council with this info, and from them, she also gained the Phantom Blades, a mechanism for her Hidden Blades that shoots darts at her enemies.

She stayed away from Assassin missions for awhile to spy on her step-mother, to no avail, which the spying happened for a few days. The Council asked her to come back after the spying failure, which she quickly rendezvous there with Arno, who had a blindfolded Élise with him. This sparked a bit of jealousy inside her, however, but did not go a hostile movement like the other Assassins did. She tried to introduce herself to her, but was met with the Assassins who berated her for trying to make friends with the enemy. Her only reply to this was, "Keeps your friends close, but your enemies closer." To which they agreed and let her converse with Élise.

After these events, and being somewhat acquainted with Élise, she went to visit Mirabeau, one of the Assassin mentors, at his home, only to be met with Arno and Élise yet again, seeing that he has been murdered. She did not accuse Élise of the murder though, and wanted to help them with finding the real culprit.

Finding out that the culprit was one of their own people, she followed Arno to the Sainte-Chapelle, where another short conversation took place:

( Dialogue Text )

"Arno! Arno!"

"What, Voilette?"

"Please be careful up there. Who knows what might happen."

Voilette says this worriedly and affectionately.

Arno is surprised by her emotions, and while he's climbing up, he only smiles down at her and says,

"Don't worry. I'll come back alive to see Élise again. The council might not agree with all my methods, but with this, they'll understand that she's to be trusted."

He continues to climb up, and his mind only on Élise has Voilette somewhat confused and mad. She tries to be a helpful, friendly assassin and yet he only notices Élise. How Voilette wishes to have her bright, ginger hair.

( End of Dialogue )

When he comes back alive, he tells her that it was his own mentor, Bellec, that murdered Mirabeau. She doesn't try to comfort him, knowing that he'll only brush her off. Though, her faith in the Assassin's slowly wear out when they punish Arno for letting two Master Assassins die, when one of them wasn't even his damn fault.

That night, she goes into a deep argument with the other council members, trying to tell them that Arno is to be trusted, and that he doesn't need to be treated like a dog. Instead of listening to her, they also tell her that they will not be doing an alliance with Élise, and that she needs to stay out of Arno's businesses. Frustrated, she goes to the Café Théâtre to find Arno, and has a deep conversation with him about how she's currently feeling about his situation.

Though she is asked by the Council to stay away, she doesn't listen at all, and this is proof when they gave her the same task they gave to Arno.

On August 10th, 1792, there's a riot on the Palais des Tuileries led by the Sans-culottes, and she assists Arno in infiltrating in. Their mission is to grab great letters of correspondence, that are made by Mirabeau to the King of France, that will comprise the Brotherhood if these letters are placed in the wrong hands. When a young army officer interrupts their plan, both hers and Arno's blades are out and about to assassinate him, But because the officer had a gun, they retracted their blades and he let Arno go. They told him that they're not after what he's after, and it amuses him that Voilette is interested in these types of plans. She helps the two get out of the palace using the king's secret elevator, and they both notice a familiar figure that came in to the king's study room. From the officer, they learn his name is Napoléon Bonaparte, and the man they saw rushing towards them is a captain of the National Army, Frédéric Rouille. Bonaparte agreed to help the two in finding more information about Rouille for Arno in his quest to track down Germain.

On September 2nd, they find Bonaparte again and he tells them that Rouille is planning on attacking the Grand Châtelet prison. From this information, they quickly go to the prison to find that Rouille and his men are already killing prisoners and guards there. Angered, Voilette already does most of the task of killing the fellow Templars there, and lets Arno assassinate Rouille.

Arno then asks for her assistance in helping to rescue Georges Danton, a leader of the French Revolution, that very night, along with ending the Austrian spy ring that appeared in Paris.

Other missions during these periods of times of hers included helping her brother, Lucas, with assisting Bonaparte and Joachim Murat in the artillery. Bonaparte highly approved of Lucas' intelligence, and Murat considered Lucas more of one of the soldiers, which pleased Voilette. She rescued her step-mother, Justine, from being kidnapped by some hot headed revolutionaries, but Justine didn't thank her at all, and Voilette left her in the street close to her house, to Justine's disapproval.

Many stuff after this was to keep training, but also keep deep contact with Lucas through Bonaparte himself. Justine's contacts were getting assassinated by the day, thanks to Voilette and Arno, and from this, this costed her reputation. She learned from the Brotherhood that Justine was forced to leave Paris and live back in Saint-Denis, but that only made Voilette more anxious.

During the uproar of the Revolution, she had to temporarily close her training center, but became a somewhat mercenary assassin, helping out anyone in need. With Arno, she assisted him in invading the Palais-Royal, assassinating and regaining the place to the pubic and Assassin order.

On October 31st, 1792, she was present assisting Arno and Élise in finding and assassinating Marie Lévesque, who's job was to make the people starve and more enraged about the monarchy due to lack of food. While Élise left to find Marie's whereabouts, she decided to stay with Arno to find the grain shipments. She and Arno investigated the docks of the Hôtel de Ville, until they found a barge containing the shipments by Marie's men. When Arno found the schedule of where the grain is supposed to show, he showed her the paper, and from that they set off to their destination, Luxembourg Palace.

At the palace, they reunited with Élise to tell her their information. As she reveals hers, they learn that the Templars want to have the middle and lower classes turn against the King by hoarding said grain. The three then infiltrated the palace where Arno assassinated Lévesque, and she had a glance of Justine being at the palace.

After leaving the palace, she followed Arno in the escape plan made by Élise as she was chased by the Templar extremists. After he managed to make it onto the hot balloon Élise 'borrowed'. From there, she would leave them be in the night, and return to her home to end the day.

The next day, she manages to meet Arno again and he's asleep in the hot balloon that has now fallen to the ground. She wakes him up to give him a letter that she finds out from that it's from Élise, saying she had to go. She helps Arno up and from there, they went to their separate ways with Arno saying, "Be careful. We'll meet again, I'm sure of it."

On January 20th, 1793, Arno and Élise meet up with Voilette at the Louvre to see Marquis de Sade to talk about a certain Louis-Michel le Peletier.

( Dialogue Text )

" Ah, Arno and Voilette! Which is a more incisive commentary on corruption in the bishopric? Seven nuns seducing a parish priest into debauchery, or an enourmously-endowed Benedictine sodomizing a goat named Pius?"

De Sade is writing in his book, moving his quill around in a flow of which he's speaking, and looking up at Arno.

"No force in heaven or on earth will make me answer that question."

Arno answers the question disgusted. Voilette, however, puts her hands on her hips,

"Thank you. Marquis, we need your help."

"Hum? Oh. Then can you answer the question?"

"I would rather beat the shit out of you."

Marquis does a little chuckle, holding out his hand towards Voilette.

"And what next?"

"Break your neck, slice off your fingers and hands, and watch someone as crazy as you, or more crazy, fuck them, as your corpse does a little dance."

"Would that not be a little extreme, mon petit chou? (My little pet)” De Sade would chuckle a little at this question and her reaction.

“For a man like you, that is not the worst thing I could possibly think of.”

De Sade just chuckles more before trying his way of charming Élise to where Arno asks him about where le Peletier is.

" I believe he often takes meals at a certain café near le Palais-Royal. I believe you can find him there."

"If we don't, I'll be back."

"Really? Well then, I hope I'm mistaken."

He glances over at Élise who says,

"No, you won't."

"Thanks for the information, De Sade. Go fuck a horse on stilettos or something..."

"That sounds wonderful! I might do that."

"And I'll laugh when it kicks your balls and flings you across the room."

Voilette goes to leave, smirking at Arno as his face looks like he's seen De Sade naked.

"And I thought you were a lady, Voilette."

"I am. Just not towards him."

"You've slept with him?!"

"No! I'm not that insane! I'd rather lick a guillotine blade already covered with blood than that. Or sleep with you."

"Now, now, I don't want that."

"Yeah yeah, you have Élise I know.”

They walk away to arrive at the Palais-Royal.

( End of Dialogue )

When they arrive, they infiltrate, assassinate Le Peletier, and then leave the Palais. Arno, when Élise left, told Voilette that he needed help at the execution tomorrow, to which she agreed almost immediately after he said it. He didn't tell her why he needed the help, he just asked.

21st of January, 1793, was the day that King Louis XVI was executed. At the execution, she and Arno found François- Thomas Germain and learned from him that he wanted to give the power to the people, and have Jacques De Molay, a legendary Templar Knight, avenged. Germain makes his escape, and Arno and Élise are separated after Arno risks his life to defend her instead of going over Germain. To Voilette's disappointment, she had to ask Arno to come to the Council, knowing what was going to happen when he does.

Then, the thing happens. She is witnessed to see Arno be kicked out of the Brotherhood due to assassinating people without permission and finding leads and intel on the Templar Grand Master to which they told him to stay out of. For Voilette, they gave her a warning, one to stay away from Arno and no contact with Élise.

The only thing that is recorded from her between this time and the 7th of June, 1794, was assassinating more of her step-mothers friends or leading them to be executed due to the fact they moved their way up by love affairs, some which are very scandalous. Also, she opened back up her training center, and caught some glimpses of Arno who was busy doing his own assassinations.

On the 8th of June 1794, she meets Arno and Élise again at the Festival of the Supreme Being, which is being hosted by Maximilian Robespierre. Arno wanted to assassinate him but Voilette agreed with Élise on taking another approach, seeing that he's well guarded. She helps Élise, after Arno locates Robespierre to discreet him in public, and ruin his reputation. She assisted Arno as well to find some incriminating evidence to help with this, finding a list of deputy names written by Robespierre.

On the 27th of July, Robespierre was arrested by the Convention, to Arno and Élise's surprise, but not to Voilette's. With Arno and Élise investigating on Robespierre's whereabouts, Voilette was already looking through the district for Robespierre, and she found him in the Hôtel de Ville before Arno did, much to his surprise when she's standing by the door without a care in the world. Élise came soon after, and together they gained the info from Robespierre to where Germain was held, though she quickly disliked the way Élise handled the situation, with her shooting Robespierre in the jaw.

At the location of where Germain was held, the Parisian Temple, she is the one assisting Arno in finding Germain, and when they get to the top of the tower, she's hiding behind the walls while Arno goes in for the assassination, she sees the golden light of Germain's Sword of Eden, which has Arno take cover as well. For the two of them, she throws a smoke bomb at Germain's area and tells Arno to go, but again, he's stopped by Germain's sudden disappearance. This has her irritated, but continues to go with Arno to find his new whereabouts.

They find him in the underground of the temple where Élise is already waiting. As she and Élise help Arno by distracting Germain, she finds out from Germain that Justine was only a part of the Order due to her scandalous affairs, and he admitted to her, himself, that he had one with her and so did François, that Justine was 'the floor show everyone wanted to have, and she took it all for attention and protection'. However in rage and disgust she was about this confession, she did not break her cover and let Arno do his work, which backfired when rubble from the attack he made had him trapped under it. Voilette and Élise would then rush to his side, but soon became annoyed at how revenge hungry Élise was to where she blindly followed and attacked Germain. Voilette, with strength that's compared to a boxer, easily helps Arno out from the rubble, and stays behind as Arno tries to save Élise.

However, when he did, Élise's sword was broken and the Sword of Eden became unstable to where it exploded and caused Élise and Germain to ricochet, with Élise dying from this and Germain to be mortally wounded. Voilette can only see what Arno's heartbreak looked like under his anger from a distance.

Following him slowly, she could only look around the room, the ancient wonders that are left in stone and rubble now. When she finally came to Arno's rescue, she didn't need to actually do it. His grief caused him to act, and end Germain's life. This was his story ending, with his vengeance set straight, but for her, this is only the beginning of the end.

Voilette followed Arno out of the temple with Élise in his arms, and the sword of Eden on his person, so he can use it as his personal weapon.

She and Arno parted ways, to her it was her last time seeing him happy and stricken with a cause for something. For now, she could only plan on taking down Justine, and, to her horror, see her brother, Lucas, be one of Napoléon's trusted friends, and saw his rise to be the Emperor of the French.

~~End of Assassin's Creed Unity~~

~~Assassin’s Creed Unity: Dead Kings~~

( She changes her necklace to this:)

Voilette met Arno again in her hometown of Saint-Denis, which very much surprised her, but she would keep it to herself.

For this time period, she wasn't with Arno much, mostly going on her way to assassinate Justine. From some close contacts of the Brotherhood, she found out that there is going to be a party in Saint-Denis, hosted by Justine herself.

On August 5th, she went to the party, and again, was surprised to see Arno there, even though he shouldn't be. In a private room, where there weren't any Templar guards, she and Arno have this conversation.

( Dialogue Text )

"Arno! What are you doing here?"

"I can only help you with ending your struggles, as you helped with mine."

"That was only because Germain was a problem. I know I shouldn't have come along when you had-"

She pauses before saying Élise's name, not knowing how Arno might react.

"It's alright. You can say her name."

"Now you're making me feel like shit, Arno."

"Désolée, Voilette. (I'm sorry) May I have another moment to talk? After this? Meet me at the Café."

"Alright. Au revoir. (Goodbye)"

Arno kisses the back of her left hand gently, then looks into her eyes before leaving. This has Voilette blush a bit though, but it leaves her face as fast as Arno left.

( End of Dialogue )

Voilette manages to find Justine in a private bedroom, almost getting undressed with a man in the room. When she is finished undressing, she assassinates her and the man, to their surprise. From this, Voilette realizes that the man is also a Templar contact.

In a memory, Justine explains her intentions and what caused her to be this way:

( Dialogue Text )

"Voilette, ma fille.” (My daughter)

"You never were there, you know. Not in our mind. To take care of Lucas."

"I was busy trying to take care of myself, first. The Templars helped with that."

"They only helped you become a whore, Justine."

Voilette whispers this out with gritted teeth.

"Yet I was taken care of in the process."

"By a bunch of fools who wanted Revolution, who wanted destruction."

"Your creed is no different. Templars and Assassins, what they're fighting for is worth nothing in my opinion. Your heart, as a mother, is more than that. I have seen you and Arno take on the corrupt kingdom together, in the end, you made an empire.”

Justine chuckles lightly, then lets out a heavy breath.

“Besides that, I was waiting for my end… from the doctor, he told me I was at risk for a disease that would kill me in the process. Something along the lines of a cancer.”

“And now, your playtime is over.”

“Indeed. In addition, Lucas has grown so much. Bonaparte and I are very much proud of him. He even made him a Marshal.”

“Napoléon only wants more corruption. I’ll see that he’s gone before the new century overturns itself.”

