#suspecting anything so just like tag along with them and gain their trust and then either steal it or have them give it to you

[readiajin]

To Love Herself - Chapter 1: Appear

Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.

Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.

Prologue: Disappear

Chapter 1: Appear

Do you plan on coming home soon Feyre darling? 

Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me? 

Two somebodies actually, Rhys replied. Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today. 

Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.

Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by starlight on the moonless night. She hadn’t realized how late it had become.

I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up. 

Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spine as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning. 

She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck. 

Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint-splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass, she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her. 

Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”

The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally, the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?” 

An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back the hood. 

Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years. 

“Hello Feyre.” That was all Nesta said. 

Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames. 

Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then. 

But stepping into the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam. 

Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestesses disappeared from the Library as well.

That had been nearly a year after Nesta. They had all suspected Neata, as later it was found that the last time Emerie had been seen in Windhaven was that day. But they had never been sure. All that was left of the priestesses was a note to Clotho not to worry, that they had left by choice. 

“Nyx is growing up fast."

Nesta was still staring back at Feyre, but as she continued to blink at Nesta, Nesta nodded towards the painting on the easel. Her face was impassive as she said “He looks like he is a handful.” 

Nesta’s words caused Feyre to snap her mouth shut, which had been hanging open. “What? Nesta… where…how...why...” Silence filled the room as Feyre trailed off. Nesta continued to stand with that preternatural Fae stillness, but she seemed to be considering Feyre now. 

“I came here with a warning for you and your court”, Nesta finally said. 

Again, Feyre felt her mouth fall open as she stammered “Excuse me?”

Nesta let out a bored sigh as she moved to the cart next to Feyre’s easel and picked up a paintbrush to examine.

“I am sure you have many questions, but I only came here because there are some things you as the High Lady of the Night Court should know. There is a movement growing on the continent threatening Prynthia. I don’t believe the ruling powers of Montesere and Vallahan are involved, especially with the peace treaties you have established with them, but there may be some within those territories that support it. The majority of this group has been operating in the Wild Lands of the Faerie Realms on the continent. What I do know is that those involved with this movement believe there is a way to steal the power of Prynthia’s courts. They say the ruling High Fae power’s here come from a physical source in this land, and if found, they can take it for themselves.” Nesta twirled the paintbrush in her hand as she turned to face Feyre again. “This group has been trying to subtly infiltrate Prynthia’s courts, and we believe they have gained a source within the the Illyarians.” Nesta said all this deadpanned, returning to staring at Feyre with a blank face as she finished speaking. 

Feyre’s anger came hot and fast. “Are you kidding me Nesta? What are in the Cauldron are you talking about!” 

Nesta simply raised an eyebrow at Feyre’s outburst. “Which part of what I said was unclear? You and your court need to look into dissent among the Illyarians.” 

Feyre let out a disbelieving laugh, “It’s been 8 years, Nesta!” 

“Yes.”

“Eight years since you disappeared without a trace and now you come back and the first thing you tell me is this? With no explanation as to where you have been? What you have been doing? Seriously? That’s all you have to say after you ran away, never contacted your family, but apparently returned to steal weapons?” Feyre gestured to the sword on Nesta’s back. 

Nesta examined the paintbrush in her hand, but said cooly “Since I created the weapons, it wasn’t stealing.” She looked up to Feyre, eyes chips of ice. “The what and where I have been are a long story. I only came to warn you.”

Silence once again filled the dim room.

“Why should I believe you?” Feyre asked, defeated. 

It was Nesta’s turn to ask “What?”

“Why should I believe you,” Feyre repeated, “when you have done nothing to show that I can trust you?” 

Nesta’s infuriating nonchalantness finally slipped a little, and Feyre felt a flash of anger. However, her voice was calm as she responded. “For all our history Feyre, did I ever lie to you, or do anything to make you think I wished harm on you?”

Feyre opened her mouth to respond “no”, but stopped herself. Looking at the Nesta before her, she didn’t know who this person was. 

After a moment she said, “I don’t know.” 

It was quick, but Feyre saw something flash in Nesta’s stormy eyes before her face was once again a mask of cool indifference. 

“Okay then.” Nesta turned to return the paintbrush she still held to its proper place. “As I am sure the rest of your court will also need convincing, I can show you proof if you can meet me on the Obsidian Isles in the East Sea of the Night Court in two days. Noon, on the Northernmost island. 

Feyre was really tired of saying this, but “What?”

Nesta let out an annoyed sigh as she clasped her hands together in front of her and said plainly “Bring your mate and court and meet me in two days to prove to you all I told you was the truth. Is that acceptable to you?” 

Feyre nodded. 

“Good. See you in two days.” With that, Nesta turned on her heels and stalked to the door.

Yet Nesta paused with her hand on the doorknob. For the first time since being in the room, Nesta seemed to waiver. She didn’t move, staring straight at the door. 

“How is he?” She finally asked. It was barely audible, barely more than a whisper as if she was afraid to say it too loud. But it was the one thing Feyre didn’t need to ask what she meant. 

“He searched for you,” There was too much, and not enough to be said.

Nesta turned her head, hand still on the knob, not to look back at Feyre but to stare at the wall to her left. 

“He will come with you to the island.” Feyre couldn’t tell if that was a question or order. 

Either way, Feyre said “Yes.” Even though she didn’t know if he actually would. Feyre didn’t know how he would react to any of this. 

Nesta stood still for a second, before nodding and pushing open the door. She didn’t say another word as she pulled up her hood, stepped out, and vanished into the night. 

Feyre didn’t know how long she stood there, staring out the open door into the dark. It was only when she felt an invisible weight lift off her shoulders, that she realized that the entire time she had been talking to Nesta, she hadn’t been able to feel her bond with Rhys. 

(4/26/2021)

•••••

Thanks for being here :)

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@bluassassin

[mintvender]

BTS’ Reaction to Y/N Arranging a Banquet For Their BD + Nobles Disrespecting Them

Harem!AU

A/n: I apologize to the anon that have asked for this. I accidentally deleted the ask along with the post. Devastating I know. Had to restart the entire thing so I at least those that you’ve enjoyed it 🌿🌿

Warnings: Nothing

Masterlist

White Heather: The bell-like flower signifies protection while also meaning that wishes will come true.

Kim Taehyung

Despite his prestigious status, Taehyung would prefer to celebrate his birthday with those he trusts. Spending time with you is better than any materialistic product he can ever receive.

However, as much as you like to indulge in this fantasy, it would bring you more harm than good, especially to Taehyung. If you didn’t arrange a banquet for Taehyung’s birthday, it would silently hint that your relationship with him have soured, and that he is losing your favour. This would not cause him to slowly lose his control over the harem but attract more reckless people to his doors as well.

To be honest, very few people would dare to actually insult him, especially in front of your presence. By now, you would expect that everyone in the palace would understand how capable you are.

Though, if someone has the guts to even comment on how ‘lavish’ the banquets is. I guaranteed that they will soon become the joke of the palace. Not only will they be on your bad side, everyone would naturally avoid them to not receive your distaste and hate.

However if gets to the point of infuriating you and embarrassing Taehyung then chances are that person would disappear from the face of Earth without a trace. It’s what they deserved for their stupidity.

“ Mhm? What did you say? Please do repeat what you just said.”

Kim Namjoon

Even without your prestigious statuses, you both prefer to celebrate Namjoon’s birthday like any other family meeting. Bonding with each other while sharing the same meal would be a simple yet meaningful event on his birthday.

As an intellectual, Namjoon would greatly appreciate getting gifts that would nourish his curious mind. From books to scriptures, to mysterious herbs, it would definitely satisfied his constant overfilling library and study.

As some of this items are quite rare and precious, it must also come with a great price tag. Knowing how Namjoon dislike gossips and such, make sure to burn or get rid of any evidence of you giving such gifts to him.

Despite you not wanting this, it must be done since you don’t want people looking at you both weirdly the day after his birthday.

However, if word somehow got out about you ‘spoiling’ Namjoon, either you or Namjoon would come up with a quick answer to shoo their suspicious gaze away from you both.

“ How did a mere servant like you enter the Empress/Emperor’s courtyard? You sure have guts.”

Jung Hoseok

To everyone, Hoseok’s birthday is similar to a festival. Everyone literally does not have time to rest with the constant pressure from both you and Minister Jung. Hoseok’s father have probably bribed some of the servants to make sure that his son’s birthday is the grandest of the noble consort’s.

Regardless of his intentions, Hoseok is actually quite confused to what was happening around him. With how rushed everything feels, he might not even realize that today is his birthday.

Thankfully, you were quick to remind him by spoiling him with various treasure from the various times you see him longingly staring at blueprints for too long.

“ Thank you, your majesty. I apologize for the disturbance. Please continue.”

Min Yoongi

If you were to plan out a banquet for Yoongi’s birthday, a lot of people will gain benefit from this. People from the previous dynasty would see an opening to do everything in their mean to gain more control. However, that it another subject for another time.

I don’t see Yoongi as a person who would prefer lavish material things but he will be so flustered to the point of not being able to produce coherent words if you indeed gave him something — which you should. Though, Yoongi would be more than happy to learn and experience what he could not as a harem child. I can’t really imagine him being a hard to please person.

However, with all the positive things, negative things will also follow it right? Manipulation will definitely be this event’s antagonist. Yoongi’s self esteem will drop drastically with how manipulative everyone would become the moment he gain favour. As a result, arrange a celebration that is worthy of him but not too overboard, that would cause the destruction of Yoongi’s position within the harem.

“ What? ... You want to say something in front of the Empress/Emperor?”

Jeon Jungkook

Like Namjoon, you can’t really organize a banquet with the big gap in your guys’ status. It would not confuse people but also create unneeded rumours about you guys’ potential affairs.

As a result, what you can do is sneakily spoiled him on his big day. Ranging from being nicer and more attentive to his questions to even gifting him custom-made weapons from your clan. It really depends on where you guys’ relationship is at this point.

Spending time outside of the palace while stuffing yourselves with various street food, and ending the day with stargazing or attending a nearby festival would be a nice framework for you to follow.

Even just practising your swordsmanship for hours would satisfy his crave for closeness. As long as you guys do activities that are unique to your guys’ relationship, Jungkook would be satisfied even if it’s the most basically things.

“ Please refer to the Empress/Emperor whenever they are available, official.”

Kim Seokjin

The most hard to please person I would say out of all the candidates. Unlike all of them, Seokjin have more than enough money and power to get whatever he wants so giving something materialistic is already a rough route. Though, I think gifting something that is custom and only made with him in mind would satisfy him greatly.

Maybe arranging a banquet under the cover of celebrating the country’s alliances with the coincident of Seokjin’s birthday in the mix so that people don’t suspect the intimacy of you both. Though, would that really be able to get people not to suspect anything? I’m not too sure of this myself.

I don’t think that Seokjin will be the kind of person to just ignore insults coming towards him so before you could even react, Seokjin would already be retaliating with all his might. Usually, after a round of his speech, the person would be too embarrassed to say anything else.

“ You! Yes, you. Who do you think you are? A mouse dare to challenge a lion? You jest!”

Park Jimin

Not much can be said about Jimin’s taste for presents except for picky. Granted, that’s probably a reasonable reaction when jewelry and money was constantly at his disposal and that’s all he gets as rewards for béhavioriste properly.

I would suggest starting out with that thought in mind, and as your bond get stronger and Jimin becoming much more comfortable with you, then begin to explore other territories with him. Regardless, the idea of having you arrange a banquet all for him really excites him than he like to admit.

I can already him eyeing every potential wealthy person but still stick to your side — he’s all bark but not bite so if he cast those flirtatious glances, he will still be loyal to you. However, what he didn’t expect was an outright insult on his ‘behaviour.’

Beneath all those smiles and flirts, his broken self would still offense and would want to retaliate. This would cause him to quiet down but still try to go back to what he was doing.

Since you want to both stand up for him but also not cause that much gossip, just silently command some people to make the person go bankrupt and that should be a good ending. While you’re at it, transfer some of that person’s asset to Jimin’s monthly allowance and I will guaranteed you that he will like love you even more.

“ ... What are you looking at?”

Copyright © 2021 MintVender

All rights reserved.

[jo-the-schmo]

Red, Dead, Reflections Ch. 1

A/N: Alright so... I started writing this fic over a year ago, and was posting it as I wrote it. I fell out of it for a few reasons but I’ve missed it. So I decided to start writing it again. The original versions of the first 5 chapters already exist on my blog but I want to repost them and do some editing. This way I can make the series more polished. I also want to try and do a once a week maybe schedule to give me some time in between writing chapters and so I can take some feedback into consideration.I hope some of the people who originally wanted to keep up with my series see this and I want to apologize for falling back on this. I feel really bad about it. I’ll try harder to commit to this. Thank you so much for being interested in my work. If anyone would like to be tagged just let me know, I don’t wanna assume the people who did before want to now. 

Summary: At the age of 23, you and your pseudo-family perform a heist gone wrong, leading you into a dangerous and seemingly impossible position. Discover your own history, the story of those around you, and gain new relationships along the way in this (sorta) choose your own adventure.

Warnings: Explicit language, blood, death, violence

Word count: 5,988

From Out West

“This is a little too ballsy for my liking, Austin.” You warned as you carefully adjusted the colored contact lenses in your eyes.

“Since when did you turn into a little pussy-willow?” He smirked at you while he turned a corner. 

“This is a bank, not a home robbery, so forgive me if I’m a tad nervous about this! We’re robbing a god damn bank in the 21st century, in a busy city that we aren’t necessarily familiar with!”

“Maybe you aren’t familiar, you know I’m a regular ol’LA boy.” You turned your head to look at the two in the backseat.

“Miguel, you can’t seriously be okay with this.” You questioned but were confident in it enough to make it a statement. He shrugged his shoulders, making that confidence literally evaporate. 

“We gotta trust Austin, as crazy as this plan is. We haven’t gotten caught yet.” You crossed you arms and made sure your wig was pinned right.

“Doesn’t mean we won’t be startin’ now.” You grumbled. 

“Come on, sissy! This plan is fool-proof! They’ll never even know it was us!” Eli chirped. 

“Oh yeah, except for the fact that this is a fucking bank and the FBI CAN get on our asses for this!” You swore it was exhausting being the only realistic one sometimes. “On top of that, there’s only 5 of us! We’re insane!” 

“6.” Austin corrected. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Your girlfriend won’t be in the damn room with us.” 

“She’s the ace up our sleeves, it would be silly for her to be in there with us.” The car smelled like old cigarettes, it made you sick. The band around your chest dug into your ribs. You opted to stay silent and relent for the time being, instead focusing on your disguise. The wig was carefully pinned to your real hair, it was short enough to be confused for a men’s haircut but had enough length to not require any glue. Dark brown hair, abnormally vibrant green eyes. And with the mask covering your face, that would be their only descriptions they could give to the police. Flat chest, boyish haircut, baggy black hoodie, just your average deviant. The destination was in view. 

“Alright,” Austin started. “everyone knows the plan, yeah? Gina is inside, she’ll send us the signal. We go in quick and make our presence known. I go behind the counter to make sure the tellers ain’t up to no funny shit. Miguel, you round up the lovely citizens into a corner, hit Gina a little to make it convincing. Eli, you take care of the money. And Y/N, I need you to stay in character, be loud and intimidating, keep the tellers in check when I’m helpin’ Eli, and the civils with Miguel, got it?” You all nodded. He looked back at Miguel. “You got the fake bomb ready?”

“Yes’ir.” 

“I’ll pass the big boss to you once I pick him out. Zoe is waiting for us in the alleyway between the bank and the office building. We get in, make some noise, scare them shitless, get the money, and go.” He parked up front of the white walls, you saw a mother walk through the glass doors with her toddler in a stroller. You immediately felt bad. 

“You promise this is the last job, right?” You looked at him seriously. “At least the last of something this big, I don’t think I could handle with again.”

“Of course! This is just to get us enough money to get us all out. The economy is garbage, think of it as taking what should already be ours.” You heard the crackle of the walkie on Austin’s lap. He threw it into his bag. “That’s the signal, masks on everyone.” Austin’s was a fox, long, fake salt and pepper hair rolled form under his hood. Eli’s was a raccoon, convincing copper bangs swooped between the ears. Miguel had an owl; disturbing blue eyes pierced your being. You strapped on your black dove and joined with group as they exited the stolen vehicle. You kept both your hands in the front pocket of your hoodie, trying to be discrete about the two handguns inside. Only one was loaded with real bullets, that was the backup, You preferred to use the blanks. Unable to trace, and when used properly, won’t hurt anyone. Austin and Eli took the leads. 

The doors were kicked in. 

“EVERYONE GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND RIGHT NOW! HANDS UP, ALL YOU! THIS IS A ROBBERY!” He screamed, pointing his gun at a man behind the counter about 3 yards away. Miguel was quick to shout at the people in line to get into the corner of the room. Gina pretended to try and defy, he slaps her, needless to say it’s convincing. 

“Dove, handle the worms.” You traded spots as Austin grabbed one of the men behind the counter. Your eyes locked with the poor woman, she was covering the stroller with her torso. You pointed your blank gun at some random person. 

“Stay on the ground or I’ll fucking shoot, ya hear me?” You lowered your voice, made it coarser, time to be a ‘man’. They nodded hysterically. The woman was crying. You could hear Eli screaming his demands in a fake accent. “Everyone hand over your phones. If any of you give me a reason to even SUSPECT you’re up to anything, I will shoot.” Everyone put their phones on the ground and slid them over toward you. You turned your attention to the back. “What’s the hold up, owl?” 

“I’m handling it.” He strapped the fake bomb to the teller’s chest, making him kneel down in the middle of the bank. “Listen up, everyone! This man has a bomb attached to his body. We have someone hacked into the security cameras. If you don’t follow our instructions to the T, they will blow a hole in this lot.” He paused to let the cries and gasps die out. “Now, for those said instructions, listen close. We will exit the building soon, you will stay down for 5 minutes.” He pointed at a clock on the wall. “Do not touch anything or move a muscle. When 5 minutes have passed, the big guy here-“ He patted the man’s shoulders and dropped a key wrapped in tissue in his lap. “will take a little drive off the premises. He will keep going until he reaches the designated location written on that tissue. If any of you contact the police before the end of the day, he will die, along with any other drivers in his vicinity. So, unless you want a substantial amount of blood on your hands, I’d suggest you keep quiet until midnight. As for the rest of you, you have permission to leave the building once that 5 minutes are up. But I would suggest keeping a low profile, for your safety and others’.” There was a loud crack. 

“I got it!” The phony Australian accent rang. Austin led the rest of the bank tellers to you, making them sit in the flood of civils. 

“Staying alert, Dove?”

“Don’t patronize me, stupid Fox.” This whole situation pissed you off. The baby was crying, mom was too, trying to hush the whines. 

“Fire a shot, Dove!” What? “Don’t let their insubordination stand.” He demanded. This was a fear tactic. He was trying to teach a lesson to the others. 

“I’m not firing a warning shot over a fucking baby, you psycho!” Your blood was boiling, this was overkill, he was way out of line with this. Of course, he wasn’t telling you to shoot the baby or the mother, but you weren’t going to cause more grief where it didn’t need to be. 

“Take the shot!”

“Fuck you!” 

“Why are you going against me?” Was he seriously doing this now? You felt like your head was going to explode. She was the only person with a child present. You put both of your pieces back in your hoodie and knelt next to her. She flinched as you approached, but that was to be expected. 

“Ma’am, I’m making an exception for you because you have a child with you, and that prick is really getting on my last nerve. You’re allowed to exit the building now, but the other rules still apply. People will die if you talk, maybe not you, but other people who have children like you do, most certainly. Take your kid and get out, don’t do anything out of the ordinary, and get out.” Her red eyes shook you to your core, familiarity. She nodded in both fear and appreciation. 

“Than-than-thank y-“ She was choking on her own misfortune, you decided to spare her. 

“Yeah, yeah, just get out.” She got up and collected herself, checking around the room as she walked out of the building. You could only see his eyes, but you could tell Austin was reaching his limit fast. An older gentleman stared at you. 

“At least one of you has a heart.” You were glad Austin was too focused on being pissed to hear that. You got up, kicking the phones toward the door as you walked. Austin grabbed you arm. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t kill her for that.” By letting that woman go, you showed weakness. It was a hint at your identities, but you didn’t care. 

“And you’re lucky I’m not shooting you for saying that. I’m not a killer like you, Fox.” Your voice was laced with venom. Eli had interrupted your dispute. 

“Alright lovebirds, time to play nice, we’ve got precious cargo.” He gave both of you a duffle bag, they were pretty hefty. Austin took a deep breath, putting on his best showman voice. 

“Alright folks! That right there is our cue to hit the road. Remember, 5 minutes on the clock. No one likes a-“ The doors were filled with red and blue, sirens. The police were here. “Shit!” Shit was right. “How the hell are they here?” Austin screamed. He gave you a shove. “It’s probably because of that god damn woman!” 

“There’s no way she would’ve had enough time for that.”

“And no one had a phone out, I was watching the whole time.” Miguel chimed. 

“We have bigger fish to fry right now! We gotta go.” You all dashed over to the back door, all you had to do was move towards the alley, if you could just get to the dump van, everything would be fine. Drive up to get the real car, leave that one with no prints or hair, and you’d be home free. The 4 of you booked it out the door. But the van was no where to be seen, instead, there were about 3 cops on either side which was 6 in total, trapping you in. 

“They must’ve got Zoe!” Yeah, no shit. 

“Put your hands up!” You all raised your arms, except of course for Austin. You kicked his calf. He didn’t budge. “I said put your god damn hands up!”

“In case you didn’t notice, pal, there’s a bomb in that building. If you don’t let us pass, I’ll blow that building out of existence, along with the man attached to it.” He pointed his gun to one of the cops to your left. “So, I suggest you let us through, or else you’re gonna piss me off more than I already am.” 

“We know the bomb is fake, drop to your knees or we will shoot!” Another one barked. Someone had ratted you out. You looked at Miguel and Eli, you weren’t letting this go down, not by a long shot. You tuned out Austin’s ramblings and whispered to the other two. 

“Be ready to run. I’m gonna buy you guys some time. Don’t kill any of them, disarm them.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Y/N?” Miguel questioned with panic. You took a deep breath. 

“Thank you for being my family.” You swept your leg behind Austin’s knees, and he collapsed to the ground as you stood. 

The world slowed to a crawl, pulling a gun out of your pocket, these were real bullets. You’ve never missed a target. You drew the attention of all 6 police officers, but no amount of training could prepare them. You fired 3 shots, each one hitting the hands of the officers Austin had been talking to. Their weapons fell from their hands. You felt bodies push past your legs, down the alley way away from the bank. You were glad the streets of LA were confusing. Now was the time. You whipped your body around to face the rest of the officers, firing rapidly at their shins. You weren’t gonna put blood on your hands. 

But deep down you knew, there was no making out of this one. You would buy them a few minutes while trying to subdue you. Just as your haphazard shots began, they fired precise ones of their own. Two passed through your skull, three in your chest, and one got a through almost half of your jugular. Both pieces fell away from you as gravity swaddled you. Bits of your wooden mask, blood, head pushing back unnaturally, seeing the backs of your made family run, they were almost home free. There was no pain after that point, you waited patiently for your back to hit the ground beneath you, but it never did. You kept falling. 

And falling. 

The midday light felt like it was slipping away, there were leather walls encompassing your lifeless form. No sound, no sense of texture, just the smell of dirt and decay. Then there was nothing but darkness, but that void that beckoned you, that pulled at your very being, was gone just as quick as it appeared. 

Your body shot forward with a violent intake for air. The gasps filled your lungs to the brim, your chest and head ached, throat tight. The coughing erupted from deep in your chest, which also held a different pain from the ever-tightening band around it. You threw you hoodie away and made quick work of loosening it just a bit, and in doing so noticed that your body was free of any physical wounds. There was still a soreness, and blood wiped off your skin, but there were no open wounds. You were incredibly cold, and at first you assumed that to be attributed to your near-death experience, until you looked up high to see to see an open window with snow falling outside. 

