#when I was last job hunting I did not get a single reply from anywhere I replied

[vodika-vibes]

Round 2 *ding ding ding*

Fives and "Try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear."

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Safe and Sound

Summary: When you are doing a favor for your father you stumble across a clone who's been drugged and is being hunted for a crime he didn't commit.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader (future)

Word Count: 2185

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: This is a sort of prologue towards the last Fives x Reader fic I wrote.

Divider by Saradika

“This is the place, Checkmate?” You ask as you regard the warehouses thoughtfully.

“Yes ma’am,” Checkmate, a clone formerly from the 91st, replies as he folds his arms over his chest, his sharp gaze flickering around the area, “By all accounts, the warehouses are up for auction within the next tenday.”

You hum thoughtfully, “And what’s your assessment?”

Checkmate is quiet for a moment as he looks around without leaving your side. His gaze lingers on a group of spice addicts for a moment, and he purses his lips, “It won’t be easy to keep the building secure, if you plan to use it for storage.”

“Hm…I agree.” You reply lightly, “What if we demolish the building and build something else.”

“Such as?”

“My brother is always looking for places to set up new clinics.” You reply with a light smile.

A small smile crosses Checkmate’s face, “He is an amazing man.”

“Careful Captain, you’re in danger of swooning.” You tease gently, and then you laugh when he bumps your shoulder with his own, “In any event, I didn’t see any clinics anywhere in the area.”

“Probably because there isn’t one.” Checkmate replies, “You know what businessmen are like.”

You shoot him an amused look.

“Businessmen who aren’t associated with Gryffin Industries.” Checkmate clarifies with a roll of his eyes, “Everyone knows that the people who run Gryffin are about as close to saints as mortals can be.”

You laugh again, “You think far, far too highly of my family.”

Checkmate glances at you out of the corner of his eye, “Your family takes vod’e who are no longer able to do their duty, like myself, and gives us jobs, medical attention, and a place to live. That puts you pretty damn close to sainthood to me and my vod’e.”

“It’s hardly-”

“Both of my legs were blown off, and you gave me prosthetics that helped me walk again. Pretty sure that makes you the Patron Saint of Lost Causes.” Checkmate interrupts with a grin.

“You’re awful.”

“Hm, maybe if you would pick a bodyguard, then I wouldn’t tease you so much.”

“Yes, you would.”

“Yes. I would. You’re baby sister coded.”

You pout at him, and then focus your attention back on the warehouse, “Putting a clinic here would help us win some goodwill with the lower levels,” You say lightly, “Plus we can hire a bunch of people, and piss off some very rich assholes at the same time-”

“What, exactly, did the rich and powerful do to your family to make you all so bitter against them?” Checkmate asks as he watches you buy the warehouse…and then another three just for good measure.

“People like that use their influence to hurt innocent people. And it’s disgusting.” You reply, “And…there. Gryffin Industries now owns about three blocks down here.”

“What are you going to do with three blocks worth of warehouses?” 

“A hospital, maybe? And a park, with a playground.” 

“I’ll just add another check in your ‘destined for Sainthood’ book.” Checkmate teases, and then he tenses, and a scowl crosses his face. “Incoming.”

You turn slightly, and see an irate man stalking over towards you.

“You,” He barks at you, and you arch a single brow, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Actually,” You reply pleasantly, “I own everything in a three block radius. Which means you are trespassing.”

“That’s-” He stops when you lift the badge marking you as one of the owners of Gryffin Industries, and his scowl deepens, “I am a General in the GAR-”

“Unless there are Separatists in my warehouses, I suggest you see yourself off my property. Before I call someone to do it for you.” You say pleasantly. 

“Someone tried to assassinate the Chancellor!”

“Which is a problem for the Guard, not the army.”

The General scowls and spins on his heels, “Fine. Then I’ll call the guard and they can search for him.”

“Do make sure they have a warrant, General.” You say to his back, and you hide your smile when he flinches. He shoots you a baleful look, and then stalks away, and you turn your head towards Checkmate, “Since when does the Army search for supposed criminals?”

“Since never.” He replies, “The warehouses are ours?”

“Yep.”

“Then let’s see what we just purchased.” 

The first warehouse is empty, save for dust and some empty crates. The same for the second warehouse.

But in the third warehouse the pair of you stumble on one of the clones sitting on the floor leaning against a crate. He’s gray and sweaty, and his hands are shaking. “He looks like he’s in the middle of spice withdrawals.” You murmur as you crouch next to him.

The clone, who had a 5 tattooed on his forehead, turns to look at you and seems to look through you rather than seeing you, and you frown and press your hand against his forehead.

“That’s not spice withdrawal,” Checkmate replies, “He’s been drugged. Look at his pupils.”

You frown thoughtfully, “We have spare armor in the speeder, right?”

“Yeah. I’ll go grab it and bring the speeder around.” He turns and hurries away, it won’t take him more than a few minutes to bring the speeder around.

You set your hand on the ill soldier’s shoulder, “It’s okay.” You whisper soothingly, “Everything’s going to be okay.”

Whatever he was drugged with seems to have stolen his ability to speak, as he doesn’t say anything. But he does whine low in his throat, and he slumps over against you, his head landing on your chest.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whisper soothingly as you stroke the top of his head, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Checkmate returns only a moment later, and with his help you get the ill clone in a set of Gryffin Industries armor, which is much more streamlined that Clone armor, and is painted with dark teal and white accents. 

And then Checkmate carries him out to the speeder and you slide yourself into the backseat next to him. You call the family lawyer as soon as the speeder leaves the warehouse district, and when you hear the glee in her voice, you almost feel bad for the people who cross her.

Almost.

It takes two days for the drugs to leave the clone’s system, and another day after that before he’s actually able to walk and talk properly.

And so, here you are, four days after you found him in the warehouse, sitting at a roundtable meeting with the rest of your family, with the clone, Fives he introduced himself as, standing at the end of the table.

Your father’s smile in kind as he regards Fives, “Alright, young man. Take your time and say what you need to say.”

Fives takes a deep breath, and his hands settle behind his back as he stands at attention. And then he starts to talk.

He starts slowly, and then, when he realizes that everyone is listening and no one is interrupting him, he gains momentum.

He talks, non-stop, for an hour, and when he stops talking the room is completely silent. You lean back in your chair and rub the spot between your eyebrows.

Your father swears loudly, and you understand the sentiment. 

“I know you probably don’t believe me, but-” Fives says, sounding almost panicked.

“No, no. Lad, that’s not the problem.” Your grandfather says in his crisp accent, “The problem is that we do believe you.” He closes his eyes for a moment and then turns his attention to the table, “So, what do we do?”

“We can’t run at Palpatine directly,” Your cousin, the head of security, says from where he's sitting across from you, “He’s too powerful.”

“It’s also too risky,” You brother adds, “With the knowledge of what these chips are for…” He shakes his head.

“You’ve been removing them, right?” Your father asks.

“Of course.” He sounds offended, “Of course, I thought they were more like the Hutt explosive slave chips rather than free-will overwriting slave chips, so of course I’ve been removing them.”

“It’ll be easy enough to send the information to the battalion medics,” You say thoughtfully.

“How would they keep the surgeries a secret?” Your twin asks with a frown.

“They’d have to go slow.” Your brother murmurs, “No more than one or two at a time, and whenever someone is injured, or ill, they take the opportunity to remove the chip. I can reach out to the battalion medics.”

“And what about Palpatine?” Your grandfather asks.

“We can’t touch him until the men are no longer under his thumb.” Your cousin reminds, “For now, we need to pretend he’s no longer a threat.”

“I’ll think on that. For that matter, we’re going to need to make sure that not everyone knows everything. I’ll handle it.” Your father says, and then he pauses, “And what about Fives. He can’t return to the 501st, he has a price on his head.”

“I’ll take him.” You reply after a moment of thought, “You’ve all been hounding me about not having a bodyguard for ages now anyway.”

“Does that work for you, Fives?” Your father asks.

“Uh..yes sir.”

“Excellent.” He looks at his datapad, “Okay, I think that’s enough for now. Get him settled,” Your father says to you, “And make sure he gets proper armor.”

“I will.” You stand and walk over to Fives, “You can follow me.” He nods and turns to trail after you as you walk over to a hidden elevator and you press a button to activate it, “Until you get a proper helmet, we’ll be using the hidden passages and elevators.” You explain.

“That makes sense,” He replies, sounding deeply, deeply exhausted.

You smile at him soothingly as you step into the elevator, and you press one of the buttons. The elevator goes down seven levels, and then the door dings open and you lead him through a richly decorated hall, and you stop in front of a door, “This is my room.” And then you walk a single door down, “This is yours.”

You push the door open, and reveal a proper studio apartment. “This is all mine?”

“Yes. At the moment, nothing is stocked because I haven’t had a bodyguard since I was a child.” You explain, “I’ll make sure food is delivered, and you can use the datapad to order anything you might need.” You motion at the datapad on the counter, “Food, clothes, and hygiene items are included as part of your paycheck. Anything you want for fun, movies, books, games, you have to buy yourself. But that’s what the paycheck is for.” 

“That seems really generous.”

You shrug, “We can afford it. Armor and weapons will be supplied. My twin will get you set up with armor as soon as you’re feeling up to it. We have a paint room with the appropriate colors all in stock.”

“Alright.”

“The bedding is clean, so you’ll be able to sleep in here tonight, or whenever you want to sleep.” You motion towards the closet, “The laundry shoot is in there, generally laundry is returned the day after you put it in the shoot.”

“What’s that door?” Five asks, as he motions to a door on the opposite wall.

“Oh. Right.” You walk over to the door, and press the button to open it, “This door connects my room with yours. It can’t be locked on either side. You have to be able to get to me quickly as my bodyguard, but I also need to be able to get to you quickly for the same reason. The door can be left open, or shut, depending on our preferences.”

“Alright. Can we keep it open? I’m not used to sleeping alone.”

“Of course.” You press another button, and the door locks in the open position, “Any other questions?”

“No-” His sentence is broken by a yawn, “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You gently guide him towards the bed, “You should get some sleep.”

Fives hesitates, “I don’t know if I can. I keep thinking that someone is going to swoop in and kill me-”

You very gently sit him down on his bed, “Fives, try and get some sleep. I'll stay right here– I won't let anything happen to you, I swear.”

He hesitates for a moment longer, and then lays down on the soft bed. Fives tosses and turns for a bit, but after you grab his datapad and sit on the side of his bed, he settles a little bit.

He’s still not sleeping restfully, but he shifts and he slings his arms around you, clinging to you like you’re a stuffed animal, and he presses his face against your back, and you heave out a silent sigh of relief when his breathing becomes deep and even.

With Fives asleep, you decide to take the time to go through and place his food order. As well as ordering some clothes and the necessary hygiene things that he might need.

Everything’s going to be alright. You won’t stand for anything else.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reaader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic

[hellhound-whisperer]

Rumor Mill - Part Three

Pairing | Dean Winchester x reader

Warnings | smut, alcohol, unprotected sex

Prompt | “You come here often?” “Well, I work here. So I think I would have to say ‘yes.’”

Word Count | 1.8k

A/N | So this was actually the first part I wrote, and then decided I would make it a little series because I liked the idea too much to just have this. I think I caught anything that would seem odd following two parts, but feedback always weclome!

Part One | Part Two

 You sighed when you saw him walk in. Not that you weren’t happy to see your favorite regular (that you had a huge crush on), but you were hoping for an early night. The bar had been quiet, and the last few nights were beginning to take their toll. You had two kick out one regular for starting a fight with another, and had to deal with a very pushy hunter so far this week, and you were over it. But then in walked Dean.

He headed straight to the open seat in front of you, that adorable smile on his lips the entire way.

“You come here often?” he said, sitting down.

“Well, I work here. So I think I would have to say yes,” you said, already grabbing a glass with one hand and his usual whiskey bottle with the other.

“Make it a double, sweetheart.”

You gave him a sad smile, pouring his drink before setting it in front of him. He downed it, pushing it back to you, and you filled it, little more than a single, less than a double, seeing that he wasn’t going anywhere soon.

“What’s the trouble, Dean?”

“Oh, you know…usual. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires…” he trailed off, sipping his drink this time, for which you were grateful. When Dean finished a double in one gulp, it was usually a bad hunt.

“Don’t I know it. What was it this time?”

“First one, spirit with a grudge. Did not go quietly,” he added, finger tapping his glass absentmindedly.

“Shit, you and Sam okay?”

“We’ll live. Can’t say the same for everyone, but that’s the job, right?”

You could hear the sadness in his voice, and despite you having heard the worst of the worst from hunters over the years, your heart broke a little. You only knew him a bit; knew he lived in that infamous building in Lebanon, having driven him home once, but from what you’d gathered, even for a hunter, he lived a hard life. He didn’t share too many personal details though, other than a few interesting tales.

You appreciated that at first, since being a bartender in a place that catered to hunters, some drastically overshared and you wish you knew less than you did. Dean was different though, you wanted to know him better than anyone you’d met in a long while.

“That’s what they tell me,” you responded, not being an actual hunter yourself, “but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck sometimes.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sweetheart.” He finished the glass, pushing it your way again.

You poured him another, little less than a single this time, knowing he wouldn’t comment, if he even noticed. You caught another guy tipping his pint in your direction, looking for a refill.

“Give me a sec,” you told Dean, who nodded in response.

You filled the guy’s beer, smiling at him as you handed it back, him being another hunter that came through somewhat often. You looked down towards Dean again, still looking down at his drink. You poked your head through the back door, telling Scotty to put together a basket of nachos before you walked back over.

“So where is the giant from the beanstalk?” You got the laugh you were aiming for, and he looked up.

“Sleeping. Guy his size, just can’t hang,” Dean smiled brightly at you, and you knew the whiskey was having the desired effect. You were glad you threw in that order of nachos.

“Being short has its benefits,” you replied, curtseying to acknowledge your own lack of height.

Dean smirked, “Bein’ you has plenty of benefits, I’m sure.”

You laughed loudly at that, thinking how few benefits a woman owning a bar in nowhere Kansas would have. Getting hit on all the time, sure. Enjoying it? Pretty rarely.

You heard the bell ding behind you, and you turned to grab your gift to Dean. “For you, my treat.”

He gave you that smile again, saying thanks and started to eat. Dean and you bantered back and forth for the rest of the evening, the other patrons leaving one by one. Before you noticed the time, the place was empty, apart from you, Scotty in the kitchen, and Dean. Scotty walked out, and you told him he could head out, you’d close up.

Dean took a look behind him, noticing for the first time that you two were alone.

Getting up, he asked, “Sorry Y/N, I’ll get outta here. What do I owe ya?”

“Call it an even 40, but have one with me before you head out? It’s been a long week.”

Dean threw three bills on the bar in front of you, and sat back down.

“Long week, huh?”

You gave him a half-smile, pouring yourself a double vodka, and him a double whiskey. “Not an easy week, though I doubt it compares to yours. But it's nice to have good company, so thank you,” you said, raising your glass in his direction.

He did the same, taking a long pull from his drink. “Always lookin’ to please you, sweetheart.”

A chill ran through you, thinking about what Dean pleasing you might involve. Sure, you’d thought about it late at night, alone, but him being in front of you, you couldn’t stop those fleeting thoughts. Ever the hunter, he noticed the shiver.

“Cold?” he asked, already shrugging out of his jacket before you could reply, handing it to you across the bar.

You accepted it with a shy smile, not willing to tell him why you really shivered. Wrapping it around your shoulders, you inhaled his scent - whiskey, gun oil, and leather. Luckily this time, his jacket hid your reaction.

“Thanks.”

The two of you continued to sip your drinks quietly after that, until they were just about done. He rose again, at the same time that you started pouring yourself another. He sat back down, but waved his hand over his glass.

“Another one and you’ll have to drive me home again,” he chided. “But please, don’t stop on my account.”

You downed this one, gathering your courage. You weren’t normally the one to make the first move, especially with a regular hunter at your bar, but it really had been a long week, and you’d been imagining this with him since he’d walked in the first time. It was time to see if he lived up to what you'd been imagining.

“So, you want to please me?” Your eyebrow went up, to emphasize your point.

He looked up quickly, catching your gaze.

“Since I met you.”

Letting your small vodka buzz take the lead, you hoisted yourself to sit on the bar, swinging your legs around to bring you face to face with Dean, still sitting on the bar top. You shook off his coat, laying it nicely beside you. He stood so his eyes were level with yours, searching your Y/E/C eyes with his beautiful green ones. “You’re sure?”

Your hands cupped his face, moving your forehead to rest against his. “Very.”

Dean’s lips crashed into yours, both of you kissing like you were the last two people on Earth. His hands moved upwards, tangling themselves in your hair, tugging gently.

You responded by moving your hands down his back, pulling him close, and hooked your legs around his waist. He lifted you off the bar, never breaking the kiss, and turned, setting you on the table closest to you both. You broke the kiss, using the time to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it to the side. Dean tilted your head to the side, placing soft kisses down your neck, heading south.

You let his lips worship you, thoroughly enjoying every touch. He reached around, unclasping your bra, and instantly began to play with your hard nubs, licking and sucking as you threw your head back with a loud moan.

“God sweetheart, you are so fucking gorgeous,” you felt his voice murmur against your skin, moaning louder in appreciation. Your legs pulled him closer, feeling his hard length against your thigh. You kicked your sneakers off behind him, and he took the hint. He moved to kneel between your legs, unbuttoning your jeans. You lifted your hips so he could shimmy them out of the way, your already wet core hidden then only by your panties. You heard him growl softly, making you even wetter.

“So. Fucking. Gorgeous. Y/N,” he repeated, moving your panties to the side, licking a line up through your folds before burying his face between your legs. He hummed, and the vibration made you wetter than you already were.

“Fuck, Dean…I want you inside me,” you begged, not willing to wait any longer to feel him. "Please…"

Dean rose, kicking his boots off as he unbuttoned his pants, pushing them down with his boxers to free his cock. You looked greedily at him, tongue running across your bottom lip as he rubbed his tip against your pussy, coating himself in your wetness.

He pushed his head to your opening, and your legs pulled him further into you. Feeling his cock stretch you, you shrieked in pleasure, and he stilled, hovering over you. His eyes searched yours.

Catching your breath, you looked into his gaze, hands coming up to grip his forearms. “So good…” you begged again, “Fuck me.”

With your permission, he started thrusting into you, hard, not holding back. His cock hit you in exactly the right place every time, and in record time, you felt the coil in your belly tighten.

“I’m so close, Dean…” you managed to whisper in between thrusts. You caught his gaze, nails digging into his forearms. “Right there baby!” you yelled, feeling yourself tighten around his cock.

He leaned down so his lips were next to your ear, somehow not missing a beat. “Cum for me sweetheart,” he growled.

The coil in your belly snapped at his command, and your arms reached up to pull him in closer. He almost collapsed on top of you, thrusting his own release deep inside. You both slowly caught your breaths, entwined as you came down from your highs. As he recuperated, he raised his strong chest off you, looking into your eyes with wonder. His hand moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Seriously Y/N/N. You look so beautiful like this,” he panted, his fingers continuing to brush lightly against your skin.

You huffed, “Not so bad yourself.” You gave him a sweet smile, fingertips brushing over the marks you left on his strong forearms.

Dean gave you that signature smile, pulling his softening cock out of you. You sighed at the loss of contact, and he winked at you, starting to pull his boxers and jeans back on.

“Same time next week?”

“Definitely, but we’ll go to my place. I’d like to see what you can do with more time and a bed.”

“Oh sweetheart, you have no idea.”

You winked back to him, “That’s what I’m counting on.”

#rumor mill #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester series #spn fanfic #mine

[dameronology]

that’s all {din djarin x reader}

(i’m reposting this bc it wasn’t showing up in the tags and it was stressing me out) 

summary: you’d saved din djarin from himself before. now, with the pain of losing his kid, you’re about to do it all over again. (kinda based on find me here by hayley williams)

warnings: this is...flangst. fluff and angst. swearing. mentions of depression but it’s also a bit ✨positive✨

this is just me trying to be the emotional janitor to...that. i’ve tried to keep it as gender neutral as possible but some of the conversation might imply an afab reader but hopefully it’s vague to be completely objective!!

- jazz

anyways i know i already said it but !! spoilers !! spoilers !! spoilers !!

p.s spot the titanic reference 

Grogu was tiny but the whole he left in your lives was massive.

You always knew you were going to have to give him up - hell, that had been the job in the first place - but you hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. He wasn’t your kid but at the same he completely and entirely was. You’d never expected your first parenting experience to be with a tiny green Jedi but at the same time, you wouldn’t have had it any other way. The next few months were going to be hard; accepting that he wasn’t yours to keep and that he was in a better place was guaranteed to be a long process. It would be worth it in the end but the initial pain was bordering on unbearable.

Din was better at hiding it than you. Admittedly, he did have a thick beskar layer to shield his emotions and pain from the outside world but he couldn’t hide it from you; never from you. Even behind the metal, you could read him like a book. It was a product of spending every waking minute together (his overprotective doing, not yours) and in return, he had learnt every habit and every quirk of yours. He sometimes cursed your ability to read him, especially when it lead to you saying things like you did not just tilt your helmet at me like that, Din Djarin.

He’d been quieter in the days since Luke Skywalker had taken the kid - quieter than usual, at least. Din was already a pretty taciturn person; compared to how he was with other people, he practically spoke your ear off but since you’d landed back on Nevarro, he’d completely kept to himself. It was painful to watch, seeing him rise at the crack of dawn to take a bounty, only to return in the evening with a few more bruises than he’d had that morning. You wanted to say something to do something that would make him snap back to reality, but this was probably his grieving process and you had to respect that. Or, you had to at least try to.

That was, until, it felt like Din was killing both you and him; working himself to the point of exhaustion, barely sleeping and refusing to even acknowledge Greef or Cara. You could deal with him being angsty. You could deal with him grieving. You couldn’t, however, deal with him ignoring you. You had literally vowed to go through all your bad times together and Din Djarin was nothing if not a man of his word. He knew it. You knew it too - and you’d be damned if you’d let him forget it.

It was on a cold - at least by Nevarro standards - morning that you decided it was time to show him some tough love. The Mandalorian had decided to hole out on one of Karga’s old ships that morning, claiming that he wanted to fix it. You were no engineering genius, but given that the old jet’s wings had fallen off, you could see it was past the point of no return and that Din had just been looking for an excuse. He was good at that these days.

‘Din!’ You called. The bay doors were open, but the ship itself was dark and dusty. Tinkering, my ass. As expected, there was no reply. ‘Din! Don’t ignore me.’

Silence.

‘Please?’

You grumbled to yourself, walking further inside the dimly lit ship. Tiny specs of dust were floating in the streams of thin light, leading your path further and further towards the cockpit. Who ever it had belonged it, it pre-dated the Republic, let alone the Empire or new order. You tried to resist the urge to cough, instead choosing to focus on your mission: hunting down the Mandalorian. The tables really had turned, considering he was very rarely the prey.

‘I was talking to Karga.’ You continued - as far as you knew, you were talking to thin air, but you liked your chances. ‘He offered me a bounty puck for...Corellia, is it? For that big, bad guy we didn’t catch last year. You know the one that nearly killed me?’

There was a crash from the cockpit, and you grinned to yourself. It was a little unethical to scare the man out of hiding with your bullshit, but you were getting desperate.

‘I figured it would be good to get out a bit, try and distract myself, you know?’ You continued. ‘So I was gonna borrow a ship and head out there tomorrow-’

‘- like hell you’re doing that on your own.’  

A six foot mountain of beskar suddenly stepped out from the darkness. Normally, that would have been enough to scare anyone, but not you. You’d married that six foot mountain of beskar. That probably gave you more guts than anyone in the damn galaxy -- until they found out he wasn’t actually that terrifying. Not many people would have taken the Mandalorian seriously if they knew he enjoyed having his hair played with.

You held your hands up in the air, stretching out your fingers to show that there was no puck in sight.

‘You lied.’ Din grunted.

‘And you were ignoring me.’ You shot back. ‘’S going on?’

‘I told you. I was working on the ship-’

‘- nope.’ You cut him off. ‘Try again.’

‘Karga asked me to fix it-’

‘- Still no!’ You snapped. ‘We gonna go three for three or are you gonna finally pull your head out your ass and stop lying to me, Din?’

There wasn’t a single person in the galaxy who dared speak back to the Mandalorian - except you. That was what had made him fall for you in the first place. It was like you couldn’t even see the beskar. You’d always seen him as Din, and never as the Mandalorian, or a warrior. You’d made it clear from the day you met that you wouldn’t take any bullshit from anyone, him included, and he’d always respected that.

‘You have been holing yourself away for weeks.’ You continued. ‘I know it’s hard but you have to accept it. Grogu wasn’t ours to keep - he never was.’

Din didn’t response, instead dropping his gaze down to the floor.’

‘Hey.’ You put a finger at the base of the helmet, tilting his head back up to look at you. ‘Look at me. Talk to me.’

‘I miss him.’ He stated; short and blunt. Fitting, really. ‘And it hurts.’

‘I get that.’ You gently placed your hands on either side of his helmet, fingers splaying out over the cold metal. ‘But it’s better to hurt together. Can I?’

Din nodded, signalling that it was okay for you to take it off. You gently tugged at the helmet, momentarily breaking away from him to place it beside you. It was a relief to see his face after so many weeks of having the beskar between you; the soft brown eyes and slightly crooked smile that met you on the other side felt like home. You could have stared at him forever if the galaxy wasn’t so fucking demanding of your presence.

You’d spent far too long on the other side of the beskar, waiting for him to let you in. And now that you’d got him, now that you’d promised yourselves to one another forever? You weren’t going to let it happen again.

You gently pushed back a few tufts of brown hair, offering him a sad smile. ‘You know we made the right decision, yeah?’

He nodded, leaning into your touch as your hands carded through his hair. ‘I know.’

‘So you gotta stop beating yourself up, baby.’ You stressed. ‘Stop shutting people out - stop shutting me out. I know we don’t have the kid anymore but we are still a family.’

‘I lost the ship. I lost the kid.’ Din quietly spoke. ‘I’m just worried that-’

‘- I’m not going anywhere.’ You shook your head, knowing what he was going to say before the words even left his mouth. ‘Even if you paid me. You are stuck with me, okay? Cursed with me till the day I keel over and die.’

Finally, Din smiled. He looked you dead in the eye and he smiled, eyes creasing at the side as he peered down at you, eventually tightening his arms around your waist. He held your head to his chest, ungloved hand gently clutching you as he rested his chin on your hair. The first time he’d clung onto you like this had been after a rough mission; neither of you had been sure if he was going to make it back and when he did, the first thing he did was pull you into his arms and you stayed there for what felt like hours. That was when Din realised for the first time that he loved you - and now, after weeks of isolating himself and shutting you out, this didn’t feel completely different from that. It was just that this time, it was less of a realisation of more of a reminder.

‘I didn’t expect it to be this bad.’ Din quietly admitted.

‘I know.’ You whispered back, voice slightly muffled by his chest. ‘But pain is only temporary. Dark times pass and we’ll learn to look back on this and enjoy the memories. They won’t always be tainted.’