“It’ll be the same, don’t worry, darling. Now, you must be strong. I am proud of you, in a way. I only needed to give you two a roof over your heads, the rest was your own.”

“Because I had no one else. I blame myself for father, for mother… you are not her and will never be her. But I know, all you wanted, was your own safety, your own money and contacts, more than a woman. But instead, you took the role of the other poor girls who have to make it into the world.”

Voilette removes her overcoat and her corset, looking at Justine’s eyes as she slowly rolls up her undershirt to show her stomach,

“I had to fight. You had to serve. Requiescat in pace, ma mére.”

( End of Dialogue )

Voilette then met Arno at the Café Théâtre, where Arno confessed that he loved her more than just a friend, and a relationship between them ensued, with her spending the night at his place. From there, she would get more letters from Arno, and would have her own room in the Café, where she can keep contact with Lucas, and even contact with Napoléon.

No other records come after 1805, except that she is still living at the Cafe with Arno, but not in a romantic relationship with him, more of a love between letters and a partnership between Assassins.

~~~Trivia!~~~

Voilette comes from the French name which literally means “Violet”

Eloise is of German origin meaning “famous warrior” or “healthy”

Robideau comes from Frankish/Germanic origin meaning “bright”

Voilette has a faint 8 pack of abs from training so much, and she showed this to Arno, to his surprise and jealousy

She’s a Virgin in the story, and probably lost it after 1805, or during her time with Arno after Dead Kings

Voilette is skilled in heavy weapons and is also a skilled marksman. She’s also skilled in stealth, disguise, and can charm or bribe people when she’s in her dress outfit. Her freerun style betters with practice; by the time she is a Master Assassin, she is proficient.

#arno #arno dorian #assassins creed unity #assassins creed oc #assassinscreed #assassins creed #oc tag #ocs #oc stuff #france #18th century #arno victor dorian #arno and napoleon #ac napoleon #Voilette Robideau

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lanadelreyscokewhor3 · 3 years ago

Note

my last request was girly/material girl!reader AND I REALLY LOVE IT! SO FETCH! so i have an opposite idea this time..

this time maybe an emo!reader. unlike before, reader is a rich kid with two baddies on her side meanwhile this time reader is a mysterious emo girl and shes alone (reader is like “i dont need friends they disappoints me”💀💀) to make reader seems more emo maybe u could add a nose & ear piercing,reader being good at electric guitar,rings,black nail polish ofc,last but not least EYELINER. maybe avril lavigne kind of emo?

thank u!

i dig this!! i made reader more alt then emo lol hopes thats still ok<3 i have been singing "girlfriend" and " sk8ter boi" by avril since the DAWN OF TIME :)

ULTRAVIOLENCE -P. B PARKER

Pairing: (Eventual) Boyfriend! Peter x Alt! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Friends are overrated, so when the boy in the apartment across from you, Peter Parker, decides to be happy go lucky towards you, you become rather annoyed. Soon enough, he warms your frozen heart.

Warnings: swearing, smut implied, dry?? (wet) humping, tit worship ( reader has pierced nipples), massive praise kink, teasing, pet names, drug usage (weed)

Notes: This is the sister fic for material girl. Kinda like the evermore to folklore. So of course I had to add more tit worship!!

ALSO (you'll see this in the fic what i mean by this) i love star wars!! i poked at peter for being a "nerd" in this, but star wars was my childhood, i still obsess over it to this day. anakin, kylo and obi-wan are my babes.

Enjoy my petals <3

-xoxo claire bear

Em, C, A. Em, C, A.

Your fingers pressed harshly into the strings of your electric guitar, flying through chords as you hummed a soft, sorrowful melody. It was rather depressing, the notes you plucked.

Soothing, but- depressing.

You sank deeper into your velvet chair, as if you could melt through it and disappear completely, humming a low tune. Creativity stopped after those first three notes, and you began to repeat them over and over until you were sick of them.

Huffing, you set your guitar back against the dresser, opening your underwear drawer to uncover your secret stash of weed. After ruffling through piles of thongs of all colours, you found the jackpot.

Bingo!

Grabbing the pre-rolled blunt, you scurried over to open your window, which lead to the fire escape. Crisp, cool air bit at your legs as you slid swung them outside. Your necklaces jangled together as you slid through the crack, and you cursed yourself for not taking them off sooner.

Yet, nonetheless, your mother hadn't heard the noise and come pounding at your door wondering why the fuck you were on the fire escape past midnight on a school night. The universe was on your side tonight.

Shutting the window softly, you trudged to the railing, pulling out a lighter. As the joint lit from your shaky fingers, you brought it to your lips with a sigh, drawing in the smoke. It tickled your senses as it slid down to your lungs, and you watched the smoke reshape as you exhaled.

The view of the stars was comforting as you looked up, your eyes becoming glassy as you continued to intake the smoke. A light flickered on from in front of you, and your gaze snapped down to see Peter Parker slide into his room, a look of content on his face.

He was always happy.

There wasn't a time in your entire school career where you had ever seen the kid upset, minus that one time in the second grade when he punched a kid in the face for stealing his toys. It wasn't comforting to you, as strange as it sounded. It was annoying in a way, the constant upbringing.

His constant cheerfulness and attempts to talk to you ticked you off to no end.

You watched with a sigh as he shut his door, sliding off his shirt. Well damn! you thought with a chuckle. Peter may annoy you to the ends of the earth, but this was the one perk of living directly across from him.

Abs were beautifully chiseled into his chest, the dim lighting of his desk lamp showcasing his back muscles as he turned around. You spotted the new Star-Wars posters he had pinned to his wall and it made you grin, because of course he would like that.

He probably had a full lego Deathstar built in his room as well. The thought made you giggle, and you picked at the black nail polish that adored your ring-littered fingers.

Suddenly, he turned around, eyes widening as he spotted your frame perched across from him. You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow as he pulled out his phone, texting at an alarming rate. The phone in your back pocket buzzed, and you pulled it out with your free hand.

Parker: you plan on bringing me one of those tomorrow?

You: sorry parker, i only hand out freebies to people i can actually stand

Parker: meanie. i’ll snag one from you, one way or another :)

You rolled your eyes pinching the joint between clenched teeth as you texted back.

You: we’ll see parker.

You clicked out of the conversation, scrolling down for any new notifications. It was almost sad, the number of contacts you had. It contained your relatives and well, Peter.

The only reason you had his number on your phone was that you had a project with him earlier on in the semester, and he insisted you keep in, just in case- whatever that meant.

There was no need for friends, that moto being something you had lived by for a long, long time. It was better that way. Fewer people to worry about, fewer people to disappoint.

The people at your school drove you up the walls, so the empty music room and a guitar were your only real friends. And your cat, Luna.

Speak of the devil, the little black ball of fur was peering at you from the windowsill, eyes wide and yellow. You smiled at her, finishing off the blunt quickly. Staring at Peter's room once more, you saw him bent over a textbook, hands running through his hair as he stressed.

You: get some sleep parker. history shouldn't be your cause of death.

You cracked the window back open with difficulty, the drugs making your body feel light and woozy as you shooed Luna out of the way, scrabbling inside.

Your phone buzzed once more. You ignored it.

Trudging over to your bathroom, you took out your piercings, and attempted to scrub the staining eyeliner on your near shut, red eyes. Luna hopped up on the bathroom counter, purring and rubbing against you as you scrubbed and scrubbed.

And scrubbed some more.

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

November was your favorite month. The cold and bitter weather, the slush and ice. You loved it, mainly because everyone else hated it. As you leaned against the cool brick of the school, kicking slush, you felt a presence near. “

What are you doing out here? It's freezing.” Oh great. Happy go lucky makes his return again. “I wanted some alone time.” you grumbled, staring at him with a scowl. “ Are you even around people? Aren't you always alone?”

Fair enough.

You shrugged, staring down at the ice-coated pavement. “Are you free at lunch?” he asked curiously, attempting to meet your eyes. “No. Busy.” you said shortly, trying to end this conversation. But you knew he wouldn't give up. That was just the way Peter was.

“I don't think wallowing alone in pity in the music room for an hour counts as being busy Sabrina.”

“If you make one more reference of Sabrina the Teenage Witch in front of me I will gouge your eyes out with this choker. It has spikes for a reason.” He chuckled, brushing a hand tenderly across your cheek. You shivered at the contact, leaning in slightly to his touch.

Keyword, slightly.

“There's the nosy neighbour I’ve known to love. Come over after school then.” You scowled even deeper, a pout etched on your face as his smile grew. Pissing you off seemed to be his favourite pastime, and it annoyed you beyond belief. “What's in it for me?” you asked with a sigh, clutching your coat tighter around your shivering body.

“An endless amount of the Peter Parker aura.” he grinned, his dimples appearing as the bell rang.

Damn him and his dimples.

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

Geography was so painful you wanted to jump through the too bright map that was plastered in the front of the room, the ugly fluorescents making it appear sickening. The clock ticked ever so slowly as the teacher spun the globe around, and you watched it mindlessly.

Peter, it seemed, was only looking at you.

You caught his loving gaze from the corner of your eye, him tossing you a boyish grin filled with innocence as you stared at him from across the room. Your boot tapped frantically against the cool tile floor, twiddling your pen between your fingers when he texted you.

Parker: i didnt say this earlier, but your new nose piercing looks really nice :)

You: don't feel the need to woe me over parker. it's not the only thing i got pierced.

You watched his reaction to that with a grin, stifling a giggle as his cheeks turned red, his eyes going wide as saucers. He got flushed so easily, it was a little victory for you every time you could get him heated from a single text alone.

Making life harder for him was the highlight of your day.

No pun intended.

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

FOUR MONTHS LATER

A rock vinyl was playing faintly from your player in the corner of the room as you and your boyfriend Peter sprawled out on your bedroom floor. Your fairy lights glowed softly from your walls, making his eyes sparkle.

You giggled as Luna jumped down to join the two of you, finding her way next to Peter, purring loudly near his presence. “ Stay still Parker!” you shrieked as he moved his hand yet again, making it more and more difficult to coat his nails in black paint. He clucked his tongue at you, rolling his eyes.

“You’re so picky doll face. You never stay still when I’m tasting you.” he winked, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. “Stopppp.” you whined, applying the last coat upon his fingernail.

“Awh is someone shy? I’m just telling the truth doll.” he mocked, a wicked grin plastered across his face. “The truth wounds me.” you giggled, smacking him playfully as you stood up to place the polish back in your nightstand.

You felt his eyes on you the whole time, and you adored it. Peter looked at you as if you were a fine piece of art at a gallery, always making you feel like the most beautiful girl in Queens.

You hated attention, doing anything you could to avoid it- but from him? You craved it.

As you turned around to face him once more, his gaze was hungry as he looked you over, and he appeared as if he were a predator ready to pounce. It made your core tingly, wetness coating your thong. You squeezed your thighs tightly together as a piece of his dark brown hair fell in front of his face, his smile widening at the action.

“C’mere.” he beckoned with a polished finger, his voice as sweet as sugar as you neared. “ You’re such a good girl. You listen so well.” he praised, smiling as you straddled his waist. You giggled in delight at the attention, blush rising to your cheeks at his cooing.

Peter made you so soft you could hardly stand it. Yes, the cool, hard, outer shell was still there, still intact. But when Peter was around… well it crumbled a little bit.

He had found out about your need for praise and validation at the very beginning of the relationship, when you had answered a homework question perfectly in his bedroom.

Good girl.

Peter never forgot the look on your face as he uttered those words, watching it twist and distort into a small smile. That same smile was on your face now, and you gasped as his hands slid to cup your sides, stroking them gently.

“Up.” he whispered, and you knew exactly what that word meant. Lifting your arms above your head, he slid the thin material off, throwing it to the side.

Peter adored your breasts, how pretty and perky they were, how they fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. Like they were made for him.

And only for him.

The little silver studs that adored your hardened nipples made the confinement of his pants unbearable, and you felt the strain on your clothed core. “I will never get tired of these. Never ever,” he groaned, reaching down to swirl his tongue around the metal.

“Oh gods-” you cried, arching your back into his touch as he sucked and tugged your nipple harshly. “Such pretty tits baby.” he cooed, kissing them tenderly as you ran your fingers through his hair, tugging on it harshly as he sucked again.

Your hips began to rock on their own accord. The friction between your soaking cunt and the fabric of his jeans had you mewling like a kitten as you dragged your soaked pussy back and forth on him.

A growl escaped his lips against your breast, making you let out a pornographic moan as his hands met your hips, guiding you. Peter let his mouth go with a pop, a trickle of saliva attached from your tit to his lips. “Look at you..” he mumbled, watching you in your drunken state as you stared at him with lust-blown eyes.

“Love when you touch me like this Peter, so s’good.” you whimpered, emitting a loud cry as he began to bite along your neck. “Yeah you like when I play with you like this?” he growled, watching the way your eyes rolled back as you rocked faster against his very evident bulge.

“More than anything…” you hissed, gripping his hair tightly. “ S’pretty like this honey, you're such a good girl. You’d do anything I’d tell you, wouldn't you baby girl?”

“Yes!” you answered meekly, skin becoming hotter and hotter with each roll of your hips. Your juices were coating his pants, a massive wet patch had formed over his crotch where you had been using him.

“Peter gonna cum-” You were cut off with his sudden change of pace, his hands making you bounce up and down softly on him. “Cum for me doll face it's okay just let go okay? I’m right here baby I’m right here- oh fucking christ.”

You came with a scream of his name, your legs shaking as you gripped him tighter. Your cum trickled out of you, and you whimpered at the feeling of the denim on your over-sensitive clit.

“Such a good girl, my good little girl.” he whispered, peppering you with kisses as you came down from your high. “Don't deserve you.” you blushed, looking away quickly in embarrassment at the mess you made on his pants. His hand reached up to tug your chin, making you meet his gaze once more.

“You deserve everything baby. Are you embarrassed about the mess you made, silly girl? Is that why you're saying such silly things?” You nodded quickly in embarrassment as he gave you a look of pity, knowing it urged you on even more.

“Well the good thing is, you're going to be cleaning it up dollface.”

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

peter parker tag list ( (let me know if you want to be removed and or added, or if i forgot to add you!): @phildunphyisadilf , @sonnydevils, @reyathens @ph1na @lassmich1 @myrapottah @s0upisgood @ayleehweasleyobrien @littlepeanut03 @moo-b1tch @gaiaparker @zaddygrinch8756 @lilostif16 @withahintofpestoaioli @froggyy06 @fangirling-galore @lup1nsl0v4 @fearlessritz29 @ethrealzzz @inyears@spideysfav @bitchybeegladiator @andrewgarfieldsloml @calrc0 @empalatehome

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shuchu · 2 years ago

Text

okay so i'm hella sleepy right now because i’ve been travelling the whole day but i just watched all of iluna’s debut streams and i wanted to give my opinion!

