I Wanna
Yakuza!Pedro Pascal x Reader + Baker!Oscar Isaac x Reader
Summary: You fell in love with the leather jacket wearing thug named Pedro, and even after finding out he was part of the yakuza, you married him against your family's will. What happens when your marriage comes crumbling down and his best friend, Oscar, comes picking up the pieces?
Word Count: 4k+
Warnings: Yakuza/Baker AU ok? ok, CRACK FIC, anime parody (ie, cringe cliche anime scene descriptions, romanized japanese~, etc.), fem!reader, Wife!Reader, infidelity/cheating, hurt/comfort, mentions/depictions of violence, fluff, angst, did i say crack fic?, typos etc.
A/N: I know its says pedro and oscar, but its not really them ? HAHHA just dont take this too seriously 💀. It started with this tiktok and me thinkin it was a damn telenovela. then the pic of pedro in this moodboard made @sloanexx say 'yakuza pedrosan' and i was like 😀😀BESTIE THATS AN IDEA then this other tiktok happened and then it sewed everything in place. Cross posted on my ao3
Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @amis-love-bugs @top1bbgloak @sunfairyy @djarinsstuff @mooniesyubi @pedropascalgirly @mmmmandoz @multifandom-fangirl4
▶ Play ♪ 'I Wanna' by The All American Rejects
The bell chimes as the door opened. I pull my head off my hand and pause the funny cat compilation video I was watching. I straightened up where I was leaned on the front counter, standing from my stool. I put on a fake smile and greet, "irasshaimase~ Welcome to the Starlight Cafe!"
I close my eyes as I grin. Gosh, I hate my job.
I hear the customer walk over to me. When I open my eyes, I let out a gasp when I see his face. The wind blows. Cherry blossoms drift with the breeze. His leather jacket glimmers. His shades glint as he pushes them down slowly. He flips his short hair. It barely moves.
I let out an audible gasp. My eyes glitter, "so pretty."
He knits his brows, "nani?~"
"What?"
"What?"
"What-" I clear my throat as I am snapped out of that maladaptive montage. I chuckle softly, "what would you like to order?"
The man looks at me through his lowered glasses and then with a swoosh, removes his glasses. I gasp again, clutching my chest. I whisper under my breath, "sugoi~"
"Mmm," he hums, crossing his arms, titling his head, "what would you recommend, cutie pie?"
My background turns pink. Heart shaped sparkles appear in my eyes. I gasp, he just called me cutie pie? He thinks I'm cute?!
"A- I-" I suck in a breath and carefully offer, "a lot of our customers order the triple chocolate frappe. It has a choco base, choco syrup, and chocolate bits."
"Mmm," he hums again, "I didn't ask what the other customers order," he leans in toward me, our faces inches apart, "I asked for your recommendation."
The whole world turns black. My heartbeat is magnified. I feel my entire body burn, "I-"
The man leans on the counter, placing the shades in his hand on his head. He raises a brow, "well?"
I suck in a breath and mutter, "s-strawberry."
"Hmm? What was that, cutie pie?" A smirks plays on his lips.
"I like iced strawberry lattes," I retort.
He pulls back and leans on one leg. He chuckles, "kawaii~" then nods, raising two fingers, "2 iced strawberry lattes then."
I nod gingerly, punch in his order, "could I just get your name for the order?"
His name rolls off his tongue smoothly, "Pedro."
Ah... Pedro-san~
I tell him his total and take his payment. I hand him his recipt. The world moves in slow motion as he takes it from me. He says a quick thanks and walks off. His boots click across the empty cafe. He sits down on sofa chair next to the window and props his elbows on the back rest, crossing his legs as he looks out. Pink blossoms fall from the sakura tree outside. He smiles at the sight of it, "I've missed Tokyo."
I cannot stop looking at him as I make his order. With every step, every mix, every pour, every shake, I steal a glace of Pedro. I couldn't help myself. That was, until I saw him looking back at me.
I drop the jigger onto the counter with a loud thud. I freeze and look away from him. Shit.
Pedro's lips curve into a soft smile. He whispers under his breath, "baka~"
Stupid.