“I don’t think we’re in California anymore.” You muttered to yourself. You shivered, the place was covered in hay and in low light, that’s when the smell hit you. It reeked of animals, that would probably have something to do with the fact that you’re in a barn. Shakily, you got to your feet. Knees wobbling, your eyes adjusted, there were horses. That certainly explained the stench. A chill ran up your spine, the cold tickling at your vertebrae. You scanned the room for where you had tossed your hoodie, only to find it in a horse’s mouth. Your eyes widened in fear. “No, no, no, no, no, no!” You exclaimed. You rushed forward and grasped at the hanging sleeve, tugging on it with all your strength. “Drop it! Drop it right now!” 

The horse did not listen, in fact, now it seemed more hellbent on consuming the thick material. After hurtling a few curses at the horse, you heard a distinct rip. You fell back, the remnants of black cloth now in tatters. You let out a muffled scream of frustration. Even with the long sleeves of your cotton shirt, you were still freezing. It suddenly struck you how odd it is for it to be snowing at all. You figured you weren’t in California anymore, but you were somewhere that snows in the middle of May? How far were you? You couldn’t think of any states that snowed this late in the year. Were you in Maine? Up north, Canada? How did you even get here? 

“Did those idiots come back to get me? I could’ve sworn…” You could’ve sworn they ran like you told them to, and that you had experienced several fatal injuries. Is this hell? Purgatory? The other side? It was cold enough to be Hell that’s for sure. Nothing made sense. You found your mask on the ground, chunks of the painted wood were replaced with vacant space, splintered bullet holes. You fastened it to the first belt loop, it rested against your left pant leg. Pins dug into your scalp, wigs still surprisingly attached to your head. Your eyes watered, your contacts were drying out. You opted take them out now rather than waste your time trying to find drops in a barn. You flicked them away once they were out. “Now, if there’s a barn with animals, there’s gotta be a house with people.” You walked over to the large wooden doors as your talked to yourself, but today just had to be the worst day of your life. Something landed on top of you, or more accurately someone. 

You were surprised you didn’t feel any cracks as the weight crashed on you. Shifting your weight over, you elbowed the man in the jaw. He rolled off of you with a grunt of pain. You were quick to jab him in the stomach with the toe of your boot. Sputtering a cough with saliva dripping out the mouth, the man rushed to stand. He was trying to fight. 

“You’re on the wrong side of the mountains, partn’r.” He slurred. “This here is O’Driscoll territory, Which you don’t got no business bein’ in.” I’m in the mountains? Where the hell- He didn’t give you enough time to finish that thought before he was throwing a punch at you. If this basic boy thinks he can step in my personal space, he’s got another thing coming. You blocked the fist with your forearm and redirected the force toward the ground. With the base of your wrist, you hit his throat. The force of your own strength and the ever so impeccable sense of gravity caused him to wheeze, choke, and writhe on the ground. 

“Listen here, buddy,” you pressed your boot down on his chest “I have no idea where the hell I am right now. I don’t give a single shit about territory or whatever the fuck you’re going on about, but if you put your hands on me again, I’m gonna mangle your entire lower half with a rake.” You applied more weight. “I didn’t come here of my own volition, someone put me here. Which means, you’re little punk ass better tell me what’s going on or get out of my way so I can-“ Gunshots. Mystery man took your distraction as an opportunity to wriggle out form under you. They were ceaseless, did someone drop you off in the middle of a gang war, what the hell is going on? You were about to duck behind whatever cover was around you if the idiot of the room had decided he didn’t learn his lesson. 

“Are you with those crazies?” He yelled, peeking out the barn doors for only a second. “I should’ve known.” His voice was cold and malicious. “You’re with that son of a bitch, Dutch!”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, pretty boy, they must’ve sent you up to spy on us! I’m gonna kill you for-“

“I literally have no idea what’s going on!” But he wasn’t listening to reason, clocked you in the ribs before you got the chance to block, then using your surprise to his advantage, hit you on the nose. There was a familiar crack and blood rush. “Did you just fucking break my nose, you ass?” You screeched toward the ground, wiping away the blood. 

You took him off guard by doing that, so you were quick to knock him in the jaw. The shooting stopped but you were a little preoccupied and decided not to waste anymore time. His arm bent to caress the side of his face. You rushed forward, lacing your arm between the gap his made. Using all your weight, you swung your legs out and forced him to drop to the ground. His back slammed forcefully and with a swift adjustment, your shins trapped his neck, locking him in place. You squeezed his neck enough to make him gasp. He tried to push away from you, but with the position you left him in, there’s no way he’d be able to without some sort of outside assistance. 

“Who are you calling pretty boy now? Huh? Who, bitch boy?” You heard the door start to open, you let lose and pulled the man up to shield you, locking his head so that you peek between a gap in your arm and his head. A man wearing a blue coat and hat walked in, his hands resting on his belt. 

“Well, well, what have we got ourselves here?” You couldn’t quite place his accent. You noticed he had a holster. 

“Don’t fuck with me, dude. I’ve got your friend trapped between me and you. No need to make this get crazy.” You warned, tightening your grip to enunciate your point. What sounded almost like a chuckle escaped his throat. 

“You must not be an O’Driscoll if you think he’s my friend.” You panicked, you tried to think of your next move, but he had plans of his own. “What’s your name, son?” Your suspicions were correct, it seems. This isn’t the first time someone’s confused you for a man, especially when you were trying so hard to not look like yourself. But maybe, you could use this to your advantage. 

“James West.” That was Austin’s code name for danger. If someone introduced you or called any of you James, it meant they weren’t trust worthy. You and Gina would usually use Jamie, but now James felt like the safer option. 

“Now how in the hell did you get involved in this, West?” He rested his hip against one of the stable posts.  

“I have no idea.” You threw the man away from you, there was no point holding him anymore. “I woke up here, and this guy just started attacking me.” You thought for a moment. “Are you Dutch?” You asked. This time, it was a single, hearty-

“HA!” He had a spark in his eye. “Me? Dutch? I ain’t that old yet, kid.” You rolled your eyes and pulled yourself up. 

“Well, my nose is broken because this little shit thought I was with you, so I have some choice words for this ‘Dutch’.” You huffed. “And don’t call me ‘kid’.” You brushed your fingers across the bridge of your nose, preparing yourself for what you were about to do. One deep breath in, out, pop. You pushed your nose back into place and winced. A wad of blood shot out. “Jesus shit!” You coughed, you never get used to having to do that. The blue coat cowboy looking mother-fucker looked semi-impressed. 

“Well, I’m not Dutch, but you could sure meet him if it pleases.” Something caught his attention. “Speak of the devil…” The door opened again. A man walked in with very distinct black hair. He was also a cowboy looking mother-fucker. Oh god, am I in yeeyee country? His eyes immediately locked on you. 

“Did you cause this mess, Arthur? Or have we just met a new friend?” The man who you presumed to be Dutch, had a deeper voice than the man apparently called Arthur, but their accents were similar. That was not promising for you. 

“That depends, his name is West, James West. I walked in a right fine mess between him and that there O’Driscoll.” Arthur pointed to the man still struggling to steady himself. Dutch choked a deep laugh, he seemed more amused than Arthur was. 

“Right fine is right, Arthur. You did this?” He asked. You nodded reluctantly. “You’re a good fighter, boy. Real good, it seems.” He strode over to the guy on the floor and picked him up by the collar, tossing him over to Arthur. “Morgan, you deal with this trash while I talk to our new pal.” Dutch walked over to you, confidence in his step, while Arthur threw the man back on the ground. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder and shook you around a bit. “James West, huh?”

“Yeah, what’s it to ya?” 

“Oh, this boy’s got spunk, Morgan!” You looked over and saw Arthur yanking the man around by the shirt. Dutch forced your attention back to him. “Now West, you’ve gotta understand our position here. We can tell clear as day you ain’t involved in a lick of this mess. But we don’t have a single clue as to what your business is up here. Now, you seem like a considerate young man, but I got worried folks on this mountain, and I can’t have no scamps running around and hellraising” He squeezed your shoulder. “So, don’t take any offense to what I’m about to ask, but what are you doing up here?” He looked you dead in the eyes. In your opinion, the question was fair. You couldn’t fully let your guard down, but they appeared to not be whoever put you here. Then again, these O’Driscoll’s didn’t seem to be either. 

“I can’t give you an answer to that one, Mr. …?” 

“Van Der Linde.” That’s one hell of a name. 

“Mr. Van Der Linde. Frankly, I have no damn clue why I’m here. One minute, I’m getting shot down in the middle of the day, and then I wake up trapped in some barn in the middle of bumfuck nowhere, in what looks like the ass end of winter. So, I’m a little confused right now to say the least.” You were clearly frustrated with your situation, he wasn’t oblivious to it. 

“Where are you from, son?”

“California.” That was a safe enough answer. 

“James West from out West. That’s certainly an opener.” He scratched his chin. “I’m gonna put you to a test young man.” He turned you around and lead you over to where Arthur had just gotten off the now bloody man. He was whimpering, begging under his breath for mercy. 

“I don’t think he’s got much to say, Dutch. They apparently happened upon this place and took it over. That’s all I’m getting’” 

“I’m going to give our new young friend a choice.” He pulled a revolver out of his holster and held the handle out to you. “In normal circumstances, I’d let Arthur handle this situation himself. But I’ve got an itching curiosity with you, kid.” You felt obligated to hold it in your hand. Looking down at the man, pity flared in your chest. “Should we kill him, or let him go? I’m letting you make the call.” What kind of question was this? Who were these guys? The choice wasn’t very difficult, you’d be a hypocrite if you did otherwise, and you weren’t compromising your promise on the off chance these guys might not like your opinion. 

You handed the gun back to Dutch. 

“Just because he’s an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserves to die. Let him go.” Dutch was intrigued by your answer. He looked over to Arthur with a smirk.

“I think I like kid!” 

“Please don’t call me ‘kid.” You requested. Arthur pulled the man to his feet and threw him outside.

“Get outta here before he regrets it.” The man darted into the snow, leaving a trail behind him. 

“Grab the horse, Arthur. We gotta get something out of this.”  You were lead outside to find a horrific scene, bodies were strewn about the snowy landscape. Whoever these guys were, they were not to be trifled with. You should play this safe. 

There was a house not too far away, the snow was dense. It was more than freezing. You sent a glare to the horse Arthur led past you. You’ll pay for this, you dumb fucking horse. With your adrenaline dying down, your whole being felt frozen. 

“Normally, I wouldn’t be one for disrupting dead for anything other than money, but you’ll die out here without something warm, Mr. West.” Dutch gestured to one of the several bodies riddled through the snow. You swallowed the lump in your throat, trying your best not to think about how you were robbing from dead people. It wouldn’t be the first time, but you still didn’t feel good about it. You separated from him and carefully stepped around the bodies littered in the snow. You found a man with his face in the snow, you pretty much picked him so you wouldn’t have to see his face as you stripped him of his coat. It didn’t look particularly warm initially, but anything would be better than this. The arms bent limply back as you peeled the sleeves away. Luckily upon further inspection, you were happy to learn there was a sort of wool lining inside, that would at least help insulate your own body heat. A sudden commotion broke out from inside the rustic home. A man yelling for Dutch and a woman screaming. Your instincts made you spring into action, you lept through large portions of the snow to make it to the steps faster and before you knew it you were bursting through the door. A blonde man wearing another cowboy-looking hat was chasing a woman around a table. 

“What the hell are you doing, Micah?” Arthur questioned as him and Dutch followed you in. 

“We got a feisty one over here, boys!” He hollered. Oh, you were not comfortable with this type of language.

“Stop chasing the poor woman, ya moron!” He warned with more intensity. You weren’t gonna see this go down, that’s for sure. You ran up behind the man called Micah, grabbed his collar, and used his weight to pull his back towards you, and then to the ground. His body slammed, he let out a surprised yelp, followed by a pained groan.

“Fucking sicko! Stop chasing her around, she’s scared!” 

“Get out of my house!” The woman bellowed. Admittedly, you had no idea what was going on, but you knew you could at least try and defuse the situation. You put your hands up to appear less threatening. 

“Miss, I don’t know who you are or what in God’s name is going on, but I promise I am not here to hurt you.” You spoke to her in a calm voice. Whatever was going on, it clearly had her frazzled. “I don’t have any weapons, and I don’t make it habit of hurting people who don’t need hurting. You clearly have been hurting for no reason. Can you explain to me what’s happened so that I can help you with this situation?” You took a cautious step around the table to make sure she wouldn’t dart away from you, you kept steady eye contact. 

“They…they killed my husband a few days ago! They took over my home and locked me in the basement!” She wept. Maybe these O’Driscolls were the ones to stow you in the barn, they sure seemed like the type with this new information. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am. I can assure you that those men won’t be bothering you anytime soon. Can you-“ You heard glass shatter, looking over, you found Micah scattering to his feet, fire was spreading from the floor to the wall at an incredible rate. It was already crawling up the right-side wall before you had a chance to react. There was no way you could put that out by yourself, and the others weren’t exactly jumping at the chance to help you. You settled on running to grab some blankets from the bed across the room. The boys were leading the woman out of the house and she reluctantly followed. Micah sent you a glare as you passed him out of the house. “Oh, don’t you look at me like that, you weren’t any help!” You knew you should keep your mouth shut, but you knew you were right on this one. The group was walking toward some horses, you followed behind. 

“Micah, lead the horse back to camp.” You handed the blankets to the woman. 

“Thank you.” She seemed genuine but was also hurt by your sentiments.

“It’s no problem, ma’am.”

“Adler, Sadie Adler is my name.” She wrapped herself in the blankets.

“Well, it’s no problem, Mrs. Adler. It’s the bare minimum to what I could’ve done.” You hoped whatever camp Dutch mentioned was close by. This cold was blistering. 

“Mrs. Adler, you may ride with me, we’ll get you back to people who can help.” Dutch hopped up onto a white horse, lending a hand for Sadie to pull herself up. “Arthur, please take our new friend with you. I don’t think he’s in any shape to be riding.” Arthur nodded, heaving himself with ease onto a spotted mare? You couldn’t tell if it was a girl, but you just got that vibe. He did not give you a hand. Oh yeah, I’m a dude. A manly man. You gripped the back of the saddle and used all the arm strength you had to get onto the bare back on the horse. You hoped this ride wasn’t going to be too bumpy because you were not about to get punched because you had to grab onto this man and couldn’t tell if someone was a homophobe or not. You sure hoped these people weren’t, but you weren’t exactly in the position to be picky. 

“Pearson’s not gonna happy about this.” Arthur mentioned as the horses pushed forward.

“Mr. Pearson isn’t happy about anything except his drink. He’ll be alright.” Now seemed like a good a time as any to start asking questions. They couldn’t go anywhere away from you at the moment. 

“Not to interrupt or anything, but could someone tell me where I am, or what day it is. Could someone please tell me what the deal is?”

“We’re north of New Hanover if the maps are correct. We’re planning to head down there as soon as this winter passes. God knows how long that’s gonna take.” Dutch complained. You had never heard of New Hanover, but apparently it was winter. Maybe you really did get shot, put into a hospital maybe? Then these guys… You panicked for a second. O’Driscoll wasn’t another name for them was it? It didn’t make much sense but no one else would put this much effort into stealing you away. “As for the day, I couldn’t tell ya exactly. It’s winter in the year of our Lord 1899.” He laughed. What?

“What?”

“Ah, just bit of a joke, son. We live in dark times. We’re hurtling straight into a new century.” Wait was he joking or not joking?

“It’s 1899?” You tried to keep your voice neutral, but he seemed to pick up on your worry.

“Yes, it is, son.” He paused. “Are you alright?” You were anything but alright. These people are crazy, I’m trapped on a mountain with some insane cultists who think they’re in the 19th century, I’m fucked. “Arthur, we need to hurry, the boy’s looking pale.” 

Your head felt fuzzy, colors were blurring together. I am not stuck on a god damn mountain in 1899, I’m not, that’s physically impossible. This is all a dream, or some weird set up. You felt like you were 19 again, disconnected, afraid, losing it. You weren’t gonna go back there again, you wouldn’t! You didn’t know you had stopped breathing. You didn’t feel Arthur’s arm catching you so you wouldn’t get trampled. Everything was black. 

[dindjarindiaries]

Mandoctober - October 19: Covert

summary: When you see the Mandalorian in trouble, you seek out the covert you’d suspected earlier to gain their assistance—instead gaining an entire new path for your life. (excerpt from Security)

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader (for this selection)

warnings: mentions of violence

rating: T

word count: 1.105k

mandoctober masterlist

october 19: covert

Walking the streets of Nevarro has always been a risk. But this commotion is much different.

You duck behind the nearest building for cover as you observe further. You see a large crowd of bounty hunters surrounding someone, but you can’t tell who it is. After squinting a bit and seeing his armor catch light, your eyes widen. It’s a Mandalorian—and he’s holding a bundle.

A child? Is he trying to rescue it?

If that’s what he’s doing, then it looks like he’s in trouble, and you know that the only way to rid of the weight you’ve been feeling ever since you heard the talk of the asset is to help him somehow.

“The kid’s coming with me,” you hear the Mandalorian say.

“If you truly care about the kid, then you’ll put it on the speeder.” The voice undoubtedly belongs to Greef Karga, who’s out of your sight.

Why is he so insistent upon keeping this kid on Nevarro?

“How do I know I can trust you?” the Mandalorian asks after a pause.

“Because I’m your only hope.”

You don’t think the Mandalorian can trust him, and you watch in horror as he appears to be contemplating the offer. He’s standing near the speeder, looking as if he’s about to place the child in it. Don’t do it. Please don’t give in.

A few minutes ago, you didn’t think you could ever root for the Mandalorian. Now, it’s evident that your quick judgments about him had been incorrect—and perhaps saving the child had been his purpose all along.

After moments of contemplation, you see the Mandalorian quickly pull out his blaster before jumping into the speeder with the child, and the other bounty hunters begin firing shots relentlessly. You hold back a gasp, knowing that him and the child are both against unlikely odds and need backup—but you alone won’t be of much help.

Suddenly, you remember the glimmering of a Mandalorian helmet you’d seen before. Maybe, just maybe, if you had been wrong, there’s more Mandalorians around—and they can help their ally. Instantly, you hurry away towards the place you’d spotted the helmet, trying your best to find the location in the darkened town. Soon, you fall upon the concealing curtain, pulling it aside as you dare to walk past it.

Your feet trod down a spiraling staircase, and you’re met with a tunnel that stretches almost endlessly in two opposite directions. Upon your arrival, you’re instantly met with the turning heads of Mandalorians, and your eyes widen at the massive amount. You thought they’d all been killed. They had just been hiding.

One of the Mandalorians approaches you quickly, and you take a few steps back as their large figure towers over you. “Who are you?” their deep, modulated voice questions you sharply. “How did you find us?”

“I—I stumbled across here by accident,” you rush out, knowing you don’t have much time. “But there’s trouble up in the town, and you ought to know—.”

“How did you find us?” the Mandalorian demands again, stepping forward. The action forces your back up against the wall of the tunnel, and fear shoots through you. Your hand subconsciously lands on the blaster in your holster.

“Let them speak,” a softer modulated voice speaks out. Everyone’s heads turn towards the speaker, who emerges from a gap in the tunnel. She dons a golden helmet, and it manages to glitter in the darkness of the tunnel as she approaches you and the large Mandalorian. “What’s this trouble you speak of?”

“It’s another Mandalorian,” you explain. “He’s in trouble. He’s trying to save the child—you know, the asset everyone talks about—and now he’s pinned by other bounty hunters.”

The golden Mandalorian still has all eyes drawn to her, and you hear her sigh lightly—though it’s not in exasperation. “Din Djarin,” you manage to hear her mumble, though you’re almost sure she meant to say it to herself. She faces the gathered crowd of Mandalorians, beginning to address them. “A member of the tribe is in need of aid. You must go to help them.”

“But we’ll have to find a new place for the covert!” the Mandalorian across from you exclaims.

“This is the Way,” the golden Mandalorian states.

“This is the Way,” the rest of the Mandalorians in the tunnel agree. They begin to file out towards an exit further away than the way you’d come in, and you feel the need to help them. Before you can scurry away, though, the golden Mandalorian stops you with a gentle touch on your shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, her modulated voice heavy with gratitude. “You have helped us uphold our code, and therefore earn the respect and security of the tribe.”

You offer her a nod. “No worries. It’s the right thing to do. But, I need to go help them.”

“No,” the Mandalorian insists. “They won’t need your aid. But, he will.”

“He?” you echo.

“Din Djarin,” the Mandalorian states. “The Mandalorian you spoke of. He will need help keeping the child safe, for he cannot safely provide both for himself and the child on the run without someone else. If you would like to help, that is how.”

You contemplate her words for a moment. She’s suggesting that you leave anything you might have here behind and join a rogue bounty hunter on the run—when him and the child will evidently be pursued by anyone who previously acquired a tracking fob. This includes skilled bounty hunters, people you’ve been trying to avoid ever since you were orphaned.

Yet, you have nothing to leave behind, and you feel a responsibility to help this child, who’s in a similar situation to your own from the past. You remember how desperately you wanted someone to help you in those days. So, you give the Mandalorian a nod. “I will.”

“Then I will tell the tribe to inform Din Djarin that you will be joining him.” She pauses, reaching out her hand to give you something. You accept it, looking at your hand to see the crafting of a Mythosaur sitting there. “Show this to him to prove I have sent you. Good luck.”

You give her another nod, clutching the metal in your fist and finally chasing after the other Mandalorians.

permanent tag list: @mikahid @bestintheparsec @stilllivindue2spite @givemethatgold @xbrujita @mandalorianspace @blushingwueen @sevvysaurus @myakai13 @thisis-theway @beskars @rach-likes-books @theindiealto @hiscyarika @wickedfrsgrl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @bookwafflefangirl @charliepeaceout @cable-kenobi @ezraslittleblondestreak @hdlynn @your-pixels-are-showing @b0n-chann @javier-djarin @nettyklecan @mistermiraclee @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @smellssharpies @catfishingmorales @wille-zarr @kaetastic @saltywintersoldat @agentpike @mrsparknuts @readsalot73 @yespolkadotkitty @mandhoelorian @lilangeldevil006 @roxypeanut @hail-doodles @randomness501 @this-cat-is-dea @hopplessdreamer @paintballkid711 @dracos-jedi-marvel @whataenginerd @katlikeme @petertingless @propertyofdindjarin @theocatkov @bisexual-space-slut @cyaredindjarin @arkofblake @cryptkeepersoul @motleymoose @mrschiltoncat @f0rever15elf @lady-of-nightmares-and-heartache @rogueonestan @goldafterglow @thedevilwearsbeskar @badassbaker @pancakepike @create-a-constellation @mymindisawhirpool @antmnwasp @capbrie @freak-of-nature2002 @arabellathorne @mandilflorian @phoenixhalliwell @beiroviski @darthadeline @cheriedjarin @edencherries @mstgsmy @seasonschange-butpeopledont @aliciaxglasgow @poesflygirl @weirdowithnobeardo @dee-rosemary @ceebeetheartdork @kiwi-the-first @mitchi-c​

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[simplybakugou]

Off the Deep End

↝ In a world of supernatural and all powerful quirks, Bakugou is baffled when he has to help a mermaid save her kingdom against his arch nemesis.

PROMPT: “You’re a what now?!”

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x mermaid!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing ⋆ WORD COUNT: 6011

A/N: Here’s my submission for the @bnhabookclub​ mermay event! I may or may not have made Monoma the villain because it was funny to me I swear that I don’t hate him lmao. Also I’m sorry if this is probably the worst thing you’ve ever read lol

Tagging: @sipsteainanxiety​ shay thank you for your sweet words during our sprints. I hope you enjoy this :)

✐posted 5.31.2020✐

“I can’t believe I’m listening to your bullshit right now,” Bakugou grumbled into his phone over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, looking around the dock. 

