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y0itsbri · 3 years

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gallavich week 2021 - day 3 - travel au as always inspo from @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

Stuck with You

Words: 5.5k

Summary: A winter storm strands a desperate-to-return-to-Chicago Ian at the airport with no car. A dark-haired mysterious man in an expensive-looking leather jacket and sunglasses seems to be his only hope. Ian grows suspicious of the man's true intentions as they embark on their road trip with some funky excursions. The two men find what need they most in each other.

"Fiona, I'm literally at the gate. I'm about to board now!" Ian was lying straight out of his ass as he was running through the bustling airport, dragging his bag as fast as the bent-as-all-hell wheels on the suitcase would allow him. He had not, in fact, woken up to his first alarm... or second. Maybe he was running extremely late despite Fiona's near-constant nagging to get there early in case something happens again.

Ian mumbled a quiet "Fuck" as his suitcase's wheel locked up again. He did not have time for this. His huffed cursing was apparently heard by Fiona's supersonic hearing. A woman in white capris glared his way. Okay, maybe it wasn't that quiet.

"Ian!" Fiona's voice rang through his phone. She sounded frantic and exhausted. She had every right to be, but Ian was not in the mood for an early morning guilt trip. "What happened? And you better stop fuckin' lying to me and get your ass-"

"Fi, I gotta go, love you, talk to you later, promise," he mumbled all the formalities as genuinely as he could muster before he hung up. He had tuned his attention into his surroundings and noticed an absurd about of people hovered around the rent-a-car station while the airport gates nearly empty, except for the occasional airport employees trying to reason with irritated passengers.

Sure enough, something did happen, as Fiona would have happily predicted. There was a massive winter storm and all flights had been delayed until further notice. Ian idly walked to his gate just to make sure he wasn't going to miss his plane like he had the day before. The gate was a fuckin' ghost town besides one man in an expensive-looking studded leather jacket and shiny dark hair to match. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of purple sunglasses, despite the fact that they were currently indoors.

Ian instinctively stepped closer to the man to maybe strike up a conversation. It wasn't something he was so fond of doing, but if he was trapped at an airport, he might as well make friends. Anything to distract his anxious thoughts about not making it back to Chicago in time for his interview. He couldn't even look at his phone, knowing Fiona was probably blowing it up right now about how he has to get his shit together. He knows.

In the midst of his inner debate, Ian oh-so-gracefully tripped over a chair -- the wheels of his suitcase coming to a halt, causing the bag to loudly clang against a nearby pole.

The man jumped up with a startle, yanking off his glasses and swiftly reaching into his boot and pulling out a small knife. He slowly took in the fact that there was no threat -- just a giant blushing ginger wincing at the knife pointed his direction.

The man sighed and tucked his knife away, "Shit, I thought you were trying to rob me or something."

Ian eyed a small black backpack tucked behind the man's legs. That bag was sleek and tiny compared to Ian's nightmare of a bag.

"Ain't look like you got much to steal," Ian joked, immediately regretting his decision to be witty after literally just being held at knifepoint. Maybe the mysterious man would appreciate his charm.

The man frowned. Okay, maybe Ian's humor wasn't for everyone.

"And how did you get that knife through security?" Ian asked in attempt to ease the tension a bit.

"None of your damn business." The man retorted shortly, but his eyes lingered over Ian for a moment longer, amused.

"Right." Ian replied after a moment. That was fair. He was a stranger, after all. But there was something about this man that was so intriguing. The man stood nearly half a foot shorter than Ian and clearly had the personality to make up for it. Ian was most definitely not in the mood to almost get stabbed again so he decided to lay off the talking, making an obvious show of adverting his gaze from the gorgeous leather-clad man in front of him.

"Uh.. hey," the man spoke up again as he looked around the terminal. "Did I miss the flight or did everyone just get abducted by aliens or some shit?"

Ian was amused at the aliens bit. Who even was this guy?

"It looks like all flights are delayed. Some freak super-storm coming in, don't want any crashes or anything."

"Buncha pussies," the dark-haired man grumbled as he stood up.

"Where are you going?" Shut up, Ian, shut up shut up shut up.

"Rent-a-car? Is that okay with you?" The guy pulled his bag over his shoulder, but turned his gaze back to Ian.

"Uh, yeah, I mean -- sorry, never mind." Nice going, Ian.

"I'm just busting your balls, man. Just gotta get back to Chicago before the weekend. Can't just sit around like a little bitch and wait for a storm to pass like some people." The enigmatic man teased him.

Ian rolled his eyes, but followed him like a lost puppy. "You're not the only one. I have an interview in Chicago in two days and I really can't miss it." Ian pointed back towards the rent-a-car area when the man didn't question him any further. "Don't think you'll have much luck with that, by the way. They looked almost sold outta cars when I walked past here earlier."

"So you walked past the rent-a-car instead of actually getting one? Real smart, Stumbles."

Ian cringed at the nickname. So much for first impressions. The man pulled out his phone from the tight pocket of his pants and stopped abruptly, Ian almost losing his balance to keep from stumbling into the guy. Again. Ian was literally swept up off his feet by this dude. He had to get himself in control before he lost what remained of his dignity.

"Ey' Dimitri, I need a car." The guy said into the phone. Ian awkwardly waited around. It wasn't like they made any plans of travelling together but they were in the middle of a conversation, he couldn't just leave. It wouldn't be polite. Not that much about this guy was polite to begin with. But they had something going at least. The phone conversation got heated very quickly. Now Ian could very clearly see why he was the type of person to have a knife in arm's reach at any given notice.

"I know you have fuckin' plenty. I'll drop it off next time I see Yevgeny, you know I'm good for it. I gotta job this weekend- It is your fuckin' business when your bitch of a wife- Oh c'mon, you can admit she's a bit of a bitch. Whatever- Or do you wanna tell Svetlana that your incompetent ass is the reason why she ain't getting her payment- or do you plan on paying for that shit? Didn't think so. Black cat. Red one."

There was definitely a lot to unpack and as curious as Ian was, he was definitely not gonna ask... yet.

"Red, you comin'?" The dark-haired man called over his shoulder as he started heading towards the airport's exit.

"Me?" Way to play it cool, Ian.

"No. The other giant ginger standing behind you. Yes, you."

"My name's Ian, by the way."

"Don't care."

"Where are we going?"

"Chicago."

Together but not together, they waited for... Dimitri, maybe? The shorter man beside Ian was tapping around on his phone and hadn't said a word about their plans beyond the simple 'Chicago.'

Right as Ian got the nerve to ask, a sleek black jaguar came to a halt on the street in front of them. Ian only knew a bit about cars because his brother liked fixing them up -- and man, was this a sick car. Lip would be jealous. Ian fought the urge to take a photo of the car -- unsure what the boundaries were in situations like this.

Ian's mystery man sauntered over to the driver's seat, exchanging a loaded handshake before switching places with the driver, who was apparently not Dimitri.

The passenger side window rolled down, revealing a bright red interior. "Coming, princess?"

Ian placed his suitcase in the backseat before hopping in the front himself.

"Do I ever get to know your name, princess?" Ian teased back. But he was genuinely curious.

The guy smirked, "Buckle up. I ain't slowing down for anything." And true to his word, they sped out of the parking lot, earning a few well-deserved horns from cars that they had cut off. Ian cringed.

Ian waited until they were on the interstate to speak again, not wanting to be the cause for an accident with this guy's hectic driving and the snow lightly falling on the road in front of them. Maybe he shouldn't be getting into cars with mysterious strangers. Maybe he should have thought of that before he did, in fact, get into a car with a mysterious stranger.

Ian decided to try again, "Ya know, if you don't tell me your name, I'm just going to start calling you something real stupid, like Bob or Cookie or Raven."

"Raven is actually kinda badass." The man replied, not taking his eyes off the road, but the side of his mouth quirking upward.

This guy was impossible, "Ugh."

"Ya know, you're kind of annoying for a passenger who should be grateful that I'm saving your ass. I could dump you on the side of the road, make you hitch hike all the way to Chicago or wherever the hell you end up. Probably some real weirdos out there wanting to pick up a pretty boy like you."

"Didn't ask to be saved." Ian blushed despite his best efforts to play it cool.

"No? So you were just following me all around the airport, why?" He glanced at Ian this time.

Yeah, he had a point. "Like I said, I got an interview I can't miss. My sister set it up for me and she would actually have my ass if I fucked this up. I'm talking like this-is-the-final-straw." Ian sighed, running his hands up and down his face.

"Hmm. You'll make it. I'm a good driver." He smirked. He lifted his hand off the wheel as if he were about to touch Ian's shoulder or something, but decided against it at the last second.

"Good and fast are not equivalent." Ian's breath hitched.

"Says you." The guy drummed his fingers.

"Says most people. And probably the cops." Ian was not about to spend a night in the slammer.

"Fuck the cops." He said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Yeah."

The conversation died down and a rock ballad lulled over the car's exquisite sound system. Damn, this was a nice car.

"Mickey." The guy murmured, barely audible over the bass.

"What?" Like the mouse?

"My name's Mickey, by the way." He glanced over at Ian.

Oh. "Kinda badass." Ian returned with eye contact a smirk.

Mickey smiled at the road ahead of them.

"Mornin', Sleeping Beauty." Mickey called out from the driver's seat, patting Ian's shoulder. Ian could have sworn Mickey's hand lingered a bit longer than necessary, but maybe he was just reading into the interaction.

Ian must have fallen asleep sometime during the drive, because now they were parking in the parking lot of a diner. Red neon lights highlighted the exterior, giving the place a sultry vibe. Odd vibe for an off-the-road diner, but Ian supposed it could be weirder.

Mickey hopped out of the car and shoved his hands into the pocket in his leather jacket, searching for something.

After a moment, Ian slowly stretched his legs out as he crawled out of the car and found Mickey smoking a cigarette while leaning against the hood of the car. It was picture perfect. Mickey hadn't noticed him emerge yet, so Ian decided to give into his urges as he snapped a picture of the beautiful man in front of him -- all black shadows and glowing red.

Ian closed the car door and Mickey stubbed out his cigarette and led them inside. "Usual table," he said to the hostess, who led them to a table set for two towards the back of the establishment.

Yeah, this was weird. Who the fuck had a 'usual table' at a joint off the highway in the middle of nowhere?

Inside hung the heads of exotic animals that Ian hoped were fake. Once they were sat across from each other, Mickey ordered a short stack of pancakes and Ian ordered a hamburger and fries -- the first thing he saw on the menu.

"So, brunch and tigers? What is this place?" Ian mused, curiosity and now suspicion overtaking him.

"Cool, huh? Got connections." Mickey went back to rearranging the condiments and sugars on their table.

"Mhm." Ian was skeptical, but didn't want to pry. He seemed to be on this guy's good side for now.

Ian spent the better part of their stay just taking in everything around them. The walls were lined with playing cards, posters from bands he's never heard of, bizarre news articles, lights swung and tacked up with a casual precision, literal jewelry and crowns under display cases, and he could've sworn there was sparkles mixed into the red paint covering the walls. It was like a goblin's cave or something.

Occasionally, he would look up at Mickey, who would look away almost instantly -- like he'd been caught in the middle of something. Planning something? Ian couldn't tell if Mickey's cheeks were actually blushing red or if it was just the lighting. Probably for the best because Ian blushed like a motherfucker whenever he held Mickey's eyes for too long.

Luckily, the waitress brought over their food before Ian could say something stupid. Ian's hamburger and fries were places in a classic red boat with black and white checkered paper. The burger was massive and had a flamingo pick placed in the center of it. Mickey's pancakes were covered in bananas, blueberries, and powdered sugar. The waitress also set down a glass elephant bottle filled with, what looked like, maple syrup. The waitress just smiled at them and walked away without another word. This place was strange. And Ian couldn't shake that feeling.

About halfway through eating, Ian had enough of the odd vibes and promptly excused himself to go to the bathroom. He had to get out of here, forgo his luggage in the fancy ass car. He didn't care if he'd have to hitch hike at this point. He washed his hands in the bathroom sink, planning when to make his escape, when the door swung open.

"Ian." Mickey looked genuinely concerned. No stupid nickname. Ian. "What's wrong, man? You looked pretty sick back there. Is it food poisoning? I'll give Anakin a fuckin' piece of my mind if he didn't cook that fuckin' burger. He knows better than to fuck with me." He rattled off.

Ian felt flighty and tried to take off during Mickey's rage-induced ramble but an arm gripped his bicep, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hey, Ian, look at me." That was the problem. Ian couldn't stop looking at him. He would probably do anything he asked. And that was fucking dangerous. He was a stranger with connections. That couldn't lead to anything good.

Ian finally made eye contact and the grip on his arm loosened, gently sliding towards his wrist before falling back to Mickey's side.

"Promise me you won't kill me." Ian blurted out.

Mickey's eyebrows nearly flew off his face, "Kill you? Where the fuck is this coming from? You think I hate you or something?"

"Well, maybe, I don't know. This is weird."

"Maybe." Mickey paused, actually making an effort to see this whole strange situation from Ian's perspective. "But I like weird."

Ian stayed silent.

"I promise I'm not going to kill you. I promise that I'm going to get you back to Chicago for your interview. I promise we're all good, okay?"

The tension in Ian's shoulder's visibly relaxed and he released a breath he didn't know he had been holding. But that confession still doesn't explain this weird excursion.

"Why does everyone here know you?" Ian finally asked, swallowing his nerves.

This was not a conversation for the men's bathroom, but here they were anyways.

Mickey looked a bit embarrassed. "Used to live a few towns over with my ex-wife-"

"Ex-wife?" Ian nearly choked.

"Svetlana. Fuckin' disaster. But I used to come here with my son, Yev, on special occasions when his mom was out. He always loved it -- thought he was the king or some shit."

"Oh."

"Don't see the kid as much anymore, but this place still has the best fuckin' pancakes so we go when we can."

"So this isn't a sting operation to kidnap me?"

Mickey rolled his eyes, "You're an idiot. I actually happen to like you."

"Yeah, me too."

"So glad you like yourself, champ."

"Oh, fuck me." Ian groaned.

"Maybe later." Mickey smiled too sweetly for someone who had just insinuated what they had.

They returned to their table, finishing off what they could. Mickey had insisted he pay for both of their meals -- reparation for nearly giving Ian a heart attack and fleeing off to fucking Mexico or something. The waitress collected their tab and walked away with a wink, "Have fun tonight, boys."

"See ya 'round, Geneva." Mickey called, "Always in my fuckin' business." But Ian could tell it was meant with nothing but fondness.

Mickey held gave a two finger salute to the hostess on his way out before holding the lion-studded doors and turning to face Ian, "We're in this together, yeah?"

"Yeah."

Ian didn't fall asleep in the car this time. Instead, they played the license plate game and carried impersonal conversation in between stops at gas stations and fast food restaurants.

"Books or movies?" Ian read from his phone.

"What kind of fuckin' question is that?"

"From the online list you made me look up!"

"Yeah, because you suck at coming up with questions!"

"Whatever. Books or movies?"

"Movies, duh."

"Aw, c'mon, you don't like books? When was the last time you even read a book?"

Mickey flipped him off, "What about you, smartass? You prefer books over movies?"

"Well, no..."

"Well, exactly."

"Cats or dogs?" Ian asked. "I've never had either, but dogs are cool."

"Yeah, 'cause you act like one."

Ian gasped, mocking an expression of hurt. "I bet you're a dog person, though."

"Yeah, why're you so sure about that?"

"They're all tough and shit."

"I got a cat back home. She's tougher than any dog I know."

"What's her name?"

"Indy."

"Aw, softy."

"It's short for Indica, clearly we're cool."

Ian gave an even more exaggerated "Aww."

"Shut up, next question."

They had missed the worst of the winter storm that had threatened their flight and gotten them in this situation to begin with. It was starting to get dark and while Mickey assured Ian that he could drive through the night, Ian insisted they could stop at a hotel and still make it back before his interview. Truthfully, he didn't want to be involved in a luxury car crash with a maybe Russian mobster. He couldn't pinpoint Mickey, but that's what he had currently decided on.

They had pulled off into the lot of a pink hotel. Mickey had gotten them two rooms, side-by-side. Instead of going up to his room and passing out like Ian had expected, Mickey headed straight towards the hotel bar -- ordering a mojito and a vodka tonic and making friendly talk with the waitress in a very low cut red shirt like they were old friends. Mickey was nothing like Ian expected.

Ian headed up to his room to drop off his suitcase and call Fiona back, sure she was going to disown him right then and there for avoiding her calls all day.

Ian opted against going down to the bar and instead watched reruns on the hotel tv. Alcohol didn't really mix well with his meds and he didn't want a hangover if they were going to be in a car all day tomorrow -- especially a nice car like that. Yeah, he wasn't puking in that anytime soon if he could help it.

He took a long, hot shower, indulging in the hotel's eucalyptus-scented body wash before settling in for the night.

Ian was resting peacefully until he heard a blood-curdling scream next door. Mickey was next door. Mickey.

Ian leapt out of bed, grabbing nothing but his shirt before frantically knocking on Mickey's door. C'mon Mickey, don't be dead. C'mon. C'mon.

Mickey swung open the door rubbing sleep from his eyes, "Ian?"

"Uh, hi. I heard screaming. Just making sure you're not being murdered."

"Shit, yeah. I get night terrors sometimes. I meant to mention that to you, but it must have slipped my mind after a few drinks. Didn't see you down there?"

"I called it an early night," Ian replied guiltily. He felt bad if Mickey was waiting for him. But he didn't know.

"Yeah... anything else?" Mickey looked Ian up and down. Ian was suddenly hyper aware he was standing in front of Mickey in only his boxers.

"Um, no." Ian glanced around nervously.

"Great." Mickey shut the door. Whatever. Ian turned to open his door, but it wouldn't open. He searched his pants for the key card only to be reminded that he was not, in fact, wearing pants. Fucking great indeed.

Ian knocked on Mickey's door again.

"What?" He grumbled with a tooth pick between his teeth. "'m not fuckin' screamin' anymore."

"I locked myself out."

"Of course you did." Mickey rubbed a hand down his face, "You ain't goin' down to the front desk in your underwear and I'm not goin' down there either so it looks like you can either come with me or sleep in the hallway, your choice."

Some choice.

Ian followed Mickey into his room, the same layout as Ian's -- just mirrored. Mickey tossed a blanket at him and then collapsed back into the pillows himself.

Ian tried to make himself comfortable on the ground but all he was going to do was bruise his fuckin' spine and freeze his ass off because apparently Mickey likes to sleep in Antarctica.

"Fuckin' cold." Ian mumbled, cocooned in his one tiny hotel-grade blanket that hardly covered his long body.

Mickey didn't open his eyes, but he lifted the comforter on the bed, "Get in here, Frosty."

Ian hesitated. But he was really fucking cold. He made sure not to touch Mickey at all as he crawled under the covers, laying as still as he could on the edge of the mattress. Mickey sighed and scooted his back into Ian's chest, grabbed Ian's arm, and draped it around his waist. "There."

Ian was still for a moment before settling into the warmth.

"Mickey." He said softly. He wasn't even sure if Mickey had heard him.

"What?"

"Is that your real name? Mickey?"

Mickey sighed, "Mikhailo."

"Hmm. I like Mikhailo. It's like Mick-halo, like you're an angel."

"Baby, you've met me. There ain't nothing good about me. I'm more like the devil."

"Why's that?"

"Dude, I almost knifed you when we first met."

"I had that coming, though."

"Maybe so."

"Is that all?"

"Fuckin' terrorized my neighborhood as a kid."

"Me too, you ain't special. Got anything else?"

"I'm a raging homo."

Ian rolled his eyes. "Me too. Anything else?"

"Can't do enough for my own kid."

Ian was quiet so Mickey continued.

"Svet won't keep him in Chicago where my job is. I don't wanna be the asshole to choose work over my kid, but I can't just up and leave, either."

"Yeah, but it sounds like you visit him a lot. He must know you love him, though. Bet you're a better father than mine."

"Yeah, mine too. Ain't hard to beat. He's a real dick. I don't wanna be anything like that piece of shit."

Ian squeezing his grip around Mickey's waist. "You're not. I'm still betting you're all things good."

"Hmm."

"Guess we'll just have to see."

"Guess so."

A moment passed before Mickey spoke again.

"Go to sleep, stupid."

"Goodnight, Mick-halo."

Ian nestled his head into Mickey's hair, smelling the eucalyptus on his as well. The two not-strangers drifted off together.

Ian woke up after Mickey, who was already packing up his oddly tiny back pack again. And Ian's suitcase. He took a moment to recall last night's events.

"How the fuck did you get that?"

"Morning to you, too." Mickey tossed a prepacked muffin at Ian's half asleep body. "Went to the front desk for a spare key after continental breakfast, duh. Eat up, we're leaving in 10."

Ian groaned and pulled the covers over his head. He felt a weight on the mattress beside him. He peeked from behind the blanket to see that Mickey had sat down and was currently staring at his legs? Ass? Who knew. Turns out 'thighs' was the correct answer as he set his hand on the outer part of Ian's right thigh. Just resting it there for a moment before getting up.

"Fine, we're leaving in 15."

Satisfied, Ian closed his eyes for a few minutes, feeling the ghost of Mickey on his leg. He was so warm. It was like his heart was on fire.

They ended up leaving 10 minutes after Mickey's initial 15 were up. But it wasn't Ian's fault that there was a hold-up at the front desk. Something about a scheduling conflict between a drag show and a speech contest. Hell, Mickey thought they should combine the two events and call it a day.

Back in the car, Mickey had some upbeat indie music playing this morning while they circled around the old town to find a gas station.

"Ya want anything?" Mickey asked before he turned away from the pump and towards the building, patting down his ass to make sure he had his wallet.

Ian was distracted by the patting for a moment before replying. "Uh, maybe a Gatorade or something?"

Mickey tapped the hood of the car twice instead of replying verbally, but the message was received nonetheless.

Ian pulled up the picture he had taken yesterday of Mickey in front of the bizarre diner, moments before he thought he was being hunted for sport. It was beautiful. He was beautiful.

After a moment, the driver's side door swung open, "Whatcha lookin' at, Smiles? Texting your girlfriend?" Mickey teased as he closed the gas tank and hopped in with a coffee balancing in one hand and three different flavors of Gatorade in the other.

"Nothing." Damn, Ian. Like that ain't an obvious lie.

"Ain't nothing, lemme see." Mickey took Ian's phone and dropped the Gatorades on his lap.

"Ouch! Well, thanks -- for these -- but give me my phone back!"

"Is that me?"

No sense in lying now. He was literally looking at it. "Uh, yeah. Thought it looked cool."

"That's dope as fuck, man. Send that shit to me, I wanna post it on my Instagram."

Ian certainly hadn't expected that response. But when had Mickey ever been what he expected?

"I don't have your number." And he wasn't asking for his number like some school girl. Mickey had literally requested he send him something. Ian had no idea why he felt so ridiculously nervous.

"Gimme." Mickey made grabby hands for the phone and began to plug in his number before Ian realized that this definitely counted as distracted driving in a very nice car. "Done."

Done.

The morning and afternoon went by pretty quickly. Mickey sang along to some pop songs while drumming his hands on the steering wheel. Ian took some photos of the inside of the car, earning some light teasing from Mickey. Shut up, this might be my only time in a car worth more than ten grand.

Ian watched the highway and the grass blurring past his window when he suddenly remembered the small notepad and pen he had swiped from Mickey's hotel room.

Mickey looked pretty distracted, so Ian took it out and began to sketch his profile. The man was too beautiful. He couldn't help himself. With a burst of confidence, he added a note to it before ripping the page out and sticking it in the side pocket of Mickey's back pack. If Mickey saw him, he didn't say anything -- for once -- and Ian was glad for that.

They were nearing Illinois state lines, so they had to get into travel specifics. Ian gave him the address to his apartment. Both being Southside, Mickey knew the area well enough that he wouldn't need directions until last minute.

Ian figured now was as good as time as any to ask, "What are you doing in Chicago?"

Mickey made a face like he was thinking about how much he wanted to explain to Ian. "Well, for one, I live there. Second, you've seen my tattoos right?" He held out his knuckles reading FUCK U-UP. Ian nodded and Mickey relaxed one hand back onto the steering wheel before continuing, "Tattoos were a family ritual. I help my brothers on runs when they need it -- those idiots can't plan for shit by themselves. Makes good money though. I also work part-time at this high-end restaurant downtown. Satisfies my sister that I have a legit job. Ain't too bad either. Lotta sketchy shit goes on, though, but they know I'm good to look the other way for a low low price." He grinned.

"Damn, you sure are something," Ian mused.

"Yup yup. What about you hot-shot? What's the whole deal with this interview?"

Ian sighed. "Never finished high school and uh, I have a mood disorder thing so a lot of places won't even consider me. Got fired from my last job for snapping at the dickhead manager --which was well-deserved by the way -- but still stupid. My sister, Fiona, got me this interview with the magazine company she works for -- she thinks I'm so sick like our mother and that if I don't have a job to keep me stable that I'll just fuck off. But the job would be really cool because I've been into photography and shit since like forever. I don't know, it's stupid. But I really just can't stand to let anyone down again, because I am better. They just don't always believe me."

