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thefanficmonster · 4 years ago

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Just Two Sad Roommates

Corpse Husband x Reader(Female)

Warnings: Swearing (maybe)

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: The power of medieval tavern music gets put to the test when Corpse’s roommate is having a rough day. SPOILER ALERT: it’s more powerful than anyone could assume.

Requested by Anon. You know who you are 😊😋 Wish I could tag you, I loved this idea so much and had such a fun time writing it. Hope you enjoy it just as much 🥰

The last twenty four hours haven’t been so great.

Last night I had a huge fight with my boyfriend over his flirty messages with several girls. It was not just witty banter, it was way more and way more hurtful to me. He obviously denied it and defended himself, at least in the beginning of the argument. Then he took on the accusatory stance, pointing fingers at me for living with another guy. That had me absolutely fuming. Not only was his statement fabricated and literally made up on the spot, but he also used some seriously horrible insults for him. I was having non of it. Corpse is a really great roommate, sweet guy and overall amazing person. I haven’t once argued with him since we’ve started living together. We’re actually quite good friends. So hearing my asshole boyfriend call him all those names was more than enough to chase him out of the apartment. Thankfully, Corpse wasn’t home to hear all that. He rarely leaves the apartment but by some miracle this was the time he was absent.

Then this morning my mom called me to have a chat. It started off decently enough but it only remained that way for so long. It didn’t take her long to start criticizing each and every element of my existence. From my job, my boyfriend, my living arrangement, the career I’ve decided to pursue, the fact I moved to a different state, my paycheck that’s lower than her friend’s daughter’s...…..You get the point.

Now I’m sitting here, contemplating what the two years I’ve been in a relationship with Marcus mean to me. I guess it is just like a phone call from my mother - starts off nice but slowly deteriorates. All things follow this pattern in my life, apparently. And just like the phone calls, I’ve considered ending things between me and him many times but never actually decided on it. Until now. The last part of this decision is executing it, which doesn’t look very promising. My thumbs are frozen, hovering over the keyboard.

I take a second to take a look at my life from a third person point of view, like an out of body experience. I am wrapped in a blanket, huddled on the couch like a burrito with a face. A really sad burrito with a face. I have a job where I work as much as three highly ranked workers and get paid a little over a secretary’s paycheck. I’m in a constant state of exhaustion and disinterest. I often forget I’m human and just assume I can live like a cactus - no food, no water. I have a boyfriend that’s cheating on me and most likely has been for quite some time now. And we’ve been dating for two fucking years. Man, that must be the longest cheat streak in history. Who knows with how many girls as well. And I still have trouble deciding weather to break up with him or not. Actually no, scratch that, I have already decided, but it feel so unnatural and so out of character that my body refuses to complete the task of delivering the final blow to the structure of this relationship which was already weak to begin with.

And it only got weaker when I started catching feelings for another guy. I know, I know, I’m a bad person for that, but I was never planning to act on those feelings. They have always just...lingered, loomed over me. They got stronger and stronger every time Marcus and I would fight, as though they were laughing at my mock of a relationship.

Speaking of laughter, I hear my roommate laughing in his recording room. I gave him the spare room for his recording equipment for a cheap add to his rent fee and it’s probably the second best decision I’ve ever made - first being picking him to be my roommate. He was among the first to reply to my online add and appeared the least sketchy over the phone. More hypnotizing if I’m honest. He could’ve told me he was a hitman and I wouldn’t have batted an eye, handing the keys to his room and the apartment without a second thought. All he had to do was keep talking. Again, SUE ME.

“Fuck, I’m so fucking pathetic!“ I drop my phone when all the strings inside me snap, releasing the sobs and tears I’ve been holding back for so long.

I bring my knees up to my chest, hiding my head in between them, desperately trying to shield myself from the plane crash that is my life at the moment. Crying makes me feel even sadder and more miserable but I have nothing left to do to get all the crap that’s piled up inside me out.

I’m on the verge of falling asleep, the tears have dried and the sobs have died somewhere in my chest, when I hear what sounds like music straight from Robin Hood’s time.

Holy shit, I’ve lost it

I lift my head from in-between my knees, looking around the living room for the source of the jolly, lighthearted tune which despite all the heaviness of my self-loathing makes me feel like the main character in an medieval adventure. Wait...Holy crap, it’s that medieval adventure, Robin Hood-ass music I hear from Corpse’s room!

I whip around to face the entrance from to the hallway where I see an arm sticking out, holding a phone which is where the music is coming from.

“Corpse?“ I call out to him in a questioning manner, shifting to a sitting position with my blanket kicked off of me and bunched up next to me.

“I can’t tell if you’re angry or sad...or both. Didn’t want to get attacked upon entering the room.“ I see the right side of his face peek out as well.

I break out into laughter, covering my mouth with one hand, “You’re such a dork.”

He takes this as a sign to come in, pausing the music as he does so. “What’s wrong?”

My laugh stops but a smile remains on my face as I look at him. He just has that effect on me. “A lot. What’s going on with you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, plopping down on the couch, “The usual, streaming Among Us. You should play with me and my friends some time.”

I scoff, “I can pull of a lie no problem. Maybe I really should.” I don’t actually consider it, it’s just funny to think about.

I have never watched any of Corpse’s content. Not his scary story videos, not his streams, not his animated compilations. Just his songs. And let me tell you...they are hella good. One song and I was hooked.

“Hey, I have a question.“ I tilt my head to look at him, “What’s with you and your love for medieval adventure music?“

“Medieval tavern music, and it’s not really love.“ He shakes his head with this dopey grin that is just. so. adorable. “More like a coping mechanism. Tell me, did you feel less sad I played it for you?“

I stop and think for a second. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Point made.“ He declares, leaving me to nod in amusement. “Now, tell me what that ‘a lot’ is.“

So, I do. I tell him everything, from how my boyfriend is cheating on me to how my mother thinks I’m a complete failure. He listens carefully, paying close attention to everything I’m saying. I catch myself laughing a few times while I retell the recent upsetting events.

Must be that music.

“So, you broke up?“ He asks once I end my monologue with a sigh

I shake my head disappointedly, “Not yet. I still haven’t pulled the plug. I don’t know what to say.”

He holds out his hand to me, “May I be of assistance?”

I look at his hand then at him and contemplate for only a second before deciding ‘what the hell’ and handing over my phone after unlocking it. The screen displays my boyfriend’s chat so Corpse just types away what he has in mind. Before pressing ‘send’, he hands the phone back to me. “Proofread it.”

‘Dear Marcus, this is one of your girlfriends speaking. Yes, one of them. You think I’m not onto what you’re doing, you little shit? Well, to your dismay, I am. And so, I discontinue this relation between us. That word might have been too long for your IQ so let me rephrase: We are over. Finished. Hope your other girlfriends wake up too, unless they are already in the know, of course. Love, but really hate, Y/N‘

I was never aware this level of sass even existed.

I add a smiling emoji and send the message, sighing in relief. “I can check that off my to-do list now.”

We both lean back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. A moment of comfortable silence takes over, leaving us both wandering in our own heads.

“Hey, um, I wanted to do this when I first moved in, but then I met your boyfriend and I took the hint. Now that you’re single, would you want to...“ he sounds a bit uncertain but continues regardless, “It’s ridiculous cause I don’t really like the idea of going out, but maybe we could order take-out...“

“Are you circling around asking me on an at-home date?“ I am surprised by how unbothered I manage to sound while I’m squealing on the inside. It’s fascinating how quickly a person can flip someone’s day around. Turns out it wasn’t the music at all. It was him that had the positive effect on mine.

Out of the corner of my eye I catch his face turn red and have to contain my laughter. The grin can’t be tamed though, especially not when he says, “Yes.”

Internally squealing, I launch myself from the couch, standing up straight in front of him. “Thai. My usual order is on the sticky note on the fridge. But first,” I offer him my hand, “I need to find out if a person can even dance to that ridiculous music.” At his amusement, my grin widens, “May I have this dance?”

He laughs that adorable laugh of his I’ve only heard through the layer of a wooden door. It’s even cuter when there’s nothing between me and its source. The source is cute too, not gonna lie.

With a shake of his head which is most likely disbelief, he takes the hand I’ve offered him, saying: “And you call me a dork.”

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @itsminniekat @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze

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peachbear88 · 3 years ago

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Unrequited Love

Teehee highschool AU. It's not that great but I just really wanted to write one. I might actually make this a short series.

Warning: Swearing and a bit of bullying.

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"Move it freak." You hit the lockers, hard. Tears prick your eyes as the instigators laugh cruelly behind you before moving on. You feel a hand on your shoulder and you snap.

"You going to dunk my face in a toilet or something? Wasn't the first time enough?" The hand recoils a bit before moving back to its place on your arm and giving you a reassuring squeeze. You refuse to look back until you finally sense that the presence was gone. You sigh, picking up your books before heading to your class.

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You're sullenly picking at your lunch, sneaking small glances at your crush from across the cafeteria when a familiar voice cuts in.

"God, if you keep staring at her like this, you might as well profess your love right here and right now." Your face turned beet red as Nat slides into the seat next to you, gesturing towards Wanda Maximoff. Wanda was an interesting girl. Constantly surrounded by boys who's testosterone levels went through the charts but she never paid them any mind. Out of all of the "popular" people, she actually seemed the most decent. The one person that actually had morals. She was also quite pretty. No, scratch that, very pretty. Waist length auburn hair and emerald green eyes that glowed.

"Shut up Romanoff." You elbow a cackling Nat as she yoinks a carrot stick from your plate.

"If you had any common sense, you'd know that you should avoid her. Look at the way Vision's got his arm around her waist. The minute you try something, he'll be there to throw you into a dumpster." You frown, taking in Vision's rippling, athletic form. Nat, was of course right. He could quite literally, throw you out of a 3 story building and into a dumpster. Sighing, you shoved the rest of your lunch over to Nat who immediately grabbed it.

"You can have the rest, I'm not hungry." Nat squealed with happiness as you left the cafeteria, unaware of the glowing green eyes that followed you out of the cafeteria.

"Jackpot!"

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"God, I'm so done with today. I just want to go to Tetra's Diner, grab some fries and a milkshake, go home, take a nice bath and then pass out on my bed." You groan, running your hands through your hair as you and Nat open your lockers. A single rose falls out of your locker, a note clinging onto it. Nat peers over your shoulder as you pick up the rose.

"What's it say?" Nat pipes up from behind you and you shush her.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm'd;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;

Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:

So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

"William Shakespeare." You smile when you recognize the quote while Nat frowns.

"Jeez I guess you and your secret admirer and both dorks then." A voice sneers from behind you. You whirl around to find Tony Stark snarling down at you. Nat steps in front of you protectively.

"Fuck off Stark." She warns him in an almost calm manner. She cracks her knuckles which sends him scuttling off, flashing one last glare at you.

"Thanks Nat. You didn't have to do that." You smile brightly at her, the two of you walking out into the school parking lot. She slings an arm around your shoulder, ruffling your hair.

"Anytime. He's just an asshat." You smile at her open affection towards you.

"I'm going to the diner, you want to come?" Nat shakes her head sullenly.

"I have judo I have to get to. I can give you a ride though?" She offers as compensation but you politely decline.

"Nah, I'll bike there. It's super close anyways." She gives you a reluctant grin before hopping into her car and speeding away.

"Bye Y/N!" You wave goodbye, letting out a content sigh before pulling the motorcycle helmet over your head. You feel a pair of eyes watching you and you whip around to see nothing but an empty parking lot. Shrugging, you start up the engine and speed away.

The moment you're out of sight, Wanda steps out from her shadowy corner of the lot, frowning as her mind reels from your relationship with Nat, jealousy consuming her.

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

"Oh these are good." You groan as you sink your teeth into the french fries. Valkyrie flashes you a toothy grin before returning to her work. The doorbell rings, signalling another customer entered the diner. You pay no attention to the person, shovelling french fries into your mouth. The figure slips into the seat beside you.

"You might want to slow down on those. I would hate for you to choke." A soft Sokovian accent whispers and you look up into the smiling face of Wanda Maximoff. You backpedal slightly, choking on the french fry that jammed itself in your gullet. Her amused expression takes a more concerned look and she hands you a glass of water which you down immediately. Not the best first impression on your crush but you'll take what you can get. You clear your throat, attempting to recover from the embarrassing scene you just caused.

"Maximoff. What brings you here?" You ask, your voice an octave deeper. She gives you an odd look.

"It's my favorite diner." You mentally kick yourself. God, why am I so weird? It's a diner! She's probably just grabbing a snack! You cringe before regaining your composure.

"Same here. Best fries in town." You stutter out and Val flashes you an amused look from behind the counter as you slip off your stool. "Well, I'd best get going." You flash a weak smile at her, grabbing your jacket and slipping it on. "Have a good one Wanda." You're about to slip out the door when a hand grabs your wrist. You look back to see Wanda, a determined look on her face and you gulp at her close proximity.

"The upcoming chemistry test. Can you help me study for it?" You scoff internally. No wonder she came here. She came for your help. You chide yourself for thinking such thoughts before responding to Wanda, who looks quite pale, almost anxious.

"Yeah sure. Where and when?" Her firm grip on your wrist relaxes as she steps out the diner door with you.

"My house tomorrow? I can give you a lift." You gulp, a light pink dusting your cheeks.

"Y-yeah, sure. I won't be able to catch a ride with you though, I can't leave my bike behind." You point to your motorcycle which is lying a few feet away. She nods before giving you a lingering touch on your forearm.

"Alright, see you then." As she walks away, you pump your first, fumbling with your phone as you text Natasha the news.

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Okay so I'm kind of scared to do a series because I feel like I'm a bit better at one-shots but let's give it a try. This will be a pretty short series.

Taglist: @username23345 @musicinourlips @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #marvel

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bimswritings · 4 years ago

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Armorer x (Blacksmith) Reader 1/2

Warnings:Canon Typical violence

A/n: I had so much fun writing this! If anyone has fic recs for her send them my way! The next part of the Savage series and a new chapter of Our Way will come out next week!

_______________________________

The Armorer had experienced more in her lifetime than anyone else would care to. She had watched the rise and fall of small rebellions, crushed under the foot of the Empire. Seen her people hunted and killed until their numbers weren’t even fractions of what the great tribe of warriors once was. Chaos and bloodshed, hiding and waiting, had become as normal as breathing to her. That’s not to say she missed the many good things that happened.

The sounds of foundlings and young ones as they ran through the halls of the covert, not yet burdened by the responsibilities of adulthood, acted as a reminder that her people were still alive. And there was no greater sense of peace to be had then when they would all meet in the karyai and dine together like the family they were.

Well, except for her forge.

Her forge was a sacred place. Not only for her but for the others as well. It was here that the most important and private of discussions were held. Talks about individuals as well as the coven as a whole. Who would go out and hunt, what responsibilities would be given to who, and where they would go for their next supply run to get food and medicine. It was important that they never went to the same place too many times, least someone followed them back, and the amount always had to be different as to not let in on their numbers.

All these choices, all this planning, was run through her. Their Armorer. Their Alor. They trusted her with their lives, leaning on her as an elder would a walking stick. Despite the immense pressure put on her, she never let it show. Never asked for anything in return. Seeing her people happy was enough to keep her strong, and looking towards the future instead of the horrors of the past.

Besides, when she watched the bigger picture, it left the others able to focus on the smaller things. Namely the continuation of their tribe, which they were doing an outstanding job on if her current project was anything to go by.

The three pieces she was working on would fit together perfectly. Though each their own unique piece, they were all made from one base ore.

The mother would come to possess the intricate dagger currently sitting off to the side, being highly skilled in close quarter combat it would serve her well. The handle of the blade would slide smoothly in the bottom of her eagle-eyed riduur’s blaster, and make it even more dangerous than before. The weapon would have no weaknesses, each piece supporting the other, and be usable in any scenario. Of course they would still need a way to be locked in place. Something that would make the connection between the two weapons stronger. The insignia would be worn by the child until they died, and then given to their closest of kin, be it friend, lover, or child. It was of the mother’s clan, which they would all take the name of, and the metal ranicor already shone with a radiant pride as she pulled it from the blue flames, quenching it the basin of oil beside her.

It would fit at the juncture, locking the weapons in place with an unbreakable bond.

The two adults would present each other with the weapons, a symbol of their promise to protect one another both in and out of battles. Then, together, they would tie the insignia to the child with a leather thread. The only addition would be a Mythosaur skull, which they would receive should they take up the creed of the Mandalorian. If not, they would still bear the mark of their clan and wear it with pride.

It was hard work, but the Armorer would do it all over again in a heartbeat. After all, the exchanging of vows between two Mandalorians was enough cause for a celebration, but for the same couple to have a claiming ceremony of a foundling at the same time? It had sent the enter tribe into a nest of bustling activity in preparation. The elders were particularly excited, constantly coming in to inform her of any updates or changes.

It was one of them that she had expected when she heard footsteps enter her forge, not the young warrior she was faced with when she turned around.

“What can I help you with, child?” For a young Mandalorian such as himself to enter without invitation or a offering to the tribe, it must be of grave importance.

He remained kneeling as he spoke, head bowed in respect to his Alor.

“Alor, I have heard troubling news during my patrol. A matter I fear has to deal with the pride of the Mandalorian name.”

Underneath the helmet, her brows furrowed though he could not see it. From his tone, he seemed almost hesitant to deliver the news, and she waited silently for him to continue.

“There...there’s been word that another possess the armor of a Mandolrian a few parsecs over on the moon of Quilon.” He swallowed thickly, audible even through the modulator, before continuing.

“Someone not of any tribe or clan, nor a foundling or anyone who claims our identity.”

The tension in the room was palpable, and the Armorer couldn’t blame the heat rising within her on the fire she had been previously toiling over for so many hours without issue. Though she concealed it well, any who knew her, who could tell by the way her helmet tilted up or how her shoulders squared slightly, knew that she was absolutely furious.

“Then we must retrieve it immediately.”

“Of course, Alor. Which of the warriors would you like me to retrieve so they may be briefed.”

“None.” She replied, hooking her tools into her belt, moving to grab her cloak from it’s hook, where it had been previously gathering dust.

“Alor?” He questioned. She had told him that they would retrieve it, but if she wanted none of the warriors then how would they?

“It is time that people are reminded of who we were. Who we are. Though we remain hidden in our covert, we are not weak. We bide our time until we once again rise.”

She tucked an extra blaster into her belt, though she knew the weapon would come second to her hammer. If it turned into an altercation of shots rather than strength, she would be prepared.

“I will retrieve it myself, and make an example of those that thought they could tarnish our name.”

With that she was gone, stalking down the maze of corridors on a warpath. Everyone who saw her coming was quick to jump out of the way. If there was one thing more dangerous than an angry Mandalorian, it was an enraged Armorer.

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Landing the ship just outside the town, the Armorer followed the coordinates given to her before leaving.

Just like every other planet in their system, Quilon was nothing special. Another small rock in space abandoned by the Empire and left to be overrun by bandits. Though their presence here was even more prevalent than on Nevarro.

She paid no mind to the eyes that followed her from the shadows, hidden under masks and hats and behind drinks as she made a direct line to the center bar.

The man behind the counter was an aged Weequay, his already wrinkled skin dull but still showing the strength that lay in the muscle underneath. Though old, he was clearly someone who could still hold his own against any patron who had too many glasses of brandy.

He had no hesitance in walking up to her, despite clearly knowing who she was a part of.

“What can I do for you?”

She placed a stack of credits on the counter, gently sliding the pile over to him.

“I’ve heard that someone here has the armor of a Mandalorian. I wish to know where to find them so that we may...talk.”

The Weequay picked up the pile,clinking the metal as he tested the weight before looking back towards the Armorer.

“A matter of great importance for you, I’m sure. However, the person you seek is also of great importance.”

Silently, she reached into her pouch and retrieved a few more credits, the clinking sound they made as they were deposited with the others into his waiting hand causing a smile to stretch his face, revealing a number of missing teeth.

“You’ll find your person on the far west side of town. The shop will be located just a bit out. Had to relocate it with all the noise bothering the townsfolk.” He laughed, turning back to his other patrons as he deposited the money. “Just follow the cursing.”

Twenty minutes and another exchange of information later, the Armorer found herself in front of a shop reading ‘Galactic Metalworks’.

If she had been angry before, she was positively fuming now. For someone who was supposed to have an understanding and appreciation for all things forged, the fact that they would have Mandalorian beskar, undoubtedly knowing its importance and what is signified, was the ultimate insult.

She could only hope that they would have enough sense not to have tempered with the armor, else she would have to hold herself back from killing them too quickly.

She walked through the door, pulling the fabric flap aside as she stepped inside. Instantly she was greeted with the sight of a surprisingly organized space, with weapons of all kinds lining the walls and a case displaying more decorative items sitting just behind what she assumed was the front counter.

There was no one in sight, prompting her to move further into the shop. As she passed, she couldn’t help but admire the works as she went. Though more elegant than what she would have done with some, there was no doubt about the quality of each item. Every blade, trigger, and handle was carefully shaped and sharpened, each having a softness that one would not expect of such weapons. It seemed to be the artist's signature stamp, present in everything she saw.

He attention was drawn away from the shining metals as a loud, and rather brash, string of curses flowed from the back of the shop. Once again reminded of her reason for coming here. The Armorer walked past the counter and its items, following the sounds of metal being hammered around the corner to reveal an open aired forge.

There you stood, in all your soot stained and sweaty glory, cursing like a Trandoshian pirate as you inspected the item before you. A crude imitation of a helmet, she realized, though the eyes were horrendously off center and uneven, and being far too long for any but a Kaminoan to wear without hitting their shoulders.

Were you really the same person who had made all the items out front?

No. Now wasn’t the time to worry about that. She was here for business.

The intention was for her to take you by the element of surprise, leaving no room for a fight with the point of her hammer pressed into the vulnerable skin above your carotid. That was thrown out the window before she could even reach for the weapon as you quickly turned around, eyes locking onto her and going wide before frantically backpedaling.

As luck would have it, the hammer you had been previously using was knocked from its stand and clattered to the floor, being stepped on and causing you to tumble.

Narrowly missing falling into the forge itself, your head still cracked painfully against its stand and your vision went black. By the time it cleared enough for you to stop seeing stars and your brain to process what had just happened, you found the very person who had startled you into such a state standing above you, feet on either side of your hips as a hammer was pointed dangerously at your face.

“H-hey!” You managed to stutter out, still dizzy and most likely concussed. “No need for that!”

Holding your hands up in an act of surrender and defense, should they still decide to attack, you balanced your weight onto your elbows despite the way it sent your head spinning.

They said nothing, only staring down through their owl-shaped visor as the golden shine of the helmet cast rays of brilliant light around the forge. Despite the situation, you could help but admire the stunning craftsmanship of the piece with envy. Each spike, every curve, was so beautifully done.

“I know you’re here for the armor, and I can get it for you! It’s right here!”

The Mandalorian remained still for a moment, contemplating, before moving back enough to let you get up, exchanging their hammer for a blaster, keeping it trained on your figure as you slowly rose and moved to the far wall.

Producing a key from beneath your apron, you moved one of the many boxes and unlocked a hatch hidden beneath. From there, you produced a chest that had yet another lock on it, setting it on your workbench and placing the key beside it. Backing away with your hands held up one again, the Mandalorian moved closer to the chest.

Hidden under the helmet, you couldn't see the way her eyes were narrowed in suspicion, laced with a hint of curiosity. You had gone through quite the effort of hiding it. Without your guide she might not have found the hatch, which had blended so well into the floor that when you had first moved the box she hadn’t seen it even with the filters of her visor. Why give it up so easily when you could have easily denied even having it in the first place, and no evidence to say otherwise?

Unlocking the box, she was even more surprised by what she found inside. While keeping a watch on where your figure had backed into the corner, she began shuffling through each item, peeling back layer after layer of fabric until she had constructed a full suit of beskar. Not only was it stored with such care, the metal skillfully wrapped to prevent one item from damaging another if jostled around, but it appeared to have been freshly cleaned by a polish well known and used almost exclusively by smiths. It was meant to bring out the best shine and remove any scuff to increase the appeal and chances of someone buying the item.

“Where did you get this.” She put the items back in their case, closing it before turning back to where you were, blaster now lowered to her hip but ready to raise and fire in an instant.

“Bought it from some pirates who stopped by here to refuel.” You squeaked out. Despite knowing that all Mandalorians were warriors, you were still surprised to hear a woman's voice come from the helmet. The way she carried herself with such confidence and strength, you could only imagine the prestige and skill she had to back it up.

“I would have returned it sooner, but you guys are kind of hard to find.” You attempted to joke, letting out a nervous laugh as you shakily smiled. “I tried to keep it on the down low as much as I could to keep others from trying to come and take it. Paid a kid to let it slip when he saw one of you at a cantina you’re known to frequent.”

The Armorer tilted her head slightly, still not believing you completely.

“Why not sell it, or melt it down for your own use?” She gestured to the space around you, at all the projects currently displayed or were waiting to be finished.

Your own brows knitted in confusion, as if you couldn’t believe why she was asking you that, and in reality you couldn’t.

“Well, I respect you too much.” Your shoulders shrugged lightly. “Growing up, my father told me all the stories of your culture, your people and what the armor meant to you. How it was more than just a piece of equipment, that it was like an extension of your own body and identity. Rather poetically, he would always put it.”

A small laugh made its way past your lips, taking the Armorer by surprise.

“If he could have met one of you and studied the armor he would have died of happiness. Probably would have even sworn an oath and donned the armor himself if he had the chance, no hesitation.”

Any thoughts of ill intention from before were reduced to nothing in the Armorer’s mind. The way you had spoken so fondly when describing your admiration for her culture, the same way you had when speaking of your father, was so gentle and sincere. Even if you had a helmet like hers she would have been able to tell just by your voice.

“You have my thanks for keeping it in such good condition until we were able to collect it. I know my people would share my sentiment if they were here.” She dipped her head in thanks, missing the blush that spread across your face at the action.

“It was no trouble at all, really! I hope you don’t mind but I did study it before hiding it away.” You nodded to the crude helmet she had found you swearing at when she had first entered. “As you can see, my attempts were less than successful. It’s like my father always said; If I could make armor the way I could make everything else, I would be far too dangerous.”

The Armorer silently agreed. If the display in the front of the shop was anything to go by, if you were able to make armor then you could potentially even give her a run for her credits.

“You are quite skilled in your craft. It would be a sight to see how you would interpret your own armor.”

“Rather poorly.” You laughed once again, and the Armorer found herself straining to hear its cheerful air, much to her own embarrassment.

It was time she left. She had gotten what she had come for, so there was no reason for her to stick around any longer. The more time she was away from the covert the more worried she became, mentally berating herself for being so ill-tempered and short sighted to have stormed here right away without thinking much of how the others would fare without her presence. Paz should keep a good handle on things, but it was still best not to be gone much longer.

Before she could excuse herself though, you had dropped the helmet you had previously been sourly glaring at and focused back on her, excitement evident as a bright gleam shone in your eyes.

“You must have come quite a way to get here! Please, allow me to compensate you for having to come out to such a place.”

The Armorer tried to argue, to explain that it hadn't been a problem and that the beskar being back where it belonged was enough, but you wouldn’t listen, pushing her to the front of the store and practically demanding that she choose at least one of the items to take with her.

“They are all so well crafted. I could not even begin to know where to choose.”

Humming, you closed your eyes in thought before bounding back towards the forge, yelling over your shoulder for her to keep browsing while you went looking for something.

So she did, walking up and down and displays, taking in all the weapons and items as she duly noted that your leather work seemed to be just as good as your smithing if the wrapped handles and weapons holsters were anything to go by. Any choice that she made would make a fine addition to their armory, and Paz would be overjoyed with each item, though she made a mental note not to let him learn of your shop. The last thing she needed was him coming here and spending all the tribe’s money on your works, undoubtedly scarring you with his sheer size and gruffness as well.

It was in the middle of her browsing that a flash of color caught her eye. Many of the metals you worked with were the same shades of grey and black, even the occasional gold. But there, amongst the sea of cold steel in the display case, was the warmth of bronze. She moved closer despite knowing that nothing she would find there would be beneficial for the tribe. It was as if it were a magnet though, pulling her closer by the metal covering nearly every part of her.

The item was less flashy than those surrounding it, simple and to the point, if jewelry could be described that way. The charm was a small rectangle, no longer than an inch and less than a quarter of which thick. In elegant and delicately etched letters was the word ‘loyalty’. Nothing else.