From then on, I focus only on finishing his order.
When I do, I place the two cups on the counter and call out, "2 iced strawberry lattes for Pedro."
Pedro turns to me. He stands from his spot and walks over. He smiles and takes the one latte, examining the perfectly placed strawberry slice on the cream, then pokes a straw through the plastic cover. He brings the straw to his lips and takes a sip. I watch him with anticipation, clenching my fists tightly.
He pulls the cup away and licks his lips.
I gulp heavily.
Pedro smirks, "refreshing."
I let out a soft sound of relief.
He then takes another straw then pokes it into the other cup. He pushes the cup across the counter, towards me, and mutters, "enjoy the treat, cutie pie."
My jaw drops as I look down at the counter. He- he... bought this for me?
Pedro takes another sip of his drink with a playful look on his face, "see you soon, strawberry."
With that, he turns around and walks away. I gasp when I see the print on his jacket. He was... a gangter? Yakuza?
I watched him as he stepped out of the cafe and crossed the street. My eyes widen when he looked over his shoulder and winked at me.
"That guy is nothing but trouble," I mutter to myself.
Little did I know that I would go on to understand how much trouble he really was, because one day, I would become his wife.
I remember the day he asked me, the day he promised it all to me.
I had since stopped working at the cafe and got an office job at a high paying firm. He had gotten into a fight with my overbearing co-worker who incesantly kept walking with me on my way home from work.
Pedro told me he wouldn't be able to pick me up that day even after I begged over and over to, because I didn't want ot be alone with my slimy co-worker. Little did I know that he planned it all. He knew my co-worker would persist and I wouldn't be able to get him to back off.
When we were a few blocks away from our office, walking the down the street I dreaded walking because it was dark, he came out of nowhere. Pedro popped up in front of us, scaring both me and my co-worker. The next thing that I knew, Pedro had the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall.
I was too shocked to react and I couldn't hear a word he was saying because Pedro whispered to him.
Once he released him, the man went running the other way. When Pedro turned to me, I gasped at the state of him. He had a busted lip, blood on his brow, a black eye, and the jacket he wore all the time was torn on the sleeve.
He whispers my name, eyes unable to meet mine.
I look at him as the orange streetlight gave me a vague view of his face, "wha-"
"I'm not a good man, in fact, I'm a horrible man," he mutters.
"Pedro-"
"Matte~" he mutters, "wait... just let me say this."
His face darkens as he hangs his head low. He rumages through his back pocket and pulls out something, "I don't think I can ever change," he slowly takes my hand. My cold hands burn in his hot one, "but I know for a fact I can never live..."
I gasp as I look down at my hand.
"- if I don't have you," he says, slipping a ring on my finger. Even through the darkness, I could see that the silver ring was reddened with blood.
"I did it for you," he says, making my eyes dart back up to his face. Pedro continues, "I killed my boss for you."
A shiver runs down my spine.
"I'm the boss now."
"Pedro-"
"Nothing will ever stand in our way," he steps forward, taking both my hands in his, "I would give you anything you want, everything you need," he bends to look up at me, "I would place Tokyo in the palm of your hand."
"Pedro..." I speak warily, "I- I don't need Tokyo..."
Pedro's face falls. He lets out a shaky breath. He straightens up and looks at our joined hands. He feels his eyes water. He feels his grip loosen.
I grip his hands before he lets go, "I just need you."
Pedro looks up. He looks at me. He feels his world light up. He feels the surroundings glow. He tightens his hold on me then gets down on one knee, "marry me."
I suck in a breath and nod, "I-"
I do.
I marry him.
I marry him against all the wishes of my family, effectively isolating me from all my relatives. I quit my job due to proximity issues, but in truth, I didn't need one anymore. Pedro lives up to his words, he gives me anything I want, everything I need; he placed Tokyo in the palm of my hands and yet-
It all fades.
Where once I beamed at his arrival, I now broke down in dread as I watched him crawl back to me.
I'm not in the mood for your lectures. I told you not to wait up. Strawberry, I had to take this job. Stop it. You wouldn't understand. I do this for you. I do this for you.