maria

she’s adorable

i love her accent

the song she sang was so cute, she was so nervous but it was good!

based for liking jojo’s bizzare adventures

based game taste (fellow stardew lover + hopconner)

based music taste too

her goals were so wholesome, she can definitely do it

i love her sm, looking forward to her streams!!

kyo

the lore video wtf, i was pouting throughout the whole thing, i felt the whole “using games as a distraction from being alone part”

i wanna give him a hug uhuhu ( ╥ω╥ )♡

kyo is kinda like mysta in a way, idk he’s so relatable & sussy lmao

short king, but we stan lmao

fellow motion sickness sufferer!!

he’s so funny i love him

the whole “vox asmr” thing was hella funny

based pokemon player (so excited for his pokemon x/y nuzlocke!!)

fps gamer we love to see it

based anime taste - naruto and your lie in april enjoyer

looking forward to his streams!!

aia

she looks like a heckin genshin character

she’s literally ike but unhinged

m-mommy?

i too like alban felt slightly intimidated by her ngl

the fact that she likes talking about philosophical stuff, like, me too

kinda relatable too - “when an obscure song isn’t available on spotify” such as blue sugar, hello??!!

based anime taste altho i only watched Free from her list, i have heard of Demon Slayer and Fruits Basket

based game taste - minecraft, pokemon fan!!!!, project diva enjoyer

varied music taste, very based

getting over it, genshin, observation duty as first week streams, love to see it

aster

his starting soon animation is so fucking cute

his anime lore video?? wtf??

the lore video gave me your lie in april vibes & it made me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside

a literal baby i love him sm

his grill voice? h-hello??!

i. love. his. nails.

he’s so soft, i wanna squish him

based food taste - spicy food, boba tea liker and onion hater

based anime taste - spy x family, kuroko’s basketball and attack on titan enjoyer, altho i’m not sure if i agree that sword art online gets better in the later bits

excited to see him hopcon with the rest!

pretending to be seiso huh? interesting (≧▽≦)

scarle

mommy

she’s so fun i love her

ayo? booba s-size reveal? w-what?

i really like her staff, i want it lmao

toxic anime boys, i died lmao because same girl

very relatable

all the otome games lmfaoooo i’ve played them too, she’s just like me fr fr

avril lavigne, fucking yes

the closing shift will be interesting to watch

the whole “breaking vox” thing, i- uh...that’ll be very interesting, waiting to see them do a collab lmao

ren

DADDY

BLUE SUGAR SLAPS SO HARD

cut me up and paint my insides ren, i mean what? (//ω//)

i love his voice, i simp already

his lore video was a nice mix of cool and cute

i love his little fangies

he’s so tall wtf, again, d-daddy 🧎🏻‍♀️

dislikes BANANA STRINGS, relatable

based game taste

mans is so talented, i stan

another pokemon enjoyer, you love to see it

mans be drippin’, i love his outfit

fall guys, minecraft, jump king and genshin impact streams this week, very excited to watch them hehe

#nijisanji en #iluna #nijisanji iluna

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dreamescapeswriting · 3 years ago

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Keep Holding On ~ KSJ [Request]

WORD COUNT: 1.7K

PAIRING: Jin x Reader x Daughter

GENRE: established relationship, death, angst, ANGST, sad, family au,

A/N: The song I went with was Keep Holding On by Avril Lavigne and I hope that it’s okay for you my love

TRIGGER WARNING: Details the passing of the reader please read with Caution!!!!

The moment he saw your daughter walk up onto her debut stage his heart clenched inside of his chest. Nara had turned out to look so much more like you than Jin and he couldn't help but imagine seeing you up on that stage. Nara's eyes scanned the crowd looking for Jin and as soon as she found her father she began doing a small wave with her hand. All she'd ever wanted was for Jin to come and watch her debut stage and now it was finally happening. Nerves will bundling up inside of her but with her dad watching she knew she would be able to do anything she put her mind to. The thought of the song lingered in her mind, it was a song Nara had been writing about in secrecy, not wanting Jin to see it until the time was right.

"She looks so much like Y/n," Jimin whispered as the lights began to focus on Nara, getting cameras ready to come back from the ad break. Jin stared at her, not being able to take his eyes off her for even a second. It had to have been the way your hair was styled and your makeup was done, it was like looking at a photograph of you.

"Hyung, she looks great," Yoongi whispered giving Jin a small shoulder rub of encouragement. It had been 24 years since you'd passed away and seeing your daughter up there was bringing everything back for Jin.

"Hyung?" Namjoon questioned watching as Jin looked down at his phone getting the camera open and staring back up at his daughter on the stage. Mic in her hand as she got ready to perform for the first time in front of thousands of people.

A slow melody began to play through the speakers inside of the room, it was a brave decision to debut with such a slow song but it was something from the heart. Something Nara had struggled with for years where your death was concerned. Although Jin had never once blamed Nara for your passing she couldn't help but feel guilty over it.

Tears rushed to her eyes instantly as she sang her heart out, making eye contact with Jin who was already crying from the first verse. The song touched on how guilty she felt about you dying and taking you away from Jin, about how she could feel you watching over her even when you were no longer around. That she and Jin were still going to keep holding on, pushing forward with you around them in their hearts.

"She has your nose," You whispered tiredly as you watched Jin bouncing around the side of your bed making you giggle. A small cough catching in your throat as you saw Jin stare down at your unnamed daughter. The one thing you had been struggling to do for the last hour was naming her.

"How about Hyuna?" Jin questioned as he sat down on the rocking chair beside your bed. Truth be told you had a bunch of names ready for her but when she came out of you, none of them seemed to match her.

"Nara?" You croaked out, sitting up in the bed a little and watching Jin. Your head resting on the pillow behind you as you felt your breathing begin to worsen. The doctor said all of this was normal, that you'd had such a rough birth that this was bound to make you tired for a while. But you felt completely out of it, everything sounded and felt as though it was completely far away from you and you had no energy to hold your own daughter.

"Nara," Jin repeats looking down at his daughter as she slept soundly in his arms. He was running the name through his head looking at her and smiling proudly.

"Nara," You whispered back to him, closing your eyes for just a second to get some rest. Jin smiled as he nodded his head,

"Nara is perfect...Little baby Nara," He chuckled softly glancing up and chuckling some more when he found you sound asleep.

"You must have really tired Mama out," He laughs getting up and carefully placing Nara into the small crib that the hospital had provided for you both to use during your stay. As much as Jin wanted you to get some rest you had to wake up, the doctors needed to do some tests on both you and Nara to make sure you were fit for release.

"Babe? You need to wake up, the doctors will be coming any second to discharge us," Jin nudged your arm softly but you didn't move, eyes didn't even flinch as Jin frowned.

"Baby?" He whispered laughing a little. You must have really been tired since usually, the smallest noise would wake you up. Jin knew from the experience of leaving the house early every morning. Shaking you a little Jin shook his head at you, wondering how you could even sleep with the hospital noise but your body rolled onto your back and stayed there, Jin's heart sank realising that you were no longer in the room.

"NURSE!" He screamed out ringing the bell beside the bed over and over again as he tried to feel for a pulse on your neck.

"NURSE!" His voice bellowed out as he desperately began to breathe into your lips, doing small chest compressions as he shook his head,

"Don't you dare die on me." He whimpered looking down at you as you laid there lifelessly, a nurse and set of doctors running into the room and ripping him away from you.

"Let me be with her! She needs me!" He screamed as a security guard escorted him out of the room. All he could see were people working around you tirelessly, machines beeping and people yelling over one another.

"What's going on? Please tell me!" He begged as a nurse ran out of the room carrying his daughter and taking her into another room with other babies.

"Jin...Jin you need to calm down." The security guard whispered as Jin stared through the small window at your bed. The doctors freezing as they stared up at the clock above your bed.

"Why did you stop!? HEY! HEY! Don't fucking stop!" He screamed banging his hands on the window as he yelled at the doctors to work on you.

"Time of death, 11:58 pm." The words felt like cold ice dripping down Jin's shirt as he watched doctors leaving the room, all of them giving looks of sympathy before leaving him there. All of them going back to their wives, husbands or partners to spend the night together while Jin just stayed there. Watching as a nurse covered up your body and walked out of the room.

"You can have some time with her...They'll come to collect her in five minutes." She whispered watching as Jin stared at your body, walking into the room and just watching you. Half expecting you to sit up or for him to wake up and have this all be some kind of nightmare.

"Mr Kim?" Jin turned to look at the coroner who had been running all of the tests on you and bounced Nara in his arms. It had been two weeks since you passed and there still wasn't a definitive answer as to how this had happened.

"It's hard to determine with things like these but we...We believe it was due to blood loss during the labour." Jin looked at Nara as he bounced her around, nodding his head. Even after getting answers that he would feel a little bit better but he didn't. Nothing made any of this better. The fear of raising his daughter alone came crashing into his head as he stared down at the report in the coroner's hands, sighing a little. Jin had held back crying for weeks, refusing to cry as he blamed himself for this. He felt as though he should have made sure that you were okay first, he should have pressured the doctors into sooner tests.

The final verse was coming up and tears were ruining Nara's makeup as she belted her whole chest into the song, holding the microphone despite shaking heavily.

"There's nothing you could say, nothing you could do...There's no other way when it comes to the truth...So keep holding on...Cause you know we'll make it through, we'll make it through." The crowd erupted in cheers as Jin and Nara made eye contact, both of them crying as she slowly made her way off the stage toward him.

"Daddy." She breathed as he said nothing, just pushed her into his chest wrapping his arms around her. Embracing her tightly and kissing the top of her head softly, both of them forgetting the cameras as they cried together. Sobbing against her father's chest as he kept her close to him, kissing her over and over again on the top of her head.

"None of it was ever your fault," He promised as he held her close to him, the cameras leaving them alone as the boys escorted them backstage for some privacy. Crying together as she nodded her head, Jin held her face in his hands as he smile, using his thumb to wipe away the tears from her cheeks.

"She would be proud of you, so proud." He whispered to her, his voice cracking as he looked down at her. Over the years of your passing, he'd never once moved on but it had gotten easier to deal with your death.

"Shall we go home and watch old home movies?" He questioned as she leaned into his touch, nodding her head over and over again. When you first died Jin could never bring himself to think or speak of you, when Nara reached the age of wondering where you were he could barely explain it. Instead, the two of them would watch home movies of you, look over old photos and videos you had made whilst pregnant.

"Let's go." He whispered to her, taking her hand in his and taking her to go and collect her things from her changing room.

Tagline: @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @rjsmochii @taestannie @sw33tnight @sweeneyblue1 @jin-from-the-block @acciocriativity @mwitsmejk @taeechwitaa @justbangtanthingz @stillwithlix @misa0000

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toulousewayne · 2 years ago

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Batfamily Music Taste or favorite genre 🎶

🦇🦇🦇

Bruce Wayne:

I like the take of The Batman with Bruce being a loner and staying in the cave and only leaving to patrol. I feel like for my pick that’s still canon but I feel like over the years he’s not as much as a hermit and he’s created the dual personality as Bruce, and Batman. So I think he can evolve his tastes somewhat but I think the kids get a kick out of Old Man Bruce being a Nirvana fanboy 😭.

🖤

songs:

The Man who Sold the World - Nirvana

Suspicious Minds - Elvis Presley

Another One Bits the Dust- Queen

Dick Grayson:

When I think of Dick I think of the 80’s. The wild colors, the crazy hair, hell even the style of clothing I could see him take into his own personal wardrobe. I could see him singing these songs all around his apartment, in the car on long trips and even to just mess with his siblings. He feels a sense of peace and just being a big kid listening to some songs and others he feels that he can relate to some of these songs. I feel like soon one of them will sing along with him.

songs:

Karma Chameleon - Culture Club

Careless Whisper - George Michael

Kids in America - Kim Wilde

💙

Jason Todd:

I feel like Jason could go multiple ways. One hand I definitely think out of all the kids he would listen to rock music or something along those lines. But I feel like that’s not his favorite, and with him being into literature I see him enjoy classical music too. I think Jason may be misunderstood most of the time and he’s just seen to be this or that but I think he just like what appeals to him at the current time which could be any genre but he has a few songs or works of music he feels nostalgic about especially from his Robin days that he likes a lot.

songs:

Rihannon - Fleetwood Mac

Sonata No. 42 in D Minor- Mozart

2012 - Evolove

❤️

Tim Drake:

When I think of Tim I think of the early 2000’s a lot. Believe it or not Timothy coffee addict Drake was once a skater boi and I of course believe deep down he was obsessed with the Avril Lavigne song. I do think Tim most of the time is in the clouds or really just not mentally presented and not in a bad way. It’s hard to explain because I do it too, and I thinks it’s not to take your thoughts and be free to your favorite songs and I think music can help Timmy decompress a lot especially with the crazy family he loves and deals with daily.

Songs:

Jealous - Eyesdress

Bring Me Back to Life - Evanescence

Freaks - Surf Curse

🧡

Damian Wayne:

Damian is an artist to me and as such I think he’s would prefer to be alone in his room painting or in the gardens sketching away with Alfred the cat next to him. I think deep down Damian has a lot of sadness and hurt inside of him that he doesn’t know how to express. From his mother treating him as a instrument of distraction, his father not having an idea of him being born. And that’s not his fault truly he still feels like he was cheated out of a father and son relationship when he was little. I also think Damian is angry, but not in the typical Damian way. Damian is the baby and will always be compared to his older siblings and why I think he tries or berates them so much is to draws attention away from that insecurity he has. But he has no need because even though the young teen has his demons now he will always find someone a door next to him that can give him advice. That’s if he wants to swallow his pride and ask for the advice.

Songs:

The Scientist- Coldplay

W.D.Y.W.F.M? - The Neighborhood

Mt. Washington - Local Natives

💚

Stephanie Brown:

The Waffle Warrior, I feel like she’s a Pop kinda girl. More of a 90’s diva kinda girl. I feel like Steph is just more of a brighter being in the family, she likes to pull prank with Jason, she’s constantly working Damian’s nerves but also I feel like deep down the kid respects her as a sister figure even though Bruce hasn’t formally adopted her. Yet! And her friendship with the other Batgirls I love you see it and feel like Steph is the type of girl you meet once and you already feel comfortable around her to spill your troubles to and she’ll listen and give you good advice on your problems. But best of all she has a new place in my heart because I feel like she’s can be look as the underdog,but she’s been a Robin and Batgirl so put some respect to her name please. 😌

Vision of Love - Mariah Carey

What A Girl Wants - Christina Aguilera

Hot Like Fire - Aaliyah, Timberland

💜

Cassandra Cain:

Cass gives me sporty big sis vibes so I wouldn’t be surprised to find fast pace,or more songs about being on the go. I feel like is like the trendsetter in the family and it’s funny when everyone tries to copy her and it doesn’t have the same feel as her, she naturally does her thing and it works for her. Cass loves her siblings and they know when Cass isn’t messing around. She’s baddie and isn’t afraid to let you know that, Cass often isn’t home or she’s off in the manor practicing ballet or training but she’s doing it in style.

Hot in It- Tiësto, Charli XCX

My Prerogative - Britney Spears

Hot Girl - Megan Thee Stallion

💖

#batfam #dc comics #batman #batfamily #tim drake #jason todd #damian wayne #dick grayson #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #music

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laceymorganwrites · 3 years ago

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Souvenir

Word count: 2,076

Pairing: Mikey x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, corruption

Summary: You´re a police officer, a bad one. Or a terribly good one. Depends on which side of the law you stand. Mikey is interested in you, so are you but it can´t be that easy, can it?

A/N: happy birthday to this maniac

Song inspo: Souvenir by Avril Lavigne

THIS CONTAINS MANGA SPOILERS

It was a hot summer day, the sky was clear and the heat in the city unbearable. A vacation was definitely long overdue.

Your parents had a vacation home at the coast but they themselves were currently hiking in the mountains. You were against it, telling them to do something more relaxing, after all they weren´t the youngest anymore. It was always you who took care of them, that was how it was supposed to be, not the other way around.

However they didn´t see it that way, saying as long as they were alive they´d always support you and take care of you, you were all they had after all.

And yet they always said you were the one working too much. You really didn´t. You loved your job, but compared to everything they´ve done for you, everything they continued to give up to ensure you have the best life possible, it was nothing.

Of course you were grateful! How couldn´t you be? But it just always felt like it wasn´t enough, you wanted to do something for them too, yet you could never get the chance.

Being a police officer made your private and personal life very hard.

The reason you took this job was because you wanted to create a safer neighborhood for your parents. And you got so lucky, being just a regular officer taking care of small town thugs. Every time you hear about your colleagues working on taking down a gang, you shuddered.

They were the ones who lost their families first. Of course their work was noble and they were so brave but you just couldn´t bear the thought of losing your parents.

Sure, it was selfish, but they were all you had. What did you care whether some gang wreaked havoc in the city? Let them. You never cared about the city and its people anyway, never really having any friends that lasted.

However your station was assigned to take down the Bonten, every officer had to work on that, no matter what their job was before that. That really was the last thing you needed or wanted right now. And because you were you, you didn´t listen. You just kept doing your work, finding any excuses to go on a standard patrol, saying you´d look for their hideout or something. It was all bullshit.

“Fucking great… mom, dad, thanks for everything you did for me. If I don´t come home anymore, if you´ll never find my body: thank my idiot boss who thought it was a great idea to take out the most dangerous guys in town. Fuck him! Doesn´t he have a family he cares about? There´s an order in this city, he can´t just disrupt it, fucking asshole” you grumbled, a bad habit you had. Every time you were mad about something you had to say it out loud, though you didn´t care if people thought of you as the crazy lady who talked to herself. At least that way they stayed away.

You heard a small chuckle from one of the alleyways, turning around and laughing at the absurdity.

That, was how you met Mikey.

He wasn´t anything like you imagined and that made him scarier than anyone else you could ever dream of meeting. Something that surprised you was that he didn´t kill you on the spot, neither did he have his underlings do it somewhere else, a clean job like it was usual for them.

No, they kept you alive. More than that: they wanted you to cooperate with them. They knew you were on their side and wanted to keep them in the game so that your parents could live a peaceful life. So why should they kill you? Besides, Mikey always found that interesting. The fact that you, a normal citizen with the most boring job imaginable, you out of all people understood that the city needed Bonten to survive, to keep the peace. It was fascinating to him. Everyone else was still believing that gangs like theirs, ruthless criminal organizations, should be exterminated. But not you. You wanted to preserve them and had such a… stupidly admirable determination in your eyes.

Mikey couldn´t help but become infatuated with you. That was why he came to greet you personally, something he never did.

And that was how you started working together, you kept them updated on the investigation, got rid of some proof and evidence and nobody suspected a thing. You were so incompetent at this kind of work that it just worked. You were doing such a good job for them, it left Mikey speechless and actually for the first time in a long time did he feel something else than utter numbness. He liked watching you work, finding it so funny how you deceived everyone around you, you were just as ruthless as him.

But there was a difference between the two of you that kept him looking and coming your way: you did it out of kindness. You were a genuinely kind person, even to him, sometimes he hoped especially to him.

He didn´t like the thought of distractions like yourself but then again he was the boss, he could do whatever he wanted. He was still invincible.

Now the only question was: how did you go about having a crush? He never gave it much thought, you were different than the women he used for a distraction. He wanted to get to know you, but didn´t know how. That wasn´t something he could get as easily as everything else. But that just made it so much more fun to him.

You were so integrated in his life and in the gang by now that he asked you to be an official member, still working at the police station to help them out.

Of course you said yes. You weren´t stupid, this was the easiest and best decision in your life.

Now you were sure that your parents were safe, as if the Bonten would kill their own. Well they did, but only the traitors.

And you´d never be one, they knew that. Even the most skeptical ones out of the lot trusted you by now.

Mikey was… special to say the least. He was a ruthless leader like everyone told you but nobody told you about the broken parts, nobody told you that he covered up all of his pain and hurt with sleepless nights and bloody murder. Though their murder was anything but bloody, it was clean and calculated.

You liked it that way. It was even more cruel and very thought out. Still, he needed a break and everyone could tell. Of course nobody dared to say anything. Never defy me, that was the sole rule everything was based on.

Protect the king.

Especially Sanzu was loyal to him, not that the others weren´t but he was very suspicious towards you. That was why you stayed away from him, no matter what you said or did he always thought you were a spy and honestly if it weren´t for the others you were sure you´d be dead by now.

The only reason you weren´t was because Mikey told him explicitly not to.

To this day you wondered why that was. But you´d find out soon enough.

This morning Mikey told you that you´d be the one to dispose of any proof with him this time.

Which basically meant going to a vacation home as an alibi, it was near the port and in this time a lot of students were there too since it were holidays too.

Somehow the thought of being alone with Mikey excited you more than it should, it was dangerous, you knew that.

And even so…. Or maybe precisely because of that, you fell in love with him.

There was something about the unreachable nature of him, people couldn´t help but keep looking at the burning building collapsing. Your presence was the gasoline.

“I came here often as a kid” he explained when you two arrived at the house. It was in the woods, but still close to the beach and port. Perfect to get rid of proof.

You didn´t expect him to talk to you, least of all about private things. Then again maybe he just needed someone to talk to, someone who saw him as Manjiro and not the coldblooded gang leader.

Some would say you had a savior complex and maybe they were right but what was so wrong about feeling special when you were with him? About him sharing things with you he didn´t share with anyone else?

“Sometimes I wonder where it all went wrong…” he sighed, a sad smile on his face. You could tell how hard it was for him to even do that. It was tragic, really. But then again he had it coming.

Mikey wanted the world and he got it. Mikey was ruthless and always got his way, he didn´t care about anything else but power and bloodshed. There was this darkness inside of him that was consuming the little pieces that were still left of Manjiro.

“Would you change it if you could?” you asked, eyes grazing his slightly.

“Well I can´t so there´s no use talking about it” he mumbled, his eyes wandering to the surface your hand was resting upon.

Yours was so different than his… so soft and clean, so fragile.

His was calloused, had seen more blood than human warmth and was always cold because who would voluntarily touch it?

You.

His heart jumped slightly as he felt your fingers entangled with his own. This sensation was so foreign to him, he couldn´t help but smile slightly.

You made him do things he hasn´t in ages, smile and feel for instance.

“Sometimes I wish I could stay here forever” he mumbled, looking down.

He looked so tired, he always looked so tired. You wondered if he ever slept. Though you highly doubted it.

“Staying a day more wouldn´t hurt, right? I mean you have to be here once a year anyway, why not stay the night?” you suggested. Mikey smiled sadly, he could do it… he was the boss after all. But he feared that if he did he would never want to leave again. And then he wouldn´t.

“Hm...I guess you´re right...I knew it would be a good choice to have you work with us” he smiled slightly but there was his usual sadness and tiredness in it. You smiled back at him, shutting your brain off for a moment to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a tight hug. Because right now, all the other times, he just looked like he needed one.

And you were right, by the way he held onto you, the way he relaxed into your touch. He really needed this. It were moments like these were he wished that he could stay like this forever and just not go back to his life. But he chose this life and he won. He made it to the top. But as clichee as it sounded, that was also where it was the most lonely. If you weren´t there beside him he´d have given up on himself a while ago.

The darkness was so easy to control around you.

You smiled at him, going back inside and getting the job done.

The next day felt like you were in a different world. It felt like a normal holiday you both knew as children and never ever had since then. You two would eat together, watch the sunrise together, even play in the ocean a bit.

Mikey even gave you his shirt when you were cold.

“Keep it” he told you when you were packing away everything, the day was over faster than any of you liked. But it also felt like an eternity, like you could truly escape from everything.

“As a promise. Meet me here this time next year, no matter what happens, okay?” he asked, he had a gentleness in his voice that you didn´t recognize, but it must´ve been there all his life. The cruelness just suppressed it all the time.

“Okay, it´s a promise” you smiled, taking his shirt and putting it in your bag so that the others wouldn´t see. For now everything would return to normal, whatever it was that you two had would have to happen in secret, in your sanctuary.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers writing #tokyo revengers imagines #tokyo revengers oneshot #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers drabbles #tokyo revengers fic #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyo revengers x y/n #tokyo revengers x you smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers mikey #sano manjiro x reader #mikey x reader

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cinebration · 4 years ago

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Water-breather (Din Djarin x Reader) [Request]

I saw that at your request were open and was wondering if you’d do a mermaid au of din djarin x female mermaid reader ? — Requested by anon

Fun fact: Star Wars has an actual mermaid-like species known as Melodies. They are native to Yavin 8 and are known in the Legends “canon” of Star Wars.

Warnings: creature violence

Gif Source: djarsdin

The Mandalorian hadn’t expected to chase his bounty clear to Yavin 8, a tundra moon orbiting a gas giant. His bounty, a human by the name of Cornelis Offkin, had taken a beating from the Mandalorian’s Razor Crest, forcing the man to crash-land on the arid moon near the purple mountains ridging the surface.

Din didn’t have time to appreciate the dry beauty of the place. His bounty was somewhere here, his tracks plain in the scanner built into Din’s helmet. He followed the illuminated footprints through the dense wood at the base of the mountain range, rifle slung over his back, blaster at his hip. Strange, cloying smells wafted up into his helmet as he stepped on dense underbrush.

As he neared the base of the mountain range, Din slowed beside a small pond, confused by the footprints he was seeing. Offkin had seemed to stop, then spun around quickly, scattering dirt and detritus. Then a mad scramble deeper into the trees before sprawling to the ground.

Din scanned the area. Had Offkin been attacked? The ground beside the bounty’s footprints had been smoothed by something that had either remerged or entered the still pond. The surface of the water remained smooth.

Din reached for his blaster.

Water sprayed in all directions. Din glimpsed green-black eyes and large fangs before he was on his back, half in the creature’s mouth. Rearing back, it dragged him off the ground easily. Pain lanced up Din’s thigh, excruciating. Stifling a scream, Din tried to pull free his blaster.

The serpentine creature tossed its head back, opening its jaw wider. Din felt himself slipping further into the creature’s throat. He had never considered that he might die to a creature rather than some bounty. At least he knew the fate of Offkin.

An ear-piercing screech blasted the Mandalorian’s ears. The serpentine creature writhed, hissing.

Din glanced up to see huge wings spreading from behind the creature. Oh great, it flies, he thought.

A giant beak peered over the top of the creature’s head, followed by the predatory eyes of a raptor. Din caught his own reflection in the volucrine creature’s pupils before he was suddenly falling.

The serpentine creature rose above him, borne aloft by the avian animal.

Din hit the water hard.

Din gasped for air, choking up water in his helmet and inhaling it in again. Sputtering, lungs screaming, he shoved the helmet up a fraction and spewed the water out and down his chin, breathing air. It burned in his throat, but he sucked it up greedily, only distantly noting the musty mildew smell and taste of it.

When his lungs stopped aching, he breathed easier and took stock of his surroundings. Dimly lit by bioluminescent plants, the cave in which he sat appeared endless. Stalactites hung down from the ceiling, reflected vertiginously in a dark pool to his right.

Eyeing the water warily, he slowly rose to his feet, checking his weapons. Everything was where they were supposed to be. He tried to make sense of how he had arrived in this place, the last thing he remembered being the water engulfing him.

The stalactite reflection rippled. He tensed, ripping out his blaster from its holster. The ripples slowed near the edge of the pool. Din aimed, ready to kill.

A head tentatively emerged from the water, humanoid. Din found himself staring into your eyes as your chin lifted above the waterline. In the bioluminescent light, your face was limned in soft green.

“Hello.” It was all the Mandalorian could think to say.

“Hello,” you echoed. Your voice sounded like a trickling waterfall.

“What is this place?”

“Home.”

“Okay. How do I leave?”

You shook your head. “The reels are out. They hunt.” You spoke in Galactic Basic haltingly. “Not safe.”

“I have to get back to my ship.”

“Wait here.”

Din frowned. He wouldn’t be able to collect the bounty on Offkin, which meant he needed to find a new bounty as soon as possible. He couldn’t wait around losing credits. “How did I get here?”

“One of young ones found you. Brought you here to safety. The reel was not alone in the water.”

He pictured the serpentine creature writhing in fury and pain above him. Shivering, he suddenly remembered the wound in his leg. Glancing down, he found it wrapped in some kind of plant, covered thickly in a dark paste. The latter smelled atrocious, but the wound felt cool, his leg flexible.

“How long do I have to wait?” he asked.

“Sunrise. Reels and avrils sleep.” You made a motion with your hands, imitating wings.