Mickey frowned, and Ian worried he shared too much. But then Mickey rested his hand on Ian's thigh, "Hey, man. That sounds cool. But it's okay to not be okay. Just be honest with me, and I believe you. Promise?"

"Promise."

Ian's apartment was in sight before he knew it. It was starting to get dark out, but he would still be able to get a good night's sleep before his interview in the morning. Mickey's car definitely did not belong in his neighborhood. It stood out like a sore thumb. He couldn't stay for long if he wanted to leave with the car in tact.

Mickey helped Ian get his suitcase out of the backseat and then leaned against the car, watching Ian with a strange look in his eye. Before Ian could ask, Mickey stalked over to him and leaned up, and pressed his lip's against Ian's. He smelled so sweet. It wasn't the eucalyptus shampoo either -- that had long faded. This was just pure Mickey. Mikhailo.

The moment was over too soon and Ian groaned. Mickey gently patted his cheek, "Don't worry, big guy, you ain't gettin' rid of me this easy. I'll see you soon."

"Soon." Ian repeated back, still a bit dazed in the head.

Mickey smirked as he hopped back into the jaguar and sped off to wherever the fuck it is that Mickey goes.

Ian lugged his bag upstairs, unlocked his door, and plopped down on the couch.

Soon.

After texting Fiona one last time, Ian had turned his phone off to avoid any distractions. Giving in to the urge to text Mickey would definitely be a distraction. He needed routine. At least for tonight.

It was a relatively quiet night in terms of activities. He had microwaved a frozen dinner and watched a couple episodes of Schitt's Creek before taking his meds, brushing his teeth, and heading to bed.

No matter how chill of a night he was planning on having, his mind kept racing with thoughts of Mickey with everything he did. That man was so cool and funny and kind, even if he didn't believe it himself. Ian didn't know what exactly had caused such a reign of self-doubt over him, but they would talk about it someday. Ian wanted him to see how good he was. Mickey just brought long-vanished excitement to Ian's life again. He trusted him and cared for him. And he missed him. They had only spent two days together, but Ian couldn't imagine sleeping without him. He drifted off to sleep thinking about what Mickey would look like in his bed with him.

Ian had gotten up at his first alarm for once and arrived to the interview 15 minutes early. He was genuinely passionate about this job so it was easy to turn up his charm. He would hear a call back later that afternoon, but given that he was pretty sure Fiona was sleeping with his would-be boss's boss, he was almost certain he would get the job.

Ian finally turned his phone on when he got home. One message from Fiona -- reminding him of the interview. But more importantly, three from Mickey. He immediately clicked on Mickey's name, absolutely no use in playing it cool anymore. He couldn't get him out of his head.

Mickey (9:27pm): *image attachment*

Mickey (9:27pm): found this in my bag, i wonder how it got there🤔

Mickey (7:32am): good luck at your interview! hope it was worth literally dragging your ass across the country for

Ian smiled.

Ian (10:06am): I have absolutely no idea how that drawing got there. Maybe trolls? 😇

Ian (10:07am): And your luck helped! I think the interviewer liked me :)

Mickey (10:07am): hopefully he didnt like you too much

Ian (10:09am): SHE liked me a very healthy amount.

Mickey (10:10am): gonna keep it that way

Ian (10:12am): 🙄 Oh Mick. Can't be jealous over something you don't have.

Mickey (10:15am): i have you right where i want you dont you worry your pretty little head

Ian (10:17am): So you think I'm pretty is what I'm hearing?

Mickey (10:18am): i think your annoying go away

Ian (10:19am): I thought I couldn't get rid of you that easy?

Mickey (10:19am): changed my fucking mind

Their texting banter came to a halt when Mickey picked up a shift at his legitimate job. Ian unpacked his ratty old suitcase and cleaned up his apartment while he waited for his phone to ring. From the job... from Mickey.

Right when he was switching loads of laundry, his phone rang. It would be a lie if he said he didn't drop everything and run.

It was his new boss him on his new job. He couldn't hold back his grin as he immediately texted Mickey, then Fiona. He was proud of himself.

Fiona called and they chatted about the job -- omitting the part where he assumed she was sleeping with the boss -- and Ian's road trip -- omitting the part where he kissed his once assumed kidnapper -- and then about Fiona's kids and Carl's lately stunt. He was so invested in his little criminal brother that he almost didn't hear the knock at his door.

"Fi, I gotta call you back. I think I have a delivery or something." Ian wasn't expecting anything.

Ian nearly leapt backwards when he cautiously opened his door (there were no damn peepholes in his building) to find Mickey waiting on his doormat with a grin on his face. "Congrats on the job, man!"

"Oh my God. You're here?"

"Yeah, I told you I would see you soon. I'm a man of my word. And I brought cupcakes." Always the unexpected. "Well minus one. I didn't know which apartment was yours and I went to your neighbor's first and he wouldn't tell me where you lived without a fuckin' cupcake. Greedy asshole." He murmured, quietly smiting the old bastard.

"Mickey." Ian smiled, eyes crinkling with it. "You're good. You're so good."

#gw2021 #gw2021day3 #gallavich week 2021 #shameless #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #my posts #shameless fanfic #shameless fanfiction #gallavich fanfic #gallavich fanfiction

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theramseyloft · 3 years

Text

7/18/21 Loft Notes

Awww...

Nettle and Hoss' peep died.

It's getting warm enough that they are drinking a lot more.

I should probably top them off in the evenings from now on.

Patron: "Dani, question: I know some other breeders completely stop breeding when it gets above a certain temperature- why don’t you do that out of curiosity?"

What the fuck?!

Patron: "that's a lot of corn"

Patron: "You could probably reach out to Chewy about it."

Y'all were not kidding about how quick and thorough their customer support is!

The photos were posted here because this is the quickest way to get them from my phone to my desktop.

Patron: "They’re even supportive to non-customers! Had the previous tenant’s stuff keep showing up so I called and talked to them"

Wukong just hopped up onto my knee to danger yell at me for being too close.

Patch just tread Dolly, who isn't even 16 weeks yet, per her invitation.

Patron: "Reminds me of how Money Penny would do that, too"

This is why most breeders don't breed in summer.

When it's hot, parents are drinking a LOT!

So peeps are pumped with a lot of water.

If their diet isn't high enough in fat and protein, the peeps can starve with crops full of water.

Mine have plenty, so peeps conditions are great.

But that nest just had fresh straw put in on Friday. (7/16/21)

I refresh the nests that need it every single cleaning day. Three times a week.

Most breeders only clean their lofts once a season.

If I cleaned that way, my nest boxes would just be layers upon layers of liquid shit and dead peeps writhing with maggots

I'm able to safely rear peeps in summer because I bust ass to make up for the amount of water they drink and the mess it makes by adjusting their feed and cleaning the nest boxes out accordingly.

A few other progress updates: Creampuff will step up fairly reliably, if she's asked politely.

Patron: "It's amazing what a huge difference the most basic of husbandry with giving half a shit about the well-being of animals does."

"And you definitely are above in both categories."

Ooooh my God, I am getting pissed.

Some one with an SC number is asking me for birds and won't fucking tell me what they are looking for.

(for reference, I ask that so I can match people with the birds that meet their need.)

They asked what I had, and I gave them the FB business page and told them what albums had the available birds listed.

This bitch demands my address and screenshots the album he wants two cocks and two hens from, and it isn't one of the availables albums I directed him to.

It's the album of babies being vaccinated, that are not ready to leave yet, and is about half full of keepers.

Bitch, can you not even be assed?

I have a goddamn wait list, motherfucker! If you ain't on it, have the courtesy to look at the birds no one has spoken for.

This ain't a goddamn chain petshop!

I don't let people impulse buy my fucking kids.

We received a $0.33 cash back reward from PayPal.

We payed $27.54 at TSC for compressed straw ($12.99), 50lbs oyster shell ($12.49), and Tax ($2.04)

Valentine was adopted tonight. Her fee was $40, and the harness made for her was $20, from which PayPal took a $2.04 fee.

Bringing our PayPal Balance to $439.84

#tw: animal death #tw: animal neglect #tw: graphic description

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newathens · 3 years

Text

in honor of everything that happened on aug 18th the good and the bad here is a scene from secrets that has been collecting dust for a year and may never get its moment but it is where luke castellan gets a chance to speak and it deserves to b seen at least once

LUKE:

Fresh donuts sat up on the counter, the sweet smell of frosting wafting through the space. The place was warm; their air conditioner busted. It was a random Wednesday at eleven in the morning so there weren’t many bystanders, though the few that were around kept stealing glances towards me. A mother lost in thought touched her cheek and when she caught me looking back, ducked her head. I kept tapping the tabletop with my knuckles, wondering how hard I’d have to whine to get the waitress to give me a chocolate glaze. She’d already passed by three times out of worry.

The shining, silver bell shook and rang as the diner door opened.

He stood in the entryway for a long moment, taking in the length of the diner. It took him two tries to notice me, but when he did, the neutral expression he’d worn shifted into a deep frown. He approached the booth slowly and held my gaze all the while.

“Not funny,” Hermes said. I smiled with all the gusto of a fourteen-year-old.

“Sorry,” I said, voice dropping several octaves as I aged ten years. “I couldn’t help myself. Too soon?” He took a seat without another word. Blonde hair, blue eyes—nothing much had changed; in fact, there wasn’t a trace of greying hair to be found. He seemed fit, youthful. “I thought we’d leave some mark on your complexions.” He gave a tight smile and said nothing, but in the silence I noticed it. An airy presence, circling around me much like the scent of the pastries. It wasn’t threatening, just curious, like a snake amongst the forest floor.

He was checking me.

I did the same to him and watched, rather gleefully, as his eyes widened in recognition. It felt strange, kind of annoying. Is this how gods’ felt? Striped raw, bodies vibrating like giant batteries next to one another?

His search turned up short, but mine didn’t.

“Jean pocket, out with it.”

He sighed and placed a gold iPhone in the middle of the table. The caduceus shimmered on its back.

Oh, look who it is! Martha said.

“Nice to see you,” I said.

I didn’t say this was nice!

“And you too, George.”

Hey, Luke, he said, if you take over his position, will you get to keep us?

“I’d hope so, you two are a riot.”

“Comical,” Hermes said. “Both of you keep quiet.” We looked at each other again, ready to speak but unsure how to start. The waitress beat us to it.

“How can I—oh!” She nearly snapped her pencil in half. Her eyes were wide on me, then on the next booth over, then to the other side of the diner. “Wasn’t there, I mean, there was a child—”

“Can I have three of those delicious looking donuts, miss?” I asked. The waitress bit her lip absentmindedly.

“Sure thing,” she said, “And you?”

“Nothing,” Hermes said, then his eyes glowed. “Thank you, and apologies.” The waitress stared blankly, then walked off without another word. The donuts from the counter disappeared and reappeared at our table.

“Thanks,” I said.

He let out a tired breath, “Lukas—”

“Yes, father?”

His expression soured, wind rattled the windows, but then it softened, his eyes shut. I stared at the caduceus, quiet now. He sat back in his seat, placed a steady hand on the wood, and stared out towards the street. Towards the shops and sidewalks familiar to us both.

“We’re here to talk, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then explain.”

Hermes had the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers, eyes closed. As the silence stretched on, the conversation played over in my head. Again and again and again. The whole time he barely said a word, not unlike him. . .but not all that comforting. The diner was empty now, though I hadn’t realized when it happened. No weapons, those were the terms, but it would be a lie to say that my palm wasn’t itching to call Backbiter to it. Martha and George slithered around the staff mimicking some sort of animated phone case.

I should run.

He stood without warning. I followed.

“Let’s go for a walk,” he turned and left. Again, I followed.

Late summer heat wrapped around us like a blanket as we exited into midday. The area was lively, busy shoppers and cyclists, joggers and freshly-washed cars. Sun shone down heavy on their exteriors and I squinted against the glint. It was way too bright—

“There’s no one here,” he said. I turned. He was waiting on the sidewalk, body facing north, towards the path that would take you further inland. Away from the main strip, closer to the suburbs. “Just you and me.”

“Right,” I said and shoved both hands deep into their pockets. I knew where we were going.

Higher up the heat wasn’t as oppressive. Hot winds blew now and then, rustling dry leaves and pushing the scent of saltwater up from the bay. I breathed deeply out of reflex. We walked in silence. I kept our strides in rhythm. That was until I saw it.

The beat-up white house with green hinges that had fallen into disrepair from neglect and misfortune was almost unrecognizable. A new coat of paint covered the siding, the chipping front door had been replaced, and curtains blew out of wide open windows. A lush, green lawn surrounded the property, split in half by a clean walkway bracketed with a rainbow of flowers. There wasn’t a single discolored, mildewed, decaying stuffed monster to be found. I jogged forward in spite of myself.

“What did you. . .” I turned back. Hermes had slowed, taking in the scene much the same as I. He looked at me. “What did you do?”

“Luke, this isn’t,” he stared at the house and his face twisted, “I haven’t done anything.”

I swallowed a dry mouth and ran up the walkway, all caution lost to the innate yet unearned fear for a loved one. The door rattled under my fist as I knocked repeatedly, frantically. Hermes took his place on the tiny porch beside me.

“Hello,” I shouted. “Hello, is anyone home? Hello!”

“Coming! Just a moment,” a gentle voice rose from the depths of the house and a few moments later, a woman opened the door. Blonde hair, not frizzed, interrupted by streaks of gray. Green eyes; forest green, not neon. Healthy skin, not sickly. A warm smile that only grew wider as she took us in.

“Mom.”

“Luke,” she said and pulled me in to press a kiss to my forehead. I went as rigid as ice; she didn’t notice. “And look at you,” she said to Hermes, who hid his shock well. He had a smile on, pressed a kiss to her cheek, but I could tell somehow, that he was as clueless as I.

The spell.

“Come on you two,” she ushered inside. “I’m baking.”

“Cookies?” I guessed. It was the wrong thing to say. She stopped midstep, hand on the doorknob, and stared at me. Both eyes open, mouth in a frown. For a moment, nothing happened. Then she blinked and shook her head, as if pushing away a stupor.

“No, pie. Do you like cookies?” She led us into the house. It was quiet, a television played low in the front room. Varied, jewel hues covered the walls, hiding the dirty eggshell they used to be. Tarps covered some furniture, though they were clearly being used. The wood floors shined from a polishing. The entire space smelled of pastry. Hermes followed faster than I. “Luke,” she called. She was leaning out the kitchen archway. “Lemonade?”

“Sure,” I said but couldn’t move. Then Hermes called my name and I scoffed.

The kitchen was different too. All the grime had disappeared. All the appliances updated. The old, retro table had been replaced with a long wooden piece, and on top of it, were strawberries. Buckets and buckets of strawberries, contained in plastic, straw, wicker; anything that would hold them. The sweet scent was nearly overpowering here. My mom held out a full glass and brought my hand to it to make sure it didn’t drop.

“Strawberries?” I asked.

She looked at the table, “Oh! Yes, I’ve grown quite an affinity for them,” she shrugged. “Not sure why but. . . they’re pretty aren’t they?” A beep sounded.

“May,” Hermes said as she pulled a tray from the oven. She looked over her shoulder.

“Yes?”

“May, are you alright?”

My mother smiled—with a gorgeous set of pearly whites. Not possible, her teeth had yellowed and rotted years ago. “Of course, I am. It’s a beautiful day and I have two of my favorite people right in front of me.”

“May,” Hermes said a third time, this one pained. I realized where I felt confusion, he felt hurt. My mother noticed. Her smile dropped and her eyes along with it. “May, the last time I saw you. . .it didn’t look like this.”

She placed the tray on the stove and took a heavy seat at the table. The towering strawberries seemed to suffocate her figure. “I was very different, wasn’t I? But I don’t like to think about it. Why not have some pie and then you can go? I don’t expect you to stay very long.” She looked at both of us. “You never can.”

Hermes huffed in misery. He came to sit by her side. I felt like I was watching a television show. This couldn’t be mine, this couldn’t be my parents.

He took her hand, “I don’t mean to put you through pain but I’m a little shocked. Your condition. . . wasn’t exactly fixable. I’d like to know what happened.”

“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “About a year ago, I woke up. . .at least it felt like that. The presence of that thing disappeared, mostly. I could think straight again. I started cleaning up, there wasn’t anything else to do. The calendar on the wall was from the nineties. Found out someone had been paying the bills all this time,” she touched Hermes cheek and he smiled. “One morning I started working on the lawn. . .” she gave a sad, little laugh. “Apparently, I’d gained a reputation. The neighbors were so worried they tried to take the shears out of my hands, but once they realized. . .they helped me. People helped me fix up the house, gave me food, took me to the dentist, taught me how to use these new phones. They were so kind,” she sniffled. “I really didn’t deserve that much kindness.”

“Of course you do,” Hermes said but she lifted her head towards me.

“I don’t remember much. I get glimpses, pains even. But what I can recall, none of it is good. The memories. . .and the visions. Luke, honey, I’m so sorry.” The air was so thick I could’ve cut through it with Backbiter. I scuffed my boot against the linoleum. Silence snaked its way through the kitchen, like Martha and Geroge slithered on that phone.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, Mom,” I said finally.

“But there is,” she tried. “All that happened, the things I did, and then I just let you—”

“There’s nothing you have to apologize for,” I said and the air shifted from thick to frigid. Hermes’ jaw tightened, but he didn’t move his gaze from my mother. Whatever. “So did you chuck all my old stuff? Not that it matters, I’m a little too old for Power Ranger pajamas.”

My mother wiped at her eyes, “Oh no, I haven’t touched your room. Go take a look, it’s all there.”

The tiny, off-white carpeted room with one square window was exactly how I’d left it a long, long time ago. The bureau had one drawer open. Angry crayon marks covered a low corner of the wall. The small, twin bed was made, but wrinkled. I walked up to it and ran a hand across the blanket.

I had the sudden urge to stay.

It hit me like a brick to the solar plexus, knocking the wind from my lungs. Anger followed soon after. What are you thinking? I thought to myself.

You could go to college.

You lost your right to a future.

You don’t get to leave, Annabeth’s voice echoed.

Through the window I could see the road; children playing across the street; a man starting up a lawn mower. It felt surreal, freakishly abnormal.

Maybe this was a type of punishment.

“What are you thinking?” Hermes asked. I hadn’t heard him enter.

“I’m thinking I’m too big for this bed,” I said and turned towards him, hands in pockets. His cadecaus was out now. The snakes slithered the length of it, restless. “Not that it matters.”

#metaphorically speak in a sense i guess. to the audience #no i do not expect anyone 2 read it but if u like luke at all. i think u might feel warm and fuzzy and heartbroken at the same time <3

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pines-troz · 3 years

Text

Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Nine

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.

Word Count: 13,643

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/79879516

Inside the cab, the Warners were gathered in the back seat of the vehicle, anxious to reach Acme Labs. Wakko was overwhelmed with guilt for not saving Pinky and Brain from their lab coat-wearing captors. They buried their face into Yakko’s chest while the eldest Warner did his best to soothe the middle child’s woes.

“It’s all my fault,” Wakko whimpered.

“Shhh, don’t be so hard on yourself Wakko,” Yakko gently reassured, pulling his younger sib closer to his side. “You did what you could.”

“But now they’re probably going through some terrible experiments.” Wakko lamented.

“They won’t be, at least not for long,” Yakko said determinedly. “We’ll bust ‘em outta there and give those scientists a taste of their own…”

Dot overheard her older siblings’ exchange while conducting some research on her smartphone. The Warner sister looked up Acme Labs on various websites and was surprised to learn about the company’s terrible reputation on many levels. Unethical animal testing and workplace complaints surrounding sexual harassment.

She knew that Acme Labs must have been bad enough for Animaniacs to poke fun at them with the Pinky and The Brain segments, but never to such a heinous degree.

The cab turned a corner and reached a foreboding facility that stood underneath the suspension bridge and close to the city skyscrapers. Yakko took his debit card from his hammerspace and swiped it through the machine, paying a cab fare of $12.95.

“Thanks for the ride, pal.” Yakko quietly told the cabbie as he exited the vehicle. Wakko and Dot also thanked the driver as they followed their older brother out of the van.

The driver gave them a wary look as the siblings walked away, wondering what three toon children would want to do in a laboratory on the rough side of town. Once the siblings entered the front gates of Acme Labs, the vehicle zoomed off, leaving a cloud of exhaust behind as he drove away.

The siblings stared at the company’s new logo, a blue sign with orange lettering. The company adapted with the times in regards to giving itself a minimalist makeover as opposed to the flashing red lights or the bold green-yellow neon lights from the 90s. But the trendy, consumer-friendly glow-up did little to conceal the company’s dark and hideous nature when it came to animal cruelty. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot stood close to each other as they faced the foreboding laboratory that contained their new special friends.

Acting as the ringleader of the group, Yakko alerted his younger siblings as he clapped his hands together. “Alright, sibs, our family is in danger and it’s up to us to rescue them.”

Wakko nodded in agreement as a grim frown crossed his face. “Right. Then let’s give those scientists hell,” he darkly muttered as he took out an unusually large wooden mallet from his hammerspace intending to clobber any white coat he came across.

But before Wakko could make their vicious rampage, Yakko put his index finger on their red cap, stopping the middle child in their tracks. “I admire your valiant and unwavering spirit, Wakko, but we can’t just go in guns a-blazin'.”

“Yeah, we need to develop a game plan to outsmart those scientists,” Dot interjected. “And I believe I came up with a foolproof strategy to trick those whitecoats and liberate Pinky, Brain, and all the other animals imprisoned in the lab.”

Yakko perked up his ears. “Ooh, so what do you have in mind, sis?”

Dot motioned for her older siblings to come closer. Yakko and Wakko were eager to hear what their baby sister had planned and immediately ran to her side. The siblings formed a group huddle and Dot whispered her plan with hushed excitement.

- - - - - -

Inside the other testing room, Pinky sat on the exercise wheel with his limbs sprawled out while holding a half-eaten food pellet. The mouse wistfully observed the green cage. Everything looked the same. The green bars, the straw floor, an exercise wheel, a full water bottle, and a food pellet dispenser. The only thing missing was Brain.

Pinky felt all achy and gooey and Garfunkley without the love of his life. He began to pull on the metal tag that tightened around his right ear. He figured that the scientists tried to give him some free jewelry as compensation for participating in the separation experiment. While a nice gesture, nice shiny objects couldn’t replace the warmth and comforting companionship of his partner. But he had to be strong for Brain. A month without his beau would be difficult, but he needed to gather all of his strength to persevere. So he decided to lift his spirits by singing the one song he believed could solve all his problems.

“Just say narf! Just say narf!” Pinky sang boisterously. The mouse waved his feet to the beat of the song, hoping to feel its cheerful energy. “Don’t you know to be glad, just say narf!”

But as he sang, the somber ambiance of the room remained unchanged. The scientists surrounding his cage merely scribbled on their notepads, ignoring the mouse’s tune. Pinky’s spirits dwindled as he sang the next verse. “Every day is a joy and so marvelous.” But his hopeful optimism was snuffed out like a candle. “Don’t you ruin it with plenty of fuss.” His enthusiasm was diminished into tiredness as he finished the verse.

“Just say zort, just say- Poit! Oh, what’s the point?” The downtrodden mouse drearily declared. Pinky took another bite of his food pellet and sighed. He’d tried to sing the one song he used to cheer up Brain, only to find that it wasn’t working its usual magic.

As he swallowed the chewed-up food pellet, he took another glance at the big chunk of swiss cheese that stood in the middle of the cage. While he initially took a few bites of the cheese after the scientists placed the plate down, he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He had lost his ability to taste cheese after numerous experiments the scientists put him through as a young mouse. Though he secretly envied Brain for having his taste buds intact, he loved hearing him describe the different tastes of various cheeses. But Pinky was content with the food pellets that the scientists provided. They reminded him of his home life with Brain, and any positive reminder of Brain was good enough for him. Though the food pellets would be more satisfying if he had some three-in-one oil to sautee them with.

Pinky let out another woeful sigh. Perhaps he should try to sing again at night after the scientists left. He could belt out ‘Somewhere, Out There’ to the pale moonlight and pray that Brain would sing the accompanying verses from the other room; Maybe then, Pinky would feel less alone.

Meanwhile, in the other testing room, Brain curled himself into a fetal position facing the glass wall. The mouse stared at his pitiful reflection: his floppy ears flattened against his bulbous head, the grey bags underneath his eyes, and the small amount of snot that oozed from his twinkling red nose. Brain kept all of his focus on his hideous appearance and away from the small cheese platter that stood in the center of the cage. The melancholic mouse let out a ragged sigh. He needed to be strong for Pinky. But he could only hope that the inane experiments the scientists had in store for him were manageable at least.

It was then that the faint sound of crinkling static reached his ears. Brain furrowed his brow in confusion and turned his attention toward the intercom stereo perched above the doorway.

“Helloooo, scientists!” a fast-talking young voice exuberantly announced.

Brain slowly propped himself up from his position by the side of his cage when he heard Yakko Warner’s enthusiastic voice. Could it truly be him? Or maybe this was just a hallucination cruelly reminding him of what he once had. But the sight of the scientists turning their attention towards the intercom was proof enough that this was very much happening.

“So the CEO of Acme sent me and two other unpaid interns down to congratulate you all on the tremendous work you’ve accomplished so far this year,” Yakko announced. “And as a reward for all of your hard work, he’s holding a surprise party, where you’ll each be receiving a bonus check of five thousand dollars!”