“Dude, Sero and I are telling you that there’s something really weird happening around there!” Kaminari urged on the other line, the panic evident in his voice. “I read that so many people patrolled in that area and they said that something fishy’s going on. Just check it out for me?”

Bakugou laughed. “Are you too fucking scared to check it out yourself?”

“No!” Kaminari blurted in annoyance. “It’s just… electricity and water aren’t a good combination.”

“Sounds like a fucking excuse to me but whatever. I’ll see what you’re whining about.” Bakugou hung up shortly after, shoving the device into his back pocket as he walked along the wooden panels. He scanned the area, not seeing anything out of the ordinary or anything to be frightful for. That idiot’s complaining for nothin’...

The only peculiar thing about this sector was that usually docks and ports would have various boats attached to it but this had nothing, just a wooden walkway staring right into the mouth of the ocean. Bakugou shrugged, assuming that his friends were blindly believing blatantly idiotic rumors. He wouldn’t be surprised if this was a prank they were trying to pull either as the pair would often mess around with him and attempt to send him off on wild goose chases.

With that thought in mind, Bakugou walked off into the opposite direction, making his way towards his car so he could get back to his agency until the sound of laughter stopped him in his tracks, one that sounded like bells ringing and echoing in the air. He spun around, eyes averting in all directions to try and locate the source of the melodic laughter. The area was abandoned and the sun beaming in the sky would reveal anyone roaming around easily. That was why Bakugou was even more baffled when the sound repeated, loud enough to be heard over the collision of the splashing waves. 

Not thinking twice, Bakugou approached the source of the sound, believing that this was what Kaminari and Sero were so afraid of. He got to the end of the dock, his feet on the edge as he attempted to search for the mysterious voice once more.

“What the fuck am I even doing here?” Bakugou grumbled to himself, deciding to head back after failing to find the voice and once again annoyed with himself for even coming here in the first place.

“Whoa, I didn’t think people actually came on this side of the portside anymore,” a voice quipped just as Bakugou was walking away.

He turned around, taking a few steps back as he gasped to see a person in the water, smiling up at him. “The fuck you think you’re doing?! It’s too dangerous to be in the water!”

You were taken aback by his sudden concern, your lips curling upwards in amusement. “Now this is odd. It’s not everyday a human is worried about me.”

“What are you--” Bakugou stopped as he saw you dove underwater, causing Bakugou to toss his shoes and phone to the side. Even if he was off duty for his job, he was still a hero and he wouldn’t let anyone drown themselves, no matter how stupid they were for doing so.

Just as he was about to begrudgingly jump into the water, your head popped back up, even more amused than you were before. A human was willing to risk his life to save you. Bakugou sighed, irritated that he was even entertaining you or that you were pleased by this in the first place. “You think this is funny? Just get out of the fucking water, you’re wasting my time.”

You laughed, the sound ringing in Bakugou’s ears. “I’m sorry, maybe this will make more sense if I do this.”

Before Bakugou could question what you were doing this time, you swam over to the edge of the dock, hoisting yourself up over one of the many ginormous boulders lodged into the side. Bakugou nearly choked at the sight before him, feeling like his eyes were deceiving him.

But it was not a deception. There you were, sitting atop the boulder, with two shells covering your chest and the rest of your upper body adorned with miniature seashells. Your lower half was inhuman as a large tail, iridescent hues of blue and purple sheen covering it. 

“As you can see I’m not human, so you don’t have to worry about me,” you said, grinning from ear-to-ear, completely beguiled by his flabbergasted expression. It was always funny whenever humans reacted this way to seeing you, although it had been years since you’d last seen a human. “I’m a mermaid.”

“Y-You’re a what now?!” Bakugou asked, absolutely bewildered. When Kaminari had informed him about odd occurrences happening in this dock in the past, Bakugou suspected anything but a mermaid to appear.

You maneuvered down the boulder using your arms, settling back in the water and swimming closer to the dock to get a better look at Bakugou. He took a step back, flustered by how intense your staring was. “W-What? Why’re you giving me that weird ass look?”

You chuckled, resting your head in your hands. “The last times humans showed up in this part, they came because they wanted to see the ‘legend’ of the mermaids that live here. And everytime I had to deal with those humans, I had to scare them off so that my people could live in peace. This is the first time someone has come here without any ill intentions.”

Bakugou took a small step forward, looking down to verify once more that your tail was real and not a figment of his imagination. You giggled, lifting your tail up slightly above the water. “It’s real. You weren’t imagining anything.”

Bakugou felt disconcerted by this whole situation, unable to comprehend what to do or how to go about this. He knew he had to return to work soon but he didn’t know how to just walk away from this knowing that you were a full fledged mermaid. You rose a brow at him. “You’re not going to go to your friends and have them come down here, are you? Because I’m really not looking to have a fight with anyone.”

Bakugou shook his head slowly. “It’s none of their business to come down here. I just came ‘cause my friend’s a fucking pussy and was nagging me to check out this area.”

You smiled, grateful and also a little surprised that a human had no desire to exploit you and your species’ existence. “I appreciate it. You know… you’re not that bad. I’ve always despised you humans for everything that you’ve done, but I think you’re pretty okay.”

Bakugou scoffed, looking off to the side. “Whatever.”

You laughed at his reaction, looking up at him and taking in his features. He looked nothing like any human you’d ever seen. His hair was spiky, not budging against the rhythm of the wind beating against it. His eyes were the brightest, most intense shade of scarlet red, making you feel intimidated just by one look. And yet he was handsome, too. 

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” You said bluntly. 

Bakugou’s eyes widened, his cheeks inflamed. “Shut up! Just mind your business and do whatever fish shit you do. I’m leaving.”

You watched as he stomped off, ten times more amused than you were before. He was interesting to say the least, and you were hoping that he would keep his word and not bring any unwanted attention to your existence. But somehow, you felt like you could trust this beautiful stranger.

***

Since that day, Bakugou felt himself physically and mentally drawn to the dock. He started out by stopping by occasionally, curious to see you once more. Your mere existence intrigued him, although he would never admit it. Slowly with time, his visits became more frequent and you began catching him in his act. So you joined him, talking to the only human you’d ever met that was curious about you solely because he wanted to get to know you.

And you wanted to know more about him, often finding yourself waiting by the boulders for his visits. And the more you two met, the more you learned about one another. It was your first time meeting a pro hero, understanding why Bakugou felt obligated to help you when first meeting you.

And Bakugou learned about you and your kingdom. You were a princess of an underwater kingdom called Coara, guarding your kingdom from prying and nosy humans, many of whom were scientists who would go as far as wanting to dissect you and your people if they had gotten their grubby hands on you. Bakugou frowned whenever he heard the anger in your voice when voicing your opinion on how aggravated and fed up you had been with such pestering people. 

You were interesting to say the least. Most people’s first impressions of Bakugou were mostly negative, people often complaining about his abrasiveness or that he was too rude for their liking. But not to you. Even the way he spoke to you was intriguing for you, you finding yourself into him even more than you already were.

But the more you thought about him and were around him, the more you felt unsettled by your new friendship. All your life you had worked to gain this peace that had finally remained. You warned yourself that humans were bad news, vowing to reprimand anyone who so much as approached this area. And yet you wanted to be around Bakugou more and more, feeling disappointed if he didn’t show up on certain days due to his demanding occupation.

And just like any other day, you waited by the boulders, growing impatient as the sun had begun to set, casting an orange hue over the sea. “He’s late…” you muttered to yourself, returning back underwater for the remainder of the night.

Although Bakugou had informed you previously that his job had irregular working times, meaning it was never certain that he was free on certain days, you felt annoyed with him. In fact, for the past few days he hadn’t shown up at your usual spot. Since he never had any way of contacting you, as you were a mermaid and had no reason to be acquainted with human-made technological devices like cell phones, Bakugou was never able to tell you when he wouldn’t be able to see you. If he were being completely honest, he still couldn’t believe that he was regularly meeting with a mermaid in the first place. 

So for his lack of visits, you decided to take matters into your own hands.

“I really don’t think this is a good idea, Y/N,” one of your closest friends urged, looking around the dock as it had been quite some time since she had even bothered to go above the surface from the safety of her underwater home.

You waved her off. “It’s fine, Alicia. As long as no one else finds out about this, which is why I trust that you won’t say a word about this to the others.”

Alicia scoffed. “Of course not, Your Highness.”

You gave her a look as she laughed at you teasingly. “You know you’re the only one allowed to not call me that because it weirds me out when you say it.”

She grinned, throwing her arm over your shoulder. “That’s because we’ve been stuck to the hip since day one! I’d do anything for you.”

You smiled softly, looking around the area once more to confirm that no one was watching or listening in. Then you reached over to the dock, pulling yourself up with the help of Alicia pushing the rear of your tail. Twisting your body around you sat back, flexing your tail above water.

“No turning back now!” You exclaimed, placing your hands on your tail and activating your quirk. As you were a mermaid, you still were born with quirks like humans. Similar to how some animals have intellectual type quirk that allow them to communicate with humans, you still had a quirk. Your quirk was Legs, giving you the ability to provide yourself and others with human legs at your command. You could also take them away at will and this quirk only benefited those who didn’t already have legs. It was an odd quirk but it was yours. It was often used in the past, back when the people of Coara were interested in human life, and you and your mother had the same quirk. It was tradition that the first daughter of the royal family inherited this quirk as a means to make amends with the humans. But since you had taken the throne, the selfish science oriented humans had no intention of keeping an alliance as they only wanted to probe and dissect you and your people for their own benefits. It had been years since the last scientist had caused trouble, leaving you and your kingdom with a short period of peace.

And you had every intention of keeping the peace.

Using your quirk, your fingertips created an amber glow, adorning your lustrous tail into two legs. You groaned, stretching your new limbs out in the air. “It’s been a while since I’ve had these. I need to stretch them out.”

Alicia chuckled, retrieving the mound of seaweed she had collected per your request. Her quirk gave her the ability to make cloth and clothing out of any form of vegetation and plants. She needed to utilize her quirk as you couldn’t just waltz around the city with only a shell bra covering your chest and nothing covering your lower body.

“It’s pretty hot out now so I made something more freeing for you to wear,” Alicia said, handing your clothes. You quickly changed into them, slipping on your underwear, top, and shorts. She even made a pair of simple sandals out of coral and branches. In no time, you were ready to head out into the city.

“You really like him, huh?” Alicia asked, staring up at you as you rose to your feet. 

You rolled your eyes at her. “We’re friends. He’s the first person I’ve met since I was a child, roaming around the human world by my mother’s side, that has shown genuine compassion and interest in our people.”

Alicia sighed. She knew that this was more than a newfound friendship, however, you were too blinded to understand how you truly felt about Bakugou yourself. Even he didn’t know how he felt about you. “Just be careful. Please.”

You smiled, crouching down in front of her. “It’ll be alright. Trust me. I just want to see him for just a second and I’ll return as soon as possible!”

“Alright. Tell your boyfriend I said ‘hi’!” Alicia called out teasingly, earning a glare from you as you strode off towards the city.

***

It took about twenty minutes for you to find your way into the city as it had been quite some time since your last visit. Nevertheless you made your way through, stopping and asking bystanders for directions to Bakugou’s agency.

On the other hand, Bakugou obviously didn’t suspect a thing. He was patrolling around the sector as he usually did, keeping an eye out for peculiar events. Kirishima joined him that day, walking beside him as the two men strode through the city. 

“It’s not everyday that we’re asked to patrol together,” Kirishima commented, waving to a fan who was quite excited for his favorite hero to be out and about in public.

“Makes my life easier so I can leave early,” Bakugou responded as the two turned the corner.

Kirishima glanced over at him. “Why, you got someone you’ve been dying to see?”

Bakugou was startled, regaining his composure to not give any hints. How did he know? “The fuck are you talking about? I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Come on, ever since Kaminari and Sero made you go to that weird place you always seem too busy to hang out with us.” Kirishima looked over at Bakugou as he seemed irritated. He didn’t want anyone to find out about your existence, understanding that you and your people’s lives would be put in danger. And he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he were responsible for anything that could happen to you.

Before Kirishima could prod any further into the matter, the two heroes stopped in their tracks, Bakugou personally getting ever more agitated than he already was at the sight of Monoma standing in their path.

“Monoma, I didn’t know you were in town,” Kirishima said.

Monoma smirked. “I’ve been around. More importantly, looks like Mr. Number One here is going to fall down in the rankings soon enough.”

Bakugou didn’t bother responding, ignoring him and walking right past him, causing Monoma to be taken aback. He turned around, staring Bakugou down. “You’re not even concerned with what I just said?”

Bakugou turned his head around, glaring at Monoma. “I don’t give a single flying fuck about whatever it is you’re running your trap for. I’ve got better things to do than hear you spew out some weird ass bullshit.”

Kirishima stifled his laughter, catching up to Bakugou with a few strides. Monoma’s agency had tried for years now to help Monoma reach his way up to the rankings, only able to reach the number two spot and falling short from Bakugou himself. Bakugou was simply the indisputable best, no matter how hard Monoma tried to dethrone him from the rankings.

And this absolutely infuriated him.

Monoma huffed, annoyed with the blonde who had gotten on his nerves since their days back in U.A. “I guess the rumors are true. You’ve changed these last few months. I wonder why that is…”

Bakugou stopped walking, now a few feet away from Monoma. He didn’t like the way he spoke, his words indicating that he was keeping something from him. For the final time he turned his head, staring daggers in Monoma's direction. “Keep worrying about falling from the rankings instead of being up my ass all the fucking time, dipshit.”

Bakugou kept moving, Kirishima keeping up with his pace as the pair made their way back to Bakugou’s agency. Kirishima chuckled. “Man, I’ve never really liked Monoma but he’s been pretty obsessed with you ever since you were named number one. It’s a little weird if you ask me.”

“I can barely remember that fucker’s name. I really don’t give a shit about what he does, so long as he’s not bothering me,” Bakugou mumbled as the two of them waited by the stoplight at the intersection in front of the agency. The light finally changed to green and Bakugou and Kirishima crossed the street, opening the giant glass doors to the building. Kirishima went over to the receptionists, filing any reports they had to complete.

“Ground Zero, there’s someone here who wanted to see you,” one of the receptionists said. “She’s waiting in the office.”

“Alright,” Bakugou said, mentally agitated as he didn’t want to deal with anyone right now. Nevertheless, he made his way down the hall and into his office, prepared to meet an annoying official working for the government or a crazed reporter that somehow was able to break into his agency. But he was pleasantly surprised to see a woman’s back facing him as he entered his office.

“What is this about?” Bakugou asked the woman curtly.

You turned around, causing Bakugou to nearly stop breathing. He didn’t know how, but you looked even more stunning standing in front of him than you did in your mermaid form. Your hair was slightly damp, the locks curling upwards. But your skin was practically gleaming against the light in the room, your smile sealing the deal that could cause Bakugou’s heart to palpitate irregularly in no time.

Just as he thought you couldn’t amaze him more, you did tenfold. “H-How the…”

You laughed, amused like you always were with the way he tended to be speechless by your mere presence. “Surprised to see me? I thought I’d pay a visit.”

Bakugou was absolutely bewildered, eyes widened and mouth agape with incredulity. “But you’re a fucking mermaid? Where’s your tail? How are you standing? What--”

“I have a quirk that lets me turn my tail into legs,” you stated blankly. “It’s nothing too special, my family has had a long line of inheritance with this quirk and I decided to use it since it’s been a while.”

“And why did you come? I was gonna stop by today,” Bakugou asked, waiting and wanting to hear you say what he wanted to hear.

You paused momentarily, your (E/C) eyes boring into his vermillion ones. You visually travelled down his figure, taking in his hero costume that you hadn’t seen previously. His biceps bulged out, his stature taller than what you had expected. He was even more handsome standing before than he was sitting beside you.

Bakugou felt himself blush under your obvious staring as you didn’t want to mask what you were doing or how you were feeling. You looked back into his eyes. “I missed you, Bakugou. I can’t explain why, but I missed you. And I couldn’t stand waiting idly by for you to come to me. So here I am.”

Before Bakugou could be even more flustered than he already was, the door to his office opened wide, a certain dark-haired man swinging his arm around Bakugou. “It’s been a while, man! Where have you been?” Sero exclaimed excitedly. Kirishima stood behind him at the door and the two men finally acknowledged you, shocked to see such a stunning woman in Bakugou’s office. Sero had stopped by as Kirishima had texted him, letting him know that he and Bakugou were back in the agency. But they were both pleasantly surprised by your presence.

Sero looked over at Bakugou, recognizing the light pink tinted on his cheeks as he smirked, putting two and two together. “Man, so this is what you’ve been doing recently!”

Bakugou glared at him, shaking Sero off him. As he knew two of his closest friends well enough to understand that they would pester you and bombard you with thousands of questions, he took matters into his own hands by grabbing your forearm and leading you out of the office.

Ignoring Kirishima and Sero’s shouts behind him as well as the stares he received from his receptionists, Bakugou led you out of the building and back to the streets. You looked down at where Bakugou was holding you, his hand still warm under his gloves. It was the first time a human had touched you.

Once he could confirm that his friends weren’t behind him following him, Bakugou let go of you, keeping his distance but still walking beside you. He looked off to the side, not wanting you to see his inflamed face. “I’ll walk you back to the dock. It’s not safe for you here.”

You smiled at him. “I appreciate your concern but you don’t have to worry about me. I’ve been amongst humans like this before.”

“Just… let me do this for you, alright?” Bakugou urged gently.

Regardless you nodded, smiling to yourself. Humans were more interesting than they had seemed before, or at least Bakugou was in a league of his own. You wanted to know everything about him, you wanted to constantly be around him, and he was all that was on your mind lately. You were slowly understanding that what you were feeling for him was crossing the line from friendship to something more and it frightened you. All your life you had known humans to be vile, selfish creatures who would do anything for their own gain. But here you were walking beside the most considerate man you’d ever met, exceeding the mermen of your kingdom in both looks and personality. 

But as much as you liked him, you didn’t want to pry any further. He was still a human and you were a ruler of a kingdom. You had decided to end things here, savoring and basking in the moment as much as you could until you had to finally cut all ties with Bakugou. And you knew when that moment would arrive, you wouldn’t be able to recover for a while. You had spent almost every evening with him on that dock, your special place with him, talking for hours upon hours. You liked how flustered he would get whenever you complimented his looks or how proud he seemed when he spoke about his occupation and passion. You could hear him talk, even if he was just cursing someone out, all day long. But soon enough, you would never hear from him again.

You shook your head, wanting to rid your mind of such saddening thoughts, deciding to change the subject instead. “Is it okay to leave your friends like that?”

“They’ll live. Your secret is more important right now,” Bakugou said, not realizing how touched you had been by his words. He truly had every intention of keeping your identity a secret and the more you were around him, the more you were falling for him. This was slowly becoming a dangerous situation, but you didn’t care, not in the moment at least. 

You looked down at your feet as the two of you made your way back to the dock, the amount of people around you decreasing as you got closer. And the closer you got, the more despondent you became as you realized this was the last moment you would have with him.

“What’s wrong?” Bakugou asked, snapping you away from your thoughts.

You looked up at him abruptly, his scarlet eyes penetrating right through your soul and being. You smiled reassuringly. “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Bakugou looked over at you, deciding to drop the subject once the two of you finally reached the dock.  

As you grew closer, a blonde man who you didn’t recognize stood on the dock, looking around the area. He was particularly looking down into the water, directly above your kingdom. You felt your heart stop as you began to become frantic that your home was found.

Bakugou extended his arm in front of you, ceasing your footsteps as you moved to confront the man. “Don’t go. You’ll get in danger. I’ll deal with him.” You looked at Bakugou, who had an expression you had never seen. He was calm and yet his nostrils were flared. You knew he was livid. 

Bakugou trudged towards the man, infuriated to see Monoma poking his nose where he didn’t belong. “The fuck do you think you’re doing here?”

Monoma smirked, looking beyond Bakugou’s shoulder to see you, staring you up and down and intently at your legs. You felt disgusted by his gaze, wanting to jump back into the water as soon as possible.

Monoma flicked his gaze back to Bakugou. “The rumors are that you’ve got a girlfriend which is why you’ve been slacking off recently. So I followed you over here a few days ago to see that you’ve got a mermaid by your side now. Even more interesting…” His voice trailed off and he smirked at you as you grimaced under his stare. “She looks exactly like a human.”

He let out a bellowing laugh, exasperating Bakugou even more than he already did with his presence alone. “It’d be a shame if more people found out about this…”

Bakugou didn’t hesitate or think twice to grab Monoma by the collar, his fingers curling against the fabric as uncontrollable sparks emerged from both hands. “If you even think about opening your trap up about this I’ll rip you apart limb from fucking limb.”

Although Monoma wouldn’t admit it, he was slightly intimidated by Bakugou’s threat, but even more so he found this whole situation to have been a stroke of luck. He knew exactly what he had to do. Monoma brought his hand up, grabbing Bakugou’s forearm that was clutching his collar. “Tell you what, I’ll let this whole thing go. If I’m being honest,” his eyes whipped over to you, causing a shiver to go down your spine, “I really don’t give a damn about you and your fish people. That’s the last thing I care about. I’ll let this all go… on one condition.”

“Spit it out, you bitch, you’re testing my patience,” Bakugou snarled through gritted teeth. 

Monoma chuckled humorlessly, smirking at you once more. You felt disgusted and defeated all at once. You had promised your people that this was a time for peace, that you wouldn’t let the humans that you hated so much ruin anything for you and your kingdom. And here was a human threatening the life of Coara like the lives of the mermaids and mermen meant nothing and were replaceable. 

You wanted to despise humans as much as you had before, but you couldn’t. Not when Bakugou was a human as well.

“I’ll let this go… if you give up your ranking.” Monoma laughed once more, feeling Bakugou’s grip loosen from the shock. 

Bakugou had worked day and night, protecting civilians left and right and defeating any villain that came his way to be number one. Even you understood this as Bakugou had explained hero rankings and how hard he worked. You could see he was a respectable man who would do anything to show others his worth. And here was a spineless bastard trying to rip it all away from Bakugou. 

Monoma shook Bakugou’s hand from him, smirking cruelly at him. “You see, I know you won’t give up your ranking for some rotten fish. Either way, I’m going to enjoy watching your little girlfriend’s life crumble before your very eyes--”

Before Monoma could yap and run his mouth more than he already had, Bakugou sent a right hook flying, contacting Monoma’s jaw and pummeling him to the floor of the wooden dock. You gasped, not suspecting him to do that, and took a few steps towards him. He turned his head at you, raising his hand to stop you from getting closer. He didn’t know what Monoma would do to you just to spite him. You felt hopeless, wanting to help Bakugou and your people were still in the back of your mind. What was the right thing to do in this situation? What could you do?

Monoma spit the blood out from his mouth, wiping his bloodied lip and rose to his feet. He cackled once more. “I knew you were too much of a coward to do--”

“I’ll do it,” Bakugou said in one breath, causing you and Monoma to be appalled.

“Bakugou! Don’t do it!” You called out in concern. You would do anything for your people but not at the expense of years of hard work Bakugou had put in. 

Bakugou ignored you momentarily. “I’ll give it up, my ranking. But if you take back your work I’ll fucking--”

Monoma rose a hand up in the air to cease his threats. “Don’t worry about that, I don’t give a damn about you or your girlfriend.” He extended his hand out at Bakugou, grinning in absolute delight. “We have a deal?”

Bakugou stared at his pale hand, his own fists clenching at his sides. Even so, he didn’t hesitate to shake hands with his nemesis, gripping his hand as tightly as he could. Monoma winced, wriggling his hand from Bakugou’s hold and rubbing it once he got free. Monoma laughed once more, walking past Bakugou and towards you. You stepped to the side, wanting to avoid him at all costs. He looked down at you, smirking. “For some rotten fish, you’re pretty hot.”