He’d been in a dark place when he’d met you. It was like he’d been treading water, waiting for the riptides to take him, to stake their claim and remind him of his mortality, to remind him that not even the bravest people can forfeit their ability to hurt. He tried. Maker, he had tried. The icy and emotionless impression he gave to strangers wasn’t an accident. It was a survival mechanism; a defense mechanism. One that you’d chosen to ignore. You’d saved him in every way a person could be saved.

Just as the waves were pulling him under, you’d dragged him out; dragged him to the shore and reminded him that pain was merely part of being human. Most importantly, you’d called his attention to the fact that no matter how much beskar he wore or how impenetrable he acted, that he couldn’t avoid being one. He could run away from bounty hunters and Imperials and the thousands of enemies he’d made but the fact of mortality was always hot on his tail.

Now, you were pulling him up for air all over again.

Eventually, pain stopped being a reminder of his humanity and instead, it was replaced by his love for you. His ability to feel things for you. You’d saved him then and now, you were helping him come up for air all over again. Being human didn’t always mean to hurt - it could just as much mean to love.

‘I’ve got you, okay?’ You tightened your grip on him, eyes meeting his. ‘Whatever you need.’

‘You.’ Din replied. ‘I need you. That’s all.’

a/n: ok i realised i published an identical but slightly different imagine to this in october but...clearly i have a type and that type is imagines where the mandalorian confesses that you’re the only thing he needs because i eat that shit up. consume it whole. i am telling you. i have no regrets. my content might is predictable but HELL at least u can rely on something in these wild times❤️

#din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian imagine #mandalorian fan fiction #din djarin fan fiction #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars fluff #din djarin fluff #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian spoilers #mandalorian season 2 spoilers

[torturedpoetemotions]

So I posted this plotbunny on tiktok for anyone to use because I was like “I don’t have time for this” but I somehow got over 2,000 people liking the video and 30+ comments mostly of people saying “oh please write it” soooo...

Plotbunny: I think if you just handed Dean a baby he would calm down. So write about people handing baby!Jack to Dean whenever he’s grumpy.

I’m sorry in advance?

It had been a difficult week.

No, scratch that, it had been a difficult couple of months. Between their last case going sideways, Sam being injured--”it’s not even that serious”--and Mary still missing or worse, locked away in some other world they had no way of getting to, Dean was understandably less than cheerful.

Castiel watched him stomp around the bunker’s kitchen with growing concern. He was all too familiar with Dean’s moods, and this was the kind that usually ended in a fight or some reckless stunt while on a job. And while he did think Dean had ample reason to be out of sorts, he didn’t enjoy the possibility of Dean getting hurt or starting a fight with Sam--or him--because of it.

So clearly, it was time to bring in the big guns.

He chose his moment carefully.

Right after breakfast, which included two cups of coffee. Castiel walked into the room as casually as he could, bouncing an obligingly irritable Jack in his arms. At Jack’s first, small sound of distress Dean’s head snapped up, eyes fixing immediately on Castiel.

Castiel returned his gaze with what he hoped was a convincing amount of distress, his whole face telegraphing “help me.”

Dean sighed and stood up, arms already reaching out.

“C’mere, I got him.” He took Jack from Castiel’s arms carefully, holding him to his chest and supporting his head with one hand. The second Jack was in his arms, Dean seemed to relax. Castiel watched with satisfaction as all the tension drained out of his shoulders, his scowl melting into a soft smile.

“Hey big man,” Dean murmured, voice achingly gentle. “You feelin’ grumpy this morning?”

Jack burbled his response against Dean’s shirt.

“I know,” Dean said, tone commiserating. “Mornings suck. It’s okay though, I got you. We’ll take a walk outside around the trees, how’s that sound?”

“Bbrbbfblerb,” Jack replied, sounding mollified.

“Exactly.” Dean shifted Jack’s weight just slightly and looked over at Castiel, all his earlier ire forgotten. “You wanna take a walk outside with us, Cas?”

The hopeful undertone wasn’t lost on Castiel. He smiled.

“I’d love to.”

---

In retrospect, Castiel wasn’t sure exactly when he discovered that handing Jack over was a surefire way to improve Dean’s mood significantly.

Dean woke up on the wrong side of the bed? Hand Jack over and watch the day’s outlook improve.

Dean realized they’re out of maple syrup after he’s already mixed up the pancake batter? Ask him to hold Jack and send Sam--who used it all in his vegan muffins and therefore should have been the one to repurchase anyway--to the store. Problem solved.

Dean’s favorite tape got eaten by the bunker’s ancient tape deck?

“Dean, if you can hold Jack I will try to wind the tape back up.”

Dean is empty-eyed and silent on the drive back from a hunt that went badly?

“Dean, can you go check on Jack? I’ll carry our bags inside.”

Every single time, no matter how bad things were, redirecting Dean’s attention to Jack seemed to soothe him in a matter of moments, like magic. But he couldn’t remember when he realized this was the case.

He also wasn’t sure about the ethical implications of using one’s child in such a way, but Jack didn’t seem to mind. If anything, he was exceedingly happy to be clingy or fussy or, as he got a bit bigger and began trying to talk, calling plaintively for “Dee!” whenever the situation called for it.

In fact, if there was anywhere Jack liked being more than in Castiel’s arms, it was in Dean’s. Castiel reminded himself sternly that Dean had years of experience dealing with small children, and thus this was no cause for jealousy.

And whatever twinge he might feel at the thought that he had no idea what he was doing and thus was perhaps a subpar parent faded whenever he saw Dean and Jack together. It was impossible not to enjoy the way the joy just shone from them both, and it was slightly addictive, seeing Dean that happy.

It was the perfect solution to the problem of Dean’s occasionally unhappiness and more than occasional grumpiness. At least until Sam had to go and ruin it all.

---

Whatever the fight was about, it must have started while they were out on their latest hunt. Dean, Sam, and Castiel had worked out a system: only two of them hunting at a time, to ensure they always had backup and one of them was always with Jack. This hunt had looked like a basic salt-and-burn, nothing requiring angelic “mojo,” as Dean called it. So Sam and Dean left for the hunt, and Castiel stayed home to learn the intricacies of something called “peekaboo.”

Apparently, whatever the case turned out to be dredged up some old wounds for the brothers. Castiel, back in the Dean Cave with Jack, heard their raised voices before they were even out of the garage.

“Dean, seriously, you need to pull your head out of your ass!”

“Sam. I’m only gonna say this one more time. Drop it.”

Castiel and Jack traded wide-eyed glances. Then, with a sigh, Castiel picked Jack up and headed in the direction of the commotion.

“Let’s see what’s the matter,” he said, resigned.

“Huuuh,” Jack replied, his approximation of an exasperated sigh.

When he rounded the corner into the library, the sight that met him was almost comically ridiculous. Sam and Dean were standing on opposite sides of the room, practically shouting at each other. Sam was gesticulating wildly, every word punctuated by the movements of his hands and hair alike. Dean, on the other hand, was clutching the back of one of the chairs for dear life, like if he let go he might not be responsible for what else his hands would do.

Castiel considered that now might actually not be a good time to hand Jack to Dean. Whatever the problem was, he didn’t want their son in the middle of it.

But before he could retreat, Sam spotted him and threw his hands up.

“Cas, thank god. Can you hand Jack over to Dean so maybe he’ll be capable of having a rational conversation?”

Castiel froze. Dean blinked. Sam’s hands dropped to his sides and he looked...small, like maybe he realized what he just said was supposed to remain unspoken.

Well. It wasn’t unspoken now.

“Excuse me?” Dean said, his voice quiet now. It wasn’t a good quiet. It was a dangerous sort of quiet, like the anger he felt was too big to be loud as well.

“I....” Castiel started. Then he stopped. He had no idea how to explain his behavior. In retrospect, it was manipulative and wrong, so very wrong. Of course it was.

“Sam...” Dean said, a tone in his voice Castiel could not identify.

“Yeah, I’m, I’ll...” he stopped. Sighed. “We’ll finish this later. Sorry, Cas,” he added before making a hasty retreat.

Castiel stood right where he was, rooted to the spot.

“Cas,” Dean said, hands releasing the chair as he stepped around the table, closing the distance between them slowly. “Is that true? You’ve been, what...handing Jack over any time I’m in a bad mood?”

Castiel swallowed around a lump in his throat. He looked to Jack. Jack just looked back up at him with big eyes that said hey, I’m just a baby. What do you want me to do?

Castiel looked back at Dean.

“Um. Perhaps. Yes?”

Dean took a deep, careful breath. In and out.

“Okay,” he said, clearly working to contain his frustration. “Can I ask why?”

“You...seem happy,” Castiel said helplessly. “This life...it’s difficult. And you take things to heart. And you get angry. But whenever you’re holding Jack, you’re just happy.” He could hear the pleading in his own voice and he hated it, but he wanted Dean to understand.

“So let me get this straight,” Dean said, pinching the bridge of his nose as though he felt a headache coming on. His voice was still carefully quiet. “I’m such a goddamn nightmare to live with that you and Sam can’t even tell me to stow my shit when I’m being a dick. But you thought it was a good idea to hand a baby to me when I’m like that?” He sounded furious in a way Castiel had never heard.

“I...that’s not...” But it was. Exactly that. “I know you would never do anything to hurt Jack,” he said at last, like that justified anything.

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean closed his eyes. The words were soft, pained. “That’s not the point. You don’t keep your kid around somebody like that. You don’t teach them that’s normal. Fucked up as my childhood was, even I know that.”

“Apologies,” Castiel said stiffly, wounded. “Never having had one myself, I am unaware of what constitutes an appropriate childhood.”

Dean looked at him, stricken.

“That’s not...sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just mean...you can’t go around appeasing me whenever I’m bein’ an ass, okay? You used to call me on my shit all the time. I get that it’s a full-time job, but...fuck. If I don’t know what I’m doin’ wrong, how the hell am I supposed to be better for you?”

Castiel took a deep breath. And then another. And another. Those green eyes trained on him made it difficult to think, suddenly, the words for you echoing in his head, trying desperately to convince him they meant something they couldn’t possibly mean.

“For...” His traitorous mouth started, and he clamped it shut. Dean’s eyes had that soft look in them now, the look Castiel associated with Dean holding Jack in his arms. But there was sadness behind it, too, and guilt. He wanted to soothe them away, somehow. But he didn’t offer to hand Jack over this time.

“I...apologize,” he said, this time sincerely. “What I was doing was...manipulative. And irresponsible.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Dean said, smiling a little. “I’ve been acting like a real asshole if you felt like you needed to do that just to keep the peace.”

“It wasn’t...I didn’t need to do it,” Castiel objected. Somehow, he felt that distinction was important. “I wasn’t afraid to...call you out.” Air-quotes are difficult when holding a baby.

“Then...”

“You look so happy when you’re holding Jack.” Castiel said. “It isn’t just when you’re angry. When you’re sad, or anxious, or feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault. I so rarely get to see you happy, and I...” he stopped, that suspicious lump in his throat again, choking off his words.

“You wanted to see me happy,” Dean whispered. Castiel nodded.

Dean stepped toward him, closing the remaining distance until he had one foot on the stair below where Castiel stood, looking up at him with those green eyes.

“Cas.” He reached out to carefully run a soothing hand over Jack’s head. Jack cooed, wiggling around a little so he could point his toothless baby grin at Dean.

Dean spared him an achingly sweet smile before he pulled his attention back to Castiel.

“I’m not gonna be smiling all the time, okay? That’s just not how life works, but...” he trailed off and diverted his gaze back down to Jack, a flush rising to his cheeks. “I’m happy as I’ve ever been, man. Here with you, and Sam, and Jack.” He looked up at Castiel with a new glint in his eye and a set to his jaw, as though steeling himself for what he needed to say next.

“Even when I have bad days...I’ve got everything I ever wanted, right here.”

Castiel breathed in. Looked into Dean’s eyes, surety and truth shining out of them. Looked down at Jack, who was staring up at the two of them like they were the world’s most fascinating cartoon. Looked back at Dean, who jerked his gaze back up from where it had fallen to linger on Castiel’s lips.

Castiel put that information away for exploration another time. He wanted to know what that look meant, wanted to follow it and see where it might go. But right now, he just wanted to be here with his son, and his...Dean. His family.

“Are you and Sam going to be okay?” He asked. Dean sighed.

“Yeah. He...he has a point, I guess. I just wasn’t ready to listen. I’ll go make up with him later.”

“Good,” Castiel said. “Would...would you like to hold Jack? Not for...just...”

“Yeah,” Dean said, grinning now. “Yeah, hand ‘im over.”

Jack, as though he understood every word, was already leaning out of Castiel’s arms, reaching for Dean with both hands.

“Dee!”

Dean grabbed him and swung him around, the smile Castiel loved so much settling over his face. “Hey big man! You have fun with Cas today?”

“’As!” Jack said, delighted. Dean looked at Castiel over Jack’s head, eyes wide and mouth twitching.

“Looks like he’s found his second word,” Dean said, clearly fighting the laughter out of his voice.

“That...is not...”

“‘As!” Jack said again, louder. He looked very proud of himself. Castiel rubbed his hands over his face, shaking his head helplessly.

He supposed he had been acting like a bit of an ass.

#supernatural #jack kline #dean winchester #dad dean #baby!jack #destiel #fanfiction #my writing

[trashyswitch]

Oh For Fox Sake!

Michael didn't expect to be given a completely separate job besides the technician job he signed up for in Circus Baby's Pizza World. Now he's sitting in an office with animatronics hunting them down. One of the animatronics happens to be another foxy abbreviation. But this one...gives him many mixed emotions...

This fanfic was suggested by an anonymous person on Tumblr. Whoever you are: I hope you enjoy!

Also, I had no clue what gender to make Lolbit. So, I just gave Lolbit the pronouns they/them/it and followed it throughout. Please let me know if I mistyped anywhere! I'll try to fix it right away.

Michael was sitting in the small private office that had been hidden in the side of one of the PizzaPlex’s auditoriums. He had been working at the Pizzeria as a technician, and was just now given a few security guard shifts. This office was surprisingly a little bigger than the vents. It was also much more darker, and had PizzaPlex merchandise hidden on the table. It even had a black fan roaring away on the desk. Learning from general online rumors, every office that was built within every building made by Fazbear Entertainment, would have Fazbear merchandise and a fan. Some person named [Fitz-coward] on a public chat room called it the ‘Fazfan’. A few other people had given their own opinion on the ‘fazfan’ and even made jokes about it. It was kinda funny at first. But now that it had relevance on a personal level, it actually made sense.

It’s amazing what a few bouts of curiosity will lead you to find…And those poor guys...They’ve probably dealt with so much fear after that job.

Michael checked the tablet and checked the cameras that were available to him. He had to keep an eye on a couple specific animatronics such as Ennard, Funtime Freddy with tiny Bonbon, and Lolbit. Michael hadn’t even heard of Lolbit until this point. Who in the heck was Lolbit?! Only when he saw the orange animatronic staring at him through the hall camera, did he get his answer. It looked to be a twin version of Funtime Foxy. But was it Foxy’s brother? Or sister? What gender even was it? Now that he thought about it: What gender is Foxy?!

Michael heard sounds coming from the left hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was back with its jaw open and ready to crush. Michael bit his lip and closed the door on it. Out of this room! Begone! Scat! Leeeeaaave! He was not in the mood for Lolling around.

Hehehe...Lolling…

Michael looked at the hallways and groaned. Ennard’s broken body was on his way too. Wonderful… Michael kept his hand on the open door and made sure to leave some time to close it on the evil monstrosity. Michael looked over at the other hallway, and noticed that Lolbit was gone. So closed went the right door, and open went the left. Ennard was now locked out, and Lolbit was long gone.

Michael smiled and checked the right door to make sure Ennard was unable to get in. When he was sure, Michael relaxed slightly.

One thing Michael noticed was just how quickly the day seemed to be going. It was already 3:30 and the animatronics were being at least a little more behaved. It’s weird and usually worrisome whenever he does anything involving the animatronics. Whether it’s a loving animatronic like Funtime Freddy and BonBon, or a vengeful animatronic like Ennard, Michael didn’t wanna have anything to do with either. He’s seen enough of the animatronics behaviour to say “I’m out”.

And yet...here he was: back at it again with more shifts.

Hearing sounds, Michael closed the left door again. But suddenly, an ear-deafening bang overwhelmed Michael’s ears.

A few seconds later, another loud bang went off.

...And another.

One last bang filled his pain-filled ears as the huge metal door he closed earlier, started to fall in front of him. Michael shrieked and covered his ears, watching in horror as the huge door came crashing down just inches in front of him. Michael was visibly shaking from the super loud noises. His ears were ringing as well. It was like a gun just went off beside his ear multiple times!

Just as the metal sound slowly stopped echoing throughout the room, some loud and boyish laughter filled the office. “HOHAHAHAHAha! Now I bet you weren’t ex-xpecting ME, now WERE you? OhOHOHOhahaha!” a manic voice asked.

Michael widened his eyes in horror as he scooted to the corner of the room. “No...NO!”

“Oh YES! HAHAHAHAhah! You-u RECOGNIZE ME! DONTCHA?” They asked.

Michael grabbed his flashlight and started flashing it nonstop into the animatronic’s eyes. “Get out of here! This is MY private spot!”

Lolbit walked closer and hit the flashlight right out of his hands. “Su-Such a BAAABY…” Lolbit muttered out loud. “Hmmm...Maybe try ha-A-A-arder next time! HAHAhaHAHAHaha!” It suggested.

“I DID try harder! YOU’RE the one who broke the door down!” Michael argued.

The animatronic looked down and chuckled awkwardly. “O-Oh yeah! I forgot about tha-A-at!” It reacted.

Michael sighed. “Just please Lolbit...Go.”

The animatronic smiled and walked closer and closer to Michael just to spite him. “Since WHE-E-EN could you tell ME what to do? You’ve got qui-I-I-ite the NERVE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Yeah, I do! And I learned it on my own, thank you very much.” Michael added.

“My My! Such a ta-A-A-alker! I wonder: Does that mo-0-O-outh of yours have a benefit?” Lolbit asked.

“Sometimes. I could use it to lead you away so that I don’t end up dying tonight.” Michael reworded.

“HAhahahAHAHAha! Be ca-A-areful what you wi-I-I-ish for~!” Lolbit teased.

Michael raised an eyebrow.

Lolbit knelt down and picked up Michael by the armpits. Michael shrieked in horror and quickly started wiggling and fighting it. “HEY! GET OFF ME! LET ME GO RIGHT NOW!” Michael shouted.

“Haaaaa...And what will you do-O-O if I DON’T?” Lolbit asked with a sly voice.

“I’ll-I’ll tickle you!” Michael shot back without even properly thinking.

Lolbit widened its eyes and stared at Michael.

“Y-Yeah! I’ll do it! I’m not afraid to tickle you!” Michael added, adding wiggling fingers as he went along with it. “Unless you’re not ticklish…”

Lolbit stared off into the space within Michael’s eyes, and only blinked once out of awkwardness...Then, the fox full on dropped Michael where he was. Michael grunted as he landed on his butt onto the slightly dusty ground.

“Ow…” Michael muttered. “Wait, really?” Michael reacted suddenly. Lolbit turned right around and started to speed walk their way outta there. But Michael quickly pulled himself together and grabbed Lolbit’s foot. “Gotcha!”

“aAAA-A-A-AAAH! HEY! I LET YOU GO!” Lolbit yelled at him.

“Yeah, and that made me curious!” Michael replied. “I might’ve been originally joking when I said that. But the moment you dropped me and tried to run, I HAD to find out if animatronics were ticklish.” Michael told it. “Or, if they can simulate being ticklish.” Michael added. “Same difference in my opinion.”

Lolbit leaned against the wall and shook their leg. “Get off me-E-E!” it yelled.

“No way!” Michael replied. He took advantage of the exposed foot and skittered his fingers on it. “Tickle tickle~”

Lolbit shrieked with voice glitches in between, and threw Michael right off the leg with a strong kick. Michael went flying, and ended up hitting his back against the wall on the other side of the office. Michael groaned and laid on his back for a moment, trying to make sure he didn’t break his back or injure it further. When Michael could feel his legs and see his feet reacting to his movements, Michael sat back up and stood. “Ow...All that because you’re sensitive?” Michael asked.

Lolbit pointed at him. “Stop that!” It ordered. “O-Or I’ll get you back!” Lolbit warned.

Michael looked at himself and smirked. “Sounds like a sacrifice worth taking in my opinion!” Michael sprinted up to Lolbit and dove for them. Lolbit shrieked like a freaking witch, and tried to run away. But Michael had an unfair headstart and had managed to grab hold of its orange and white tail! “LE-e-ET GO-”

Michael managed to shut up the fox with a single squeeze to the side. It helped that Lolbit came with curvy, dented plates on both lower sides! Cause otherwise, he probably wouldn’t have been able to squeeze there.

“HEheheEHEHEY! HAHANDS OHOHohohOFF!” Lolbit yelled.

“Why would I do that when I have a ticklish fox in my arms?” Michael asked back. “This is fun!”

Lolbit shook their head. “IHIHIS NAHAhahaAHAHAT!”

Michael chuckled. “A little reminder that you kicked me across the room just a couple minutes ago. You are much stronger than me. So if you really hated it So MuCh…” Michael moved his fingers up to the middle ribs- “You could easily stop me.” Michael concluded.

“IHIHIT’S A-A-AGAINST MY COHOHODE TOHO HUHURT YOHOHOHOU!” Lolbit yelled.

“Is it now?” Michael asked. “It’s against my code to damage you even minorly! We both have the same laws.” Michael admitted. “And yet: you’ve kicked me already. So you would’ve already ‘hurt’ me. But notice this: no one gave you a controlled shock for throwing me. Therefore:” Michael moved to Lolbit’s orange belly. “Yooouuu kinda like it~”

Lolbit squealed and doubled over. Sensing they were gonna fall, Lolbit pushed Michael out of the way and allowed itself to flop onto its side. “Nohoho...Nohoho moho-O-ohore.” Lolbit begged.

Michael fell a bit backwards, but didn’t hit the ground very hard this time. He got up and looked at Lolbit with interest. “You...saved me.” Michael reacted.

“You’re a hu-U-U-uman! Of COURSE I saved you!” Lolbit opened its jaw. “Ihihi-I-I would be in big trouble if I-i-I damaged you under my care.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael smiled at that. “Thanks for saving me from being crushed.” Michael told it.

Lolbit giggled. “Are you ca-A-alling me fat?” Lolbit asked jokingly.

Michael widened his eyes and covered his mouth. “NO! NO WAY! I would never call you fat! ESPECIALLY intentionally!” Michael reacted loudly.

Lolbit bursted out laughing. “HAHAHAhahahahAHAHA! Yohohou’re so GULLiBLE! It’s HI-i-ILARIOUS!” Lolbit reacted, leaning over and laughing towards the ground.

Michael smirked. “You wanna laugh, huh? Alright! Let’s laugh.” Michael crawled back up to the fox and grabbed the ankle. Lolbit’s giggles quickly paused and were replaced with shrieked of artificial fear! “Wa-A-ait!” Lolbit yelled.

Michael started tickling the underside of the feminine-looking foot almost right away. Lolbit started kicking their other foot and covered its snout as it laughed with glitches in between. “HEHEHEHE-e-EHEY! NAHAHAT THEHEheheheHEHEHERE!” Lolbit protested.

“Why not? Ticklish foot, much?” Michael teased.

“Whahahahat dohoho YOHOhoHOU THIHI-i-IHINK?!” Lolbit shot back.

Michael gasped and paused for a moment. “You’ve got quite the NERVE!” Michael reacted, referencing Lolbit’s words from earlier. Michael even made his voice slightly scratchy and higher to make it sound similar to Lolbit’s for the next words: “Such a BAAABY…”

Lolbit bursted out laughing more. “AAHAHAHAHahahaHAHA! THAHAT WA-a-AHAS TEHEHERRIBLE!” Lolbit reacted.

“Oh! Was it now?” Michael reacted. He moved up to Lolbit’s cute, flat and decorated toes. “It couldn’t have been THAT bad, could it?” Michael teased.

Lolbit threw their head back and started letting out fits of glitchy cackles. “NOHOHOHO-o-o-OHOHOhohoho! TOHOHO-o-O MUHU-H-H-huhuHUHuch!” Lolbit yelled to him.

Michael just laughed with them. “Wohohow! Your laugh is going all over the place! It doesn’t know what it’s doing!” Michael teased, pausing his tickling to show them. “It’s up here! Then it’s down here! It goes from SO LOUD, TO super soft...soooo soft...And THEN IT JUMPS UP AGAIN!” Michael teased much more dramatically.

Lolbit shook their head back and forth and kept kicking their other foot. “IHIHI CAHahahahaAHAHAn’T HEHE-e-E-e-EHEHELP IHIhihIHIHIT!” Lolbit yelled back.

“Well duh! Of course you can’t help it! It’s like my snorting! I can’t help it either! But it’s still funny!” Michael added.

Lolbit gently pushed Michael away with its foot on his chest. “Ohohokahay, thahat’s ehe-E-ehehenough.” Lolbit ordered.

“Ey ey, captain.” Michael replied with a salute.

“Hehehey now: I ain’t the captain around here.” Lolbit sat up and looked at Michael. “Foxy is the legenda-A-ary captain aro-O-O-ound these parts!” Lolbit mentioned.

“Really now?” Michael reacted.

“Yeah! AhehEHEHEhehehe! Indeed he is! He’s a version of the original! A family of Foxy’s! I’m more of a-A-a second-in-command!” Lolbit admitted.

“You’re still important though. I think you’re still important.” Michael mentioned.

Lolbit’s ears perked up. “Hey! Thanks ki-I-id! You’re quite swell yerself!” Lolbit replied.

Michael smiled. “Thank you.”

The two of them sat in silence for a bit. It was a good silence, though a little uncomfortable. They just didn’t really know what to say. Lolbit’s break-in was a success, and Michael’s questions were already answered.

Though there was one last question…

“Hey Lolbit?” Michael asked. Lolbit looked up at Michael and lifted their ears up a little. “How come I haven’t seen you until now?” Michael asked.

Lolbit’s ears and snout both fell at that question. Lolbit tapped their orange fingernail on the ground as they came up with an answer. “Well...Foxy wa-A-as adored more by kids. Kids L-L-loved a purple and pink fox better than an orange fox.” Lolbit replied.

Michael’s curious face morphed into a hurt expression.

“And I didn’t mat-AT-atch the other guys.” Lolbit added.

Michael frowned at that. “Well, Circus Baby doesn’t match the general aesthetic either.” Michael added.

Lolbit looked at Michael out of the corner of its black, void eyes. “Circus Baby is-s dangerous. She-E broke the rule. She no-NO-no longer entertains.” Lolbit admitted.

Michael hummed curiously. He began to wonder what exactly Circus Baby did to get so badly in trouble. But, knowing his father and his motives…

Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t know the specifics.

Lolbit looked back up at Michael. “I ha-A-ave a question.” They told him. Michael looked up and gave Lolbit his full attention. “Is it tru-TrUE that you snort when you laugh?” Lolbit asked.