Sighing, Din sat back down, trying to think his way out of the problem. The snake-like thing—the reel, he corrected—had caught him in the water. Looking around the cave, all he could see beside the smooth rock walls was water.

“How do I get out?” he asked again. “How did I get in?”

You patted the top of the water’s surface, sending ripples across the water. “Through lakes.”

It took him a long moment to realize what you meant. One of your people had dragged him through a system of underground lakes to this hidden cave. The only exit was through the reel-infested water.

Sighing again, he leaned up against the rock behind him and gently massaged feeling back into his wounded leg. He felt your gaze on him trying to bore through his helmet.

She may think it’s my actual face, a little voice inside him said.

“Why here?” you asked, propping your arms on the shore of the pool. He watched in disbelief as something crested the surface of the water behind you: a fin.

“I was…tracking someone. The reel got him.”

You frowned but nodded. Din was mesmerized by the fin, watched it slowly move back and forth like a woman moving her legs.

“Rest. I come later to take you to your ship.”

“Thank you.”

With a smile, you pushed back from the edge and slipped back into the water, your fin flashing. Din thought about it for half an hour before sleep took him under.

He wasn’t confident about being dragged through interconnected lakes. He didn’t have a water-breathing apparatus built into his helmet, and he wasn’t sure he could hold his breath long enough.

When you reemerged from the water, the water hovering just below your collarbone and no further, you hefted up a handful of blue-green algae.

“What is that?”

“To help breathe in water.” You mimed placing it over your mouth and nose. “Breathe little.”

Anxiety slithering up his spine, Din took the algae and turned away, lifting the helmet to plaster the slimy material over his mouth and nose. His heart stuttered in his chest, telling him he couldn’t breathe through the pond scum. Fighting it, he resettled the helmet over his head.

He found you had searching a hand from the water, reaching for him. Hesitating, he looked into your deep eyes, looking for deception. He found only an open and honest expression. Taking your hand, he let you lead him into the water. The chill sent a shiver through him as he went deeper into the water, his clothes and armor weighing him down.

You held onto him easily, wrapping your arms around his torso. Panic seized him again as you kicked hard, sending you both careering through a hole in the cave wall beneath the water. He blinked against the burn of it in his eyes as you maneuvered through the tunnels connecting the lakes.

He fought the urge to breathe despite the ache in his lungs. The algae stayed firmly in place despite the water sloshing up under the helmet. He felt stuck in a fishbowl, watching as the world rushed by, dragged along in a current with you acting as pilot and rudder.

At last, he gasped in a breath. No water entered, only a small puff of oxygen pulled off the slimy algae. He held his breath again, focusing on the feel of your arms around him, trying to lose himself in the comfort of being held for the first time since…ever.

Then you were breaking the surface, emerging into a sunlit glade. Kicking gracefully over to the shore, you pushed him onto the ground. Din turned and yanked off the algae, breathing fresh air. The Razor Crest stood a little ways off, its surface gleaming dully in the morning light.

“Safe,” you assured him, gesturing up at the sky. “No avril.”

“Thank you.”

You nodded. “Travel safe.”

He almost laughed. “I try.”

You flipped back into the water, your finned tail arcing behind you. The light glittered off your scales in a flash of brilliance.

Din didn’t leave until the water returned to stillness. The image of you disappearing beneath it would haunt him for years.

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin #Din Djarin imagine #Mando x Reader #Mando #Mando imagine #Pedro Pascal x Reader #Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal imagine #The Mandalorian #request

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comfortwriting · 4 years ago

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When You’re Gone - F.W

Fred Weasley (and George) x fem reader, inspired by the song ‘When You’re Gone’ by Avril Lavigne.

A/N: If any of you are struggling with loss, grief or need someone to talk to, my inbox is open and I’ve re-blogged support hotline numbers.

About: The reader is mourning the death of her boyfriend, Fred Weasley. She’s struggling to move on, finding herself lost in both the past and present. Unfortunately, she loses her grips on reality and George has to put on the mask and pretend to be Fred.

Warnings: Grief, sadness, death, depression, flashbacks, some fluff here and there, deterioration of mental and physical health, mention of hospice care towards the end.

Three months ago your long term boyfriend, the man you planned to marry, was killed in an explosion during the battle of Hogwarts. His death changed your life forever.

You found it hard leaving the bed, eating and showering. At first you tried to accept that he was gone but no matter what it got harder to do so, you just wanted to hide away, fall asleep forever to wake up again one day with him next to you.

I always needed time on my own I never thought I'd Need you there when I cry And the days feel like years when I'm alone And the bed where you lie Is made up on your side

“Come on Y/N, you should write back to them, they want to know how you are.” Your mother said softly, trying to encourage you.

Ever since Fred’s death, the Weasley's wrote to you every week when they had time, you couldn’t bring yourself to reading whatever they wrote, let alone reply. You didn’t want to hear from them or see them, the guilt you felt for their sons death was eating you up inside - you didn’t want to lie to them about your state either.

“Maybe another time mum” you replied, staring at Fred’s side of the bed.

Your mother sat next to you and placed a hand against your tear stained cheek “He isn’t coming back, you can’t just leave everything how it is.”

You sighed and stood up walking over to the window “I’ll send them a Christmas card and apologise for not being able to protect their son.”

“It’s August, Y/N”

“Right.”

“And it wasn’t your fault!” Your mother cried.

Slowly but surely, you were losing track of time, of what was and wasn’t real, you found yourself over the next year getting more confused and plummeting even more into denial - your parents believed you didn’t want to move on - but you couldn’t to no fault of your own, you didn’t have a choice.

Your stress and grief shaped your brain and changed it, changing your reality and everything around you to create a world in which Fred would be coming home.

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

“Fred you can’t be serious” You sighed, rubbing your temple.

“Harry is like family to me, to us. He needs me there and I’m not going to allow.. WE need him gone to be able to have the life we want together, Y/N.” Fred argued back, pacing around the much brighter and cleaner bedroom.

“How am I going to protect you? I am in no state to be entering a war when I’m already so badly injured. If something goes wrong out there when I’m not with you...”

Fred walked over to you and placed a finger on your lips, shushing you. “Nothing is going to happen to me, my love.” he reassured you.

You shook your head “We don’t know that, please Fred, stay.”

Fred frowned and walked away from you “you know I can’t.”

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear To always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

“Fred” you whispered, sitting in the shower, the water storming down upon you. “Please come back soon, I know you can and I hope you will.”

Your mother rubbed the bar of soap on your back before rinsing it with the water “I know we argued last night but I trust you, I know you’ll make it out alive.” you whispered again.

Your mother stopped washing you for a moment, taking in everything you had been saying, finally understand that something had gone wrong and your frame of mind wasn’t the same as it used to be. She knew deep in her heart you weren’t calling out for his spirit, she knew that you truly believed that he had just gone to Hogwarts - you were reliving the same period of time over and over, from the moment Fred left up until you would panic, running to the windows and asking members of the public if they had seen him.

Fifteen months on you were sitting at the table in the kitchen with your parents, you felt nervous at Fred’s silence.

“It’s a shame he can’t use a muggle phone” you muttered to your dad, taking a sip of your tea “I’d be able to hear his voice if he did.”

You started to bite at your nails whilst your legs couldn’t stop shaking “I bet his owls bloody snuffed it” you muttered again “he’s not replied to any of my letters, he must not be receiving them.”

Your parents exchanged a worried glance and sighed, your mental state crumpling even further. Recently, you were caught writing to Fred over and over again, asking how Harry was, how the war was going and if he’s okay, telling him you loved him. Your parents would tell you they would send the letters, but didn’t - Fred was dead and wouldn’t be coming back.

Even when they told you over and over again, within hours you would be back to writing those letters and talking about him in present tense.

Luckily George (and Arthur) finally learned how to use a muggle phone. Your parents decided to tell the Weasley family the truth, Molly, Arthur and George were heartbroken. George would ring up weekly to see how he could help and for updates on your condition.

“George she’s getting worse, we think she’ll stay where she is but she doesn’t she just goes further and further into madness.” Your mother said down the phone.

George sighed on the other end “I’m sorry-”

In the background George could hear you calling out in a panic “Dad! Dad! Where is Fred? he should be back by now and he isn’t here!” you began to cry.

“She’s like this as soon as the sun sets, every single day.” Your mother told George.

“I’ll be round in the morning” George replied.

I've never felt this way before Everything that I do Reminds me of you And the clothes you left, they lie on the floor And they smell just like you I love the things that you do

Rocking in your chair you looked around the room, feeling the same nausea as usual, waiting for Fred to return home. In your lap was one of his jumpers Molly made him one Christmas, you would wear it all the time, and if you got too hot you’d clutch to it like a toddler with a blanket.

Hearing the door open, which was incredibly unusual in your house you got up to your feet, your mouth dropping wide open when Fred, now with much longer hair came walking inside.

Your parents were hoping George’s visit would help break away at the cloudiness in your brain, but all they did was make it worse.

“Freddie!” You squealed out, running over and wrapping your arms around him “You’re finally home!”

You noticed behind his hair, he was missing an ear, but your overwhelming happiness of finally being reunited with him distracted you from asking questions.

George could feel his heart ache and his stomach drop, realising how much worse his visit would impact you. You got on your tip toes as you always did and placed a long and loving kiss onto his lips.

You furrowed your eyebrows at who you thought was Fred, George couldn’t bring himself to kiss you back, he felt cruel for doing this, but your parents had never seen you so calm and so happy in almost two years.

George looked at your parents for a moment and decided to try, he sighed and shook his head, not wanting to lie to you.

“I’m not Fred, I’m George.”

When you walk away I count the steps that you take Do you see how much I need you right now?

You let out a laugh “You need to come back from war with more than longer hair and a missing ear to try and trick me.”

“Fred died, Y/N. He was killed in an explosion.” George told the truth.

You shook your head in disbelief “No? You’re right in front of me.” you replied “I know you like your laughs and jokes Fred, but that’s not something to joke about, George should know better too for putting you up to this.”

You walked into the kitchen forgetting what you went in there for and walked back into the living room, taking a seat.

Your mother burst into tears and walked out of the room, your father following her to give comfort. You stared at them, not understanding why they hadn’t welcomed your boyfriend back into warm open arms.

George knew that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn’t be able to get you to see the truth - you couldn’t no matter what, they were living in your world now. George sighed, almost kicking himself for what he was about to do.

“I’m only joking, I am Fred.”

Waking up from your nap you jolted up and noticed the darkness through the window outside, feeling the panic brew inside your tummy you started to worry.

“It’s okay I’m here.” George, playing Fred, patted your shoulders, walking around your chair.

He was carrying a bowl of soup in his hands nice and warm, just for you.

Your parents and George were taking you care of you full time now, George had been living as your pretend boyfriend for just over seven years now and his heart broke even more as your state worsened.

You couldn’t feed yourself, wash yourself, get your self dressed or brush your hair. You couldn’t communicate through speech properly either, you would instead pull faces, point or stare into the same four walls, and every day was exactly the same; waiting for Fred to come home, being nervous, overjoyed when you’d see him, in distress when George would leave the room or when your parents would take over his shift.

You smiled at Fred, as he blew on the soup filled spoon, making you drink it. It took you ages just to finish eating and drinking, it was hard to simply exist, but staring into those beautiful eyes you never thought you’d see again calmed the storms that distressed your seas and damaged your boats.

George finished buttoning up your pyjama shirt and got you to lay down in your bed, he sat beside you and stroked your hair until your eyes fluttered shut. Once he knew you were dreaming far away from home, he stood up and met your parents downstairs.

“George, our daughter... well you know all of this is no good, not getting better.” Your father tried his best to explain, swallowing the great big lump in his throat.

Your mother took over “What we’re trying to say George, is that, we’re looking to place Y/N in a twenty four hour care facility. She cannot speak, she cannot look after herself, she’s incredible vulnerable and she’ll be getting the care she needs - you’ll be able to get your life back.”

We were made for each other Out here forever I know we were Yeah, yeah And all I ever wanted was for you to know Everything I do, I give my heart and soul I can hardly breathe; I need to feel you here with me Yeah

Today was your 40th birthday, twenty whole years since Fred died along with a part of yourself no one would ever see again.

Now due to your bedbound state, you were laid in bed and the care assistant next to you got out your photo albums from all of your years at Hogwarts. She adjusted the height and position of the bed with her wand, making you more comfortable.

Placing the photo albums on your lap she took you through them one by one, the memories flashing before you like a movie reel as you watched the photos move.

The twins on the train going home after their first year at Hogwarts, Fred flying on his broom during Quidditch. Fred and you on your first date in Hogsmeade, him dancing around the tent with a giant shamrock painted on his face, the two of you pulling faces and giggling in the kitchen at the burrow, Fred proudly standing in front of his shop, the two of you in your house just before he left for the war.

The care assistant pulled out the letters he had written to you over the years on your birthday, placing them in front of you to read. Despite his death - absence - from your life, you could still hear his voice as clear as day, making re-reading these letters all the more special.

When you're gone The pieces of my heart are missin' you When you're gone The face I came to know is missin', too When you're gone The words I need to hear Will always get me through the day And make it okay I miss you

Overtime, your muscles weakened and so did your organs, and unfortunately this years cold, flu, and sickness season didn’t go easy on you. The whole facility lost many residents this time of the year but none as young as you.

Your parents who would much rather be grandparents sporting perfect silver hair and wrinkles were notified of your deterioration, being told that now would be the time to come and say goodbye. Your parents notified George and he left his wife and children at home, coming to visit you.

In a deep sleep you could hear your parents talking but couldn’t quite make out what they were staying, you didn’t have the strength to open your eyes either. After struggling to leave the room, George finally switched over from them and sat in the chair next to you, taking a hold on your hand.

When going through the room he and his brother shared, he stumbled across a letter Fred had written but never sent in one of the pockets of the last coat he had ever worn. George brought it with him after reading it, knowing it would help you reach the reality with Fred you yearned for.

