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beskarberry · 3 years

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Silver and Steel

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 2 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

It was then you noticed the open wall next to you. The steel panel was slid open to reveal a vault packed corner to corner with more firepower than you had ever seen in one place. Your eyes roamed from blaster to rifle to flamethrower, noticing that not all of them were made for five fingered hands. This wasn't just an armory, it was a trophy case.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.5k

Content warnings: ALOT. Descriptions of violence (a little spicier than canon) blood mention, near death experiences, hurt/COMFORT, fluff, smut exhaustion sex, top!reader.

A/N: I hope y’all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it but yeah PLEASE READ THOSE CONTENT WARNINGS!! It all works out ok in the end! Also good chunks of this was inspired by a particular filk song called Call the Navigator which I’ll link in the replies so the external link doesn’t ef up my post.

<-Previous Next->

"Med pack... junk....junk....spotchka?....is that all you've got?"

You were bent over a deep supply crate, your legs barely touching the ground while you dug through what you had hoped would be the food stock. There were several banged up tins of rations and a handful of miscellaneous junk, but nothing that looked real food. You were clean and dry after your shower, but the energy that had been spent in this very supply room just an hour or so earlier had to be replenished. "Where’s the rest of it?"

The silence coming from the cockpit was expected, but still frustrating. With a huff you grabbed two food tins and made your way through the old ship towards the ladder. At the top though a small antechamber you found your new comrade seated in the pilot chair, fussing with the buttons on the console. On either side and slightly behind his chair were two other passenger seats, though the one on his left was missing a good deal of padding. The cockpit was poorly lit save for the lighted console and the dusty starlight overhead. Though you were in the air, you could tell you were still on Tatooine. Hooray. Why are we still here? The great Dune Sea stretched out on all sides, sparsely dotted with sand people villages, but you couldn’t see any of the large space ports such as Mos Eisley or Mos Espa. In the ships’ darkness you couldn't tell what the lumpy thing was in the other chair, probably blankets or laundry. You went to toss it off the seat when a pair of huge black orbs peeped out from the heap of fabric.

"The fuck is THAT?!" You rocketed backwards, dropping the food tins in the process. The bug eyed creature made a soft cooing noise and lifted the rest of the blanket off itself, allowing two gigantic green ears to pop into view. It didn't look like a threat, in fact it looked kinda cute, but you knew it could still be dangerous. A pair of stubby three-fingered hands made grabby motions at you, the little creature giggling at your bewildered face. " Where'd you find this thing, is it some kind of pet?"

"He's not a pet." Finished fiddling with the console, Mando turned in his chair to readjust the blanket that had slumped off of the small beastie. It squealed happily and wiggled in its comfy cocoon before noticing the food tins that were still on the floor. He pointed the tiniest claw at them and chirped at you, demanding to be fed. "You'd better give him one of those before he gets mad."

It took you a moment to process what he said before scooping one of the tins off the floor, peeling back the lid and placing the dish in the seat next to the little thing. He greedily scooped the mystery mash into his tiny toothy mouth, gibbering between bites. You picked the remaining tin off the floor and leaned against the door frame, watching it happily chow down.

"If it's not a pet then what is it?"

"He's my..." the Mandalorian paused, fishing for the right words to say, "...he is my child."

That was not at all the answer you expected, if he had said emotional support gremlin you would have been less confused. The baby was still making a mess of his dinner, almost dropping his plate before Mando snatched it and set it carefully back in his lap. You had seen first hand that there was a human under all that metal plating, and your tired brain fizzled trying to make the connection between the two very different beings. Mando could tell by your puzzled face that he had some explaining to do.

He told you the tale of how he had been charged to bring the baby in as a high credit bounty, but after he used the reward to get new armor he went back and stole the child away from its captors. He talked about the Mandalorian concept of a 'foundling' and that he himself was one too. At some point you had popped your food tin open and started eating, though you were so captivated by his story that you couldn't remember doing so. When he'd finished you set your empty dish on the busted chair and gently held your hand out for the child to grab with one mush covered paw, who babbled excitedly at his new friend.

Behind you his parental guardian was rigid, ready to take you out if you made one wrong move against his precious cargo. Though he had been the one to steal you away and forgo freezing you in carbonite he still didn’t exactly trust you, your reputation as a hunter-killer was what had driven your bounty so high. He knew you were disarmed, but what else could you be capable of? However, you weren't paying mama-hen Mando any mind. Instead you let the baby play with your hand a bit before he returned to his food. You decided that the only place left to sit was on the floor. Squished into the tiny space between the passenger and pilot seats was cramped, but it gave you a fantastic view out the rounded transperisteel window into the vastness of the night sky.

“Your story sounds awful familiar.” You turned your attention to the metal clad man, watching him fidget with the steering controls. “You abandoned a guild reward for anothers wellbeing, like I did. Someone that didn’t deserve to be dragged back in cuffs. Is that why you picked up the puck on me? Some kind of kindred spirit something or other?”

“We’re nothing alike.” He was watching out the window, focused on flying the ship to unknown destinations, but he was bouncing the leg farthest away from you. So when the cogwheels turn in your head, the machine moves somewhere else. If you hadn’t experienced his human body first hand you could have easily convinced yourself he was a droid.

“Now that’s not true. You told the guild to get fucked because your moral compass was pointing the other way. I didn't just let that quarry go y'know? It was more than that. There was... there was someone she had to get back to. And the New Republic was just gonna lock her ass up and for what? It wasn't right." You remembered that Togruta woman, pointing a blaster at you with tears in her eyes and her belly swollen with a child that did not belong to the man she was being forced to marry. A few thousand credits weren’t worth another child being made an orphan, and you gave her your ship to escape in while you led hunters on a wild-bantha chase away from her. You knew it drove the guild insane but you wouldn’t have it any other way. A tiny green foot poked itself out from under the blankets by your head, bringing you out of your reverie. On reflex you tucked it back into the safety of his blankies.

Though you thankfully didn’t remember much of your early childhood, you knew you had come from Corellia. You didn’t know if you had parents or siblings, but there had been many other young street urchins in your alley behind the shipyard, and all you had then were each other. You never planned on having any kids yourself, but they were still something to be protected. At all costs, if necessary. “I’m guessing this little dude is happy with that decision.”

Mando had begun to take the ship closer to the ground, it was almost totally dark outside but you could see on the radar there was a large mountainous formation up ahead. Carefully, he landed the beat up craft on a sturdy outcropping of rocks, kicking up whirlwinds of dust and sand. Far out over the sand you could see a collection of lumpy looking ruins that were slowly succumbing to the march of the dunes. You guessed this was where your quarry was hiding out.

The baby was starting to get sleepy, his huge eyes disappearing slowly as the weight of his eyelids became too much. His little head rolled forward, threatening to toss him off his seat. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take it, so you scrambled to your feet and scooped the baby up in your arms, sitting down in his seat to get him situated in your lap. He fussed and squirmed a bit, but you had learned a no-fail trick from the Corellian ship builders that would often help to sneak orphaned children onto their ships and off that skughole of a planet towards a better life. Many years ago they had done the same for you.

“Oh, I have sailed the midnight sea from Hoth to Arvala-5.

Seen the Cloudshape Falls of Alderaan, met rocks that were alive.

But soon I came to realize as world to world I roamed,

That nowhere in the galaxy could really be my home.”

The songs you knew were often sang by whole crews of starship sailors, loud enough to shake their durasteel walls, but you dropped your voice low and soft to turn the star-shanty into a lullaby. The baby was watching you with glittering eyes, he had stopped his wiggling and curled up tightly against your chest.

“So call the navigator, set the course and go!

We've stars and planets to explore, my wild heart tells me so.

Beneath the metal decking I can hear the engine sigh

And all I need is a mighty ship and a staaaa-aarr to guide her by”

A tiny yawn betrayed his wondrous eyes, and he gave up and closed them shut, rubbing his little hands on his face. You lowered your voice to almost a whisper.

“I've seen a million beauties and I've known a million fears,

And life is what I've found between the laughter and the tears.

Still I will sail the last frontier through worlds both tame and wild,

And marvel at their strangeness with the wonder of a child”

Soft snores were your only applause, the baby having drifted off mid stanza. You hummed a few more lines of the song to be sure he was asleep. The cockpit was as dark as the surrounding sky, but the glint of silver caught your attention. Starlight reflected off the beskar plates in a way that made the black of his visor seem darker than the heart of a collapsed star, and just as deadly. The Mandalorian was watching you intently, completely motionless.

The precious moment with the baby had made you very forgetful of the dangerous situation you were actually in. You had been captured, you were this man’s prisoner and yet here you were all cozy in the chair with his adopted son in your lap. You glared back at him, matching his fierce gaze when the little green bundle moved to get more comfortable, one tiny hand catching claws in the top you were wearing; a tunic that did not belong to you.

“Here, you take him then.” Your voice was hushed so as not to wake the child, and you raised him up gently to try and unhook him from your shirt. Immediately there were two gloved hands coming to lift the baby off of your lap. He was a monolith of leather and metal, but the way he pulled his son in close was so gentle that all the ferocity of his profession dissipated like mist. Mando carefully tucked the blanket under the sleeping little baby and wrapped him up tight before slowly turning away from you and the flight deck to head down the ladder in total silence, leaving you alone in the dark.

You watched him go, the top of his shiny silver head disappearing into the floor. Without the sounds of life in the cockpit the quiet of the night weighed heavy on your ears. He still hadn’t told you why he had kept you out of the carbonite, all you had done was let him use you as his personal play-thing... and maybe murder off some of his bounty hunting competition, but that wasn’t much to go off of. You had done worse for much less. Put your skills to better use, that’s what he had said. Absently you toyed with the end of your sleeve, no, not your sleeve. His sleeve.

That was another thing, what reason did he have to show you hospitality when his first interaction with you had been so violent? Binding you and marching your ass through the desert after he had fucking shot you. Your escape plan had almost worked, ha! All you would’ve had to do is tire him out and run but that had backfired entirely. The apex of your thighs still thrummed with sensation, warm and blissful. Though you’d had lovers in the past you usually didn’t still feel them so deeply afterwards. The smell of the fresher soap still clung to your body and clothes. Clutching at the collar of your sweater you pulled it to your face and breathed deep, letting the heady scent of it fill your lungs.

“Let’s go. We have work to do.” The modulated voice coming from the ladder startled you from your guilty indulgence and sprang you to your feet, but the source of the voice was already back down the ladder. You sheepishly followed suit.

“You plan on telling me what we’re up to exactly?” Down below the Mandalorian was loading himself with ammunition, each and every slot on his many bandoliers was packed to the brim with charges. His pulse rifle was slung over one shoulder, clanking up against a new piece of equipment you hadn’t seen before. Some kind of jet pack maybe.

“I have two bounties to catch on Tatooine. One of them conveniently fell into a sarlacc pit. The other one's hiding out down there." A bounty fob blinked red in his hand; quick flashes indicated that the target was close by. “If you help me with this, you’re off the hook. I’ll tell Karga you’re dead and the guild will stop sending hunters after you. But-” He turned to face you, he was holding your beat-up old back pack by one ratty leather strap. "If for one second I think you'll turn against me, I'll take the half credits for your corpse."

"You're one to talk!" You hissed, storming up to the gunslinger with the ferocity of a lothcat. "You kidnapped me! I didn't ask to be here."

The man in question didn't budge under your verbal assault. "Do we have a deal or not?"

He forced your backpack into your arms to accentuate his point. You ripped it from his grasp and stormed to the other side of the cabin. Everything was still inside; a pack of bacta patches, a few mementos, three busted tracking fobs and some blaster charges. Speaking of blaster-

"Where’s my gun, Mando?" Your question was answered when you turned back to face him. He was holding it by its barrel, extending the grip towards you. You met his visor with contempt, but took the old blaster from him carefully as not to cause a misfire. It would be nice to not be on the run from a guild you had pledged your loyal services to for so many years, that now wanted you delivered back to them in carbonite; and you knew that Karga would trust his favorite hunter. The life of a moisture farmer wasn’t what you dreamed of when you escaped Corellia. Fuck that. "Yeah, it's a deal. One hunt and I'm gone."

If he didn't want you to ogle his wares he should have closed the panel, but instead he joined you at the wall, picking up some extra plasma cartridges and a vibroblade with a curved handle, which he pushed into your hands. "Will that be enough?"

Either you trust me or you don't, pick a side, tin can. You didn't answer him right away, opting to pull a chest holster and another couple of blasters down from the wall. You cinched the holsters tight and tucked a blaster in on either side, slung a disruptor over your back and stuffed the knife in your boot. Once you had everything in place you stuck your fists on your hips like a superhero with a confidant nod. "Yeah, that should be good."

Mando was watching you with intensity, his visor going over each of your weapon choices. He tugged on your holsters’ cross straps to make sure they were secured. You rolled your eyes at him, "I know how to dress myself, sir."

No answer. Typical. He stopped fussing with your straps and turned back to the wall, selecting a heavy multi-ammo bandolier. He stepped closer to you, wrapping both arms around your waist to fit the belt in place on your hips. You tried to convince yourself that it was the cool beskar of his chest plate pressed up against you that sent a shiver down your spine. The physical contact was over as quickly as it had been initiated, and then he was back in the vault fishing out the tiny silver explosives that fit neatly into the circular latches on either side of your belt, handing them to you without a word. Finished with his selection he pressed a few buttons on his vambrace, one to slide the armory shut and another to summon an egg-shaped hover crib to float to his side. Inside its shell the child was sound asleep, a heart-melting smile on his tiny little face. As adorable as he was, you furrowed your brow in confusion.

“Is he coming too?”

“Where I go, he goes.” Mando said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He strode back to the supply crate you had been digging through earlier and packed a handful of rations into a bag for the journey through the dunes. Cool desert air gusted into the stuffy cabin as the access ramp fell open, and the three of you headed out into the darkness of Tatooine.

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

Your dreams were hazy and feverish, shots of blaster fire flickered through the fog from unknown assailants. The smell of blood and blast plasma strong in your nose even while unconscious. You saw the sneering face of a Twi’lek twist in agony and purple blood painted his face before he winked out of existence, replaced in your mindscape with bloody hands. Your hands. Then there was cold beskar on your cheek and strong arms hauling you from the carnage. Harsh wind in your ears and the ground spiraling away beneath you. The howling wind so loud you couldn't hear the questions being barked in your face. Pain, the smell of burning skin, then nothing. You felt objects moving frantically nearby, and something soft and green was pressing into your ribs. Your eyes, heavy as they were, fluttered open to see two huge black orbs staring up from your side where bright red blood was staining the sheets under you. Is that ... my blood?

“Hey green bean...what’cha up to?” Your voice was hoarse and weak, scratching its way out reluctantly past chapped lips. Talking made your head pound, you reached up to cradle your aching skull when two leather tipped hands caught yours and held them steady.

“Easy... Don’t move too much. Please.” Your hands were gently set back down at your sides, shooting pain up your arms. A large black and silver body was hunched beside you, frantically sticking bacta patches to your skin.

“Mand...do? What…what happened?” Your voice was barely a whisper, so faint the recycled air of the cabin threatened to whisk it away.

“You got the bastard, but that fucking Twi' managed to get a shot off in your gut point blank before he went down. You shouldn't have survived that but you did.” Is that a compliment? He was wrapping a long gauze bandage around your arm, fixing the bacta patches in place so they could do their thing. It hurt, but not as much as you thought it should have. Down by your side the child had rolled into you face first, passed out cold next to an emergency cauterizer. Mando nodded at his sleeping son, “And if it wasn’t for him, you’d be dead for sure.”

The baby? How is he involved with this? Thoughts echoed loudly in your skull, and you decided that thinky time was over. The little guy had the right idea, you should sleep now, embrace the comfort of the dark behind your eyes, let it swallow you whole.

“Hey hey hey! Not yet. Stay with me, ok? You need to drink something. Here.” An armored hand slid under your head, urging you to sit up just enough to take a drink out of the metal canteen pressed against your lips. “You need to stay awake, just for a little while.” Cool water graced your dry mouth and dripped onto your chin. Embarrassed by your mess you tried to wipe the droplets away but once again your arms were halted in place. A rough piece of fabric dabbed at your face.

“I’m not a baby, Mando. I can take care of myself.” The creeping sting of blast-burn that still scalded your skin told you that might not be true. The bacta was just starting to seep into your bloodstream, but it would take some time to work its magic.

“I know that. I was with you down there in the fray. A rancor would have been less terrifying to face than you. But right now I need you to hold still.”

Another compliment? Or was that sarcasm? You’re losing your edge, tin man. You tried to roll your eyes but the effort made your head spin; you glanced around the cabin, trying to avoid meeting the visor that was pinning you to the cot. Strewn about the floor of the ship was what was left of your holsters and weapons, splattered with red and purple blood. You couldn’t be sure, but it looked like one belt had been blasted to smithereens, torn strips of leather the only indication it had been there at all. Farther away you saw a dark block in the carbonite freezer. The Twi’lek from your nightmare was frozen solid, though from his limp posture you guessed he had stopped moving long before he was put in the chamber. One of his long lekku had been cut clean off, and even in carbonite you could see the wound was fresh. Something long and curved stuck victoriously out of the center of his chest. Your vibroblade, lodged to the hilt in his sternum.

Mando was still kneeling on the floor by your side, and though you couldn’t see his face his hunched shoulders gave you the feeling that he was distraught. He still had your head resting in his palm, his thumb absently toying with your hair. Maybe it was the bacta running through your system that made you start to feel warm and gooey on the inside, but the sensation of his hand on your scalp felt... nice. Nice to be touched in a way that wasn't just for survival. Though you had already felt his hands on your body this was something else entirely. Sincere. Maybe it was just the first time somebody near you wasn't trying to kill or capture you. You foolish girl, you've already been captured. Are you so lonely that a gentle touch makes you melt? Maybe it's you that's losing your edge.

"You should have left me for dead, cashed in on that half credit reward."

"That is not The Way." His mantra was rehearsed, spoken as easily as he drew breath, but you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

“Well... thank you for not letting me bleed out.” You could see the top of the baby's green little noggin still curled up against your side, though the part of your ribs he was leaning on didn’t have a single mark. You looked for the blast wound that Mando was supposedly talking about, but aside from a handful of plasma burns your skin was smooth and healthy; the pool of dried blood under you was the only indication anything had been there at all. What kind of mando magic is that? And what did he mean about the child? Your first thought was how disappointed you were there wouldn’t be a good scar. Your second was realizing your top was missing. Shreds of it were still on your shoulders, but the front had been ripped off completely to get to your vanished wounds. Mando seemed like he didn’t even care, he had been so focused on patching you up that the idea of modesty was thrown out the window, but you couldn’t help teasing him. “There’s not a scratch on me, Mando. You just wanted me topless, didn’t you?”

His thumb on your scalp froze, his visor going from your face to your chest with rapid snaps. Without letting your head drop he used his other hand to tear his cloak from his back and throw it over you and the sleeping baby. “Better?”

Party pooper. “Yes, thank you.” Why is he being so nice? He must have ulterior motives, right? Why keep me alive if not to cash in on that bounty? You decided to push his buttons some more. “This bed sucks. Is this why you're so crotchety? Because you sleep on this Maker-forsaken thing? It’s making my back hurt.”

The cot you were on was spartan at best, more of a cloth covered bucket than a bed. It was recessed into the wall opposite of the armory, bits of machinery and droid parts hanging over the space above you. There wasn’t much of a gap between your head and the durasteel plating of the ship’s hull. Your teasing was rewarded with a long, tired sigh. The hand that cushioned your head moved down to your shoulders, pushing on you so that you sat up straight. You scooped the baby off of your side and into your arms, trying to ignore the dried blood from your wounds that stained the sheets before swaddling the sleeping bean in his father’s cloak. The metal man rose from the floor, letting go of you just long enough to remove his cross-belts and unlatch his chest plate, setting them on the floor with a dull thunk. He squished himself between the wall and your back, his dorsal plate scraping loudly without its cape. He scooched one armored leg around you until it was between your hip and the wall on your side, pulling you into his lap and turning his whole body into a pillow, letting your torso rest on his. He was used to the sharp metal bed frame, but that didn’t mean you should be subjected to it.

“Is this ok?”

You could only nod, your cheeks flushing red with a mix of emotions. It was more than ok, his formidable body was warm and comfortable. His arms wrapped around your waist, helping to support not only you but also his foundling. The spice of him was strong now with him on your back, worn leather and metal and that damn fresher soap that was making a fool out of you. Underneath his steady breathing the sound of something rhythmic caught your attention, it was quick and faint, but unmistakably the sound of his heartbeat. His heart is racing. Listen to that engine purr.

Behind you a man with a name you may never know watched your chest slowly rise and fall with each breath, not with lust but something unfamiliar though not unwelcome. He could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, whether from the ordeal of keeping you alive or the fact that you were in his arms again he couldn't be sure. He sighed, trying to convince himself to calm down, but the deep breath he took only flooded his senses with the essence of you, threatening to melt the beskar off his head with the heat rushing to his face. He couldn't help the way his fingers traced over your skin, careful not to undo any of the bacta patches. He jumped slightly when your hands found his, but the weight of the child still in your arms made it difficult to reach your fingers. The glove you were touching was suddenly empty, and a bare hand snaked out from under the cloak that kept you modest. With the press of a button the child’s pram floated its way over to you from the supply crates. The baby’s adopted father carefully lifted the sleeping creature off your lap and into his hover crib, another button press on the vambrace and the shield door slid closed.

His hand returned to the safety of the cloak, pulling the other glove off before finding your fingers again. His skin was so warm you couldn't help but imagine his hands somewhere more intimate. Evil, evil bacta... Maybe you wouldn't have to.

"I should thank you properly." It was impossible to hide the tiredness of your voice, but he was close enough you only needed to whisper. His grasp tightened around you, your once plush pillow was now a rigid wall of muscle.

"You should go to sleep." the sound of his baritone words so close to your ear made your skin prickle. Too late for that. Slowly you guided his hand down your belly until your tangled hands bumped into your belt line. A low growl rumbled out of the modulator. “Cyar'ika... you need to rest."

The alien term of endearment made you hum, but you ignored his words of warning and pushed his hand under the tough fabric till his fingertips found your heat, both of you gasping softly at first contact. His free hand fumbled with your button, and after some difficulty you undid it for him along with the zipper. With space to work, with his wrist moved freely, lazily rolling a calloused fingertip against your clit; remembering his lesson from the first time he experienced your body, his touch was light as a feather.

There wasn’t much you could do for him in the position you were in, so you leaned back against him and relaxed, letting him enjoy you at his own pace. The bottom of his helmet was pressed into the crook of your neck, and though it was sharp you could feel something warm and soft underneath it. So there is a real man under there. Scruffy stubble brushed at your skin and sent goosebumps down your chest. Under the beskar his eyes followed the prickling trail that lead under the tattered cloak you still wore to your breasts, watching the way the fabric pointed where your nipples grew hard for him. His other hand couldn’t resist finding its way to your pert peaks, rolling them between his fingers in that way he knew flushed you with heat. Soft gasps rewarded his ears as he worked at your breast and clit, rubbing them in tandem. Your hips rolled into one hand and your back arched into the other, urging him to help you build your climax. He obliged, adding a second finger to pinch your clit softly between strong digits until you fell apart around him.

The pressure that was building behind you and pressing into your spine told you that if you wanted more from him you would have to give him a better angle. You started to get up, but the hands on your sensitive spots held you in place.

“What about your injuries? I don’t want to hurt you.” What injuries? There’s nothing left! His voice was filled with sincerity, a far cry from your first encounter. You didn’t answer him, instead you found each of his hands and squeezed them with a hum, asking him to trust that the bacta had set in and made you comfortable enough to move from your impromptu med bay. He slid his fingers out from your burning core, dragging the wetness from your cunt over your skin until his palms were on your back, helping to push you up off of him. The teeny tiny bed frame made it difficult to spin yourself around until you were facing him, and even more difficult to kick your pants off as you passed over top of him, but he never took his hands away from you to keep you steady until you were seated in his lap.

Straddling his waist you rolled your hips over where his cock was hidden from you, making him shudder under your legs. His arms glided from your knees to your hips, languidly making their way up your sides and past your breasts to the last remaining tatters of the black knit sweater he had allowed you to wear. Hooking a thumb under its ruined edges, he slid it up over your arms and cast it away into the darkness of the ship. His hands went right back to working at your breasts, massaging them like dough in time with your grinding hips. You took a moment to admire how he looked underneath you, his remaining armor glinting in the hazy ship light as his hands searched for every sensitive inch of your chest. You knew from legend that his helmet could never be removed in front of you, but you’d never heard anything about the rest of his clothes. Where his chest plate had been was a strappy flak jacket dotted with magnetic fasteners. Your hands went slowly to the first clasp, and the hands that were so indulged in you froze, his body stiff between your legs.

“Is this ok?” The irony of you repeating his question from earlier back to him made your lips turn in a sly smile.

“Y-yes.” His voice was nearly imperceptible, and you realized that he was shaking. You looked to his visor, watching him nod in consent before you continued. He dropped his hands to your hips, pulling down on your thighs and rutting up into you while you busied yourself with the complicated under armor until it fell away at his sides, revealing a pair of suspenders and an identical black knit tunic as the one that had been shredded off of you. You didn’t have the energy to peel every article of clothing off of him, so this would have to do. Without his cloak bunched around his shoulders you were able to see the flesh of his throat, so warm and inviting that you wanted to sink your teeth into it.

You bent down to nibble at the exposed skin, and the filthy moan that rattled out of the helmet sent shivers down your spine. The taste of him was exquisite, better than you could have imagined under all that fabric and leather. The overwhelming cocktail of his scent straight from the source made you bold. You kissed your way around the edge of his helmet where the metal met his skin until you found his pulse point and made good on your desires. His body convulsed when you bit down, sucking at the tender skin until you left blooming marks that would be there for days.

“Cyar'ika... Please...“ There was that word again, you didn’t know what it meant but the way he breathed it like a prayer felt like warm honey in your belly. Releasing his tormented neck you ran your hands down his broad chest until your thumbs bumped the leather suspenders that lead you down to his waist line where you were able to tug the edge of his shirt free, giving you a delicious window of his tummy; well-muscled and dusted with dark brown hair.

“What’s wrong, tin man? Nobody ever touch you like this before?” He was still shaking while you ran your hands under the edge of his shirt and through the soft treasure trail of fuzz from the top of his belt line to the bottom of his ribs. He couldn’t answer you, his breath caught in his throat at the sensation of your hands on his skin, but you were starting to put the pieces of his puzzle together. No, probably not.

You decided not to torture him any longer. The fabric of his pants was nearly stretched to capacity and wet with your slick. You had to stretch one leg out onto the floor to get enough of a footing to lift yourself high enough off him that you could free him from the canvas prison. His cock nearly burst out of its confines, and your face flushed red at the sight of him standing proudly at attention, twitching in your hands with a flood of shimmering precum made just for you.

His chest was heaving, ragged breaths forcing their way out of his modulator before you’d even taken his length. You used your hips to notch him at your entrance and his grip on your thighs clenched like a steel trap. Slowly you lowered yourself onto him, letting him fill you until you were stretched wide. Your eyes met his visor, though from the way it was tilted you knew he was watching himself disappear into you. His arms wrapped tightly under your ass as he thrust into you hard enough that he lifted you off the cot, quickly scooting both your bodies down the bed until he was flat on his back. You tried to stay upright, but his pounding soon had your head spinning until you were falling forward into his chest, digging your arms around his shoulders in a way you were becoming familiar with. Your hands found their way to the back of his helmet to where his hair line started, sneaking a few fingers under the metal edge to tangle in his curls. The Mandalorian’s hands were on your waist, holding you in place while he rocketed up into you, filling the ships cabin with the sound of wet slaps. His thick cock hit different from this angle, grinding up against the sweet spot deep inside you with each rut until you started seeing stars behind your eyes. He could feel you building up around him and he quickened his pace until you were gasping his name.

“M-mando! I... I’m gonna....” Your muscles coiled with heat until you burst, your sweet cunt fluttering around his still pumping cock until he went cascading over the edge of ecstasy with you, his helmet vibrating with a guttural roar. His feverish body shook, giving you a few short thrusts to milk the cum from his cock until it spilled out from where he was lost inside you.

His shaky arms held onto you so tightly, as if you would blast away into space if he let go. The endorphins flooding his head made him want to pour his heart out and tell you everything, bare himself in body and soul for the first time in his life. He wanted to tell you how nice you had looked in his clothes, how the loose knit fabric draped over your breasts was a work of art; even more so when you were standing before him armed to the teeth in his hunting trophies. How seeing you slice that fucking Twi’lek to ribbons was more graceful than any ballet. The sight of the bloody hole that had been burned into your side had made his skin crawl. Mando wasn’t ready to explain the child’s healing powers, he barely understood them himself; but if it wasn’t for the baby he would have been burying your corpse instead of tending your wounds. Instead of experiencing your living body like he was now.

His heart fluttered at the thought of his foundling healing you with his baby sorcerer magic, his tiny green paws pushed on your side where the blood was spilling from your wound. The thought of you dying for his bounty made him sick, but pride flushed the sensation away when he thought back to that first day with you up in the flight deck. How when his baby boy was restless that you acted, not with malice but with tenderness and care. He'd never wanted to rip his helmet off faster in all his days than when you sang his son a lullaby, the sweet tune of it filtering through his sensory equipment, and he longed to hear it as it was meant to be. In that moment he had been entranced, but the fierce glare of his visor had made you feel threatened. He didn't want that. He wanted to make you feel safe. The same way you had made his child feel, the same way you made him feel now. Like the galaxy itself couldn’t tear you from him.

But the ugly truth was that soon it would all end when you both went your separate ways. All the feelings he wanted to confess to you died in his mouth, leaving a bitter taste that brought him back to reality. You still straddled his waist, and though the blood had long since left his cock it still sat neatly in your heat, letting him feel your gentle heartbeat around him. Carefully he pulled himself free from the apex of your thighs and rolled you both sideways onto the unforgiving cot, letting gravity shuffle you down until you were nestled in the crook of his arm. He couldn’t help brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, meeting your half lidded eyes with his own behind the visor.