The scientists gaggled excitedly amongst themselves. Brain raised his brow upwards at the sight of the white coats getting ecstatic over the news.

In the other room, Pinky sat up straight on the exercise wheel upon hearing Yakko talking through the intercom. The mouse grinned from ear to ear.

“Egad, Yakko is here! And that must mean that Wakko and Dot are somewhere in the lab as well!” Pinky happily thought as he tugged his feet and eagerly rocked himself back and forth. “Troz! Oh, I knew those little sweethearts would come to our rescue!”

“But that’s not all, folks,” Yakko added eagerly. “We’re closing up shop early to hold a special party for all you special scientists!” The teen’s voice dripped with venom at the word ‘special’. “There’ll be a buffet table, party games, music, and a ball pit! So everyone come on down to the garage right away to receive your bonuses and we’ll get this party started!”

The scientists dropped their notepads and cheered. Brain watched the scientists rushing through the door, no doubt stampeding down the hall to receive their coveted prizes. The short mouse glanced around the empty room and allowed a devious grin to cross his face. Those moronic scientists had bought every lie Yakko fed them. Hook, line, and sinker.

In the other room, Pinky grinned as the scientists fled the room. The mouse merrily hopped around the room, dancing for joy. The kids were going to rescue him and Brain and they’d all be reunited once more!

Back at the office, Yakko, who now donned a white lab coat and floral button-up shirt in addition to his regular attire, turned off the intercom button and leaned back in the office chair. The teen merrily spun around in his wheelie chair. Everything was going according to plan!

Yakko then hopped off the chair, opened up the window, and dove to the ground, secretly thankful he was only on the first floor. The teen took out a lab coat from his hammerspace, hastily putting it on as he ran around the building.

Once he reached the garage, he found a large white truck sitting by the open door. Yakko walked around the vehicle and noticed Wakko’s other self, the one he met during that fateful trip to Paris, happily humming in the driver’s seat. The other Wakko greeted Yakko with a friendly wave, and Yakko happily waved back before sprinting through the open door.

Wakko and Dot, who also donned lab coats, waited patiently in other parts of the garage. Dot settled inside the ball pit while Wakko sat on one of the ceiling lamps. Yakko joined his younger sister in the ball pit. The siblings looked over to Wakko, who eagerly gave a thumbs up. Yakko and Dot smiled mischievously as they dove into the ball pit.

Seconds later, the scientists clamored in the room all at once, eager to receive their checks. But all they saw was a few tables filled with various bags of chips and a pitiful-looking kiddie pool filled with colorful balls. They all looked at each other in confusion, murmuring about the poorly prepared party.

Acting quickly, Wakko descended the ceiling and landed on their feet. The middle Warner sibling slammed the door shut and proceeded to board up the door with wooden boards and nails. Satisfied with their handiwork, Wakko turned around and flashed a sinister grin at the scientists. Wakko then reached into their hammerspace and pulled out a comically large roll of packaging tape and immediately wrapped up five of the scientists in tape.

“Dear Lord, one of our failed experiments has come back for revenge!” A middle-aged scientist shrieked in terror. The other scientists screamed as they backed away from the unusual creature of indeterminate species.

On cue, Yakko and Dot emerged from the ball pit with gift wrapping and packaging materials at their disposal. The Warner brother bounced near one scientist and imprisoned him with gift wrapping paper. Satisfied with his handiwork, he proceeded to tie up the next ten scientists with the same method of capture. The Warner sister noticed the nine scientists trying in vain to make their escape through the garage door and immediately pounced on them. She enveloped them into a giant dust cloud as she secured them with wrapping paper. Once the dust cleared, Dot happily clapped her hands as the scientists struggled to release themselves.

Wakko hopped over to the back of the truck and pulled up the door. Yakko and Dot wheeled the hapless scientists into the truck on box carriers. The siblings gave each scientist a comical smooch before dumping them into their vehicular cage.

The siblings hopped out from the truck. Yakko quickly did a headcount of all of the scientists as he ignored their cries for help.

“Well I think everyone is accounted for!” the eldest Warner declared.

However, the sudden sound of a door falling to the ground reached their ears. The toon siblings turned around to see three security guards gawking at the sight.

“Well, almost everyone is accounted for,” Yakko remarked.

He looked to his younger siblings, each of them sharing diabolical grins, before lunging at the guards and enveloping them in a messy dust cloud. Once the cloud dispersed, the guards were tightly wrapped in wrapping paper and decorated with tape-on ribbons.

Dot sprinted towards the back of the truck as Yakko and Wakko heaved up one of the guards to throw to their sister. The older Warners tossed the first guard over to Dot, who caught him with relative ease. She gave him a smooch on the cheek before tossing him into the truck. The siblings repeated the process with the other two security guards. Once their adversaries were all piled in the truck, Dot flashed them a feigned friendly smile.

Yakko hopped over towards the back of the truck, reached up the handle, and slammed the door shut. He clapped the dust from his hands and happily gazed at his siblings. “Well, phase one went down much easier than I expected.” He declared as he pulled Wakko and Dot into a tight hug. “Great job sibs!” Dot happily nuzzled her brother’s cheek while Wakko happily wagged their tail upon receiving the compliment.

The other Wakko put their head out through the window and grinned at the Warners.

“Thanks for all the help, Other Me!” Wakko shouted with a smile.

“Anytime, pal!” The Other Wakko replied with a thumbs up. “Next stop: Denver, Colorado!” He returned to the driver’s seat and eagerly turned on the ignition. The truck drove through the garage door, sped out of the lab, and zoomed through the street.

The Warners waved as the truck drove off into the distance. With the first phase of the rescue mission complete, the siblings took off their lab coats and tossed them to the side. They clapped the dust off their gloved hands when a recording of ‘The Senses Song’ reached their ears. At that moment, Yakko recognized his cellphone ringtone. “I’ll get it!” He announced as he fished the phone from his pocket and answered the call. “Yello!”

“Hey Yakko,” The voice of a young adult male answered. “It’s me, Skippy!”

“Skippy is that you!?” Yakko exclaimed in shock at hearing an older Skippy Squirrel. “You sound way older since the last time we spoke!”

Wakko and Dot looked at each other with curious glances. The younger Warners pressed their heads against their older brother to get a better listen. Yakko didn’t mind the invasion of personal space as he listened to Skippy.

“Yep, that’s one of the many wonders of puberty.” The squirrel responded in jest. “Listen, I’m sorry for not answering your call earlier. I was out running some errands and Aunt Slappy got into a little scuffle over at the bingo hall.”

“It’s all good,” Yakko casually replied with a wave of his hand.

“So what’s up?” Skippy asked.

“My sibs and I are in a bit of a pickle.” Yakko began, sounding a bit more serious. “Pinky and Brain have been held captive in Acme Labs. We managed to take care of our special friends in lab coats and blue uniforms without any problems, but we need some backup for the next phase of our plan.”

“Go on,” Skippy replied, who was intrigued by the whole situation.

“We’re rescuing Pinky, Brain, and every single laboratory animal and we need you and Slappy to blow up the lab to Kingdom Come!”

Skippy chuckled excitedly. “Oh, Aunt Slappy is gonna love this!”

“Love what?” The elderly squirrel called out in a cranky voice.

Skippy placed a hand over his smartphone and turned toward his geriatric aunt. “The Warners are rescuing Pinky, Brain, and all the other lab animals from Acme Labs and they want us to blow the place up.”

Slappy’s eyes widened with excitement and she deviously rubbed her hands together. “Looks like Happy Hour has arrived early!”

Skippy smiled at his aunt before resuming his phone call with Yakko. “Okay, my aunt’s onboard!”

The Warners hopped up and down in jubilation upon the news of allies accepting their role in the plan.

“So I’ll swing by Acme Labs in my truck and help you and the mice load up the other lab animals,” Skippy explained. “And once we leave, I’ll give Slappy the signal to launch a large-scale assault on the lab.”

“Sounds great!” Yakko affirmed.

“Cool! I’ll arrive at the lab in ten minutes!” Skippy declared.

“See you then!” Yakko said as he hung up his smartphone. He promptly focused his attention on his younger siblings. “Alright sibs, now we’ve got to move fast.” He commanded.

“Right!” Wakko and Dot chorused.

Wanting to put their Great Dane genes to good use, Wakko immediately got down on all fours and sprinted towards the broken-down door. Once he reached the hallway, he sniffed the air for any clues of the mice’s whereabouts.

The middle sibling galloped down the hall until they found a door marking Pinky’s scent, which was a mix of cheesecake and perfume. Wakko pressed their face upon the glass, with Yakko and Dot mimicking their sibling’s actions. The trio saw Pinky, who wore a metal tag on his right ear, prancing about inside a green cage, which sat in the middle of the room.

Relieved that Pinky was safe, Wakko removed their face from the glass. “I’m gonna go find Dadoo and redeem myself while you two will go rescue dad and the rest of the animals!”

Yakko and Dot looked back at their sibling and gave them a hearty salute. “You can count on us, baby sib!” Yakko cheered.

“We believe in you, Wakko!” Dot confidently added.

Grateful for their siblings’ compassion, Wakko nodded back before scampering down the hall on all fours.

Yakko opened up the door, allowing Dot to walk in first. The siblings sprinted down the room, eager to reunite with the lanky mouse.

“Pinky!!!” They exclaimed in unison.

The buck-toothed mouse perked his ears at the youthful calls and was overcome with relief.

“Yakko! Dot!” Pinky exclaimed. Tears began to emerge at the sight of the eldest and youngest Warner siblings.

Yakko opened up the door and immediately scooped Pinky out of the green cage. The lanky mouse embraced the teen’s thumb as tears of joy began to pour down his face. The teen used his left pointer finger to gently stroke Pinky’s back.

“Oh, thank heavens you came!” Pinky cried, relishing the warm sensation of gloved hands. “Where’s Wakko?”

“They’re off saving Brain,” Yakko answered, giving Pinky a much-needed head scritch.

Pinky’s eyes glistened with joy. “Oh goody! Zort! We’re finally safe, and it’s all thanks to your clever idea of tricking all those scientists.”

Yakko chuckled at the mouse’s compliment. “That’s sweet Pinky, but I can’t take all the credit because my baby sister was the one who came up with that brilliant diversion!”

Dot smugly nodded her head, taking in the compliments her older brother showered onto her.

Pinky turned his attention towards the Warner sister with warm blue eyes. “You did all that?” He asked in an astonished tone.

Upon hearing the gentle cockney accent, Dot’s pride melted into humbleness. Pinky possessed an aura of kindness, which was stored in those gleaming cerulean eyes. Much like Dot’s cuteness had a powerful effect on others, Pinky’s gentle spirit seemed to have a similar effect.

The Warner sister could only respond with a barely audible “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, my smart little angel! I am so proud of you and I bet Brain would be too!” Pinky exclaimed as he opened up his hands, wanting to hold his surrogate daughter.

Dot noticed the mouse’s physical pleas and gently took him in her hands. She held Pinky close to her cheek.

“Oh, I missed you so much, sweetie!” Pinky declared as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

Dot allowed the tears that welled up in her eyes to fall. She wanted to hold Pinky close and never let him go again. “I missed you too, Dad.” She sniffled.

Yakko smiled sweetly at the joyful reunion. He took a step backward to let his sister have her moment with the mouse.

Pinky opened his eyes and noticed that Yakko was a little further back than he was before. He looked back at the eldest Warner and gestured for him to join them. Taking this cue, Yakko closed the gap as he wrapped his arms around his younger sister. He felt his sister’s arms embracing him, as well as a small paw gently patting his shoulder.

He could get used to this.

- - - - - -

Meanwhile, Wakko sniffed around the checkered tiled floors of the hallway until he caught a familiar scent. A combination of lab chemicals, chumsicles, and a hint of cologne that could be purchased at the mall. Standing back up on his feet, the middle Warner sibling opened up the door and entered inside.

After Wakko walked into the room, he slammed the door shut. The sudden sound alerted a short mouse with an unusually large cranium, who had been pacing around the glass cage he was placed in.

Wakko stopped in their tracks as he was overcome with guilt once more. Had they intervened in time, Dadoo and Dad would not have been captured.

Brain stared at the middle child with shocked eyes. He tried in vain to cover the metal tag on his ear with his paw. Part of him felt ashamed of being seen as a lab animal as opposed to an ambitious and determined mouse bent on world domination. But the relief of seeing one of the Warners again overpowered his insecurities surrounding his image.

“Wakko?” The mouse quietly inquired.

“Dadoo!” The middle child called out. Blinking away the tears that started to form, they sprinted towards the cage to rescue their surrogate father.

Overcome with relief, Brain’s ears perked up upon hearing his voice. The mouse turned around and saw the middle child. “Wakko!”

Wakko lifted the lid off of the cage and scooped their hands to retrieve Brain, but his vision became blurred by the tears that stung their eyes. The sight of the toon crying greatly concerned the mouse.

“Wakko, what’s wrong?” Brain inquired cautiously.

“I-It’s my fault that you and Pinky got caught!” Wakko sniffled.

Brain’s eyes widened with confusion. “Wakko?”

“I should have saved you two when I had the chance, then you wouldn’t be stuck here” The middle child cried. “You must hate me…”

The mouse felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for the poor toon. Wakko must have been worried sick about losing him and Pinky. Brain wondered if his parents felt those same emotions as they watched the Acme scientists steal their only child before their very eyes.

During the first few months during his initial captivity at Acme Labs, a young and naive Brain always pondered if his parents thought about him. The mouse often wished his parents would swoop in and rescue him from his cold steel cage and bring him back to the warmth of the tin-can he once called home. But as the days passed, he accepted the stark conclusion that two simple field mice could not stand a chance against the cold-hearted scientists employed by a decently-funded corporate scientific research facility.

As Brain stared at Wakko, he realized that they, along with their siblings, were toons birthed into the world by pencil and paper to be harbingers of chaos. The children were, by design, zany to the max, and were powerful enough to take over the world if they so desired. However, they used their toon powers for good by liberating him and Pinky from the clutches of unethical animal testing. Brain commended Wakko and their siblings for going the distance to rescue him and Pinky. But he could not stand to see Wakko harbor such self-loathing despite their remarkable heroism.

Brain carefully grabbed Wakko’s right thumb and began to caress it in a soothing motion. “Now that’s just preposterous. I could never hate you, Wakko.” He comforted the middle child as best as he could. Emotions were more Pinky’s strong suit, but Brain was going to try his hardest to alleviate Wakko’s woes. “When Pinky and I arrived at the lab, I feared that you and your siblings wouldn’t come for us. Fortunately, you proved me wrong. You and your siblings have saved us, and you have my eternal gratitude.”

Wakko wiped away the tears from their face as they listened to Brain. The mouse did not hate them at all. The mouse loved them a whole lot! Overwhelmed with relief, Wakko gave Brain a great big kiss on his cranium and proceeded to nuzzle their forehead against their Dadoo’s. After processing the loving gesture, Brain carefully wrapped his arms across Wakko’s forehead. He planted a gentle kiss to reassure Wakko that he was grateful for their presence.

After a few moments, they pulled away from the embrace. Wakko looked at the cage and immediately spotted the big slice of swiss cheese. “I didn’t know they had snacks in the lab!” The toon exclaimed as they were about to take the sumptuous cheese.

“Wakko, NO!” Brain shouted instinctively, but the middle Warner sibling easily retrieved the cheese off of the plate. The mouse stood with his mouse gaping. Wakko did not receive any electrical shocks or any other negative reactions. They got what they wanted without any issue.

Wakko was about to eat the slice of cheese when he noticed the distressed expression on Brain’s face. “What’s wrong, Dadoo?”

“What was wrong?” Brain thought to himself. A wave of unpleasant memories flashed through his mind. He could practically feel the electrical shocks from the stunning plate course through his body once more. He instinctively stepped away, clutching his chest with his hand. How could he possibly recount the painful and traumatic memories to this wide-eyed innocent?

Wakko tilted their head to the side, watching Brain step backward with concern. Perhaps Brain was hungry! They didn’t have much time to eat after brunch and Brain looked like he could use a nice snack. So the middle Warner sibling concluded that their Dadoo needed to have some nourishment.

Wakko broke the cheese in half and placed the bigger portion in his right hand. “Here Dadoo, have some cheese!” The toon kindly offered. “After all, sharing is caring.”

Brain stared slack-jawed at the middle child. The mouse stared at the sumptuous cheese that sat on a gloved hand as he felt a war waging inside him. One side yelled at him to back away. The cheese only represented the inevitable pain that would come from pursuing his desires. But upon looking at the soft white glove underneath the cheese, the other side of him gently reminded him of his loved ones and the bonds he forged with them. Brain recounted all of the pleasant memories he and Pinky made with the Warners in the span of one weekend. All of the fun shenanigans by the poolside, singing karaoke, telling stories before bedtime, and playing in the park. Then there were the moments that brought about his parental instincts. Standing up for the Warners when he confronted the gang of hooligans, caring for Dot when she was sick, taking Wakko back to the library so they could retrieve their precious drawing and the down-to-earth conversation with Yakko.

Brain knew that the Warners, while zany and chaotic beings, were good kids at heart and that they would never maliciously go after anyone they cared about. He looked at the cheese in Wakko’s hand and back at Wakko, who gently smiled at him. Brain realized that the child meant no harm and only wanted to help him.

Gulping down his fears, Brain decided to take a leap of faith and go for the cheese. With trembling hands, he cautiously reached out and touched it and felt nothing. No painful electric shocks, no sense of helplessness. Just the soft texture of the cheese.

Brain carefully took his cheese into his paws. Just as he looked up at Wakko, he saw that the toon was about to swallow their portion of the cheese. The mouse widened his eyes in horror as a terrible thought popped up. The scientists wouldn’t provide food during an experiment out of kindness. There had to be some nefarious purpose involved.

“Wakko, wait!” He commanded.

Upon hearing the anxious voice, Wakko looked back at Brian with concern.

“I-I need to make certain that the cheese isn’t laced with any toxic substances.” Brain stammered.

Inspecting the cheese in his hands, Brain sniffed it only to be reminded of its alluring aroma. He then decided to take the next step and perform a taste test. Taking out a small piece of cheese, Brain licked the piece, expecting anything other than the delectable Swiss cheese racing through his taste buds. Noting that the cheese was safe, he consumed the small piece. With each chew, the mouse slowly noticed the tears pooling in his eyes. Brain blinked away the tears, allowing them to stream down his furred cheeks. He stared at the other piece of cheese in his hand, deep in his ponderings. He wished that he could have allowed himself to let his guard down much sooner. But the relief of learning he could place his trust in his loved ones outweighed his regret. Feeling a great sense of peace, Brain gladly consumed the rest of the cheese without a hint of hesitation.

Wakko worriedly stared at Brain, wondering why he was crying over a piece of cheese. The more the middle child thought, the more they realized that maybe the cheese symbolized Pinky.

After all, they were mice and mice did love cheese! But hold on...Did that mean Brain was sad that he ate Pinky? Or did he just simply miss Pinky’s presence? Oh, man. Metaphors were so confusing!

Wakko gently scooped Brain up into their gloved hands and tried their best to comfort the downtrodden mouse. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back with Pinky in no time!”

Brain stared up at Wakko as they wiped away the stray tears with their right thumb. He knew that the toon child was blissfully unaware of his past trauma concerning his broken trust issues that stemmed from unethical animal testing and how it tied in with the cheese. Perhaps he would inform him when he was ready and willing. But for now, he relished the warm and comforting hold of Wakko’s hands.

“Thank you, dear Wakko,” Brain gently told his surrogate child. “For everything.”

Wakko smiled back at their father figure. “You’re welcome, Dadoo.” They soon remembered the other part of the rescue mission. “Oh! And Yakko told me that we should also free all the other rodents while we’re still here.” Wakko informed the mouse.

Brain smiled. “I admire your unorthodox approach to animal activism.” After a moment of pondering, he needed to address an important issue. “However, I pray that your idea of liberation isn’t just dumping them in a remote jungle.”

“Don’t be silly, Brain!” Wakko replied as they started to carry the mouse out from the lab. “My sibs and I contacted some professionals who’ll take them to a properly-funded animal sanctuary.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Brain sighed.

As Wakko and Brain entered the hallway, they immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them. As the siblings sprinted, Brain noticed that Pinky was riding on Dot’s left shoulder.

When they entered the hallway, Brain and Wakko immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them, with Pinky riding on Dot’s right shoulder.

“Brain!” Pinky called out. Tears flooded his eyes as he gazed at his beau once more.

Brain looked over to see his partner, safe and sound. “Pinky!”

Pinky leaped from Dot’s shoulder and sprinted towards Brain. The smaller mouse opened up his arms as he crashed into the lanky mouse’s loving arms.

“Oh Brain, I missed you so much!” Pinky cried.

“I missed you too, Pinky.” Brain confessed, cupping Pinky’s cheeks with his tiny pink paws. Without a moment to lose, Brain leaned in for a kiss. Pinky wrapped his arms around Brain’s back, pulling him closer.

After moments of sharing a blissful kiss, they parted lips. Catching their breath, Pinky and Brain stared into each others’ eyes. Blue eyes that shined like the ocean gazed upon pink eyes as soft as the cherry blossoms. Feeling the love that radiated from those cerulean orbs, Brain instinctively pressed his large forehead against Pinky’s. Pinky purred a soft ‘Narf’ as he nuzzled his bulbous red nose against Brain’s button nose.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot looked on, smiling warmly at the tender reunion. However, the rattling of the front door startled the mice and the toon siblings. Yakko stepped forth to protect his family from any potential antagonist that dared to separate them again.

Instead, a tall, brown adult squirrel entered the building. The mice and the Warners paid their undivided attention towards Skippy Squirrel. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. The top of his head was covered with scruffy hair and he was dressed in a white t-shirt covered by a green-and-black flannel shirt.

The squirrel grinned upon seeing the group. “Hey fellas,” Skippy greeted with a friendly wave.

The siblings and the mice were surprised by how deep the squirrel’s voice had gotten over the years. But the shock was soon replaced with joy as the Warners grinned excitedly at their former co-star.

“Skippy!” The Warners exclaimed as they launched themselves onto the squirrel, tackling him in a loving hug.

“Boy, you’re certainly taller than I last remembered.” Yakko complemented.

“And you guys are still the same,” Skippy remarked.

“It’s a long story, but we were in suspended animation for over twenty years,” Yakko explained. Skippy wordlessly nodded. He seemed to understand the situation but refused to press any more questions to avoid stepping over any boundaries.

Pinky sprinted towards the squirrel and hugged his bushy brown tail. “Oh Skippy, I missed you so much! Narf!” The mouse cried. “I haven’t seen you since Brain and I attended your Bar Mitzvah!”

“Oh yeah, that was back in 1999,” Skippy added as he carefully plucked Pinky from his tail, allowing the lanky mouse to relax in the palm of his hand. “Oh, wow, it’s been a while, huh?”

Brain, however, stared in disbelief as he cautiously approached the young adult. “Good heavens, is it you?”

Skippy chuckled, offering the mouse to hop on his hand to keep Pinky company. “Hey Brain, long time no see!”

After embracing the mice, the adult squirrel looked over towards Yakko. “So what’s the scoop?”

“Right, we should proceed onto phase two of our plan.” Yakko addressed with a clap of his hands. “Brain, do you happen to know where all the other lab animals are kept?”

“Yes, there were a few cages of mice in the room I was in.” Brain answered. “And I’m certain that they were all unwilling participants in that half-baked separation experiment. ”

“Poit! And there were some mice in my room, too!” Pinky added concernedly.

“As for the whereabouts of the other animals, they’re held captive in a storage facility located in the second to last door down the right-wing of the lab.” Brain continued, pointing his hand down the hall to direct the others down the correct path.

“What kind of animals?” Dot asked worriedly as she clasped her gloved hands together.

“Rats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits, some dogs, a couple of cats, and, if my memory serves correct, a chimpanzee.” Brain listed off.

“Oh wow,” Skippy muttered in shock.

“And do you know the location of the animal sanctuary you plan to take them to?” Brain inquired.

“Oh yeah, a group of animal activists from down under would be taking them there!” Yakko replied. “They took care of the bun infestation a while back, and they’re more than happy to take the lab animals to their government-funded animal sanctuary.”

“I can get them to pick up the animals at Slappy’s place if that’s convenient.” Wakko piped up.

“Go for it.” Skippy approved. “I believe I have enough room on my truck bed to safely transport all the animals to my aunt’s house.”

“Awesome!” Dot cheered.

“Faboo!” Wakko added enthusiastically.

“So how about it, team?” Yakko declared as he placed his hand in the middle. “Let’s go give the other animals a chance at a better life and blow this seedy lab to bits!”

Wakko and Dot eagerly placed their gloved hands over their brother’s. Skippy placed his hand on top of Dot’s. Despite their diminutive size, the mice placed their paws on top while standing on top of Wakko and Dot’s arms.

“Alright Animaniacs, let’s roll!” Yakko exclaimed.

The others responded with a resounding cheer as they raised their hands in the air. While Pinky and Brain were sent flying into the air, they were thankfully caught by Wakko and placed on top of their red cap.