Michael’s eyes widened as he processed the question. Oh no…

Michael quickly tried to scoot back and run away. But Lolbit was one step ahead of him. Lolbit had grabbed Michael’s ankle and had pulled him closer. “Hey now! HAHAheheheHaHA!” Lolbit put their hands around his waist. “You’re not go-GOing ANYWHERE! HEheheHEHEHEE!” Lolbit declared, laughing themself silly as they used their dark eyes to scan for tickle spots. “You had your at-AT-attack! Now it’s MY TU-TURN! AHUHUHuhuhUHUHUUU!” Lolbit declared proudly. Lolbit immediately started out with quick scratches on the belly. “Tickle tickle s-security guard~” Lolbit teased.

Michael squealed and covered his mouth in an attempt to prevent any laughs or snorts from coming out. Lolbit noticed this and immediately pinned one of Michael’s arms above his head. “AhahahaHAHAHAAA! No che-CHE-cheating on my watch!” Lolbit declared. “And just for that:” Lolbit started tickling in Michael’s now vulnerable armpit.

Michael threw his head back and LAUGHED! “BAHAAAHAHAHAhahaha! NAHAT THEHEHERE! NAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE!” Michael yelled.

“Oooooh! Why not? HEHEHEhehehe! Ti-TI-ticklish armpit, much?” Lolbit teased, saying the same thing Michael used on him. “I guess you could sa-say THIS ticklish spot is u-UNDER investigation~” Lolbit said as the fox poked its finger further into Michael’s armpit.

Michael whined. “Thahahat Whahahas TEHEHEHERRIBLE!” Michael complained.

“Wo-Would you say it was punny?” lolbit asked. Or maybe…” Lolbit poked Michael’s shoulder- “Huuuumerus~?”

Michael shook his head and pushed against his snout. “STAHAHAHAP!”

“Wow! I didn’t know my jo-jokes were so…” Lolbit moved their fingers to Michael’s ribs and started digging and skittering. “Riiib-tickling~! AHAHAhahahahaHUUUU!”

Michael threw his head back and cackled loudly with snorts mixed in.

“Oh WOOOW! You really DO SNORT! You-ou must be the life of the PARTY! Or maybe even the life of the PORKY~?” Lolbit teased.

“SHUHUHUT UHUHUHUP!” Michael shouted at him.

“HAHAhahaHAHA! Why would I do that when I could ke-keep making animal jokes?” Lolbit asked rhetorically as they moved their metal nails up and down the ribs. “Be-Besides: Fazbear Entertainment should have made me-ME a parrot! Cause I am a HOOT! I KEET you not!” Lolbit teased.

Michael growled and shook his head. “IHIHIHI HAHAHAHATE THEHEHEM!” Michael shouted. “THEHEHEY’RE SOHOHOHO BAHAHAHAD!”

“Hate them?! But look!” Lolbit poked his mouth. “You‘re smil-iling! And you’re laughing at them! And tha-that with your piggy snorts mixed in, is a real tweet~! Ahahaha!” Lolbit joked.

Lolbit narrowed its eyes and brought its snout closer to Michael. “Ohoho...Excuse me- does it look like I ha-HA-have a black beard to you?!” Lolbit reacted all sassy. Michael giggled more at the fox’s reaction. “Ooooh...You’re trying to toy with the robot! I seeee says the blind man!” Lolbit reacted. Lolbit started tickling Michael’s sides this time. “And I feeeel your fingers, says the nerveless Nellie~” Lolbit added.

Michael yelped and groaned through his new fit of laughter. “HEHehehehey! *snort* THAHAhahahat’s nohohohot- *snort* hohohow ihihihit gohohohoes!” Michael protested.

“Ohoho alright. Ihi-I suppose that pun was a bit of a stretch.” Lolbit decided before finally letting Michael go.

Michael went limp and started panting right away. There were still phantom tickles plaguing him, causing him to giggle and squirm through his shallow breathing.

“I suppose I should be band from funny boneville?” Lolbit finished off.

“Ihihi will shohohock you.” Michael warned with an uncontrollable giggle.

“Ohohoho! How enlightening! Perhaps even frightening!” Lolbit teased.

Lolbit finally stopped with the puns the moment Michael squeezed their sides. There were just too many puns all at once. Perhaps they would be all over now…

No fox were given during the making of this Fazfan-fic. Are these puns bad enough for you, anon? XD

#fnaf sister location #other mentioned animatronics #fluff and humor #ticklefic #switch!michael #switch!lolbit #puns & word play #horrible puns #michael afton needs help

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

Request (from this post):

@ebbster2012 suggested: Modern 3zun where Nie Mingjue or Lan Xichen head hunts Meng Yao from his dad’s company. Seducing him away with competence, respect, and sex appeal. (Also posted to Ao3)

I’ll make the disclaimer again that corporate stuff is very much outside of my area of expertise so I’m sorry if I didn’t go into as much detail as the prompt deserves 😅 I genuinely had to google what head hunting was to make sure I was thinking of the right thing. But anyway, hope you like it, thanks for the prompt! ^_^

--

“Incredible work as always, A-Yao,” Lan Xichen praises, suffusing his voice with as much warmth as he’s capable of - and he’s capable of quite a bit. It’s difficult to make Jin Guangyao blush, he’s discovered over the years of their acquaintance, but not impossible. Never impossible.

“Lan-gege is too kind,” Jin Guangyao replies with a sweet smile and Lan Xichen has to admit defeat - his punishment for making his companion blush is to be made to blush in return - a punishment he'll happily submit to. As soon as Jin Guangyao breaks out the dimples and wide, limpid eyes he’s done for. He distracts himself long enough to become more composed by straightening out the papers Jin Guangyao had brought for him despite the fact that they’re already neatly arranged in their perfectly labelled folder.

When he feels he can talk again without embarrassing himself, he says, “There’s no such thing as too kind, and I’m certainly not being too kind now. The work you do for us is invaluable, I hope you know how much I appreciate you.”

“Yes, Lan-gege, you tell me every time we have these meetings.” Jin Guangyao’s amusement is palpable but all Lan Xichen does to show he hears the teasing is offer him his usual soft smile.

“And I shall continue to tell you every single time I’m grateful for what you do.”

“It’s my job, you don’t have to thank me.”

“Mm. May I ask a somewhat unprofessional question?”

“Of course.”

“Does Nie Mingjue thank you as well?”

That question earns him a new expression - pursed lips and narrowed eyes as Jin Guangyao no doubt thinks about how to answer him.

“May I ask why you want to know?”

Lan Xichen raises his hands in surrender with another smile that seems to thaw some of the cold calculation in that gaze.

“I know you also do business with him, I want to make sure he’s treating you properly.”

Jin Guangyao dimples a smile at him and Lan Xichen is, as always, instantly charmed nearly into forgetting what they were talking about in the first place.

“Lan-gege is so considerate, so thoughtful. My interactions with Nie Mingjue are satisfactory. Is there anything else today, Mr Lan?”

The abrupt switch to a much more professional tone for the last question leaves Lan Xichen blinking slightly in surprise but he recovers quickly with a hum and another smile. He smiles at everyone (a lot, Nie Mingjue has told him multiple times that he finds it weird) but Jin Guangyao gets his own special smiles.

“Only what I always end with. We’re looking for -“

“A new head of your financial department, yes Lan-gege,” Jin Guangyao cuts in with another demure smile. He pairs it with an absolutely devastating doe-eyed glance through his lashes that makes Lan Xichen feel a touch too warm under the collar of his shirt - a familiar sensation when dealing with Jin Guangyao and his charms. “And I will say as I always do that I’m not currently looking for a change but I’ll keep it in mind should I ever need to.”

“Alright, then I suppose that’s all for this week. Unless you have anything else?”

“I actually do have something - it’s..equally unprofessional.”

“Oh? Please, feel free.”

Lan Xichen stays seated when Jin Guangyao stands but gestures for him not to get up with him. He stays still as the man steps around his desk to lean the backs of his thighs against the edge, hands linked in front of his hips as he smiles that charming smile again. This close, without the desk as a barrier between them, he’s practically intoxicating.

“Nie da-ge includes dinner invitations with his attempts to recruit me. Lan-gege will have to try a little harder,” he says with a sweet smile and Lan Xichen laughs - that is to say he closes his eyes and smiles with a slight shake of his head.

He opens his eyes again when he hears Jin Guangyao move but he otherwise stays still as the man runs one delicate hand along his shoulder, across his chest, and up the side of his neck to cup his cheek and turn his head towards him. They lock eyes and Lan Xichen knows that if he were standing his knees would be weak as Jin Guangyao smirks down at him.

“I’ll see you next week,” Jin Guangyao says breezily with a couple of pats to his cheek and then he’s gone, leaving behind nothing more than the faintest hint of his cologne in the air and the lingering feeling of his hand on Lan Xichen’s cheek.

Lan Xichen sits there in the quiet for a few long moments, just breathing slowly and reveling in the contentment and satisfaction that always sings through him during and after a meeting with Jin Guangyao. After 10 minutes or so of that, though, he pulls his phone from its drawer in his desk to open up his text thread with Nie Mingjue.

Me:

You invite A-Yao out to dinner,

Mingjue? That’s cheating!

The response comes right away, much to Lan Xichen’s amusement.

Mingjue:

It’s not cheating, it’s perfectly standard procedure

to include an invitation for a meal with offers of

recruitment interviews. We said no asking him

out on dates, we didn’t say no business-

oriented, completely professional meals that just

happen to be at very nice restaurants.

Me:

It’s supposed to be lunch! Cheating, Mingjue,

so shameless. And you didn’t tell me :(

Unfair advantages are definitely cheating!

Mingjue:

How did you even find out, by the way?

Me:

A-Yao just told me before he left my office.

Does he ever accept?

Mingjue:

Every time.

Me:

And he still won’t let you recruit him?

Mingjue:

Nope.

Me:

Interesting.

Well I suppose the only thing for it is to

also start inviting him on outings that are

definitely not dates. It’s only fair.

Mingjue:

Hey. Do you ever get the feeling that

he’s just playing with us?

Me:

Perhaps. Is that a bad thing? If you don’t

like it you can bow out now and

I certainly won’t judge you, Mingjue.

Mingjue:

Nice try, Xichen.

Me:

Worth a shot. He has his meeting with

you tomorrow, right?

Mingjue:

He does, and I’m going to offer to take him out to

that new upscale Vietnamese place Huaisang likes.

Me:

I’ll make sure to choose somewhere else for

my dinner with him, then.

Mingjue:

Do you think he’ll ever actually leave Jin Guangshan?

We already know the man’s a conniving motherfucker.

What if he’s done something to make sure A-Yao doesn’t

ever go anywhere else?

Me:

Then we’ll just have to keep trying, and continue

making sure he knows we appreciate him.

Mingjue:

Oh alright fine. Kidnapping him is

out of the question though?

Me:

Unfortunately so.

Mingjue:

Damn. He ever give you that look through his eyelashes

that makes you want to bundle him up and

hold him for at least a few hours?

Me:

Yes.

Frequently.

Mingjue:

See?! He’s not playing fair either! Nice dinners are the

least I can do after he looks at me like that.

Me:

I have to concede that point. I also need to

return to work, unfortunately.

Mingjue:

Alright, I’ll see you tonight. Take-out

sushi for dinner?

Me:

Sounds lovely.

Lan Xichen sighs to himself and returns the phone to the drawer with a sardonic little smile on his lips. Trust Nie Mingjue to bully his way through the rules of their little game and do what he wants to do anyway. Well - if he’s going to hit on Jin Guangyao then Lan Xichen is going to stop being quite so reticent with his own attempts. Besides, if one of them wins this bet then they both win, technically, as the ultimate goal is to get Jin Guangyao somewhere he’s properly valued and treated well - it doesn’t really matter which company he ends up choosing.

In the end, though, he doesn’t choose either of them. Or - perhaps a slightly more accurate way to put it is that he chooses both of them, just not in any way they could have anticipated.

Lan Xichen claims that he technically won the bet because Jin Guangyao came to him first with the plans to start his own financial company and asked the Lan corporation to be his first major client. Nie Mingjue claims that he won because he had been the one to suggest the company in the first place over one of his and Jin Guangyao’s weekly dinners. Jin Guangyao claims he beat them both because he foiled their plans to steal him into either one of their companies, because it was his idea to use the money from successfully suing his father to fund it, and because he picked up two boyfriends out of the deal without having to worry about creating a headache for either the Nie or Lan corporations’ HR team to deal with.

“A-Yao makes a good point, Mingjue,” Lan Xichen sighs when Jin Guangyao finishes stating as much, practically radiating smug satisfaction, and Nie Mingjue’s grumpy, nonverbal acquiescence is really its own reward.

“Don’t grunt, da-ge, I haven’t worn you out that much yet tonight. Use your words,” Jin Guangyao chastises and Lan Xichen just barely lifts his head to watch him swat at Nie Mingjue’s bare hip.

“A-Yao makes a good point,” Nie Mingjue dutifully parrots around a yawn and Lan Xichen hides his laugh in the crook of Jin Guangyao’s neck.

“Mm.” Jin Guangyao sounds ridiculously satisfied with himself as he slides his arms around the two men laying in bed on either side of him. “Perfect.”

#the untamed fanfic #3zun #Nie Mingjue #Lan Xichen #Jin Guangyao #Modern AU #prompt fill #for this one I’m hc’ing Nielan as roommates/best friends #and JGY is absolutely 100% openly playing them both but they’re into it so it’s all good #and in the end of course it works out with all of them together so JGY is definitely that bitch #all part of my ‘let my/jgy be thoroughly spoiled’ agenda #also I’m sorry if the texts between nielan are kind of hard to follow #the format is much better on the AO3 version

[ot5ismyhome]

33. Destruction Breeds Creation

To read from beginning click here.

*****

Coulson looked at agents- remaining agents- in front of him. They all had the hollow frightened look in their eyes. If he was alone, he would have adorned the same look but he had seen and gone through a lot to know that the team is just the reflection of the leader. When he spoke up, his ever-playful chirpy voice filled the room.

“No Darkhold. Base gone. If anybody has ideas now would be the good time to say it.” 

“Me and Fitz have been looking up about Loki. The normal ways used to kill a vampire will not work on him” started Simmons.

“How fucked are we?” Hunter quipped.

“He is a vampire and a witch” Fitz replied with a tilt in his head. “Sunlight, Holy fire, Stake, I guess even beheading cannot stop that guy. So, I will say very much.”

“That explains his powers. I knew something was up with that guy” Mack said. 

Simmons cut through the banter bringing the focus on the research. “Sir, All the powers, every single thing we saw out there was witchcraft. Actually, he is a winter witch. His powers are more prominent in colder weather. According to the data Agent Romanoff provided earlier, he can bring winter anywhere.”

“He needed the Darkhold to cast permanent winter. If he succeeds, we can’t turn it back. Maybe the book would help us turn it back but it’s just a theory” Fitz said. He sighed and placed his hands on his hips.

“But there is one thing that could bring him down. The Stake of the First Vampire”

“Now, we just need to know where it is” Hunter said looking expectantly at Lincoln.

“I have no idea,” Lincoln shrugged. 

“I will contact Jiaying. Trip and Thompson evacuate the city. Hunter and Elena run ops.”

The agents nodded to their Director’s order and took off. 

“Sir, I need permission to bring my daughter back here,” Mack asked. When Coulson gave affirmation, he left with Trip and Thompson.

…..

The young man walked into the Gothite Industries. He was stopped by the security.

“Who do you want to see?”

“Oh yes. Mr. Malick. You could say I’m his family. Hail Legion.” Nathaniel said the last two words in the guard’s ears. The guard immediately stepped aside.

“Sorry sir. I didn’t know you were... But I have never seen you around.”

“This visit is long overdue.”

…..

“We came across five bloody massacres and we still haven’t covered Brooklyn.” 

Elena sighed. “We need to prepare for the upcoming battle.”

“Hey. You there. What are you doing here?” shouted a man grabbing the duo’s attention. They turned around to see a policeman. “Don’t you know you have to vacate the city?” he shouted. “Fuckers. Making my job difficult.”

Back in the jeep Elena’s mind was racing on what to do. “We need to do something,” she told Hunter.

The policeman shouted racial slur at a black teenage boy who just exited the nearby shop. The police neared the terrified boy.

“What have you got there?” sneered the man, taking his gun out. “You are stealing, aren’t you?” he threatened the kid.

The kid started stammering and dropped the things down. He lifted his arms above his head.

“No sir, I left some mone-”

The kid’s eyes widened in surprise. He didn’t finish his sentence as he saw a man sneak behind the harasser and sucker punch him. The policeman went down to the ground, unconscious. Hunter turned towards Elena and made an ‘okay’ gesture with his hand.

Hunter approached the kid. “Hey are you okay?” he asked, still keeping his eyes on the police.

“You punched him.” 

“Yeah, if I hadn’t, he would have shot you”

Elena making her way towards them. “What’s your name?” she added looking at the boy.

“Flint”

“Flint, the city is in great danger. We need you to get out as soon as possible. There is a bus five blocks away. We will drop you there.”

“No. I can’t leave my sister. She is handicapped. I need to take care of her.”

“Then let’s get your sister.”

…..

Mack went to collect his daughter. When he reached school, he saw that it was a total mess. All the parents and children were running around trying to find each other. Mack joined them desperate to find his daughter.

“Hope” he shouted. There was no response. He called her for her again and again. Finally, he heard a feeble voice answering back.

“Hope” he shouted again.

“Daddy” a little girl shouted from inside the classroom. She ran to him and he swept her in his arms. 

“Daddy, what’s happening?”

“A bad guy had taken over the city. We need to get out soon.”

“You always said we should always fight back. Also help others. Aren’t we going to do that?”

“First, I’m taking my little princess to safety”

As he reached the Quinjet, he placed Hope on the seat. “Be here. Daddy will be back.” He turned to Trip, “Can you watch her till I come back?”

…..

Gideon Malick was on the conference call with the higher ups in the government. He used them as puppets in his master plan. What he didn’t expect was Loki coming back. He needed to put an end to it. For the Legion to grow over here, he needed to have control over The Council. Had Loki not come back, the ATCU would have been a success.

Gideon heard a rapport knock on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He signalled to Giyera to be on alert as a young man stepped inside. The blood drained from the businessman’s face. His eyes widened and beads of sweat formed on his forehead.

“You weren’t expecting me, were you? I have always wanted to hunt you down. But Barnes and Wilson were also about letting it go. They don’t know the inner turmoil. They don’t know what you did to me” Nathaniel said pacing the big office. Giyera was on his guard ready to attack on his boss’ order. Gideon had lost the ability to speak as he looked at his so thought dead brother.

“Finally, my time has come. Anarchy is here. The Council would never understand that” Nathaniel stopped his pacing and glanced at his petrified brother. “Gideon, you trapped yourself in the Legion and the government, bound by their history, rules, hierarchy” he spat the last word.  “You go around saying ‘Hail Legion’ and ‘God bless America.’ Say goodbye to all that. Say hello to anarchy.”

“Nathaniel-”

“I didn’t come here to listen to your pathetic pleas.” Nathaniel closed his hands around his elder brother’s neck and lifted him. Giyera ran forward to stop him. But he caught the bodyguard with his other hand and threw him against the wall. Giyera went down unconscious. He turned his attention to Gideon.

“You planned and tried to kill me back then. Just for this Legion. You know what? It all turned out good. Your organizations are all the same. More and more hierarchy. It diminishes one’s true potential. It creates unbalance. I’m going to destroy all that. Destruction breeds creation.” Nathaniel snapped the neck of Gideon Malick. He dropped his brother’s limp body and walked out. 

…..

Flint took the agents to his home. The door was slightly open and there were signs of forced entry. Elena and Hunter shared a look but didn't say anything.

"Tess" called out Flint. Hearing no reply, he panicked as he approached her room. He opened the door to see his sister lying on the bed. At first it looked normal but on closer look he felt something was not right.

Elena and Hunter noticed that Tess was pale. Her skin looked grey. Flint shook his sister awake but got no response. Hunter checked the pulse. He realised she must have just died now. There was no pulse but the body was still warm.

Hunter signalled Elena to scan the house. As she slipped away quietly, Hunter pulled the crying boy towards himself. He tried to get Flint out of the house but he resisted.

“Lad, we need to get out soon,” Hunter urged. But Flint pulled himself away from Hunter’s hold.

“My sister is dead, man. I’m not going anywhere” he shouted as he pushed Hunter further away.

Hunter’s eyes widened as he saw the figure in the bedroom doorway.

“Duck” he shouted as he drew out his gun and pointed at the man. The man came out of the shadows. He wore old crumpled clothes. His face was in contrast. His skin glowed healthy. His eyes were red and his fangs had descended. Hunter shot the man but it was in vain. He kept shooting again and again. Blood poured out of his chest but he kept walking. Hunter protectively pushed Flint behind him.

Elena was in the other room when she heard the gunshots. She hurried back to check on her companions. She saw an unknown man approaching Hunter and Flint. Hunter fired the next consecutive shots but it didn’t seem to stop the stranger. Elena took out her gun and shot the man straight through his skull.

The vampire fell down. Everyone breathed out in relief. Hunter kneeled down to examine the body. He noticed that the bullet was still lodged in the skull.

“Does a bullet kill a vampire?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Why isn’t he moving?”

“Do you want him to?” she said snarkly.

A new person appeared on the doorway startling the group. Elena swung around her gun raised. A man holding a baseball bat was standing there.

“He is a friend,” said Flint, putting himself between the two. Both of them lowered their weapons.

The newcomer was Mike Peterson. He was in the apartment next to Flint’s. He and his son were on the way to the evacuation bus when he had heard the commotion. So, he came to check on his neighbours. Hunter gave his gun and ammo to Mike. He asked them to head to safety.

“What should we do with him?” Elena asked pointing at the wounded vampire on the floor.

“Simmons would have fun cutting him up.”

*****

Chapter 34

#Phil Coulson #jemma simmons #yoyo rodriguez #Lance Hunter #alphonso mackenzie #leo fitz #melinda may #flint #mike peterson #deathlok #agents of shield #aos #loki #thor #antoine triplett #nathaniel malick #gideon malick #giyera #hope mackenzie #mackelena #fitzsimmons #Philinda #huntingbird #Bobbi Morse #wanda maximoff #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #natasha ramanoff #clint barton #stucky

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego x reader

Chapter 4- The Majestic 12

Summary: Although, your wounds are able to heal instantaneously, Diego’s are not and for that he payed the price. In the aftermath of getting shanked, you give Diego some much needed TLC. Now you, Diego, and Five, are on the hunt at some gala for any valuable information, regarding the activities of Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

If you want tagged just hit me up. Tagged: @white-wolf-buckaroo @fandomoverlord221 @la-vie-en-amour1​ @2cuteforyourlies​ @thatfandombitcch

Sitting next to Diego on the couch, you rip off his bandage, intently listening to Five ramble on about the Vanya situation as you attend to his healing injury.

“So what you just let her go.” Asks Diego surprised.

“Well, Vanya had a lot to process.” He says matter-of-factly. “She’ll come around. I know she will.”

“What about the guys that went after her?” You ask him, while ripping off some medical tape for Diego’s new bandage.

“The Swedes?”

“Yeah, how do you know they won’t go after her again?” You question, taking a cup of hot coffee from Elliot.

“We don’t.”

“Do you have any idea who sent them?” Lila asks Five, taking a sip of coffee from her own cup.

With a knowing smile, Five answers her, “Oh, I have my suspicions.” You guessing it probably has to do with Five’s colorful background coming back to bite him. “But right now, our priority is finding Dad and getting answers, cause everything else depends on it.”

“Which for the record, I found him already.” Diego adds, you hold in a chuckle at how well that interaction went.

“And then let him go before we could have a meaningful conversation.” Sasses Five with that stupid I-know-more-then-you smirk.

“He stabbed me.” Says Diego bluntly, trying to make a point as to why things didn’t go well.

“I’m surprised he waited this long, Diego. We’ve all had the urge.” Jabs Five yet again. Causing you to snort and start laughing out loud along with Lila and Elliot. Getting an offended look from Diego, you turn you face to give him a kiss on his cheek in an attempt at lessening his hurt pride.

“Good thing I know where Dad’s gonna be tonight.” Five says, handing Diego a piece of folded paper.

Reaching across the small coffee table to grab it, he sits down next to you again, holding up the parchment for you to both read. Leaning in, you look at its contents, as Five continues to talk. “Found it at his office while he was busy stabbing you.” Five says sarcastically, as Diego fake laughs.

“Hoyt Hillenkoetter and the Consultant General of Mexico in Dallas cordially invite you to a gala.” Diego reads.

“Whoa, wait. Hoyt Hillenkoetter? Are you serious?” Questions Elliot, apparently knowing something none of you four do.

“You know him?” You ask curious.

“We should go, says there’s gonna be a seafood tower.” Lila adds randomly, having looked it over before, when Five wasn’t looking. You nod to her, looking at Diego. “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in a suite.” You wink, earning a warm smile from him.

“No, Hillenkoetter is...is one of the Majestic Twelve.” Elliot says slightly nervously.

“The hell are the Majestic Twelve?” Questions Diego. As you quickly throw an orange slice in his mouth.

“It’s a...a secret committee. Uh, scientists, militarily, uh, deep state.” Rambles Elliot, walking over to his desk looking for something he continues. “No one really knows what they do.”

Scoffing you add, “Huh, they sound like a blast.”

“Wait, so they’re government?” Diego grunts, trying to sit up better.

“Shadow Government. Yeah, Kennedy was the first President to try to push ‘em into the light, but these guys are not to be trifled with. Oh, here we go. Ah, right here.” Elliot says bringing a photograph over to the four of you. “That’s Hoyt right there.” He points.

Examining the picture you notice only 11 men. “Weird there’s only 11 of them.”

“Well, that’s because they’ve only identified 11 so far.” Adds Elliot.

“Who’s the twelfth?” Diego asks looking at the photograph. You look to Five, raising your eyebrow in that you-thinking-what-I’m-thinking mutual understanding, him doing the same. Oh boy, here we go.

——

Arriving at the gala dressed in your best attire, a slightly uncomfortable dark blue dress and flats. You, Diego, Five, and Lila, hide behind a short brick wall type structure. Each of you peaking your heads over the edge to get a better view of the place full of richly dressed people. Quickly Diego climbs up and over the stones, you three following suit and crouching close to the nearby parked cars.

“So, what’s the plan guys?” Asks Lila quietly.

“Don’t answer that.” You warn Diego. Who ignores you, trying to be the smart tough guy once again. “We infiltrate, we identify, we extract. Double time.” 

“I feel like I’m in a spy movie.” You whisper to yourself.

“What the hell’s he talking about.” Lila asks from behind you turning her question to Five, who’s crouched at the rear of the pack.

“Find the old man and get out fast.” He says smartly.

“That’s what I said.” Diego looks back at them, like what he said before wasn’t obvious enough.

“Alright 007, lets go.” You say, touching is shoulder and pushing ever so slightly for emphasis. Turning forward he crouch walks to the next car, you trailing him. Suddenly your ears catch the conversation between Lila and Five a couple cars over. You raise your eyebrow at Five’s untrustworthiness towards Lila, amused by their little conversation. Now that you think about it, you have assumed some odd shit could be up with her, but you’ve been playing along this whole time. Not wanting to state the obvious yet, you needed more time and suspicious proof first of any false behavior.