You wanted to puke from anger and disgust, staring daggers into his back as he walked away with delight and glee. Monoma waved his hand back. “I’ll send the paperwork to your office tonight, Ground Zero.”

Once he was a considerable distance from you, you ran towards Bakugou, joining him on the dock. “Why did you do that? Why would you give your ranking up?”

Bakugou sighed, looking down at the water and the boulders that you always sat upon during your frequent meetings. He slipped his gloves, boots, and socks off, sitting on the edge of the dock and dipping his feet into the water. You watched as he did so, not understanding his silence. Nonetheless, you joined him, slipping off the sandals Alicia made you and sitting right beside him. This was the closest the two of you had ever physically been.

“It didn’t feel right,” Bakugou said, avoiding your eye contact. “It’s my fucking fault that dipshit found out. I couldn’t just walk away knowing that I was putting you in danger.”

You smiled softly, shaking your head. “I’ve dealt with idiots like him before. I would’ve been fine. But you worked so hard to get where you are now.”

Bakugou turned to face you, his eyes just as intense as they always were. “You don’t get it. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. A ranking is a fucking ranking. I know I’m the best, that fucknut weaseled his way into becoming the new number one now. But your life means more to me than that.”

You were astonished, blown away by his selflessness. But Bakugou didn’t recognize his actions as being selfless as he continued blaming himself for putting your life in danger. And you recognized this by his hurt expression as he was physically grimacing. You smiled, lifting your hand up and cupping his cheek. Your palms were cold against Bakugou’s cheek, sending tingles down his spine, but your fingertips held the softest touch. “You’re amazing, Bakugou. This isn’t your fault. I don’t blame you, not even a little bit. I chose to see you everyday, I could’ve just stayed in my palace if I didn’t want to see you. But I came here because I like being around you.”

Bakugou stared at you, basking in your beauty. He had never met anyone like you as you were truly a one of kind being. You were tenderhearted, a leader, ambitious, and driven for others. Bakugou knew by now that he had no control over his feelings for you, not giving a damn about the consequences. He wanted to hold you, protect you against anyone who would even think of harming you.

“Do you regret being with me? Do you regret meeting with a human that could harm your people?” Bakugou questioned.

You shook your head, not hesitating to answer immediately. “There isn’t a fiber in me that feels that way. Being with you has given me faith in humanity.” You took back your thoughts earlier, knowing full well you couldn’t abandon him now, not when he protected you.

Bakugou nodded. “Alright. Then don’t mind when I do this.”

Before you could let the words ‘do what?’ escape from your lips, Bakugou closed the gap between the two of you, gently locking your lips with his own. It was a pleasant surprise, making you realize that humans were softer than they seemed. He smelled of burnt sugar, locking in how sweet he truly was. He was gentle despite how caustic he seemed to others. But you knew him, you had spent months with him, and you had no intention of letting him go now.

You pulled away, your chest rising and falling slowly. He was beautiful, more beautiful than you could ever describe into words. You were willing to go off the deep end for him, the stunning human who risked his career for your life. And you had no intention of leaving him.

[kidney9-9]

Can i request one with Bucky where the reader was sent by hydra to get intel on the Avengers, she decided not to bc she loves Bucky, he finds out and stops talking to the reader so he can think about it, reader thinks he hates her so she hides in her room and stops talking, he gets worried. If you do choose to write this pls don't rush, you've been answering so many. 💗

Hi sweet anon! hope you enjoy this! and thank you for sending it in! 💗

Masterlist

Bucky Barnes x Reader (Angst with happy ending) No warnings :) Word Count: 1.6k

A year ago, you were sent on your first solo mission by HYDRA. You had been working with them for years now, as almost as a freelancer. You always managed to get along with different agencies but chose to always work with the highest pay offers. This was your lonest mission to date, infiltrating and gaining intel on the Avengers. For the first two months, you did the job perfectly. You would slip into rooms disguised or hidden, taking any information you could find off computers. You would also listen into conversations, recording them and uploading them into the protected communication service between you and a few agents of HYDRA.

And then you and James Barnes got extremely close. He trusted you with telling his story with HYDRA, and you instantly felt disgusted with yourself, ashamed and guilty. You couldn’t admit it to him then, choosing instead to stop sending in data to the agents. Instead you started sending fake information, or started claiming people were onto your true job, which they weren’t.

HYDRA still paid you handsomely, which was easily tracked right to one of the headquarters; but the money trail didn’t lead to you exactly, but random shell companies, in a fake identity you used back when you worked for other agencies. No paper trails led to you, and you made sure. With the money fed by HYDRA, you used to donate to the Avengers and other movements you supported, in secret. You still felt guilty though and haunted by Bucky’s stories.

The first kiss shared between you and Bucky, ended with you slipping a few tears. He was hurt, thinking you really didn’t like him, because of your tears. You quickly denied that, claiming you really did like him and wanted a relationship with him; blaming the tears on an injury from working out. His smile to you made your heart speed up to an impossible point, and you officially started falling in love with him.

Now, the agents connected to you through HYDRA have warned you of an impending attack on the Compound, after they found a way to destroy the Avengers and their purpose. HYDRA’s plan had been in the works for years. Building allies in the Compound with several workers that held janitorial jobs, meaning they had access to every room. Their highest known ally was you, being a member in the Avenger team. Their plan was a shock to you, they explained you would be the “face” of the new “Avengers” of the world, after the current ones died.

You could never accept that. You tried so hard for days, searching for the allies on the inside, but you never found anyone. They all seemed suspicious to you. Two weeks before the planned fall of the Avengers, you started your board, quickly printing out pages and pages of suspected workers of HYDRA, even posting ones you knew that worked outside of the Compound, with HYDRA. You didn’t think anything of it when posting information that even the Avengers didn’t know, since you were extremely stressed out.

The moment Bucky saw your board, he saw through your persona. Betrayal swiped through him as he stalked towards you in one of the mission rooms. You were alone, researching even more on the people you suspected. You heard Bucky walk into the room, and you turned around with a smile, “Hi honey!” You greeted your boyfriend and he clenched his fists.

“Bucky?” You questioned seeing his stance. He opened his mouth with a shaky breath, “You…you work for them. Don’t you? For HYDRA.” He whispered feeling the disloyalty and hurt by everything that’s happened between the two of you. The look on your face told him the truth.

“I- I don’t work for them anymore- Buck please listen-” He cut you off with a yell, punching the wall to the side of you. You screamed, flinching back in fear from his reaction, but you knew you deserved it. You deserved all the hurt and pain he would throw at you. But you still wanted to explain, “They’re planning an attack! You have to stop it!” You exclaimed back, trembling and slightly backing away.

He stopped and stared as you began to tremble even more but accepting the consequences. He couldn’t do it. He loved you, still even know after hearing you worked for the people who brought him pain and tortured him for so long. He needed to think, the betrayal and anger made him feel horrible, and he didn’t even notice himself walk away from you.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. It finally hit you, the consequences of your horrifying actions as you watched as your boyfriend walk off. You sank to the floor, feeling almost gone, knowing how hard you hit Bucky with that, and knowing you still have to find a way to stop HYDRA’s attack on the Avengers, with or without the rest of their help.

You pulled yourself up after an unknown amount of time and drifted to your room, falling onto your bed with tears drifted down your face silently. You rolled into the blankets, laying awake for hours, just thinking of every wrong you’ve ever committed. You weren’t sure when you woke up from your daze, but you instantly went to work, going over the list you made of suspects, and completely shutting out your feelings. Your throat was dry as sand, from working hard for hours, finally finding one person you knew definitely was part of the plan. You didn’t want to leave your room though, knowing there was still work to do, and knowing you would have to face Bucky.

It took another day of research to find three more participants of HYDRA, in the Compound. You didn’t want to go outside at all, and you convinced yourself not to talk about it. You moved Bucky’s and yours photo away from you that was sitting on the desk, feeling heartbroken and guilty. He didn’t deserve that from anyone. You really didn’t want to hurt him.

Bucky spent hours thinking about the revelation. He didn’t dare tell anyone, because he still had a hard time wrapping it around his head. You were such a kind and loving person, and he would never expect you to be working for the enemy. And now, he feels guilty that he still loves you. Hurt and betrayal came first, but his love for you didn’t fade away like expected. It hurt him so much, when he finally fell asleep and the first dream he had that night, was about you. He knew he needed to talk to you. When he went out to grab breakfast, chatter was normal between the Avengers that lived there but Bucky instantly noticed your disappearance. “Where’s-” Bucky got cut off by Natasha as she tossed an apple in the air, catching it again. “She hasn’t come out of her room. Did you two fight?” She questioned, curious.

Bucky frowned at Natasha, and she instantly could tell something happened between the two of you. He shook his head, stopping anyone from questioning him even further.

The rest of the day was kind of a blur to Bucky as he quietly thought about you, HYDRA, and the plan you spoke about. He spent hours in the gym, punching out his stress and almost meditating, trying to understand what to do. He knew he had to stop whatever HYDRA was planning, with or without you. But he preferred your help, and support.

When he realized you hadn’t come out of your room in over a day, he grew worried again. He quickly walked to your room, trying to think of things to say, what to do, when you answered the door. He hesitantly knocked on the door, listening to you shuffle around in your room.

You opened the door slowly, frowning slightly seeing your boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend (you weren’t entirely sure now) now standing there. You breathed in slightly, opening the door even more for him, to come in. “Hey,” Bucky paused, gazing at your features. He noticed how tired you looked, and how chapped your lips were, and frowned when he saw your shaky hands.

“Are you alright?” He whispered to you, stepping into the room, and looking at all the evidence you gathered, pining it to the walls. You bit your lip, “Yeah, Bucky I’m really sorry, I should hav-” He cut you off by taking a hold of your hands. You tried to fight the oncoming tears, believing you were going to be dumped and arrested.

“Doll, listen… I’m beyond angry, but we need to work this out, the attack.” Bucky spoke up, squeezing your hands lightly. You furrowed your eyebrows back to him in surprise and confusion, “Doll? Wait Bucky aren’t you…” You trailed off not knowing what to say.

He shook his head at your words, “We need to stop the attack. I love you still, and we’ll talk about it all after we stop HYDRA from continuing. Is this everything you know so far?”

You breathed out shakily at him, finding it unbelievable, “You still love me? And uh, yeah, their attack is going to be on the Thursday after the annual meeting. But I wanted to stop it before.” Bucky nodded along to your words, feeling his heart skip a few beats at your unsteady voice. He felt the pain in your voice as well, making him feel your remorse.

“Of course, I still love you. Let’s work this out together.” Bucky whispered back, pulling you into a hug and making you sob out suddenly from his forgiving nature.

- tagging: @lozzypoz321 taglist is open!

[mrsparknamjoon]

02. family matters | reliability • kth

previous | index | next

pairing: taehyung x reader word count: 2.155 genre: drama, light angst rating: pg-13 warnings: none au: ceo/office trope: enemies to friends to lovers tags: ceo!taehyung, office!au, best friend!yoongi, unresolved emotional tension, mutual pining, slow burn crosspost: ao3

summary: let’s go back a few years to see how tae and Y/N’s relationship started and also get a glimpse into the kim family

A/N: it was important for me to start the series with a flasback so that the reader would be familiar with the kim family dynamics and the tension with Y/N right off the bat

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10 years before

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“There has to be someone else” I said, staring at the Seoul skyline in front of me as I pondered all the possibilities with hands in my pockets. I'm taking over the family business and the only thing that scares me is making a mistake when hiring people. Well, my dad scares me, and getting a complaint call from him questioning how I managed to ruin Vante Enterprises in less than 6 months of his long-awaited retirement is not in my plans.

“Why?” asked the woman sitting on the large and comfortable couch behind me. Her thin face and dark hair complemented her porcelain skin very well and she was, at all times, the most beautiful person in any room.

“She’s inadequate” I replied, making her roll her eyes.

“Nonsense, Tae Hyung. Y/N graduated at the top of her class, in front of you much less, and did an MBA abroad” the woman said nonchalantly while taking a sip of her tea.

“I meant in regards to the company's culture” I sat down next to her, leaning sideways on the back of the couch and resting my head on my hand.

“Oh right” she set the cup down on the coffee table, “I forgot that you Kims only hire who you can control”

“Mom!”

“Honey, this is your opportunity to differentiate yourself from your father” she continued, “Having someone you know in a position like this is important in the long run”

At least in one thing my mom and I could agree on: I would, without a doubt, run the company in a new way. I had already started by choosing people who were suitable for the positions and not because I knew them or my family had some kind of connection with theirs. If, by chance, these two factors intersected, great, otherwise, the best resume wins.

“Known is not the same as reliable” I observed.

Still not satisfied with my answer, my mom got philosophical. “Trust comes with time” she started in a tone as if she wanted to pass for a spiritual being of great wisdom, but I knew she was just trying to be a good mom despite not knowing the exact details of what the family business required.

“I still have six more resumes appointed by someone I know” I leaned over to the coffee table and picked up the papers. “Two of them are former classmates too. How about that?” I waved them back and forth.

“If I remember correctly, neither of them made you stutter for the first time in an academic debate” my mom made a pose like she was thinking, crossing her arms and bringing one hand to her chin. How dramatic... and a liar. I didn't stutter.

“Yup, I think it's time for you to go” I exhaled, slapping my hands on my thighs and standing up. “Thank you very much for coming and giving your input on a subject I did not ask for” I continued in an amusing tone, but low-key serious, taking her by the hand and guiding her towards the door.

“Tae Hyung, you know that Y/N is the right choice” she moved the bag handle over her shoulder. “Be smart” and caressed my face.

“Okay” I sighed, “I love you” and kissed her forehead.

“I love you too” she smirked and left.

I went back to the couch and grabbed the resumes intending to read them one more time to be absolutely sure that I had not missed any relevant information. Very conveniently the first one was Y/N’s.

“She did it on purpose” I thought out loud when I realized my mom had deliberately put it there so I couldn't ignore it. 

Very well then, I started reading Y/N’s resume with legitimate attention, trying to ignore the name and photo at the top. I needed to be objective and impartial, a lot was at stake, but to be completely honest, at first, it was difficult because she has some striking physical features, which most men would find attractive but that was not my case. And even if it was, her personality overshadowed everything else to the point of making me lose any interest. After my common sense settled in, I continued reading, paying close attention to her previous work experiences.

“Hmm, this is interesting” I mumbled to myself.

Unlike the other candidates, Y/N had interned at one of the largest financial institutions in the country during college - something I had no idea, by the way, but not that we were friends back then, of course, because why would she tell me something like that? I really had no way of knowing - and I'm looking for people with experience in acquisitions. Convenient coincidence, I like it.

Moving on, I analyzed two letters of recommendation along with her resume and I must agree that on paper she is the right person. Damn it, I hate it when my mom is right! Still, the matter of company culture is real and I think that a person like her wouldn’t do well here. She is opinionated, impulsive, and hates being told ‘no’. At the same time, she was praised for the exact opposite in the letters, and that made me curious. An interview wouldn't hurt, would it?

I got up, went over to my desk, and pressed the button that put me in direct contact with the secretary.

“Yes, Mr. Kim?” Eun Ae answered promptly.

“I need to schedule some interviews next week” I said while fiddling through the resumes and selecting three, “I’ll email you the information”

“Yes, sir”

“Ah, Mrs. Gwa?” I almost forgot. It was better to hide my identity, otherwise, they’ll try sucking up to me thinking it would affect my final decision. And by 'they' I mean two of the three people because Y/N most likely wouldn't even accept the invitation if she knew that I was in charge of the company. “When contacting the candidates, I ask you not to divulge that I'll be the one conducting the interview”

“Okay” she wrote down and I could hear the sound of her keyboard. “Anything else?”

“No, that's all. Thank you”

Between today and the day of the interview, I had to prepare myself for the different reactions I might receive. My position as CEO has not yet been announced in the media and only shareholders know that a new person will take over at the end of the year. They suspect it will be my older brother, or rather, they expect it to be him but to the general dismay it will be me.

Ye Jun is a lawyer and has been involved in the family business since he started reading. However, two years ago in the middle of Christmas dinner, he had a breakdown when my uncles pressured him about some specific problem happening inside the company and he totally lost his composure (with a little help from alcohol, of course). He made a scene screaming that he didn't want that life anymore or even see any of those people again. Then he went on about how much he hated their meetings and the way everyone was fake in front of my father and in private would even criticize the color of the tie he wore. From the corner of the living room, I watched the whole thing go down without a hint of shock on my face because I always knew that moment would come. Ye Jun wasn’t born to be a leader.

The next day, he and my father were locked in the office for almost three hours. When the heavy wooden doors finally opened, dad left looking tired and announced without looking me in the eye, “Now it's up to you, Tae Hyung.” Confused by that statement, I went in and saw Ye Jun with his head between his hands, sitting in the armchair by the window.

“What the hell did you say to him?” I pointed my thumb back at the door.

“That I’m not doing it” Ye Jun replied, lifting his head and interlacing his hands. His posture seemed relaxed as if he were finally comfortable, although there was an uncertainty in his eyes that made me wonder if he was having second thoughts about the decision.

“Do what?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

Ye Jun looked at me and smiled.

“Give in to the pressure, complying with expectations, sacrificing my profession, not being myself”

He paused, standing up and holding me by the shoulders.

“I also told him that the best person for the position is you” Ye Jun's voice was full of affection, “It has to be you, Tae” he patted me on the side and I looked at him stunned.

“Dad will never put me ahead of Vante, Jun” I blurted as soon as I managed to assimilate what my brother had just said.

“Didn't you hear what he said to you as soon as he left?” Ye Jun looked confused for a second “Now it's up to you. You are the next CEO” he said in a firm tone.

I suddenly got embarrassed because it felt like I had just stolen my brother's job. “It doesn't make sense, we have opposite views on how to run a business” I looked away and stared at the floor.

“True, you do, but lately he started to realize that the world is changing and that Vante could be much better off if it started to adapt” Ye Jun stated by squeezing my shoulders and bringing me back to reality. “Of course, there is still a certain traditionalism in our field, but every now and then dad finds himself negotiating with foreign companies where the mindset is what sets them apart and he feels conflicted. Do you continue as you are and please national companies or do you adapt and gain visibility abroad? He wants Vante to remain as the leader in the segment but he is stuck in his own beliefs and he knows it”

After this conversation with my brother, things changed and I started to accept more confidently the responsibility that was placed upon me. However, regardless of how I felt, the criticism would come in full force. Many powerful people will question my father's decision and I wouldn’t be surprised if boycotts took place in the first year.

It was with all these possibilities in mind that my first act as CEO was to completely renew the staff, starting with the most strategic positions and closest to me. One of them was the operations manager, who would act as my right hand, valuing Vante's financial success and setting in motion the vision, strategic plan, and goals I set.

In theory, Y/N was perfect for it, but I wouldn't make it easier just because we knew each other. She was very smart and I was sure that the moment she walked through that door and came face to face with me, her demeanor would change and we would start playing a game of chess.

******

I dedicated the entire day Wednesday for the interviews and the first two had gone very well, exactly as I had planned and prepared — what a relief! It was almost 4:30 pm, Y/N’s appointment was the last one and I was extremely curious about her reaction, I don't know why. Maybe I wanted to prove something to her, like ‘Ha, look who’s running things now’ or ‘I bet you never thought you would see me sitting here'.

Y/N was always better at everything and I couldn't stand it. I had an obligation to excel at something. She was not perfect as everyone liked to think and, frankly, to worship. But, even if it bothered me to admit, we had things in common and she was qualified.

“Yes?” I said coming out of my reverie when the phone rang.

“Ms. Y/LN is here, Mr. Kim” Eun Ae announced.

“Let her in”

I heard a light knock on the door, followed by its closing and a few clicks of high heels on the floor coming towards me. I looked up and Y/N was dressed in a black midi-length v-neck dress with a stand-up collar that made her look formal but not old. Matter of fact, if I was actually paying attention I could even say that this specific fabric was made for her body type and hugged her in all the right places, but I wasn’t.

“Hello, Y/N” I said getting up from my chair, “Long time no see!” I smiled and took off my glasses, placing them in front of me next to the tablet I had been holding moments before.

Y/N shook her head holding a laugh as she bit her lip and stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world: “You’re so predictable. I’m amused”

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𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗶𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝗳 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱 ❤ 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗹𝘆 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗻 𝗮𝘀𝗸! 𝗶 𝘄𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗸𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗯𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ revised version: 09.25.2021

[vs-redemption]

Crime is Common. Logic is Rare. (Ch 17)

Chapter Seventeen: Grateful (HawksxGN!Reader)

Plot summary: You thought your hands were full as a regular quirk geneticist, but then you meet Hawks and things get even more exciting!

Warnings:  

⚠️This story contains spoilers from the manga.

⚠️Some events and plot points have been altered from the original manga

Tag List: @ gayforkeigo/ @marshmallow-witch/ @redflannel/  @toyo-shiro

Next Chapter : Chapter Guide 

Waiting for anything was never fun, but it’s something you thought you’d be used to by now. As a scientist, having patience was a virtue you’d been forced to adopt into your daily routine. You were always waiting for something. No research endeavor could be accomplished by one person alone. You were always going to have to wait for funds to be granted, proposals to be approved by ethics committees, and data results to be analyzed thoroughly. Over the years, you’d tamed your eagerness and learned not to send emails asking people as politely as possible to hurry up whenever you felt things were taking too long. All that progress seemed to have gone up in smoke though now that you were waiting to hear back from someone you cared about who could very likely be dead.

Your part of the plan had gone fairly smoothly. After finishing up with Dr. Garaki, you’d made your way home to change your clothes and do your hair. You didn’t want to look completely recognizable, just in case, but you doubted anyone would really notice what you were up to. Not many people actually knew where Best Jeanist lived, so circumstances had been on your side in that respect at the very least. Despite not knowing you, the number three hero had been surprisingly accepting of the news that his life had been chosen to be sacrificed so that Hawks could gain the trust of the Villains. You had figured it would be more difficult to convince him, but perhaps he’d already seen signs of corrupt activity within the commission before. It was reassuring to see that he trusted Hawks over the organization that governed the heroes. You might have suspected that he planned to turn you in, but he never once asked for more details than the ones you gave him. He assured you that he could find a way out of Japan without being noticed before telling you to be careful and sending you home.

That had been hours ago, and every possible horrible scenario had played out in your mind over and over as you waited for news. It was well past your usual bed time when your phone finally buzzed with a message from Hawks asking if you were awake and if he could come over. You allowed yourself to relax just a bit. He couldn’t send you anything else since his phone was bugged, but at least you knew he was alive. Of course you told him to come over. It took him a while to get to your apartment from wherever he had been, and it was all you could do not throw yourself into his arms in relief when he finally arrived. You couldn’t act like you’d been worried at all.

“Hey,” Hawks smiles after you let him in. He looked troubled but completely unharmed. “I can’t believe you’re still awake.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” You play along with the small talk. “I got some interesting news about my quirk from the doctor today.”

“Is everything all right?” Hawks frowns, looking even more stressed than he already had. You felt bad for making him worry at all, but at least this gave you an excuse to close the gap and pull him into your arms. He sinks into your embrace and wraps his arms around you without hesitation. You’d both desperately needed the contact.

“Everything is fine,” you explain while rubbing a soothing hand over what you could reach of his back around his wings. “My quirk just works differently than what I originally thought, so now I’m trying to work out how I feel about that. I can tell you more about it later though. How was your day?” He lets out a dry laugh and pulls away to look you in the eyes.

“Oh, you know,” he sighs. “Same old, same old. Patrolling the city, catching bad guys, typical hero stuff.”

You knew very well that he hadn’t been doing any of those things, and it made your heart ache to see the turmoil in his beautiful golden eyes. You reach up to put a hand on his cheek to try and give him any sort of comfort. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch.