“I never took you for someone to appreciate jewelry.”

She started, helmet looking up to see you coming back from your forge. In your hands was a cloth, wrapped around what could be anything.

“I was admiring the work. The detail is remarkably clean despite its size.”

“It's been here a while. Not many people come here looking for something other than weapons, and those who do usually want something a bit more eye catching. One of my favorite works though.”

Putting the item down, her attention turns to the bundle you’ve placed on the table. Carefully, you unwrap the fabric to reveal the blade underneath. The blade itself is silver, coming to a spearpoint tip without so much as a chip. It’s longer than a normal throwing knife but shorter than one would typically consider a dagger to be.

“My own take on a vibroblade. Easier to throw but still small enough to be easily concealed.” You hold it out, prompting her to take it.

The handle fit in her palm like a glove, as if it were molded specifically for her. The weight was perfectly balanced, allowing her to switch into a reverse grip and back with ease. At just a glance she could tell that the ridge was perfectly straight, ensuring a smooth flight through the air to its target.

“From my own collection. I figured if a Mandalorian was going to use it, then nothing but my best work would suffice.” You took the blade back, wrapping and binding it before placing it in the chest alongside the armor.

“Your hospitality knows no bounds. I am glad our meeting can end on such terms.”

Waving your hand, you brush away the compliment despite the burning of your cheeks. Something you blamed on the heat of the forge.

“It was the least I could do. If you’re ever out here again, don’t hesitate to stop by. It can get rather lonely out here.” The forlorn expression you took on despite your ever present smile pulled at something inside the Mandalorian. Something she had not felt in a long time.

“Though don’t expect another free weapon if you do. I have a business to run after all.”

“Of course.” She said, allowing you to lead her to the door, holding the fabric as she passed through.

The whole walk back, her mind was on you. Even after she had boarded her ship and set course for home, arriving much quicker than she expected, she was thinking of you. The fact that there were still those out there that thought of and revered her people as you had, it gave her hope that not all creatures in the universe were against them.

The others were eagerly waiting for her arrival when she returned, following as she made her way back to the forge where she would store the beskar until it was decided what to do with it.

“Did you kill them and take their weapon as well?” Paz questioned when she handed him the blade, immediately pulling it out to admire the item.

She didn’t answer, focused on putting away her haul and moving to clean up her space. Leaving so quickly had resulted in a cluttered mess for her to come back to, and she once again found herself cursing her temper. Traveling far distances was something she didn’t often do, and the experience had left her tired, wanting nothing more than to retreat to her chambers and rest. She had to make sure everything was in order before she did so though.

“What’s this?”

She turned, facing Paz as he held something in between his large fingers. She walked closer, eyes locking on to the item with laser focus.

Its familiar bronze sheen shone with a new brightness in the dim light, the etched words now hardly visible. She didn’t know when you had snuck it in, nor how you had when she had been right there the entire time.

So, for the first time in years, the Armorer took something for herself.

Plucking the small charm from his hand, she dismissed him, pulling the shutters of her shop down and leaving her mind to wander back to you as she caressed the cool metal, which did nothing to dampen the sparking embers in her kar’ta beskar.

__________________________________________________

In all honesty, you hadn’t been expecting the golden helmed Mandalorian to return to your shop. After nearly a month and a half of seeing not even the faintest glimpse of beskar you had given up hope of ever seeing her again. Sure, you were still hopeful, but when you entered your shop for some late night smithing and found the silent warrior leaning against the outside wall you nearly screamed. If it hadn’t been for the light of the flames reflecting off her helmet you wouldn’t have even realized she was there.

“I’m sorry. You just took me by surprise. I don’t get visitors this late.’’

She tilted her head, gesturing for you to continue her work and decline the offer for a seat. Nothing more was said as you got to work, soon shedding your long sleeves in favor of the cool night air that flowed in from the open wall, exposing your toned arms to the Mandalorian. It was something you had always been proud of, the muscle earned from years of bending and forming metal with precise blows from your hammer.

After a few minutes of watching, the woman began moving about the shop, taking her time to inspect every inch of the workspace. Your previous encounter hadn’t left much time for her to admire it. Even though it was far less sophisticated and more worn than her own, she still felt a sense of familiarity within its heat, finding herself wondering if you would have a familiar feeling in hers.

The thought was banished almost as quickly as it appeared. After all, an outsider not only entering the covert, but the armory as well? One of the most pivotal places of their people? Preposterous. She didn’t even know why she was here in the first place. One moment she was relaxing in a rare moment of peace she was allowed, and the next she was aboard her ship, coordinates for your shop already typed in.

From the corner of your vision, you watched as she approached your latest project; the same armor you had been working on for weeks. A warmth rose to your cheeks when you saw her inspecting it, picking up the helmet and rotating it between her hands.

The visor had been fixed a significant amount, she noted, but it was still shaky at best. Both sides were still uneven as they dipped down into a point at the chin, and anyone who wore it would have the top of their heads pinched by the too shallow curve of the top.

“Your work has improved.” She noted, voicing it more to herself than anything.

“Don’t worry about hurting my feelings. I know it's not very good.”

“Not good no.” She admitted, setting the heavy helmet down and moving closer to where you were and setting every nerve on edge. “But there has been improvement, which shows that you’re learning.’’

Watching as you bent a thin metal pipe into shape, sparks flying everywhere as you didn’t even flinch when they landed on bare skin, then quenching it before moving over to your workbench and beginning to assemble it with an array of other items. She admired the speed and confidence with which you worked. Leaning against the wall, she watched as the weapon began to take shape under your hands.

Hours later, you were finished, a new blaster sitting before you. Just as beautiful and dangerous as the ones out front, with intricate vines crawling up the hilt and along the barrel, soldered on by your skillful hands before her very eyes.

“So, what can I help you with?” Turning towards the Armorer, you were surprised at how close she had gotten since you started, now almost touching and forcing you to crane your neck back to look her in the face.

“As much as I enjoy the company, I doubt you would come here without a reason.”

She remains silent for a moment, simply staring back at your smiling face before reaching around you to pick up the newly constructed blaster. The soft leather of her arm brushed your skin, and your nose picked up the familiar scent of forge iron from her gloves, causing your breath to catch in your throat as she turned the weapon in her hands.

“I have a proposition for you.” Her visor locked onto you, and despite the slight shiver of fear you couldn’t help but feel drawn to her.

“You will make weapons for my people and repair any that need it. Should we need it, we will park our ships in your space and you will pick up anything we can not.”

Your brows rose as she rattled off the list. Though you would be glad to do anything involving the warriors, just for the simple fact of being able to see them up and close, you still had to question why she would choose you. There was no reason for them to trust you, even if you had returned the armor.

The Armorer took it a different way, thinking you were expecting a form of payment for your work, which only made sense.

“Of course, your efforts will be compensated. Should you ever need passage or protection, we would be more than willing to offer aid.” She reached into her pocket, retrieving a small device that she held out. Upon taking it, you discovered there were only two buttons on the disk. It might look like random scrap metal to someone else, but your trained mind recognized it as an old communications device.

“Press the blue when items are done or you request a meeting. The green is for emergencies only. Life or death situations.” You nodded, turning to tuck the device on a higher shelf where it would be within reach but not have the risk of being accidentally pressed, and somewhat hidden should any unwelcome guest find their way back here.

“And,” she hesitated a moment, unsure of her next words. With just one visit, you had managed to lower the carefully raised walls she had constructed, penetrating its defenses in a way not even her own people had. But now, here with you in the peace of the forge, her tongue was loose and brain foggy, as if the heat was melting away every shred of common sense and survival instinct she had carefully honed.

“I will teach you how to make armor. One that will protect you. Under my guide as the Armorer of my tribe it will be nothing less than perfect. Though you must swear to never trade or sell it.”

Your eyes widened a fraction at her words, hardly believing what she had just said. Not only had you just learned a new fact about the stoic woman, that she was a smith just as yourself, but she was offering to teach you how to make some of the best armor in the galaxy. No, the universe.

“It...it would be an honor.” You tilted your head down in respect, only to have her leather clad gloves grab your chin, the worn material forcing your gaze up to meet hers. Though there was no way for you to truly see her eyes, you could almost feel the flames burning within them.

“Ni kar'taylir gar will not disappoint ni, ni goron.”

__________________________________________________

If you had thought that your father had been harsh when he was first teaching you how to smith, then he had graced you with a mother’s love in comparison to the Armorer, a name she had given you to call her after multiple visits.

“It just feels kind of cold to keep calling you Mandalorian, especially with all the time we spend together.” You had told her when she questioned why you asked. There were other reasons too, namely being that she had her own name for you. Instead of calling you by the name you had given her, she had taken to calling you ‘goron’ or ‘tracinya’, in that unknown language of hers. You could only hope they weren’t insults.

She visited once a month, always arriving just before dusk and leaving at dawn, two to three weapons heavier and the occasional small trinket you had made between meetings. All night you would be bent over your forge under her watchful gaze, correcting your technique and giving the occasional tip when you were struggling more than normal.

At the end of the night you would offer your work to be inspected, glowing at any praise only to deflate with every critique, and she was nothing if not someone who was unafraid to express her opinion.

The entire time you talked with one another. Well, you did most of the talking, but it still felt nice to have someone other than the stray loth cat listen to your ramblings.

Every once in a while she would answer one question or another, though she never divulged too much information on her own tribe, apart from mentioning another Mandalorian in passing or treating you with one of her occasional stories from the covert. You respected her wishes nonetheless, and as much as you wanted to ask her about everything you resigned yourself to the fact that she would only tell you what she wanted you to know. Mandalorians were still very much sought after prizes, and the secrecy would only make sense, as it ensured their survival.

She also never picked up a tool, as much as you wanted to see her work. Her instructions were always verbal, with the occasional instance where she would place her hands over yours, moving them the correct way and never failing to send your cheeks ablaze. Thankfully you could blame the color on the heat of the flames and not your own growing feelings. Those were a different issue entirely.

You don’t know when it started, almost like it had always been there, building until they attacked with a snap. The fact of the matter was that you harbored feelings for the armored woman, and you couldn’t deny them, no matter how much you tried to push them down. Alone for the most part, she was the only person to regularly visit your empty residence. Ever since your father had died and left you the successor of his forge, both the shop itself and the small living quarters behind it had felt empty, haunted by his memories that couldn’t be chased away with any amount of plants you bought or how much time you spent working.

The first time she had accepted your invitation for a drink after much begging was the first time the space felt complete in ages, though she simply sat on one of the only two chairs in the living room, drink remaining untouched in her hand.

You were content hiding your feelings. As long as it meant that she would come around, you would do anything. Though you feared your meetings may soon come to an end. While you were overjoyed with the progress you had made over the months, constructing enough armor for a single arm and leg, as well as a chest plate. Not much longer and you would have your armor complete, and her reason for coming around would be gone. No longer would she need to teach you, and there was no reason she couldn’t send someone else from the covert to collect weapons and drop off items for repair once a month. You remember her mentioning how their top heavy infantry warrior had asked to meet you, and as interested as you were in meeting other Mandalorians you didn’t want it to be at the expense of seeing her.

“What’s got you so distracted tonight, tracinya’ika?” she asked after you dropped your current project, a shoulder pauldron, for the third time that night.

“Nothing!” You managed to squeak out, only to feel her familiar presence behind you, growing closer until you felt her brush against your back, making you spin around only to be pinned against your forge. The heat burned your back, hardly noticed by your brain as you processed how close she was standing now, arms on either side of your body and helmet tilted to look you in the eye.

“Tell me.” Her voice crooned, smooth even through the modulators and nearly causing your knees to give out.

Swallowing thickly, you struggled to get the words out.

“When...when you're done teaching me, will I ever see you again?” It sounded stupid to say it out loud. Needy, like a child wanting their mother. It made you feel foolish, believing she surely thought you weak and helpless now.

You were prepared for her to laugh or scoff, to chastise you for how foolish you were being about such emotional connections.

She did none of those.

“Ni tracinya, as long as you still desire my presence, I will come. Until you give the word, and even after, our destiny will be intertwined.”

You didn’t, couldn’t, say anything after that. It was as if she had stolen every thought from your head, every word from your mouth, leaving you nothing but a gaping fool, staring at the powerful warrior before you as the sound of the spotted owls filtered in through the open wall from the cool night air beyond.

It was the Armorer who finally broke the trance, stepping back and pausing for a moment before collecting the prepackaged weapons from the table. She said nothing as she left, heading back hours before the sun had even begun to rise and leaving you with nothing to do but stare after her, wondering what you had done wrong.

Unbeknownst to you, the cause of the Armorers swift exit had not been your fault, but her own. The entire way back to the covert she berated herself for how foolishly she had acted, allowing her body to move before her mind yet again, putting you in a compromising position. Even while berating herself, the memory of being so close to you stuck in her mind. The way your hair stuck to your damp skin, practically glowing in the light of the flames as you stared up with large, innocent eyes.

She had wanted to take you into her arms then and there. Her kind hearted little smith. So gentle and warm despite the rough profession and living conditions in which you found yourself in. It made her feel all the more guilty about having allowed herself to grow so attached to you, bringing along all the dangers that came with being associated with a Mandalorian as well as the knowledge she provided.

With each visit the feeling only grew, and by this point her draw to protect you as she would one of her tribe was just as strong. You were a weakness. A chink in her armor that she would allow none to exploit.

Unfortunately, she was just one Mandalorian, and there was a limit to her strength, as she would soon find out.

_______________________________

It had been a week since your last meeting with the Armorer. The way she had practically sprinted out played on repeat in your head, reviewing every second leading up until then in search of what you could have possibly done. Yet no matter what angle you looked at it from, you always drew a blank.

Well, what else were you expecting from a Mandalorian. As skilled as they were apt to run off without an explanation. On to whatever adventure was next. You could only hope that she would have some explanation the next time.

‘Or at least the decency to apologize for being rude.’ you huffed, slamming the door to the cupboard after retrieving a cup. You settled down with a mug of warm bantha milk and honey, still fuming. Hopeful a bit of reading would calm your nerves for now, ignited every time you thought back on the encounter. Hopefully you would be calm enough not to give her an earful when you saw her.

The fire crackled in the hearth, the only source of sound as you skimmed through the pages of the novel you had picked up. A cheesy romance that you wouldn’t be caught dead reading in public, highlighting a lowly dancer attracting the attention of a bounty hunter who bought them for their own operations, only for the two to inevitably fall in love.

The rough and brash nature of the bounty hunter in the story reminded you of your own Armored crush, and you found yourself daydreaming more than reading as you finished off your drink.

If only real life could be like that. You were all too aware of how unlikely it was though. Such a warrior could never have feelings for a simple smith like yourself, no matter how much she admired your works.

Still, there was no harm in dreaming, right?

That’s exactly what you allowed yourself to do, curled up on the seat with the book drooping just as low as your eyes. The warmth of the fire and a stomach full of warm bantha milk only helped the progression of sleep along, lulling you into a sense of security as the light humming outside grew.

That’s how the first shock wave found you, knocking you from content to the floor as it rattled the entire shop.

You scrambled to your knees, dazed and confused, unable to make sense of what had just happened before the next hit. This was much closer, rattling the windows and knocking items from the walls. Even from here you could hear the sound of metal clanging as weapons and trinkets were thrown from their shelves.

Above the ringing, just barely, you processed the sound of fighters as they blazed overhead.

The Empire, you realized with a chill. You had heard rumors of them doing this, decimating entire towns and villages in the dead of night while everyone slept. That was only for those who were suspected of housing rebels or acting as supply lines though! The most you ever got out here was the occasional ship stopping to refuel or gather supplies, which was done so quickly and infrequently you wouldn’t even know they had been here.

Now wasn’t the time to question why you had been targeted. Now was the time to act.

Stumbling to your feet, you ran to the only option of help you had. The shock wave of each sending another small tremor through the ground and causing you to stumble as dust rained down from the ceiling. Dimly, you could hear the shouts of the village as those still alive realized what was happening.

The transmission disk sat in the same place it always was, thankfully not knocked to the floor and hidden in one of the many small crevices of your now disastrous shop. Tools and metals of all types lay scattered about, creating a minefield across the floor for you to navigate and attempt to not trip.

She was the only one that could help you. There were no friends, no family. No one who visited outside of her. You weren’t even sure what you were expecting her to do. Take you to another planet that the Empire hadn’t marked for destruction? But what would you do once you got there. Your skills were that of a blacksmith. Even if she helped you to escape for now and come back, who would be left for you to sell to? As much as the thought of abandoning the forge you had grown up in hurt, there would be no profit in staying. If there was any place to stay at that is.

Still, you ripped the item from its shelf, frantically pressing the ill-fated green button and watching as a loading signal popped up. It jumped in small increments at an agonizingly slow pace, leaving you to watch helplessly as the distress signal transmitted.

Amidst the chaos and adrenaline, a flash caught your eye.

The armor you had been working on for the past few months sat openly displayed on the worktable, left over from when you had been tinkering with it earlier. It wasn’t yet finished, but there was no time better than now to test it out. They might have tie fighters in the sky, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any troops on the ground to ensure there were no survivors, and there was no way in hell you were going out without a fight.

So, while the message continued loading, you stumbled over and yanked on the equipment, cursing each time your hands fumbled with a strap or you dropped a piece. By the time you managed to get all of what you had finished on, as well as the half-worked pauldron and grabbing the closest weapon, the bar had only reached seventy two percent.

You watched with bated breath as it continued to climb, praying to the maker for it to finish already. You didn’t know how far away the Armorer was, but hopefully she would get here in time. To give your body a proper burial and out of the reach of scavengers if nothing else.

You never got to see it finish.

The agonizingly loud and now familiar scream of fighters your only warning before they unload their ammunition onto your home. It fell apart like paper, no match against the green energy beams as they took out whole sections of the ceiling and walls.

A flash of light, stars from the night sky now peering down from the open ceiling, before you were buried under the rubble. It pressed down with seemingly the weight of a moon, forcing every ounce of air from your lungs and preventing nearly any oxygen from entering as you desperately tried to pull in more air, only to choke on the thick dust that permeated and covered everything. Every movement brought a fresh wave of agony tearing through your body, and you could taste iron in the back of your throat. A sign of internal bleeding, if the stabbing pain in your side wasn’t enough. Your unarmored arm also hung limp and uselessly. Broken.

The chunk of rock that currently pinned and left you defenseless was far too heavy to move with both arms, let alone one, leaving you scrambling nowhere to get out. The very building that had protected and provided you shelter, a place to work and thrive, had turned into your own personal death trap.

It was getting harder and harder to breath. Your movements became slower and weaker with every move until, finally, they slowed to a stop, left weakly grasping at the rubble around you. Everything had now gone silent. Not even the sound of fighter jets could be heard.

You were completely, utterly, alone. That’s how you were going to die.

Alone.

No tears escaped as you set your jaw, accepting your grim fate. You had no regrets in life. None that could be rectified by living any longer anyways. You had created a great deal of beautiful and skillful items. Whoever happened to stumble upon your shop's ruins would surely have themselves a treasure trove.

The one thing you found yourself wishing was that there would be someone to mourn you when you were gone. To look upon memories and smile with fondness as you had with your own father’s passing.

Alas, it was not meant to be. Your name would fade into nothing, just as insignificant and unknown as a shout into the empty space of the stars above. Stars that you would never be able to see.

It became darker, black spots dancing across the edges of your vision and growing. With one last shuddering breath, your body gave out, succumbing to its injuries as your consciousness faded.

Mere feet away from your impromptu crypt, the cracked yet unbroken transmitter blinked weakly. Two words flash and flicker across its screen.

‘Message Sent’

___________

Mandoa translations (Roughly. I did my best)

Baskar-armor

goron-blacksmith/metalworker

Ni kar'taylir gar will not disappoint ni, ni goron.- “I know you will not disappoint me, my blacksmith.”

kar’ta beskar.- Iron heart, center of their chest armor

Karyai- gathering place for relaxation/eating, center of the home

Tracinya-flame

Ika-little

#the mandolarian #the mandalorian #mandalor #mandalorian #mandalorian armorer #the armorer #armorer x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandolorian #star wars #star wars x reader #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #x reader #the armorer x reader

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illegal-spiegel · 4 years ago

Text

To Save a Dog’s Life

Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: reader sustaining injuries Summary: Bakugo, Todoroki, Deku, and Kirishima’s reaction to the reader who risks their life to save a dog A/N: I am not a doctor so sorry if none of this is ✨accurate✨

Katsuki Bakugo:

he is literally blasting towards the villain when you jump in out of nowhere

he slams on his nonliteral brakes and gawks for a second

what kind of moron are you?

you run right at the villain before stopping a couple of feet away to pick something up

wait

is that a...?

it’s a dog

you start to run away again when the villain sends rubble your way

Ground Zero is right back into action when he gets over his initial shock

but, of course, he just wasn’t fast enough

next thing he knows, you’re being crushed

he flies to you using his quirk and lands before you

he goes to help you while the other idiots try to stop the villain

“You sure are stupid.”

that is literally the first thing he says to you when he reaches you

he’s not very good at this part of the whole hero thing

you gawk up at him after telling the dog to run home

he watches the dog take off before looking back to you

“Did you seriously just risk your life to save a dumb mutt?” he asks as he tries to lift the rock off of you

you scoff at his question, rolling your eyes

“Well duh! The poor thing was about to be crushed!”

Bakugo gives you a straight face as he assesses your situation right now

your entire lower half is trapped under concrete

“God, you’re such an idiot,” he groans before deciding to just blast the rubble away

you scoff again and go to say something as you move to stand up when you feel it

you cry out in agony, your legs refusing to move

“Your legs are broken, you imbecile. Stop moving,” he snaps, moving to lift you up bridal style

you huff and roll your eyes, looking at the villain who is now tied up

“My hero,” you say sarcastically

he clicks his tongue and scowls at the sight of the villain restrained

“You made me miss all the action, you extra.”

“Do you have a single nice bone in your body?” you snap, growing agitated

“I saved you, didn’t I?” he snaps right back

you huff and look away from him once more

“Touché.”

he personally took you to the hospital and made sure you were taken care of before leaving

he barely spoke the entire time he was with you after you both reached the hospital

you can’t help but feel sad that he left

maybe you only like him because he saved you?

but he’s so handsome...

and he can keep up with your quips and sarcasm...

you tried to forget about him during your stay in the hospital but it was hard

he was always on tv saving people and he even appeared in your dreams

stupid hero

when you started physical therapy, halfway through the first session, you discovered that he was there

you asked for a break and sat in your wheelchair before wheeling on over to him

“Ground Zero?” you ask shocked

“Yeah. Good thing your brain isn’t more damaged than it already is,” he says as he crosses his arms over his chest

you grunt and roll your eyes

“And you’re here because...” you trail off, waiting for him to fill in the blank

he stays silent for a moment, just staring at you

then he finally says, “I just wanted to tell you that the stupid dog you saved is okay. The family found it and said they’ll pay for your hospital bills as thanks.”

you’re shocked, to say the least

you try to argue with him but he says it’s too late and it’s already been done

turns out, he’s actually the one who paid for them

he didn’t lie about the family’s dog though. They got you flowers, balloons, and a ‘get well soon’ card to which he brought to your room

after that one visit, he found himself coming around more often

after your legs were good as new, you ended up asking him on a date

you’ll never let him live down how red his face got

Shoto Todoroki:

he uses his right side to freeze the villain’s legs in place

this is when he sees you just a couple of feet away with your feet stuck as well

you’re also holding a dog?

you quickly set the dog down though and let it run away from you

before he can do anything else, the villain extends his arms to you and hits you with all of his might

so he can extend his body

he must also know that saving you is the priority

because he hit you from behind and made you go forward

since part of your legs are stuck in the ice though, your knees break with the pressure as you fall forward to the ground

Todoroki curses and quickly freezes the rest of the villain, not even caring at this point if he freezes the villain to death

he goes to your side and uses his left hand to melt the ice around your legs

you look up at him with wide eyes, staring at him and refusing to look away

“Is the dog okay?” you stutter out, voice laced with pain

he was not expecting that

his brows furrow at your question as he looks at your face before looking back down to your legs

yup, your legs are definitely broken

“Yeah. It ran away. Is it your dog?” he asks as he lifts you up

you shake your head with a weak laugh

“Oh, no. I just saw it and knew I needed to save it.”

he honestly can’t believe you right now

you risked your life to save a dog that isn’t even yours

you’re starting to remind him of Deku

did you hit your head too?

he takes you to the hospital, leaving the villain to the police

he doesn’t even bother melting the ice for them

he stays with you for as long as he can before visitors are forced to leave

he visits you every single day though

it is his fault that you got stuck there and then the villain attacked you

you tried to tell him it wasn’t necessary but he refused to listen

it took a while for your legs to heal and for you to be able to walk again but the day eventually came

Todoroki then told you he’s taking you out to eat

yes, you read that right

he didn’t ask

he demanded it

he tried to tell himself that it’s because he felt guilty for being the cause of this

when in reality

over the time he visited and stayed with you at the hospital, he began to grow feelings for you

you already felt bad enough for getting in his way and having him pay for your hospital bills (despite your protests)

and now he wants to take you out to eat?

you agree but only if you could pay for the meal

he agrees, if anything, to just see you longer

Izuku Midoriya:

he’s already in mid-jump heading toward the villain when you appear out of nowhere

he starts to panic but tries to remain calm

wait, okay

maybe you have a quirk and just want to help

maybe you’re not an innocent civilian

yeah, you’re most definitely not a hero

you pick up a dog that’s about to get crushed by the villain and turn around just to have Deku run into you

he can’t exactly stop himself in the middle of the air

you both crash to the ground and you weakly let the puppy go to let it run off to safety

you cough a bit as Deku quickly moves off of you

just as he does though, the villain sends heavy debris both of your ways

he punches through it to make the pieces smaller but they still hit you

one hits your head and has you laying back down onto the ground

he quickly takes care of the villain before rushing to you

he jumps high into the air with you in his arms to the rooftops, knowing it’ll be quicker for him to take you to the hospital this way rather than having you go through traffic

“Did you just risk your life to save a dog?” he asks incredulously

at your weak laugh and nod, he can’t help to smile a bit despite his worrying

you’re just like him

even before he got his quirk, he was running out into danger to save the people he cared about

you pass out halfway there and it only makes him go faster

when he brings you inside, he refuses to let you go unless it’s absolutely necessary

he just wants, no—needs you to be okay

turns out you have a concussion

he asks the doctor how long you’ll be here for

“Normally, someone who sustains a head injury only needs to stay three to seven days unless it’s serious. We won’t know until we run some tests,” he replies smoothly before excusing himself to check on other patients

whether you’re there for a couple of days or a couple of weeks, Deku is there for it all

it’s his fault you got hurt in the first place

with his caring and protective personality, it didn’t take long for you two to become close

anytime he mentioned you getting hurt is his fault, you stop him and reassure him it’s not

“You saved me. You’re my favorite hero. I’ll never forget that day,” you reassure him the first time he ever said it was his fault

you’re the first person to tell him that he’s your favorite hero

he’s red in the face for the rest of that day

the day you’re released, he asks you to get food with him

“Deku, are you asking me out on a date?” you tease

“No! Maybe! Yes! Only if you want to!” he stutters out, face the darkest shade of red you’ve ever seen

and who would you be to deny him?