——

Walking into the wealthy looking establishment, you take a drink off a waiters tray. Giving it a sniff, before taking a small sip enjoying the fizzy liquid sliding down your throat. “I don’t see Dad anywhere.” Diego says, looking around the room full of wealthy strangers.

“Just keep an eye out for the Majestic Twelve. I got the upstairs.” Five tells you three, alcoholic beverage already in hand. “Diego, try not to do anything stupid. Y/N, watch him.” He adds, walking away. As Lila walks off towards the seafood table.

You sniff the air, trying to catch a familiar scent, maybe if old Reggie really is here, you’d be able to smell his stupid suffocating cologne. A second later trumpets start to play to a well known tune. You suddenly feel the urge to dance, excited now that your old dance partner’s back. Walking through the crowd while pulling on Diego’s tie, you lead him to the dance floor.

Diego pulls you to him, trying to gain control of the situation unfolding before is very eyes. The two of you are almost eye to eye with each other, as you hold onto one another closely. As the mariachi band continues to play, Diego twists you around, your back now to him. He lets his hands trail down your sides without so much as single protest from you, you’re enjoying this way to much. You twirl grabbing his hands before he can go any lower. Your hands wander up to rest on his shoulders, his comfortably caressing your lower back. “Someone’s got moves.” You look up at him stating the obvious.

“Well the old man did insist on making us take those ballroom dancing lessons.” He looks at you lovingly before continuing, now mimicking Sir Reginald’s voice. “One never knows when the paso doble will be the difference between life and death...” “children” You both smile, saying the last part together as Diego dips you.

“My turn.” You say while giving him a mischievous grin. Pulling yourself up with Diego still holding you close, you take the lead. Surprising him in the process, much to your amusement.

“What are you doing?” He asks, taken aback at your sudden dominance.

“Just follow my lead.” You saying smiling sweetly at him.

“Uh, Y/N, no. I’m the man here.” Diego says dazed by the abrupt change in the dance positioning, you smirk at him, thoroughly enjoying how you’ve taken him off guard.

Grabbing his hands you smoothly twist him around so his back is now to you. Using your left hand you touch his cheek, hastily bringing his undivided attention straight to your own beaming face. Quickly giving him a kiss before pushing his face away once more, twirling him around, and positioning yourself back to how you two first began. With his right hand on your hip and your left on his shoulder, you two holding hands and swaying to the music. He pulls you in closer to his chest, your faces inches apart as you turn your head to laugh into his broad shoulder. You can feel him kiss the side of your face as he smoothly sways you to the music, he follows your gaze as you adjust yourself to look up into his chocolate eyes.

“You have no idea how glad I am to have found you again.” He gives you another chaste kiss in reply.

“Sorry you had to wait for my ass for so long, if I would have known you were in Dallas.” You let out a small laugh, biting your lip to hold in a smile as he continues to sway you around to the festive music.

“Instead you got yourself arrested within the first day of being here. I don’t know if I should be impressed or not....Diego Hargreeves you are truly...something.” His face breaks out into an embarrassed smile as he leans his head down onto your shoulder to hide his redness, only you would be able to make him lose his cool, and so easily at that. He picks his head up once again to stare adoringly into you bright eyes, his eyes flickering down to your parted lips for a fraction of a second. Your face breaks out into a Cheshire Cat-like grin at the absolute wonderful cuteness of Diego. 

“So how’d I do last night? Since you know, it’s been awhile for you. I think I still got it Y/N.” He says with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, you roll your eyes at his implication of last nights love-making, he’s so bold.

“Satisfactory.”

“Just satisfactory? Babe I think I was really doing a great job. You sure looked like you agreed at the time.”

“Okay fine. You were incredibly stunningly marvelous, a perfect 10 out of 10. The review says she would do it again.” He smiles in deep satisfaction at your praising of his more intimate talents. You just give him a slight half annoyed eye roll, only you two would be scoring each other on how well your I-missed-you sex was.

When you look up at his face again, he isn’t smiling anymore, attention now snagged by some shinier fish. You twist your neck right, following his distracted gaze. “It can’t be.” He whispers in disbelief, breaking away from you to go see... Grace. Letting him go, you silently follow him, hiding behind a white pillar as you eves drop onto their conversation. Holy shit, Grace was a real person and she was Sir Reginald’s frickin date, you thought to yourself almost as shocked as Diego probably is. You listen more intently, and cackle at the comment Grace gives Diego about being a little odd. You’re definitely not wrong about that, you’d like to tell her.

Watching Grace walk past you and towards who knows where, you come out from behind the pillar to face Diego, who’s standing there with his arms folded, looking rather lost. “Well that went swimmingly.” You quip.

Diego breaks from his thoughtful trance, rolling his eyes as he walks on over to you, taking your bent arm in his. “I guess we should probably find Lila, huh.” He adds. “Perhaps we shall.” You say in a posh English accent, giving him a wink as he lets out a breathy laugh at your theatrics.

——

Leaning against the wall, watching as the other party-goers make boring conversation with each other. You push yourself off the marble surface and begin walking towards Diego, who’s obliviously looking at a chandelier like an intrigued child. Right on cue, you hear a thud coming from up above you and then aggressive shuffling around. Five is the strongest guess most likely, and someone else. Hearing a quiet “Oh, shit.” Coming from Five you decide it’s probably best to not leave him hanging.

Turning to Diego, while also unknowingly gaining the attention of Lila. You whisper yell for him to follow you up the stairs to Five’s rescue. Racing up the steps in record time with Diego not far behind you. You look to your right, noticing in surprise that Five’s in a bit of a scuffle with one of the blonde Swedes that tried shooting you, Diego, and Lila earlier. Stopping for a brief moment, not entirely sure what to do as this is indeed very odd. You hear footsteps quickly approaching from behind you, smelling the scent of sweat and anger in its wake.

A second later you hear Diego yell out your name in distress as your hair is pulled back and a belt is tightly wrapped around your windpipe. Getting dragged back down the hallway, completely taken off guard, you struggle to breath as your eyes go wide in astonishment. Your gaze shifts to Diego, as he angrily sprints to you, charging at the taller Swede who’s about to gut punch you with brass knuckles. Fuck.

Bracing yourself, ready to get the wind knocked out of you. Diego heroically pushes the guy into the wall, punching him hard in the face. Your throat is suddenly released, only for the shorter Swede to turn you around and crack you across the side of your head with his belt. Kicking you out of the way and across the floor you tumble, your head stinging in pain. Dazed, from the not even 20 second violent actions you just got shoved into. You get up from the floor feeling a hot liquid running down the side of your face. Touching your temple, you pull your hand away to unveil deep red blood coating your fingers. This bitch is dead.

You look up instantly to watch in dismay as Diego is currently getting his ass whooped by the two pissed off Swedes. The one that was previously choking you, is now suffocating Diego with that fucking leather belt. After getting punched in the stomach by brass knuckle Swede, Diego kicks him to the ground, still struggling with the first who’s still doing his damn best to suffocate him. Grabbing a knife previously hidden in his pocket, he throws it with his free hand. Missing his target in the heat of the moment, which was intended to hit the other large Swede that’s beating the shit out of Five further down the hallway.

Fuming, with the rage of a bull at the manhandling you just unwillingly received. You rush forward throwing your right arm around the blonds throat that’s currently choking Diego. Pulling down hard, the Swede releases him, now struggling to breath from your own violent attack. The tables have turned, bitch. You aggressively throw him into the wall, kicking him hard in the stomach as you send him thrashing onto the carpeted floor.

Turning quickly to the sound of pained grunts, you watch as Diego gets punched in the stomach with the brass knuckles you so marvelously avoided. You catch sight of Lila, who looks to both of you before turning to Five and running to his aid. Alright then.

Only letting yourself get distracted for a moment, you turn back to your new little fighting buddy, who’s now standing and looking very enraged.

“Let’s dance.” You hiss at him with a bitter smirk, clenching your fists.

Hearing the sound of glass breaking behind you, you ignore it. As you face the blonde Swedish assassin, dodging a heated swing, you bring your left arm up to sucker punch him right in the guts. You turn around swiftly to face him again, only to receive a hard blow to your shoulder. He’s good, but not good enough. He goes to kick you in the legs, missing by an inch as you pull back just in time. Realizing he still has his belt clutched in his right hand, he cracks it at you with lightning speed. Time slows for a second as your senses begin to take over, giving you better reaction time. You turn to the right and watch as the shining silver of the belt buckle shows you your own distorted reflection. Catching the makeshift weapon mid-throw, you grab it tightly with your left fist. Pulling him towards you in the process, you then reach out and tightly seize his throat with your right hand. Throwing the leather belt off to the side and growling fiercely at his surprised face, you lift him up an inch or two off the ground. Struggling to breath and find his footing again, he suddenly shoots his arms up directly into your right one, that’s currently strangling him. You drop him, yelping in surprise at the sudden pain. Quickly gaining his bearings back, he jumps up on the wall for support, as he speedily throws himself at you, sucker punching you right in the cheekbone. Fucking ouch. Stumbling back from the aggressive hit to your face, you both begin intensely throwing punches at each other, getting a hit in here and there, while also managing to block most of his advances. Who knew you’d be reuniting with your lost lover and fighting Swedish assassins at a gala this week. Things have been weirder, you think, focusing back on the task at hand, literally. Grimacing in pain at the hit you just received to your shoulder, you jump up, kicking him into the wall and leaving a small dent. Slightly disoriented, he gets up again, blocking another one of your knee thrusts heading straight for his junk. Sometimes you fight dirty, okay. Throwing your left arm up to block a hit, you take this opportunity to twist yourself around to the right in a quick circle. Jutting your right elbow directly into the Swedes temple, knocking him unconscious. That’s right fucker, nighty night.

Your ears tune promptly to the sound of broken glass yet again, and the sound of Diego’s grunts mixed with that of the angry Swede he is currently fighting. You watch as they fight dirty, picking up whatever objects they could get their hands on as they continue to beat each other up down the hallway. Knocking blondie out with an impressive hit to his head, Diego looks out the window spotting Reginald and Grace standing outside ready to go home. You catch where his eyes are looking, observing the scene of them together for yourself.

You hear Diego whisper a soft, “Dad” before turning to you, worriedly looking at the stream of blood coming from the side of your hairline.

Pointing to the bloody spot you flash him a small smile. “You should see the other guy.”

Smiling briefly, he nods at you while turning towards the stairs and walking quickly down them, you right behind him. As the two of you make your way through the bustling crowd, right out the doors, and through the grass to the front entrance where Five is shouting something in another language at a retreating car.

“Was that him?” Diego questions.

“Yeah.” Five says, sounding like he’s out of breath.

“Jesus, it’s just one thing after the other” You add irritated. Fed up with all this Hargreeves nonsense. Especially those fucking Swedes.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x you #diego hargreeves imagine #diego hargreeves x you #diego hargreeves x reader #diego hargreeves #what a time to be alive fic #falcor the luck dragon stories

[sxveme-2]

blueberry pancakes // bucky barnes

MASTERLIST

Description: A single mother. Juggling being a mom, a full time pediatrician, and a difficult ex who believed now would be the best time to finally be a father. A soldier ripped out of time. Ex-assassin turned superhero. Learning how to balance a new domestic life with handling demons of his past, while facing the trials of the future. a love story began over something as simple as chocolate chip pancakes with hidden blueberries.

Disclaimer: I do not own any original Marvel characters! All canon plots and canon characters belong to Marvel Comics and Marvel Studios. This is an original work. You may not publish it anywhere else

Status: Unedited

Note: Takes place after endgame. I have elected to ignore Tony's death and Steve's leaving. Did not happen. Quick Reminder! My works are only published here, AO3 and on Wattpad, thank you.

Chapter Twenty One: The One Where he Promised

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2536

      Close to two months. Lily and Bucky had been together for close to two months. Something Lily would have never thought for herself. Especially not after her divorce. Scott had made her feel so empty, so unloveable. For a while she doubted even divorcing him all those years ago, feeling as though she would never find anyone ever again. Because he had convinced her she wasn't deserving of it. That he was the only person who could love her. Boy, if she knew where she would end up, she would have laughed in his face at those words. Because despite the mental trauma she dealt with from her first marriage, Lily found herself on the other side.

      But, she was saying goodbye to the man who helped her feel loved again.

      "You promise you'll be home for Christmas, right?" Lily whispered as she unwrapped her arms from the taller man, looking up at him with wide eyes, "Hunt's really excited for it."

      Nodding, Bucky pressed a quick kiss to the blonde's lips, "I promise, doll." the brunette whispered, "And I promise I will call you everyday until I'm home. It shouldn't be too long."

      Lily nodded and pursed her lips. Bucky and Sam had been tasked with a mission a week before Christmas. And listen, he had gone on missions before throughout their relationship. But those were mostly weekend jobs. This one was predicted to be a week long, taking it all the way up to Christmas Eve. Lily had become accustomed to waking up with the supersoldier at her side, admiring her and tracing gentle patterns on her exposed skin. Or waking up to the smell of pancakes and faint voices coming from the kitchen as Bucky helped Hunter with homework, and Rose cooked. So far, he had been most helpful with the twelve year olds history lessons. No surprise to anyone.

      Running her hand through the short cut of his hair on the back of his head, Lily smiled sadly. It had been a few months since he had cut his hair as well, and lord was the blonde obsessed. She loved it. And of course, she would miss playing with it as he fell asleep on her chest at night. Or watching Hunter pout since he couldn't braid it anymore. Or attempt to braid it. In reality, Lily knew she would just miss him. His smell, his touch. But she knew she wouldn't, nor couldn't, stop him. This was his job and Lily loved that, that he was out there protecting people. But the selfish part of her wished she could just keep him wrapped in her arms.

     But it would be a nice break for the two of them. Every couple needs that.

     "Are you leaving already?" Hunter's voice called as he walked down the wooden stairs with Rose, "Can't you stay for breakfast?"

      Lily stepped back with her sister as she watched Bucky bend down to Hunter's level. Rose wrapped her arm around her sister's shoulders, tugging her into her side. Lily rested her opposite arm around the taller sisters waist landing on the side of Rose's five month pregnant belly. The younger of the two had learned she was having a baby boy, and now the big deal in the house was figuring out a name for when the baby came. Hunter was hell bent on Bucky, which only made everyone chuckle.

      "I'll be back for Christmas, buddy," Bucky smiled tightly, ruffling the blonde boy's hair, "and I'll talk to you and your mom everyday while I'm in Vienna. I promise." The brunette nodded, lifting his pinky to the young boy.

      Lily felt her heart swell as she watched Hunter bypass the pinky promise and wrap his arms tightly around the Avengers neck. Leaning her head against her sister's shoulder, Lily grinned at the interaction. She took note of the way Bucky tensed slightly, only to relax and close his eyes as he tugged the son of his girlfriend closer, and gave him a tight squeeze. The moment was interrupted when Bucky's phone rang, signaling that it really was time for him to leave.

      "Alright I've gotta go, Hunt," he hummed, kissing the top of the boys head, "I'll tell you all the cool things that happen. Be good for your mom." The tall man grinned, standing and turning to Lily. He hugged Rose briefly before kissing Lily one last time, "I'll call you when we get there okay?"

      Lily nodded and watched as he turned to leave. All three watched intently as the superhero got into his car, pulling away and driving off from the suburb. Leaving the three Osborne's standing in the doorway of the freezing December morning.

      "Alright Hunt, let's get you fed before school." Rose whispered, tugging the twelve year old away from the door as Lily watched the black car disappear past the intersection.

-----

     The day Bucky leaves, the day Lily has the most stressful day at work imaginable. Two appendix surgeries, a few colonoscopies, and things that Lily didn't even want to talk about. She had also gotten a call from Hunter's school saying he had seemed off that day, and that he was even quieter than usual. Not to mention, Rose was blowing up her phone with pregnancy questions. Overall, Lily wanted nothing more that day than to have Bucky at home, telling her she would be okay and that one stressful or bad day was normal.

      Instead of Bucky, however, she got Gen.

      "I know it's a Thursday but I brought wine." The woman grinned as Lily pulled open the front door, "Figured might help you take your mind off of how awful it must be to have your supersoldier boyfriend gone on a mission to save the world." She teased sarcastically, earning an eye roll from the blonde as the two walked into the kitchen.

      Lily had indeed attempted cooking an actual dinner. Over the past few months Bucky had mostly handled dinner when he came over while Lily took care of breakfast the next day. But, Bucky would be gone for a week, which meant Lily had to properly cook again. And it's not like she had no idea how to, she'd been cooking for Hunter and herself for twelve years now. Was she very good at it? Not really. But she made do, and that's just how it had to be for the next few days. Even though everyone in the house knew at some point, Lily would give up and either pass the reins to Rose, or order pizza.

  The Osborne's were known for their intelligence, not their chef skills.

   Lily sometimes found herself dwelling on her parents. The entire thing had come out of nowhere. One moment she believed her parents to be innocent scientists, only to find out that they were trying to get their hands on technology that was somehow connected to Hunter. The entire situation was confusing for her, and she shied away from the details that Bucky had offered her whenever they spoke on the issue. But she didn't want to face the truth. It only hurt her more. And as it stood, the only Osborne's left standing with their free will and morals intact were Rose and Lily. Both living together once again and continuing on with their lives, knowing that their parents had made a mess, and had to lie in it.

   "Rose were you around for the last time that your dearest sister decided to cook a stir fry?" Gen joked as she placed the wine bottle down, "Because I distinctly remember having to almost call the fire department."

    "It was not that bad!" Lily laughed as she tossed the rest of the vegetables into her skillet, "Did I have to buy a new stove? Yes. But there was no need for the fire department. Right Hunt?"

    The young boy glanced up from his phone and raised an eyebrow at his mother, "...Mum you raised me not to lie." He stated simply.

     "Wow, you two even turned my own son against me." Lily chuckled as she mixed the ingredients around on the hot surface. Just as the conversation began once more, laughter and sweet tones of happiness mixing with the gentle music playing in the background, Lily's phone began to ring.

     But she wasn't the quick one.

     Lily watched and laughed as Hunter hurried to the phone. The entire time since he had gotten home from school and Lily from work, he had been waiting by her side. All because Bucky promised he would call every night. It made Lily's heart swell, the amount of love that the twelve year old had for the man. Of course it worried her in some aspect, seeing as she didn't know where the relationship would lead. Scared that if it went sideways, it would leave the young boy broken. Possibly even more so than Lily would be. She was very aware of the fact that Hunter would try and attach himself to a father figure, seeing as he lacked one. But Lily just...fell hard for Bucky. Had she fallen in love? Well she wasn't entirely sure just yet. But she knew she would. Whether it be soon or a bit longer. She knew it would happen. And it crept around corners and hid under furniture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike and take over Lily's heart.

    "Hi Bucky!" Hunter's voice rang out as he slid up on the blonde's phone. Lily dropped the hand she had out to reach for it, smiling softly at the bright and excited face of her son lit up the room.

    "Hey there buddy," Bucky replied, his voice muffled slightly as it rang through the phone speakers, "what're you and mom up to?"

    "She's making dinner right now. But she had a stressful day at work so it won't be surprising if we ordered pizza." Hunter bluntly stated, causing Lily to scoff as she continued working on the food.

      "I haven't even been gone a day and she's already trying to burn your house down!" Bucky chuckled, joking along with the boy, "Is it just you and mom there?"

      "No, Aunt Gen and Auntie Rose are here." Hunter answered.

     As the conversation went on, Lily's heart sunk slightly, yearning to hear the man's voice upclose, see the dimples on his cheeks and the lights of his eyes. But she knew that it meant the world to Bucky that Hunter loved talking to him so much, and she knew how much it meant to Hunter to see the supersoldier. The smile on the young boy's face said that much as the two continued with their conversation. School, Joey, and what Hunter wanted for Christmas were the main topics of the conversation between the two as Lily finished up dinner. Placing the meal onto four plates, Lily glanced back at Hunter and felt that same sunken heart swell at the bright and vibrant smile that was placed on her son's cheeks. She hadn't seen him so effortlessly happy in a while, and she never wanted to see that smile fade.

      "Well we are just eating dinner now, Buck." Lily called as she leaned over Hunter's shoulder to place hisplate down, "Shouldn't you get some sleep? Isn't it midnight in Vienna? And you had a long flight darling." Leaning back, Lily placed her hands on her scrub covered hips, tilting her head to the side.

       "It's alright, doll. I wanted to see your guys' faces before I went to bed." He cooed, readjusting on his bed, glancing over to the side at the scoff from Sam that echoed through the speakers as well.

       "That's very sweet of you Buck, but I'm sure Sam would like to sleep too." Lily chuckled, taking a seat in her own chair, picking up her fork.

       "Thank you Lily!" Sam called, earning a chuckle from the entire call.

      "Alright I'll let you guys go for now then." Bucky sighed, gesturing for Hunter to turn the phone towards Lily, "I'll call you later if I'm still awake and the grumpy one of the two of us is asleep."

      "Alright terminator let's not go that far." Sam called over once more.

      "Well call me in an hour or so then." Lily smiled, before saying her farewells and ended the call.

       The table fell silent as Lily stared at the now black screen of the phone her son was holding. Clearing her throat, the blonde reached forward and slid the device into her pocket. Without another word, the group dug into the food. Either she had actually done well, or everyone was treading on thin ice around her in fear that the lack of conversation she and Bucky had may have hurt her a bit more than she was letting on. Of course she would never say any of this outloud, but she wished that Bucky would have said something so that she could talk to him. But, if he was awake, she would hopefully get the chance in a few hours when Hunter had gone to bed and Gen left or settled in on the pullout couch in the basement for the night.

-----

    Three hours later, two glasses of wine, and one sleeping son later, Lily finally found the comfort of her own bed. Gen had taken the pullout couch, the rest of the bottle of wine in her stomach. Lily climbed into bed, turning on her TV as Joey settled into his bed. It was nine o'clock, meaning it was 2 am over in Austria. And Lily was positive that the man had fallen asleep. But it was when she finally settled in, a romantic movie playing in the background to only further her sad mood, when her phone rang. Joey's head popped up and the blonde chuckled as she reached over and slid her phone across the screen, answering the call.

      "Why're you up so late, Buck?" she asked, reaching over and turning on the lamp beside her bed.

       Winds whipped past Bucky's mic as the sight of Austria lit up at night took over the entirety of her screen. She smiled at the flurries of snow that fell down onto the stone streets and covered the beautiful architecture. Lily rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palm before rolling onto her side, showing Joey's head laying on the pillow beside her on camera.

     "I'm not even gone for a day and the dog already stole my spot!" Bucky chuckled, turning the camera around to display his chiseled features and slightly tousled short hair.

     "Well this is where he typically sleeps when it's just me in bed." Lily chuckled, eyes creasing slightly at the edges as she watched the man seemingly admire her face on his screen.

     "I want to bring you here one day. To Vienna. It's beautiful here." He cooed, resting his arms on the stone rail that surrounded what seemed to be the balcony of him and Sam's room, "There are so many places I want to take you, prinţesă."

     "I'm not much of a traveller." she chuckled, burrowing further into her pillows, pulling the large shirt that actually belonged to Bucky over her chin.

     "Doll I've got some news," Bucky sighed, his voice dropping slightly, "Sam and I did some scoping on the mission. It may take the entire week. I thought we would be done earlier but..." his voice trailed off, running a hand through his hair.

      Lily sighed gently, running a hand through her golden hair, "That's alright, darling. I just really have to stress how much I need you home for Christmas. How much Hunter needs you home for Christmas." She persisted, moving her eyes from his face on her screen to the soft fur of her dog.

      "I'll be home, prinţesă. I promise."

-----

      Christmas Eve came. Not a word from Bucky. He had texted her briefly but the two hadn't been on a call for a day or two. She wasn't able to get any updates from either Sam or Bucky, leaving her with zero contact the day before christmas eve and the day of. Lily's anxiety ridden mind immediately went to the worst. The mission had gone sideways, and she no longer had a boyfriend. God she wished that he would just text her, or get in contact with anyone so that she would just know he's okay. She just wanted him to be okay, and to be able to tell Hunter he was on his way home.

     "Hunt can you help me finish up?" Lily called from the living room as she searched for the stocking that would complete the set on the fireplace, "Do you remember where you put your stocking?"

      The sound of four feet walking forward grew closer as Rose and Hunter came into the living room. Rose gave her older sister a pitiful smile, knowing that she was avoiding hanging up the stocking that Hunter had chosen for Bucky. It sat on the couch beside the fireplace, taunting Lily at the idea that he wouldn't be home. That something dark happened. She could barely even fathom the idea of the man not being there for Christmas after he promised her and promised Hunter. The day was too important. But most of all, she just wanted to make sure he was safe most of all.

     "Here," Hunter smiled and picked up his red knit stocking, "are you going to hang up Bucky's stocking?" the boy asked, looking up at his mom after hanging up his own stocking.

      Lily's hand faltered as she readjusted Rose's stocking. Squeezing her eyes shut she let out a gentle laugh, looking down at the young blonde boy who stared back up at her with large hazel eyes. Tilting her head, she smiled and bent down, kissing the top of his head. Nodding, she reached over towards the newest addition, and stared at it for a second. Deciding to rip the bandaid off quickly, she placed it right next to her own, admiring Rose's stitching of the man's name. Lily traced the cursive name with her thumb, looking down at her feet that were covered by warm slippers.

       "Alright buddy, let's get the milk and cookies out for Santa and then get you ready for bed okay?" Lily smiled tightly, squeezing the boy's shoulder and leading him into the kitchen, Rose following behind.

       After setting the cookies out, Lily followed the boy up the stairs to his bedroom. After he brushed his teeth and crawled into his bed, she knew what was coming. The way he looked at her. The sadness in his eyes and the clear question that sat on the tip of his tongue. Hunter wanted to know about Bucky, and where he was. Why he hadn't come home yet, despite promising he would be home for Christmas. The two sat in silence for a moment, before the younger boy decided to make the first move.

        "Why isn't he home?" Hunter whispered, looking up at the blonde woman, eyes wide.

        "I'm sure he'll be home for tomorrow, love, but I just don't want you to get your hopes up," Lily sighed, running her hand down the boy's cheek, "You know how important his job is. It may take time, but he's keeping people safe."

       "I know..."  the young boy sighed, pulling his covers closer to his chin, "I just thought it would be nice to have him here."

       "Well, Aunt Gen will be here tomorrow too so you have her." Lily smiled sadly, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the boys forehead, "Goodnight Hunt, I love you."

       Flicking off the light, Lily left her son's room with a shaky breath. It pained her to see him so upset that Bucky wasn't home yet. It killed her too. She knew how much it would mean to not only her, but Rose even. But especially Hunter. It had always been the entire Osborne family going up to their parents house in Long Island, or coming down to Lily's and gathering around the firepit in her backyard. But now, it was the four of them, Gen, Rose, Lily, and Hunter. But Bucky would have just been the cherry on top for everyone.

      Climbing back down the stairs, Lily sighed and dropped onto the couch next to Rose. The younger sister pulled the elder of the two tight into her side, pressing a kiss to the moms temple. The two sat in silence for a moment, before it dawned on them, they had a shit ton of presents to wrap from Santa. Heaving themselves off of the couch, Lily beckoned Joey down to the basement with them, where all of the secret presents were hidden underneath a bunch of blankets and cooking supplies in a closet. When the clock struck one, the two had finished. Lily felt the tears gathering in her waterline, and the moment her door shut, they fell.