“I don’t think I can get to the fresher this time.” Your voice was barely a whisper, and the edges of sleep crept unbidden to your eyes; the traumatic activities of the day finally winning over your endurance. “You’re probably going to have to burn these sheets.”

Mando hummed with indifference, though for you he would burn all of Tatooine down if you asked. All the lovely thoughts that had danced through his mind came rolling through again, haloed in the warm light of afterglow. Only one made its way past his lips, sneaking out of the helmets’ modulator like a prayer.

“How does the song end?”

“Mmm?” You were so close to sleep, so cozy and full of cum that you knew would be a fun mess for morning-you to clean up. You wracked your brain trying to remember what the hell he was talking about. The star-shanty? “Why, do you need a lullaby too?”

“N-no. Just curious. When you leave, my foundling might ask me about it.” Liar. The calloused hand gliding up and down your spine brought the original contract you made with him ringing through your skull. One hunt and I’m gone.

“Leave? I’m not going anywhere until I see you tell Karga face to face that I’m rotting in a sarlacc pit. No take-backs. That old dog will probably dance when he hears he won’t have to part with his credits and I want to catch it on holo-corder.”

The rumbling sigh deep in his chest sounded more like an engine powering down than a mortal man, and it told you more than words ever could. The arm you had around his chest was met with strong fingers that intertwined with your own. He doesn’t want me to go. Who are you, Mandalorian?

“Tell me anyway? Please?” His arms tightened like a fortress around you. His words were distant, echoing out from somewhere in dreamland instead of right by your ear. Alright you big softie, if you’re going to beg me. You sighed heavily against him, trying to recall the songs of your distant past.

“The nights are long between the stars, and lonely too for me,

I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

But the bonds of friendship I have formed will last my lifetime through,

Security is not for me, my dreams are all of you.”

The same soft snores that had been your original encore with the baby now ghosted in your ear, muffled by the mysterious beskar helmet but still unmistakable. Like father like son.

The weight of his arms around you was like nothing you had ever felt in your years on the run. You had traveled so far and met so many living beings but not once had you let another share your bed while you slept. You could get used to this. The thought was the last you had before sleep overtook you, your body slumping against his while you dreamed of silver and steel.

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xwing-baby · 3 years

Text

Impulse: El Ojo (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

Summary: Top of your class, the DEA have sent you to Colombia to be the poster child for their new ‘placement program’. You’re thrown in at the deep end into the drug war. With Agent Peña as your mentor, what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: swearing, injury to reader, alcohol and drug abuse, threatening with guns, brief mentions of torture, description of injury and blood, unwanted touching, flirting, bad thought processes (addiction). PINK SHIRT

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Had a little change of plan last week, this is now the final chapter of this series. I am so sad to end it now, I’ve loved writing this so much. My first time writing for Narcos so thank you so much for all the support y’all I’ve given me with this. I love you all. I hope you enjoy this chapter!!

<-- Previous Chapter // Masterlist // Next Chapter -->

You were on a winning streak. Since you’d found the list of sicarios and matched that up with the more current information, you’d presented it to Carrillo and surprisingly he was on board. With his help, you had brought down five, admittedly low level but increasingly more valuable, sicarios. If you didn’t think about the torture and abuse each of them undertook once captured, used to break them into more telling more information, you could say you were doing a good job. Escobar’s organisation was shaking. You were coming for him.

You and Steve leant against a wall, soaking up the sunshine chatting amongst yourselves when you saw Javier arrive. You hadn’t expected him to come at all, having disappeared without a word early on in the morning. He parked his truck close by, walking over to you and Steve with his vest in hand. You grinned and jabbed Steve when you saw the shirt Javi was wearing.

The pink shirt had been a long-standing joke since you’d found it in his closet a few months ago. He had many colourful shirts, was known for them, but the pink one always seemed like another level. You and Steve teased him about it constantly, though you had to admit it did look good on him now. Javi scowled when he saw you and Steve’s mischievous grins, immediately realising his mistake.

“I know you get called the Whore of Bogata but you don’t need to dress like it! Jesus christ Javi!” You fanned yourself with your hand, grinning at him, “really I’m going to need a minute,” Javi flipped you off as you laughed hard.

“Shut up, I look great,” He grumbled.

“Just thinking about the poor flamingo you rinsed for that colour,” Steve joined in the teasing, shaking his head sadly.

“You are just jealous you could never pull this colour off,” Javi said smugly. You laughed.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come out today, could be quite distracting,” You said, pretending to be thoughtful. Javi’s frowned, only making you and Steve laugh more, “Aw don’t get pissy, Baby. We love you really” You teased him in a mocking voice, pouting at him. “You and your flamboyant choices,” You ruffled his hair up as you passed him. He tried to duck out the way but you caught him. He shoved you away, muttering expletives under his breath. You skipped a few paces out of his reach, flipped him off.

“L/n!” Somebody called your name across the street, one of the technicians you’d been talking to before Javier arrived. You left Steve and Javier to talk.

The technician explained the problem again, showing you the options for moving forward. It was quite common that things would go wrong before any kind of mission. Today was no different, the technicians had lost a signal and were now not sure that the address you had swarmed was correct.

You chewed your nails while you thought. You could risk getting the wrong house, letting the sicarios know you were on to them and you’d lose them again. You could come back another day, but risk losing them again. Or you could ransack some innocent person's house and have Carrillo on your ass for ruining his reputation in the one week he’d left you in charge.

If you messed this up it would mean your stronghold would be lost. There would be time for them to work out what was going on and move everything again.

At a loss, you excused yourself needing to take a break and a few minutes alone to think without soldiers trying to put in their two cents.

As your work life had become more stressful over the last months. You had found some relief in, ironically, coke. It wasn’t a habit you were trying to form, but you had learnt just what good taking just a little bit could do for you. It quietened down your worried brain and made you simultaneously more aware of everything. You were better when you were just a little bit high.

You had started keeping a small amount in your pocket. Hidden in a small sewing tin in your jacket pocket, you had started keeping a little coke on you especially for moments like this. You could take it, have a breather, and come back with a solution. It was fine. Nobody would know.

You’d spotted a cafe across the road, and hoped they had a restroom. You gave an excuse to the soldier you’d been talking to and walked across the street.

“Oi Rookie!” Javi called as he noticed you walk past on the opposite side of the street. “Where are you going?”

“Going to the bathroom. Women’s issues,” You called back, Javi and Steve grimaced. That was always the best excuse.

While you wouldn’t do it at the compound you didn’t have any reservation here. You’d been itching for a hit all morning and there was only so much more you could take. You walked into the cafe, asked for the direction of the restroom, and locked the door behind you once you were inside. Small, dark and stinking of pee, it was not the best place but hygiene wasn’t particularly an issue you were worried about.

You tipped a small amount from the box onto the sink counter, lined it up with a card from your pocket, bent down and took it up your nose. You grimaced, while it had burnt your nose somewhat it still stung. But it was worth it when the feeling began to kick in. You smiled at your reflection and double-checked your appearance in the mirror, wiping your nose. Nobody could ever tell.

As usual, the drug kicked your brain into gear again and everything fell into place. The raid went brilliantly, by pure coincidence you’d bagged two sicarios in one as your original target had invited your next round for dinner with his new girlfriend. Your plan well into the swing of things now, much to everyone’s surprise.

—

Like every weekend for the last three months, you were going out. The line between enemies and friends was long since blurred, hanging out with ‘Isabela’s’ friends was not an issue. Most of the time you weren’t even trying to get anything from them, you’d got what you needed months ago. As fun as Javier and Steve were, it was much more enjoyable to hang out with people your age. And they wouldn’t give you cocaine, María had it on tap.

You were dressed up, recently treating yourself to a new outfit as a job well done. A black off the shoulder top, covered in lace, and a little black mini skirt. You felt sexy, you were going to have a very good night.

“Rookie!” Javier called out to you as he came out of the apartment building. You were standing outside waiting for a taxi, smoking a cigarette.

“Javi, baby, you’re looking slick! Where are you going?” You checked him out. He wore his signature tight blue jeans and an equally tight black shirt that was almost bursting at the seams. He looked incredible, as he always did.

You were thankful that things had gone back to normal between you and Javier. The awkward stepping around each other had gone, you weren’t jealous. You acknowledged you would probably always like him a little more than was professional but that had fallen into a fun flirty banter that more than anything just wound Steve up.

You found yourself calling him Baby more than his name, it’d started as a joke to get back at him for always calling you Rookie but now it was so commonplace people had stopped picking you up on it if it slipped out while you were working.

It was fun. You cared for each other, that was clear to even a blind man, but there was no romanticism to the relationship anymore. There was no need. It wasn’t good for either of you. You’d found a comfortable rhythm and were going to stick to it.

“Out,” He shrugged, “That’s a new top,”

“You noticed?”

“Course, can’t keep my eyes off you,” He purred, happily playing along with your game.

“Thought you’d be more interested in the skirt,”

“Will you two quit it?” Steve’s voice interrupted your flirting as he walked down the stairs. You barked in laughter.

“Steve! So it’s a boys night I see? Where was my invite?”

“Figured you’d have your own plans,” Steve said.

“And you are correct Murphy but it’s always polite to ask,”

“Next time,” He assured you. “Where are you going tonight?”

“I don’t know. Some club, El Ojo or something?” You shrugged, “Seeing as this is maybe Isabela’s last time out I am going to go out with a bang, literally,” You raised an eyebrow, insinuation of your worlds made Steve roll his eyes.

You were hoping within the next few weeks to be able to close in on some higher level sicarios and associates to Escobar. Drawing the noose in slowly so he wouldn’t notice until it’d choked him. That meant your position as Isabela was going to have to come to an end to keep you safe from your own program. You’d discussed it at length with Peña and Murphy, while you didn’t agree you had to listen to them. They were still your superiors after all, no matter how close friends you were.

“If you told past you you were going to willingly sleep with a Narco I think you would have passed out,” Steve laughed.

“I’m a changed woman Murphy, what can I say,” You smirked, “Imagine what I’ll be like by the end of the year,”

“God help us,” Javier shook his head, a smirk plastered on his face. You laughed and stubbed out your cigarette with your shoe as your taxi pulled around the corner.

“Here’s my ride. Have a good night, boys. I will be back in the morning,”

—

El Ojo was just as María had told you. Modern and smoke-filled, people were filling every inch of the space. You walked in and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face. This was exactly what you needed. Crowds were anonymous, nobody cared who you were or what you were doing. Everyone was just there for one reason, to have a good time.

You ordered a drink at the bar, flirting with the man next to you briefly before taking the drink and finding your friends. As usual, they were up in the VIP area, courtesy of the Parreño name. You walked up and were let inside the cordoned-off area to find Diego stood up on his seat, wild-eyed, shouting about something. It wasn’t until you got closer that you heard what he was saying.

“I’m telling you Isabela is lying!” He shouted above the music.

“What’s going on?” You asked. None of the ten people surrounding the booth noticed your approach, their eyes shifting awkwardly when they saw you.

“You! You’re a liar!” Diego pointed down at you, hatred burning behind his eyes.

“What is going on?” You asked again. You looked around for María, she was usually the one to step between you and Diego, but she was nowhere to be seen. This was not the kind of conversation you’d wanted for this evening.

“You were the only one to survive that raid at Carlos’,” He continued, jumping off the couch to your level, “That fucking maniac Carrillo killed everyone but you! You’re working with them, aren’t you?”

“You’ve lost it,” You rolled your eyes, “Completely lost it,”

“You don’t deny it!” He yelled. You gulped, trying not to look scared of the man but the rage in his eyes was shaking you. You stepped backwards as he advanced toward you

“You’re insane!” You laughed in his face, “I’m not a fucking spy, especially not for Carrillo,”

“Bullshit,” He spat, Suddenly he pulled a gun from his back, waving it in your face. People shouted and screamed around you, scattering as the metal glinted in the light. Your eyes remained on his, not saying a word as he pressed the barrel into your neck. You didn’t move, barely breathing, “You’re a fucking rat,” He growled.

“Diego!” Finally, María stepped in, running over when she heard the commotion. “Stop it, put it away. Idiot,” She pulled the gun from his hand, standing firmly between you and him. “Ignore him. He’s paranoid. Someone’s leaking information and he thinks it's you because he’s a jealous asshole,” Maria explained, swiftly pushing him backwards until he sat back in the booth again, “How fucking ridiculous would that be? You? A spy!”

“Insane,” You agreed through a clenched jaw. Diego continued to glare at you dangerously, leaning over to whisper something to a friend.

“I swear if we get banned from this club because of you Diego I am leaving you,” María said angrily, “Come on, I want to party,” She linked her arm through you, not caring that you were still in shock from having a gun held to you, and dragged you to the bar.

Fortunately, copious amounts of vodka and tequila were great for calming your nerves. In a few hours, you had nearly forgotten the entire ordeal. You couldn’t think about anything more than the music ringing in your ears and how good it felt dancing on the stranger behind you.

After a while, María pulled you back up to the booth where Diego and his friends were still sitting. You did your best to ignore him, chatting to one of the girls at the table instead. You laughed and did a few lines, generally relaxing into the evening. So relaxed you didn’t notice the newest member of the group until he finally addressed you.

“Don’t I know you?” You looked over and panic spread over you like a bucket of ice water over your head sobering you almost instantly. He did know you. The man before you was the first man you had arrested, almost six months ago. He must have been bailed out for jail.

“No,” You answered confidently. You didn’t lie. You didn’t know him, not really.

“Gabriel, sit down!” María cheered, “Isabela this is my cousin, Gabriel. Gabriel, Isabela,” She introduced you. Her cousin. Of course. You smiled politely, praying the dim lights would hide the nervous sweat that had overtaken you.

Gabriel looked confused but didn’t say anything if he did recognise you. Not that that would matter anyway, as soon as he spoke to Diego his memory would no doubt be jogged. If he found out you were a DEA agent you would be dead. You had to leave.

“Here take my seat, I’ve got to get some air for a minute,” You stood up, letting him take your place next to Maria. You caught Diego’s suspicious look as you walked past, spotting the nearest exit door.

Your hands were shaking, your body not sure what to do with itself. The cocaine and alcohol said to go back inside and take them all out. What was left of your rational brain was consumed by fear and kept you outside. It was bad enough if someone like Senator Parreño had suspicions about you but Diego? Gabriel? Diego had already shown he wasn’t afraid to threaten you in public. Of the two of them joined heads they would connect the dots and your cover would be blown wide open. So would you, you thought morbidly. Coke and anger never mixed well.

You took breathes of the warm summer air, leaning against the wall of the club as you tried to calm yourself down. You shouldn’t have taken the last shot, now verging over the edge of blacking out; your vision was spotty, sound not registering properly and your tongue felt heavy in your mouth.

You wondered if Steve and Javi were nearby, the fresh air having the opposite effect than you’d wanted. You would blackout and you were going to need help to get home if you did. But you didn’t recall either of the men telling you where they were going, they could be anywhere in the city.

Stumped for the moment, you decided to wait it out, lighting a cigarette hoping that might help sober you up. You pulled the packet from your purse

“Need a light?” A man appeared next to you, lighter in hand. You nodded and he flicked the flame up, you bent over and lit your cigarette between your teeth.

“Thanks,” You mumbled, turning away from him, hoping he would leave. He didn’t. Instead, the man continued to stare at you, following you into your personal space as you shuffled away from him.

“Can I help you?” You snapped, immediately getting a bad feeling about him. You crossed your arms over your chest, frowning at him.

“No need for that tone baby. Come on, I wanna talk to you,” He purred. His eyes dipped to your cleavage, a lustful look in his eyes.

“I’m not interested,” You said, stepping backwards away from the man. He seemingly didn’t hear you, continuing to get into your personal space, arms reaching out to grab your hips.

“You were interested earlier. Come on, baby,” He purred, pulling you close to him, pressing his hips against yours.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You yelled, pushing him off hard enough to make him stumble backwards.

“Fucking bitch,” He growled.

If you were sober the situation would have a very swift end. You would punch him square in the face and he would leave you alone, scuttling away with a broken jaw and a shattered ego. However, you were not in a state to do that now. He had the upper hand. All you could do was run, hoping once you were back amongst people he wouldn’t attack you. You looked up the alley, the open street was just a few feet away.

You bolted.

Unfortunately just as you didn’t have enough coordination to punch the man, you didn’t have enough to run in heels on the uneven floor. Not even ten foot away your legs wobble, heels falling into a pothole sending you forward. You fell into a dumpster, head hitting the corner of the metal with a thud. You yelped, vision going black for a moment as you lay on the concrete.

“Hey hey hey,” A man ran over, instantly scaring the man off of you. He knelt by your side and helped you up from where you’d fallen. You groaned and pushed yourself up, head throbbing harshly, warm liquid trickling down your face. Your world was spinning even with your eyes closed. “Y/n, Fuck are you okay?”

“Get off me!” You exclaimed, trying to push the stranger off, not that your shaking arms were very effective.

“Y/n hey it’s me, you’re okay!” You looked up and saw Steve through a haze of blurred vision. You squinted as something dripped over your eye. Steve then saw the cut to your head, “Oh shit,” Your eyes are glassy and blown out, you mumbled something to him and pushed yourself out of his reach again, wobbling and tipping backwards. He caught you before you hit the floor again. “Y/n what are you doing out here? Weren’t you with your friends?”

“Her brother was the first guy,” You said, your speech slurred so much Steve barely understood what you were saying.

“Rookie, you’re not making sense. What are you on about?”

“I’m so fucked,” You sighed, letting your head rollback. You giggled as the world spun.

“Yeah, I can tell, come on let’s get you home,” Steve stood up, holding his hands out to you and pulled you up to standing again.

“Where’s Peña?” You asked.

“At the bar,”

“I want to go talk to him, let’s go talk to him!” You exclaimed. You began to walk in the opposite direction, dragging Steve along by the arm. He pulled you back with ease.

“You can talk to him in the morning, we’re going home,” He insisted.

“But I have to tell him about the brother he’s going -,” Your rambling was interrupted as you threw up, barely missing Steve’s leg. He grimaced and jumped out of the way, “I have to talk to him,” You said quietly once you were done.

“Tomorrow, Kid,” He repeated himself.

You pouted, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes but you didn’t fight him. Despite how drunk you were you knew that going home would realistically be the best course of action right now. You could barely string a sentence together let alone get anything important out coherently.

Steve got you into a taxi, luckily the driver paid no attention to the blood dripping down your face. You were falling asleep on his shoulder as you pulled up to the apartment, Steve pulled you out of the car and up the stairs to the apartment. Only when he opened the door, he was met by Javier and Vanessa also on their way inside.

“Woah!” Javier instantly turned his full attention to you when he saw the state you were in, hanging onto Steve’s sleeve, “What happened?”

“Some guy tried to touch her up, she hit her head, I’ve got it covered,” Steve explained.

“Hey Baby,” You grinned, obviously giving Javi a once over.

“She doesn’t look alright,” Vanessa commented, “Did she just call you baby?”

“It’s a long story,” Javi dismissed the comment. “She doesn’t look okay,”

“I’ve got it covered. I’ll get her to throw up and get some water to sober her up,” Steve said, “We’ll be okay, won’t we Rook?”

“Fine and dandy!” You grinned.

“If you’re sure,” Javi said hesitantly. You were gone, hanging onto Steve’s arm to hold yourself up. Your eyes were blown out and blank, if you remembered anything in the morning it would be a miracle. His first reaction was to help you, not sure Steve could handle you alone. Steve wasn’t exactly sober himself, sinking a good few beers with Javier in the bar before he’d left. However, his decision was made for him as you and Steve began walking up the stairs, Vanessa’s hands were back on him and any worry was squashed as she dragged him into his apartment.

Upstairs, Steve took you into his apartment. He took you to the bathroom, sat you on top of the toilet and rooted around the medicine cabinet to find some cleaning supplies so he could patch up your bleeding head.

“Connie’s probably got something in here,” He rooted through the cabinet. Connie had gone back to Miami for the week to see her family, inconveniently right when her skills were needed. Steve’s tipsy attempt at first aid would have to do,“Ah-ha! Here we go, clean that cut out with this,”

“Ow!” You whined, flinching away from him quickly when he showed you the antiseptic bottle.

“I didn’t touch you,” Steve chuckled, “Hold still,” Carefully he poured the liquid over a cotton ball, took hold of your face in the other hand and dabbed the cotton on your cut.

“Ow! Steve that fucking hurt,” You complained, flinching away from him as the alcohol stung the wound on your head. You frowned at him, tearing up a little.

“Don’t be a baby,”

“I am a baby!” You exclaimed. Steve grabbed hold of you again, he needed to clean the wound if it was going to heal properly. You whined and hissed at him but eventually, it was clear.

“Look, all done, got the grit out,”

“Thanks, Steve,” You kissed his cheek quickly.

“You’re welcome,” He laughed awkwardly. “Come on, you can’t sleep on my toilet. Bedtime,”

“You’re not my type,” You scrunched your nose and leant away from him.

“Ouch way to break my heart Rook,” Steve chuckled, “No, you’re going to your own bed, by yourself,”

“It's so far away!” You whined.

“It's across the hall!” He copied your tone making you laugh.

Steve pulled you up from the toilet and managed to wrangle you across the hall. Half asleep, leaning into Steve before you even got inside the apartment, you fell into bed without protest. Steve pulled off your shoes, throwing them on the ground before stumbling back to his apartment to collapse in his bed.

—

Waking up in your apartment unsure of how you got there, was a strange feeling. What was even stranger was the harsh throbbing on your head. You blindly brought a hand to the sight, recoiling instantly as you touched something sore. You sat up, slowly opening your eyes to the daylight and looked at your reflection in the mirror opposite your bed.

You groaned when you saw the gash on your forehead. Dried blood sat in the creases of your neck, and underside of your jaw as well as being crusted into your hair. You tried to remember how you’d gotten the injury but came up blank. You couldn’t remember anything from the night before. Not unusual for your almost nihilistic habits, but it was concerning given the infliction.

You looked at the clock. 9 am. You’d slept in. Since you were up you decided to clean yourself up. You padded to your bathroom, wincing at the harsh light inside and the grinding sound of the extractor fan. You filled the sink with warm water and gently cleaned the blood from your face with a cloth, only once stopping to throw up into the toilet.

You showered, hot steam help clear your brain fog but not helping the cut on your forehead which now stung immensely. But that wasn’t the feeling you were concentrating on.

A new kind of hunger, one you weren’t yet familiar with had settled in on the back of your tongue. A repeating idea chanting over and over in your head. It had partly been cocaine’s fault you’d got into this mess, but it would get you out of this hangover now.

You remembered you had some in your jacket pocket from the day before, leftover. Once you’d thought about it there was no stopping you. You didn’t have to take it all, you could stop yourself if you wanted. You pulled the tin out from your coat, sit it down on your dressing table while you pulled on some clothes.

You sat back at the dressing-table again once you were done and stared at the box. You’d not done it here more than once or twice. Never by yourself. Something about being at home with it made you feel guilty, possibly because you were surrounded by your friends who also happened to be DEA agents who would kill you if they found the stuff in the building.

You picked up the box, contemplating it. You could get something done if you took it. Wouldn’t have to sit in your hungover state and wallow in self-pity until the headache left. You could go for a walk. Do nice things. Taking the cocaine would bring you nice things, as it always did.

You opened it.

“Morning,” Javier’s voice inside your apartment suddenly startled you, causing you to spill the contents of your box all over your dressing table.

“Fuck,” You swore out loud.

“Okay in there?” You regretted giving him a key. You did not need the interruption. His voice snapped you back to reality. You decided you didn’t have time, or rather not wanting to be caught red-handed, you decided to leave it and greet your surprise guest.

“Good morning,” You said brightly, opening and closing your bedroom door tightly behind you. Javier was standing in the middle of your living room, a book in hand flicking through it. He discarded it back to the coffee table where he’d found it when you appeared.

“Just wanted to check you were alright, you looked rough last night,” Javi said, “that cut looks sore,”

“It stings but it’ll be ok in a few days,” You shrugged. Javi looked at you strangely, “Did you come up here for something?” You asked.

“You don’t remember what today is?” He asked. You frowned and thought for a moment.

“It’s your birthday?” You asked slowly.

“No,”

“It’s my birthday?”

“I don’t know when you’re birthday is,”

“Javi I’ve obviously forgotten please just tell me,” You pleaded.

“Searchblok, you and Steve swapped. Remember?”

“Shit!” You exclaimed. How could you have forgotten?! You scrambled back into your room to get changed, boxer shorts and a hole-ridden t-shirt wouldn’t cut it.

“I should write you up for the mess you were in last night,” He called through the door as you rushed to get dressed, pulling on the nearest jeans on your floor. That’s not the only thing you should write me up for, you thought looking at the cocaine on your dressing table.

“I should write you up for sleeping with hookers,” You said back.

“Nowhere in my contract does it say I can’t! You however have a reckless behaviour clause,” He said. Your heart stopped at that, opening the door quickly to pop your head out.

“Javi-“

“I’m joking Rook, don’t worry!” Javier laughed. You rolled your eyes and shut the door again, pulling on a fresh shirt. A few seconds later you stepped out, buttoning the last of the clasps on your shirt. “I was worried about you but you’re fine so we’ll forget it ever happened,”

“Thanks, Baby,” You grinned at him. Javi rolled his eyes.

“You need to stop that though,”

“You love it,” You teased him. He didn’t reply, turning on his heel and walking out. You hesitated for a moment, glancing back at your bedroom door. The coke was still lined up in there, calling to you. It would only take a few seconds to do it and get rid of your hangover for a few hours.

“Rookie, hurry up!” Javi called you from the hallway, audibly impatient. You decided against it, grabbing your keys and a jacket and running to catch up with him. He was already waiting by the truck by the time you got downstairs. “Did anything interesting happen last night, then?” Javi asked. You tried to think for a moment, you remembered something important had happened, something you’d wanted to tell him last night but you couldn’t remember what. You shrugged.

“Apart from getting this,” You gestured to the injury to your forehead, “I can’t remember. There was something but I don’t know,”

“Can’t have been very important then,” Javi added. You shrugged and shook your head.

“Guess not,”

Next Chapter -->

Finally we’ve come full circle, I am so sad it’s over I have absolutely loved writing this series. Again I want to say a massive thank you to everyone’s that read the series, it means more than you could imagine. I love you all. I’m going to have a cry and make a start on all the other things I’ve been neglecting to write this.

The ending is already written and posted so if you haven’t read it go enjoy :))

tag list: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @all-hallows-evie @harrys-stan @wille-zarr @danniburgh @rentheisopod @urbankaite2 @whataloadofmalarkey @ahsofka @yeetus-my-feetus @sara-alonso @xiao-lusi @all-good-things-have-an-ending @eternallyvenus @ajeff855 @mayangel19 @1950schick @pedrosmustache @wantingtobekorra @balmasedas @angelsunflxwer @brujademente @kingsmanandqueens @igotissueswithfictionalmen

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candy-and-writing · 4 years

Text

Siren Song

This is my entry for @mermaidxatxheart challenge #jamies500writingchallenge with the AU Siren/Sailor. I decided to kind of put a twist on it, so I hope it still fits!!!

Summary: You are a Siren. Your voice is an aphrodisiac that lures people into a spell. The only way they can break your spell is if they sleep with you. Steve accidentally hears you singing after a mission.

Warnings: dub-con, smut, drugging, gags, restraints, fingering, oral sex, Steve waiting too long for the woman he loves

A/n: Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I was a dumbass and waited until the day before this was due to write this, so if there are any error, please let me know :)

I am NOT responsible for your media content consumption. This work is not intended for those under the age of 18 due to explicit sexual content and/or dark themes. By reading this work you agree that you are at least 18 years of age. I do not consent to have my work posted on any third party app or website; if you are seeing this work anywhere other than tumblr and archiveofourown, it has been reposted without my permission.

"What's your status, Siren?" Tony's voice came through your earpiece. You finished flattening out the line of your dress, taking a sip of your champagne before you answered.

"So far, so good. I have eyes on the target, let me finish my drink and I can engage—"

"No!" Steve spat in your ear, making you flinch. "Y/n, do not engage, do you understand?"

You scoffed. If Steve didn't want you to engage, then what was the point of you being here? At this point, you weren't even batting any eyelashes at anybody—under strict orders from your Captain not to.

"Come on, Sailor," you purred. "I can help. Let me do my job."

"You use your power on me again, I'm gonna quarantine you," Steve growled. You chuckled at his threat.

"Then what exactly is the reason I'm here, Captain?" you asked, taking another sip of the overtly expensive drink you held. "You want the target incapacitated, I can incapacitate him for you. It'll be easy."

"Incapacitated, not oogling over you."

"You got a problem with my powers, Sailor?"

You heard Steve sigh. "You know that I don't. I got a problem with the men here, especially the man we're trying to catch. He doesn't have a good rep with pretty dames like you, I'm trying to keep you safe."

"You think I'm pretty?" You feigned surprise, bringing your hand to your chest to mimic shock.

"That—" he paused for a moment before letting out an aggravated breath. "That's not the point and you know it. Just keep your distance for now, when we're ready we'll let you know."

You sighed. "Yeah, that's not happening, Cap. Sorry."

"Y/n—"

You turned off your comms, swaying over to your target, a man named Viktor Yakovich. He was a HYDRA lackie known for sex trafficking and importing drugs in and out of the Harbour. You passed him, fingers dragging along the chest of his iron pressed suit, rolling off his shoulder and when you looked back to meet his eyes, you winked.

The wide-eyed, jaw-dropped expression he wore showed you he was enthralled. He watched as you sauntered to an empty seat at the end of the bar. You ordered a drink, a fancy strawberry vanilla tequila cocktail with a misconstructed french name. You watched the bartender make your drink, pouring different liquids into the mixer. He shook the tin almost violently before he poured the drink into a cocktail glass, adding three small strawberry slices into your glass. You thanked him as he handed it to you and took a hefty sip.