Eijirou Kirishima:

he’s trying to think of a plan on how to stop the difficult villain when you appear out of thin air

he thinks you’re a hero for a second before he realizes that you’re just a civilian trying to save a dog

the giant villain is about to crush the dog with his foot when you run towards the villain, grab the dog, and slide it out of the way

it was very manly of you, whether you’re a man or not

Kirishima is very moved and even tears up a little

he snaps out of it though when he realizes that you couldn’t move out of the way fast enough and got stepped on

Kirishima has never moved so quickly in his life

he hardens as he runs at the villain and goes right through their leg

it’s gross and he’s covered in blood but at least it prevents the villain from walking anymore

he runs to your side and checks to see if you’re alive, praying that you are

if you died because he wasn’t manly enough and didn’t stop the villain sooner...

his whole body softens when he realizes that you’re still breathing and you have a heartbeat

both are weak though and you need medical attention asap

he lets the ambulance take you since its the fastest way

he makes sure to know what hospital you’re going to though

once he knows, he saves it into his memory as he heads home to clean up

when he’s free of blood and in his regular clothes, he goes to the hospital to visit you

he’s devastated to find out you’re in a coma

this is all his fault

you stay that way for weeks but you best believe that Kirishima visits you every. single. day.

he talks to you too

he tells you about his day, what he learned in class, his friends, about being a hero, and anything else

he’ll spend the whole day there and he never grows bored

sometimes, he’ll even read to you or work on homework out loud

no matter what he’s doing, he makes sure to include you

because what if you’re awake but just can’t show it and you’re so incredibly bored?

he’s there when you wake up

you’re shocked to see him there and even more surprised to watch him start to cry

he begs for your forgiveness and promises that he’ll be a more manly hero and do a better job at protecting people

all you do at first is smile at him and weakly reach for his hand

“Thank you for saving my life. I heard you, you know. Everything you said to me,” you say weakly, voice barely working thanks to lack of use for weeks

he wipes his teary eyes with his free hand and smiles the brightest smile you’ve ever seen

he thanks you and makes sure to visit you every day until you’re released

when you are, he blushes as red as his hair and asks you out on a date

“I think it’s only fair to keep you company after you’ve kept me company after all this time,” you lightly tease

he tries to get rid of his blush while you laugh at how red he’s turning

yeah, it didn’t take long for you to start dating

┍━━━━━━━✿━━━━━━━┑

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blessedboo · 4 years ago

Text

Mama | Oscar Diaz.

Oscar Diaz x Reader

Summary: You’re pregnant. The announcement to Oscar doesn’t go so smoothly.

Requested: Yes - “Hi I love your work so far! I was just wondering if it would be okay for you to write an Oscar Diaz imagine with the prompt #10 you’re going to be a dad? But change it up slightly by highlighting his fears of raising a son. Seeing as how it runs in his family for boys to join the gang. Sorry If it’s a strange request!! Much love x” [Anonymous]

Prompt: Yes [My 150 Prompts] -

10. “You’re going to be a dad!”

Warnings: Angst to fluff. Pregnancy.

Word Count: 1.9K

A/N: This prompt was on the FLUFF list, but we’re switching it up and going for an initial ANGST route. I’m trying to tackle these requests dawg, please forgive me for the delay.

The quiet sound of plastic crashing against the bathroom floor amplified in your head.

It felt as though time slowed and the rattle of the pregnancy test slowed with it.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

It was taunting you, a reminder that you had to tell Oscar sooner or later. It wasn’t abnormal for you and him to spend sleepless nights talking about the future.The possibility of marriage, owning a house and, of course, having a baby were ideas you aspired to. You two always bickered about the minor details of the life to come:

“Rustic? Really, baby? I was thinking modern and marble. Dream big, live bigger.”

“Fine, maybe five dogs and three cats are a little much. How about three dogs, two cats and a turtle to compensate?”

However, if there was one thing you both agreed on, it was that you would wait until you had children. Specifically until you were both financially stable, married and far away from the dangers of Freeridge. Emphasis on far and away.

That was the plan, a good one too. But you were taught that things don’t always go as planned, and you were now living that notion.

Your sunken eyes stared into your reflection, worry etched into your tear-stained cheeks. The way-too-bright white light of the mirror’s bulb illuminated your concern mockingly. After a few sniffles of self-pity, you dabbed at the puffiness laying under your bottom lashes as you wiped away any residue.

Your breaths were shaky, attempting to maneuver around the nail you were biting on while you paced back and forth. The atmosphere got hotter as the four surrounding walls seemed to close in on you, the floor swaying under your feet. It was too hot for comfort. Too hot.

Sweat. Trickling. Wipe.

The tight space was suffocating, the lump in your throat felt larger than before. Tighter, tighter. Too tight.

Breathe. Door. Open.

You gripped onto the handle, gasping as the cool air of the hallway eased you into its soothing arms. Every ounce of panic, everything you over thought increased tenfold. Your mind ran laps intrusively. You were creating doubts you hadn’t considered and problems you didn’t want to face. You wanted to make it stop, but you didn’t know how. And the one person that could was the one person you hoped to avoid. At least for a little longer.

That was when you heard the door knob click, keys shifting in its place. Oscar’s here. You froze, cursing the universe for making your unspecified wish come true.

“Shit. Shit. Shit!” You murmured under your breath.

He barely got the chance to properly step into the house before you ran up to him.

Without thinking it through, your arms enveloped him into a hug. You let your heart grasp the solace it needed in that moment. Oscar was your safe haven, and in times of conflict, it was instinct for you to gravitate towards him and the comfort he provided.

Using his own to reciprocate the embrace, they wrapped themselves around you like a warm blanket. You sighed, inhaling long and deep.

He placed a gentle kiss on your hair before taking your chin in between his thumb and index to tilt it upwards.

“Hey—” He paused and took in the current state of your features. Your eyes were glossy, lids droopy, shoulders slumped. You embodied the definition of lackluster. That sweet smile, that infectious spark of energy he craved … It was missing, and he didn’t like that. “—¿Qué pasa?”

“Oscar, do you love me?” You blurted out.

He pulled back a little, eyebrows furrowing at the unexpected question. Thinking he misunderstood, he tilted his head. Your lips parted as you moved your hands to cup his face.

“As if you have to ask,” his lips curved into a half-smile. “Yes. Of course, Y/N. Why?”

You nodded, diverting your attention to anywhere other than the worry in his eyes. You took your hand in his as your fingers intertwined seamlessly. Your hands were clammy, and you knew he could feel the spots of dampness from the way his palm shifted at the feel of them. You anxiously led him to the couch and sat him down.

The realization that this pregnancy could either make or break your future together started to dawn on you. The thought of him leaving you had your stomach churning and your throat tightening. It wasn’t something you wanted to imagine, let alone become a reality.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush. So, here it goes,” you breathed out in a tone that was almost unintelligible. “I-I’m … You’re … Uh, me. Fuck,” you hissed. Your hand flew to your thigh to try to stop your leg from bouncing, but that only led to your nails lightly scratching the skin in repeated motions instead.

“You, you. Youaregoingtobeadad,” you squeaked as your head dropped down.

Raising an eyebrow, he shook his head at you, unable to make out the incomprehensible jumble of word vomit that spewed out of your mouth.

“A little louder, nena,” he squeezed your hand reassuringly.

You gulped. “Oscar Diaz. You’re going to be a dad, mi amor.”

His jaw slacked. Any muscles that worked to hold up a familiar, comforting expression fell.

A canvas having its paint wiped away into a blank nothingness was the best way to describe the way he looked at you. The loving touch of his fingers around yours was replaced with emptiness as his limbs retracted closer towards his body, and farther away from yours.

You couldn’t decipher the emotion that hid behind those eyes. There were no telltale signs he conveyed, no words either. You could hear the heavy rumble of your heart ringing through your ears, the thump of the drum eating at you in anticipation.

“Say something, damn it!” You croaked in a voice so fragile, so brittle. You wanted—no, you needed—him to do something. You were vulnerable and overwhelmed, feeling as though the force of a thousand stones weighed on your chest. You wanted him to hold you, console you, ease your anguish. Something. Anything.

You hadn’t even taken notice of the tears welling up in your eyes until they trickled down your chin, black spots forming one by one on your gray sweater.

He blinked stoically before looking away. His handsome features coldly hardened into a look of distaste as he shunned you. Your palm rushed to cover your mouth, miserably concealing the broken sputters and gasps; he couldn’t even look at you and it was soul-crushing. Every inch of him clenched with anger, from his fists to his teeth.

Before you knew it, his heavy footsteps trailed a scorching path towards the door. The slam of the wood against the frame thundered, causing your sobs to pour out of you in a heave.

As you swung the door back open, your clouded vision was met with a blurry, deformed sight of Oscar’s silhouette near the vibrant cherry red shape of his car. Rage roared within you through the depths of your core.

You couldn’t believe him.

After everything you two had been through, this was the moment he chose to leave. The only difference now was that he wasn’t just deserting you, but his unborn child too.

“You said you loved me, you lying son of a bitch!” You bellowed. Completely distraught, you fell to your knees and continuously wept your disappointment, your ever-growing pain.

And just like that, his engine revved as he took off into a destination unknown.

—

Minutes felt like hours. Hours felt like days. Days felt like forever. Forever felt like a long time.

In reality it was five hours. Five tiresome hours. Five too many, five too long. No calls, no messages, nothing. That went for you too, you did absolutely nothing except wallow in your melancholy.

Wrapped in a blanket burrito, you cradled yourself into the fetal position as you clutched onto your stomach. You held onto your belly as if you were actually holding onto your child. But considering Oscar left, you might as well.

Groaning, you rolled over and stretched before blankly staring at the ceiling. You paid attention to the gentle whirring of the fan above. Soon enough, the sight turned into a hallucination of a baby crib mobile instead. You envisioned what the life ahead would be like as a single mother - buying toys and cute clothes, breastfeeding, pre-school, all of it.

You sighed, closing your eyes and smiling softly as you soothed your mind. Stroking your stomach, you whispered to the little creature: “Don’t worry, baby. We got this.”

“Yeah, we do.”

Your eyes shot open as you sprang upright, your head darting towards the direction of the low, soft-spoken voice. In front of you, the man stood slightly hunched in the doorway. His demeanor was tense, yet seemingly weak.

“Jesus Fucking Christ, Oscar!”

The buttons of his shirt were now undone, a sleeve rolling down his shoulder. With a hand rubbing the nape of his neck, his lower lip trembled, eyes glossy and a little red. You had never seen him look so defeated. Whether it was guilt, fear or frustration, you didn’t know. But whatever it was, it clouded his entire being in that moment.

“Cariño, I’m so sorry,” he croaked.

“Go away.” You started to blink back tears, the anger flooding back at the sight of him.

He shook his head as he approached you, arms opening up as if to plead for your forgiveness. When he realized you weren’t going to accept his embrace, he distanced himself by sitting at the edge of the bed. Oscar sighed as his head dropped into his hands, mumbling words you couldn’t hear.

“Y/N, I love you. I love you more than anything and anyone. I’ve never loved like that, and I haven’t been loved like that,” he gulped deeply. “Not until I met you.”

You uncrossed your arms as you focused your gaze on the slow rise and fall of his back.

“When … when I left earlier, I was scared. I didn’t think I was ready to be a father. Frankly, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. I will always have my doubts and fears, they follow me wherever I go. But with you, I won’t have to deal with them on my own.” He turned to face you, holding out a shaky hand for you to grasp onto.

“Please,” he mouthed silently. You nodded, reluctantly taking his hand as he brought you closer to him.

“I fucked up with Cesar by bringing him into all this gang shit. I brought an innocent kid into a life he didn’t deserve. I grew up having to be a father to a brother without ever being a son—”

“—But I’m not Ray. I’d never walk out on you, on us. On all of us,” his gentle fingertips caressed your belly as his lips curved into a loving smile. He looked up at you with such sincerity and pure adoration, as if an epiphany was hitting him right then and there.

You were the mother of his child, the woman he wanted to cherish for the rest of eternity. Nothing else mattered more than to be with you, his everything.

You cupped his cheek as your foreheads connected, noses meeting at the tips.

“I’m going to marry you, Y/N. I’m putting a ring on that finger and we are raising this family together. I’m going to be a good father, a better man than mine ever was. Lo prometo, mi vida,” he whispered, his thumb delicately tracing your cheek. “It’s you and me against the world, always.”

“I can’t believe we’re really doing this,” you murmured.

“I can’t believe we made a baby,” he chuckled. Leaning forward, Oscar placed a sweet kiss on your soft lips. “Congrats, mama. We did it.”

____________________________________________

Spanish translations - [Correct me if I’m wrong]

¿Qué pasa? - What’s wrong? / What happened?

Nena - Baby.

Mi amor - My love.

Cariño - Sweetheart.

Lo prometo, mi vida - I promise, my life (my everything/darling etc.)

#oscar diaz #spooky diaz #spooky diaz x reader #oscar diaz x reader #oscar diaz imagine #spooky diaz imagine #on my block #omb #omb imagine #omb fanfic #julio macias #oscar diaz fanfic #spooky diaz fanfic #x reader #imagine #x black!reader #x poc!reader

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yongtxt · 4 years ago

Text

one summer’s day [yuta]

word count: 6.5k words

characters: parent!yuta x parent!reader ft. 95 line and a child

genre: angst. just suffering

warnings: mentions of illnesses, hospitals, and deaths. includes a bit of smoking, too. a ton of inaccurate medical information. yuta has self-deprecating and self-destructive tendencies

author’s note: this is my third (and last!!!) hospital-based fic and i’m running out of ways to describe a hospital. this is emotionally taxing but this was so fun to write! also i tried out a new format so i hope it looks okay? (unedited but not rlly)

Nakamoto Mai’s summers were always spent basking in the white heat of the sun with the salty water of the ocean’s waves splashing against her skin. Your husband would hold her up by her arms, wading them ashore to where you were watching them over, lounging on a beach towel with your knees hugged to your chest.

Yuta would set his daughter on the sand, allowing her to run off to where her short limbs could take her—chasing off the seagulls that would land near her vicinity. He would make his way to you, dripping with water, and he would tackle you onto the ground just to tease you and hear your sweet laugh that was filled with nothing but love.

It wouldn’t take long before Mai would scurry back to her parents, out of breath and her plump cheeks glowing a shade of red you were already too familiar with. She’d crawl into Yuta’s arms while you’d carefully smear on a thick glob of aloe vera gel on her face, poking the tip of her nose and making her giggle.

For a family that resided in the urban city, you always appreciated the time you got to spend in the beaches of Daecheon with the most important people in your life; Yuta, your high school sweetheart that you got to marry two years after your first child was born, and Mai, the physical proof of the love you shared with him.

You had Mai at a time that was least expected. At the early age of twenty-one, bearing a child was the curveball that threw your and Yuta’s life into disarray. Your wishes of traveling outside the country were put to a halt and Yuta’s plans of dabbling into his long-time hobby of soccer were withheld; you were both forced into joining the workforce to afford to raise a child that you weren’t even sure you wanted to have in the first place.

But it was in the way you heard her steady heartbeats at your first ultrasound, how it immediately made your resolve waver. The look of pure adoration Yuta held the first time he’d felt her kicking in your stomach, it was a look you’ve never seen before—a look that made it feel like it was all worth it.

The day came when she was finally born into the world, holding onto your thumb as you held the newborn baby onto your chest. You knew right then and there that all of the doubts and worries you’ve had coming into your pregnancy, it didn’t matter anymore as long as you had Mai and Yuta with you.

It wasn’t easy to be parents at such a young age. To be able to juggle parenthood and your respective careers, you and Yuta wouldn’t dare say that you’ve come close to mastering the skill but you were sure close to it. Mai had a wonderful upbringing despite the many hardships you and Yuta have gone through. She managed to grow up in an environment that emanated warmth and affection, unaware of her parents’ sacrifices of their young adulthood to be able to give her the life she deserved.

Spoiled, as others may think, but she was her parents' pride and joy. Neither of you wouldn’t want her to be treated anything less than a princess should. The smile Mai always had on, you would do everything in your power to keep it.

As pampered as she was, most of it came from a place of having to treat her especially with care and attention more than a normal child would need because Mai was a chronically ill child. Born with a weak heart, it was a miracle that she even survived the delivery to start with.

She had always been sickly therefore trips to her many pediatricians weren’t unusual for your family, already having familiarized with most of the doctors and nurses who usually took care of her at your local hospital.

Mai had a lively personality, leading an active lifestyle spent running and playing around all day, but her heart defect caused her to be easily tired. Her constant shortness of breath put her in danger thus her pediatricians had made it a note to always keep an out for her.

When Mai fell into a continuous fever after your family’s trip to the beach, you didn’t think anything of it because of how frequently it happened. Yuta made you go to work and leave Mai in his care while he still had another day of his paid leave, reassuring that she would be fine as long as he was there to take care of her.

That same morning, Mai clambered off her bed—a little too early than her usual wake-up—and waddled into her parents’ bedroom, still burning high off her fever. She reached out for her father’s sleeping form on the bed, tugging on the sleeves of his shirt.

“Papa, it hurts.” She said once Yuta had groggily sat up to properly tend to his child’s cries, seeing the clumps of tears forming at the corner of her eyes. The sight was enough to jostle him awake, alarmed.

He pulled her off the ground and plopped the five-year-old onto his lap, worry growing in the pit of his stomach. It was only in rare cases when Mai’s pain would bring her to tears, indicating how much she was hurting. She looked worse than what he remembered the night before; her breathing still irregular as it always was, but her skin was paler than normal and sweat formed in her temple—it didn’t look like she was suffering her regular lapses.

Yuta asked, “Where is it hurting, Mai?”

She hesitantly pointed to her chest, to where her heart was. Without another question asked, he hurriedly grabbed his car keys from the bedside table. Her pediatricians told you and Yuta of her risk of chest pains and how they shouldn’t treat it lightly considering that she was merely a child. If it goes beyond what Mai could handle, she should immediately see the professionals to get treated.

In his sleepwear, Yuta drove to the hospital as fast—but safely—as he could. Anxious fingers drummed against the steering wheel while Mai sat at the back in her booster seat, her stuffed toy of a dolphin enveloped in her arms.

Briefly checking themselves in the emergency ward, some of the nurses who were already familiar with the Nakamotos ushered them towards the waiting room the moment they had spotted Yuta carrying Mai into the entrance.

He always sat near the decorative fish tank, knowing how much Mai loved watching the fishes swim around. It distracted her from the dread that came with the never-ending blood tests and x-rays she was required to take. It was effective almost every time, but it seemed like that day wasn’t like any normal day.

Mai stilled in her father’s arms in the time they spent in the waiting room, her eyes sewn shut and her lips clamped together. Watching her choking in her sobs and unable to do anything about it, it only broke Yuta’s heart more than it already has.

He let out a shaky breath, wanting the day to be over with already.

You entered Mai’s room in haste, slamming the door open as you heaved heavy pants. Still in your work attire, you dropped your bags onto the tiled floor and hurried to your child’s side.

“Mama!” Mai exclaimed, still the cheery child that she was. Yuta, who sat on a chair beside the bed, jumped at her sudden yell and whipped his head to his side to find you already reaching out to her.

You carefully cradled her into the crook of your neck, stroking her hair. She donned a hospital gown and she was hooked onto several machines, patches on her chest for the cardiac monitor and a nasal cannula in her nose; the situation seemed worse than what she let on, how her eyes lit up at your arrival, happy and enthusiastic, opposed how grave of a situation it looked.

“How are you feeling, Mai?” You asked in hopes that your worry wasn’t evident in your tone, holding onto her comparatively smaller hands in yours. “Are you still hurt anywhere?”

She shook her head fervently, a wide grin adorning her beautiful features, “No, no! I feel much better now!”

You let out a breathy laugh, pinching her cheek and making her whine at your doting. Ease washed over you, the tension you had on your shoulders released almost in an instant at the assurance that Mai wasn’t hurting anymore and she was okay.

“I told you that you should never lie about what you’re feeling, Mai.” Yuta spoke up beside you and for a second you’ve forgotten that he was there at all, how quiet he’s been since you came. He looked exhausted, pieces of hair sticking out in different directions and a frown etched on his face.

“But it’s the truth!” Mai pouted her lips, glaring at her father who could only let out a faint chuckle.

You turned to Yuta and leaned over to place a kiss on his forehead, lingering for a moment longer. You wanted to apologize to him for leaving him to deal with it alone, but you knew he would just brush it off with him as the type of person who’d bottle in his stress to not worry those around him.

“Was it really necessary to confine her?” You asked, wrapping an arm around Yuta’s head and pulling him to your side in an attempt to console him—yourself, too, in his touch.

Of all the times you had to run Mai to the emergency ward, it has never come to a point where she needed to stay a day longer in the hospital. The machines she was hooked up on were usually used, but her tests and x-rays were possible to accomplish within the day. There usually was no need to confine her.

“They found an anomaly in one of her tests, her doctors wanted her to stay the night while they made sure that everything’s alright.” Yuta said as quietly as he could, wanting the conversation to be kept strictly between the two of you. He doubted Mai would even understand, but he didn’t want to take his chances of scaring his own child.

You bit the insides of your cheek, the return of the panicked thuds in your heart almost deafening. You replied, “It’s probably a mistake on their part, it’s gonna be fine.”

Yuta wasn’t quite sure if you meant to say it to him or to yourself. Either way, he appreciated it nonetheless. Having you beside him was already a weight lifted off him, he had less to worry about now that you were with him.

Mai, sensing the heavy tension in the room like the smart and sensible girl that she was, shuffled closer to her parents’ side of the bed but Yuta was quick to stop her from doing so. He wouldn’t want to risk snapping off her tubes, a lesson they had to learn the hard way before. She frowned, grabbing her father’s arm instead.

“Really, I’m okay now!” Mai was persistent even against the helpless expressions her parents wore, determined to make them believe so. She added, “Papa said that we can go home once mama comes so we can leave now, right?”

“We have to make sure that you’re actually fine, Mai. We have to stay a little longer.” You tried to smile at her, to make it seem like nothing was wrong. You cupped her face into the palm of your hand, caressing her skin with your thumb. “Is that okay?”

“I guess so.” She huffed, but her grimace was gone as soon as it appeared when you attacked her with a claw to tickle her stomach.

Yuta joined in eventually, hesitant still, but he relented just to hear Mai’s laughter—her hearty laughs that never failed to light up the room and make them feel better. He wondered just how much pain she was actually in to be able to hide it this well or was she even in pain at all like she had claimed.

She was acting as if she was perfectly fine but then again, Mai was a child who never liked to see people worrying. Much like him, he realized.

It took hours before one of Mai’s main pediatricians came knocking on the door, hours of agonizing torture on your and Yuta’s end. When you let Doctor Kang into the room, Mai was in the middle of eating dinner that his Uncle Taeyong had kindly cooked and dropped off at the hospital at the news of his niece’s confinement.

Mai visibly perked at the familiar man, waving her hand wildly to greet the doctor she had known for as long as she could remember. If she thought about it hard enough, almost all of her early memories included Doctor Kang, having been to hospitals so much to the extent that doctors no longer feared her unlike most children would.

“I assume you feel better now?” Doctor Kang asked in a playful tone, making his way to the side of Mai’s bed while you followed suit behind him. With her mouth full of chicken, she could only give him a high-spirited thumbs up. He chuckled, “That’s great to hear, Mai.”

“Us adults are going to talk for a bit so just continue eating what Uncle Taeyong gave you.” Yuta said, ruffling Mai’s hair. She nodded, too engrossed in her seahorse-shaped nuggets to be defiant that she wasn’t included.

Doctor Kang led you and Yuta to the corner of the room where there was a couch you could sit on. Yuta’s hand found yours subconsciously as you braced yourself for what Mai’s pediatrician had to say.

“Based on Mai’s medical records, she was born with a congenital heart defect, yes?” Doctor Kang asked, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white coat.

“Yes, but other doctors told us that it wasn’t life-threatening.” You remarked, already defensive. You were about to rise in your seat if it wasn’t for Yuta’s hold on you. Doctor Kang’s expression remained calm despite your reaction that you assumed he already anticipated. With a smaller voice, you said, “She’s been completely fine ever since.”

Doctor Kang nodded, “That is true but there’s a sudden spike in one of her tests, Mrs. Nakamoto. We’ve run it multiple times already to make sure but it looks like Mai is now prone to convulsions and epilepsy-like symptoms.”

“Convulsions? Epilepsy?” You trailed off, disliking the taste it left on your tongue. You felt Yuta’s grip on you tighten. “Isn’t this a bit too unexpected? What caused this?”

“These things just happen if you were born with a heart defect, we can never tell when it occurs. The most we can do is treat it accordingly.” Doctor Kang said, and you didn’t bother hiding the breath of relief you released. It was treatable, at least. “Expect that her health will be unstable as we’re yet to find out how her body will react so I’m advising that Mai should stay here for the meantime so we could monitor her closely.”

“She’ll be okay, right?” Yuta spoke for the first time since Doctor Kang arrived, his voice quiet and unsure. “Mai will get better?”

Doctor Kang sighed through his nose, pushing up his glasses, “We will do everything in our power to take care of her but you have nothing to be worried about, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto. Your daughter is a strong girl.”

The said girl sat on her hospital bed, clueless to her parents’ slow descent to their anxieties they kept suppressed for so long.

Yuta stared at Mai’s serene face, her figure curled into a fetal position as she let out snores without care. He stood from a distance, leaning against the wall while you sat on a stool beside him. You shared the same worn-out appearance as your husband, dark circles and all.

A week has passed since Mai was confined in the hospital and it hasn’t gotten any better since. Her temperature kept fluctuating and she spent most of her nights switching her nasal cannula to an oxygen mask for a higher dosage of oxygen, unable to breathe properly anymore whenever she tried to fall asleep. She was also coughing a lot more, swelling in the most random parts.

Mai’s condition was getting worse by the day; unfortunately, it was taking its toll on you and Yuta as well, and you hated how much it showed.

“I’m killing her.” Yuta managed to choke out in the midst of his cries, his unkempt nails digging into the palm of his hands.

“You’re not killing her.” You snapped, incapable of even bringing yourself to rise from your seat to embrace him as much as your mind wanted to. Your body felt too exhausted, emotionally and physically too drained to function. You settled on holding his hand instead, to keep him from hurting himself as you’ve already instinctively known of his mechanisms. “You’re just panicking.”

“My father died because of the same illness, it’s hereditary. I passed the curse onto my child.” He wept, finding his solace in the way your thumb was rubbing circles onto the back of his hand.

“Mai is not gonna fucking die, Yuta.” You said, much more sternly this time with a tiny hint of aggravation seeping through in your rise of tone. You didn’t even want to think of the possibility of your daughter’s death, the thought alone brought tears to your eyes. You clicked your tongue, “Please, you have to trust your daughter a little more.”

Burying his face into his free hand, he let out shallow breaths. You sighed, but it didn’t bear animosity nor ill will, you were just tired—tired of pretending that you weren’t as in equal distress as he was. You couldn’t let anybody know of your vulnerabilities, especially not to your husband who was already suffering as it is.

Forcing yourself of energy, you pushed yourself up from your stool and took Yuta in your arms. You let him cry onto your shoulder that night, your own tears damping the back of your hand.

Despite that you were just human with the same capacity for emotions as much as the next person, you needed to be strong for your family. You didn’t know who else could take care of them if not you.

There were days Yuta thought it was gonna get better. A fool that he was, truly.

Days when Mai’s uncles would come to visit their favorite niece, Taeyong with his arms full of newly bought toys for them to play with and Johnny with his shoulders carrying bags and bags of children’s books he wanted to read to her, and days when he’s able to leave work early and she’s gets to spend time with both of her parents by her side.

Those were the days Yuta never wanted to end because only in those times would he see again the glint in Mai’s eyes that she had lost, the glow she radiated in her elation. She’d be talkative, she had so many stories to tell and Yuta would never get tired of hearing all of it. So full of life and childlike charisma, it was as if everything was back to normal—except it wasn’t.

Days like those would always end in nights of suffering and agony for your family. Mai would lay on the hospital bed in a cold sweat, fighting a battle she wasn’t winning and there was nothing he could do to help alleviate the pain she was feeling. The monotonous beeping of her machines had become her lullabies, it would drown out your storytelling that used to lull her asleep.

Yuta was in a bad headspace, that he knew. Whenever he looked at you, he was reminded of it; how reliant he was of you for emotional support. The guilt he felt was overwhelming, it almost threatened to pour. He hears your desperate cries at night and your silent prayers, he knew how exhausted you were and there would be times he wanted to just say that you didn’t have to put up a tough and optimistic persona for Mai, for him.

But he would be lying if he did so. He was crumbling, he wasn’t in the clearest of mindset.

There would be instances so extreme that he would wish that he could just stay in his office and never return to the hospital, to never face his harsh reality and pretend that this wasn’t his.

Yuta would think to himself, who am I kidding?

He shouldn’t have ever met you and gotten you pregnant, Mai wouldn’t have to endure the pain he had caused her by being his child, but he was selfish. He had to sow what he reaped, to see through his curse that he jinxed his family with.

“Papa, look!” Mai called from where she splayed across the hospital bed, Yuta looked over his shoulder to see her proudly presenting her finished work of the LEGO set of a beach house that you had bought for her. She had a toothy grin on her face, showing off the pieces that came with it. “It’s me, papa, and mama! Look!”

“You’re already done with it?” He chuckled, walking over to see what she had been working on diligently for hours. His heart squeezed, noticing how she purposely customized the pieces to resemble your family’s own beach house in Daecheon; from the missing panels of the fences that he ruined and the placements of the flower pots you tended.