       Sliding down onto her butt, Lily felt the hot tears stream down her face at a rapid rate. She longed for her sons happiness, and the fact she couldn't do anything to help mend his mood, killed her on the inside. Especially on Christmas. Leaving Hunter with a missing father figure, and Lily with anxiety that something bad had happened to him.

       Tucking herself into bed, Lily attempted to calm down. Everytime she tossed and turned, it seemed as though the clock fast forwarded another half an hour. It was three thirty, almost four, when she had finally begun to doze off, when the sound of the lock of the door down the stairs, began to make gentle beeping noises. Sitting up straight, Lily grabbed onto the closest object she could find and slowly cracked open her door. Joey followed at her ankles as she and the dog walked down the stairs slowly, careful not to make any noise as they stood on the landing.

      Glancing over the banister, Lily watched intently at the figure that loomed at the door of her home. The outdoor lights automatically turned off around one am, leaving the figure only illuminated by the light of the moon behind them. Staring at the figure, Lily gripped at the object in her hand tighter, soon realizing it was actually a dog toy. Scoffing at herself, the blonde crept down the hardwood stairs, gripping the iron banister as her bare feet padded gently on the floor. It was only when the door pushed open, when Lily retreated behind the protective dog, who was now bending into a pounce position.

      When the figure stepped into the home, Lily dropped the toy with a feeling of shock and anxiety coursing through her veins.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female oc #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #original female character #female oc #OC #oc tag #oc x canon #marvel #marvel fanfiction #the winter soldier #The Avengers #fanfiction #fanfic #tfatws #single mom #Sebastian Stan #fluffy #romance #comedy #james bucky barnes

[specialagentlokitty]

Twilight x reader - safe

Can I Have A Tokyo Ghoul And Twilight Crossover? Male Reader Is Kaneki's Twin Brother, And Half A Ghoul Like Him. Reader Ended Up In The Twilight Universe When The CCG Used A Experimental Bomb. So Reader Moves To Forks To Be A Teacher The Cullens Realize He Isn't Human And Goes To Confront Him. - @rexburn12 💕

You were surrounded, there was no way out. Everywhere you looked the CCG was there.

I guess that’s the price you paid for being one of the most dangerous ghouls there was. You hoped you would be able to find your brother, but the white haired ghoul was no where to be seen.

“Sir, we have Raven surrounded. I repeat, we have him surrounded.” An investigator whispered.

You stood on edge, kagune flicking behind you, ready to strike if you needed to. But you didn’t want to, you didn’t want to hurt anyone. You hated hurting the investigators, it was the only reason why you were rated so dangerous. The one eyed ghoul, the raven. That was you.

You could see the same man who spoke nodded his head along, and with one hand movement everyone took a few steps back. It confused you.

“We’ll give you one chance to surrender Raven!” He yelled.

You didn’t reply and he pulled something from his pocket, presses something and threw it.

“Kaneki!” You hopelessly yelled.

You had no time to react, as soon as it hit the floor it went off and everything went black.

It felt like days before you came too, it was raining, your clothes were soaked and you were laying behind a bin.

Groaning, you pulled your mask off and tucked it into you jacket, pulling out your phone check the date but it was dead.

With a racing heart, you were quick to put your eye patch on.

Thankfully you did seem to be hungry, so staying in control would be a lot easier than you thought.

Stepping out from behind the bin and into the street you looked around, sweeping some hair from your face in order to see properly.

You had no clue where you were, and there was no one there so you started to wonder around, that’s when you noticed it.

A small shop, quickly rushing in to get out of the rain, you awkwardly looked around.

“Oh dear! You’re soaked to the bone!” An old woman rushed out.

“Come! Come! Let’s get you dried off!”

The woman walked around the racks of clothes, pulling things off and holding them against you, once she was satisfied she sent you to changed then sat you in front of a fire with some hot coffee.

“Where am I ma’am?” You asked politely.

“Forks of course, was it a rough night out?” She chuckled.

Forks... you never heard of it, and it was an odd name for a town.

“No ma’am I’m not from around here.” You sighed, “is there anywhere I might be able to work?”

The old woman, Marie, as she finally introduced herself after asking for you name, hummed.

“Ah, Yes! I know the high school has been looking for a new math teacher if you’re interested.”

You were pretty decent at math, so you should be able to get away with it. You didn’t have any form of document but you were sure you could figure something out.

“That sounds good, thank you.”

“It’s no problem dear, I’ve got a spare room above the shop that needs renting out too if you need first two months on me while you get settled.”

Thanking her again, you let her show you upstairs before you begun to work on forging some things. Being a ghoul had its perks, you learnt some useful skills like mask making, survival and you knew how to forge paperwork in order to make a live for yourself.

A few days later you had an interview, and a week after that you finally started at your new job.

It was 9:00am, you were stood with a cup of black coffee in front of our first class.

“Hello, I’m (Y/N)...” shit... last name... “(L/N), I’ll be your new math teacher. It’s a pleasure to meet you all. Today I’d just like to spend some time getting to know you all.”

As they introduced themselves, Alice and Jasper caught your attention. One sniff of the air and it was clear they weren’t human, but by the looks of it they couldn’t tell you weren’t. After all, you were technically half human still.

“Excuse me sir?” Alice asked softly.

“Yes miss Cullen?”

She gestured to one of her eyes.

“Why do you have an eye patch.”

Shit... you didn’t expect that question either. You had to think fast.

“I have a rare eye condition and it gets infected a lot, it’s easier this way.”

It wasn’t smooth as you hoped, but she seemed to buy it.

As time passed and you met more of the Cullen teens the more you noticed they weren’t human, and the more you noticed that they were getting suspicious of you as well.

On a walk back from work, you tried your best to avoid crowded places. It had been a while since you last ate, but it wasn’t like home where you could ask Touka or Kaneki to get you food, here you had to do it yourself but you couldn’t.

You were so wrapped up in your head you didn’t even realise you were surrounded until it was too late.

Startled, you jumped back, hands raised defensively until you noticed it was the Cullen teens with two others, whom you assumed to be their “parents”.

“We just wish to talk, my name is Carlisle Cullen, this is Esme. You already know I children.” Carlisle spoke carefully.

You nodded slowly, letting your guard down a little bit. Emmett, Jasper and Edward all seemed on the defence though, ready to jump in if they had to, while Rosalie and Alice just stood on the side lines, carefully watching you.

“My name is (Y/N).”

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” Esme asked next.

You nodded slowly, Where was this heading?

“Jasper and Emmett have both raised concerns that you aren’t quite as you seem.”

Carlisle seemed to choose his words carefully, trying to to fully state anything for sure.

“I could say the same for you and your family Mr Cullen. You aren’t human, are you?”

Everyone teased up and starting getting restless.

“Enough.” Carlisle warned them.

“How did you know?” Esme asked.

“I... could smell the difference on my first day.”

“Do you mind explaining how you could?” Carlisle asked.

You sighed, looking around nervously before nodding. It was just you guys, and since you knew they weren’t human maybe they could help you.

“Everyone else in that class when they came through I could smell the blood running through them, a sweet smell. But with Alice and Jasper I couldn’t smell a single thing. That was my first clue. I put it together bit by bit afterwards.”

Carlisle and Esme nodded along, giving you a smile of comfort.

“We’re vampires, different from out kind. We only feed on animals. What are you?”

You gulped, they didn’t hunt humans... the couldn’t help.... but you couldn’t refuse them either.

Slowly you reached up and pulled you eyes patch off, keeping your eye closed as the other turnt to them all before you slowly opened it. The outside was pure black while what was meant to be (E/C) was a blood red.

“You’re eye!” Alice gasped, “what happened!?”

You laughed a little and shook your head.

“Nothing per say. My brother and I... were involved in an accident, and we had the organs of a ghoul put in us. As a result we both have one ghoul eye. I’m known as the Raven, and Kaneki is Eyepatch. Im a Triple S rated ghoul, very dangerous. We can’t eat human foods anymore, we have to live on human flesh. I never killed anyone, I still haven’t. I’d rather starve than harm someone.”

The Cullens gave you a look of sympathy, and lowered their guard instantly.

“I may be able to help you out if you’d like?” Carlisle offered, “but you’d have to agree to live by our rules.”

“Of course!”

You’d be able to live by their rules easily you knew that for a fact, and you’d be safer here for now. One day you’d find your way back to Kaneki and your family, but right now you didn’t want to go anywhere, you just wanted to live in peace

#twilight #twilight x reader #twilight x you #twilight imagine

[hollyhomburg]

the Viking!au about the day namjoon & tae fell in love with reader was so cute and showed how tae had got to see the reader when she saved him and just an overall softer side of her but it got me thinking how did the others know that they loved her? I’m especially interested in how hobi knew just bc their relationship was so tense in the beginning

i think that their love story is a little bit enemies to lovers at the beginning like obviously, Hoseok trusts her about as far as he can throw her. he becomes sort of like her guard, “i just want to make sure you don’t do anything stupid” “scared of me little alpha boy?” “oh i assure you, nothing about me is little” and meanwhile she’s like venting to jimin later, “I don’t understand how you live with the lot of them- especially Hoseok- he’s an alpha pig if ever I’ve seen one” and jimin trying to assure her- “he’s not all that bad i promise, he has a soft side i promise” and you grumble, thinking the only alpha in his pack who’s sweet at all is jungkook. 

it’s not until a hunting trip- or a scouting trip- when Jungkook and Hoseok come back banged up Jungkook bleeding from a wide rent in his side that you really see the panicked loving side, despite Hoseok’s injuries, he stays up by Jungkook’s bedside all through the night- even though yoongi does too. you coming by the next day to give yoongi a chance to sleep. you trying to Tugg Hoseoks sleeping form into a bed, though he wakes with a growl. you catch him trying to tug Jungkook’s hand into his own even a bed away, needing the other alphas hands in his to fall asleep.  

you’ve never known alphas to be so tender with each other- but the way Hoseok looks at Jungkook- it’s something different, something special and soft that you feel like you shouldn’t be intruding on. maybe jimin is right, maybe Hoseok does have a soft side that you just haven’t seen. 

one thing that makes you indisposable to the pack is the amount you care, it dosent matter who walks through the door of the infirmary you help. even that little bitch of an alpha Hoseok gets his cuts sown up by you. you have more than a few people to take care of, who need you here, yoongi and the dozen or so other healers in the pack take care of more than 500 pack members.

 you bring many things to the pack, including your knowledge. in the first few months, yoongi learns a lot from you, several tinctures and salves that make some of the regularly occurring injuries here non-existent when they’d been threatening, a herb that brings down fever, another that cures the infection, as well as a burn cream made from the leaf of this flower that cuts healing time in half and reduces scarring.

 it’s an accident really when a clumsy beta spills a pot of oil in the kitchens and it hits a young omega girl, spareing her face but not her shoulder and chest. you and yoongi do what you can, but you’re out of the cream that could save her from scarring and likely- the life of a pariah. yoongi and you do the best you can cooling down the burns with snow and setting over the usual salve that helps you heal, “do you have any more of this?” yoongi holds the empty container out for you and you shake your head, “shit then- what are we going to do?” 

yoongi is one of your biggest supporters to make the trip back to your home, even though it’s deep in the forbidden woods, there are other things there that you need, to gather. other antidotes to poisons and indisposable herbs that you could use here. You’re the only one who knows how to identify them and use them, but the thing is- namjoon is loathed to give you his blessing before you go- it’s dangerous in the north woods, where animals far larger than normal sizes grow and the very ground trembles with an older, wild sort of magic. many people that have gone into it haven’t survived. 

“I lived there for years namjoon don’t talk to me like I don’t know the dangers, and I can help her” namjoon can’t help but look at you, so soft and small, but firey and determined, and feel like it’s too dangerous for even you. the heads of families also listening in, grumbling in agreement, the parents of the child looking at you like you’re their only hope. Hoseok steps forward from where you’re gathered, “I’ll be her guide, and make sure she comes home safe.” you want to scrunch up your nose at him, to hiss almost- because everyone knows you don’t like Hoseok at all. 

needless to say, you see a different side of him during your trip, every time you slip his hand is there on your back, “stop doing that- I’m not some delicate omega i can handle myself, if I fall let gravity do its job and punish me I don’t need to touch you” him holding up his hands, looking stung, “yeah alright, that’s the last time I try to do anything nice for you.”

 in the forest, winter has fallen early, and you’d be loathed to admit you need any sort of warmth but the fire isn’t cutting it, and you know it will only be worse the further north you get, you’ve lived through these winters you know how dangerous they can be. you’re only half surprised when Hoseok scoots over spooning you from behind halfway through the night, “what are you doing?”

“Trying not to freeze to death” and you have to admit, waking up in the morning with his warmth pressed up against your back isn’t the worst thing, even if you do pretend it is. but it’s almost like Hoseok can tell that you didn’t really help it, your snuggly omega scent the same kind of sweet as Seokjin lets out when he’s nesting. 

“admit it- you’re comfortable around me- you like me more than you want me to think you do” you’re just about to reply when your footing falls out from underneath you. almost sending you plummeting down a steep ravine. Hoseok catches you at the last minute, hand on your forearm, he pulls you up and to safety.  “what was it you said yesterday? let gravity punish you?” “yeah fuck everything I’ve ever said to you” Hoseok can’t help but laugh at that, chest heaving as he lays back against the rocks.

It only takes you a few days to get to where your old camp was, it’s desolate and unkempt in the months its been since you’ve been there, most of your things where trash anyway compared to the quality of things available at namjoon’s compound. you don’t stop to take anything with you, but Hoseok does give it an appreciative glance. “you used to live here? all year round?” “yeah the winters sucked.” i like my cabin back home better you catch yourself thinking, but it’s true, your cabin back at the compound is home to you. you shake off what that means and hed onwards, gesturing for Hoseok to follow you, “come on its not far.”

The oasis and hot springs are warm and hazy, the red lily growing in great swathes around it, you drop your pack, it’s only halfway through the day, “we’ll camp here for the night,” Hoseok is basically in awe, but you’re ready to get to work, picking each flower and some of their roots- you’re going to try to grow these closer to the compound but you’ll need to find a hot spring as you’re pretty sure they can’t grow anywhere but there. you pick as many as you can fit in the bag you brought, but you quickly fill it.

“I can’t believe this place.” you eye Hoseok freezing when he starts to disrobe. “what are you doing?!” “are you kidding me? I’ve always wanted to see a hot spring, and I’m not risking getting my clothes wet in this weather.” you’re barely able to cover your eyes before he’s completely nude, turning away hoping he dosent see the flush on your face.

 you collect flowers until every single inch of the bag is stuffed full. but even then you still have more time, it’s not worth trying to find another spot to make camp you’re just setting out your bedroll on one of the few flat rocks when Hoseok calls from the water, “come on! you can’t honestly tell me you’re not freezing your ass off out there, come warm up” he badgers you, and eventually you agree, because honestly- you really really want to be warm right now. you make Hoseok turn around so you can disrobe in peace. 

you’re a few feet from each other when you finally let him turn around to see you, all of your sensitive parts below the edge of the water, so so warm. and yet, when you turn around Hoseok can still see the scars on your back. “you said that the cream you make from the flowers helped heal burns and scar tissue, so why didn’t you use it on yourself?” 

you turn back, careful to tie up your hair and keep it out of the water. “others needed it more than me- my scars are just that- scars- nothing compared to open wounds” he sees your fingers reaching low, hovering over one he can’t see by your side, his heart-tugging painfully as he sees you “and besides, most of them are too old, this salve is the most effective on new wounds, which is why we need to get home as quickly as possible” 

you don’t do anything more, even if what you can see of hoseok’s body has a flush coming to your cheeks. he steps closer to you, close enough for you to see down into the water if you looked, instinctively you cross your arms in front of your chest, but the way hoseok looks at you isn’t predatory, it’s sweet, the same soft look that he gave jungkook weeks ago when he was hurt.

 “but still- I know yoongi and you could put something together- something to help you” he leans in close, and your breath is so heavy as he presses a slight kiss against the edge of your hairline, where you know a tiny scar lingers at your temple, “you deserve to heal too” with any other alpha you’d be scared of them, with any other alpha you would have already buried a knife in his ribs. but Hoseok has saved your life twice now, and you can’t help but trust him. especially when he pulls away after that- giving you your space and relaxing in the water, asking you about other magical things in the forest. 

you end up pressed close to each other on the bedrolls that night regardless, and you pretend it dosent feel good to have his cheek pressed to the nape of your neck. you make the trip back carefully but quickly, getting back in time to heal the girls scars to the point where her skin is barely discolored.

 the rest of Packtan seem to notice something changed between you and Hoseok, easily the two of you where the ones who got along the least- save for you and namjoon who have the tensest relationship. they bug Hoseok but no matter what they say he said nothing happened even though it’s clear to them something has. 

though a few weeks later he does talk to yoongi about some healing supplies- what things are best for healing scars and the such, and the elder beta thinks he might know what hoseok’s asking after. you treat each other with the same banter but it’s kinder now. you’ll shout at him and hit him on the arm good-naturedly when he comes to the infirmary with a new scape, “how do you even walk? or are you so clumsy even the pups are more careful than you- i swear- how namjoon lets you near knives I have no idea-” and hoseok’s happy grin, “if i didn’t get hurt then you’d never get to see my beautiful face and we all know how you-” Hoseok gets a dirty cloth thrown in his face for that, making yoongi and the other healers laugh, “you totally deserved that”

 the others leave you be, let you have your banter. they can see it in your eyes, in the way you’re never anything more than Endeered by Hoseok, even when he throws your words back in your face, watching you slip and fall of the stone pathway when he walks you home after dinner, “There gravity goes, punishing you again” they just shake their heads when they watch. 

 love is only a matter of time and gravity. 

#besitogguk #bts omegaverse au #bts abo #bts a/b/o #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts fanfic #bts #bts omegaverse #bts fluff #this is 2.0k! #so much! #please let me know if you like it!

[thechocoboos]

Baby, You’re my Angel

This has literally been sitting, waiting to be posted for about a year, now. Split into two parts for your reading pleasure. Part II

Summary: Prompto is your guardian angel and whOOPS he fell in love. Word Count: 4063 Warnings: Swearing Genre: Fluff/bit of Angst Pairing: Angel!Prompto/Reader

Prompto Argentum was an angel. He didn’t know how he died, he didn’t know why he was chosen--all he knew, was that he was an angel. He was rather new at it, too, having only just finished up training.

For most angels, their training was only a few hundred years. For Prompto, it was a solid one thousand. As it turned out, he was a little bit of a clumsy one; he failed a good few times on his Guardian Angel Exams and managed to cause a couple mass extinctions in other realms. Needless to say, his higher ups weren’t always big fans of him.

"Prompto,” Cor had sighed after the thirteenth failed assassination-prevention quiz, “If you fail one more time, we’re going to have to put you in the secretary office.”

The secretary's office was notoriously painstaking and had a high turnover rate. Most angels knew of at least a few others who went crazy in that god forsaken place--the amount of paperwork a single angel had to go through? Ridiculous. Not to mention the prank calls from… down there. There were stories of angels going crazy from the amount of times a demon would prank call them and say, “Hey, is your fridge running? Yes? wELL mAyBe yOu sHoUlD gO cAtCh iT!11!!” 

Besides, Prompto wanted nothing more than to be a Guardian. He could feel his entire being pulled towards it--if he didn’t become a Guardian, well, he’d rather kiss his wings good-bye. Luckily, he did make it. And it didn’t take more than two extra exams.

“Nice job, Prom--only took a millennium,” Noctis had snorted when Prompto held up his official Guardian License in the cafeteria.

“Oh, shut it, Noct, at least I didn’t accidentally kill the last dodo bird,” Prom replied with red cheeks, recalling the rather lengthy court investigation that Noctis had to go through when the last one died on his watch.

“Actually, if I recall correctly,” A posh voice called from beside their table called, “I believe Noctis was acquitted.” Ignis hummed, leisurely sitting across from the two Guardians. Ignis knew the case very well--he had actually served as Noctis’ attorney.

There was a snort as Gladio joined them, “Acquitted, my ass,” Gladio muttered, “We know the truth,” He cast a dark look at Noctis, “Made my day hell trying to explain that shit to our superiors.”  

Noctis waved Gladio off. “It was fine, it’s not like the last bird could do anything on its own anyways--”

Ignis interjected before Gladio could go off on the consequences of Noct’s actions. “Now, before that turns into something rather ugly, Prompto, I have something for you--” He held out a pristine envelope, passing it over their trays with ease.

Prompto’s jaw dropped as he gingerly took the envelope with shaking hands. “Oh my go-”

“Careful, don’t want the big man upstairs hearing that.” Noct piped up.

“R-right, but, Ignis--is this…?”

Ignis gave a swift nod, “Thought I should hand deliver this one,” He said, dipping his spoon into his dark matter pudding.

Prompto’s eyes were big as he took in the envelope. It was a clean and white as freshly washed linen, each corner crisp and sharp, and its golden seal still in place. He took a deep breath, one hand slowly breaking the shimmering wax.

“Six, Prom, just open it, you’ll have plenty more in the future.” Noctis said, rolling his eyes with a smirk. Admittedly, the first assignment did always feel special.

Prompto gently tugged the paper from the envelope, pulling out the pristine paper with a shaking hand. His eyes were big as he read the very first words:

“Prompto Argentum, we are pleased to inform you of your first assignment--” He very nearly squealed. He did it. He was a Guardian. His face felt like it was going to split in half from the giant grin on it.

“Careful, Prom, you smile any wider and you might not have any face left,” Noctis smirked, ducking to avoid Prompto’s hand smacking him in the arm. 

“Shut it--I’m excited, okay?”

They all chuckled, Gladio leaning forward on his elbows and glancing at the paper. “So, who’s the lucky assignment?”

Prom glanced back at the paper, eyeing the file before him. “Uhm. Dunno. Some person named…” 

---------

Prompto was on the hunt for his assignment. It was his job to make sure they survived for a few months; he wasn’t sure why, most Guardians didn’t know what for, but all the higher ups say is that it isn’t their time yet. 

Of course, it went a little deeper than that, and there were rules to go alongside it. Most of it was just simple rules like, “Don’t fly under the influence” and “Avoid places meant for hell, such as New Jersey.” There was, however, the biggest rule of them all: don’t ever make contact with your assignment.

All meddling had to be indirect. Why? Another one of those no-explanation policies, but most assumed that it would create a bias or lead the assignment on to have an idea of… up there. And that couldn’t happen. Goodness, could you imagine if a human knew about the afterlife? Terrible, risky business. Still, it wasn’t anything Prompto would worry about. If there was one thing he couldn’t mess up, it was the Big Rule. 

Prompto flew around, hovering here and there as he tried to find his assignment. He glanced down at the file in his hand, staring at the assignment’s schedule once again, desperately trying to find where they would be. He started to panic--they were late.

What if he was too late? What if something happened and he didn’t save his assignment--on the first day--

He took a breath, catching sight of a familiar face. He glanced back down at his file, his assignment’s picture gazing back up at him. Just a normal human face. He looked back to the person in question. They were turning, their face coming into focus and then--

Prompto gasped. They were beautiful. Something in him dropped, his heart thudding in his chest. Then, he realized he was falling, straight from the sky with his gaze still locked onto his assignment. 

Then, they--you, looked up, catching sight of a young man falling from a tree, directly in front of you. He hit the ground with a pained grunt, his eyes still trained on you despite the pain of his expression.

“Holy fuck--are you okay?” You asked, your eyes big as you knelt down next to his. “Shit, that was a big fall, does anything hurt?”

Prompto was mesmerized. Your eyes were so clear, so soft and inviting. Whoever said that eyes are the windows to the soul--they were right. He couldn’t help but gaze at you like an idiot, your voice was music to him as he tried to commit every single bit of your face to memory.

“Shit, can you hear me?” You asked as the young man did nothing but stare at you.

Prompto managed to shake himself out of it. He jolted up, ignoring the pain, it would be gone in a moment. He nodded rapidly, “Y-yeah! I-I can hear you, sorry--that caught me by surprise, ya know?” His words were just as fast as his nods, his nerves shot to hell and his face turning bright red. “Not used to, uh, falling.” He hadn’t fallen since his first week as an angel.

You still looked so concerned, your brow furrowed as you looked at him, trying to find any hint of pain. “Are you okay, though? That was a big fall,” You mumbled, looking up at the tree. Funnily enough, none of the branches above you two looked anywhere near big enough to hold someone--

“Ye-ah--” His voice cracked nervously, and your eyes flickered back to him. He cleared his throat, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, I’m--I’m good.”

You nodded, uncertain. “Okay, uh, then--I’ll just, get going.” You replied, clearing your throat. “Glad you’re okay--” You went to walk around him, only to misstep. You ankle twisted, and you gasped as you felt yourself falling towards the road, the sound of a car horn blaring right behind you before--

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around you, pulling you back against a warm chest. Something lifted you into the air, and for a moment, you were weightless. A bright white feather passed you in the air, floating down. There was a millisecond of nothing but peace, the arms around you safe and comforting. You felt as though nothing could hurt you.

And then. You realized that you almost died. You were back on the ground, your near death experience replaying in your head. Gasping, you whipped around to look at your savior, the blonde man remarkably close to you, his previously nervous, blushing face was now serious. For a moment, you swore you saw a shadow behind him--a pair of wings. And then, it was gone.

“You--fuck, you saved my life.” You gaped, staring at him with wide eyes.

He snapped out of whatever daze he was in, looking as though he barely believed it himself. “I--I guess I did.” He managed a breathy laugh, scratching the back of his head. 

Prompto managed to look at you despite the sheepish look on his face, and the second your eyes met, he found himself lost once again. There was a moment, a solid moment where the two of you were gazing into one another’s eyes, seemingly frozen in one small eternity shared between no one but you two.

And then, Prompto realized something.

You saw him. You met him. You had contact with him--your guardian angel. Suddenly, sweat began to bead his forehead, the moment broken. His heart was beating quickly, whether from your shared moment or his panic, he didn’t know. He had broken the biggest rule there was--he fucked up.

“Oh, fuck me--”

Your head snapped up, a bewildered look on your face as he realized he said that outloud. Prompto’s face burned as you stared, startled. “Shit--sorry--I’m--uh--” He tried to think of something, anything to get him out of the situation. “Late for work!” He blurted, face bright red and heart beating out of his chest. He didn’t wait for a reply before he turned on his heel, literally running away from you.

Meanwhile, as Prompto ran away, you stared at his retreating back with a confused look on your face. Part of you felt deflated; he had saved your life, you felt as though you owed him something. Yet, another part of you was relieved. You decided to chalk the whole situation up to a weird morning and forget about it. 

----

“So, Prompto, how was your first afternoon on the job?” Ignis asked, sitting across from Prompto at a small human cafe. Prompto wasn’t supposed to stray too far from his assignment.

Prompto tried to answer quick enough, but he was silent for just a millisecond too long before he blurted out a quick, “Fine!”

Ignis glanced at Prompto, eyes narrowing as his coffee paused for just a brief second on his lips. Something had happened. “... Good. Although your silence is rather odd, I thought you’d have gone on for at least half an hour on the matter.” He noted, his green eyes slightly suspicious. 