Just as you finished the last of your cocktail, Yakovich stood leaning against the bartop, eyeing you with a level of lust that had chills running down your spine.

"I'll have a double whiskey on the rocks," he said to the bartender, his accent thick, "and another of whatever the lady is having."

"Extra shot of tequila, please," you added. Viktor smirked at you.

"You are quite beautiful," he commented. "What brings you here?"

You made up some story about your father being too sick to attend the luxurious gala himself, so he sent you as his representative. It was a story engraved in your brain, a caring daughter worried about her poor father's health. His liver was failing, you told Yakovich.

Yakovich was quick to give you his sympathies. You thanked him, sipping on your new drink. Gathering your courage, you set your hand on his thigh, rubbing your thumb softly against the fabric of his trousers. You watched his eyes widen, his shoulders raised as his breathing hitched.

"Why don't we go upstairs?" Your voice lowered several octaves. Yakovich grinned, offering you his arm.

Your head pounded as you regained consciousness, groaning. You're vaguely aware of the pain in your body, the heaviness in your legs and how your arms almost felt numb. The dim light above you all too bright as you clenched your eyes shut in protest, grimacing. Your mouth was dry, the corners of your lips ached, and you felt a piece of plastic lodged between your teeth. You tried to bring your hand up, but something was keeping your arms rooted in place. As your mind became clearer, you saw your wrists were tied to the edges of the chair, arms pulled taut at your sides. You were gagged and tied down. Great.

What was the last thing you remembered? Yakovich had taken you to his hotel room above the ballroom. You remembered you had kissed him, he had pushed you against the wall. He moved you to the bed after you felt a sharp prick in your neck and then—and then it went black. The damn bastard had drugged you. But how had he gotten out of your spell? That wasn't supposed to be possible.

"Well, well, well. . . looks like the little dove is awake." The rich Russian accent sounded oddly humorous, which sent a shudder up your spine. Footsteps echoed against the chipped concrete. Yakovich stepped into view, a wicked grin plastered on his face. You frowned at him, tilting your chin up defiantly. He chuckled at you, roughly grabbing your chin. "I know all about you, little dove. You were HYDRA's most powerful weapon, made the Winter Soldier look like child's play. But. . . you defected. How come?"

You shrugged. Mumbled through your gag some jarbled excuse. Really you were just making noise. Yakovich sighed before backhanding you across the cheek, your head snapping to the side with a sharp crack. You bit down on the plastic wedged between your teeth, a yelp getting stuck in your throat.

"Oh, dove. You make such lovely noises. It is such a shame I won't get to hear more. Kill her now."

A knife was at your throat. You held your head up, glaring at Yakovich. There was a crash, shards of glass shattering on the cement floor. Something flew past your head with a deafening whoosh, Steve's shield striking Yakovich square in the chest, sending him flying. The knife had left your throat, Tony blasting the blade out the man's hand as Sam drop kicked him.

Steve was in front of you, reaching to unbuckle the gag behind your head. He threw it to the ground, his hand cupping your cheek.

"Hey, Sailor," you rasped, your voice hoarse.

His thumb brushed over the red marks at the corner of your mouth. "Are you okay?"

"I had it handled," you smirked. Steve chuckled incredulously, dropping his head.

"You're unbelievable," he laughed.

He tore the twine that was wrapped tightly around your wrists. He rubbed the dark red marks, trying to get the blood flowing back in your hands. He whispered something that sounded similar to 'oh, baby', looking at the marks surrounding your wrists.

"Let's get you out of here. Okay?" Steve's hand went under your knees, your arm draping the back of his neck. He carried you out of the warehouse, the quinjet parked a few meters away. Steve sat you on the exam table that came up from the floor. "The others will be here soon, okay? They just gotta take care of Yakovich."

You nodded, swallowing. The pain was starting to set in—your head throbbed in sharp pains, your wrists were burning in piercing pulses. You were so dizzy, your world spun around you until you had to hold onto Steve. He looked at you, concern swimming behind his eyes as his hand covered yours over his bicep.

"I'm fine," you said weakly.

Natasha, Tony, and Sam boarded the quinjet.

"Hey, kiddo," Tony smiled. "How you doing?"

"Never better," you grinned. "Where's Yakovich?"

"Local police are gonna hold him while we get you back to the Compound," Natasha said, "then Tony and I are going to bring him into S.H.I.E.L.D. . . . What happened?"

You shrugged. "I don't know, I-I thought I had him. We were upstairs, I was—um, you know. . .." you scratched the back of your neck. "And then it just went black."

"I thought people couldn't resist your powers?"

"They're not supposed to be able to." You frowned, rubbing the bridge of your nose. There was so much pressure building up in your head, you just wanted to take some aspirin and sleep for a week.

"You gonna need medical?" Sam had his arms crossed, a frown on his face. You shook your head.

"I'll be fine."

"Y/n," Steve said sternly. Natasha went to the front of the jet, pressing buttons and flipping a switch. The ramp pulled up and sealed the entrance as the engine roared to life.

You sighed. "I'm fine, Sailor. Seriously. I just need a hot shower and to get out of this dress."

Steve tried to argue with you. "You might have a concussion."

You reminded Steve about the serum that was coursing through your veins. The same one HYDRA had forced into you, the same one Bucky had coursing through his veins. Except it didn't make you strong like him or Steve. It had done something to your cells, and with a few genetic alterations, HYDRA was able to give you your powers.

And HYDRA wondered why you left.

You let the dress slip off your body, leaving you in a lacy pair of wine red panties and a thigh holster. You discarded the holster, sliding the lace off your legs before stepping into the shower.

The water was warm, soothing your taut muscles. Your shoulders were so tight they felt like concrete. You sighed, leaning your head back into the water stream.

You left the bathroom clad in a towel, your hair damp. Your head felt better than it had when you arrived at the compound. Your wrists were bruising, the dark red marks encircling your wrists turning a violent purple. You had a bruise forming on your cheek, too, from where Yakovich slapped you.

"Hey, F.R.I.D.A.Y?" you called.

"Yes, Miss L/n?" the A.I responded.

"Can you play some music for me? My 'Calm' playlist, please?"

"Of course, Miss L/n."

A Lana Del Rey song echoed through your room. You thought it was called 'Love song' but honestly, you couldn't be sure. You hummed along, drying your hair with a separate towel.

In the car, in the car, in the backseat, I'm your baby

We go fast, we go so fast, we don't move

"I believe in a place you take me," you sang, eyes closed, scrunching the water out of your locks. "Make you real proud of your baby."

You stood, grabbing a lavender and cedarwood lotion off your dresser. You sat back down on your bed, bringing your leg up.

"Oh, be my once in a lifetime—" You rub lotion up and down your leg, massaging it in. "Lyin' on your chest in my party dress."

You dropped your towel, moving to your drawer chest. You grabbed a pair of white cotton panties that were a size too small and an old Yankees shirt that was too big. It used to be Steve's, but one day he was doing laundry and the shirt shrunk. You snatched it before he could throw it away.

"Dream a dream, here's a scene." You pulled a pair of green fuzzy socks over your feet. "Touch me anywhere 'cause I'm your baby."

You turned around, running into a solid wall of muscle. You yelped, Steve grabbing your arms to steady you. You looked up at him, frowning.

"Hey, Sailor, whatcha doing?" Steve was silent, staring at you intently. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide as they raked up and down your form. "Steve?"

"I've never heard you sing before," he commented, his voice a few octaves lower than you've ever heard it. "Your voice is beautiful."

Your eyes widened, inhaling a sharp breath. You thought you had set F.R.I.D.A.Y up so when you told her to play music it also activated her soundproofing protocol. Tony assured you no one could hear you.

"O-o-o-o-o-kay." You twisted out of Steve's grasp, holding your hands out in front of you. "I think you should go. Go take a cold shower or something, okay?"

"Oh, but, sweetheart. . . you said I could touch you anywhere."

You slowly stepped around him, Steve stalking you with a dark look. Your knees hit the bed and you crashed down, looking up at him in—in what, fear? Anticipation?

Steve hooked his finger under your chin, tilting your head up. He looked down on you, a crooked grin splitting his lips. You swallowed, looking at his smooth, plump lips. You quickly looked up to meet his gaze, his bright blue eyes swallowed in lust. You called out his name, your voice barely above a whisper.

And then his lips were on yours. A small whimper died in your throat, his lips soft as they moved against your own. Your eyes fluttered shut, Steve's grip on your chin tightening. His knees came up to rest on either side of you, straddling you. He pushed you down, leaning down to cup your cheeks as he sucked at your bottom lip. His heated length pressed against your center. When his tongue pressed into your mouth, you pushed against his chest again only to have him press your hands against the mattress.

Heat pooled in your core as you felt the effects of his arousal. It was a lot like secondhand smoking, the way it affected you. Steve was hooked, caught in your trap like a fly in a spider's web.

"Steve. . . Steve, wait." He pulled away, his hot breath hitting your lips, your noses almost touching. "You don't want this—please, snap out it."

"Come on, Siren," Steve smirked. "All that flirting. . . and you didn't see this coming?" His lips met your neck, trailing kisses down the column of your neck. Your lip trembled as he sucked a bruise into your skin, in the juncture between your shoulder and neck.

"Steve, please. You can fight this."

A hand trailed up past the hem of your shirt. "Oh, I don't wanna fight it, sweetheart. Look at you, all dressed up for me in my shirt, pretty as a picture."

His hand palmed your breast. You pushed against his chest, trying desperately to get him off. He nipped at your collarbone, pinching your nipple until you yelped. He shushed you, pushing the shirt over your head and up your arms. He ripped the fabric apart effortlessly, manhandling you to lay across the bed before he grabbed your wrists. Using the shreds of the old shirt he tied you to the bars of your metal bed frame. You were surprised by the amount of panic that fled through you as you pulled against the makeshift restraints, the cloth digging into the bruises around your wrists.

His lips teased your shoulder while he gently played with your breasts. He added the slightest pressure as he squeezed, your breasts fitting perfectly in his hands as you shuddered out a breath.

"Oh."

"That feel good, baby?" Steve mumbled into your neck. You helplessly nodded, whimpering as he rubbed his hard length against you in a rhythm that had your traitorous body moving your hips against him.

You tried to remind yourself that it was the effects of your powers, that both of you were under a spell and this wasn't real. It wasn't intimacy, this wasn't you and Steve so madly in love with each other it drove you insane. It was raw, unadulterated hunger. Nothing more than a spell.

"Steve, please," you whimpered, a particular grind against your core making you gasp. "You know how this is going to end—do you want that?"

"I want you, that's all that matters."

You cried out Steve's name as his lips latched onto your nipple, rolling the other sensitive bud between his fingertips. Steve couldn't mean that—if he wanted this, that meant you couldn't force him out of your spell. He was bewitched until he fucked it out of his system.

Steve's fingertips danced down your torso, hovering over your belly button and stopping at the line of your underwear. He traced the edge of the garments, mouthing at the spot where your neck and shoulder met. His fingers hooked into your waistband and he pulled your panties down your legs, dropping them on the floor. Steve groaned, inhaling your scent.

"Smell so good, baby," he murmured, "bet you taste even better."

Your cheeks flushed. You weren't sure you wanted him to put his mouth on you. It was wrong, Steve wasn't in his right mind. He wasn't thinking straight.

A strangled moan left your lips as Steve plunged two fingers into your slick heat, looking for the spot inside you that could shatter you. That coil inside you was tight, threatening to explode and send you over the edge. You began to babble mindlessly, endless pleas of 'Steve, please' and vulgar curses. You struggled against your restraints, trying desperately to touch him. You wanted to feel him. He pumped his fingers in and out of you slowly, drawing out the stimulation.

Then his lips were on the little bundle of nerves just above your entrance. You squealed, bucking your hips into his face. You thighs clenched around his head, pushing his face impossibly closer to your center. He removed his fingers from your entrance, leaving you feeling desperate and empty. You whimpered at Steve, gasping when his tongue darted into your entrance.

He devastated you with his mouth, his tongue teasing your aching clit again and again until the little bundle of nerves was vibrating. As soon as you felt your release forming, he'd move back down to your entrance, teasing it in and out of there just deep enough to have you begging for more.

"Taste so good, baby." He hummed into your flesh, sending vibrations up through your clit, his hips rutting into the mattress. He pushed the pads of his fingers up, still teasing your bundle of nerves and that was all it took. You cried out, the coil snapping like a taut rubber band, your hips involuntarily jerking as you cried out and struggled against your bonds.

Your entire body was buzzing, your limbs boneless as you panted below him. Steve climbed atop you, fervently pressing his lips to yours. You could taste yourself on him. Licking your lips as he mouthed at your jaw, you closed your eyes. Your brow was sweaty as you tried to catch your breath. Powers or not, you hadn't cum like that in a long time.

When you opened your eyes, his knees were wedged between your thighs, the tip of his cockhead at your entrance. Steve hummed, brushing himself against your wet folds. You dug your teeth into your lower lip, trying desperately not to whimper. Steve leaned down to kiss your cheek before he pushed into you slowly, his thick cock stretching your walls.

Your breath left your lungs, a cry breaking in your throat as Steve groaned into your ear, your silky heat clenching him like a vice. You pulled against your restraints, wincing as pain burned your wrists. He shushed you, nibbling at your shoulder as a means of distraction. When he bottomed out, a growl reverberated through his chest.

"Fuck." Steve's hot breath hit your ear. "You feel so good, Y/n. So tight."

You preened as Steve picked up his pace, easily falling into a hard and fast rhythm. You screamed into his chest, Steve pushing your legs up and effectively folding you in half, the new angle allowing him to hit deeper. You were losing circulation to your hands by how hard you were pulling against the strands of fabric but you didn't care. All you felt was Steve and the way the tip of his cock hit the tip of your cervix.

Your orgasm came out of nowhere—rose so quickly and crashed over you like a tidal wave, sending you reeling. You screamed, seizing up and convulsing around Steve's cock. Steve cursed, feeling you pulsate around him. Black dots invaded your vision as Steve slammed into you harder, faster, and then pulled out suddenly, hot spurts of cum shooting onto your lower stomach. With an animalistic groan, Steve fell to the side.

It took several minutes for either of you to gather your bearings. You were still tied to the bed, breathless and coated in cum when Steve rose, the color in his eyes returning.

"Y/n, I—" Steve faltered. The guilty look in his puppy-dog eyes making your chest flutter.

"Can you just untie me?" you said quietly. "Please?"

"Oh—yeah. Um. . . yeah." He undid the knot, letting you bring your hands down and sit up. He felt his heart skip a beat at the fresh marks around your wrists. He jumped off the bed and for a moment you were worried he was going to run away, but he gently handed you his shirt before pulling his pants over his hips. "Hold on, okay? I'm gonna get you a rag." You watched him disappear into the bathroom. You pulled his shirt over your head, massaging your wrists gently.

Steve came back into the room with a damp rag. He handed it to you, hesitant to sit down as you wiped yourself off. "Y/n, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault." You tossed the rag on the floor, looking down at your wrinkled sheets. "Just—I should have been more careful about singing."

"No—no, don't blame yourself, sweetheart."

"Listen, I'll go to Tony in the morning, tell him what happened." You sighed. "Maybe he can fix F.R.I.D.A.Y's protocol. I'll ask to be removed from missions, too, if that's what you want—"

"No, no. Y/n, I don't want that." Steve groaned. "I'll talk to Tony. I'm the one that invaded your space. I caused this, I'll fix this."

You bit your lip, ringing Steve's shirt in your hands.

"What is it?"

You sighed. "Nothing, it's just. . . I just Siren Song-ed you into sex and—and you're my friend, I don't want this to ruin things."

"It won't ruin things," Steve promised. "I was actually hoping we could. . . maybe go get some—you know, actually, never mind. It was a bad idea."

"Steve," you smirked. "What is it?"

Steve sighed. "Would you want to go get coffee with me? Maybe tomorrow?"

A smile spread across your face. "You wanna get coffee with me?"

"Yeah. I was gonna ask you after the mission, but things went a little. . . sideways."

You breathed out a chuckle. "I'd love to get coffee with you."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really."

Steve let out a sigh of relief. "Good, good. I'll pick you up after the briefing tomorrow? We can go to the coffee shop in town with all the books?"

You smiled. "That sounds great."

"Good." Steve flashed you a toothy grin. "I'm—uh—I'm gonna let you get some sleep, okay? You've had a long day."

You scoffed, slipping your legs under your covers. "Yeah. Goodnight, Sailor."

Steve stood in the threshold, shirtless and sweaty, his hair messy as he peaked past the door. "Goodnight, Siren."

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pines-troz · 3 years

Text

Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Eight

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Warning: The last third of this chapter includes animal testing (albeit not a graphic depiction) as well as PTSD and trauma.

Word Count: 11,403

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/75446471

Before the break of dawn, Brain awoke from his slumber to find his left arm trapped underneath his slumbering partner. The mouse prided himself on being the big spoon, there were moments where he preferred to be the little spoon. He loved feeling the warmth from Pinky's soft fur while contentedly nestling in the taller mouse's affectionate embrace. Try as he might, Brain could never fully achieve success as the big spoon. While he tried his hardest to assert his protective nature when he wrapped his arms around his tall partner, he always felt like a little backpack.

Brain snaked his left arm, which fell numb from supporting Pinky's weight. Feeling an itch underneath his chin, he took his right hand to ameliorate the situation only to feel the scruffy grey hairs growing from his ivory fur. The mouse groaned in irritation. He was going to take Pinky and the Warners out for an exquisite brunch at an upscale restaurant and he needed to clean up if he wanted to blend in with the other patrons. Well, about as much as a small laboratory mouse escorting three toon children of indeterminate species could.

Not wanting to wake Pinky up, Brain carefully snuck out of bed and trotted over to the bathroom to shave. However, the mouse didn't take into account that only two of the Warners were still snoozing in the other bed.

When Brain opened up the bathroom door, he was shocked to find a most horrifying sight.

"Oh, dear God!" The small mouse shouted as he stared at Yakko, still dressed in his pajamas, setting up a guillotine while happily humming the tune to 'Yakko's World'.

"What, in the name of Socrates's tainted tongs, are you doing with that guillotine?" Brain demanded.

"Oh, this old thing" Yakko mentioned, pointing a thumb at the execution device. "Well, I'm in a little bit of a dilemma. This morning I woke up to find little hairs growing around my face." The teen explained. Taking out a magnifying glass from his hammerspace, he leaned towards Brain to show him the few, practically microscopic black hairs that sprouted around his face. "So naturally, I figured that I shave off those pesky facial hairs before going out for brunch."

Brain smacked his paw against his giant head. "Yakko, I admire your eagerness, but a guillotine is not considered to be a proper tool for shaving." The mouse headed over towards the execution device, which was supported by small black wheels, and pushed it as hard as his little mouse body would allow. "Perhaps we should set aside this device for more serious matters, like dealing with corrupt politicians or heartless billionaires." He explained as he pushed the guillotine out of the bathroom, which then disappeared upon crashing into the wall.

"Well, then how else am I gonna shave." Yakko inquired impatiently.

"With a razor, Robespierre," Brain sarcastically answered.

"Oh, I gotcha!" Yakko acknowledged with a grin. The teen reached into his hammerspace once more and retrieved an old Motorola Razr model flip phone.

Brain frowned indignantly with furrowed brows. "Now you're just teasing me." Yakko flashed a playful smile in response.

"Allow me to assist you in the proper etiquette of shaving." The pudgy mouse remarked as he took the tape measure elevator up to the counter. "There should be some shaving cream, exfoliator scrub, after-shave cream, and a couple of disposable razors in the drawer."

"Since when do mice grow facial hair anyway?" Yakko asked.

"A strange inquiry coming from the boy who summoned a guillotine out of thin air." Brain responded in a sardonic tone. "No, it's impossible for the average mouse to grow facial hair. I believe that this is yet another side effect of having gone through the gene splicer, in addition to having an increased life span and the ability to take in a comical amount of pain."

"Now go fetch me the necessary tools from the drawer." Brain firmly commanded. "There should be some shaving cream, exfoliator scrub, a couple of disposable razors, and a bottle of after-shave."

Yakko opened up the drawer and saw two navy blue razors covered with a plastic shield and a blue bottle of shaving cream. "You mean these things?" The teen inquired as he held them up.

"Yes, Yakko," Brain answered as he headed towards the sink faucet. With tiny paws, he lifted the rod and turned on the handles. He looked over at Yakko, who began to shake the bottle of shaving cream. Just as he started to dispense some of the creams, Brain approached the teen.

"Now let's not get too excited with the shaving cream. You must first wash your face." The mouse explained. Once the sink was filled with an appropriate amount of water, he turned it off. Cupping his hands, Brain dipped them into the warm water and spread them across his face. "The warm water will relax your skin and make it more receptive to the razor and less prone to razor bumps."

Yakko copied Brain's instructions. But then his playful side kicked in when he dunked his gloved hands into the sink and flicked a few droplets of water onto Brain. The mouse flinched the moment he was assaulted by the sink water.

"Yakko," Brain grumbled.

"Sorry, teach!" Yakko playfully apologized.

For the next five minutes, Brain continued to teach Yakko the proper shaving etiquette. While the teen got a little overboard with applying too much shaving cream, he managed to do a decent job with his first go at shaving. Brain was thankful that Yakko didn't do anything remotely crazy while using the disposable razor. After they rinsed off with cold water, Brain taught the teen how to apply the after-shave.

Once the little impromptu shaving lesson was complete, Yakko admired his clean-shaven face, feeling like a million bucks. Brain smiled at his eager pupil. "Well, I commend you for your quick learning." The big-headed mouse complimented.

"Thanks, Brain," Yakko replied. "Though, I gotta ask you something, who taught you how to shave anyway?"

"I taught myself," Brain answered. "I learned most, if not all, of the important life skills all on my own and without any assistance."

The room grew silent. Yakko stared at the mouse with a concerned expression. Brain seldom brought up his life as a laboratory mouse. "So no one taught you anything?"

Brain only shook his head. "I was only a young child when scientists separated me from my family and home in the wilderness to be incarcerated at Acme Labs."

Yakko instinctively rubbed the back of his head, feeling a pang of empathy for the mouse. He knew what it was like to be self-reliant at a young age, but he never had any loving paternal figures before he was locked away at the tower alongside his younger siblings. Even still, the teen was curious about Brain's youth and carefully crafted his question before speaking up.

"Do you remember anything about your parents?"

Brain's eyes widened at the eldest Warner's inquiry. It was an innocent question born from genuine interest and curiosity. So the mouse decided to provide a satisfactory answer. "My memories of my early childhood are fairly hazy, but there are aspects of it I distinctly remember. The warmth of my parents' fur whenever they embraced me, their ruby red eyes that glimmered in the sun, the richness of my mother's milk, and the nights spent snuggling close to them as we slumbered in our tin-can home."

Yakko noticed the sad smile on Brain's face as he reminisced of his early youth. The teen couldn't imagine how horrifying it must be to be permanently separated from his family. "And you never saw them again?"

Brain looked at the eldest Warner. "Well I did encounter my parents years later, but the reunion was not as joyful as it could have been."

"What happened?" Yakko asked.

"Let's just say that they don't necessarily approve of my life choices, save for having Pinky as my roommate." Brain answered flatly.

"Ah," Yakko noted. The teen felt sorry for the mouse and tried his best to provide some consolation. "Well, at least you got to see your parents again,"

"Yes," Brain muttered, casting his eyes down on the countertop.

Yakko sadly frowned, noting that his words of comfort didn't do the trick. He drummed his fingers on the countertop. There was something else that Yakko needed to get off his chest, but he didn't know how well to articulate it. "Well, you're not the only one who had to learn everything on their own."

Brain looked up at the eldest Warner. The mouse thought back to the early days of his acting gig on Animaniacs, and the various stories he heard about the three troublesome toon siblings who were locked up by the studio for over sixty years because they were too much to handle. When he first heard of these tales, the mouse was initially intimidated by the toon children due to the sheer chaos they possessed. But as he and Pinky got to know their co-stars, Brain's fears melted away, and as he pondered over their backstory, he became sympathetic to their plight. He couldn't begin to imagine the difficulties the children faced of being isolated in a water tower for so long. This hardship must have been harrowing for poor Yakko, who had to learn everything on his own on top of having to care for his two younger siblings.

Brain rubbed his left arm up and down. "I guess so," he said softly. As much as the mouse wanted to ask questions about the teen's upbringing, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, he wanted to reassure the boy.

Brain looked up at Yakko and carefully approached his hand, which was leaning on the countertop. "I am well aware of the unfair circumstances that forced you to become the sole caregiver of your dear siblings," he gingerly addressed. "And while you have done a tremendous job, you should not have to be the only one providing for your family."

Yakko was stunned by what he was hearing. He gave an astonished look at the mouse, who placed his firm, yet gentle paws over his hand.

Brain stared up at the eldest Warner with a steadfast expression on his face. "I don't know what it's like to be an older sibling, but I recognize the responsibility that comes with taking care of the ones you love."

Yakko didn't have to be a rocket scientist to realize that Brain was referring to his dearest Pinky. Ever since he first met them in the early nineties, the mice were as close as can be and were always seen together whenever they went about in the studio lot. Much like how he was always with his siblings whenever they caused playful pandemonium.

"And if you need any help, you can always call upon myself and Pinky." Brain solemnly offered. "We're more than happy to assist you in any way if you so choose."

Yakko was surprised to hear such a suggestion coming from Brain. Wakko and Dot were already enamored with the idea of having mouse parents, and the mice were willing to step up to the plate. Perhaps he no longer had to bear the solitary responsibility of taking proper care of his siblings. What's more, the constant attention he would receive from two guardians was another enticing aspect of the deal.

"Well Brain, I just might take your offer into consideration!" He responded with an eager smile. The teen carefully scooped the big-headed mouse into his hands.

Brain allowed a small smile to cross his lips. He was finally getting through to the boy!

"And Brain," Yakko spoke up. "I forgot to tell you this earlier, but I wanna thank you for helping Wakko find his drawing from the library."

The mouse's ears perked upwards at the grateful tone.

"It made my sib's day and I'm grateful that you went the extra mile for them," Yakko explained with a smile.

At that moment, Brain was speechless. What he once saw as another wacky situation was seen as a genuine act of kindness. "You're welcome." He quietly replied.

The sudden noise of bouncing bed springs followed by jovial laughter reached their ears. Brain and Yakko emerged from the bathroom to find Wakko and Dot playfully wrestling on the bed while Pinky cheered on, thrusting his purple pom-poms into the air.

"Alright, that's enough roughhousing children!" Brain alerted the two Warners in a slightly strict tone before turning his attention towards his partner. "And quit enabling their shenanigans, Pinky!"

"Oops, sorry Brain," Pinky quickly apologized with a hint of regret in his tone.

Brain leaped off of Yakko's hands and landed on top of the mattress. "Now, I'm taking you all out for breakfast and I want you all to dress to impress!"

- - - - -

The group was seated at the round table at the nearest upscale restaurant, happily enjoying their brunch. Everyone dressed their best for the special meal. Pinky wore a flowy strawberry-printed dress, Brain wore a purple blazer and matching skater skirt, a black turtleneck sweater, and a gold chain necklace. Yakko wore a billowy puffy white shirt with rainbow suspenders attached to his brown slacks, Wakko wore a red-and-black plaid kilt in addition to their blue sweater, and Dot wore a red T-shirt and blue overalls with a small rainbow across the front.

Everything was running smoothly during their brunch. Brain indulged himself and Pinky in the finest dishes on the menu. The Warners even made the effort to be zany to a moderate degree. They all engaged in playful conversation. Brain looked over to see how happy Yakko was, laughing with his siblings. Some of the other patrons looked at the toon children with a mix of fear or disgust, but Brain didn't care. As long as they were happy, then he was happy.

While they waited for the check to come in, Brain took a spoon and gently tapped it on the side of his glass of water. "Attention!" He called out.

The Warners and Pinky turned their attention towards the big-headed mouse. Wakko was especially excited. "Are we gonna bust into an elaborate musical number?" He asked, taking out a pair of drumsticks from their hammerspace.

"That won't be necessary, Wakko." Brain addressed. "Now, since our day is winding down, I have one more important activity for us to engage in after we check out of the hotel and bring your luggage back to the studio lot."

"Are we gonna help you take over the world?!" Dot asked excitedly.

"A valid guess, but no." Brain answered though he was pleased to hear the Warner sister's suggestion come off as genuine. "Instead, we shall spend the afternoon at the park!"

"Poit! We'll play all sorts of games, like frisbee, and flying kites, and pet any doggies that walk by!" Pinky joyfully added.

The Warners exchanged eager glances at each other. "And if we're lucky, we can drop by the Wheel of Morality!" Yakko suggested.

"Egad, that sounds fun-fun, silly-willy!" Pinky cheered.

The waitress approached the table and handed Brain the black flipbook that contained the check. The mouse thanked the waitress and proceeded to inspect the check. The expensive brunch totaled two-hundred and fifty dollars and twenty-four cents. He was grateful that the studio would be paying for this extravagant expense. Without a word, Brain retrieved the golden credit card and placed it in the folder, slapped the flipbook shut, and returned it to the waitress.

Despite the wacky antics, he endured all weekend long, he was thankful to have his fine-dining experience.

- - - - -

A blue Uber van pulled up at the front of the Warner Bros. Studio lot. Once the side door opened, the Warners and the mice quickly emerged from the vehicle with their luggage in tow. Brain piloted his mechanical human suit once again, grabbing some of the suitcases. He was thankful that the process of checking out of the hotel and commuting back to Burbank went off without a hitch. Once the van sped off, the group looked up at the studio lot.

"Home again, home again," Yakko blissfully sighed.

"Unfortunately, the CEO doesn't want any of us to set foot in the lot until sunset." Brain advised the Warners. "Why don't I fly over to the water tower and drop off your belongings there before we head to the park."