“Is this supposed to be me?” He asked, picking up a figurine that she had messily painted its hair with black acrylic to match his. She nodded enthusiastically. He laughed, “Mai, this is really good!”

“Yeah, I worked really hard on it!” She giggles, stifling a cough. Yuta rubbed his hand over her back to soothe her, kissing the top of her head to make her know of his appreciation of her hard work. A genuine smile on his face for once.

He always wondered how Mai made it so easy to melt all of his troubles and anxieties away. Her tiny body was capable of so much love, she lit up his darkest days so effortlessly. It made him feel so loved to know how much his daughter thought of him.

Yuta wanted to curse himself for all the times that he thought of himself badly. Regardless of his desperate pleads and regrets, he knew full well that he loved Mai too much to not wish her into existence.

He had to work on negating his thoughts that fantasized about his own destruction. If Mai had known how badly he spoke of himself, he knew she wouldn’t like it—perhaps it would even shatter her image of him of the always optimistic, always confident father that he built.

His self-deprecation will not get the best of him again, for his mental stability and his family’s.

With his phone pressed against his ear with one hand, Yuta held up a lit cigarette in the other. The pungent smell of tobacco lingered in the air, he inhaled its remnants deeply like a depraved man would.

“Papa, when are you coming home? Mama sucks at doing the fishes’ voices!” Mai’s voice pierced in his ear, and Yuta heard you laughing from the background. His daughter’s voice sounded hoarse, but he didn’t let it sway him from souring her mood.

Tapping the ash off his stick, he said, “I’m almost done with work, okay? I’ll come home soon.”

Home, it was an odd term to call the bleak white-walled room that confined his child. As the days dragged on, Yuta has grown to accept it for what it is. While it was a prison to most, Mai treated the hospital room as she would to her own bedroom and the people who surrounded her were mostly to blame for it.

Because for Mai, it felt just like home whenever Uncle Taeyong would come and visit. He’d pull out papers and paints from his bag and encourage her to be creative. They would pin up their artworks on the walls for everybody to see, and she would giggle when she’ll overhear her uncle getting scolded by you for making a mess of the splatters they made, but he would always be forgiven for most of their works was of their family (uncles included; Uncle Taeyong wouldn’t allow them to be excluded).

It felt like home whenever Uncle Johnny would sneak around past visiting hours to bring Mai a new stuffed toy to add to her ever-growing collection. He would excuse himself that it was urgent, that the toys helped her sleep better at night, but they all knew that he was just too excited to see his niece’s reaction to waste a day. A wide variety of different water animals piled up near the bed, all courtesy of her uncle’s wallet and his tendency to spoil her.

Even on Mai’s worst days, it still felt like home. When she would curl into a position with her small fists digging into her chest that felt too constricted, completely unable to lift another finger because her body would be in too much pain, Yuta would be there to hold her hand. You would place her head on your lap, running your fingers through her hair to quietly soothe her until Mai would begin to forget that she was ever in pain.

Yuta hated the hospital, he hated how dreary it was. But it was home. As long as he had his family with him, it didn’t matter where home was—home was never just a place, it was a feeling he felt whenever he was with you and Mai. The hospital he had associated with nothing but misery for so long, Room 345 had become a place he could now look forward to coming home to.

Yuta dropped his cigarette and crushed it with the sole of his shoe, eager to wrap things up for the day so he could see his family again.

On her twenty-first day in the hospital, Mai had still shown no signs of recovery. Yuta was so sure that his nightmare was coming to life.

“We did everything we could, but her health is deteriorating every day and we’re running out of ways to keep her symptoms at bay.” Doctor Kang bowed his head, his guilty apologies falling on deaf ears.

Yuta’s fist collided with the wall, a loud crack resonating from its sheer impact.

“It’s unfortunate but for now the machines are keeping her alive.” Doctor Kang added, his voice lost in the midst of your inconsolable hysterics and Yuta’s fit of rage. “We’re still doing the best we could, but I’m so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Nakamoto…”

The voice in Yuta’s head grew louder and louder, screaming that it was his fault, his fault, his fault. This time, he wasn’t able to shut it out.

When you were still carrying Mai in your womb—only three months into your pregnancy with barely a bump to show off—Yuta made a promise to give his unborn child the entire world.

He wanted to be the best father, the kind of father who would be capable of protecting them from all the harsh reality and the kind of father who would be by their side for all of their ups and downs. He would not miss a moment of his child’s life, he would watch them grow in front of his very eyes to be a person he’d be proud to call his child.

But now he couldn’t believe his eyes, Mai at five years old was lying on a hospital bed. He was looking at her so intently as if he was trying to commit her appearance into his mind—how the curve of her nose bore a resemblance to yours, how her lips reminded him of his own, and even how her eyes were similar to her grandmother’s; all of it, he instilled all of it.

Yuta found it painfully cruel how not a single feature of his late father was passed down to Mai. Nakamoto Tatsuo, the kind father that he was, had an appeal to his appearance and was a sight to behold but none of his traits could be distinguished from Mai’s face, it was just his weak heart that he passed unto her.

“Are you okay, papa?” Mai asked after a while of just observing her silent father, tilting her head confusedly at the sudden outburst of tears streaming down his cheeks. “I don’t like seeing papa cry.”

He nodded, wiping his cheeks rather aggressively, “You don’t have to worry about me, Mai. I’m alright.”

“Okay, I trust you… I love you, papa.” Mai smiled at him, and he burned the image into memory.

It happened on a day that felt too normal. Soft waves of laughter filled the room, accompanying it was Mai’s favorite movie soundtrack playing its pleasing tunes.

Mai was engrossed in a game of UNO with you, her small hands doing its best to carry a deck of The Little Mermaid themed cards. She had her tongue sticking out from focus, oblivious that you have been purposely making her win since the round had started.

Yuta, on the other hand, was tidying up the mess her uncles left when they had visited in the morning. He swore they coddled their niece too much.

Everything seemed so normal, it was just like any other day in the hospital. Mai was about to call her win, placing her final card in the pile, when her arm suddenly stiffened. She lurched over into a violent spasmodic fit, accidentally knocking off the stack of cards and snapping off the tubes she had in her nose that provided her oxygen.

You yelped in your startle, shaky fingers easing Mai into a position where she could breathe. For a moment, Yuta was frozen on his spot—utterly paralyzed by fear and panic as they had never seen their daughter have a seizure. He snapped back to reality soon after, forcing his legs to run out of the room and call for help.

Mai was still convulsing when Doctor Kang had finally arrived inside the room, he saw the condition she was in and he turned to Yuta who stood by the foot of the bed, watching the scene unfold with pure horror painted on his face.

“Both of you, get out now!” Doctor Kang’s voice bellowed, rushing to where Mai’s bed would pop its wheel. “I said, out!”

A horde of nurses barged into the room, ushering you and Yuta out of their way before either of you could’ve begun comprehending the situation. You were too stricken by shock, falling to the tiled floor as strangled sobs left your lips—desperate and helpless, while your husband stood by the door, gaping as he watched them wheel out his daughter to the direction of the emergency ward.

Yuta made his way to where the hospital bed used to be, kneeling down on the scattered mess they made of the playing cards. His vision blurred, he didn’t know where else he could find hope. It was as if he was merely just clawing at the seams that were threatening to pull apart any second.

He pressed his palms together, uttering a silent cry to a god he wasn’t quite sure he believed in anymore.

Yuta could not imagine living in a world where Mai was no longer.

A world where he would no longer wake up to her small hands shaking him awake, a world where he would no longer have to pick the peas off her dinner plate when you weren’t looking, a world where he would no longer need to take her to the beach just to satisfy her thirst of the ocean waves—he just couldn’t.

The world was robbing Yuta off witnessing the many firsts Mai was yet to experience, and he didn’t know if it was selfish of him that he couldn’t even think of accepting it. He wanted to see his daughter on her first day of school, to see her grow up and achieve her dreams and goals.

There was so much he had to know about her, to see her accomplish, but her clock was ticking. At age five, Mai was already laying on her deathbed. Unfairly so.

“She won’t be able to make it through the night.” Doctor Kang said, his head down low. “I’m so sorry.”

Hooked onto too many tubes to count, Mai rested on the hospital bed in her most peaceful slumber yet. She was unconscious to her mother’s cries, the first time Yuta had seen you crack in the eyes of others; you held onto her small frame for dear life, clutching onto her small pale hands as you laid beside her.

“What did we do wrong?” He heard you mutter to no one in particular, left it trembling in the suffocating air. “What the fuck did we do wrong?”

Yuta sat on the foot of the bed, unable to even look at Mai. He was scared, so terrified. In her final hours, he didn’t want to face her with a look that was sorrowful and guilt-ridden. He racked his brain of what to say, but he overwhelmed himself with his gazillion unsaid thoughts and it left ultimately him blank.

“Mai, are you listening?” He asked after a while, his voice hesitant and wavering. His throat felt dry as if he hasn’t spoken in years. When he received no reply, he let out a mirthless chuckle. He added, “Do you remember the first time we went to the beach?”

You craned your neck to meet Yuta’s eyes, bloodshot as yours were, and he didn't look away. He continued, “You were so little back then but you were rambunctious as ever. You loved the beach so much that I had to pretend that I got sick so we could go home.”

He saw your hand snake out of Mai’s blanket, holding it out for him to take. He caught it with his shaky fingers, tears tumbling out of his cheeks as he relished in the warmth you provided. Gripping on your hand with a tightness he couldn’t believe he was capable of in his state, you held on his even firmer; to assure him that you were there, that he was not alone.

“Mai,” You whispered in between hiccups, gazing at your daughter with such a tenderness Yuta knew was only reserved for Mai. “Mermaids and mermen don’t exist. It was only your papa who was swimming in the water when I pointed one to you.”

It was the crack in your voice that got him. You were letting yourself be vulnerable, and it pained him that it took you this long to finally allow yourself to be. The strong woman he was so in love with, falling apart right in front of him—somehow, you were still so beautiful. An absolute goddess that you were.

Tugging onto Yuta’s hand, he swallowed his reluctance and inched himself closer. He said on his way, “Mai, Uncle Johnny wasn’t the one who broke your favorite pail and shovel, it was me. I accidentally stepped on it and I blamed it all on your uncle because I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

It went on for a while, your family’s exchange of apologies and truths. It was all either of you could say, but Yuta wished this moment could last forever. You were being honest with your feelings and he was braving against his insecurities as a father, but he knew no matter how much tears he’d shed, Mai was still dying.

“Mai,” Tone a little softer, Yuta called out to his daughter once more. “You and your mama are the reasons why my life is worth living. You’ve both brought out a side of me that I never once imagined I was capable of having. But Mai, you especially are my strength.”

You burrowed your nose into the small of Mai’s neck, muffling your cries at your husband’s confession. He carried on, baring his soul out, “You are the light of my life and of so many others and Mai, we need you to stay alive… I need you to keep on living.”

Mai coughed, and Yuta’s eyes shot open. You drew back, in equal shock at her sudden awakening. She smiled at the sight of her parents, barely having the strength and energy to flutter open her lids all the way, “Papa, if I promise to, can we go back to the beach?”

A gasp ripped off your throat, fresh tears welling in your eyes as if you hadn’t already exhausted yourself from crying. While you latched yourself onto Mai’s fragile form, Yuta’s limbs moved before he could even process what was happening. He scrambled towards the both of you, throwing his arms around his family in a dogpile, clinging with all of his strength.

“Mama, your hair. It tickles.” Mai delicately giggled, scrunching her nose to evade your locks. She couldn’t move in either of your holds, allowing your and Yuta’s combined warmth and coziness to envelop her whole, almost soothing her to a state of tranquility she was never truly accustomed to all her life.

“I’m sorry, Mai.” You laughed breathlessly, a sense of relief washing over you, and you looked at her with a certain yearning. It was an apology that encapsulated everything—to your faults and shortcomings, you poured it all. “Let us make it up to you, okay?”

Yuta gently placed his palm against the side of her head, pressing his cheek against her head of hair and he didn't move an inch. He found comfort at the beating of her heart, faint but it was still there. He mumbled, “Tell us how can we make it up to you, Mai.”

“I want a new pail and shovel.” Mai hummed after a while of silence, letting you pepper her face with hurried kisses—sloppy kisses that would last her a lifetime—and ignoring the damp feeling on her scalp as she nestled into his father’s touch.

Home, Yuta thought once more, this is home. He savored the feeling for what he didn’t know would be the last time because on the night of August 5th of 2023, an hour after she had woken up from her heavily painkiller-induced condition, Nakamoto Mai died of heart failure.

Unknowingly, a little piece of her broken parents died with her. To fill the emptiness that she had left hollow in your hearts, you and your husband would turn to the beach for a taste of peace that neither of you wouldn’t ever fully attain again.

Life wasn’t fair, and Yuta doesn’t think it would ever be when it had already robbed him of his life’s purpose.

#neowritingsnet #cznnet #yuta #nakamoto yuta #yuta nakamoto #nct yuta #nct #nct 127 #nct au #yuta au #yuta imagines #yuta scenarios #yuta angst #nct angst #nct imagines #nct scenarios

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pines-troz · 4 years ago

Text

Animaniacs/PATB/Wakko’s Wish Fanfic - Pinky Promise

Summary: When Pinky sees the Warner siblings trying to stay warm in the frigid cold, his heart is overwhelmed with compassion. He suggests to Brain that they should help the poor orphans, to which the smaller mouse reluctantly agrees. But when the mice receive a stroke of bad luck, their friendship is put to the test.

Word Count: 7,396

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28299807

Based on @themurphyzone‘s lovely post about Wakko’s Wish

The winter snow blanketed the buildings and streets of Acme Falls. The citizens of the village trudged miserably as they went about their daily lives trying to get by in a country that grossly overtaxed its people for the financial satisfaction of its corrupt and cold-heart ruler, King Salazar the Pushy.

Pinky and The Brain emerged from their home and strolled through the village square. To protect themselves from the biting cold winds, Brain sported his purple scarf and brown fingerless gloves, while Pinky wore his red scarf. It wasn’t much, but when there was little to go around they learned to appreciate what they had.

A particularly harsh gust of wind blew past the mice. Brain chattered his teeth as he instinctively rubbed his forearms for extra warmth. Pinky saw how frigid the smaller mouse was and immediately pulled him into a side hug for extra warmth. Brain sneered at his lanky companion and shoved him away, rejecting the affectionate gesture.

“So where are we going again, Brain?” Pinky asked.

“I just told you, Pinky! We’re heading over to the village dump to scavenge any materials that would aid my latest invention.” Brain answered with an annoyed frown.

The pudgy mouse pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper from his pocket and unfurled the sketches for his device. “A giant vacuum cleaner!” He declared with an eager grin. “With this machine, we’ll be able to suck up that wretched king and his allies, trapping them in a lint-filled prison. Then, while the throne awaits for a new monarch, we will seize power over the kingdom and restore Warnerstock to its former glory!”

“Naaarf!” Pinky awed.

“So that’s why we’re going dumpster diving today, Pinky.” Brain concluded as he stashed his sketch back into his pocket.

“Egad Brain, brilliant!” Pinky joyfully cried out. But then his smile faltered. “But no, no”

“What?” Brain asked exasperatedly.

“Don’t we need proper swimming equipment when we go dumpster diving? Like goggles and flippy fins?” Pinky asked, waving his arms around to emphasize his point. “We can’t waste any time, Pinky!” Brain said curtly. “The daylight hours are considerably shorter this time of year, and we need to make the most of our trip to the dump!”

“Yay!!!” Pinky cheered as he followed his roommate.

As the mice walked past the village square, they looked over at the abandoned orphanage to see three shabbily dressed children huddling around a makeshift fire.

The rodents recognized the Warner children; Yakko, Wakko, and Dot. The kids usually had a penchant for causing chaos around the village. But seeing the normally playful Warners in a state of misery and shivering in front of a weak fire pit was particularly heartbreaking. An awful reminder of the adverse impact of Salazar’s over taxation on the populace.

Poor Pinky was on the verge of tears at the sight of the distraught siblings. Kids were supposed to be happy, bouncing around without a care in the world and having a fun-fun silly-willy time! But to see three poor and defenseless children broke the tall mouse’s heart. “Poit! Oh, the poor dears...” He warbled, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Yes, poverty is a merciless mistress.” Brain agreed in a melancholic tone whilst gently patting his taller friend’s back. “But now is not the time to dwell on the depressing sight of three poor waifs having to fend for themselves in a cold and unforgiving world.”

As Pinky watched his smaller companion lead the way, he thought of a wonderful idea that made him feel all warm and fuzzy. Maybe he could do something to make the kiddies smile!

With his heart filled with renewed hope, the taller mouse skipped along gaily, catching up with his companion. “Say Brain, if we come across anything that’s nice or shiny during our trip to the dump, can we give some to the little kiddies?” Pinky suggested cheerfully.

Brain stopped in his tracks, turning his chubby head towards his lanky roommate. He stared at Pinky with an incredulous look. The odds of finding something of value were slim (not that it deterred the determined mouse from trying anyway). But it didn’t take long for Brain to be captivated by the warmth and compassion that pooled in Pinky’s beautiful blue eyes. How could he ever say no to a gaze like that?

“Should we come across something of value, we could, perhaps, share our wealth with the orphans.” Brain reluctantly spoke.

“Is that a Pinky Promise?” Pinky asked excitedly. The mouse curled three of his fingers with only his pinky pointed out, and eagerly wiggled it in front of his friend.

Brain looked at Pinky’s pinky. The thought of making a Pinky Promise was juvenile and saccharine from Brain’s perspective. But despite his cold exterior and cynical outlook on the world, he could never bring himself to crumble Pinky’s childlike sense of wonder. The eloquent mouse let out an exhausted sigh, surrendering to his roommate’s request.

“Fine, it’s a Pinky promise.” He confirmed, giving in to his best friend’s plea. He showcased the pinky finger on his right hand. Brain carefully wrapped his pinky around Pinky’s, giving it a firm shake.

Once they untangled their pinkies, Pinky scooped Brain into a tight hug, to which Brain recoiled as he kicked his feet in the air. Pinky was unaware of Brain’s resistance as he twirled around. “Oh Brain, we are such kind and good and thoughtful mice! Zort!”

“That’s all well and good my personal-space-invading friend, but we first need to search the dump and obtain anything of monetary worth before we could perform our noble deed.” Brain recalled as he struggled to liberate himself from Pinky’s affectionate embrace. “Now would you be so kind as to put me down before we further indulge in any more mawkish sentiment?”

“Of course, Brain!” Pinky apologized as he gently lowered Brain on the ground. The pudgy mouse gave a curt nod to his companion before resuming their journey. The lanky mouse did his best to keep up with his roommate’s quick pace.

With their pact sealed, the mice ventured forth to the village dump in their desperate search for usable materials and anything of monetary worth.

By the time sunset rolled in, the mice were unable to find the materials for Brain’s invention. But they did come across an even better find. Brain searched through a rusty tin can only to discover three gold coins. After retrieving the coins, Pinky immediately grabbed one. With the assumption that he held a chocolate coin wrapped with gold tinfoil, the mouse scratched at the sides in the hopes that he could remove the wrapping. Brain rolled his eyes and inspected the other two coins, observing them in great detail to check if they were real or counterfeit. After minutes of inspecting the symbols and inscriptions as well as testing their physicality, Brain confirmed that the gold coins were authentic. The mice then fled the town dump, absconding the valuable currency in their paws.

Brain held two of the coins over his head and Pinky held the third coin in his arms. The chubby mouse already planned out the different ways to spend their newly acquired wealth. The first coin would be given to the Warners (in keeping with his Pinky Promise to Pinky), the second coin would be used to purchase food from the grocers, and the third coin would be used to fund Brain’s latest plan for world domination.

In the words of the classic show tune, they’re in the money!

The two companions sprinted down the street as fast as their little feet allowed. They needed to avoid drawing attention from the greedy local tax collector, Baron von Plotz, and his bumbling lackey, Ralph the Constable, as well any person willing to get their hands on the money.

Brain was a few paces ahead, desperate to return to their home with the coins. Pinky, despite his physical agility, was distracted when a somber sight caught his eyes.

Pinky noticed the Warners forlornly trudging inside their ramshackle home in the abandoned water tower. Oh, how his heart ached at the sight of the downtrodden children. But as he gripped the coin in his hold, he remembered what he needed to do to cheer them up!

Unfortunately Pinky failed to see where he was going and tripped over the cobblestone street, landing with a thud. As he fell, he accidentally let go of his coin, which went rolling down the street.

“Oh no!” Pinky gasped, alerting Brain. The pudgy mouse whipped his head around to see the fleeing coin. He was about to intervene when the coin made a right turn and went straight into the sewer grate.

They stared in shock as they watched the coin disappear before their very eyes.

Brain felt his anger rising like a kettle filled with boiling hot water. He snorted and gritted his teeth as he confronted the bumbling mouse.

“Pinky, you clumsy nincompoop!” Brain snapped, clenching his fists with rage. The mouse furiously stomped over towards his roommate.

Pinky closed his eyes and lowered his head, expecting a particularly hard bop on the head. This was all his fault. If only he had paid attention!

As Pinky waited to receive his blows, he heard the sounds of two coins clinking together followed by two small paws hitting a particularly hard object and the aggravated grunts of his roommate.

Pinky opened his eyes and turned around to see Brain taking out his aggression on the dilapidated picket fence. After a few additional jabs, the smaller mouse looked at the fence, his breathing slowing to calmer breaths.

After releasing his anger, Brain picked up the two coins and resumed the trek back home. “Come along Pinky,” He called out while keeping his eyes on the trail ahead. “let’s return to our home and prepare for tomorrow night.”

“But Brain, what about the poor kiddies?” Pinky asked concernedly.

“What about them?” Brain spat without stopping.

“But we have to give one of our coins to the children!” Pinky reminded his roommate. He could feel his eyes starting to water.

Brain groaned and turned to face the taller mouse. “We need the money, Pinky! One coin to put bread on the table, and the other to pay for our latest plan to take over the world!”

“But you Pinky promised, Brain!” Pinky cried out as tears streamed down his cheeks. “And a Pinky promise is the most important promise of all!”

The lanky mouse fell onto his knees, ignoring the frigid dampness of the snow beneath him. Putting his head in his hands, Pinky sobbed uncontrollably, curling himself into a pitiful ball in the snow.

Brain stared at his distraught friend and was immediately overcome with guilt. He hated seeing Pinky cry. Even more so, he hated the fact that he made Pinky cry. Brain winced at his inconsolable companion and looked to his gloved hands instead. There were two sides of him battling among themselves as he pondered. His ambitious side told him that world domination was more important and that he could make reparations after he ascended to power. But his heart told him that he needed to place the well-being of others before himself, no matter how much it wounded his pride. With a forlorn sigh, Brain concluded that he didn’t want to sour his relationship with Pinky by backing out on his promise. He needed to do the right thing and fulfill his promise.

Brain courageously shifted his gaze back at Pinky, who was still crying his eyes out with ragged breaths as a disgusting amount of snot oozed from his nostrils. The pudgy mouse knew that he needed to cheer up his soft-hearted companion.

“I did, didn’t I?” Brain softly replied, his voice laced with remorse. Pinky’s ears perked and immediately stared at his friend. The lanky mouse wordlessly nodded as he took his red scarf and blew out the snot from his bulbous red nose.

With a deep sigh, Brain walked over to Pinky and shoved one of the coins into his chest. The lanky mouse instinctively held the coin tight, knowing now that he needed to be extra careful not to lose the money. Pinky looked over to see Brain making his way over to the worn-down water tower.

“Come along Pinky, I believe we need to pay the orphans a surprise visit.” Brain quietly ordered.

Pinky’s glistened as an optimistic smile broke out. Brain had kept his Pinky Promise after all! The lanky mouse eagerly sprinted to join his shorter friend by his side.

“Oh thank you, Brain!” Pinky exclaimed joyfully. “I can’t wait to make the little kiddies smile!”

Brain looked at Pinky, whose cheerful attitude was now restored, and gave a small smile in return.

The mice cautiously entered the ramshackle home through the open door, which was susceptible to the cold gusts of wind that blew through Acme Falls. They quietly walked through the broken down home and scanned their surroundings. The water tower was laid bare with the exception of a few worn-out pieces of furniture. Blue tattered curtains that divided the living space, a wooden bureau that held a burning candle, and a makeshift bed which was currently occupied by Yakko and Dot.

The eldest Warner brother and the Warner sister were tucked underneath the quilt blanket. Pinky and Brain remained in the shadows as they heard Yakko enchanting Dot with a bedtime story.

“Once upon a time, a brave knight married a beautiful princess and they had two sons.” Yakko recited with a gentle smile.

“But they wanted a daughter too!” Dot said eagerly.

“Right, so they planted a garden all over the kingdom,” Yakko explained as he draped his arm around his little sister. “and on the first day of spring every flower in that garden bloomed. And out of the prettiest flower came...”

“Me!” Dot chirped, pointing towards herself.

“Yup!” Yakko affirmed, causing Dot to snuggle up to her brother.

The mice also noticed Wakko appearing from behind the tattered blue curtains. The middle child played around with the fabric as he listened to the tale.

“And so the knight and his bride, Mom and Dad, took you home. And every night at bedtime they’d come in and say, ‘who’s the girl?’” Yakko asked as he affectionately nuzzled his nose into Dot’s. “And you’d say,”

“I am!” She confidently declared, gesturing to herself once again.

“And they’d ask ‘how’d you ever get so cute!” Yakko asked, nuzzling her nose once again. “And you’d say,”

“I was born that way.” She boasted as she crossed her arms.

“And they’d say ‘tell us your name young lady’” Yakko requested as he gently booped his sister’s nose with his index finger. “And you’d say,”

“Princess Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca the Third!” The Warner sister stated as she clasped her hands together. “But you can call me Dot!”

Yakko smiled at his younger sister. “And they’d say ‘can we call you Dottie?’ and you’d say,”

“No, just Dot.” Dot commanded with a serious look on her face. “Call me Dottie and you die!” She warned.

“And Mom and Dad would laugh and laugh and laugh, and tickle ya!” He said whilst tickling his sister, causing her to giggle. “And you’d laugh too! And you’d fall asleep with a great big smile in your heart!”

Hidden within the shadows, the mice had listened in on the endearing bedtime story. Brain felt something stir within him as he heard the story of their parents. Was it pity? Sympathy, perhaps? He couldn’t tell. Brain awkwardly focused on the coin he held, feeling like he was intruding on an intimate family moment. Something told him that he should just flee the scene, but his feet remained planted on the floor.

Meanwhile Pinky sniffled as he was moved to tears by the lovely tale. The mouse thought about what the children’s lives might have been when they lived with their parents. What kinds of activities did they like to do? Did they like gardening or were they more into arts and crafts? Did their Dad like to ride them around on his back like a horsie? Did their Mom bake some nice chocolate chip cookies for the kiddies? Did they all like to sit by the fireplace on a snowy evening all wrapped up in blankets and snuggle on the sofa together? And to think that the poor kiddies were robbed of more bonding time with their parents and now had to live in a worn-down water tower. Pinky felt the tears fall down his face as he gazed at the Warners making the most out of what little they had.

“I like that story!” Dot proclaimed.

“I like that story too. Narf!” Pinky agreed in a wavering voice.

The strange response alerted the three children. Yakko and Dot instinctively hugged each other while Wakko sprinted from behind the curtain and leaped onto the bed to join his siblings. The kids were frightened that a mysterious person entered their home.

Yakko kept his younger siblings in a protective hug as he scanned the room. “W-who said that?” He loudly inquired, trying his hardest to hide his fearfulness with a hardened look on his face.

“My associate did.” Brian addressed in a monotone voice, tugging Pinky’s hand as they stepped into the light. Brain wore a tired frown as he stared at the Warners, while Pinky used his scarf to dab the tears from his eyes. The smaller mouse noted the fearful looks on the children’s faces and tried his best to soothe their worries. “Pinky and I have no intentions of bringing about any harm, so there’s no need to be frightened.”

The Warners released a collective sigh of relief at the tiny strangers.

“Are you leprechauns?” Wakko asked curiously with a pointed finger.

“Actually we are a pair of genetically altered lab mice trying very hard to get by during these trying times and plotting to take over the world.” Brain explained in earnest. “But my friend Pinky here has something he wants to give to you.”

The smaller mouse ushered his taller friend to approach the children. “Oh, right-o!” The lanky mouse remembered.