Setting the game plan into motion, the mice and the toons scoured the lab to round up the remaining lab animals. Pinky and Brain used their knowledge of the facility to guide the toons to the specific rooms where the animals were kept.

They plucked the cages and placed them into the wheelie carts. Brain and Pinky noted the confused and anxious responses from the animals. However, he knew that they were being transported to a better place, and they hoped that they would find peace and comfort in the animal sanctuary.

About fifteen minutes later, the gang retrieved all of the lab animals. Dozens upon dozens of cages were loaded onto many carts.

Brain smiled contentedly at the accomplished task when he felt a soft paw tap his shoulder.

“Um, Brain,” Pinky said shyly. “Don’t you think that maybe we should grab our stuff from the cage?”

Brain stared at Pinky for a moment. His partner was always the sentimental one, keeping his belongings in their sardine tin. The pictures of Pharfignewton, the shirt he brought him from Dollywood, the spellchecker-

At that moment, Brain realized that Pinky had a point. “Perhaps we should grab our belongings from our cage.” He sagely agreed.

“Wakko?” Brain asked, alerting the middle child beneath him. “Would you be a dear and take Pinky and me over to the west wing of the lab? We need to grab our things.”

“Of course, Dadoo!” Wakko happily obliged.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy overheard the conversation and smiled in agreement.

“Alright, you guys go do that while we pack up the animals in the truck,” Skippy announced.

“Will do!” Wakko saluted as he started to skip down the hallway, careful not to drop the two mice he carried on top of his cap.

Not a moment later, the trio stopped at the large green doors at the end of the hallway. Wakko cautiously opened up the door to find an abandoned research room filled with various lab equipment, desks, and chairs. Pinky and Brain gazed at their surroundings as Wakko tiptoed over to the green cage that sat on top of a table.

“Is this your place?” Wakko inquired as he pointed at the empty cage.

“Yes,” Brain answered in a serious tone.

The mice hopped off of Wakko’s hat and trotted over to their soon-to-be-former abode.

Pinky and Brain went inside their cage and looked at their precious sponge bed. The couple approached their special sardine can, which was filled with many precious keepsakes they gathered over the years.

The mice opened the lid, only to discover all of their valuable possessions were just as they left them. The radish rose whachamoozit they acquired after that fateful Halloween. The many caricatures of Brain, which were lovingly illustrated by their son Romy. Pinky’s high school graduation cap. The mouse-sized guitar and black cowboy hat from Brain’s stint as country musician Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Pinky’s precious spellchecker. Finally, Brain found the most important artifact in their humble treasure trove, which was a small globe keychain. The mouse couldn’t help but smile as he held the world in his hands.

Pinky walked away from the sardine can and took in the surroundings of his home. “Poit! I’m going to miss this old place,” He sadly sighed before hugging the exercise wheel.

Brain pondered for a moment before an unusual thought hit him. “I know this is going to sound preposterous, but I don’t see why we couldn’t take our cage as well.”

Pinky gasped, his eyes widening in excitement. “You mean it, Brain?”

“Whatever makes you happy, my dear Pinky.” Brain responded with a chuckle.

Pinky enveloped Brain in a tight hug and spun him around. “Narf! Oh, thank you Brain!”

“Yes, yes, now please put me down before you crush my lungs.” Brain commanded. Pinky sheepishly placed him back on the ground and carefully patted his back.

But the floor started to rumble when Wakko held up the cage. “Alright dads, let’s blow this joint!”

But the classic phrase caused Pinky to wear a stern frown. “No chance, young toon!” He chastised. “Smoking is terrible for your health! I had to help Brain kick his addiction to cigarettes, and I am not going to see you go down that same path!”

“But why would you think I like a disgusting hobby like that?” Wakko asked defensively.

Brain pinched the bridge of his brows. “Pinky, Wakko was not referring to smoking when he said let’s blow this joint. It’s a common phrase people say before they leave an undesired location, much like how we should be leaving this God-forsaken lab!”

Pinky’s frown transformed into a giddy smile. “Oh, well thanks for clearing that up for me, Brain! Troz!”

With the mix-up now resolved, the trio left the room, leaving the second home the mice had come to accept.

After exiting the building, they noticed that the truck was all packed up. Every cage was carefully placed in the truck bed, with elastic wires securing the top shelf. Skippy had closed the driver’s seat door, ready to take everyone to their next location.

Dot alerted her sibling and the mice from the open passenger seat door. “Come on!”

Wakko clutched the cage to their chest and sprinted towards the truck. They hopped in, settling in between their siblings. Dot closed the door, giving Skippy the cue to start the engine.

Pinky and Brain sat comfortably in their cage, as they were surrounded by the toon siblings. The mice were glad that everyone was safe and sound.

Yakko noticed the mice settling some items that were stored in the old tin can. “So what do you have there?” The teen curiously inquired.

“Just some valuable keepsakes.” Brain softly replied.

“Like our son Romy’s wonderful drawing of Brain!” Pinky showed off the picture of Brain dressed up as a traditional circus clown.

“Well, that’s an accurate portrait, if I do say so myself.” Yakko quipped.

Brain raised his brow in frustration, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the teen.

“Oh, Brain!” Pinky alerted him by tapping his shoulder. “Dot was the one who came up with the clever rescue plan!” He praised in a sing-song voice.

The shorter mouse looked over at the Warner sister with a pleasantly surprised smile. “So that genius plan was all your doing?”

Dot perked up at the praise. “Yes, it was.” She answered while flashing a confident smile.

Brain walked up to the other side of the cage and placed his hand through the bars to pat her hand. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Dot.” He said. “If you keep exercising your keen mind, you just might be as intelligent as I am.”

“Or maybe I might be even more intelligent than you are right now.” Dot teased.

Brain’s smile changed into an offended scowl. “Alright young lady, let’s not get cocky here.”

Suddenly, Wakko let out a horrified gasp. “Dadoo, you just said a swear word!”

“Have you no shame? ” Dot added in feigned scorn.

“You star in a children’s show for goodness sake, you have a wholesome image to maintain!” Yakko chided.

Brain let out an exasperated groan as he buried his face into his paws. He could hear Yakko, Wakko, and Dot’s bubbly giggles, no doubt savoring his annoyed reaction. But as his frustration started to simmer, a small smile began to form as he was immensely grateful to be in their presence once more. He would gladly take playful jabs at his pride over inane and cruel experiments any day.

Skippy started up the truck and began to drive off, leaving a visible dust cloud as it zoomed away from the premises. Brain looked at the toon siblings, glad that their weekend had turned out well despite some difficult setbacks. He debated whether or not he should bring up their brief moment of captivity at Acme Labs to the CEO.

Brain’s eyes widened in shock as he remembered one crucial detail he had forgotten about. “Oh, shoot, the credit card!” He anxiously yelled. “I must have left it in the park along with my mechanical suit!”

Pinky immediately rushed over towards his partner’s side, taking his hand and rubbing it in soothing motions. “Now, Brain, it’s not the end of the world.”

“But it’ll be the end of our careers if we don’t return it to her.” Brain moaned.

The Warners sympathetically stared at the mice. “Aw, chin up guys, I’m sure it’s at the park.” Yakko offered. “Hey Skippy, would it be too much trouble if we made a pit stop?”

“No worries,” Skippy assured while keeping his focus on the road.

From the comfort of the cage, Brain inspected the adult Squirrel’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Time was certainly kind to him. He looked to be in shape and relatively healthy for a squirrel his age. Brain then thought about the young man’s aunt. It had been so long since he and Pinky interacted with the geriatric toon veteran. He could easily recount the moment they first met.

- - - - - -

Warner Movie Lot, 1992

Brain tugged Pinky by the wrist as they scurried into the sound stage. He spent the last ten minutes watching Pinky work up the courage to ask Marvin the Martian to sign his scrapbook, his little pet project to document his part-time job on Animaniacs. Luckily, the toon veteran was gracious enough to sign his autograph into Pinky’s special book. Pinky nearly fainted from the act of kindness, but Brain managed to catch his roommate before meeting impact on the ground. The smaller mouse courteously thanked Marvin for the gesture and helped Pinky back up on his feet.

“Pinky, this is the last time your frantic search for autographs interferes with our schedule.” Brain chastised. The mouse knew how much Pinky’s happiness meant to him, but his new job was just as important. The mice were lucky that they landed the job as supporting actors for a promising variety show, and Brain planned to use his newfound celebrity status to sway the masses into submission. The one drawback to his plan was how the writers were steadfast in wanting to portray him as a lovable failure rather than an important authority figure. But the mouse chose not to dwell on this flaw. He could work through the demeaning material if it guaranteed adoration from impressionable viewers.

“Poit! I’m sorry Brain,” Pinky apologized.

The mice made their way onto the stage, joining the large and colorful cast members. Brain let go of Pinky’s wrist to check his wristwatch. It was 11:27 AM. The mouse released a sigh of relief. They arrived right on time.

Brain turned his attention back towards Pinky. “No need to fret, Pinky. At least we made it on time.”

The mice swiftly joined the rest of the cast on the sound stage. They had made their acquaintances with most of the main cast. Pinky became swift friends with practically everyone on the set, and everyone except Pesto returned the affection. Brain was a little more skeptical, though he did express his fondness for Hello Nurse’s brilliant mind.

Just then, the voluptuous intellect, donned in her traditional nurse’s uniform, walked by the mice, but not without a friendly greeting. “Pinky, Brain.” She politely addressed them with a smile.

“Ah, greetings Heloise.” Brain politely replied with a nod.

“Hi, Hello Nurse!” Pinky chirped while waving at her.

Soon afterward, a middle-aged man with black hair sporting a light blue tuxedo approached the sound stage and looked at the various actors. Brain had seen him quite a handful of times on the movie lot. Mr. Director was his name, and he tried to assert his dominance and so-called ‘comedic genius’ wherever he went.

“Alright, look alive people!” Mr. Director commanded in a serious tone. “Since this show is poised to become a comedy smash, I took it upon myself to direct the remaining portions to this show’s opening theme. And with my comedic genius, I will do everything within my power to ensure that this opening will be memorable and, most importantly, fun-”

But the pompous director was interrupted when a trio of toon siblings bounced into the building. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner stepped in time as they bounded near the sound stage. “Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!” They chorused.

The siblings then leaped onto Mr. Director, who started to panic as the zany children demolished his boundaries.

“Hey there, sweetheart!” Yakko teased with a sly smile before giving him a comedic smooch on the cheek.

But Mr. Director was not having any of it. “Enough with the kissing, and the hugging, and the teasing!” He whined in an obnoxious, nasally voice.

The toons wordlessly hopped off of him and made their way to the set. As they scanned the wide and colorful cast, they immediately set their sights on the rodent duo they recently befriended. The children bounded over towards Pinky and Brain and dug their heels into the ground as they screeched to a grinding halt.

“Hi!!!” The Warners greeted the mice.

“Hello, children!” Pinky exclaimed with a wave.

“‘Sup?” Brain muttered sardonically as he dug his hand into his fur pocket.

“Thanks for taking us to McDonald’s the other day,” Wakko mentioned as he pulled out his little toy truck from his hammerspace. “Now I get to play with my Happy Meal Toy all day long!”

Mr. Director quickly took attendance of all the cast members to be featured in the grand finale. He then gave a sharp whistle, alerting everyone in the room.

“Alright, almost everyone is here. But the only two people missing are Slappy and Skippy Squirrel.”

“Present!” A rough voice barked.

Everyone turned to see a grey squirrel with a green cap guiding a younger brown squirrel into the sound stage. The elderly squirrel wore a sour frown as she led her nephew to the sound stage.

But Mr. Director stopped the squirrels. “And where have you been?”

“Stuck in traffic.” The geriatric squirrel spat.

“Sorry, sir,” The younger squirrel mentioned. “My aunt Slappy is a bit cranky.”

“Cranky? I need you to be funny!” Mr. Director chastised. “And on top of that, I can’t work with toons who don’t show up on time or aren’t funny!”

But the director felt the blunt force of the squirrel’s green purse as it hammered his head, causing him to shout “Flauvein!” in his nasal tone.

Slappy grinned as she turned her attention to her impressionable nephew. “Now you see, Skippy, you should always take a purse with you whenever you leave the house.” She advised while she opened up her green bag. “That way, you can easily carry your most valued possessions around wherever you go. Such as your money, your car keys, and your heavy cinder block!”

Skippy quickly took out his crayon and notebook from his hammerspace, flipping through the pages until he reached a blank page, which happened to be the second to last page. As the squirrel jotted down the important lesson, he was unaware that his sage aunt was observing her pupil writing down her advice.

Slappy looked over her nephew’s shoulder and was quite impressed with the nearly full notebook. “You got a lot of notes there, huh kiddo?”

“Well, I do have a good teacher!” Skippy complimented with a smile. Slappy let out a small snort before playfully ruffling Skippy’s hair.

Once he gathered his bearings, Mr. Director proceeded to get the shoot over and done with before he received any more comical amounts of pain. “Alright, places people!” He shouted in his nasal voice.

The mice tried to find their place. Brain knew that the Warners were supposed to take center stage since they were the main stars. The smaller mouse scanned the area for possible spots for Pinky and himself. He settled on standing behind Wakko and ahead of the two squirrels. He tugged Pinky to the desired spot and waited for the director to give out their cue.

“And action!” Mr. Director commanded.

Pinky and Brain followed their cues as they raised their arms in the air alongside their co-workers.

“We’re Animaney! Totally Insane-”

“Cut!” The director yelled. He stood up from his director’s chair and began to chastise the many actors. “Wakko, stop sticking your tongue out! Hippos, you need to switch places with Ralph and Chicken Boo. Goodfeathers, I need more feeling from you three! And where on earth are Pinky and The Brain?”

The other cast members murmured amongst themselves as they did what they were told. Many of them scanned around the room in the hopes of finding their diminutive co-stars.

Brain let out an exasperated sigh. It was moments like this that he wished he was of human stature. Pinky looked over to his frustrated roommate and softly patted his head.

Unbeknownst to the mice, Slappy looked down to find the pair of white mice standing in front of her. The elderly squirrel let out a groan as she bent down. She scooped up the two mice in her hands and lifted them for all to see.

“Found ‘em!” She gruffly called out.

The squirrel stared at the two white mice in her hands. The tall lanky one gazed in shock with his big blue eyes. The smaller, and much chubbier, mouse crossed his arms and furrowed his brows as he gave a menacing stare with his pink eyes.

Despite Brain’s serious demeanor, Slappy couldn’t help but smirk at the adorable display. “You’re not a morning person either, I take it?” She humored.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Brain replied. “And I greatly dislike being touched without permission.”

The squirrel was admittedly surprised by how such a small mouse could have a deep voice. But she could sympathize with his complaints. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Pinky, on the other hand, was trying his hardest to contain his excitement. One of the Looney Tunes was holding him and Brain in her hands!

Slappy noticed Pinky’s heavy breathing and tilted her head in mild concern. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m Pinky!” He blurted out.

Brain rubbed his temples as he felt the wave of secondhand embarrassment course through him.

But Mr. Director noticed the way the squirrel held the mice and was immediately inspired.

“That’s perfect!” He bellowed from the director’s chair, catching everyone’s attention. “Slappy, keep holding the mice just like so! Not only will the mice be visible to the viewers, but it greatly symbolizes the passing of the torch, with you, the elderly toon, raising the eager newcomers! Oh, I am such a genius!”

Slappy and Brain looked at each other with incredulous expressions. This pretentious director was trying to find meaning in every pose. But Pinky did not seem to mind.

Fortunately, the rest of the filming went off without issue, as the mice followed their cues along with the rest of the cast. Pinky couldn’t shake off the excitement of being held by one of his favorite cartoon stars. Brain, on the other hand, secretly liked being lifted in a way that showcased his importance.

Once filming wrapped, Slappy placed the mice back on the ground, but not without feeling a shot of pain course through her hip.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asked worriedly.

“Eh, it’s nothin’ to worry about.” The elderly squirrel dismissed.

Pinky suddenly became nervous again. He wanted to ask the squirrel to sign his scrapbook, but he was afraid of getting rejected.

Brain noticed Pinky’s apprehension and deduced that it had something to do with obtaining another autograph in his precious scrapbook. So he decided to motivate his friend to gather his courage the best way he knew how.

“Oh, just ask her already!” Brain barked with an annoyed frown.

Pinky obeyed Brain’s command and decided to take a leap of faith. “Poit! Oh, um, Slappy? May I please have your autograph for my scrapbook?” He shyly asked.

Slappy cocked her brow up in interest but decided to oblige the humble request. “Yeah, sure.” She replied while taking out a pen from her purse. “It’s been a while since anyone asked, but I aim to please my fans.”

Pinky smiled as he handed her his scrapbook. Slappy opened up the book and flipped through the pages. Skippy peered over her shoulder, wanting to take a gander at the scrapbook. The first page featured a colored photograph of the mice standing in a meeting room posing with the show’s executive producer. She flipped through the pages to find snapshots of the mice working on set, pictures of their co-stars, and various crew members. The latter half of the scrapbook was filled with autographs from various Looney Tunes and Hanna Barbera stars. She found a blank page and decided to write her name in big bold letters.

Pinky also noted Skippy’s interest and thought up a fun-fun, silly-willy idea. “Oh, you can also sign my scrapbook too if you’d like! Troz!”

Skippy was stunned. Someone wanted to have his autograph?! Even though he was young, he was aware of his aunt’s legacy in show business and had some doubts that he might never live up to her expectations. But with the humble request of his co-star, he began to feel hopeful that he might be seen as an equal.

Slappy happily handed the scrapbook and pen to her nephew. “Go at it, Skippy!”

Skippy signed his name underneath his aunt’s signature before passing the book back to the jolly mouse.

“Wow, my very first fan…” Skippy exhaled.

“Try not to let the fame get to your head, kiddo.” Slappy teased as she patted his head.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Pinky said excitedly, hugging the scrapbook close to his chest.

Slappy looked at the two mice and smiled. Feeling less cranky than she was when she arrived at the studio, she decided that it would be best to get to know her co-workers more. “Why don’t you two come with us,” The squirrel offered. “Speedy Gonzalez is supposed to be joining me for lunch, and I think he would get a kick out of meeting some up-and-coming rodent toons.”

Brain then felt the need to correct the misinformed toon veteran. “Actually, Pinky and I are genetically altered lab mice who were mistaken to be toons by the studio executives and only accepted this job so we could take over the world by gaining the love and adoration of the impressionable children and their parents.”

Slappy stared at the mice with incredulous eyes. While the mice appeared to be quite animated, she could buy that they were, in fact, actual lab mice. She also noted that he was equally honest about his acting career. “So you’re serious about getting into the business?” She questioned. The Brain stared at her as she did not immediately dismiss his claim in jest, but gave her an affirmative nod to her inquiry.

“You got a lot of gumption, I’ll give ya that,” Slappy said in earnest. “But I’ll show ya the ropes if you really wanna stand out.”

“But I already have jump ropes back at the lab,” Pinky explained. Brain shook his head at his roommate’s inane response and swiftly bopped him on top of his head. Pinky guffawed as he saw the colorful stars swirl around his head.

Skippy laughed at the mice’s antics. The bubbly giggle reached Slappy’s ears and she promptly looked over at her nephew. While Skippy was an impressionable kid, he was particularly picky when it came to entertainment. She learned the hard way that classic animated tearjerkers were a big no-no unless she wanted to sacrifice most of her bank account to pay for his therapy sessions. And it was hard to find a decent cartoon nowadays that wasn’t based on a preexisting IP or a shameless thirty-minute toy commercial. But clearly, these two rodents seemed to have as much chemistry as Laurel and Hardy.

Slappy looked over at her nephew once more before turning back to the mice. The elderly toon let out an amused snort. “You two have comedic potential.”

As the rodents were about to leave the set, they heard an audible cough coming from Mr. Director. The pretentious filmmaker stopped the group in their tracks. He was not ready to let them leave so soon. “Now, may I have a word with Pinky?”

“Only if they have a vowel,” Pinky replied with a serious nod.

“Great! Now Pinky, sweetheart, your performance was swell, but we need to improve your overall image.” The director critiqued. “Now you’re a funny little guy, but you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’, but funny ‘ho-ho’, and the reason you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’ is because of your buck teeth. No one wants to watch a cartoon character with buck teeth. A cartoon character with big feet, absolutely! But not with buck teeth, oh no. Fortunately, I know a handful of dentists who would love to fix your teeth, for a reasonable price of course.”

Pinky’s happy grin slowly transformed into a dismayed frown as he took in the criticisms the director hurled at him. He pressed his fingers against his overbite with concern, unaware of the fact that Skippy was also starting to feel insecure about his front teeth. Was he not a pretty mouse?

“Do you mean to say that I’m….ugly?” Pinky sadly asked, trying his best to fight back the oncoming tears.

“Well, objectively speaking, yes.” Mr. Director replied flatly.

Pinky whimpered as the tears flowed down his face. While he knew that ugly people can be beautiful in their own way, it still hurt to be on the receiving end of such mean words. Screwing his eyes shut, he clutched his tail as he started to cry his heart out.

Brain felt his heart go out to poor Pinky. But then his flaming fury began to take hold. Brain balled his paws into fists as he growled at the superficial filmmaker. No one, not even himself, could insult Pinky’s outward appearance.

“How dare you make my friend cry, you hack!” Brain snapped at the director. “Pinky is a beautiful and charming-looking soul, both on the inside and on the outside, and I do not take kindly to anyone who dares to mock his appearance! Especially from Jerry Lewis look-alikes!”

Mr. Director gasped in shock. “No you listen here, you son of a-”

But Slappy silently intervened, swinging around her green purse while wearing an indignant frown.

“Or maybe, let’s not with the hitting, and the smashing of the head with the purse.” He drawled in his nasal voice as he cowered away to the side.

“Well, if you insist.” Slappy cooly replied before hitting the director’s gut with her purse. The director let out a cry of pain as he clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.

Slappy smirked as she placed the purse across her shoulder, glad to have pushed the director off of his high horse. She looked over at her new companions, as Pinky scooped Brain up into a tight hug.

“Oh thank you, Brain!” Pinky cheered.

Brain instinctively kicked his tiny feet as his taller friend nuzzled his cheek. “You’re welcome Pinky,” He replied as he tried his hardest to keep his composure. “Now please put me down.”

Pinky immediately respected Brain’s wishes and carefully placed him back on the ground.

Much to Slappy’s surprise, Skippy stepped forward to speak to the mice. “Pinky, I think you look fine just the way you are!”

Pinky blushed lightly at the compliment. “Zort! Oh, you’re far too kind!”

“And Brain, you did a very good thing by standing up to that jerk.” Skippy praised. “Pinky must be lucky to have a nice friend like you.” ”

Brain felt himself smiling at the sincere compliment. But the smile vanished when he remembered that he had a serious image to maintain. “I am many things, the young squirrel,” Brain addressed, but his mind started to blank. “whose name I do not know at the moment.”

“Skippy!” The young squirrel happily responded.

“Right.” Brain agreed. “I am many things, Skippy Squirrel. A mouse of superior intellect, a future world leader, and an up and coming rhythmic gymnastics athlete.” He listed off his attributes with his fingers. “But with that said, I am not nice.”

“Oh, yes you are, Brain!” Pinky playfully teased as he squished his friend’s chubby cheeks.

Brain merely crossed his arms and shot an indignant glare. “Cease your prodding, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you!” He bitterly commanded, and the taller mouse sheepishly hid his hands behind his back.

“Now that’s comedy!” Slappy chuckled at their antics. She could easily find herself watching a whole sitcom starring these two goobers. While the mice didn’t seem to be the ‘bomb-and-anvil’ types (the superior school of comedy in her book), they more than made up for it with their humorous banter and contrasting personalities.

The shorter mouse then turned his attention to the geriatric squirrel. “Of course, your aunt did most of the heavy lifting, so to speak, by standing up for us. And, as I’m loath to admit it, I am in your debt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Slappy dismissed as she waved her hand down. “So are you two comin’ to lunch with us or what?”

“Count me in!” Pinky cheered.

“Yes.” Brain agreed.

Skippy knelt on one knee and extended an open hand in front of the mice. “Can I pick you up?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Brain allowed, deducing that they would reach the commissary faster by hitching a ride on the young squirrel as opposed to walking on foot.

“Oh, goodie! We’re going on a ride! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed as the younger squirrel lifted him and his best friend off the ground.

Slappy smiled at her shorter co-stars as the group started on their merry way. “I have the feelin’ that this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

- - - - - -

The truck came to a stop, bringing Brain back to the present. Picking up a small bent paper clip, he trotted over towards the cage door and picked the lock. As he swung the door open, Wakko turned the cage around and allowed the mice to hop into his hands before placing them on top of his hat. The rodents stared out the window to see the sun dipping low over the park. As the Warners and the mice hopped out of the car, Skippy quickly paid the parking meter before joining the group.

“Poit! Hey Brain, do you think it would be best if we released the mice here?” Pinky asked as he wrung his paws together.

Brain took a moment to think about it and realized that Pinky had a point. He remembered seeing the frightened expressions of the field mice as they were ripped apart from their home in the wild. It would only be fair to return them to their home.

“You’re right, Pinky.” Brain commended his partner, gently taking his paw into his own.

The toons overheard the conversation and were quick to act. “We’re way ahead of you!” Yakko affirmed as he started to unload the truck bed.