The Warners happily agreed, giving the mouse the rest of their luggage. "Pinky and I will be back in a minute, so don't do anything rash while we're gone."

"We weren't planning on it, since neither of us has any ointment," Wakko replied.

"And remember, the door's a pull, not a push!" Yakko quickly added.

"Duly noted," Brain acknowledged as he started his engines. The jet boosters in his shoes ignited and the suit was launched into the air.

Dot's eyes widened with excitement as she felt her hair and skirt blow through from the suit's jet engines. She remembered the excitement on Wakko's face when he gushed over how fun it was to ride on Brain's suit. Not wanting to be left out, the Warner sister wanted a piece of the action.

The girl reached into her hammerspace and took out a megaphone. "Hey Brain, I just remembered that I forgot something in the water tower and I need to go get it."

The mice heard her request. Brain yanked the controls, turning the suit around to retrieve the Warner sister.

Dot bounced in excitement when she saw the suit fly down.

But Yakko grew suspicious of his sister. "Do you even need to go back to the water tower?"

"No," Dot casually admitted with a confident smile.

But before any of her siblings could react, Dot was swept off of her feet and carefully secured in Brain's mechanical arms. The task of balancing the Warner sister and the various suitcases proved to be a challenge, but not an impossible feat. After shifting his position, he found a satisfactory position and maintained his steadiness over the controls.

The first thing she felt was the wind flowing through her fur. She then glanced down at the various buildings in the studio, admiring the aerial perspective of her beloved abode.

Dot's eyes widened as she observed the movie lot from above. "Woah,"

"Isn't it so much fun!" Pinky exclaimed from the comfort of the coat pocket.

"The greatest!" She eagerly replied.

Brain allowed a small smirk as he listened to their conversation.

But the fun didn't last long when Brain shifted the controls of his suit just before they arrived at the water tower. With a hard tug, he managed to stop the suit before it could collide with the water tower door. He carefully placed Dot down on the steps first before proceeding to drop the luggage.

Dot opened up the Warner Bros. logo door open, gesturing the mice to enter. She swiftly turned on the light switch, illuminating her humble home. The interior of the water tower was in a somewhat pristine state, ignoring the crumpled up bags of potato chips and napkins scattered across the floor.

Pinky hopped out from the pocket and landed on the floor with a thud. Laughing off the pain, he got up and explored the interior of the water tower. "Poit! A lot has changed since the last time we were up in the water tower." He observed.

"Yup," Dot agreed. "My siblings and I made some adjustments to keep up with the times."

The mice looked at the three bunk beds stacked on top of each other. But Brain wore a frown when he noticed Yakko's bed was merely a ball pit.

"Is that supposed to be Yakko's bed?" Brain addressed, pointing the suit's hand over to the ball pit.

Dot hummed and nodded in response. The smaller mouse rolled his eyes. "I bet his chiropractor is having a field day."

His eyes then darted over to a few books scattered near the bunk beds. There were a few amoral paperback romance novels that must have belonged to Yakko. But among the myriad of inappropriate literature laid the cover of a particular picture book that featured a colorful red and green caterpillar. The innocent-looking bug caught Brain's attention and he gingerly picked up the book. As he inspected the book cover, his mind began to flashback to the early years of his acting career.

Warner Movie Lot, 1992

Pinky skipped gaily, tugging Brain by his wrist as he led his roommate over to the iconic yellow and red water tower that lay in the heart of the movie studio. Brain stared up at the tower, trying his best to conceal his fear of the Warner siblings.

The mice just started their work as actors after a plan to take over the world gone wrong had serendipitously landed them starring roles in an upcoming variety show called Animaniacs, which was set to air the following year. Brain intended to use this opportunity of acting in a prestigious television program to gain the admiration of the masses who would pledge their unyielding loyalty to him as Earth's leader. However, the megalomaniacal mouse rarely interacted with the other co-stars and crew members. His years in the lab instilled a distrust towards humans that was hard to shake off, and he mostly kept to himself. But Pinky seemed to be living his best life on the set. Always chatting with the cast and crew members and charming them with his cheerful disposition.

While on the set, Brain heard numerous horror stories from various crew members about the three toon children who recently escaped from the water tower and caused all sorts of chaos all over the movie lot. And it just so happened that one of Pinky's newfound friends was the Warner sister, Dot.

She initially invited Pinky over to the water tower to play dress-up, but the obtuse mouse insisted that he bring along Brain as well, and the girl was not opposed to having an extra guest in her home.

The mice arrived at the bottom of the water tower. Brain stared up at the yellow and red water tank, calculating how he and Pinky could reach the top. He regretted not bringing his human suit along for the playdate. But before he could come up with a plan, the water tank began to descend as if it was an elevator. Once the tank hit the ground, the Warner Bros. shield opened to reveal Wakko and Dot wearing admittedly adorable bellboy uniforms. Pinky clapped his hands and hopped on each foot upon seeing two of the Warners siblings.

"Going up?" Wakko inquired.

"What other option do I have?" Brain dryly remarked as he followed Pinky through the door. Once the mice entered the water tower, Dot slammed the door shut and Wakko pulled the lever, causing the water tank to ascend back to its original place.

Wakko and Dot swiftly took off their uniforms to reveal their regular attire; Wakko dressed in their signature oversized blue sweater and backward red cap while Dot wore her pink skirt and yellow flower hair tie.

The Warner sister approached Pinky and scooped him up into her hands. "Oh, it's so good to see you again!" She chirped as she twirled around, causing the lanky mouse to laugh heartily.

"Thank you for inviting Brain and me over to your house. Narf!" Pinky exclaimed. "Oh, I know we're going to all have a fun-fun, silly-willy time together!"

"I should show you my new playhouse and all the doll clothes I recently bought!" Dot suggested.

"Oh, that sounds like tons of fun!" Pinky merrily replied.

Brain looked over at the two with a raised brow. While he was secretly glad that Pinky was occupied in his own inane activities, he was at a loss of what to do. He was stuck in the infamous water tower and had to endure the chaos of the Warners for who knows how long.

But his ponderings ceased the moment he was scooped up in the hands of the middle Warner sibling. He looked over at Wakko, who must have sensed his loneliness from being excluded from Pinky and Dot's antics.

"Can we hang out together?" Wakko asked with twinkling eyes.

Brain glanced at Wakko and didn't know what to make of the young toon. After listening to the various stories about him, he was the most chaotic and violent of the trio, always quick to whack people with a mallet or any other cartoonish weapons at their disposal. The mouse decided that it would be best to appease the middle child in the hopes of forging a solid acquaintance so that he would not face their wrath.

"I would be delighted to accompany you in whatever activities you have in store." Brain answered with a nervous smile.

"Great!" Wakko cheered, leaping from the floor while holding Brain in their grasp. He bounced over to the couch.

"We could share my snacks and read my favorite story of all time!" Wakko said as he placed the mouse on the sofa before bounding over to the refrigerator. Only seconds have passed when he returned to the couch with a whole platter of different snacks: bags of chips, bananas, different types of cheeses, pudding, and cookies.

Brain stared at the small buffet laid out on the coffee table before looking back at Wakko, who reached into their red cap and took out The Hungry Caterpillar and gave it to him.

The small mouse inspected the cover of the book before glancing back at the snacks and over to Wakko. "Well, I can understand your enthusiasm over this particular book."

"I have never related to any character as much as that caterpillar." Wakko declared with a nod.

"I see," Brain muttered. "Well, to make this activity more interesting, why don't we take turns reading."

"Sounds fun!" Wakko agreed.

For the next five minutes, Brain and Wakko read aloud the story about a caterpillar with an enormous appetite who then turned into a beautiful butterfly. As they took turns reading, Brain noticed the glimmer of joy in Wakko's eyes as he observed the colorful illustrations. Perhaps the young toon was not as bad as he thought and was unfairly mischaracterized by the other studio workers. Once they were finished with the story, they heard the door open. The two glanced over to see Yakko Warner entering the water tower.

Once the eldest Warner shut the door behind him, he glanced around his abode to see his siblings interacting with their co-stars and, presumably, friends. WIth Wakko sitting with Brain and Dot dressing Pinky up in a pink flower hat and purple sunglasses.

"Oh, I didn't know we had company over!" He exclaimed as he gazed at the mice.

Wakko bounced off from the couch and landed in their brother's arms. "Big brother, you've come home!"

Yakko laughed as he carefully placed Wakko back on the ground. "I was busy filming an important song segment about the countries of the world."

"A song about countries? That'll never catch on." Wakko disagreed, giving their older brother a shove.

"Oh, we'll see about that, baby sib." Yakko playfully ruffled Wakko's cap.

"Yakko!" Dot exclaimed, tackling her older brother in a surprise hug.

"Hey, sis!" Yakko replied as he hugged her back. He then glanced over at the two mice: The lanky mouse that wore a purple scarf and the big-headed mouse that was on the couch. "And who else do we have here?"

"Our new co-stars and our new friends," Wakko answered confidently.

Yakko's eyes lit up when he figured out who they were. "Oh yeah, Binky and the Pain, is it?"

"Actually, we're Pinky and The Brain!" Brain corrected as he hopped off the couch and trotted over to the siblings. "But rest assured, Sakko, we're not only your co-stars and acquaintances, but we're the future world leaders-"

"Actually, it's Yakko." The eldest Warner corrected with a pointed hand.

"Right, and now you know how it feels to have your name mispronounced." Brain curtly acknowledged.

"Eh, fair enough." Yakko shrugged in agreement.

"So, now that we're all here, what should we do next?" Dot asked excitedly.

Wakko looked over at the mice and smiled. "Could you guys take us to McDonald's?" He asked.

"What?" Brain sputtered. "Pinky and I don't have enough money to pay for such frivolities, and our next paycheck won't come in until Friday!"

"Oh, there's no need to worry about that, I've got ya covered!" Yakko assured as he took out a brown sack full of money from his hammerspace. "Scratchy is already busy with his patients and we need someone to take us out for some fast food!"

Dot approached the mouse, batting her glowing black eyes and wearing the most adorable pout. "Oh, pretty please Brain!" She pleaded in a cutesy voice.

Brain crossed his arms and frowned, refusing to cave into Dot's powerful cuteness. "Pinky and I have important work to do soon back at the lab!"

"Like watching the latest episode of Seinfeld?" Pinky asked.

"No, Pinky. Our plans for global conquest!" Brain curtly replied.

"But you can't take over the world on an empty stomach!" Wakko argued.

"Ugh, I'd rather consume my hat than McDonald's," Brain sourly remarked.

Yakko carefully inspected Brain with the intention of breaking down the mouse's barriers until he gave in. He tapped his siblings' shoulders and grinned mischievously and began to chant. "McDonald's! McDonald's!"

Soon Wakko and Dot joined their brother in the chanting. "McDonald's! McDonald's! McDonald's!

Brain's eye twitched at the incessant shouts. The Warners began to circle around the mouse. The moment Pinky joined the toon siblings in their parade, that was the final straw. Brain raised his fists and the air and shouted. "Oh, all right! Pinky and I will take you out for some cheap fast food!"

The Warners bounced around the mice in jubilation. While Pinky eagerly clapped, Brain pouted as he bitterly crossed his arms once more.

"Don't be so glum, Brain!" Wakko said in earnest as he picked the grumpy mouse up. "Maybe some happy meals will cheer you up!" He explained while placing the mouse on top of their head.

"Ready to go, sibs and mouse friends!" Yakko asked excitedly.

"Ready!" Dot chirped as she scooped Pinky up in her hands and placed him on top of her head.

"Ready!" Wakko added with a thumbs up.

"Affirmative." Brain tiredly sighed, gripping his paws on the red hat.

"Narf!" Pinky called out.

"I'll take that as a yes," Yakko mentioned. "Now let's roll!"

Yakko opened up the door, hopped on the railing, and leaped off. Wakko and Dot followed suit as they jumped off the water tower to catch up with their big brother. Pinky cheered while Brain let out an anxious "nyaaaah" as they made their descent. Fortunately, the Warners bounced upon the concrete ground with great nimbleness.

"Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!" The Warners chorused as they bounced around the movie lot. Both mice grabbed onto their respective toon siblings as they moseyed about.

On their trail, they passed by Slappy Squirrel, who walked in the opposite direction whilst carrying her green purse. The veteran toon star smirked as she waved at the three children and the two lab mice. "Have fun, you crazy kids." She called out.

As the Warners continued on their merry way, the loud shriek of the officer's whistle shattered their merriment. They looked over to see Ralph the security guard, running up to them as fast as he could with a comically large net.

"Yikes!" The Warners shouted. Revving up their legs, they made a mad dash out of the studio, carrying the mice along with them.

"Alright children, we better make this trip to McDonald's a quick one. For Pinky and I must return to the lab by seven."

"Why Brain?" Wakko asked. "What are you and Pinky doing at seven?"

"The same thing we do every night, Wakko," the mouse grimly replied. "Try to take over the world!"

"Hey, Brain!" The Warner sister sang while snapping her fingers. "Earth to Brain, you come in?"

The mouse shook his head as he looked over at Dot, who cradled Pinky in her hands. His perception of her and her siblings has drastically changed over the years. His fear of the toon children's playful and unpredictable nature was replaced with endearment. Brain regained his focus and returned to the present. "My apologies dear, I was just reminiscing."

"Totally understandable," Dot replied with a warm smile.

The mouse placed the picture book back on top of the pile and approached the Warner sister.

"So did you find all the things you were looking for?" Brain inquired.

"Actually, I lied to you. I only said that just so I could get a ride on your mechanical human suit." Dot confessed without a twinge of regret. "Are you ready to head over to the park?"

"Yes, always." Brain replied flatly as he exited the water tower. After Dot closed the door, he picked her back up, with Pinky in tow, and they flew off.

Back at the studio entrance, Yakko and Wakko were in a heated game of checkers when they heard the loud jet engines purring up above. Brain descended from the air, landing on the sidewalk on the suit's two feet.

"Thanks for the lift, Brain!" Dot chirped as she hopped off from the suit and passed Pinky back to the big-headed mouse, who securely tucked him in the front pocket.

"So, how about we head over to the park for some wholesome fun and merriment?" Brain asked with a wave of his mechanical arm.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot cheered as they bounced around the suit. With a resounding yes from the siblings, they started to make their way over to the park.

Dot approached Yakko. "Can you give me a piggy-back ride? I wanna save all of my energy for when we arrive at the park."

"Your wish is my command, princess," Yakko answered as he propped his sister onto his back. Dot giggled contentedly as she adjusted herself on top of her brother's shoulders.

Wakko sadly looked on. He couldn't help but feel left out by the sibling bonding. "Can I get a turn soon?"

Yakko looked over at Wakko with sympathetic eyes. "Of course sib, but you have to wait a little while."

While Wakko was relieved that Yakko had not forgotten about them, their shoulders sagged with impatience.

Brain noted the middle child's forlorn frown. The mouse knew exactly how to cheer Wakko up. "You don't need to wait any longer, sport." Using the man-suit, Brain lifted Wakko up and placed the middle child on his shoulders.

"This is awesome!" Wakko cheered, raising their hands in the air.

Pinky looked up from the pocket. "Aww, can I have a turn soon?"

"Don't worry, Dad," Wakko assured. He tried to reach for Pinky, but Brain recognized what he was doing and grabbed Pinky for them, placing the taller mouse into Wakko's hands. Wakko then placed Pinky on top of their hat.

Yakko looked up at Wakko and the mice and smiled. As he carried Dot, he thought of a wonderful idea.

"Hey Brain, I betcha Dot and I will get to the park first." He declared with a mischievous grin. The teen revved up his feet and began to race down the sidewalk. Dot giggled as she held onto her older brother.

"Last one there is a rotten egg!" Dot shouted gleefully.

Wakko looked at their siblings, who were already many paces ahead, and frowned. "Brain, we have to beat them!"

"Don't worry, Wakko," Brain assured. "For I have an ace up my sleeve."

The mouse pressed the buttons on the control panel, causing the jet engines to fire up. A few seconds later, the mechanical human suit rose a few feet above the sidewalk.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Wakko exclaimed.

"Hold on, you two!" Brain ordered as he took off.

Wakko gripped one hand on the suit's shoulder and the other hand on top of Pinky, securing him onto the red cap. The lanky mouse and the middle Warner cheered as they flew above the sidewalk. The trio managed to catch up with Yakko and Dot within seconds. Gripping the control lever, Brain maneuvered the suit's arm and swiftly caught the other two Warners in his hold. The pudgy mouse steered the controls and lifted up the suit to a higher elevation.

Yakko and Dot laughed as they were reunited with Wakko. Pinky felt his eyes watering at the sight of the siblings enjoying themselves while Brain drove the suit. Once Brain located the park, he made a swift descent towards the destination. Pinky and the Warners cheered as they approached the park. Brain slowly turned off the jet engines as he landed near an empty picnic bench. He was able to land the suit on both feet while carrying his passengers.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot leaped off of the suit and landed on the ground. "We won! We won! We won!" They chanted as they bounced around the picnic table.

Pinky and Brain smiled at the children. They took in the beautiful scenery of the green trees and bushes among the luscious green grass. The mice were eager to have a grand old time at the park with the Warners.

Yakko and Dot reached into their hammerspaces and took out their kites. Yakko's kite had rainbow colors, while Dot's kite had purple and gold stripes. At that moment, Pinky had an idea. "Hey kids, can I fly with you?" He asked.

"Of course!" Yakko answered. "But I don't know if I have a mouse-sized kite anywhere."

"No, no, no," Pinky gently dismissed. "I mean, I want to fly on the kite!"

Yakko and Dot looked at each other before turning their gaze back at the lanky mouse. "Well, in that case, I don't see why not!" Yakko said as he took out some tape from his hammerspace.

"Fly on my kite, Pinky!" Dot cheered as she laid out her kite.

Pinky happily hopped onto the kite and spread himself out. He always had fun when Brain taped him up tight to a chair or the television screen during past plans for global conquest, but the thought of being taped to a kite exhilarated him. "Now don't hesitate to use extra tape! Zort!"

Meanwhile, Wakko took out a blue frisbee and approached Brain. "Hey Dadoo, wanna play frisbee with me?"

"Certainly," Brain answered with a small smile.

Wakko handed the frisbee over to Brain. The mouse gently held the plastic disc in his grip and looked out to Wakko, who ran about twenty feet away.

"Ready!" The toon child shouted.

Brain gripped the disc as he maneuvered the mechanical arms back. Thrusting the lever, he launched the frisbee. The blue disc glided across the air until Wakko leaped up and caught it in their mouth.

Wakko landed on all fours and sprinted down the grass like an eager dog. He then skidded to a stop when he was close to Brain, but managed to dig their heels into the grass and stop before he could collide with the mouse. Wakko contentedly dropped the frisbee in front of the suit's feet, wagged their tail a mile a minute, and panted eagerly with their tongue lolling out.

Brain snorted at Wakko's silliness. While the mouse wasn't sure what animal the Warners were supposed to be modeled after, but he was certain that the middle child inherited many traits found in the average canine. "Do you even know how to throw?"

"No throw!" Wakko replied with an ounce of ferocity in their tone. "Only give!"

The mouse rolled his eyes. "Alright, I think it's high time someone taught you the art of throwing."

With a wave of the mechanical hand, Brain commanded Wakko to stand up, to which the middle child eagerly obeyed.

"Now, the most important element of frisbee is about using the flick of your wrist to impart gyroscopic stability and to accelerate the mass of the disc to a certain velocity."

Wakko tilted his head in confusion.

Brain dejectedly sighed. He thought that his scientific jargon sounded rather groovy. But if he was to properly bond with Wakko, he needed to meet them halfway. "To put it in terms that you can understand, you must be able to use your arm and wrist to throw the frisbee so that it can glide in the air at a decent speed."

Wakko's eyes glistened. "Oh, now I get it!"

To demonstrate, Wakko whipped his arm and released the frisbee, which wobbled in the air and landed straight into a tree with an unceremonious thud.

Brain looked at the disc, which laid limp by the tree trunk, and back at Wakko. "We have a lot of work to do…"

Yakko and Dot were flying their kites, with Pinky strapped to Dot's purple and gold kite. The lanky mouse laughed heartily as he flew up in the air and admired the city from a bird's eye view.

But the fun came to a halt when Pinky and the kite crashed into the tree branch.

Yakko and Dot looked up at the tree with concern for the lanky mouse. "Are you okay, Pinky?" Dot called out, using her gloved hands to amplify her voice.

Spitting out the leaves from his mouth, Pinky responded to the girl's inquiry. "I'm right as rain, sweetie!" But Pinky spoke too soon as he struggled to liberate his limbs from the adhesive of the cheap tape.

"Uh Brain," Pinky called out from above. The big-headed mouse turned to see his partner stuck at the top of the tree.

Brain retrieved the kite (and his partner) from the tree branch and descended back to the ground. He carefully took the tape off of Pinky's limbs, placing the adhesives in his pocket to be disposed of later. Pinky hopped off of the kite and landed in the palm of Brain's robotic hand. Brain carefully picked Pinky up by the fur on his back and gently placed him in his front coat pocket.

"That oughta hold you." Brain told his partner.

Pinky chuckled. "That's funny. You always say that to me before our role-playing sessions."

Upon hearing the innuendo, Yakko looked over at the mice and stared at the fourth wall. He pressed his right hand to his lips, gave it a smooch, and flung it to the side. "Goodnight, everybody!" He exclaimed.

Brain felt the heat rise up in his cheeks at Yakko's iconic catchphrase. "Pinky, the park is a family establishment! There will be no mention of our licentious activities in front of the children!" he berated, pointing over to the Warners, who only giggled in response.

Yakko let out a contented sigh as he fished out his pen and notepad from his hammerspace. Clicking the top of the pen, he placed a checkmark on the box next to 'Making a witty response to a suggestive remark', marking off another goal on his To-Do List. The teen noted the second most important thing he needed to do next. Revisiting a certain segment that was sadly absent from the reboot.

Yakko then turned over to his younger siblings. "So, who wants to help me find the Wheel of Morality?"

"I do!" Dot exclaimed.

"Maybe later," Wakko replied as he fiddled the frisbee. "I wanna play with Dadoo some more, and I think I'm getting the hang of frisbee!" To test out their theory, Wakko threw the frisbee, which landed square in the middle of Brain's mechanical suit and ricocheted back to Wakko, hitting them square in the face. Despite the injury, Wakko eagerly grinned at their siblings and gave them a thumbs up.

Yakko noticed how happy Wakko was with the mice and shrugged. "Suit yourself, middle sib."

"Now let's go!" Dot exclaimed as she tugged at her older brother's wrist. Yakko smiled at his sister as they raced down the walkway in search of the coveted Wheel of Morality.

Wakko waved at their siblings as they bounced off into the distance before turning back towards the mice. He threw the frisbee once more at Brain, who was caught off guard by when the frisbee smacked him on his forehead.

"Ow!" Brain remarked as he took his own hand to soothe his head.

"Sorry!" Wakko replied with a sheepish smile.

"It's fine," Brain dismissed as he approached the middle child. "You have a lot of energy in your throws, but now it's time I taught you how to aim properly."

With Pinky now secure in his suit pocket, Brain returned his game of frisbee with Wakko. The pudgy mouse piloted the suit as he approached Wakko, and guided his mechanical arm to properly show them how to hold a frisbee.

"Now you want to grip the disc like this," He explained, as he moved Wako's hand to make a backhand grip on the frisbee. Wakko watched carefully with their tongue sticking out as he listened to Brain.

"With the disc secure, you want to position your arm backward." Brain continued as he carefully guided Wakko's arm towards their left side. "And then you flick your arm back towards your right and release the disc."

Wakko moved his arm and flicked the disc, which smoothly glided in the air for about ten feet before making a gentle landing onto the grass. The middle child flashed a proud smile at the frisbee and then back at the mice, who gave encouraging smiles in return.

For the next ten minutes, Brain and Pinky enjoyed themselves as Wakko's throwing greatly improved. They started out with five-foot throws and eventually managed to find a steady rhythm as they made more long-distance throws.

Brain tossed the frisbee twenty feet over to Wakko, who caught it in the grip of their gloved hand with ease.

Wakko grinned as he looked back at the mice. "Go long!" Wakko shouted as he made a particularly long throw.

Brain maneuvered the man-suit fast enough to where the frisbee would fall. Taking a big leap into the air, he caught the frisbee but lost his footing. As the suit tripped over to the grass, Brain fell out from his controller's chair, with Pinky following suit.

The two mice tumbled about thirty feet away from the suit and landed near the base of a tree, causing the bluebirds to scatter. Colorful stars swirled around their heads when a blue feather gracefully fell on top of Brain.

Brain pondered for a moment, recalling his childhood days in the meadow when he spent his free time playing 'keep-it-up' with any feather or leaf he stumbled across. As much a The big-headed mouse took a deep breath and blew the feather off of his head. The feather rose up a good measure above the air before descending again. Suddenly, Brain felt his playfulness reemerging after laying dormant for Lord knows how long and decided to keep the feather up in the air.

Pinky's vision eventually cleared and the first thing he saw was his partner merrily blowing at a blue feather while wearing the most endearing smile.

"What are you doin', Brain?" Pinky inquired.

"Playing a little game," Brain answered, his eyes still focused on the blue feather. "The objective is to keep the feather up in the air for as long as possible."

"Zounds, Brain, that looks like fun!" Pinky cheered. The mouse bounced back on his feet and trotted over towards Brain.

The big-headed mouse stared up at the feather, calculating where it would land. He was determined to keep it up for as long as possible. Before he could make his move, Pinky stood beside him and puffed out enough air to launch the feather up to an additional six inches.

Pinky gave a goofy grin at Brain, who chuckled in response.

They took turns blowing enough air to prevent the feather from falling onto the grass. The two mice quickly became so invested in the game that they lost track of their responsibility watching over the Warners.

When the feather was close to landing on a nearby bush, Pinky and Brain collided with each other and fell backward. The mice groaned as the feather swiftly landed next to them. Rubbing their heads, the mice looked at each other and laughed joyously. Brain got up first and eagerly helped Pinky get back up.

Just as the mice stood up, a giant net stealthily emerged from the bushes and swooped them up. Fear and alarm overtook the couple as they struggled in the chafing ropes of the net. Thrown into a fit of confusion, they were unaware of the men in white lab coats until they spoke up.

"Looks like we found the perfect specimens for the separation experiment," A red-headed scientist said.

"You know, it's a good thing it was delayed to this evening. These little mice would make excellent candidates!." The scientist with square glasses remarked.

Pinky and the Brain exchanged terrified glances. The experiment they thought they had evaded was put on hold. A weekend filled with light-hearted antics and bonding was to end with the close mice being separated for an entire month.

Brain looked outside the picturesque park through his roped prison, recalling the tragic day when he was stolen from his family in the meadows as a young field mouse and was unceremoniously hauled away to Acme Labs. Where his innocence vanished and was resigned to the fate of a mistreated laboratory rodent.

Raw determination grappled his fear. Brain refused to allow history to repeat itself again. He refused to be separated from his family once more.

"Hurry Pinky," Brain called out. "Use every ounce of strength you have to tear a hole through this net so we could still escape while we have the chance!"

But the red-headed scientist swiftly picked them up by their tails and carelessly placed them into an iron cage.

Pinky and Brain ran over to the bars. Out from the horizon, they saw Wakko skipping along, carrying the frisbee in their hands. The mice reached out their arms through the bars, using every ounce of energy in their voices to alert the middle child.

"Wakko!" Pinky cried out as tears poured from his eyes. "Please help us!"

"Please, my child! You must do something!" Brain shouted, his voice laced with desperation. "You're our only hope!"

Wakko's ear stood up the moment he heard their frightened pleas. He scanned over the horizon to see the two mice he dearly loved imprisoned in the iron cage carried by the adults in white lab coats. The scientists walked over to the back of the windowless van and placed Pinky and Brain into the back along with the other recently captured field mice.

Wakko felt their heart breaking. Pinky and Brain gave them and their siblings a wonderful and memorable weekend. He recalled Brain standing up to them and taking a last-minute trip to the library so he could get the drawing back. Even Pinky showed his true colors of being a loving and reliable guardian. The mice helped Wakko out and now it was time to return the favor.

"Hey! You let those mice free!" The middle child shouted, running as fast as he could to reach the scientists. "They're my dads!"

But the scientists ignored his pleas as they entered the front seat van. Wakko picked up their pace the moment he saw the van doors shut. But the Acme Labs van started up its engines. Before Wakko could approach the vehicle, it quickly drove from its parking spot and departed from the park.

Wakko tried to pick up his pace, but the van turned a corner and disappeared out of sight. The toon felt their heart thumping in their ribcage. He was the mice's only hope for salvation, and he failed.

Wakko fell down to their knees in defeat. their face crumpling as tears began to fall. He pulled his ears, berating himself for not saving his dads when he had the chance. Tears began to pool from the middle child's eyes. Blinking away their blurry vision, the tears streamed down their face as a sob broke.

"Hey Wakko, we found the Wheel of Morality!" He heard Yakko cheer from a distance. Wakko's stomach dropped. How was he supposed to tell Yakko and Dot that Pinky and Brain were captured?

Yakko and Dot skipped merrily with the intention of showing Wakko the coveted Wheel of Morality. But the siblings stopped in their tracks when the middle Warner didn't budge from their spot and their frame shaking.

Yakko carefully approached Wakko in an earnest effort to alleviate their woes. "Hey Wakko, what's wrong?" He comforted his sibling.

"The Acme Labs scientists took Pinky and Brain away!" Wakko tearfully explained. Yakko and Dot gasped in shock.

Wakko sniffled. "I-I tried to keep up, but the van was too quick…"

Yakko and Dot sympathetically looked on, not wanting the middle child to feel too hard on themselves.

"Dad and Dadoo are in trouble and we need to do something!" Wakko cried. Yakko instinctively knelt down and rubbed his siblings back in a soothing manner.