With a joyful smile, Pinky sprinted towards the mattress, carrying the coin in his hands. Brain stood by the edge of the shadows, clutching their last coin to his chest as he watched his Good Samaritan of a roommate perform his good deed. Once Pinky made it over to the bed, he lifted the coin, offering it to the Warners. “Here you go!” He chirped.

The siblings looked at each other in disbelief.

“Well go on, it’s yours! Zort!” Pinky cheerfully insisted.

“You’re just gonna give away that large sum of money to us?” Yakko asked incredulously.

“Well, it’s from me and my best friend!” Pinky explained sincerely, nodding over to Brain. The big-headed mouse’s face faltered, surprised that Pinky would share the spotlight in his good deed.

“Brain was the one who found the coins, and we decided to share the money with you! Zort!” Pinky pleasantly told the children, causing Brain’s to draw a ragged breath.

“I don’t deserve such praise from Pinky…” The smaller mouse pondered. As his eyes started to water, he rapidly blinked his eyelids to fight off the tears that threatened to fall.

Yakko graciously accepted the coin from Pinky and inspected both sides. He knocked the coin on the bedpost and smiled. “Yup, it’s real!”

Wakko and Dot cheered as they took turns holding the gold coin, their eyes glimmered with fascination at their newfound wealth. Pinky’s blue eyes shined, elated to see the smiles on the poor children’s face, and even happier that he did his part to contribute to their joy.

Having fought back his tears, Brain briefly smiled at the sight.

“Thank you guys so much!” Dot exclaimed gratefully. She leaned down and patted Pinky’s head, who eagerly tapped his foot at the affectionate gesture.

“Man, I wish we could think of some way to repay you two,” Wakko added, turning his attention toward the smaller mouse.

Brain frowned as he shook his head. “There’s no need to fret over that. You children don’t owe us anything.” He shoved a hand into his fur pocket and tucked the gold coin underneath his other arm. “Now if you’ll excuse us, my associate and I must swiftly return home to avoid detection from the greedy tax collector.” He informed. With a quick turn, the eloquent mouse walked back into the shadow and made his exit from the shabby water tower.

“Goodnight kiddies!” Pinky cheered as he followed his roommate.

“Goodnight!” The Warners chorused, beaming their grateful smiles at the mice. Pinky returned the smile before he left.

Pinky stepped outside into the bitter cold, still warmed from helping out the poor orphans. With a joyful laugh, the mouse skipped and twirled around on the village street. All of his remorse from accidentally losing the third coin was washed away and replaced with the joy and giddiness from seeing the precious smiles on the Warners’ faces. A sentimental image that he will always hold in his heart. Oh, how wonderful it was for him and Brain to lend a helping hand!

As Pinky glanced at Brain, who still had his hand in his pocket and stopped in the alley near their humble abode. The taller mouse ceased his twirling and approached his most trusted companion.

“Oh Brain, wasn’t it wonderful to see the kiddies happy?” Pinky happily asked. But he did not receive a response. Brain remained silent as he looked up at the starry sky above.

“Brain?” Pinky carefully addressed.

“Why did you share the credit with me?” Brain softly inquired, still looking up at the night sky.

Pinky didn’t hesitate to answer his query. “Because you were the one who found the coins while we were dumpster diving,” He eagerly explained. “and if it weren’t for you then we would have gone back home empty-handed and the kiddies would still be penniless! Zort!”

Brain turned his head towards Pinky, stunned by his roommate’s reasoning. He then let out a tired exhale and walked through the front door of their humble home.

After a few seconds of staring at the doorway, Pinky cautiously followed Brain’s footprints. The taller mouse stopped to take a step next to one of the footprints before taking a step back. Pinky gazed at the different footprints, his feet were remarkably bigger than Brain’s, which were practically tiny. But despite how different they appeared, the footprints were close together like two very good friends. Much like how he was close to Brain. The lanky mouse smiled at the two footprints for a few moments longer before heading inside.

When Pinky arrived, he saw his roommate extinguish the match he used to light the candle that sat atop the bureau near their matchbox bed. The lanky mouse silently yanked the string on the pull-down screen that Brain used to map out his schemes as a feeble attempt to keep out the cold winds.

The chubby mouse tossed aside his purple scarf and brown fingerless gloves. He retrieved his blue nightgown and nightcap from the bureau and changed into his pajamas.

Pinky swiftly moved behind the wooden beam to respect his roommate’s privacy. The lanky mouse took off his scarf and dressed in his yellow nightgown and nightcap. After waiting patiently for a minute he decided to call out to Brain.

“Can I come over now?” He asked.

“Certainly.” Brain answered in an unusually quiet voice.

Pinky emerged from behind the beam and carefully approached Brain, now dressed in his pajamas. The smaller mouse wore a particularly forlorn expression that greatly worried Pinky.

“Is something wrong Brain?” He softly inquired.

The chubby mouse sighed as he brushed the dust off of his blue nightgown. He looked into his roommate’s soft blue eyes and was captivated by the compassion they seemed to exude. After getting lost in the pool of his companion’s loving stare, Brain darted his own pink eyes to the floor and was compelled to address what was on his mind.

“I don’t know what you see in me, Pinky…” Brain admitted as he pulled back the covers of their bed and got into bed.

Pinky quietly listened to the sullen confession. But he couldn’t understand why Brain would say such things.

Why Brain’s the most determined and hard-working person he ever met! Even when his plans to take over the world backfired, he rarely dwelled on his failures and got right back up, eager to come up with another plan. And Pinky was well aware that while there were many good and wonderful things in the world (like Brain, Pharfignewton, and ice sculptures made from frozen spit) there were many bad, awful things in the world (like that awful meanie King Saladbar and his terrible taxes). But Brain was motivated to take over the world so he could make it a better place for everyone!

And even though Brain can be grumpy, he and Pinky did almost everything together! Living in the same place, sharing the same bed, and even working on plans to take over the world together! Pinky loved and respected Brain. Brain just needed to be reminded of how important he was.

“Well, I see my best friend in the whole world.” Pinky offered with a gentle smile.

Brain’s eyes widened in shock, kneading his fingers over the thin purple blanket. While he was always pondering over his plans and focused on fulfilling his destiny to take over the world, he sometimes forgot about how Pinky held him in such high-regards. That imbecilic mouse was simply too good for this world.

If Brain was being honest with himself, he didn’t deserve to have a friend like Pinky. But then again, he needed to have someone like Pinky in his life. Someone who supported his goals for world domination, but wasn’t afraid to usher him to use his heart when making decisions as opposed to his superior intellect. And despite his easily distracted nature and occasional clumsiness, Pinky was an absolute godsend of a friend. Always eager to assist Brain in his schemes, making his favorite meals, and cheering him up when he needed it most. Brain loved Pinky, but he could never bring himself to admit that.

Instead of professing his honest musings, the eloquent mouse simply looked into his roommate’s beautiful blue eyes once more with a sad smile on his lips. “That’s very kind of you, my charitable chum.”

Pinky smiled, happy that Brain was feeling better than he was earlier. The taller mouse hopped into bed and settled himself next to the mouse he admired. While Pinky laid on his back, Brain shifted over on the right side of the bed, curling himself into a protective ball.

A gust of cold wind blew through the makeshift shield that covered their front door and into their home. Brain shuddered as he felt the frigid wind seep into his fur and instinctively rubbed his arms for warmth. Even the added layers of his nightgown and blanket weren’t enough for the freezing wind to seep into his fur.

Pinky noticed his shivering companion and it didn’t take long for the taller mouse to gently wrap his arms around his pudgy roommate, pulling him into a soft and affectionate embrace. He laid his chin on top of Brain’s large cranium, waiting for any sort of reaction from him.

For once, Brain didn’t bother to recoil from Pinky’s loving hug. Although his intellectual side insisted that he needed the extra warmth from his roommate’s body heat to combat the cold weather, his vulnerable side (as much as he tried to conceal it) reminded him that it was okay to accept the comfort his friend so kindly provided.

“Thank you…” He sighed contentedly, causing the lanky mouse to smile.

“Goodnight Brain.” Pinky said sweetly, keeping him in his gentle hold.

Brain smiled as he immersed himself in Pinky’s hug.

“Goodnight Pinky…”

Two Years Later

Inside the walls of the royal castle, Prime Minister Brain, now dressed in a black robe, white ruffled neckerchief, and curled powdered wig, was writing away in his office. With the strokes of his feathered pen, the mouse placed the finishing touches on the new laws he planned to propose to the monarchs: mandatory public education for all youths under eighteen which would be properly funded by the government and taxpayer money, the abolition of child labor, and the establishment of affordable healthcare. Knowing all of the hardships he, Pinky, and the other citizens of Acme Falls endured during the terrible reign of Salazar the Pushy, Brain vowed to use his political authority to undo the damage caused by the tyrant and enact positive social change to bolster a more prosperous Warnerstock.

The mouse grinned at the documents, immensely satisfied with his work. All he needed was the Warners’ stamp of approval before these new laws would be put into place.

He placed the feathered pen back into the ink jar, straightened out the papers, and got up from his seat. After stretching out his arms and back, he walked over to the window. Brain smiled as he admired the beautiful view of Acme Falls and the rest of the valley from the comfort of the castle.

He could hardly believe that his wish for a position of power had been granted.

After the events of the wishing star, the village of Acme Falls and the rest of Warnerstock was ushered into a new age of peace and prosperity. The purchases from Wakko’s two ha’pennies resulted in a thriving economy for the little town, which extended throughout the rest of the country. Once it was revealed that the Warners were actually the surviving children of King William the Good and Queen Angelina Contessa Louisa Francesca Banana Fana Bo Besca II, Salazar was removed from the throne. In his absence, Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner were crowned the new co-rulers of Warnerstock. During the transfer to power, the children needed to bring aboard someone who was trustworthy enough to assist them in governmental affairs and lead the cabinet of ministers. After reviewing all of the competent adult figures in Acme Falls in need of employment, they all agreed that Brain was the most qualified candidate for the job. The day after the interview, the Warner siblings appointed Brain as their Royal Advisor as well as the new Prime Minister of Warnerstock.

Coming off the heels of his years as a poor inventor with a desire for political power, Brain was thriving in his new career. His first order of business was to appoint Pinky to work in the stables. The chubby mouse recognized how important Pharfignewton was to his hopeless romantic of a roommate, so he decided to reward Pinky with the job that would allow him to spend more time with the mare he was so dearly fond of.

As the Royal Advisor to the new monarchs, Brain was responsible for lending his political expertise to the Warner siblings so that they would become capable and just rulers Warnerstock deserved. The small mouse applied his extensive knowledge of the previous world leaders to tutor them on the dos and don’ts of leading a country. But Brain quickly learned that the best way for the siblings to retain this knowledge was through the alluring power of music. As a result, Brain wrote and performed many songs about the monarchs of the past, the history of Warnerstock, and various aspects of political science, all of which were sung to the tunes of catchy folk songs and memorable classical music. Having to come up with new songs for each lesson proved to be a challenge for the Royal Advisor. Fortunately, King Yakko lent a helping hand and collaborated with Brain in his spare time to work on the songs.

Prime Minister Brain also performed skits with the Warners to practice appropriate behavior for when they needed to attend important social events outside of the castle. He hoped that by having the kids act out how to properly speak to their subjects, the kids would adopt those traits as they grow older.

Dot also consulted with Brain when it came to matters of party planning for royal balls. Researching the latest fashion trends, deciding what music would best fit the atmosphere, dealing with catering and decorations. Brain even recruited Pinky to teach the Warners how to properly waltz. As a result of their collaboration, their first royal ball proved to be a smashing success.

In addition to advising the Warners, Prime Minister Brain worked to fulfill all the duties that came with being the head of the government. In regards to overseeing the kingdom with the Warners, Brain did most of the heavy-lifting when it came to wielding political influence. The mouse led meetings with the Cabinet of Ministers to discuss matters of finances, education, and the like. He also drafted new laws and policies, as well as reviewing laws proposed by other members of the Cabinet, before awaiting approval from the Warners.

The reason why Brain accepted the extra work was so that the Warners could have some much-needed downtime for themselves to indulge in some crazy kid shenanigans all around the castle. After years of having fend for themselves, they deserved to act like regular kids and create cherished childhood memories while they were still young.

While being the Prime Minister of a small European country was not the same as being the supreme potentate of the globe, the mouse was thoroughly content with his current political career.

Perhaps in due time, Brain could convince the Warners to peacefully transfer their sovereign powers over to him while the siblings kept their royal titles and all the comforts that came with it. And with the kingdom under his control, he could use his status as the benevolent and undisputed ruler of Warnerstock to manipulate other world leaders to do his bidding and finally take over the world!

“Knock, knock!” He heard a distinguished cockney accent singing from behind the door.

“Come in, Pinky.” Brain commanded as he turned away from the window.

Pinky opened the door and waltzed into his office. The taller mouse twirled around and pranced towards the table as he sang the tune of Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2.

“La la la la! La la la la! La la la la! La la la la!” Pinky belted out as he climbed up the table leg.

Once he perched himself on the table, he swiftly grabbed Brain and broke out into a giddy waltz. Brain blushed when his cheek collided with Pinky’s. The smaller mouse surrendered as he listened to the rest of the verse. While Pinky’s singing was not great by any means, Brain couldn’t help but smile as he saw the jubilant expression on the lanky mouse’s face.

After spinning around, Pinky gently placed Brain back on the table. The Prime Minister swiftly grabbed a hold of the taller mouse’s arm to steady himself. Once Brain regained his composure, he adjusted his powdered wig and looked up to Pinky. “I see you’re doing well for yourself, my rhythmically-agile friend.”

“Oh Brain, I had such a fun-fun silly-willy time with Pharfignewton this morning! After brushing her teeth and combing her mane, we took a ride around the royal gardens to admire the pretty flowers!” Pinky eagerly replied, clasping his paws together. “I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to work in the stables! Troz!”

“My pleasure, Pinky. Your happiness is important to me, my friend.” Brain said as he gently ruffled Pinky’s hair. The lanky mouse contentedly closed his eyes as he accepted the loving gesture.

Then the mice heard someone knocking on the door.

“You may enter.” Brain commanded, swiftly placing his hands behind his back.

The door opened and three royally dressed children entered the room. King Yakko, King Wakko, and Queen Dot happily smiled at the mice. The children were adorned in their sparkling regal attire. Brain noticed that the siblings were considerably healthier now that they had a stable roof over their heads and were financially well off.

“Ah, good afternoon your excellencies.” Brain politely addressed with a short bow.

“Good day your majesties!” Pinky exclaimed as he dramatically fell to the table, bowing before the children.

“Aw come on fellas, there’s no need for over-the-top formalities,” Yakko assured as he motioned for Pinky to stand up.

“Yeah, you two are cool with us,” Wakko added.

“We just wanted to drop by to see how you two were doing.” Dot said.

“We’re doing just swell, my queen! Narf!” Pinky gushed “Why I had a grand old time taking care of Pharfignewton and riding her around the castle.”

“How wonderful!” Dot happily replied as she gently scooped Pinky into her hands.

“And you three arrived at the perfect time, for I just completed my proposal.” Brain declared as he collected his papers.

“Oh, who’s the lucky lover?” Yakko asked with a cheeky grin.

Brain quickly glanced at Pinky and promptly shook his head. “I wasn’t referring to that type of proposal and I’m not courting anyone at the moment.”

“We could wield our power to arrange some dates for you if you’d like.” Dot offered with a sly smile. “I know someone who would be the perfect romantic partner.” She looked at the Prime Minister while giving a subtle gesture towards Pinky.

“I know a few horses who are totally in your league!” Pinky added.

“That won’t be necessary.” Brain dismissed. The smaller mouse picked up his documents and walked over towards the monarch. “Now that you all addressed my imprecise wording in jest, I’ve recently drafted a new set of laws to improve the social welfare of our country and would greatly appreciate your feedback on the matter.”

Yakko grabbed the papers, with Wakko standing on his tippy-toes to get a better look at the documents. Dot placed Pinky back on the table with Brain and joined her older brothers. siblings as they perused through the proposed laws. But it wasn’t long before they were excited by what they were reading.

“Reforms on public education!” Yakko declared.

“No more child labor!” Wakko exclaimed.

“More accessible healthcare!” Dot eagerly shouted.

The young monarchs looked back at Brain with eager smiles. “Good work Prime Minister!” Yakko complimented. “All that’s left is the royal stamps of approval!”

The Warner siblings reached into their pockets and retrieved their stamps, happily marking the front page with three differently colored WB symbols.

Brain couldn’t help allow a satisfied smile on his face as his new laws were highly favored by the young kings and queen. “I’m elated to know that you three are pleased with these new laws.” He admitted.

“We just want to make Warnerstock a better place!” Dot insisted.

“I knew that we could trust you since you’re always looking out for the needs of the little guy,” Yakko mentioned. “Much like that time you and Pinky gave us a good portion of your life savings back when Acme Falls was a dump and everyone was dirt poor.”

“You kids remembered that?” Brain sputtered with wide eyes.

“Well of course! How could we forget about a kind thing like that?” Wakko asked.

Brain hadn’t realized the full extent to how he and Pinky had impacted the Warners with the gold coin. While Brain was mainly motivated to stay in Pinky’s good graces, Pinky’s kindness and compassion were what drew him to help the orphaned siblings in the first place. Brain felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He didn’t deserve their adulation.

“You should all praise Pinky, for he was the one who thought to help you three in the first place.” The Prime Minister confessed as he gestured to the lanky mouse. “He noticed how miserable you kids looked and he sought out to give you anything we could find and I promised I would help out. And while I did find three coins that day, we lost one of them and I was so close to breaking that promise…”

Pinky noticed his distraught companion and wanted to alleviate his woes. “But you still kept the Pinky Promise, Brain.” He consoled, placing a warm hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I can understand how you felt,” Dot interjected with an assuring tone. “You and Pinky were struggling to get by too, and in all honesty, had I been in your position I would have kept the money!”

“But you still followed through on your promise.” Yakko countered. “And, if my memory serves correct, you were the one who assured us that we didn’t have to pay you back.”

Brain was surprised that the Warners remembered their exchange so vividly.

“And even though you didn’t want any financial compensation, we still wanted to show our gratitude.” Yakko continued. “But after some time, we found the perfect way to repay the moment you walked in for the job interview when we scouted Acme Falls for our Royal Advisor.”

“So you selected me for the position solely out of moral obligation?” Brain questioned.

“Well, yes and no,” Yakko admitted. “Of course we needed a trustworthy adult who was highly educated and well-versed in politics and people skills. Qualities that the other candidates sorely lacked.”

“You have no idea how hard it was to conduct an interview with The Mime!” Dot interrupted.

“But from the very moment you showed up, we immediately remembered how you and Pinky helped us out a couple of years earlier,” Yakko explained. “And after listening to your compelling answers, my sibs and I agreed that you were the right guy for the job!”

“And even though you told us not to repay you, we still wanted to return the kindness,” Wakko added with a soft smile.

Brain was stunned by the siblings’ thoughtfulness. He could only gaze at the young monarchs as a single tear escaped.

It wasn’t long before Pinky pulled him into a gentle hug. Even though he frowned at being smothered with love in front of the monarchs, he secretly appreciated his friend’s affectionate gesture.

Dot reached into her pocket and retrieved a handkerchief. “Here you are, Prime Minister.” The young queen kindly offered. Brain nodded as he accepted the cloth, wiping away the tear from his face.

Once he placed the handkerchief on the table, he motioned for Pinky to release him from the embrace. Brain straightened out his black robe and adjusted his neckerchief to maintain his orderly appearance. The Prime Minister remembered that there had to be a reason why the monarchs visited him during work hours.

“So to avoid any more mawkish sentiment, is there anything I could do for you while you’re still in my office?” Brain inquired.

“Oh yeah!” Wakko exclaimed, remembering why he and his siblings dropped by in the first place. “We just wanted to drop by and invite you and Pinky to have lunch with us!”

Reaching into his pocket, the middle child took out a folded table, which popped open to reveal plates and bowls filled with a variety of food that was still warm. Wakko carefully placed the banquet in the middle of the office. Yakko grabbed three chairs and gathered them around the table.

Dot carried the mice over to the table and placed them in front of two plates each holding a large wheel of cheese.

“Naaarf.” Pinky expressed, his blue eyes glistening with joy at the glorious giant cheese wheel. Without warning, the mouse leaped into the air and dove into the cheese as if it was a giant swimming pool.

“I suppose it’s only appropriate to take my lunch break now.” Brain affirmed with a shrug. He took a handful of the cheese and looked up at the Warner siblings. “Thank you for the thoughtful gesture.”

Pinky emerged from the cheese wheel and looked up at the kids. “Thank you very much! Troz!” He added with an eager smile.

“We’re always happy to provide for our friends!” Yakko casually replied.

And so the mice and the monarchs happily shared their meals together, making pleasant conversation and jests and enjoying each other’s company.

Additional AN: Wakko’s Wish was one of the many animated movies I was really fond of as a kid. The movie came out direct-to-video when I was seven, and I have memories of taking out Wakko’s Wish from Blockbuster (as well as other Animaniacs VHS tapes) and had a blast with this movie.

I recently revisited the movie and not only do I still like it, but there are a lot of things I appreciate about it. I like how it manages to capture the humorous spirit of the show and showcased the enjoyable character dynamics while telling a heartwarming story with believable stakes. The animation by TMS is beautiful and the musical numbers were pretty good. But probably my favorite aspect of the movie was that it served as a nice finale to the show and gave the majority of the characters satisfying send-offs: Rita and Runt receiving a permanent home when they’re adopted by Dr. Scratchinsniff, Buttons getting some appreciation, The Goodfeathers blissfully under the impression that they’re respected, and Brain receiving a position of power by becoming the Royal Advisor to the Warners and the Prime Minister of Warnerstock. And after seeing Brain try and try again after so many failures, it’s a really nice and fitting conclusion to his story (even if he doesn’t take over the world, he’d probably thrive as a government leader).

So in addition to writing a story based on the previously mentioned post, I decided to expand upon Brain’s position as Prime Minister and Royal Advisor for the Warners, thinking about what their general relationship would be like. The idea of Brain using songs to lend political advice to the Warners was something that came serendipitously as I was writing. I thought about Brain’s political song numbers from the PATB spin-off, such as the glorious The Really Great Dictator and the wonderful A Meticulous Analysis of History, as well as Yakko’s educational songs. So those two would probably spend some time together as a collaborative song-writing duo lol. I also thought about how the Warners would love to throw parties at the castle, so Dot and Brain as party planners was the first thing that came to mind as well as Pinky as a part-time dance instructor!

Admittedly I kinda winged it when it came to using the gold coins as the thing Pinky and Brain found. I’m well aware that the ha’penny is seen as valuable to the citizens of Acme Falls, but I decided to place this story one year before Wakko went off to find his fortune via child labor. So I’m going off on the assumption that there was some higher currency that was still used in Acme Falls that was eventually confiscated by Baron von Plotz.

The most important aspect I wanted to explore in this story was the loving relationship between Pinky and Brain. Their voice actors confirmed time and time again how much Pinky and Brain love each other. Now whether you interpret their relationship as a strong friendship, partners in crime, or even as a romance, there is no denying the love between these silly mice.

Also, I don’t recall if there was a moment in either the original run of Animaniacs or the PATB spin-off where Pinky and Brian made a pinky promise (if they didn’t, then they wasted an opportunity for a comedic or sentimental moment between the characters), so I thought about how they would only make pinky promises for something serious, and Brain would always keep his pinky promises to Pinky.

I had a lot of fun writing this story in particular because I always wanted to explore more of the Wakko’s Wish universe and add some depth to what was presented in the film as well as playing around with what the characters would be up to after the events of the movie.

Thank you for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #wakko's wish #fanfic #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner

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dindjarindiaries · 5 years ago

Text

Dead to Me

summary: On the verge of death, Twila takes off Din’s helmet, later having to face his wrath and leave his ship—even though she’s pregnant with their unborn child. (requested by anon)

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

warnings: blood, mentions of death/near-death, angst, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.64k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

He’s dying. I’m gonna lose him. I can’t lose him.

These words play in the back of Twila’s mind like a sick song, tormenting her as she attempts to work quickly on the limp body in front of her. But it’s hard to fix a man who’s unconscious and unable to show his face—especially when it’s the man she loves.

Twila’s been a part of the Mandalorian’s crew for longer than she’s kept track of. It’s been hard to keep track when they’ve been running around the galaxy, anyway. She was meant to be a babysitter of sorts for the child, a caretaker for whenever the Mandalorian had to go on jobs. This quickly, however, turned into her being a caretaker for both of them. He had accepted this, and it made them grow even closer—so close that she was surprised she ever got so far. When she first met him, she never thought she’d be able to penetrate the beskar in any manner.

Now, she’s seen it all—everything except his face.

He even revealed his name. Din’s the name that rolls off her lips when Twila beckons him, when she tells him that she loves him, when she’s a victim of the pure pleasure in which they share. It’s beautiful to her: it’s become her personal chant of exquisite admiration, the word that encapsulates everything she cares for now. After living a lonely childhood spent in the Outer Rim with absent parents and many children in the village that she would care for, Twila’s finally found a family of her own that she can not only continue to care for but also receive the same attention in return. The child feels like one of her own, and Din feels like an extension of herself, a faithful companion.

He’s done a lot for her. He’s continued to risk his life on jobs to keep them supplied. He’s tried to teach her how to fight to help her fend for herself should she ever have to. He’s jumped in front of blaster shots for her.

And now, he may be dying for her.

Twila had been too careless during their venture into the marketplace. She hadn’t paid attention to their surroundings. When the hunter threw that detonator near her, she hadn’t even heard it. All she saw was Din shoving her aside before almost jumping on it himself to block her from the blow, resulting in him being tossed through the air and hard against the ground. He hasn’t moved on his own since.

Thankfully, Twila made sure he bought bacta spray the last time they supplied the med kit. She knows this would work on anything it needed to, but she’s come across a problem: she needs to spray it on his head. There’s blood trailed down the back of his neck, a sure sign of trauma done underneath the helmet. But she can’t; he’s told her this many times, and she’s understood. She’s never pressured him to break the Creed.

But what the hell kind of option does she have now?

He can’t die. Din doesn’t know it yet, but he has a future with her—one that’ll be undeniable. It started growing in her stomach not too long ago. After some strange bodily behaviors and curiosity, she’d found a way to test what was going on, and it came back just as she thought. She’s now expecting another child for them to look after on board. She’s been trying to figure out how to tell him. Now, she could be too late, and she can’t bear letting him die without even knowing the potential of what’s ahead of them.

Twila fights with herself repetitively, going back and forth on which choice to make. It’s a lose-lose situation: take off the helmet, forcing Din to break his Creed, or leave it on, which is letting him die. The worst part is she can’t even ask anyone for advice. She’s on her own.

With shaking hands, Twila makes her choice. She hopes it’s what he’d choose, too. Slowly, she reaches for the now-grimy helmet, her mind and heart moving at a mile a minute as she does so. They pause when they rest on the sides of the helmet, as if reconsidering everything once again.

He’ll hate you.

But he’ll die.

He wouldn’t want you to do this.

But you have to save him.

Twila suddenly hears the child coo beside her. Her head turns to look at him, and she sees him lay his tiny hand on her thigh in a comforting manner. His ears perk up at her as he tilts his head, as if trying to make her feel at ease. She nods, looking back at Din and finally beginning to pull the helmet up. Inch by inch, more of her love is revealed, and despite the gruesome circumstances of the situation, she finds her heart melting at the sight of everything she’s wanted to see—and the sheer beauty of it all.

Din’s skin is scratched and bloody, but behind it all, she can still see his handsome face. He’s not clean shaven, but also not terribly far from it, the small whiskers of hair sticking around chaotically from the blood. His lips are slightly parted, likely to allow his body some air in its unconscious state, and his delicate eyelids shield the color that lies behind them.

Twila releases a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, blinking a few times to clear her mind as she moves for the bacta spray. She sprays it generously on his bloody head, applying it until she’s sure she’s gotten every spot she needs to. Once she sets it aside, she begins to work on his cuts, gently cleaning the blood away and applying whatever creams and gels are necessary to get the healing process working quickly.

The bacta spray works fast, and just as she finishes clearing the blood, she sees Din’s eyes flutter open. His dark gaze observes Twila through hooded eyelids, as if they’re too heavy for him to open all the way just yet. Her heart races at the eye contact, as she’s never truly gotten to have it before—and it feels as if the rest of her soul is finally being entwined with his. She warmly welcomes the window into her heart, hoping she’ll be able to see his in return.