“Now, the only thing I need to do is find the suit.” Brain mentioned.

“It’s over there, Dadoo!” Wakko alerted, pointing a finger over towards a largely abandoned suit in the middle of the park.

“I can help free the others while you go fetch your giant suit! Narf!” Pinky told him before hopping off Wakko’s hat and falling to the grass.

“I’ll help you get it!” Wakko declared as he broke out into a sprint. Brain steadied himself in the middle sibling’s hold as he ran across the field.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy retrieved all the cages that housed the various mice. Pinky stared at his fellow rodents. He recognized some from the various experiments, from the maze runs to the makeup tests. The other mice started to claw anxiously at the glass upon recognizing their domain. Pinky hoped that the mice that were captured earlier could be reunited with their families while his familiar companions could find better lives with their fellow rodents in the field.

“Let the mice run free!” Pinky declared.

The toons and the squirrel opened up the lids and placed the cages sideways, allowing the mice to escape. Pinky smiled as he watched the mice scatter across the field, many of which were getting reacquainted with the softness of the green grass. Many of the former lab residents instinctively followed the field mice. Pinky blinked away the tears of joy that formed. He prayed that the mice would have happier days ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Wakko managed to reach the suit without any issue. Brain was thankful that the suit was right where he left it.

Wakko lowered their hands to the ground to let Brain down. The mouse hopped off and ran towards the right side of the suit, noticing the wallet was still snug within the pant pocket. Brain was relieved that no one had pilfered the suit for any valuables. The mouse reached into the pocket and used every ounce of his strength to retrieve the wallet. Pinky sprinted towards his beau’s side and helped him pull the wallet out. With a tug, the mice successfully fished out the wallet, which opened up. Brain looked to see the familiar glow of the company credit card and breathed a sigh of relief. He no longer had to fear the CEO’s wrath.

At that moment, Yakko, Dot, and Skippy reunited with the group as Dot carried Pinky on top of her head. The golden light coming from the wallet indicated that the card was still there and the mice no longer had to worry about losing their acting jobs.

Brain decided to check the engines to make sure that the suit was still fully functional. Opening up the right shoe, he entered the metallic footwear, climbed up the leg, and hopped in the pilot’s seat. Pinky hopped off of Dot, anxiously waiting for Brain’s giant head to pop up at the top. Meanwhile, Brain pulled the lever and the seat rose to the very top.

The others looked at the head hole with bated breath until Brain’s large cranium popped out.

“Honey, I’m home!” Brain drawled in a near-monotone voice.

While Brain moved the suit back on its feet, Pinky clutched his stomach as he laughed. “Oh, that’s a funny joke, Brain! Narf!”

“I’m not devoid of humor.” Brain replied as he picked Pinky up and placed him in the front pocket.

The Warners reached into their hammerspaces and pulled out their bingo cards, which were filled with various callbacks from the original Animaniacs. Yakko quickly placed a stamp over the ‘References to Win Big’ block. “Bingo!” The eldest Warner shouted as he proudly waved his bingo sheet, causing Wakko and Dot to groan in defeat.

Skippy pulled out his smartphone and decided to move forward with the final phase of the plan. He went to his contacts to search for his aunt’s name. Once he found her name, he pressed the green call button and pressed the phone to the side of his head.

After a moment, he heard his aunt’s cantankerous voice. “Hello,”

“Hey Aunt Slappy,” Skippy casually replied. “Just wanna give you the heads up that the lab is now abandoned and everyone’s safe. The ball is in your court now.”

“Lemme tell ya, it’s great to be back in business!” Slappy remarked from inside her secret hideout. The geriatric rodent reclined in her seat as she operated the control panel, no doubt eager for the signal to open fire on the lab.

“Right now we’re at the park getting Brain’s mechanical human suit,” Skippy informed her. “We’ll be back in about five minutes or so.”

“Say, why don’t you kids stay at the park for a few more minutes?” Slappy asked as she geared up the missiles from her control panel. “I’ll make sure to give you kids a little fireworks show as a treat!”

“Sounds like fun.” Skippy chirped. “And you can fire when ready.”

“Oh I’m always ready,” Slappy confidently announced before ending the phone call.

Skippy put his phone away and turned around to face the others. “My aunt’s gonna put on a little fireworks show.” He mentioned.

“Ooh, fireworks!” Pinky exclaimed.

Wakko eagerly climbed up the suit and perched himself on top of Brain’s shoulders. “And I get to have the best seat in the house!”

“No fair! You got to sit on top of him last time!” Dot argued as she climbed up the suit. “Daddy, tell Wakko to move!”

“Now cease your squabbling, children!” Brain commanded. “You can both sit on my shoulders as long as you two apologize.”

Dot took the big-headed mouse’s words to heart. “Wakko, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“And I’m sorry for hogging the seat,” Wakko replied.

“Aww, it’s so nice to see you kids get along.” Pinky cooed as he felt Yakko pluck him from the suit pocket.

Suddenly, a wave of missiles flew over their heads and proceeded to descend towards the infamous laboratory that sat underneath the suspension bridge. Within seconds, a loud explosion could be heard from miles away as the laboratory was reduced to rubble.

Suddenly, a few fireworks launched into the air, decorating the sky with glittering colored lights.

Skippy held out his smartphone, filming the whole spectacle to show to his aunt later.

Wakko and Dot cheered at the sparkling display, and Brain couldn’t help but smile at the two toon children perched on his shoulders. He looked past Wakko to see Pinky contently sitting in Yakko’s hands, and watching the colored lights reflected from his soft blue eyes.

Yakko let out a peaceful sigh. After pulling off a daring rescue, it was nice to be reunited with his loved ones once more. And the surprise fireworks show was a nice way to cap off an eventful day. He looked up at his siblings, happy to see them have the time of their lives and fawning over Brain. Yakko took another glance at Pinky. To his surprise, the mouse looked up at Yakko and gave him a friendly smile. There was so much affection stored in Pinky’s face that it would be a crime not to smile back.

“Are you enjoying the pretty fireworks, love?” Pinky asked the teen.

“Oh absolutely!” Yakko replied with a smile.

Pinky eagerly clapped his paws together. “Zort! Well, it makes me happy that you’re happy!”

With that, the lanky mouse smiled at the toon once more before turning his attention back to the bright lights that decorated the night sky.

“I could get used to this,” Yakko thought to himself.

Brain continued to admire the fireworks when he heard a small metallic sound coming from his side. He peered over his shoulder to find Yakko resting his head against the mechanical suit’s chest. The wholesome sight humbled Brain. Yakko had been forced to be the parental figure for his younger siblings for far too long, so it was nice to see him act like a regular kid. But it deeply moved Brain to learn that Yakko now trusted him and Pinky to be his parental figures.

So Brain decided it was best to return the affection. With deft hands, he swiftly moved the lever to guide the right hand on top of Yakko’s head and proceeded to gently ruffle his hair.

They all watched the night sky as one last firework exploded, showering the dark canvas with glittering green lights. The sparkling lights spelled out the phrase “Now That’s Comedy!”

The Warners clapped at the fireworks display. Brain looked over at Pinky, who was in awe of the dazzling green lights. He looked over at the fireworks and let out a small chuckle. “The old dame’s still got it.”

Hello!

Firstly, I want to apologize for not updating this story sooner. I have had a lot of things going on in my personal life, one of which is a passion project I am excited to share with you all. I and my friend Mitchekie have put together an unofficial Pinky and The Brain podcast called Poitcast, which is set to premiere in July. We've already recorded two episodes and it's been a wonderful labor of love and I hope that you can take the time to listen to the pilot episode when it drops.

The main reason why this chapter took much longer to write because I wanted to come up with a creative idea for the rescue mission. After some brainstorming, I decided to incorporate Slappy and Skippy into the story. Both characters were a lot of fun to write for and they'll appear again in the next chapter.

Fortunately, there are only two chapters left and they are significantly shorter. The next chapter is halfway done and the last chapter is a brief epilogue, so the hiatuses will not be as long.

I want to thank Mitchekie for beta-reading this chapter.

And finally, I want to thank you, dear reader, for sticking with this story and being patient in between chapters. I love writing this story and I am glad that this story has received a lot of love.

Please leave a kudos or a review if you can! Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #slappy squirrel #skippy squirrel

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buckleysjareau · 3 years

Text

maddie and evan against the world

this is something i wrote for buckley siblings week that i never ended up posting, but i’ve been in a writing slump lately but i want to post something so here’s some sad pre-canon buckley siblings!

trigger warnings; implied/referenced domestic abuse, suicidal thoughts, description of a depressive episode, mentions of child death... i think that’s it, if i missed anything let me know!

Growing up, Maddie had mastered the art of doing everything quietly. Sneaking in, sneaking out, standing outside her parents’ door as they fought over the bills and how are we going to pay for this IVF, Margaret?

Quiet crying, quiet talking, quiet everything.

It’s a skill that comes in handy once she’s out of the house, carries her through nursing school and Doug’s accusations of cheating when her shift runs late and she’s not home at the exact minute Doug expects her to be home. It carried her all the way back to Hershey where if she even made the slightest sound, she’d end up with bruises scattered in places he knew were easy coverage.

She had to be quiet to survive her parents, but she has to be absolutely silent to survive her husband.

Her body aches and her eyes burn as she stiffly lays beside her husband, silently crying as the last two hours replay in her head. Doug’s hand tightening little by little around her neck the angrier he got, screams of rage echoing around the room that she didn’t put away the corkscrew.

You never learn! It’s not my job to clean up after you, Maddie. That’s the woman’s job. Do you see what you make me do to you? I don’t want to hurt you, Maddie, but you never learn.

Her phone lighting up on her bedside table—set to silent, thank god—pulls her out of her own head.

Evan’s smiling face is staring right back at her and it causes more tears to fall before she squints to read the time. Why was her brother calling her at two in the morning? Her heart drops to her stomach as she thinks the worst.

Evan

Missed call

Evan

Voicemail

Swallowing the fear in the form of a lump in her throat, she glances at Doug, counts his breaths to make sure he’s in a deep sleep and slips out of bed without making too much movement. She grabs her phone, makes sure to avoid the part of their bedroom floor that creaks and lets out a sigh of relief once she’s made it to the bathroom.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting of his voicemail but she’s not even two seconds into listening to it and her heart breaks at the gut wrenching sob he lets out.

“I need you,” Evan all but pleads. “I can’t–I can’t do it anymore. Everything is too much and I’m not enough, and I miss you, Maddie, I miss you. I need you, Mads. I–I wish I wasn’t alive. It’s all too much.”

Maddie has to put her arm over mouth to stifle the sob that’s ripped from her throat. She tenses, scared the noise would wake Doug up. Once she’s in the clear, she opens her texts and sends up a thank you to whatever higher power there is that Evan still has his location on.

I’m on my way.

She sends out the text and starts her descent down the stairs, walking on her tiptoes to make sure she doesn’t get busted before she has the chance to get to her brother.

She slides on a random pair of shoes by the door, grabs the keys to her Jeep, and before she knows it she’s on the road, following the directions given from Find My iPhone.

I can’t–I can’t do it anymore.

I need you, Mads.

I–I wish I wasn’t alive.

Everything is too much and I’m not enough.

The voicemail keeps replaying in her head and the guilt of ever leaving him grabs a hold of her throat and she can’t breathe through it.

He has to be okay. He’s going to be okay. She’s gonna be there for him like she should have been before.

It’s snowing when she reaches Penn State. In itself, it’s not a shock that it’s snowing in Central Pennsylvania in the middle of December. What is a shock, though, is that her brother is out in the middle of it in only basketball shorts and a Penn State hoodie.

“Evan!” Maddie shouts once she’s parked and out of her car.

Evan spins around at the sound of her voice and the way his face just crumbles is something she would probably never forget.

“You came.” He chokes on a sob, seemingly desperate to maintain some level of okay but it’s plain to see, he was anything but.

Maddie does nothing to stop the tears that steadily stream down her face. Instead, she reaches up to cup her brother’s face and wipes away a few tears that fall. “I’ll always come when you need me.”

The invisible thread that seemed to be holding her brother together and upright breaks from the power of the storm raging inside of him and he collapses into her arms and falls apart.

Her brother has definitely grown since the last time he’d fallen apart in her arms when he was fourteen and terrified of his sexuality. She tries to hold him up and comfort him for as long as she can but the bruises on her back ache and she can only carry so much of his weight.

She clears her throat and fights back a wince. “Hey Ev, why don’t we get in the Jeep, out of this cold, yeah? You’ll feel better in the heat.”

Hiccuping and borderline hyperventilating, Evan can only nod.

The second Evan is in the passenger’s seat, he pulls his legs up close to his chest and rests his head on his knees. He looks small, which is not an adjective Maddie would use on her brother nowadays given his 6’2 frame and the muscles he gained as Quarterback.

Maddie gives herself a minute to calm down before she drives the four miles to the twenty-four hour diner her parents had taken her to eat after she toured Penn State ten years before.

“C’mon, let’s get you some chamomile tea and some food in you.”

Evan sniffles and Maddie is reminded of her five year old brother learning how to ride a bike. Daniel’s bike, she can’t help the heartbroken feeling in her chest at the thought of her older brother she never got to mourn.

Once they’re seated with hot beverages to keep them warm—and in Evan’s case, calm— Maddie breaks the silence.

“What’s going on, Evan? What happened?” She asks, resting her hand on top of his.

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he fidgets with the utensils on the table and rolls up the paper from the straws. Maddie doesn’t rush him, she knows not to. She knows he’ll talk on his own time.

“I–Maddie, I’m not–”

“Take your time.”

Evan meets her eyes, closes his own and then looks down. “I’m not okay, Mads. I haven’t been for a long time a–and it’s gotten so bad I can’t get myself out of bed. I’m on academic probation, if I can’t get my grades up–” Evan’s voice cracks and so does Maddie’s heart. “I’m gonna get kicked out of school, and I–I don’t– I can’t face mom and dad if that happens and I try, Mads, I try so hard to get myself together again but I feel like my body isn’t attached to itself a lot, and I lose time, and I’m just a waste of space anyway– fuck, I want to die, I don’t want to be alive right now and I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

Maddie is on his side of the booth and instantly pulls him in. Evan lays his head on her shoulder as Maddie runs her hand through his unruly curls much like she used to when Buck was young and tiny. The position is a bit awkward but neither want to leave the comfort of each other’s arms long enough to adjust their positions.

“It’s okay, Ev, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll figure it out together, I promise. We’ll get you help.”

Evan lets out a sound Maddie could only describe as wail. His whole body is shaking with the force of his cries but, without lifting his head or moving anything else, he holds out his pinky.

Maddie half laughs, half cries and links it with his.

Maddie and Evan against the world.

Ten years later, when Chimney shakes her awake and tells her Buck needs her after receiving a similar call, she doesn’t have to worry about walking on eggshells just to be there for her brother.

Ten years later, when Buck hits that low point and feels like he has no one, Maddie is there to show him that’s not true. He had her. She had him.

They always had each other.

#evan buckley #maddie buckley #the buckley siblings #my writing #my fics #911 #911 on fox #tw domestic abuse #tw suicide

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tweedlydumbtweedlydoo · 4 years

Text

Seattle Grace | Drew Starkey x reader

Requested by anon // Summary: Grey’s Anatomy characters x obx actors cross over. You’re a doctor and starting your internship at Seattle Grace Hospital. You and Drew have a fight about you working too much and the argument ends in breaking things off.

A/N: apologies for any mistakes, did not proof read because I wanted to get this out. I actually really enjoyed writing this! Hope you guys like this little crossover

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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Requests: OPEN {CLOSED}

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY PHOTO

“You work too much!” Drew shouts. You’d started your internship at Seattle Grace Hospital, your dream hospital. However, your boyfriend Drew, wasn’t a fan about your work schedule. He’d be moving back out to South Carolina for the summer while filming Outer Banks season 2 and found out your hours only increased during the summer months, which meant you wouldn’t be coming out to visit him like you’ve been doing.

“It’s an internship, Drew! What did you expect? Me to be able to pick my hours?!” You argue back, throwing your hands up in frustration as you two argue in the middle of your shared bedroom. “It’s either I work the hours they give me, or I lose the internship! There’s no picking and choosing!”

“I never see you anymore, y/n. You work all hours of the day and when you do arrive home, you’re exhausted and want to sleep the rest of the night or day away.”

Before you can answer him, your phone rings on the bed. Drew laughs half-heartedly when he sees the name and photo pop up on the screen and runs his hands over his face, “of course he’d fucking be calling you!”

You reach over the bed and grab your phone.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you two are screwing behind my back!”

“Oh, fuck you Drew! You know Alex and I are just friends! We’ve been friends since the start of college!” You turn and face him, your phone going off once more.

“If you answer that phone, we’re done.” Drew points to your phone.

You look at him like he’s crazy, “You’re not serious.” You breath out. The phone stops ringing but Alex rings you once more.

“I’m dead serious, y/n.”

“Drew, I have to answer this. He’s on shift at the hospital tonight. Something could have gone wrong.”

“Fine.” He runs a hand over his hair, “answer “your fucking person.””

You take a shakey breath and answer the phone, “Hello?” You glance up at Drew, listening to Alex. “Okay… yeah…. I didn’t hear it… I know… okay… bye.” You hang up and head for your closet, “I have to go.”

Drew shakes his head, “Yeah, alright. Of course you do. Can’t even get through a conversation without you rushing off to Alex.”

You pull your scrubs from the closet, “Drew, there’s been a horrible accident in the city and the hospital is understaffed. I have to go.” You toss your scrubs in your bag and throw it over your shoulder, heading for the front door, Drew following close behind.

“I won’t be here when you get home.” He calls out to you, “I won’t do this anymore.”

Your hand stops on the doorknob and glance back over your shoulder at Drew. He’d been with you through it all. He’d pushed you to become a doctor, to follow your dreams and now he was giving you an ultimatum, him or your career. Your dream career, your dream job; something you’d busted your ass for. You’d never give up that for a man. You’d worked too damn hard.

You throw open the door and step out, letting it slam shut behind you and walked your way to the hospital.

After a 24 hour shift, you’d arrived home to an empty house. Drew’s belongings were gone, along with him. You closed the door and broke down into tears. You didn’t know if it was from exhaustion or the fact your long time boyfriend had broken things off.

You slowly slid down the wall and your butt hit the floor with a thump. You don’t how long you’d been sitting in the floor, but a knock on the door stirred you. You sniffled, “Who is it?”

“It’s Alex and Lexie…”

“We have Chinese and wine.”

Without even standing you open the door and see their head peek in. As soon as they see your state, Lexie takes the food and wine to the kitchen.

“How long have you been here for?” Alex says bending to your level.

You give a small shrug.

He scrunches his nose, “Seems like since you got home.” He lets out a chuckle, “You smell like shit.”

You laugh a little but it then turns into a sob. “He left… he left.”

Alex sighs and sits next to you, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to his chest, “It’s okay… he didn’t deserve you.” His hand rubs your back as you sob into his chest.

Lexi comes back and sits on the other side of you, leaning her head on your shoulder/arm, taking your hand in hers, “It’s gonna be okay… you’re going to be okay.”

“You got us.” Alex says, “We’ll be here for you.”

~ months later~

Time passed and you still hadn’t heard anything from Drew. However, you of course saw fan photos of him out in South Carolina, whether it be with the rest of the cast or by himself. You hadn’t spoken to any of the cast members since everything happened, which sucked because you were close to Rudy and Madison, but that’s what happens when a couple breaks up.

Drew sits on the couch next to Austin as Chase is flipping through channels. Maddie and Madison are watching tiktoks and Rudy and JD are fixing them something to eat in the kitchen. Drew wasn’t necessarily paying attention to what was on the TV when something caught his eye as Chase changed the channel. “Wait, Chase go back.”

Chase flips the channel back and it’s as if Drew’s whole world fell before his feet. There on the news channel was the hospital, the hospital you are interning at in flames. “SEATLE GRACE IN FLAMES….. 10 DEAD & MULTIPLE INJURED” Drew slowly shifts to the edge of the couch watching in shock, the rest of the cast following when they realize what’s on TV.

“Isn’t that…” Maddie begins.

“where y/n is interning.” He quickly stands and pulls his phone out, dialing your number, but it went straight to voicemail. “She’s not answering.”

Madison slowly rises from the couch, “Drew, I’m sure it’s okay. I’m sure she’s okay. She’s not allowed to have her phone and I’m sure it’s off.”

He begins to pace, dialing your number and once again it goes to voicemail. “What if she’s dead? What if…” His eyes are panicked as he looks on at his friends, “The last thing I said to her was I-I…” His hands run through his hair, “I don’t remember the last thing I said to her.” What if he’d never be able to make things right with you? Tell you how much of an idiot he was? That he still loved you?

Madison grabs Drew’s arm to stop his pacing, “Freaking out isn’t going to help. Why don’t you call her parents? See if they’ve heard from her? You can’t assume the worst Drew.”

Drew called your family, who hadn’t heard from you either and couldn’t get in touch. Drew finally made the decision to hop on a plane and fly out there for you. The cast following as well. ~

It had all happened so quickly. You and Alex were on your way to the cafeteria for lunch and the ground below you had shook. Then the ceiling began to fall, screams and dust everywhere. You called out to Alex, coughing and could hear him calling your name. You went to take a step and that’s when the floor below you gave out.

Alex was sitting at your bedside when Drew had come rushing in. He stood from his seat, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Drew looked over at Alex then back at your body laying in the hospital bed. You had a few cuts on your head and arms. “I saw it on the news… and headed straight here.”

“She wouldn’t want you here.” Alex points out the door, “Get out.”

“What are you her boss? How do you know what she would want?”

“Because you left her and you don’t deserve to be here.” Alex steps toward Drew so they’re chest to chest.

“There’s too much testosterone in this room.” You squeak out, coughing.

Alex turned around, grabbing the water and putting the straw to your lips. “Of course you’d have a sarcastic remark…”

Drew moves around your bed to the other side and you took in the man you hadn’t seen for months. The man who broke your heart.

“I told him to get out but the punk wouldn’t listen.” Alex mutters from your bedside.

“I had to make sure you were okay.” Drew remarks, “I saw the fire on the news and flew out as soon as I could..”

You took another sip of the water, “You flew out here? What about filming?”

He glances at the door then back at you, “Kinda can’t film if the whole cast is here… plus we’re on a break.”

“Everyone’s here?”

Drew nods, “We were all worried about you. Had to make sure you were okay.”

“Well don’t just leave them standing out there.. tell them to get their asses in here.” You wince, sitting up a little.

“There was a limit on how many in your room…” Drew begins.

You wave him off, “The nurses love me. They won’t say shit.”

Drew walks over to the door and motions the cast in. Madison was the first to make it to you and pulls you into a gentle hug, “We were so worried.”

Everyone stayed in the room for a little while before leaving to give you and Drew time to talk. Alex was reluctant to leave. “He’s a punk that you cried over for months.”

You give his hand a gentle squeeze, “Karev, I promise it’s okay. Go get you a coffee or something.”

He nods and then looks at Drew, narrowing his eyes, and giving him a look before walking out of the room. After the door closes, Drew takes the seat next to you.

“How’s your family doing?” You ask, turning your head to look at him.

“You just got in a horrible accident and you’re asking about my family?” He shakes his head, “You and your caring self… They miss you. Told me I was stupid for breaking things off.”

“They always did love me more..” You tease.

He chuckles and nods, “Yeah.. they really did.”

You reach over and take his hand, “You didn’t have to come out here.”

He peers down at your hand in his. His eyes filling with tears, “I called you and you didn’t answer.” He glimpsed up at you.

Your eyes fill with tears just as you saw his and you lean your head back on the bed, “You know you were the only thing on my mind.. after I fell through the floor. I know you ended things but I never stopped loving you, Drew.” You cast your eyes back to his, “You were what helped me. I just kept remembering little things about you to keep my mind on something else besides the pain.” Your hand reaches up to touch his cheek, “I told myself if I made it through this, I would call you.”

He shakes his head, his other hand taking yours, “I should have called you.. I just knew you’d moved on to some fancy doctor.”

“How could I move on to someone else when my heart was already taken?”

All my works tag list: @blossomreed , @mggstyles , @simonsbluee ,

Rafe Cameron // Drew Starkey taglist: @pm-my-hubbies , @timotaychalabae , @fratboystark , @fangirlvoice

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years

Text

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f) Chapter 2

Author’s Notes: Thank you all for the kind and enthusiastic response to the first chapter. Here’s chapter two for ya’ll. I hope you like it. I have a feeling this series with hit at least ten chapters but that means high word counts so hopefully that isn’t an issue.

AU: Farmhand!AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count:

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Bucky dropped Steve off at the store and then made his way to the address on the napkin. He turned off the highway onto a dirt road. He drove for about three miles or so down the tree lined drive. He took his final turn into an open but very busted gate. The fencing that lined the property was made of wood and was rotting in a few places. He figured that was probably on the list of things he might be doing.

He kept driving and saw that both of the fields on either side of him were overgrown. The fences were covered with saplings, vines and weeds. The fields beyond them were waist high with wheat colored grass and broom straw. He added that to his mental list. This dirt road ran for just over a mile and then he came into view of the house. It was a white two story with a wrap around porch. There was a large slab of old concrete that was being used to park cars. It held an orange tractor-mower, a Burgundy Ford and three electric kids cars. Two were pink and one looked like a little John Deer tractor.