“Are you hungry?” you ask even though you were impatient to hear all the details of what he’d really been up to all day. His part of the plan had been much more difficult than yours. He’d been tasked with finding a decoy body, staging a confrontation with Best Jeanist, and selling the act that he’d murdered a fellow pro hero to the League of Villains. None of those things would have been easy, but it was at least better than him actually committing the atrocity he’d been asked to.

“No,” Hawks nuzzles into your hand a moment longer. “I just want to spend some time with you.”

“Cheesy,” You reply teasingly before gently leading his face forward so you could surprise him with a sweet kiss. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss back with a little more gusto than you expected. You didn’t mind, but it made you feel weird that some villain was listening in on everything that happened between you and your hero boyfriend.

“Hey,” you pull away with an apologetic smile. “Why don’t we just chill and watch something on TV for a bit?” Hawks just smiles and nods his head. It would be a good way for you both to write down everything that had happened without having to fake a second conversation at the same time. You go and grab a notebook while Hawks takes off his flight jacket and boots.

“Maybe I should start keeping a change of clothes over here,” Hawks says casually as he plops down on your couch with his wings draped over the back. “If you’re going to make a habit out of letting me stay.” You pick up the blanket off the back of the sofa and toss it at his face to hide the fact that he’d flustered you.

“Or maybe I should start charging you rent,” you raise an eyebrow challengingly. Hawks lets out a chuckle and you felt your embarrassment was worth seeing him acting a little bit normal.

“Come here,” He opens his arms and calls you over softly. You sigh in defeat while sitting next to him and leaning into his side. He covers you both with the blanket you’d thrown at him after retrieving the remote with one of his feathers. You put off the serious discussion just a little longer by arguing over what to watch. Once you came to an agreement, you open the note book and start scribbling down every detail about your interaction with Best Jeanist. Hawks reads over your words twice before writing down his side of the story.

He didn’t go in depth about the decoy body. He just said he’d been able to figure something out. You didn’t want to push the subject, so you just nodded and let him continue. He also wrote about his encounter with Best Jeanist. The man had been ready for Hawks’ visit thanks to you, and had played his role convincingly. Hawks mentioned that he wouldn’t have even known Best Jeanist had been tipped off at all if it weren’t for the packed bags ready by his front door. The number three hero had even prepared a set of his hero costume for Hawks to use to make the decoy body more convincing. They’d pretended to fight, and Hawks had gone to deliver the fake Jeanist to the villains.

Hawks explained that the villains had seemed satisfied with his work and had then taken him to Deika City to fill him in on everything that had happened since the incident there. It was bad. Real bad. Apparently the whole city of Deika had banded together under the ideology of quirk liberation without anyone ever knowing. The League of Villains had been able to take over the city and recruit every last citizen onto their team. They weren’t just a small group of villains anymore. It was an army with over 100,000 members. Something would have to be done to stop them as soon as possible. Hawks would continue to work his angle as a spy, but you would have to do your part too. It was imperative that you figure out what the doctor was planning to do with All For One’s blood. You promised to do your best, causing Hawks to pull you in even closer.

“I’m so grateful for you,” he whispers affectionately. The circumstances right now weren’t the best for building a relationship, but your feelings for Hawks continued to grow stronger. Sure, his actions recently were stepping outside of what was considered heroic, but he was still doing the best he could despite the horrible situation the Hero Commission had put him in. He was smart, strong, and above all else, he was good. You wanted to do anything in your power to get him through this safely and with as much of his sanity intact as possible. You smile while reaching up to run your thumb over his cheek again.

“I’m so grateful for you too.” The response seemed to please Hawks quite a bit. Not long after that, the exhaustion from the day caught up and you both fell asleep with the comfort of knowing you’d survived the day.

[margridarnauds]

Wishlist for AC: Wrath of the Druids

Because my field is literally only relevant ONCE in a blue moon and I’m making the most of it. 

Look, I’d pretend that this is going to be some sort of profound meditation on Irish Mythology, the nature of medieval literature, etc. But no. Here is the list that, after 9 years of studying these texts, 15 months of which have been in an intensive MA program in Ireland, I have come up with as far as “Members of the Tuatha Dé Who Are The Most Slappable.” I’ve also tried to go with the high profile members, since, if Curse of the Pharaohs and Atlantis were any indication, we’re primarily getting the high rollers here.  (I would like to make it very clear that I say this with the utmost of affection - I would not have studied these guys for 9 years if I actually HATED them.) 

First off, I’m ready and willing to bet money that the Tuatha Dé are going to be controlled by the members of this druid cult mentioned in the adverts, not unlike what we saw in Curse of the Pharaohs. I suspect that the cult will get ahold of an apple of Eden and summon up images of the Tuatha Dé to be a part of their wicked, wicked schemes. A part of me WOULD like for something different, but...well. It’s a proven formula, and why mess with success? 

Lugh. One of the most easily recognizable members of the Tuatha Dé, and SUPER slappable. Would make an EXCELLENT final boss, and would guarantee that I would buy it. Like. It is literally impossible to overstate exactly how much I would be willing to buy this game just for the chance to bitchslap Lugh. 

The Dagda. Another HIGHLY recognizable member. Not as imminently slappable as Lugh, but a massive thot, and, let’s be real, who DOESN’T want to slutshame the Dagda, at least a little? Albeit this time with. A sword. Also has a SICK staff that can bring people to life/kill them, depending on which side he uses, and canonically has a zombie xylophone. Would make a FANTASTIC boss.

Lugh. 

The Morrigan. Look. I don’t WANT to fight the Morrigan, not really. Honestly, of all the Tuatha Dé, I have the most personal respect for her, because she’s very honest about doing her own thing, but do I really think that Ubisoft would pass up the chance for a bloodthirsty raven lady? No I do not. And, tbh, it would be kind of sick. 

Lugh. 

Cú Chulainn. Is Cú Chulainn one of the Tuatha Dé? No, he isn’t. Is there a hint that he’s anything BUT mortal? Not....really, despite some speculation that he might have been x god or y god, he fits fairly firmly into the demigod mold. That being said....(1) I WOULD like to fight Cú Chulainn, on a personal level (#JusticeForAífe) and (2) .....Look, can you imagine fighting against the warp spasm? Yeah. Yeah. Also, given they made you fight King Tut in the Curse of the Pharaohs DLC, it’s obvious that they’re going off of name recognition more than accuracy, and CC IS easily the most recognizable figure from medieval Irish literature. (Bonus: Fighting CC and getting the Gáe Bulg as a reward?)

Lugh. As Cú Chulainn’s father, it’s only appropriate to get the family combo here. 

Midir. Do I think that they WOULD use Midir? No. He’s a little too specialized, even though Tochmarc Étaíne is, arguably, the single most popular of the Mythological Cycle texts. And he is oh so very slappable. That, and he does have a history of fucking with mortals, so he could be a REALLY fun fight. If I was designing the game, I would have him and Óengus in a tag team duo, and there would be horse urine involved. (This is why I do not work at Ubisoft.) 

Lugh. 

If Midir is too specialized, Bres is REALLY too specialized, along with the fact that, if you bring Bres in, you HAVE to bring the Fomoire in. But also. I’ve got to request my boy. He would be so much FUN. But. Unlikely. He tends towards the obscure side, though, and even when people remember he exists, it tends to be in a very small role. I would put more money on Balor being in, because he’s kind of the breakout star of Cath Maige Tuired (and the folklore around it), but I really want Bres.

Lugh.  

Dían Cecht. Grumpiest. Doctor. Ever. And you could do a lot with his whole. “Killing his son”. Thing. 

Lugh. 

Aillén. A little on the obscure side, but imagine. Fighting a member of the Tuatha Dé who breathes fire. Talk about a BADASS boss fight. Also getting to walk in the footsteps of Fionn mac Cumhaill, aka one of the greatest of Ireland’s heroes. It would be a very tempting prospect. 

Lugh.

....look. I want to emphasize this: I do NOT want to slap Bríg. Bríg is quite possibly the purest of the TDD, and that’s because we know next to nothing about her. But also...she IS really high profile, and I could see her acting as a sort of guide or counsellor ala Aletheia. AKA “One of the few sane Isu hanging around.” You could go some really interesting routes there, IF you wanted to. I’m not sure they’d be willing to, but I would personally like it. 

The Otherworld as a location you can visit, like Asgard or the Duat. Bonus if it highlights how reality twists and bends in the Otherworld, because some of the leading scholarship on it at the moment says that the place, as it was understood in medieval Ireland, was batshit insane, and I would LOVE to see them taking it on in a game. Bonus for also bringing in Sidhe mounds. 

Also. I want to fight Lugh. 

Danu - Look. I don’t want to fight Danu. Mainly because Danu, as a figure, doesn’t really EXIST in the myths, as such. The general consensus of the field, at this point, is that the original name for the TDD was....Tuatha Dé, which you’ll note is the term I use. It gets complicated when the name does gain traction, and the question as far as how old some of this goes back is long and extensive and not something I want to tackle at an ungodly hour of the evening, but. I don’t WANT her to be here when there are so many other figures who actually have a presence. But. Well. The cult’s name is “Children of Danu”, so a bitch has got to accept it’s likely. But I’m still putting her at the bottom because I don’t like it. 

For what it’s worth, my final guesses are locked in at Lugh, the Dagda, the Morrigan, and finding some way to bring Cú Chulainn in. Nuada might make for a dark horse option, though....I hate to say this, Nuada doesn’t really have the PERSONALITY to really function as a boss on his own. They could try, but I feel like they’d have to either expand quite a bit or riff off of his Early Modern portrayal as a bitter, jealous king, and...I still don’t trust them to have done the research for that. (I’m sorry, but after the Mari Lwyd, they will have to go a LONG way to earn my trust, especially with my baby.) Danu is...likely, but I won’t be happy if she is, even though it won’t make or break my decision. I feel like the Otherworld has GOT to be a lock, but I’m ready and willing to be disappointed. Also, despite this being based allegedly on the Mythological Cycle materials, I would be VERY surprised if they didn’t bring in later folklore like the banshees, because, let’s be real, why wouldn’t they? 

[drwcn]

I can’t wait for more of your discordance au, I’m a sucker for angsty wangxian! I’m actually really curious about what’s going on with Lan Xichen the whole time he’s gone. Is he recovering for all that time or is there some political plot he needs to take care of? I saw that courtesan Meng Yao tag too which makes me even more intrigued 👀👀👀

Awww you guys >:) Thank you so much for the encouragement. 

Unfortunately, Xichen and Huaisang are not a pair. The hidden agenda of this fic is xiyao (lol sorrah), and I know people tend to feel either YAY or NAY about xiyao so I’ve totally separated the wangixan and xiyao part. You can read one without the other and it wouldn’t make much of a difference at all. At best Meng Yao is mentioned in end of the later wangxian parts once or twice. 

I love Xiyao because I think it’s full of possibilities. Obviously canon!xiyao is tragic and problematic af, but this is an au, so... I do ...what I...want? Meng Yao in this au is his own worst nightmare - a courtesan, and Zewu-jun is the handsome polite gentlemanly amnesiac he saves. 

Below cut are more reasons why Lan Qiren longs for the sweet release of an early qi deviation (arc synopsis of lan xichen & meng yao’s half of the story). 

Lan Xichen’s Arc: where politics turned deadly.

Well, just because Wen Ruohan isn’t a thing doesn’t meant the Yin Irons aren’t a thing. Is there political bullshit waiting to happen? Absolutely. Except our protagonists are proactive this time. 

For months, both Qinghe and Gusu have been getting reports of strange sightings along their Lanling borders. NMJ and LXC have been investigating, and they suspect that JGS may have had something to do with it. Prior to Lan Xichen’s disappearance, he was getting close to finding out the truth. 

What happened was this: 

Xue Yang (who will exist solely in other people’s narration) had killed the Changs and taken a piece of the Yin Iron. Upon capture, XXC and SL (both alive and well and doing their own thing) delivered him to the Chief Cultivator, thinking justice has been served. (Lol. no.). Once JGS got his hands on one of those, he began to plan world domination bad things with it and shit started acting fucky right away, eliciting the suspicion and subsequent investigations of the Lans and Nies. 

Jin Guangshan does wonder how his secrets are being leaked, but he doesn’t get to find out until the end. 

Lan Xichen, on his part, is fairly sure of what’s been causing the appearances of these so called “fierce corpses”. He knows about Lan Yi’s barrier in the Cold Cave, and suspects someone has gotten their hands on a piece of the Yin Iron. Both he and Nie Mingjue suspect Jin Guangshan, and have been quietly collecting proof. 

Jin Guangshan, not about to be defeated so easily, sets up a trap and ambushes Lan Xichen during one of his investigations. LXC was in “plain clothes” as part of the investigation, because it’s dumb to go around investigating dressed as the Sect Leader of Gusu Lan, but during the ambush, Lan Xichen loses Liebing and Shuoyue in the process.  The only thing he has on him is Shuoyue’s sheath when he is found by Meng Yao. 

When Lan Xichen wakes up, he doesn’t remember anything or who he is. He sees a pretty young man who introduces himself as Lianfang. Lan Xichen was wearing blue when he was found, so “Liangfang” calls hims A-Lan. 

Meng Yao’s tragic back story that’s actually tragic:

The bullshit - er, the story - as always, starts with Meng Yao getting kicked down the steps at Jinlintai by his Ho™ of a dad Jin Guangshan. In this universe, Jin Guangshan isn’t just a rich powerful Sect Leader, but also the Chief Cultivator. If anything, he has more reason than ever to make sure Meng Yao isn’t around to besmirch his good name (not that he has any good name to bismirch).

Claiming Meng Yao to be a liar, Jin Guangshan ordered his goons to have Meng Yao “taken care of”, but before that could happen, Madam Jin had come out to see what was the commotion. This was Zixuan’s birthday celebration after all, everything had to be perfect. 

What she saw certainly enraged her, but her husband was about to kill a boy, possibly his own son, spill blood on their son’s day of birth celebration. Such cosmic bad karma she couldn’t possibly accept. “You don’t have to kill him, you absolute buffoon, just make sure he never comes back here!” 

She meant buy his silence with money but Jin Guangshan had a more permanent solution.

Before the day’s out, Meng Yao was sold to a brothel, and was told “that’s where you belong”.  Once, perhaps, he had dreamed about gaining the love of his father, but no longer. Now he simply wants his father ruined and dismembered. 

But first he has to live. 

The madam of the brothel had a keen eye for “good merchandise”, and one good look at young Meng Yao with those big eyes, delicate frame and dimples and she knew she could make big bucks off of him. 

(And before anyone asks how old MY is here, the answer is: young. One of the many reasons why I would personally like to volunteer to stab JGS until it looks like he’s been cursed with the Thousand Holes Curse.) 

The first couple of years were decidedly grim for MY. He was kept away from customers (mercifully), but he was a brutally trained in the art of dance and music. They kept him fed enough to dance but not too much to “ruin his figure”. His instructors quickly found that the youth was a quick study and got up no matter how many times he was trampled on (literally and metaphorically). It was no secret that life was gruesome, but Meng Yao survived. Meng Yao made his debut. Meng Yao became famous.

The establishment where he made his debut renamed him Lianfang - to collect/gather fragrance - and so from then on, he became Lianfang-gongzi. Soon, his art (and other stuff) caught the eye of an obliging patron who purchased him from the madam. 

The patron, by all accounts, was a brute of man who had more appreciation for the liquor in his cup than the arts, but he was a cultivator, wealthy enough, connected to many other cultivator gentry familiues, and most importantly, led a subsidiary clan of the Chief Cultivator. As his prized courtesan and dancer, Meng Yao served at his whim, entertained at his parties and made happy his friends, all of whom were practicing cultivators or at the very least connected to the cultivation realm. 

Our evil gremlin would not be our evil gremlin if he didn’t make the best of every situation. Meng Yao quickly discovered that not only was he particularly talented at getting people to divulge information to him, but that men were significantly uninhibited after sex and alcohol. Armed with a sweet face, an eidetic memory, and a hate inside him that longed to see Jin Guangshan severed limp by limp, he began his revenge plot. 

(Here, I took inspiration from Nirvana in Fire’s character Princess Xuanji of the fallen Hua kingdom who was sold into servitude but established Hong’xiu’zhao, a spy network of girls/women who either worked as courtesans or secondary spouses of noblemen. Her goal was to create chaos and dissension within the royal court and government, like mites eating away at a large tree from within.) 

Meng Yao amassed an enormous amount of intels on gentry families and evidences of the many underhanded conducts of the Chief Cultivator himself. He did this through his own work and through the other women working in his network, all of whom have been wrongfully aggrieved in some way. He promised them that one day he would help them to freedom. 

For five years he’s been collecting secrets of gentry families, and had been stirring discord for three, weakening their cohesiveness, and using their growing animosity to weaken Jin Guangshan’s control on his subordinates. Naturally, Meng Yao heard about Xue Yang and the Yin Iron. It was also him who had been drawing attention to it for the other major sects. 

Meng Yao doesn’t know Lan Xichen is the Sect Master of Gusu Lan, but he has no interest in hurting a man from nowhere. “You can stay here with me until you are better. After that, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be on your way.”

Physically Lan Xichen recovered quickly, but when it was clear his memories wouldn’t be coming back, Meng Yao allowed him to stay. 

The rest, as they say, is history. 

~

Meng Yao has been Lianfang, been the famed courtesan, for longer than he cares to remember. He’s been had, used, and passed around by so many men that their faces are just blurried sillouettes in his memory. And yet, he’s never felt for a moment that he belonged to any of them, not even his patron, who possessed his contract and could resell him back to a lesser establishment and ruin him in a heartbeat. 

But when A-Lan held him in his eyes, warm and dark like a summer’s night, without judgement or expectations, only gentle sweetness and a fond regard, Meng Yao could almost pretend he was just A-Yao, the name whispered reverently by those soft lips. The hand that held his moved to stroke his cheek, almost shy, and Meng Yao realized with a fearful pang that if this man from nowhere with nothing were to ask, Meng Yao could most definitely become his. 

The thought scared him more than he was willing to admit. 

~

The message delivered by the pigeon was clear. Meng Yao crumbled the slip of paper in his hand, then set it aflame in the candlelight. 

The man who’s been living with him for the past four months, who he knew as A-Lan, who he trusted enough to take to bed, was the Sect Master of Gusu Lan: Lan Huan, Lan Xichen.

Zewu-jun.  

Everyone, even a non-cultivator such as himself, has heard of Gusu’s Wei Wuxian, Lan Xichen’s young widower, left alone after not even six months of marriage. 

But if even he wasn’t married, Lan Xichen could never accept him as he was, no matter now much his personal desire wanted him. 

His hands shook. He balled them into fists. 

Meng Yao should’ve known... he should’ve known it was too good to be true. 

No matter, he told himself. This too, is an opportunity, perhaps the only one I will ever have. I will use it to destroy Jin Guangshan once and for all. 

~

Lan Xichen made his way to the window, and gazed out into the courtyard where A-Yao was reading under the willow tree. 

You should go home, a voice inside him said. Go home to relief Wangji of his burden, to release Wuxian from his mourning. Go back to the seat of Sect Master and the responsibilities waiting for you. 

One more day, another voice fought back. Just one more day. 

He doesn’t leave for another month. 

[dreamingofscully]

MOMENTUM - CHAPTER 1

(READ CHAPTER 2)

Rating: Mature (ch 1), Explicit (ch 2) Length: ~12k words Classification: M/S RST, Angst, Post-Ep for En Ami and spoilers through Chimera and all things Summary: Scully’s choices lead to some unintended consequences for herself and her relationship with Mulder.

Thank you to my betas! @sarie-fairy​​ @scullyeffect​​ and @o6666666​​ for the machete betas and @suitablyaggrieved​​ @starbuckthirteen​​ and @unhappybrthday​​ for the feedback. Definitely could not have done it without you.

Tagging @today-in-fic and @kega-umi.

(Read on AO3)

*** FRIDAY SPENDER’S FORMER OFFICE

“He knows what that science is worth, how powerful it is....He'd let nothing stand in his way.”  - Mulder

“You may be right... but for a moment, I saw something else in him. A longing for something more than power. Maybe for something he could never have.” - Scully

Scully wishes she could claim possession, body-snatching or any sort of ridiculous idea besides the one that she simply did something stupid. Mulder stands in front of her, arms braced on the doorway, waiting for a reasonable explanation. Why did she believe Spender? Why is she trying to paint him in a more sympathetic light? She thought she was doing the right thing at the time, but looking back she can’t believe she was so foolish. The silence stretches between them, his eyes filling with disappointment as he turns and walks away, leaving her standing in the empty room. 

Looking for some tangible proof of Spender’s presence, she scans the room one last time. Wonders why she’s even bothering since proof won’t give her the answers she needs. All of their experiences with him showed that he was nothing more than a liar, manipulating people for his own personal gain and twisted pleasure. Scully’s smart but she’s never been good at deception. Why did she think she could out-wit the man whose entire life was built on lies? Finding nothing in the room to ease her conscience, she reluctantly follows Mulder to his car. 

The last time she could remember this amount of tension between them was when Scully had voiced her suspicions to Mulder about Diana. They never talked about the hurt they’d caused one another back then, but that was their usual M.O. - never speaking about what mattered. Getting back to the X-Files, the foundation of their partnership, repaired the damage they'd inflicted upon one another. Shortly afterwards, they took the next monumental step in their relationship, finally admitting the feelings they had for one another and becoming lovers. It made the issues they argued about seem unimportant, at the time.

Mulder drives her home without even sparing her a glance. His inattention is glaringly unfamiliar. A few times, Scully opens her mouth to say something but changes her mind, each justification sounding inadequate. She’s utterly disappointed in herself. 

Finally, he pulls up outside her door, leaving the motor running. Needing to say something before leaving she undoes her seatbelt and turns to face him.

“Mulder--”

“Not now, Scully. Just get out.” He doesn't meet her gaze. There’s tension in his shoulders, barely concealed rage simmering just under the surface.

Not moving, she steels herself for his anger. She still has some hope of reasoning with him but before she can say anything else, Mulder turns to look at her. Instead of fury, she sees pain and vulnerability and her heart clenches in her chest. He thinks she betrayed him and from the outside that’s exactly what it looks like, exactly what Spender intended. Was that another motive - to put a wedge between them? 

Suddenly he’s left the car and is walking around to her side. He wrenches open her door and waits impatiently for her to get out. As she exits the car and reaches for him, he avoids her touch and goes back to the driver's side like he’d drive away whether she shut the door or not.

“Mulder, I was wrong to go with Spender but I think that might be what he intended all along, to make you doubt me. Call me when you’re ready to talk. Just know I’m sorry, and I love you.”

Scully waits, hoping he'll turn towards her and acknowledge her words. 

“Shut the door.” He doesn’t spare her a glance.

When she closes the door between them, his car peels out of the parking lot, leaving Scully at the curb to watch Mulder drive out of sight. She doesn’t remember the walk to her apartment, her head filled with fury and regret.

*** MONDAY FBI HEADQUARTERS

Scully walks down the hallway to their office, her heels clicking in an urgent, staccato rhythm, mimicking her fluttering heartbeat. He hadn’t called over the weekend, and despite not knowing his state of mind, she’s eager to see him. While they don’t spend every day together, it was rare a day went by that they didn’t at least speak on the phone, talking about anything and nothing. She misses their connection in a way that makes her feel weak and unsure, a foreign and unwelcome sensation. Taking a deep breath, she brushes her sweaty hands on her skirt and prepares a hopefully normal-looking smile on her face as she opens the door. 

Instead of a brooding, grumpy partner, she finds an empty office.

There’s no note on either of their desks. She double checks the door for a message - nothing. Concerned, she boots up her computer and scans her email. Nothing. Her cell phone is charged and there were no messages on her answering machine, she triple-checked before she left that morning.