Prompto managed a shrug, hoping his nervous sweat wasn’t noticeable. Ignis was his friend, and admittedly, Prompto wanted to tell him what happened. But at the same time, Ignis was also one of the higher ups, one of those angels involved with the rules--with The Office. If Ignis knew what had happened, he was required to report it, that much Prompto knew.

So, Prom kept his mouth shut. He only shrugged, “Honestly, it was kind of boring.” Prompto lied, feigning disinterest. “Thought it would be a little more interesting, to be honest.”

Ignis’ suspicion rose, though he kept it to himself. “Well, it is only the first day.” 

“Ha, yeah. I’m sure something will happen eventually.”

Ignis hummed, keeping an eye on Prompto as he sipped his coffee. “Yes, well, just make sure to abide by the rules.” 

Prompto stiffened for just a moment, barely noticeable to the human eye. But Ignis wasn’t human. He caught the movement with interest. Still, he said nothing. “Of course, Iggy, you know me!”

“Exactly why I worry.” Ignis replied, chuckling. 

-----

Prompto knew he couldn’t avoid finding you again. Despite broken rules, you were still his assignment, and he couldn’t very well let something happen to you. However, guarding you and keeping you unaware of the situation definitely became much more difficult.

He realized that not a day later, when he waited inside a coffee shop that you were due at in a few minutes. He kept himself towards the edge of the shop, a generic coffee in front of him and a laptop beside himself. He pretended to be busy, yet keeping an eye out for you.

You entered the shop not a minute later, looking tired and worn down as you approached the line with a slight sigh. You stood there for a moment, adjusting your backpack with a huff, seemingly unaware of his presence. Your gaze began to wander, and normally, that wouldn’t be a problem.

However, Prompto had broken Rule #1. He was familiar to you; it would be harder to stay unnoticed. This was proven not a moment later when your eyes landed on him. His eyes met yours, and once again, he felt something stir in his heart. It began to beat just a touch faster. 

He quickly looked away, hoping for the sake of his job that you dismissed it. Still, part of him--a very small part--desperately hoped that you hadn’t, that you had felt the same buzz of excitement, the same lingering tug that he felt. He tried to dismiss that thought as well, trying to crush that tugging curiosity before it could grow.

An entire millennium was spent getting him this job, he couldn’t lose it now, and he knew that whatever feeling bubbled up in his chest was definitely breaking some kind of rule. He took a breath, managing to push the hopeful tugging deep down, and risked a glance up, trying to get back to his job.

His efforts to squash his feelings immediately crumbed. You were standing in front of him, holding a beverage and a pastry. “Hey.” 

Prompto’s resolve was reduced to ash as he felt his face heating up, his stomach flipping. He smiled, against his will, as he returned the greeting. “Oh--hi!”

You stood there for a moment, looking awkward and embarrassed as a red tint bloomed on your cheeks. It made his smile grow and his chest tighten, wondering if all humans looked that cute when they blushed.

“S-so, uhm, you don’t have to accept this or anything--but I uh, grabbed this pastry for you. As a thank you. For saving my life.” You managed to say, your own nerves threatening to give you a heart attack.

Prompto froze. He felt warmth bloom in his chest as a tiny smile appeared on his face at your kindness. He had friends, yeah, but angels upstairs weren’t in the habit of giving each other things. 

“L-Like I said, you don’t have to accept but--”

“I accept.” Prompto interrupting, his cheeks glowing bright red. 

You froze, both relieved and stunned that he accepted your thanks. Smiling slightly, you placed the pastry down in front of him, “Uh, great, thanks--it’s, it’s just a cheese danish--I don’t know if you like those or anything but, I haven’t met anyone who doesn’t like them and--” You were rambling, your nerves growing more every second.

Prompto cut you off, “Thanks--really.” He smiled, much calmer this time. 

You nodded, managing a smile and starting to turn around.

Prompto felt himself panic for a moment. He didn’t want you to leave. He knew it was a bad idea, he knew it was against the rules, yet he couldn’t help but say something else. “Uh, wait a sec--”

You turned around, surprise flitting across your face.

“Do you wanna join me?” Prompto managed to ask, gesturing to the chair across from him. “It’s--it’s pretty crowded and there aren’t many seats left, so…” He scratched the back of his neck, trying to ignore his growing blush.

A smile bloomed across your face, and it was your turn to thank him. “Sure, thanks.” You took a seat, trying to calm your beating heart. There was something about this guy, and you didn’t know what, but something was calling out to you--tugging on your heart and urging you to be near him. As you placed your bag on the ground, you managed to tell him your name, trying to hide your blush behind your drink as you took a sip.

Prompto paused. He had thought your name many times, having read it over and over again as he tried to prepare for his first assignment, but to hear it aloud? It was something else entirely. He tried to keep himself from smiling like a damn fool. Your name was perfect to him.

“Nice name,” He managed to say, trying not to think about how much he loved it. How much he loved the way you said it. “I’m Prompto,” He smiled, breaking the danish in half as best he could and offering you the bigger half. He knew it was for him, but even so, he couldn’t bring himself to not give you something as well.

Together, the two of you munched on your halves of the danish, sipping on your drinks and occasionally making small talk. It was awkward; there was a strange, buzzing tension in the air that neither of you mentioned. Even so, there was an undeniable connection between the two of you, and neither one of you could keep yourselves from stealing glances at one another.

Sometimes, eye contact was made, and you would both look away with warm cheeks and thumping hearts.

Prompto ran into you a lot. At first, he tried to stay unnoticed, he really did. But he couldn’t. Every time he saw you, his heart started to thump louder and his chest would grow warm. His cheeks flushed a bright red and he could feel his heart hammering away in his chest. His eyes would light up, whether he knew it or not, and he swore his smile would grow just a millimeter more.

And everytime, you would see him, too, a smile blooming across your face and your own eyes twinkling slightly. 

He couldn’t not talk to you then. It was physically impossible--his chest would grow so tight if he tried to feign obliviousness that he couldn’t breathe. So he gave in, everytime.

You two would talk for a long time, Prompto hanging onto every syllable you uttered and his face aching from the foolish smile stretched across his face. You would reply to every sentence with interest, genuinely loving both his thoughts and the sound of his voice--it was so pleasant and warm that even in the coldest temperatures you were comfortable.

Eventually, Prompto started to approach you if he saw you. And then, you two started agreeing to meet up. You could call each other friends. It was bad. He knew it was.

Shit, you weren’t even supposed to know he existed--and you were starting to notice things. Namely how every ounce of misfortune was avoided when he was near. How he was the one who pushed you out of the way when an air conditioning unit fell from a window. How he nudged you just inches away from ankle-tripping cracks and puddles, hesitating at just the right moments to narrowly avoid cars and oblivious, bustling people who would have plowed right through you.

Finally, one day, you said something. “Prom, I swear, you’re like my lucky charm.”

He bristled immediately, not that you noticed. “O-oh, yeah? What makes you say that?” He stammered, trying to keep his panic from showing. 

You shrugged, glancing at him with a smile. “I dunno, when you’re around, it seems like nothing bad happens. I swear, you’ve saved my life at least seven times by now.”

47, actually. Not that he said anything. He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “Aw, I wouldn’t… say that.” He tried to brush it off, his eyes 

You laughed, nudging him. “Come on--you’re like magic. Crazy intuition or something, right?” You said, grinning. “You’re like my personal guardian angel,” You added, your cheeks immediately heating up. Admittedly, the idea piqued your interest.

Prompto felt his heart skip a beat. He tried to laugh it off, “Yeah, I guess my intuition is pretty spot on, huh? But an angel? C’mon. Angels don’t exist.” 

You smiled at him, “I dunno, you’re pretty angelic to me, Prompto.”

He immediately began to panic. “What? No, I’m not!” He rushed, urgency in his voice as fear flitted across his face. If you knew--oh god, if you found out--he didn’t have to finish that thought as you let out a bark of laughter. Relief coarsed through him.

“Oh my goodness, the look on your face--” You beamed, looking at him with bright cheeks and a big smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend,” You chuckled, pushing a bit of hair out of your face. You paused, the two of you stopping on the sidewalk, right next to a pastry shop.

Prompto watched as a serious thought seemed to cross your face. You looked at him, “In all seriousness, thank you--if you really did save my life that many times… You definitely at least kept me out of trouble.” You smiled, your gaze glancing away for a moment. “Just… thanks. You’re a really great friend, Prompto.” As you said this, your heart dropped slightly. You didn’t want to just be friends. But--

“Is that all we are?” Prompto asked suddenly. It was a bold moment, a ballsy moment. He liked you, he knew he liked you. He also knew that he was breaking at least another five rules by liking you--especially by saying it. But at this point, with how many rules were already broken, he didn’t mind breaking another one if i meant being with you.

His heart was hammering against his ribcage as he spoke again. “Is that all you want to be--friends?”

Your eyes met his, surprised. His face was bright red, each freckle popping and his blue eyes the most serious you had seen them. He was waiting for an answer. You barely heard yourself as you breathed out, “No.”

He seemed to gain some confidence, stepping forward, one hand gently nudging yours. Something buzzed in the air, tension weighing down on you as you moved your hand, fingers gently interlocking with his. A tiny smile fell across his face, and you knew there was a matching one on yours. Your nose brushed against his. When did you two get so close? 

Your lips touched. His were soft, plump against yours. You returned the pressure, lips parting. He tasted like the strawberry ice cream you two had split.

The tension lifted as you two pulled apart, blushes on both your faces, hands still interlocked. 

“Wow,” Prompto breathed, looking starstruck.

Your own eyes were wide as you managed a light chuckle. “Yeah, wow.”

There was a light note as your phone received a message. You glanced down, eyes widening. “Oh--shit--fuck,” You looked up at Prompto, feeling rather shitty for having to do this. “Shit, I’m late--” You stuffed your phone back in your pocket, looking up at him with a shy smile. “Thanks for today, Prom, I--I really enjoyed it.” Your cheeks were warm. “I’ll see you later?”

He nodded, a dumb little smile across his face. “Yeah, of course!”

You nodded, turning to go. A few feet away, you couldn’t help but look back, meeting his gaze with a silly little grin and almost tripping over your feet in the process. You tried to ignore his shaking shoulders as he chuckled, grinning away at you.

Prompto watched you leave, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He couldn’t stop smiling, the feeling of your lips against his lingering and leaving him with a buzzing excitement. He turned around, ready to go on his merry way--

“Hey, Prompto. How’s the assignment going?” Noctis said, leaning against the shop window with his arms crossed.

Part II

#ffxv #final fantasy xv #prompto argentum #ffxv prompto #prompto x reader #fanfiction #fluff #angst #have fun u precious lil goblins

[thelastspeecher]

Pirate AU - Down to Davy Jones’

This is a Gravity Falls AU, so naturally there is an equivalent to the portal incident, where Ford gets stuck somewhere for a long time.  Here is that moment in this AU.  Some angst, some Stangst, and some dad!Stan.

Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Small footsteps sounded on the deck, immediately followed by Manly Dan’s distinctive, booming voice.

              “NO, Daisy, your DAD said no HARPOONS!” Daisy’s giggled response wasn’t legible through the closed door, but Stan knew that she wasn’t going to give up the weapon easily.

              “You should probably go help Dan,” Angie said. “We’re done with our meetin’.” Stan didn’t get up from his chair, set across from Angie’s desk.

              “No, we aren’t,” Stan said.  Angie looked up from the papers she was perusing.  “You finished saying your piece, now I have to say mine.”

              “I…didn’t realize ya had somethin’ to say,” Angie said, bemused.  She took off her reading glasses.  “What’s wrong?”

              “I’m just…”  Stan sighed.  “I’ve been thinking about the girls lately.”

              “I certainly hope so.  They are yer children.”

              “Not like-”  Stan huffed impatiently.  “I’ve been thinking about how they’re only three, but they live on a fucking pirate ship.”

              “And?”

              “Angie, you’re not dumb.  You can’t think this is a good environment for two toddlers!”

              “What do ya want to do?” Angie asked calmly. “Settle on land?  I’d stay at home, birthing and tending to children, and you’d find some professional, well-paying job?  Or maybe you’d want to pursue farmin’ like my pa.”

              “Not all of that.  Just the settling on land part.”

              “There aren’t a lot of options fer us on land. We’re wanted criminals, fer one thing.”

              “No one knows your real name,” Stan pointed out. “And I’m fine using your real last name, since Stan Pines is a known pirate.”  Angie sighed.  “I know that it would be difficult to figure out, but we can make it work.  I really think we should give up the whole pirate thing.”

              “Stan-”

              “Angie, it’s not safe for our kids to live on a pirate ship,” Stan said firmly.  Anger flashed in Angie’s eyes at being talked over.  Stan forged ahead.  “It’s not just the rusted metal and weapons.  It’s the fact that we literally have battles.  Danny and Daisy are three.  They shouldn’t be anywhere near a swordfight.”

              “I…”  Angie chewed on her lip.  “I just…” She sighed again.  “I made this my life’s purpose.  I built my whole life ‘round bein’ a pirate, I can’t just give it up. At this point, it’s part of who I am!”

              “I know.  But I just- I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Stan said softly.  “Not with our baby girls on board.”

              “I understand.  And I don’t want ‘em hurt or near any sort of danger, either,” Angie said. She reached out and took hold of Stan’s hand.  Stan gently traced the scars on the back of her hand with his thumb.  “I’ll think ‘bout it.  At the very least, we should be able to-”  There was a loud crash.  The ship tilted heavily.  “Fucking hell!”  The door to Angie’s cabin slammed open, revealing Greg.

              “Captain, First Mate, we have a problem.”

              “What?” Angie asked.

              “It’s the Armageddon,” Greg said.  Stan could feel the blood drain from his face. “She came out of nowhere!”

              “Are we lucky enough that the Armageddon’s had a change of captain?” Angie asked, getting up from her desk.  Greg shook his head.  “Fantastic.  Have Dan bring the girls belowdeck.  Stan and I will do our best to handle things.”

----- 

              “Handle things” ended up meaning what it meant the previous times the pirate-hunting ship previously named Orion but now called Armageddon had caught up to them.  It meant a fight.  Stan couldn’t see anything other than the sailors directly in front of him, but a voice cut through the sounds of battle.

              “He’s heading belowdeck!”

              “Who?” Stan called.

              “Bill!” came the reply.  To Stan’s left, there was a loud swear that would put the filthiest of sailor’s mouths to shame.

              My blushing bride.  Said bride cut down the sailor between her and Stan.  Angie’s eyes were wild with rage and terror.

              “Come on!”  Angie grabbed Stan’s hand and dragged him through the chaos, following Bill into the belly of the ship, where Danny and Daisy were hiding with Dan. They caught up to Bill, just before he was about to enter the room that had been designated as the girls’ hiding place. “Bill!”  Captain Bill Cipher turned around, grinning evilly.

              “Hello, Captain Sally,” he said slimily.  Stan’s heart leapt to his throat.  Now that Bill had turned, Stan could tell the captain held Ford in front of him, a knife tickling his throat.  “I’d be careful if I were you.  You’d hate to kill your brother-in-law.  Especially after he committed treason for you.”  Angie snarled.  “Now, go back to the battle.  I have more important things to do.”

              “We’re not going anywhere,” Stan spat.  Bill shrugged.

              “If you insist.  Maybe you can help me find what I’m looking for, then.”  A vicious glint appeared in his single eye, a weak amber that almost looked yellow.  “A one-of-a-kind relic with a one-of-a-kind enchantment.”  Hunger entered Bill’s gaze.  “The ability to open a gate to Davy Jones’ Locker.”  He cocked his head, grin broadening further.  “It’s a funny coincidence, since that’s exactly where pirate scum like you belong.”

              “You’re a fool, Cipher,” Angie said calmly.  Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Angie slowly reach for her pocket.  Unfortunately, Bill saw it as well.  Too quickly for Stan to intervene, Bill cast Ford aside, grabbed Angie’s shirt, and pulled her to the ground.

              “Uh-uh.  No guns, lady,” he said in a faux-sweet tone.  Angie hissed at him.  He put his knife to her neck.  “Do you want a new scar to match the one you’ve already got?  If so, feel free to struggle.”  Angie reluctantly stilled.  Stan rushed over to where Ford had fallen.  “That’s right, help your brother while your wife is on the floor.”

              “You piece of-” Stan started.

              “Ah, ah, ah!” Bill said, pressing the knife blade against Angie’s neck.  A bead of blood appeared.  Stan swallowed his insult.

              “Stanley,” Ford whispered.  “Here.”  He pressed something into Stan’s hand.  Stan looked down.  It was some sort of pendant, composed of a glowing opal ringed by gold.  “You’re the only one I can trust with this.”

              “Not so fast, Fordsy,” Bill snarled.  The feigned light tone was gone.  He finished drawing the knife across Angie’s neck, then tossed her to the side.  Stan’s heart plummeted to his feet.  “I thought you might be holding out on me, you-”

              “R hvmw bv gl gsv ylggln lu gsv hvz!” Ford shouted, suddenly shoving Stan off and tackling Bill.  There was a deranged look in his bloodshot eyes.  He gripped the front of Bill’s shirt.  “Drgs nv.”  The pendant in Stan’s hand glowed brighter.  As the light filled the room, droplets of water fell from the ceiling, building from a slow trickle to a gushing waterfall that enveloped Ford and Bill.

              “Stanford!” Stan shouted over the roaring water.  The light of the pendant grew brighter still, forcing Stan to close his eyes.

              When he opened them again, Ford and Bill were gone. What little remained of the water had puddled on the floorboards.  Angie, still on the floor but now soaked through, slowly sat up.

              “What…in the hell…just happened?” she croaked. Stan quickly moved to her side.

              “Stay still,” he instructed.  “If you move too much, you might bleed out.”

              “Relax.  He didn’t really cut me that bad,” Angie said with a scoff.  “This just feels like the ship cat got a bit too frisky with me.” She smiled weakly at Stan.  “I know neck wounds, and this one isn’t a problem at all.”

              “Well, that’s good.”  Stan sat down next to her.  “That’s…the only thing that’s good.”

              “What happened?”

              “I don’t know.  Ford gave me this glowing thing, and then he started saying gibberish, and then it glowed more, and there was water, and-”

              “Stop.”  Angie held up a hand.  “What did Ford give you?”

              “This.”  Stan opened the hand that was still clenched tight around the pendant.  The brilliant glow of the opal had completely faded, leaving it dull.  Angie took the pendant from him curiously.  “I swear, it was glowing earlier.”

              “I believe you,” Angie said softly.  She closed her eyes.  “This is…a big old mess.”

              “Understatement of the century.”  A moment passed.  “So, uh, I know you said we would talk about the whole moving to land thing, but there’s no way the girls can stay on the ship when this sorta shit happens.” There was a beat.  Angie nodded.

              “I agree.”

-----

              “Let me take that.”  Stan took the chair from Angie.  She glared at him.  “You gotta be careful about how much weight you carry.”

              “That’s a chair, Stanley Stanford McGucket,” Angie scolded, hands on her hips.  “Not an anvil.”

              “Can you blame me for being extra cautious?” Stan asked.  He set down the chair just by the front door, then returned to Angie and placed a hand on her already swelling belly.  “We’ve got another little twerp on the way.”  Angie sighed.

              “No, I can’t blame ya.”

              “Good.  Now, go sit in that chair while I bring the rest of the stuff in.”

              “But-”

              “We’re not on the ship anymore, Captain,” Stan interjected.  “You can’t command me.”  Angie raised an eyebrow.

              “Yer playin’ a dangerous game, husband of mine,” she said, but sat down in the chair anyways.  She leaned back, watching Stan bring the rest of the furniture in. Shortly after Stan began to move ashore with Danny and Daisy, Angie discovered she was pregnant again and, hoping to avoid the traumatic birth she’d had previously, as well as help her family settle down, decided to join her husband and daughters on land.

              To be honest, Angie was kind of glad to have an excuse to be on land.  Yes, she might not strictly need an excuse, but she still liked having it.  Stan was clearly haunted and troubled by what had happened to Ford.  He needed all the support he could get.

              To be even more honest, Angie wasn’t being half as argumentative as usual, out of concern for Stan’s mental state.

              Not that I’ll ever tell him why I’m bein’ so gentle.

              “It’s gonna be great to have us all here as a little family,” Stan said, carrying a dresser.  He grinned.  “Y’know, it’s basically what I wanted when I was a kid.  Wife, kids, my own business.”

              “This is temp’rary fer me, though,” Angie reminded him.  “I’m only ashore fer the pregnancy and post-partum period.  After, I’m headin’ back to sea.”  Stan set down the dresser with a grimace.

              “Angie…”

              “It’s not like I’m abandonin’ ya.  It’ll be like merchant fam’lies what have the father gone to transport tea and whatnot.  But in this case, it’s the mother.”

              “I guess.”

              “I know yer not happy-”

              “Yeah, I’m not happy.”  Stan took a breath.  “But I just have to deal with it.  Who knows? Maybe you’ll love your time ashore so much, you decide to stay.”

              “Don’t hold yer breath hopin’ fer that possibility, love.”

              “Yeah, yeah,” Stan muttered.  “You better be giving me a son, by the way.  That’ll make being a single parent more worth it.”

              “I know yer jokin’, but don’t say that ‘round the girls.  They won’t understand.”

              “Right.  Speaking of the girls, uh, where are they?” Stan asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

              “Yer not pretendin’ ya don’t know where yer children are as a way of me stickin’ ‘round, are ya?  I know full well yer capable of takin’ care of ‘em,” Angie said.  Stan frowned at her.  “They’re with Maria.  She should be bringin’ ‘em back any minute.”

              “Mama!” a voice screeched.  “Papa!”  Three-year-old Danny and Daisy ran up, wrapping their arms around Stan’s legs.

              “Hey there, little pirates,” Stan chuckled, ruffling their hair.  “Didja have a good time with Mrs. Ramirez?”

              “Don’t be silly, Stanley,” Maria said, walking over to them.  Her grandson, Soos, was holding her hand.  “I’m not Mrs. Ramirez.  I’m Abuelita.”

              “Yeah!” Daisy said loudly.  Soos broke free of his grandmother’s grip and ran to Stan.

              “Mr. McGucket, can you tell me a pirate story?” he asked eagerly.  Stan grinned.

              “Like you need to ask!  Come on in, kid!”  Cheering, the children followed Stan inside.  Angie got up from the chair and embraced Maria.

              “I’m so glad you kids settled here in Gravity Falls,” Maria said.  Angie smiled.

              “Well, you and Soos seemed really happy here. And Stan was thrilled to be close to you two.”

              “Yes, Soos is a wonderful boy.”  Maria raised an eyebrow at Angie.  “So, what are your plans?”  

              “Stan wants to turn part of the house into a pawn or antiques shop,” Angie answered.  “After all, we have plenty of things from our adventures that he can sell.  And since I won’t be giving up piracy, I’ll be able to help restock.”

              And if Stan sells interesting relics, he’s more likely to meet people who might know something about the pendant that sent Ford away.  Said relic was locked tight in a chest, tucked away beneath the floorboards of their bedroom.

              “You’re not quitting?” Maria asked, surprised. Angie shook her head.  “Surprising.”

              “I just…”  Angie looked down at her feet.  She toed the grass.  “I probably will eventually.  But not yet. I have more I want to do.”

              “I understand.  Though I don’t understand why you and Stan went with the last name ‘McGucket’.”

              “…It’s actually my real last name,” Angie mumbled, rubbing the back of her neck.  “My real name is Angie McGucket.  So I went back to that.  And since Stan Pines is a known pirate, he took my last name.”

              “Ah.”  Maria looked Angie up and down, then put her hands on her hips.  “You need to eat more!  You’re pregnant, but look at you!  You’re skin and bones, mija!”  Angie laughed.

              “I was wonderin’ how long it would take fer ya to try to feed me.”

              “Try?  I am not going to try, dear.  Come inside, I will make you something to eat.”

              “Maria, this is my house.”

              “So?” Maria asked, walking into the house.  “I can use a kitchen even if it is not mine.”

              With a chuckle, Angie followed her inside.

#it's been a while since I've written a Caesar cipher for something before #I actually had to look it up to double-check bc I wanted to make sure I was right #Pirate AU #Stanley Pines #Stanford Pines #Angie McGucket #Bill Cipher #Abuelita Ramirez #Stangie Family #Stangie #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

[hysterialevi]

His Name Was Isaac - Ch. 15

Fanfic summary: During a mission to avenge his mother’s death, Isaac hunts down the men responsible for her murder and kills them off one-by-one, only to discover that his last target is taking refuge among the Van der Linde gang. In an attempt to kill them, Isaac attacks the gang and unknowingly becomes enemies with his own father, who is in the process of fighting his own battle for redemption.

Point of view: third-person

Previous chapter | Next chapter

This story is also on AO3

THE NEXT DAY

GRIZZLIES WEST

Resting a hand on the journal’s worn pages, Dutch hesitated to turn to the next chapter as he thought back on the things he’d just read, wondering where everything went wrong.

Just this morning, he finally took the time to sit down and skim through some of Arthur’s private thoughts, only to end up discovering that they were much worse than he expected.

It was evident from the entries that Arthur lost his faith in their gang years ago. His words had no motivation behind them. No hope. No purpose.

They were all just so... bleak, and so full of finality.

It only made Dutch wonder if things were always meant to end this way. If, perhaps, Arthur was meant to turn on him from the start.

He knew the man wouldn’t be able to stick around forever. No one would. Not even Hosea. But the fact that he lost Arthur so quickly and so easily made Dutch question if there was ever a true relationship between them.

If there was, he would’ve given anything to get it back.

“Boss!” Micah’s voice suddenly barked from behind, leading Dutch to look up from the journal.

“What is it?” He asked, still somewhat preoccupied.

The other man sniffed, strolling in his direction through thick snow.

“...We got a problem, Dutch. It’s Bill.” Micah stepped next to him, letting out a disappointed sigh. “I think... he’s cut loose.”

Dutch snapped his head towards Micah in surprise, furrowing his brow.

“What? What do you mean he’s cut loose?”

Micah gestured towards the horizon, casually explaining his thought process.

“I saw some tracks leadin’ to the south from where I sent Bill to investigate last night. His horse is gone too. You ask me, I think he made a run for it. Probably decided to make his way back to New Austin. Try to survive on his own in the desert. He certainly talked about it a lot.”

“You sure it wasn’t somebody else’s tracks?”

The outlaw chuckled. “Who else could it have been? The Pinkertons? They’re mean bastards, I’ll give you that, but I reckon we’re the only ones crazy enough to actually come out here, Dutch. No... I’m pretty sure it was Bill.”

Dutch firmly shut the journal closed, storming off into the distance. “Dammit...! That goddamn coward.”

Micah gazed after him, shrugging in confusion. “You wanna try findin’ him?”

The older man coughed before waving a dismissive hand. “No. We’re here for Arthur and Isaac. No one else. If Bill wants to leave us behind and freeze to death in these mountains, then so be it.”

“Of course, of course. But you should know, Dutch... it’s gonna be trickier, now that it’s just the two of us. ‘Cause as much as I hate Arthur and his lil’ brat, I can’t deny that them boys know how to fight. I mean, look at what they did to my goddamn eye.”