My Dearest Y/N,

I’m sorry that I had to go and leave you behind, but don’t be scared, don’t worry about me, my love. You are strong and you are brave, no matter what happens - I promise we’ll meet again. Just keep those beautiful eyes of yours set on the horizon, and when the time is right, we’ll know where to meet again.

George felt your grip on his hand tighten, tears rolled down his face.

I know it’s not been easy and I know that it’s been calm, but we’ll have forever together and we’ll be away from harm. So keep on smiling and searching beautiful, the adventure is not so far away.

Love Always, Fred.

Letting go of the weight on your shoulders, you stumbled through the forest, feeling the sun beam on your skin. Following the chatty Magpie you stopped in your tracks, your whole world standing right in front of you.

“You got my letter?” Fred asked, who had aged like fine wine.

You grinned widely and nodded, tears forming in your eyes and ran into his open arms.

“I missed you.”

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evening-starlight · 3 years ago

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Warm Beers

Taglist is OPEN! DM or comment to be added

Posting schedule: Monday, Wednesday, Friday

This story takes place before season 1

All Works Master List

Warm Beers Master List

Word Count: 1165

A lit cigarette hangs from McKenzie's lips as she leans over the propped-up surfboard. Sweat was already beading on her forehead before she had done any work on the board. After weeks of surfing with her friends, the gripping wax had melted beyond her comfort zone. The music plays over the outdoor system, and she sings along, swaying her hips in time.

Kenzie was alone for the morning. Her friends didn't get up before noon most days, and her dad was in the office. Sk8er Boi by Avril Lavigne blares across her backyard, drowning out the distinctive sound of the Twinkie and three doors closing.

The old, gray wax slides off her board like butter as Kenzie sings her heart out, not hearing her friends walk up the gravel driveway to her backyard. She continues to sing loudly, swinging her hips side to side as her friends muffle their laughs. They watch on in hushed tones.

JJ snickers when she trips over her own feet, trying to do a spin. Kenzie may be coordinated, but she was the clumsiest person he knew. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees four pairs of shoes as she regains balance.

With a yelp, Kenzie throws the scrapper at the intruders, not expecting her friends to be at her house this early. The scrapper hits next to JJ's head and would have hit him if he hadn't ducked. "Jesus fucking Christ, guys. You should know not to sneak up on a deputy's daughter," Kenzie berates, clutching her chest as she calms herself down.

"Well, if you were on your phone like you usually are, you'd know that we were coming over," JJ says. He walks over to her and takes the cigarette out of her hand. Kenzie shakes her head and smacks JJ's arm.

"We wanted to see if you wanted to catch some early morning waves with us?" John B. asks. "But seeing as you're working on your shortboard, I guess that's out of the question."

"I have my dad's I can steal for the day. Just let me finish this here, and I'll meet you guys down there?" Kenzie asks, taking the cigarette back from JJ. The gang agrees quickly, ready to hit some waves. Pope tosses her the wax comb and follows his friends back to the Twinkie.

JJ opts to stay behind, wanting to spend more time with Kenzie. "You don't have to stay, you know?" Kenzie states as she goes back to cleaning the board of its old wax. JJ starts on the other side with a spare scrapper he found on the floor.

"I know. I just like spending time with you. Is that a crime, Ken?" JJ asks in a sassy tone. Kenzie laughs and shakes her head.

"Yes. A crime punishable by life in prison," Kenzie retorts, focusing back to her board. JJ laughs with her before finishing off the wax on his side.

The friends dance and sing together to the songs that play over her sound system while they wax. Granted, there was more fooling around than working between the two. Kenzie squeals as JJ lifts her off the ground, throwing her over his shoulder when she tried to finish waxing her shortboard. "JJ," She yells, slapping his back playfully.

"I'm bored of waxing, Ken. Let's go surf," JJ whines, already carrying her inside of her house. Kenzie giggles and flops against JJ, making carrying her harder. She yelps again as JJ tosses her onto her bed.

She rolls off of the other side when JJ tries to lay on top of her. "Didn't you just say you wanted to go surfing, Maybank?" He groans in response and settles his hands behind his head while Kenzie finds a bikini from her drawers. "Are you just going to sit there like a pervert while I change?" Kenzie asks, eyeing the boy suspiciously.

JJ shrugs, not breaking eye contact. "You've changed in front of me before, so what's different now?" He asks. Kenzie doesn't have enough energy to fight him on this, so she turns her back, peeling her shirt off. Nothing was different, obviously. But it still felt tense taking off her clothes.

Her back flexes as she pulls the halter top on. Kezie's perfectly tanned, flawless back. If she turned just a little, JJ could see her perfect breasts. JJ shakes his head to try to clear the thoughts, but when her shorts hit the floor, JJ gets the perfect view of her ass. Absolutely flawless, he thinks to himself.

McKenzie turns back around and smiles at JJ. "Ready to go?" She asks as she pulls on the clothes she wore earlier back on. JJ, once again speechless by the beauty that is his best friend, nods.

John B. cheers when he sees the duo walk down the beach, carrying their boards under their arms. "About damn time, assholes." He yells up to them. Kenzie and JJ flip him off in unison before running down the sand to where the water meets the sand.

The group spends hours surfing the morning tide. Pope and Kenzie share a board at one point, unsuccessfully trying couple's tricks. The only one they got close was when Kenzie was on Pope's shoulders. Kenzie had made it onto his shoulders easily, but when a wave caught them, both fell into the water in a fit of giggles.

Pope hauls the bucket of water up to their sandcastle, smiling brightly as they almost finished the moat. The castle stood tall and proud, a small leaf on the top as their Pouge flag. As Pope fills up the trench, JJ sits next to Kenzie on the hot sand. "What's this?"

"A jail," Kenzie sasses, rolling her head to the side to look at JJ. "A fucking castle. What does it look like, genius?" JJ scoffs and rolls his eyes. "It's the castle of Queen Bitch and King Dumbass. They rule Pougelandia," Kenzie informs. JJ laughs with an approving nod.

"I like your story, Ken. Let me guess, I'm King Dumbass?" Kenzie shakes her head.

"Nope. John B. is King Dumbass. You're Princess Asshole."

"I thought it was Queen Bitch?" JJ asks, smirking at Kenzie. He loved how intricate her little stories would become when she made sandcastles. Kenzie sighs dramatically.

"No, you're Princess Asshole, Pope is Queen Bitch, and Kiara is Prince Charming," Kenzie jokes, leaning her head on JJ's shoulder. "I'm obviously the royal jester. Considering I'm the funniest fucker you will ever know."

Pope scoffs with a shake of his head. "So I'm married to John B., and you get to live life happily making jokes for everyone to laugh at?"

John B. soon joins them and plays along with Kenzie's story, making kissing faces at an uncomfortable Pope. Kenzie laughs at her friends' antics, teasing and mocking each other like usual teens do. Some part of Kenzie is touching JJ at all times, enjoying the physical contact she got with him.

Taglist: @gwenlovesharrystyles @x-lulu @gviosca @cognacdelights @queenofallhobos

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morganas-pendragons · 4 years ago

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Goodbye For Now | Din Djarin

I had a dream the same day this aired that incorporated Goodbye by Avril Lavigne... and yeah, this was born. I put a lot of my own experiences into this fic. It’s very personal. Regardless of that, I hope you enjoy!

tag: @earthtokace / @kyber-queen / @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol

This is literally the first fic in years I’ve used Y/N and it’s just one line for the fic, and I think it’s the longest fic I’ve ever written on Tumblr.

Word count: 5.1k OOPS

After

In the quietness of a little room in the back of an inn on Nevarro, the question asked by a grieving Din Djarin rolls around in your mind. You hadn’t been able to give him an immediate answer. It was too fresh. Too heavy.

What’s the hardest part about letting go?

As The Mandalorian sleeps fitfully behind you with his arm wound tightly enough around your waist to ensure you do not disappear in his sleep - because has he not sacrificed enough? - you ponder his question as much as your sleep deprived mind is able.

Din.. I think the hardest part about letting go is being able to accept that the people you’re letting go of aren’t apart of your life anymore. They aren’t physically with you anymore. They aren’t imprinted on your memory, on your soul. You just have to let it... fade. Let them fade until they're just a story.

Your eyes flicker down to the ring that lays on your left finger.

But in a galaxy as remarkable as this one... There’s always that glimmer of hope that someday, maybe someday... they’ll come back to you. That they won’t leave you.

“And Grogu will never leave you Din.” You whisper, wrapping your hand around his forearm and lightly squeezing it as you settle into the warmth of his embrace. “Never.”

Before

Your blood chills in your veins at the words, “I go alone.” because there is no possible way in Sith hells you are allowing Din to walk onto that cruiser alone. As Bo-Katan reiterates the plan to the crew around you, your eyes are focused on the rigid and silent Mandalorian standing across the holo-table.

You’re not coming with me.

Are you really naive enough to believe I’m letting you go alone, Din? You snap, to which he winces at your sharp tone. If Gideon is half intelligent as I think he is, he’ll have installed impenetrable defenses on those dark-troopers. You'll need a Jedi to get through them.

You can practically feel the burn of his gaze through the helmet. It’s obvious he wants you with the larger group, but you refuse to bow when the life of your son is at stake. If he’s going to retrieve the baby, you very much intend on remaining by his side to ensure the safety of them both.

Until the end.

Fine. You stick by me, don’t say a word- He pauses and swallows the reluctance in his throat that dies when he meets your eyes through the helmet. You know he’s looking at you... and you know how fearful he is. And please, don’t die.

You beam. Dying without you, Din Djarin? I have no intentions of doing that anytime soon.

The two of you disengage from the shuttle, trekking through the bodies left in the wake of the women in the landing bay as you move in the direction of the brig. Doctor Pershing had disclosed that Gideon had been keeping the baby there, so there was no reason to believe that he wouldn’t still remain within the same cell.

Your blood roars in your ears as you disengage the lock on your staff and hold the hilts of each saber in your hands. The Force envelops you in its comforting hold - wraps around your bones and your scars and your muscles and invigorates you with a strength you haven’t felt since before The Republic fell - and guides your steps that will lead you in the direction of the little one who holds a large piece of your heart.

The other piece is held in the hands of The Mandalorian.

Din. You murmur. I just need you to know that you may see a side of me today that you’ve never seen before. If that in any way changes how you feel about me-

He stops you short just as a pair of Stormtropers jog past. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. He sounds certain, almost confident, in his answer. The sound of it makes your chest warm.

Never?

Never.

It’s right there on the tip of your tongue. You’ve only said it to each other once in the time that you’ve been together, but you’ve never desired to say it more then this moment, but it doesn’t feel right. It’s too rushed. Dancing too close to the edge of anticipation as you seek out your child.

Your heart nearly jumps out your chest as Din sprints in the direction of the doors where the dark troopers are emerging and one lone soldier has escaped. Before you can react, the man you love is being held against the wall in an iron grip and a fist is repeatedly pounding itself into his helmet.

“Din!”

The Dark-Trooper turns its eyes on you, and you’re suddenly flung into a lifetime of battle skills that kept you alive when you’d served as a Padawan in The Clone Wars and on the front lines of The Rebellion. You slide forward on your knees and remove the legs of the trooper just as Din impales the thing with the Beskar spear slung across his back.

“I’m fine-” He rasps, extending a hand to hold you at arms length as your trembling hands tighten their grip on your saber. It’s not often that Din comes face to face with Death when you're standing right there. People are petrified of Jedi. There aren’t many of them left. Mandalorian bounty hunters, however... They can be more expendable. Easier to break then one who is gifted with The Force.

“C’mon. I’ll take point.”

Right here. The Force whispers its assurance as you both stand in front of the nearest cell, and the moment the door opens you are granted with the sight of Moff Gideon holding the dark saber in front of Grogu.

Buir. You’d completely forgotten the baby had bonded himself to you in the days just shortly after you’d found him. He’d rarely used it. He’d only ever opened himself up to project his emotions onto you in order for you to know when something was wrong, but the minute you see him sitting on that bench, he’s talking to you.

Grogu holds his hands out as if he’s reaching for you, wide eyes pleading for you to remove the Force Suppressant handcuffs that envelop his tiny hands. Buir.

Tears prick your eyes as you ignite your saber. The other sits idle on your hip just out of reach.

“Drop the blaster,” Moff nods to your saber. “And your saber. Slowly.” The two of you drop your weapons simultaneously. “Now kick them over to me.” Before Din can do so, you wave your hand to throw your weapons just out of reach. “Very nice. I didn’t know Jedi could be civil.”

The venom drips from his words. “If you’re not careful,” You warn. “I will show you what I look like when I am not civil.” A split second passes as you watch the fear flicker through his gaze before he’s tightening his grip on the dark saber. Moff had not, to your knowledge, encountered any kind of Jedi up until this point. He only knew of their abilities. Not of what they were capable of - with the dark or the light - with The Force at their disposal.

The damage you could cause....

“Give me the kid.”

“The Kid is just fine where he is.” Gideon replies, to which he begins moving the dark saber back and forth just to hear the satisfying hum of its kyber that rings within the hilt. “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? It used to belong to Bo-Katan.” Din stops short at his statement. “Yes. I know you’ve both been traveling with Bo-Katan. Friendly piece of advice, assume I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo.”

Your gaze is still trained on the kid. Did he hurt you? Your voice is gentle as you prod at the shields that Grogu has placed inside of his mind. For someone who has little to no training, he’s rather good at making sure nobody can reach the most vulnerable places of himself. Ad’ika, it’s okay. It’s your buir. Did he hurt you?

Din and the Moff are still talking as your son lifts his head, meets your soft - and familiar, he hasn’t felt this safe since he was last on Tython, knowing you and Din were out there protecting him - gaze, and shakes his head.

Bless The Maker.

You shake yourself out of your reverie at the Moff’s words. “I see your bond with him. The bond the Jedi has made with him,” He comments, disengaging the dark saber as he moves away from the baby. “The two of you can take him, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.”

The Force coils itself around you. Tightens around your arms as if you pull you away from the baby, and just as Din moves to pick him up, whispers danger before The Moff has reengaged the dark saber and slams the weapon into Din’s jetpack.

“Din! Go!”

Buir. You throw yourself right into the line of fire, regardless of the threat to your own life, and envelop Grogu in your arms as the fight between the Moff and Din carries out into the hallway. Safe.

You aren’t sure if he’s talking about himself or you. Regardless, you cradle him against your chest and bring your knees upward to shelter him within your manse.

Yes. Safe.

The cuffs fall to the floor with a snap of your fingers.

***

You’re straight up itching to punch Bo-Katan right in her smug face. After bringing Gideon to the bridge where the rest of your team awaits you, the Moff confesses the origins behind the Dark Saber - which for some reason is a tradition, despite Mandalore’s loss, that Bo-Katan still follows because it is what she knows - and the Princess of Sundari refuses to take it back from Din.