I DO THIS FOR YOU!
"I didn't ask you to do this for me," I sob against my knees as I pull my legs into me.
It was horrible. Pedro was working more than there were hours in the day. There was barely anything left of him when he came back. There was barely anything left of us.
"Oi, oi, oi~" a soft voice attempts to calm me.
I lift my puffy eyes as I look at the grey world before me. I watch as the curly haired man places a tray on the table and kneels down next to my chair, "what has you crying this time, puddle girl?"
Puddle girl. He called me this because I jumped in a puddle and splashed him the day we met.
He places a hand on my shoulder and shakes his head, "you don't have to worry about anything."
My voice breaks at his words. I sob, "Oscar-"
"Listen to me," he says, getting back on his feet, though he stays hunched to meet me at eye level, "Pedro is a dummy. He doesn't listen to me, he doesn't listen to you, but-" he raises a finger, "he listens to himself."
I sniffle at his words. I watch him as he straightens up.
"Show him what he's missing. Show him what he does this for, what he really does this for," Oscar says, placing his hands in his pockets, "did I ever tell you I made him buy me a bi-"
"Bike when you were still in school by convincing him it was him that broke yours," I continue his story for him through a stuffy voice.
Oscar chuckles. He presses the back of his hand on his lips as he does so, "ahhh," he sighs, "have I said it that much? Gomen~"
The sound of his voice makes the greyscale world seem brighter--happier. He chuckles again, running his hands through his hair. Sunshine cascades over his body, highlighting the curve of his toned chest through his dress shirt with three undone buttons. There is a sparkle that lingers on his bicep as he does this.
"Don't be too sad," Oscar says, pulling out a hanky from his pocket for me. He offers it with a smile and cocks his head to the side, "I made you a croissant and hot chocolate to cheer you up."
When I take his hanky and turn to the tray, I see the magic of his cooking waft in the hair. The smell of the food goes straight to my lungs and I realize in this moment just how hungry I was.
I shift in my spot, wiping my tears, reaching out for the pastry in front of me.
The bell chimes as the door is opened.
"Moshi moshi~" Oscar smiles, greeting the customers who walked into his bakeshop. I watch him as he attends to the old couple, leaning down to meet them eye level. My heart clenches when the old woman pinches his cheek.
The world suddenly has a golden haze.
I take Oscar's words to heart and put his plan into action.
I made it a point to do all the things I loved doing with Pedro and told him all about it. I made plans with him: I reserved dinner dates in our favorite places, bought tickets for movies we'd both like, wore the clothes I knew he liked me in, kissed him in spots that made him weak. I did it all, knowing he couldn't dare resist.
And yet he did.
At first, he would say he would try to make it to the date, then that he was too tired. Sometimes he'd cave and I'd have him right where I wanted him. Eventually, he began brushing me off.
He said he couldn't do those silly things right now.
"He said that?!" Oscar snapped, eyes wide in offence as I sob while recounting my latest encounter with his best friend. He fumes, "oh, I swear, I'm going to beat him up."
"Oscar, please."
"No, no-" he shakes his head rapidly, "I have to teach that rat a lesson."
"You're going to get yourself hurt."
"Well, you've been getting hurt," he counters.
I rub my eyes, no longer wanting to talk about this, as exhaustion begins to creep up on me.
The night air creeps up on me as a bunch of cars pass by the street of Oscar's closed bakeshop. For a moment, there was only the sound of tires on asphalt that filled the air.
"I've got it," Oscar mutters, "we'll make him jealous."
My face contorts in confusion and exhaustion, "nani?~"
"There's nothing that will make a man go crazy more than seeing his girl with someone else."
I huff and shake my head, "that's a horrible idea."
Oscar shakes his head too, grabbing my hand. I gasp when he does this. I look at him through my wet lashes. His brows furrowed. His eyes had stars in them. He mutters my name softly. A wind brushes through his hair as he did so, "trust me. I'm going to help you get your love back."
I look at him as he smiles.
"And anyway, it's just pretend," he reassures.
It really was.