Dutch glanced down at the journal, mindlessly tightening his grip on it. “...I’ll fight Arthur myself if need be. I raised him ever since he was a boy. I know how he thinks.”

The man coughed a few more times, his strength wavering with every jagged breath as the wind howled loudly around them.

“...Listen, son,” Dutch continued, his tone much softer now, “I don’t know how all this is gonna end. I don’t know if... Arthur will kill me, or if the tuberculosis will, but... whatever happens, I appreciate you stayin’ by my side this whole time. You’ve always had my back ever since you joined us, and I won’t forget it.”

Micah grinned, his eyes dark with insincerity. “Of course, Dutch. You’re practically family to me now. There ain’t much I wouldn’t do for you.”

Dutch nodded in reassurance. “I know, son. I know.” 

Slipping the journal back into his satchel, Dutch walked over to his horse and began mounting up, eager to continue his search for Arthur while the day was still young.

“C’mon, Micah.” He beckoned. “We’ve got one last score to settle.”

~~~~~~~~~~

MEANWHILE

NEAR LAKE ISABELLA

“Here,” Isaac said, handing a warm mug to Arthur as the campfire crackled between them. “Drink this.”

The man took the cup in hand, curiously examining the dark liquid inside. “What is it?”

“It’s... medicine, I guess you could say,” Isaac answered. “I made it from some herbs I picked. I was gonna brew it when we got done fishing yesterday, but I never had the chance. It should calm your cough down a bit.”

Arthur raised the mug in appreciation, beaming at the boy. “Thanks, kiddo.”

Isaac held up a hand just before his father could consume the drink, giving him a last-minute warning.

“Oh, um, just so you know -- it’s probably gonna taste like shit.”

Arthur chuckled, bringing the mug to his lips. “Yeah, I figured as much. That tends to be the case with most medicines. Though, it can’t be worse than salted offal.”

He took a sip, immediately grimacing from the bizarre taste. “Jesus Christ, you wasn’t kidding. What kinda herbs did you make this with?”

Isaac smirked at his father’s disgusted expression. “English Mace and Alaskan Ginseng. They’re pretty hard to find in Ambarino, but they’re a common mixture when it comes to curing illnesses. I remember mom always used to make this when I got sick.”

Arthur cocked a brow in interest. “Did she?”

The boy smiled fondly at the memory. “Yeah. I’d always get nervous whenever I saw her makin’ it in the kitchen ‘cause I knew it would taste horrible. But... I can’t really complain. It did its job, after all.”

The older man nodded in a nostalgic manner. “Yep. Eliza always had a knack for takin’ care of people. I remember she’d fret over me every single time I came home, lookin’ to see if I had any stray bullets stuck in me and whatnot.” A sigh escaped Arthur. “Your mother was such a sweet woman. She didn’t deserve the stress I put her through.”

Isaac gave Arthur a gentle look, reminiscing about his times with Eliza. “...She loved you, you know.”

Arthur cupped the warm mug in his hands, setting it down for a moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Mom always talked about you whenever you was away. She could never say much since she didn’t want me to know about your work, but I could tell she missed you. She was never angry, though. She understood why you couldn’t be around.”

Arthur felt a tinge of guilt. “...Did you?”

“Not at the time,” Isaac admitted. “But I do now. You had people to look after. A gang to protect. You couldn’t just abandon them.”

The older man glanced at the ground in remorse. “I guess that’s true. But I still wish I could’ve protected you and Eliza. You were in danger, and I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

Isaac shook his head in disagreement. “It was four men against a woman and her child. Even if you had been there, you probably just would’ve gotten shot with her. And trust me, that’s not what mom woulda wanted. For either of us.”

Arthur found some peace in those words. “...Maybe you’re right.”

Falling into silence for a moment, the two of them quietly enjoyed each other’s company as snowflakes gently fluttered down from the sky, painting the ground around them with a new layer of snow.

The weather was getting colder in this region, or so it felt. It was probably due to the fact that they were further up north than before, but the sun seemed to appear less often these days, and Isaac couldn’t remember the last time he saw anything apart from dying grass and naked trees.

It just made the boy wonder how much longer they had until they’d reach Canada’s border. He had never been anywhere outside of the United States, so the idea of finding freedom in a different country was admittedly daunting for him... but he knew they had to do it.

There was nothing left for them in America. Both of their gangs had scattered to the winds, and it was more than obvious that the age of outlaws was finally dying out. 

Civilization was moving on without them, and if they didn’t catch up, they wouldn’t survive. It was a sad truth about their lives, but one they had to accept.

“Hey, Dad,” Isaac said. “I gotta ask. Did you... hear what Bill said last night? About Dutch bein’ sick with TB?”

Arthur nodded, his tone more serious now. “Yep. It would explain why we’ve both been coughin’ so much.”

The boy sighed. “...I’m sorry. I wish there was somethin’ I could do.”

The older man coughed into his elbow a few times. “You’ve done more than enough, Isaac. Don’t go blamin’ yourself, now. We talked about this.”

“I know,” Isaac replied. “It’s just... hard to accept, you know?”

Arthur took another sip of his drink. “I understand.”

Finishing the rest of his medicine, Arthur put the empty mug down and stood up from his seat, stretching out his arms as he began gathering their stuff.

“Hey, Isaac, why don’t you go make sure the horses are ready? I think it’s time we get movin’ again. We’ve been stuck here long enough.”

The boy followed his father’s actions and headed over to the hitching posts, helping to pack up their camp.

“Okay. You think this weather will hold up? It got pretty bad last night. I just hope there won’t be another storm blowin’ through here before we can... we can...”

Stopping mid-sentence, Isaac’s voice suddenly trailed off into silence as the young man noticed something in the distance, leading Arthur to follow his gaze.

“Isaac?” He called out. “Everything okay?”

The man glanced at Arthur, his tone now low with caution. “Dad, I think I see Pinkertons.”

Taking hold of his gun, the older man instantly strode over to Isaac’s side and stepped protectively in front of him, looking to see who it was approaching them from the horizon.

Their uniforms certainly resembled that of the Pinkertons, but unlike before, it wasn’t just Edgar Ross and Agent Fordham. This time, it looked like they had an entire group of men riding with them, ready to take Arthur and Isaac in at a moment’s notice.

Arthur whispered quietly to the young man as the Pinkertons rode in their direction, making sure to keep his movements subtle.

“Keep your gun close, boy. And be ready to ride when I say so.”

Isaac nodded, taking position near the horses. “Got it.”

Standing his ground, Arthur readied his pistol as the Pinkertons got closer to their camp, causing a trail of snow to wildly spray behind their mounts.

So far, no one was shooting at them, so Arthur took that as a sign that the Pinkertons wanted them alive. But based on the heavy amount of security Ross had brought with him this time, he assumed that lethal force was no longer out of the question.

Arthur would have to do his best to keep things peaceful. There weren’t a lot of places for them to hide out here, and if anyone started firing, he and Isaac would be caught dead in the open.

It was unlikely that they’d be able to run away from this without a fight, but for the sake of not getting Isaac killed, Arthur was sure as hell going to try.

He just had to trust that the boy would do the same.

“Mr. Morgan.” Agent Ross greeted upon reaching the camp, remaining mounted on his horse. The rest of the Pinkertons lined up beside him, keeping their rifles at the ready.

“I’m surprised to see you all the way out here,” Edgar confessed. “I didn’t think you’d risk trying to survive out in this cold, but it seems Mr. Bell was correct.”

That caught Arthur off-guard. “You spoke with Micah?”

The Pinkerton casually adjusted his sleeves, straightening the cuffs. “Regrettably, yes. Not too long ago, actually. He was quite the informant. Said he didn’t know exactly where to find you, but that he suspected you were wandering somewhere in Grizzlies West. Looks like he knew what he was talking about. For once.”

Arthur grunted at that. “I’m sure he did.” He coughed a number of times, trying to stifle it as he spoke. “Look, what d’you want? It’s clear you ain’t just here to chat.”

Edgar’s eyes narrowed. “No, I’m not. We’re done giving second chances, I’m afraid. Though, I’ve given you far more than that, haven’t I?”

The agent took a few steps forward, signaling the other Pinkertons to brace themselves.

“Look, Mr. Morgan, I know we’re both tired of having this same conversation over and over again. Lord knows I am. But I need you to listen to me. Ideally, we would like to capture you alive and have you face full justice, but I think it’s safe to assume by now that you’re not the type to cooperate with the law. Or with anyone, really.”

Ross held up a cautionary finger. “This is why I’m only giving you one last opportunity to comply. Surrender your weapons, and come with us peacefully. Do this, and you have my word that you and your son will not be harmed. Not for now, anyway. Once we return to civilization though, your lives will be in the hands of the law. You will both face a trial, and a judge will sentence you. What happens after that is up to them. If you refuse to surrender, however...”

The Pinkertons prepared their weapons, causing Isaac to grow restless in his position. Arthur threw a side-glance at him, reminding him to stay calm.

“...well,” Edgar continued, “I think you know what’ll come next.”

The outlaw scoffed at the meager offer, glaring at Ross in disbelief. “So, my only options are to either die right here, or let you drag me and my son all the way to Blackwater where you can parade us around before havin’ us swing? You really think that I’ll--” a cough interrupted him, “--that I’ll--”

Another series of coughs came bursting from Arthur’s throat, causing the man to keel over slightly as the Pinkertons watched him from their mounts, waiting for a response.

Meanwhile, Isaac stared at his father in concern and felt the need to rush over to him, but restrained himself out of fear of alarming the Pinkertons.

“...That’s quite a cough.” Edgar remarked plainly.

Arthur spat some blood onto the snow, wiping his mouth. “TB will do that to you. I got it from Dutch himself, apparently.”

“That’s a tough disease.”

“Sure. But it makes your job easier, I suppose.”

Edgar rested his arms on the saddle’s horn. “I know you see us as the bad guys, Mr. Morgan. We’re the ones threatening your livelihood, after all. But what’ll it take for you to see that you’re also threatening the livelihood of others? You people are all about violence, and living in the wild. Your code revolves entirely around one man and his gun versus another man. It’s survival of the fittest, put simply. It’s a living hell.”

Arthur shook his head. “You’re talkin’ philosophy with the wrong man, agent. I done some bad things in my time -- that, I won’t deny -- but I don’t care about any of that no more. Right now, only concern is my son. And as much as you and I may disagree, you are right about one thing. You are a threat to my son’s safety, and there ain’t nothin’ you can do that’ll convince me to let you lay your hands on him.”

The agent sighed in disappointment. “Well, unfortunately for you, there’s nothing that can stop us.”

Realizing that it was pointless trying to dissuade Arthur from the inevitable, Edgar decided to put an end to this chase and reached for his gun, swiftly pulling it out so that he could shoot the man.

Just before he could properly aim however, Arthur quickly caught wind of his intentions and hastily fired a stray bullet, shooting Edgar’s horse in the neck. The creature reared in panic and collapsed to the ground, causing the agent to be trapped under its massive body. 

Though, that didn’t stop the man from pulling the trigger. Despite the unexpected turn of events, Edgar still attempted to take a shot at the outlaw, and before Arthur even had time to react, he suddenly felt a sharp pain hitting him in the abdomen.

It didn’t take long for him to figure out what just happened.

“Father!” Isaac shouted in horror, hurrying to Arthur’s side. He fired two bullets into the line of Pinkertons, taking down an agent with each of them. 

Letting out a strained groan, the boy desperately dragged Arthur over to his horse as the agents continued to fire back at him, only to end up shooting a large tree that stood between them.

“Stay with me, Dad...!” Isaac urged, helping his father onto his horse.

Climbing onto the saddle in front of Arthur, the young man let loose another bullet in the Pinkertons’ direction before bolting off in the other, causing Agent Ross to yell after them.

“Goddammit!” He barked. “Don’t let them escape! And somebody help me out from under this horse!”

~~~~~~~~~~

A FEW MINUTES LATER

NORTHEAST OF LAKE ISABELLA, COLTER

Galloping frantically through the snow as the Pinkertons fervently chased after him, Isaac found himself riding into what looked an abandoned settlement not too far away from Lake Isabella, leading him to come to a halt.

The last thing he wanted to do right now was give the Pinkertons a chance to catch up to him, but with the state that Arthur was currently in, he needed someone to look after his wounds. 

There was already a worrying amount of blood staining the fabric of his shirt, and judging by the roughness of the man’s breathing, Isaac assumed the horse’s sporadic movement wasn’t helping him much either.

He hopped off of Aldo’s saddle, quickly bringing Arthur into his arms.

“I got you, Dad.” Isaac whispered, letting the older man lean on him as he headed inside one of the cabins. “Just hold on.”

Arthur groaned sharply at the pain piercing through him, struggling to keep up with the boy’s pace.

“...What the hell’re you doing...?” He wheezed, pressing a hand on his stomach where the bullet had hit him. “You need... to run...! The Pinkertons--”

“--I’ll worry about the goddamn Pinkertons later!” Isaac dismissed. “I ain’t lettin’ you die. Not like this.”

Kicking the cabin’s flimsy door open, Isaac practically hurled Arthur inside before shutting the entrance again, giving the older man some time to rest on the floor. They couldn’t hear any of the Pinkertons’ voices at the moment, but Isaac knew it wouldn’t be long before they picked up their trail again.

He crouched down next to Arthur, taking a closer look at his injury.

“Shit...” Isaac muttered under his breath, unsure of what to do. He fumbled through his pockets for a minute, desperately searching for anything that could’ve helped. “I... I have some bandages left. Here.”

Stretching the bandages into one long strip, Isaac tightly wrapped them around Arthur’s waist as the man hissed in pain, trying not to make too much noise lest the Pinkertons hear them. 

Blood was already starting to seep through the thin layers of white cloth, and with every agonizing second that slipped by, the more Arthur could feel his energy escaping him.

No, Arthur thought to himself. Not now. Not like this. He couldn’t give up. He just couldn’t. Not after fighting for so long. Not after finding his son after all these years.

He had to stay strong. For Isaac’s sake. The boy was counting on him to survive. He couldn’t die now. He refused to.

“...Dammit...!” Arthur cursed through clenched teeth as Isaac pulled on the bandages. “That son-of-a-bitch got me good...!” 

The outlaw’s body shook with another series of coughs, causing even more blood to gush from the open wound.

Isaac immediately placed his hands on top of the injury and pressed down, doing whatever he could to stop the bleeding. But it was no use.

The red liquid only ended up leaking through the cracks between his fingers, and by now, Arthur’s skin had transformed into an alarmingly pale color. 

His eye sockets were almost purple, and judging by how the man could barely walk right now, Isaac knew there wasn’t much of a chance of him getting out of this alive. But that didn’t mean he was willing to quit.

“Hold on, Dad...” the boy pleaded, “...please. Just hold on.”

“...Isaac...” Arthur groaned out, his voice grating against his throat. 

“You’re gonna be fine.” The boy insisted. “Don’t you give up on me now.”

The outlaw coughed weakly, struggling to get his next words out. “...Isaac, listen to me.”

“You’re gonna be fine.” He repeated, but Arthur knew what was coming. “We just... we just need to...”

“Isaac...!” He said more firmly, gripping the boy’s arm this time. “Listen to me.”

The young man fell silent, his eyes glossy with tears. He looked up at his father, fully aware of what the future held. 

“I’m... I’m dying, son.” Arthur said softly, almost sounding apologetic. “I can feel it. I know... this ain’t how we wanted things to end, but it’s what we’ve come to. It’s what we gotta deal with. You hear me...? I need you... to be strong, Isaac.”

The boy gazed downwards, unable to hide his true emotions. 

“I...I don’t know if I can, Dad. First mom, and now you? I can’t lose both of you. Not after we just found each other again.”

Arthur placed a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, urging the man to keep his composure. “I know it’s difficult, Isaac, but...” a cough rattled his chest, decimating what little energy he had left, “...I know you can still survive this. You’re strong. Much stronger than you realize. You just... have to keep pushing. Just for a little longer.”

Isaac shut his eyes, shaking his head in refusal. “...I ain’t goin’ to Canada without you, Dad. You’re outta your mind if you think I’m gonna leave you behind--”

“--You have to, Isaac...!” Arthur reiterated. “I wish things was different. I do. But look at me. I’m sick, I’m dying... I ain’t much use to anyone in this state. But you... you can still make it. You can still reach the border. You’ll be a free man. You’ll have the chance to start a new life for yourself. One that isn’t full of death, and violence, and fear. It’s the life your mother and I wanted for you.”

“But you said it yourself,” Isaac recalled. “What’s the point of survivin’ if you’ve got no one to care for?”

Arthur’s hand began to slide down Isaac’s shoulder, his exhaustion finally being reflected in his movement.

“You will find other people, Isaac. And besides, life don’t end just ‘cause you’re alone. I’m sure you’ll find someone you love. Someone who... you can start a family with.” A quiet chuckle escaped Arthur. “...Heh. Who knows...? You might even have a son of your own, someday. But whatever happens... you need to get out of Ambarino alive, first. You can’t stay here. You can’t... let me hold you back. You understand?”

Interrupted by the sound of men yelling at each other from outside, Isaac glanced out of one of the windows and suddenly noticed the large presence of Pinkertons closing in on the area, causing Arthur to reach for the boy’s hand.

“Isaac...!” He whispered urgently. “Tell me you understand.”

The young man gazed down at his father, still reluctant to leave him behind. The idea of leaving Arthur alone in the middle of these mountains tore Isaac apart with guilt, but deep down, he knew it had to be done if he wanted to live.

There were far too many Pinkertons for him to fight alone, and if they managed to corner him in this cabin, they’d both be finished.

Isaac would be shipped off to Blackwater to be executed, and all of Arthur’s efforts would’ve been in vain.

He couldn’t let that happen.

“...O-Okay.” The boy finally agreed, his voice trembling softly. “I’ll... I’ll go.”

Arthur appeared content with that and let out a relieved breath, his shoulders now slouching due to the fatigue quickly overtaking his body.

“...Thank you, Isaac.” he murmured weakly. 

Reaching for his satchel’s strap, Arthur slowly pulled the bag off and reached for his gun before handing both of them to Isaac, ensuring that the boy would have some supplies in the wilderness.

“It ain’t much...” Arthur said with a cough, “...but there’re some provisions left in here. They should keep you goin’ for a few more days. And take my pistol, too. You’ll need the extra firepower.”

Isaac cradled the last-minute gifts in his palms, staying quiet as his father lived out his final moments.

“Oh,” the older man remembered, “and there’s one last thing... I want you to take...”

Lifting a shaky hand up, Arthur gently gripped the dented crown of his hat and gave the accessory to Isaac, placing it so that it sat proudly on top of his head.

The hat looked like it was made for the young man, and for just a split second, Arthur almost felt like he was looking at a reflection of his younger self. Isaac had the same ruffled hair, the same blue eyes, and if he looked closely enough, Arthur could’ve sworn he saw some of Eliza’s features hiding behind his expression.

It was the perfect fit, just like when Arthur took the hat from his own father.

“You look just like me when I was younger,” the outlaw reminisced with a faint smile. “...Eliza would’ve been so proud of you. You’ve grown so much.”

Isaac’s sharp gaze softened a bit at the remark. “You think?”

“Well, I know I am.”

Letting his head lean back against the wall, Arthur finally decided to rest and and gazed up at the cabin’s decrepit ceiling, sighing in peace as Isaac stood up from the floor.

This wasn’t quite the death he imagined he would experience, but no matter how cold these mountains were, or how desolate their environment remained, Arthur still considered himself lucky for being able to be with his son in his final moments.

Part of him wished he could simply ignore the pain and follow Isaac out of these woods, but as the edges of his vision started to go black, the more reality began to sink in... and the more Arthur came to accept the fate that had been given to him.

His job in this world was done. His time with Dutch’s gang was over, and his responsibility as a father had been fulfilled. 

Isaac was his own man now. The boy still had much to learn about life and the people around him, but from now on, Arthur would have to trust that he would do the right thing in the future.

It was his journey to lead from this point, and Arthur could only hope that the kid had a better chance at life than he ever did.

It was the only thing he ever wanted for the boy. The only thing he and Dutch ever dreamed of.

Freedom.

“...Isaac...” Arthur whispered, his breath faltering with every syllable, “...if you see Dutch again.... tell him I never hated him. And I’m sorry I weren’t there when he needed me.”

The young man nodded in an assuring manner, trying his best not to break down in front of his father. “I will.”

“...Thank you, son...” The older man said quietly, letting his head tilt to the side. “Thank you.”

On the outside, he might’ve looked miserable to the boy, but on the inside, he was surprisingly content. Arthur found himself flipping through all his memories like an old photo album and recalled the days from when Dutch first met him, all the way to when he finally reunited with Isaac in Tall Trees.

There were so many emotions flowing through him. So many what ifs. So many things he wished he could’ve said when he still had the chance to say them.

He thought about his parents. He thought about Dutch and Hosea -- about their gang. He remembered the days they’d spend riding freely through the open deserts of New Austin, and the nights where they’d share stories around the campfire.

He thought about the years he spent falling in love with Mary. About the life he wished he could’ve had with her.

He remembered the pain of her absence when she decided to marry another man, and the happiness that quickly replaced it when he ran into Eliza a few years later.

But most importantly, Arthur remembered the day Isaac was born. He remembered the feeling of holding him for the first time, and wondering how on earth he was going to raise a family.

The boy was so innocent back then. So pure. He was completely untouched by the troubles of the world, and every time Arthur came home to visit, he’d feel at peace seeing his son’s face again... only to be forced to leave a few days later.

In the beginning, Arthur thought he’d never see Isaac again. He thought that Shay and his men had finished the kid off for good, and that he was condemned to be alone for the rest of his life.

And yet, here he was -- fifteen years later -- a full grown man, and fighting against the world entirely on his own, stronger than ever.

He carried a lifetime of sorrow and remorse with him, but Arthur knew that Isaac was still good at heart. The young man had the same compassion that Eliza held for others, and Arthur couldn’t have been prouder of the boy if he tried.

He loved him more than life itself, but now... he had to leave him behind. One last time.

Finally reaching the end of the road, Arthur welcomed the cold sensation that embraced him and calmly shut his eyes, falling still as one final breath escaped him.

His body was completely motionless now. Completely devoid of life. And the longer Isaac stared at the corpse of his father, the more he could feel warm tears welling up in his eyes. 

He was alone again. After all those years of seeking vengeance for Eliza’s death and finding the strength to move on from it, the process of mourning had reset itself.

It felt like the world around him had stopped turning, and despite the urgent threat of the Pinkertons lurking close by, Isaac couldn’t help but feel nothing except emptiness.

But he knew there was no time to grieve. Not right now. Arthur would’ve wanted him to get out of here safely, and he wouldn’t have wanted him to look back.

So, with one last farewell, Isaac said a brief goodbye to his father before heading for the cabin’s exit, and taking his leave from the abandoned town.

He felt like the same scared, little boy that watched Eliza die again, but this time, he wasn’t going to let others determine his fate for him.

He wasn’t going to allow anyone to control him like Shay or his gang did, and he wasn’t going to lose himself to vengeance.