Dot's face scrunched up as she pondered. "Acme Labs…" She muttered to herself as she retrieved her smartphone from her pocket. She opened up the internet and searched in the lab. She managed to find the establishment's address.

"The lab is only a few miles from here!" Dot informed her older siblings. "If we can hail a cab, then we'd be able to break them out before sunset!"

Yakko grinned at his sister, feeling proud of her initiative. "Sibs, if we want to save our family, then we gotta act quickly!" Yakko announced as he bounced up on his feet.

Wakko beamed at their brother, elated that eldest Warner finally recognized the mice as family. "You mean it, Yakko?"

Yakko placed a gentle hand on his sibling's shoulder. "Of course. They looked out for us, so it's only fair that we look out for them!"

The eldest Warner offered a helping hand, and Wakko immediately clapped it and rose on their feet. With the aid of their siblings, the middle child was determined to save their two dads.

Dot approached the sidewalk and turned over to the oncoming white taxi van. She stuck her hand out in the air and gave a loud whistle. "Taxi!" She hollered.

Right on command, the white taxi pulled up to the sidewalk. The doors to the minivan opened and the Warners clamored into the backseat.

"Where to?" The driver asked.

"Acme Labs," Dot gravely commanded. "And put the pedal to the metal!"

- - - - -

The mice were surrounded in darkness. Pinky and Brian were locked in a protective embrace throughout the duration of the car ride over to Acme Labs.

Brain listened to the frightened cries of the other field mice. He couldn't help but remember the day he was locked away in the Acme Labs vehicle to be separated from his family and home. He never thought that he would relive that painful day.

Pinky held Brain close as his mind raced with all sorts of worrying things. The weekend wasn't supposed to end like this! He and Brain should be back at the park and watching the Wheel of Morality. Brain should be bringing up the proposal to officially adopt the sweet Warner children and start a big happy family together. They should have successfully avoided the separation experiment.

Pinky felt his stomach drop. He didn't like the idea of being separated from his dearest Brain. He remembered the different times he and Brain were apart. Snowball was almost successful when he offered him the amusement park. Then there was the time Brain had a mid-life crisis and insisted that he was better off with his career as a ski instructor. Or the time his hit musical caused Brain to run off. But worst of all was when Mr. Itch planned on separating him and Brain for the rest of eternity.

He detested the thought of not being by Brain's side for an entire month.

"Brain…" Pinky wobbled. "Poit! I haven't been this scared since Mr. Itch tried to separate us for good!"

Brain tightened his grip around Pinky at that painful memory. "The feeling is understandable, dear Pinky," He sullenly replied as he cast his eyes downward.

"And we were just going to start our new lives as parents," Pinky sadly added. As the words escaped his lips, he felt a small ray of hope. "Troz! Maybe the Warners will bust us out of here before the experiment starts!"

Brain's ears twitched at Pinky's relentless optimism, even in the face of hopelessness. The mouse loved to think that he and his partner further strengthened their relationship with the three toons, perhaps to the point of something familial.

The pudgy mouse looked back at Pinky with a small smile. "Perhaps you're right."

But the van screeched to a grinding halt.

Pinky looked through the bars, his long tail wagging excitedly. "Maybe they'll bust through the doors right now and take us back to the studio!"

The backdoors flew open to reveal the same scientists who stole their freedom.

Pinky retreated from the iron bars and launched himself onto Brain with open arms. The smaller mouse instinctively wrapped his arms around his partner's lanky figure, holding on as tight as he could. Their hopes of escape were snuffed out.

"Well, the thought was nice while it lasted." Brain commented in a dejected tone.

One of the scientists picked up their cage and swiftly placed it on a metal cart. Pinky and Brain held each other in a protective hug as they watched the scientists place the other cages onto the cart. Brain couldn't help but notice the terrified squeaks of the various field mice who were robbed of their freedom and to be incarcerated in Acme Labs. The mouse shut his eyes. The memories of his arrival at Acme Labs to the horrific experiments he underwent returned to him.

The first night spent in the cold steel cage. The learned helplessness experiment. Being strapped to a chair and watching painfully bad political advertisements. Receiving painful shocks from the stunning plate in an earnest attempt to obtain some cheese. He and Snowball riding a red toy car that launched straight into a brick wall, rendering them horrifically injured. Undergoing the gene splicer while wrapped in bandages. Losing his first friend after a terrible falling out. Being force-fed cigarettes against his will. Having to pilot a faulty toy plane that ended up becoming a major fire hazard.

Brain's breathing hitched. Thankfully, he felt Pinky's paw lovingly stroke his back in a soothing motion. The pudgy mouse rested his head in his partner's chest. He had to savor the physical comfort while he still could.

Pinky, too, thought about his arrival at the lab. When the scientist first purchased him from the pet store, he thought nothing of it and assumed that he was going on vacation. But as the nights passed, the reality of the situation dawned on him that he might never see his family again. Pinky was thankful that Brain helped him reunite with his folks years later, but for the longest time, he thought that would not be the case. He whimpered at the thought that he might be separated from Brain and the Warner siblings for good.

Once the cages were transferred from the vehicle and onto the cart, the scientist wheeled them away into the research facility.

Pinky started to sob when the fluorescent lights of the lab hit. Brain looked over at Pinky with worried eyes. Although emotions were not his strong suit, he was determined to provide his roommate with some level of comfort.

"Have courage, Pinky," Brain consoled his partner, gingerly caressing his paw. "It'll only be for a month, and we'll soon be reunited."

Pinky gave Brain's paw a tight squeeze in return. "I-I'll try, Brain." He stammered as tears poured from his eyes.

The cart stopped in the middle of the hallway and one of the scientists opened up their cage.

Brain squeezed his eyes tight as he clung to Pinky. While he was aware that being placed in a separate cage that included all of the basic necessities for an entire month was bearable in comparison, being separated from Pinky proved to be its own type of torture in and of itself.

"I love you, Brain." Pinky warbled.

Brain's stomach dropped when he heard those words. Gathering up enough courage, Brain made his feelings known before he was to be separated from the most important thing in this world.

"I love you too, Pinky." Brain solemnly whispered.

The small door to the iron cage opened and a gloved hand dipped down to retrieve one of his victims. The hand tried to pull the mice apart but was having difficulty. Brain instinctively sank his teeth into the gloved hand to retaliate.

The scientist yelped as swiftly yanked his hand out of the cage. "Looks like we've got a biter." He told his associate.

The other scientist snaked his hand through the opening and swiftly grabbed Brain. Pinky's eyes widened when he saw Brain in the clutches of one of his captors. When the other scientist reached his hand into the cage, Pinky was determined to fight back. But the scientist proved to have quick reflexes as he secured his grasp around the lanky mouse and plucked him from the cage.

Brain struggled to release his arms from the scientist's grasp but found it difficult to squirm his way out. He looked over to see Pinky squirming in the other scientist's hold whilst looking at him with pleading eyes.

"Brain!" Pinky cried out.

Brain stared at his partner as they were forcibly separated by the callous scientists.

"Pinky…" He exhaled, tears dampening his ivory cheeks. Brain watched helplessly as he was carried away into a testing room.

A scientist with blonde braided hair shut the door right away. Brain inspected the room and the many white coats. Two of the head scientists he recognized. The older gentleman with silver-grey hair and a middle-aged woman with brown hair that was held together in a ponytail. There were six other scientists, all of them in their early twenties and straight out of college.

The red-headed scientist placed Brain on when the middle-aged scientist with red hair cleaned the tip of his right ear with a disinfectant wipe. Just as he twitched at the moist sensation, he felt a hard sting when the scientist pierced his ear with a silver metal tag.

The mouse was overcome with shame. While the piercing was far less painful than the time he was branded with the black A tattoo on his leg during his youth, it wounded his pride just as much. The silver ear tag was another cruel reminder that he was not a mouse with autonomy and ambition, but a mere piece of property to a corporate laboratory.

"Subject A-93," The woman muttered as she scribbled his notes onto the clipboard. Brain grimaced at his slave name.

The older scientist grabbed Brain from the table. He walked over towards a glass cage that was placed in the middle of the room, opened up the top cover, and lowered the mouse inside.

Brain inspected the prison he was to reside in for the next month. The ground was covered in straw, there was an exercise wheel, a bowl of food pellets, and a full water bottle. Not much different from his old cage. The only thing that was missing was Pinky.

The mouse stared at his reflection in each of the four sides of his glass cage. "Drat!" He muttered to himself. If he were placed in a cage similar to his green one, then he would easily have picked the lock with his tail and made a daring mission to rescue Pinky.

Brain ran to the side of the cage and angrily pounded on the glass wall, desperate to make an escape.

He saw two of the scientists talking to each other as they scribbled down in their notes. Brain peered at the older man's lips as he spoke.

"Over the course of the month, we will be studying the emotional intelligence and cognitive thinking of the common laboratory mouse and how it will cope with a month of being separated from its closest partner."

"No need to remind me," Brain bitterly remarked, knowing full well his sarcasm would go unnoticed by the scientists.

The mouse paced around the straw floor, pondering the different means of escape. There was the matter of telekinesis. Brain hoped that Pinky would use his special abilities to break free and rescue him. But the more he thought about it, the more doubtful he became. While Pinky had no issue with controlling his telekinetic powers, the only problem is that his partner's powers tend to come and go.

He then thought of the Warners. Perhaps Pinky was right, and that the Warners could liberate them from the lab. Brain was certain that he and Pinky made a great impression on them so that they would be willing to rescue them from the lab, right?

But Brain shook his head. He didn't want to get his hopes up only to be let down if they didn't show up.

The mouse looked over at the scientists, one of which was by the refrigerator. Perhaps if one of the scientists opened up the cage and lowered their arm, Brian could climb up and make a run for it. He would somehow rescue Pinky and they would make their escape from the lab.

The lid of the cage opened and placed a small plate of cheese in the center.

Brain set his sights on the slice of swiss cheese just as the scientist quickly shut the lid on top of the cage.

The mouse felt his heart slam against his chest as he stared at the large piece of swiss cheese.

Brain knew that there was no stunning plate underneath the cheese. There were no clamps or electrical wires that connected the plate to the shock device. But the familiar image was a painful reminder of the trauma he endured as a child.

He glanced over at the scientists, who were not the same ones who performed the experiment during his youth, as managed to read the head scientist's lips. "The objective of this first test is to see how the subject will react to new stimuli without the aid of his partner. During the first week of testing, we'll examine how the mouse would react to different types of food before moving on to common household items."

Brain looked back at the cheese and took a few steps back. He clutched his jagged tail, noting each zig-zag mark was the result of being electrocuted by the stunning plate. He shook his head in disbelief. This had to be some cruel trick. To be separated from his beloved Pinky only be stuck with a painful reminder of his childhood trauma.

Closing his eyes, the mouse turned away and ran towards the wall, slamming into it. Brain curled his paws into fists and began to pound at the wall in a desperate attempt to escape. With each punch, he was reminded of how utterly helpless he had become. No longer was he an ambitious intellectual with dreams of world conquest. As the punches slowed down, he stared into his reflection, reminded that he was a sad and pitiful rodent only to be used as fodder in the name of science and human curiosity.

Tears flooded his eyes and blurred his vision. Brain shook his head once more. He hated feeling vulnerable. The mouse blinked away the hot tears as he continued to pound at the glass wall. The scientists stared at the mouse with indifference as they scribbled into their notepads.

Brain fell to his knees, feeling a great sense of despair from the unfeeling researchers. Bowing his head down in defeat, the mouse continued to sob, feeling totally helpless.

AN: This is the beginning of the end of this story.

I apologize for the long hiatus. I had a lot going on with my personal life, as well as experiencing writer’s block. Fortunately, I managed to overcome that hurdle as of late, and I’m already polishing up the last two chapters, so I'm hoping to finish them as soon as possible.

This chapter was a little challenging (especially the tone change in the last third), but everything is gearing up towards the climax. I had a lot of fun putting in several references to past episodes from the original Animaniacs, the Pinky and The Brain spin-off, and the Animaniacs reboot. I also decided to place a flashback to when the mice first met the Warners because I wanted to establish how these two groups initially crossed paths and how their relationship was founded (as well as having a callback to the McDonald’s joke from Chapter Three).

To the folks who are still reading this story, thank you for your patience and I’ll do my best to wrap up the last chapters on a shorter schedule.

Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner

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everybodyscupoftea · 4 years

Text

anyone can cook

rafe cameron x reader

words: 3729

warnings: usual cursing, mentions of drugs

synopsis: college au, four times you cook for rafe and one time he cooks for you

Growing up, your mom taught you the importance of food. For most of your childhood, you loved cooking with her. Learning family recipes, and spending time in the kitchen with her instead of doing homework was thrilling to you. As you aged, you started to resent it, feeling like your mother was perpetuating the harmful stereotype that women are meant to be in the kitchen.

And then you left school early and came home to see the shit your dad was putting your mom through and was forced to immediately take that hard pill to swallow. Perspective was a bitch. Your mom didn’t cook to please your dad, she cooked to keep him happy enough for you to be fooled. It was heartbreaking.

You decided then that you’d not take any time cooking with your mom for granted. She loved you and she wanted you to be happier than her. For her, you could certainly fucking try. It was all going great until the storm that knocked out power, rendered the kitchen useless, and drove your dad’s patience level to its breaking point.

He’d never been that angry before, at least not in front of you. You weren’t sure what to do as he lashed out at your mom and then you, without warning and in the end, without apology. Normally if you were upset, your mom would make cookies with you, letting you use cookie cutters and dirty unnecessary dishes. That time though, you had to figure it out alone.

When you got to college, your parents helped pay rent for your first apartment. It had a good kitchen with lots of room, and your mom bought you a ton of kitchen tools, pots and pans, and other cooking necessities as a graduation gift. Her and your dad helped you move in, and that night, with shaky hands, she held your face in her hands. Tears in her eyes she whispered, “Promise me you won’t stop cooking.”

You couldn’t stop your own tears as you gulped and nodded a little frantically, “Of course not, Mama.”

Rafe lived a very different life. His real mother wasn’t in the picture and his step mother didn’t really want kids, so his experience with cooking was very limited compared to yours. Coincidentally that’s how the two of you met, outside your apartment building at 11:48 p.m. while the fire department sorted out the disaster that was his dinner attempt.

You knew it was his fault because he was very carefully trying to make himself look small. The only reason you knew what had gone wrong was you overheard the fireman talking to the landlord saying it was just a small kitchen fire in 227 and wouldn’t be too much to fix.

It was really out of character, but you walked over to where he was sitting on the curb and sat down next to him, “227?”

His head turned toward you sharply, “Figured me out, huh?”

“You were trying a little too hard to look inconspicuous.”

He shrugged, “Didn’t want a bunch of angry neighbors.”

Which you understood, so you nudged his shoulder with yours, “Well, I’m not angry and I know, but I’m not so sure I’d risk it with her,” you pointed at a lady who seemed to be ranting into the phone.

The boy followed your point and winced, “Yeah maybe not. Cooking clearly isn’t for me.”

“What were you making?”

“Kraft mac and cheese.”

You let out a loud laugh, assuming it was a joke. But then he didn’t meet your eyes or laugh along and you quickly stopped laughing, “Wait actually?”

With a shrug, he answered, “No one really taught me how to cook.”

And here you had a choice. Years and years of stored up cooking knowledge, endless recipes memorized, and a fantastic kitchen begging to be used by more than one person made the choice obvious.

“Well then take this as my standing dinner invitation whenever you want. I’ll give you my number and you can let me know when you’re hungry.”

“So, you’re gonna what, teach me how to cook.”

“Well, we can start small. I’ll cook for you first.”

One:

The first time Rafe texted you was on a night you actually had a fridge full of leftovers, but the boy who lived alone with sad eyes deserved better than leftovers. Rafe knocked on the door a few minutes later and he was dressed similarly to the first time you’d seen him, in sweats and a hoodie, and his hands were folded nervously in front of him.

You let him in, and he followed you to the kitchen, “So what’s on the menu for tonight?” he asked.

“Chicken pot pie,” you told him over your shoulder. You’d turned the oven on to preheat and had the potatoes and carrots chopped already. He stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

Before you could continue, he cut in, “Is there something I can do?”

You thought for a minute, “You can control the music. My phone is synced up to the bluetooth speaker and I have Spotify pulled up, so have at it.”

Rafe nodded and sat down as you put the veggies into a pot and added water to start boiling them. You quickly went into your cooking zone as Rafe sat quietly queuing up songs. They were from your chill playlist and you appreciated that he was sticking to your playlists, humming along every so often.

By the time you pulled the chicken and veggie mixture from the heat, Rafe was leaning forward in his seat, and he looked excited to see what you’d do next. Reaching down, you pulled out a glass pie tin and looked over at him, “After I press the crust down, will you help me pour the mixture in?”

Rafe nodded eagerly and you made quick work of the pie crust, motioning him to come around the counter. He looked hesitant for the first time since you’d started cooking, and you tried to smile reassuringly. Returning the smile, he moved closer, “What do you want me to do.”

You held out the potholders, “If you pour, I’ll scoop.”

He picked the pot up and slowly poured the mixture into the tin and you quickly scooped the stuff that didn’t pour. Rafe set the pot down and you held the second crust out to him to press on top. He mimicked your actions from earlier carefully, and you couldn’t help but smile. You showed him how to press the edges down with a fork and he did so, slowly. Covering the edges, you let Rafe put it in the oven and then led him to the living room to start a movie while the two of you waited for it to finish.

The pot pie was a family recipe, and when Rafe tried it, the look on his face made it worth him seeing the secret ingredients your mom added to jazz it up. It felt good seeing someone enjoying your cooking again.

Two:

You weren’t entirely sure the relationship Rafe had with his family, but on fried catfish night, Rafe showed up at your doorstep unexpectedly. Fortunately, you had a few extra, so you invited him in for dinner. It wasn’t exactly what he was gunning for when he showed up, but he’d never say no to your cooking.

While you battered and seasoned the fish, he vented about his dad.

“I just don’t understand how a 4.0 isn’t fucking good enough. He’ll never give me any credit as long as Sarah does well in school and plays volleyball, I just want to be good enough.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, and you found yourself tearing up on his behalf. You paused the music that had been softly playing in the background, “Fuck your dad, you deserve better.”

Rafe laughed drily, “I’ve done some dumb shit, this is my karma. I just don’t like it.”

“I fail to see any mistakes bad enough to warrant a parent totally disregarding their child like that. Did you kill someone or something?”

He shook his head, chuckling, “No, I didn’t kill anyone. But I had a drug problem in high school. I’m clean now, but it was me attempting to get my dad’s attention and it all spiraled out of control. Clearly it didn’t work out the way I wanted it to because my dad just kicked me out.”

You were horrified, “He kicked you out?!”

“Yeah, I went from couch to couch for a while until checking myself into rehab so I could get clean. I was tired of being dependent on something and really I wanted to prove my dad wrong.”

“God, Rafe, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged and you started heating the oil up to start frying. There was an extended pause before he softly continued, “He didn’t let me move back in, even when I showed up clean. News of everything had gotten around town and he didn’t want me to further disgrace the family name.”

Brushing a tear off your cheek, you caught his eye, “Karma will come for your dad someday. You deserve only good things, Rafe.”

With a faint smile, he tapped his fingers on the cabinet, almost nervously, “Maybe one day I’ll be able to see it that way, but for now, I just don’t.”

“I’ll keep telling you until you believe it,” you promised fiercely. And you really meant it.

You finished frying the fish, silence between the two of you. It was no longer heavy and it wasn’t as awkward as the first time, you were proud of the progress. Rafe grabbed plates from the cabinet and at your instruction, the coleslaw you had already made and stored in the fridge.

Courtesy kicked in, and you let Rafe make his plate first. You figured he deserved to feel first choice for once. He almost looked like he wanted to argue, but you weren’t about to back down, so he filled his plate and sat back at the bar, patiently waiting for you to sit down before eating.

You fixed your plate and sat down next to him before squeezing his shoulder, “Thanks for keeping me company tonight.”

Rafe laughed, “Thanks for letting me rant.”

“Anytime.”

Three:

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath and your laptop confirmed what you feared, your last bio exam had gone very poorly. It was just one test, but you weren’t used to seeing such a low grade, and you had to try really hard not to cry. Everything in you wanted to go lay down for days and forget about the rest of your classes, but the logical part of your brain texted Rafe to invite him for dinner.

He showed up not even five minutes later, and you decided breakfast sounded like the most comforting thing. You didn’t want to come across as too needy, so you didn’t mention the bad grade and tried to cover how you were actually feeling.

Unfortunately, the music you had playing gave it away. Rafe took one look at your face and the slight slump in your shoulders, and immediately wrapped you into a hug. You squeezed your eyes shut, fighting the tears, and he held you tighter.

“What happened, bud?”

“It’s nothing,” you tried to deflect, “fucked up on a bio test. We still have a few more, but it’s not a great start.”

“Which bio?”

“Molecular.”

Rafe thought for a few seconds, “I know a guy who has taken that, want me to see if I can get his notes?”

“That would be great actually.”

He smiled, “Good, now why don’t we get some happier music and get to cooking.”

And you could do that. Rafe changed to a playlist he’d made and sent to you a few weeks ago called Good Vibes for Cooking Nights and you couldn’t argue, they were good songs. A Wallows song started playing and you fell into a rhythm of pouring batter and flipping pancakes, feeling immensely better than when Rafe had first showed up.

You were thankful for him, this boy who had totally changed your life in the four months he’d known you. Four months of baring your hearts to each other in your own little ways. Rafe showing up to your apartment looking casual, not at all how he looked normally during the day. You letting him control the music and watch you cook, something so personal and special to you. It was new for the both of you.

Rafe heated up syrup while you quickly buttered the pancakes and washed some fruit for toppings. For the first time, you made your plate and sat down first. Rafe sat down next to you a few minutes later, plate heaped high with pancakes and raspberries.

After a few minutes of eating, the music being the only noise in the kitchen, Rafe turned to you, “You’re so intelligent and I don’t want you to let this one test discourage you. I know you’ll bounce back.”

“I studied so hard,” you told him, almost whispering, “I knew this was going to be hard, but I have no prior experience to fall back on, and it’s killing me.”

“But you’ll learn. Now you know how exams are structured, and you can adjust your studying habits. Next test will go great, I promise.”

You couldn’t stop it, it had been building between the two of you for months, and in your extra emotional state, you acted more rashly than normal. Setting your fork down, you turned to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. Rafe was startled, but turned to face you, not prepared for you to kiss him.

He froze and you almost regretted it, loosening your grip on his shirt, about to pull away embarrassed when he started kissing you back. Rafe tasted like syrup and raspberries, an addicting combination. Unfortunately, you eventually had to pull away to breathe, and Rafe pressed a soft kiss to your forehead while you caught your breath.

He picked his fork back up and smiled widely at you, “So that was nice.”

You blushed, “Yeah, um, sorry.”

“I’m not,” he stole a strawberry off your plate, “I didn’t want to make a move and make you uncomfortable if I was reading this whole thing wrong.”

“You, um, you weren’t reading it wrong.”

“I see that.”

Your blush deepened as he smiled wider at you. You shrugged, “So, what now?”

“Well, hopefully, now you’ll let me take you out and see where we go from there.”

“I’d like that.”

Four:

You weren’t sure if it was an out of sight, out of mind situation, but your parents planned a couple’s trip for Christmas, and you weren’t invited. Which would make this the first time in your entire life you wouldn’t spend Christmas with your family. You had mixed feelings. On one hand, you were hurt at the blatant disregard of you and your feelings, but on the other hand it gave you the chance to spend your first holiday alone with Rafe.

The two of you were eating hummus and doing homework when you decided to bring it up. He was on the floor, and you were on the couch, so you nudged his shoulder with your foot to get his attention, “How do you feel about spending Christmas together?”

He looked back at you with a wide smile, “I feel like it would be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

You grabbed a blank sheet of paper and handed it down to him, “Write down specific foods you want.”

“What do you normally eat on Christmas?” he asked, not taking the paper.

With a shrug, you pulled the paper back, “I don’t know, we normally do gumbo and cornbread and German chocolate cake.”

Rafe grabbed your ankle, shaking your leg a few times, “Let’s do that.”

“You don’t want to add anything?” you asked, hesitant.

He bit the inside of his cheek, clearly thinking, “Maybe we could do a baked mac and cheese. We had those a lot growing up before Mom left.”

“Find me the recipe and I’ll make it for you, bub.”

With a wide smile, Rafe grabbed your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, “You’re the best.”

When Christmas finally rolled around, you woke up early to start cooking. Your mom suggested a Dutch oven, something you didn’t already own, and to buy file powder instead of trying the cornstarch method. She also told you to make the cake a day earlier so you wouldn’t have to worry about it with the rest of the food.

You worked with Christmas music playing softly in the background, focusing on making sure the flour and oil combination didn’t burn before adding the veggies. The recipe wasn’t hard, but it did require a lot of stirring and paying attention and exact timing.

By the time it was ready to start simmering for about 30 minutes, you had started boiling the pasta for the mac and cheese. That recipe was simple, and you’d been playing with the cheese topping in your own time to make the flavor blend better with the gumbo, and you were pretty sure you’d figured it out.

With practiced ease, you finished it and poured it over the pasta before setting it to bake. By then, it was time to finish the gumbo, make the cornbread, and get dressed.

Rafe showed up just as you finished getting dressed and the cornbread timer was going off. He had a key and let himself in, and you knew he could handle taking the cornbread out.

“Babe, I’m here,” he called out as he shut the timer off.

“Coming,” you yelled back, smoothing your sweater down.

By the time you finally made it to the kitchen Rafe had set all of the food on the counter and he was leaned next to it in his own sweater and jeans. He held his arms out for a hug, and you walked into them happily.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You hummed and reached up to kiss him.

“Merry Christmas,” you told him, pulling away.

“Food looks good,” he complimented, reaching for the bowls and plates he’d gotten out.

You looked over the spread and smiled proudly, “It does, doesn’t it?”

“You want to eat on the couch and watch the Jim Carrey Grinch?”

Nodding enthusiastically, you grabbed a plate, “Fuck yes.”

The two of you settled on the couch, a gingerbread scented candle burning in the background. Rafe started the movie and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, plate in his lap. You leaned into him and let out a long breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding in. This Christmas, while out of the ordinary, was your favorite one yet.

+ One:

You got home after work, exhausted. Your apartment was dark and cold and it made you want to curl up into a ball and cry. Work had been so time consuming over the past month you’d barely seen Rafe and you missed him. But if you got the promotion your boss had been hinting at, you’d get more manageable hours and higher pay, so you were grinding it out until then.

Dropping your bag by the door, you kicked off your shoes before slowly walking to the couch. Before you could sit down, there was a knock at the door. You considered ignoring it, but it persisted, so you walked slowly back to answer.

Rafe was standing there, giant grin on his face, with a steaming pot of something which explained why he didn’t use his key. It was very surreal and you blinked a few times in confusion before letting him in. He walked past you to the kitchen and set the dish down before digging through your drawer for the matches to light your favorite candle on the counter.

“Go get changed,” he urged, “I’ll get plates set up.”

Your phone rang as you were changing into shorts and you grabbed it out of the discarded pants pocket. When you saw your boss’s name, your heart rate doubled and you answered shakily. The phone call was brief, and the gist was that you’d gotten the promotion and the next day off.

Energy immediately filled your body and you ran to the kitchen where Rafe was scooping out what looked like mac and cheese onto plates.

“Rafe!”

He looked up, startled, “What’s up?”

“I got it!”

“The promotion?” he asked, eagerly.

You nodded, beaming, and jumped into his arms when he opened them. Rafe spun you around a few times and kissed you hard. Slowly setting you back down to your feet, he deepened the kiss, your hands winding into his hair.

Rafe pulled away first, pressing soft kisses to both of your cheeks and your forehead before standing up fully. You let go of his hair and took the hand he offered to you. Leading you to the couch, he sat down and motioned for you to do the same.

“Is this mac and cheese?” you asked, poking at the food with the fork he’d brought you.

“It is. I went on snapchat earlier and realized that it’s an anniversary of sorts. I wanted to make you dinner for once since I know you’ve had a long week.”

“Anniversary?”

A faint blush rose on his cheeks and he cleared his throat, “Um, yeah, a year since we met.”

You laughed loudly, “When you set your fucking kitchen on fire making mac and cheese?”

“A year ago, today. And with your cooking help, I can now make mac and cheese without setting the kitchen on fire.”

Poking at it again, you looked up at him, almost fearing the answer, “This isn’t Kraft right?”

“Of course not,” he scoffed, “I called your mom to get her recipe.”

Biting your lip to hold back the onslaught of emotions, you took in a shaky breath, “Right. Okay. Um, I love you, Bub. And this is genuinely the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Rafe kissed your temple before lifting your chin to make you look him in the eye, “I love you too, and as crazy as it sounds, I’m glad I set my kitchen on fire.”

#rafe cameron #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fic #obx #outer banks #college rafe

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cap-winter-barnes · 4 years

Text

My Hero - Campbell Eliot x Reader

Requested by @angeltop129 - I am so sorry for how long this has taken. I hope this is okay. If you would like a Part 2 please let me know.

Warnings: guns, violence (that’s about it I think)

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

West Ham was a town that once upon a time, I would have described as charming and peaceful. But New Ham? New Ham is what I would call chaotic.

I wish every day that this is just a dream, and that when I wake, everything will be back to the way it was before. But it has been forty-six days since we returned on those school buses. Forty-six days with no idea how or why this has happened to us.

When Cassandra suggested some of us take inventory at the grocery store, I jumped at the chance. Anything to get me off of the streets and away from my home. Being an only child already, I physically cannot stand to be in that house alone.

Kelly and Will have been inseparable since we started the job. Not once have they tried involving me in any of their conversations. I can practically hear every word either way, but it would be nice to at least be involved.

But then again, that’s how my life has always been. I am acknowledged and that’s that. No conversations. No interest. No friends.