Just pretend...
... at least at first.
Pedro grumbled as I giggled at the ice cream I smeared on his nose. He gives me a stink eye as I take a tissue and wipe the pink cream off him.
"It was an accident, darling," I say sweetly.
Pedro snorts and leans his forhead against mine, "of course it is," he pulls back as I giggle. A smirk plays on his lips as he licks his ice cream, "who would dare disrespect the big boss?"
I roll my eyes at his words. I nearly chew him up for it, but then I catch sight of Oscar and my attention is averted.
"Oscar-san!~" I call out.
Oscar raises a hand as he walks over to us.
"Pedro," Oscar says, patting him on the shoulder.
Pedro chuckles, nodding to him in regard, "Oscar."
Oscar looks between us, "any ice cream for me?"
"Sorry, we just got two," I retort.
Oscar pouts.
Pedro bites on his cone, "get your own."
Oscar turns to him, then back to me, "we should get one later."
I nod and smile, "okay."
Pedro furrows his brows, "later?" He tilts his head, "what's happening later?"
I mimic his expression, "don't you remember, Pedro? I told you I bought tickets for Barbie, but you said you couldn't watch it with me, so I invited Oscar to watch with me instead."
Pedro tenses. Oscar and I look at him as he slowly nods. "Ahh," Pedro says, "that's smart," he licks his ice cream, "better than not having anyone use the ticket."
Needless to say, I was quite dejected on our way to watch Barbie, as our plan didn't work at all.
"Don't worry about it, puddle girl," Oscar nudges me lightly with his elbow, "it's going to work."
"Work how?!" I blurt, "he thought it was a good idea!"
Oscar leans in and smiles, "in time."
"Pedro!" I call to him weeks later after that day, "do you like my outfit?"
Pedro, who was knee-deep in paper work, darts his eyes up and gazes at me through his glasses, barely shifting on his office chair. He looks me once over and nods, "yes, very pretty dear," he looks back to his desk, "are you going somewhere?"
"Hai~" I nod, stepping out of his office, "Oscar is going to pick me up in a few minutes."
Pedro pulls his head back and does a double take upon hearing this. He removes his glasses, "wait," he shakes his head, "Oscar?"
I nod again as I open the door, "hai~ He's taking me out dancing with my high school friends."
Pedro's brows furrows, "that's tonight? You said that was going to be next week."
"Pedro," I shake my head, "I told you that one week ago."
"But I-"
"Don't worry," I raise a hand, "Oscar agreed to come. I asked him this morning."
"This morning?" Pedro muttered, "that's such short notice."
I chuckle, "yeah. He needs to get a girlfriend." I step out of his office.
"Yamete!~"
I stop and turn back, finding Pedro was walking over to me. He places his hands on my shoulder and looks me up and down. "Beautiful," he whispers, placing a kiss on my lips. I am shocked my his affection, and my eyes widen as I gasp. When he pulls away, he brushes my cheek, "I love you."
I look at him, heart soaring at his words, "I love you."
A crack of thunder comes after a bolt of lighting rips through the dark grey clouds.
"I love you," Oscar says, body dripping in rain water.
I shake my head, eyes mimicking the sky, refusing to let him in. I close the small gap in the front door. He risks his fingers and toes by jamming them in to keep me from shutting him out.
"Onegaishimasu~" his voice breaks, "please don't make me go."
"Oscar," I whimper, eyes falling to the floor, unable to meet his gaze. I watch as water drips from his fingers, "everything about this is wrong."
"I know it is," he says and thunder cracks again, "I know it is."
I feel my cheeks burn because of my tears, "then leave. You know it's the right thing to do."
"But I don't want to leave-"
I sigh, "Oscar-"
"-and I know you don't either."
I don't respond to him.
There's another roll of thunder.
My skin pricks with goosebumps when he says my name the way he did, the way Pedro used to, the way Oscar always does.
"I love you," Oscar cries under his breath, "I love you so much that it hurts me to. It hurts because I love Pedro-" he growls, "-and hate him at the same time."
I finally look up to him, seeing just how distraught he was.