“Cyar’ika?” Din’s weak voice offers, as if he’s trying to confirm what he’s seeing.

Twila nods tearfully. “I’m here, Din.” She places both of her hands over one of his gloved ones.

Din almost begins to smile, causing her heart to leap, but it quickly fades. It’s replaced with an expression that makes her skin crawl at the pure horror he shows. He blinks a few times, his eyes finally widening to a normal size. “You—You’re so clear—.” Din cuts himself off, his free hand touching his head. When his gloved fingers brush against the bare skin on his temple instead of his helmet, his brow instantly furrows in a menacing manner. “Where’s the helmet?”

Twila widens her own eyes, seized by the terror of what he’ll do now. “It’s right here,” she assures him, gesturing to the helmet on the floor of the ship beside her. “I’m sorry, Din, I know I’m not supposed to, but I didn’t know how else—.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” Din’s voice is low and sounds practically like a growl. Twila jumps back a bit upon hearing it, releasing his hand as she does so. “You knew. I told you.”

Her eyes continue to tear up in her desperation, and she feels the child grip her leg tighter at her evident distress. “You were dying, Din.” Her voice is hauntingly quiet. “I couldn’t just let that happen to you. I—I had to at least try to save you.”

Din’s silent for a moment, his jaw clenched as his gaze pierces through her in a hostile manner. Twila feels herself beginning to shake again in fear. “No, you didn’t. You…” he pauses, looking up at the ceiling as if he can’t handle looking at her anymore, “… you should’ve let me die.”

A hot tear runs down her cheek as she grits her own teeth, trying to plead her case. “How? How could I have done that, Din? You know how much you mean to me, to the kid! You expected me to just sit here and let you die in front of both of us?”

“How many times have I told you, Twi, that this is what could happen? And how many times did you assure me that it’d be okay, that you understood?” Din looks back at Twila, his dark gaze losing all traces of light as it looks upon her almost menacingly. “Clearly, you didn’t.”

Twila shakes her head in an utter loss for words. When she thinks of some, they’re not useful, but it’s all she can manage. “I’m sorry, Din. I’m so sorr—.”

“Don’t call me that.” Din spits the words like venom. His hands, stronger now from the fast-working bacta spray, reach for his helmet and slip it back over his head. “It’s Mando.”

Another tear escapes her eye as Twila gives another shake of her head in desperation. “Please don’t do this. I just—I couldn’t live without you.” When Din says nothing in response, she continues to ramble. “I guess… I guess I’d rather have you alive and hating me than have you be dead.”

Din’s still quiet for a moment, but when he speaks, Twila’s sure she feels every single vein of her heart being ripped away piece by piece. “It’s a shame. Now you’re the one who’s dead to me.”

Twila lets a hand cover her mouth to keep the sobs tucked in. He can’t see her fall apart like this. She’s brought it upon herself. When she regains some of her composure, she swallows hard, looking around the ship. “I understand.”

Din tilts his helmet at her. “Then start packing.”

Twila looks back to Din with disbelief. “What?”

“If you understand, then you’ll get what this means. You betray my trust, then you can’t be a part of my crew.”

She stops trying to hold back the tears. They fall as steady as rainwater from the dark cloud that now surrounds her mind and heart. “Your crew? Is that all I am, now? What about all we had?”

Din’s stiff for a moment, and when he speaks, it’s cold. “You should’ve thought about that before you stripped my identity from me. Someone who truly loves me would never do that.”

Twila chokes on a sob, biting her lip to try to keep it hidden. She decides to say nothing, knowing her words of denial would only go in one of his ears and out the other. Twila’s never had many belongings, feeling that she didn’t need much other than her two companions, and everything suddenly feels so empty as she collects whatever she has into the pouch she’d purchased at a marketplace on one of the first planets she’d stopped at with Din. With a heavy sigh, she heads for the hatch, seeing Din now standing with the child in his arms. She gives them a weary smile.

“You should know that no matter what you might think because of this, Din, I love you.”

Twila sees Din clench one of his fists. “Leave.”

She refuses to budge, knowing this may be the last time she ever gets to talk to him. “I’ll always be in love with you, and I’ll always keep myself tied to you. You’re always—”

“I said, leave.”

“—going to be with me, no matter how far away you try to run. I’ll always have a piece of you with me, forever.”

“Leave!”

At the sound of his yelling, which she’s never heard directed towards her, something snaps within her, and she retaliates with the same amount of emotional hostility. “We’re going!” Her burning eyes finally turn away indignantly, and she reaches for the button on the hatch when Din’s voice makes her stop.

“’We?’”

Twila’s eyes widen upon realizing what she’s accidentally revealed. Her hand falls slowly back to her side, and she turns around to see that Din’s put the child back on the floor and is now facing her with a tilted helmet. She takes a heavy breath, her nerves spiking as she stares at his visor. “Yes. We.” Twila rests a hand on her stomach, which hasn’t started showing quite yet. “I saved you not only because I love you, but because I wanted you to be able to meet your future child. But don’t worry, we’re going.”

She turns back around and opens the hatch, feeling her heart race quickly as it lowers slowly onto the ground. Her gaze is burning again with tears, but she blinks them back. Twila understands why she has to leave, that she broke his trust—and for a man of his lifestyle, you can’t have someone around who does that—but it still pains her. However, before she’s even able to take a step down the ramp, a gloved hand stops her by wrapping around her arm. She looks over her shoulder, seeing Din standing just behind her. His hand falls from her arm, and instead he falls—his knee just barely catching him as he practically collapses to the ground. His shoulders heave as sounds like sobs come through his modulator, a sound Twila’s never heard from him before. It twists her heart in the worst way as she instantly kneels in front of him.

“Hey, hey,” Twila soothes gently, worried by his utterly weakened composure. She forgets the ferocity with which he’d treated her just moments before, only feeling the caretaker side as she places her hands on his shoulders. “Breathe, Din. Are you alright?”

His hands reach back towards his helmet, and Twila’s shocked to see him lifting it back up and over his head. Din throws it to the side, hearing it clang! against the metal floor as it hits it—hard. His dark eyes are glistening with tears as they look at her, his cheeks wet and his lips trembling as he stares at her for a few speechless moments. “I… can’t do this.” Din pauses, swallowing hard as he tries to find words. “If I have a child coming into this world, I can’t live like this anymore.” He takes her hands in his own, pulling them to his chest as he looks deep in her gaze. “Please stay.”

Twila nods right away, giving him a small smile. “We will, Din.” She bites back tears, looking at him with all the true emotion she can muster. “I’m so sorry. I—.”

“No need, cyar’ika.” Din comes closer to her, until—for the first time ever—his lips brush over hers, sending a feeling through her like nothing before. “I love you, no matter what.” Knowing how she feels, he doesn’t give her a chance to answer before he places his lips fully against hers, causing everything around her to melt away as she absorbs the sweet and relieving feeling she’s always craved. He only pulls away to lean his forehead against hers, finally showing her the smile she’s been picturing in her mind all this time. “Both of you.”

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

#din djarin #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x oc #din djarin fic #the mandalorian fic #dindjarindiaries #requests

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uwua3 · 4 years ago

Text

drivers license.

🍁📸 fushimi omi

summary: omi receives his license and goes to the cemetery to celebrate

warnings: angst, anxiety, arguments, car crashes, driving, family trauma/issues, grieving/mourning, major character death/parental death

author’s note: if you are going through the loss of a loved one, please remember you will always have people in this world who support and love you endlessly ♡ you are not alone and you will make it through. i believe in you with all my heart—i cannot tell you it’s okay, but i can tell you it’ll get better. please keep trying, it’ll be worth it. i hope you wake up tomorrow with a lighter heart, i love you

this is not romantic! this is a headcanon i have of omi’s family history as he only lives with his father and two brothers (ＴｗＴ。) thank you!!!

word count: 2,619

music: drivers license – olivia rodrigo

I GOT MY DRIVER’S LICENSE LAST WEEK

JUST LIKE WE ALWAYS TALKED ABOUT

‘CAUSE YOU WERE SO EXCITED FOR ME

TO FINALLY DRIVE UP TO YOUR HOUSE

Omi was the first person to pass his driver’s license test in his family.

His father wasn’t getting any younger, so his hands were hesitant and shaky every time they hovered over the stick shift. The buttons out of the corners of his eyes were much too confusing for his old brain so Omi’s father insisted on walking everywhere. As he grew older, the Fushimi household reached a compromise of taking public transport during the weekdays.

Omi’s two younger brothers weren’t old enough. They were still in their early preteen years, so getting behind the wheel wasn’t a legal option. As the oldest son, Omi took it upon himself to get into a four-wheeler and figure out all the tricky mechanics for himself. Hours and hours passed borrowing his friend’s vehicle, spinning around in circles in abandoned parking lots, and studying road laws.

When Omi learned all by himself and paid for it with his own money, his father clapped his shoulder with his usual proud smile and congratulated him.

The leather beneath his father’s wrinkled hands suddenly felt like skin, as if he could see right through him. When Omi took a moment to take a deep breath in, he closed his eyes and could almost see a younger version of his father. A father that wouldn’t be so close to retirement, that wasn’t so fragile and slow.

What did his father see? Could he see Omi was still the little boy sitting in the backseat all those years ago?

“That’s my boy! You’re just like your—” Omi didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence, so he hurried upstairs and left his father alone in the corridor. Sometimes, he regrets it. But, most times, Omi’s glad he didn’t stay.

Whenever Omi got into a car after that, he sometimes still heard it in his head.

Omi knew he was like his mother.

BUT TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

CRYING ‘CAUSE YOU WEREN’T AROUND

YEAH, TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

‘CAUSE HOW COULD I EVER LOVE SOMEONE ELSE?

The first thing Omi did after receiving his license was visit his mother.

The car wasn’t preferable by any means, but it did its job. The seat creaked every time Omi had to adjust it, the air freshner didn’t make anything better, and there was no possibility that the air conditioning worked. But, the windows rolled down all the way, the wheels rarely ran out of air, and the car door only jammed sometimes. At the red light, Omi shifted and heard the crease of his jacket.

Omi didn’t know why he still wore it. Those days were long past him now, but the aged material made this whole experience a little easier. Before Omi could let himself reminicse, the light turned green and Omi automatically pushed forward.

Check the rear-view mirror. Two hands on the wheels at all time. Eyes on the road. Pay attention to stop signs. Be aware of everything around you. Omi repeated this again and again until the GPS on his phone announced he reached his location. Parking carefully, Omi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding until everything stopped moving.

Picking up the small bouquet of flowers on the passenger’s seat, Omi locked his car and nodded at the security guard at the gates.

“Hi, Ma.” Omi said, pausing at a worn-down grave with the same flowers as last time.

“I got my driver’s license last week.”

AND I KNOW WE WEREN’T PERFECT

BUT I’VE NEVER FELT THIS WAY FOR ANYONE

AND I JUST CAN’T IMAGINE

HOW COULD YOU BE SO OKAY NOW THAT I’M GONE?

Omi sat besides her, leaning his head upon the cold grey stone. Like her tombstone, she was always strong, resilient, and offered a shoulder to cry on. Omi shuddered and wrapped an arm around the grave, as if she was still here.

“I did it.” Omi breathed and closed his eyes shut, hearing the distant rumbling of a thunderstorm. Even though Omi knew he should’ve left to get ahead of the rain, his legs were too weak. He couldn’t move without feeling like he was going to crash and burn.

“Ma... it was so hard.” Omi finally admitted to himself, squeezing the plastic of the bouquet in his hands and distracting himself with the crinkle. “Every time I sat in the driver’s side, I thought of you. I was... I’m so scared.”

Silence, before a clap of thunder. Omi flinched, hiding his face in the grey. “You were such a good driver, you followed every single rule. You should’ve been the one to teach me...”

Omi hated this feeling, like he was selfish for wanting his mother to be here with him. But, he knew he was right. Omi shouldn’t have had to suffer through panic attacks by himself. Make close calls with no one by his side. Balance school, work, family, and driving every single day. Omi could feel the exhaustion in his bones, as if he was the one who was dead.

“Pa couldn’t. Ever since...” Omi didn’t dare relive the tragedy. All he could bear was the inhumane screams, shattering glass, and alarms of the ambulance from miles away before snapping back to reality. “... the accident, he’s been so, so sad.”

It was an under-statement to say the Fushimi boys were struggling. Losing a parent didn’t hurt just emotionally, but financially as well. As Omi’s father picked up more shifts, more and more of that money went to medical bills that should’ve been years down the line.

“Your boys miss you so much. I miss you, so much. You would’ve been so proud... just like Pa. He said—” Omi’s voice cracked and he hated himself for it. Pulling the jacket tighter, Omi winced as the sudden gust of wind chilled his spine. The leaves rustled unceremoniously and Omi wished he could fly away, too.

“I’m just like you, Ma.” Placing the small flowers at the base of her grave, Omi read the faded engraving upon the surface until his vision was clearer.

Omi moved onto the next grave without a goodbye, because he’s had too many of those in this lifetime.

GUESS YOU DIDN’T MEAN WHAT YOU WROTE IN THAT SONG ABOUT ME

‘CAUSE YOU SAID FOREVER, NOW I DRIVE ALONE PAST YOUR STREET

After visiting his mother and Nachi, Omi returned to his car. It looked nothing like the car he almost died in. Back then, that car was big enough to hold a family of five snugly. Now, Omi’s car didn’t need all that room. His father would never get back into a car ever again, and his brothers could just sit in the back.

Resting his hand upon the car door, Omi didn’t have the heart to open it. Going inside meant driving home; driving home meant seeing his father flinch whenever the car pulled into the driveway. Driving home meant preparing dinner, making sure the boys did their homework, giving Pa his proper medications, doing homework, and barely sleeping. Going home meant being mom.

As the rain began to pour, Omi didn’t move. Soaked and unable to distinguish if he was crying or just stupid, Omi hung his head and let the water run over him. Was this his Ma’s way of crying for him? Omi didn’t want to know.

Omi finally yanked open the car door when a pair of glowing headlights passed by him. He nearly missed the splash of a puddle by his feet as Omi started the engine. Something was wrong. The usual ignition wasn’t audible and the lights barely illuminated the darkening path. Omi sat in the driver’s side with frustration that’s been growing ever since the car accident.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” Omi swore, kicking the floor uselessly as he lifted his fist to hit the surface. Before he could slam his hand down, Omi sighed and simply hit the dashboard lightly at the last second. He had spent far too much money only to pay for repairs later on.

Omi pulled out his phone and checked, only to see no bars and no signal. Omi was cold, shivering, and crying in a cemetery and he had never felt more alone.

AND ALL MY FRIENDS ARE TIRED

OF HEARING HOW MUCH I MISS YOU, BUT

I KINDA FEEL SORRY FOR THEM

‘CAUSE THEY’LL NEVER KNOW YOU THE WAY I DO

Omi bought his first car after saving for months.

He honestly didn’t have to. Leaving behind the delinquent life meant making good friends. Friends that didn’t start fights, disobey the law, or be at risk of being put behind bars. Therefore, Omi had a friend that was willing to just give him a car.

“Come on, this is our gift to you. You don’t have to worry about this!” Omi’s friends insisted, trying to push the keys into Omi’s tight fists. No matter how much pressure was put upon him, Omi never faltered, just like stone.

“I’m sorry, but I... can’t take this.” Omi guiltily rejected the brand-new car. It was a model only rich people drove, the same exact demographic his friend was apart of. It was freshly washed with the proper tags and everything. Omi could’ve just taken it and saved thousands of dollars.

Except, he couldn’t. The car by no means was a vehicle he sat in before. But, the white color was the same. If Omi wasn’t paying attention, maybe he could ignore it. Yet every time he saw the exterior, it brought him back to that rainy day, desparately fumbling to rip off his seatbelt and wake his mother up.

“Omi... you can’t afford to say no...” They sympathetically tried to reason with him, but Omi was far gone. He backed up, nearly tripping with how hurriedly he stepped on his own heels. If he blinked, he could see the new car wrecked. If he didn’t focus, he could hear the sickening sound of the brakes failing.

“Omi, it’s been years since she—”

If he let himself get consumed by the past, he’d surely die.

“Thank you for this, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Omi bought a car a week later and when his father asked about price, Omi lied through his teeth.

“My friends saved up and bought me one for my birthday. Don’t worry, Pa. We can make the bills.”

Even when his friends sold it and tried to give him the money, Omi didn’t take it. His mother didn’t raise her son to take money from anyone.

Like mother, like son.

TODAY I DROVE THROUGH THE SUBURBS

AND PICTURED I WAS DRIVING HOME TO YOU

Omi left the windshield wipers on, watching as the rain drops got caught in the way. The heating wasn’t functioning, so Omi huddled in on himself and waited for some sort of sign that he could make it home tonight. The radio crackled every now and then, making Omi jump every time a voice spoke a word before getting cut off.

The world continued on as Omi lived through another rainy dark sky. Omi remembered staring up at this type of sky, his back laid out on a stretcher and hand reaching for the closest family member. Omi mentally punched himself, finding that he was getting caught up in his own trauma much more often than usual. Ever since driving lessons.

When it got too much to handle, the assignments, the expectations, the pressure, Omi indulged in make-believe. Omi imagined an universe where he was driving home to be welcomed by the warm embrace of his mother. Where his father was standing taller, where his brothers left their rooms on their own accord, where he wasn’t the backbone of the household anymore. It didn’t do him any good to hope for something impossible, but Omi did so anyways sometimes.

Perhaps it was his punishment for not being the one who died that night.

As Omi swiped mindlessly through his phone, willing for a bar, a crack of lightning made his skin crawl. Yet, beneath the pounding rain, a single yell of shock alerted Omi to look up from his screen. A deep sense of familarity forced Omi to look past his window, hoping to see past the blurriness of it all.

At the sight of a dark frame, Omi didn’t think twice before hurdling him outside, barely able to close his door before stripping his jacket and throwing it around the man. The shivering man weakly holding onto an umbrella that did nothing but cause more problems.

“Pa?! What are you doing here?”

RED LIGHTS, STOP SIGNS

I STILL SEE YOUR FACE IN WHITE CARS, FRONT YARDS

CAN’T DRIVE PAST THE PLACES WE USED TO GO TO

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“Son!” Omi’s father happily greeted despite being on the verge of catching a cold. Omi held the umbrella over his father’s head, taking the brunt of the cold willingly.

“I took the bus here. I knew you’d be visiting her today, but it was quite late.” He explained, wearing a newsboy cap that he must’ve had since youth. The sight of his father with a runny nose and wet clothes at his expense set something off in Omi.

“Why did you come?”

“To bring you home—”

“What would’ve happened if you died?”

The sound of rain was defeaning. Omi’s father stopped, staring at his son like he was seeing him for the first time. Omi’s arm started shaking, his grip on the umbrella’s handle was slacking. The truth weighed upon his shoulders, like he was about to collapse.

What if the bus had crashed? What if something happened to Pa while walking to the cemetery? What if it was Omi’s fault? Before Omi could apologize, he felt a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders.

Omi dropped the umbrella.

SIDEWALKS WE CROSSED

I STILL HEAR YOUR VOICE IN THE TRAFFIC, WE’RE LAUGHING OVER ALL THE NOISE

GOD, I’M SO BLUE, KNOW WE’RE THROUGH

Omi couldn’t die.

Not when he raised his weak father that wasn’t getting any younger. He had to take care of his two younger brothers. Omi had to finish university, graduate, and be hired at a high-paying job to support his family. Fushimi Omi couldn’t die.

But, here he was, breaking.

“My boy, I’m not going anywhere.” Omi’s father said it so surely, like it was a promise he could control. Omi hesitated before resting his chin on his father’s shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of cologne. It was the brand his mother used to love, but he knew his father hated this one. It was so fitting, Omi refrained from crying.

“You’re so strong, I’m so proud of you.” Omi nodded, hugging his father with unsaid words he’d never be able to speak. Omi could never tell him his greatest fear was Pa dying. Could never admit that seeing his father react a second late makes him pace. Could never reveal he only went to university close-by in case an emergency occurred. Everything Omi did was for his father, his Pa, his only parent.

“She’d be so proud of who you are today. You are her son.” Omi’s father patted him once, twice, then pulled back. He rested his aged palm upon Omi’s cheek gently, just like his mother used to. His thumb ran over his scar with no judgment, just fatherly love.

Omi had never felt more loved.

‘CAUSE I STILL FUCKING YOU LOVE YOU, BABY

“You’re just like your mother, Omi.”

#fushimi omi #omi fushimi #a3! act! addict! actors!#a3!#act! addict! actors!#a3! actor training game #a3! one shots #act! addict! actors! one shots #mankai a3!#mankai company #a3! omi #a3 omi

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bunnyywritings · 4 years ago

Note

hi!! i’m back to request more bc ur works are actual masterpieces uwu,,, can i request for hcs or scenarioes on Bakugo/Todoroki/Tamaki (or Aizawa because i am in fact a Shouta simp) hiding their relationship with their S/O until they accidentally out their relationship bc he got jealous skdhdkhf i’m a sucker for these boiis (ily pls don’t forget to smile and drink ur water

accidentally outing their relationship

[a/n: Thank you for requesting anon! I too am, in fact a shota simp 😔 i definitely smiled reading this request so thank you for that anon💗 i also appreciate the reminder to drink water since I tend to forget, enjoy! -yours truly, bunnyy-`ღ´- ps. uhh todoroki’s turned out a little different...]

katsuki bakugo

There was a reason why blasty boy wanted to keep your relationship private. Literally everyone in Class 1-A was super nosy. Excluding a select few, and he didn’t need a bunch of extras intruding the relationship. You agreed that you wanted to keep it secret as well, enjoying the cuddles and kisses behind closed doors. Neither of you were super into PDA so it wasn’t too hard for the both of you to restrain yourselves. He was used to seeing you joke around with Denki, Mina, and Kirishima so he didn’t really pay too much mind to the innuendos and flirty jokes thrown back and forth. He knew you’d never leave him for either of those idiots and he trusted you enough to stop when things go a bit too far.

Despite him calling them idiots, he trusted his friends to not make a serious pass at you or say anything that would make you uncomfortable. He did get upset when Mina kissed your cheek once but he restrained himself enough because he knew it was just a friendly gesture.

His patience did get tested around Mineta but he always enjoyed watching you kick that idiots ass and making him fall to his knees and beg for an apology. Never fails to make him smile. But there were times where he couldn’t keep his anger at bay, like now.

You guys were out with the bakusquad at a festival, some of your guys’ other classmates followed along. It was going pretty well so far when the night was ending and you had basically had to drag Bakugo over to the game booths.

“Please Suki, it’ll be fun~ Just one game.” You pleaded, pulling out the pouty lips and puppy dog eyes.

“No, I’m not paying for a damned game that’s probably rigged or something.” He crossed his arms.

“What if I paid and you just played with me?”

He huffed in annoyance. “No, don’t wast your money on that crap.”

“Whatever, I’ll just play one myself.” You rolled your eyes and went to a booth, waiting in line to play.

“Oooh who’s that with (y/n)? They’re really cute!” Mina squealed, that caught Bakugo’s attention. A popping noise and black smoke emitted from his palms as he watched the scene in front of him. This person had the audacity to wrap their arm around your waist and try to hit on you.

“Whoah Bakugo, relax.” Kirishima placed a hand on his shoulder but it was shrugged off as Bakugo stomped over to you.

“HEY! Get your grubby hands off of my s/o!”

“Whoa, whoa hey, relax dude.” They pulled away from you and held their hands up defensively.

“Don’t tell me to relax asshole! They clearly didn’t want you so close to them, so back off!” he let poor sweat pool into his hand and the popping intensified, you could already feel the heat radiating from it.

“Alright babe, that’s enough...let’s just go.” You place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He glared at the person who was just all over you and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and hungrily swallowing your lips in a hungry kiss. A kiss to show everyone that you were his an no one else’s.

Needless to say, the bakusquad was just waiting for the two of you to date, they just hadn’t expected the two of you to already be a couple and they definitely didn’t expect Bakugo to be the one to out the both of you.

“Wow.” You mumbled as the both of you pulled away breathlessly. “What happened to not letting the extra’s know?” You teased.

“Shut up idiot, I had to show ‘em who you belong to.” He looked away, blush on his cheeks.

You gasped. “Was somebody jealous?”

“Wow Bakubro! You’re such a tsundere!” Kirishima snickered.

“You have two seconds to run, airheads!” He growled as he unwrapped his arms from your waist and chased after them.

“Yup...that’s my boyfriend.” You sighed, flinching at the sound of an explosion not too far off.

“You sure know how to pick ‘em, (y/n)!” Mina giggled from beside you.

“Yes, yes I do.”

shoto todoroki

It’s not like the two of you were hiding your relationship on purpose but it was more like, no one had really asked or anything so you just didn’t see the need to bring attention to it. The relationship was fairly new to the both of you so it was very nice to be able to figure it all out while not having any unwanted attention. Todoroki was a sweet boyfriend, he was very hesitant about initiating any physical contact because he was terrified of being like his father. You reassurance definitely helped but you also didn’t mind taking it slow. You weren’t much of a fan of Endeavor. You never were, not before meeting Shoto and definitely not after.

Today, Class 1-A was having a competition of quirks. It would work like a bracket competition until there was one person standing. Endeavor had caught word and decided to sit in and watch. You had beat Tokoyami and moved onto the next round, Shoto had beat Uraraka and moved on as well. Your eyes widening when the next bracket was announced.

“Alright, Todoroki and (L/n)! Be on standby, the two of you are next.”

The both of you stared at each other with wide eyes. When you guys started dating, you agreed that you wouldn’t hold back during training or battle simulations. You had never been paired up though, so this was a bit of a shock.

“Come on (y/n)! You’ve got this!” Ojiro patted your shoulder as he walked past you since his was the bracket that had just ended.

“SHOTO!” The sudden shout caused you to jump and turn towards the source, not very surprised to see Endeavor sitting in the stands, All Might and Present Mic seated next to him.

“You two ready?” Aizawa asked as the two of you got prepared.

“Ready.” Shoto’s smooth voice calmed your racing heart.

“Ready.” You nodded.

“Alright! Begin!”

Shoto watched as lightning enveloped your body, hair starting to float upward (think of killua’s godspeed). He knew how dangerous your quirk was, especially with how much you’ve trained to strengthen it. You could produce at least 1billion volts without passing out. The same amount of electricity as a raw lightning bolt. The sound of a loud crackle of lightning snapped him out of his trance and he scowled, keeping his senses alert, as he looked around. You disappeared, or that’s what it seemed like. Within a blink of an eye you appeared right in front of him.

“Peek a boo~” You teased, you placed your hands on his chest and sent a mild blast of lightning into him and he flew backwards, using his ice to stop him from flying out of bounds. A small smirk spread across his lips as he skid to a stop.

“Come on (y/n), I thought we agreed to give it all we got.”

“All right then Shoto, bring it on.”

Aizawa instantly regretted not setting a time limit when your battle lasted past the 10 minute mark. Not that anyone was complaining though. Watching two people with high skill sets battle it out was intriguing. Endeavor, however, was furious. Clenching his jaw impossibly tighter every time you got the upper hand.

Towards the 17 minute mark, you had taken a substantial amount of damage already. You were slowly growing more, and more fatigued. Shoto could tell and decided to ease up. But when he attacked, you could tell.

“No, d-don’t hold b-back! I’m not weak!” He could tell that you were frustrated with your performance and he wanted nothing more than to hold you in his arms and tell you that you were anything but weak. He noticed that you were gonna do your ‘signature move’ so before you could complete it, he encased you in ice. Aizawa was a bout to call it when the ice cracked before a loud boom was heard and ice was sent flying everywhere. He watched in horror as you collapsed to the ground.

“Todoroki wi-”

“(Y/N)!” Everyone was shocked as he ran to you, dropping to his knees to check if you were okay. “(Y/n)? Darling please...” He cupped your cheek, thumb running over your cheekbone. His fear may have seemed a tad bit irrational but he panicked. He vowed to himself to never hurt you in any way, so in his eyes he was the same as his father. Once your eyes opened he sat you up and brought your lips to his, “I’m sorry, my love. I’m sorry.”

“Wow, maybe I should get hurt more often.” You chuckled.

“No fair!!! Todoroki has more game than I do!” Denki complained. Well, that cat’s out of the bag.