Looking at my watch, I realise how long I have gone with nothing to eat. I reach across for my rucksack that is propped against the display of tinned tuna. As my fingers graze the left shoulder strap, I am startled by a loud smash from the entrance of the store. Leaving the bag where it is, I stand and peer out of the aisle. I’m honestly not surprised to see some of the local idiots causing trouble. I find it funny how I can’t place a name to their faces except for one. Campbell.

He for once is not directly involved with the disruption, but is standing outside of the store, watching on. But why does he look nervous? Something doesn’t seem right though. And that’s when I notice the group inside the store are all armed.

Being someone who is against conflict of any sort, I quickly back away from the aisle end. But as I reach for my bag, I trip over my own feet and come crashing down into the shelving.

Tins upon tins of food come crashing down with me to the tiled floor. The noise is deafening as they all come tumbling down. It seems endless. A few of the larger products don’t miss me on their descent to the ground. My head throbs with blinding pain. I raise my hands above my head to soften the blow of those that continue to fall, the pain is horrendous. The metal digs into my palms, bending my fingers unnaturally backwards. It’s no wonder that I don’t hear the sounds of the group approaching me, guns aimed in my direction.

My vision is blurred, and my ears are ringing as I try and focus. Through the incessant sound of the ringing, I can tell that there are people shouting. But I can’t quite make out who. I place my hands on the floor to steady myself, and I try and push up from the ground.

“Hey, hey, hey.” A voice cuts clearly through the ringing in my ears. “No. You need to stay where you are.” I recognise the voice, but my brain is still fuzzy from the impact of the tinned goods. “Y/N. Hey.” Campbell. That’s Campbell’s voice.

With help, I lower myself back down to the floor, my back propped up against what is left of the shelving. My vision is slowly coming back to me and I can make out the group of guys standing around where I had last seen them. But this time they look concerned.

I turn to look at Campbell as he carefully kicks the tins out of the way, the sound hurts my head. He then kneels down in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees as he looks at me.

“How are you feeling?” I frown at him and reach up to my head with my fingers. He quickly takes my hand and brings it back down to my body. “You’re bleeding,” he grimaces as he says it, “you don’t need to see it.” I minutely nod my head in understanding. So that’s why I feel like my skull has been cracked open. He takes of his plaid overshirt and gently wraps it around my head as a makeshift bandage.

“I’ll sort you a proper one soon, okay?” He reassures me as he makes sure that the shirt is secure.

I smile in thanks and close my eyes, trying to block out the bright fluorescent lights of the store. “Hey, no. You have to keep your eyes open.”

“The lights are too fucking bright.” My voice is laced with fatigue and annoyance. He chuckles and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, revealing a pair of dark plastic sunglasses. He opens them up and places them on my face, pushing a strand of loose hair behind my ear as he does so.

“Better?” I smile and nod at him, the relief from the brightness takes some of the aching in my head away. Campbell returns the smile and then takes a seat next to me, his shoulder knocking against mine as he does so.

“Hey, Eliot! We done here?” A voice cuts through the silence, it feels like a blade is pressing against my head as he says it. I wince at the sensation and Campbell notices. His expression is no longer caring and kind, but now filled with annoyance. Standing, he makes his way towards the group that have made their way to us.

“No, we’re not done here.” As Campbell walks towards them, I watch on with worry. I remember them all carrying guns. And not all of them were handguns. My heart rate increases at the thought of someone firing. Campbell can handle himself; I’ve seen him in fights in and out of school. And I’ve never seen him lose.

But as he walks away from me, I notice that tucked into the waistband of his jeans, is a handgun. My heart is hammering in my chest and I feel like I’m going to be sick.

“We’re not done here until I say so.” Campbell places his hands into his front pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Well, until Cassandra, says so.” The guy laughs as if it’s the funniest joke he’s heard. The others in the group have smirks resting on their faces. “Something funny to you, Dewey?”

“You hate Cassandra. So why get her involved?”

Campbell clears his throat and looks back towards me, a small smile on his lips.

“Because of what you did.” He reaches with his right hand to his waistband and wraps his fingers around the gun but doesn’t remove it from its hiding spot. “What would you have done if you’d have shot her, huh?”

“She shouldn’t be here in the first place, Eliot.” He turns to look at his friends for their support, but none give it. “Should have kept out of our business.”

“Your business?” Campbell’s tone was darker now, his voice raising in volume. “You came here, with guns, to take stuff that doesn’t belong to you.”

“Like you’ve never stolen anything in your life.”

Campbell nods his head, smirking as he does so, looking at the floor. He swipes his tongue across his bottom lip and then bites down on it. I can see his body language change instantly, from relaxed to tense. As if he’s holding back.

It’s then that he takes the gun from his belt and aims it at him. His friends immediately take a step back, a few of them dropping their weapons on the ground. They raise their hands above their heads in surrender and back up.

“Greg, man. It’s not worth it.” They all then chime in, trying to calm Dewey down, to convince him to admit to his wrong doings. But to no avail.

“You got a soft spot for her, do ya Campbell?”

“That’s none of your fucking business.” His grip tightens on the gun.

“Greg, c’mon.”

He throws a look over his shoulder to the group that are slowly retreating. Each one of them with a look of regret on their faces. A few take a seat on the ground, knowing if they try and leave, they will be in the same situation as Greg is now.

I can’t see the expression on his face, but I know for a fact, that it would be one of disapproval at their words.

“Campbell.” His name leaves my lips before I can even process it in my head. My eyes widen in surprise and I cover my mouth with my hand.

He turns to face me without any hesitation and his grip on the gun falters for a moment, his wrist lowering slightly.

That’s when Greg takes the opportunity to grab him. Everything is happening so fast I have no idea what’s going. One moment Greg is grabbing at Campbell’s arms and throwing punches and the next, there is a gunshot echoing through the store. Then there is silence. I look across to the two boys, to find Greg with a shocked expression on his face. His skin pale and eyes brimming with unfallen tears. There’s a bruise starting to bloom on his cheek already and his top lip is split.

Campbell is standing a metre or so away from him, a hand to his left temple, breathing heavy. The gun clutched in his right hand tightly. Neither of them is injured, aside from the bruises and split lip.

“Dude, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me, apologise to her.”

Campbell directs Greg’s attention to me.

“I am so sorry. For everything. It was stupid of us – of me, to come here. It was my idea. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.” Campbell scoffs lightly under his breath, I seem to be the only one that notices.

“Go. But don’t think for one second you’ve got away with this. That was a warning shot, alright? Next time I won’t miss.” Campbell straightens himself up and tucks the gun back into the waistband of his jeans, this time in the front so that everybody can see it. “And Cassandra will want to speak to you all.” He raises his voice so that they can hear him as they swiftly make their way out of the store. The ground now littered with their discarded weapons.

At least they won’t be using them again any time soon.

I tilt my head back and rest it onto the shelf behind me, my heart rate still high and my breathing shallow. I’m oblivious to Campbell taking a seat next to me until he’s knocking his elbow against mine to get my attention.

“Hey, you alright?’

I nod, worried that my words will fail me if I open my mouth. Slipping his sunglasses off of my face, I turn to look at him. His face is a mess, his left temple and cheek are already turning green and purple from the punches Greg delivered. No doubt he’ll have a black eye by the end of the day. And his lip is split, the blood drying already.

“I’m sorry.” He frowns at me, questioning me without words. “About you-, about your face.”

“It’s okay. No need to apologise.” He whispers and he shakes his head.

I reach up and slowly unravel the shirt from around my head. Feeling ridiculous sat here like this. I hold it in my lap, not wanting to give it back without washing it first. Seems a bit unfair when it’s my blood after all.

We sit in silence for a few minutes until we both simultaneously start laughing. After everything that’s happened, this is probably something that neither of us were expecting to occur.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” His words are kind, so unlike what I expected of him.

“Yeah.” Accepting his offer, he stands, holding out his hand for me to take. I slip my hand into his, squeezing, as he pulls me to my fit. My head spins for a moment before it stops, Campbell holding me tightly while I compose myself.

“I’ve gotta ask.” He clears his throat then continues. “You’ve not been staying at your place for a few days now. Where have you been going?”

“You been watching me, Eliot?”

His cheeks blush with embarrassment.

“Just making sure you’re alright is all.”

I nod my head and look at my feet, grinding my toes into the cracks in the tiles.

“I can’t be there on my own. It’s just.” I take a deep breath; it sounds so stupid to say it out loud. “Being an only child, just, it’s so empty. My Mom worked from home, so I was never on my own. This i-, this is the first time.”

When he squeezes my hand reassuringly, I realise that he hadn’t let go of me this whole time.

“Come stay with me.”

“What?”

“Come stay with me, at my place. I won’t ask anything of you. I’ll even cook you dinner.”

“Is that your way of asking me out?”

“Maybe.” He chuckles and leads me out of the store, making sure I don’t trip over anything else.

His hand is in mine the entire way.

#Campbell Eliot x reader #campbell x reader #Campbell Eliot imagines #the society imagines

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vfdbaudelairefile13 · 4 years

Text

Chapter Four:

The One Where Violet Takes Up the Torch

Infiltrating Prufrock Preparatory School was easier than Larry had thought. He had entered the Administrations office with ease. It wasn’t hard, he knew the school by memory. He had been a student long ago. All the painful memories were finding their way back into the forefront of his mind. He just had to get this book to Lemony’s daughter and he could leave this terrible place. As he reached a nearly empty hallway, he watched as a woman dressed in a yellow blouse, with her brown hair in a bun. She looked rather irritated.

“Vice Principal Nero? I don’t mean to interrupt...a genius...when he’s rehearsing…” she began.

“I was already interrupted. I just spent twenty minutes explaining to a bratty little orphan that she has to live in a shack,”

“That’s awful,” the woman said.

“We always put new orphans in the shack,” Nero explained.

“Yes and that’s incredibly awful. They’re children,”

“They’re orphans. Who cares?” Nero said. “Now why are you here?”

“Why are any of us here?” the woman asked. “‘Life is thickly sown with thorns, and I know no other remedy than to pass quickly through them’ Voltaire said that.”

“I thought we expelled that French kid for smoking,”

“I’m following up on keeping the library open for more than ten minutes,”

“No! Out of the question! I spent the budget on a violin case with a ruby handle.”

The woman looked both confused and irritated. “But it does not cost any more money to leave the fucking library door unlocked…”

“There are other reasons, but I don’t have time to explain,” Nero said trying to slam the door in her face. She stuck out her foot, stopping the door.

She glared at him. “I’ll wait,”

“Okay,” Nero said shrugging. “It’s because I don’t like you very much,” he put all of his weight on the door effectively closing it in her face. “My hands are tied on this!” he called out.

She punched the door angrily as she dropped the book that was in her hand. Larry walked up behind her. “You dropped this,” he said handing her the book.

“I wish I had dropped it right on his head,” she growled towards the door before sighing. “Too bad we can’t fix stupidity at the vice-principal level.”

“‘In a world too often governed by corruption and arrogance, it can be difficult to stay true to one’s literary and philosophical principles,” Larry stated.

The woman nodded her head and smiled. “I’ve often thought that exact thing.”

“Most librarians have,”

“How did you know I was a librarian?”

“There’s a certain gleam in the eye indicating a sharp, erudite acumen...also you have a cart of books,” Larry said gesturing to the woman's cart of books. “Do you know where I might find a student who recently enrolled?”

“I do…” she said skeptically. “But I don’t think I should share that information with someone who’s not faculty.”

“I am a member of the faculty,” Larry said pulling out a hairnet from his pocket.

“I’ve never seen you around,” she said still skeptical.

“I work in the cafeteria,”

“Ah. That checks out,” she said. “I make it a point to never eat there...no offense,”

“Understandable,”

Carmelita appeared in the hall as she skipped to the two adults. “Ah, hello, little girl,” Larry said waving at the young bully.

“Who said you could speak to me?” Carmelita asked kicking Larry in the shin. Larry yelped in pain as he began to fall to the ground, taking the cart of books down with him. The large book that he was carrying fell out of his backpack and into the pile of books.

“Oh, my!” the woman said kneeling down to help Larry. “Here. Let me help you,”

“Oh,” Larry said annoyed.

“Children can be cruel,”

“The whole world is cruel! School is just a microcosm!”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Why do you ask?” Larry asked as he slowly began to limp away from the kind librarian.

“The cafeteria’s the other way,” the librarian informed him.

“But the nurse is this way,” he called back to her, wishing that he hadn’t agreed to do this for Jacquelyn.

___________________________________________________________________

The first night in the Orphan Shack was not fun for any of the three orphans who inhabited it. The hay bales were not only small but they were itchy and did not make comforting beds. The shack also did not provide the children with much warmth. Add to the fact that Nero did not provide the shack with blankets or pillows and all three children had a difficult time falling asleep.

Violet laid awake on her hay bale, looking towards the ugly tin wall of the shack. Contemplating what all this meant. She knew that she was the eldest of three children but she didn’t know how to be an older sibling. She hoped it would be something that would come naturally for her. She also hoped she had already started doing a good job seeing that she had defended them against a schoolyard bully, held them close when they were afraid and needed comforting and promised them that their safety would be her number one concern. She pondered about this Olaf character, whom she suspected was responsible for her father’s death. The description that Klaus had given her matches the one that she had of the man who was leaving the scene of the crime although all she had to go on that was a tattooed ankle, which she was learning was more common than she had hoped and a wheezy voice. She also had the fact that Sunny had informed her that this Olaf fucker was displeased when he realized who her father was. She tossed and turned on her hay bale still waiting to wake up from this nightmare. Every so often whispering to herself that she was sorry and didn’t mean a damn word that she said when she had yelled at her father. She laid on her back looking up at the fungus that slowly dripped from the ceiling. “I’m sorry…” she whispered. “I understand now...I don’t hate you...but why didn’t you tell me I could’ve helped you,” she slowly turned her head towards where Klaus and Sunny laid. She wasn’t sure just what she was getting herself into if Olaf was the one who murdered her father, but she didn’t care. The simple fact that Klaus is traumatized, Sunny is targeted, and her father was now dead just enraged her more and more every time she thought about it.

Sunny, who was sharing a hay bale with Klaus, in order to keep warm couldn’t sleep more so because of how excited she was to have Violet as a sister. Sunny didn’t fully understand how Violet was their sibling and how she could be older than Klaus but if Violet and Klaus were sure they were siblings, she wasn’t going to question it. All she could think about was the benefits of having Violet on their side. She had already helped them out with Carmelita, she could only imagine how Violet would handle Olaf. Sunny knew that Olaf was a dangerous man who had harmed Klaus in a way that still remained a mystery to Sunny, but she felt as though with Violet around, Olaf would never have a chance to do that to her or Klaus again and that made her feel ecstatic. Klaus was no longer the eldest, he could forget all about that stupid promise that he had made to their parents because Violet was the eldest. Now, don’t get it twisted, Sunny didn’t want Violet to become as neurotic as Klaus when it came to this promise, but she was glad that someone more level headed was taking on the job. It was obvious to Sunny that Klaus needed a break. His breakdown today showed it. As Sunny laid there on the hay bale, chewing on hay to pass the time, she felt her brother slightly shaking and she held his hand in hopes of helping him find some sleep.

Klaus had the toughest time that night. He didn’t quite know how to feel about everything. On one hand, he was relieved to have an older sibling, a protector. But on the other hand, he was very fearful. He knew Count Olaf would come back into his and Sunny’s life and he didn’t want to involve Violet in Olaf’s dangerous game. He didn’t want to involve Duncan or Isadora either. All three were so helpful with Carmelita today that he feared that they will do the same when it comes to dealing with Olaf and that wasn’t something that Klaus looked forward to. Aside from the Olaf thing, he didn’t truly understand how his mother could have had a child before him but not mention her ever. He wracked his brain trying to remember any instances where either one of his parents had mentioned having a child before him, but for as long as he could remember it had only been him. He could remember all the times where he was confused as to why his parents looked sad when he had accomplished things. He remembered when he first rode a bike and when he first learned how to use the big boy potty. His parents both shared a look of sadness...but it was always for a split second. They probably thought he had never noticed but he did. He never understood it until now. Were they remembering the child they lost and wondering how all of her firsts went? Why hadn’t his mother looked for Violet? She didn’t seem like the type to simply abandon or even forget about her child. Did she wrongfully think Violet was dead? Klaus shuddered at that thought. He shifted on the hay bale that he shared with Sunny and looked over at Violet, who seemed to be asleep. He couldn’t tell. It was dark and he couldn’t see without his glasses and proper lighting. He wondered how she felt about all this. He frowned when he thought that Violet might have some resentment towards him and Sunny or even towards their mother for seemingly moving on without a care for her. Klaus knew his mother though, even if she hid it well, he knew that her heart must have hurt each day knowing that she was missing one of her children. My mother is a good mother and a good woman. He told himself as he shifted again. The whole night his mind went from Violet being his sister to his mother’s strange behavior that he can now see in hindsight, and his fears about Olaf. It didn’t help that the shack’s door was unable to lock, so Klaus constantly feared that Olaf would walk into the shack and kidnap him and Sunny in the middle of the night and the crabs making noises near the door did not help his paranoia.

________________________________________________________________

“Good morning, class, including our latest orphan,” Violet’s teacher announced. To Violet’s horror, the entire classroom turned to look at her. Violet noticed that they all looked at her as if she wasn’t even a person, like being an orphan made her less of a person. She noticed that Isadora, who sat next to her, turned to her and gave her a comforting smile. “My name is Mr. Remora, and today, for language arts, I will continue telling anecdotes from my own life that I find amusing. You’ll take notes and there will be a test,” Mr. Remora said in his monotone voice.

Mr. Remora was Violet and Isadora’s teacher, and he was so terrible that Violet thought that she’d almost rather stay in the Orphans Shack all morning and eat her meals with her hands tied behind her back rather than hurry to Room One and learn from such a boring and wretched man. Mr. Remora was constantly eating bananas. Now, bananas are fairly delicious fruit and contain a healthy amount of potassium, but after watching Remora shove banana after banana into his mouth, dropping banana peels on the floor, both girls thought they never wanted to see a banana again. But what made this class worse was that in between bites of banana, Mr. Remora would tell stories, and the children would write the stories down in their notebooks, and every so often there would be a test. Although his stories were short, he usually had a whole lot of them on every conceivable subject. And what made his stories even worse was how he presented them. With his monotone voice, both girls groaned as they listened to this bored man talk about his boring life. “Okay, one day, I think it was a Tuesday, I was in the mood for macaroni and cheese, so I said to myself, “Today, Tuesday, I think I’ll have some macaroni and cheese.” Now, it is important to remember it wasn’t elbow macaroni or the decorative butterfly kind or even the tube-shaped macaroni…” Remora droned on. Violet searched through her backpack nervously as she realized that she didn’t have a pen or pencil. She felt a nudge on her right shoulder, she turned her head to see Isadora poking her with a pencil, blushing.

“I have an extra one,” Isadora noted handing Violet the pencil.

“Thank you,” Violet whispered back smiling at the triplet as she hurriedly wrote down the monotonous details of Mr. Remora’s stories.

Mr. Remora would tell story after story and eat banana after banana, and it would get more and more difficult for Violet to pay attention. To make things better though, she was glad Isadora sat next to her, as they began to pass notes to one another when they knew Remora wasn’t paying any attention. Both girls were thankful for each other’s company.

Across the hall in Room Two was Klaus’ teacher, Mrs. Bass, who herself was also a poor teacher. She was too obsessed with the metric system to offer Klaus or Duncan any real insight as a teacher. Klaus wasn’t particularly fond of math, although it was just measuring, math was not one of Klaus’ favorite school subjects. Either it was boring to him or it was too difficult for him to understand which made him feel stupid and he hated that feeling more than he hated Count Olaf and that’s saying something. Klaus could remember a time, years before Sunny was born, he was around eight years old and he had measured the width of all of the doorways in the Baudelaire mansion when he was bored one rainy afternoon and both of his parents were too busy to entertain him. But Klaus soon realized that to Mrs. Bass it didn’t matter, rain or shine, all she wanted to do was measure things.

“Good morning, children. May I have your undivided attention?” Mrs. Bass barked to the class. “I understand we have a brand new orphan today.” To Klaus’ horror, everyone in the classroom turned to look at him. They looked at him as though he was below them just because his parents were dead. He turned his head to see a friendly face sitting right next to him. Duncan Quagmire smiled back at him and it wasn’t much but it helped Klaus not feel so alone. “It must be difficult for you to measure how unhappy you are without your parents, but we’re gonna try. My name is Mrs. Bass, and we’ll continue our lessons on the metric system by measuring various objects. Later we’ll have a quiz.” Mrs. Bass explained grabbing from her pile of random objects that she would carry into her classroom. Klaus looked at all the objects and rolled his eyes in annoyance and boredom. Mrs. Bass began to walk around the classroom and place a random object on each student’s desk. “The first thing you’ll measure is this jar of mayonnaise I found in my garage,” she said to Klaus as she placed the jar on his desk. Once she had given each student an object, she walked to the front of the classroom. “Measure!” she shouted and everybody took out their rulers and measured whatever she had placed on their desk.

Klaus looked around for a spare ruler. He felt a nudge in his back. He turned around to see Carmelita smirking at him as she poked him in the back again. He noticed she was holding a stick she must have found on the lawn. “Orphan,” she whispered to Klaus, who frowned.

“Leave him alone, Carmelita,” Duncan whispered annoyed as Carmelita proceeded to poke him in the back with the stick.

“Orphan twin,” Carmelita whispered.

Duncan gave a low growl as he rolled his eyes handing Klaus his green ruler. “Here...we can share mine...I don’t have a spare but if we take turns and maybe share notes later we’ll be just fine for the tests,” he said nervously as Klaus blushed.

“Uhm...uhhh, thanks,” Klaus replied taking the ruler from Duncan.

Every time Mrs. Bass yelled “Measure!” Duncan and Klaus would quickly take turns using Duncan’s ruler to measure their items. Mrs. Bass would then ask random students to call out their measurements and she would write them on the board and have the students switch objects. The routine was so mundane and boring that Klaus could feel his eyes glaze over every so often only to be brought back to reality by either Carmelita poking him in the back with the stick or Duncan’s hand accidentally brushing against his every time they passed the ruler to each other. Occasionally when the boys weren’t too busy blushing and avoiding all eye contact with each other, the two boys would look at each other and stick their tongues out as if to say, Mrs. Bass is terribly boring, isn’t she?

Sunny, on the other hand, was not spending her morning in a boring classroom, she had work in the administrative building. And if you were to ask me, her situation was perhaps the worst. As Vice Principal Nero’s secretary, Sunny had numerous duties assigned to her that were simply impossible for a toddler to perform. For instance, she was in charge of answering the telephone, but people who called Nero did not always know that “Seltepia!” was Sunny’s way of saying, “Good morning, this is Vice Principal Nero’s office, how may I help you?” By the second hour, Nero was furious at her for confusing so many of his business associates. In addition, Sunny was in charge of typing, stapling, and mailing all of Vice Principal Nero’s letters, which meant she had to work a typewriter, a stapler, and stamps, all of which were designed for adult use. The worst part of her job was that Sunny was forced to spend her morning in Nero’s office listening to his atrocious violin playing. It only took Sunny ten minutes to want to cut her ears off from listening to him.

Nero stopped playing his violin for a split second. “Next letter!” he yelled. Sunny rolled her eyes as he began to dictate what she was to type. “Dear Juilliard School of Music, I was confused by your restraining order of October 13th…” he frowned at Sunny. “Faster! You type like a one-year-old! Now...where was I…?”

Sunny growled in response as she continued to type on the typewriter that Nero had given her to perform her secretarial duties. Unlike many toddlers, Sunny had some experience in hard work, after all, she and Klaus had worked for a short time at Lucky Smells Lumbermill, but this equipment was still inappropriate for such tiny fingers. Sunny could scarcely move the typewriter’s keys, and even when she could she did not know how to spell most of the words that Nero dictated. Although Sunny was sure that Nero, himself, probably couldn’t spell many of the words that he used. She had never used a stapler before, so she sometimes stapled her little fingers by mistake, which hurt quite a bit. And occasionally one of the stamps would stick to her tongue and wouldn’t come off.

Now in most schools, no matter how miserable, and Prufrock Prepatory was probably one of the most miserable schools out there, the students have a chance to recuperate during the weekend, when they can rest and play instead of attending wretched classes or in Sunny’s case, wretched secretarial work. So they were quite distressed when the Quagmires informed them that Prufrock Prepatory School did not have weekends and that Saturday and Sunday were regular schooldays.

“Please tell me you’re kidding?” Violet asked as the five kids sat down for lunch. Isadora frowned as she helped Sunny sit on the bench next to Violet.

“I’m afraid I’m not joking,” Isadora replied. “Apparently, it’s to keep up with the school’s motto,”

“But that doesn’t make any sense. I can remember that one day I will die as I am relaxing with a book,” Klaus commented sitting down next to Duncan. He picked up an apple but stopped before he took a bite, noticing Isadora’s face.

“We should warn you, the apples taste like horseradish,”

Klaus set his apple down frowning. “Everything seems distasteful in this place,”

“I-I hope you’re surviving the Orphan Shack,” Duncan said. “It’s...pretty awful. We were living there until you showed up,”

“Oh...sorry,” Klaus muttered. “Wait...Violet was telling me that. You guys are orphans, too?”

Duncan and Isadora slowly nodded their heads. Sunny put a comforting hand on Isadora’s hand. “Sorry,” she muttered.

“I agree with Sunny,” Klaus said. “I will say, it’s rather unfortunate how the five us became friends. But I am glad to have met you twins,”

Violet’s head shot up the second Klaus mentioned twins. Violet slowly shook her head to indicate to Klaus that he had misspoken.

“What?” He asked Violet.

Duncan and Isadora just looked down at their trays sadly. Sunny looked at her two friends confused. “Offensi?” Sunny asked, which meant, “Did we say something wrong?”

“Twins,” Duncan said, so softly that Klaus and Sunny could barely hear him.

“But you are twins, aren’t you?” Klaus asked as Violet facepalmed. “You look so alike,”

“We’re…” Isadora began frowning.

“They’re triplets, you guys,” Violet explained.

“I’m confused,” Klaus said as Sunny nodded her head in agreement. “Aren’t triplets when three people were born at the same time?”

“We were three people born at the same time,” Isadora said.

“But our brother, Quigley, died in the fire that killed our parents,” Duncan explained.

Klaus’ face fell. “Oh...oh my, I’m...I’m so sorry,” he stuttered. “I am so sorry for your loss and please, I didn’t mean any offense when I said twins…”

Duncan nodded his head, putting a hand on Klaus’ shoulder. “It’s fine…there’s no way you could’ve known without us telling you,”

“Well, Violet knew,” Klaus commented.

“We met her prior to meeting at the school,” Isadora explained. “It was brief, but she got to see all three of us...enjoying life,”

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Klaus repeated unsure of what to say. He looked at Sunny, who sat comfortably between Violet and Isadora, he frowned. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost Sunny in the fire, too,”

Klaus noticed the saddened look on Violet’s face. “And...I’m glad to have found you, Violet,”

Duncan and Isadora looked at each other confused and then at their three friends. “Wait...how are you guys sharing the Orphan Shack?” Isadora asked. “Cause Klaus said he and Sunny were living there…”

“But we took Violet there yesterday,” Duncan explained.

“Oh!” Violet said laughing. “Isa. Duncan. I forgot to tell you guys!” Violet stood up, picking up Sunny, who giggled as Violet ran to Klaus pulling him into the sibling hug. “ I have siblings!” she shrieked.

Klaus and Sunny both smiled as Violet hugged them. “This is my plucky baby brother, Klaus...I don’t know much about him just yet except he hates being called ‘plucky’ or ‘baby’, which means as his older sister I must call him both those names until the day he dies,”

“Lovely,” Klaus said rolling his eyes.

“And this is my precious baby sister, Sunny. She has four sharp teeth and a knack for cooking, which is good because that’s the only thing I can’t do. I started a house fire once,”

“I have too,” Duncan and Klaus said simultaneously.

“Same here,” Isadora replied laughing. “Duncan, remember when you couldn’t boil water,”

“Remember when you tried to microwave tinfoil,” he replied smiling.

“Or when Quigley tried to make a smoothie...with ketchup and french fries,” Isadora said sticking her tongue out in disgust.

“Hey, give him a break, he was nine,”

“I would give him a break if he didn’t drink it,” Isadora said.

“You dared him to!” Duncan said laughing.

Violet just stared attentively at the Quagmires as she wrapped an arm around Klaus’ shoulders still holding Sunny. “Now we can do stuff like this!” she said happily.

Klaus looked up at Violet. “You’re really happy aren’t you?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” she asked confused. “I mean...I still miss my father and knowing that I will never meet my mother does hurt but...I got the next best thing... you guys!”

Klaus frowned while Sunny clapped. “Same!” she said hugging Violet tightly.

Violet noticed Klaus’ face and she sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Do you...not want me to be your sister?”

“No...it’s not that… I don’t want to lose you,” he said choosing his words carefully. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up…”

“What do you mean?” Violet asked confused. All four kids all looked at Klaus confused.

“Sunny and I will eventually have to leave…”

“Says who?” Duncan asks.

“Olaf,” Sunny answered finally understanding what Klaus meant. Her arms that were wrapped around Violet became limp as she let go of her big sister.

“That fucker isn’t taking you from me!” Violet practically yelled.

“I don’t understand…” Isadora commented.

“Olaf is going to show up...eventually...and he’s going to be in disguise and Sunny and I are going to have to escape his clutches or…” Klaus stopped.

“Mori,” Sunny chimed in. Which everyone at their table knew exactly what she meant.

“No,” Violet said after a minute. “Not on my watch,”

“Violet...we already discussed this,”

“No, we didn’t. You tried to make me promise that I’d forget all about you…and I refused to entertain that notion,”

“I’m with Vi on this one,” Isadora said.

“Same here,” Duncan chimed in.