Okay, so kids, that’s fun.

Bucky parked where he wouldn’t be in the way and got out of his truck. Two little girls, no older than ten, ran out of the front door laughing, each carrying their own basket. They didn’t even see Bucky and ran in the opposite direction, disappearing behind the house.

Bucky looked around the yard and saw a third field directly across from the front door. It was about forty yards from the porch but it was lush with greens and scattered bright colors. The field, that was also lined with a worn down fence, was a massive garden.

He could only pick out a few types of plants, though; tomatoes, cabbage, some kind of hanging gourd and (at his best guess) carrots.

A woman stood up from behind a thick patch of greens. Her hair was braided back and she had gardening gloves on. She was wearing a yellow tee-shirt, jeans and black rubber boots. She picked up a basket and started walking towards Bucky.

He slid his hands into his pockets and nodded his head her way. She waved briefly and closed the gate behind her.

Bucky could see her basket was full of freshly harvested radishes.

She reached a hand out, “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

Bucky shook it with another nod. “Bucky. Well, James. James Barnes but call me Bucky.” Bucky cursed in his head.

Y/N smiled. “Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

He froze at her smile. She was stunning. She had dirt on her cheek and a little sweat on her forehead but it only seemed to add to her beauty.

Her brow furrowed and she used a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked out over her property. “So, I need all of the fields cut and the fence lines cleaned. That will all probably take you at least a week. Then I’ll need the front field bailed but I have to rent the machine. And I’m sure you’ve noticed the fences are busted in several spots, we used to have cows, and one of Gavin’s bulls took out a few posts in a fit. And-”

“Wait, I’m sorry.” Bucky jumped in as politely as he could. “So, I have the job?”

“Isn’t that why you came?” She looked a little confused.

“But you don’t even know me.” He said.

Y/N smiled. “You come highly recommended, Sergeant.” She leaned on one leg and rested her basket on her hip.

Bucky ticked his head to the side and then it dawned on him. “Steve called you.”

She nodded once. “He did.” She grinned.

Bucky could have melted from the softness of her smile.

“You can run a field mower, right?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, great. I put the keys on the seat for you.” She said over her shoulder as she began to walk away. “I’ll be in the yellow barn for a bit but if you can’t find me there give me a ring.”

“Will do.” He said to himself as he watched her walk away for a minute. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. He cursed Steve under his breath.

* * * *

Bucky ran the mower for five hours. Somewhere in the middle Y/N called him back to the house for water and lunch but he insisted he only needed the water and that he’d take a bottle to-go if she had it, which she did.

Her property was huge, he guessed at least 250 acres. He didn’t even finish half of the first field. He pulled the Tractor back to where it was parked when he pulled up, then he tried to brush as much of the dust off of him as he could.

He could feel a sunburn on the back of his neck and decided that he’d either need a real hat or something to cover the skin above his collar.

He walked up the front steps and knocked on the door.

He heard little bare feet slapping on hardwood and running his way. The door opened and a little blonde baby was grinning up at him. “Hi!” She beamed.

“Hi,” He smiled back. “Is your mom around?”

“MOMMA!” She shouted.

A faint voice called back, “Comin’, baby!”

Bucky smiled.

The girl grabbed his hand. “I’m Lex. You should come inside. Momma doesn’t like it when the front door is left open.” She tugged on him and he conceded. Lex closed the door and then left him there.

Another girl walked past and when she noticed him her eyes grew wide. She very clearly had no idea who he was.

“Momma,” She started as she backed away.

Y/N appeared from around the corner and her gait faltered when she saw Bucky in the house. She put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders.

“Bucky, who let you in?”

Bucky had clearly crossed a line. He backed up, taking a step towards the door. “I’m sorry, Lex-”

Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, relieved. “Of course, Lex.”

The daughter at Y/N’s side twisted and shouted as she disappeared, “Lex! You can’t just let people in the house!”

“But momma does it!” A faint Lex shouted back.

“Momma is the grown-up, she’s supposed to!”

“Gracie quit yellin’ at your sister!” Y/N turned back to Bucky. “I’m sorry. Kids.” She chuckled.

“I was just about to head out but wanted to know what time you’d like me tomorrow.” He confessed.

“Oh, umm.” She put her hands at her hips. “How about eight? I’ll pay you for a full day's work today but I’d figured that you could work eight to three for the most part. Weather pending, of course.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. Oh! Will you come write down your information so I can pay you?” She waived him over and headed down the hall.

Bucky followed as she turned a corner and ended up in a massive kitchen that spilled into the family room.

“I’ll pay you weekly at twenty two an hour if that works?”

Bucky’s eyes went a bit wide. “Yes, ma’am that works for me.”

She looked over at him as she grabbed a pen and pad from a small basket on the counter. “Stop calling me ‘Ma’am’. Just Y/N is fine.”

He nodded as he wrote down his name and number and address. “Will I get to meet your husband?” he’d meant it innocently.

Y/N turned and said, “He passed a few years ago,” with no tone whatsoever.

Bucky jerked his head up. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

She held a hand up and plastered on that gentle smile. “It’s fine. Really.”

Bucky handed her the pad and pen back.

“So, will a check work?” She asked.

“Sure, that’s fine.” He smiled back. He felt bad for bringing up her dead husband. He also felt bad knowing she had kids. “I appreciate the work.”

“I appreciate the help.”

There was an awkward pause so Bucky tried to fill it, “I’m sorry for coming into the house when I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to scare your daughter.”

“Who, Gracie? Nah, she’s tough. She was probably trying to decide if she was gonna grab a bat.” Y/N chuckled. “Lexie, on the other hand, needs some work on her stranger danger skills. She’s only five but that girl is another kind of fearless.”

Bucky laughed. “Well, hopefully I fall out of the stranger category, now.”

Y/n nodded. “Steve vouched for you so, I’d say you’re good.”

“Did he really call you?”

“He did.”

Bucky shook his head. He made a note to punch Steve real hard.

“I’ve known Steve since before Gavin died. He’s a good man. He mentioned you a lot. I’m glad to finally meet you.”

Y/N met Bucky’s eyes and they stayed like that for a moment.

“Mom! Lex won’t give me my Legos back!” Gracie yelled from up stairs. A smaller scream followed little running footsteps.

Y/N sighed and put a hand to her head. “I should take care of that.”

Bucky jerked from his spot against the counter. “Yeah, yeah. Of course, sorry. I’ll let you get to it.”

“Yeah, thanks.” She followed him to the front door. “Feel free to use whatever you need in the morning. If it’s on the property you can use it or fix it. I’ll have a full list of everything I need done, too. You’re welcome to leave for lunch whenever you’d like or eat up here.”

“Thank you.” He smiled at her as he stepped through the door. “Have a good evening.”

“You, too. Good night, Bucky.”

He jogged down the steps and hopped in his truck. He suddenly got the feeling he was going to love his job.

* * * * * * * * * *

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #reader x bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky romance #bucky barnes fanfic #Redcove Harvest #my fic #iwillbeinmynest #Farmhand! AU #farmhand! Bucky

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rex101111 · 3 years

Note

While Shu is less interesting than Wei, it's got it's perks for Baiken. Zhang Fei is fun to hang around with, and Yue Ying's unmatched cooking skills make being around Zhuge "Just As Planned" Liang worth it (even if he's more humble and loyal than Sima Yi)

But really, the three Oath brothers feel closer to each other than their ideals, which Baiken instantly figures out will spell trouble. The only reason Shu is still standing is because of Zhuge Liang's intelligence and the astonishing feats of Zhao Yun, who despite being the picture of loyalty, is also someone level-headed enough to see reality. His bonkers stunts never fail to entertain Baiken during duels, and despite being exhausted, he never hesitates to accept her challenging him. No wonder everyonecin the Three Kingdons speak highly of him (Even Lu Bu thinks he's a worthy foe!) For a goody-two-shoes, he's not bad. She can't help but compare him to Ky Siske.

* Shu and it's whole obsession with "benevolence" rubs Baiken the wrong way sometimes, but Liu Bei pays as well as she can ask for, and pound for pound Shu has more simply honest folk than the other factions. Top among them is Ying, who drags Baiken to her dinner table every chance she gets to feed the mercenary, who has a reputation of surviving off of mostly booze.

She all smiles, but with an iron edge underneath that keeps Baiken from arguing...and the cooking is good too, so that's a plus. It'd be perfect...if she didn't also have to share a table with Zhuge Liang, and his ever analytical gaze roaming her form.

"...Ying! Your shit-head husband is giving me that creepy look again!"

"Give it a rest dear!" Yue Ying calls over her shoulder from the kitchen, "you promised no strategizing at the table!"

"I'm not strategizing." Zhuge replies, taking another sip of his tea, "I am simply observing."

"Well quit observing." Baiken growls, swirling her own tea cup as she glares at him, "your spoiling my appetite."

Liang nods, taking his gaze off of her to stare deeply into his tea, "...a question." He says mildly, Baiken grumbling but otherwise not snapping at him, "if you were ordered to kill a hundred men by yourself, what would you do?"

"Charge extra for every head 50."

A sip, slow and controlled, "and if you were refused, and told to go anyway?"

"Tell the one who ordered me to shove it."

An eyebrow climbing half an inch, "...are you not under contract? Why would you think you had the right to refuse?"

"Because, Lord Liang." The honorific drips from her like venom, "my signing a contract had not deprived me of my brain, and there is a stark difference between a breach of said contract, and my employer being a fucking idiot."

A smile, subtle as morning due and yet sharp as a knife, "Indeed there is, excellent answer Lady Baiken."

Baiken groans at this, looking at Yue Ying as she comes to the table with a tray of food, "every talk with this guy gives me a fucking headache."

"Of course it does." Ying cheerfully says, "It's part of his charm."

Groaning again, admitting defeat, Baiken chooses to simply be quiet and eat her food. (Almost as good as Jam, almost.)

* She makes a habit of asking for a spar from Yun every day, at least once every few hours, so long as there isn't a battle coming up soon.

He hasn't managed to beat her, but he's getting closer. Every fighter he busts out something new that she has to react to, his youthful energy never once running out.

They're at the end of another spar, the last of the day as the sun is swallowed by the horizon. They're both on the grass, Baiken sitting while Zhao Yun lays on his back, looking straight up.

"Almost got me that time kid," she compliments with a puff of smoke, "that trick you pulled by kicking off the wall was a ballsy one, keep working on it."

"Thank you ma'am." Yun says from the ground, still catching his breath, one of his hands holding a bruise on the side of his chest. "I'll be sure to practice."

She laughs as she shakes her head, "you say that like you don't work your ass off already." She inhales a it more smoke, muttering, "dumb kid." under her breath.

A few quiet moments pass, before Yun sits up, puts his legs into a lotus position, and joins Baiken in looking at the sunset, "...Lady Baiken, would you be honest with me for a moment."

"I don't lie to people, kid," She answers with a casual breath of smoke, "waste of my time, so you can ask whatever," she turns her gaze to look at him from the corner of her eye, "no promises you'll like the answer though."

Nodding in assent, Yun turns to look at her fully, "in your words, what is the state of Shu, at the moment?"

"One corpse away from collapsing in on itself like a house made of straw." She takes another pull from her pipe to let her words sink in, "one stray arrow, one bad meal, one sickness, and it's all over."

Yun grips his knees, but does not say a word.

"It won't happen right away, it might take a few years, but if either you or Liang bite it, Shu's days are numbered."

Now he bolts to his feet, "Lord Liu Bei-"

"Is an idealist who doesn't know how deep in the shit he could be." She interject smoothly, still on the ground looking at the sunset, "he and his brothers care more for their oath than their duty, all of their soldiers are living off a dream doomed to fail, and as a result this whole business is resting on the shoulders of, at most, two people." She looks up at him, but he feels so incredibly small, "and you know it."

His face hardens, and for the first time today he looks every bit the warrior his enemies make him out to be, "I will never abandon my lord."

"Never said you would." She shakes her head at him again, finally getting to her feet, "I never questioned your loyalty, only how clear your vision is." She meets his gaze, and he holds his ground, "if you're going to keep walking this road, you better know exactly where it's going to lead you."

"I assure you, Lady Baiken." Zhao Yun straightens his back and brings his shoulders back, the very picture of the Hero of Shu, "I have never lost sight of my goal."

She locks gazes with him for a moment, and then claps his shoulder, "then I think that's enough for today." She turns on her heel and begins walking away, "see you tomorrow, Yun."

He stares at her back for second, before he bows, "Thank you for the training!"

She keeps walking, but barks out a laugh, waving with her back to him. Not as hardened as Ky, not yet, but he's got some spirit, at the very least.

#answers #lightdusk96 #guilty gear #dynasty warriors #man these things are just getting longer XD #thanks again!

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alwritey-aphrodite · 4 years

Text

Does This Make Me Your Nemesis?

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x reader

Warnings: none!

Word Count: > 1k

Author’s note: Suprise! It’s a series! This is part one! Not gonna give it away, but be prepared for some kinda enemies to lovers, pining, and yearning type of bullshit. Also, this is my first Diego fic, and I’m actually pretty proud of it! Sorry for this obnoxiously long authors note, but I wanted to say thank you to @vmbrellacademics and @rae-gar-targaryen for reading this and giving me the much needed confidence boost!

You told yourself you wouldn't fall in love with Diego Hargreeves. Your first meeting had been less than ideal. It left you covered in quite a bit of blood, and him with a multitude of bruises, both on his body and on his ego. You weren't even supposed to meet him, it was supposed to be a quick in and out job. Unfortunately, the Kraken just so happened to be passing by when he saw you and that man enter the building through an alley, and he saw you leave, with a little bit of blood on your hands. Obviously, he stopped you to ask what the hell happened, and you brushed him off, not wanting to deal with his bullshit. Even before meeting him, you had heard of Diego Hargreeves, ex-superhero turned vigilante, and you had been dreading the day your paths finally crossed. You knew it was only a matter of time, and tonight fate had brought you two together.

The man you had killed had been cheating on his wife, which she had unfortunately found out in a rather shocking manner, and she had payed for you to kill him. You weren't exactly sure what to call yourself, hating the terms "hit man" and "assassin". All you knew, was that if this was a comic book, you would be the "bad guy" and Diego was the "good guy". Though, you weren't a bad person. During the day, you worked at the police station, analyzing the DNA, and other evidence, from crime scenes. Ironic, isn't it, that you worked at a police station while you were practically a criminal. You hadn't gotten caught yet, and you could argue that what you did wasn't necessarily illegal, even if you knew that wouldn't hold up in court. You had learned of Diego from your good friend, Detective Eudora Patch. And while Diego was a frequent visitor to the station, you had yet to meet him. Until now.

After you had completed the job, you slipped out the back alley, and that's when you ran into Diego. Literally. Your head was down, and you ran right into his chest, when he grabbed your arms, your head shooting up to look at him. Your first thought was, "Shit, I'm busted". Your second thought was, "Why did he have to be cute?" But, not letting your second thought distract you, you tried to struggle your way out of his iron grip.

"What the hell were you doing?" He inquired, not loosening the grip on your upper arms. You let out a shaky laugh and gave him a half-smile, before replying, "Nothing", starting into his eyes, challenging him.

"What happened to that guy?"

"Which guy?"

"The guy you went in there with?"

"There was no guy." This response prompted him to shake you a little bit, and surprisingly, increase his grip.

"I don't have time for this shit. What the hell happened?"

"I don't see how this concerns you?"

You could clearly see how frustrated the vigilante was becoming with you, and you hoped he could just give up and let you go. You weren't that lucky.

"I just need to know if you killed that guy, ok!"

"I didn't. Now let me go." He very clearly didn't even remotely believe the lie you told, and he responded, "I'm not scared to go to the police."

"They wouldn't believe a word out of your mouth. From what I've heard, you tend to make their jobs quite difficult." This statement was, for whatever reason, the straw that broke the camels back, and he let go of your arms, before roughly pushing you back. Now, you hadn't planned on fighting Diego, but, technically, he started it, and you weren't one to back down from a fight. So, after stumbling back a few steps, you got into a fighting stance, raising your fists and bending your knees.

"C'mon now, I don't wanna fight you."

"Well, you started it, so..." you let your sentence trail off, and you heard Diego sigh. He looked like he was about to leave when you took a few quick steps forward, and landing a punch right to his jaw.

Now it was his turn to recoil and stumble backwards, before gingerly raising a hand to touch his face where your fist had collided with his jaw. Now, you weren't afraid to fight dirty, so you closed the gap between the two of you, and punched him again, this time landing a few hits to his torso, catching him off guard and using it to your advantage. You knew that once he got his wits, he would put up quite a fight, so you had to use this advantage while you could. You were solely focused on landing hits, and not blocking his, that you were extremely surprised when you felt his fist smash into your nose, and it started to bleed almost immediately. Your eyes widened, and so did his, which you would have noticed if you were paying attention to him under the mask, and you cursed, before taking your leg and whipping it into his side, the force of your kick pushing him backwards and into the wall. He smacked into the wall, and quickly stood up again, before you noticed him grabbing one of the small blades from his harness. With all the adrenaline, the thought of him killing you never once crossed your mind until you were limping away.

He threw the small knife towards you, causing it to graze your cheek, making it the second time he had made your face bleed, as there was still a steady flow of blood pouring from your nose and down your face. The knife provided the Kraken with the distraction he needed, as he began to hit you. Your arms and torso mainly, but he landed a few good ones to your face, and you wouldn't know it, but he never tried to aim for your face, despite the times his knuckles had split your lip and made contact with your skull, and he was scared that he had given you a concussion. Despite you appearing to be in much worse shape than he was, you were quite the fighter, and once you had gotten reoriented, you were landing many of the punches and kicks you threw his way. After much too long of this, you finally got him to the floor, and quickly rolled over top of him, sitting on his chest and using your knees to pin down his arms. He was still trying to stand up and throw you off of him, so you, ever the quick thinker, snatched one of the knives off his harness, and held it to his neck.

Now, you would have never in a million years killed Diego in that alley, but you needed him to stop moving. You were both breathing heavily, and you could feel the rise and fall of his chest from underneath yourself.

"Now, I'm gonna get up, and I'm gonna leave, ok?"

"I'm not gonna let you go" he replied, even though it seemed like he was working hard just to get the words out. You flashed him a bloody smile, before saying, "Yes you are."

"This isn't the end of this. I'm gonna find you again."

"I'm sure you will." And with that, you stood up, and with all the energy you had left, you ran away, back down alleyways and small streets to your apartment.

Diego could have easily thrown you off. It also would have been very easy to just send a knife flying and into your back, killing you, or at the very least, pining you to a wall so he could take you in. Instead, he let you get away. He wanted to do this again, he wanted to start this little game of cat and mouse, to see who would come out on top.

#diego hargreeves #the umbrella academy #diego hargreeves x reader #this is my first time writing for him pls be nice skskksks #this is gonna be a series and I’m very proud of it and I have big plans for it #I love one (1) knife wielding vigilante

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hermannsthumb · 4 years

Note

Hi! I really love your writing and I'd be curious to see what you would write for 36 on the Autumn fic list. ❤️

36. Scarecrow

from autumn fic prompts here

just a little short one! more gen than shippy I realized but I mean. theyre basically married in this so

-----------

Hermann is never quite ready to deal with Newton first thing in the morning, but some days--most days--he is less ready than usual. Some days he simply wants to enter the lab, drink his coffee, and exist in blissful silence for even ten minutes before it’s back to explosions and blaring music and alien guts. Ten minutes. No Newton. Is that so much?

Evidently it is. The scarecrow is sitting on a bale of hay outside the laboratory door when Hermann arrives one rainy October morning, staring, unseeing, out at him, a sad little lump of straw shoved into tan nylon stockings and surrounded by plastic pumpkins. It’s dressed in a sweater and glasses. It’s frowning. Hermann sighs.

“Newton,” he says.

Newton pokes his head around the doorframe. He’s dressed in a bright purple sweater, dotted with little orange Jack-O-Lanterns--a massive eyesore, if you ask Hermann. Unlike the scarecrow, he’s grinning. “Good morning!” he says. Hermann gestures to the scarecrow with his cane. Newton shrugs. “The lab was looking a little boring,” he says. “Anyway, it’s Halloween!”

“In a week,” Hermann reminds him, pushing inside past him. Thankfully, Newton has reserved the bulk of the Halloween decorations (orange string lights, a couple more plastic pumpkins, some garland) for his half, though a few paper bats are threatening to creep over to Hermann’s chalkboards. Though it’s not too noticeable--if he squints, it’s as if they’re not there. Unfortunately the same principles do not apply to Newton.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t be festive,” Newton says, half-jogging to keep up with him. “Hey, can I have some of that? The pot’s busted again.” He grabs Hermann’s mug of coffee and takes a long, long sip, making a face when he’s done. “Gross. Why do you always add so much sugar?”

“In the hopes it will dissuade certain people from doing precisely what you just did,” Hermann says, yanking it back. Newton’s put away half of it, the bloody bastard. Just once Hermann would like to have a single drink to himself. Or bit of food, even; Newton snags his bagel from where he hasn’t quite managed to hide it in the crossword puzzle folded under his arm next and takes a large chunk out of it. “Where on Earth did you find hay in the middle of the bloody city?”

“Placed an order a few months ago,” Newton says, through a mouthful of Hermann’s bagel, “though technically it’s straw, not hay. 'S different. Cost a fucking arm and a leg either way, but it was worth it for the, like, reminiscing about childhood memories or whatever, like going on hayrides and picking pumpkins. And decorating. I sold a little bit of a kaiju stomach I didn’t need anymore to pay for it, so don’t tell anyone, because it wasn’t totally legal, but--” He takes another bite of the bagel. “You should really start putting cream cheese on these. They’re so dry. That’s the only way they taste good. Or jam, at least. Or Nutella! You can use my jar.”

“I don’t like jam on my bagels,” Hermann says.

Newton tears off the uneaten half of the bagel and hands it back over. “Cream cheese,” he says. He crams the rest of his half into his mouth, and adds, spraying crumbs across Hermann’s blazer, “Nutella.”

“It’s an everything bagel,” Hermann says. “It has--onion, and the like. It wouldn’t taste good with Nutella either. Why don’t you just get your own if you’re so dissatisfied with mine?”

“Do you like the scarecrow?” Newton says.

Hermann sighs. “Yes,” he says, hoping that it’s the answer that will be make Newton leave him alone sooner. He places his mug and crossword puzzle down on his desk; Newton sits on the edge next to them. “Yes, it’s a marvelous scarecrow. Truly horrifying. Would you mind giving me five minutes to myself, please?”

“Hmm,” Newton says. “Does it seem...familiar?”

“Five minutes, please, Newton,” Hermann says brusquely, and raps his cane against Newton’s ankles until Newton finally sighs and jumps down to the floor. Hermann examines his pathetic bagel half with a little frown; it’s a good thing Newton graciously pretends to be unaware of the secret stash of tangerines in Hermann’s lower desk drawer, or he’d never have a proper breakfast.

“I was just wondering,” Newton says. “I just thought it looked a little familiar, you know? And I thought you might think so too.”

“Perhaps your glasses prescription is out of date,” Hermann says. He begins to work on his tangerine peel. “Did you make the bats yourself? I admit that they’re rather good. Very evenly cut. Symmetrical.” He splits the tangerine open and offers a piece to Newton.

“Yeah, I did,” Newton says, taking the piece, and is blessedly silent after that.

Newton has been expecting the arrival of a new piece of kaiju all week, and--when it finally come around noon--it should figure that he’s out of the laboratory for it, and the task of interacting with the delivery man falls entirely to Hermann. “I haven’t the faintest idea where he wants it,” Hermann sighs, as the man lingers in the doorway, gazing--curiously--between Hermann and the scarecrow. “By the sink, I suppose.” He begins the long descent down his ladder to supervise, cursing Newton’s name all the while. He’s certain that no matter how he instructs the man Newton will be displeased with the end result.

“Which sink?” the man asks, tearing his eyes away from Newton’s display.

“Not the one by the kettle,” Hermann says. “No, not--” He scowls, equal parts in frustration and annoyance. “Oh, where is that wretched man?”

Together (Hermann instructing, and the man pushing) they get the kaiju tank next to Newton’s work sink, though not without the minor casualty of a few strands of paper bats. Newton will survive, Hermann’s sure. “Thank you,” Hermann tells him. “I’m sure my lab partner will be very pleased.”

“Sure thing,” the delivery man says. Then, to Hermann’s surprise, he smirks. “Did he make that scarecrow out there?”

“Er,” Hermann says. “Yes, he did, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s a good likeness,” the man says.

Likeness? Hermann waits until he’s gone to peep his head out into the corridor, and nearly swears at how thick he’d been. It’s quite clear who the scowling scarecrow is supposed to be now that Hermann is no longer in a caffeine-less haze: the sweatervest is not only a sweatervest, but one of Hermann’s own, the glasses Hermann’s spare pair, and attached to one of its hands is a box of chalk. “How charming,” he grumbles. Their frowns are identical.

Luckily, he knows where Newton keeps his own spare pair of glasses.