The only thing he was going to do was reach the border, and he’d be damned if he let anyone stop him.

~~~~~~~~~~

OUTSIDE COLTER

Stepping back out into the unforgiving weather of Ambarino, Isaac removed himself from the confines of the cabin and began making his way back to Aldo, only to stop in his tracks when he noticed a man waiting for him outside.

The man was clearly a Pinkerton based on his uniform, but unlike his fellow lawmen, he seemed to display no hostility towards Isaac. His gun was resting in its holster, and even though the boy was obviously alone now, the agent showed no intentions of taking advantage of the situation.

In fact, his temperament suggested quite the opposite. The man wore a sympathetic expression on his face, and when his eyes landed on the signature hat sitting on Isaac’s head, a proverbial light bulb seemed to illuminate in his mind.

Isaac tentatively walked towards the man, analyzing his face.

It was Agent Fordham.

“There you are.” The Pinkerton said as he leaned against a wall, keeping his arms crossed. 

The boy kept a hand close to his gun, admittedly suspicious of the lawman’s motives.

“Archer Fordham...? What are... what are you doin’ here? You knew I was in there?”

The man nodded. “Yes. I saw you and your father go inside earlier, but I didn’t have the heart to interrupt.”

Archer sighed morosely, gazing at the snow-covered ground. “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Morgan. Your father and I may have been on opposite sides of the law, but it sounds like he was a good man.”

Isaac replied halfheartedly, still somewhat shocked by the sudden death.

“He was.”

The Pinkerton steadily approached Isaac, careful not to alarm him.

“Listen, Mr. Morgan, I know this is a traumatic time for you, but you need to understand your current position. If Edgar finds you, you’ll be a dead man. After that little shootout he had with your father back at camp, he’s fully intent on taking you back to Blackwater as a corpse. He won’t let you walk out of here alive.”

Isaac picked up on the man’s tone. “...But you will?”

Fordham let out a conflicted breath, furrowing his brow in thought. “I believe in a world of law, Isaac, but I don’t believe that a world built on order has to be one without mercy. I’ve read your files. I know you’re only twenty-one years old. And I know that if I alert my superiors of your presence here, they’ll take away everything you’ve worked for. They’ll have you killed.”

The agent stepped closer to Isaac, looking around to make sure no one else was nearby.

“...I know Edgar disagrees with me on this, but I think you deserve a chance at life. It may be the unlawful thing to do -- letting you go -- but I believe it’s the right thing to do. After all, how much is civilization really worth if we reflect the same savagery we fight?”

Taken aback by Archer’s compassion, Isaac found himself at a loss for words and simply stared at the man incredulously, unable to believe his stroke of luck.

“You-- you’re--” Isaac stuttered, “...thank you, Fordham. I doubt your friends would’ve done the same.”

The Pinkerton maintained a stoic demeanor, but Isaac could tell he felt empathy for the young man.

“Just don’t mistake my mercy as a pardon. You’ll still be a wanted man in the United States, and the Pinkertons will take you in if they find you again -- myself included. So, if you have any plans to get out of the country, I’d use them now. This will be the only chance you get.”

Isaac nodded despondently, his mind still preoccupied with Arthur’s final words. “Of course. I understand.”

Archer turned on his heel and walked back to his horse, promptly ending the conversation there.

“Good. Then I think it’s best if you and I pretend we never had this talk.”

Mounting up, Agent Fordham took hold of the reins and clicked his tongue, urging the horse to begin trotting away.

“It’s a shame that it had to end this way, Mr. Morgan, but I wish you luck. For both our sakes, I hope we never cross paths again.”

Isaac watched the man slowly vanish into the distance, holding onto Arthur’s gun as if his father were still around. He was fully aware that the man wasn’t coming back, and yet, part of him couldn’t help but hope.

Strangely enough though, that just seemed to make it even worse.

“Yeah...” Isaac whispered solemnly, his tone burdened with loneliness. 

“...Me too.”

#red dead redemption 2 #Red Dead Redemption #rdr2 #arthur morgan #isaac morgan #Dutch Van Der Linde #Micah Bell #Edgar Ross #Archer fordham #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 story

[hollywooduniversityalumnus]

1. burning glances, turning heads

He really should know better, Margot thought, to expect that his class would be paying attention on a Friday afternoon before the long weekend.

As Professor Hunt, the surliest yet most accomplished educator to roam the halls of Hollywood University, all but threw Lance Sergio out for being extremely obvious about taking excessively filtered selfies during the lecture, she took the opportunity to lean over to Addison, poking her with the eraser end of her mechanical pencil. The blonde, as if being suddenly woken, started, causing her gel pen to make a squiggle just off the doodle she was mindlessly making on the edge of her paper.

“What?” Addison asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Margot shrugged. “I’m bored.”

“I think we’re all bored,” Addison teased. “But at least some of us are more subtle than others.”

She nodded towards the front, where the professor had turned his attentions to Jenni Whitman, whose open laptop screen displayed one of the trashier celebrity gossip websites. Beside her, Bianca Stone surreptitiously slipped her phone into her pocket and bowed her head over her notebook, as though trying to commit the blank pages to memory, and Shae, another of Bianca’s friends, panicked and stuffed her phone in the front of her shirt, making a strange lump in the fabric.

As Jenni, too, packed up and took her leave at his insistence, Professor Hunt returned to the lectern, his jaw tense.

“While I understand that you are all incapable of delaying gratification long enough to pay attention in my class, I maintain my zero-tolerance policy for distractions. It would do the rest of you well,” he gritted out, “to not force my hand any more than it’s already been.” His eyes slowly took in the remaining pupils sitting in the hall. “Do I make myself clear?”

The lecture continued.

As he began a diatribe on romantic comedies, Margot turned back to Addison and gestured for her to look at her notebook. Addison subtly glanced down as she pretended to stretch, reading the message written on the corner of the page in very, very light pencil lead strokes.

Do you think he’s ever even seen a rom com?

Addison smirked and turned the page on her notebook, scrawling her reply in much more perceptible pink glitter ink.

Not on purpose, if at all.

Margot suppressed a laugh at the thought.

Like, maybe he sat through You’ve Got Mail thinking that it was about the postal service?

Or Mystic Pizza being about a magical pizza.

Or Crazy Rich Asians being a biopic.

Or-

“I thought I made myself clear.”

The two girls jumped in their seats, hearts pounding, expecting to find the frowning professor looming over them. Luckily for them, his attention was on Shae, whose poorly hidden phone in her shirt had become quite the spectacle, as the screen lit up behind the thin fabric and an instrumental snippet of a Top 40s hit blared from behind the buttons.

“Out,” Professor Hunt snapped. When Shae didn’t immediately move, he all but yelled, “Out!”

Dear God, she thought, this lecture is never-ending.

She was one of perhaps sixteen students left in the hall. Many others, including Bianca, had either flown the coop during the mandated fifteen-minute break, or were not-so-nicely asked to leave by the increasingly tense professor. She had flirted with the idea of beginning her long weekend early, too, but she knew she was already on thin ice with Hunt (to be fair, when isn’t she?), and she might as well learn something anyway. She didn’t have anything to do or anywhere to be. Unlike many of her classmates, she wasn’t heading home for the long weekend, and her plans for the next four days were most likely going to be a cycle of sleep, catching up on the show Chris recommended, and getting takeout.

“. . . and that is why we're discussing the decline of the romantic comedy, a genre that relies all too often on an unbelievable formula. Miss Sinclair?”

Addison’s head snapped up. “Yes, Professor?”

“Kindly give us an example of a trope commonly seen in romantic comedies. I am assuming you are familiar with them.”

“Y-yes,” Addison said, twirling her fuzzy-capped gel pen with her fingers. “Um, in, um, How to Lose a Guy in Ten Days, the two leads often fought and got on each other’s nerves but fell in love with each other anyway.”

Professor Hunt nodded. “Thank you, Miss Sinclair. A topical example of an overused trope. How often have you seen the two lead characters spend most of a movie fighting with each other, only to end up together in the end because of some ill-established passion? Far too often, I’d assume.”

As he droned on, Margot reached over and patted Addison’s arm. “Good job.”

The blonde returned the smile, relieved to have survived the encounter. “Thanks, I was dying inside.”

“Real love is nothing like that,” Hunt said, sneering. “Real love, the kind that exists outside of a cinema screen or five-dollar DVD bin, is not a predictable, clearly laden path with a clear and promised conclusion. Expecting a happily ever after in a relationship is naïve at best.”

“Who hurt him?” Addison mumbled to her.

She poked Addison again with her pencil. “Can you imagine someone loving Hunt? Or even dating him?”

“No! It'd be like dating an angry bear. It’d be a miracle if they lived to tell the tale. I heard he's single, unsurprisingly.” Addison shook her head.

“He probably has crazy high standards. Do you think he has a type?” She bit her lip, assessing her professor from afar. Though his modelling days were far behind him, he still maintained a well-kept, impeccable appearance that often made her wonder what he would look like without the constricting suits he wore like second skins. His features were both manly yet delicate, as if the world had taken its sweet time with perfecting his visage. And his jawline . . . sharp enough to cut glass. He was definitely not lacking in looks, talent, or drive, which was what made his being perpetually single all the more intriguing, though his personality made it understandable.

“Yeah, if perfect is a type. Like, someone with a model hot body, a mind as sharp as a stiletto, and a Hollywood career that's skyrocketing.” Addison giggled.

She tapped her lip with the eraser end of her pencil, thinking. “So, a fictional person.”

Addison leaned into her, eyes glimmering with amusement. “I bet it'd be like getting graded all the time. He'd be judging your outfit, insulting your conversation, critiquing your kissing technique! ‘Too much tongue. You call that a kiss? Kindly remove yourself from my sight.’”

She chuckled. “‘You’ve got to do better than that if you want me to feel anything other than complete and utter monotony.’”

“‘I've seen more believable kisses on The Bachelor.’”

The laugh that bubbled out of her was loud enough to capture the attention of the very man they were emulating. His eyes narrowed as he spotted her quickly trying to clamp her mouth shut.

“Miss Schuyler! Is something amusing? Perhaps you'd like to finish off my lecture on the difficulty of realistically portraying love?” he asked.

She straightened in her seat. “Sorry, Professor.”

“. . . And in conclusion, once a genre full of heart, the majority of romantic comedies have descended into farce bereft of true emotion. Class dismissed.” The professor strode over to his desk and began the necessary routine of shutting off the projection screen. As he did, the rest of the class stood up, stretching, and began packing their things away. Excited voices began eagerly discussing their plans for the weekend.

Thank God, Margot thought. The never-ending lecture was over. Let the weekend-

His eyes met hers, a pointed gaze. “Except for you, Miss Schuyler. Come see me. We need to talk.”

. . . Shit.

Addison touched her arm. “Do you want me to stay back, too?”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said, patting her friend’s hand. “You go on ahead. Don’t be late for your bus. I know you’ve been looking forward to seeing your mom.”

Addison grinned. “I’ll text you when I get there.”

“The least you can do,” she teased.

Addison’s smile waned. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on campus for the weekend? My mom said it would be no trouble at all for you to visit.”

She shook her head. “Oh, no, I’ll be fine. With almost everyone going away for the long weekend, I’m going to indulge in using up all the hot water. Maybe even sit at the good table in the coffee shop. Wild stuff like that. Thank you, though.”

“Well, then,” Addison said, smile returning full-force, “I’ll be on my way. Good luck! Hope you don’t get into too much trouble.”

She stood up and stretched her arms over her head. “Don’t worry about little ol’ me. I know how to deal with him.”

Addison nodded and took her leave, one of the last of the classmates to exit the hall. Gathering up the rest of her things, Margot stuffed them into her tote bag and made her way up to the professor’s desk, where he was busy rifling through his own bag and muttering to himself.

“Just one second,” he said, placing a few handfuls of odds and ends from the depths of his bag on the table.

She nodded, more fascinated by the things that he seemingly carried around with him. Of the many things on his desk, she noted a mini Rubik’s cube, a slip of paper with very faded ink that might have been a receipt or a movie ticket once, a cellophane-wrapped green-and-white mint, three expensive-looking pens of various colours and sizes, and a tube of plain blue Nivea lip balm, identical to the one she had in her purse at that very moment. While the label on hers had faded from usage and being flung around inside her bag, his looked brand new.

After brushing those items back into his bag, he placed a stack of papers on the desktop. Among them, a bright slip of paper poked out, much smaller than the rest, and made of a thicker, textured material. Curious, she pulled it out until she could read the tiny lettering.

5th Annual Los Angeles Charity Masquerade. Admit one (1). $250 admission not including fees/taxes.

She’d never been to a masquerade. She imagined they were just like that scene in Labyrinth, with David Bowie and Jennifer Connelly spinning around the room, surrounded by people in grotesque masks that partly concealed their identities. Big poufy dresses and suits with coattails. Drapery and curtains and mirrors. But an LA soiree version of one probably meant champagne by the bucketful and crudités carried around by masked waiters. Perhaps live music, performed by musicians forced into formal wear, and maybe they were even masked as well. Was everyone there, guest or not, required to wear one? Were masquerades that strict? Do people who wear glasses have to-

You’re getting distracted, she told herself.

“A masquerade ball, huh? That sounds romantic.” She leaned against the desk, smirking at him. “And here I thought you were completely against the concept of romance.”

“Only someone delusional looks for love at a charity masquerade ball,” he replied scathingly. “It's a charity event and an obligation. I'm expected to attend, but there'll be no one worth talking to. As usual.”

“No date, huh?”

His eyes narrowed. “A date would require me to spend the entire evening there. I can't imagine anything worse. I'll be leaving as soon as I've made my donation to the cause. But I didn't call you up here to discuss my social calendar, Miss Schuyler. I wanted to talk about your behaviour in class. I thought, after seeing nearly all of your classmates get removed from the hall, you’d know better than to provoke me. I want to make it absolutely clear to you that it is unacceptable to disrupt my lecture. Save your chit chat for your own time, understand?”

She swallowed hard, feeling heat on her cheeks from his gaze. “Yes, Professor.”

He nodded once. “Good. You may go.”

As she left the hall, phone in hand, her heart was thumping in her chest from excitement. But not from the weekend finally starting.

She’d never been to a masquerade, after all.

But first, she’d need a dress. And shoes.

Without her stellar roommate and fashionista friend by her side, she felt entirely overwhelmed as she flipped through the overflowing closet Addi had insisted she make use of. Though she hadn’t told her the whole truth – just that she was attending an event that required formal wear – Addi had been thrilled to break up the boring bus ride with some advice.

“Not too much cleavage,” Addison said, her voice tinny through the phone speaker. “And not short, either. Knee-length or longer.”

“Do you think I’ll need gloves?” she asked. “Like Cinderella?”

Addison hummed. “Maybe. Pack a pair of elbow length white gloves in your bag, just in case. Oh my gosh. What bag are you bringing? It cannot clash. You hear me? Cannot.”

“Addi, I don’t even know what dress I’m wearing.” Margot frowned at her phone, balanced atop a stack of textbooks on her vanity. “I’m standing here in my underwear trying to figure this out. I’m pre-bibbidi-bobbidi-boo here.”

Addison’s laughter rang out of the speaker.

“I’m serious, Addi. Maybe I shouldn’t go.” She bit her lip, thinking of the money she’d spent on a ticket, money that might’ve been better spent. She was lucky that there were even tickets available. But that was beside the point. “Maybe this is a bad idea.”

“What’s a bad idea? Having a good time? Attending a charity event? Making career-defining connections? Come on.” Addison giggled. “Maybe you’ll even meet the love of your life there.”

“Right.” She flipped through the racks, eager to find something, anything . . . and then she saw it. A strapless, silvery blue ball gown, tight at the top but not overly cleavage-baring, that flared out at the waist to a full, silky skirt that would definitely conceal whatever shoes she would wear. She pulled it out of the closet and unzipped the clear garment bag to admire it. It was a princess dress if she ever saw one. Turning back to the phone, she quickly requested the voice call turn to a video.

Seconds later, Addison’s tired faced filled the screen. “What is it?”

Brandishing the dress out with a flourish, she ignored that she was standing in little more than a bra and panties as she showed the dress for her friend’s approval.

The gasp she heard confirmed her selection.

“You’ll be so stunning! A real-life Cinderella,” Addison said.

“Yeah,” she said absentmindedly, running her hand over the smooth fabric, already envisioning the makeup look she’d pair with the outfit.

“Except-” Addison narrowed her eyes in her best stern Hunt impression. “If you lose one of my shoes, it would be best to leave the country.”

Her taxi finally reached the front of the line, and a footman waiting on the sidewalk opened the door for her. She stepped out in her beautiful ball gown, giving the footman a grateful smile as he closed the door after her. Taking her time ascending the steps in her heels, she met another footman at the door who, after looking at her ticket and corroborating it with the guest list on a tablet, handed her a mask with ribbons.

She stepped into the hallway leading to the ballroom and found a mirror where she could put it on. Looking at herself in the mirror, she was more than pleased by her last-minute glow-up. As Addison had her closet, she had her vanity, stuffed to the brim with makeup products that she used to make herself look as chic as possible. After adjusting the mask to fit her face, she smoothed a layer of lip gloss over her lined lips and smiled to herself.

With this mask, I could be anyone . . . well, anyone smokin' hot, that is, she thought.

The ballroom was packed despite its tremendous size. Decorated Regency-style, it dripped with decadence, glass, and shine. Gold chandeliers tipped with crystals dangled from ceilings with painted murals, and tables spilled over with decadent food and sparkling drinks in crystal flutes. Famous actors and big names in the industry, though shrouded by masks of varying hues and designs, gossiped at the edges of the room, while couples danced and twirled on the floor. As she envisioned, masked waiters masterfully navigated the room, offering bite-sized treats that made her mouth water just looking at them.

After making her way around the room, taking in the splendor, she came to a stop near a pillar and sighed.

“This is incredible,” Margot said aloud.

“Isn’t it?”

She turned her head, surprised to see a man with a dark blue mask eyeing her from where he sat by the nearby bar.

“Come sit with me and let’s talk about it,” he said. The invitation, though innocuous in its wording, made her uncomfortable.

“Um,” she said. Her mind, which was usually buzzing with quips, did not offer her an out.

“Don’t be shy, baby,” he pressed, voice a little too firm and sharp for her liking. “I won’t bite. Come here.”

She swallowed hard at his leery gaze, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “I-”

And then she felt it, a hand circling around her elbow, and she was not alone. She tilted her head up to appraise her saviour, who was looking down at her with a smile. Her saviour, tall and silver-masked, looked and spoke to her as if he knew her.

“There you are.” He led her to the other side of the bar, all the while chattering loudly as though they had come together. “Nearly lost you in this crowd.”

She knew that voice. Knew it quite well, in fact. She’d heard it in lecture halls, offices, in her nightmares and dreams, and in places unexpected.

This was one of the latter now.

He gestured to a pair of empty seats, and she gratefully took one. As soon as she was comfortable, he turned his head to look over at where that man who had been speaking at her sat. Then, he leaned against the bar, standing over the other empty seat, and picked up a half-empty glass, presumably abandoned by him when he came to her rescue.

“You should be careful,” he said sternly.

For a moment, she thought he recognized her, and she prepared for the lecture that would undoubtedly come.

“Even charity events attract the lecherous,” he continued. “You’re very welcome, by the way.” A smirk played on his lips before he took a sip of his drink.

“Thanks,” she said, for she had no clue what else to say.

He nodded once. “Do be careful with yourself. You’re bound to attract some unwanted attention. It would do you well to keep your head clear so that you may avoid future encounters. You can’t expect someone to come to your rescue every single time.”

“Nor do I expect rescue at all,” she replied. “I am no damsel in distress. Though, I guess, I kind of was for a second there, huh.”

He laughed. It wasn’t sarcastic or mocking. A genuine laugh that made him tilt his head back ever so slightly. She’d never heard him laugh like that before, but now that she had a taste, she wanted to hear it again and again. It was so unlike him, the caustic and cold professor she knew. It made him even more attractive.

“At least you’re honest.” He tilted his head at her. “I prefer to be honest.”

“I like that.” Sitting up a little straighter, Margot added, “Honesty's refreshing. One thing I've learned since I've been here, in Hollywood I mean, is that too many people are willing to lie to your face or cheat to get ahead.”

He glanced at his watch. “Is that so?” He killed his drink and then levelled his gaze with hers. “And you’re not one of them?”

“No,” she said, then thought better of it. “Not yet, at least. Not if I can help it.”

“So, you want to get ahead.” He finally lowered himself into the seat beside hers.

He gestured to the bartender for a refill, and she took the opportunity to order herself a drink. The bartender nodded at them and turned away.

“I want to be a household name. A famous actress.”

He leaned forward, close to her. “Here's some more truth for you . . . everyone here wants to be something. But not everyone here is going to succeed.”

Stubbornly, she said, “I will.”

“You're brash, naive, and overly confident. I used to be that way, before. . .” His smirk waned, then disappeared altogether. It was clear he was not mentally in this room anymore.

She wondered what he was thinking about.

The bartender slid his scotch refill to him, then delicately placed her drink on a coaster in front of her. He picked up his glass and took a rather large gulp.

“. . . Ahem. Excuse me. I'm Thomas. And you are?”

Honesty’s refreshing, she had said just moments earlier. Too many people are willing to lie to get ahead.

She truly didn’t want to lie to him, not now. But she also sensed that revealing herself now would mean that she wouldn’t get to keep talking to him like this or hear that laugh.

And, honestly, what good would come out of angering him after he’d been so kind to her?

“Someone who doesn't like to reveal all her secrets.” She smiled coyly, taking a sip from the paper straw in her drink. “It's a masquerade ball, after all.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “You don't have to be so coy. I don't need a name to figure out who you are. Or anyone in this room, for that matter.” Turning so that he could assess the crowd around them, he nodded towards different masked guests. “Timothee Chalamet; his hair is distinctive, as is his stature. Charlize Theron; note the regal way she carries herself, much like several of her most notable characters. Adam Driver; tall, kind of awkward gait, a low voice that carries over the crowd.”

“Very impressive, Thomas,” she said, trying out his name on her tongue. It was sort of strange to refer to him so casually, but she’d have to adapt if she wanted to keep this going on.

He took another sip, clearly pleased to be right. “Told you, didn’t I?”

Though she enjoyed the game they were playing, she decided to really test him. “Here’s a harder challenge: do you know who I am?”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I've been wondering that the moment you arrived. Something about you is familiar, almost loathsome, yet at the same time, forgive me, attractive.” He tilted his head. “You’re not going to tell me who you are, are you?”

Though her heart was pounding, she kept it cool. “Maybe at the end of the night. Unless you're planning on leaving early. Are you?”

“No.” He broke eye contact with her long enough to get the bartender’s attention, and he gestured for another refill. “No, I’m not.”

At some point, in the midst of their conversation, the music had noticeably gone softer and slower. He finished his drink and sighed, placing the glass onto the countertop, but just as he was about to request another refill, she captured his attention with a hand on his arm.

“We should dance,” Margot said, springing out of her seat. “Care to join me?”

He hesitated, and her glossed lips pouted.

Then, slowly, he rose from his seat, all the while maintaining eye contact with her. He straightened his tie and gave her a smirk.

“Do try to keep up,” he teased, buttoning his suit jacket before offering her his arm. They slipped through the crowd, the guests not dancing parting for them as easily as water. As soon as they reached the dance floor, he took the lead, taking her in his arms and guiding her. She was slow, cautious. He watched her fight her instinct to look at their feet.

“If you're nervous, this dance will be over before it even begins,” he warned, though his grip on her tightened.

She pulled him closer, emboldened by the drink in her system and the fact that he didn’t know who she was, and smiled up at him.

“Do I seem nervous, Thomas?” she asked.

He smiled. “Not at all. I’m surprised. You’re not completely horrible at this.”

She batted her eyelashes. “You say such charming things.”

They both laughed as he whirled her around the room.

She didn’t know how long they’d been dancing for, but she knew they were being watched. The crowd of dancers had thinned considerably since they had first arrived on the dance floor, and now many spectators lined the floor, watching with increasing interest as she and her partner weaved around the other dancers, doing increasingly interesting moves at his lead.

Her heart was pounding, the music was building to a crescendo, and he spun her around the dance floor faster and faster.

Don’t puke, she told herself. Do not do it. Your reputation will not recover. Not with whoever’s in attendance, and certainly not with Thomas.

His voice came from somewhere to her right. “Keep to my tempo, or you'll fall behind.”

He spun her out and away from him.

The world beyond the dance floor seemed as if was moving in slow motion, while she was stuck on fast-forward. She felt like she was one of the fairy toys that spun around and around in the air, aimless and free, before meeting a wall or piece of furniture and clattering to the floor. She braced herself for impact.

But then her hands connected with his again, and the crowd that had gathered to watch the dancers applauded as he pulled her back into his embrace.

“You learn quickly. I wish you were one of my students,” he whispered in her ear.

Her stomach, which had felt so light just moments before, now felt heavy and twisted.

“You’re a teacher,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

He nodded. “I teach at a local university.”

“How . . . nice.” It was the best she could come up with at the moment.

After she had become too dizzy from the spinning, he escorted her off the dance floor with an amused smile. He led her through the ballroom and out onto a private balcony cordoned off by a thick dark velvet curtain. Taking her hand, they stepped closer to the railing, into the cool evening air.

After giving her a long look, he let go of her hand and slowly removed his mask. The silver-lined blue barrier fell away to reveal him. He looked even more handsome up close, with a shy smile on his lips and the bright light from a single lantern hanging above them illuminating his debonair features.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, stunned by seeing him so unguarded, and even more handsome up close. “Not at all.”

The ocean waves below were muted by her heartbeat. Above them, she noted the sun setting, the sky becoming an ombre canvas of oranges, reds, and pinks. It was truly a stunning sight, but her gaze kept coming back to him. Still smiling, he reached out and took her hands in his.

His voice was husky, low. “You are definitely the best part of the night. I wasn't expecting to meet someone like you. I can sense something about you, a connection . . . I never thought I'd feel this strongly about someone I just met, but I can't seem to stop myself.”

She felt as though she was not breathing. As if she might never breathe again.

Moving even closer, he circled his arms around her waist, tilted her head up, and leaned in, eyes closing just before they made contact.

She was surprised by how sweetly he kissed her, how delicately he held her, as though she would slip away in the faintest breeze. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her closer to him until they were nearly inseparable. She thought she could hear fireworks somewhere, and wondered if she was only imagining them, but when they finally pulled back from the kiss, she saw flashes of colour illuminating his face in vibrant hues.

“Thomas,” she said breathlessly.

And then his mouth was on hers again, pulling her closer still, until his back was against the wall, and her hand was on the back of his neck, holding him to her. She felt his fingers on her back, just above the silk of the strapless dress, and she shivered and pressed herself tighter to him.

“Please,” he whispered raggedly once they separated again. “I have to know who you are.”

Margot stilled.

He reached around her and began tugging on the ribbons of her mask. She watched him closely, letting him untie the knots, savouring what very well may be the last moment she would have with him like this. 

The mask fell away from her face, and she watched him recognize her, watched his eyes widen and face twist in betrayal and anger before he stepped back and pressed a hand against his mouth in horror. Her blood ran cold as his eyes narrowed and his expression hardened to one of complete disdain.

“Margot? How - how dare you?” he gasped. “You – you – I cannot believe this! You lied to me! You deceived me! You seduced me! How could you?”

His rejection, though expected, pained her in ways she couldn’t even describe. As though his words were branding irons, burning his hatred into her flesh.

“You’re the last person I wanted to see behind that mask,” he spat. “You, of all the people in the world.”

He kept hurting her, hurting her, like he didn’t care. And perhaps he didn’t, now that he knew the truth.

“I can’t believe I - Dear God, I kissed a student.” He leaned back against the wall, forcing himself to take deep breaths to keep himself steady.

Tears slid down her cheeks as she watched him denounce her in every way possible. Even though he’d bragged about being able to identify anyone, he didn’t expect her, didn’t even cross his mind to guess her, and for some reason it hurt her more than anything else.

“Some part of you might’ve known it was me,” she said indignantly. “You were bragging that you-”

He let out a caustic laugh at that. “Why would I want you to be someone I despise? Someone I don’t respect? I’m disgusted with you and myself.”

And that was all she needed to hear.

Pushing past him, she covered her face – and the tears streaking down them – as she rushed out of the gala and into the night.

The taxi ride back to the dorms was awkward, mostly because she spent the entire ride sniffling, trying to hold back her tears, and using up the Kleenex the driver kept a box of by the rear windshield. After tipping him, she sprung out of the taxi and didn’t stop running until she was safely back in her room.

It was there that Margot allowed herself to fully break down. In that beautiful princess dress, she flopped onto her bed and sobbed, hugging herself tightly, letting out all the anger and frustration and pain that she felt at being so heavily and heartlessly rejected by him. She cried for the way he looked at her. Sobbed at the beautiful moments they shared that were now tainted by the conclusion of the night. She ached for what could have been and wept for her naivete.

A part of her knew that there was no way anything could’ve come from it. But she’d let herself fall into the fairy tale, accepting him as her stand-in prince for the evening, and felt charmed by their conversing, their somewhat playful banter, and the compatibility in their dancing skills. And the kisses they shared . . .

Though her chest and throat ached from crying, if she closed her eyes tight enough, she could still feel his mouth against hers, languid and sweet in its kiss.

There was something there. She knew it.

It hurt her to know that, even if he sensed something too, he would never acknowledge it.

Twenty minutes away from the Hollywood U dorms, Thomas Hunt sat on his bed, still in his suit from the masquerade, drinking scotch straight from the bottle. Two pairs of masks lay beside him, one slightly more rumpled than the other from its owner stepping on it as she ran from the private balcony.

Setting the bottle down on the bedside table, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, forcing himself to think back to the beginning of it all, pushing past the haze the alcohol left in his head.

He’d spotted her the moment she walked in and had kept an eye on her since she began making her way around the ballroom. And, from the sounds of the men sitting close by him, he was not the only one who had noticed her.

The dress she wore made her ethereal, like she’d stepped out of a dream. The shiny silk that hugged her frame before flowing to the floor, coupled with her demure yet entrancing makeup and the awed look in her eyes from behind her mask, set her apart from the rest.

He took a large gulp of his drink and loosened his tie.

She got closer, and one of the wolves made their move.

As if by an unknown force pulling him forward, he found himself walking up to her, his mind struggling to catch up with his actions as he offered her a way out of the clearly unwanted interaction.

“There you are.” He led her to the seat he had previously occupied and was pleased to find that one of the men had taken flight upon seeing them interact. She sat down and looked up at him curiously, as if wondering why he had saved her from being potentially preyed upon.

“You should be careful,” he said. “Even charity events attract the lecherous. You’re very welcome, by the way.”

“Thanks.”

He knew that voice. The sincerity of the gratitude, tinged with sarcasm at having to reply at all.

She seemed not to have recognized him. He wondered how long it would be before she did. Though the mask concealed some of her features, with his close proximity he was quick to identify her by other things that gave her away, like her high cheekbones and dark tresses she’d pulled into a half-up hairdo and, now, her distinctive voice.

He felt tempted to call her out on it and send her on her way home, but at the same time, he wanted to know where this would go. Revealing what he knew would mean that he wouldn’t get to keep talking to her like this.

And it was a masquerade ball, after all.

#thomas hunt #thomas orson hunt #hollywood u #fanfiction #only fools fall for you