“No!” Klaus said turning to Duncan. “I can’t put you guys in danger...I...I care about you too much,” Duncan began to blush when Klaus said that. “I mean...I care about all three of you too much,”

Violet and Isadora both facepalmed when Klaus had fixed his initial statement but both girls decided to let it go. Violet looked down at Klaus, who frowned at her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “But...it’s just how this story goes. Please do yourself a favor...don’t get attached. You’ll only hurt yourselves,”

Violet shook her head. “Stop talking nonsense, bro,”

“He’s going to find us,” Klaus argued.

“And I’ll be waiting,” Violet said.

“You don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“He doesn’t know what I’m capable of!” Violet argued.

“Mirum,” Sunny commented, which meant, “Honestly, Violet’s right. We have the element of surprise this time,” she pointed at Violet.

“I’m still trying to figure out what you mean...but I hope you agreed with me,” Violet commented.

“She did,” Klaus muttered annoyed, standing up. “You guys don’t get it,” he said annoyed as he began to walk away.

“Go?” Sunny asked.

“To get more salad…” he called back.

Violet frowned and looked at Duncan and Isadora. “Could...could you guys stay here with Sunny...I’m going to make sure he’s okay,” Violet said but then turned to Duncan. “Unless you want to?” Duncan blushed but shook his head.

“This might be a sibling thing,” Duncan commented as Sunny rolled her eyes.

“Cute,” she commented pointing at Klaus and then Duncan.

Isadora started laughing, “See even a baby can see it,”

Sunny gave a soft glare Isadora’s way. “Toddler,” she corrected but then she pointed at Isadora and then Violet. “Cute...too,” she said.

Isadora blushed as Duncan laughed high-fiving Sunny. Violet blushed as she walked away. Are we really that obvious that Sunny can see it? She asked herself as she followed Klaus.

Klaus had made it to the hallway before Violet caught up to him.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” she asked.

“It’s not fair!” Klaus screamed. “It’s not fair...one minute you’re safe and happy and...you’re home...everything in your life makes sense and then the next…”

“You’re in a shack full of crabs and fungus?” Violet guessed.

Klaus nodded his head as he sighed. “Look...I hate to make you feel unwanted…” he starts, sighing again. “Cause...if I am being honest I’ve always wanted an older sibling, it’s just… this isn’t the right time,”

“You don’t get to choose…”

“I know...but Sunny and I are in grave danger,”

“Then so am I,”

“NO!” Klaus practically yelled. “He’ll hurt you...and I’m not strong enough to take care of you and Sunny. I can barely keep Sunny safe,”

“Who said anything about you protecting me?” Violet asked raising an eyebrow. “ I’m protecting you, ”

“He’ll kill you if given the chance,”

“Snickets are hard to kill,” Violet noted.

Klaus opened his mouth to argue that fact but he ultimately decided against it. “Violet...Sunny and I aren’t worth the risk. This is a matter of life or death and even if we survive Olaf we’re going to be sent to our next guardian and you...you might have to stay here and…”

“If you think I’m letting you guys exit my life, you’re crazy,” Violet stated. “We’re in this together. No matter what, I’m with you and Sunny,”

Klaus shook his head.

“I promise,” Violet said.

“Don’t...don’t make a promise that you may not be able to keep,” Klaus warned. “The guilt that comes with breaking it is...too much to bear,” he said sitting down against the wall.

“What do you mean?” Violet asked sitting down next to him.

“When Sunny was born...my parents made me promise to always protect her and keep her out of trouble. I was eleven and at the time it seemed like an easy feat but ever since the fire, it feels like it’s the one thing I regret doing the most. I should’ve never made that promise...she’s always in danger and I can’t protect her,” Klaus said tears in his eyes. “And I feel like I’ve failed them,”

“Klaus…” Violet said, “I’m sure when they made you promise they had no idea that this would be your life...you’re doing the best you can,”

“My best isn’t good enough,”

“Says who?”

“Me,” Klaus said wiping his eyes. “Since the fire, she’s been stuffed into a birdcage and dangled outside a 30-foot tower, because of me. She was stuffed into a suitcase, she gave herself an allergic reaction, she’s had to save me countless times,”

“Let me guess...Olaf?” Violet asked as she felt her blood boil hearing brief details of what Klaus and Sunny had gone through in her absence.

Klaus nodded. “So trust me...don’t make a promise that you can’t keep,”

Violet rolled her eyes. “What did they have you promise exactly?”

“Some stupid shit like ‘as the eldest Baudelaire…’,” Klaus began. “Which if you think about it is inaccurate seeing that you are the eldest Baudelaire…”

Violet smiled. “I am,” she said in a tone that worried Klaus.

“What are you thinking?”

“I, Violet Snicket, promise to keep you and Sunny out of trouble. As the eldest Baudelaire sibling I relieve you of your duties,” she said.

“That’s...not how it works,” Klaus said. “You can’t promise a couple of dead parents,”

“But I can promise a couple of alive siblings,”

“Violet…”

“Klaus, I am serious. No matter what happens from this point on, I promise you and Sunny that I will keep you guys safe. Snickets take care of their own. You both are now my own,”

“Vi…”

“There’s nothing you can say to change my mind. I’m very stubborn. My father said I got that from my mother,” Violet said. “Sorry, I mean, our mother,”

Klaus laughed. “She was pretty stubborn sometimes,”

“One of these days...you think you can tell me about her?” Violet asked.

Klaus nodded. “Of course,”

Violet smiled and helped her brother to his feet. Once he was standing she put an arm around him, in a sort of half-hug. “I mean it, Klaus, you’re relieved of your duties. I promise you no harm will come to you or Sunny on my watch,” she said again. Klaus smiled even though he doubted it. He loved her blinded optimism. He didn’t feel relieved of his promise, but it did make him feel better that someone was there to help him. Violet, on the other hand, was disappointed in her birth mother and her second father, what kind of people make an eleven-year-old promise something like that. Even if they had no idea what would become of them or their children, that was a lot of responsibility to throw onto someone’s shoulders, especially someone so young. In the back of her mind though, Violet believed that they did know what would have eventually happened. They were involved in a cult...bad things always happen when you involve yourself in a cult. But Violet pushed those unpleasant thoughts to the back of her mind. What mattered now was keeping her promise to Klaus and Sunny. As she and Klaus walked back into the cafeteria, Violet glanced up at the ceiling again, she knew Klaus was right when he said that she couldn’t promise a couple of dead parents. But she didn’t care, she knew that if her mother had been able to keep her, she would have been the one to take on that promise so she believed that it was her duty to do what her birth mother would have asked of her. Plus, her father died trying to protect her siblings, she refused to allow his death to be for nothing. To Violet, it was like the passing of a torch...or a spyglass...her father’s death signified that it was her turn to protect Klaus and Sunny, which is exactly what she planned to do. As she looked up at the ceiling again, she closed her eyes and under her breath mumbled, “ I’m here to finish the job, Mr. Lemons,” she turned to her brother, who did not hear her.

She meant every word. Her father’s death would not be for nothing and he will be avenged. She didn’t know how...she didn’t know when...she only knew why. That’s because Snickets take care of their own.

14 notes · View notes

trade-baby-blues · 5 years

Text

Taste of Home

Pairing: Bones x Reader

Word Count: 2292

Warnings: a swear, a little angst, soooooooo much fluff

A/N: Prompt “Character A overhears Character B’s Christmas wish and decides to fulfill it” requested by @kawaiiusagichansan for the Christmas celebration that I.....definitely....fell behind on. This one was....really hard to write for some reason so I’m not sure how it ended up being so long. Idk if I’m just not in a writing mood or if this is some weird writers block but...hopefully writing this has cured me.

A crash from exam room two had every head in Medbay turned up to watch as an exasperated Leonard McCoy kneeled down to pick up the tools scattered across the floor. His foot connected with the tricorder, sending it skidding away from him. He stood, lips pursed, and rolled his his shoulders and neck. It was supposed to help him calm down, but the creaking of his bones only reminded him of how much he’d been working. How much he’d been missing.

Leonard opened his eyes at the sound of shuffling in front of him and Christine offered him the tricorder without any of her usual snark. Leonard wondered briefly how tired he must look. “Thank you,” he mumbled before making an excuse about paperwork in his office.

Once inside, Leonard dropped the tricorder on his desk and hunched down over it. It didn't respond to his touch, so with a clenched jaw and rising heart rate, he set to work trying to fix it. He must have gone through a dozen videos on fixing tricorders and was still no closer to reviving it. He mimicked the man in the video tightening a screw, expecting the screen to light up but receiving a nasty shock again.

Leonard succumbed to the rage for a moment and hurled the tricorder across the room. The office door slid open as the it sailed through the air, colliding with the door frame and missing Jim’s face by mere inches.

“I know I’m not a doctor, but I don't think that's how those work.”

Bones glared at Jim before deciding an argument wasn't worth it. “I’m not in the mood, Captain.” He sat back at his desk and hoped that would be enough of hint for Jim to leave. Of course, it wasn't.

Jim sat down in the chair across from Bones, propping his feet up on the desk and ignoring the pointed glare he received in response. “Good thing I'm not here as the captain then.”

“Then why are you here? You seem to be in perfect health. For now.” Bones reached across the desk to shove Jim’s feet off, but Jim’s damn smile didn't even falter.

“Cause I’m your friend. Friends need a reason to see each other now?”

Bones sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “No. I’m sorry. I...I don’t know. I think I’m gettin’ restless being cooped up on this damn ship so long.”

“Hm,” Jim replied. “Didn’t expect you to apologize so this is awkward.” Bones raised an eyebrow in response, and Jim fidgeted like a child caught in a lie. “I might have hypothetically come here not to see you but to see the cute new Engineer I called to come fix your tricorder Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” Bones snorted.

Although you wore the tell-tale red uniform of an Engineer, you specialized in medical equipment repair, which meant you spent most of your time in your workshop or in Medbay, tinkering away at whatever machinery was malfunctioning. It also meant you got to spend plenty of time getting to know a certain grumpy CMO. You tried your best to keep the relationship professional, but that didn’t stop your heart from jumping to your throat every time you got called up to Medbay.

You heard Leonard’s voice before you saw him, letting it guide you like a pilgrim to the altar as you approached his office. You stopped to savor the sound.

“A Christmas party will definitely not brighten my mood.” Even through the door, you could tell Bones was scowling.

“Come on, Bones. I bet we could get Scotty to hack the replicator to make some eggnog, and I’ve got a bottle of rum stashed away. Tell me that doesn’t sound like a good time.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Then what does sound good?” Silence followed. You stood closer to the door, trying to hear Bones’ answer but it didn’t come. “I’m trying to help, Bones, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what you want.”

“What I want is to see my daughter. To go home. To finally be off this stupid metal death trap careening through space.”

“I put a request in for shore leave. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to get out of my office.”

“Fine,” Jim snapped. You heard the creak of a chair as he stood and did your best to duck out of the way. Luckily, Jim stormed out of the office without a glance in your direction.

You poked your head in the doorway, eyeing Bones as he leaned over his desk, head in hands. You cleared your throat and he looked up. “I’m just gonna…” You picked up a small box with the remnants of what was once a tricorder. With a small smile, you rushed back out of the office, wishing your brain wouldn’t freeze up every time you so much as looked at Bones when all you wanted to do was help him. There had to be something that would cheer him up.

With a sigh, you dumped the tricorder corpse onto your desk, hands immediately getting to work while your mind wandered to Bones, conjuring up daydreams of clandestine meetings in storage closets between shifts or holding hands on the beach during the next shore leave. Dreams of meeting his family and chasing his daughter through a field of wildflowers or camping together under a summer sky in Georgia. Even if it was just a fantasy, you felt a pang of homesickness, and, for a second, you had a glimpse of what Bones must be feeling. You also had an idea of how to help him.

The plan took longer than anticipated, and by now it was damn near Christmas. The tricorder had long since been returned, and you and Bones continued to skirt the edges of romance, each of you waiting for the other to make the first move. Unable to find the words to tell Bones how you felt, you decided tonight was the night to show him.

He was just getting of a double shift in Medbay, stumbling back to his room like the zombie he felt like. Bones punched in the room code, ready to fall onto any flat surface, but freezing on the spot when the doors slid open and you stood before him in your civvies.

Bones closed his eyes and shook his head, expecting you to disappear when he opened them again but you stood firmly in his way. “Did I fall asleep on my desk again,” he murmured, taking you in. Your hair tumbled down to your shoulders, resting on a dark flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up to your elbows. There was a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead and a blush rising to your cheeks as Bones reached out to you, thumb caressing your jaw. You really were a dream to him.

A slightly hysterical laugh slipped past your lips as you fought against your fight or flight response. “No, you’re not asleep. Unless we’re both having the same dream.”

“‘s a good one so far.”

“Well, it’s about to get better. Close your eyes.” Bones obeyed without question, squeezing your hand as you linked your fingers with his. You led him into his own room and pushed him gently down onto the couch.

“I’ve definitely had this dream before,” he said, reaching out to place his hands on your waist.

You jumped back, grabbing his other hand with yours and holding them both in place while your brain short-circuited looking for a response. All you could do was laugh again and let Bones’ hands fall to his lap. “Don’t open your eyes yet.”

He sucked in a breath as he heard your footsteps retreating. “That laugh might just kill me,” he breathed out. He leaned back against the couch as he waited for you to return.

You weren’t sure how long you watched him. Some people might have been annoyed that he fell asleep that quickly, but you could have stood there all night. He was like a statue carved from marble by divine hands, jaw set and strong, mouth turned up into a half-smile in his sleep. One arm was thrown over the back of the couch, leaving the vast expanse of his chest open for you to snuggle up against. He would probably be warm. Like a furnace. Hot enough to burn -

“Fuck,” you cursed, dropping the pie tin in your hand. You sucked your fingers into your mouth. Bones sat up straight, bewildered as he took in his surroundings before his eyes fell on you and the pie now at his feet. You cursed again as you bent down to pick it up. “Glad I made two,” you said, but your voice was far away to Bones, who stood up and stepped around you.

His eyes were transfixed on the contraption behind you. It looked like a makeshift fire pit built out of scrap metal and old paper scraps. A projector stood beside it, aimed up at the ceiling but not powered on. Bones turned to you for some explanation and his eye caught the flower display on the table. A bouquet of paper wildflowers with a Cherokee Rose dead center. He ran a hand over the petals and it felt almost like silk.

“I’ve never actually been to Georgia,” you admitted, “But that’s what all the guides say is the state flower.” You held out a plate to him with a slice of pecan pie. He stared at it and then you again. “If you don’t like it, I can also get you some cobbler. I reprogrammed the replicator to-”

Bones cut you off by throwing his arms around you. He buried his face in your neck, releasing a shaky breath that cascaded like a warm wind down your skin. You hugged him back as best you could with two hands full of pie, trying to comfort him as his shoulders started to shake. He pulled himself together quickly, pinching the bridge of his nose to dam the tears. “Thank you for this.”

“Oh, don't thank me yet,” you smiled, handing him a piece of pie, “we haven't even gotten to the best part.”

You all but skipped back into the living area, taking two couch cushions and tossing them on the floor by the fire pit. With the few button presses, the fire and projector both kicked to life. Bones stood, neck craned up to the ceiling as he took a bite of pie.

You patted the cushion next to you. “It’ll be easier if you lie down.”

“Mm, sugar, you can’t just say things like that,” Bones teased as he put his plate on the floor and settled down next to you. Your legs brushed, sending a shock up your body and putting your brain on red alert again. You grabbed the PADD next to you and shut the lights off to hide your nerves.

The room was plunged into near darkness, lifted only by the small fire crackling by your feet and the stars smattered against the ceiling. Bones stared in awe.

“That’s…”

“Cepheus,” you offered. “And Lynx over there.” You pointed to a patch of stars near the Big Dipper.

“No, that’s...that’s the view from my parents’ house. How did you…” Bones’ voice trailed off again as he turned his head to look at you. You shrugged.

“I called your parents and told them you were homesick. They said you used to stargaze whenever you got restless.”

“Yeah, it...It was Jo’s favorite. She could name damn near every constellation before her sixth birthday. Said one day she’d join me up here.”

“Oh,” you said, shooting up straight, “that reminds me.” Bones watched you jam a few buttons on your PADD before handing it over to him. The screen lit up as a video call connected. You weren’t sure who was holding their breath harder, you or Leonard.

Bones exhaled first, laughing as the call finally connected, revealing Jo’s smiling face beaming up on him. She sat on his parents’ porch, wrapped in a sweater and a blanket. She turned the camera up to the sky. “See Daddy! We’re not that far apart! I can see the same stars as you.”

His shoulders shook as he covered a sob with another laugh. “You’re right, pumpkin. Can you remind me what they’re all called?”

Jo let out a tired sigh, as if she were the adult and Leonard the child gnawing on her patience. “Did you forget again, Daddy?”

“Well, I can’t help that you got all the brains. I’ll do my best to remember this time.”

“Fine,” Jo said, turning the camera back to the sky. Her small hand poked into frame, pointing at a collection of stars. “This one’s Gemini because it looks like two people. That one’s the Big Dipper, because it looks like a spoon. The Little Dipper looks like a spoon, too, but it’s little. That’s why it’s called the Little Dipper.” Jo continued her explanation and Bones set the PADD beside him, watching the ceiling as if Jo were beside him. Tears reflected the light in his eyes, making them look like a galaxy you wanted to get lost in.

Suddenly, his eyes shifted to you, the brightest star in the room. He slipped his hand in yours and mouthed the words “Thank you.” You simply smiled in response, shifting closer to him. The fire crackled beside you and the smell of roasted pecans filled the room as Jo continued her explanation, and, while he didn’t consider himself a very religious person, Bones finally caught a glimpse of his personal heaven.

Tags:

@8bit-arc-reactor @jimtkirkisabitch @sjlovestory @kristaparadowski @outside-the-government @martinawalker @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @thefanficfaerie @brooke-taylor0323 @slither-in-a-half @cuddlememerrick @reading-in-moonlight @resistance-is-futile81

#star trek imagine #bones x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy imagine #bones imagine #christmas follower celebration #my fics

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wwounu · 6 years

Text

heart of tin (and coding) - lee jihoon

❝ @vluevinnie13 asked: My bias is woozi and the theme I want is somewhat, futuristic wherein Woozi is a robot haha can you do that? ❞

pairing: robot!jihoon x you

genre: fluff?

word count: 1.4k words ish...

notes: this ended up being 1.4k words?! what the heck the mingyu one was only 800… oh my gosh i really love jihoon huh. i loved doing this so much!! i had more fun than i thought i would <33

send me your bias and a theme and i’ll try writing a short fanfic

Question: Is Jihoon is either the best or worst person you’ve ever met?

Answer: He’s neither… Because he’s a robot.

Everyone knew that you met because Jihoon needed repairing after your father found him in a scrap wasteland, which you still believed that it was to reprogram the demonic voice filter in him, and your father was the right man to do that. Contrary to that, no one had any clue how the two of stuck together for so long.

Only you and Jihoon know, however. Through naming the young robot.

It was a sudden thing the way you remembered it. He was sat with the nine year old you, kicking your legs while biting on a sandwich to keep you company.

“You look like a Jihoon,” You comment without a thought as your nose scrunched up, “Better than J11H220L. I’m calling you that now, okay?”

And because Jihoon couldn’t say his own opinion (because his voice had to be reprogrammed), the robot could only blink and somewhat nod.

“Hm… You’re also going to be my friend now, deal?”

Nod.

“And I’m the best, right?”

Nod.

“And… You are now my tiny tin can who will protect me all of the time!”

Nod.

“Man, you’re quiet, aren’t you…” You laugh, pushing his metal arm before you sling yours around his shoulder. “Wanna try my sandwich?”

Nod… Nod nod.

On that same night you were yelled at by your father for malfunctioning Jihoon, and couldn’t go into the repair lab for a week.

Later on, Jihoon became an automatic part to your mess of life (partially forced by your father keeping him so you had no choice).

He recorded every moment with you (“There’s a memory of you being an idiot in my database. Want me to show you?”), answer any of your questions (“No I’m not doing your paperwork for you, go suffer yourself” “I know what you want to ask. It’s sleep mode, not self destruct mode.”), he even stuck to the name you gave him (“Jihoon. Just cut the crap and call me that. My serial number is too long to remember.”).

But he was pretty dependant on you too. Carrying on the talent of your old man, you became familiar with upgrading clients’ robots and especially Jihoon’s parts. The bot was quite stubborn with who he wanted to repair him, so you took action of his difficult metal butt and did all of his repairs.

Everyone knew Jihoon as the ‘cold, cool, ice prince’ robot — mainly because he would literally set his temperature cool all the time and would be freezing — and you weren’t having any of it.

First off, Jihoon is very annoying. He’s cheeky and cunning.

You shouldn’t have coded him to tell jokes and pull pranks, because the first few years with him you had to deal with the stoic nods and expressionless faces are very different to the mischievous tricks he plays and oh-so-innocentfaces he makes once accused. In particular, you hated playing games with him — sadly, he was the competitive type, not to mention the cheating type too.

He’s very warm hearted.

Says a lot for a robot, but he knows how to establish emotions when need be (you’re guessing it was your old man’s doing before puberty came along). Over time, his words became less robotic and awkward and now had a steady, calming soothe to it. It was almost like… He was human.

On other occasions he would be overwhelmingly protective of you.

It was his function after all, and he nodded to a promise you requested since you were nine. There was one memory, during your high school days, where Jihoon got into a serious fight with one of your exes because they were only dating you for a dare (hence the reason why you are exes). You felt slightly bad for your ex, because Jihoon was at a greater advantage, yet a couple of good hits and scratches resulted in Jihoon’s metal to be peeping out of his cheek and knuckles.

Funnily enough, you were so worried about his increasing power that you were wary about the surroundings around the two of you.

“Y/N, I — Jihoon and J11H220L — am capable, stronger and deadlier than any human being on this very ground… But can I at least pet that kitten? You’d be an idiot if you think I’m not going to.”

“… Knock yourself out.”

And you’ve never seen Jihoon skip — yes, skip — so happily to the fluffy white kitty (you saved a picture just in case… For blackmail).

To your surprise, he was extremely clumsy too.

Countless of times you’ve walked into Jihoon’s legs or arms randomly shutting down, or a loud ‘Ah!’ from him before another loud clatter follows, or his arm would go haywire and hit him in the eye. He wouldn’t feel the pain, but glitch season was the worst. It was like he was having to go through human puberty, as well as dealing with a colour of Jihoon’s set of personalities every split second. And there were too many times he’d slowly waddle to your room saying, “I think one of my wires broke.” As if he was a child who broke a vase (‘When did he learn to pout?’).

Sometimes, you’d forget Jihoon was a robot.

What would it be like if he was just like you, if he was able to feel the feelings you do and not be programmed to stay in this facade until someone hacks into his program? What would it be like if his words can give genuine feelings and real heart into them?

Repairing robots was the worst — You knew the ins and outs of them too well, what more with Jihoon? You knew the ways in which Jihoon functioned, his speech receiver (which was recently upgraded to speaking in five languages), his reactions and triggers, almost everything like the back of your hand.

You think… He would be a good person.

A great man, and a very talented one at that. He was talented enough as it is, and it made you slightly jealous — He would have that same double life, living tough on the inside and soft on the inside. He would be the way the way he was programmed to be… Weird.

“You’re thinking.” Jihoon squints.

“About you.” You reply, which was stating the obvious. “Lay down over there, I’ll be done with this upgrade.”

The robot silently does as you ask, walking to the operation table before he lays down straight, humming to himself.

“New song?”

“Inspiration is easy to find these days.”

“Yeah, because your tin brain holds the entire internet.” The pair of you giggle. You walk where the robot calmly was and cut a thin piece of skin behind his ear before replacing it with another one. You carefully took your time stitching the thin skin, maybe smelling Jihoon’s vanilla-scented hair here and there.

Finally, you smile at the outcome and say a small ‘Tah-dah!’ before handing a mirror to show Jihoon what you’ve done.

“Wow.” He could only say.

“I’m guessing you like it?”

Jihoon nods, impressed. “I… Love it.”

He tucks his hair back and dazes at the small bass clef now on his skin. Even though it resembled more of a tattoo, there was a small chip inside that was an extension for Jihoon’s song drafts — He was naturally talented in almost anything, but music was the flowery path he walked down in.

Besides, you knew from the start that the robot had a way with words, even if it was behind his nods and pouty lips.

“Thinking about me again?”

“Oh, uh, sure.” You chuckle, realising how close you were to his face. He was joking, but damn, you really thought he caught you out.

Oh no. You were going to blush and Jihoon is going to detect it.

Fumbling with the phone in your hands, you lift it up to your ears in panic to excuse yourself. “My dad is calling me- I’ll um, be in the garden! Don’t break anything while I’m gone!” And you exit the station with your heart accelerating through the roof.

Jihoon stares at the door for a while, wondering if you were going to come back or not. When he agreed that you weren’t, he huffed.

“Humans are so strange.”

Yet he couldn’t ignore the fluttery and heavenly rush in him ever since your old man encoded a ‘certain’ chip labelled with what looked like a heart.

#jihoon #woozi #seventeen #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #woozi imagines #woozi scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #jihoon imagines #jihoon scenarios #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #vluevinnie13 #bias x theme

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rochellebuckleyhandmade · 5 years

Text

This is another post where I just don’t know where to start.

I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I’m about to share.

For those of you who don’t already know, I have acromegaly. A rare pituitary tumour that causes all sorts of grief and problems (I’ll expand more on that in a later post). I think it was about 2007 when my diagnoses was finally confirmed. I say “I think” because I have a dreadful memory. I like to blame the tumour for that one.

It was long before my diagnosis that I knew something was wrong. I don’t know how long the tumour had been living quite comfortably on my pituitary, some specialists believe it may have nested either after the birth of my first born or shortly after the birth of my second. There’s no way to know for sure. My first child was born in 1995 and my second was born in 1998 so it may have been around for some time.

I remember struggling terribly with depression and anxiety which really began or esculated after the birth of my first. It was really bad, although there were extenuating circumstances, every medical professional I sought help from told me to suck it up and be grateful for the beautiful little girl I held in my arms. Not even a mention of post natal depression. I can’t help but wonder now if that tumour may have been responsible to a small degree.

As the years ticked by, the depression esculated exponentially and there didn’t seem to be much I could do to stop it or even ease it.

By the time I was working I had piled on a stupid amount of weight but I didn’t understand why. My joints began to hurt, I ached all over and I was always tired. The job I had at the time was managing a not-for-profit that mainly provided free or low cost groceries to those who needed a hand up. The store was located in an industrial building with concrete floors, tin roof, no heating, no cooling and not much of anything else either. Although I only worked two and a half days a week I was always exhausted, increasingly tired and so, so sore.

Me almost at my heaviest of 253kgs

I tried for years to tell my doctor there was something wrong with me but again, I was told I was just too fat and needed to lose weight. Problem was, I couldn’t lose weight. I tried everything, every diet and exercise known to man at that time. Exercising became just too hard. The pain of simply walking was unbearable. I begged my doctor to help but again and again I was told I was just too fat.

I tried to continue living my life but I couldn’t. I had to quit my job because I could no longer walk, stand or get any relief from the pain.

I finally decided to see another doctor and I remember at one stage telling him that I’m not aching because I’m fat and weight bearing. If that were the case, why did my hands, wrists, jaw, neck ache and burn and hurt so much especially since they’re not weight bearing.

To cut a long story short, my doctor could see that I was very unwell, despite every test returning negative results. It was so disheartening and depressing. Why was I like this? What on earth is wrong with me? I began to think it was all in my head. Was this something I’ve subconsciously created to overcome past hurts and failures? Surely past stress couldn’t manifest into something this bad.

Finally, in 2007 I received a diagnosis. Acromegaly. I sat in my endocrinologist office and wept tears of relief. To know that it was not in my head and there really is an illness was one of the biggest reliefs of my life.

I travelled from Lake Macquarie near Newcastle to Adelaide in September 2010 just one day before my 36th birthday to have the tumour removed. It was such an adventure. I loved seeing more of this beautiful land in which we live and although I was incredibly ill, I remained wide eyed and completely enthralled on our journey.

Here I am in Rundle Mall, Adelaide just one day before surgery to remove pituitary tumour. I had a craving for fresh oranges at the time.

By the time I was ready for this surgery I was quite unwell. My weight had ballooned to over 200kgs (223kgs to be exact, that’s 492lb or 35 stone). I had lost the feeling down my left side, I could barely speak, partly due to swelling of soft tissue and I could not walk unaided. My vision was deteriorating rapidly and I was struggling to see. My hands stopped working and I could barely even feed myself. The tumour had wrapped around my carotid artery and invaded my cavernous sinus. The surgeon was convinced he would NOT be able to remove it entirely. I could no longer drive and I was forgetting everything. I even forgot how to cook and I had almost no memory of my past. I used to spend evenings with my sister as she regaled me with tales of my children growing up because I just couldn’t remember. My mind was empty.

By this stage I had been receiving monthly injections of Sandostatin LAR or Somatuline Autogel for the past three years (from the time of diagnosis until surgery). Gee did this stuff made me sick. My stomach hurt all the time, I would spend a considerable amount of my day on the bathroom. My hair fell out, my skin hurt, and I had a collection of cricket ball sized lumps on my rump at injection site that would become very bruised, itchy and lasted about three months each.

I felt like crap constantly.

The tumour was removed successfully and entirely by Mr Santorenos. Despite being told that I would not make it through surgery, mainly due to my morbid obesity, I’m still here to tell my tale. We were told, since I was so over weight and so ill, I could expect to be in ICU for up to six weeks and another twelve on the ward and in rehabilitation – that is of I even survived surgery and didn’t have a heart attack or stroke.

Here I am back on the ward after leaving ICU. You can clearly see the fashionable nasal tampon, vomit bag and towel to try to relieve my thumping migraine.

I was out of ICU within 12hrs and discharged from hospital five days later.