Newton’s lunch hour (when he bothers to take it) is typically more like two hours, and so Hermann has plenty of time to do what he needs to do before Newton comes waltzing back in with a carton of noodles for Hermann. “They had your favorite today,” he says. He sets it down on Hermann’s desk. “What are you all smug about?”

“Nothing,” Hermann says. Too quickly.

Newton narrows his eyes. “Wait a second,” he says.

Hermann does not watch for his reaction when he marches back out to the hallway, though he does allow himself a little smile when Newton lets out a sudden burst of laughter. The scarecrow was easy to re-dress--a shirt and tie from Newton’s immense collection of emergency lab attire, the spare glasses from his desk, a couple squiggles with markers on the nylon stocking arms. The shirt was even pre-splattered with kaiju blood. “You are the worst,” Newton crows delightedly. “God, you suck so bad. I can’t believe you ruined my scarecrow! I would’ve made you one too if you asked!”

"Oh, I don’t know,” Hermann says, idly flipping through some paperwork. “You’re far scarier. I don’t imagine we’ll be getting any visitors here now.”

“Ha, ha,” Newton says. “Where the fuck did I put the extra straw?”

There are two scarecrows sitting on haybales by the end of the day, glaring out at anyone who dares disturb the peace of the k-science division, one with tattoos, one in a sweatervest. Newton has been known to have the occasional good idea.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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bellamyblake · 3 years

Note

that bellamy-kane story seems so good 🥺🥺🥺 I know you aren't comfortable sharing the whole story but can you post your fav snippets from it??

Oh, God thank you! I’m writing for it right now too actually. I honestly tend to love the stories I do not post and they turn up much better. It’s a very whumpy story with much MUCH hurt/comfort but hmmm let me see-

TW DEATH!

I like this part:

That first month in the Army hospital was hell with him constantly losing and regainin consciousness, multiple surgeries and procedures, his heart stopping twice, him being on the verge of dying in the middle of the night-fever sky high and heart beating so fast it threatened to burst in his chest. Bellamy had seen through Kane’s fears then.

“You think I’ll regret not seeing her again before I die.” he had confronted him on a late Sunday afternoon when he was miraculously feeling a little better “But I won’t. I have my memories-the good and the bad ones, seeing her come here and breaking her heart won’t do her or me any good and she’s already had enough pain in her life.”

Kane had agreed then but he dug out Octavia’s parents numbers and kept it in his wallet in case Bellamy died and he needed to contact them. They talked about that too, then, about him dying-unafraid and unabashed. Bellamy spoke of it as if it was the weather and Kane had to sit down and listen through everything.

“I don’t want an open caskett, it’s too scary and fucked up.” he’d say as Kane adjusted his pillows “Just that nice photo from the ceremony before my first tour, okay?”

“Alright.” Kane had to swallow down his tears as he adjusted the blankets and helped him get some water. He always needed to be doing something during those conversations, because simply sitting down and listening to him would not be acceptable.

“Did you manage to get that spot next to Murphy and Miller?” Bellamy had asked for a place in the graveyard next to his team. He didn’t want to be buried with Aurora, said he’s had enough motherly love in the real life to want more in the after one and Kane had agreed.

“I spoke with the Army and the cemetary and they said if we pre-pay now there’s no problem. Usually team guys are buried in the same place unless relatives ask otherwise.”

“Good, good.” he had closed his eyes then and swallows hard-he looked worse then than he did now-half his body still had open wounds that had to be rebandaged twice a day, he could barely breathe on his own and the bad side of his face-the one that lost his hearing and eyesight was wrapped in gauzes and bandages making him look like a mummy more than a human being. “You should draw money from my account and get on it on Monday.”

“Okay.” Kane had agreed, he took it all stoically, but inside his heart was bursting into pieces. “Anything else you’d like?”

“I don’t want the flowers to be white, it ain’t a damn wedding. Get something simple, let it have blue and red, maybe orange too, Gina loved orange.” Kane nods in yet another agreement as he passes him more water after noticing he’s eyeing the glass again but not saying it explicitly-he never did.

“My truck goes to you.”

“Bellamy, can we stop it already?”

“I have to say this, we don’t know if I’ll pull through the night and I don’t want you fucking my burial up.” he says it jokingly but Kane’s struggling to keep his tears at bay and Bellamy notices it “Hey...come here.” he pats the place near his leg and Kane carefully sits up “I know this is a lot, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. Trust me, I wish I had died out there to save you all the trouble but here we are.”

“Don’t you dare talk like this!” Kane scolds him finally letting all of his emotions out “And stop saying you’re dying! You can do this if only you wanted to!” Bellamy smiles then and rests his head on the pillow, turning his good side to Kane so he can see his thoughts for himself “But you don’t, do you?”

“I’m tired. I think it’s time.”

“What if it isn’t?” Bellamy shrugs.

“I’d rather it is, there’s nothing else for me to give to the world.”

“What if you is enough?” Kane says squeezing his hand.

And that part that is more descriptional! TW abuse!!!

Kane remembers so clearly that one evening, it was after dinner and he was half dozing off on his couch when someone frantically knocked on his door.

He opened up to find Bellamy with his face busted and bloody, eyes angry and tired and his little sister tucked under his arm.

“Can we sleep here tonight?” he had asked and Kane had rushed them in right away.

One of Aurora’s stupid boyfriends had raised his hand on Octavia who was trying to sneak food from the table but he stood in his way.

The man grabbed him up and tossed him to the wall, hit him until Bellamy passed out.

Bellamy hadn’t said a word-he was still in shock and pumped up from everything that had happened, it was all Octavia who blabbered it out-she was crying and scared, jumped in Kane’s arms and refused to leave even though he had to take care of Bellamy’s wounds.

When he perched him up on the bathroom counter and took off his shirt he found out that not only had the idiot beat his face-he had kicked him in the stomach, the ribs-the boy was already bruising.

Kane wanted to take him to the hospital but Bellamy had refused. He grabbed his hands and shook his head hard-no, if they went there, they’d have to explain how this happened in the first place and that meant removing them form their home, splitting them up, letting them spill into the system like little tired dandelions into the world-never to be brought back together again.

So Kane had gotten angry, he wanted to go there and kick that idiot’s ass but for that night he had to take care of this eleven year old boy who was beaten up so badly, that his ribs were at the very least bruised if not broken. His mouth had already swollen and so had his eye.

Kane had cleaned him up as best as he could and then because he literally couldn’t walk, he had carried him to his couch, placed him on one side and O on the other, tucked them in and given Bellamy a bag of frozen peas to keep on his eye while he wrapped his ribs with cold towels to relieve some of the pain there.

He had been quiet the entire time, broken beyond anything Kane had seen before.

He had made them sandwiches but Bellamy couldn’t eat because of his swollen mouth so Kane just let him drink juice from a straw and fed him soups for the next few days. He had been so beaten up he slept through most of it and it wasn’t for three days later when he finally got the strength to get back up to his feet.

The entire time Octavia wouldn’t leave his side either, curled up next to her brother, even when he woke up with a start, quietly crying, even when he coughed up blood and scared the shit out of Kane, even when he couldn’t breathe and held his ribs with his hand.

#bellamy blake #bellarke fanfiction #bellamy x kane #marcus kane #whump #fanfic #answered #it's not that im not comfortable i just know no one would read it anyway #it's more for my own entertainment #it's not that well done #at all #Anonymous

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moskaisley · 4 years

Text

thin walls

gif cred: @mrpascals

rating: NC-17 lol

word count: 3.1k

warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT!! 18+ !! graphic depictions of sex, auralism, mentions of alcohol, jealousy, dumb oblivious clownery, a lil pining, a smidge of angst at the end u know me

a/n:

this is a side story for my ongoing series “migraine” !!

i NEEDED to write something fun since the last part of migraine was so angsty. i really wanted to just explore them having fun together and being bros!!! just vibin!!! being young and dumb!!! and ofc their obvious sexual tension before migraine girl and mando started their romantic relationship. idk when part 5 will be out since i have finals next week, but i definitely dont want to wait a month to post it LOL

for now, enjoy this fun and sexy romcom bullshit

summary:

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.”

ao3 link

A rough shove from behind nearly had you on your ass in the middle of the firefight. A blaster shot whizzes by your head, nearly clipping you as you struggle to maintain your balance. Another shot goes off, and you hear a body crumple to the ground. You snarl as you bring your elbow around, only for it to be caught by a strong hand.

“Easy!” Qin’s voice echoes in your ears, “A ‘thanks’ would be nice.”

You scoff, roughly tearing your arm from his grip, “I nearly sliced you in half, crazy bastard.”

“Oi, don’t get all riled up, sweetheart. If it weren’t for me, you’d be dead.”

“I’m not your fuckin’ sweetheart, Qin.”

He grunts, waving you off in annoyance. Rolling your eyes, you turn around to proceed forward, ready to berate your beskar clad partner for not watching your back. Yet, to your frustration, The Mandalorian is already far down the hallway, Xi’an bouncing in tow.

You’re not jealous.

You say it to yourself when you wordlessly slip away from your coworkers upon returning to one of Ran’s hangars, ignoring their confused looks and the “Oh Mando, you’re so in trouble” from Vidar. You say it to yourself when you lazily bonk your head against the shower wall in frustration, and you nearly scream it when you hear Xi’an’s breathy giggles from his bunk.

This had been going on for weeks now.

A scrap sheet of durasteel could probably muffle more sound than the current wall you shared with the Mandalorian. And while for the most part, he was a respectful neighbor, it was times like these that you wished you could throw yourself into dead space. The first time you confronted him about the noise, it was almost cute at how awkward he was in apologizing to you. That night, amidst the wanton moans and cries of ecstasy coming from next door, you kept hearing him shush the Twi’lek in that gentle, gravelly voice of his. Even then, every noise still drifted into your bunk, but you decided to be merciful and save him any more embarrassment by keeping quiet. (You made a note in your head, though. He so owes you for this.) Instead, you picked up an old busted radio from the market, fixing it up and tuning in during crises like these. It only connected to one station, but you’d take Val Syko’s Quenk Jazz Jams over the sounds of your partner’s pleasure any day.

But tonight, drowning in the funky sounds of Val’s extensive music collection wasn’t doing it for you. Mando’s groan echoes dully off the walls of your room, and your thighs instinctually press together in an attempt to quell the warmth pooling at your core. You press your fingers to the bridge of your nose. It was unfair, really. Mando was getting action at least once a week, yet your pool kept coming up empty, and you refused to fuck around with any of your current colleagues. Sighing, you check your watch; the night is still young and therefore, incredibly long. Your eyes dart over to your tiny closet, pursing your lips together in apprehension. Another one of Xi’an’s moans rings in your ears.

You know what? Fuck it.

It’s almost comical how the ship falls into abrupt silence when you knock on his door.

“I’m going out,” you say quickly before he could open the door. Silence follows and you roll your eyes.

“Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.”

You’re not sure why you thought your luck would change tonight.

You were nursing your second drink, lazily twisting the straw in the glass and scanning around the cantina for anyone who could catch your eye. On your first round, there was a cute redhead who gave you a sweet compliment on your outfit, but your hope died when she slipped into a booth next to her boyfriend on the other side of the room. You let out a long, exasperated sigh, letting your head drop as you squeeze your eyes shut. This was a dumb idea. You’re gonna be listening to those two all night while Val plays that one song from Mooneyes for the thousandth kriffing time–

“Is this seat taken?”

You groan loudly at his stupid fucking modulated voice.

“I’ll take that as a no.”

Mando slips into the stool next to you, leaning against the bar as he tilts his head.

“I wondered where you ran off to.”

“I can have my fun too, Mando.”

“Clearly,” he quips, gesturing to your lonely exasperated form, huddled over your drink.

“You’re so annoying, you know that?”

You shove him and he laughs, head shaking at how easy you are to tease. Rolling your eyes, you take a sip from your drink. He shuffles a little, subtly leaning to the right, visor skimming over your backside. You smirk, catching him in the act.

“Hey!” You snap your fingers in front of his helmet, “Eyes up here, tin can.”

Pushing your hand to the side, he takes the hem of it in between his fingers and says, “I didn’t know you had clothes like these.”

“What? This old thing?”

Though your lifestyle didn’t allow for a big wardrobe, there were a few times you would indulge yourself in some of the finer things. The dress was oxblood in color, made of soft velvet with a high neck and open back. It hugged your body snugly, ending just above your knees with a leg slit that traveled up your thigh. It took a decent chunk from your paycheck, and you were so compelled to buy it that you didn’t even consider where you’d wear it. But you loved the way it made you feel, and it was a lovely change of pace from the typical bounty hunter getup you often sported.

“It looks nice on you,” he tells you, nonchalantly.

You swallow hard as his gloved fingers brush against your thigh. Dizzying warmth washes over you. What the hell? Drunk already?

“Thanks.”

“What’s the occasion?” He asks you, releasing his hold on your dress.

You shoot him a sardonic smile as you raise your glass, as if you’re toasting.

“I’m taking applications for a new partner. My old one was too busy getting his dick wet and I almost got shot. Had to be saved by Qin, of all people.”

“I dunno, Qin could be a worthy candidate. He seems to be very friendly with you, too.”

“Are you insane? He’s a kriffing psychopath. Almost as crazy as your girlfriend.”

“Hey, she’s not–”

You cock your brows at him and smirk.

He playfully punches your arm as you take another sip.

“Alright, alright. I get it,” he says as you laugh at him, “Let me make it up to you. Are you trying to go home with someone tonight? I can be your wingman.”

You snort at the thought, “Yeah right. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Mando but you’re not exactly the most approachable person. And besides, no one here is really catching my eye. I think I’m just gonna go.”

You’re moving to stand up and pay until he grabs your arm to keep you still.

“No, wait. C’mon, stay. Lets–Let’s just have some fun.”

You smile earnestly at him; Mando’s insistence to spend time with you genuinely warms your heart, so you lean back to your seat and flag down the bartender.

Though a second set of eyes helped in checking out people that you may have overlooked, it kind of defeated the purpose when that set of eyes was known for being one of the fiercest warriors throughout the galaxy. You thought you were able to catch the eye of a particularly dashing fighter pilot, exchanging flirty glances and a little wave. But the second he saw you in an exchange with a Mandalorian, he was quick to dash out the cantina without so much as saying a word to you. Mando kept insisting you both stay, denying that his intimidating armor had any effect on your chances of getting laid.

“Mando, I’m telling you this in the nicest way possible, but you’re scaring people off.”

“Maybe they just like what they see.”

“You’re the worst wingman ever,” You tease as you kick his calf lightly.

He kicks you back, “Look, the night isn’t over yet. I bet I can get at least one of these people to talk to you.”

You ponder over his challenge for a moment, and then shoot him a mischievous grin. Reaching into a pouch on your belt, you slap some credits onto the table.

“Spoils go to the winner,” you say with a smile, “You have one shot. Blow it and we both go home, casanova.”

Needless to say, he fails. Miserably.

The first person he goes up to must’ve been guilty of something. Because as soon as the Mandalorian stalks around the corner to his seat, the poor soul tosses his drink at him and dashes out the door. The metal man stands for a second in shock, and you see his shoulders slack as he lets out a defeated sigh. He rounds the bar back to you, Corellian rum dripping off his helmet and all over his beskar. Your stomach hurts trying to suppress the laughter building inside you, but you couldn’t help it. Your hand flies to your mouth as you snort loudly, laughing so hard that tears almost form in your eyes. You didn’t expect the night to go this way and your endeavors for a hookup had failed terribly, but it still made you happy to spend time with your friend all the same.

“That wasn’t fair. Let me try again.”

You struggle to form a response between your laughs, “No–no way! I–I can’t watch that again.”

“C’mon, I didn’t even get to try. Gimme another chance.”

You shake your head, taking your credits off the table and slipping them back into your pouch.

“Nope, rules are rules, Mando. Let’s just get outta here.”

“No way, I refuse to give up so–”

“She asked you to leave, buddy.”

You turn to look at the new voice, confused and a bit irritated for interrupting your exchange with Mando. You’re met with green eyes, strong shoulders, sexy scruff, olive skin, and a very dashing smile. Your retaliation dies in your throat, and your lips curl into a smile. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

Mando didn’t pick up on this though, “No, it’s not like that. We were just–”

“He was just going, actually. Right, Mando?” You look back at him and give him a wink, “I think I’ve had enough of you today.”

His helmet tilts upward in surprise, and then he chuckles lightly.

“Okay, then.”

He slides off his stool, gesturing to it for your new friend before walking out of the cantina. You watch Mando walk out the door, and the man takes over his seat.

“Was he bothering you?”

“No, actually,” You give him a sweet smile, “He’s a friend.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, “Friends with a Mandalorian, eh? What’s that like?”

“Well, they make awful wingmen,” you joke.

“Is that so?”

“Why? Looking to take his place?”

“No, I’m here to buy you a drink.”

Catching your bottom lip with your teeth, you smile and your heart flutters.

“What’s your name?”

“Deo.”

He presses you up against the wall of the cantina outside, hands snaking up your waist and lips pressing hard against yours. Deo grabs and pulls at your flesh, slipping his tongue in your mouth and you moan against him. It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone this way, and it makes your skin sing in pleasure. When he pulls away, he keeps his forehead up against yours, breaths labored and heavy.

“So, mine or yours?”

A devious grin crosses your lips, “Mine.”

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

You take his hand into yours, clinging to his arm for balance. The drinks have finally caught up to you and there’s a pleasant buzz warming your body as you try your best not to stumble through the streets. As you make it back to the Razor Crest, you stop in front of the side gate, opening the hatch as Deo’s hand meets the small of your back. You pull him up into the loading dock, and he digs his face into your neck, biting at the skin as you press buttons on the door panel. When it shuts, he pushes you up against the wall of the ship, sucking at the skin beneath your jaw and grinding his pelvis up against your ass. You try to suppress a mewl, as you push off the wall and turn to him.

“Not here,” you whisper.

“Why not here?”

A muffled whimper comes from further away, and both of your heads abruptly turn to the source of the noise coming from behind Mando’s door.

Deo looks back to you, brows furrowed, “You sure this ship is yours, honey? Looks occupied.”

“Roommate. He won’t bother us, though.”

You shove him off of you and saunter over to your own bunk door. You turn around and beckon him to come with a single finger.

“C’mere.”

Your dress, along with Deo’s clothes, was left forgotten on the ground of your tiny room. He was quick to the draw, pulling your legs up so they wrapped around his hips and holding your ass for support. He pressed you up against the wall, pushing his cock inside you. You moan loudly, relishing in the feeling of his length filling up your pussy and the pressure of him crowding you against the metal.

And that’s when you realize–

Deo is fucking you up against the wall you share with Mando.

The mere thought of it makes you clench tighter around him and the smile on your face is downright devilish. Your partner can hear every lewd noise you make, just as you’d heard his, and it drove you crazy. Your body flushes with heat, wetness pooling at your core. Your arms pull Deo tighter against you, burying him deeper inside and mewling against his neck.

“Maker, you think he can hear you, honey?”

“Probably,” You let a breathy laugh against him, “Thin walls.”

A distinctly modulated groan echoes from behind you and you can’t suppress the grin that spreads along your lips.

Bastard.

You pull at the base of Deo’s neck, and guide his head to your chest. He nips and sucks at your collar bone, leaving another mark along your skin. Lifting a hand from your ass, he brings it to your breast, kneading it in his hands and running his thumb over your nipple. You whine as he begins to pinch it in between his fingers while he fucks up into you. Coincidentally, Mando’s moans reach your ears again only seconds later.

So we’re playing this game, are we?

You squeeze Deo’s shoulder, the knot in your lower belly getting tighter and tighter the more you focus on the noises coming from the next room over. You know you shouldn’t, but you can’t help the image of your partner holding you like this, fucking you relentlessly against the wall you shared. You wonder if he looks anything like Deo; does he have the same green eyes? Or are they brown? What about his lips? How do they feel against yours? Your neck? Your cunt? You imagine that it’s his hands clutching and squeezing your soft flesh, his cock stretching you open, his stupid fucking voice whispering praises in your ear.

“F–Fuck! I’m gonna cum,” you panted, pressure building up inside you, aching for release.

You swore, you heard Mando’s breath hitch behind you.

“Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum all over my cock.”

You nearly scream as you come undone around Deo, waves of pleasure washing over you. In your haze, a single thought crosses your mind: Mando was chasing his own release as well.

You know it, you feel it.

So you moan again.

“I had a good time tonight.”

“I did too.”

You hug your body tightly, the air of the hangar was cool against your skin, and you were clad in only a thin shirt and shorts. Deo is holding your upper arms, smiling softly at you as you shivered.

Brushing a strand of hair away from your face, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“We should do this again sometime,” he whispers against your skin, “Maybe, somewhere without your little roommate?”

You giggle, warmth heating up your cheeks.

“We’ll see.”

He bids you goodnight, and you walk back into the Crest, shutting the ramp behind you. You’re turning to go to bed when the sound of your partner’s door makes you freeze. The Mandalorian emerges, free of his beskar armor save for his helmet. He stops when he sees you, surprised by your presence at this hour. You stare at each other in silence for a few moments.

And then you snicker, and he does too.

A pleasant feeling blooms in your chest at the sound of his laugh. You take a few steps closer to him, letting your arms fall to your sides.

“So,” he begins in a low voice, “You didn’t hear any of that, right?”

“Hear what?” You ask him, innocently, “I was a little preoccupied.”

“Really? I didn’t notice.”

You hold a hand against your mouth and giggle.

“So,” he murmurs, “Who was he?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Mando cocks his head to the side, and you swear you see a glint of mischief flash along the t-shape of his visor.

“Well, if I’m not mistaken,” he starts, taking a step closer to you. Your heart picks up in pace.

He gently pushes aside the collar of your shirt to reveal deep red marks blooming along your neck. Your stomach flips at the feeling of his bare fingers along your collarbone. Your throat goes dry.

“You owe me some credits.”

He stays still like this for a moment, and you take a deep breath, his touch feeling electric against your skin. When he goes to remove his hand, it’s instinct when you reach for it, clutching it and holding it in place. You feel him tense beneath you as your fingers wrap his palm. You swallow hard, drinking him in beneath the lowlight of the ship: the shine of his dumb helmet, how he towers over you, the warmth of his presence.

You squeeze his hand, and to your surprise, he squeezes it back. His thumb traced over your fingers, and in your boldness, you gently pull it towards your cheek.

“Mando?” you hear Xi’an’s voice call from his room.

You shut your eyes tight, heart dropping to your stomach. Her call felt like ice water dumping over you, killing the warm, fuzzy feeling that engulfed you only moments earlier. You drop his hand quickly. You hug yourself, fingers buzzing so wildly with nerves, you need to hold it close to keep your hand from shaking. You clear your throat and shoot him a weak smile, avoiding his gaze. Bristling past him, you stop in your doorway and whisper.

“Goodnight, Mando.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

i imagine deo as jake gyllenhaal when he played mysterio just less of a crackhead. :)

taglist

@bella-ciaao @tiffdawg @peggers-n-beggers @sinnamon-bunn @adlerorzel-blog @theocatkov @paryl

thank u for reading, space cowboys <3

#migraine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian/reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #din djarin/reader #IT'S ALMOST 5AM WE WILDIN OUT HERE #I DID THIS INSTEAD OF DOING MY FINALS WOOO HOOOO #ok gnight i have class in like 5 hours

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bittybattybunny · 3 years

Text

I’m going to bed but have a little dadtcher and kaya from BCU:

“Alright, so!” he clapped drawing the pizza owner’s attention, “One small Hawaain to go, Large Meat lovers to go, One manhattan bombastic to go and one for right now.” he moved to get his wallet out.

She stared and smirked, “Naw it’s on the house, Kaya go find your booth and I’ll bring it over when done.”

“What? No this is a large order let me pay.” Arulius leaned on the counter, “I have the money for this.” he scowled.

“I’m sure. But take this as a gift.” Jessica gave a smirk and got in his face.

“Take the card.” he insisted. He didn’t like hand outs. He was Arulius Thatcher and he would not be given something for nothing.

“Nope.” Jessica moved to grab a cup and threw it at kaya who caught it without looking. The teen blinked a moment and tilted her head. Jessica laughed, “go get a drink.”

“Oh. thanks!” she grinned as she headed to put every single flavor of fountain drink into her cup.

“Take the gift as thanks. Because clearly you did something good for her.” Jessica spoke softly, “I haven’t seen that girl smile like that and laugh since Gabe was around.”

Arulius paused and looked over as Kaya was busy filling the cup. He momentarily saw the tendril of king adding more ice to the teen’s annoyance. He chuckled.

“Well still let me pay. Next time spiderking is hungry, pay it forward.”

“Oh I’ve given spiderking plenty of pizza.” Jessica smirked, “Extra cheese, never pineapple.”

“Extra cheese, is that her favorite topping?” he frowned. Despite having lived with the girl for months he still knew so little and she didn’t open up. He paused, “you know?”

“Most people in the area know who she is. Gabe was a big help for those of us who larger businesses would snuff out. By extension, Kaya is someone we all know. Plus! That girl used to watch my kid.” she laughed, “Kaya! You should say hi to Mimi next time you’re in the area!”

“Okay!” she laughed heading over as she sipped on the concoction she’d poured. She held it up to Arulius, “want some?”

“Ugh no. i hate sugar.” he held a hand up, “you drink that entire nightmare.”

“Will do!” she grinned.