Even though her instincts scream at her that he might have gone and done something impulsive and stupid, Scully takes a few deep breaths and forces herself to trust him. Calling him will only piss him off even more if, as she suspects, he’s only trying to avoid her a little while longer. He’ll be here. She’ll give him thirty minutes.

The time seems to pass interminably. She’s constantly checking the clock and reopening her email. Wondering if the computer system is down, she’s about to call tech support when the new email icon pops up on her desktop. Her heart leaps in her chest and she’s irrationally angry when it’s not him. She tries to work away at the long list of things she means to do but never has the time for but her eyes keep wandering to the clock. The reports on her desk remain unopened.

Twenty-five minutes. That’s close enough. She calls his home, but he must have turned off his answering machine. And he doesn’t answer his cell. 

Panic sets in.

Not knowing what else to do, Scully dials the number for Skinner’s office, chewing on her lip while she waits to be connected.

“What is it, Agent Scully?” His irritation makes her more nervous than usual, reminding her of the many, many times Mulder did something to annoy him.

“Sir? I, um, wondered if you had any idea of Mulder’s whereabouts?”

Silence for a few beats.

“He’s in St. Louis, helping with a profile. Left yesterday night. You’re unaware of this, Agent Scully? I thought you went with him.”

Scully massages her forehead, suppressing a sigh. “No, I... um... had stuff to do here. He must have forgotten to let me know. Sorry for bothering you, sir.” 

Scully tries Mulder’s cell again but it disconnects after one ring. So, that’s how it's going to be. Annoyance begins to creep up at his avoidance, but she tamps it down. She’s more worried about the toll that profiling will take on him. Since she’s not his favorite person right now, she fears her presence would only distract him, making the process take longer rather than providing any help. If they needed a pathologist, Mulder knew where she was.

Straightening her back, Scully forces herself to concentrate and get back to work. It’ll be a long few days alone in their basement office, but perhaps she can take advantage of his absence and catch up on reports and paperwork. Calmed by the practicality of her thoughts, she dives into the neatly stacked piles of work on her desk, determined to put her emotions aside until she’s able to talk to Mulder about it. 

*** FRIDAY

The rest of the week passes incredibly slowly without Mulder there to keep her company. When Scully tries to find out any information on his profiling case, thinking she could help from a distance or find an excuse to join him out there, she’s rebuffed. She almost takes the rejection personally but dismisses the irrational thoughts - not everything is about her. 

The anger she feels towards Spender grows with each day of Mulder’s absence, each day he refuses her call. She knows that this entire charade was intended to not only help Spender acquire something dangerous but to create doubt in her partner’s head about her. Once he gets back, she’s sure things will be fine, but the work doesn’t hold her interest without him there to distract her from it.

Speaking of distractions... Scully reaches for the office phone and hits redial, reaches Mulder’s voicemail.

“Mulder, it’s me. I’m not going to apologize again, you’ve already heard all that. I still can’t give you a good explanation. Just… I guess I just saw an opportunity for something and decided to take a leap. I know it wasn’t the best time to do that but, there you have it. Call me. Please. I’m worried about you out there.”

Scully hangs up the phone, taps on the receiver. She hates not knowing, hates not being about to do something. Needing to do something, she picks up the phone and dials Skinner’s extension. 

A few perfunctory minutes of updates to him on her progress in the office over the past week and Scully gets to the real reason for her call. 

“Sir, I was hoping for an update on Mulder’s case in St. Louis?” She tries to sound casual and unconcerned.

In the momentary silence on the other end of the receiver, she imagines Skinner’s brows knitting together. She swears under her breath, sure he would find it unusual that she was asking him, rather than speaking to Mulder directly.

“Uh... I just spoke to Agent Mulder. He’s due back tomorrow.” A pause. “Is everything okay, Agent Scully? Is there a reason you haven’t spoken with him yourself?”

“No, not at all. I-- um...that’s all I needed from you. Goodbye, sir.” 

Tomorrow, then. Scully smiles softly, nodding to herself. He’ll be home and she can help him with whatever consequences arose from the case in St. Louis, relieved she can finally take action.

*** SATURDAY MULDER’S APARTMENT

The rumbling of thunder and flashes of lightning accompany Scully as she strides down the hallway to Mulder’s apartment, shaking droplets of water from her raincoat. The fading light bulbs and sparse indigo light from the window at the end of the hall paint everything in shadowy illumination reminiscent of evening, though it's midafternoon. She knocks on his door, biting her lower lip. Strangely nervous about seeing him after so long.

She hears the lock opening and suddenly he’s in front of her. He hasn’t opened the door completely but the few inches of Mulder that she sees causes her to smile foolishly. 

Oh, how I missed him. 

“Hey,” she says. Her delight spills out before she notices his appearance. He looks like he’s been to hell and back - he hasn’t shaved in at least a week and there's dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. 

“Oh, Mulder…” 

Scully reaches for him, but before she can get close he flinches and pulls away from her, still holding the door partially closed and blocking her entrance. She’s dismayed at his reaction but tells herself it’s not about her.

“Now isn’t a good time.” His voice is strained. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s been a week… I thought we could get dinner and… talk?” At his blank stare, she continues. “Are you ok?” She places a hand on the doorframe and checks him over more closely.  

“I don’t think you being here is a good idea,” he says, his gaze hardening under her inspection. 

Confused at his rejection, Scully takes a deep breath, trying to think of something to say to bridge the gap between them.

“Is this about Spender?”

Mulder’s eyes suddenly flare with unbridled fury. His jaw clenches and his grip on the door tightens. Scully’s not sure what’s worse, the intense anger or the emotionlessness. He stares past her into the hallway. 

“Why on earth would you bring him up, Scully?” He asks this quietly, but she feels the force of his anger with every syllable. 

“Mulder, I didn’t mean--”

"What didn't you mean?" Mulder interrupts, yanking the door open and leaning closer but further blocking her entrance. His entire body rigid. "To take off with a man who's lied and worked against us for years? Who gave you your disease, who took so many things from the both of us?”

"I told you why I went, what he told me." The reason sounds feeble as soon as she voices it, unprepared to defend herself. She’d come to support him in the aftermath of profiling a horrific case, only he seems more upset over her actions from a week ago. .

Mulder’s eyes flash at her again. "And look what it got you. Nothing. Less than nothing. I was so worried about you.” 

The care she tried to take when she left with Spender ended up being completely worthless. Of course Mulder worried about her. What he must have thought? 

He continues, hands gripping the doorframe. “He could have done anything he wanted and you played right into his hands. And I still don't understand. You've always been the one telling me not to trust others, then you take off with the worst sonofabitch--"

Sheets of rain pound against the window, and dangerous crashes of thunder punctuate Mulder’s furious words, cutting off the last part of his sentence. Scully tries to hold his gaze, to tell him with her eyes what she can’t seem to express with her words. She can’t stand how he’s looking at her any longer and glances out the window at the storm. 

Flashes of light illuminate the hallway as she turns back. Long shadows drape Mulder in half-light. His face is both dark and light at once and while she desperately tries to focus her thoughts into coherence, he’s sinking back into his darkened apartment.

"Mulder, I tried..." The rest of her words shrivel under the weight of her mistake. She didn’t need to repeat herself and he didn’t seem to want to accept, let alone believe, her motivations the first time. A week apart didn’t lessen his anger. Her chest tightens. "I don't know what else to say."

"I don't think I really know you." Mulder’s voice breaks, sharpness replaced by vulnerability.

The statement breaks her heart. She knows how much trust means to him, that for years now she’s been the only one he can count on, who never tried to manipulate him. She's always been his exception. He trusted her implicitly because she’s never had an agenda. Have her actions forced him to doubt her? 

He has no one else. Of course he would react this way. 

She composes herself before speaking again, feeling like she’s traveled back in time, needing to convince him that he could trust her again.

"You do know me. It was a mistake. A terrible mistake, but that's all it was. It's me." She longs to reach out and grab his hand to emphasize her point, but his earlier reaction makes her hesitant.

Mulder’s eyes close and his shoulders slump, weariness and defeat written on every inch of his frame. He inches the door shut, withdrawing from her completely. 

"Mulder, please…" She’s desperate but has no idea how to reach him, convince him her intentions were pure. It’s like the idea of her betrayal has buried itself so deeply within him there’s nothing she can do to convince him otherwise. 

“No. I can’t do this right now.” He pulls away, shutting the door firmly between them.

She hadn’t expected this. Needing some sort of connection no matter how tenuous, she reaches out and lays her hand on the door, the smooth wood-grain surface under her palm an ineffectual replacement. She stands there for longer than she should, her breath shallow, emotions swirling within her. 

A boom of thunder shocks her out of her bleak thoughts, forcing her hand from his door and her steps towards the elevator. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen him this mad at her for so long. She manages to get to her car and drive home, heedless of the rain soaking her to the skin.

*** MONDAY, THE FOLLOWING WEEK FBI HEADQUARTERS

Worried when Mulder’s late for work on Monday, Scully wonders if she’ll have a repeat of last week. When he shows up she’s relieved, despite his rumpled suit and tired eyes. Mulder is distant but at least they’re speaking to one another, giving Scully hope that they can fix whatever happened between them. 

They work separately on old case reports and Scully tries to take comfort in the routine. However, Mulder’s dark mood is a thick fog between them, making their progress feel sluggish and their attempts at communication heavy and awkward. She wishes she could give him some measure of solace, comb her fingers through his hair, hold him at night until he falls into an easy slumber. Guilt cuts through her concern, presses heavily on her chest. It was her own actions that placed her here, preventing her from being able to give him comfort.

Regardless, he's talking to her, which she takes as a step in the right direction.

The week passes and Scully’s optimism dwindles. She almost forgets about their estrangement until he shies away from her touch, doesn’t meet her gaze, and refuses to banter or joke and she's struck by the remoteness of his presence. It’s like she's been reduced to a tolerable acquaintance rather than his closest friend and lover. 

They’ve never been good at talking about personal things. Scully could probably recount on one hand the rare times they spoke openly about their relationship or feelings with one another. How can she start a conversation with him about when it’s just not something that they do?

Thoughts of her sister emerge more frequently. Scully misses her acutely, the pain of her death like a fresh wound. Was it this hard all those years ago? Missy was so good at knowing what to do when it came to people. Instead of speculating about what her sister would say, Scully embraces her strengths and gets back to work, what brought her and Mulder together in the first place. She takes some comfort in simply having him nearby, witnessing the brilliance of his mind. If they’ve taken a step back in their relationship, she can’t deny that she wouldn’t trade her partner for any other.

*** FRIDAY FBI HEADQUARTERS

“There’s been some tension between my partner and I this past week and I can’t figure out how to get past it. Or if we even can.” Scully chews on her bottom lip, finding it difficult to voice her concerns aloud.

Karen Kosseff, the FBI counselor she’s talked to off and on over the years, sits across from her in her small office. She’s silent, calmly waiting for her to continue.

Scully clears her throat. “I made a mistake, a pretty serious one, that might have made him question my loyalty.”

“Were you disloyal to him?”

“No, never." Scully answers immediately. “I did something reckless, something that made him worry about me. But now he’s just upset, won’t talk.”

“You’ve been partnered with Agent Mulder for…” Karen consults the file in front of her. “Seven years now? That’s quite a long time to be paired with someone. But you feel this is different than the usual ups and downs one would expect in such a long-term relationship?” 

“Before--” She interrupts herself before accidentally revealing too much. “We’ve had arguments before, but never anything that prevented us from continuing our work normally. Even if we don’t talk about it, we generally push on like nothing’s happened.”

“And do you think that’s an effective way to communicate?”

“Probably not.” Her mouth turns up in a self-deprecating smile. She’s always been comfortable with not talking, not revealing her innermost thoughts. It was always easier to keep things hidden, but she knows deep down that it’s always led to trouble. “But anything would be better than what’s going on now.”

“From our past meetings and from reading your file I can see you two have weathered a lot in the years you’ve been together. That can take a serious toll on anyone.” Karen’s compassionate voice always seems to seep through her walls. She forgets each time how easy it is to open up when she’s here.

“I know this. And I think maybe what we’re going through now might be a continuation of things we’ve been through. I just wish I knew what to do.” Scully’s voice cracks, she feels tears threatening. Bowing her head as she closes her eyes, she tries to remain in control for long enough to say everything she needs to.

“Is there something else bothering you?”

Scully whips her head up to look at Karen. How does she do that? “I, um… I can’t talk to him about this--” 

Karen tilts her head, waits.

“Something happened to me, when I… made my mistake. I don’t really know what. I’m scared to find out. But if I told him--” Scully breaks off to press a hand to her mouth, feeling hot tears spill out over her cheeks, but she forces herself to continue. “It would make what I did so much worse.”

Scully has tried not to think about what Spender did to her while she was unconscious. It was easier to be angry with Spender about the disc and his lies, to be concerned with Mulder’s feelings and how she could help him. 

Karen doesn’t speak for several minutes, offering Scully a box of tissues. Her voice is concerned when she breaks their silence. “What are you scared of, Dana?”

“Of the possibilities. Of the consequences of them. Maybe I’ve made more than one mistake. This is just the last one in a series, and I can’t go back to how it was before--”

Karen raises her eyebrows at her pause.

It was so difficult to separate herself from their new relationship, maybe that was one of the problems. Taking a deep breath, and changing the direction she’d been heading. “I think I always prided myself on acting as Mulder’s ballast, the person who grounds him. I feel like I’ve failed in that regard, and I think he sees it that way too. Maybe that’s what is most upsetting, not what I did but how outside of myself the mistake was.”

“Do you feel like he holds you to unreasonable standards?”

“I don’t think so.” Crumpling the tissue in her hands, breaking it off into little pieces, Scully sighs before continuing. “I think if I give him time, things will work out. Sometimes we take a while to get moving, so to speak.”

***

It’s not usually until much later that Scully feels better after a session with Karen. Uncomfortable truths come to the surface, harmful things she realizes she’s been doing and needs to change. Knowing and doing, though, are two entirely different things. Even if she knew how to get him to speak with her, she doesn’t know if she has the strength to open up to him, to tell him everything. 

Instead of worrying about what to do with Mulder, Scully dives into work with an obsessive meticulousness. Not only does she work on finishing case reports, she consults with other agents outside the X-Files on their cases and starts research on a new paper about a case from a few months back. Outside of work, she starts a new training regimen, hoping she’ll be marathon-ready if the opportunity ever arises. The addition of all of these activities leaves her exhausted at the end of each day, falling into a restless sleep late at night and waking just in time to start the next morning. 

Sometimes the flurry of her day isn’t enough to keep her mind from wandering before unconsciousness takes her. These nights are the hardest. Despite spending most of the day with Mulder, and even though they didn’t spend every night with each other before their falling-out, she’s lonely. When she misses the warmth and solidity of his body around hers, she’ll find momentary release from her recently retired vibrator. Pretending he's here, that he's touching her, that things are back to normal. After her orgasm she feels the emptiness of her bed even more acutely - it’s not his body or her pleasure that she misses most, but the intimacy of his presence.

Scully’s mood shifts after a few weeks of her busier schedule. She’s easily angered and it’s increasingly difficult to hide her emotions. The incessant cracking of Mulder’s sunflower seeds grates on her nerves and she finds herself leaving the office more frequently as well, refusing to take out her anger at its intended target. Skinner and the rest of the agents in the building avoid her whenever they hear the tell-tale sound of her strident heels in the halls. 

***

It’s been just over three weeks since Mulder’s return from St. Louis and four weeks since they’ve had a friendly conversation. Scully finds herself in the office alone, reviewing a forensics report for a fellow agent, a favor she’s been meaning to return. Mulder’s jacket sits on the back of his chair, empty seed shells littering the desk and the floor around it. He’s off doing God knows what and she doesn’t bother asking where he’s going anymore, since he only responds to her questions with single-syllable grunts. She’s irritated at Mulder’s presumption of her availability, and his continued neglect of their relationship. What relationship?

When the phone rings, she considers not answering. She’s uncomfortable with negligence of duty, no matter how small, compelling her to pick up after a respectable three rings. 

“What?”

“Er, Agent Scully, I was hoping to discuss the case reports you and Agent Mulder just turned in.” 

Scully bites the inside of her cheek and closes her eyes, attempting to keep her annoyance at bay. With the extra time she and Mulder seem to have nowadays, the reports are some of the most comprehensive ones they’ve ever turned in. She feels like this conversation is a giant waste of time, but Skinner’s her boss, so she suffers through his questions.

Scully hangs up the phone as Mulder enters their office reading a file, not acknowledging her presence. She studiously ignores his silence and goes back to her report.

Almost  an hour later, Scully looks up from her reading, surprised to find that so much time has passed. When she looks over at Mulder, she meets his gaze and blinks in surprise.

“Do you need something, Mulder?” Scully raises her eyebrows and feels her mouth start to twitch upwards in a smile. Warmth floods her chest at his unexpected attention.

Mulder shakes his head and reaches for a report, opening it and ignoring her.

Her anger spills out, and she doesn’t hold it back this time. “When are you going to stop punishing me?” 

“Once I feel you can be trusted to not run off with the next guy who promises you something.”

Scully’s eyebrows knit together and her mouth drops open in shock. Before she can respond, Mulder grabs his jacket and leaves without another word. Her hand rises to her mouth and she closes her eyes, feeling the force of his words like a punch to the gut.

He won’t even speak to me about what’s bothering him, yet feels the need to make condescending remarks? 

She stares at the office door, wishing he’d return so she could tell him where he could shove his idiotic petulance.

When he doesn’t come back, Scully finds it difficult to concentrate. She leaves early and heads to the gym for a punishing training session before heading home. Rewarding herself with a few glasses of wine and a decidedly non-romantic movie, she manages to sink into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning, Scully’s running late, dreading another confrontation but knowing she should say something. Mulder’s sitting at his desk with coffee for the both of them.

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday, Scully.” 

She’s surprised at first, stares at him. He’s avoiding her gaze, buried in a report. As she waits for him to continue, he turns his chair around and sorts through some files behind his desk.

That’s it?

After he left the office yesterday, she was determined to finally speak frankly but after his weak apology she’s reluctant to cause another argument. 

A night of stewing in her anger left her emotionally drained and pessimistic about being able to work things out with him. Every time she tries to talk, her mouth goes dry and a weight presses heavily on her chest. 

Why is it so difficult to know what to say? 

Frustrated at her inability to express herself, she resumes work without another word. They exist in the same office, worlds apart.

*** WEDNESDAY, THE FOLLOWING WEEK ABANDONED WAREHOUSE SOUTHEAST WASHINGTON, DC

“Well, good work, Scully. I'll call you back later.” - Mulder

Scully rolls her shoulders and stands, irritated at his abrupt goodbye. The conclusion of the case re-energized her but now she feels exhaustion creeping back. Despite her tiredness, she can’t help thinking about Mulder and this damn surveillance. She feels abandoned. While she’s left to pursue something not even worth their time, he scampers off to investigate a real X-File on his own. Maybe he realizes he doesn’t actually need her after all.

They’d become automatons. Mulder doesn’t talk to her about any new cases, they just work on tying loose ends and finishing reports. She wonders if he disappears on weekends to investigate things on his own instead of calling and pestering her to join him. She regrets her feigned annoyance back then, that she never really told him how much their time together meant to her. 

Her shoulder twinges, sore from sitting too long. A tumultuous combination of anger and dread builds within her. Aside from the time she went to his apartment, or the time he told her off, he won’t talk about what happened and as the days pass it gets harder for her to confront him about it. She doesn’t know how to fix their relationship if he won’t even acknowledge its presence. It’s bewildering that he can give up on them so easily - all the things they’ve done for each other over the years and he can just cast her off? Maybe she had everything wrong from the beginning, that the intensity of her feelings for him have always been one-sided.

At home, Scully peels off her clothes and stands under the lash of a hot shower until her skin is pink and raw. Unbidden, the tears start to flow, merging with the sluice of water flowing over her body. She was so preoccupied with her rage that this new emotion takes her by surprise. She only notices it once the sobs cause her to double over as she struggles to contain them. 

The combination of steam and grief starts to make her feel dizzy. Stumbling out of the stall, she sits heavily on the floor, grabbing her towel and wrapping it around herself.

She doesn’t notice the cold air causing her to shiver violently. She’s oblivious to her wet hair plastered to her head and neck, thick droplets cascading to the floor and pooling underneath her, making a wet mess on the cold tiles. 

Her awareness consists only of the overwhelming grief and painful pressure of her hands pressing against her eyes in a futile attempt to stop the emotions overtaking her.

All this time… the idea that their relationship had meant nothing to him, even after everything he’s said and done. The hold he’s had over her for years, thinking that it was only a matter of time. Never that it would come to an end almost before it even began. All her fears and vulnerabilities she’s bottled up these past few weeks spill over, shaking her to her core. She recalls the nagging but easily-ignored feelings that their happiness couldn’t last. Those minor twinges and paranoid notions suddenly seem so undeniably monstrous and real.

She’s not sure how long she sits crumpled there on the floor. Her ass is numb and she’s shaking uncontrollably with the cold by the time she comes back to herself. She’s stiff from the awkward position she’s been sitting in and the tension of her emotional outburst. Drying herself off and slipping into warm flannel pajamas, she heads to her darkened bedroom. Her head hits the pillow and she envelopes herself underneath her quilt, her grief waning into bruising emptiness as she falls into an exhausted slumber.

***

Hours later, Mulder comes to her apartment and lets himself in, pausing at the doorway before heading to her bedroom. He stands at the end of the bed and stares at her sleeping form for several minutes, a bleak expression on his face. He moves closer, carefully tucking the blanket around her, brushing a trembling hand over her curling hair, gently kissing the patch of skin peeking out from the collar of her pajamas. Leaning towards her, he studies her sleeping form  for a few more minutes before leaving, regret and an awakened determination in his eyes.

END CHAPTER 1 ------- (READ CHAPTER 2)

[winterisakillerwrites]

Becoming - Part Five

Title: Becoming

One Shot: 5/6

Character: Tom Hiddleston

Genre: Realistic(?) fluff; Angst

Rating: T

Summary: Learning about his son was only just the start of the story. As Tom Hiddleston struggles to adapt to this sudden change in his life, he comes to learn that becoming a father might be the biggest role he’d ever taken on. *Sequel/Continuation of Lovers’ Eyes*

Authors Notes/Warnings: This story came about because I knew there was still so much about Tom and his son that I wanted to explore. I fully intended this to be a quick flash forward into their lives, a snapshot if you will….They had other ideas and so here we are. This is technically all one story but has been broken down into parts to make the reading easier.

Thanks so much first and foremost to @ciaodarknessmyheart who has dealt with me throwing all of these ideas at her and has helped shape them into something coherent and wonderful.

Hope you all enjoy!

Tag List: @tinchentitri @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @noplacelikehome77 @blacksuitofdoom @nonsensicalobsessions @theheartofpenelope @ms-cellanies @nuggsmum @inkededucatednnerdy @redfoxwritesstuff  @just-the-hiddles @wolfsmom1 @theoneanna @hiddlescastle @sabine-leo @alexakeyloveloki  @echantedbytwh @finchbaggins  @kenzieam @ciaodarknessmyheart @ladyblablabla @trippedmetaldetector

PREVIOUS

It wasn’t an easy process and there had been push back on both sides. More often than not Tom found himself leaving meetings with his solicitor (a middle-aged no nonsense woman of his agent’s suggestion and of sterling reputation) feeling equal parts frustrated and terrified. She’d done her level best to reassure him that set-backs and disagreements were par for the course “After all,” she’d said pointedly after one such meeting, “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

 Despite the constant feeling of unease and stagnation, they were at least starting to get somewhere. The time Tom spent with Jaime had an overlaying tension now which seemed to put both Tom and Keira on edge. They were never openly hostile towards each other around Jaime, but it was clear the boy felt the change. And that was something Tom knew neither he nor Keira wanted. It had taken tea and a fair bit of open, frank discussion on both of their parts for an uneasy truce to form between them. They both loved Jaime something fierce and both wanted the best for him. In order to do that they needed to work together, needed to be on similar pages. Jaime deserved no less.