Then my challenges began. Again. My recovery was incredibly slow, arduous and painful. Regrettably I thought that everything would just go back to how it was pre-tumour. Oh how wrong I was. Why didn’t someone tell me it would be so bloody hard? I spent the next twelve months flat on my back in bed. I put this down to over doing it after being discharged from hospital. We traveled home via the Great Ocean Rd from Adelaide to Newcastle. It was stunning, breath taking and totally divine, but I had diabetes insipidus as a result of surgery. Cerebral fluid was leaking from my nose and every time we climbed a small hill in our car my nose would bleed and leak fluid, not to mention my smell and taste had gone after my olfactory glands had been damaged during surgery. This meant I would never smell or taste again. Something that I would have appreciated being told about pre-surgery, even if just to psychologically prepare.

The beautiful Loch Ard Gorge on the Great Ocean Road. I managed to kill my good DSLR on this trip. Just being sick and clumbsy.

Just at the end of my twelve months of being too ill to get out of bed, where my children had to feed me, toilet me, do all of the housework and everything in between, my husband left. At the time, I never saw it coming. I went into shock, my blood pressure went through the roof and as a result I lost my eyesight. Completely. No one knew if it would ever return. It did three months later. Not only did it return but some four years later, my eyesight (an astigmatism and shortsightedness) has improved so dramatically I need to get a new prescription every twelve months. My optometrist believes I will not need my glasses at all soon.

There has been so much that has happened between then and now. Challenges, crap, really tough times, including an horrific single car MVA just over twelve months ago in which I broke my neck in two places, my collarbone, five ribs and a bone in my ankle. I’ve struggled terribly with depression and anxiety and have found it very difficult to hold down a job with the chronic pain I experience.

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Me in hospital trying to walk again after my accident

I recently left the job of my dreams. I was so incredibly crushed. I loved the job, my work, the people, clients, my boss and my colleagues. Unfortunately the workload became just too much and my body and brain could no longer cope. It just did not end well and I went into shock and commenced another cycle of grief. I am incredibly thankful that this cycle did not last long, thanks to my family and wonderfully amazing and supportive friends.

I can’t deny that my life has been pretty darn challenging but I am here to give you all hope and hopefully joy in your heart.

You see, whilst I was laying in that hospital bed in Adelaide some five and a half years ago, I started a rather rudimentary bucket list. In all honesty I never, ever believed I would be able to check any items off my bucket list, given my health challenges and my lack of financial stability (due to being unable to work for so long and fork out on medical expenses).

A few weeks back, I experienced a few events and read some stuff that has really given me a kick in the pants. This was a culmination of events, including my beautiful boy being beaten by an unknown drugged young man, a friend posting an interesting letter written by an 18 year old to his father and a blog article that, along with a few other things have combined to change my life for the better.

As a result of these events and with enormous thanks to my amazing, supportive, encouraging friends and family, I am beginning to see my bucket list come to fruition. Please remember that I have been told time and time again that I would never walk again, by now I should have been confined to a wheelchair at best. I should not be able to talk and I would be incredibly lucky to have survived beyond my 38th birthday. This year I will celebrate my 42nd birthday and between you and me, I plan to celebrate many more.

Well, I am here to prove those doctors and specialists wrong and offer hope to my fellow Acromegaly sufferers, those who battle mental health, those who can’t find the strength to go on. You can do it. You really can. If I can negotiate my way through this thing we call life, so too can you. Please, I implore you, DO NOT GIVE UP, EVER!

So what is it that I can share here with you today that I have checked off my bucket list?

Wait for it….

My dear friend took me skydiving!

Yes, you heard right. Skydiving.

Now, to most of you this may not be such a big deal, but for someone with a chronic illness, someone who has battled anxiety, panic attacks, depression and bucket-loads of self doubt, Someone who is completely terrified of heights and even more so of flying, this is MASSIVE!

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Check out that goofy grin that hardly ever leaves my face. My dive instructor was absolutely amazing and I cannot recommend the team at Skydive The Beach and Beyond, Newcastle highly enough. I cannot thank my dear friend Doug enough either. Without his constant support and belief in me, not to mention his spontaneous suggestion I attend with him the evening before over dinner with Bec, I would never have accomplished this dream. Heartfelt thanks to you Doug.

Yes it was raining, yes it was freezing but it was so flipping awesome I just can’t wait to do it again.

If I had listened to those most of those doctors, specialists and other naysayers, I would not have experienced one of the most amazing thrills of my life. I would not have checked another item off my bucket list, I would not have found the courage and strength to over come. I would not be here today offering encouragement and moral support to you.

Please do not ever give up on your dreams. I can completely understand that life can be one great big fat challenge, obstacle and barrier, but please try to not let it beat you.

This event took place just four weeks ago and I have so many other adventures to share with you since.

Stay tuned and find joy.

Please scroll down to the bottom of our page to leave a comment. We would LOVE to hear from you.

Learning to Live Again – New Adventure #1 This is another post where I just don't know where to start. I feel it is important to give you a little background so you can appreciate the enormity of what I'm about to share.

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viollettes · 7 years

Text

“Baby Stark”

Pairing: Tony Stark x Reader

Summary: After returning to New York, Tony is greeted with surprising news that has potential to change his life.

A/N: another one from draft-purgatory. lol i’ve never written for tony stark, and i i struggle to capture his swaggering tone. however, but i thought it would be fun to write for a slightly softer tony stark.

His elbows resting on the metal railing surrounding the large helicopter landing pad, Tony Stark skims his eyes over the beautiful aerial view of Manhattan. A relaxed smile perks onto his lips as the familiar clamor of the concrete jungle sinks in. "It's good to be back," he hums to himself, taking in the majestic view carved around the Avengers Tower.

After rapping his knuckles against the metal railing, Tony saunters down the glass walkway leading into the tower, the eery silence reminding him that everyone is on a mission. He's about to greet F.R.I.D.A.Y. when a smile enters his view, one that he isn't expecting.

She sits on the counter of the bar, her legs elegantly crossed despite the restrictive nature of her pencil skirt. The sunlight streams into the room through the glass windows, creating a natural glow about her. A coy smile perks onto her lips as Tony's drinks her in, his lower lip getting caught between his teeth as his eyes dance up her legs and body. She's the most alluring girl he'd ever seen -he'd thought so two years ago when they first met, and he still thinks so now- and it's one of the many reasons why he's infatuated with her.

"I thought I told you not to wait for me," He grins, glad that she ignored his request.

"I couldn't wait until dinner, and I wanted to be here when you arrived. Is that such a crime?" (Y/N) hops off the counter and saunters towards him. She cups his cheek in a way that makes Tony feel like he's the only person in the world.

"Well, counselor, I recommend -" His words are cut off as (Y/N) yanks the lapels of his jacket to bring his face towards her for a kiss. Tony laughs against her lips, but the laugh quickly gets drowned out by a rough growl as she lightly bites his lower lip. A smile creeps in around the edges of her kiss as she slides her hands down his muscular back. A nip of teeth, a glide of tongue, and she easily has him under her spell.

It's only a matter of time when the need for oxygen brings the kiss to an end. Tony gently knocks his forehead against (Y/N)'s. "Remind me to always bring up a counterargument, because baby, I could get used to that," he drawls.

(Y/N) laughs, a devilish glint lighting up her eyes. "Welcome back to New York, Mr. Stark. It's been a while." Her hand dangerously inch south as she brings his ear to her lips. "That was a little preview of what's going to happen tonight."

He feigns exasperation as (Y/N) playfully smacks his ass but twirls out of his arms before he can do anything. A low noise escapes his throat as she shoots him a sexy smile over her shoulder while kicking off her "ball-busting stilettos", as she calls them.

Tony leans against the wall and watches (Y/N)'s shadow dance in the glow of the sun. Two years into the relationship, and he still gets butterflies. His fun, beautiful girlfriend, the skyline of the most magical city in America, wonderful weather - his life is perfect and Tony wishes it would stay this way for a long time.

"As much as I love pencil skirts, I need to change," (Y/N) announces. "I have workout pants in my bag, but could I borrow a shirt or sweater?"

"Baby, at this point, you've stolen over half of my comfortable clothes. Why do you even bother asking?"

(Y/N) smirks and plants a kiss on his cheek before sashaying towards the door of Tony's private apartment. Before she opens the door, she turns to him. “T, I have something to tell you."

"Mmhmm," Tony hums, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

"I probably should have told you, but I was kind of scared of how you would react. I thought it would be wise to tell you when you were back in New York." She hesitates for a bit, her fingertips drumming against the doorframe. "Promise not to freak?" she asks, a slightly icy look glazing her eyes.

A small alarm rings in his head, but Tony maintains a calm expression. "I promise. Did you max out my credit card?" he jokes.

(Y/N) rolls her eyes but relaxes a bit, which pleases Tony. "No, and I never will."

"My wallet thanks you, baby. But what’s up?"

"Tony." She swallows. "How do you feel about becoming a dad?"

Something explodes in Tony's head, and he begins to feel a bit woozy. He rapidly blinks as his brain starts to panic, sending waves of panic and fear rushing down his body.

"I -"

(Y/N) holds up an index finger. "Hold on, let me change out of this skirt and blouse. Ugh, I wasn't made for clothes like this. I'll be back!" she sings. One smile later, she slinks into the private apartment.

A shaky breath rushes out of him as Tony staggers onto the couch. "Fuck me," he whispers, running his hands in his hair.

What does this mean for the future? How am I supposed to do Avengers things and also be a dad? Can the Avengers even stay in the tower now, especially since the baby is going to cry nonstop? No, the tower is soundproof, so that will be fine... But still, wouldn't it be awkward? I can't run team meetings while taking care of a baby!

And (Y/N)... She'll never let me touch her again. We're going to argue all the time about who needs to wake up in the middle of the night to shush the baby - wait, can I still call her baby? Would that be weird considering that we have a real baby?

Hold up, Stark. This isn't about you. Calm yourself. You first need to see where (Y/N) is and how she's feeling. Make sure she's doing okay.

Oh God, what have I done? We've been so careful, but... Her career, she's worked so hard to make it to her current position. I mean, things are a bit better, and her employer better not discriminate because she's pregnant, but still she’s going to have to make some big decisions.

And this age difference between us. Now she's stuck with me through the obligation of a child. What if she doesn't want to be with me in the future, and - God, I've fucked up her life.

No, think how I can support her. If I were (Y/N), what would I need and want to hear? How can I be a stronghold?

Okay, Stark. Remember - this is not about you.

"T, how are you feeling?"

Tony's head snaps up. (Y/N) steps back into the glass walkway, her blouse and skirt replaced by yoga pants and his old, red long-sleeved MIT shirt. "Hi bab - erm, love," he smiles, praying that he's squeezed out a calm and comforting smile. He pushes himself off the couch, ignoring the slight quaking in his knees. "I'm okay, but more importantly, how are you feeling?"

(Y/N) beams and claps her hands. "I know we haven't really talked about it, but I think it'll be good for our relationship in moving forward." She turns the doorknob. "I'm very excited, I've always wanted -"

The unmistakable sound of a dog bark comes from the private apartment. His brow crinkled, he rubs his hands against his face. "A dog?"

(Y/N) sheepishly opens the door, and out runs a gray pitbull. Tony's knees give out, and he sinks back onto the couch. A gong-like sound pounds his head as the dog jumps onto its lap. It stares into Tony's eyes with a soulful look, its tail resembling a metronome set for the fastest tempo.

"Isn't he cute?!"

"Holy... (Y/N), baby." Tony rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "I-I..." His words falter him as the dog starts to lick his hand. He sits dumbfounded as his heartbeat continues to skip erratically.

"I adopted him from the shelter a few days ago. His previous owner abandoned him three years ago, and he's been in the shelter ever since. I couldn't just leave him there." (Y/N)'s hands flutter around, a habit that indicated she was worried.

"Oh God. Right. What's his name?" he asks, scratching the pitbull behind its ears. A smile reluctantly grows on his lips as the dog nuzzles its head into his hands.

"Bucky."

Tony stares at (Y/N) with a deadpan look. "You're kidding me, right? We're not naming him after the Tin Man.”

"But look at him. He has the same soulful eyes that Bucky has," (Y/N) points out. "You look at both of them, and you just want to protect them and hug them and -" She pauses with a chuckle, holding her hands up in mock surrender as Tony shoots her with an icy death glare. "I'm kidding, T. He already has a name."

He runs his fingers over the dog's soft fur around the neck and checks out the collar. "Maverick?"

"Mmhmm. Maverick, go get your toy!" As Maverick the dog runs back into the private apartment, (Y/N) climbs onto Tony's lap. "Hey, T?" She fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt, stares deeply into his eyes. "I freaked you out earlier, didn't I?"

"Hm, what?" Tony pretends to play dumb, which is stupid on his part.

"I'm not pregnant, but what's really on your mind, babe? Are you okay?"

Guilt starts to seep through his bones, and Tony tries to figure out the best way to explain his thoughts without offending her. "I’d want to say that I was completely fine, but you’d easily call bullshit. Unfortunately my witty ability to tell a smooth lie doesn’t work with you.”

"It's okay to be scared. I kind of worded it weirdly," she assures, patting his chest.

"But babe, as selfish as my initial thoughts were, I would have been supportive, and I will be supportive in the future. I just felt so horrible, because I thought I was ruining your life because I -"

(Y/N) frowns, tightly grabbing his arm. "Why would you ruin my life? I-”

Tony cups her cheeks with his hands, bringing her face closer to his. "Baby, I’m a genius, billionaire, former-playboy, and philanthropist who pretty much saves America on the regular, but I have insecurities too." His speaking pace starts to quicken as he rambles, "You're perfect - young, beautiful, and on the cusp of becoming a senior executive at your company. I was worried that this would change everything and -"

"Okay okay, Tony, let's take a deep breath." (Y/N) moves her hands in an upward and downward motion, instructing him to breathe. "Being scared is normal, and I probably would have reacted very similarly had it been me. Also, I'm very happy with my life right now. I'm paying off my student loans, I have a kickass job, I’m dating a hell of a man, and now I have a new dog!

I don’t think we’re ready for kids right now. But I assure you when it happens, I'll be thrilled about Baby Stark. In fact I’ve thought about it. It’ll be you, me, Maverick, and Baby Stark. And because you’re such a genius, I’m confident you’ll figure out a way to be both a wonderful father and superhero. But T, unless you throw away the Louboutins I spent a year saving up for or give away Maverick, you can never ruin my life.”

Tony arches his eyebrow with curiosity, amusement slowly replacing the anxiety. "Baby Stark? You’ve thought about having my kids?" He chuckles and presses a kiss to her cheek. "You really do love me, don't you?"

"Yeah, it kind of sucks, but what can I do," (Y/N) dramatically sighs. A laugh bubbles up her throat and she hops off his lap."I'm going to get Maverick's leash. It’s time for his walk."

Maverick then runs out of the private apartment as if he's been waiting for his cue. He jumps onto the couch and settles himself onto Tony's lap. Tony rolls his eyes and feigns annoyance, his heart blooming as his girlfriend bursts into another round of laughter.

Scratching the pitbull's head, Tony watches (Y/N) saunter back into the private apartment. A genuine smile perks onto his lips and a content sigh escapes his lips. Tony brings the dog into a semi-hug. "And that, Maverick, is the mother of my future children. Baby Stark is going to be a very lucky child whenever he or she enters the world.

But until then,” Tony pauses to kiss the dog’s nose, “you’re the Baby Stark of the household. I guess you can call me ‘Dad.’ Actually no, don’t do that. It’s weird. Oh God, am I really talking to a dog right now? Is this what Barton is like?”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x you #tony x reader #tony stark one shot #tony x you #tony stark imagine #tony stark oneshot #tony stark fanfic #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark fic #marvel imagine #marvel fic #tony stark x oc #ourpeachskies #ourpeachskies writes

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swan-archive · 7 years

Text

@me would you perhaps like to stop being obnoxious?? would you like to shut up for one SECOND of your life????

[listens intently for several seconds]

she said no, have some stupid-ass modern au wereham tropey fluff

John’s not here.

Alex thinks maybe at some point he’ll get used to the way he wakes up now, all at once and with instinct screaming at him before his higher brain functions kick in. Not tonight, though, and he jerks awake and sits up in bed staring stupidly around at the empty room before he catches the sound of a chair scraping against the kitchen floor and notices the light shining through the slightly-ajar door. Chill, Alex, he tells himself, take it easy, he’s just getting a glass of water, he’s allowed, and curls back up on the bed.

John persists in his absence, though, and after several minutes Alex gets tired of waiting. He glances at the clock on the bedside table. 2:48 AM. Not like John to be up and about at this hour. Boy likes his sleep. And now Alex is wide awake, so he pushes himself out of bed with a groan and shuffles into the kitchen on his bandy legs.

John’s there, sitting at the table, scrolling through his phone with that blank look on his face that means he’s genuinely upset. Doesn’t hear Alex as he comes into the room and leans against the doorframe.

“So, bad dream, or…?” John jumps and slaps his phone down on the table.

“Shit! Alex, don’t sneak up on me like that!” says John.

“I literally walked right through the door in front of your face, but sure, let’s go with sneaked up on you.”

“You’re quiet on your paws,” John grouses. “And not all of us have your hearing.” His fingers flutter nervously over his phone. Alex cocks his head.

“You waiting for a call or something? At three in the morning?”

“No, no, uh, it’s just…” John looks at his feet. “I couldn’t sleep, that’s all, and I didn’t wanna wake you up tossing and turning. Brought the phone out with me so I could at least catch some Pokemon while I sat here. Really, that’s it.”

“Okay, first of all, you’re a worse liar than I am, second of all, I know for a fact you haven’t touched Pokemon Go since, like, November, and even if you did this apartment complex only spawns Pidgeys.”

John grimaces. “Am I that transparent?”

“An open book, Mr. Laurens.” Alex taps the phone with a claw. “Can I?”

John presses his lips together. “Nothing to see,” he says.

“Gotta be something.” Alex picks up the phone, unlocks it (with some difficulty; touchscreens tend not to like his paw pads). Blinks down at the screen. Text backlog, “Dad” at the top. The most recent text from Henry is something about John’s sister Marta. Apparently her soccer team is doing really well this season.

“Yeah,” says John dully, as if that explains everything.

“No, not ‘yeah,’ I don’t get it. Your sister plays soccer, and that’s…bad, somehow?”

“Check the date stamp.” Alex does. A bit more than two weeks ago.

“Two weeks ago, that was…oh. Oh.”

“Yeah. Just before he found out about. Um.”

“About me, right.”

“And he hasn’t, he hasn’t—not that I’m, I shouldn’t complain, it’s not like we were ever on the best of terms anyway—maybe it’s better like this, he always gets up my ass for not responding to his six million texts a day, but…”

“But. Oh. But he hasn’t been talking to you.”

John nods. Feeling sick at heart, Alex scrolls down to the bottom of the text log. A series of texts from John, over the past two weeks, ranging from a multi-paragraph explanation starting with Dad, I’m sorry we scared you the other night, but I just wanted to let you know what the deal is with Alex, it’s really not as bad as you think… down to a sad little one-line i’m sorry. please call me.

No expression on John’s face. “It’s, I think he’d been looking for an excuse, you know? Like, it looks bad if he cuts his gay son off entirely, so he has to pretend he’s cool with me being the way I am, but the second he has a convenient excuse—”

“Like me?”

“—he can just go ahead and call me sick and disgusting with impunity and drop me without feeling bad…” John catches sight of the look on Alex’s face. Cuts himself off. “Shit, Alex, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“No, it’s. I just figure I’d be a pretty convenient excuse, if that’s the case.” Alex scratches at his own furry chin with what he hopes is a nonchalant air. He’s more or less where he’d been when Henry last came a-calling, which is to say, objectively hideous. Not exactly not even a little human, but human enough to turn one’s stomach. No wonder Henry had lost his shit. Alex probably would too, if he found out his child was dating the love child of Chewbacca and were-Michael Jackson from the “Thriller” video.

John’s starting to get an expression back, and that expression looks an awful lot like guilt, so Alex decides to head it off. “Look, I know I’m—ugly, don’t argue with that, it’s true, but you didn’t do anything wrong here. And your dad’s not stupid—”

“His political views beg to differ.”

“…Okay, he has some wrong ideas, but he loves you, John, I know he does.” Alex sets down the phone, takes John’s hand in his. “He has to figure it out. He has to know that he’s the one being awful to you for something that is not your fault. And once he’s done throwing this, I don’t know, this tantrum, he’ll get over himself. And it’ll be fine. And if that means I have to make myself scarce for a while, that’s fine too.”

“That is not fine. I’m not breaking up with you because of something this stupid.”

“Did I say that you should?” And, okay, Alex had heavily implied it, but hearing John say that, even to deny that it would ever happen, makes his heart start racing with panic. He covers his tracks. “All I meant was, I stay away from him except for new moon, let him get used to the idea of me. He’ll come around. People do. Eliza did, right?”

“Eliza had a crush on you. Not the best sample size.”

“R-right.” Alex’s ears droop. “Uh. Still. He’s your dad. My point stands.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“So are you. I seem to recall the two of you got into a fight over whether you were going to vet school or to study poli sci. Which of you won that one, again…?”

“Okay, okay, I get it.”

“And, by the way, I’m stubborn too. The two of us can outlast him. Yeah? We can, John.” John picks at his phone case and declines to agree. Stubborn, right. Close the subject before John can get an argument together. “Anyway, staying up and worrying about it isn’t gonna fix anything.”

“The irony of you trying to tell me that is kind of incredible.” Alex decides to let that pass without comment. It’s a good sign that John has brightened up enough to be sarcastic.

“How about I make us some tea? Help you relax. You know, I was so pissed when you threw out the coffee, but after our, uh, our little adventure with it I’m really starting to warm up to the idea of some nice herbal brews. And it’s nice for when you can’t sleep, right?” Alex walks over and opens the spice cupboard, peering at their selection. “What’ll you have? We’ve got chamomile, mint, lemon balm, rooibos, um…since when have we had nettle tea?”

“Oh, yeah. The lady at the co-op talked me into it when she saw me looking at non-caffeinated tea. I tried to tell her no thanks, but she was really excited about it, and I kind of felt bad, and apparently nettle’s okay for dogs…”

“Huh. Nettle, like stinging nettle?” Alex pulls the lid off the tin and snuffles at it. “I honestly would not have thought you could make tea out of that stuff. Wouldn’t it hurt your throat to drink it?”

“Yeah, uh. I think I’ll stick with chamomile for tonight.”

“Probably a good move. Save the culinary adventures for another day.” Alex putters around the kitchen, filling the electric kettle and fetching mugs and carefully picking two teabags out of the box. Keeps watch on John out of the corner of his eye. John’s phased back into obsessively checking his phone. Call logs—text logs—call logs—text logs. Alex knows he’s just offered to keep a low profile around Henry, but at the moment the idea of, not tearing his throat out necessarily, but shaking him up at least a little bit, is sounding pretty good. He stops himself when he feels a growl starting to rumble in his chest.

Not useful, Alex. Not human, Alex. He glares at the kettle and takes deep breaths until the water boils, pours out two mugs and dunks the teabags. John looks up from his phone for a moment when Alex sets his mug down on the table in front of him, but gets wrapped up again, this time in what looks like the archive of Facebook Messenger messages between him and Henry. The likelihood of there being anything useful in there is vanishingly small, but Alex doesn’t have the heart to scold just now, not when John looks the way he does.

Alex laps at his mug of tea, burns his tongue. Decides to let it sit for a while. He brushes his knuckles against John’s, and John sighs and at least switches his phone to his other hand so he can run his fingers over Alex’s paw pads. Alex chuckles a little.

“Well, isn’t this disgusting.”

“What?”

“Look at us. Sitting here, holding hands, drinking tea in the kitchen at—” Alex glances over at the microwave display, “—at 3:05 AM. We’re like a stereotype of a couple. I’m gonna throw up.”

That teases a flicker of smile out of John. “It’s pretty bad,” he allows.

“Well, as long as we’re being gross and couple-y—” Alex reaches out and snags the phone out of John’s hand.

“Hey!”

“No, no, I’m doing a thing,” says Alex, holding the phone away from John at arm’s length. He finds Spotify, taps in a quick search, selects. Soft brass starts playing out the phone speakers. John raises an eyebrow.

“Really, Alex?”

“Yeah, come on.” Alex stands up and executes a little sashay around the kitchen, his tail swishing back and forth. “Frank Sinatra’s a national treasure. Up, John. We’re dancing now.” He holds out his hand, pulls a meaningful face. John rolls his eyes, but allows Alex to pull him out of his chair and into a clumsy spin.

“You’re an awful dancer.”

“Shut up, I’m amazing. Yes, you’re loooooooove-ly, with your smile so warm,” croons Alex, hooking an arm around John’s waist and waltzing him around. “No, I’m leading now, let me—hm, hm, nothing for me but to loooooooooove you…”

The smile in question lights up John’s face properly, and Alex trails off, his heart suddenly feeling far too big for his chest. Three in the morning, John’s hair is a horrible bird’s nest, he’s wearing a shirt that Alex can smell he grabbed off the top of his hamper, and he’s beautiful. Beautiful. And Alex is—slightly more than half a wolf. He ducks his head, careful to fold his ears back so they don’t hit John in the nose.

“What is it?”

“It’s a joke, see,” says Alex, striving to keep his tone light, “because the way I look tonight is, uh, really fucking bad.”

“Alex.” John tilts Alex’s head back. Alex expects him to go off on one of his you are beautiful just the way you are speeches, but all he does is kiss Alex, just where the cool leathery skin of his nose meets velvety fur. Alex sniffs a little, shakes his head.

“Um. You wanna, you wanna lead for a little bit?”

“Sure.” There’s a moment of shuffling hands around, and then John steers Alex into a much more graceful two-step. His hand drifts down to Alex’s hip, and he strokes his thumb against the fur poking out where Alex’s t-shirt has ridden up. Alex feels his tail start to wag, and wills it (unsuccessfully) to get ahold of itself.

The song slows to its dreamy finish, and John actually dips Alex, looking at him through his eyelashes and smiling oh so tenderly. It’s quite romantic, until Alex’s paws lose purchase on the linoleum and he scrabbles for balance, clinging to John to keep from falling over. John rights him, and they both burst into laughter.

“Sorry, Fred Astaire,” Alex says, grinning. “Get yourself a better Ginger Rogers if you’re trying to do the fancy stuff.” He moves to disentangle himself from John’s arms.

“Hey, wait a second, don’t run off just yet. You chose the first dance, so it’s my turn to pick, isn’t it?” Alex shrugs and gestures, go ahead. John grabs his phone and queues up another song. It starts up, all echoey guitars and whispery alt-pop vocals.

“This doesn’t sound like a jazz standard to me,” Alex complains.

“Oh, shush. You never said there were rules to this. Now come here.” John reaches out and pulls Alex close, wraps his arms around Alex’s shoulders and buries his face in Alex’s fur. Alex sighs and relaxes against John’s chest. He’s so warm, and he smells so good, smells like home and smells like mate and smells, above all, like John.

“When you say I love you…” John sings softly into Alex’s ear. He’s a much better singer than Alex. He lays his hand on the back of Alex’s head, strokes at the thick not-quite-fur not-quite-hair there. Alex grips him a little tighter. Yes, Alex loves him. Alex loves him, and Alex needs him, and Alex would let him go in a heartbeat if John wanted something more than dancing barefoot in his kitchen with a mangy werewolf.

Would let him go, even though Alex knows to do so would surely kill him.

“I love you,” Alex whispers against John’s neck. He should say more, I’m sorry about your dad, I’m sorry I’m like this, I’m sorry you’re saddled with me, but he can’t quite manage to choke it out. “I love you.”

“Yeah, that’s the song,” John teases. He toys with Alex’s ear, and Alex whines and melts a little more. “But I love you too.”

Alex pulls back just enough to tilt his chin up and kiss John. Proper kiss, not a doggy lick or a nuzzle. Ever so careful to keep his teeth out of the way. John says mm and leans into it and holds Alex, holds him, holds him, and for a while it doesn’t matter what Alex is. He’s loved. That’s all he needs right now.

The song has a long outro, but Alex doesn’t care, and John doesn’t seem to either. By the time it fades into silence, they’re not dancing so much as swaying together, not to any particular rhythm, just enjoying being close. They stand there for a long moment in each others’ arms.

Then, John yawns so hard Alex hears his jaw creak.

“Tired?”

“Hmm,” says John. He swipes at his eyes. “Yeah. Finally. Come to bed with me?”

“Our tea, John.”

“Oh. Yeah. ’S fine. We can spare two bags. We’ve got more.” John pulls at Alex’s hand, and Alex lets himself lean forward and lick John’s cheek.

“Okay, bossy. Bedtime.”

They switch off the kitchen light and Alex, with his superior night vision, leads John back into the bedroom. John hums under his breath as they climb into bed.

“Lovely,” he sings, almost sighs, pulling the covers up. “With your smile so warm...” He traces a thumb over Alex’s lower lip. “And your cheeks so soft...”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Alex grumbles, before John can start mussing the fur on his face. He rolls over so John can spoon up behind him—makes him feel safe to have something at his back. “Go to sleep, Sinatra.”

“Alex?”

“Hmm.”

“I do think you’re beautiful. I really mean that.”

“You’re right. I’m pretty sexy at new moon.”

“No, I—you’re beautiful. You are. Doesn’t matter when. Just wanted you to know.”

“Oh.” There’s a joke in there, somewhere, something about furries and DeviantArt accounts, but Alex can’t bring himself to make it. A protest in there too, I’m not I’m not how can you say that please don’t lie to me just tell me I’m hideous. Can’t put that one out there either. “Good night, John,” is all he says, around the tightness in his chest. Squeezes John’s hand in his, runs his other hand over his own face, the fur there already finer than it had been when he’d gone to bed. Breathes slow.

Drifts off, warm arms around him and soft music in his ears.

#swan talks #hamilton for ts #wereham au #don't.....look.....at this........please

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