"I hate how he's done this to you," Oscar mutters, "I hate how he's pushed you aside and hurt you so much."
My tears travel down my neck.
"I hate how he has you but takes you for granted," he grits his teeth, "I hate that he has you. I hate that you met him first. I hate that you loved him first. I hate that I want you so bad. I hate-- I hate that things are the way they are."
And I know.
"You've made me into a puddle boy, puddle girl."
I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I opened the door for him, slowly letting it creak.
Oscar drops to his knees in front of me. He embraces my legs and mutters, "tell me to go away-"
I brush his dripping hair back.
"Tell me to leave you alone and get help for doing this to you."
"Oscar..."
He looks up at me, eyes red and tried.
I know.
I really do. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help myself. I leaned down and kissed him.
That was it.
That was the end.
That was the day I chose to leave Pedro for Oscar.
I really did mean to. I meant to tell it to his face, to own up to the treachery, to confess my sins-- our sins, mine and Oscar's, his lover and his friend, two people that should never betray you. We meant to tell it to him upfront, but he made it impossible.
Between him not having time to see either of us, he didn't have the energy to even listen to anything other than his work.
So I left it all on his desk, a thank you, a sorry, an explanation, an I love you, and divorce papers.
The truth was, it took him 5 days to realize it was there, 5 days to realize it had already ended, 5 days to realize he'd been alone all this time.
Pedro dropped the handwritten letter on the floor and ran out of this office, screaming out a name no one would answer to. He bust through every door, every room in the hollow mansion, opened every light in every hall, and only then did it dawn on him that was it.
That was the end.
That was the day he crumpled the evidence of his greatest betrayal and grabbed his gun.
He was not in his right mind. He didn't think of taking his car, he didn't think about breathing, all he thought about was how dare they? How dare they do this to him? How dare they cast him aside? How dare they throw him away?
The world was blurry. The world was pixelated. He could not see the faces of anyone around him. They had no faces. They looked like painted background figures. They looked like melting wax.
Pedro's eyes were wide and his pupils were shrinked. His breathing was jagged and the gun stuffed in the back of his pants felt cold against his burning skin.
The world was like a coloring book vandalized by a child who could not keep the color in the lines. He slammed into faceless painted figures and melting wax, speaking no apology. He paid no attention to the noise of the outside word, none to the deafening honks of cars nor to the rattling of people.
He's at a thousand, he's sweating in this sweltering afternoon, then suddenly he's at a zero, the world goes silent.
He can only hear his breathing as he looked through the window of his friend's bakeshop. He can only hear himself demand answers in his mind as he watched his lover smile in a way that should have only ever been meant for him.
He watches as laughter comes. He watches as smiles are exchanged. He hyperventilates as lips meet lips. He pulls out his gun as he swears he hears an I love you whispered.
Oscar and I whip our heads when a piercing shriek rings from outside the bakeshop. The girl who screamed ran away, making everyone around her panic and run too.
I stand from my seat by the window, spotting the man across the street. A shiver runs down my spine.
Oscar, who was right behind me, tells me to stay put as he exits the shop. I don't. I follow after him.
"Pedro," Oscar calls and raises a wary hand.
Pedro clenches the handle of his firearm and turns off the safety, "shut up."
"Pedro," I whimper, coming to Oscar's side.
He points the gun to me and grits his teeth, "SHUT UP!"
On instinct, Oscar grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. In turn, Pedro steps onto the road and shakes his head, "DON'T YOU TOUCH HER!"
And as much as I was terrified, still, I circled around Oscar and raised my hands, "Pedro, please-"
Pedro's tears begin to burn down his cheek, "how could you do this to me?! ... with my only friend."
"I know," I shudder as I step forward, "it's all my fault. I-"
"It wasn't her fault-" Oscar yanks be back, walking in front of me, "it was my idea to do this-"
"Oscar," I call.
"-I convinced her to do things with me to make you jealous. It's all-"
"I decided to do those things!" I pull Oscar by the arm, turning to Pedro, "I cried to him about you everyday. He had no choice but to help."