“Shoto!! What do you think you’re doing?!” Oh right...Endeavor.

tamaki amajiki

I think it’s a bit obvious why he wanted to keep the relationship a secret, he didn’t think he could handle it if other people knew. Mirio and Nejire definitely had their suspicions but didn’t want to overwhelm their friend with accusations.

He was looking for you during lunch, you had said that there was something you needed to take care of something before lunch but that was over half an hour ago. He was mumbling worriedly to his two friends, assuming the worst.

“Oh wait, are you talking about (y/n)?” Nejire tapped her chin. “I saw them go into the hero support classroom. They said something about a suit upgrade.”

Just then, you had entered the cafeteria, but you weren’t alone. You were with Keita...he was another third year who was in the advanced hero support class. They were also known to be a huge flirt. Tamaki couldn’t help but feel jealous as he watched how they had made you laugh, the pink tinge covering your cheeks was worrying as well. The two of you split and went your separate ways.

“Hey (y/n)! How’s it goin’?” Mirio asked as you sat down.

“I’m so excited, my upgrade request finally went through! I’m finally getting a new suit!” He thought you looked cute as you expressed your excitement before guilt filled his entire being as he realized that he was jealous over nothing.

Over the next couple of weeks, you had spent an awful lot of time smiling at your phone, not to mention spending a lot of time with Keita. He knew that creating a whole new suit was a long process. It took a long time to test out prototypes and whatnot but he couldn’t help but think that you were losing interest in him. That you were spending more time with Keita because he was doing a horrible job as your boyfriend. Because he wasn’t there when you needed him or because you just got fed up with his timid nature.

Somewhere inside of him, he knew none of it was true but he couldn’t help but think that he wasn’t good enough anymore. You had noticed that he was acting strange so you decided to ask him about him.

“Tama? Is everything okay? You’ve been acting a little strange recently...” He gulped nervously.

“Well I uh, I-” He sighed heavily. “Do you still want to be with me, (y/n)?” The question completely threw you off guard.

“Of course I still want to be with you Tamaki? Why would you think that?” He scratched the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Well y-youv’e been h-hanging out w-with Keita a lot, s-so I just thought...well I don’t know.”

You frowned and cupped his cheeks to tilt his face back up so you could look into his eyes. “Baby, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I was n-nervous...I d-didn’t want you to think I w-was being clingy.” He stuttered, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Aww Tama but I love it when you’re clingy~” you leaned forward and pressed a kiss in the tip of his nose which made his cheeks erupt in heat. “Would it make you feel better if I stopped hanging out with Keita so much?”

“B-but what about your suit?”

“Well it’s pretty much done by now, all the prototype testing was done today.”

He was happy that you were spending more time with him lately but one day when you were walking down the hall together, Keita had approached both of you.

“Hey (y/n), so I know your suit is done and everything but I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me?”

“Oh Keita, I’m sorry.” You slipped your hand into Tamaki’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m already dating someone.”

Tamaki turned and leaned his head against your shoulder in embarrassment. Keita apologized and left you two there. You turned and held Tamaki in your arms, lettin him keep his face buried in your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I embarrassed you Tama, but now everyone knows.”

Legend has it that Nejire and Mirio are teasing the both of you about it to this day.

shota aizawa

The reason why Aizawa wanted to keep the relationship secret was because you were a petty well know pro hero and with the onslaught of villain attacks against his students and the school, he couldn’t endanger you by putting a target on your back. You were also a young pro, you were only 4 years younger than him, and he didn’t wan to “ruin” your image.

One night, you had gone out for some drinks with Miruko. The two of you had been good friends since your UA days and that bond hadn’t broken. She said she’d be bringing a friend along, you just shrugged it off and told her it was fine. What you hadn’t expected was to see her and a certain maroon winged hero strut into the bar. You were mortified. The memory of telling her you thought he was hot coming back to you and slamming you like a 50 ton truck. That was before you started your relationship with Shota but Rumi hadn’t known about that.

“Hey (y/n) this is Takami.” You smiled politely at the blonde. “Takami this is (y/n).”

“Very nice to meet you.” He grinned flirtatiously.

“Likewise.” You shook his hand, internally groaning. This was gonna be a long night.

A couple of drinks in, you switched to water and club soda so you could sober up. You had an early patrol the next morning and you did not want to risk being hungover on the job. The entire night you had to fend off a flirty Takami. However, what you weren’t aware of was the person a few feet away from you snapping pictures of you and the blonde hero.

The next morning, you woke up to multiple tabloid articles about the two of you in the bar. The dating scandal was trending all over social media. You hadn’t really thought much about it and just went to work like usual.

When Aizawa saw the tabloid he frowned. He was a little conflicted because he obviously knew it wasn’t true and he had complete trust in you but he couldn’t help but feel insecure and a little jealous. There was no denying that people loved the idea of you and Hawks together, even he couldn’t deny that the two of you looked good together.

Later on in the day, you decided to make your way to the school to see Shota because the guilt in your stomach just wouldn’t go away. Even if you hadn’t really done anything, you still felt horrible. You had told Aizawa you would be showing up during your lunch break, he said he’d be waiting for you at the school gate. A few journalists had seen you make your way towards UA and decided to bombard you with tons of questions about Hawks.

“When did you two start dating?!”

“Where did you guys meet?!”

“Do you two usually meet up at bars?!” etc, etc...You had your bottom lip tucked painfully between your teeth.

“Actually, they’re already in a relationship.” The sudden deep voice behind you made you grin. His arm wrapped around you and pulled you into his side, pressing a kiss right under your ear. “Now if you’ll excuse us...” And with that, the two of you made your way onto campus.

“That was very out of character for you, Aizawa-sensei~” You purred teasingly. He grinned and pulled you flush against him, chest to chest, leaning down to kiss you deeply.

“Well I couldn’t help myself from getting jealous, people were thinking you were with that blonde asshole. You’re mine baby.“

“Carry on then.” he didn’t need to be told twice as he dove in for another kiss. His students may or may not have seen that go down and they may or may not have teased him about it the next morning.

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha headcanons #bnha headcanons

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r3almellow · 5 years ago

Text

Gavin and Victor Getting Head From Their S/o For The First Time

Thanks for the request!! Since your favs are Gavin and Victor I figured I’d take the time to focus on them! But if you guys want the others or a specific person let me know!

This is my second time writing about this, but my first time kinda going in depth about it. So I’m sorry if its not too detailed.

This somehow turned into a mini fics and not reactions. OOPS! I’m not sorry.

Also not sorry about the title. I have no filter so this shouldn’t be surprising.

Warnings: Oral Sex

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Gavin

You’ve toyed with the idea of giving him a blowjob for a while. Its something you’ve never done before and you were more than nervous to try it out on him. You consulted your more experienced friends on the matter and walked away with way more information than you bargained for. What did hollowing your cheeks mean?!

You knew if you brought it to his attention, he’ll tell you not to worry about it because Gavin would rather pamper you.

He prefers to make you feel special in every way possible. Giving you the pleasure you desire is all he wants to do. And boooy does he love to give. The way his tongue swiveled and darted in and out of your pussy or the way he teased your clit with a flick of his tongue turned you into a complete mess. Where he learned to eat a woman out like that you had no idea.

You understood his need to please you, but you wanted to make your man feel good too! You can’t be the only one on the receiving end of such a euphoric experience.

So, what do you do? Catch him off guard!

You got your chance when you suggested that the two of you shower together before he left on a week long mission. This wasn’t an unusual request since you’ve showered together countless times with only a handful of those times leading to sex.

Gavin was halfway through washing your hair when you leaned back against his chest, sighing softly.

“Kind of hard to finish up with you like this.” You only hummed as a response as his fingers expertly massaged your scalp almost putting you in a dreamlike trance. ALMOST. Don’t forget why you’re here!

You purposely pressed your lower half against him, feeling his semi-hard erection against your bare ass.

“Babe...” He warned, taking a small step back to create some distance in the already small space.

You turned slightly to give him an impish grin then reached behind you, grasping Gavin’s now hardened length, giving it a few light strokes. You heard his breath hitch.

“Something wrong, Gav?”

You asked a question you didn’t wait for a response for. You turned to face Gavin fully and quickly knelt in front of him, your hand still firmly wrapped around him. You ignored the warm water pelting against the back of your head as you continued to stroke him.

You weren’t sure if it was the steam from the shower or lust clouding your head, but the way Gavin looked down at you with red dusted cheeks and slightly parted lips had you feeling dizzy.

“I’ve never done this before.” You admitted shyly focusing your attention to what was in your hand. Gavin was above average in terms of length and girth and you loved how well he fit inside you, but your mouth was another story. Could it even fit?!

“You don’t have to...hgn...” Before he could finish his sentence you teasingly licked the head of his cock causing it to twitch in response. You watched in wonder as pre-cum oozed from the tip. He was always sensitive to your touch...

His Reaction

There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t think about what it would feel like having your mouth wrapped around him. He pushed such fantasies out of his mind so he could focus on you. He was content with just making you happy, but now...

Feeling your tongue dance along his shaft had his knees weak! It took everything he had not to collapse in front of you. And when you slowly slid him into your mouth, your teeth grazing his thick member he was almost done for.

Gavin could tell you were testing the waters using agonizingly slow movements only going halfway, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t wish to see you take all of him in his mouth.

Nothing beats having his cock buried deep inside you, but your mouth is definitely a close second for him.

Gavin isn’t the most vocal during sex, but expect heavy pants and low groans from your man.

Out of habit Gavin won’t verbally tell you what he doesn’t like so you have to rely on his body language.

You’re able to learn a lot about Gavin from this. Like whenever your teeth graze a certain spot along his shaft his lips quiver and how there’s a twinkle in his eyes when you pull away and he sees a trail of your saliva that connects you to him.

When he cums, he’ll try to pull away not wanting to get you messy. Sir I got your dick in my mouth, I think we’re way passed being clean. Don’t let him get away!

You’re caught off guard and gag a little at the sudden intrusion and unsuspecting taste.

He’ll be so apologetic and it takes you like a minute or two to convince him that you’re fine.

Want to get him going again? Take some of his cum dribbling from your chin and bring it between your legs.

GAVIN.EXE HAS STOPPED WORKING.

P.S. Do this again on a softer surface! Hard surfaces create sore knees!

Victor

You’ve been dating Victor for almost three months and you’ve been intimate with him for two of those months.

Sex with Victor has been all about him getting to know your body. If there was something you didn’t like he wanted you to tell him so he could fix it.

He wanted all intimate experiences with him to be all that you wanted and more.

You loved how well he paid attention to your body, but sex was a two way street. The way he went the extra mile to ensure that you felt cherished, you wanted to do the same for him.

The idea of oral sex came to you when you were out drinking with your friends and of course they probed you about your sex life. They offered their advice on what you could do to spice things up and blowjobs just happened to be the lesser of all the crazy things they came up with.

Its safe to say, you were nervous about even attempting such a thing. Mainly because Victor was such a perfectionist!

Victor was good at finding faults in the things people did and while he has softened his critiques when it came to you, you didn’t want to risk it.

It would be so embarrassing to have him belittle you over something like this. You can already here the sharp and forthright tone in his voice.

“Your stroke motions are off. Its up/down not down/up.”

Okay...he wasn’t that bad, but you didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.

You honestly weren’t going to say anything and figure it out on your own, but the one thing you learned through your time with Victor was that communication was key.

Victor is all for teaching you such an intimate art and while he won’t say it out loud, he’s touched that you’re willing to do something like this for him.

The practice run ends up happening while you were both in a heated make out session while in his couch.

When you decided to kneel before him and pulled down the zipper of his slacks you knew there was no going back.

Victor made sure to let you know doing this wasn’t necessary as way to give you an out, but you were determined.

Sure, you were afraid of not being able to satisfy your boyfriend, but that wasn’t going to stop you!

You fished around his boxer-briefs pulling out his fully erected shaft. You blushed slightly as it throbbed in your hand and gave him a few gentle pumps.

Victor had never seen you look so determined before. He wasn’t sure whether to be surprised or turned on.

You leaned in giving his cock a small kiss and looked up at him.

“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

His Reaction

Victor always knew you were a fast learner and eager to do things right, but you definitely exceeded his expectations.

What exactly did he expect? For this to be an okay experience because this was your first time in a position like this. There was always room for growth whenever you started something new, but this...you were something dangerous.

He barely has to say anything and you were doing your own thing. Tongue swiveling around him and head bobbing up and down without any signs of slowing down.

He loves the light humming sounds you make whenever he reaches out to brush strands of your hair out of you face.

Expect so much praise! It takes a lot for the CEO of LFG to give ANYONE praise, but your boyfriend will be throwing compliments at you left and right.

Aside from praising you, Victor isn’t very vocal during sex, but the sound of his heavy erratic breathing is music to your ears.

If you massage his balls that man is a goner! Triple points if you take one of them into your mouth and massage it with your tongue. Where did you learn to do that?! Google does wonders.

He’ll let you know when he’s about to cum so you’re prepared. Pull away with your mouth open, tongue out and the speed of your strokes quickening. The sight of you looking so desperate to taste him will send him over the edge!

You’ll let him cum all over your face and neck, catching some of it in your mouth.

Smear his cum on your chest and Victor will feel a sense of pride. He’ll compare it to a significant other wearing something of their lover’s. And in a weird way it makes sense.

He’ll also feel his dick grow hard all over again, so get ready for a round two!

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Done!!

Victor was a little tricky because I had so many ideas as to where this would take place. In a Mercedes, Souvenir after hours, ect. The possibilities were endless.

Like what you read? Be sure to check out more of my stuff here! Send me requests if you have any!

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc victor

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gyll-yee-haw · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 1

Professor!Jake x Reader

Series information

Series masterlist

---

I would write you a poem, my love.

(For you - Passenger)

---

You drove home feeling like the most stupid person who has ever lived.

You felt like a child who didn’t know teachers had a life when they weren’t in class.

Like he only existed in your daydreams when you couldn’t see him.

Like he waited all week to come alive to you every Tuesday.

Since when did Mr. Gyllenhaal has children? He never mentioned them.

He’s not married. You paid too much attention to his hands to miss a detail like a fucking golden ring.

This is not the 19th century, though. Maybe he just had a girlfriend. Maybe he was divorced.

It didn’t matter to you. It wasn’t about what you saw, but the realization that he loves or already loved someone else that killed you. And you were so angry at yourself for feeling like that. You had loved other men before him. And he was probably... 10 years older than you? Maybe less, maybe more. But it was pretty obvious he had his own life.

He was nothing but a teacher you were supposed to forget in a few months.

Maybe that was it. You would prepare yourself to lose him as the semester ended, but you weren’t ready to do it now.

When you entered your apartment, you didn’t feel like doing anything. All you really had to do was wake up from that stupid fairytale.

---

When you heard your alarm and opened your eyes, you wished that any kind of miracle had happened and it wasn’t Tuesday. Maybe you slept for 24 hours straight and it was Wednesday already. But you checked your phone and it said it was Tuesday.

Then you thought about skipping class. Only for a day, it wouldn’t hurt...

But what would happen the next Tuesday? And then the next one?

Sooner or later you would have to see him again. So it would be better to just end this quickly.

---

You got to college early to find a seat in the back. If you looked as terrible as you felt, you didn’t want Mr. Gyllenhaal to notice.

You sat there in silence, opening your book at a random page, so you would look busy and no one would talk to you.

“Hey.” Wes interrupted your inner drama after a few minutes. “I almost didn’t find you when I arrived, why are you sitting here?”

“Headache.” You lied. You knew Wes already thought your crush was ridiculous, if he knew all the pain you were going through at that moment, he would probably want to punch you. And you knew you deserved it.

“Well...” He sighed and took a seat beside you when he heard the bell ring. “It’s gonna pass real soon. There he comes.”

When you looked at the door and saw Mr. Gyllenhaal walking in, your heart started to hurt again. So you decided to look at your book, at the floor, at anything but him for the next couple hours.

But you couldn’t help it... you started to pay attention to his clothes, to his bag, checked his left hand again, anything that could give you a clue about his personal life.

And your head started to wonder way too far. You wondered if he ever had his heart broken. How many women had the privilege to be touched by him? What did they look like? Was he a good father? Something inside you told you he was a great father.

---

When the bell rang, you felt relieved. Now you would have an entire week to heal. To forget about him completely.

“Are you feeling better?” Wes asked, grabbing his stuff to leave.

“Yeah.” You lied again.

The class was getting empty really fast, or you were grabbing your stuff really slow, cause silence soon filled the room. You thought there was only Wes and you left, when you heard Mr. Gyllenhaal’s voice say:

“Hey, Y/N. Can I speak to you for a second?”

A shiver ran down your spine. You looked at Wes and he was just as confused as you.

“See you later, then?” He shrugged as he started to walk towards the door, while you mentally begged him to stay. If this all happened last week, you would be beyond excited. But right now, you just wanted to run.

When you realized it was only you and the professor left in class, you grabbed your bag and approached him, looking at the floor.

“Are you okay?" He asked, sounding really worried. “You didn’t seem to be able to focus today.”

“I’m sorry, professor.” You gave him a weak smile. “I’m just tired. But I’m fine.”

“Really?” He insisted. “You sat pretty far from me, but I could see that your book was on the wrong page.”

“I didn’t sleep well.” You felt the shame deep in your stomach.

Shame for both the way you acted in class and the way you acted the day before. Shame to be standing in front of him at that very moment wanting to cry like a woman who had just been cheated on.

He didn’t believe your words. He didn’t fully understand why he felt like he knew you that well, but he simply did. So he thought for a second before saying:

“Come with me.”

You weren’t sure why, but you followed him outside. If he was going to give you a “disappointment speech” or ask you to try harder next time, he would simply do it right there, so what was he going to do?

He led you to the garden near the building's entrance and looked around when he stopped.

“You’re not gonna tell anyone, will you?” He asked laughing a little.

You had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He didn’t know what was going on inside your head at that moment. You just wanted to push him away screaming YOU. YOU. YOU. YOU ARE MY PROBLEM. But you just shook your head.

He opened his bag and started looking for something. When you saw a pair of scissors in his hand, you swore you couldn’t get any more confused. He used them to cut a rose from the garden.

“Come closer, let me show you something.” He smiled and you approached slowly. “Give me you hand, but be careful.”

You offered him your hand and he gently placed the rose on your palm. Your eyes met his as he did that and you melted, wondering if he ever showed up at someone’s house bringing them flowers.

“Today I was telling the class about the challenges of teaching Botany.” He told you. “Did you hear that part?”

“I-” You tried to remember, but you really didn’t hear a word he said that day. “I’m sorry, I don’t think so.”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell you now, then.” His smile never left his face, and he was talking to you the sweetest way he could. “We grow up listening to music and reading poetry and if there’s something artists like to talk about is flowers, right? Maybe that’s why we don’t pay attention to other structures that are just as beautiful... well, at least for me.”

You chuckled and it warmed his heart. He knew there was something bothering you that day and he was glad he could get your mind out of it for a minute.

“And it also makes people call those structures by the wrong name.” He continued. “For example, we only think roses have thorns because society believes ‘prickles’ isn’t a poetic word.”

“So... today’s class was a manifesto against social conventions? Sounds interesting.” You joked. He really made the atmosphere a little lighter. “Let’s be real, there aren’t too many pretty words that rhyme with prickles.”

“Okay, the poets are forgiven.” He laughed. “But my students don’t have to rhyme during the tests.”

“Good point, sir.” you shrugged.

“Please, just call me Jake.” He asked.

“Jake.” You nodded. It sounded silly, but it was some kind of new intimacy for you not having to treat him with formalities, even though you knew he never liked them anyway.

There was a moment of awkward silence and you tried your best to keep your eyes on the flower, because you could feel that his were on your face.

“So...” He cleared his throat. “Like I was saying...”

He proceeded to explain the difference between thorns and prickles. You really tried to pay attention this time, but your mind drifted away and focused on the way his hand softly brushed yours as he tried to show you the things he was talking about, using the rose in your hand. You also couldn’t stop wondering why he was doing all this. He had just said all of that in front of 50 students, but he realized that one of them wasn’t listening, so he decided to do it all again. It would be so much easier to not fall in love if he wasn’t so good to you.

“I mean...” He interrupted your thoughts. “I couldn’t give you all the details I mentioned in class earlier, cause I don’t want you to lose your entire break, but I hope it helped.”

“Mr. Gyl... Jake.” You were still not used to this new intimacy. Or at least, what you wanted to believe was intimacy. “I honestly don’t have words to thank you. But you know you didn’t have to do this.”

“Can I be honest with you? About the reason why I did this?” He sighed. Your heart started to beat faster, even though you tried to keep your expectations low. “I know many people are in my class exclusively for the credits. So, I don’t really care if they learn something or not, it’s their choice. But I know you’re different. I enjoy reading your essays. You’re very creative and perceptive. You know... there’s like... a group of 5 or 6 students that I would love to work on a project on my lab with. And I can’t have the number one of them missing a single detail.”

His number one. If only he knew how badly he was hurting you by saying nice things. You had to hold back the tears and decided to hide your emotions behind a joke:

“So... what am I supposed to not tell anyone? That you stole a flower from the garden or that you have a ‘number one’?”

“I guess we have two secrets now.” He laughed. “See you next week, Y/N?”

You nodded and handed him the rose.

“Keep it.” He smiled. “I can’t keep any evidence of my crimes.”

With that, he put his scissors back in his bag and walked away after giving you one last smile.

You looked at the rose and felt a single tear rolling down your cheek. It was so unfair to be special to someone for the “wrong” reasons. You knew the reasons you wanted to be special to him for were the actual wrong ones. But you would let him torture you with his own reasons forever.

---

Taglist! (Pls let me know if I forgot someone, I'm not a very organized person... or if you still want to be added!)

@lady-evans @shay-vaughn @sogothiamdead @paosesposts @baby-haz @billyspotato @gyllenhaalstories @lexie-wayland @gaymysterio

#jake gyllenhaal #jake gyllenhaal x reader #jake gyllenhaal x you #jake gyllenhaal fanfic #jake gyllenhaal x y/n

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aaluminiumas · 4 years ago

Text

Be the First

Kalifa vividly recalled her first days at CP9: to be accepted, she had to go through a huge number of entrance tests and to obtain a pile of various certificates to become a rookie among other elite combat troops under the notorious Rob Lucci. Oddly enough, her relation to one of the leading assassins of the organization didn’t play a significant part in the whole process: obviously, the World Government was aware of the fact, but she could be certain that her father never petitioned for her. Kalifa was appointed to the post of undercover agent by means of her own strength, stamina, knowledge and skills.

She worked with Lucci from the very beginning. Despite a small difference in age, he seemed significantly older and more mature comparing to nearly anyone she was acquainted with. Although the woman knew what she would be dealing with and what her duties would include, the man nonetheless caused a slight spark of repulsion in her, he gave her an unpleasant impression. Appearance-wise, Lucci did not look like an assassin at all but something about his manners seemed so vaguely intimidating that Kalifa had to admit – this man breathed danger. He was peril incarnate.

She learned about her father’s occupation late enough to be able to compare the two: while Laskey managed to hide his real attitude, Lucci barely disguised his bloodthirst. Unbearably handsome, atrocious and completely aloof, the man stared at people with clear disdain as if the only thing he saw was, in fact, a stink fish that didn’t even deserve his attention. In addition, his movements, swift and economic, immediately exposed his perfect body-control. He already knew the victim’s weak spots – and would hit there without a heads-up – he wasn’t particularly coy not to harness the skill.

That was the first time Kalifa faced his unbiased attitude. Normally, she was surrounded by a group of persistent suitors attempting to touch her or to make a superfluously eloquent compliment – in all honesty, even the indifferent carpenters of Water 7 let themselves whistle in her wake, but Lucci, unlike many others, barely paid any heed to her: even a vase in the headquarters got a bigger scrape of it. His calm grey eyes hardly passed across her – he absolutely did not care whether he was training a confident woman or a garishly painted kabuki actor.

Evidently, for that reason exclusively she recollected her first training. She had already been considered as an equal to those men, and she did not beg for mercy, no matter how hard it was to prepare herself for the future trials. In all honesty, Lucci made no endeavor to offer it to her; while all the erstwhile supervisors before him spilled ribald comments over the woman, this one kept counting the attendees, undisturbed. To tell the truth, the woman was curious: the scuttlebutt fueled by witnesses mentioning a peculiar amalgamation of beauty, devious mind and excessive brutality outmatching the vilest pirates didn’t scare her off but confirmed the statement that this man was unique. He appeared to control even those who didn’t serve under his command – at any rate, Lucci needed a glance to shut a talker up. There’s little wonder how he got his place in the sun – he had become one of the few whose authority remained unscathed even after the destruction of Enies Lobby.

“I will not detain anyone,” Lucci’s cold, quiet voice came. “One whimper, and rest assured… we will never meet again.”

His opening address before the training turned out extremely terse and laconic – and did contain an obscure threat. Kalifa became the first who dared step forward for a sparring round. Kaku, Kumadori, Jabra, Blueno and Fukuro preferred to stay clear and watch: albeit they got an opaque understanding of what was prepared for them, they found solace in being last.

It was the first time when Lucci beat her up.

Kalifa failed to dodge, and despite her outstanding kami-e and soru skills, she hadn’t managed to show the level Lucci would consider satisfactory. Tired of the boring and stultifying pursuit, he effortlessly broke through her tekkai and kept mauling her after his initial powerful blow. Impassive and unaffected, he kept lambasting and clawing her fiercely, not a single emotion contorted the fine features of his visage. Seeing her staggering, he used his shigan against her – and the woman, bleeding enormously, fell on the ground.

However, she did not emit a single sound.

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed Kaku growing paler. He wasn’t exactly spineless, but he for sure came short of stamina comparing to her… What’s happened, actually? Looks like no one managed to demonstrate sufficient knowledge of such techniques as kami-e and soru, let alone tekkai: they barely maintained it for a second, and it turned out useless as Lucci breached the invisible shield easily with the attack Kalifa calmly repelled. Though, she wasn’t quite positive of it, to be honest: the last memory faded away as she focused on standing up to walk to her room.

Late at night, the woman clenched her teeth trying to tear off the bloodied rags of her clothes – they stuck to the gashes, and stripped off with the skin. Kalifa had to clean out the grazes she could reach, but as the ugly marks covered almost her entire back which was in tatters after the rampant onslaught – it was nearly impossible to swathe every wound. Moreover, the slightest touch caused searing pain in every cell of her body, and she couldn’t move wondering whether she was about to faint or could stay conscious. In fact, she did have the right to go to the hospital juxtaposed between the headquarters and the training site in order to get professional help, but it was obvious what consequences it could entail. Every assassin worked in “field” conditions, and Lucci, maybe unaware, was preparing them for the upcoming trials and impediments. Only a few succeeded, but those who were attested, became the best and later morphed into a legend within the confines of the organization.

Next morning, she stepped forward again. The man eyed her from head to toe with the similar concealed disdain and contempt she had noticed previously – and lambasted her in the same fashion though did not use his shigan for his own reasons: he either thought her to be unworthy of it, or failed to see an equal adversary in her as she knelt after several stabs. Albeit she surrendered shortly, her tekkai seemed to improve and got thicker – though moving much slower, Kalifa managed to resist for a while longer.

“There’s no point in your staying here if you cannot evade a blow.”

The gossip she’d heard were not untrue, Lucci turned out a real monster… As a human being, as a man, as a leader – but to her surprise, his brutality never baffled her: it failed to arouse any emotion inside of her as silent humiliation and battering became a part of the routine. Day by day taciturn insults reduced, Kalifa sensed that she was gradually approaching the ideal she had conjured in her head but the imperturbable pale face remained aloof as ever. In Lucci’s eyes she still remained a pathetic loser, even though she had made a long way to establish herself as one of the few female agents of CP9.

The man had eliminated almost all emotions except for perverse delight at the sight of the power he wielded: spoiled by his own abilities and skills, the intimidating Rob Lucci relished the consternation he inculcated in others, and when he saw her naked back painted in crimson red stripes, he simply grinned under his breath. His fingers lingered across the scarcely healed wounds and pressed on the freshest cut while indifferently muttering that she got off cheaply. He could’ve killed her during that training by aiming an inch higher.

He offered her a chance to be the best.

He improved her skills and knowledge through lambasting her so brutally and ingeniously as he did to no one. She learnt to avoid the most devious attacks; she escaped and hid behind him; she grew stronger: she was no longer Laskey the assassin’s daughter – she got her own name, she was the Kalifa everybody feared.