Jessica straightened up, “Alright, Ill get cookin, Kaya if you’re hungry enough, grab a slice from the hot box, okay?”

“I can wait.” She smiled, “thank you though!” she yawned as she went back to sipping on her drink, “Mr. Thatcher wanna sit down?”

“Yes, so if you sleep you don’t fall over.” he followed her and took a seat. He leaned on his hand and looked at her as she sipped her drink, “Kaya do better about your identity.”

“Says the guy who is public with his.” she chewed the straw.

“I’m an adult who can handle what is known about me, you are not.” he sighed, “I can deal with press and stories, do you know what I saw today?”

She wouldn’t meet his gaze. He could see her nervously chewing the straw with her teeth, sharpened fangs piercing it.

“I saw a story about a certain web-slinger being called a nuance because they jumped in to a drug bust run by the NYPD.” He leaned on his arm as he looked at her, “And I had my PR team deal with another story about new york’s black and red arachnid having been seen eating a chili dog while swinging through time square during the morning news when she should have been in school.”

“Am I less trouble if I say I was going TO school?” she asked quietly, “King got hungry and I didn’t want to bother Miss Florence.”

“Did you skip breakfast?” he raised a brow but she shook her head. He sighed, “if you want more for breakfast you can ask you know.”

“I just…” she flinched when he flicked her forehead with a sly smirk.

“Kaya, my job is watching you grow up good and strong. If you need more food because you have a parasite that needs it, then I’ll get you more. I’m Arulius Fucking Thatcher and I am the richest man on the planet~!” he cackled as the pizza was set down. He looked at it with wide eyes, followed by confusion when a bowl of liquid cheese was set down.

“Ahhhhhhh!” Kaya’s face lit up, happy for the food. She eagerly took a slice, the cheese nearly slipping off and dipped it into the cheese and started to eat with gusto. Arulius looked at the dip and pursed his lips before grabbing a slice himself.

“Is dipping required?” he asked with a twitch of his lip. This was going to be horrible on his nutrition. Well he guessed one cheat day was fine.

“Mmhm!” Kaya licked some cheese off her hand as she went for a second slice. He stared confused where the kid could have packed it away. As thin as she was, he found it stunning the calories she would pack back. He frowned wondering if it came from that thing attached to her. Symbiote. King. He gulped and folded the slice in half before dipping it and carefully bringing it to his mouth, trying to not get it all over his shirt.

His mouth tingled a bit and he chewed deep in thought, “Ah!” he gasped as he realized, “the dip is nacho cheese!”

“Yeah!” She grinned as she kept eating, having already gone for another slice when he was still eating his first.

He couldn’t help laughing as she grinned, “this is definitely good, we’ll have to come back now and then.” he stated as he chewed, “This would be better with pineapple though.”

She looked at him with a face of utter disgust, “Pineapple belongs nowhere near a pizza, Mr. Thatcher. Your taste buds are broken.”

He stared at her as she said it with a straight face. He gave a wide grin as he continued eating, “Nope. your taste buds are broken! Pineapple is a delight on pizza!” he wiped a bit of cheese from his lip with his thumb.

“Here’s your to-go orders.” Jessica smirked and set the boxes down. She looked as she saw most the pizza gone already, “hungry much?”

Kaya turned red and coughed. She hadn’t meant to eat most of the pizza, she just wasn’t paying attention. She blinked when Jessica set a plate down with a slice of cheesecake on it.

“If you see spiderking, let her know thanks for dealing with that guy last week.” she winked, “enjoy.”

“T-thanks!” She grinned as she picked it up to eat happily. She was grinning ear to ear as she did, enjoying the sweet cheesy treat.

As they finished up and Arulius finally got the woman to relent and let him pay for their food (at least their to go orders) he held the boxes with one arm and let the tired teenager lean against him as they headed back to the car.

As they got in, he set the boxes in the back and made sure the top was secure as they got in. When he sat in he couldn’t help giving a small sigh with a grin as he saw Kaya barely staying awake. She leaned on the door with closed eyes, her breathing slowing as he started the car to head home.

As he drove he kept the music off to let her sleep, the only sounds were those outside the car, the car, her breathing, and the low hum of the reactor in his chest.

#BCU AU #fan fiction #writing #fic snip #Prince Arulius #kai #ahit au #i had this idea this morning of them going to a pizza parlor she knows from before her dad died and just #them having a good time and its showing him shes healing even if its hard

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tamakiamajikistentacles · 4 years

Text

Fucking Hormones {KiriBaku}

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! This is pretty much pure crack born from this post I made that kind of blew up? Hopefully this is a good crossover to sate your KiriBaku needs!

Bakugo had a vivid imagination. Growing up as an only child and travelling with his parents kind of necessitated it. When he was a kid he had spent long hours both in his parents’ office and on planes letting his imagination run wild. It was why he had the design of his hero costume six years before he had ever stepped foot onto UA’s campus for the entrance exam and how he already knew what color the walls would be painted when he opened his own agency (Pantone 360 C, thank you very much).

As he grew older though, that particular attribute had evolved from creating future plans to creating fantasy lovers once he hit puberty. Nameless, faceless, and oftentimes sexless, he imagined hands on him and his hands tracing over curves and dips of muscle depending on the night; sometimes they fucked him, sometimes he fucked them. Either way it played out, there was no name to shout or eye color he could manifest to look into.

Until one night in his dorm room when he came so hard with his best friend’s name on his tongue that he thought he’d blackout. He’d had the image of red hair and red eyes and sharp teeth in his head as he concentrated on the idea that his hand wasn’t his own but rather that of the classmate next door.

The initial bliss from release didn’t last long, panic flooding his system as he realized that he was fantasizing about Kirishima. There had never been a specific person in his thoughts before and the fact that he enjoyed it more when he was thinking of that stupid grin on his face? He was fucked. Absolutely fucking fucked.

He grabbed his discarded shirt and wiped himself clean, yanking his sweats back up his legs and trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do next because holy shit, this was not what he’d expected when he’d settled into his bed less than half an hour ago to jerk off. There was no doubt that Kirishima was his best friend and kind of the only person he could stand being around voluntarily for more than twenty minutes and that he was tan and muscled and—shit.

“This night can’t possibly get worse,” he murmured, pressing the heel of his hand against his temple.

Then his balcony doors flew open with a deafening crash, shuddering in the sudden wind that swept through his room under the moonlight. He jumped to his feet with his heart hammering in his chest, turning between the balcony and another loud bang from his bathroom door flying open and hitting the wall. Crackling lightening clouded his vision as thunder boomed.

He was under attack literally two minutes removed from cumming, what the fuck—

“Hello, my cheesy little rigatoni,” a sultry voice purred from the bathroom doorway.

“WHO IN THE FUCK ARE YOU?” he shouted, sweatpants slung low on his hips and his palms igniting for the fight that was sure to come.

A feminine chuckle filled his ears as a furry creature emerged from his bathroom, long auburn hair seeming to grow fuller as it shifted in the breeze and pink painted lips smirking devilishly as she grew closer. Cloven hooves clicked on the hardwood floor and yet somehow the one thing that registered to him as disturbing was the ample bust covered in brown fur.

“I’m your hormone monstress, sweetheart. You can call me Connie because you and me?”—she gestured between them— “We’re gonna have a lot of fun together.”

His eye twitched. “I ain’t the fun type and I sure as hell don’t need some…some… whatever the fuck you are giving me shit about jerking off!”

“Now that’s no way to speak to the one who’s going to guide you through these changes.”

“Guide me though…? Newflash, bitch: I’ve gone through puberty. Just listen to my voice, fuck! Do I sound like my balls haven’t dropped yet?”

She tossed her hair over her shoulder and her blue eyes held indifference. “Honey it’s not my fault breaking into the Japanese market was hard and then caused a backlog. Even if assignments come in late I still gotta do ‘em.”

“Are you absolutely fucking kidding me? I DON’T NEED YOU!”

“If you want help getting in the pants of that boy who’s name you just shouted while shuckin’ corn then I think you do,” she tempted, watching his jaw set. “What’s his name, now? Kirishima?”

“Do not say his name,” he warned with a threatening point of his finger.

“C’mon now honey,” she said, hopping up to sit on his desk and crossing one leg over the other. “We’ve got to get planning because the five-finger shuffle isn’t gonna keep you happy for long when all you want is that boy’s hand down your pants.”

Bakugo stared at her for a long moment before looking down at his hands and then over his shoulder to his open balcony doors. Then, with a nod of conviction, he moved to close the balcony doors and slipped back under his blankets.

“I’ve gone fucking insane,” he murmured as he closed his eyes. He was having a weird as shit lucid dream after blacking out from that orgasm. All he had to do was fall asleep in this dream and he would wake up alone. And when he woke up this walking pair of furry tits would be gone and cum would be flaking off of his skin.

She was not gone.

At least, not permanently. It was like she just materialized next to him when his dick even so much as twitched when he thought something inappropriate about Kirishima.

The first time it happened was in training the day after she’d first appeared. They had all been rotating sparring partners, and when he was paired with Kirishima and had him pressed against the ground for the five count the redhead smiled excitedly.

“Man, you’re the best even without your quirk! Seriously so manly!”

Bakugo scoffed, waving him off to where his water bottle sat. “And don’t you ever forget it, Shitty Hair.”

As the laughter of his friend faded he felt a soft brush at the base of his neck, whirling around ready to fight whatever classmate decided to touch him. Instead, though, he came face to face with what he thought had been another creation of his imagination.

The monstress who’d introduced herself as Connie the night prior stood before him in a UA training jacket unzipped to show off her cleavage and her hair pulled high in a ponytail atop her head.

“What the fuck—”

“Oh sugar, you may think that hair’s shitty but I bet it’s good enough to pull when he’s between your thighs and those teeth? Mmm, just imagine ‘em givin’ a nice little nibble to your—"

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU HORNED BITCH!”

A jolt of panic ran through him when he realized that his classmates might not be able to see her. They were going to think he was absolutely off his rocker screaming at nothing. But when he surveyed the training grounds he saw that no one was paying him any mind.

“Believe it or not I’m not big on audiences,” she cooed into his ear.

And that’s how he spent his days going forward—paranoid of her popping out of thin air to tease him about Kirishima unknowingly making his heart jump into his throat or making his pants feel tighter. It didn’t happen every time (she would’ve never left his side then, honestly) but it happened enough that he legitimately contemplated labeling her as a villain. She made his life hell just like one with all her antics.

It had been an exam day in Cementoss’ literature class, their task to complete twelve multiple choice questions and two open-ended prompts. He’d read the material and taken plenty of notes to breeze through it with only one multiple choice that he wasn’t entirely sure of. So with nothing better to do he surveyed his classmates, spying Kaminari nervous and breathing heavily with Kirishima sat behind him concentrating on the paper in front of him harder than Bakugo had ever seen. He’d helped him study so it was nice to see he was putting all his effort into doing well.

But when his tongue darted out to wet his lips time slowed to a crawl and suddenly he was feeling very, very warm as that tongue stayed poking out of the corner of his mouth.

“He looks like the type who just knows how to use his tongue, virgin or not,” the monstress whispered from his left, and when he whipped around to face her he saw that she was perched on the windowsill wearing reading glasses and skimming over the text they were being quizzed on. “Do you think he’s the type to be excited and quick or slow and enjoy bein’ a lil tease?”

Bakugo snapped his pen in half.

Then there was the evening in the common room when the entire class had gathered for an ice cream party because sure, a bunch of teenagers definitely needed all that sugar on a Wednesday night. Though it wasn’t terrible to be sat amongst Kirishima, Kaminari, Jiro, Ashido, and Sero as they talked about strategic costume alterations and he savored the cinnamon ice cream in his bowl. It was fairly calm until he heard the grating sound of Kirishima’s straw trying to get every last bit of his milkshake, and he looked up to tell him to knock it off but froze when he saw the redhead’s cheeks slightly puffed out from the treat and a trail of vanilla dripping from his lips and down his chin.

Pressing the cold bowl in his hands against the crotch of his pants didn’t do as much as he hoped, especially when Kirishima swallowed loudly and wiped the drip from his face with two fingers, promptly sucking it off a moment later and declaring with a laugh that he may have brain freeze.

“Hmm,” he heard from beside him, turning to find Connie with her own strawberry cone in hand, “I think we both know that what you’ve got for him wouldn’t give him brain freeze. He looks good with a little something on his face, don’t you think?”

Fuck yes he did but he wasn’t about to tell her that, instead choosing to shovel a spoonful of his own dessert into his mouth. The knock of the metal spoon against his teeth hurt just enough to distract him for all of three seconds from the raging boner he was sporting.

There was also movie night in Sero’s room when halfway through the second movie Kirishima needed a phone charger and crossed in front of his spot in the hammock to bend down and get the spare cord from Sero’s desk drawer. His tshirt lifted slightly as he did to expose the curve of his lower back and the dimples set at his hips which were subtle but defined enough that Bakugo idly wondered…

“…if you could feel ‘em when you wrapped your legs around those delicious hips?”

He hated that she could read him like a fucking book. But he also hated that he had apparently now developed a fetish for best friend’s back.

Even during training when he was watching Kirishima work on his Unbreakable form against Shoji from the sidelines, the class’ task to critique their peers’ moves and assess them for potential counters that villains could utilize, he stared at the hard lines of his back. When he activated his quirk the hardening deepened the definition of his muscles as they raised up in craggy patterns that drew hills and valleys down the length of his spine.

His strength and resilience was hot as shit. Bakugo could train with him until his arms trembled with overuse from his quirk and not a single scorch mark would be left on the redhead, just another wide smile. Even close-range explosions couldn’t crack him, and he could think of situations other than close combat where that would be useful.

“Shame that you can’t scratch those shoulders up, ain’t it?” Connie murmured over his shoulder.

Not quite, he mused to himself. He had great control of himself when it came to his quirk, but where Kirishima was concerned was rapidly becoming a different story.

Say he did try to scratch those shoulders—if his quirk went off because he was in a stupidly dizzy haze due to Kirishima being that close to him, he wouldn’t hurt him. A far bigger blessing in his opinion. Besides, scratches weren’t the only way he could mark him up.

“What’s that smirk for baby?”

“Eat shit and die.”

Bakugo wasn’t a rule breaker. He lived his life on the straight and narrow in every aspect except apparently for his sexuality. Which is how he ended up breaking locker room rule number one: don’t check out your bros when changing.

At least he wasn’t obvious about it though, he justified. A peek from the corner of his eye here, a half-lidded glance there. With a quirk like his he didn’t get the chance to be subtle often but he was damn good at it.

No one around him knew that from his peripheral he was tracing the outline of Kirishima’s body in just his boxer briefs, savoring it for every second he could before his uniform pants slid up his legs.

A soft tickle on his arm let him know that something had noticed and he grimaced at the sound of her voice.

“Ohhh you picked a good one, my tasty little cherry bomb,” she cooed from her position against the lockers, bottom lip bitten between her teeth as she gazed longingly over his shoulder. “I could bounce an American quarter off of that tight little ass.”

“Shut your damn mouth!” he hissed as a furious blush covered his cheeks. Another glance at his friend showed that he was finishing the top button on his shirt before tucking it into his pants. He could even make the uniform look good, it was entirely unfair.

“Even with clothes on that boy has you feeling tingly,” she teased as tendrils of her hair wrapped around his waist. “But honey we gotta get in them pants and find out if those red drapes have a matching carpet!”

Before he could stop it his traitorous mouth revealed, “They don’t.”

She gasped and pulled him closer with her hair, his bare chest pressed against her furry one. “Start talking, motherfucker.”

“Fuck, it’s not a big deal!” he defended, squirming in the tight grip of her hair. “You’ve seen his hero costume—he’s shirtless! His happy trail is pitch black, okay? It’s… just something I noticed. And then that pink bitch told me he started dying and spiking it for high school, in middle school it was still black and he always wore it down.”

Connie narrowed her eyes but unwound her hair to let him finish dressing, crossing her arms as she surveyed the remaining boys. The locker room was almost completely empty save for himself, Kirishima, and Kaminari.

“He doesn’t like her, does he?”

Bakugo paused as he pulled on his blazer. “Raccoon Eyes? No? I mean, shit, I don’t know? I just know they went to the same middle school or whatever.”

She hummed. “Middle school friends, high school sweethearts, hero power couple, lil pink babies with some sharp teeth…”

“Shut. the hell. up,” he warned. “I’d know if he liked her, I’m his best friend. He’d tell me shit like that.”

“When?” she asked sassily. “You haven’t spent a lick of time alone with that boy since my cute ass got here. You’ve only hung out together in your little group so when would he tell you?”

The fact that she had made a damn good point had him wanting to blow up the entire building.

“Fuck you,” he spat, slamming his locker shut. He shoved his bag under his arm and stomped over to his friends, Kirishima spotting him over Kaminari’s shoulder and giving him a grin that should not have been as hot as it was.

“Hey, man!” he greeted, Kaminari turning and doing the same.

Bakugo grabbed the sleeve of his blazer and tugged him towards the door. “Walk with me.”

He stumbled as he followed, a clumsy wave to Kaminari thrown over his shoulder as he gained his bearings enough to walk with his friend once they reached the hallway. He’d since let go of his sleeve, hands shoved into his pockets and a flush to his cheeks.

“Everything good bro?” Kirishima asked with a furrowed brow.

“I gotta go to the shopping district tomorrow.”

“Oh, what do you have to get?”

“Got a bunch of shit I need to grab,” he huffed as they exited the building and started down the path to the dorms. “You said there was a new album you wanted to get, yeah?”

He grinned, surprised but delighted that he’d remembered him mentioning it. “Yeah, it’s a rerelease of my favorite album on vinyl and when I looked at it online it was so cool! Like the actual record is dark blue and then it has—”

“Just come with me tomorrow and show me then, Hair for Brains.”

“O-oh? I mean, yeah. Yeah!” he said excitedly. “What time were you thinking of going?”

“Train leaves at nine.”

The sharp smile was blinding and dammit he wanted to blast the butterflies in his stomach straight to hell where the little beasts belonged. Half of him was desperate to keep the smile on his lips while the other half wondered how hard would be too hard if Kirishima ever bit his neck as he worked a red and purple bruise into his skin, and just imagining it had him quickening his pace to get the fuck to his dorm room and take care of the rapidly growing problem just below his belt.

Kirishima kept up with his longer strides and didn’t leave his side as they got into the elevator to go to their floor. For the time being, Bakugo hated that their rooms were right next door to one another. He was bound to hear him moan his name some night (what if it was that night? or in the next five minutes?) and he was wholly unprepared to try and talk his way out of that particular situation.

“Did you see the group chat?”

Bakugo blinked. “What?”

“Sero’s dad dropped off like eight boxes of dango from Tokyo and he said he was gonna share with us after dinner! Do you want me to get you when it’s time for dinner and then we can find them to eat? Wait, do you think he’s gonna share with the entire class? Because I’d feel bad if we were the only ones—”

“Just knock on my door when you’re ready to eat,” he grunted as he pulled his keycard out of his pocket, strategically angling his hips away from his friend. “I’m starting my essay.”

“Oh yeah, sure!” he agreed as Bakugo entered his room. “I probably should too, I mean the English translations take me forever and that essay’s supposed to be like two thousand words—”

He closed the door on his rambling and dropped his bag to the floor. Like fuck was he starting that essay when he could feel his heartbeat in his underwear.

“You know…”

Shit.

“…even if it takes him a while to translate I’ve got some nice English phrases you can drop on your date tomorrow, baby.”

“It’s not a date, shitty bitch!” he hissed as he threw open his closet door to find comfier clothes to change into. The sound of her voice was an instant boner killer so the great idea of jerking off before dinner was shot down as he’d gone softer with each word that rolled off of her tongue.

“But it could be!” she said, excitedly throwing her hands above her head.

“No.”

“But you heard how excited he was! You two can sit nice and close on the train and if your jacket’s over your laps? Honey!”

“You need to fucking get over the idea that tomorrow is a date because I only did it to hang out and see if he actually does like Pinky. He fucking doesn’t but now I wanna hear him say it,” he grumbled as he slipped his tshirt over his head.

Connie sighed as she slumped down to sit on his bed. “Katsuki, can you just let yourself be honest? You want it to be a date. Since we met I’ve always pegged you as a guy who gets what he wants. Why are you so against this?”

Bakugo paused for several reasons. The first was the use of his given name because really, had she ever even said his name? Given or surname? Not that he could remember; it was always too-sweet pet names with her. Second was the tone which held no sass or sex appeal or teasing. And the last one was the fact that shit, he did go after what he wanted, didn’t he? Except…

“I’ve got him as a friend and a bastard like me can’t wish for much more than that. ‘S already more than I deserve at this point.”

“Baby, punishing yourself ain’t helping anybody.”

“I’m not punishing myself!” he snapped. “I’m stating a fact! I won’t ask for more when it isn’t something that can happen!”

“You mean you can’t be brave enough to take a chance.”

His shoulders tensed and anger sparked both from his palms and throughout his entire being. Him? Not brave? HIM? Katsuki FUCKING Bakugo? Future Number One Pro Hero of Japan?

“Shitty woman I’m braver than half of the extras in this school—in this country!—and don’t you ever fucking question that again! I’ll fucking show you who’s not brave! Stupid fucking bitch with your goddamn furry ass tits coming into my room and calling me a fucking coward..!”

He continued his angry rambling as he stomped to his door and yanked it open as hard as he could.

Turning away from Bakugo, Kirishima entered his room and tossed his blazer aside, one hand raking through the gelled spikes of his hair. His smile dropped; he was ready to lay in his bed with Fleetwood Mac on shuffle and wallow like the sad, gay disaster in love with his best friend that he was.

“Hey there, big boy.”

He nearly jumped out of his hardened skin at the smooth greeting from the monster posed atop his sheets, one leg kicked up behind him with a hoof pointing to the ceiling and his head lazily held by a propped-up arm.

“Maury you scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry, sorry. Hey, listen, how’d everything go with your blonde boom stick? Did we see his boom stick yet? Tell me I didn’t miss it because I’ve gotta know if that kid’s pubes are as spiky as his hair.”

He frowned as he changed from his uniform into his lounge clothes. “You’re gross, dude. But anyway, Bakugo doesn’t like me like that. You gotta stop pushing it.”

“Kirishima, c’mon, you gotta have a little faith!”

“Faith in what? That he asked me to go to the shopping district with him tomorrow as a date? That’s not likely, man.”

The monster rolled his eyes as he stood up and approached him, arms crossed in front of his chest and an unimpressed look on his impish face. He hadn’t particularly wanted to pull this card but goddammit this kid had to get a fucking grip.

“Super unmanly of you not to act on your feelings, Red,” he goaded. “I thought no regrets meant you’d man up and shoot your shot with that walking stick of dynamite but I guess you’re not as strong in those beliefs as I thought.”

“C’mon man, that’s not fair!” Kirishima said with a pout.

He threw his hands up. “Am I wrong though? One day you’re gonna regret not saying anything and be upset when you realize that you two coulda been together.”

The redhead bit his lip. “I can’t just ruin our friendship like that.”

“Kid, listen. Do you think that Crimson guy you like would keep his feelings for someone a secret like this? Or would he sack up and figure out if those feelings are returned? I’m not sayin’ I’m great at the whole romance part of all this but damn, you gotta try!”

“I can’t!”

“Can’t or won’t? Trying doesn’t mean professing your love straight away! Just go ask him something about tomorrow like why he asked just you and not all your friends. Get a feel for it before you get a feel of him!”

Kirishima bit his lip. “I guess… I guess I could ask why the rest of our friends weren’t invited. Maybe say that Kaminari texted me…”

His voice trailed off as he turned to his door, brows furrowing as he considered the idea of going next door to Bakugo’s room. Without knowing or meaning to his feet carried him across the room and only once he had stepped out into the hallway did he realize what had happened, his lips parting in surprise and then even further when Bakugo’s door flung open and the blonde stepped out of his room. His face was flushed and his teeth were bared but when he realized Kirishima was in the hallway too the snarl dropped into a neutral frown.

They stared at one another for a long moment before Kirishima slowly approached his best friend. “Hey. I was just coming to see you.”

“Yeah? You ready for dinner now?”

“No,” he said. “I wanted to uh…”

He cocked an eyebrow at his friend, not used to the hesitation. It was… fuck, it was cute.

“Bakugo, tomorrow—”

“Is a date,” the blonde finished with conviction. He hoped the anxiety curled in his gut wasn’t visible on his face because shit, he may have just made the biggest mistake of his damn life if this went sideways.

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “A-A date? We’re going on a date?”

Bakugo rolled his eyes and reached out to fist his hands in the horrendous orange shirt and yank him close, his body warming at the blush that rose on the redhead’s cheeks.

“We’re going on a fucking date,” he said before cupping the back of his neck and pulling him into a kiss. The muffled noise of surprise quickly turned into kissing him back and holy fucking shit he was kissing Kirishima.

Behind them stood the two hormone monsters, smirks across both their faces at one more first kiss in the books. Maury held his hand out for a low five and without even looking Connie batted his hand away and gave a slap to his ass.

A/N: Please be sure to reblog, comment, review, and like if you enjoy! Feedback is what keeps me motivated! Crackfics aren’t my specialty and I know there were some OOC moments but I hope this at least made y’all laugh lmao

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