Pedro's brows furrow tightly at the sound of Oscar calling out my name. Oscar and I continue to argue out our guilt.
The only reason we don't get into a fight is because gunshots crack through the air. Oscar and I hunch and huddle together.
Pedro marches forward as he shoots. He empties his magazine.
The next thing I know he's standing in front of us. My heart is racing. My hands are squished in Oscar's. Pedro is still firing his gun even though there were no more bullets left. I watch as the man I loved pulled the trigger on a gun pointed to the sky.
He drops his arm first, then his weapon, then is on his knees.
The man I love called out to his friend, "Pedro-"
"How could you do this to me?" Pedro mutters, eyes gazing upon our feet. He feels his throat constrict as tears drop onto the road, "I love you," he shakes his head, "I would do anything for you," he looks up. His eyes are red and puffy, "how could you do this to me?"
Neither I nor Oscar get to respond as sirens blare and a squad of police come running toward us. We are all ordered to put our hands up. Oscar and I do so and are apprehended. They begin to grow hostile towards Pedro when he does not move an inch from where he knelt.
I watch as three officers apprehend him with way more force than neccessary. They drag him up to his feet so hard his shirt rips. He wasn't even fighting back.
"OI!~ He didn't hurt anyone!" I call to the police around him.
Oscar speaks out, "we're not pressing charges. He didn't do anything."
"Didn't do anything? That man has hurt more people than you can count," the policewoman who had her hand on my shoulder says with contempt.
The policeman by Oscar's side scoffs, "that's the most wanted criminal in Tokyo," he spits to his side, "good fucking riddance."
Pedro is cuffed and sequentially jammed into the back of a police car.
"If you two follow us," the policewoman says, motioning to another police car, "we'd like to take you to the station for questioning."
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It’s cold, isn’t it?
summary: Winter is eternal and Bran wants nothing more than to go back to how life used to be in Winterfell. But home is something different now and warmth can be found even beyond the wall.
an: my first game of thrones commission for @proscrix! i’m really sorry that it took me so long, but i’m really happy with how it turned out and i pray to the old gods you like it too. i’ve never written for bran and jojen before, but i had more fun with it than i thought i would, thanks again for commissioning! <3
wordcount: 2173
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Even after traveling behind the wall for over a week, it was still a strange feeling to wake up surrounded by snow and ice. Bran knew that it was stupid, but a part of him still expected to wake up in a warm bed in Winterfell, to get dressed and run downstairs, only to be scolded by his mother for not wearing his clothes properly. To sit down at the breakfast table next to Robb and have his hair ruffled, to throw food across the table into Aryaʼs face and to quickly stuff his mouth with everything within reach when he was called to archery practice, all while a fire was dancing in the chimney and warming him from behind.
Bran shivered and sat up. That was all in the past. Winterfell was not his home anymore. Robb and his mother had left him behind. He had not seen Arya in months. And the rest of his family was the Gods know where. Or dead. Another shiver ran down his spine, not because of the cold this time, and Bran took a sip from his flask, trying to keep himself calm. The past was in the past and to break himself apart over something he could not change was no solution for anything.
“Close the flask and put it away before it turns into a block of ice.”
Bran flinched at the sudden interruption of his spiraling thoughts and looked up. Jojen sat across from him, his hands rubbing against each other and the tiniest hint of a smirk pulling at his lips. There was a fire between them which Meera must have put up while Bran had been asleep. She was not in the small cave they had chosen as their camp and her weapons were missing, so she was probably out hunting. Summer was lying next to him, cuddled up in a bunch of furs and snoring. Bran closed the flask and put it away. “Where's Hodor?”
“Outside, on watch.”
Bran nodded and began to imitate Jojenʼs hand movements, making the older boy chuckle softly. “Itʼs cold, isnʼt it?”
“You donʼt say.”
Jojen chuckled again, then he wrapped himself in one of the furs and stood up, struggling to keep his balance on the soft underground for a moment, before walking over and sitting down next to Bran. “I hope you donʼt mind?”
Bran smiled and lifted his blanket so Jojen could crawl under. “Of course not.”