“You are so stuck in your old ways, Bo-Katan.” You snap, Grogu still cradled in your arm as you pace the width of the bridge. Din still wields the blade and grasps the Moff in the other hand, hardened gaze set on the thick-headed Mandalorian before him. “Wake up! This is not your sister’s Mandalore-”

The youngest Kryze whips around. Shock and disbelief writes itself into your features because that is the only time you can recall seeing such a fire lit within her. “Don’t you dare speak her name-” She snarls, pointing an accusatory finger at you as the two of you step toe to toe. “Or even think of her.”

You are so tempted to release your biggest secret, the one you’ve been keeping from everyone - even before you met Din - for your own safety. You hadn’t even told the Skywalker's about it.

It’s fortunate you didn’t obtain the auburn hair.

“Why don’t you kill him now and take it? It’s yours now.”

“What is?”

“The dark saber.”

Bo-Katan will not relent. Until she wins that saber in combat, she refuses to even lay a hand on the dark saber. You find the entire thing amusing given what your former Master had told you in hushed stories underneath a starry sky about Clan Kryze. Stubborn, prideful women. Satine’s pride had earned her an early grave. Bo-Katan, however... that remained to be determined.

“I yield. It’s yours.’’

Din is too good for the throne of Mandalore. All he wants in life is a ship, the baby, and you. That is what drives him to hand the dark saber over to Bo-Katan. That is what drives him at all.

You know about the Dark Saber. You’ve heard the tales surrounding it since you were small, stranded on a home world you’d have rather never seen again with your father and a thrumming lightsaber crystal. The Force will be with you. Always. He had made that promise just before he died, and you had carried his words with you ever since. That man had sheltered you, raised you, made you his own.

And as Din watches you hold that Dark Saber out in front of your hand, he finally sees the resemblance. He sees the ferocity in your gaze and the defeat in Bo-Katan’s, he sees how similar you too are in both personality and physical appearance.

What the kriff?

“He’s right. The power is in the story, not the weapon.” Darkened eyes meet your own as your pulse thrums erratically beneath your grip on the Dark Saber. “Ironic how a Jedi raised on Coruscant knows more about Mandalore then most of the people in here, two of which are from Mandalore.”

“Who said I wasn’t from Mandalore?”

Before the two of you can argue, one of the alarms begins blaring on the opposite side of the bridge. The dark troopers have breached the ray shields and board the cruiser.

“You’re about to face off with the Dark Troopers. You had your hands full with one, let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

This was the precise moment you’d warned Din about. “Bo-Katan,” You call over your shoulder at the Princess, who turns to acknowledge you as she puts her helmet on. Now or never I guess. “Ke'pare olar, cabuor cuun adiik. Par Clan Kryze.”

Before Bo-Katan can ask you what you’re doing, you reach into your tunic and reveal the pendant you’ve worn since long before you met Din. A token from the man who'd taken it upon himself to raise you, you’d been everywhere with the tiny silver owl that almost never left your person.

Her breath catches in her lungs. The last time she saw that pendant...

“Sarad-”

“Din?” You question hesitantly and lowly enough that the others can’t hear, handing him the baby before you reach for your sabers. “Remember when I told you I was going to do something you’ve never seen before?” Din nods and tightens his grip on Grogu as you activate each saber and turn in the direction of the doors.

“Yes.”

The Mandalorian catches your trembling hands wrapped tightly enough around your sabers to turn your knuckles white.

Din swallows the trepidation that lingers in his throat and squares his jaw beneath the helmet, allowing his fear of what may happen to you - despite knowing how well you can take care of yourself - to confine itself to the back of his mind. He can dwell on it later.

You’re making the child’s safety your top priority.

“Don’t let it change anything.”

You cast one last look over your shoulder at the man you love, allowing your gaze to soften as Grogu eyes him, then you, and rests a tiny hand against Din’s. He’s trying to tell you I’ll keep him safe while you’re gone. It’s sweet. Endearing.

“It won’t.” Din replies quietly, to which his voice then whispers I love you across your bond. Your heart nearly explodes with how gentle it is, how he chose now to tell you again after so long of having not heard it. There’s a newfound strength coursing through your body as you turn towards the doors and call to Fennec to open them. “Be safe, Sarad.”

“I will.”

As someone who usually calls on the Light Side of the Force, you’re oddly coaxed to the lingering darkness in the hallways of the Cruiser. You’ve never allowed yourself to fall like the Sith do. You’d had every reason to do so over the years, and yet you never did.

It occurs to you as you make your final stand alone that the only reason you never fell was because you found the baby.

Oh Force...

The metallic footsteps of the dark troopers ring in your ears as you stand vigil before the doors to the room that contains your family. Your aliit.

Forgive me.

“Go on then!” You yell, hoping your voice will carry through the hallways in which they are following to lead themselves to you. “What, are you afraid of a Jedi? I’ve bested the dark, I’ve survived two wars and a mass genocide! Nothing can break me!” You twirl your wrists in the usual jar’kai motions and settle yourself into your favorite defense position. “I’m ready! Are you??”

Outside the main viewport, a lone X-Wing flies within view with the hangar as its destination.

Your head falls to your chest. I’m calling on you... Be with me. The steps grow closer, the anticipation of their lethal capabilities thrumming in your veins. Be with me.

The first dark troopers circle the hall. You peer out of the alcove in which you’re hiding, position yourself in the middle of the platoon, and lift your head towards the ceiling.

Din watches from the surveillance array as the first squad of dark troopers begins trembling. The metal crumbles beneath the weight of your Force grip. “Sarad-” He whispers, fingertips ghosting the screen as he watches the troopers turn in your direction and set their targeting systems on you. “Sarad.”

Be with me.

Unaware of the other Force User who’s just landed in the hangar, your head snaps upward and your instincts kick in as your sabers begin moving of their own accord. You are not the one moving with such grace, such poise, years of training in desert sands with a man who’s constantly dancing with his ghosts.

You are not you. You are simply The Force.

Blue collides with obsidian. Further down the hall, Grogu watches on the surveillance as his buir and the Jedi he’s called upon move to meet each other half way.

Before you reach the newcomer, you’re nearly knocked off your feet by the way his presence radiates in The Force as you clench your hands into a fist and send the last Dark Trooper slamming into the wall.

“No way.” The two of you snap upward to meet each other’s gaze. It’s been years since you’ve seen that familiar face - the same familiar face you’d spent so many nights with training in the forests, the same face that had always softened as the two of you traded stories about your pasts and the Jedi who’d trained you - and it’s a welcome sight that this happens to be the Jedi that your ad’ika had called upon on Tython. “Luke?”

The newcomer throws his hood back to meet your eyes.

“Y/N.”

***

During

Buir. Grogu watches the surveillance screen as you and Luke join one another in the elevator. There’s one small platoon left that’s come from a separate hallway that the two of you can eliminate without barely lifting a finger.

The powerful two Jedi can radiate. It’s cosmic.

It’s alluring. Mesmerizing. A flurry of blue and green weaving between one another as each individual dark trooper is reduced to a pile of smoking metal. Din watches Grogu where he stands, little hand planted on the surveillance screen as the two of you emerge together from the elevator.

“Remarkable.” Din whispers, because it is. The way that the two of you fight is almost like you were born to do it together, to fight with one another and as one another.

The last dark trooper crumbles under Luke’s grasps. When he passes by the camera, Grogu turns to his father and tips his ears back before whining for Din to lift him up.

“Open the doors.”

Din tries not to laugh at the utter indignation on Fennec’s face as he cradles the baby’s neck in his hands, moving around the bounty hunter to stand before the blast doors. He knows they’re safe when you’re standing on the other side of it.

The crowd watches as the newcomer follows on your heels through the smoke left in the wake of your destruction, and the two of you both remove your hoods to acknowledge them.

“Mandalorian.”

“Is he... A Jedi? Like you?”

Luke, ever the civil, folds his hands across his stomach and nods. “Yes.” He says quietly, green eyes softening as the baby peers around the edge of the chair to look at his buir and the man who has answered his call. “Come, little one.”

Grogu looks to Din, and then to you. You can hear his question as clear as day inside your mind.

Are you ready to let me go?

And in that moment, everything comes crashing down in front of you. He’s asking for your permission to go with Luke. He’s asking for the permission of the woman who’d saved him and the man who’d taken it upon himself to keep him safe, to raise him, to let him go with the other Jedi in order to be properly trained. Maker knew you couldn’t do it.

“He doesn’t want to go with you.”

Goodbye, goodbye

Goodbye, my love

“He wants your permission. Both of you.” Luke’s voice breaks through your reverie as you hang your sabers on the belt that’s swung low across your hips. This child has been your livelihood, your reason for breathing, since the year following the genocide of the Jedi. Since you lost your world.

And it seems like you’re about to lose it again.

I can’t hide

I can’t hide what has come

“He is strong in the Force, but talent without training is nothing. I will give my life to protect The Child, but he will not be safe until he masters his abilities.” Unfortunately for you, Luke knows you so well that he can feel the weighed projection of your feelings that emanate from you like a flare within the darkness, which is what prompts you to gently usher you towards Din.

“Hey, go on. This is who you belong with. He-He’s one of your kind.”

I have to go

I have to go... and leave you alone...

“I’ll see you again. I promise.”

Wide, innocent eyes flicker between you and Din before Grogu is reaching up, ever the gentle, to press his hand against his helmet. This would be the first and most likely the only time the baby has ever seen Din’s real face.

You flash a questioning look at the man you love. Then, without question, he wraps his fingers around the bottom of the helmet and slowly lifts it off.

The beskar clang resounds within the bridge.

But always know

Always know... Always know

That I love you so..

Your heart has begun to bleed just by watching this exchange. Din has gone so much of his life without knowing what love was, how gentle people were capable of being. That had all changed when The Child had healed The Mandalorian’s lonely heart. It had never been you. It was him who healed you both.

Din’s lips quiver as Grogu presses his hand to a bare cheek. Your tears are becoming harder to keep at bay, and with the sudden tightness in your chest, you’re suddenly finding it incredibly difficult to breathe. Nevermind the fact that the room has suddenly begun spinning.

‘’Alright, pal. It’s time to go.” Din said quietly. You aren’t entirely sure if he's talking to himself, to you, or to Grogu. “Don’t be afraid.”

Everything around you is muted. Numb. Like your body is trying to fight a shock that you haven’t experienced since Order 66.

Buir. A tiny whisper, echoing in the back of your mind as a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. A flash of a child’s cry echoes in your ears as a blonde woman hands a baby into the arms of Obi-Wan Kenobi, the very man who had taken it upon himself to raise you. Safe. That whisper grows into the voice of your son. Your son is staring at you over Din’s shoulder and desperately trying to call your attention as your world comes crashing at your feet. Buir is safe.

That’s what he means. Since you’re not going to be looking over your shoulder and sleeping with one eye open anymore just because he’s in the same vicinity as you - such a powerful being inside this tiny body - now, you are safe for the first time since The Empire fell.

The fact Grogu puts your safety over his own makes your heart break.

“You’re losing a child.” It’s Bo-Katan’s voice that brings you back to reality. The gentle and foreign tone she’s using is enough to jar you and bring your focus back to the matter at hand: It’s time for Grogu to be with his- your people. “It’s alright to grieve.”

It is, but you can’t. Not right now.

You stumble forward and wipe at your eyes as you press your front to Din’s back. He’s very clearly overwhelmed by the loss of the baby, but that doesn’t stop him from nodding in thanks to Luke.

Goodbye, sunshine

Goodbye for now

Your anguish is replaced by a split second of joy as Grogu looks at you, waddles forward to cradle your leg against himself and say i love you through his Force Bond before he’s turning in the direction of the astromech who’s just rolled into view.

“May The Force Be With You.” But before Luke walks into that elevator, he casts one last look at you. It’s the same look he gave you before you’d left to make a life for yourself. To be your own person outside of the legacy of the Jedi that you’d been brought up in. “I’m offering you the same opportunity I did when you left, Y/N. You can help me in training The Child with the new Jedi Order I intend to build. There are many young Force Sensitives to find.” He holds out his free hand and tries to hide his smile as R2 beeps his approval. “A new world. Would you like to be a part of it?”

Through your Force Bond, you clearly feel Din’s heart drop right into his stomach and his chest tighten as reality hits him: You and the baby may be leaving him together. That would leave him alone for the first time in several years.. and Din doesn’t remember what he was like before he met the two of you, before he loved the two of you.

He doesn’t want to go back to being a ghost.

“I left you for a reason, Luke.” And just like that, the infamous Mandalorian masks his shock as you step backward and right into his hold, maneuvering your arm so as to take his hand within yours. “And I have no intention to leave my aliit. Not this time.”

Luke nods. It’s all he can do. “Very well. As I said, May The Force Be With You.’’

Grogu looks at the two of you as Luke carries him into the elevator.

Goodbye, brown eyes

Take care of yourself

It is so difficult to keep your composure as your son watches the two of you disappear from view. Your knees are already trembling by the time Din pulls you into his arms, and when the elevator doors close, you throw your head back against Din’s chest and let out a wail that shatters the silence following their departure as the two of you sink to the floor.

I have to go.. and leave you alone

But always know that I love you so

Din’s split second decision comes as he buries his face in your hair and whispers as gently as he is able, “Marry me.”

I love you so

Your eyes snap open to meet his own. Tear filled onyx meets your gaze as you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him - once, twice, three times until he’s open and begging and desperate for more of you - before pulling away to envelop him in the tightest embrace possible.

Oh... he’s so wholly and wonderfully yours.

“Yes.”

***

After

Bo-Katan approaches you as you stand in Slave One, knees brought to your chest and chin resting upon them as she kneels in front of you. You and Din haven’t said a word since you boarded the ship, and it’s a needed silence. You must have time to process your losses.

Why did I have to let him go?

“That pendant.” Bo-Katan whispers. “That pendant used to be in my family, Clan Kryze.” The former Princess of Mandalore tilts her head as your gaze remained focused on the cargo hold, eyes vacant as she continues. “It was mine. That pendant was mine and eventually passed to my sister, Satine. You know about Mandalore before the Empire, you know about Kenobi, you know about The Force.”

Your eyes slowly shift to hers.

“And?”

“I don’t think you’re from some backwater planet. I think you were born on Mandalore,” Her eyes soften, the first time you’ve seen her show any kind of humanity in the entire escapade since leaving the Cantina. You didn’t think she was capable of it. “I think Kenobi raised you wherever he ended up, and I think he was your Master. I think you are Mandalorian, little one.” Bo-Katan stands to her feet and hesitates for a brief moment before resting her hand against your head. “But I don’t know. I never will.”

Your entire body sags into her touch.

“Bo-Katan-”

“Be peaceful, little Jedi.” She stops before turning to look at you over her shoulder, flashing the faintest smile - one you swear you’ve seen before - before returning to her spot beside Koska.