 The begrudging truce formed that night was tested a week later when pictures of Tom and Jaime playing in the park began to make their way around gossip sites and the papers. While Tom’s status as a father was known to family, close friends, and his management, a public announcement had never been formally made. Knowing the intrusive nature of the press, Tom wanted to shield Jaime from it as much as he possibly could. He’d known taking the boy out in public would eventually bring the matter to a head, but had hoped being outside of London would delay it. And it had, for a time.

 When Luke called letting him know pictures had been released and several news agencies were reaching out for comment, Tom had been annoyed but not entirely surprised. He’d known from the beginning that sooner or later this would happen. The world he’d chosen to make his life in meant, whether unfairly or not, his life (both public and private) would be considered up for grabs. And because of who he was to Tom, Jaime could (and most likely would) very well be dragged into it. But knowing that did little to make any of it easier to bear. Nor was it any comfort.

 Shortly after that initial call, Tom discussed the matter with his team and then shortly thereafter with Keira, as she had a stake in this just has Tom himself had, and they’d all begrudging agreed that something needed to be said. To ignore the matter entirely would only serve to worsen the issue. Saying nothing would only lead to the press and the public coming up with their own versions of events and more cameras as they sought to prove or disprove their theories. In being open, or at least in saying something, part of that power, that control would be back in their hands. It wouldn’t stop the press or the cameras (and Tom was no longer naïve enough to think it would) but it would allow them to have a say in the story being told. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the one card they had left to play. Jaime was his son and he wasn’t ashamed of that fact, saying nothing, hiding it would only serve to make it seem as if that were the case. And that was something Tom would not stand for.

 The statement they had agreed on was short, simple, and to the point; it acknowledged that the boy Tom had been photographed with was indeed his son. That he and the boy’s mother had been in a serious relationship when the boy was conceived and that she had recently passed on. They asked for privacy in this matter and that while Tom himself was a public figure, his son was not and asked the press and the public to respect that.

 It was far from perfect and the resulting push back was loud. Why as this only coming out now? What was Tom trying to gain? Who was the child’s mother anyway? Why had nothing about her ever come out?

 Tom did his best to ignore the questions and the unkind words and had encouraged Keira to do the same. “It’s just noise,” he explained, hoping she could understand. Hoping she could see, in this instance, he knew what he was talking about. It was a hard lesson to learn and one Tom still found himself struggling with. But it was the only way to handle the madness. “It’s loud and painful but ultimately changes nothing. You can’t read everything they say about you or the ones you care for, doing so would drive you mad. You can’t change it, can’t stop it, so you just have to do your level best to ignore it. To treat it as if it’s nothing more than background noise.”

 Following his own advice was easier said than done and he’d caught himself looking at the articles and speculation from time to time, fighting the bile rising in his throat as he did so. It could be worse, he told himself. It could be so much worse. But knowing that didn’t make seeing it any easier.

 While he fought to keep things as normal as he could for Jaime’s sake, the boy clearly noticed the sudden amount of attention he’d garnered. They’d been in the park and had spent a fair amount of time in the play area, Tom laughing as Jaime horsed around on the monkey bars (ignoring the sense of dread he felt when Jaime nearly lost his grip) and ran up and down the slide. On one such trip up the climbing tower on a warm August afternoon, Jaime paused, confusion painting his features and pointed towards the far end of the play area. “Look daddy! That man’s taking pictures of us. Is he your friend?”

 Tom swallowed the curse he wanted to utter. He’d gotten used to being followed in London, known it was a part of his life he couldn’t entirely escape. But here…This, here, was a part of his life that was solely his. They had so much of him but this part, this was his. Forcing himself to calm and smile warmly at Jaime, he asked, “Why don’t we go back to Nan’s for a bit? I’m sure she’s got tea nearly ready.”

 Jaime didn’t seem wholly convinced but followed alongside Tom readily enough. Tom fought against the urge to turn and see if they were indeed being followed, as he strongly suspected they were. Jaime seemed mostly unconcerned, if not vaguely curious, about the photographers and they last thing Tom wanted was to scare the boy. He didn’t know if his son or Keira were bothered when he wasn’t around, Keira never mentioned and Tom was leery about bringing the subject up. They had been getting along over the last several weeks, despite Keira’s obvious frustration at this unwanted attention in her grandson’s life. Tom was loathe to do anything to rock the shaky peace they’d found.

 Tea was indeed waiting once they’d arrived at the house. If Keira noted Tom’s unease as he helped Jaime wash up, she refrained from commenting. Jaime ate with gusto, Tom and Keira watched sharing knowing looks. The boy very much took after Tom in his veracity when it came to food and talking it seemed. Once he’d inhaled his meal, Jaime babbled almost nonstop about the fun he’d had with Tom in the park and, to Tom’s discomfort, the funny man taking pictures. Keira nodded and smiled indulgently at the boy but her discomfort at the situation was clear.

 Once again, Tom cursed himself and the life he’d chosen to lead. Cursed how things that had no business in the public eye were thrown into it without warning simply because of their attachment to him. Luke had assured him that it was manageable and Tom knew enough of UK privacy laws to know that the papers couldn’t publish Jaime’s face without his consent…or at least the consent of his guardian and Keira would never allow it. But that didn’t mean he wouldn’t be followed. Pictures could tell stories and stories involving Tom seemed to sell for a great deal.

 When Keira had sent Jaime upstairs to wash up, Tom told her such. Tried his best to explain he would do whatever it took to keep Jaime safe. Keira listened with a reserved silence, her face unreadable. Something Eliza had clearly inherited from her; Tom could remember many a time he’d sat wondering just what was going on in Eliza’s mind when her face refused to tell him a thing. Once he’d finished, Keira told him she’d known in theory what allowing him into Jaime’s life would entail and that Eliza had known as well. Keeping the boy from his father hadn’t done any of them any good and while she hated the risks involved, she knew that Jaime deserved to have his father be a part of his life.

 “I don’t like this and I won’t pretend I do for either of our sakes, but I know it is what comes with the territory and you have proven yourself enough that I can trust you to put the needs of that little boy above your own. And that is why I won’t fight you on this, why I am agreeing to let you share custody. He is my grandson, but he is your son and this is, ultimately, what Eliza wanted.”

 And with that, the discussion was done. There was little point in rehashing any of it. What mattered now was Jaime and keeping him healthy, safe, and happy. While Tom’s life brought challenges, having him in Jaime’s life far outweighed any of those risks. And life went on as normally as possible. Tom spent as much time as he could with the boy as the dawning school year drew closer. It was to be Jaime’s first and he couldn’t have been more excited. He talked of nothing else; excited to make new friends and to learn as much as he could. It warmed Tom’s heart, seeing the boy’s clear love and desire to learn. He was such a mix of Tom and of his mother. And again Tom felt the familiar longing loss of what could have been had he or Eliza made different choices.

 The custody hearing concluded three weeks after the school year began, and for the most part the news was kept out of the papers (Luke was certainly worth his weight in gold and when Tom told him as much Luke joked and told him the bill would be sent right away then). Tom would share custody of his son with his grandmother while Keira would retain full physical custody for the time being with an understanding that in three years’ time a joint physical custody agreement would come into effect. Tom would have that time to rearrange his life as best he could to prepare. It would be easy enough to transition to more localized productions and it would give him the excuse to get back into his love of theatre. Visitation would be granted in an effort to ease Jaime into the idea of living at least part time with Tom.

 Both Tom and Keira agreed to wait until Jaime had settled as much as he could into his school routine before starting any overnight visitation with Tom in London. Day trips on the weekends and time spent overnight at Keira’s were about as adventurous as either felt Jaime needed right then. The boy had enough changes coming as it was to pile on anymore. Jaime took to these outings and times spent with his father like a duck to water. He loved spending time with Tom, loved talking to him about school and all he was learning while there. Tom, in turn, was grateful to see the boy thriving. Jaime had a way with people that was so much like his mother, and he rationalized, like himself. Nothing about their situation was perfect, but it was working and that was enough for now.

 Things became harder as the first anniversary of Eliza’s death drew near. Tom had been dreading the knowledge of it since he’d woken up that stormy morning in late September and realized with a sinking sense of pain and guilt just what the next week would mean. It would mean that it had been a year since he’d learned of her passing, a year since he’d lost the last vague hope of ever seeing her again, a year since Jaime had come so unexpectedly into his life. And in that year so much of his life had changed. Suddenly it wasn’t just him anymore, there was a little boy who needed him and he’d come to learn he needed him just as badly. So much good had come from something so painful.

 His mind turned to Jaime, wondering just how much the boy understood of what was coming. Jaime still spoke often of his mother and Tom knew he missed her more than he was able to say. He wondered what Keira had planned for herself and for Jaime and if he had any right to involve himself in those plans. Yes, he was a part of Jaime’s life now and yes Eliza had been someone he loved (and always would love) very deeply, but he hadn’t been a part of her life by his own selfish decisions. Keira had been incredibly close to her daughter and had her own loss to mourn. Intruding in that, especially if he wasn’t wanted was the last thing Tom had any desire to do.  

 It was therefore a surprise when his mobile rang on the eve of the anniversary of that painful day. He’d seen Keira’s number and for a brief moment considered sending the call to voicemail. He didn’t know just why she was reaching out and if it was to ask him to stay away, Tom wasn’t sure he would have the nerve, or the heart, to hear it. But what if it were Jaime calling…What if something had happened? Tom slid his finger across the glass screen and with trepidation answered.

 Keira’s voice was quiet, solemn, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt the memories of the person they had both lost were standing by her side. She did not ask him much, just to come by the house tomorrow. Jaime would need him, she’d said, and she believed he would need the boy as well. Tom had slept fitfully that night, memories and guilt swirling around him until he could not truly tell one from the other. He’d given up the ghost around four in the morning and had made his way down into the kitchen for coffee and something he hoped would distract him.                                                      

 His mobile sat on the counter where he must had dropped it after Keira’s call. He had no real memory of any of it and that was probably for the best. Jaime would need him to be strong today, even if the boy did not fully understand why. Tom sighed, waiting for the water in the kettle to boil. Out of habit he reached for his mobile, hitting the home button to wake up the screen. There was a message waiting for him in WhatsApp from Benedict. His newest son hadn’t quite mastered the art of sleeping through the night and it seemed Ben had drawn the short straw and was sitting up with him allowing his wife her much needed sleep.

 Tom smiled at the photograph of the little boy sat in his friend’s arms and fought to ignore the strange, pain of longing he felt. He would never have memories like that of Jaime and on most days he could live with that. He’d always known there were things out of his control, but sometimes that longing screamed in the back of his mind, so much time lost and for what?

 He hit the call button in the app without thinking and waited as it rang. “Tom? I didn’t think you’d be up yet.”

 Tom sighed, taking the kettle off the heat and pouring the water into the press. “Couldn’t really sleep. Saw your message and figured it would be safe to call.”

 Benedict chuckled, “Yes, sleep has been rather elusive on this end as well.”

 He placed the mobile on the counter, switching the device to speaker as he moved about finishing brewing his coffee. Through the tinny speakers Tom could hear the muffled grunts and squirming of the baby in his friend’s arms. “But it’s worth it, is it not?”

 “Oh yes, even when it feels like you’ll go mad, it’s worth it.” There was a slight hesitation before Benedict spoke again “Tom?”

 “Hm?”

 “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tom sighed, taking a sip from the mug in his hand. He grimaced at the heat, grateful though for the moment it gave him to decide how to respond. Briefly, he considered brushing off Benedict’s invitation to talk, the last thing he wanted to do was unload on his already sleep deprived friend. But he couldn’t do it, not when he knew Ben’s offer was genuine. He was one of the first people, outside of his family and his team, Tom had opened up to after learning of Jaime. And Benedict had been a sympathetic ear, offering both his ear and his counsel when required.

 He knew that Benedict was well aware of the significance of the day to come and knowing had offered Tom a quiet hand in a way he knew his stubborn friend would accept. What he’d ever done to be worthy of such a friend, Tom would never know, but he was eternally grateful.

 It didn’t take long for the thoughts and fears which had plagued him to come tumbling from Tom’s lips. Just saying the words aloud felt like a giant weight had been lifted from him. Even though there was nothing Ben could really do. Nothing he could really do about any of it other than simply do what needed to be done.

 The call ended as sunlight began to pour through the kitchen window. His coffee had long since gone cold and Benedict, to his credit, could no longer pass off his yawning as a one off. With a sleeping infant in his arms, Benedict wished him well. “If I don’t sleep now, he’ll be up again and so will his older brother and sleep will be something that happens to more fortunate souls.”

 Laughing, Tom bid his friend a pleasant sleep and surrounded once more by the silence of his kitchen, sighed. The clock on the stove read twenty-seven minutes past six. Keira hadn’t said how early he should come but if he showered and left within the half hour he could be at her’s around the time Jaime would be waking up. Mind made up, he placed the still full but now stone cold coffee by the microwave and jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs to at a time.

 Twenty minutes later he was clean and back in the kitchen to reheat his coffee. No sense in letting the brew go to waste and he desperately needed the caffeine. Wincing as he pulled the now steaming mug from the microwave and dumped its contents into the travel mug his mother had bought him last Christmas (“you drink enough of the blasted stuff so you might as well have something decent to carrying it in when you’re dashing about”). Shoving his mobile in his pocket, Tom jogged to the door, grabbed his keys from the hall table and made his way out into the bright sunlight.

 Keira had clearly been expecting his early arrival Tom discovered as he found her waiting at the door as he pulled into her drive. She nodded at him and he did so in return. This was going to be a rough day for all of them.

 “Thank you for coming,” she whispered as she pulled the door shut behind him.

 “Thank you for having me.” He didn’t know what else to say. What else could he say? He shed his coat, hanging it on an empty arm of the hall tree. The sound of footfalls above signaled Jaime’s imminent arrival and Tom steadied himself to become whatever his son would need him to be.

NEXT

[silverwhiteraven]

Borne of the Stars - Chapter 10 - An MLB Kryptonian AU

Tag List:  @eve-valution @weird-pale-blonde-person @kris-pines04 @soulmate-game @abrx2002 @amayakans @vixen-uchiha @heldtogetherbysafetypins @raisuke06 @dorkus-minimus @captainartsypants @mopester-is-here @moonlightstar64 @annabellabrookes @maribat-is-lifeblood @toodaloo-kangaroo @the-navistar-carol @elspethshadow @chocolatecatstheron​ @ivymala07

[ Summary:  The day isn't over yet, and it's time for everyone to navigate a whole new experience. Is this a Supervillain on the Paris’ hands? ]

[ Posted on Ao3 ] [ Chapter 1 ] [ Chapter 9 ] [ Chapter 11 ]

The rest of the school day had gone by in a blur, full or more reviews, more introductions of all new teachers, and more less than subtle energetic dares. Almost as soon as the last bell rang, the first day finally over, the courtyard outside the school was flooded with students. The majority of them were having their post-summer reunions with their friends. 

Marinette, Nino, Alya, Adrien, and Lila had fallen right into their usual grouping as they left the classroom, Kara tagging along behind the first two. The Parisian duo were excited to have their shared secret friend officially join their main circle, suspecting she would make quick friends out of not just them, but the rest of the class as well.

Lila started up a retelling of one of her summer travels, but only got a few sentences in before the building around them began to tremble, and the street beyond the courtyard sounded like it was starting to split apart. 

“Woah, I didn’t know Paris was due for an earthquake,” Alya mused as their group and others instinctively huddled a bit closer. Kara’s arms were instinctively on Nino and Marinete’s shoulders to keep them steady. 

“I don't think that's an earthquake,” Adrien replies breathlessly as he looks out towards the road. Kara’s grip tightens and the two can feel her tense as they all take in the white, red and blue glows emanating from the ground.

Alya rushes forward to a clearer view beyond the other students, steady on her feet despite the shaking ground. The rest of the group follows, and they hear her sucks in a breath, watching as she tenses. Those who know her see it for the excitement it is before words start pouring out. 

“Guys, I think it’s a supervillain,” she gasps out as she turns back to them, her eyes wide and full of newfound energy. Even Kara, who didn't know Alya as well as the others, could recognize the flame of a reporter ready to get out on the field. 

Her phone was out before anyone could respond. “I need to get footage, this is so awesome!” Then she was turning on her heel and dashing towards the road. 

“Alya, wait!” Adrien cried out in alarm, tripping as the ground trembled harder for a moment before Nino caught him. 

“Dude, we need to get somewhere safe, this could be dangerous.” The worry was clear in the musician's voice as he helped Adrien to his feet, staring off after Alya.

“But Nino, Alya could be in danger!”

“I know, I’ll go-”

He was cut off by Kara. “No, you guys stay put, I’ll go after Little Miss Camera over there; I’m used to this kind of thing, I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“But Kara,” Marinette protested, equally worried for the grounded superhero as the reporter.

“I got this, Buttercup, trust me; I wont do anything to make my cousin mad and I’ll just make sure we both stay out of trouble. And you guys? Stay safe. I’ll text Karen and Babs make sure you're in a good place before they, uh, do anything else.” Nino and Marinette both knew what she meant by anything else, but they still couldn't help but want to stop Kara as she turned on her heel and ran after Alya faster than the first girl had taken off. 

The two shared a thought about going grain in the hair from having heroes for friends as they glanced at each other in distress. 

“She’s right you know,” Lila speaks up meekly, the concern and fright clear in her voice. “We should really get somewhere safe. I don't think any of our parents would be happy if we got hurt…” Adrien winced at that, him and the others already picturing how angered his father would be at Adrien’s friends if something really did happen. Not to mention how he would punish Adrien for it, even if it was purely an accident.

Marinette then gasped and looked back towards the road. “My parents! The bakery! I should get home to make sure they're okay!”

“Shoot, Chris, I was supposed to pick him up from school, the lil’ dude must be terrified right now!”

“You two should really go check on your families then!” Lila looks at them both, mirroring their concern for their loved ones before turning it to Adrien. “We can go find somewhere to hide, I trust Nino and Marinette to be safe. We don’t want your father getting mad if you’re caught up in all this.”

Adrien’s hand was fiddling with the pin on his shirt as he looked at his friends with equal concern and worry. “I- Alright,” he concedes with a sigh. “But maybe we should split up first, more likely to find a good place separately. We can text each other if we find a good spot?”

Lila seems to pout, but nods quickly as the ground shakes in another hard burst, already looking ready to sprint for safety, Adrien in tow or not. 

The small group of four looks at one another, gaining confidence and determination from each other, ready for their tasks ahead. A second passes before they each turn away and head off, their paces varying from smooth runs to staggered jogs over the unsteady ground. 

Marinette was one of the unsteady ones, bumping into other panicked students and pedestrians as she made her way back home. It felt like an excruciatingly long time to get back to the bakery.

As she went, her eyes kept drifting to the glow on the streets. Oddly enough, she realized that they followed directly down the middle of the roads, and the cracks in the streets were those glowing sections rising up out of the ground. The main color she saw was white, but as she passed one of the major roads, the glows going down the emerging lines were blue. In the distance, she saw one of the highways glowing red. She also realized that the roofs of many of the buildings glowed with their own unique colors, too, her mind working as it picked out a pattern.

As her thoughts mulled over themselves, Marinette’s foot slid off the corner of the curb as she went too close, and she fell into one of the parked cars. The chain of her necklace caught on the side view mirror, pulling taunt as she went down sideways, failing to brace herself against the car. The chain snapped, and her shoulder hit the asphalt hard, her back glancing off the curb. 

She hisses in pain, but gasped as she watched the large locket hit the ground, snap open, and bounce under the car with a clatter. Sitting up quickly, ignoring her new scrapes, bruises, and likely ruined shirt, she reached under the car, pulling the open locket out from under it. 

It had opened diagonally along the main seam, and she realized it had been lined on the inside with the same velvet from her Kryptonite box to protect whatever had been inside. 

She glanced under the car once more, spotting a gleam of silver from behind one of the tires and reached for it. It felt like a smoothed, uneven stone, though it gave her the slightest shock of static as her fingers wrapped around it. It quickly warmed in her hand as she pulled it out, but she didn't spare it a glance as she slipped it back into the locket’s hold and shut it with a snap. She sighed in relief as it stayed closed, showing the lock had remained undamaged. 

She stood back up, making note to tell Kara about the locket and chain being damaged as she tucked them away in her pocket, and resumed her sprint back home. Though much more careful of the curbs this time. 

She finally made it back to the bakery, bursting in through the front door. “Papa, Maman!!” 

She found patrons and shelter seekers alike huddled inside. Her parents were making rounds to make sure everyone was alright, and securing anything loose from being shaken from their places, though the shaking had died down into only the slightest of tremors. Her parents turned to her in surprise as she came in and made her way to them, where they enveloped her in a hug. 

“Marinette!” They exclaimed together in relief, letting her go after a few moments. 

“I’m alright!” She reassured them before they could ask, smiling to them both. “I just came to make sure you both were okay in the bakery. I’ll go upstairs and make sure nothing has broken, you two can stay down here. I’ll come right back if the quakes get worse again.”

The two glance at each other before looking back to her, pride filled smiles overtaking their worried looks. No sooner than their shared nods did Marinette dash through the bakery and up into the housing of the building.

She was relieved to see most everything still in their general places. The home had been ‘Marinette-proofed’ for years enough, and a bit more recently ‘Supergirl-proofed’; it would take a lot more than a strange, glowing earthquake to knock everything over. She headed up to her room, flipping on her computer to the news as she went around righting the few things out of place. She took a moment to go up to the balcony, noticing the new perspective it gave her on what was happening.

The glows from atop buildings revealed themselves to be symbols, even her own balcony had a risen symbol glowing in it’s center. 

The pattern to the colors she saw finally clicked.

“A map,” she breathed out in awe, looking out over her city. Churches, shops, restaurants, schools; everything was marked with symbols and color indicators. The roads were all lined, the colors indicating the type of road, from major highways to minor backroads. 

She went back down into her room, glancing at the news on her screen as she pulled out her phone. Félix may have had an accurate feeling about today, and his mentioning of Clark was something to consider. 

Marinette paused as she opened her contacts, seeing for the first time a small black box painted with red sitting squarely on her desk.

Picking it up, certain that it hadn't been there earlier during lunch, she flipped it open, only to be greeted by a burst of red and white light.