Despite them cuddling up to each other, it was still freezing. Bran put his hands up to his face in the desperate attempt to bring some feeling back into it. The cold burned slightly and he swore he could see his breath turn to ice mid-air, although deep down he knew that this was nonsense. Maybe he was finally going insane. Out here, where everything was either white, gray, or a little bit of both, it really was more a question of when than if. Had it not been crazy enough when he had tasted the warm blood of deer on his lips without ever having been out for a hunt? When he had left his home and all he knew behind, just to get away from a man he had thought of as a brother? When he had woken up one day, unable to feel his legs and knowing that something terrible had happened? Another shiver shook his body, and then another, and then-
“Bran?! Are you alright?!”
Bran turned his head to where the voice was coming from and his gaze slowly focused on the worried expression on Jojenʼs face. He was still shivering. It was still cold. This was still not home. “I want to go home,” a voice whispered over the howling of the wind outside and it took him just a tad too long to realize that the voice was his own.
“I know.” Jojen put a hand on his shoulder, carefully, as if he was afraid to cross a boundary which he very well knew did not exist. Then, when Bran showed no sign of further discomfort (because there was none, obviously), Jojen wrapped his arms around his torso and pulled him in for the first hug in ages. The first hug ever since they split up with Rickon and Osha. Had it been ages? Surely not, but time lost all meaning in eternal winter. Bran swallowed back tears, despite the fact that it made his throat feel sore. Never before had he missed his brother with such an intensity.
“Don’t think I didn’t catch that.”
A sharp breath escaped Bran when he felt Jojen’s fingers curl into his side and he could almost hear the smirk in his friend’s voice; “There is no crying on my watch, Lord Stark.”
“What are you-”
“Oh, come on, don’t tell me that you’ve never been tickled before. You and I both know that would be impossible with older siblings around. I picked up a thing or two from mine.”
He was right, of course. Bran had spent plenty of time buried under Robb, Jon, or both, laughing his head off and pleading for mercy. But to say that the touches to his side, the urge to break out into giggles, and the smugness in Jojen’s voice felt familiar would have been a lie. It felt vaguely familiar at best, like the echo of an echo, like something too long gone to be remembered clearly.
Bran felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards when Jojen gave his sides a squeeze. Another squeeze, and another, and another. A giggle slipped from Bran’s lips. Vaguely familiar was still familiar.
“I heard that!” Jojen grinned triumphantly at the soft squeaks his squeezes drew out of his friend. “But I’m actually looking for the laughs… where do I find the laughs, Bran?”
“D-don’t tehease me!”
“I am not teasing, I am just asking some honest questions. But you already answered them, so there’s no need to get worked up over this.”
Jojen’s fond smile alongside his soft tone somehow managed to make the tickling worse. Bran had never been the one with the greatest stamina when it came to tickle fights with his siblings, but Jojen had cracked him unusually fast. It was probably at least partly due to his fingers clawing into Bran’s stomach, which had always been a particularly sensitive spot, but maybe, he thought, he had just unlearned keeping himself together. It made him sad to think that it was possible to unlearn something as silly and fun as tickling, but Jojen did not grant him a lot of time to dwell on this sadness.
“What did I tell you? I told you there’s no crying on my watch!”
Bran squeaked when Jojen pushed his hands under his shirt; he did not touch bare skin, simply due to the amount of layers they were both wearing, but there was still significantly less protection and Bran curled in on himself, desperate to escape the sensation, but at the same time made no effort to push Jojen off. He could not even tell why. Maybe because of the contact, the closeness to his friend. Maybe because of the much needed relaxation coming along with the fun. Maybe because of the warmth spreading in his chest.
“Noho, not the- ack! Johojen!”
“What is it?” The older boy smiled, innocently prodding Bran’s navel and holding onto his side with the other hand so that he could not bend away. Not that it was necessary; Bran was hanging in his arms more than he was sitting, red-faced from something else than the cold for a change (and if that was not a wonderful turn of events) and his mouth stretched into a wider smile than Jojen had ever seen from him.