Your eyes flutter as you fall asleep.

***

The End

In the quietness of a little room in an inn on Nevarro, he asks you again.

“What is the hardest part about letting go?”

And this time, you have an answer.

“The hardest part about letting go is knowing they’re somewhere out there in the world, away from you, and you still love them. Love them so deeply and so much that it hurts you to be away from them.” You trace the contours of his exhausted aspect, lightly poking the end of his nose just to see the toothy and bashful smile he flashes in response, and prop your head on your hand as you lightly trace his bicep with steady fingers. “You wanna know what the best thing to do is before you inevitably must let them make their own way?” Din hums his acknowledgement and opens his eyes to meet your own. “You love them. You love him..” You exhale slowly on a sigh and lean inward to press your lips to his forehead.

Din sinks into your hold and allows you to cradle his head to your chest. You bury your face in his hair and reach into your shirt to reveal the owl pendant.

“And you hope it’s enough.”

Hm. Maybe one day you’ll have the courage to tell her.

One day.

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian x Reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x You #The Mandalorian x Y/N #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots #The Mandalorian fanfiction #The Mandalorian fanfic

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bee-cried · 3 years ago

Text

Blues Daydream I had recurringly over the past few days.

I've written some of the daydream down but I never really put together a coherent story, so I'm just retelling it from memory mostly. (Content warning for the mention of sex.)

It starts of with them at like ...13 (?) The RRB are neutral and have befriended the ppg. Bubbles has a crush on Boomer (she starts crushing on him when she's like... 8)

There's a porch swing in this really pretty picnic park that Bubbles likes to visit a lot. It's surrounded by lots of bushes and flowers. She usually sits there by herself until Boomer starts showing up. He usually joins her to show her the songs he's learned on his acoustic guitar (he doesn't have a special musical talent but i love the fanon idea of Boomer being a music fanatic. Its very fitting, so I always imagine that he naturally just ends up gravitating towards music). They'll stay there for hours (especially during the summer) singing songs they know or just talking.

He gets really comfortable with Bubbles and they look forward to seeing one another.

And this scene stuck out to me in my head specifically...

***

Boomer: "Bubbles, I have to tell you something. "

Boomer: *Kisses her on the cheek.*

Bubbles and Boomer: ...

Bubbles: "What is it that you have to tell me?"

Boomer: *laughs, blushing* "I only said that as a cover up to kiss you."

Bubbles: "Oh! Well I have to tell you something too then..."

Bubbles: *Kisses him*

Boomer: *surprised* " You just… kissed me on the lips…"

Bubbles: "I know…" :) "DON'T TELL THE PROFESSOR." (She panics)

Boomer: *Blushing and smug* "I won't. "

They both giggle. He strums his guitar.

***

Later in the daydream he asks her on a date. She tells the Professor, because she's over joyed but unfortunately, the professor doesnt approve because Boomer is a villain and he doesn't want Bubbles to date a "punk who'll just break her heart."

Bubbles is really upset (she cry's about it) and she ends up trying to sneak out. She tells Buttercup who doesn't really care (until Bubbles involves allowance money.) to cover for her. Later, Bubbles tells Kim, Mary and Robin and they agree to help her sneak out for her first date, saying they'll let her cover by telling the professor she's at a sleepover with Robin.

There's a scene I imagine where all the girls put together money to buy a really pretty spaghetti strapped dress that comes with a white, light material-like shawl that's also like a jacket (i hope you understand what i mean lol.) Anyway, it's really gorgeous and they sneak it in. Kim explains to Bubbles this technique she read in a magazine. She tells Bubbles when Boomer looks at her to untie the shawl "like this" and only wear the dress part.

Bubbles sneaks out on the date with Boomer. They go to like some fun kids place with an indoor trampoline and an arcadia.

***

The night was a little breezy but that was alright since Bubbles figured most of the night would be spent indoors. She saw the arcadia lights come into place and began to steer down. As she landed she spotted Boomer in the usual Hollister shirt and jeans- well actually those jeans looked sort of new. Maybe they were.

He turned to her and smiled at her appearance. She suddenly felt a smidgen bad for having to make him wait so long. If only she didn't have to stay out of sight from the professor. "You actually waited for me?"

"For you, I'd wait until the ends of the universe." He grinned. Her heart pounded.

She blushes as he leads her into the fun place by the hand. Entering her attention was instantly caught by the sounds of the indoor trampoline, ticket counters and all the acrcade games to play. Pop music played over the rush of kids and preteens like her running around.

She smiled in awe, "Wow," she said aloud, eyeing all of her options to play with.

"Pretty cool right?" Boomer said, smiling back at her. She'd felt the heat of their hands at his gentle expression. She'd just realized they were approaching a short line. "It's pretty new. I think it opened last month. I've been eyeing this place for weeks. " he said unable to hide his own excitement.

She blushed and giggled.

Soon they were routed to cubbys to put some of there belongings in.

"Really? Cubbys? It's like we're in fifth grade all over again." Boomer sneers as he sets some items inside. "Well I guess you don't have much to put in but your purse..." His words drifts off as he watches her excitedly undo her shawl, stuffing it into her cubby. "Uh...." He mutters before she grabs his hand.

"Yeah we're sooo old for cubbys now," she agreed grinning. He looks at her, blushing slightly. "Come on!" She exclaims as she tugs him eagerly along towards the trampoline.

***

They go to the trampoline, play games and he even buys her fro yo, they admit to each other that they're their first dates.

***

"So Harry and Julie are definitely dating now." Boomer comments as they watch their friends at the other end of the arcadia play games. Harry looked a little shy but Julie was very open and boisterous.

Bubbles giggled, "yeah, I guess they are." She said as she eyed them. She and Boomer were in the cafe part of the arcadia. They'd picked a table but there were also small booths and a stage at the front.

"I wonder what got them together." Boomer said thoughtfully. "They're so different from each other, I never would have guessed."

Bubbles ate a spoonful of her fro yo, "Maybe. You know what they say, opposites attract." She grinned. He turned back to her, catching her grinning and smiling himself. It was probably they're tenth time they did that tonight. Bubbles didn't know, she wasn't actually counting how many times, she just knew every time it happened it made her heart flutter.

"Y' know..." Boomer started, looking back at his fro yo. "You're the first girl I've ever asked on a date." He said tilting his head a little.

The butterflies in Bubbles stomach made her dizzy, "you're the first boy I've ever dated."

Their eyes met and the sound of the arcadia went fuzzy. She was looking for something else to say but her heart felt like it was caught in her throat-

A high-pitched blare sounded from the speakers, and they both jumped, blushing madly. A tall man took to the stage in front of them.

***

And whaddya know, it's karaoke night.

So Boomer asks her to sing a song on stage with him, even though she's extremely shy. They sing some pop song that's somewhat relevant in the year 2006 (I imagine 'Anything but Ordinary' by Avril but I dunno). It's the first time Boomer hears Bubbles sing and he's really shocked but RUH ROH the professor (and a very guilty looking Buttercup) appear admist the crowd of preteens and ... Yeah, she gets in trouble.

At home, the professor scolds her more (he has good intentions. He really just wants to protect Bubbles.) Bubbles ends up crying because the professor won't 'accept their love'. (There's a scene that plays in my head where Robin shows up and she see's Bubbles crying. Bubbles starts declaring that she doesn't care that Boomer is a Rowdyruff boy she 'loves him'...

***

Bubbles: "And I don't care what anybody else says, he's not that evil! He can't help who his parents are!"

Robin: "I know but... The Professor makes a good point. Are you sure you want to date Boomer?"

Bubbles: *looks at her with a 'really' look through her glossy eyes.*

Robin: "Oh yeah. I forgot. He's been your crush since you were 8 years old. "

***

The next day she goes to talk to him but he's like "uh... Yeah, I actually wanna... Break up." She thinks it's because of how the date ended (Professor was not a happy man when he retrieved Bubbles that night. Also she was wearing a spaghetti-strapped dress. It was too cold outside!) He reassures her its not because of how the date ended, he just... Sort of realized he wasnt really all that into her like he thought he was (?). Also, he has a growing suspension that the Professor hates his guts. And his explanation for why he's suddenly breaking up with Bubbles is ridiculous...

***

"It was more of like... How does Brick put it?" Boomer puts a thoughtful hand up to his chin, "a fleeting moment...?" He smiles in recollection. "Yeah, I think it was just a fleeting moment."

Bubbles looked down at the tile, her voice soft, "But I thought you liked me..."

"I do like you!" He justified, instantly. Then he looked away, a little hesitant, "I just... Just as a friend though." He looks at her, a bit guilt-ridden, "y'know?"

***

...but sadly that's all she can get out of him is that he just doesn't think they'd make a good couple.

Back at home, the professor talks with Bubbles again. He explains to her that he's sorry for berating her. He trusts her to make the right decisions and who she dates shouldn't be decided by him. He encourages Bubbles to date "who her heart says it right for her" but she stuns him by agreeing that Boomer is no good and that she doesn't want to date him.... Or maybe anyone else at the moment.

So going to that porch swing in the middle of the park is never really the same because she's either alone or Boomer is occupying it before she gets there (he's lowkey waiting for her but obviously Bubbles is not in the mood to entertain him anymore.)

Then high school happens and they're in a weird zone of 'we're exes, but are we really exes because we dated when we were 13 and that was only for one day, and we used to be so close before that.' Slowly, they start talking again (they share classes) and Bubbles starts having a crush on him again but then Boomer just HAS to be an oblivious goof and get a girlfriend. Some hot, popular girl from the cheer squad who everyone says looks like Meghan Foxes younger sister, so Bubbles is like "aw poo." But bubbles isn't heartbroken just slightly disappointed.

Well, Bubbles joins the cheer squad and Boomers hot, popular girlfriend who looks like Meghan Foxes younger sister isn't very fond of that. I don't know what Boomers gf name is but she's jealous of Bubbles, as well as, Bubbles relationship with Boomer (the school knows about their middle school fling.) Meghan Fox jr starts shit-talking Bubbles to Boomer or when Boomer is hanging out with her and her friends ("she's literally so weird, the other day I saw her talking to a squirrel." "Does she like *snorts* ever grow up?" "Omg did you see the outfit she put together the other day? She looks and sounds like an overgrown 6th grader") but "surprisingly" Boomer always tries to shut that shit down, and every time Meghan fox jr asks Boomer why he says it's because Bubbles is his friend.

Meanwhile, Bubbles meets this guy accompanying the porch swing one school evening, she goes over and it's Mike. He's been away from Townsville for some time and he's come back because his parents needed to move back awhile and you can sort of see where this is going...

Bubbles and Mike start hanging out a lot. Boomer is taken aback by the relationship Bubbles and Mike has because he starts gaining feelings for Bubbles again. Meghan Fox jr tries to isolate Bubbles from the cheer squad because she suspects her boyfriend is more into Bubbles than her. School dance happens, school dance shenanigans. There's a talent show in there somewhere that Bubbles agrees to perform a song with Boomer for their partners. Valentine's day shits. And other small scenarios... But through all this time Boomer is regaining those feelings he once had for Bubbles and he becomes a lot more jealous.

Meghan Fox Jr's antics become a lot more mean-spirited as well. (Especially during junior year The principal has to step in and Bubbles ends up leaving the squad on her own terms. ) and after that huge occurrence, Boomer is completely turned off by Meghan Fox jr. He breaks up with her.

Unfortunately, he's kicked from his friend group and a lot of rumors are spread about Boomer (most likely by Meghan Fox jr.) Boomer and Meghan Fox jr had a very.... Affectionate(?) relationship...

Basically, when your parents don't really care about what you do in your free time or who you hang out with, and you're young and curious and you have an attractive bf/gf, sex can happen. And sex was what made Boomer and Meghan Fox jr stay together. She uses that after they break up to harass him though.

Uhm, Mike's parents have to move again, so he and Bubbles agree it's best if they broke up before he moves away.

Okay. So back at square one. Bubbles and Boomer are single and they like each other- well really, Boomer likes Bubbles. Bubbles admires him, but now she's over the crush thing lol.

So now Boomer is set on Bubbles. He ends up revisiting that porch swing only to find Bubbles is there. (During his relationship with Meghan Fox jr. he avoids it. Partially because he's in a relationship and also because when Bubbles and Mike are together, they usually occupy the swing.) Again they swing and sit for hours like when they were younger.

He finds his new growing attraction is unbearable in the sense that, there is a constant attraction he has to her that he can't manipulate. He goes through a lot of inner turmoil trying to find out why he likes her even though she's clearly over him, so shouldn't he be the same? He's fighting the attraction, trying to ignore it but the more they hang out the more it grows. And that continues into the summer before they're seniors.

With a lot more free time, they spend more time together but it's usually outings with their friends (unless he meets her in the park on the porch swing). Their bond continues to build but Bubbles is unsure if he likes her, and he's unsure if she likes him and then my brain just skips to a night when they're on the swing...

***

Boomer strummed his guitar as the crickets sung around them, the swing light dim. He suddenly stops his strumming, "Hey remember when you kissed me? When we were 13?"

Bubbles laughed and covered her lips, her cheeks colored slightly, "that was so long ago." She turned her eyes to him, "when we were kids."

"Oh yeah. And that epic date I took you on." He recalled. She shoved him light-heartedly.

"You dated me for a day and left me broken-hearted for two months." She grinned smug.

Boomer's eyes widened, "2 months? You were that into a dumb kid like me?"

"Of course I was," she said her eyes, not on him but looking at the stars above them. The night was beautiful and warm. She drew her knees on the swing as she gazed up. " I always liked you... Ever since we were kids I kinda..." He watched as she giggled awkwardly and her cheeks became even redder. She finally shrugged and turned her gaze to him, "I kinda told my friends I was in love with you."

He thought this over as their eyes locked. His heart felt like it was going to jump through his chest.

She looked back at the stars, "I even told the Professor." Her eyes had a small shimmer in them. "It was-" she scoffed and dropped her head, shaking it, "it was so stupid honestly."

He wanted to touch her hand, but it was wrapped around her knees, holding them together. He thought of all the things he could do. He could rest his arms on the seat, almost on her shoulders. He could scoot closer until they were touching. He could fiddle with the shoelace of her shoe.

Instead, he scoffed as well and turned his attention to the neck of his guitar, hoping she couldn't tell he was blushing. "Yeah. We were pretty dumb."

***

They end up talking about their childhood and one thing leads to another and they kiss. But nothing interrupts them so it's just awkward and they say bye.

Eventually, they start dating and yeaaaaah... If this were going to be a fic, I pretty much spoiled it lmao. But i wanted to share that with you guys cause i know there are other blues stans out there and we don't get that much love in the "more serious" fanfic department so I know every little thing adds up 😌👌

I honestly wish i could stay committed to writing a fic but i have horrible self-discipline and initiative D: Sorry y'all but i hope you enjoyed it c:

#ppg #powerpuff girls #rrb #rowdyruff boys #powerpuffgirls #boomer rrb #bubbles ppg #blues powerpuff girls #ppg blues #boomubbles

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