What about the cost?.. Thanks to an ointment, all the scars got healed pretty well. Actually, no one else needed it just as much: Jabra wiped blood off under his nose and spitted off chunks directly into the sink; Kumadori howled as the most lugubrious and woeful yurei complaining that “his hair were pulled with too much force”… Kaku may be the only to catch his breath after trainings, and Kalifa once took notice of his trembling fingers hovering over a fresh bite on his shoulder. But she was much better. She stood out.

She couldn’t be compared to Rob Lucci but at least she impelled him to respect her – if he ever respected anyone. After the humiliating defeat of CP9 he intended to do her in, just as any top-notch undercover agent would do, but wasn’t it the very same desire she used to read in those lackluster grey eyes all along? Wasn’t it exactly the thought that crossed his mind – didn’t he want to reciprocate in response to his personal setbacks and those of his own department?.. He definitely had a reason to track her down, and he assigned Kaku to be his lapdog in accordance with his ulterior motives. Rob Lucci always had plans – she comprehended it immediately.

The woman approached the mirror and stared into the reflection of the violet eyes. They darkened around the pupil but eventually grew lighter dispersing in the miscellaneous, minuscule streaks. The woman took her red lipstick and slightly tapped it on the lips.

Kalifa was no longer afraid. She had become the best.

And she will keep going.

#one piece #kalifa #lucci #rob lucci #kumadori #jabra #kaku #kaku one piece #kalifa one piece #lucci one piece #cp9 #one piece cp9 #fanfiction #fanfic

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yzkhr · 4 years ago

Text

"Kazuha, I'm fine now."

Hattori Heiji spoke with uncharacteristic gentleness towards his childhood friend whose entire attention is on the wound around his stomach. Tooyama Kazuha only regarded him with a panicked look.

"Are you sure? What if it still hurts? What if--"

Before she could continue on her rambling, he held the warm hand inspecting his injury as he gave her the best smile he could manage.

On a normal day, Kazuha's worrying would only be troublesome and annoying for Heiji. He'd just ignore her and tell her how stupid she is, and that he wouldn't die over something so little.

But right now, he couldn't blame her. Even he thought he was going to die, without confessing his feelings first. There was nothing scarier than that moment of realization for him. So he understood, just how much pain he had made the woman he loves go through, and lets her.

The final battle versus the Black Organization was easily the most horrifying thing he had experienced over his seventeen years of existence. He grew up being surrounded by criminals but he had never seen people who saw human life as nothing but piece of paper they can crumple anytime they want. At least, culprits he detains knew guilt and have a minimum amount of reason, but the men in black doesn't. They kill either because you're in their way, or because they just want to.

Watching the downfall of the terrible institution was satisfying, to say the very least. Finally, they were gone and everything else can start going back to normal. Well, If only things would progress so smoothly as he had hoped.

Of course, casualties were made. Their team were heavily wounded. Many agents—mainly the FBI, CIA, and Secret Police— were injured, some even died. He didn't left unharmed either. He had a huge gash in his stomach—which was pretty deep— and a bullet wound on his left ankle.

When Kazuha approached him as they were directed to the nearest hospital, he saw how cold her gazes were, so different from her usual fiery look. She stayed quiet the whole time as the nurse treated him, just giving him nothing but shallow—but tinged with worry— glances.

Seeing that Heiji won't back down, the brunnette sighed and slowly backed away. She stood up from the chair beside his bed, laggardly making her way towards the door.

He wanted to stop her and talk to her, but her verdant eyes filled with pain and a bit of anger wasn't so appealing to deal with right now. Instead, he just regarded her a stare, wishing—begging— she'd turn around.

Kazuha slid open the door, along with it are Heiji's hopes of his stupid actions being forgotten.

But, as if the Gods heard his silent plea, she stopped midway of exiting the room. He held his breath, waiting for her next move, not minding the ache at his middle cause by his hitched breathing. It was like that for a few seconds, until she finally turned her head sideways, ponytail slightly moving to the opposite direction, with her expression unreadable.

"I'm still mad at you. So you better make it up to me."

And with those parting words, she left, letting Heiji huffed in relief. It wasn't the most comforting words he heard from her, but it was a sign that she'd talk to him and give him a chance to explain. For Heiji, that was everything he needed to hear so he can move on to his next concern.

Instantly, his thoughts travelled to her. If Kazuha, his childhood friend, was this mad at him for just being involved, then she must be furious, knowing that her boyfriend was in the middle of it all.

After a few seconds of hesitation, Heiji stood up, swallowing his fear of facing his best friend's girl. After all, he knew he deserved at least some punches.

The hallway was quiet, with only little people roaming around. Nurses and patients paid him no mind, too busy with their own lives. He felt glad, for once not liking the attention of others seeing him in a pathetic state.

His eyes looked for her. He tried to spot her tall figure, her long straight chesnut hair, her leaned back with her toned muscles from doing karate, uncharacteristically for a girl. Unfortunately for him, the area was infested by only ill patients in wheelchairs accommodated by their family members and staff rushing left and right towards their respective positions.

Minutes pass of searching, and he found himself on the quiet part of the institution. Individuals got fewer and fewer and when Heiji was about to head back and asked the others instead, his irises finally found what they were looking for.

There she was, sitting on one of the blue waiting chairs, contrast to the white paint all over the hospital. Her head was down, her form lifeless. Heiji felt a pang of guilt in his chest, knowing that he was a big part of her devastated state.

Once again, hesitation set inside of him, not wanting to face the woman that they had all done wrong. But he couldn't leave her alone either, after seeing that she was just outside the Intensive Care Unit.

Heiji didn't want to believe it, but it has to be him. He was the most injured one of them all, after being tortured by Gin. It was a miracle they managed to get him to the hospital in time. He took one last gulp, and walk towards her tired form.

Mouri Ran was aware of his presence but she made no indication to ascertain his assumption. She just kept her head tilted down, fingers intertwined and expression hidden by the strands of her hair. He tested the waters first by calling her name but she didn't budge at all.

The feeling of unsettlement was getting to Heiji even more but he decided to ignore it. Ran needed him right now, and he owed her a lot. They owed her a lot.

He sat down beside her and imitated her current position, waiting to see if she would do something. She didn't.

Time ticked down, Heiji finally decided to be the one to speak.

"Nee-chan--"

"Leave."

Her voice was hoarse and barely above a whisper that if he wasn't near her, he wouldn't have heard it.

He shook his head slowly, as if Ran could see his answer that way.

"No. I can't--"

Once again, she cut him off.

"Please."

This time, Heiji wanted to comply. But a part of him was stopping him from doing so. He could leave Ran alone and be free of this nervousness, or he could stay and try to alleviate a bit of her pain.

Heiji chose the latter.

"I won't."

Finally, Ran looked up, letting him see her. Her visage was tired and lost, different from her usual kind and cheerful countenance. It physically pained Heiji to see her like that, so he had to avert his eyes away.

Silence took over the two, the kind of silence rendering him deaf. Eventually, he sensed movement from her, and saw her from the corner of his left eye sitting properly, tense.

"You knew."

It was neither a question or a suggestion. It was nonchalant, as if she was stating a fact, which in this case, was what she just did.

He nodded, giving confirmation. He leaned a little towards the plastic chair, his stomach hurting from his previous hunched forward position.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

It was a basic question, but somehow it was difficult to answer. He had many chances to tell her, ever since he found out that the little brat living with the Mouris was really the missing highschool detective. So why didn't he? He could only think of one reason, though personally, it wasn't enough.

"It wasn't my secret to tell."

She sighed, seeming to expect his common response.

"Then why didn't he tell me?"

Even without any particular mentioning, it was obviously Kudo Shinichi they were talking about, who's currently fighting for his life. Instinctively, he glanced at the doors of the ICU, silently praying for his best friends health, and for his own survival to this interrogation.

Unlike Heiji, Ran stared straight ahead at the painted white wall. She didn't want to look at where he was right now, knowing she'll just burst out crying. She had to be strong, since Hattori was already giving her a chance to know the truth.

"I'm not sure, but I think it's to protect you."

Ran eyed him suspiciously from her peripheral vision, not convinced with his answer. But Heiji wasn't lying. He may not fully know Kudo's reasons, but he had a rough idea.

"From what?"

"From getting hurt by them."

She smiled, but it was screaming fallacy that even someone as dense as Heiji could figure it out.

"I was still hurt."

He couldn't offer a reply to that.

"When was he planning to tell me?"

He wanted to give a satisfying answer, like how Kudo would explain everything after everything was over. But that would be a lie. And Heiji was a bad liar. All those times he kept calling Kudo with his real name almost getting him figured out resurfaced in his head, and Heiji wondered how did they last long at pretending.

He chose to stay quiet.

Ran seemed to get it, as she finally faced Heiji.

"He wasn't planning to tell me anything at all, was he?"

The guilt in his face gave it away.

"Nee-chan, I tried to convince him to tell you more than once, specially before the final showdown, but he just wouldn't budge."

He tried to explain his side, trying to make Ran understand.

Ran simply stared, boring holes in his face.

"Then why didn't you tell me before you guys went and sacrifice yourselves out there? When do you want me to find out? When you're dead?"

She raised her tone a bit, showing frustration.

"If I told you, you would have followed us. I'm not sure Kudo would like that."

She laughed a little, pain so evident that Heiji visibly winced.

"Am I weak Hattori-kun?"

"That's not what I--"

"Then why didn't you let me help? I could've done something!"

Her shout alerted a few but she didn't seem to care, glaring at Heiji as he flinched. He sighed, mentally wishing Kudo was here to be the one to explain since Heiji didn't know what exactly was his best friends mindset for lying to her.

"I told you, he didn't want you to get involved. He didn't want you hurt, nee-chan."

He spoke gently, trying to cajole the agitated Ran. It was weird how calm and modest he was, while Ran was now the one looking like she wanted to punch someone. Unfortunately, the cajoling didn't work.

"You already knew what you were doing would hurt me, but somehow it didn't stop you, so what exactly was the difference?"

He stuttered, trying to find a good answer, but failed to do so. Ran pressed on, not waiting for his response.

"What if it was Kazuha-chan? Would you want her to keep secrets from you? To be in danger while you're safe? To possibly die without you knowing a thing!?"

Heiji visibly froze at the mention of his childhood sweetheart's name and seeing the hurt enter his usually cheery green eyes, Ran knew she went overboard.

She looked away, her eyes travelling at the room where Shinichi was being operated on. She was a mess. After all the revelation and happenings, she couldn't think straight at all. That's why she begged everyone to stay away from her, not wanting to deal with anything else.

But Hattori didn't seem to get the message. Now he was dealing with all her exasperation that clearly wasn't meant for him. He had his own issues to deal with, consoling an emotionally unstable Ran shouldn't be one of them.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that."

She bowed her head, her tone apologetic. It took a while for him to say anything at all, so Ran willed herself to face the great detective of the west.

It was his turn to stare at the wall, being swallowed by his thoughts. It made Ran feel bad, knowing she stroke a never.

"Hattori-kun, I'm-"

Her apologies died mid air as he finally brought his attention back to her. Expression serious, so unlike the reckless and fun Hattori she had known.

"I would hate it. I wouldn't like her to do something so dangerous alone. She would be an idiot if she wouldn't tell something so important."

Ran was stunned, not expecting an answer from her inquries that were supposed to be rhetoric.

"But," he continued on. "I know that Kazuha didn't intend to do that just to make fun of me. She had no intention to hurt. And I'm pretty sure that Kudo's the same. If there was one thing I know from that guy, is that he would never hurt nee-chan if he had a choice. It just so happens that both choices would hurt you, and he chose to keep you in the dark, than to tell you everything and get you in something so dangerous."

It was her turn to be speechless. Ran had known Hattori to be prideful and obnoxious, sometimes more than Shinichi. He was also childish and dense, specially in terms of love. However, there will always be these kinds of moments where he would completely blow her away with his deduction skills and meaningful words.

"He loves you, Nee-chan. More than what you can imagine."

With that, Ran broke.

The tears she desperately tried to hold back was now pouring endlessly, blurring her vision. Heiji getting caught off guard with her crying, panicked.

He didn't mind his aching stomach and immediately tried to find a handkerchief or a towel to wipe her tears. Unfortunately, there was none.

Ran buried her face into her palms, and tried to speak.

"I knew that. I knew that he just wanted to keep me safe. But that's also what I want. I'm scared Hattori-kun. What if he won't wake up? What if he leaves me all alone? You did something for him. You guys were there when he needed you the most. But what about me? I didn't do anything. I couldn't do anything at all. I-"

In the desperate attempt to comfort and calm down the crying woman next to him, Heiji put his arms around her shoulder and let her crying face lean on his. She sobbed harder, inclining at the comforting brotherly touch.

"That's not true nee-chan. You did a lot of things for him. You were his reason for fighting. I'm sure Kudo would have given up a long time ago if it weren't for you."

It was true. If it were Heiji, he would have just gave in and let his childhood happen again. He was sure there were time Kudo thought of that but because of Ran, he didn't give up.

"I'm scared, Hattori-kun. He can't die on me. Not without telling me everything. Not without making it up to me. Not without achieving his biggest dream. He can't die."

She said almost incoherently against his ears, choking at her own tears. Seeing her break down was also physically hurting him. He was so used to the strong and smiling Mouri Ran she showed in public that he almost forgot that she can be this fragile and weak. Heiji was amazed how she managed to keep up such an amazing act of being fine for so long.

The only thing he can do to alleviate just a bit of her suffering was to whisper at her ear his own share of comforging words while staring at the operating room, a determined look on his face.

"He won't die nee-chan. I'm sure of it. Kudo would never die just like that. He finally defeated those bad guys. I'm sure that he won't ever leave you again. If he did, then he's the biggest Ahou in history of Ahous."

Hattori Heiji had never been close to Mouri Ran compared to others. They were friends, although they never really got to interact that much. However, that didn't stop Heiji from admiring the woman. She was so kind and naive at times that you just want to protect her. But she didn't even need you for that, knowing she can defend herself better than ninety percent of men out there.

Right now, Heiji was the only one who can understand at least a portion of what she's going through. Right now, they're both losing an integral person in their lives, their best friend. And they found at least a little solace from that, knowing they're not alone.

Am I the only one who loves this underrated pairing?

#detective conan #Mouri Ran #Hattori Heiji #more Ran and Heiji interactions please

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sick-in-luv · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere!Alien (Atlas) Pt1

A/n:Got this idea and just had to write it👽

Warnings⚠️: gore?

'So this is what they meant when they said humans are made of stars' Altas thought,scoffing as his hands dug deeper into the open chest cavity of the man laying in front of him. The smell of iron was heavy in the air as blood pooled around them,staining the overalls Atlas had taken from him

"ꉓꂦꎭꍟ ꂦꈤ! ꀤ ꀭꀎꌗ꓄ ꈤꍟꍟꀸ ꌩꂦꀎꋪ...ꍏꃅ ꃅꍏ!" The man was still alive,his quick breaths coming out gargled as blood gathered in his mouth. Atlas moved his hand up into the man's throat, his fingers wrapping around his larynx.

He pressed his pointed nail into the soft tissue,a glowing green liquid flowing into the mans veins,spreading across his face and neck. Atlas sighed as he watched the man squirm,his strength slowly fading.

"ᖘ꒒ꍟꍏꌗꍟ ꌗ꓄ꂦᖘ ꎭꂦ��ꀤꈤꁅ ꃅꀎꎭꍏꈤ. ꀤ ꂦꈤ꒒ꌩ ꈤꍟꍟꀸ ꓄ꂦ ꓄ꍏꀘꍟ ꀤꈤ ꌩꂦꀎꋪ ꒒ꍏꈤꁅꀎꍏꁅꍟ ꍏꈤꀸ ꌗᖘꍟꍏꀘꀤꈤꁅ ᖘꍏ꓄ꍟꋪꈤꌗ. ꅏꂦꈤ'꓄ ꌃꍟ ꒒ꂦꈤꁅ." True to his word,Atlas moved his hand out of the man only a few seconds later,a satisfied smile on his face.

"There! Ain't that much better?" He said gleefully,testing out his new voice,the slight southern drawl making him pause. "Weird,not what i expected it would sound like after i heard you scream."

Atlas shook his head " well I guess it doesn't matter. Now,lets close you up shall we?" He smiled,moving to stand up and walk back to his landing area to find the tool he needed.

He froze however when he heard a click,followed by something cold and hard pressing against the back of his head.

"M-make one move and I'll blow y-yer goddam brains out!" Atlas sighed and stood up,hearing the person behind him gasp and stumble backwards, falling over and dropping his gun in the process.

Atlas turned around and looked down at the terrified man,blinking in surprise as he saw the striking resemblance between him and the other man who was barely clinging to life behind him.

"D-demon" Atlas heard the man mumble as he picked up his shotgun,pointing it at the 7ft tall blood coved figure in front of him. "Y-you killed my brother"

Atlas frowned,trying to find the right words to tell the man that his brother wasn't dead. He moved forward only to stop when he heard a loud bang,followed by a seering pain in his side as the man pulled the trigger.

👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽👽

You always loved coming to visit your uncle. His small cabin in the woods was so peaceful,a huge change from the city life that you were used to.

There was nothing but farmlands and forests for miles, so apart from the occasional sound of an animal,it was quiet.

You were alone in the cabin. Your uncle left earlier to go to work,leaving you to do what you wanted until he came back.

Of course, there wasn't much to do,so you opted for sitting in front of the old box tv in the livingroom,eating microwave pizza and trying to solve crossword puzzles

It wasn't much,but it kept you entertained. The TV was only on for backround noise,but occasionally something interesting caught your eye,like when the news broadcaster started talking about a foreign object entering orbit.

It didn't hold your attention for long though,because soon after she said that the signal cut out,leaving nothing but static on the tv. You sighed but didn't bother to try and fix it, only shrugging before going back to your puzzle.

About half an hour and 3 puzzles later you decided to go to bed,seeing as your primary source of entertainment was down and you already finished the last slice of pizza.

After a short shower,you threw on a oversized t shirt and went to brush your teeth,moving sluggishly through your suitcase to find your toothbrush.

After finally finding it along with your mouthwash and hairbrush,you moved back to the bathroom. You desperately tried to keep your eyes open as you moved the toothbrush through your mouth,nearly falling asleep at the sink before a loud bang sounded out outside.

You let out a short scream,your toothbrush slipping through your fingers as you jumped. You scrambled to try and catch it only to loose your footing and fall over backwards,hitting your head on the side of the tub.

You sat there for a second,toes curling in pain as your hands shot up to where your head was throbbing.

The pain subsided after a few seconds,and you cursed your neighbors for thinking it was okay to start shooting at this hour of the night,slowly standing up and making your way back to your room.

"Stupid Clive and his stupid guns. It's 2 am for god sakes. I'm gonna give him a piece of my mind when i see him again that no good little-" you stopped abruptly as you heard something shuffling outside.

"Whaaaatt the fuck" you whispered to yourself,slowly moving towards the front of the cabin to peek out the window. You grabbed a phone on the way,getting ready to call your uncle if it was something serious.

Pulling back the plaid curtain,you scanned the dimly lit porch,holding your breath in anticipation.

Once you were certain that there was nothing there,you let out a relieved sigh,moving to close the curtain and finally go to bed,when a very large blood covered hand slammed against the window.

You let out a scream,your knees going weak, once again sending you towards the ground. You grabbed the phone,filled with adrenaline as you started dialing your uncles number until-

"H-help. Puh-please! I-I need help" you paused putting the phone down and listening. You heard a pained groan followed by a weird chittering noise.

You slowly got onto your knees,peeking out the window,passed the bloody handprint,to see a person laying on the wooden porch,covered in blood.

"Oh shit!" You ran towards the door,not even hesitating as you threw it open,rushing towards the person.

"Oh shit oh fuck a-are you okay? Oh damnit! come on lets get you inside." The man groaned and sat up slowly,and you had to keep yourself from gasping at not only his height,but also the mess of unnaturall, almost glowing neon green hair on his head,almost completely covering his eyes.

"Holy shit." You heard the man let out a pained chuckle "wow your teaching me all sorts of new words"

You raised your eyebrow,wanting to ask him what he meant when he let out another groan. "Ah,lets get you to the bathroom yeah? We got a first aid kit in there i think." You quickly stood up,throwing his large arm over your shoulders and trying to help him up. He must've noticed your struggle, because he let out another chuckle and supported more of his own weight, only occasionally leaning on you as you led him to the bathroom.

It was only when you saw him under the florescent light when you noticed that his skin had a strange greenish hue to it,and he was wearing clothes that didn't really seem to fit him properly. You paid no mind to it as you helped him sit down on the toilet,frantically scrambling to find the first aid kit.

"What happened to you? You look like you were run over." You cringed at yourself. You really didnt mean to sound so blunt but you were still filled with adrenaline from the big ass scare he gave you.

"A silly human shot me with his primative weapon. Unfortunately i couldn't reach my ship in time to grab any of my healing supplies or any proper covering so i opted for finding the nearest form of civilization."

You paused at his words,slowly turning to look at him,first aid kit clutched in your shaking hands. You looked up at his tall form sitting calmly with his hand pressed against the wound in his side,his jet black eyes looking straight into yours.

Wait a minute

Black eyes.

"H-human? Ship? What the fuck are you on about my guy?" He smiled sweetly,showing off his razor sharp teeth. Al three rows of them.

Your eyes widened as you slowly backed away,causing his smile to fade. "Oh! Oh nono no human don't look so afraid! Im not here to hurt anyone! And I'm certainly not going to hurt you after you let me into your home"

You shook you head and stood still,not letting your gaurd down just yet. "How do i know your telling the truth? What are you?"

He made a little chittering noise,moving a bit of neon green hair out of his eyes. "Ah yes. I forgot your species hasn't had any public outside contact yet. My name is Atlas. I am what your kind know as an 'extra terrestrial' or an 'alien' or whatever" he stood up,slowly moving towards you.

He stopped just inches away and bent down to look you in the eye,his own black orbs glistening in the light. "As for the whole truth thing,well I really don't have any reason to lie to you pet."

He placed his large hand over the first aid kit,gently pulling it from your grip and moving closer towards your face,his nose brushing yours. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he sighed softly.

"Your a good little human right? So i really have no desire to hurt you." He suddenly stood up straight, making you squeal softly. "But i do really need you to help me repair my injuries."

You let out a breath that you didn't know you were holding,before looking up at Atlas,who was struggling to open the box,turning it over in his hands multiple times.

After taking a few more deep breaths,trying to process everything,you giggled softly making him stop and look at you.

"What are you doing?" Atlas huffed and felt around the box again. "Where is the scanning device?? How do you open this stupid thing??" Your giggles turned into full blown laughter as you took the box from him,pressing the small latch and opening the box.

He looked at you in awe for a second before crossing his arms. "Primitive human devices" you snorted as you laughed harder ,bringing your hand up to your mouth to try and stop the noises.

Atlas gave you a deadpan look scoffing and sitting back down on the toilet. Once you calmed yourself down enough,you moved over to him. "Wow i can't belive i was terrified of you a second ago" you smiled pulling down the straps of his overalls.

He scoffed again and bared his teeth. "Oh you should be terrified now little human. Lauging at my struggles. How dare you" you laughed again,before lifting his shirt amd kneeling between his legs to be eyelevel with his wound. "My name is (Y/n) by the way. Not "little human" you stared in slight surprise at the odd dark blueish color of his blood before grabbing a rag from the box and covering it in rubbing alcohol.

Atlas made a noise as you pressed the alcohol covered rag onto his wound,leaning back to grant you more access.

He hummed as you continued to clean the wound,a small smile on his face. "I'll call you whatever i want little human" you looked up at him,confused at his happy tone.

"Doesn't this hurt? Why do you look so happy?" Atlas chittered again and looked down at you "I like the burning."

You blushed a bit and opened your mouth to say something before a loud knock came from the front door.

"Damnit what now?" You stood up slowly,throwing the rag in the sink. "Just be quiet,they'll think no ones home." You grabbed a bandage from the box and went to bend down again and finish fixing his wound before a familiar voice stated yelling at the door as the banging continued.

"(Y/n)! You in there? It's Clive! Ya gotta get out here i think that thing made its way into your house!" You raised your eyebrow and looked back at Atlas.

"Thats the human who shot me. He must've followed my blood the cretin." You sighed and put down the bandage "I'll be right back okay? Just lemme go take care of this."

You only got so far as the bathroom door before you felt arms wrap around you,pulling you back. "No! Your MY human. I wont allow that disgusting cretin anywhere near you."

You looked up at Atlas,who had his teeth bared. He was starting intensely in the direction of the front door,where the banging now turned frantic,along with the voices.

"Atlas just let me get him to leave. I won't be long i promise."

He looked down at you,his eyes gleaming dangerously. You squimed a bit,feeling his grip falter as you pulled out of his arms. "I-ill be right back okay?"

You pushed him back into the bathroom,closing the door behind you and making your way over to the front of the house.

"I'm coming Clive calm down." You sighed as you opened the door,putting on your best 'just woke up' look. "What do you want? Its really late."

Clive looked panicked. His flannel shirt was covered in a mix of dark blue and crimson and he had a shotgun in his hand.

"(,Y/n)! Thank God your okay! I was bouta break down the door cause i thought somethin' happened to ya. Theres somethin'out here. A demon or somethin'. It killed Marcus. It killed my brother" you stared at Clive as he sobbed,not sure what to do.

He couldn't be talking about Atlas right? He said it himself,he didn't come here to kill humans. You looked back at the bathroom and saw Atlas standing there,a feral look on his face. "Fuck" you whispered moving outside and closing the front door.

Clive calmed down and looked at you confused. "S-sorry Clive. I haven't seen anything. But if you want I'll call the cops for you okay? Or the ranger?" Clive ignored your frantic words and tried to move passed you to the door

"Are ya hidin' it in there? You are arent ya? Let me in there (Y/n). I'm going to kill that fucking thing!" You moved in front of him

Trying desperately to stop him from going in.

"Wait Clive you can't just-" you squeaked as he grabbed your arms trying,throwing you to the side and opening the door,his gun ready.

He moved into the house and you scrambled to get up and stop him,only to be pulled back down,a hand covering your mouth.

You looked behind you and saw Atlas glaring at the door,his sharp teeth bared. He picked you up and threw you over his shoulder,you groaned a bit as his shoulder knocked the wind out of you,and Clives frantic footsteps could be heard rushing back towards the porch.

Before he made it out the door,Atlas had already started running across the open field in front of the house.

You heard Clive yell something before running out after you,but at this point it wasnt likely for him to catch up.

"A-Atlas where are we going?" He let out a grunt and stoped,putting you down but not letting go of your arm. "We're going to my ship. That stupid human ruined everything. And he has the gull to blame me for his brothers death? Honestly."

You stumbled after him,desperately trying to keep up. ""S-so you didn't kill his brother?" Atlas scoffed. "Of course not. That idiot just got on the way before i could

Heal him."

You raised your eyebrow as he finally came to a stop,letting go of your arm and dashing towards the green and blue pod that stood on a scorched plot of grass. "What do you mean heal..."

Your question died in your throat as your eyes landed on what you recognized to be Clive's younger brother Markus,laying on the blood stained grass with a blank look in his glassy eyes. His chest was ripped wide open,displaying all of his organs.

"He got in the way of my ship before i could grab the device i needed to heal him. I never meant for him to-" Atlas looked up from his pod,having already found what he was looking for to heal his wound,only to see you backing away,tears slowly dripping down your face.

"Hey. Whats the matter? Huma-" Atlas was cut off when you turned around and started running back towards your cabin. He let out a low growl before sprinting after you,catching up in a matter of seconds and grabbing your arm.

You struggled as he turned you around,trying to get you to stop squirming. "Listen! I didn't kill him!" You struggled more as you heard Clive's voice in the distance,screaming for you.

Atlas growled again and pushed you to the ground,pinning your arms to your sides. "I didn't kill the human,but if you don't stop struggling right now I AM going to kill that one."

You instantly stopped,looking up at him with tearly eyes. "Wonderfull" Atlas said,picking you up once again and carrying you towatds his ship as Clive came into veiw.

"I didn't lie to you human." He started,gently placing your shivering form in his ship. "I didn't come to this dirt planet to harm any humans." He got in next to you and you could only watch as the ship fired up,flashing bright blues and greens before slowly starting to hover,just as Clive showed up.

"I came here to find a pet."

#yandere #yandere boys #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x reader #alien #aliens #teratophillia #aliens man

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