“Plehehease! Jojen, nahat- plehease-”
Jojen slowed down a little and moved his hands to his friend’s sides. “Alright, alright. I suppose I could stop, now that you’ve given me the laughter I was looking for.”
For a few seconds, nothing but Bran’s breathy giggles cut through the sound of the wind howling outside, then the younger boy softly cleared his throat. “You… you can continue, if you want. I don’t mind.”
“Do you really mean that?” Even though Jojen had not expected Bran to dislike the tickling in the first place, judging by how little resistance he put up, somehow hearing this from him brought an excited smile to his face. It had been too long since he and Meera had shared a moment like this.
“Yes.” Bran sat up and looked at him. His cheeks were still flushed pink, but there was a mischievous spark in his eyes - not unwelcome, but unexpected. “But only if you let me do this.”
“Let you do whaAHT!” It was more reflex than intention that made Jojen wrap his arms around his torso and he stared at Bran in shock, his lips twitching. “How did you-”
“You told me.” Bran smirked up at him, putting his hands out to smugly rest on Jojen’s hips. “If you picked up a thing or two from your big sister, there must be spots on you for Meera to torment you with.”
“N-now hohold on-” Jojen could not help but feel giddy; Bran’s hands resting on his sides were enough to make him nervous and his stomach made a flip at the thought of them moving to tickle him, but it was an excited flip rather than a nervous one. He had not expected Bran to adapt to the situation so quickly, but he should probably not be surprised - Bran was an older sibling too, after all.
Which did not mean that his heart was not pounding in his chest right now. He had never been much of an active threat during the Stark tickle fights, or not on his own, at least, and to have Jojen squirm under him without doing anything yet was a feeling of power he was simply not used to. How far could he go? How would he know when it was enough? Would Jojen tell him, or was he supposed to recognize the line on his own?
Bran looked up at Jojen. His friend was biting his lip to prevent a smile from spreading across his face and he was gripping tightly onto his shirt. He did not seem to be nervous, he seemed to brace himself for what was to come, something which he had accepted, something which he was maybe even looking forward to. Only one way to find out.
“Ah, Brahan! Ihit tihickles!”
“That’s the point, Jojen.” Bran kept kneading his friend’s sides, getting a little more courageous as he went on. “And you started it, so you deserve this.”
Jojen threw his head back, full on cackling when the tickling moved down to his hips, and it was probably the loudest and most unhinged Bran had ever seen him. He never would have even brought the imagery of cackling in connection with Jojen if he was not here right now, watching and hearing him actually do it, because there was really no other way to describe it.
A jab to his stomach pulled Bran back into the here and now and he flinched away for a moment, but he immediately got back to prodding and squeezing at Jojen’s hips. “I won’t go down that easily!”
Jojen’s face was flushed bright red and a tear pricked at the corner of his eye, but he was smiling, laughing, he looked happy, and Bran found himself unable to mind the clumsy, yet persistent tickling of his navel. “Mehe neitheher!”
Bran felt himself get lost in the tickle fight only after a few more seconds. It had been too long since he had done something this silly and it almost felt like traveling back in time. Jojen’s hips were just as sensitive as Jon’s. His laugh sounded just like Robb’s. He tended to kick his legs when Bran hit a particularly ticklish spot, just like Arya. And when their hands finally slowed to a stop, both with huge smiles on her face, the cave had become a home, just the way Winterfell used to be with all of his siblings around.
“Thank you.” Jojen laid down, pulling the furs over both of them. “For doing this, I mean. I think I really needed this.”
Bran smiled. “Me too. So… thank you for initiating this.”
Whatever Jojen wanted to say to that, maybe thank Bran for the trust or the friendship, was cut off by Meera and Hodor barging into the cave, both covered in snow and Meera carrying a dead hare over her shoulder. “How are you guys? Hey, Hodor, take the hare for a second, will ya?” Meera brushed the snow off her clothes and dropped herself on the opposite side of the fire, looking at the boys. “Damn, I’m freezing… it’s cold, isn’t it?”
Bran felt his lips curl into a smile and without looking, he knew that Jojen’s were too.
“No. Not at all.”
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