[dorkzrul]

When I met my Date on Another Date

Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians. (This applies for all chapters)

~~~

Chapter 1

She had been waiting for almost an hour now. “Ma’am, are you sure you don’t want to order?”, asked the impatient waitress. “Yes i’m sure. I think i’ll wait just a little longer.”, Annabeth responded. “Suit yourself, but I really don’t think he’s coming!” How dare that waitress. She had a good mind to call the manager and report her waitress for being rude to a customer. She sighed, it was useless. And besides, she was probably right. Lately, she had seen Luke getting more and more distant and had suspected that something was up, but when she asked him he only got mad and accused her of not trusting him. That's when she definitely knew something was up because due to her past, trust had always been a rather fragile subject with her. Everyone in her family who she had trusted had left her and Luke had promised that he’d never leave her. He was the first person she’d trusted since the accident, when her mom died. The Luke she knew would never have said something like that to her. But she had never thought that it had been bad enough for him to miss their anniversary dinner! Had he forgotten?

She was just about to get up and leave when someone sat down in the seat across from her. “Sorry, i'm late. Traffic was terrible today.”, he announced loudly, gaining the attention of several people around, as well as that rude waitress. “Um, who ar-” “Just go with it”, he whispered, cutting her off, “I don't know who you’re waiting for, but whoever stood you up is a jerk”. She was about to retort that he knew absolutely nothing but kept her mouth shut. Instead, she turned to glare at him and was momentarily stunned. The man was probably around her age, with tousled, jet-black hair, beautiful sea-green eyes and tan skin. He was wearing a dark green shirt and balck trousers and looked simply heavenly. She forced herself to look away, just as he whispered, “Wanna get out of here?” She nodded, Luke definitely wasn’t coming and what was the harm in going out with a cute stranger she just met. Wait, WHAT?! What was happening to her. Firstly, she HAD a boyfriend, she couldn’t think other guys were cute! Plus, he was a complete stranger! He could be a serial killer for all she knew, she wasn’t going to go with him! “Um, sorry. I can’t”, she told him. He shrugged, “Suit yourself”, just thought you’d want to get away from all the people looking at us weird. I could drop you to your car and then you’ll be done for the night. She felt her face redden. Of course he didn’t want to go somewhere with her, he just wanted to get away. In fact, someone like him probably had a girlfriend, maybe an adorable redhead with freckles all over her face and green eyes like him. Maybe she was British and said his name in a cute little accent, she felt sick at the thought. Wait, what was she thinking? She didn’t care! She had a boyfriend of her own, one who loved her very much… though clearly not enough to remember their anniversary.

“Yeah, sure”, she quickly responded before her thoughts could get any worse. They walked outside, an awkward silence between them. “Oh um I came here by cab. I didn’t bring my car”, she quietly said, breaking the silence. “I could call a cab for you, or I could drop you off in my car if you like”, said the stranger. She had to stop calling him stranger! He had helped her out of such an awkward situation and she didn’t even know his name! “Im Annabeth, by the way. Thanks for helping me out there”, she stuck her hand out for him to shake. “Percy, and no problem”, he said, shaking her hand with a crooked grin on that face. Oh the things that smile did to her… STOP IT! She mentally chided herself. Then she realised she was still holding his hand and quickly let go, blushing. “Um, you don’t need to go to that trouble of dropping me”, she said. “Oh it's no trouble! I live on 3rd street, I could drop you along the way if you live that way” He literally just gave his address to a stranger, what was wrong with this guy, she thought. What if she had been some sort of crazy stalker? But it would be a great help if he could drop her off and she lived there too. So she found herself doing the unthinkable, giving her address to a stranger, hopping into their car and driving to her apartment where she lived. “Oh, I live along 3rd street too” “Great, i’ll drop you then”, he gave her another grin and she felt her knees weaken.

They climbed into his car, a dark blue Lamborghini Huracán. He was rich! It was approximately a twenty minute drive there. He turned onto the street and an awkward silence filled the car. “So, Annabeth, were you meeting your boyfriend at the restaurant back there today?” He was just a stranger, yet somehow she felt like she could trust him and had the urge to tell him everything. It was okay, she reasoned with herself, he was just a stranger that she would probably never see again after today and thus it didn't matter if she said anything or not. “Yes, yes i was supposed to see my boyfriend. It’s our one year anniversary.” “Oh”, he raised an eyebrow, “He missed your anniversary?” “I’m sure there’s a valid reason!” she said defensively. “Never said there wasn’t. But he shouldn’t have stood you up like that. If he couldn’t make it he should have told you.” She sighed “You’re right” He looked surprised. “Damn right I am!” They laughed loudly. That was just what she had needed after such a night! “This may come out wrong but I’m honestly kinda glad he stood you up” “What?!?!” “If he hadn’t, I would never have met you. You seem like a cool person” “Oh...thanks”, she mumbled, blushing. “Hey, wanna go out for coffee sometime?” He asked, it seemed like he was nervous. “Not like a date, just as friends.”, he quickly added. She giggled (What was wrong with her? She never giggled!), he looked cute all flustered like that. “Sure. I would love to!” He grinned, “Great! Here’s my number.” He dictated it as she put it into her phone and saved it as Percy (Restaurant Guy). “Text me”, he said, still grinning hugely. She nodded, blushing.

He dropped her off at her building with a quick wave and she noticed that he lived just two buildings down. She entered her flat, thinking of all that had just happened. Luke had stood her up, a stranger had come to save her, she’d gotten into his car and had him drop her (hence giving away her address), she’d told him all about her and Luke and she’d saved his number in his phone and had promised to text him (and she was going to make good on the promise). Yep, something had definitely come over her. As soon as she had taken off her shoes, she plopped onto the couch and called Luke. But her call went straight to voicemail. She decided that they should talk in person about this and simply left a message asking him to come over whenever he could. Then, she texted Percy.

Annabeth Chase: Hey, this is Annabeth!

He responded within a couple of minutes.

Percy Jackson: Hey :)

Annabeth Chase: So...

Percy Jackson: So… tomorrow?

Annabeth Chase: Tomorrow? What?

Percy Jackson: R coffee d8, Chase! Forgotten already? :p

Annabeth Chase: Of course not! I just didn’t think it would be this soon!

Percy Jackson: Is tom not good 4 u?

Annabeth Chase: I am free tomorrow, but…

Percy Jackson: If ur free then lets do it! If not then mayb some other time…

She was glad he wasn’t pushing to come tomorrow or to tell him why she couldn’t make it. Luke would have done that… He always got upset if she couldn’t make it and always wanted to know where she was. She didn’t mind too much because there shouldn’t be any secrets between them, but the way he said it made it seem like he didn’t trust her.

Annabeth Chase: How about the day after? I’m with Luke tomorrow.

Percy Jackson: Sure! Grt so uk that lil cafe called “Cafe Coffee”? Lets meet there tomorrow at 4? K?

Annabeth Chase: Sure!

Percy Jackson: Its a date!

She stared at her phone, wondering if she should correct him. On one hand, she was pretty sure by “date” he only meant one between friends (gosh, she barely knew him for an hour and they were friends now?!), but if she didn’t correct him it might seem, just a tiny bit, like it was a date. What if Luke saw the text? But on the other, she couldn’t ignore the slight thrill that went down her spine when she read those three words. “Its a date!”

NO! What was she thinking?! She was a taken woman! She loved Luke and would never cheat on him! They loved each other very much and would never cheat on each other! Right? She couldn’t deny the fact that it had crossed her mind recently that Luke was cheating. She had instantly dismissed the idea but now that she actually thought about it, all the signs were there. He wasn’t responding to her calls or texts, he had gotten furious when he saw her scrolling through his phone (she had only been looking for a picture she’d taken on his phone, why had he gotten so mad? Did he have something to hide?) and he stood her up on their Anniversary (without a phone call or a text message to say that he was busy or to wish her. Had he forgotten? Or did he just not care?). Was he cheating on her? He probably wasn't; she was just being paranoid now. She put her phone down and lay down on the bed, eventually falling asleep with these thoughts pushed to the back of her head.

~~~

Hi! I’m Dorkzrul n I hope u enjoyed this fic (My first chapter fic)!!! I’d love to hear any feedback and/or constructive criticism and thank you so much for taking the time to read this!!! The next chapter will probably be out in a week. I don’t have a tag list cus I don’t think that many people will even read this but even if one person wants to be tagged, just let me know 😊

Also available on Wattpad and FanFiction.Net.

<3<3<3

Tagging: @rhian-not-ryan

[elenscaie]

(Criminal Minds, Gen, all of this in thanks to @elloryia​ for both the graphic and the inspiration.)

Set: Post-Revelations.

Prompt is:

Spencer shifts in his hospital bed and does his best to ignore the indignity of being bared from the back down. The gown itself is only a little bit scratchy but it's enough to irritate him. The texture makes him grimace and he turns his head to the side and leans his head on the pillow; his curls slide, sweat-slick, along his forehead and he wants to shut his eyes against the light. The fixtures here aren't in tones of yellow but instead fluorescent white bulbs built into the ceilings. Impartial and impersonal, suffusing the walls and shading his skin, spilling a gentle shine onto hands finger-threading together. He took one glance up and found his vision swimming, blurring, the lights with their white glow morphing, muddling up, a morass of yellow. A single flickering bulb casting sickly shades around a shack stinking of offal and caged fear. He hasn't looked up since. He has half a mind to climb out of the bed and book it for the entrance. The space feels as confining and cramped as it did in the shack. He hates it. He wants out. His mind, for once, cannot dredge up a solution fast enough. Getting past the medical staff, doctors, nurses, the receptionist—it all strikes as too much, and his thoughts are caught up yet in a haze. It's with this calm—and such a disturbing calm, for he's never known his mind to gentle itself to the point of slow and steady instead of the frenzy it's usually held prisoner within—that Spencer registers the door opening. It swings on well-oiled hinges, near-silent, and he doesn't bother turning to see who's there. Which is why it strums his nerves to surprised when the voice that carries over on still air is not the one he expected. "Don't play at being asleep, Pretty Boy, we've got some catchin' up to do." His head jerks up, snaps to the right. And yes, his ears aren't lying. Standing there, eyes sad-soft, with a smile Spencer has looked to more than once for support and reassurance, is— "Derek." It feels ridiculous, or maybe not, to find some strength—feeble though it may be—sinking into him. Strength borrowed from the determined stance his friend is in, from the way that Spencer knows, knows, absolutely knows that nothing will see him harmed as long as Morgan is there. So he sits himself up as best as he can and says, tired and drained, stumbling through his words with a tongue lost to the whims of drugstore heroin: "I thought it would be Hotch." Hotch, for whom he left the clue in a bible verse misaimed on purpose. Hotch, who he embraced, voice a rasp of weak relief. I knew you'd understand. Somehow, he isn't surprised. Hotch left just as quickly as he arrived. Moreso, he is their Unit Chief, their leader. Spencer cannot stand to fathom what awaits him in the form of Strauss most-likely calling him to task, of the superiors he has to explain this all to, of the aftermath beyond what he is currently processing. Dimly, he spares thought to what his own file will say. If it will list the array of indignities dealt to him. Kidnapped, beaten, made to play a false God in the hopes of a victim being saved. He can bear that. But the drugging— His mind, his gift, weapon and shield, sword and shelter, made useless and pliant and murky with his bloodstream singing blessed-cursed-calm— It hurts. His hands form fists overtop the sheets and he objects not one whit when Morgan drops into a chair and splays a hand over both of his. There's that strength again, and Spencer lets it weave its way within until a small tremulous smile wisps across his lips. Tears, however, he is ashamed to shed. They gather at the corners of his eyes and spill forth, but he simply sighs. Builds up his wall with just a touch more of adamantine instead of steel and prays that they won't be called to attention. If anyone understands the sanctity of secrecy, privacy, dignity, it's Morgan. "He's not big on missing out on your reception. Had to call in and inform the big-wigs that everything's gotten settled, and then that got out of control. Think they want to tear his hide out or just tear him a new one, so JJ tagged along to help smooth it all out." The words are neither a balm nor an irritant; Spencer suspected as much. "He'd be here if he could, promise." Spencer nods. "I know." For a handful of beats, all is silence. It's peaceful. Braces him up against something more than a hospital bed all-too rigid, something firm, soothing, immovable. He gives Morgan's hand a squeeze and takes quiet comfort in the steady-sure grip that answers him. Silence that gains a hairline crack when a new voice wafts on in from the door. "Let's not make it a party without me. Don't leave me out of the fun, guys." Emily walks in, and her steps are conviction grounded upon concern, and Spencer weighs his dignity with his exhaustion, decides it doesn't matter, and blurts out, "Is it ever a party if you're not around?" It's more offhand than it should be, but Emily is still too new and the ache of Elle's departure smarts, fresh and sharp. But he reaches a hand out and gestures to another chair. The second the brush of prim sensible red button-up fabric bursts up against plain pleather, Spencer feels his eyes sliding shut. Weariness hangs, clings to his bones like a funeral shroud, and it's all he can do to not give in right then and there. "Don't—" Emily's voice, and it's as firm-gentle as he's ever heard her in their short time together as collegues, but it isn't Morgan's. Yet it seems as if molded out of the same iron as his. Spencer cracks his eyes open enough to set them to slivered slants. Once she sees she has his attention, she reaches out with a hand and rests it above both of theirs. It's a warmth bouyed up by resolve and that alone makes his smile just a little less shaky. It isn't enough to take down the walls he's built up over his whole life, but that's to be expected. A safeguard of sorts, because too much trust, too much confidence in another— It can't end well. Not always. That much proved itself already; he forewent JJ keeping guard at his back and paid the price for it. No one to blame but himself and that stings so much it's yet another pile of exhaustion on top of what's already heaped upon his shoulders. But it's a start. Emily tells him, "Don't hold out, not here, not now. You don't have to anymore. Go to sleep, we'll be here when you wake." It's nearly enough, but he manages to keep awake until Morgan's voice rolls on out, rich and stern and knowing in all of its rumble-timbre. "There ain't anything out there gettin’ in here, now get that shut-eye. I don't want to imagine Strauss hauling ass all the way here before we're all ready for it. Not a dressing down I'd ever want to see in my lifetime." "That's not just you, you know." And Spencer finally slides his eyes shut and lets the wind of sleep drag him away and into oblivion-empty broken up by the wind of dreams. As damning as it is, with the drugs in his system and his thoughts turning on the slow slither of molasses melting in the sun, it's the best sleep he's had in a long time.

[renegade-is-in-my-blood]

Being in the blogging business for around 8 years now I came to learn a lot. Let’s hear from the old bitter blogger about the difference between being an ambassador and being a customer. When you’re investing more than you’re gaining from the collaboration it’s not really a collaboration you’re looking for.

There is a new trend going around social media, especially Instagram. I’ve been getting collaboration offers on a daily basis even pre COVID times but now the amount of pseudo collaborations increased.

Hands down it is an incredible business strategy from the business point of view.

Everyone wants to be an ambassador.

Ambassador became an even more prestigious title than an influencer. Influencer posses some sort of responsibility for their actions whilst ambassador is just being paid for simply being.

Who wouldn’t want that?

Many brands use this knowledge to the fullest and offers these pseudo collaborations.

So what is a pseudo collaboration?

Well, it starts off by being contacted by a brand.

You’ll receive a ctrl+c ctrl+v message from a brand-name-scout. The message contains several cute emojis and addresses you as a gorgeous, pretty, cutie, love, honey, sweety, and if they really want to get you, even by your Instagram name.

It’s usually followed by a bunch of compliments about your fashion style, vibe, Instagram, or whatever. Then there is a lie about following or just generally noticing you for a while without ever seeing your insta story, like any of your posts, or even actually following you.

Now it’s time for an offer beneficial for you.

Usually, it’s free products, a way to earn a commission, or just the sheer option to be able to call yourself an ambassador. Every single brand out there offers a “support” like anyone really knows what’s that supposed to mean. I had several ones even offering me a travel trips, but never elaborated on it after my further questioning.

Now comes the hook with a “do you want to learn more?” question.

If you think I’m exaggeration for the story and I can’t be generalizing all of the collaborations offers into a simple standard form I wish you were right. Here are some of the screenshots of my current Instagram DMs:

You might think: “What’s wrong with that? They’re trying so don’t be mean. Just ignore them.” let me remind you how dumb Instagram algorithm is.

If your account is followed by bots, messaged by bots, liked by bots Instagram assumes you’re one of them or you got hacked by them. Sweet of them for trying to protect you thought, but holy hell did that made everything super complicated for me.

I got several messages from the brand scouts messaging me again because their previous account got deleted.

No shit Sherlock, it’s like you can’t keep creating accounts, following and messaging a bunch of people at once and ask for money anymore.

So now every time my account gets suspicious activity such as too many likes/follows/messages Instagram suspects my account got hacked. Each time they require I change my password and let me tell you I ran out of password ideas months ago.

That’s not the worst part though.

After each time I change my password I’m blocked for 7 days from liking, following, or adding tags to my posts and that sucks. Just to get a better picture of this issue I’m blocked approximately once sometimes twice per month.

The block comes hand in hand with a shadowban that lingers for god knows how long, meaning Instagram is not gonna support you in any way. That’s why I have around 40 likes on a posts with 47K followers most of which are bots anyway.

I loath Instagram app yet I spend hours a day on the hellish site and I’m not only one.

We spend so much time on Instagram anyway so when a chance to earn money form it comes along you’re tempted to take it. Brands know that.

Imagine you’re a small-town girl with around 400 followers on Instagram. You already feel pretty popular right?

Now imagine you get the messages I shared above but you get just one. Someone out there thinks you’re so popular they want you on their team, you are just like the big influencers, you get job offers for being an Instagram star. You’re the next Kardashian.

You can have all of the things they said to you BUT you need to do something for them first. You have to pay for it.

And here is the catch with all of the pseudo collaborations.

What they don’t say to you in their first message is what it’s gonna cost you.

Many offers you free stuff but you need to pay for the one-time shipping. Some brands offer you a unique discount of around 40-60% off so you’ll pay just a part of the price and you can call yourself an ambassador.

I don’t know about you, but I thought that was called the customer. You buy a product, you wear it and occasionally you take photo of it on your social media sites. The new term is an ambassador apparently.

I get why so many people agree to this kind of collaboration. It’s new for you. It makes you feel good and successful in your friend’s and families eyes. And there is that hopefully undertone of making money from it.

Aren’t the brands unprofitable when they give away discounts and free stuff?

In a theory, yes, but there is one thing all of the brands that messaged me had in common except for the audacity.

Overpriced products.

I got messaged by jewelry stores, fashion stores and gym equipment stores most of the time. I took the time and did my research on every one of them.

When a store sold jewelry, they had the same products as the rest of the jewelry stores I got contacted by. A small variety of around 8 products most of them sold out anyway. And let’s not forget the ridiculously high prices. You can’t charge a cheap Chinese necklace you can get on amazon or aliexpress for under a 1$ for 40$.

So even if you’re paying just around 30$ for your ambassador order they are still making a profit on your wannabe Instagramer need cuz they purchased said items for far less.

Well, I’m being a little miss know it all right?

How can I talk about pseudo collaboration like this when it’s all based on assumptions. Well you know me, I’m curious as hell and I actually went through 3 pseudo collaborations myself just to prove a point.

I literally spend money so I can tell you about it right now so here is how my 3 pseudo collaborations went like.

All of the ones I choose were jewelry based pseudo collaborations. With the corona times, post offices are overwhelmed with parcels. I ordered big parcels in recent times and they arrived with around a month delay. I figured smaller jewelry in an envelope form would be quicker to arrive and I was right.

Pseudo collaboration number one VONACHI:

A simple yet luxurious-looking website with very few decent pieces of jewelry, offered me 3 free pieces to take a photo in and promote. I would also get a 60% discount code and every time my code would be used I would receive 30% of the money amount. Incredibly overpriced amount in the first place.

Here is the list of all of the benefits they offered.

The scout that approached me was very eager. They kept insisting I place my order right away. No time to waste.

To make it clear I got a simple code to apply in a check out that subtracted the price and I got the pieces for free. All I had to do was pay a 20$ shipping fee what seems like nothing but for 3 small necklaces, it is way too much.

Another thing that was odd was that I was required to take a screenshot of my order and send it back to scout. I guess to prove I was legit.

After bunch of further compliments and claims how excited they are to be working with me we ended our conversation.

If you think I was being reckless to give my credit card and home address to such a questionable site don’t be.

Honestly, I trust zero people, sometimes I don’t even trust myself. I used a card I have no to very little money on and I got it shipped to a work address.

My parcel from china arrived in around a month and a half. I got one black box with one necklace and the other 2 necklaces were in small plastic bags. I received a note about welcoming me to the program and asking me to contact vonachi’s official Instagram account for setting up my discount code and that’s exactly what I did. The official page responded after longer time period with just a “this is your code” message. I took a photo, tagged vonachi as a business partner, and shared my code. I did my part and I was never contacted by them again.

My 60% code is VONAMBNAT and as you might have guessed no one used it so far.

Or at least no one told me it was used. If someone were to use my code I would be contacted by vonachi and here is the problem. I’m supposed to trust them with their credibility cuz there is no other way for me to check it for myself. This is what it’s missing from the old Time collaborations of mine. I would get a tracking code, an account login, graphs, statistics, and one on one communication with a brand in my previous collaborations. But you know Golden times for influencers are long gone.

Now I’m left to just simply trust them.

Why would they ever confess someone used my code? If a customer gets 60% off and I’m getting 30% from already discounted item there is just a very little left for vonachi. They don’t say anything and get to keep my 30% share.

They didn’t put much effort into tracking system cuz they are not expecting their ambassadors/customers to make any sales anyway.

The products were not that bad. They came in a bit rusty and tangled but I was excepting much worse.

Hell, I was not expecting them to legitimately arrive.

Pseudo collaboration number 2: ENGELSINN

I initiated this pseudo collaboration myself. Engelsinn paid a significant amount of money to Instagram promoted post and that’s where I found out they are looking for ambassadors.

I filled out an application form.

This one felt more legit cuz they actually asked for followers count and all of the communication occurred via email. Automated emails but still it reminded me of good old days.

I was given a 40% discount code to use on my first order. The shipping was free but it still cost me another 20$ to get the product. Since placing my first order I got a 20% discount code “nat7x20” for my followers to get 20% off their engelsinn order.

When my code is redeemed 2 times I get one jewelry of my choice for free.

Do I even need to mention that I didn’t get any email since?

Well, that’s not exactly true I got 2 more emails each with another discount code I could use for 24 hours and buy more of their stuff. But none about redeemed code.

Engelsinn is a german based brand and living so close I got my parcel in around a week. I got myself a rose gold knot bracelet and I feel like a hypocrite but I actually really love this one and wear it every day. I know I wouldn’t get it if it wasn’t for the research but I’m glad I did.

Btw the ad about engelsinn looking for ambassador is still up there and it still says they have only a few places left. It’s been 2 months.

Pseudo collaboration number 3: CUZETTE

I got messaged by them on my Instagram and their offer was super confusing. They promised it all. 3 free stuff now, free stuff every month, paid trip to several destinations, and even 50$ voucher. The scout called me sweety exactly 9 times during our conversations. It was super annoying.

So I choose another 3 free items and paid another 20$ for shipping. When I asked about the 50$ voucher I was told I would need to refer 5 friends who would also become cuzette ambassador or delegate as they named it, to get the 50$. No info about the travel trips though.

I was told to contact the official page for more info but it took days for them to finally reply with nothing new just more compliments and excitement about the future. It’s been 2 months and I still haven’t received my order just as I was expecting.

Later on, I endorsed in conversation with several other brands asking for more info, looking for something different than standard copy and paste form. Unsuccessful.

Every time I asked how many ambassadors they have in their program the answer was always “around 3000“. Once again, you have 3000 customers and not 3000 ambassadors. If the only people who buy from you are people you ask to buy from you, you’re doing something wrong.

But your business plan is on point.

When I asked about who and where makes their products I was either met with a silence or a sweet talk about a responsible brand.

These brands are providing people with content. You get to take photos of the items you ordered and you get to be as creative as you want. In these COVID times so many brands had to cancel or postpone their collaborations with bloggers or Instagrammers. I saw huge travel/luxurious instagramers switch form hotel and travel collaborations to promoting kitchen wipes. Times are tough and you got to do what you got to do.

Yet these small businesses with hight prices are thriving?

You know it’s not about the product but about the potential.

Profiting on greediness.

So smart.

To prove my point even further I got to confess one more thing. I mentioned before that I manage Instagram accounts for different brands and among them is one fashion store. I was not only at the ambassadors’ side but on the scouting side as well.

All I had to do was search for people who looked like they would be willing to become an ambassador for our store and had decent amount of followers. I had saved message form and all I did was try to guess peoples names so the message seemed more personal. Once they agreed to a discussion I let my boss take the lead.

So yeah, try to really think about the offers you get.

Look at it from all points of view and ask yourself if it’s profitable for anyone else but the brand.

If you want to have offers pouring your way try adding #ad #spon #collab to your next Instagram posts. That’s how they look for their next ambassador.

Everyone wants to be an ambassador. 

Pseudo Collaborations- Everyone wants to be an Ambassador Being in the blogging business for around 8 years now I came to learn a lot. Let's hear from the old bitter blogger about the difference between being an ambassador and being a customer.